#i feel like ill end up having at least a drabble a day for this man at this rate

[windser]

mornings with caleb, when the early sunlight filters through the wide-open bathroom windows, painting the tiles in shades of soft gold. the room feels warm, cozy, familiar—like home. it’s a rhythm now, these mornings with him, where the world moves slower, and everything seems to revolve around the two of you.

you’re barely awake when the shower starts, warm water hitting your shoulders and easing the ache in your muscles. caleb stands behind you, his hands gentle as they trace along your sides, thumbs brushing against your skin. he dips his head, lips finding the curve of your neck, pressing a kiss there like a quiet good morning.

"you always smell so damn good," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. you giggle, turning your head to glance back at him.

"must be the shampoo you keep getting in my eyes," you tease.

caleb grins at that, a little lopsided, his green eyes gleaming in the light. "hey, that’s an accident," he defends, mock-offended, even as his hands slide up to tilt your chin toward him. "you’re just a distraction. can’t help it."

just as the words leave his mouth, a dollop of shampoo dribbles down your forehead.

"goddammit," he mutters under his breath, his hands immediately cupping your face as you laugh through the sting. "sorry, sorry, baby," he says hurriedly, thumbs brushing under your eyes to clear away the mess, his touch soft and careful.

"it’s fine," you say, giggling through it, but his furrowed brow doesn’t ease until you reassure him again. "seriously, caleb, i’m fine."

other mornings, though, he’s not so sweet. he backs you up against the shower wall, his hands firm on your waist as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around him. the tile is slick under his feet, and he nearly loses his balance, but neither of you care. his lips find yours in a messy, desperate kiss, one that makes the world outside the bathroom vanish.

"careful," you mumble between breaths, half-laughing, half-scolding.

"i’ve got you," he replies, his voice low and certain. "i always do."

afterward, the bathroom feels alive with movement. caleb brushes past you on his way to the closet, his shoulder brushing yours deliberately as he plucks out his uniform. his eyes linger on you, watching as you fix your hair or drop your towel to the floor before stepping into your clothes. there’s something about the way his gaze lingers—not intrusive, but intense, like he’s committing you to memory every time.

"you’re staring again," you tease, turning toward him.

"can you blame me?" he counters, leaning casually against the sink with a razor in hand. he leans in as you pass, pulling you into his side with one arm, his shaving cream smudging faintly on your cheek.

"caleb!" you yelp, swatting at him, but he just laughs, tugging you closer.

"you’re so pretty," he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. his violet eyes meet yours in the mirror, and you can see the sincerity in them, the way his love for you is something he doesn’t even try to hide.

it’s not always soft, though. sometimes, it’s playful. like when he leans over the sink, toothbrush in hand, and starts making faces at you.

"your turn, cutie," he says through a mouthful of toothpaste, his eyebrows waggling dramatically.

you try to ignore him, but it’s impossible not to laugh when he crosses his eyes and scrunches his face up like a cartoon. you retaliate with your own ridiculous expression, toothpaste dribbling down your chin and onto his old t-shirt that you’re wearing.

"you’re ridiculous," he says, laughing as he pats your back when you start coughing from the laughter.

"pot, meet kettle," you manage to say, grinning up at him.

by the time you’re dressed and ready to go, caleb is leaning against the kitchen counter, travel cup in hand. "you’re beautiful, you know," he says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

"stop," you say, but the way your cheeks warm betrays you.

"never," he replies with a grin. he leans down as you pass, pressing a soft kiss to your temple and the cup into your hand. "love you," he whispers. "you’re going to kick ass today."

and somehow, you believe him. you always do.

[nubsdolls]

SYPNOSIS ; g/n reader x sparring partner! bakugou, fluff, not proofread .. matching bracelets , enjoy ! xoxo, jord .ᐟ

A/N; this was supposed to be a lil drabble but this came out longer than i intended .. anywaayss. I PROOOMISEEE im gonna start posting more i’ve disappeared for sosososso long.. in the meanwhile take this, luv u guys !!!!!

sparring partner! bakugou that swears he only bugs you 24/7 to “get your ass to training grounds” because you need to improve. no other reason because of course, he cant stand you.. or anything about you, for that matter.

so no, it doesnt “mean” anything when sparring partner! bakugou comes up from behind you to, “fix” your form. adjusting you by signaling you to rotate to the side by giving your hips a little push, nudging your elbows up so your face is protected by your hands.

sparring partner! bakugou who always insists to be near you, discreetly, if he can. because he obviously doesnt want it to seem like he cares, because he doesnt. even during training or maybe even an attack on the school? near you. covering you and making sure warn you of the sneak attacks from behind you.

and even though you practically hate sparring with him, because hes so damn ruthless, ensuring a trip to recovery girl by the end of it, its weirdly the highlight of your days. hearing the ding! of your phone, followed by the usual message from him.

: training grounds. 5 mins

even when its five in the goddamn morning. you never fail to meet him there.

and after a small while of this cycle, you make the (probably) safe assumption you guys are, friends? acquaintances?..hell, maybe you were even on kirishima’s level of ‘friend’. toleratable? at the least.

so while on one of your free days afterschool, youre shopping with the bakusquad. mina, jirou, denki, sero, kirishima, and obviously, bakugou. god knows how they convinced him to tag along.. you get lost in a cute little merch store, spotting matching all might bracelets. ew, corny. who would even get those?

ca—ching! “aaand heres your change, have a nice day!”

you would.

though, you probably shouldve thought this out.. who were you gonna match with? ofcourse, it could always be mina, but she also didnt absolutely fixate on all might. but, there was, one person you had in mind..

and sometime in the week after the hangout, at the end of your—no less than brutal, training session, you tiredly brought it up.

“the other day—while we were at the mall, i saw these matching all might bracelets—“ pant, “i kinda just bought on it on sight, annnd i didnt really think of who to give the other half to before i did.. but i know you like him, so..”

you trail off, simply suggesting it as you move over to sit down on a bench, taking a drink of water, while also, pulling out the bracelets from your pockets and reaching your free hand up to show him.

sparring partner! bakugou scoffs upon seeing the bracelets in your hand. golden age and bronze age all might bracelets.

“thats stupid. im not wearing that shit.” he growls, crossing his arms. his voice a little panted from training. you were getting better. not that he would tell you that directly, of course.

“chill, dynamight.” you roll your eyes playfully, emphasizing his hero name on your tongue. “i was just suggesting it, if you dont want it its fine.” you explain casually. even if, the sentence did hurt your feelings a little.

“ill just give it to izuku.” you shrug, you guys were friends, pretty close if you did say so.

and you almost swear you saw bakugou’s eye twitch. a glint of, jealousy? in his eyes as you bring up the green haired boy’s name.

he lets out an amused huff, rolling his eyes. “tch. whatever, give it to that nerd. not like i care.” before he reaches down next to you for your water bottle, taking a swing, airsip.

setting the bottle back down next to your thigh, he speaks up again. “‘aight, hurry, we arent done. round two.” he adds harshly, motioning with his hand for you to get back up.

“come on. please? one more minute. its so eaarlyyy.” you whine, almost pouty as you throw your head back. still exhausted from the sparring just a few minutes ago. 6am and hes annoyingly productive.

“hurry or i can blast your ass right here.” he glares down at you, grumbling through gritted teeth.

“im getting uupp, geeez.” you groan, lazily getting up from the bench and almost coming up to meet his full height.

later in the day, during class training, you figure you should probably find izuku to give him the other matching half, one already on your wrist.

you couldve sworn you remembered putting it back onto your other wrist so you wouldnt lose it. maybe it was in your dorm instead? whatever, youd just have to give it to him tomorrow.

today, you were working in partners, testing out new possible moves, strengths, weaknesses, and overall just trying to improve on any weak spots.

and like always, sparring partner! bakugou was next to you. basically having claimed you as his designated partner for anything by now, glaring at anyone who even suggested you work with them and not him.

and as your throwing hits at him, trying to catch him off base with your quirk, you notice a glint coming from under his gauntlet, you pause a moment.

its the matching half of your bracelet, all might’s golden age bracelet.

he notices this. feeling his ears dust the slightest pink from, embarrassment? and he uses this moment of weakness to gain the upper hand, pinning you down on the floor.

and youre completely shocked by the sudden move. somehow flipped on your chest to the ground, arms tucked behind your back with his knee holding you down.

“stay focused.” he hisses, reprimanding you for your bad habit.

“thought you said it was stupid?” you mutter. tilting your head to the side ever so slightly to look at him. a sly, cheeky smirk on your face.

“it is.”

maybe it wasnt so stupid after all.

[hyewka]

idk if this is allowed but,

threesome with yeonjun and beomgyu

⭑ fetish! | c.yj & c.bg ࿐

⭑ synopsis; when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

⭑ warnings; inexperienced!reader, sort of soft dom!yj & switch!gyu, cunninglingus, gagging, throat fuck, cum eating, unsafe sex, creampie, basically all of them are drunk to some degree, iffy word choice with consent but its all definitely consensual, doll/baby petname, childhood best friends/college au

⭑ note; i don’t know how to feel about this at all and i feel like i might wake up one day and just randomly despise it with my entire being but here is a threesome fic long overdue on this blog, take it with what you will because this might just be the last time i ever attempt to challenge my skills 😭

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

“So what if we didn’t go all the way, I still got to eat her out. Which she loved F.Y.I.”

Yeonjun snorts, downing his drink. “Dude you’re such a loser.”

“Just say you don’t get bitches like I do.”

You don’t mean to, but that’s what breaks your nonchalance, cracking up like that was the funniest thing you’ve heard.

Like clockwork, both of their heads turn to you expectantly, as if remembering that you’re here with them and you know you just messed up. Maybe if you keep looking at your phone they’d know to leave you alone.

This has been a thing since highschool; their dumb Who Gets More Action wars that served almost no purpose but to stroke their young male egos. More times than you could count, you’re for some reason sucked in as the end all be all judge even if there were others present they could go and bother with details of their sex life.

You’re not letting that happen tonight. You will not become Simon Cowell of who fucks more.

“Hey,” Beomgyu starts nudging you with his feet, annoyingly persistent. “Hey hey, get off your phone, what are you laughing at?”

Yeonjun easily swipes your phone from your hands making you throw your head back groaning. God, to hell with him. “Give it back!” you whine. He shrugs, stuffing your phone in his pockets. Asshole.

You glare at him with murder on your mind, but all that gets you is a condescending pout thrown your way.

“Ughhh I’m going to throw up, stop with the flirting.”

You throw your plastic cup at Beomgyu’s face, and he flinches back in the most dramatic sense ever. “Bitch.” you mutter.

Yeonjun ignores Beomgyu’s comment altogether. “Everyone knows I get more bitches than you Beomgyu. That’s why she laughed. Plus, you make up shit all the time.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You lied about Yoo Jimin.” You recall, giving up on getting your phone back.

Yeonjun makes a sound of remembrance, clasping his hands together. “That was actually so funny. Yoo Jimin. You’ve lost your mind.”

Beomgyu shoots you a betrayed look, “No way you believe his propaganda! We literally had sex! Halloween 2021!”

You give him a skeptical look, brows raised. Beomgyu could fool anyone, but he can’t fool Yeonjun, let alone you. Beomgyu and Jimin? Didn’t make sense. Not on Earth at least.

“That’s one person anyway who cares.” he mutters.

“Ryujin.” You name. “She’s lesbian Gyu. Even when she was questioning she would’ve rather killed herself than let a man touch her.”

Yeonjun barks into laughter, leaning into you. “Ryujin of all people is fucking mental man.”

“Two people, still very little.” he counters.

Was that a challenge? If he wanted to play this game, you would be an expert.

“Jihyo, Miyeon—”

“I fucked Miyeon.”

“Yeah but you said she let you fuck her in the ass, which! She revealed never happened.”

He gasps in horror, face dropped, like that had to be the most offensive thing hes heard.

“I literally have proof it happened, holy shit Miyeon’s a pathological liar.” Beomgyu fumbles his phone, eyes laser focused as his thumb swipes in rapid speed. You snicker, he’s such an idiot. You know he’ll turn up empty but hes on a mission so you let him be.

“Can you pass me the beer?” you mutter lazily, feeling the alcohol hit you now, making a grabbing motion to the can far from your reach.

“Sure you want more?” Yeonjun whispers, with a similarly lazy slur to his words.

You were all clearly buzzed out, sprawled on the floor of your living room, your table pushed to the side with multiple beer cans crushed in a mess. It’s your version of heaven— a little sad maybe, but it was the perfect mix of mundane and fun to you.

“Just beer.” You reply.

He nods, grabbing it for you and instinctively twisting the cap open. Hes’ always been like that, an acts of service sort of guy. The small flex of his veins when he does it is something you silently take note of. You’re so far gone with your small crush on him.

You clear your throat, snapping yourself out of it. “Thanks. Are you gonna give me back my phone or?”

He pretends to think it over, before clicking his tongue. “Nah, later.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip from your can.

“We don’t get to hangout like this often, missed it y’know? So you can hold off your phone addiction for a bit and stop acting bratty.” he teases.

“Aye aye captain.”

He tuts at you, nudging your shoulder. “I literally cringe internally every time you say that.”

You hum, looking over at Beomgyu. Who is incredibly tense, almost frozen. “Why’d you stop scrolling?”

Maybe Yeonjun saw what you saw, Beomgyu’s face incredibly red, and eyes so weirdly fixed on his phone because he immediately scoots to him, nosy to take a look at his phone screen.

You study Yeonjun’s face. His brows slowly rise. And the only thing he says is “Damn.”

“What?” you ask, curiosity peaked. Nobody answers though, seemingly hypnotised by whatevers on Beomgyus screen.

Yeah, thats enough for your lazy ass to get up and see what they’re looking at.

…To say it’s not what you expect at all is an understatement.

The video playing has no audio, but the visual splayed out in Beomgyu’s hand is all it takes for your thighs to rub instinctively. The phone was obviously placed by the bedside, the view a little tilted, the girl with her face pressed onto the sheets as Beomgyu fucks into her mercilessly unrecognisable, the bed quite literally shaking to match his rhythm. Your face grows hot, and your throat dries, the video looks old because his hair is longer, messier, something that looked like it was from freshman year.

You’re surprised, it’s more than real. He really was going at it.

“I’m fucking her ass here.”

Holy shit. That must’ve hurt like a bitch.

“How would we know it’s Miyeon though?” Yeonjun says, eyes set on the screen.

Beomgyu forwards the video towards the end and lets it play—its the part where he picks up the phone and holds the girls head up by her hair, turning her over, capturing her face fucked out, a mix of spit and cum evidently all over, but more than that, its Miyeon’s face covered in filth.

You bite down on your lips, nervously looking at Beomgyu—who catches your stare. “What?”

You shake your head, dismissing him.

Truth is, this might’ve been the most you’ve seen from Beomgyu in this light. The light that you’ve heard plenty of, but obviously never thought you’d actually…see. Hes always been slutty, especially with him being infamous for his gross PDA on campus, but seeing it—seeing him actually fucking the light out of someone…you gulp down the lump stuck in your throat.

“You’re a freak dude.” Yeonjun says, laughing.

“But not a liar.”

“Nah you’ve yet to prove Jimins, wheres the tape?”

“You just wanna see her getting railed, touch luck bitch.” Beomgyu closes his phone making you realise you were still staring. “Hey, you good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Beomgyu shifts his attention to you, making you nervous, shrugging his concern off.

Yeonjun speaks for you instead, a smirk plastered on his face. “She’s a virgin, basically saw something worse than a ghost.”

God, this again!

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun!”

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun.” He mimics annoyingly high pitched and you groan.

“I’m not. I’ve had multiple boyfriends before.”

“Three.” Beomgyu says, “You’ve had three boyfriends.”

“All very long and fruitful relationships, mind you.”

Yeonjun leans back on the couch, stretching his arms behind his back and you know this is a sign that he’s going to be a little bitch about this. “How far have you went?”

“All the way.” you glare back challengily, sipping on your beer.

“Had someone nut in your ass?”

You snap your head to Beomgyu in horror, upper lip quirked. Of course he’d be curious about that. “Damn I’m taking that as a no.”

You force a smile and flip him off rightfully. The little bitch sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and you have half the mind to not smack him.

“Have you done it without a condom?”

You narrow your eyes at that. Yeonjun’s awfully curious, way too curious for someone whos never been curious. Seriuously, he’d be the last person to care for your sex life. Maybe Beomgyu—totally Beomgyu, but not Yeonjun.

“Is this an interrogation?”

Yeonjun shrugs.

“I—okay, I haven’t. I bet you guys haven’t either.” You immediately regret saying that, it’s obvious they’ve done something so trivial. And its even made more obvious when both of them start laughing maniacally.

Your face runs red, resorting to chugging more beer.

Beomgyu rests his head on your lap suddenly and you quirk your brow down at him. “What? Your thighs are comfortable.”

You narrow your eyes at him, skeptical of what exactly he’s trying to pull until Yeonjun’s asking you questions again after calming down from his laughing fit.

“Gotten fingered?”

“Well no shit.”

Beomgyus attention is piqued, “You have?”

“How else am I supposed to…you know..get prepped?” you say, coughing around the word.

Beomgyu snorts, “You just did the most virgin thing ever oh my god.”

“That’s why I don’t believe a single thing coming out of her mouth.”

“I’m not a virgin.” you say for the umpteenth time. When they both exchange silent looks, you clear your throat. “But, I might be a little…inexperienced. That’s it though, I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex…like twice.”

Beomgyu shoots up, making you jump in shock. “Twice?!” he shouts. He looks at you like you might’ve just led the saddest life of the entirety of human history.“And three boyfriends? The math isn’t…”

“Well one of them believed pre-marital sex would have us damned so—”

“Oh yeahh, your Christian boy Mark.” Yeonjun marvels. “That guy was a total bitch.”

Yeah, Mark. The guy you thought you’d end up marrying someday, until he decided to cheat with an anal whore as you call it. Cheating on you in broad daylight, in the apartment you shared wasn’t enough, he tried to mansplain the difference between anal virginity and vaginal virginity right after he was caught.

You shudder remembering the scene.

“A little unrelated but I always sort of thought you guys fucked.” Beomgyu starts, breaking the silence. “Like at least once.”

You sigh, he’s never letting this sexual tension bullshit thing go. If anything, Yeonjun probably saw you in the least sexual light possible. Unfortunately. “No. No we haven’t Beomgyu, we keep telling you this.”

“You” He points a finger at you, “Keep telling me this. Not him. That’s suspicious.”

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything even as both you and Beomgyu stare at him— he just mixes his soju and beer together for another shot.

You relent, speaking up. “Yeonjun tell him we haven’t fucked so he can stop insinuating that we’re freaks behind closed doors 24/7.”

Beomgyu snickers at that, still toying with the fabric of your shorts. You think it’s just out of habit.

“Yeah, we haven’t.” Yeonjun finally confirms.

You widen your eyes at Beomgyu to taunt him, getting all up on his face, nonverbally celebrating an I told you so. He just rolls his eyes at you, a dumb smile on his face.

“But I want to.”

…What.

That has both you and Beomgyu frozen, his smile slowly dropping before he turns to face Yeonjun.

Your mind works overtime trying to process whether you heard that right, did it have any hints of a joke, why couldn’t you pick up on it then? Or whether all your life you’ve read it all wrong—is it the drinks speaking or? But drunk words are sober thoughts…right? Is he just-

“Huh?” Beomgyu’s the one to ask for a clarification first.

He only shrugs, proving that none of you heard him wrong. “I wanna fuck her. I mean, you’re hot I’m not being unreasonable.”

You don’t know how to respond without sounding like an even more awkward virgin, so you stay silent, trying to make sense of it in your own head. But when you catch Beomgyu slowly nodding from your peripheral vision like what Yeonjun’s saying makes sense, you painfully nudge him.

He whines, defending himself almost immediately. “What? He’s not wrong, you’re mega hot now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut irritated, “Don’t—god, don’t ever say ‘mega hot’ again.”

Beomgyu mumbles something intelligible, something that sounded like one of his sulky protests that you just ignore as the room falls silent again. Yeonjun seems completely unbothered of the atmosphere, drinking his somaek like this was just another normal day, like he didn’t just air out something that could potentially completely flip your entire dynamic.

The tension is thick, and it suddenly feels way too hot to be here anymore but then Beomgyu speaks up again. “Do you know how to suck a dick?”

You snort, not answering as you keep your eyes on the floor.

But it’s impossible to ignore him when he keeps staring at you, almost too intensely for a question you thought was to break the tension. You look to his face, and there’s no sign of lightheartedness anywhere. He was seriously asking. “So? Do you?”

You decide to humor him, anything to get over this suffocating silence. “Sort of.”

Yeonjun chuckles, “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

You roll your eyes, frankly irritated that he’s even speaking right now. “Sort of means I can, but I don’t know if I’m …good at it.”

He hums in understanding, nodding. “Wanna test your skills out right now?”

Your eyes bulge out, blinking rapidly as you look at Yeonjun in shock. Did he seriously just…say that? Your face grows even hotter as you stutter around a response.

But before you could even form a proper response, Beomgyu says something first, whining into his hands. “I literally cannot be the only one really fucking turned on right now.”

At his words, your eyes instinctively look down to his pants and god, he wasn’t kidding. You don’t know how you haven’t noticed until now, but the imprint of his dick building a tent in his sweatpants has you looking away like you’ve just seen the most sinful thing ever. You don’t miss the small patch of wetness at the top either. You rub your thighs together again, this time you curse your body for reacting because most of their attention was collectively on you now.

Meaning, they would inevitably notice small details.

And that they did. Yeonjun laughs, but it has laces of mean-spiritedness that has your brain frying at a faster speed. “You aren’t the only one. Our little dolls’ horny as shit too, aren’t you? Look at you rubbing your thighs for just the little bits of friction.” Yeonjun says the last part with a pout, so condescendingly, his eyes heavy lidded with what you’re sure is lust.

That gets Beomgyu’s attention, who was lost in his own dilemma, who’s close enough to touch you, to do something, and that has you more nervous than the time you had to present an unfinished slideshow to the harshest professor in your major.

Your throat is dry again, and you can’t seem to get out a word no matter how hard you try. Beomgyu licks his lips momentarily, staring at you, waiting for something, maybe a cue? You don’t know, but they’re both definitely waiting.

Beomgyu’s impatient, and shameless, if that wasn’t already obvious enough. With a rasp to his voice, he whispers, “God, I really wanna touch you right now.”

And you whisper back, like this was secret gossip you’d exchange between yourselves at recess about who was mean to who, who liked who, except this time you’re all grown up, and he’s asking to…touch you. You look behind Beomgyu, Yeonjun very much invested in what’s happening makes you on the fence. “But it’ll—it’ll get…weird. Like, between us.”

Beomgyu’s quick to counter. “No, no it won’t, I promise. Everything’s going to be the exact same. Just baby, please. Let me take care of you.”

The use of a petname again has you biting down on your lips. You search his eyes, and he looks so…desperate, the sudden switch baffling to you, so different from how you usually see him. Is this how he gets with the girls he fucks? It’s so hot, you’ve never been met with this much enthusiasm.

Your feelings heighten even more when he whispers again at your silence, “Please, I’m dying here.”

You let out a breath you were holding in, nodding, “Okay, it’s—it’s okay. You can. Touch me I mean.”

This is the absolute last thing in the world you’d ever expected, like ever. Beomgyu touching you, ministrating your breasts roughly with his big hands through your top, kneeling between your legs, kissing all over from your jaw to your neck like he hasn’t gotten action in decades. It’s like everywhere, your skin scorches, every inch—and he’s so fiery, so harsh with his squeezes and bites that you’re so unprepared for, so unprepared in fact that your eyes already brim with tears, head becoming light with too much stimulation in too little time as you feel him play with your shorts in attempt to take them off.

Suddenly, Beomgyu’s shoved off you completely, having him fall on his ass with a thud. Your eyes fly open in worry, only to be met with Yeonjun way closer to you than earlier. “Dude, calm down you’re going too fast.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes irritably, “You know you could’ve told me that without fucking throwing me off her, right?”

“Like your ass would listen.” Yeonjun mutters, refocusing his attention to you, “Come on, get up on the couch doll, I’ll show you how its done.”

You’re hesitant. You’re okay with messing around with Beomgyu—you are because he’s the best friend that you have zero romantic feelings for, but Yeonjun? You already have this…tiny crush on him that has been fostering since the dawn of times, a light lit then dimmed for years throughout the time you’ve known him…would this not set it on a full blown out fire? Are you ready to risk getting your rocks off to find out?

Yeonjun calls your name again, snapping you out of your reverie. “If you don’t want to I’m not gonna…”

“No no, um—sorry I was just, like, thinking. Sure.” you choke out, cheeks red.

Fuck it.

You situate yourself on the couch like he instructed, looking at Beomgyu for a second in semi-panic, but that horndogs too far gone to properly communicate with you through telepathy so you’re left a puddle, a little jittery as you nervously pick at the thread of the old couch, preparing yourself for whats to come.

Yeonjun smiles, slotting himself between your legs. “I’m gonna take it slow, ‘kay? Tell me if it becomes too much and I’ll stop.”

You nod, taking a deep breath then out to calm your nerves. You don’t have to help him out with pulling your shorts down, it’s like he’s so experienced that he knows how to get around it without you doing much. Which doesn’t help to make you relax…at all. He’s experienced, and you’re not. That’s a cause of a million worries running through your mind at the moment.

The air that had felt so hot earlier, feels cool now, and you shudder a little. “You’re drenched doll, that’s cute.”

Beomgyu finally sits himself next to you, hand on his crotch, slowly rubbing it out as he stares at what Yeonjun sees, craning his neck to get a good look. And you feel…so exposed, it makes your ears red with a mix of shame and arousal as you squeeze your eyes shut.

You jolt a little when you feel his tongue poking at your entrance through your panties—he’s slow as he licks up your slit, soaking your underwear more and more.

“Any of your boyfriends ever eat you out?” Beomgyu asks, hand squeezing his cock through his sweats, before having the genius idea of replacing his with yours—his warm hands resting on yours, guiding you to press down harder on his boner. As if he’s showing you—making you feel how big he is.

You shake your head to his question, and he airs out a chuckle. God, you really want to slap yourself for finding that so attractive. “Of course. Might as well be a real virgin.”

You want to retort back, you really do, because god forbid Beomgyu have the last word, but it's impossible when Yeonjun hooks his finger to push your underwear to the side because you're a goner, a goner the minute you feel his warm breath on your skin, and even worse when you feel his tongue lapping at your core, the direct contact making you gasp out a moan, jolting you awake, clearing your drunk daze.

"Yeonjun, Yeonjun shit-" you don't mean to tighten your grip on Beomgyu, but you do in response to Yeonjuns stimulation which has him hiss, bucking into your touch.

"Do that again. Harder. Touch me baby, yeah, just like that." He babbles, holding onto your wrist, groaning when you oblige, wrapping your hand on his clothed shaft and squeezing the base.

Yeonjun looks at you through lidded eyes, his hands firmly keeping your legs apart, nose brushing against your clit every so often to tease before he finally decides to flatten his tongue against it, finger prodding at your entrance at the same time, making you inexpectantly arch your back, moaning. "F-fuck Jjun!"

You could feel the smirk, the cockiness radiating off him— it oozes even, it's so evident he likes this dynamic, you so reactionary to each little thing he does.

Beomgyu helps you palm his dick before he finally relents, too horny out of his mind, shoving your hand down his pants, making you feel his hot dick, so sticky and wet, it's lewd. "'Move your hand baby, c'monnn. Good girl." He groans, trying to guide you to a speed he finds fitting.

You start getting the hang of it, your hand jerking off his dick without help even as you're practically dumbed out with Yeonjun's tongue working at your sex, trying to purposefully make you lose your mind.

“Pussy so good doll, so good.” his words muffle against your core and it sends a vibration that has your pace falter.

Suddenly, Yeonjun detaches, making you feel terribly empty, and horrible because you were sure you were close. Before you could complain, your eyes widen at him unbuttoning his jeans, dropping them to the floor to have his cock flinging out of his boxers. He gives it a couple strokes, breathing heavy as he stares at your pussy. Wet with his spit, messy. He groans, biting his lips raw and you’ve just never felt so much as a prey until now. “Gonna fill you up soon, don’t worry doll.”

“Pay attention to me too,” Beomgyu whines, kissing your neck again, the space under your earlobe, his teeth grazing against your skin, just begging to have your attention. “Unfair if it’s only him.” he breathes, kissing and kissing and kissing, until he decides to move up to your lips, taking you up a wind as you jerk his dick off faster.

His whines and mewls melt into the sloppiness of the kiss and god is it the hottest thing ever, shit.

Yeonjun basically breaks the kiss by pushing Beomgyu off of you again, and if you had half the mind to think, you would’ve caught the irritation radiating off Beomgyu at Yeonjuns constant cock blocking.

You can’t think now, not when Yeonjun’s lining his dick up with your hole, feeling his hot tip prodding and your pussy fluttering around nothing to suck him in. “Ready? Relax yourself so it’ll feel good, ‘kay?”

You nod, humming.

“Words princess.”

“I’m—I’m ready Jjunie.”

He gives you a crooked grin, fingertips digging into the plush of your hips.

You try, you really do, you try giving them both an experience but the more Yeonjun pushes himself in you, the slower your hand becomes until you finally let go, breathing heavy at the inexplicable feeling of just…fullness. When he’s flush and snug against your core, completely inside you, he relishes, he stays there, eyes fluttering closed with his face so, so close to yours.

And he whispers to you, words Beomgyu can’t possible hear even if he wishes to, and even words you could’ve missed if you weren’t so in tune with every single sense that you’re feeling right now.

“Wish he wasn’t here when I could finally have you.”

You’re driven over the edge, not even given the time to process, before he’s drilling his dick into you—in then back, slowly before he’s building up to snapping his hips, having you gasp in shock at each thrust. You let the stray tear run down, hell, at this point you’re giving all autonomy of your body to the two boys right now, you’re not in control of anything anymore.

“Tight, so tight and warm,” he groans, getting faster, “Shoulda prepped you more, huh? Fuckin’ tighter than a virgin, can barely move.” He laughs breathy.

You just nod, nod at whatever filthy shit he says, tightening your grip on the couch, squeezing your eyes shut at how the pain just bleeds into the pleasure. You’ve never had it like this with your past boyfriends, it never felt like this.

Suddenly, you feel something hot poking at your cheek which spurs you to open your eyes. Your eyes damn near almost bulge out at Beomgyu’s size, cock insistently trying to move past your lips.

“Want your mouth, please, fuck.”

Can you even take that in your mouth?

He doesn’t wait for your contemplation, that’s not Beomgyu’s thing. He does it anyway, managing to slide his dick in your mouth, not even letting you get used to it like Yeonjun had even when he’s a lot bigger, pushing all the way in. He throws his head back, groaning curses as you gag around his length, breathing restricted.

“God you’re so hot like this, princess. Taking my cock so well,” he growls, moving his hips to fuck your mouth. Your eyes water, burning as the taste of him overpowers your senses— all of that paired with Yeonjun’s rhythm getting rougher and more frantic has you lose yourself in ecstasy you don’t think you can handle.

You think you might just faint.

“Have you always been like this? So good at sucking cock, slutty throat just waiting to be stuffed with dick?” Beomgyu rambles filth, losing himself faster than Yeonjun, looking down at you with so much hunger. You return his gaze, blinking up at him innocently, as if to disagree. You’re not slutty, you aren’t.

But that seems to spur him on a completely different direction, like something snapped inside him, cursing loudly as he ruthlessly starts fucking into your mouth. Your mind clouds, dizziness setting in as you feel Yeonjun attach his lips to your nipple through your flimsy top, sucking harshly, making a mess of your shirt with his spit.

You garble around Beomgyu’s dick, trying to say something but it only comes out intelligible and like complete nonsense, it’s humiliating.

“God, you’re sucking me in so greedily, want me to fill you up with my cum so bad, huh?”

Yeonjun slaps your ass and you jolt again, snot and mascara running down your face. He starts kneeding your cheeks, snapping into you rougher, and somehow deeper, you fucking lose it. “You want it so bad, right? Say something baby, or I won’t give it to you.”

You nod, mouth still stuffed with Beomgyu’s cock, who he isn’t intent on stopping any time soon.

It’s enough for Yeonjun you guess because before you know it, you feel hot substance shoot up, filling you to the brim with his cum, still pumping it in even as your orgasm washes over you. You’re beyond overstimulated, especially when Beomgyu cums around the same time, his hot load forcing its way down your throat.

He holds your head against his abdomen, groaning the more he defills you. “Fuck if you do that I might just fall for you,” he growls, voice down octaves, fixating his eyes on how your throat gulps down his cum like it’s water at the Sahara. The taste is so strong, you start coughing up some of it out when his dick flops out of your mouth sticky, finally regaining your breath, gasping for air in large amounts, your cunt spilling Yeonjun’s seed onto the couch slowly, dribbling down to the floor to make a mess.

Beomgyu suddenly pushes Yeonjun out of the way to slot himself between your legs, kissing at your pussy.

“Beomgyu, don’t, can’t—stop, too much-” you try reasoning but he doesn’t listen, that brat. He just starts going at it, lapping at the cum spilling, his lips glistening with the wetness, alternating between kissing and licking your cunt. “‘Course you can baby, you can take it.”

You bite down hard on your lips, lightheaded as you look down at the man ravaging your pussy and cleaning you up at the same time.

To hell with that ‘nothing’s going to change’ bullshit promise, something definitely changed tonight and you can’t put your finger around what.

[miifu666]

you've seen me babble about Yan! Wukong... BUT THIS TIME ITS MACAQUE!! i know he has a big dick- I've always wanted to write abt Macaque, just never had the time to but now I do- hihihii thank you for those who asked for him ♡♡

⋆˙⟡ —CW: Yandere, ooc Macaque, noncon drugging, rough Macaque, insecurities mentioned, manipulative, art is oc x canon but drabble is canon x reader.

Yandere! Macaque

Imagining Yan! Macaque who knows which words to strike your insecurities, what sentences can fully make you dissociate in the middle of the day. To let him be the one who guides you while you're busy drowning in your self-doubt. His hands maneuvering itself to gently lay on your back, the other acting like a fence, making sure no one can bump into you. He coos about how unfortunate you are, poor little you. Yet, his smirk came forth as he looks back.

"Ohohoho! Look at how you're dressed, baby~ well … maybe this part is a little tight for you, don't you think?"

Macaque tasted the bitter end of the stick, while Wukong got to gloat about the honeyed drip he tasted. The dark simian makes sure you never see the good side of that sage, he'll inject every single downside of every trait you love about Wukong. Sometimes, he even uses your own words against you. Turning your friends and family against you for having the same traits as that monkey you adore. You think Wukong's empathetic? How does it feel to be fooled and scammed by your own friends? Wukong's ambitious? Oh but it eats you up doesn't it? You'll never be good enough for yourself. Macaque is observant, he lives in the shadow and he knows how to use your own surroundings to make you feel little.

"Well, im glad you've learned your lesson…i know its hard to accept that sometimes good things, aren't always good, sweetheart"

He remembers when Wukong was possessed by LBD, there was a sense of longing whenever he thought back to how he was also under her control. The images of you so pliant, harmless and a soft bundle of drug induced state inspires him to try and concoct his own drug. Maybe even steals one from a pharmaceutical, any drug will do. As long as it keeps you pliant and adorable, no horrible side effects, at least that's what he hoped for.

He'll study how much doses you need to ensure you're all hazy and high as a kite. Can't even reach the door to his dojo without stumbling and holding on. So cute, adorable, ugh what other words can he use? You're all helpless, who would make sure you dont stumble and hit your head now hmm? Don't worry, your dear boyfriend Macaque is here. Albeit seeing you like this strikes a sadistic side of him he didn't know of.

"Hey hey, where you going sweetheart? A drunken little thing like you shouldn't walk around without any help. What if some big bad guy takes advantage of you hmm? Poor thing"

Macaque knows what he's doing is wrong. Punishing you, keeping you hidden, heck he even silently drugged you without your knowledge just so he can fulfill his stupid fantasy. He's not delusional, there's guilt eating him up and the only way a traumatized simian can say sorry is through his actions and services. he's the best at handling things patiently with care, Macaque will take care of you in ways he knows best, and he's really good at it too.

"Ohoho what's this? You missed me this much? Hahaha so cute.. ill have a fun time ravishing you.. just lay down and let me do my thing"

Yan! Macaque who longs for someone to share the lonely nights with him, someone who he can cuddle with and talk about the stars and which stupid cat reactions you are. Its all he ever dreams of, all he longs for. Yan! Macaque understand every single insecurity you're going through, he knows how to handle it. He'll help you through it, He'll make sure you wont have lonely nights to cry yourself to sleep on. Maybe if you close your eyes hard enough, you can forget about the shackle on your leg and the bruising lovebites around your intimate areas.

"I know… its hard, its tough but life happens and.. i know my little sweetheart can pull through.. you always do. Thats what i love about you.. haha even got me a little too obsessed"

Macaque is a good mate whether you admit it or not, his observant eyes and omniscient six ears focused solely on you. The slight sniff from your nose can be a sign of an oncoming sickness, within no time he'll be ready with the blankets, warm tea, tissues and medicine! You might think he's heartless, sure he locks you up whenever he goes out, talks you down every time you feel confident enough to leave him and yeah he might have a need to see you helpless without him But! But! He's not neglectful, maybe there are times where you feel like he's infantilizing you. Yet he swears it's just an instinct, he always makes sure you get your proper meals, he even watches cooking shows just to make sure you eat your flavourful food! Not those salt and pepper tasteless things.

"I made you something~ ...what? It tastes funny? Hmmm must be the new recipe im trying, im sure you're just not used to it, hun"

[wonwayne]

how enha takes care of you ☁️

pairing : ot7 x gn!reader genre : fluff, comfort, humor warnings : mentions of food word count : 1k

a/n : requested by anon! kind of kicked it off with this hee drabble but had so much fun writing for all the members. for today’s purposes, let’s keep y/n sick and alone in their apartment 🫶

💭 heeseung

my little philosophy is that significant others can be two types of caregivers — one actively tries to treat your illness, the other is emotional support

each has their own merit ofc

but hee is miraculously both

sincerely believes he can rizz you to health

he’s being a bit selfish, he worries, for making you smile all the time

because it heals him more than it heals you

but he makes up for it by making sure you eat like a king (for all three meals a day!) until you feel better

also cuddles with you in bed to keep you warm

if whatever you have is contagious, he is definitely getting it

last but certainly not least: he sings to you. acoustic covers + snippets of his self-produced music, you’re getting it all 😌

almost makes you wish you were sick more often

💭 jay

arrives at your place with like fifty grocery bags (okay maybe not fifty, but… a lot)

big believer in sleep as the best medicine so he lets you be for the most part

but as soon as you wake up and come down to the living room

say hello to a FEAST

literally no room left on the dining table and he’s still doing something in the kitchen????

“jay i can’t… consume all of this” “don’t worry, eat as much as you want for now and i’ll put the leftovers in the fridge”

at this point what is there left to say except “can you just be my husband already”

you’re about to dig in and suddenly he’s standing over you giving you the death stare

“... did i… do something wrong?” “seriously?” your heart stops before he goes, “what happened to my thank you kiss?”

UGH he’s such a softie

💭 jake

is worried SICK and cannot hide it

refuses to leave your bedroom once he first enters it unless absolutely necessary — must stay by your side at all times !!

not the most experienced but the effort is very much there

“should we take the medicine together? would that be easier?” and you KNOW he hates taking medicine

“babe why would you take nyquil. you don’t have a cold.” “idk it can’t hurt can it?” it very much can (don’t do this kids)

he drinks it with you anyway (clinks the medicine cups and says “cheers!”… what are you going to do with this man) and tries his best to fight the drowsiness

ends up dozing with his head on your lap, kneeling by the bed

peak puppy position i tell you PEAK

💭 sunghoon

what matters is not so much how he takes care of you but how he looks so good while taking care of you: simple white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up just to the elbows, hair slicked back a little from washing his face, setting damp towels on your forehead and his forearm veins emerging as he wrings them… help me

it’s the wuthering heights bedridden cathy victorian era aesthetic okay

speaking of books why do i get the feeling that sunghoon would read to you

or simply talk to you about his day or childhood memories or anything to keep you comfortable and entertained

idk i feel like he’d want to remind you of his presence in a “i’m here for you” type of way but without being intrusive… is not at all offended when you fall asleep to his voice

don’t you just love when sunghoon.

💭 sunoo

i have one very specific idea for sunoo and i’m kinda obsessed with it

MINT. TEA. (if you know you know… mint tea is the sinus relief GOD)

and ofc as our resident mint choco lover, how could he not

“baby i made something for you!” you peer into the mug and you’re like 🤨 “you didn’t add chocolate syrup to this did you” “wtf i’m not a monster why would i do that??”

his discography and food preferences beg to differ but he truly does give you pure, steaming mint tea

it is so perfect i promise you will fall in love with him all over again

mint aside we all know this man is a human vitamin like i cannot imagine you staying sick for long

no need to binge tv (it makes your head hurt more anyway), just have sunoo spill all the drama to you for seven hours straight and you’ll be good to go

💭 jungwon

makes you wonder, did this boy have a medical degree this entire time and just not tell me??

knows exactly which medications help with which symptoms, gives you all the immune boosting foods, pulls up with a weighted blanket and a heating pad and a plushie to hug— you’re getting the best sleep of your life no question about it

listens to you so well “i miss what it was like to breathe” “it’s frustrating, isn’t it? as soon as one nostril clears, the other fills up, and it never seems to end” “YES ohmy— [cough] god, yes, you get it :(”

at the same time i think won is the most likely to avoid skinship when you’re sick bc yeah that stuffy nose does not sound fun

is smart about it though; prepares a bubble bath for you and then sets up the heating pad and everything on your bed while you’re in the bath

becomes 143x touchier once you’re back to normal (“i missed squishing your cheeks” “i missed squishing your cheeks!”)

💭 niki

crashes at your place to make sure you’re having a good time

it’s either you watching him game or movie marathon together

you don’t say it but you are so inordinately grateful that he’s caring enough to chill with you on days like these, you know he’d rather do dates outside and play pranks on you every other hour, but he’s giving that up just for you

would share a tub of ice cream with you if you’re craving it, although he voices his concerns first “is it… right to eat cold stuff when you have a cold?” “it defrosts in my mouth don’t worry” “okay you do you”

basically a good old sleepover

every time he checks your temperature he sings his part in fever (he’s humorous like that)

[sl-vega]

Hi Vee, I would like to request a sick! gn reader with some of the genshin characters (Yae Miko, Wanderer, Albedo, and Kazuha) where reader can’t really talk all to well cause of said sickness. What sort of shenanigans would ensue as our dear reader tries to communicate. It’d also be really cool if the reader knew a bit of sign language and tried to communicate that way (your choice on whether the characters know it or don’t). Have a lovely morning/day/evening!

NOW I'M (LOVE)SICK

pairings: Yae Miko, Albedo, Wanderer, Kazuha x [GN!] Reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, headcanons/drabbles, canon compliant, sick! reader, reader knows sign language

synopsis: in which your s/o tries their best to make you feel better since you've fallen ill

CW: mild language, potentially ooc, vee doesn't know how to do headcanons so you have been warned

additional notes: lol perfect timing for this request cuz I'm actually sick rn // header credits: yae header by @/k1aya on pinterest, albedo header by @/kuno on pinterest, wanderer header by @/ggoldiz on pinterest, Kazuha header by @/detailuffy on pinterest

YAE MIKO-Divina Vulpes

miss girl would be babying you 100%

kinda acts more like your mom than your s/o in this case tbh

"I told you not to go adventuring in the rain!" but then she goes back to saying shit like "aww you poor thing~, let me get some soup for you"

yae would also tease you too, cuz yk, she's yae miko

since she's not human, I don't think she can get sick, well not any human diseases at least

she tries her best to be there for you though, probably reads a bunch of light novels from her publishing house to help you fall asleep

if you try to communicate via sign language to her, she probably just hushes you and grabs your hands so you stop frantically making hand signs

cuz she wants you to get your rest

I think she does know a little sign language, but she never really committed to learning it, she'd gladly start for you though

ALSO

i think she'd turn into her fox form and let you cuddle with her like she's a stuffed animal

totally not projecting rn

ALBEDO-Princeps Cretaceus

he'd def send sucrose over to check on you if he's busy, but once he's done with his work, he is SPRINTING over to check on you

✨he's a runner he's a track star✨

maybe it's just me but I feel like Albedo would be the type of boyfriend that worries over you a lot

when he does come over, he probably has lots of concoctions that are supposed to clear your throat, but they're probably made of...

less than delicious materials

and you aren't becoming your boyfriend's personal test subject no thank you, not today

since he has a little sister, he knows how to take care of you

probably has experience cuz klee would get super sick after running around in the rain for too long-

makes you chicken soup, and tea, the usual

if you try to communicate with him via sign language due to losing your voice, he'll probably have the same reaction as yae

just forces you to go back to sleep

he def knows sign language (mr. genius🙄) but he wants you to get better as soon as possible

klee also comes over at some point, probably tells you some crazy story about how she tried to blow up dawn winery with diona or smth-

her and Albedo also make some get well cards for you once you fall asleep as well <3

WANDERER-Peregrinus

this mf

if you've heard his voice lines you already know what this bastard would say to you

he'd call you weak and say shit like "a small illness has already rendered you helpless? how pathetic..."

THE FACT I CAN PERFECTLY HEAR HIM SAY THAT-

he's a puppet so he's never been sick cuz he can't get sick either

nahida would probably slap him and scold him and tell him to be nicer though

on the inside he's super concerned about you

lowkey, he's afraid of losing you

not that he'd ever admit it-

(tsundere scara for the win)

he's worried that you're going to end up like the child he used to live with, and that you'll become "powerless before your mortality" as he'd like to say

same as yae + albedo, if you'd try to communicate with him via sign language he'll tell you to sleep

(in a slightly aggressive way but he's scara what do you expect?)

i don't think he knows sign language at all tbh

he'll ask nahida about it and he'll probably start borrowing books from the akidemiya and practices in secret for you

he WILL ruin his sleep schedule for you but he'll probably just brush it off and be like: "meh, it was easy."

when in reality this mf has spent an AGONIZING amount of time just to try and impress you

he'll make you tea too, the bitter kind

the VERY bitter kind

oml this sounds like scara slander 😭 dw I actually really like him

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA-Acer Palmatum

like albedo, he'd be super worried about you

tells beidou that he needs to make sure you're okay before the crux leaves for it's next destination

brings you tea, soup, and writes cute little love poems for you while you rest in his lap

tells you stories about his travels while holding your hand and sappy stuff like that

kazuha is a top tier boyfriend fr fr

unlike the others, if you tried to communicate with him via sign language, he let you teach him certain phrases

i think he knows a little bit due to his travels so he's picked up on a bit of it

he thinks it's really cute of how you try to explain things to him since you can't speak so you probably alternate between the hand signs themselves and pen and paper

VERY attentive to you

"slow down love, we have all the time in the world."

[omgahgase]

more charthur headcanons/drabbles bc i'm mentally ill over them

charthur cuddling can go one of two ways: they're both suction-cupped to the other octopus style, limbs thrown over hips and hands twisted in hair or night shirts, their legs tangled together so tightly that, in the morning when their bodies ache and their joints click, they have to gently maneuver out of the pile they've made themselves. or, and this one is more likely bc they're both human furnaces so it gets hot under the covers, they're on totally opposite ends of their bed, their blanket lost somewhere on the hardwood floor of their room, but one of them has a hand stretched out, either gripping a hip or gently placed on a broad chest. sometimes both of them do, just to feel the easy rise and fall of their breath. just to know that the other is still breathing

arthur is an avid tree climber. charles will find him sketching out the scene from a branch that should've been difficult to scale to for a man of his size, but arthur somehow got up there. charles will follow him bc of course he does, and when he's sitting pretty next to arthur, their feet dangling and shoulders pressed together, he finds himself giggling. arthur would ask him what's so funny and charles will remind him of the dumb song jack used to sing about his parents when they'd share a kiss in front of him. "charles and arthur, sitting in a tree," charles would sing. "K-" arthur says before he pecks charles on the lips. "I-" another kiss. "S-S-" two more, right on charles nose, the curve of his brow. "I-N-G," he finishes the song by kissing charles twice on both of his cheeks and then plant a big one right on his lips, smiling into charles' laughter

arthur loves dogs, that's a given. he's the type of guy to bring strays back to camp and him and jack would spend all day bathing them and feeding them, making sure they're patched up from injuries and the like. charles doesn't mind dogs, he's fond of cane, but he'd rather his lover bring home a quieter pet, maybe one that charles can tend to without getting slobber all over his clothes. it's not until one day, charles is reading under the shade of a tree when arthur runs up to him, more eager than a honey bear in a bee hive. "guess what i found you." charles doesn't want to guess, but still, he indulges. "more fiber for my bow?" "no." "moonshine for flaming arrows." "no, but i'll get right on that. tomorrow." charles shrugs, dog ears his page and stands so him and arthur are level. arthur also kisses him in greeting bc he can't help himself. as if charles can't help himself either when he pulls away. "what, then?" arthur reaches into his pack and pulls out the most least likely thing charles ever thought he'd have. "you found me a...turtle?" arthur nods, happily, nearly sending his hat flying off his head. "you said you wanted a pet that don't spit on you, an' i thought cats were outta the question too, then i found this 'lil guy in the grass near the pond!" arthur scratches the turtles head with his finger, and charles, despite himself because what the hell? almost coos. the turtle is pretty cute, about the size of arthur's palm, and something in charles' chest tells him to hold it. so he does. and within in seconds, he's in love all over again, with both this small creature and his cowboy. "thank you," he says, reeling arthur in by his handkerchief and kissing him soundly on the mouth. arthur responds in kind, kissing him back and winding an arm around charles' waist. "never thought our first kid would be a reptile," he jokes, smiling into charles' shoulder as charles tucks his new friend against his chest. "it could be worse. you could've brought home an alligator." arthur hums, trails his arms around charles' middle, hooks his chin over his shoulder, and sways. "what a strange 'lil family we got here, huh?" charles chuckles, and sways with him. "i wouldn't have it any other way."

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️ (i dont know if you've already done it due to being offline for a few days, apologies if so! <3)

hi!!! i think this ask was floating around a few weeks ago so some of these are repeats, but i guess extra boosts don't hurt 😅 i hope you're doing well!! sorry for the late response skdjfksd

➼ "get me a damned matcha" - longfic, college x coffeeshop x modern!au

Yes, I just HAD to include this one! It's my baby and one of the few things I've made that I'm actually proud of, even if it's just for the fact that I've actually finished it lmao. I think it's been long enough since I've finished it that I might reread it myself since it is uh, quite self-indulgent and is definitely comforting for me 😅

➼ Needy Little Brat - Post-War!Dadvi

Just a drabble, but I think Levi chasing after his toddler is adorable so I'm including it

➼ Don't Leave Me - Canonverse Angst

Y'know, sometimes you wake up and choose violence, and I chose to write an angst piece that had some people curse me out because they were too sad at the end LMAO

➼ Your Safe Space - Hurt/Comfort

I struggle with emotion regulation because I'm either overcontrolled and stoic one minute and then absolutely off-the-rails and getting triggered by everything the next (thanks mental illness). Anyway, I wrote a piece on it where Levi gives you a safe space to let your emotions out and it's a comfort fic for me

➼ Your Worth - Canonverse Hurt/Comfort

I feel like a lot of us need this!!! I struggle a lot with feeling like I don't have a niche talent or like, am not the one to go to for knowledge/help on certain things. Whatever I think I'm good at, there's always someone better, and I'm always chasing this goal of proficiency that I never seem to be able to reach. So I wrote Levi helping you process through that and realize your own worth independent of external validation 🥺

[zaungrrrl]

Modern slash college au fic where Caitlyn smokes Vi outttttttttt. Walk with me here I have a long informal drabble in my mind like I could probably sit down and write smth for real if I wanted to… Sorry for every error known to man in this i didn’t say it was anything serious!!!! Established relationship already but they’re still kinda new i’ll save the slow burn for another night. cw for recreational drug use (obviously)

like Caitlyn lovesssss to get high at the end of the day because it relaxes her and she sleeps better and like one night Vi is staying over after they spent too long working on their respective assignments and Vi is like. kind of restless cannot sleep and Caitlyn just isn’t that tired at that point like she’s on her phone scrolling on reels… eventually after Vi heavy sighs Caitlyn is like “Vi what’s up” and she’s kinda simple with it “I can’t sleep… too wound up from studying all day” and this is when Caitlyn has a brilliant idea

*heavy sigh* do you want to try something *pulls out a rolled joint from her bedside table*

vi: “do i want a cigarette right now?”

cait: “no it’s a joint… like weed? marijuana?”

imagine the fanciest pre-roll of weed u can imagine and triple that idea. caitlyn is rich as hell you knowwww she’s only buying top shelf stuff

vi rolls her eyes, but with no malice at all “i know what weed is. i’ve just never seen it look so fancy. just looks like a cigarette there.”

“that’s kinda intentional… not that i’ve ever gotten caught with weed but at least on first glance it’s not like… a bag of flower. plus i can’t really roll myself”

Vi laughs a little at that, trying to envision a really botched joint made by caitlyn… She knows caitlyn partook in smoking weed at parties, she preferred it to alcohol (no hangover 😄) but Vi maybe assumed it was more of a social smoking thing.

“You could always ask me… I mean I roll my own cigarettes sometimes it can’t be much different from tobacco. And jinx says buying stuff pre rolled is more expensive too.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that. Do you not smoke?”

“meh…” Vi scratches her head “just never really got into it i guess. made me sluggish every time i tried it, i don’t really like that feeling. Jinx is into it though.”

“oh…” Caitlyn never wants to pressure anyone, especially Vi, into doing anything. “we don’t have to smoke if you don’t want to then. it just helps me relax when i feel wound up… i guess”

“no, i’ll smoke with you. you said it helps you relax right?”

caitlyn nodded

“i feel like i could only smoke with you and actually enjoy it. just don’t let me get too high, okay?”

they move outside to caitlyn’s balcony and just sit on the ground. vi allows caitlyn to lead the way on this, acting as an observer who has been graciously let in on this private, almost meditative ritual.

caitlyn plays some music on her phone quietly and flicks on the lighter a few times, and takes a looooong drag and exhales as if she’s finally able to relax a bit

she extends the joint to vi and restates that she doesn’t have to smoke anything if she doesn’t want to. vi is like… give me the damn joint

vi is a bit more apprehensive with it, but she takes a drag and only coughs a small amount but cait freaks out

“are u okay??! do you need anything i have water or we can just stop like it’s fine we ca-“

“i’m okay!!!!! just kind of different from tobacco”

caitlyn then takes another drag and sits with the joint in her hand for a second. she is a bit nervous to suggest this, her body language closing up a little and she’s fidgeting with the hem of her sleep shirt

“there’s… an easier way… if you want less of that burning sensation in the back of ur throat…”

😏 shotgunning 😏

vi: “sure, ill try it”

cait: *long sigh* “okay, open your mouth”

vi gets kinda flirty with it LMFAO she’s like “anything for you, cupcake” (she doesn’t really know what’s going on)

cait: be serious!!!!!! open!!!!!

vi hums in response, parting her lips

cait: comes in close… Probably holding vis face… takes a looooooong drag even longer than the one before, hovers her mouth over vis and lets out a gentle exhale

vi is kind of shocked at the action, but she catches on that if caitlyn is exhaling the smoke it’s her time to inhale it… and like caitlyn had suggested, it was much smoother

cait pulls back after a second, but their foreheads are still touching. she’s feeling it a bit now. much more relaxed, a bit carefree, as if the weight of the world has been lifted off her shoulders.

“any better?” she asked

vi was actually stunned like didn’t know what to say but eventually she smiles and is like “much better.” she waits a beat, “might need you to do that again”

caitlyn laughs gently, repeating the action again

vi is also now feeling it, but she’s a bit more silly with it.

they sit in silence not feeling the need to fill the space with words, they’re fine just being in each others space

vi: “if you wanted to kiss me you could have just done it ykno” and smirks

cait is immediately stammering kind “wait no i was actually trying to help but like yeah i always wanna kiss you but like did it help like it was smoother right????? I read about it somewh-“

vi cuts her off and kisses her 😏 gently though… it’s very sweet

she smiles into it, and cait is a little caught of guard but quickly embraces it…

i can keep going muahahaha :3c

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Fall Drabbles, Day 7

prompt: flannel

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank loves that you wear his clothes but would rather you stay warm when you're not feeling well.

warnings: swearing, brief non-graphic descriptions of illness, fluff

a/n: I keep warning for swearing but I don't even think these all have swearing lol. Anyways, another one in the Lumberjack!Frank AU!

w/c: <1k

Treading up the hill through the snow, Frank hefted the pile of freshly split logs to the top of the existing stack, except for the handful he carried under his arm and into the cabin. Kicking off his boots, he carefully placed two new logs into the dying fire, stirring the embers before replacing the screen as quietly as he could. 

The house was dark, quiet—lacking the life that you usually brought to it. That was what he expected tonight, though. He'd been out later than usual, a cacophony of nightmares and intrusive thoughts plaguing his mind as he hacked into tree after tree.  Combined with the fact that you were feeling under the weather, he was glad to come home to a silent house and a diminishing fire rather than an exhausted, yet awake, girlfriend. 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he plopped down on the sofa, snatching his current read from the end table as he sat. As he made his way through a few chapters, the growing heat from the flames pushed the chill from his aging bones. Shifting onto his side, a soft padding caught his attention. You shuffled out from his bedroom, rubbing your eyes with a yawn. 

“Hiya, sleepyhead.” Frank murmured, catching you as you collapsed into his lap. “How're ya feelin'?“

Giving a half-hearted shrug, you nestled in against him. ”Little better.“ Your poor voice was scratchy and quiet as a mouse. He was overcome with the urge to whisk you back into the bedroom and bundle you up tightly—especially when he registered that your outfit was only a flannel shirt. 

”Hmm, ya don't sound too good. Ain't ya chilly, sweetheart?“ He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing one hand over your exposed thigh in an attempt to warm you up. 

Nodding against his neck, you shuddered. Frowning, Frank pressed a kiss to your head. “Why don't we get ya somethin' better to wear? Ya look adorable in my shirt, doll, but it ain't the warmest choice.”

Making a mournful noise of protest, you wrapped the soft fabric tightly around yourself. “I like it. It's soft, like you.” 

Frank chuckled at the unique description of himself, hand still stroking your bare leg. “A'right, let's get ya some pants, at least.”

Gently setting you on your feet, Frank's heart swelled with a protective affection when you shyly took his hand as he led you to the bedroom. You looked so small in his massive shirt, arms completely dwarfed by the plaid sleeves

Finding his softest pair of sweats, he held them up. “How 'bout these?” 

At your sleepy yet affirmative nod, he gestured for you to sit before slipping the pants over your legs. Tying the string tightly to prevent the oversized fabric from falling down, Frank perched next to you, holding you upright as a coughing fit bent you at the waist. 

“Christ, doll, you ok?” In lieu of a response, you sighed roughly and let him put an arm around your sagging shoulders. “Why don't I make ya somethin’ hot to drink before we both get some rest?” 

“Yes please.” You whispered, hoarsely. Kissing your cheek tenderly, Frank stood up and made for the door—only to be pulled back by your weak grip.

“Can I come?” Your voice cracked around the request and he winced as his own throat ached in sympathy. 

“If you want to, darlin’,” He nodded, grasping your waist to help you off the bed. 

Once in the kitchen, Frank got to work. Grabbing a lemon, some honey, and a bottle of whiskey from the pantry, he pulled you flush against him as the water started to boil—tucking your unusually warm head under his chin and drawing circles over your back. 

Grimacing at the shrill whistle from the teapot, you withdrew from his comforting embrace, giving an insincere smile when he showed you the silly mug he’d set aside. 

Frank made quick work of the task at hand, whipping up the hot toddy with ease and passing it to you. “Careful, darlin’, it’s hot.” 

Nodding blearily, you gratefully accepted the mug, pulling it to your flannel-covered chest with a small sigh of relief. “Thank you.” You murmured, blowing on the liquid before taking a few small sips. Humming appreciatively, you closed your eyes. 

“Anytime, babydoll.”

[littlejuicebox]

Dancing on my own

Guys I don’t know what this is, it’s just some random angsty drabble that came out inspired by the song “Dancing on My Own” by Robyn (the version by Calum Scott is also nice).

I’m trying to get out of a writing slump so there might be a few more random bits of writing here and there. I’m not sure I even like this tbh lol.

Summary: You and Astarion decided to be just friends after his Moonrise Towers confession. He couldn’t make himself admit to you that he wanted more than that. He knew you deserved better than what he could offer. Now that his quest with Cazador is done, he’s totally lost. He wants you, but you have someone else now; he thinks it’s someone better than him. He’s heartbroken.

Tags/Warnings: PG13, lots of angst, depression, PTSD, low self esteem, depersonalization/derealization, sad Astarion, tbh it’s kinda just a sad bit of drabble

Astarion killed Cazador. You’d think he would’ve been happy… ecstatic, even. But instead he felt exceedingly numb and so, so tired.

It had been nearly a week since then. Astarion had spent most of that time in his room, trancing or simply just lying in the dark. He was exhausted; his limbs felt like lead.

Shadowheart was concerned he had fallen ill and kept checking on him. He would simply grunt to her in response or ignore her line of questioning until she sighed and left.

You came by a few times a day to offer him your wrist; he would drink with a misty-eyed, faraway expression… or sometimes not at all. His hand would linger for a moment on yours, and then he would roll himself the other direction, turning away from you.

It was hard to look at you, to be that close to you, to touch you, to taste you. Blood and sex had been so intertwined in the beginning, it always brought back the memories from before. It made him sick to his stomach.

But his hunger often won, in the end.

How ironic, that the only blood which satisfies his near-insatiable thirst is also the only blood that makes his stomach churn with guilt and disgust at himself.

A double edged sword. Stabbed through his heart.

He should be happy… ecstatic, even. But, by the gods, is he so, so tired. Can a vampire rot into the earth if they stay in one place for too long?

Perhaps. Perhaps he should get up and move, if only to avoid rotting away.

Astarion manages to take a short bath and pull himself together… somewhat. It’s hard to move when your limbs feel like lead. His shirt is wrinkled, and his hair feels like it’s not quite in place, but it will have to do.

The pale elf slinks down to the tavern, where the evening crowd is teetering the hazy line between buzzed and drunk. He’s not in much of a mood for talking to others, so he sits in a corner booth, hoping the natural shadows and his brooding demeanor will deter any visitors. For a few moments he feels normal… or at least acts it. But then he sees you. And Halsin.

Halsin has his arms coiled around you as he absolutely ravages your lips. His thick hands are gripping your body; one hand on your waist, one on your neck. It’s an exceptional amount of PDA; he would vomit, if he had anything left in his stomach from the only small sip he’d taken from you this morning. The hand the druid tenderly placed on your neck is covering the scars Astarion had marked on you from the times before, back when you’d been his. Had you been his? Back before—

“I had a plan. A nice, simple plan…”

“Maybe what you need is a friend, not a lover.”

Astarion had hurt you. He’d hurt you. The look that crossed your face as he confessed is etched into his mind for all eternity; it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes from a trance and the last thing he sees before he slips into one. He’ll never forget the tears that welled in your eyes, which you’d rapidly blinked away. And then you thanked him… thanked him for telling you, for being truthful. Thanked him for hurting you.

He should have lied. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have chose differently from the start.

He knew what he did was terrible; you deserved something more, something real. He just couldn’t be that. He didn’t know how to be… real.

Hells, was he even real now? Was any of this real?

He felt like a shell. Hollow. Empty. It all felt like a sick, strange dream that he couldn’t wake from. All that time he spent running, and now he no longer had to… but who was he, if not a runner?

He’d run from Cazador. Run from you. Run from the concept of true intimacy, which you had so willingly offered.

But now? Now he wanted nothing more than to run to you. He wanted to run into your arms and be held by you, comforted by you. But there you were in the arms of someone who was able to give you what you deserved.

Who was he to get in the way of that? He was nothing. He was no one.

“Good to see you out of bed.”

The vampire rips his eyes away from you and Halsin, where the two of you seem oblivious to the world and stuck in a heated embrace.

Shadowheart is standing next to the booth; her eyes had followed his, and she’d been watching the same passionate makeout scene with mild interest.

She flicks her gaze back to Astarion with a knowing look, and a soft, sad smile crosses her face. The cleric extends her hand out to him, “Come on, Astarion. One dance and then I will let you slink back into this corner to sulk for the rest of the night, if you wish.”

He sighs and considers the offer. He doesn’t want to move, but he can’t keep picking different places to stay and rot. And he can’t keep watching you two. His limbs still feel like lead.

“Very well.” He murmurs, and he takes Shadowheart’s hand.

They dance. It’s a platonic sort of jig, mostly spinning around at arms length with one another. For a moment, Astarion feels a brief glimmer of happiness. He chuckles and smiles; his limbs don’t feel like lead. And then the tune ends, and he’s wandering back to the booth with Shadowheart, and that sinking feeling begins to grow in his chest once more.

“You should talk to them, you know, Astarion. Let them know how you feel. They may choose differently… if you make your true desires known. You did tell them you wanted to be friends, after all.” The cleric murmurs, with another sad little smile. Her eyes contain pity; he hates that.

He’s watching you and Halsin again, where you two are staring contentedly at one another, chatting away. You’re lost in your own little impenetrable bubble. You don’t even see him or notice him at all.

He’s nothing. He’s no one.

Astarion looks so dejected; normally he would be better at putting on his mask. But he’s so tired. He should be happy. But he’s exhausted.

“Maybe I should. But Tav looks happy… I can’t bring myself to ruin that. Selfish as I am, I do care about them, you know.”

Shadowheart nods and sighs. She knows something, he can tell by the look on her face. She wants to say more but decides against it. A small pat on the vampire’s hand and she murmurs, “Good night, Astarion. I hope to see you down here in the morning.”

Then she’s gone, heading upstairs to her room. And he’s alone again.

Astarion watches you two for a bit longer, even though every second he witnesses causes another crack in his fragile heart. Then his eyes return to the dance floor and he sighs before forcing himself out of the booth again. His limbs feel like lead, but he has to start somewhere.

For now, he’ll have to keep dancing on his own.

[fatuismooches]

So we all know that fragile!reader is always taking care of the other clones and trying their best to help despite their frail condition. And we all know that the clones are all different ages from Dottore’s life right? Well, what if there was a clone that looked like Dottore but when he was like 8-10?

Dottore most likely had made this clone to look like him as a child so it could easily deceive people. Despite this clone looking fairly young, his mind says otherwise…

And you, being the ever so caring individual and always trying your best to not be looked down upon or make the clones worry more over you, always bake them treats. (Of course with the help of at least a clone or two since a few years ago, you had tried to make your signature chocolate chip cookies alone as a treat for the clones, but you had ended up dropping and spilling a lot things that day. Leaving the clones to pick up your mess, which you profusely apologized for that day.)

However, whenever you bake treats, Dottore’s youngest clone, (Segment #78) which you nicknamed “Zandy” since he was so adorable! And well, calling him something like the others seemed wrong. So you have him a special name!

“Zandy” was usually always the one helping you bake these treats since he had such a sweet tooth. You didn’t mind him helping you out since while you both worked, he would tell you about some new concoction or experiment he’s done. And you can’t help but feel bittersweet as you’re reminded of back when it was just you and Zandik doing experiments. Well, mainly Zandik since he didn’t really let you touch his things before you got sick, and much less after you did get inflicted with your illness.

And the clones are all like a family despite threatening each other and biting at each others necks. But when you’re in the room all the clones focus their attention on you.

But…all the clones collectively dislike little “Zandy”. Since in your eyes, he could do no harm. But, whenever you’re not looking, he always gives them the most evilest grin ever. Especially since he’s the one who always gets cuddles from you and comfort since he’s “just a kid”. It makes them mad, of course. You even read him bed time stories whenever you aren’t too ill. Which in turn always makes the clones jealous since they too wish to be read a bed time story. To be able to hear your oh so sweet voice.

They too wish to be pampered. After all, if it means being able to get out of work and being able to stay glued to your side and help you with whatever tasks, then by all means they’re in for it. Especially since they all care deeply for little ol you. You’re just a sweet little thing that even if you got a paper cut they would literally tear down the world. (Literally)

So although you may be dependent on the clones and they all may be jealous of each other (and especially Zandy), they would still kill for you and try their best to make your life one worth living. Since after all, they don’t want to see the one person who has always cherished and cared for them be gone too soon…

Waaa I think this Drabble was messy n all over the place so I don’t think it turned all that great (˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) I hope you and everyone else enjoy it though! Zandy would definitely be one of those kids who could have blood tainted on his clothes and you would worry thinking he got hurt instead. (Which he would definitely act as if he did, but do clones even have blood???) ( ´･ω･)…｡oо○

But I hope you have a lovely day and wonderful night! May you have sweet dreams for the rest of the year n get lots of chu chus and huggies!! Please take care of yourself I luv u sm I always get so giddy n excited whnever you respond to my little stories because seeing your amazing writing skills being added on to my stories make me roll all over on my bed hehe! making me blush !! ´･ᴗ･`

-from your dear littl boo boo🎐 anon

ଘ(✿˵•́ ᴗ •̀˵)

MY BOO BOO ILY... I LOVE SMOL DOTTORE SM 😭🫶

You loved all of Dottore’s clones. Though some in different ways than others. When you found out he had a clone of himself as a child, you were shocked! Despite being with him for so long, you have never even seen a picture of Zandik as a kid!

Zandy, as you’ve come to call him, was adorable. It was so funny to have to bend down to reach his height for once and be able to give him head pats. If you weren’t so weak, you could give him piggyback rides!  And he was so talkative and helpful. Showing off new recipes and even teaching you simpler ways to bake and use the equipment! It reminded you of how your own Zandik would show you life hacks back when you were students. Always telling you about the latest stuff, and also complaining to you how the older clones are “bullying” him (he wants you to yell at them.) Are the clones grown men? Yes. Are they jealous of a kid for stealing your attention. Also yes. Multiple times Zandy has tugged on your sleeve and pulled you away from them with the babiest eyes and then given the clones the wickedest grin. The clones have no way to fight back because of how much you dote on the bb.

Whenever you come into the room all movement and work stops and the clones just kinda, look at you and appreciate your existence. The regular Fatui workers are confused at first but they quickly connect the dots and realize you are the second Harbinger’s favored one. They are also at a loss because the clones give them a death glare if they don’t greet and treat you with respect but also get mad if they talk to you.

No because really, if you got hurt they’d be fighting over which clone has the chance to exact revenge, especially if another person hurt you. (Many clones have gotten in trouble for leaving their station to assist you with something. Even if your task takes one minute to complete, they will find a way to stretch it out in order to spend max time possible with you.) But they can’t be too mad at each other. The idea of you having to struggle with no help from them leaves an irritating sensation within them. They want your life to be as easy as possible, smooth and happy, at least until you get better and can stand on your own too feet. They love you very much <33

🎐 ANON THIS DRABBLE WAS LITERALLY AMAZING SHUSH 😭 I want to give Babyttore all the headpats. Reader would be the kind of person to think he can do no wrong. And maybe the clones don’t have like, actual red blood, but like… purple liquid lol. It really makes me think of how much clones Dottore has, it would be nice if we got a number one day lol. Anyway… *holds all the clones dearly* I love the idea of fragile! reader never being lonely because the lab is just so full of excitement when you’re around <3 They always have so much ideas to keep you occupied and they get so smug when you choose them <3 Also, the clones don't even need sleep but they are diving under the covers if it means you can read them a story !! 😭

*hugs you and cries* THANK YOU 🎐 ANON ILY… <33 Please take care of yourself too I love seeing your brain rots in my inbox!! You’re making me blush 🥺

[strxbrymochi]

random when you're sick jaemin drabble

pairing: jaemin x reader (i tried to make it gen neutral djsjsjs)

words: like less than 1k ish??

warnings: mentions of sickness, illness, id say it be too close to home fr

synopsis: basically you're sick and jaemin's here to comfort you as much as he can long distance style.

note: a random ass drabble i came up w as im lying in bed sick for the 4th day and after a conversation i had with my mom bc i needed an outlet lol (its like 99% based on real life events other than the fact that i unfortunately do not have a jaemin with me 💔)

you absolutely despised being sick. okay, maybe sometimes you would be okay with it because it served as a formidable excuse to get out of work or your responsibilities for a couple days but that was when "sick" constituted to simply a cold or a fever that passes over the next day, not when you're tied down to the bed and the toilet every second of every day.

you wake up one day to shivers, brushing it off, you continue on with your day, heading over to work. on your way to work, you start feeling dizzy, nausea hitting you. you take a pill to calm down and make your way to your shift. today, you were working at a small fast food chain restaurant and if things couldn't get any worse, you were assigned to deal with the blowtorch. the heat from the fire and small space rushing all the way to your head but you push through, making it to the very end of your 3 hour shift.

making your way to your next appointment, you scavenge for food to hopefully give you back your appetite. you haven't eaten a proper decent meal all day; only crackers before you drank your pill. oh, and did i forget to mention, you headed into work with a 38 degree fever; claiming "to be fine" because you needed the hours to sustain your living expenses in a foreign country all alone.

at your meeting, you're met with fatigue. a wave of exhaustion rushes over you and coughing fits take over. your brain barely processing what was being discussed, only speaking when directly being asked a question. but still, you push through, ensuring everyone around you that you were going to be okay. that it will all brush away soon and that you really are just tired. your fever has reached close to 40 degrees.

you sigh, throwing your phone on your bed. on any other day you would have loved to talk to jaemin, especially now that you two were oceans apart. it killed you to know that if only you hadn't moved he would be right there and you could see him in person. that alone would've been all the medicine you need to get better. but alas, life had other plans.

the next couple days consisted of sleep, wake up, repeat. occassional trips to the toilet and visits from coughing fits disrupting your sleep that make you sound like you're entering into an entirely different dimension. you had absolutely no energy-- to eat, to move, to do anything really. when you said you needed a break, this wasn't what you meant.

jaemin would call you, or attempt to call you and you would pick up, if you were awake and if you were in the mood to speak. he would send you daily messages to drink your medicine, eat meals, get some rest. you knew he was worried and it killed you not to be able to ensure some type of reassurance everything was going to be fine. you knew if he found out what you had been actually doing, you would never hear the end of it.

one night you had awoken from your nap struggling to find something to eat, let alone the energy to consume anything. at this point, your stomach is practically bounded to an electrical heating compress to temporarily soothe your pains. you weren't sure if you were getting any better. your fever was relatively gone sure, but the coughs, stomach pains and diarrhea remained. let alone, that morning you almost passed out in the toilet, hearing muffled, ears ringing, vision blurred. all you could do is pray.

well, at least your sense of humor was back.

---

LOL such an abrupt ending idk i just needed an outlet to express how im currently feeling and whats been going on these past few days so if theres a delay with mtt or my other stuff i apologize once again 😭😭 need all the prayers and support i can get fr; being sick is one thing, being sick in a foreign country alone is another story. for anyone else who has gone thru or is currently going thru same thing, i hope yalls feel better soon and that know things will get better! bc i know thats what i need rn 🫡

[chibipandaao3]

PitBabe Drabble

Slight AU taking place after Babe and Charlie made up in the last episode. No real spoilers, I don’t even mention the event of the episode beyond the powers bit.

Jeff has an important conversation with Babe regarding Charlie.

This is very short — I’m not sure how or if I’ll expand it and post it on Ao3 later. Ideas are very welcome if you have any. Additionally, if you get inspired-by all means-take this idea and run with it. Happy New Year.

“What exactly are you insinuating, Jeff?” Babe wanted to sound annoyed, but the question came out more tired than anything else. He’d forgiven Charlie, He even thought he vaguely understood why Charlie had made the choices he made. Why wouldn’t you hide from a man like Tony? If you truly loved someone, why wouldn’t you do everything you can to make them less of a target? Even the lying made some sense, regardless of how much Babe hated it. Perhaps it was foolhardy to accept the apology so easily, but he knew that Charlie had no ill intentions towards him. He could feel it. Which was why it was so confusing to have Jeff corner him suddenly. The boy had been mostly quiet since their last encounter, Babe thought he had been sick frankly with how pale he had become that night. Then suddenly he appears minutes after Charlie left, demanding to speak to Babe, “I know you are worried about your brother, but –”

“I’m a seer,” Jeff rushed out quietly, “Charlie said he wouldn’t mention it for my safety, but I want you to know,”

Babe wasn’t sure whether he was surprised or not. The revelation certainly fit in smoothly with everything else he’d learned in the last several days, “Okay. Thank you for –”

“No, that’s not…things are changing. Bad things are coming, and I think you need to understand exactly what has happened and what is at stake,” Jeff persisted forcing himself further into the house, “And I have to tell you before Charlie gets back,”

“Why?”

“Because he’s protecting you, even if it means endangering himself,” he couldn’t help but frown at the thought, “He never intended to take your power – he’s never been able to do so without pain…”

“What?” Babe blinked in confusion, “Why didn’t he…”

“He wanted to. He thought that it would make you less of a target, but he’s only been able to take someone’s entire gift when Tony…” Jeff trailed off uncomfortably, clearly regrouping in his head, “When Tony thought Charlie was powerless he tried one last thing,”

“What?” Babe was hesitant to know the answer. Based on Charlie’s story, he had been a young kid when he was brought to the house. Though Babe knew firsthand that Tony cared little about age or kindness.

“He beat him,” the words came out soft and frank. Echoing somehow despite their lack of power, “Tony beat him to see if his powers would reveal themselves, and they did. When Charlie is in eminence amounts of pain, he can easily draw away someone else's power. Like a survival instinct… Once Tony figured that out,” he trailed off again quietly.

“I didn’t hurt him…” Babe couldn’t quite keep the horror out of his words. He was certain he had not hurt Charlie, at least not physically.

“Exactly,” Jeff suddenly relaxed, “You didn’t…and he didn’t know he was taking your powers…”

The offer Charlie had given him, the willingness to end his own life so that Babe could regain his senses felt more painful and heavy all at once – like a knife to the abdomen, “but, then why would he?”

“Guilt…” Jeff shifted, looking back to the door, and sighed, “I gotta go…don’t tell him I told you – it was just important that you know. Please be careful with him,”

“Wait. I –”

“I can’t. He’ll be back soon and if he sees me, he’ll know exactly why I was here,”

[folklorianhaze]

Recuperation

Pairing: Nesta x Cassian (Nessian)

Rating: T (13+)

Tags: One Shot, Sick Character, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Cassian takes care of Nesta

Word Count: 1347

Summary: Nesta has come down with a particularly nasty head cold.

Cassian, of course, decides to nurse her back to health.

Fluffy Nessian oneshot. Post-canon. I just adore these two and was in the mood to write them a little drabble!

Read it on AO3 here!

“Go away,” came a frail, rasping voice from beneath a veritable mountain of fluffy blankets and pillows. “I feel like Death incarnate.”

Cassian reached forward and dared to lift one of the blankets, greeted by a crown of burnished golden-brown hair — kept down today instead of swept up into one of his mate’s usual intricate, elegant updos. The rest of Nesta Archeron’s face was buried so thoroughly beneath the soft fabrics that she was nearly lost entirely to him. Cocooned and comfortable, as she should be, given how thoroughly her recent bout of illness seemed to have beaten her down. Indeed, perhaps it was an indicator of just how drained she truly was feeling that she didn’t swat his hand away or struggle at all to get her blankets back as he gently lifted them away from her face.

He pressed a hand flat against her forehead, and sighed with relief. “It feels like your fever might finally be breaking,” he said. “Is Death incarnate at least an improvement from how you were feeling a few hours ago?”

Nesta groaned, but shifted her head in something that might have been a nod. “I suppose it’s not worse,” she conceded, her voice rough from coughing.

Slowly, Cassian brushed her hair back from her sweat-dampened forehead. He stroked his fingers through the waves falling past the curve of her neck, his movements repetitive, soothing.

“Shit,” he breathed. “You still sound awful. ‘M so sorry, Nes.”

To his surprise, she gave him a breathy, disjointed chuckle.

“I wonder if you’ll still be saying such things when I get my voice back properly, Cassian,” she murmured. “You’ll regret being so sympathetic when I can bark orders at you all hours of the day again.”

“Actually,” he said, ducking down to press a kiss to the top of her head, “that’s the part I’m missing the most right now.”

She nestled herself farther down into her blankets, curling up into a fetal position as if making her body as small as possible would help reduce its pain. Cassian sank down onto the bed beside her, running his hand gently along the curve of her body. Alright, perhaps he was being a little fussy; but he’d be lying if he said that seeing her like this didn’t worry him a bit. His Nesta, so powerful and unstoppable, so determined to strike down her enemies where they stood . . . his stomach twisted at the sight of her so weary. He had to hope she was on the upper end of recovering from this nasty cold, and hoped more than anything his efforts to care for her had done something to make it better.

“What can I do to help?” he murmured, rubbing the curve where her neck met her shoulder in an effort to ease out any tension.

A flicker of a rueful smile touched the edges of Nesta’s mouth.

“You’re being quite the mother hen today,” she said. “I’m surprised you’re not telling me pain is weakness leaving the body or some other such nonsense.”

“Well, this is me speaking as your mate, not your trainer,” he said, smoothing a lock of her hair gently behind her ear. She leaned into the touch, made a soft noise in her throat that let him know she savored the affection. “Anyway, it’s best for you to let your body heal and rest up. Too much exercise right now would just make it worse.”

Nesta shuddered. “It’s difficult to get any rest at all when I just can’t get warm,” she groaned, pulling the blankets tighter around her body. A fitful series of coughs racked their way through her, and she added, “And my body feels so sore.”

“I know, love, I know,” he sighed, leaning down to kiss the top of her head once again. “I can draw you a hot bath, if you want. How does that sound?”

She mumbled something into the pillows that sounded like “the House can do it.”

“Alright,” he conceded, doing his best not to think too much on the House of Wind, and its unusual sentience and . . . friendship with Nesta. He supposed it wasn’t such a bad thing, having a home that cared for you and looked after you. “I should still help you to the bathing room, though. You look like you can barely stand.”

Nesta waved off his worries with an artless flap of her hand. “No, I can walk on my own. I’m not that decrepit yet, you bothersome male,” she said, though there was none of her usual bite behind the words. In fact, an amused affection gleamed in those blue-gray eyes, soft and almost reticent — a secret vulnerability, shared just with him.

She pushed some of the blankets aside, but kept one of the thinner quilts draped around her body like a cloak as she pulled herself up from bed. For a moment, she swayed on her feet, steadying herself with a hand on Cassian’s broad shoulder. His brow furrowed as he watched her in silence. When she met his concerned stare, he saw that a thin sheen of sweat lined her brow, a few wispy stray hairs sticking to her forehead. Determination lit her gaze, and with a lurch in his stomach he wondered if she still felt as if she had something to prove. As if she were fighting any sign of weakness tooth and nail, too scared to reveal herself as capable of being brought down by anything — even a cold.

“Nesta,” he breathed, the expression on his face softening. Not with pity — no, he knew she’d never forgive him if he were to look at her as if she were some fragile thing. Just love, and worry, and the instinct to hold her, support her, however he could. He reached out to stroke the line of her jaw, so proud and strong even in her most exhausted moments. “It’s alright.”

He saw the battle behind her eyes — the resolve in the set of her shoulders, the uncertainty of whether she should continue to force herself to stand tall or allow herself to be held. His warrior, fierce in everything she did. Even now, that look in his eyes reminded him of the painting that now hung in Feyre and Rhys’ river house — Nesta, holding the line, wind and snow whipping around her, at the Pass of Enalius.

Though people who didn’t know her, truly know her as he did, might have tried to say Nesta cared for nothing, Cassian understood the truth of it. The truth she would so rarely let anyone see: that she cared more than she could say, that in all things, she tried so hard. Constantly held herself up to standards she knew were nearly impossible to achieve, then berated herself when she couldn’t meet them.

But it was okay to relax, too — to let yourself feel supported by the people who love you in the times you need it. At that moment, Cassian realized how badly he wanted her to know that. Needed her to know that.

So he said again, “Nesta.” And this time, she didn’t hesitate as she let herself fold into his embrace, her arms wrapping around his waist and coming to rest against his back, with her fingers gently grazing his shoulder blades.

“I hate this,” she muttered against his chest. “I loathe feeling so weak.”

“You’re the strongest person I know, Nes,” he answered, giving her a tight, comforting squeeze. “Nothing could change that. Now, let’s get you that bath.”

And she’d been such a trooper today, been in such pain, that he didn’t argue one bit when she looked him in the eyes and responded with utter seriousness, “Yes. And two slices of chocolate cake. Possibly three.”

Cassian was true to his word. Later, when she’d at last gotten out of the tub (feeling marginally better now that her body and hair were both clean and fresh) they’d sat in bed and devoured not just those three pieces of chocolate cake, but the entire thing.

Courtesy of the House.

[deonideatta]

Bots. Yeah. Same problem here 😭

Anyway, drabble prompt: classic "sick fic" for TwiYor?

They never has anyone take care of them, so the awkwardness are there, but also genuine concern.

Hello, thanks for the prompt!!!! This is definitely longer than a drabble but I had fun with it lol. And in my defense i didn’t know that apparently a drabble is only supposed to be like 100 words 😂😂 

It took a bit long to finish because I got sick myself midway through writing it lol. At least I can say that all the details for the sick parts are based on fresh and recent first hand experience haha

But yea here it is!! Hope you enjoy!! :)

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Twilight does not forget things. Least of all mildly important things, like his umbrella on a day when the forecast won’t stop bringing up the rain. And yet, when he reaches the hospital exit at the end of his shift, he realizes with a start that he’s left it at home, by the door in the umbrella stand. Despite his best efforts he makes it home soaked to the skin, rainwater dripping from his hair like it’s mocking him.

Yor takes his coat to hang in the bathroom, and Anya carries a whole pile of towels over to him. He takes just one, drying himself off as well as he can. But even after he’s changed into drier clothes he can’t shake off the cold, shivering all through the evening despite Yor and Anya piling blankets over him.

He brushes off their concerns, though he imagines it’s hard to take him seriously from underneath a mountain of blankets. He doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about, but he heads to bed a bit earlier than usual on Yor’s insistence. A little extra sleep probably won’t hurt.

He wakes up the next day with a deep seated ache in his muscles. The mere action of turning to check the time takes far more effort than it should, and his eyes burn as he squints at the clock in the low light.

He tries to get up, and promptly lies back down when his muscles scream in protest and his head spins. His senses come to him as if through fog, and he registers vaguely that his throat hurts and his room is way too warm. 

At first, he wonders if he’s just tired. There’s always some degree of exhaustion lingering in his bones, but he’s a master of staving it off, and not letting it influence the standard of his work. But it’s just past 6am, and he’s pretty sure this is the most he’s slept in ages.

Has he been poisoned? Some kind of nerve agent? He stares groggily at the ceiling, trying to clear his head. Even through the mental haze he knows it’s unlikely. No, this is probably just the result of the unholy union between the rainstorm he’d been caught in and weeks of getting a maximum of 3 hours of sleep per night.

Twilight groans in annoyance, making a new effort to get out of bed. This time he succeeds. Well, partially. The moment he stands up he has to sit down again, breath coming in short, frustrated puffs. 

He tries again. There’s work that need doing, he doesn’t have time to be sick. If he just manages to get up and douse himself in cold water, he’ll probably feel fine enough to at least deliver some reports. Moving at a quarter of his usual pace, he manages to make it to his door and halfway to the bathroom before Yor intercepts him with a greeting from inside the kitchen. 

“Good morning Loid, did you….” she trails off as she takes in his face. Whatever she sees causes her cheery smile to drop, and Twilight frowns. Surely it’s not that clear that he’s sick.

“Loid, are you alright? You look really ill!” Yor’s voice is filled with concern, and she rushes out of the kitchen to stand in front of him, studying him worriedly.

“I’m alright, Yor, don’t worry,” he says. It’s his least convincing lie ever, pathetic in everything from its delivery to the tone of his voice. “I just need a cold shower, and I’ll be fine.” He tries for a smile, knowing it looks feeble even before the worry in Yor’s expression deepens.

Twilight is just about to force out another half-hearted reassurance when Yor reaches up and puts a hand on his forehead, mirroring the action with her other hand on her own forehead. The contact and the proximity are the final straw for Twilight’s already struggling train of thought, and the protests die in his throat. 

Yor pulls her hand away suddenly, like she’d been burned. With how warm he feels, it seems fitting.

“I’m sorry- I just,” Yor stammers, gathering her hands together. Her concern for him seems to override her embarrassment, and for some reason Twilight feels vaguely flattered. “I didn’t mean to overstep, but Loid I think you have a fever.”

That checks out, given the headache and the warmness. With the sore throat, it might even be the flu. He doesn’t manage to say any of that, suddenly hit by a wave of lightheadedness. 

He must have stumbled, because Yor's hand is suddenly on his arm, steadying him.

"Loid, I don't think you should go to work today," Yor says, and she sounds nervous and firm all at once. “And fevers are best treated with lukewarm water, not cold.”

"I appreciate your concern Yor, but I have things to do," he starts, and he's vaguely aware of how petulant he sounds, like Anya asking to watch another episode of Spy Wars before bed. And speaking of Anya. "Anya needs to go to school as well, I need to help her get ready."

Yor's hand on his arm is cool against his flushed skin as she shakes her head resolutely.

"I'll help Anya get ready. You need rest, and that's more important than work," she says, and all of Twilight's inbuilt desire to be efficient at any cost screams in protest. 

"Just let me call work then," he says anyway, because despite that internal drive he has to admit that he's not sure he'll be particularly useful in this state. He must be getting soft. He’s persevered through injury and illness alike - it’s almost humiliating to be so incapacitated by a fever.

Yor nods, letting go of his arm to let him shuffle towards the telephone. He makes a quick call to Handler, who sounds equal parts amused and annoyed. He can almost see her raised eyebrows when he tells her he’s sick, but something in his voice must be convincing because she agrees to take care of his workload for the day and tells him to rest up. He scoffs at that, going to hang up.

"Take better care of yourself, Twilight," she says, just before he can lower the phone. "I know we give you a lot of work, but don’t neglect your health just to keep up with it.”

He mumbles something in return and makes his way back to his room. He catches a glimpse of Yor in the kitchen as he passes, filling a glass with water and gathering some medicine from the cabinet.

Lying down is a far bigger relief than he’d expected it to be, to the point that he barely registers the sound of knocking on the door, followed by Yor pushing it open. She hands him a glass of water and some pills, and he downs them, trying not to wince at how sore his throat feels. 

“I’m going to go to work now,” Yor says gently. “I’ll make sure Anya gets to school on time too, so don’t worry about her.”

She hovers above him, worried but seemingly unsure, and he does his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Yor,” he says, voice still annoyingly weak. “I’ll be fine, so don’t worry about me either.”

Yor smiles back, looking somewhat placated, though the worry lingers in the tightness of her smile. She closes the door gently behind her, and Twilight contents himself with half-listening to the sounds of Anya and Yor getting ready for the day, drifting in and out of sleep.

A while later Anya pops her head in to greet him and say goodbye, and he musters up enough strength to give her a weak wave and a goodbye in return.

Then he lies there, alone and in the dark, uselessly sick. Rest, Yor and Handler had both said, but his brain refuses to cooperate, racing with thoughts about the mission reports he really should have finished yesterday. Except it isn’t really racing, it’s trudging slowly through the mass of information he’d normally have no problem speedily sorting through. It’s frustrating, and it makes his head hurt more.

The longer he lies there the more restless he feels, like he could be making far better use of his time. To make things worse, his room is still far too warm. He squeezes his eyes shut more tightly, trying to force himself to sleep. If he sleeps, perhaps he’ll feel better more quickly, and then he can get back to work. But any sleep that comes is shallow and restless, and the stupid reports just won’t stop trying and failing to sort themselves out in his mind.

The clock reads 10am when Twilight gives up. Pushing himself up despite the way his body protests, he shuffles out to the living room, a folder of reports in one hand and a pillow in the other. The cooler air is pleasant against his skin, though the light stings at his eyes at first. 

Settling on the couch, he opens the folder and starts to read. He barely gets a few paragraphs in before what had been a mild headache morphs into a sharp pain behind his eyes. He squeezes them shut for a bit, finding relief in the dark. He repeats the cycle a few more times, until the headache gets to the point where the words on the page start to blur.

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s started to tremble, and suddenly he’s glad he brought the pillow with him. It’s cooler out here, so maybe it’ll be easier to sleep for a while. The cacophony of aches and pains in his body lessens slightly as he lies down, and he feels himself drifting away surprisingly quickly.

Just a little sleep, he thinks. Just to get rid of the headache, and then he can get back to the reports.

When he opens his eyes, he’s back in his bed, and there’s sounds of movement coming from the kitchen. He lies still for a moment, disoriented and very confused. His room isn’t as stiflingly warm as before, and the clock tells him that it’s past 3pm. Alarmed, he tries to sit up, and finds that the feverish aches in his muscle have lessened, albeit marginally.

He looks around, trying to sort out the mess in his head. How on earth did he get back to his room without realizing?

Yor interrupts his thoughts by poking her head into the room, and her eyes light up when she sees him awake.

“Loid! Are you feeling any better?” she asks, coming to stand by his bedside.

“A bit,” he says, still mildly confused. “How did I- when did you…?”

“Ah,” Yor says, flushing lightly. “I came back early because I was worried, and I found you sleeping on the couch.”

Her expression turns disapproving. “You really shouldn’t work when you’re sick, Loid,” she says, frowning. “I understand wanting to be productive, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your health.”

He feels oddly chastised, and nods silently. Yor’s expression melts into a small smile.

“I’ve made you some soup,” she says. “It’s the best thing for when you’re ill. I asked Camilla for the recipe, so I hope it tastes alright.”

Twilight nods again, filled with the trepidation that usually surrounds Yor’s attempts at cooking. Yor disappears out of the door, returning shortly with a bowl of soup and a glass of water on a tray. Despite her track record, the soup smells rather good, and Twilight can’t say he isn’t grateful for the kindness.

Yor hands him the tray, and he studies the soup. It looks good. It smells alright. Perhaps it’ll be fine to eat a bit. His stomach doesn’t tie into knots at the thought, so he plucks up his courage and takes a spoonful. And then another, and another, because it’s actually some really good soup. A surprised smile makes its way onto his face.

“This is really good, Yor,” he says, and despite everything there’s a note of genuine happiness in his voice. It’s nothing groundbreaking, a simple broth based vegetable soup, but it’s soothing and warming and Twilight finds that he appreciates it even more for the effort and care that went into making it.

Yor beams, and Twilight finds himself captivated by the sight.

“I’m glad to hear it!” she says, her smile wide and proud. Radiant. It causes a warm feeling in Twilight’s chest that he doesn’t think he can blame on the fever or the soup. He chooses to ignore it, tearing his eyes away from Yor and focusing back on emptying the bowl. Being sick is no excuse to indulge in things that aren’t relevant to the mission.

Oblivious to his brief internal battle, Yor sits on the bed next to him, chatting about her day and the process of making the soup. He listens, occupied by eating, interjecting here and there. It’s nice, and despite the lingering aches of the fever and his mind warning him not to get too comfortable Twilight almost feels peaceful.

“By the way Yor,” he says, when there’s a lull in conversation. “How did I get back here?”

Yor immediately goes red, eyes shifting everywhere. 

“I- I carried you over,” she mumbles. “It wasn’t too hard, and it was mainly because I was afraid that you’d hurt your back or your neck from sleeping on the couch, and when I brought you back it was way too warm in here, so I opened the window a little to let some fresh air in, and…” Yor seems to have realized that she’s rambling, trailing off.

Twilight doesn’t know what to say. The extent of Yor’s concern fills him with more of that warmth he doesn’t know what to make of. For almost all of his life, getting sick has been an arduous and solitary affair. He hasn’t really had anyone he trusted enough to help him through something as vulnerable as sickness. Miserably dousing himself in WISE provided medicines and trying to keep working through whatever coughs and colds came his way had become standard procedure for him.

But Yor’s smile is more soothing than all those medicines, and the soup is flavourful and gentle on his sore throat, and some emotion he can’t (won’t) label sweeps through him. He’s vulnerable in this state, he can’t work, and he still feels the aches and pains of the fever. And above all, indulging in domesticity is supposed to be out of the question. And yet there’s a deep seated contentment that settles in his core as he sits there and eats the soup, knowing that he’s cared for.

“Thank you,” he says, instead of addressing any of the feelings building in his chest. “I really appreciate you taking care of me like this.”

“It’s ok, I’m your wife,” Yor says seriously, before flushing and fumbling to amend her statement. “I mean, as your wife in this arrangement, it’s the least I could do.”

Twilight laughs, a quiet but genuine thing, and Yor smiles through the blush on her cheeks.

When the soup is finished, Yor leaves him to rest again with a promise to come back later. Settling back under the covers, Twilight finds that sleep comes a lot easier when his mind is filled with thoughts of Yor instead of trying and failing to analyze mission reports.

Over the next few days he recovers under Yor’s watchful eye, slowly but surely. She brings him soup and tea, and Anya comes to sit on his bed in the evenings, reading chapters from Spy x Wars to him.

There’s something soothing about the fact that they care about him enough to look after him like this. It can’t last, and he knows it, but Twilight selfishly relishes it all - the tenderness in Yor’s touch when she puts her hand on his forehead to check for returning fevers, the way Anya does her best to help out, the way Yor checks in on him throughout the day.

He still feels a bit useless being bedridden and unable to take on his usual workload, but he does his best not to think of it as going soft, or overindulging in domesticity. The severity of his sickness this time is probably the result of years of never allowing himself to recover from illnesses properly. So he lets himself rest, and if those days spent recovering are some of the most peaceful days of his life, no one has to know.

A week or two after he’s healthy again, Anya comes home sneezing. When he starts sneezing as well a few days later, Twilight begins to wonder if perhaps he should take more vitamins and start working on fixing his sleep schedule.

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Hope it was a good read!!! I enjoyed writing it :D