#which gives you Standing Is Exhausting Symptom

[rushman2-0]

Alternately:

If you feel like you hate everyone, you need to eat

If you feel like everyone hates you, you need to sleep

If you feel like you hate yourself, you need to shower

And remember: when in doubt, hydrate or diedrate

having the ability to stop, slow down, and think "wait, is there any physical reasons I feel bad actually?" is probably one of the most important skills one can have as a mentally ill/neurodivergent person or really just as a human being existing in the world in general

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

could you do a pregnant reader x rafe

a/n: okay but that got my brain buzzing, so i simply had to get all the thoughts out in the form of headcannons (written right before i fell asleep, sorry if it shows)

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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okay, so picture this: he's the asshole frat boy, you're the cute college chick who unlike him is actually there for the education.

also, he's your ex...

you were only together for a few months, but still, that shit was intense, the relationship nearly broke you from all of the high highs and low lows

it was exhausting being in love with an asshole, hence why you're no longer together

he was totally the type of toxic boyfriend to only wanna fuck you without a condom, either by pressuring you or just straight up lying and then rolling the rubber right off either as soon as he got you into doggystyle or like halfway through when you were too cockdrunk to notice the difference.

so that might have been why a month or so after the two of you broke up, you were late...

i'm picturing that you finally took a test at the most chaotic moment: at the beginning of a party in a bathroom, your roommate doing a quick run to a pharmacy while drunk folks try to barge down the door.

when your roomie comes back, you're totally freaking out, full-on melt-down, while she sits on the counter beside the sink and tries to calm you down, thinking up other solutions to your symptoms.

but the damn stick shows you two lines.

you were pregnant.

"so are you gonna tell him?" your roomie asks you, but you're still on a completely different planet, trying to comprehend the result.

"huh?"

"rafe. are you gonna tell him? i mean, i assume that it's him, unless there's somebody else, in which, how dare you not spill."

"what? no, there's no one else. of course it's rafe's..."

"...so? are you gonna tell him?"

but you have no idea if you want to or even should. you don't even have the slightest idea what you might wanna do about it all, if you should keep the baby or not.

but timing really is a funny funny thing, because when you then decide to go home to process everything (because damn, now you can't stay at the party and celebrate the close call), you bump into none other then the man, the myth, the whore himself: rafe fucking cameron.

now, you're straight up crying at this point, just overwhelmed as fuck, so of course he doesn't let you just slip by without figuring out what in the fuck is going on, if there is some douchebag he needs to go beat up.

"there only douchebag you need to beat up is yourself," you spit out before you can stop the phrase.

"oh, come on, baby. you can't still be mad at me? it's been like a month."

"please, rafe... just let me go home..."

"no, not until you tell me what's wrong!"

and when you actually say it out loud, it's like the awful party music fades and the buzzing crowd around you disappears.

"i'm pregnant."

at first, he just stands there stunned, staring straight through you.

if he's holding a glass, then he definitely drops and smashes it on the ground.

but then he grabs your arm and wordlessly drags you with him, all the way up to his room.

that's when, in the dull quiet of his dark dorm room, that it really sinks in.

for a while he just stares at you, letting his eyes scan down your frame, surely imagining what you'd look like in a few months.

and then, out of the blue, he whispers, "marry me..."

"...what?"

"marry me," he utters with more confidence, "i know this isn't exactly how it should go, but babe... i still love you. i never stopped... let me take care of you, let me take care of our baby, let me give you the life we deserve. so what do you say? will you marry me?"

but you just stare back at him as if he's gone mad.

"...no."

your stomach starts to flip as you then see the first signs of rage flare up on his features, "what do you mean no?"

"rafe, i'm supposed to be finishing up my degree, being young and dumb, not getting knocked up by the last man i'd ever want to be forever stuck with."

of course he then totally pops off, pushes you into a corner, yelling, screaming, all the nine yards

saying all this stuff about how you should be grateful that he ever gave you his time of day in the first place, nevertheless get you pregnant with his kid.

sooo, me thinks the next steps in their story gets pretty dark, pretty fast....

we talking him taking you with him home to tannyhill because school is simply too stressful for you and the baby (in his opinion)

mayhaps he straight up locks you in a room and acts all nice, pretends that nothing is wrong with the way he handles it all

forced marriage? yes? no? yes.

him getting fucking FERAL when you start to show?

also him getting feral long before that, taking the chance to make sure you're really, totally, 100% pregnant, if you know what i mean (in other words: all of the creampies ever, just over and over again, fucking load after load deep inside of you + so so much cumplay)

and the ending? i imagine that one day, after your kid is born, you run away, baby in your arms and not much else.

you try and create a quiet little life for you and your child somewhere far away

but eventually (of course, just for the sake of ✨drama✨) he finds you...

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[4linos]

through every pitch

mlb!seungmin x gn!reader

synopsis: even though it's your husband's most important game of the season, you can see that he's attempting to disguise an injury.

wc: 1964 (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

The stadium is blazing with the cheering crowd at the bottom of the eighth inning, and Seungmin is feeling the pressure of the moment. The spectators' eyes and his teammates' pressure are all on him in this game, which might determine the division title and where he needs to prove himself. The little stiffness in his delivery, the tension in his shoulder, the way his expression hardens as he adjusts his grip on the ball—you can see it. You watch from your seat, heart in your throat, as he stands on the mound, composed, concentrated.

The pitch is off. His usual precision is missing. There has been a slight but noticeable change in technique, and his slider and fastball both have a hitch now. You see it. He sees it. However, he continues. His eyes widen against the pain, his jaw gritted, and he throws again. He wants no one to know and doesn't want to reveal it. No, not yet. Not with that much at stake. He's a vital part of the team. The coach is watching him closely, fans are yelling his name, and his teammates are waiting for the sign that the win is impending. As he grits his teeth and fights through the pain, Seungmin is aware that they depend on him to achieve this, and the pressure is unbearable.

The noise of the crowd, the pressure of everyone's eyes on him, and the expectation all keep him going even though his body is screaming at him. While the crowd screams when he strikes out the hitter to close the eighth, Seungmin isn't feeling the exhilaration of the victory. His arm burns with every movement, and his muscles tremble from the pain as his body gives way under the pressure. As you wait for him in the locker room, your anxiousness gets worse by the moment. You've seen the symptoms: his tight jaw, his tendency to favor one arm during the game, and the way he massaged at his shoulder in between throws. He has hardly spoken to you since the game, and his eyes have a cold, distant expression as he enters the room, sweat still dripping from his brow. Again, he is concealing it. disguising the weight of it all, the suffering, and the exhaustion. You get up from where you were seated and say, "Seungmin," trying not to seem overly anxious, but there is no denying the worry in your voice. “Are you okay?” He's already taking off his jersey, and although his face is unreadable, his hand is clearly shaking. You can tell he's attempting to hide it by the way he holds his arm rigidly and the way he grimaces when he takes has to do any movement. His voice is flat when he says, "I'm fine," but the words sound hollow. He avoids looking at you. "No, you're not," you respond as you approach him, trying to maintain your composure while your voice cracks a little. "Please, Seungmin. Out there, you were hurting. I saw it. Talk to me, please. He remains motionless and looks at the floor for a minute without answering. You can see it then—the way his hand is shaking, the way his entire body is rigid from the strain of maintaining the façade—that his breathing is shallow and strained. For a short period of time the barriers he has been carefully building during the day crumble, and you witness Seungmin's vulnerability and rawness. The individual who is human, just like the rest of us.

And then, the dam breaks.

Before you can reach out to him, he collapses, falling to his knees in front of you as his shoulders tremble with a soft sob. His face is buried in his hands, and he is sobbing in ways you have never heard him do before. A man who is completely exhausted and defeated by the weight of it all has taken the place of the strong, unflappable man who had just pitched through one of the most significant games of his career. "I could not...” His words muffled in his hands, he chokes out, "I couldn't let them down," in between sobbing. "I had to get it done. Everyone was depending on me—the coach, the team, and all of the fans.”

Your heart shatters when you kneel in front of him and take his shaking hands, gently removing them from his face while looking into his tear-filled eyes. “You didn't let anyone down, Seungmin. You didn't have to carry it alone, but you pushed through for all of us.” He holds his breath and shakes his head, seemingly unable to fully comprehend what you're saying. "I'm... "I'm so exhausted," he mumbles, his voice hardly audible. “My arm… it’s killing me. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t show them. I had to be strong for everyone else.” As you reach out to embrace him, tears stream from your own eyes. Holding him close, you feel his breath catch in the stillness of the room as you press his head against your chest. As you brush your fingers through his hair, you murmur quietly, "You don't have to be strong all the time." "You don't need to bear all of this alone. You are allowed to fall apart, take a break, and seek help. You just hold him for a long time as the cries gradually stop. Although you both know that it will take time for the physical aching in his shoulder to go away, the emotional stress and pressure he has been carrying for so long starts to lessen under your touch.

A little embarrassed but not enough to conceal his vulnerability from you, he pushes back and wipes his eyes. His voice is scratchy as he whispers, "I'm sorry." "I just didn't want you to see me in this way." You gently push his wet hair away from his forehead and smile. "You don't need to say sorry. Seungmin, I'm here. I'm always here for you. The weight of the world he had been carrying finally starts to decrease as he puts his head on your shoulder because, for the first time in a long time, he is letting himself rely on someone else. And it's okay. You’re both okay.

—

Something changed between you and Seungmin after that night. In a way that was both real and beautiful, the dam that had held so much of his vulnerability, so much of his anxiety and dread, started to break. Gradually, he began to depend more on you. Not only after the most significant events in his career, but also during the quiet, everyday times when he felt he could no longer bear the burden alone, he would open up to you.

It started with small things.

You could see how his eyes would stay on you a bit longer than normal after a difficult game, while he was still recovering from the disappointment of a poor performance. It was a subtle request for something you didn't have to ask for. Watching him jog off the field with a gentle smile on your face, you would be in the stands waiting for him. He would say, "Hey," in a weak, sluggish voice. His face was filled with fatigue as he stood there for a while, taking long breaths as if he was still struggling to regain his breath after the game.

With a soft yet strong tone, you would comment, "I know it wasn't perfect." But, Seungmin, you gave it your all. You always do. And it would occur at that point. He would whisper, "I don't know if I did enough," and then briefly look down before looking back at you. "I thought I had disappointed everyone. I should have maintained my composure more or thrown that one pitch better. I always want to get better, but sometimes it feels like I'm failing."

You’d reach for him, a hand on his shoulder, or on his cheek, grounding him. "You’re not failing. No one’s perfect, Seungmin. I’m proud of you, every time you step out there. And you don’t have to be perfect for me. Just you… just you is enough." He would stare at you, letting your words settle over him like a warm blanket, and in the silence that followed, you knew what was happening. He was opening up, bit by bit, allowing the worries he’d carried for so long to spill out, trusting you to hold them, even if just for a moment. It became more common after tough games—when he felt like he was walking off the field a little heavier, or when he’d missed a crucial strike. He’d sit with you, just the two of you, long after the stadium had emptied, talking quietly about his fears, his regrets. He never tried to hide it anymore.

One evening, after a particularly rough game, Seungmin collapsed onto the couch, his shoulders slumped in defeat. You could feel the tension in him, the unease, even before he spoke. The game had been a tough loss, and you knew it wasn’t just the defeat on his mind but everything that came with it—the expectations, the pressure, the fear of not living up to it all.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this sometimes,” he admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper. He wasn’t asking for sympathy, just someone to listen. “Every time I step on that mound, I feel like I’m carrying the weight of everyone’s hopes. The coach, the team, the fans… they all expect me to be this perfect pitcher. And sometimes, I wonder if I’m enough for them.” As you sat next to him, you stared into his eyes and softly squeezed his hand. With a stern yet gentle tone, you said, "Seungmin, you're more than enough." "You don't have to live up to everyone else's standards. You don't need to be perfect for your coach, your teammates, or even the fans. Because you *are* you, you are enough. And no matter what, I'm here with you. A slow breath escaped him, and you could see it, the relief that he wasn’t carrying it alone anymore, the exhaustion lifting just a little. With his fingers tightening around yours, he said, "I'm really lucky to have you." "To be honest, I don't think I could survive these games without you."

You smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “You don’t have to make it through alone, Seungmin. We’re in this together. Whatever comes, we face it as a team.”

Over time, these moments became more frequent—him pulling you aside after a tough game, confiding in you, showing a side of him that was rarely seen by anyone else. The strength he had on the field was matched only by the strength you both built together off of it. And as his teammate’s expectations, the coach’s strategies, and the media’s scrutiny continued to press in on him, Seungmin began to realize something he hadn’t before: It’s okay to need support. And that it didn’t make him any less of a man, any less of a pitcher, to admit that he needed someone to lean on.

And it was always obvious when he came to you: regardless of how many games were won or lost, you were his base, the spot he could always go to feel safe. You made sure he never felt like he had to confront those struggles alone since he had grown to trust you with the weight of his anxieties and to let you in during his periods of uncertainty. He realized that he only needed to be himself to be liked, not be flawless, through every pitch and every difficult game. And he might be just that in your arms.

—

nini’s notes 111224

hey ⚾️. i hope you enjoy my 2nd full fic 🫣 i love seoul series first pitch seungmin BTW

(feedback is always appreciated.. 😘)

asks are open if you have a question, concern, or request!

-🎀

[inbabylontheywept]

So: You have depression.

I'm 27 now. The last time I had a major depressive episode was when I was 16. I still have depressive episodes every now and then, but the worst tend to be a month, and most I can generally get through them in about a week. It took me a while to kind of figure out how to handle depression as a recurring thing, and so I thought I'd make a little welp-I-got-diagnosed-now-what guide.

So, first part of the guide: When I first got depressed, I thought that depression was the terrible, sad hopeless feeling that I had. It isn't. That terrible sad hopeless feeling is a symptom of prolonged depression. By the time I get to that point, I'm pretty well cooked and it takes a lot longer to bounce back. Avoiding getting to that point is a vital part of living with depression.

So what does depression feel like?

I am going to hammer this point home a lot of times while writing this: Depression is an anesthetic. It is not felt as a presence, but as an absence. The first absence, for me at least, is when life stops being fun. Every movie feels boring, I can't get more than a few pages into any book, and everything just seems... bland.

This is the best point to catch it at. I have found that consumptive patterns of entertainment do not do anything to help depression. Some people have told me that producing art at this time really helps them, but personally, I can't imagine trying. Instead, I just do tasks that I know inspire physical satisfaction. Which sounds like jerking off (I don't actually reccomend that route) but really means things like: Going for a walk in the sunshine. Working out. Cleaning the house in a fairly exhaustive way. Scrub the baseboards, wash the sink, clear the fridge, etc.

I recognize that doing those is really, really hard while depressed because depression causes physical weakness and exhaustion. The best I can do is, unfortunately, encourage vigillance. If you suspect you're getting into a funk, start on this before you get really deep into the mire. People that get into the mire can get out, but it's not self-help read-a-book type shit, it takes therapy and medication and patience and it is so much easier and cheaper and faster to just avoid letting it get that bad then crawling out once it's sunk its teeth into you.

I have found that for things that work almost by exposure alone, spending time in the sun and talking to people are borderline magical, with the caveat that talking to people about being depressed tends to make things worse instead of better. Talking about anything that cuts through the anesthetic of depression is ideal, or if it's sunk in deep enough that you're having trouble finding anything, talking to someone else about what they're passionate about. Ideally, you'd find someone passionate about a thing you know you're passionate about but are struggling to enjoy right then, and then you'd just let your mirror neurons run amok. Bonus Points

So, you're already depressed. Like, pretty fucking depressed, and you fucked up, and you let it slide. What then?

This is my I-Fucked-Up-And-Got-Big-Sad, Salvage-My-Weekend, depression routine. You'll need to make one for yourself at some point, and yours will work better for you, but this is mine and I think it'll work okay-ish for you. Until you get your own, at least.

I have to get up before 10 am. Staying in bed later than that gives the depression such a huge head start on my day that I just basically can't catch up. If I can't just brute force get myself out of bed, I will throw my blankets and sit cold on my sheets until that gives me the motivation I need. If I cannot work up the guts to throw my blankets, I will actually roll off the bed, flop gracelessly onto the floor, and then stare wistfully up until I can will myself to stand. It helps that every bedroom I've had either had freezing cold tile, or itchy coarse carpet. If you have a comfy floor, maybe buy a very scratchy rug? I cannot emphasize how important this step is. It's like, half of the whole thing.

After getting up, immediately go outside and sit in the sunshine. This provides free executive function, and getting it ASAP will make everything go much smoother.

Talk to someone while outside. If you have a roommate, they work great. Face to face conversations tend to be the best, but phone calls with loved ones are like at least 80% as effective. Calls to family members tend to be better than in face conversations with acquaintances or people you're mostly ambivalent about. Don't do chat messages. Worse than nothing.

This should have scrounged up enough free energy that you can clean something. I always start by trying to clear a part of my counter off. If that's all I got, that's all I got, and I still feel good about it. If that inspires me to do more, I'll run with it until a whole room is up to snuff. I don't do more than one room while I'm this crispy: The goal is not really to clean the house, but to work through a series of tasks that require some initial level of executive function but provide a larger amount back once completed. Life has a lot of these deals that are like, give me $10 and I'll give you $12, give me $12 and I'll give you $20, on and on, and the hard part is really just getting the $10. Some people wake up with $10. Most days, you will wake up with $10. But not when you're like this. You're gonna have to earn it. I'm sorry.

I am going to reiterate: This is what I do when I feel a funk coming on. My life and my schedule are not always this regimented. Living with depression doesn't mean never sleeping until 10, or having a weekend where you don't talk to someone, or take a break from cleaning. Living with depression just means never, ever, leaning into the depression when you feel it coming on. Even when it starts out feeling cozy. Even when you want to just snuggle into it and sleep and sleep and sleep. The first day or two will feel luxurious, and the next week will feel terrible, and the longer you wait the harder it will be to get out. You are always going to have to worry about that. Again, I'm really, truly sorry.

Bonus Bonus Points

I am not a psychologist, but I do have a theory about why depression exists. Remember how I said it's anesthetizing? I think that's what it's there for - getting rid of emotional pain when it isn't being helpful. People often get depressed after a major injury. Boredom is normally nature's way of punishing you for just curling up and doing nothing, but depression can be the emergency override on boredom. It makes sense for you to sit still and do nothing while your body is healing, so maybe nature temporarily removes all your motivation with depression and then just lets you be a limp noodle until you're healthy again. Maybe?

Back to the emotional level, though, depression might also be a way to muffle pains that would otherwise be so intense that people might not remain in control of the faculties. The pain of losing a parent is notorious for driving people so mad with pain that they ruin their lives, but depression is there to at least try and keep us sedated until the nadir has passed.

It is helpful to know what the purpose of depression is, because you will eventually get it from an "intended" cause, and reflexively fighting it then probably isn't good for you. And at the very least, knowing why this stupid thing exists makes the world feel like less of a cruel place.

There are a lot of interesting studies on the physical effects of depression - things like muscle weakness, increased pain tolerance, muscle relaxation, etc. that I won't go into, but it does so many things at once that it almost doesn't feel like a fuck up, but a feature that we just kind of lost the plot on. Not gonna deep dive on it, but it is something that probably shouldn't be confined to just a mental disorder.

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.

While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.

CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut

To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess

Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂

*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me

*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!

You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.

You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.

You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.

It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.

A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.

A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.

For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.

Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.

Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.

“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”

You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.

Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.

You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.

You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.

You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.

Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.

He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.

He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.

The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.

Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.

Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.

When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”

Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.

The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.

Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”

Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.

“Sick? For how long?”

Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”

“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”

“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.

Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.

Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?

Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.

Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.

Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.

Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.

If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.

Shadowheart be damned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!

You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.

You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.

You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-

“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”

“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”

“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”

Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.

“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.

You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.

Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?

Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.

Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.

It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.

You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.

“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”

“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”

Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.

“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”

“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”

Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!

Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”

“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”

“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.

Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”

“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”

“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”

Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.

You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”

Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.

You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.

“A girl?”

His question breaks the air.

“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.

A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.

“You don’t want to be involved?”

Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.

“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”

You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”

His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.

“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”

You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.

“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”

Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.

“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”

Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.

You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.

Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”

“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”

“What wish?”

It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Right… that.”

The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.

“Astarion-“

“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”

You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.

“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”

You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.

“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”

You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.

Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”

Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”

“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”

[wosoragebaiter69]

why would you train?

barça femeni x young!reader

prompt: i feel sick, i love sickfics. that’s it. it’s my symptoms into a story because it’s my only coping mechanism.

A/N: my friend made me sick and i’m acc annoyed now like wtf. i feel horrible.

TW: mentions of illness

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

When you wake up, it feels as if someone has ran you over with a bus and drove back to do it again. Your throat was sore, your head pounding and you overall felt lethargic. The worst thing was, training was today and no matter what you’d have to go. That’s probably not true, but its been like that all your life with trainings, why stop now?

Getting through the morning was a challenge, you hoped that if you had a throat lolly and paracetamol that everything would go away and the day would roll by smoothly. How wrong you were to think that.

You arrive at training around 10 minutes late due to traffic, which meant doing extra laps. You’re glad though, it means the others haven’t realised yet. You joined at 17 and the older girls really took you under their wing and essentially adopted you. In particular Lucy and Keira. You lived with the couple until around 7 months ago. You’re 19 now.

After completing the laps assigned by Alexia you make your way over to where everyone else is and give them a half-hearted smile before apologising to Alexia. She seems content and Jona starts to explain the main plans for training. Sprints, conditioning and a scrimmage at the end. You internally groan, this was the worst day to be sick on. You just nod along with your teammates and start warming up.

Keira jogs over next to you and examines your face.

“You alright? You seem a little on edge.” She asks softly.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You say a little too quickly, before running off at a faster pace.

- - - - -

After an hour or so, you feel lightheaded and start swaying before sitting on the ground. It seems the medicine did nothing to help and the previous numbness of your throat has now subsided and is replaced by the feeling of daggers. Mapi comes over sitting next to you, passing a water bottle.

“Are you ok?” She asks as you wince drinking the water that’s burning down your throat.

You nod slowly, not willing to speak but the movement only makes you feel like collapsing.

“Can I… go get someone? You don’t look too good cariño.” All you can do do is lean into her side, exhaustion taking over as your muscles ache. She makes hand movements.

Ingrid walks over along with Keira and Alexia, you notice Lucy speaking with Caroline. But still keeping a cautious eye on you from across the field.

“Hey elskling, you don’t look too bright.” Ingrid crouches down blocking the sun, which you’re eternally grateful for.

“Eh.” You shrug, looking at Keira, then Alexia and back to Ingrid.

“Mind telling us how you’re feeling? And do not lie.” This is one of the first times you’ve heard Ingrid be stern, it scares you in a way so you do as told.

“Sore throat, head hurts and feels weird and my muscles are sore.” You say, clearly in pain and your voice croaks slightly.

“Why would you train? Or not tell anyone?” Alexia asks. You shrug. “Alright, go home with Keira and get better ok? Next time you feel sick you don’t come to training understood?” You nod and Keira wraps her arm around your shoulder, Mapi holds your waist and they lift you up so you’re standing.

They take their time taking you to the car, running to the locker room to get Keira and your stuff and coming back.

“Gracias Mapi.” You whisper to the defender who pats your head and walks back to training.

“When we get back you can shower, I’ll make some food and give you cold medicine, I’m not going to ask if that’s alright with you because this is just the start of what you need to feel better.” You half smile and lean against the window looking at the bustling Barcelona.

- - - - -

When arriving home, Keira helps you out and gives you some of your old clothes you still had at the house. You take a warm shower which helps your pounding head, this takes your mind of everything for a couple minutes.

After the shower you slowly make your way to the couch and plop down, almost falling asleep.

“Nope, no sleeping. I’m giving you a throat sweet to hopefully ease that pain of yours and did you take any meds this morning?” She asks.

“Paracetamol.” You whine.

“Alright, Ibuprofen it is then. Come on take these, then you can sleep however long you need.” You do as she says, and start falling asleep almost immediately as the pain starts to fade.

She lifts you up and takes you to your bedroom from when you lived here and tucks you in. Saying something about lunch, but you’re too tired to understand.

- - - - -

You’re woken by someone whispering sweet nothings in your ears, you lazily open your eyes to find Lucy moving the hair out of your face and behind your ear.

“Good afternoon, Keira made soup. Are you feeling up to walking outside or would you like to stay here?” She asks, speaking in the softest and quietest voice she can muster.

“Outside.” You murmur, voice even hoarser than before, Lucy cringes at the sound.

“Alright, let’s get you up then.” You slowly follow her movements and she helps you walk to the couch, Keira is there along with Marta and Caro. There’s soup on the table and there’s only one person it could belong to.

Lucy places you down on the couch and you subconsciously lean into Keira’s comfort.

“Alright bug, I’m gonna get you to eat all this soup alright? I’ve also made some tea which should hopefully soothe your throat a little bit more.” You nod, too tired and too sore to do anything else.

Keira feeds you the soup and watches as you wince slightly every-time you swallow, she saddenes at the sight.

“You’re doing well, only a couple more bites love.” She whispers.

After you’ve eaten it all, your throat is still sore, your headache has gone away for the most part but the sore throat just never seems to leave.

“Nena, how bad does your throat still hurt?” Marta says, turning her focus toward you after whispering with Lucy.

“Worse than before.” Your voice rasps and it pains to speak, the girls understand perfectly well.

“Alright, we will look after you until you’re better. You should have another one of those throat soothers. That should hopefully ease your pain a little bit.” Caro says, moving to place her hand on your knee. You smile in agreement.

Over the next 2 days they look after you until full health. It’s nice and you endlessly thank them for their caring natures.

- - - - -

ok guys i need ur help, i got a request for aitana x ona and i’m not sure whether to post on tumblr or ao3 🤷 also if anyone can tell me how to write about 2 people my messages are open

anyways hope you enjoyed, my throat is killing me. stay safe friends 🕺 i have 2 more requests sooo plz request

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 7] First Ultrasound

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

On what you’re assuming is the start of the third month of your pregnancy, you finally manage to make an appointment for your first ultrasound. You debate if you want to tell Toji or not. Would he want to come? You’re not too sure if you’re being honest. He’s told you that he wants to be the best possible father for your child, but you don’t trust him. Given his track record, you can’t exactly trust him.

“I’m just here to drop off your money.” Toji can easily transfer money through the bank monthly, but he chooses to give it to you. Every two weeks he’s at your door with your money. You agreed to quit your second job and take his money; you still have your second job, but the nights that you know he’s coming, you take off. Toji invites himself in even if he’s just handing you an envelope. He never comes just to give you that.

“How’s work?” You ask, closing the door when he enters your apartment. You find it ironic that you talk more now than when you were married. He actually engages in conversation now, and he tries to talk to you as well, asking how you’re doing.

“Exhausting.” He answers. You can tell that he’s been working more lately, or at the very least he’s not getting proper sleep. There’s visible bags under his eyes, and he’s slowly letting himself go, at least he doesn’t give the proper care since he has a bit of a stubble; he’s also due for a haircut. “How about you? How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing okay… I’ve been dealing with a bit of morning sickness but nothing crazy.” You answer. You leave out any other of your symptoms. How your breasts are sore, you’re extremely tired (which can also be alluded back to your second job), how you’ve suddenly been having the weirdest cravings. Sure, you’re talking, but you don’t want him to know more than necessary. You try to change the topic since you don’t like having the spotlight on you, “How’s Megumi doing?”

“He’s doing fine… He has a baseball game next Thursday, if you want to come.” He informs you and you take a note of it. You’ll try to go since you have a soft spot for Megumi, but you’re not certain that you’ll make it. 

“I’ll try. Hope I’m doing better then.” You respond. He slowly nods in response, and he tries to think of something to talk about, but nothing comes to mind so he begins to walk to the door. He won’t try to waste both of your time. Before his hand wraps around the doorknob, you speak up,

“Toji…” He completely stops. Not a single breath comes from him until you speak again, “I know that you’re busy so, I’m just inviting you to be courteous… I have my first ultrasound tomorrow, if you want to join me.”

“What time?” He asks, and you tell him. At noon. He nods, and tells you, “I’ll come pick you up.”

He stands still for a moment, wondering what to do next. Wondering if you’re going to do something else. You stand in completely awkward silence for a minute before Toji realizes that nothing else will happen, so he walks out. He doesn’t say goodbye, although you don’t mind it because he never does.

Toji hasn’t been a man that’s usually punctual, so you’re surprised when he’s early. You might’ve told him that the appointment was earlier than it actually is so you wouldn’t be late, but there’s not much you can do when he’s right in front of you, thirty minutes before your appointment. The place isn’t even a twenty minute drive.

“Hi.” You awkwardly smile at him. You notice how he’s finally shaved the stubble, and you’re curious if he did so last night or this morning. “So… I might’ve– The appointment was pushed back to twelve thirty.”

“Oh– Okay.” He answers. You almost tell him the truth, but it might incite an argument so it’s best if you ignore it and tell a little white lie. He won’t question much, he never does, so you’re safe. “Did you eat something already? Do you want to grab something to eat?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” You respond, and he nods his head. He isn’t going to argue with you that you should eat something regardless, you’re pregnant and you have to keep yourself healthy for the baby– He isn’t your father nor your husband, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. And while Toji wishes he could say he was worried about this pregnancy, he simply isn’t. As fucked up it is to even think about it, he’s more worried about you than the child you carry.

“What do you want to do then? Do you just want to head out and wait?” He asks, and you nod your head in response, if you get lucky, your appointment will start earlier. You disappear out of his sight for a moment to grab your purse, but you’re back quickly. You exit the apartment and you begin to walk to his car. 

The car ride is silent, you don’t have much to talk about. You don’t sense him being as excited… Or excited at all about this so you’re quiet. You don’t pay him any mind. You’re over the moon at the thought of looking at your baby for the first time. You’re in disbelief that you’re about to become a mother. Finally.

You get to the place and check in. Waiting feels interminable as you sit next to Toji. He simply looks around, while you begin to play a game on your phone. Toji finds himself bored, and since he doesn’t have anything interesting to do, he chooses to try and talk to you. He clears his throat, and speaks up, “So how far along are you anyway?”

“Hm… I think, maybe three months along? I do have a bit of a bump.” You share, and Toji’s brows raise, he looks over at you, but your shirt is baggy which doesn’t let him really figure anything out. His eyes keep staring, and he finds himself frustrated at the fact he doesn’t know. If you lived with him he’d see your body better, and he’d notice every small change. At least that’s what he thinks. 

Your name is called and you stand up, following the woman to the ultrasound room. Toji follows behind, walking much slower, trying to see if he does notice a bit of a bump. The previous night you were wearing a tank top– He didn’t notice anything then. He isn’t all too observant anyway so maybe he missed it.

Toji watches as you lay down, and you begin to talk to the technician. He doesn’t pay much attention to what’s going on between you two. Until you finally lift up your shirt, and he does see a bit of a bump. It’s nothing that’s really noticeable but it’s there when you lift up your shirt, it’s definitely something he would’ve noticed if you lived together. 

You squeal as the cold gel is poured on your abdomen, and the transducer is then pressed on your skin. Your eyes then fall on the monitor, and an immediate smile comes to your lips. A little kidney bean. Your eyes well up with tears as the technician points out their little head.

“It’s just one baby, right?” Toji asks, and the technician assures him that it’s just one baby. It makes him breathe a sigh of relief. He notices you stick out your bottom lip, and he rolls his eyes. You seriously didn’t want twins, did you?

You look over at Toji, trying to see if there’s a bit of excitement behind his eyes when he looks at the ultrasound, and while it’s not clearly written on his face, you see a spark in his eyes as he looks at the monitor. He perks up when he hears the sound of the baby’s heartbeats. It’s in that moment that Toji realizes just how big this is–

He’s a father, he knows the birth of a baby is a big deal. Toji would give up his life for Megumi. But your pregnancy… The beginning of it didn’t excite him the way that his first wife’s did. Maybe it’s because he was set on not being a father again, or maybe it’s because you’re separated. Perhaps it’s because even though he wanted to use your pregnancy as a means for you to stay, you still left. He’s just focused on you and your relationship, not the fact that he’s actually becoming a father again. Doing it all over again.

He isn’t sure if he’s ready to do it all over again; but he feels the excitement slowly grow by looking at his baby and listening to their heartbeat. It’s nothing too crazy though.

When the technician finishes up, you’re handed a napkin to wipe off the gel. You do so, and you’re told to wait for the doctor. You’re smiling foolishly, thinking that you’re becoming a mother even though you had given up on that dream a while ago. Given that dream up for the man that’s waiting next to you.

“You seem really excited.” Toji comments when you’re left alone. He watches your hand go to your lower abdomen as you look up at him.

“I am. I can’t wait to meet my baby.” You answer. Toji chuckles, your excitement radiating and infectious. “Do you want a baby boy or a girl?”

“Hmm… A baby boy since I already know how to deal with boys. I have no idea how I’d raise a girl.” He responds. “How about you? Do you want a girl or a boy?”

“I don’t have a preference, I just want a healthy baby. Boy or girl.” You reply, and Toji wonders if that’s how he should’ve responded. Would that have gotten him positive points with you? Did his response fuck everything up a little more?

The doctor walks in, and she tells you what you want to hear. The baby is healthy, and growing the way they should be. You’re around fourteen weeks along– Which means you’ll be due around December, and that you’re further along than what you assumed. Your baby wasn’t conceived the night that you told Toji you’d be leaving him.

You get your ultrasound pictures, and Toji takes two, even though he tries to act like he isn’t excited.

[pinkgelatin]

Being dads is exhausting. And how do you deal with exhaustion? Cuddles! This time with a tiny fic under the cut ❤️

Teething

Salim got up from the carpet and dusted off his knees. How in the world did the remote end up under the tv stand, he'd never understand, but that was indeed where he found it. The vcr whirred as it rewinded the tape. He hoped he'd find the moment they stopped watching the movie last night, rudely interrupted by a shrill cry and loud wailing. The doctor warned him that teething could have many symptoms, but Salim quietly wished that constant crying and sleepless nights wouldn't be as bad as they were when the first tooth poked out. If only he knew how wrong he'd be.

This night was Jason's turn to attend to Zain when he simply refused to fall back asleep. Salim felt for their baby boy, he really did, and both of them tried anything they could to ease Zain's pain and discomfort, but with few things available, and even fewer of them working, they had only one way of dealing with a teething baby. Patience.

Unfortunately said patience has been wearing thin over the last couple days. So much so, both Salim and Jason have become snappy and irritated. Last night Jason proposed watching a dumb movie to "debrain" themselves, which Salim eagerly agreed to. Not that they succeeded. After they dealt with their little interruption, Salim ended up nodding off on one end of the couch, and woke up in the morning to Jason curled up and lightly snoring on the other.

There was hope however. While half an hour ago Zain had been crying his little heart out yet again, at this point things seemed pretty calm. The only sound Salim could hear was Jason quietly singing a lullaby. 

Salim smiled to himself as he moved a couple of Zain's toys out of the way, then stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes for a moment, focusing more on the lullaby. Who knew Jason of all people would have a great singing voice and an array of lullabies stashed somewhere in his brain. And that Zain would react so well to them. Their boy wasn't the only one who did so either. Salim loved Jason's voice just as much, and hearing it off in the distance with a soft pillow under his head was enough to lull him into a trance. 

"Their boy," Salim's mind honed in on that particular phrase. Zain was their boy now, not just his anymore, and that made his heart swell with love and affection for the man in the other room. Jason accepted Zain as his own pretty much immediately, surprising himself most of all. He was a blessing in many more ways than one, and Salim would never be able to give enough thanks to whatever power had brought them together, be it pure chance, or something more mystical. 

He snapped back to reality when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You didn't just fall asleep on me, did you?" Jason teased, but the bags under his eyes told Salim just how much he'd like to do the same. Zain wasn't the only thing keeping them up at night. The nightmares were still vivid and frequent as well, even weeks after that awful day, and both of them had a feeling they wouldn't let up anytime soon.

"Almost," Salim stretched slightly and sighed. "Mission successful, I take it?"

Jason chuckled and gave him a mock salute, "The tiny wailing beast has been pacified with a lullaby and lots of cuddles. And that new teething gel the doc gave us. Now scooch."  

Salim felt a knee nudge his side, but didn't move a muscle. He was way too comfortable for that. Though moving could have saved his stomach and slowly scarring chest from being crushed by the full weight of an ex-Marine.

Even if Jason seemed to purposefully avoid his wound, Salim still gasped and groaned in surprise, "That hurt, habibi."

Jason simply shrugged and sneaked his arms around Salim's torso, "Should've moved."

Salim grumbled some more, but reached for the blanket anyway, and soon they were both snug and cozy. "I rewinded the tape already. I think I got the right spot."

"With how early you conked out we might as well watch the whole thing," Jason took the remote from Salim's hand and pressed the button to rewind the tape fully, ignoring any protests. 

With the most exaggerated eye roll he could manage Salim pushed himself deeper into the pillow and set his mind on focusing on the movie this time. As long as there would be no interruptions that is. He instinctively kept listening for any distressed sounds coming from Zain's room, but after hearing none he let himself relax. 

It was about halfway through the movie when he proudly announced, "See? I told you I'd watch it this time." Only he didn't get any kind of response. 

Salim craned his neck to glance at Jason's face and let out a low chuckle. 

With eyes closed, and mouth slack Jason was asleep on top of him. Probably has been for a while as well, judging by the crease on his cheek and one arm hanging loose off the side of the couch.

Salim paused the movie. The house was quiet, save for Jason's even breathing and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. Zain seemed to still be asleep, and the neighborhood cocooned them in quiet darkness, making the night perfect for catching up on some much needed rest.

"Oh well," Salim thought, and let his own eyes slip shut. "Take the little blessings as they come." They could try again tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. They had all the time in the world.

[salemlunaa]

i just want to thank you for making me realise how easy inducing the void is and how to let go of my fear and anxiety around it as well as having my desires, quite literally, overnight.

i hope this is okay but i’ve been wanting to induce the void for nearly 3 years now but i would always give up because i thought i had to do a million meditations, listen to a bunch of alpha waves while trying to sleep (i can’t fully relax with headphones), or really feel my emotions about having my desires which just left me emotionally exhausted.

but thanks to you and some other pure consciousness/void bloggers, all i do is lay down however i want, close my eyes, do my own breathing technique that relaxes me and affirm “I AM.”

i know we’re not supposed to focus on this, but i’ve reached some of the symptoms of inducing the void this way faster now than i ever have any other way. i know i just need to focus on distracting my mind and not focusing on the 3d like how my body feels to induce it but again, thank you!

i’m not going to spend any more time procrastinating or constantly changing up my “way.” i’m just going to do it.

I’m so happy my posts help you, all you need is yourself and i will always stand by that. Methods that help you relax eg waves, meditation, subliminals can help but at the end of the day it’s all you

and that mindset of casting out procrastination from your life will benefit you in future, gets you close to the inducing pure consciousness more than you know. Actually applying instead of running from the fear is something a lot of people need to do, so the fact that you have this mindset of inducing no matter what is what’s going to get you your dream life💋

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve very rarely gets sick. He prides himself on it.

But when Eddie spent three days in a row in bed with a fever, puking every time he got up, and coughing everywhere he could reach, Steve had no choice but to stay and take care of him. Which meant he spent three days in direct contact with whatever virus decided to leave Eddie bedridden.

Halfway through his shift at Family Video, he turned to Robin and said he was going to pass out.

She didn’t believe him, laughed it off like he was being dramatic. “You’ve been hanging around Eddie too much lately.”

So when he passed out five seconds later, she panicked. He opened his eyes to her frantically trying to move him onto his side.

“Robs, ‘s not a seizure.”

“Right, but what if you puke?”

“I’m just dehydrated.”

He wasn’t just dehydrated.

He was dehydrated and feverish and exhausted.

He was sick.

Robin called Eddie to come pick him up, rambling nervously over the phone about his symptoms. Steve couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he knew Eddie was probably laughing at the situation.

“He’ll be here to get you in 10 minutes. Can you please not pass out again because I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Sure, I’ll just tell my brain to hold off until Eddie’s here.”

“Thanks.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he settled on the floor behind the counter. Robin wouldn���t let him stand up again in case he fell and hit his head, which was actually probably a smart move.

When Eddie arrived, he took one look at Steve on the floor and sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“I warned you, Stevie! I said ‘you’re gonna get sick, you shouldn’t stay’ and what did you do? Mommed yourself right into the flu.”

Steve didn’t dignify that with an answer, mostly because it would take too much energy to give one. He stood on shaking legs and made his way to the door.

He felt so weak, he barely registered when his knees started to buckle. Strong arms wrapped around him from behind and held him up.

“Jesus, Steve. Were you feeling this bad when you left home?”

Steve shook his head and let out an embarrassing whine. His head was throbbing, a dull ache set in shortly after he got to work, and only got worse after he passed out.

“Can you make it to the van or do you need me to carry you?”

“I can make it, just…help?”

Eddie kept an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist, supporting most of his weight as they walked to his van. He opened the passenger side door and helped Steve get seated and as comfortable as possible.

Steve let out another small whine when he realized he would have to move to buckle himself in.

“What’s wrong?”

Eddie was so nice. Maybe he could buckle him.

“Belt?”

Eddie wordlessly reached for the belt and buckled Steve in, his hair brushing along Steve’s cheek and chest as he pulled away.

Steve repressed another whine, though for a different reason, when Eddie’s hand brushed against his thigh.

His thighs were sensitive, even in jeans. Sue him.

Steve nodded off during the drive to his house, barely aware of Eddie singing along to something on the radio.

When they arrived, Eddie unbuckled Steve’s seatbelt and helped him out of the van. He was saying something to Steve, but his brain wasn’t processing any of it.

He could barely keep his eyes open while Eddie got him upstairs and into bed.

He could feel Eddie’s rough hands gently pulling off his jeans and shirt, but couldn’t offer much help.

Passing out really did a number on him.

“Yeah, I think it did.”

Oh. Steve said that out loud. Interesting.

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you? Get sick and it’s like your brain’s melted out your ears.”

Steve let out a giggle before relaxing against his pillow.

Eddie started to tuck him in, pulling his covers up to his chin and brushing a piece of hair away from his face.

“I’m gonna get you some water. You hungry?”

Steve felt his stomach turn at just the thought of food touching his mouth. He used all of his remaining energy to shake his head.

“Be right back, Stevie.”

**********

When Steve opened his eyes again, it was too dark to even recognize his own bed. It’s been so long since he slept with no light, he felt disoriented and scared that the power had gone out.

Just as he was struggling to sit up, he heard a grumble from the floor followed by a groan.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I’ll get the light.”

Before Steve could process who the voice belonged to, his bedside lamp turned on and covered him in a golden glow.

Eddie.

The room started spinning around him before he could say anything. He closed his eyes to avoid the disorientation, but it only made it worse.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. I’ve got ya.”

And he did. Eddie’s arms were wrapping around Steve and pulling him against his chest, solidifying his presence in one place despite everything else in the room moving.

Steve melted into Eddie, breathing in the faint leather and smoke smell that never failed to make him feel safe.

“You just have no filter when you’re sick, huh?”

Eddie laughed softly, brushing his lips against the top of Steve’s head.

Steve didn’t give a response, not able to actually produce words when he wants to, apparently.

“You’re burning up. I got some Tylenol for you while you slept. You should take some now and try to rest.”

“Stay?”

Eddie didn’t respond, just moved to grab the water from the table and hand it to Steve. He watched as he took the Tylenol, telling him he did a good job before putting the water back on the table.

Just as Steve settled against Eddie’s chest again, he was moved away by strong hands.

The whimper he let out stopped Eddie in his tracks.

“Are you in pain? Robin said your migraines get so bad sometimes you can’t move. Is that happening?”

Steve shook his head, immediately regretting doing so when the room started spinning again.

“Stay.”

It only took a moment for Eddie to adjust them both so they could lay down together. Steve wasted no time in curling into Eddie’s side, and Eddie’s hand found it’s way to Steve’s hair.

His fingers gently pulled through some of the tangles, smiling to himself when Steve couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“Feel okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Can’t believe you let me get you sick.”

“‘S worth it.”

“You’re ridiculous. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

Eddie only hesitated a moment before dropping a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Promise.”

They hadn’t acknowledged the way Steve had acted when taking care of Eddie. They hadn’t talked about the cuddling and small kisses to his hair or cheek or nose. They hadn’t even been around each other since Eddie was feeling better.

But this felt like a turning point - no more ignoring the way they felt about each other. If Eddie was reading things right, Steve wasn’t just like this because he was sick and slightly delusional.

They’d have a talk when he was better, but for now, Eddie let Steve suction himself to his side and take the comfort he needed.

[shitsndgiggs]

Hey girl....before saying anything else.... i think that your fics are the best... like they are so well written... can you write something fluff about kenan yildiz x reader where they're married and she is like constantly sick and dizzy because she is pregnant and something happens and they find out they're going to have a baby....?

SURPRISE ADDITION - KENAN YILDIZ

After fainting at work, and being taking to the hospital, you and kenan end up getting some news

Kenan Yildiz x pregnant! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I had been feeling off for weeks. It started with occasional dizziness, which I brushed off as exhaustion from work.

But then came the nausea and the constant fatigue. Kenan noticed my waning energy and growing irritability, but I dismissed his concerns, attributing it all to stress.

One evening, while I was at work, staring at my computer screen, when the room started to spin. I gripped the edge of my desk, willing the dizziness to pass, but it only got worse.

I tried to stand, but my legs felt like jelly. The last thing I remembered was my colleague's concerned face before everything went black.

When I came to, I was lying on the floor with a small crowd gathered around me. Someone had called an ambulance, and I heard them talking about getting in touch with my husband.

Kenan arrived at the hospital just as they were wheeling me into a room.

His face was a mix of fear and concern as he rushed to my side. "Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?"

I managed a weak smile. "I fainted at work. They said it might be dehydration or something."

The doctor came in a few minutes later, holding a clipboard and looking serious. "Mrs. Y/N, we're going to run some tests to find out what's causing your symptoms. It could be a number of things, but we want to be thorough."

Kenan nodded, his grip on my hand tightening. "Thank you, doctor."

As they drew blood and hooked me up to an IV, Kenan stayed close, his worry palpable. "I hate seeing you like this," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. "You've been so tired and sick lately. We should have come here sooner."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. "I didn't think it was this serious."

"Don't apologize," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "I just want you to get better."

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor returned with the results. "Well, we have some news," she began, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Congratulations, Mrs. Y/N. You're pregnant."

For a moment, the world stood still. Kenan and I stared at the doctor, trying to process her words. "Pregnant?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, about eight weeks along, from what we can tell. The dizziness and fainting are due to severe morning sickness and dehydration, but both you and the baby are fine. We'll give you some fluids and medication to help manage the symptoms."

Kenan let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, a slow smile spreading across his face. "We're... we're having a baby?" He looked at me, his eyes shining with joy and disbelief.

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. "Yes, Kenan. We're having a baby."

He leaned in and kissed me gently, his hands trembling as they cupped my face. "I can't believe it. This is the best news ever."

As the nurse hooked me up to an IV, Kenan pulled a chair close to the bed and took my hand. "You scared me," he admitted softly.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, squeezing his hand.

“Promise me you'll take it easy from now on," he said, his voice firm but gentle.

"I promise," I said, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm just so glad you're here."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. "There's nowhere else I'd be. You're my world, Y/N."

The next morning, after being discharged from the hospital, Kenan insisted on taking me home and making sure I rested.

He took a few days off work to stay with me, his protective nature in full force.

One evening, as we were lying in bed, Kenan turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "You know, when I got that call from your office, it was like my worst nightmare."

I looked at him, my heart aching at the worry in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Kenan. I didn't mean to scare you."

He shook his head. "It's not your fault. But it made me realize just how much I love you and our baby. I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

I reached up and cupped his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble under my fingers. "We're going to be okay. We have each other."

He smiled, his eyes softening. "Yes, we do. And I promise to take care of you, no matter what."

[raeofsunrise]

hiii !! if it's not too much to ask could we get a peeta x reader (m or gn) and reader gets sick so peeta takes it upon himself to take care of them?? really fluffy with reassurance that reader's not a bother, cooking, baking bread, bathing reader etc. I LUVV UR WORK !

the doctor is in

pairing: peeta mellark x gn!reader

summary: after you get sick, peeta takes it upon himself to be the person taking care of you. this can technically take place after mockingjay, but there’s no real mention of any of that so…read it however you would like

warnings: mentions of throwing up, slight bit of angst because reader feels a bit emotional

word count: 953

author’s note: neww format!! and thank you!! there is NOT enough peeta content in this world. also, it’s never too much to ask! hope you like this, i made it with lots of love ☆

waking up should be nice. comforting. especially in peeta’s arms. but that was not the case for today. why? because you woke up with a searing headache, a sore throat, and an awfully runny nose. the morning sun, which you would usually love, was doing the absolute worst for your condition.

and as much as you loved the boy with his arm around your waist, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer in this position, so you proceeded to remove his arm from your waist, and sit up.

big mistake.

because unbeknownst to you until now, this mystery illness had another symptom, which you just found out was nausea. yayyy.

you used whatever remaining strength you had left to make it to the bathroom to throw up. if the world wanted a way to make you feel worse than you already did, this was the way.

you had been doing that for what felt like hours, and then you felt your hair being pulled from your face, and an arm rubbing your back softly.

your body finally decided to give you a break from the torment, and you looked up to find none other than your beautiful, tired boyfriend; peeta.

“well, you’re up early.” he says.

you turn around to face him and give him a small, exhausted smile in response. but that was all he needed.

“you feeling okay?”

you shake your head.

“well, let’s get you cleaned up, then you can head back to the bed, alright?” he says, rubbing your arms up and down.

nodding in response, he helps you stand up and gets your toothbrush for you.

you brush your teeth as he exits the room to get something. who cares if brushing your teeth immediately after vomiting is bad for your teeth? it’s not like you were gonna stand around with the taste of your own vomit in your mouth.

you finish brushing and feel some sense of normalcy return to the morning. as you put away your toothbrush and toothpaste, peeta enters the room and ushers you to the bed. there’s an array of items on it: blankets, medicine, extra pillows, and much more.

as he gently sits you down and the bed, you try to protest and say that you can’t be sick today, that you have things to do. but before you can he cuts you off.

“shh, let me take care of you, for once. please?”

he puts a hand on your cheek, and you just can’t resist his request when you look into those precious, soft eyes of his.

“okay.” you say in a very hoarse voice. that word will probably the first and last word uttered today, since even saying it sent intense pain throughout your throat.

“oh look, they speak.” he jokingly says.

you roll your eyes before he gives you a kiss on the forehead before tucking you into the bed, and asking you how many blankets you would like and if you wanted the windows open.

the whole day was filled with forehead kisses, sweet nothings, and a lot of tissues.

and you weren’t gonna lie, the multiplied affection peeta gave you continuously throughout the day made you feel a lot better. but it also made you worried. were you burdening peeta with all your wants and needs? the idea made you feel a little more nauseous than you already were, so you decided to toss it to the side.

you thought the affection would at least dwindle down as it was nearing evening, but you were quickly corrected as you smelt the mouth-watering aroma of fresh bread waft throughout the house.

as the day went on, your voice became easier to use, so when peeta walked through the door with a delicious looking meal and a slice of fresh bread, you could finally ask him something you’d been wondering the whole day.

“are you sure i’m not a burden to you?”

he looks a bit taken aback, like the idea that you just told him was something he had never heard or thought of in his life.

he puts the tray of food down before he goes to sit on the side of the bed. he puts a hand on your cheek for the fiftieth time before speaking.

“now i know you’re really sick.”

you laugh, confusedly.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, leaning into his hand.

“it means that you’re not thinking right, because what you’re thinking is quite the opposite.” he says, with a small smile.

“are you sure? i mean, because i—“

but he puts two fingers to your mouth.

“will you let me speak?” he asks with a sweet tone that makes you melt.

“you’re important to me, and you’re obviously not feeling well. i just want to make you feel good, because that’s what you deserve. you’re always talking care of me, but sometimes i just wanna take care of you. because i love you.”

this wasn’t the first time you heard him say i love you, but all the feelings you felt when he first said it are certainly there.

he removes his fingers from your lips, and you give him a smirk that gradually turns into a big, toothy grin.

“i love you too.” you say.

he smiles before giving you an actual kiss, on the lips.

when he pulls back, you give him a soft hit on the shoulder.

“peeta! you’re gonna get sick, too!”

“then i can lay with you all day.” he says, while getting in bed and wrapping an arm around you.

“oh yeah? then who’s gonna take care of us?” you ask.

“both of us.” he replies.

“i don’t think that’s how it works, honey.”

—————

please give feedback! it’s very appreciated ☆

[theheirofthesharingan]

Hi, please feel free to ignore this if you don't care about power scaling

About the Itachi VS Sasuke fight when itachi died, was itachi really holding back against his little brother like Obito said? We know he was blind but was he really sick and dying?? Because I don't know if we should just believe what obito said I'm still unsure, I mean Itachi looked like he was giving it his all he even used Susano so, can you please clarify this for me if you know? I feel like you'll be the best judge since you love both brothers and know a lot about them. What actually was going on during that fight? Thanks in advance!

Don't worry, it's not a question about powerscaling. Itachi was sick and it was hinted before Sasuke vs Itachi happened as well. But before Obito says something, we see Zetsu commenting on Itachi not giving his best already. According to Zetsu, Itachi was stronger than what he put up with Sasuke. And there must have been something that had slowed him down before the battle began.

Then Obito tells us Itachi was sick and had been alive on the medicines.

Whether Itachi was or was not on medicines, Obito might not be aware of that. He must have observed that Itachi wasn't doing well and assumed Itachi was taking medicines to keep himself alive.

In the chapter 353, Itachi and Kisame go to hunt down the Four Tails Jinchuriki, and instead of Itachi, Kisame battles and captures Rōshi. Kisame then says he insisted on capturing the Jinchuriki instead of letting Itachi do the work on his own.

Further in the same chapter, while it's Kisame who fought with the Jinchuriki, which would naturally leave him more tired, notice that it's Itachi who takes a seat as if walking alone, without doing anything, was exhausting for him. Kisame is the one holding the dying man. Why does Itachi need to take a rest? Simple, he wasn't doing well. And Kisame knew it, which is why, without Itachi saying anything, he decided to take a break.

When it comes to the battle with Sasuke, Itachi was sick already. The things that go on in their battle are:

Itachi and Sasuke use Genjutsu on each other. It must be a simple Genjutsu because Sasuke used the similar trick on him.

Then Itachi uses Tsukuyomi on him. Sasuke breaks free from him.

Afterwards Sasuke attacks him with the shadow shuriken technique that Itachi fails to deflect. And that makes Zetsu wonder for the first time if there's something wrong with Itachi that he wasn't able to dodge a simple attack like shuriken.

By this time, Itachi is completely crippled. He can't even see Sasuke's face properly.

Then they use katon and Itachi gets weaker than before. Sasuke has a simple Sharingan, but Itachi, due to his MS, is still more vulnerable because his eyes are not helping him anymore.

Then Sasuke uses Orochimaru's curse mark (which is a minor power booster) and Itachi uses Amaterasu. Now, that leaves Itachi even weaker. Itachi has used 3 of his major powers: Tsukuyomi, Katon, and Amaterasu. He's still standing though.

Itachi uses Amaterasu twice. Once it's when he's countering Sasuke's fireball and then when he targets Sasuke for real. It's all a lot for him.

Then Sasuke uses Kirin on him, which he obviously, deflects by his susano'o.

Once Sasuke is completely done with all his strength, Itachi finally wields his susano'o properly. And he uses Totsuka blade to seal Orochimaru as well. Afterwards, he begins to violently cough blood. It leaves Zetsu even more concerned over the matter.

He even believes something might already have been wrong with Itachi. Because Itachi is supposed to be stronger than this. Sasuke was no match for him, so what happened?

Now, Sasuke also shows similar kinds of symptoms (coughing blood) when he's overused his susanoo. But unlike Itachi, Sasuke fought longer and harder. Sasuke fought the Raikage, then the five kage too, and then Danzo. He was beyond the point of exhaustion and he'd overused his susano'o to the point he was nearly blind when he is ambushed by team 7. He feels the pain on the microscopic level.

Itachi used a veriety of powers but in a controlled manner. When I say Itachi was holding back, I don't mean he didn't use his powers fully, but that the intensity of those powers was minimized to cause the least harm, because harming Sasuke was not his intention in the battle. He was calculative about the whole thing and wanted to push him farther enough to have him use Orochimaru's chakra, so he could get rid of the curse mark.

The kind of battle Itachi and Sasuke had, if Itachi was healthy, would not have killed Itachi. It would have weakened him, have him bleed, but death would be a hard possibility. Itachi was much stronger than Sasuke and there was nothing that could kill him if he himself did not want to die.

While Obito's words leave a lot of room for obscurity, Itachi's state is hinted through his interactions with Kisame. He was ill, which is why Kisame suggested to capture the Jinchuriki on his own. While Kisame did all the work, he's carrying the nearly dying but a hefty man, along with Samehada, it's Itachi who needs to sit down and give himself a rest. The most Itachi did on that journey was walk beside Kisame and talk him out of capturing the Jinchuriki. That's all. And then, Zetsu commenting how Itachi could have done better than he did in the battle. So, something was wrong with him.

During his first appearance, he uses Tsukuyomi twice (for 72 hours and 24 hours) and then Amaterasu too. But he was either healthy at that point or his illness was in its nascent stage, so it doesn't affect him that bad. He says he'll need some rest but there's no immediate threat to his life.

So, yes, I do believe Itachi was suffering from an illness and Obito's words about him taking medicines could have been the truth or he might have been shooting an arrow in the dark. But Itachi being sick is confirmed.

[goldenempyrean]

ooooo

for this, how about sick reader who absolutely refuses to take medicine but wandanat bribes them with cuddles and one of their hoodies?

- 🎧

Bribery

〚 Notes - Another quick little drabble to empty my inbox :D Enjoy :) 〛

〚 Pairing- WandaNat x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Refusing to take your medicine isn't exactly pleasing your girlfriends, luckily, they know just how to bribe you. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 700 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

You knew you were coming down with something. You’d felt it coming on for days. So, when you woke up with an awfully sore throat and stuffy nose, you knew you were in for a rough few days, still your work needed doing so you settled down and cracked on with your files. 

Luckily for you, both of your girlfriends had noticed the growing pile of tissues in the trash next to you and the increased loudness of your sneezes and it seemed they’d both had enough of your antics. 

With an affirming nod, both girls made their way over to the table where you were sat, “You ready for a break princess?” Nat cooed as she came to stand behind your chair, wrapping her arm over the front of your chest. 

“I think you could use it baby,” Wanda added as she slowly pulled the file you’d been working on away, “You sound like you’re getting a cold.” 

“I second that.” Nat added, not giving you a chance to deny it, “Come on baby, how about we lay down for a bit, you’ve done enough work for now.” 

You couldn't help but smile at the thought of taking a break. The exhaustion from working while sick was starting to catch up with you. "Alright," you said, standing up slowly, "That sounds good to me." 

Nat and Wanda led you to the bedroom, where they had already prepared a cosy nest of blankets and pillows. They helped you get settled in and then both climbed in beside you, snuggling up close. Everything was fine until you racked forward with a harsh, chesty fit of coughing which had both your girlfriends rubbing your back worriedly. 

 “How about we get some medicine into you?” Nat soothed, once you’d finally calmed down from the fit. 

You shook your head stubbornly, “I’m fine, it’s just a little cold. I don’t need any medicine.” 

Both Nat and Wanda exchanged concerned looks, “But baby,” Wanda said softly, “you need to take something to help you feel better.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll be fine, I don’t need any medicine, I just need rest.” 

But as the day wore on, your symptoms only got worse. Your cough grew more persistent, and your nose became even more congested. Your girlfriends tried numerous times to persuade you to take some medicine, but you refused each time, insisting that you would get better on your own. 

Eventually though, it seemed your stubbornness was no longer going to be tolerated because Nat suddenly released you from her hold, as did Wanda, leaving you shivering in the absence of their body heat. 

“You take the medicine, and you’ll get all the cuddles you could ever possibly want. That’s only if you take it.” Nat said sternly, her tone taking on a stern edge. You looked to Wanda for support, but she had the same stubborn glint in her eyes as she looked down at you. 

“We’ll even let you wear that black hoodie of ours that you love so much.” Wanda added with a slight smirk when she saw the slight glow of excitement cross your face. 

You sighed, knowing that you were defeated. You couldn't resist the offer of their cuddles and your favourite hoodie. You nodded reluctantly, and Nat handed you a glass of water with the medicine dissolved in it. 

It tasted awful, and you wrinkled your nose in disgust, but you downed it quickly, not wanting to risk their cuddles being taken away. 

After a few minutes, you started to feel a little drowsy, and Nat and Wanda helped you settle back into the blankets. They snuggled up close to you, and you could feel their warmth seeping into your body, making you feel instantly better. 

"You were right," you murmured sleepily, "I do feel better already." 

Nat and Wanda exchanged smug grins before Wanda leaned in to kiss your forehead, "We know, baby," she whispered, "We always know what's best for you." 

You drifted off to sleep with a contented smile on your face, safe and warm in their embrace, knowing that they would always take care of you, even when you were being stubborn about taking your medicine. 

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[theoceanoasis]

Soundwave being extra aggressive/protective of Hot Rod and neither of them understand why.

If Hot Rod is flirted with by someone, Soundwave is there to scare the mech off. If Hot Rod tries to do anything physically demanding, Soundwave is there to do it for him. If Hot Rod is insulted by someone for the extra weight he has, whoa boy- Soundwave has to be held back to keep him from mauling the guy.

Everyone is baffled by this - Until Hot Rod's test results come back in and it shows he's sparked. They realise now it's because Hot Rod is carrying and Soundwave's sire protocols were going w i l d!!

Soundwave woke with a start scanning the room for danger. When he noticed Hot Rod wasn't in bed he went to find him.

"Hot Rod?"

Hearing noise coming from the bathroom he got up to see and found Hot Rod od hunched over throwing up. He kneeled next to him rubbing his back in concern.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't feel well."

"You should see Ratchet."

"I probably ate something bad, it's nothing."

He wanted to argue but Hot Rod threw up again. He held him close wiping his face when he was done and taking him back to bed. They snuggled together with Hot Rod wrapping himself in blankets feeling cold.

Hot Rod threw up again later that morning and he took care of him again calling Optimus to tell him Hot Rod was sick and couldn't come into work.

"That's fine. Maybe he should see Ratchet though."

"I'm trying to convince him."

He looked back at Hot Rod who laid in their bed exhausted and shivering.

He ended the call with Optimus his mate barely noticing with his hand wrapped around his as he curled into a ball.

"I'm calling Ratchet."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

Refusing to argue any longer he called Ratchet giving him a small list of Hot Rods symptoms.

"Bring him over. The medbay is free right now."

He scooped Hot Rod into his arms ignoring his complaints that he could walk and carried him to the medbay.

"Set him down."

Ratchet pointed at a med berth and he gently set his mate down holding his hand as Ratchet ran some tests.

"It'll take a few days before I can get back to you, but for now take it easy and rest."

Soundwave gave him a look which he ignored.

After his appointment he felt hungry and wanted to get something to eat.

"Let's try that new restaurant we saw before."

He pointed having managed to get Soundwave to let him down so he could at least walk.

"We'll order in. You need to rest. Medics orders."

"Fine."

He sighed following Soundwave back home. He noticed his mate was being clingy but he assumed he was just worried because he was sick.

He thought Soundwave would calm down a little when he started to feel better but he didn't. When he started feeling sick in the morning he hid it, not wanting Soundwave to worry.

Somehow his Conjunx always knew though and would try to convince him to take time off work which he didn't want to do. Cybertron still had a long ways to go and they needed him.

Eventually Soundwave relented but he wasn't allowed to stand for long periods of time and had to be careful and if he felt sick at all he was to go home immediately.

Relenting he went to grab a large stack of datapads that he needed to look at. When Soundwave picked them up.

"I need those."

"I don't want you picking up anything heavy."

Soundwave carried the datapads to his desk and he followed behind him wondering if Soundwave should also see Ratchet because he was acting weird.

He didn't usually get this protective when he was sick and it made him worry. Throughout the day he tried not to think about it. Although it was hard when Soundwave was always watching over him and grabbing anything he needed. Making sure he didn't strain himself.

Later he found himself craving Maccadams and managed to convince Soundwave. Who originally refused worried about him getting hurt.

When they got there it was crowded and Soundwave stayed protectively close until they needed to order.

His Conjunx had him sit down while he went up to order their food. While he was waiting someone came over and started flirting with him. He tried to ignore them which only made them get in his face more.

Before he could say anything Soundwave was there looking enraged and it was enough to send them running.

"Let's get home."

Soundwave helped him stand even though it wasn't necessary and they walked back home together with Soundwave staying close. Glaring at anyone who got too close.

The next day they had an important meeting and even though he felt nauseous and threw up he forced himself to get ready. He couldn't miss it people were counting on him.

Soundwave wasn't happy at all and stayed by his side the entire time constantly checking on him to make sure he wasn't going to be sick. The nausea had faded and he was feeling a lot better by the time the meeting started.

They walked in together and he went to take a seat when someone commented on his weight. He froze looking at them in shock along with everyone else as they kept going.

They commented how he was letting himself go and that he was ruining his nice frame.

Soundwave growled and tackled the mech enraged they'd speak that way about his Conjunx. It took multiple people to get Soundwave off him and Ratchet had to be called.

The medic walked inside surveyed the scene and barely acknowledging the mech who insulted him. He barely looked him over before deciding he was fine.

He then looked over Soundwave and took both of them to the medbay because his test results were back.

"Do you know what's wrong with Hot Rod?"

Soundwave demanded and he glanced at him.

"Yes he's carrying and your sire coding has activated which is why you've been acting strange."

They both froze and then looked at each other in excitement. Soundwave hugged him and he smiled.

"We are going to have a sparkling!"

Saying goodbye to Ratchet they were both eager to get home and talk about their sparkling.

[hyenaswine]

NEW LINK! The German Central Bank has canceled Abood's campaign so he's been forced to move to a new platform. With the border presently closed, he is just trying to collect cost of living funds for himself & his family, which includes his parents, sister, & nephew. As you certainly know, basics like food, water, & gas for cooking/heating have become exorbitantly expensive in Gaza.

You can read all of Abood's story & updates here, though donations thru that page have been disabled. Abood was a digital marketing student, then an ice cream salesman, then he was detained & tortured by the IOF for 25 days. Here is his own description of the time he spent in IOF detention:

I was tortured in various ways, such as being hung by my hands on a metal grill for hours until I lost feeling in my legs, or being forced to stand for long periods until I fainted. The pain in my bones and nerves still plagues me daily, as I cannot sit for long periods due to the severe pain in my knees.

In addition to the nerve damage detailed above, Abood still suffers from symptoms of PTSD from this experience, including nightmares, flashbacks, & hallucinations.

Abood is only 21 years old, being forced to survive a war & manmade famine, with the heavy burden of trying to support his entire family. I have been promoting his campaign since May & have watched him battle the language barrier & the constant stress & exhaustion to keep donors up to date on his situation in the hopes that people are spurred on to give more money. Nobody should have to work this hard to justify their right to continue to live. He's lost everything; now all he wants is to survive.

DONATE HERE

Abood's campaign is verified by the Butterfly Effect Project, line #1162.