#you might need to take a sick day after being in the Well's presence for so long

[gojobbg]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 8

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: AHHH im so sorry i was gone for so long! work and school and i got sick again. my luck lately has been quite poor, but here's the next part!! i dont think its quite well written but i hope you all think its good! thank u again for ur support, kindness, and patience :) (sorry i say thank you so much, cant help myself!)

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Wednesday

You should have worn more lotion. 

The unkind cold and threatening winds made your trek to work excruciatingly more difficult. Surely you made it, but had to get blind by the flurries of snow in the process. You take your time in the lobby, stomping aggressively down at the weather mats to remove all the snow and ice from your boots. You shake yourself like a wet dog to get the snow off your coat, too. The lobby men chuckle at you, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

It’s been rough to do so, after all. Considering you got rejected twice by the same man, you needed all the serotonin you could get. You spent hours crying, which only halted when you finally passed out. The heartbreak exhausted you, given how dark your eyes were, and how hollow your chest has felt since then. The worst part about all of it is that despite everything, you still had Nanami’s coffee in mind. 

It floated in your mind to go to the cafe and get him a cup. But you have to remember that he has other assistants who know his coffee order now. You were now one of few who knew it. 

To have your relationship seen as just boss/assistant by the other participant felt like punishment. A large sigh left your lips when you exited the elevator on your floor. Shivers tickled your body as you begrudgingly walked over to your desk. It was warm in the office, enough for you to take solace in. 

You begin to turn on your computer and prepare your desk, before being interrupted by two hands slamming down your desk. You look up to find a panting (and exhausted) Haibara. “Yu?” You whisper worriedly. “Is everything okay?”

“He lost the flashdrive,” Haibara lets out. “The presentation… it’s missing.” 

Your eyes widen, “Nanami? But… how?” Of all people, Nanami was never one to lack in anything, especially in organization. He was always sharp and aware of where all his things were. You never had to concern yourself with assignments getting lost because Nanami is too diligent.

“We– we um, drank last night…?” Haibara reluctantly confesses. “We both got home quite late… he might not have his whole head on.”

Without another word, you swiftly leave your desk and rush over to Nanami’s office, with Haibara following closely behind. On your way towards his office, you see all of Takada’s assistants outside of his office, their expressions full of concern. You make your way through them and knock on his door gently. 

“What?” Nanami’s annoyed tone rang through the door. 

“It’s Y/N,” you reply, ignoring his attitude. 

Quick shifting was sound behind the door before the doorknob began to turn. The door opens to reveal a disheveled Nanami. Despite his usually refined features, his unkempt hair and unbutton shirt was quite distracting. The shadows line his collarbone and the darkness under his eyes add to the intensity in his struggling, hazel eyes. He leaned against the door frame, his eyes slightly lighting up from your presence. There was some sort of relief in his eyes, but it was still drowned out by anxiety. 

“Please, please tell me you have a copy?” Nanami practically begs.  

You feel a lump in your throat from seeing his desperation. Not even you can be dismissive to his plea. “I–I was instructed not to keep an extra copy. It’s confidential, so I didn’t…” 

Nanami let out a quiet ‘fuck,’ retreating slowly back towards his desk. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself because you’re right and I’m simply irresponsible…” He leans back against his desk, defeatedly holding himself up with his hands firmly down on the desk behind him. He looks distantly to the floor, a sight you never thought you’d ever see. 

The confident, sharp Nanami was now at his wits’ end. 

“Do you remember when you last had it?” You ask quietly. 

“I had it in my coat pocket on my way here,” he recalls quietly, “I still had it when I got off the train, so it must be outside around the area.” 

“But with all that snow…” Haibara begins, the defeat clearly on his tongue. 

You let out a sigh, emitting a calm apology before dismissing yourself. Once you were out of sight, you ran towards the elevator, practically beating the button until it arrived to you. You impatiently wait as you descend, your body already feeling the cold from outside. Even maintenance couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched you run out from the lobby, and into the harsh weather. 

It was a bit embarrassing for you. You were always there to fix Nanami’s scarce mistakes, or prevent them. Even after he broke your heart twice, here you are, outside in the freezing cold, without any garments to protect you from it. You could feel your body beginning to go numb from the seconds you were outside. 

Your exposed legs were inches deep in the snow, your frigid hands sifting desperately through the snow. Why? You asked yourself. Why, why, why? You were freezing, the weather was harsh, and this flash drive is as small as a roach. Why were you doing all of this? 

As you shoveled through the snow, you were finally able to feel how you were feeling after facing Nanami again. You were able to keep yourself from crying, but you wanted to cry profusely. Your boss, your crush, was stressed out over a mistake he made, and it didn’t even make you feel better. Unfortunately, your feelings were too weaved into his, and you felt the stress he is feeling. 

It bothered you to see him stressed. So much so, your body moved on its own and now it was in the cold, looking for the solution to Nanami’s problem. You didn’t even stay idle for a moment while in his office. Perhaps, the reason why you were helping him was because since you met Nanami, he has always been someone to work for his team. 

But you know for sure part of it was that you never want to see him like that again.

Taking on projects on his own to keep his other colleagues working in low piles. Working with clients he personally isn’t a fan of to make sure the company grows. Providing breakfast and lunch when important meetings arise to make sure everyone at least eats well before torturous work. He was strict, but never a mean person. And to that end might explain why you still felt the way you did. 

However, 

Your respect for him goes above your feelings. A hard piece of plastic was barely felt between your fingers, but they were able to hold onto it firmly. The small flash drive, covered in a bit of snow, still glowed green when you pushed up to reveal the USB. You promptly make your way back in, the warmth barely penetrating the cold you developed while being outside. 

I’m gonna get sick, you thought to yourself. As you passed through the lobby, you noticed Nanami’s clients getting checked in at the lobby. You hurry to the elevator, pushing aggressively at the close button so they didn’t have a chance to get there at the same time you did. You move your legs in place, attempting to regain some warmth. While you ascended, you purposely pushed the buttons of the floors you passed to delay their arrival. Finally reaching your level, you rush out to go to the other free elevator. As you did, you were met with a concerned Haibara. 

“H-hey!” Haibara calls to you, but you ignore him and shove the flash drive into his hand. But as you did, he noticed that you were frozen and kept his hands around yours. “You… found it? Did you go outside? Without a coat? Y/N, you’re freezing!” 

Oh, how you wished you fell for Haibara instead. You pull away your hand, quickly entering the other elevator and slamming your hands on the buttons. You look up at Haibara, your bottom lip blue and quivering. “Take it to Nanami,” you say roughly, your voice hoarse from the little warmth in your body. “Your clients. They’re downstairs. Hurry up.”

Haibara holds onto your arms, noticing that you could barely keep yourself up, “yeah, fuck the clients. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“Please,” you look up at him desperately, tears welling in your eyes. It was already enough that you felt stupid for even looking for the flashdrive in this state. But even Haibara couldn’t push away the hurt and stress in your own eyes. “I’ll be fine… please help Nanami finish this.” 

“Let me at least walk you to your desk–” 

“I got her!” You both look over to see Tae run over, his apron dancing left and right from not being properly tied in the back. He quickly takes hold of you, looking up at Haibara to give him a curt nod in replacement of a proper bow. “Resume your work, Haibara-sama. I can tend to her.” 

Tae held you close enough that you could feel his warmth. It was intoxicating almost, the solace of his heat and the scent of pine needles emanating from his body. The fresh scent of linen coming from his black sweatshirt made you feel a little nostalgic but uneasy. You could still feel the cold taking you over, your entire body shivering. His hands firmly held you without squeezing you tightly. 

Haibara looks down skeptically, but you wave at him. “Please go,” you croak, coughs finally leaving your throat. “I’ll be fine.” You could see that you didn’t quite persuade him, but for the sake of Nanami, he nodded. 

He eyes Tae, a rare serious aura surrounding him, “get her to a doctor if she needs it. I’ll be back as soon as the presentation ends. Please make her something hot, like hot cocoa or soup.” Tae nods, allowing Haibara to run back towards Nanami, who was probably drowning in his own anxiety. 

“‘m sorry to inconvenience you like this, Tae,” you whisper, your body still shaking and twitching from the cold. “But thank you for that.” 

“No worries, please don’t exert yourself,” Tae softly warns. He tightens his hold on you before slowly walking you over to the cafe. Though you didn’t have enough trust to close your eyes, you did have enough to hold his sweater, confident that he won’t let you fall. “Let me help you. After all, you helped me first. Come, the cafe is just around the corner.” 

The relief on Nanami’s face was truly meant to be displayed in a museum. 

He held onto the flashdrive tightly, mentally scolding himself from ever dropping it in the first place. He forces it into the projector, and everything was set up for the clients to come in moments. He noticed that the flash drive was not only still cold, but slightly wet. “Was it outside in the snow?” 

Haibara nods as he fixes up the conference table a bit. It was ornate with drinks, snacks, and notetaking items for their clients to use and enjoy. “The snow is really growing by the inch out there. This winter is brutal.” 

“It truly is unkind out there,” Nanami sighs, his eyes looking through the window. “I hope you grabbed your coat before going out there.” 

Haibara shakes his head, “it wasn’t me who found the flashdrive; it was Y/N. I caught her at the elevator, and she was the one who handed it to me.” 

Nanami slightly perks up at your name, “did she really?” 

“She left straight from your office to go find it,” Haibara says quietly, “but she didn’t even bring a sweater. She was completely frozen when I saw her.” 

This left a pit in Nanami’s stomach. “Why did she not bring a coat? She’s more rational than that.” 

Haibara lets out a sigh, “who’s to say, Kento. Y/N works very hard to do right by you and this company. I think she’d do whatever it takes in order to make sure you and this department shines.” 

“Disregarding her health is not why she’s here,” Nanami huffs strictly. “Where is she?” 

“I left her with the barista you hired,” Haibara informs, “my guess is he took her to the cafe to warm her up.” 

Nanami’s eyes cut over to Haibara, burning through his soul. Despite this, Haibara still didn’t see his eyes. “You left her with a stranger?” 

“A stranger you hired,” Haibara clarifies. “Anyways, Y/N insisted I come help you. I’d probably make her feel worse if I didn’t.” 

There was a rare annoyance that Nanami never felt. You were always conscious of yourself, and others. Nanami always noticed when you would help someone with a large pile of papers, or when you applied bandages to blisters due to your heels. But more times than not, you never shied away from a challenge, and never hesitated to help someone whether they asked or not. 

But now you were far from him, and he couldn’t do anything to help you. He had this stupid presentation to do, rather than be by your side and tend to you. After all, you truly were the reason behind his success. The reason for his reduced stress, and a direct asset to his department. You did so much for him, only to be given a shred of that effort. He was feeling guilty, not only for being unaware of his feelings towards you, but the immense disregard he had for your own feelings and effort in this company. 

You were his dear assistant, and he was breaking you. 

“I’ll be back,” Nanami hums, rushing out of the conference room. Haibara looks back and follows right behind him, surprised by his sudden dash. 

Nanami, the meeting!” Haibara calls out to him, “you can’t do this right now!” 

His response was silence as he reached the corner towards the cafe. As he appears in the opening, his hazel eyes relentlessly looked for you. But when he stumbled upon you, his concern and annoyance skyrocketed. 

You were lying on one of the couches at the cafe, surrounded by a few of the baristas there. They all comforted you, as you lay under a few blankets. But Nanami noticed that below all of that, you were covered by a large, black crewneck. On your head, a beanie as well. And sat on a stool right in front of you with a hot coffee cup was Tae, the barista he hired. Nanami noticed the warmth in his eyes when he looked down at you, with a free hand out to you. Your boss felt a lump in his throat when he saw you take his hand, helping you sit up to take the cup from him. Tae kept his hand on the bottom of the cup while you sipped it cautiously. 

His chest felt like someone was pushing it down, his breath was limited. His heart, at the same time, was punching against it as well, almost as if it was going through a two-front war. He looks down at his hands, adjusting the sleeves at both of his wrists. He needed to reach you– sooner rather than later. And now looked like the perfect opportunity. 

But before he could take another step, the elevator behind him opened, and the entourage of clients he was expecting stood before him, all smiles. Haibara catches up and pats Nanami’s back, forcing him to turn around as they both curtly bow in greeting. A vein protruded Nanami’s temple, and Haibara looked back to see what he was looking at. 

What he saw made him crack a small smile, his energy returning to him as he led the clients and an annoyed Nanami towards the conference room. 

Taglist: [Now Closed]

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

[binah-beloved]

So I know you HC that Binah won't let you anywhere near the Well (yes I've read the whole blog basically in one sitting because... I need more Binah in my system.) But consider this

She avoids you assisting her with extractions as much as she can. Maybe she sends you off with "urgent" reports to other sefirot (the higher the floor, the better), whenever she has to draw from the Well. But she can't keep this up forever. You DO want to be at her side when she has to go through THIS nightmarish task. Anyhow you do end up assisting her. How does that make her feel? Maybe your presence anchors her to reality and keeps her sane more than she'd care to admit? Maybe she instinctively covers your eyes at some point without even realizing it?

we all need more Binah in our systems

when the day finally comes that you're by her side, the only thing Binah feels is fear. it's not something she usually experiences, as even degraded Arbiters are stronger than anyone needs to be, but she knows the sharp pain in her chest is fear, cold and unyielding. you're so fragile- even the best weapons and gear she gives you won't be able to defend you from the Well- but you're also so stubborn, insisting that you accompany her

"No one should have to do this alone". that's what you told her, and what you stand by. so reluctantly she brings you to the Well, watching its waters illuminate your features in an emerald glow and telling you to stay close

the task hurts as always, eating away at her thoughts and tearing bits of her identity away. but this time, you're there, standing beside her and holding her hand; every time you squeeze her fingers, the pain relents just slightly, and Binah feels like she can breathe again. when you take a step closer to her for comfort she carefully pulls you into her arms, tucking her cloak around your shoulders- you can stay in there for the entire time, if you'd like. she doesn't mind. you make sure to give her a soft hug when you feel her stiffen, the only indication that she's in distress, and after a moment her muscles unclench and her hand comes down to caress your own, wrapped around her waist

finally everything ends once more, a sigh of relief slipping from your lips as you leave the room. your head feels blurred and heavy until a hand rests on top of it, a glint of emotion in Binah's eyes as she quietly thanks you for what you've done today, and before she leaves she gives your hand a small, tender squeeze

you don't notice the single tear that drips from her eye when she turns away

[saduko]

HARD TO MISS

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.9K words

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not feeling very well."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm okay for now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t think?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought I’d be okay.”

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

“Only a little.” Your words were sheepish.

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

“You don’t smell very good either-”

“-I don’t smell like vomit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!” Lando gasped. “Not funny!” 

[cattamouche]

I think fatui scara would be controlling. think about it, he's already lost all the people he loved before, do you really believe he would let his partner go that easily? he would absolutely keep an eye on you 24/7. you wouldn't be allowed to stray too far from your shared home because what if something were to happen to you? there are many evil people in this world, ones that would want nothing more than to take revenge on him for reasons that he's already forgotten, since they're so insignificant to him after all. and you humans are so fragile, how could he possibly let you wander around unsupervised when there's such high risk?

he has a short temper and he's very strict. just because you're his partner doesn't mean he'll go easy on you, no, it would be quite the opposite actually. he couldn't care less about the well being of his subordinates or peers, if they want to subject themselves to one of the more dangerous missions assigned by pierro they can go right ahead. but you? just going for a walk for some fresh air at night is forbidden. and no you may not leave the house during snowfall at any time of day, what would happen if you were to slip or catch a cold and fall sick? anything you need done that he deems even remotely risky, he'll get it done for you in your stead. and there is no need to worry about him, he can handle himself perfectly fine. much better than a human could.

don't you understand this is only coming from a place of love? maybe if you two lived in a different nation, if he didn't have this job and you could live peacefully the way he used to, maybe then he wouldn't have to be such a worry wart. but this is not the life you live, and you chose this. you agreed to this the moment you accepted him into your heart. he's overbearing, a broken man who has lost time and time again, and he will do anything to keep you around for as long as possible. even if it means being stupidly strict over small things you might think are insignificant. even if it means handing you over to dottore to lengthen your lifespan.

the way he behaves within the comfort of your home as opposed to anywhere else is like night and day. here he doesn't have to keep his eyes peeled for any sign of danger, he can simply sit in your comforting presence, do mundane things and bask in the domesticity of it all after work. there is nothing to worry about when there are guards stationed outside the house, and most important of all he's right there with you. nobody is capable of keeping you safer than himself.

I do believe he would soften up overtime, but those first few years are definitely going to be a bit tough since he would have several worries and concerns, so you better buckle up. though it really is for your own good, just trust him!

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

Ethan Landry taking care of his sick girlfriend.

You had been sick for days now and it was making you feel so weak and tired that you found yourself lucky to have such a loving and caring boyfriend to be with you in these moments. You had insisted with Ethan that he didn’t have to miss so many classes and that he could get sick by taking care of you but he wouldn’t even listen to your arguments, saying that it was part of his mission as a good boyfriend to make sure you would get better under his care.

Ethan would lay in bed with you all day and night just to reassure you with his warm presence as you two were watching horror movies all day, well…seeing your condition, it would be more accurate to say that you rather slept during most of the movies while Ethan softly caressed your hair and silently chuckled at your little snores.

Ethan would also argue with you when you had to take your medicines that you quite disliked. Ethan sighed as he tried to move the big spoon of syrup closer to your closed lips, as he mimicked what he wanted you to do like he was talking to a child.

« Aaahhh », Ethan opened his mouth but soon after started to pout at you when you kept on being stubborn.

« Please baby, I know it’s icky but at least try for me, hmm ? », Ethan smiled at you as he caressed your cheekbone with his free hand. You couldn’t refuse when he was being this adorable with you and you opened your mouth for Ethan to give you the medicine for your sore throat, as your attentive boyfriend put his other hand under the spoon just in case some of the syrup might spill.

You had also told Ethan that your tummy awfully hurt with how much you were coughing. Considering that Ethan held you in his arms all day long, your back comfortably resting against his chest, he instantly had the idea to massage your tummy to make the ache slowly fade away. Under your shirt, his hand felt soft and warm on your skin as Ethan applied firm yet gentle circles where you needed relief.

And during the night, when you would constantly wake up shivering because of coughs or pain, Ethan would still hold you close to his heart, only leaving you to bring you a glass of water, tissues or something that you needed. When your head would rest back on his chest, Ethan leaned down and kissed your head, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back to look at you with a tender expression. His hand found yours instinctively to intertwine his fingers with yours, his thumb gently rubbing circles on the back of your hand as Ethan murmurs reassuring words in your hair.

« It’s okay, I’m right here…my angel, I’ll always be. Just relax and rest, I’m not going anywhere…because I love you. »

Yeah I’m like very sick so this is super indulgent, I need Ethan to hold me 🥺💓

💗 Ethan Landry Masterlist 💗

[anatay004]

ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ | ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ (+ 18)

ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ’ꜱ ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴀɴɴᴏᴜɴᴄᴇᴅ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɴ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴍ, ɪɴ ʜᴏᴘᴇꜱ ʜɪꜱ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡɪꜰᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴀꜱ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ, ʜᴇ ʀᴇꜰᴜꜱᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ.

manipulation, obsession, jealousy, dub-con, and smut.

ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʙᴜʀɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

YOU WEREN'T AVOIDING HIM.

Or, at least, that's what you liked to tell yourself. You were simply taking a step back from him, allowing yourself to escape from his searing touch, his scarring lips, and poisoned vows. You were stepping out of the picture, allowing him a moment to relish his wife, to engulf in her presence and take her in. In hopes of diminishing yourself from the recesses of his mind — in hopes she could replace you somehow.

It was your wedding present to him.

After all, you were just his lover. You could never be something more — nor did you wish to be, not after everything that he'd put you through. After you'd won the 12th Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow had made sure to haunt you down. He’d made sure to corner you into his command with thinly-veiled threats, to eliminate any obstacles on his way and take you as his and only his. No matter the consequences.

Like an object.

Like a treasure.

He did everything in his power to have you. To tether himself to the fibers of your skin, to burrow beneath your bones, and settle in. He was like a drug to you — deathly yet addictive, and sometimes you even wondered if you were right in the head. To accept his pleasures, his lips, and his body against yours — even though you didn't have much of a choice most of the time.

You hated him.

For taking away the remnants of humanity that was once inside of you. For haunting your mind during the daytime and behind shut eyelids. For making you his in every way possible.

And yet he went through all of that trouble to marry another woman.

At first, it pestered you — to think you weren't worthy of such a title. To think you weren't worthy of being the First Lady of Panem after all the shit that he'd put you through. But then, you thought of it as an opportunity to escape him. Try to reconnect with your old self and run away from him for as long as you could.

And that's what you did.

When the wedding was announced, you packed your stuff and fugitively came back home to your district. You hadn't seen your family for months, Snow had made sure to isolate you from anyone you ever shared some type of affection with. He hated sharing you. So, he forced you to move to the Capitol with him, despite the funny looks and whispers that ricocheted off the walls.

Everyone, somehow, knew you were his.

And yet, nobody dared to speak of it loudly.

Not even your family.

Afraid it might just sentence them to death (wish you knew, would most likely be the case).

One week elapsed eventually. You heard from him through the news, he'd married Julia Pompey in a matter of days before your departure. It comforted you — to think it was finally over until the roses began to arrive one day. You’d asked your mother to throw them away, to which she didn't object to, she was well aware of the thinly-veiled message behind them.

She was aware of the powerful man that haunted you.

It started with a single rose at first, but by the end of the week, they were bouquets of roses sitting outside your door. There was no letter attached to them, he didn't need to write one — you knew the message perfectly well. He was asking for you to come back to him.

It almost made you sick.

But you tried to dismiss it.

You tried to move on with your life. You busied yourself with banal tasks at home. You helped your mother clean and cook your favorite meals. And, although there wasn't much talking between the two of you, you enjoyed her presence all the same. It was nice to have her gentleness, after the games, loneliness seemed to be the only thing that accompanied you everywhere you go — it made you weaker, easier for Snow to break.

And that's what he did.

He broke you apart just to put you back together.

Until your mother could no longer recognize you. But in fleeting moments like this, when you lingered behind her frame and watched her bake your favorite muffins like a child, she was able to see a few glimpses of the daughter that was once taken away from her.

After all, you weren't completely lost yet.

But you knew it wouldn't last.

You were coming back from the bakery one afternoon when you noticed the sudden shift in the atmosphere inside your home. The house was awfully quiet — the loudest kind of silence you'd ever heard before, and your mother was unexpectedly greeting you at the door. A fake smile curved her lips, it was almost concerning, but before you could open your mouth and ask if something was wrong, a peacemaker stumbled into your line of vision.

"Ms. (Y/LN), please follow me."

Your muscles wracked with tension when the peacemaker beckoned you towards the end of the hall and into the office located at the far end of the house. You offered your mother a faint smile on the way, assuring her that everything was going to be okay — but you knew better.

The door was shut behind you with a quiet thud when you stepped inside the room. You knew he was waiting for you inside. The smell of roses immediately settled into your nostrils and you shivered, the aroma forced its way down your throat until you could almost taste it. He was sitting across from you at the desk, leaning back on the chair as he examined your features very quietly.

When you finally looked up to meet his gaze, the sight of his tousled blonde curls caught you completely off guard. He looked exhausted, dark circles marred his skin like he hadn't slept for days. You'd never seen him like this before.

You disliked it.

"President Snow," You greeted after a moment of silence, relishing the way his jaw visibly clenched at the formality of your words. He hated when you called him anything, but Cory.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He spat through his teeth suddenly. If glares could've killed, you've been six underground by then.

You feigned an innocent look on your face. "I haven't done anything at all."

"You left home," He argued, and the mere sound of the words made your skin prickle with goosebumps. The Capital was not your home — he was not your home, but you didn't dare to blurt that out into the open air. "And you left no fucking letter, no indication of when you were coming back — nothing!"

"I assumed your wife wouldn't like having me around," You responded simply, holding back your breath when his expression darkened completely and a humorous smile itched his lips. "Congratulations on the wedding, by the way."

"Is that what this is about?" He scoffed, pushing back on his chair almost immediately. The wood scuffing against the floor made you wince. "Is that why you left? Because you were jealous?"

Anger retaliated in the pit of your stomach. You were not jealous, on the contrary, you were almost glad he'd someone else to fuck with. Because then — maybe, you could be free from him. And the nightmares could finally go away.

But you didn't say anything.

Afraid that you might just say that.

He didn't mind that, instead, he took a few deliberate steps closer to you. Instinctively, you fell back a few steps, until your back was pressing against the wall and there was nowhere to run.

"Do you want to know why I married her?" He questioned as his voice notched down a few decibels. He was standing close — too close, his face was merely inches away from touching yours. You could feel his warm breath pressing against your skin as he spoke. "Because I hate her. Because she means nothing to me."

You stilled for a moment, reeling over his words. For some reason, the logic behind his marriage didn't surprise you as much as it should've. Coriolanus Snow was a tactful man, you knew him like the palm of your hand — he didn't act before having a plan. So, you shrewdly assumed, that marrying Julia Pompey was just one of his ways of securing immunity to threats.

His enemies couldn't hurt him if they killed her — or their future children. Because he didn't love or care enough for her. Not one bit.

"Do you know what I did on my wedding night?" He added, voice sliding evenly into your thoughts. His hand carefully raised to touch your face, to stroke the skin of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "Do you know who I thought of when I dismissed her and locked myself in our room?"

You clenched your jaw as you registered his words, not wanting to listen any further.

His thumb pressed against your bottom lip. "When I took my pants off and jerked all night off until I was numbed?"

You turned your head away, but he gripped his hand around your cheeks to keep you in place. You threw him a look, but he dismissed it with little care. He wanted you to look into his eyes.

"Guess who I thought of?"

You didn’t answer.

“Guess who kept me going?” His hands dropped to tighten around your throat.

“Stop it, Coriolanus,” You hissed, pressing the palm of your hand against his chest harshly.

He didn’t falter.

“You know she could never replace you,” He continued, as if was the most obvious thing in the world. “She could walk around naked and I would much rather turn to look at the filthy floor. She means absolutely nothing to me.” He repeated, and — for some reason, you were certain he was telling the truth.

And it suddenly dawned on you that — no matter how far you ran, no matter how fast you did; you would never actually escape him. And the daunting realization peppered visible goosebumps over your skin again.

“I know.” You limited yourself to answer.

“So, why the fuck are you avoiding me?” He snapped, eyes suddenly turning obscure as he waited for an answer. “Are you punishing me?”

I wish I was, you thought to yourself.

“Of course not.”

“Then why the fuck are you running away from you?” He hissed, examining your face carefully before an amused smile itched his lips “As if you could ever escape me, sweetheart.”

You glared at him.

He didn’t deign to give you a response.

Instead, he pressed his lips against yours — obliterating any sudden rationality or lucid thought that you could’ve had in mind at that moment. You found yourself shutting your eyes when his tongue swept past your lips and delved hot inside your mouth. He was desperate and frantic — he’d missed you. You didn’t fight it, because, at the end of the day, you knew it would be pointless. You knew you would be right back in the same game — run and being chased.

And he would catch you every damn time.

Despite how much you hated it.

“Come back home.” He commanded, his voice dangerously low as he leaned back to catch his breath. His hands were sliding under your shirt, tracing arbitrary patterns over your stomach before his hands raised to make their way up to your warm chest.

“Cory — ” You protested when he buried his head in your neck and began to kiss your skin like there was no tomorrow. You could hear voices behind the door, and concerned whispers from your family as they tried to piece together what was happening behind those closed doors.

Would he kill you?

Would he kill them?

You almost wanted to laugh at that. You wish he could just kill you right there and then.

If they only knew.

“We can’t — ” You tried again, but his lips met yours with such fervor that you couldn’t even finish your sentence. Within a blink of an eye, he slid an arm behind your waist and carried you up to throw you over the desk behind him. You tried to protest again, but it only seemed to incite him even more as he racked up your skirt.

“Say you’ll come back home.” He commanded, his voice rasping as he pulled his pants down. You didn’t answer, instead, you parted your legs and took him in like you’d always done. He slid in and out with slow thrusts and you almost hated the gentleness of his moves. A moan silently slipped out your mouth when he touched every right spot — until your toes were curling, and an orgasm was washing over you.

You hated how well he knew you.

You hated that the only thing you could do was hold back the tears.

When he finished, he collapsed on top of you. Face buried inside your neck as he waited for the response he knew you would never deny him.

“I’ll come back home.”

[yubiina]

Imagine taking care of post war Levi.

After the war is over, everyone distant from one another, Armin along with his team travel to teach the history and prevent from it repeating, Historia remains in Paradis as queen with her newborn child, some stay in Marley after the war because everything is so destroyed, some choose to go back to Paradis.

Imagine being the only one left from Levi's close squad. Sure, it might have started out rought with him (as does everybody), but you have been there through it all, hand-picked to be in his squad as one of the best soldiers for your skill and wits.

After the war he loses it all, the soldiers he's raised are building their lives and him-with nowhere to go, no place that he calls home that could miss him- you step in and tell Gabi you will be his caretaker, even if Levi protests at first.

It just dosen't seem fair, others out there are enjoying the freedom they fought so hard for, getting married, building their lives and you're stuck here, taking care of an old man that can only walk a short amount of time before needing a wheelchair, and sometimes struggles to do simple tasks.

"I got it, it's fine" he grumbles as you hold him by the arm and gently place him in the wheelchair as he groans in pain, ignoring his previous comment.

But despite what he thinks, you know deep down it's much deeper than that, it isn't just some loyal habit of carrying your duty to take care of your capitan, but rather a selfish need your heart has to keep him close, you who has no home yourself- have found a palace in his presence.

You wonder if all the things you do have caught up to Levi, to others around him - you were appearantly terrible at hiding your feelings, but mabye all that you did was all but a simple and kind act to Levi.

You wake up early every morning to prepare breakfast, making sure to shop well the previous day in order to feed him a full and loving meal. You clean more than usual, keeping him out of the house and occupied in the garden so the dust won't make him sick, even taking him to the café every morning with his newspaper in hand, a ritual you both effortlessly created with time.

Every weekend you go to buy flowers with Levi, and leave them at the memorial of fallen soldiers, his wheelchair sitting not far behind the engraved stone of his fallen comrade, as you helped him bent down and place them on the cold stone.

'(Hange Zoe) 14th Comander of the Scout Regiment'

Ever since the war ended you had picked up the hobby of baking, you always knew you had a good hand, even during your time with the scouts, where all that was available was potato, bread and some dirty carrots, you managed to make a hearty meal.

Now you bake as your heart desires, making cookies, pies and pastries that Onyakopon,Gabi and Falco enjoy too much when you head out with Levi and everyone for a picnic. And while everyone thanks you and enjoys what your hands made, you don't have the heart to tell anyone that you bake them for Levi, but give it to everyone as to mask your gesture.

It was obvious to Gabi, when you place the picnic basket on the blanket under the tree, and take out all the sandwiches and pastries you've done. You take out a glass for each for the fresh lemonade you've made, and then a special thermos of black tea and pour it for Levi.

It was obvious to Falco when you personally started buying basic medical supplies like needles, alcohol, medication, and gauze because you wanted to take care of Levi personally, after the doctor might have tired him out with walking practice.

It was obvious to Onyakopon, when he kept seeing your regularly at the fabric shop, buying the same white wool. Only to see that white wool turned into a long, soft scraf placed next to a beautiful teaset, packaged well for the Secret Santa they did for Levi's birthday.

But mabye Levi noticed too. He noticed the black tea especially made for him, and the fact that you always placed two pastries in his plate instead of one like the others.

He noticed how gentle your fingers were when they grazes his scars and lifted his leg to tend to it, as if you had found a bird with an injured wing by the window.

He noticed the suttle, but engulfing perfume scent on the new white scarf, and your taste in style when he saw the teaset. He noticed through the slightly open door, tne candlelight that came from the living room when he tried to sleep, and your prickleled hands from the sharp knitting needles.

It is then that he gets up, from his chair, paper crumpled in hand as he reaches for the telephone on the countertop to call for Gabi.

"Where is she" ignoring the fast beating of his heart that wanted to leap out of his chest.

Imagine that after all this time, you figure you need to move on, you tell Gabi you've finished working, and refuse any payment they want to give you as compensation for taking care of a retired soldier. Unable to bear with yourself anymore, after rejecting every man that made any advance, unable to look in the mirror and see someone that he could love. You grab a pen and write a final letter, leaving early in the morning for the next train to take you far away.

Imagine how you close your eyes and sigh at the view of the oncoming train, ready to steal you away, yet your legs felt heavy, and your mind waged war against you to remain unmoved.

It's only when you take the first step that you stop, you don't know if you felt his presence first, or if it was his voice, but a strong wind blew your hair away as you kept your hand near your dress to keep it down, turning your head to see him.

He stood there, stormy eyes glued on you like a target, his wheelchair a few feet away behind him. In almost a shock and slight alert you take a few steps, afraid he'll need support.

"I thought you said you were a woman of your word, what about your promise?" You admire his stable tone in what seems like such an emotional moment to him

But you hate that you know exactly what he means, you remember it very well since back then, when everyone retreated for the night and camped in the dense forest during a mission outside the walls, you stood near a lake, washing your hands and face, thr only light source being groups of fireflies that shyly flew around bushes and near water.

Levi stands right behind you, deep in thought for whatever reason he was, you call him out when feeling his eyes burn the back of your skull.

"You know you don't have to be creep" you quietly say, focused on washing the cloth in your hands, and he slowly walks near a rock.

It is then that you made a promise to him. That you promised you would not die and stand beside him as long as be lived. It was an admirable obedience and trust from a soldier towards their capitan.

"Don't tell me it dosent matter as much to you now" he bring you back to reality.

"I fufilled it didn't I? I lived and stood beside you" you almost argue back.

"And I'm still alive." He steps foward slightly, using the metal railing that slightly shook as support.

"You fufilled your promise as a soldier and i did my duty as you capitan" he now stands in front of you, it's only when you notice the crumbled up letter in his hand.

"Now let me fufill my duty as a man"

The train swooshes past you, swaying leaves in the wind and onto the sunset, with a loud honk it continued to pass on your side, but your focus was long gone as his lips remained unmoved from yours. It was that day that despite any gear training and how far on a tree you've climbed, it felt like this moment was the highest you've ever flown.

It was from then on that when you helped him to bed, he'd tuck your hair away in the morning, with a strand between his fingers until you pretended you were slowly waking up.

It was now that once you finished cooking, you'd notice Levi place a second cup of tea on the table, before sitting back down to continue his book.

It was then that he'd go and buy the flowers for the memorial, making sure to get a extra bouquet to bring home to you.

It was then that whenever anyone asked him to stay for a celebration of after party, he'd simply say no and leave.

"My wife is waiting for me at home" he says with no ring on neither of your fingers yet.

It was then that he'd feel his ego boost a bit whenever you laughed out loud at one of his unfunny shit jokes.

It is then that he notices the contrast between the feeling of you pushing your hands on his chest to keep the blood from leaving the deadly wound, to placing them gently on his chest as you rest in the afterglow of a playful afternoon.

After all, it is when you both sit close under the shade of a tree, you watch Gabi and Falco mess around in the lake-dunking one another as you reminisce a time where you swear you've seen this happen before, Levi's hand that brushed a book page, unknowingly falls on top of yours, yet it dosen't move.

Imagine it is then, when he looks up at you, that he realizes he truly-like you- may have not had a place to call home, had somehow found heaven in you.

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Sick Days with Joel Miller

(Joel Miller x female! reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x female! reader (no outbreak) Word count: 4.5K of pure fluff and light smut Rating: 18+ MDNI, explicit descriptions of smut, swearing, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: You're used to doing everything yourself, a facet of being single for so long, but when you start dating Joel Miller that all changes. Especially when you get sick during the first six months of your relationship, and Joel tries to take care of you. Main masterlist

A/N: This was so much fun to write y'all. I'm currently sitting in bed with a stuffy nose, sore throat, wicked headache, and hopped up on cold meds, wishing I had Joel Miller to take care of me 🥹. Also please excuse the fast and loose car mechanic jargon I used, I couldn't resist. The fast and furious series is also my guilty pleasure sick day movie choice, that and the OG star wars trilogy 🌚 An enormous thank you to my lifeline @iamasaddie for reading and giving me feedback and the most encouragement.

This is pure fluff with a bit of spice thrown in, I hope you enjoy! Please comment and reblog if you like it, and I might do more oneshots like this! - 🌹N

It’s the first time you’ve been sick since you and Joel started dating, and it’s different. Different from what you’re used to.

To preface, you rarely ever get sick. Rarely. And you pride yourself on that. You’re not entirely sure whether it's due to your ironclad immune system, or the fact that you’re a germaphobe who’s constantly washing their hands, but either way you manage to miraculously miss the seasonal bouts of illness that filter around when the weather gets colder. 

So you’re not entirely sure how you manage to succumb to the throes of this particular cold, but the sore throat and stuffy nose that you woke up with were unmistakable.  Other than crying, which wouldn’t help the pounding headache that you had also been blessed with, all you could do was groan and silently curse, rolling back over in bed and snuggling under the covers. You mindlessly stretch your arm out over the sheets, reaching over onto the other empty side of the bed. The cold, unmussed sheets, not filled with the broad, warm body that usually occupies the space make you groan internally once more. 

You’re not a crybaby. Not one for milking the sick patient act, and after being single for so long you mostly run on autopilot.  Your independence and resilience outweigh your desire to have anyone take care of you or do anything for you really. Well, that was the case up until now. Until you met Joel.

You’ve had partners before that have ‘taken care’ of you when you were sick. Or well, tried to. The key word being tried. Other than a measly backrub and cuddling with you for the appropriate amount of time until they deemed it was time to go cause they weren’t getting laid, you pretty much handled it yourself. And you liked it that way. You didn’t need anyone else to play martyr and attend to your every beck and call. 

Joel on the other hand, he does things. His presence interrupted your stream of self reliance and knocked you on your ass when you didn’t know what to do with yourself. When you had nothing left to do for yourself, because he had already taken care of it all.

The light in the hood range above your oven went out? Joel fixed it. The bathroom sink began leaking underneath the cabinet? No less than a day later you come home and you already find him lying on his back, head underneath the vanity, toolbox beside him, twisting pipes this way and that. 

Just last week you mentioned to him that you’ve been hearing a squeaking sound coming from the car every time you press on the brakes, next thing you know he’s out in the driveway, broad shoulders hunched over the hood as he tightens and loosens bearings, tinkering the way he knows best. 

“Alright, you shouldn’t hear that noise anymore. The rotors on your front brakes needed tightening,” he mentions casually, wiping his hands off on a greasy rag as he comes into your kitchen from the garage. Looking up from the magazine you’re reading, you pause your chewing around a mouthful of toast. 

“Huh?” you raise a brow at him quizzically. “I only told you about that yesterday though. I was just gonna take it to the mechanic.”

The corner of his lip lifts up slightly as he smirks. “And now you won’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day, or tomorrow, or the day after that. It was an easy fix, plus the mechanic woulda overcharged the hell outta you darlin’.”

You roll your eyes, “Gotta love that fucking misogyny,” you huff as you get up and head into the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee for you both. 

“It’s the way of the car industry unfortunately. Most guys who own shops are just crooks out to get anyone’s money, and most people don’t really know any better.” He replies casually as he washes his hands at the sink beside you. 

“And I suppose that makes me ‘most people,’” you grumble, packing the coffee grounds into the filter, before placing it into the machine. 

Without missing a beat, Joel slides your mug under the dispenser first. It's a cute little white ceramic mug that says Pot Head, beneath it is a comical image of coffee pot with bloodshot googly eyes .  It was his present to you after you started dating, and he first slept over at your place. He soon realized the depths of your monosyllabic crabbiness in the morning, when he tried to talk to you before your first cup of coffee.

Now, six months into your relationship, the coffee pot is usually the first appliance that gets turned on in the morning, usually by Joel, the early riser that he is, while you soak up a few more moments of sleep. It’s pretty futile though, because once he gets out of bed, you can’t get comfortable under the covers, your personal space heater leaving a massive dent in the comforter. 

“You ain’t most people to me,” his voice deepens with that Southern drawl as he moves to stand behind you, drying off his hands. God, he’s so fucking big. His presence crowds you, feeling his broad chest against your back as he places his hands on either side of you, pinning you to the counter. 

You hum with a knowing smile as you hit the button to start dispensing the coffee. “Is that so?”

He leans in, brushing your hair off of your shoulder, leaning in to nuzzle your neck. “You’re my person. Mine. That’s about all that matters.” Pressing featherlight kisses into your neck, you sigh and let your head fall back against his broad shoulder, giving him more access.  

“Well,” you try to collect your thoughts but the logical, words forming, part of your brain shuts down, turning to mush as he begins to nibble and bite at your neck. “Thank you for fixing the squeaky sound,” you barely get the words out between shallow breaths.

“No problem at all darlin.’” He grinds his hips into the plush of your ass and starts sucking on your pulse point. You whimper pathetically, grabbing a hold of his hands on the counter bracketing you, pushing your ass back against his crotch, reveling in how hard he is. Your pussy throbs with want, as you feel it clench around nothing, wetness seeping out of it. 

“Should be silent as a whistle now.” His voice is gravelly deep now, and you snake a hand around the back of his neck, clutching his body closer to yours as you continue to let out small mewls. “Your noises on the other hand, are driving me fuckin’ insane. Wanna get more than just a squeak out of you.”

He reaches down, palm skimming over the curve of your hips, down to your ass before he squeezes, while biting down on the junction between your shoulder and your neck. At that, you squeak. 

“Joel…” your last two brain cells firing off weakly as you try to form a coherent thought. “What- What about the c-coffee?”

“You had one cup already this morning,” he murmurs into your skin, “it’ll keep.” His left hand moves to grip your hip, the other one squeezing your asscheek again, not before he gives it a firm smack. You jolt forward in his grip and moan, bending your upper half over the counter, your body already responding so easily to his touch. 

“Bedroom.” He says gruffly, releasing your hips and stepping back with a smirk on his face. You blink your eyes open, not realizing you had them closed in the first place and turn around with a glare. 

Joel lazily tilts his head in the direction of your bedroom, his hand grabbing the obvious bulge in his pants. “C’mon my little pot head.”

So yeah, needless to say you really didn’t have to worry about being reliant on yourself for many things anymore. Joel was happy to do those things for you, and you were more than happy to show him your appreciation in return.

Being sick however, that seemed to stump him. There wasn’t anything to physically fix aside from your ailments, although he wishes that could be the case. That he could just snap his fingers and your nose would be cleared, sore throat gone, headache disappeared. But it wasn’t that easy.

Normally, you’d try to ride it out for a day or two as best you could, without making a fuss over it, but today the buzzing in your head was too intense to ignore. You yanked the top drawer of your nightstand open, bemoaning as you fruitlessly rummaged through the empty box of Nyquil pills, empty Advil bottles, and one lonely tub of Vicks shoved towards the back.  

“For fuck’s sake. Of course,” you gritted. Closing the drawer, you roll back into the sheets, throwing an arm over your eyes and letting out the deepest sigh ever. Just then your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You pick it up and squint with bleary eyes as you focus on the text. It’s from Joel

[Joel]: Mornin’ darlin.’ Still up for the 7pm showing tonight?

You furrow your brows for a moment before you roll your eyes, back into your skull it feels like. 

“Shit. The movies.”

It was Tuesday. You guys had made plans to see a cheap show after Joel got off work tonight. Some new crappy instalment of the Fast and Furious movies, hence the cheap night choice.

You sniffle as you fumble to type out a reply. The rhythmic pounding in your head distorts your concentration. 

[You]: Morning babe. I don’t think so. Sorry. I came down with something last night and I feel like shit. 

You add in multiple variations of the sad crying emoji, and the water gun to be dramatic.

[Joel]: No worries hun. I’m sorry you’re not feelin’ well. 

[Joel]: Wanna do something else? 

You wish. You love any plans and dates you have with Joel, and you’re more than happy to cancel those plans to stay in with him on any day of week. Today shouldn’t feel like an exception but you don’t want to inconvenience him, and you also don’t want him to see you when you practically look like an extra off the set of The Walking Dead. 

You sigh again harshly and sniffle.

[You]: I don’t think so. I feel like shit. Just wanna stay in bed and rot, plus I don’t wanna get you sick.

He’ll probably think you’re being overdramatic. The productive storm that you are getting bested by a measly cold, it’s stupid. Unheard of.

[Joel]: I think you’ll survive. Can’t have you dying on me so soon into our relationship, we still gotta hit the one year anniversary. 

Biting your lip, you shake your head. How this man remains to be flirty and cute even when you’re feeling low and incredibly not cute is beyond you. Your phone buzzes again.

[Joel]: Plus if you’re sick now, then chances are I woulda already caught whatever bug you have cause I saw ya two days ago. 

Well, he’s not wrong when you think about it. Your cheeks heat up when you think back to Sunday night, when he had stayed over. You were straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as he licked into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip and gripping your hips while you lazily bounced up and down his thick cock.  

Ironically, it was supposed to be a Fast and Furious marathon night in preparation for the cheap movie you would see in theaters tonight. You barely made it through the first 20 minutes of the first movie in the series before Joel’s thick fingers started aimlessly tracing the inside of your thigh as you sat beside him. Your pussy throbbed at the memory, the phantom stretch of his cock, almost matching the throbbing residing in the front of your head. 

Yeah, so maybe he was past the point of contagion. You’re so lost in reminiscing, he must realize it’s taking you a minute to respond, fully well knowing the effect that his words have on you. So he texts again.

[Joel]: Was a pretty fucking good Sunday night 😈

The devil emoji causes a chuckle to sputter up through your chest, but it’s pretty short-lived when you realize you can’t chuckle and breathe in through your congested nose at the same time. You recently taught him how to use emojis in his texts, so you’re surprised when he actually puts it to the test.

[You]: That it was babe. But I don’t wanna burden you, plus we can’t really do anything. 🙄

You add on the eye roll emoji, sure that he’s feeling the same way too. What guy wouldn’t? Surely not any of the guys you dated in the past. They tried, but deemed it wasn’t worth it when you couldn’t even suck their dicks without needing to pause every few seconds to breathe through your mouth and cough. Your sore throat feeling like it was wrapped in barbed wire. 

[Joel]: Who said we had to do anything? I’d still wanna spend time with you. I just like being with ya.

Damn this fucking man for being such a sweetheart. You didn’t deserve him.

[Joel]: I’ll be over in 30. Want me to bring anything in particular?

[You]: You’re in the middle of the workday Joel, you don’t need to come over.

Of course you want him to come over. His presence is the only thing that would lift your mood if you’re being honest, despite feeling like your body’s been hit by a semi. But you don’t want him to leave work. That’s too much, and you’re not that whiny girlfriend.

Seemingly unimpressed by your response, he replies again.

[Joel]: 👀. 🍔 🍦 🍿?

[You]: I’m not terribly hungry right now. Just bring yourself. And maybe a bottle of nyquil plus some advil 💊? Also, look at you with all your emojis, I’m impressed 😉

[Joel]: 👍🏻sounds good. See you soon 🛻

Tossing your phone into the comforter, you slowly roll out of bed. Like a slug, you slide out from under the covers, over the side of the mattress, planting your feet on the ground before you keel over. 

You pad into the kitchen, glancing at the coffee maker forlorn. Probably not the best option with how your throat feels right now. Frowning, you grab a mug from the cabinet, not your pot head mug, but a plain one with simple red flowers painted on it, and flick the switch for the kettle on. Your options for tea weren’t endless as a coffee drinker, but you only really drank the muddied flavored water when you felt sick. Settling for a package of stale peppermint, you place the tea bag in the cup of boiled water and go to plop yourself back down onto the living room couch.

No less than 25 minutes later, you’re curled up on the couch, mug of tea in hand, and your head resting on a pillow as you start the first Fast and Furious movie. Might as well, since you didn’t technically watch it with Joel the first time. Plus, Paul Walker was easy enough on the eyes that you didn’t really mind watching it over again. 

Joel arrives minutes later, letting himself in, a bag from the pharmacy in one hand, and a plain plastic bag filled with containers in the other. Before you can question it, the savory fragrant smell of Chinese food wafts through the living room, infiltrating your senses and overpowering your congested nose. 

At that you raise your head off the couch cushion, sitting upright with your legs crossed. 

“Hey babe.” He drops the food off in the kitchen and comes over to the couch, pulling out the Nyquil and Advil, placing them on the coffee table.

“How you feelin’ ?” He kisses the top of your head and you grunt in response. 

“Like absolute garbage,” you croak with the smallest smile you can muster, as you look up at him. He huffs in response and gives you a placating smile, not before peering down into your mug to see the transparent brown water. “Tea? Jeez you weren’t kidding”

“It tastes like garbage too.” You wrinkle your nose after taking a small sip. The smell of the takeout slowly brings you back as you perk up and look at him. “You brought Chinese?” The hopeful smile in your face grows exponentially as he nods.

Joel hums. “I know when you say you’re not hungry, that’s a lie. I also know that you have the biggest appetite of any woman I know.” At that your eyes narrow and your mouth drops open.

“And-” he cuts you off before you can respond, “I know that if there’s any kinda food that could convince you to eat when you don’t have an appetite, it’s greasy Lo Mein, General Tso chicken and fried rice.”

Sighing with contentment you smile and slouch back in your seat. Whatever words were on the tip of your tongue soon disintegrate as gaze up at him with utter awe and adoration. 

“Thanks Joel, really. You didn’t have to do all this.”

He frowns at you, confusion clouding his features. He's so adorable when he looks confused. 

“It wasn’t a lot. You asked me to bring the cold medicine.” Flashing you a smirk, he brushes your hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. “I was just thinking one step ahead of you, and this way you can have leftovers. Also if I could, I woulda tried to cook you something, but we both know that woulda been a disaster.”

You snort in response. “Well, still. I really appreciate it.” You nuzzle your face into his hand, as his thumb strokes across your cheek gently. You can feel your stomach twinging with hunger now, now that you’ve smelled the food. It almost matches your hunger for Joel. 

He must have changed at home before he came over. The faint scent of his sandalwood body wash floods your brain as you take in his dark flannel shirt, stretched over his broad shoulders, dark wash jeans hugging his strong thighs. His curls peek out at the back of his neck as they dry soft and fluffy while his molten brown eyes look at you with a mix of adoration and concern. 

Meeting his gaze, you look up at him through your lashes as you turn your face to kiss the tip of his thumb. Before he can stop you, you curl your tongue out, swirling it around the tip and closing your lips around it as you suck his thumb into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks out, you suckle harder, feeling heat slowly flood your body.

Joel exhales sharply, as he grinds his jaw, clenching his other hand into a fist. 

“Christ baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” He presses his thumb down on your tongue, forcing your mouth open as he pulls it out, letting it catch on your bottom teeth as you bite down playfully. 

It was just as easy to rile him up as he did with you, and you fucking loved it. You give him a saccharine smile. “Good. We can die together, seeing as I feel like death already”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “Why don’t you take two of these,” he opens the Advil bottle and places two tablets in your hand, “finish your tea, as much as you can,” he adds when you scrunch up your face at the mug, “and go take a hot shower. I’ll put the food out for us.” 

You pop the pills in your mouth, chug the rest of the tea, grimacing as you taste it and stand up to face him. Joel grabs your face with both hands, that look of pure warmth emanating through his big rounded eyes as he plants a soft kiss your forehead, before kissing you on the mouth. In a feeble attempt to protest, you weakly pull back but his mouth continues to seeks yours out. "Joel," you murmur against his mouth, "my germs.”  

“I love you, and I love your fuckin’ germs. They’re my germs too.” He pulls you into a big bear hug, you feel all the pent up tension from this morning dissipating from your body. Burying your face in his chest you inhale and make a small noise of contentment. You love his scent. It’s so inherently Joel. It’s home.

“Now go on.” He swats you on the butt playfully and you giggle, sashaying past him.

By the time you finish and get dressed, he’s already got the takeout containers organized strategically on the coffee table with plates, cutlery, and glasses set out. The lo mein and General Tso chicken dishes are closest to your side of the couch, while his dishes, the black pepper beef and spicy Singapore noodles, remain closer to his side, separated by the fried rice in the middle. Your heart warms and expands in your chest at the sight.

“I didn’t even wash my hair and it felt like that took fucking forever. The water pressure in that shower head used to be good,” you grumble as you take your hair out of the messy bun on top of your head, shaking it out for good measure. 

“How long’s it been actin’ up?” He asks while pouring some soy sauce over his noodles. 

Already, you can see the wheels turning in his head. Always the contractor. 

“For the last couple months but it’s really bad now.” You fix him with a knowing look and speak up again before he can say what you’re already anticipating. “And before you say you can fix it, I’ve already had repairmen over before you who tried and failed. Saying something about a part that needs to be ordered and it’s super fucking expensive.”

He says nothing in response, just raises a brow at you. “Whatever you say darlin.’” 

“C’mon let’s eat.” You change the subject and bounce over to the couch, shimmying by him and dropping down onto the couch. 

“Seems like the Advil kicked in,” he surmises with a smiles. Your energy is evidently higher now that the headache has gone away.

Humming, you lean in to kiss him. You press your lips into his, feeling his tongue glide against the seam of your mouth as you open up and let him in. Moaning quietly, you break off the kiss before it gets heated, and before you have to breathe through your mouth again - although your congestion has gone down significantly, the hot shower definitely helped. “That, and your presence helps too.”

He grins at you, a twinkle dancing across his big brown eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Nowhere else I’d rather be.” You look away bashfully, and begin piling stuff onto your plate.

“You started watching this again?” He nods at the TV with an unimpressed expression as Vin Diesel broods over the hood of an old muscle car.

“Yeah,” you mumble around a mouthful of chicken, “we barely watched 20 minutes of it before you had your fingers buried in my pussy.” You look at him pointedly with your mouth full and he bites the inside of his cheek.

Licking his lips, he leans down till his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I’d rather hear that tight little pussy purring around my fingers, than the hear the engine of a 1970 Dodge Charger baby," he says lowly, stretching his arm over the back of the couch as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck. "Even if it is one of my favorite cars.”

Slowly, he runs his fingers up and down the sides of your throat with a featherlight touch, careful to not squeeze as you finish swallowing your mouthful of food.

You groan and let your head fall back, submitting to his touch. Joel knows all your buttons to push, he learned them pretty quickly on into your relationship, and it made him all the more attractive to you. Every touch of his that made your breathing get shallow, every perfect press of his body against yours.

He knows you like being choked. Knows how sensitive your neck is, how you melt under his hands, turning to putty as soon as he wraps his large palms around the slender column of your throat. He makes it so fucking easy, your body so hyperactively attuned to his, no matter how crappy you may feel apparently.

“Joel,” you warn him but it comes out more as a breathless whine. Chuckling in response, he concedes and releases your neck.

“Not fair.” You glare at him and poke him in the chest with the opposite end of your fork. 

He shrugs and gives you that shit eating grin again. “Fair is fair darlin.’”

Shaking your head, you resume the movie and both dig into the food. As delicious as the takeout is, you recognize that you don’t have as big of an appetite as you usually do, given how run down you feel, and you get full pretty quickly. An hour into the movie you’re curled up against Joel’s side with your feet tucked under you, a thick blanket pulled over you both, and a beer in his left hand. 

“As if that would ever happen,” he grumbles out loud as he watches Paul Walker and Vin Diesel ramble on about fuel pump injectors and supercharged turbo's.

Secretly, you love how invested Joel gets in these shitty movies, it's partly why you put them on to begin with. Well, that, and because it usually ends with both of you getting distracted, and him railing you into the cushions of the couch. Still, it’s endearing to see him get annoyed and worked up over the mechanical and technical inaccuracies in the movies. It's also fascinating and super fucking attractive to see how his brain works. The competency kink in you preens at his humble flexing of mechanical knowledge.

You hum in question, too tired to formulate a better response.

“You put that much nos (nitrous oxide) in a car, and you’ll be blown to fuckin’ pieces at the smallest bump in the road. Jesus,” he shakes his head and gestures with his beer bottle at the screen. His right hand is curled around your shoulder, thumb brushing against your cheek, back and forth. The soothing movement coupled with your full belly is quickly lulling you into sleep.

“Well, Paul Walker seems to know what he’s doing, seeing as they made like 7 more movies after this one. Plus it’s just a movie babe. ” You nuzzle further into his shoulder, struggling to keep one eye on the movie as you hear Joel make more unenthused comments. 

“Movie or not, they coulda done their research. Half the shit they’re describing under the hood of a car sounds made up. And there's 7 fucking more of these films?”

He huffs in disbelief, taking another sip of his beer. "Yeah we wouldn't have made it through the rest of em.'"

“Okay Mr. Mechanic, we get it. It’s not 100% accurate, but you gotta admit the racing is pretty cool.”

He looks down at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his lips pulling up slightly. “It’s alright I guess. More importantly, how are you feelin’ now?”

He rubs small circles into your back, as you practically fold over into his lap now, eyes refusing to stay open. 

“Mmmm, much better,” you stretch your legs out, arching your back like a cat, making a small sound of relief. “Thank you babe. For the food, the meds, for coming over and taking care of me.” Giving him a dopey smile, you peak one eye open at him.

“Anytime darlin,’ you don’t have to thank me, s’my job. And I’ll gladly do it any time, sick or not.” 

The warm depth of his voice seeps into your bones, as you soon doze off in his lap. He waits a little while till your breathing evens out, then kisses your head again as he slides out from underneath you to use the washroom. 

You perk up and blink your eyes open to see the credits rolling across the screen, just as you hear the toilet flush.  It's soon followed by the sound of the shower turning on and off, and then muffled sounds of clinking and clanking as Joel starts to take apart your shower head. 

Smiling to yourself, you close your eyes again and curl up on the warm spot he left behind. Maybe sick days aren’t so bad after all. 

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: okay NOW two more chapters left lol because chapter seven is turning into a pain to write 😭 Luckily school's out for the summer so I have more time to write :) TY @cashmoneyyysstuff MY ICON ILY Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, reader is 20 years old, reader befriends Kaminari and Sero, Reader uses "Cattus" as her alias, reader's nicknames are Cactus, Cattus and Cat, reader's down bad LMAO, war, reader gets hurt, blood, reader wears a bra, bad war descriptions lol what do you expect from me, reader is AFAB and female, bakugou finds out 😀👍, ANGST, reader goes home, family reunion, Aizawa gets sick from grief, PTSD, KATSUKI'S NOT SEXIST I PROMISE

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx: Cattus

Time seemed to stop.  

The red color of his eyes, such a warm color, turned so cold. 

“Y-Yer a fuckin girl?!” he spat, aghast, disgust clouding his features, he turns away, refusing to look at you. 

You couldn’t even more, nor speak. 

How could you have been so careless? 

Bakugou lets out an irritated snarl and looks back at you briefly. 

“If the others find out, you’ll be killed.” he says, tone icy and filled with venom. Your heart drops.  

“I-” 

“Get changed and get out.” He cuts you off, not wanting to hear what you had to say. “Now I don’t owe you anything.” 

He exits the tent swiftly, as if he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as you. 

*** 

You were given a horse, and nothing else, leaving without saying farewell to your friends. They would be informed that you had died, and that your body was being disposed of.  

It gave you an icky feeling, faking your death- which was weird, considering you left your family in a similar manner.  

As far as they knew, you might as well be dead.  

Would they be happy to see you? 

The same thought had plagued your mind for days now, yet you never imagined they would come to reality so soon. Your heart sinks with the realization that as of now, you basically let down everyone you knew.  

A tear slips down your cheek, from your discharge, and from that loathing look in Bakugou’s eyes.  

Stupid feelings.  

You knew it would end badly when you found yourself falling for the captain, but just the acknowledgment wasn’t enough to prepare you for the pain brought on by your heart being ripped in half, only for those halves to be shattered beyond repair. 

It was moronic of you to even be feeling these things, just as it was to crush on your superior like you were a schoolgirl and not a warrior.  

But at least now, you didn’t have to pretend.  

You weren’t going to lie, you were going to miss Genken, Denki, and Hanta.  

But now, you were Y/N. And though you were yourself again, there was no doubt Cattus would still be a part of you.  

He always was, you reckoned.  

Cattus was the fiery side of you that defended his (?) friends when they needed protection. He was the side of you that took charge and cared for your family when they couldn’t take care of themselves. Cattus was a warrior. 

And you were too.  

Tightening your grip on the reins, you will your horse to go faster, riding into the night, returning home to your family for the first time in months.  

*** 

You found yourself staring at the border of your village after 5 days of travel, the sun setting and your brain half asleep, running purely on adrenaline.  

It was lightly snowing, signs of winter’s presence, though the cold didn’t nip at your skin as much as it used to before. 

Pain didn’t feel the same anymore after what you’d been through.  

Your wound still stung, but you refused to acknowledge the pain- telling yourself you deserved it after everything. Is this how your dad felt after the war? You didn’t know. Though your situations were vastly different, one spending more time fighting than the other, and one almost convicted of a war crime, you knew that the pain was all the same.  

But right now, you didn’t feel pain.  

Instead, anxiety clawed at your heart, dismounting your steed to let it graze freely among the nearby fields, where other horses resided nearby. He would be fine living there with his new friends.  

You walk along the streets of the village you grew up in. You’d one been gone for 7 months now, and yet it felt so foreign to walk down the cobbled streets you walked across so long ago. When you find your home, a pang of sadness washes through you- it looked so empty and lifeless now. You missed you family dearly during the past few months, and yet you refused to acknowledge the feelings because they were a sign of weakness. 

But here you were now, a truckload of emotions crashing into you as you walk up the steps to your porch, the same steps you sat on when you had the conversation that started all of this. The wood creaked under your feet, a sound so familiar and so wrong at the same time. 

So much had changed over time- it was hard to feel like yourself again.  

You gingerly placed your hand on the doorknob, feeling the bumps, ridges and crevices you memorized, your pounding heart was deafening as you sucked in a shaky breath and finally opened the door.  

It was quiet. There wasn’t a buzz of the happiness and joy that you always felt in your home, instead it felt null and void.  

The first thing you notice is the figure sleeping on the couch.  

Hitoshi. 

Your younger brother looked exhausted, the dark circles he usually sported were now so prominent that it was unhealthy. He was skinnier, and a little taller, your heart ached to know that he wasn’t eating well and that he had grown up and you weren’t there to see him.  

Making your way over to him, you brush his hair out of his face softly, only for him to startle and jolt upright, freezing as his lavender eyes widened it realization that it was you.  

He slowly brings a hand to cup your cheek before patting the rest of your body, as if to ensure you were genuinely there.  

“Y/N...” he croaks, tears spilling from his eyes. “Is it really you...?” 

You want to sob, he sounded so broken, so helpless, guilt threatening to consume your every being. Tears slip from your eyes as you nod, letting out a choked laugh as he encircles you in his arms, whispering “You’re home... you’re finally home...” more so to himself than to you, as if to ground him. 

You and Hitoshi end up falling asleep on the floor that day, and you numbly allow him to redress your wounds and receive an ear load of yelling and scolding from your actions the next morning. He isn’t furious as you expected, however, he was extremely worried though.  

“W-What happened while I was gone...” you murmur, refusing to look at him as you sit on the side of your bed.  

“It’s...been a lot...” he sighs, telling you to get comfortable as he fills you in.  

Hitoshi had slept in the living room every night, in hopes that you would come home. At first, he slept on the porch, but Eri insisted he sleep inside saying that he was only harming himself. It was true, as he had gotten a nasty cold the next morning, leaving the ticked off 9-year-old to take care of him.  

Eri was upset with your departure, rarely going out after you left and taking up the chores you did to maintain the household, even though Hitoshi insisted he could do it. She slept in your bed every night after that and was currently sleeping as you and your brother were catching up. 

Your father, however, was a different case. He fell apart after you left, never talked, never ate – Hitoshi was terrified and had asked Hizashi for help, the usually humorous blonde now deadly serious as he and your father had gotten into a terrible argument. The only thing your brother was able to hear was “I lost my wife; I can’t lose my daughter too.” 

You sobbed uncontrollably as Hitoshi held you again, resenting yourself for the pain you caused your family, and resenting yourself for the hateful vermillion stare that you were sure would haunt you for the rest of your life.  

Though scalding tears burned through your skin, it didn’t hurt to cry as much as it used to. They didn’t feel suffocating, instead they felt liberating as you finally unloaded months of negative bottled up emotions.  

Your family was safe, thanks to you, and you were going to make sure it stayed that way.  

*** 

Eri wakes up a few hours later, her red eyes lacked their usual luster until they noticed you, the nine-year-old ran up to you and hugged you tight, her tears bleeding into your clothes.  

“Y/N...?!” she gasps in surprise, burying her face into your chest, inhaling deeply as if to memorize the way you smelled. Usually, it would have been weird, and uncomfortable considering you hadn’t showered in a week, but you allowed it, stroking her hair comfortingly, as a few more tears escape your eyes and roll down your face.  

“M’not going anywhere Banana.” you whisper, and she snorts and punches your arm weakly.  

“You know I hate that name.” 

You stayed like that for a while, before letting each other, drinking in each other’s appearance.  

“You look terrible.” she quips and you can’t help the laugh that erupts from your mouth.  

Eri and Hitoshi look at you in surprise – the you that they knew was more reserved, but they had to admit, they liked to see you let go more. You looked happier, and your joy was always contagious.  

Your siblings usher you into the washroom to finally shower, saying you smelled like shit (not really- if Hitoshi cursed in front of Eri you probably would’ve whipped out your sword) and you roll your eyes at their antics.  

You look into the cracked mirror on the way and get a good look at yourself- the first time you had to liberty to do so before you left.  

You truly didn’t look like Y/N anymore, you knew that much. But you didn’t feel like Cattus either. It was the strangest feeling, feeling like two people and neither at the same time. You sigh, dismissing it- knowing that maintaining another identity for so long would clearly have its side effects, but it was still uncomfortable to deal with.  

You were Y/N. But better. And happier with yourself.  

When you finally exit the shower, looking and feeling more like you, clean and in fresh clothes, a thought strikes you.  

“Hey... Toshi...?” You murmur, approaching the purplenette. “Where’s Dad?” 

Hitoshi looks away from you momentarily, before looking at you with sadness in his eyes. “He’s staying at Chiyo’s. Ever since you left, he hasn’t been eating well, and he’s been bedridden for a while. Hizashi says that he isn’t really stable for us to visit him.” 

You don’t listen to the last part- slipping on some random pair of shoes and bolting out of the house before heading over to Chiyo’s home.  

Your heart raced, in sync with your footsteps, one after the other.  

Your mind was even faster however- thoughts of worry and anxiety so strong you felt like you couldn’t breathe.  

Was your father okay? 

Was he mad at you? 

What if he doesn’t make it? It would be all your fault. 

As soon as your mind comes across the thought, your legs move impossibly fast, racing all the way across town until you reach the apocarthy center, also where Chiyo lived, and where she treated those in unstable conditions.  

You knock rapidly on the door, hearing a faint “I'm coming I'm coming...your generation is so energetic these days...”, the few seconds it takes Chiyo to open the door feel like a millennia each- as soon as the door opens, you see the small older lady look at you in surprise, but you pay no mind, slipping past her immediately and running down the hallway, turning the corner to find the room where Chiyo let her long term patients stay.  

And yet, you can’t bring your shaky hand to twist the doorknob and open the door. 

You feel terrible, knowing that any caring daughter should rush in immediately, but guilt wracks your mind, and your heart.  

You feel a hand on your shoulder and look down to see Chiyo looking up at you which a solemn look on her face.  

“He’ll want to see you, Y/N” she says softly, and you swallow thickly and nod.  

Twisting the knob, you finally push open the door and see your father sitting on a bed by the window. Turning his head, he sighs, “Chiyo, I told you I don-” he stops talking once he sees you. 

“Y/N.” he whispers, his voice shook and his eyes were wide.  

He was frailer than he was the last time you saw him, his skin that you always complained made him look half dead was now sallow and sickly. 

You walk over to him slowly and kneel in front of his bed, taking the man by surprise.  

“I’m sorry.” you sob, letting all the guilt and sorrow you felt wash over you. “I know I shouldn’t have left but I couldn’t just let you die.” 

You hear a small laugh and look up to see your father smiling while wiping incessant tears from his face.  

“Come, my warrior.” he says warmly. “You have made me proud.” 

*** 

It’s been a month since you returned home- news of the war spread through the village.  

You’d hear about the famed War Dragon and how he valiantly led his troop into battle, without losing a single soldier. It relieved you to hear it, knowing that Denki and Hanta were alive and well – but you still missed them.  

You reunited with Izuku and Ochako, both extremely worried but overjoyed to see you, nonetheless. Ejiro was still fighting for his country, and you missed him, worry bubbling in your stomach at the thought of getting hurt, but you trusted him. Ejiro was strong, and brave, no doubt a courageous soldier- he would come home.  

It was almost like everything was back to normal, but it wasn’t. 

You still jumped at everything, scraping a chair, someone’s limp brushing against yours, even a voice disrupting the silence, everything set you off.  

Eri was significantly more mature now, no longer the bubbly and hyper girl you knew, now more reserved and calmer. She reminded you of yourself, the knowledge was painful, but you were glad to see she retained her voracious appetite and distaste for bananas.  

Your father was recovering slowly, as you were now working overtime to stuff both him and Hitoshi with the food and nutrients, they needed to be healthy again. After you left, they deteriorated both physically and mentally, and so you decided to help them in any way you could.  

You tried your best to forget about the battle in the Chira Woods after that, but something just didn’t add up. 

How did the enemy know you were planning to ambush them? 

Taglist: @andysdrafts @starieq @nemisimp @missa-archdevilme @coquettefoxxy

@032loe @icedemon1314 @fta1ask4 @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @cuppalevi

@touyasprettydoll @slayfics @yeehawgiddyup13 @notjustanotherextra @frvv

@naoyasbby @sweetblueworm @isentsworld @bkgpackets @moonnm

@bkgrl @satoruyes @eyesforbkg @juicyfingers @aejabba

@noodleryworld @yui-aya @ashiblossom @rv19 @wheezdostuff

@yannvi @liluvtojineteyam @ah-mya @surprisemodafakas

@kksmush @sagejin @cax-per @kit-katsukii @l-bozo-l

[gay-dorito-dust]

Type of men I think MK1 men are; (ft an ooc Shang Tsung.)

Tomas is the type to…hold you after a long, strenuous day.

Or recharging as you jokingly called it while combing your fingers through his silver hair, your form of method as to getting him to relaxing quicker. Too tired to argue against this, Tomas would ignore it by burying his heavy head deep into your neck as his eye lashes brushed gently against your skin, tickling you into laughing with their tender kisses; a sound that Tomas always found heavenly, he smiles softly before drifted off into a peaceful slumber with you following suit.

You looked like two kittens or otters cuddling up to one another…it’s too cute, especially when your foreheads were touching.

Raiden is the type to…stare at you longingly from across the room as though there was no one else beside you and you alone.

The way he would look at you was as though you were the one to pin up the stars against the blackened night sky, it was such a sweet and wholesome look that it was near enough impossible not to feel slightly exposed underneath his adoring gaze. But it was a nice feeling, a warm feeling that didn’t fail to make you smile, it was amazing with how much this man could make you feel some many things with just his gaze alone.

Raiden is also the type to lay his head into your lap, the first time he does, he was a little awkward and stiff but was quick to find himself becoming comfortable in laying upon your lap, feeling as though it was a blessing from the gods that he was able able to be so close to you, getting to admire you and engrave your facial features and imperfections as though he would a masterpiece.

Liu Kang and Kuai Liang are the type to…dedicate themselves to you.

These men would wait on you hand and foot for all eternity if they could but they show their dedication in other ways, whether that be helping you make the bed, breakfast, making you something to drink, help prepare dinner, help clean throughout the house, take care of you while your sick, injured, or even helping you through your rehabilitation but the most importantly and their most favourite task of all; keeping you warm during the cold nights.

They both know that they ran warm, warmer then most men and they know you knew that also. So they would take advantage of this fact and would have you cuddled up against him protectively, softly kissing your forehead before adjusting you into a more comfortable position. Blankets are not required since they’re so fucking warm, but they wouldn’t mind if you one draped over you for even more comfort.

As long as they get to provide for you and keep you safe from all harm, you could get away with asking anything of them -within reason- because after all they’re dedicated to taking care of your every need.

Bi-han is the type to…prefer less occupied spaces over loud, rambunctious ones, especially when he’s spending time with you.

He wishes for all of his attention to be directed towards you but found it near enough impossible when in social situations, where both of your attentions is dragged in every which way, every which way except each other.

So when given the chance to be alone with one another, Bi-Han finds himself able to breath properly and clear his head of all daily distractions to focus on the here and now. You could be taking a walk, neither one of you wanted to ruin the peaceful silence that hung between you two by speaking, and instead take comfort within each other’s presence and how your hands and shoulders would brush against one another.

You were both safe, alive and just being within the others lines of sight was all either of you needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

Bonus character;

Shang Tsung is the type to…know the smallest, most intimate details about yourself. So much so that he might as well have an entire part of his mind dedicated to each and every one of your facets that he was acquainted with.

He knows you inside and out but lives to know more because Shang Tsung is a firm believer in knowledge being power and all that. It’s up to you to decided whether or not it’s for a manipulation tactic on his end. He’s not exactly an trustable character…unless your dream was to have man as foul as him to know your person on a personal level; perhaps it’s in hopes of finding common ground? Or something else entirely.

Shang Tsung is the type to… spoil you rotten.

Speak upon whatever your heart desires and he shall make it become reality tenfold. Nothing was too big or small was much trouble for Shang Tsung. He lives to give you gifts and thrives off of the reactions that you’d give upon receiving them. Not only was it served as a reminder to you that even the things you believed were unobtainable were easily accessible to someone like him, but also a mere showcase of his seemingly endless capabilities.

[lady-of-endless]

Ghiaccio x reader romantic headcanons (SFW+NSFW)

Author's Note: I'm so soft after this, it's pathetic. You voted for this to get posted first so here it is. Sorry that it's all over the place but so is my heart. Hope you will enjoy it! Warning: longer than my usual posts because I love him.

Other general and random headcanons are here.

(SFW)

- He doesn't have a type, he doesn't care if you're a ray of sunshine or a badass. All he cares about is trust and if you can stick with him and his harsh exterior when everything goes wrong. However, if you are also a Passione assassin like him, things will go more smoothly than having feelings for some outside of the mafia. He already thinks that having feelings for someone is a double-edged blade because of his occupation but it would be even worse if you're not in Passione as it can endanger both of you more.

- Ghiaccio generally feels a lot. He goes through many emotions and thoughts at once, and that's why he needs to lash out so often. But when it comes to feelings about you, they're so contradicting that he can't even get rid of them by letting them out at once. For example, he rolls his eyes at your antics and then the next minute he stares at your smile like it's the cure for anything in this world. You're both the bane of his existence and his personalized paradise. Ghiaccio isn't the type to be confused about his feelings, contrary to the general belief, he knows the meaning of his feelings. However, he prefers not to think about why he wants your presence, as it might trigger something he knows exists deep inside him. A complicated feeling.

- You will have to be the first one to confess. When you do, Ghiaccio's whole body freezes (and not because of his Stand). He stares at you in disbelief and a slight hint of terror crosses his eyes. Why terror? Because he realizes that he was falling for you too for long before. He craves this kind of happiness but he is also scared of it. He lets your words sink in for a while.

"Say it again..." He demands, staring at you.

- He loves that you can stand up against him when he teases you as a form of affection he's comfortable with but he can't get rid of a constant thought from the back of his mind. The thought that one day, his words would hurt you, that one day you'll get sick of him being like that.

- Ghiaccio doesn't fall in love easily but when he reaches that point, his intensity is directed to this new feeling. Expect his love to be intense but profound and honest. He didn't get the chance to care for someone so deeply and he wants to do it right.

- If you ever get severely injured and you're recovering, no one will get him to leave your bedside. When he first finds you like that, he will shake you by the shoulders, calling out your name with palpable despair in his tone. He will stay by your side constantly, demanding more coffee from Melone and a break from any mission from Risotto, only to watch over you. It's unhealthy and he will deny everything once you get better. The thought of losing the one who accepts, understands, and loves him, makes him sick with worry.

- Typical ice meets fire trope, but not as you think. Ghiaccio is all about ice, even his name means that, sure, but he has fire inside of him that keeps him going, keeps him on the edge every time. It's a fire that matches your calmness which is grounding for him. Sometimes, the roles switch, so there will always be a contrast.

- Ghiaccio is extremely honest and it's both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes this will spark some arguments and sometimes it will fix them by being honest about his thoughts. His words are straightforward and his intentions are clear. He's not trying to be subtle and he's not trying to hide anything.

- Ghiaccio is not afraid of showing affection, he's not a coward, but he's just learning how to express it more efficiently. He's analytical and this applies to gestures of affection as well, he'll take his time to observe what you like the most and what you don't. Please be grateful for that.

- However, whatever you might like, his preferred love language is banter and physical touch, in private. He is a blunt man, but that doesn't mean he's extroverted to have words of affirmation as a love language. Don't expect compliments from him but don't be surprised when he encourages you in a way that might come off as intense.

You might be frowning in the mirror, fixing your looks, and he'll come from behind you to tell you in an annoyed tone

"You're already pretty as hell stop fussing about it for fucks sake." and then roll his eyes and give you a kiss on the forehead.

But that's it, don't expect more words from him. Ghiaccio is also touch-starved because no one dared get close enough to him to touch him affectionately so when you do, he finds himself wanting more. But he's also curious about how it feels to touch someone like that and that's how it starts. He discovers that he enjoys giving it more, the feeling, your reactions, and everything about it.

- How do others see it? Many don't see a change in his usual behavior besides the fact that he always glances over you for many reasons. Risotto is presenting a mission? Ghiaccio looks at you for a reaction. Are you fighting a target? His eyes are on you. You do your usual stuff around? He's observing you. Are you not feeling well? His eyes follow you until you two are alone and he asks what's wrong. In conclusion, he gets more thoughtful.

(NSFW)

- Ghiaccio is quick to discover that getting intimate with you clears his mind and gets him sharper. Letting out his strongest and boldest emotions with you, the one he trusts the most and loves, clears his mind. It's just an observation, he already enjoys getting physical with you too much to care for other benefits.

- He's touch-starved, so he's relatively easy to fluster and he hates that. It doesn't take a lot for you to turn him on. One day, you notice that the lenses of his glasses are a bit dirty and feel bold enough to do something about it. If you decide to just take them off without warning and wipe the lenses casually like nothing happened, he's shocked. This audacity of yours gets him bewitched. So, Ghiaccio is a simple man regarding turn-ons, just show him that you care about those little things about him and show some willingness to take risks and he's done.

- His hair is unexpectedly sensitive. Play with his curls and it will make him shiver. He'll become all yours in that moment.

- Despite what everyone thinks, he'll never accept letting his anger out on you in bed. But that doesn't mean that his mannerisms will be soft either. With Ghiaccio, is hard to predict how it will go. Most of the time it will be rough but also slow and deep.

- He's a genuine switch but leading to dom. He is fine with you taking the lead from time to time but having control over you is much more appealing. He enjoys being a brat tamer but he's also a whining brat.

- He has a ridiculously high stamina. Seriously, where does he store all this strength? He's also motivated. Seeing you frowning a bit when you move your legs the next day is stroking his ego.

- So, because Ghiaccio is intense in bed too, aftercare is a must. Aftercare consists of him putting your pieces back together by throwing a blanket over you, making you tea, and holding you to his chest as he stares at the ceiling (don't worry, it's a good sign, you blew him away). However, shortly after that, he's knocked out, getting the best sleep of his life.

- He doesn't leave marks on purpose but he just can't help it. Surprising enough, he's not as possessive as you'd expect, to leave marks to show that you're his. No. Ghiaccio just enjoys hearing your gasp coming from the bathroom as you notice the aftermath of his desire. He smirks to himself like a brat.

He might be a fan of quickies and he's also the one to come up with the idea. After the session, he goes on with whatever he had to get done like he hadn't destroyed you earlier. It's both hot and annoying.

- Vocal, of course, a lot of grunting, and growling. It goes hand in hand with his primal tendencies. You'll get used to the consensual biting, hair-pulling, pushing down. He lives for raw passion when it gets too much to handle.

- Any kinks? Temperature play is something you already expect him to enjoy. For him, it's about how ice - something that has been in his life for years since he got his Stand, meets an element of you - your warm skin. Besides your reactions, he is hypnotized by how the heat of your skin melts the ice and how dewy it looks afterward. Other than that he's not very experimental because his almost aggressive passion is enough.

- Of course, he takes off his glasses but he hates that because his point of view gets blurry, and can't enjoy your details. However, you can't be able to stop him from wearing them when you're on top. That's a sight he needs to see clearly.

[wolfofcelestia]

One of my last reblogs got me thinking about this so here is

How all four Zaynes + Sylus would treat you for low iron

Warnings: mentions of hunting, blood, suspicious food and drink. Everything aside from Doctor Zayne's section is not rooted in reality so don't take this as medical advice. If you feel tired all the time, go ask your doctor about it and get a blood test. Trust me, you're not supposed to be tired all the time.

Doctor Zayne

By the book treatments. You'll get iron pills and recommendations for iron-rich foods. If your stomach can't handle the pills, he might recommend iron infusions, all supervised by medical personnel. On his free nights, he'd take you out to dinner or cook for you to make sure you eat iron-rich foods, even if it's only in his presence

Dawnbreaker

He'd repeatedly remind you to rely on him. Just stay in bed, he'll take care of the rest

In his world, everything you need to live is packaged in nutrient drinks or in pills, so he'd gather all these less than tasty nutrient drinks and pills but he'd also go to the outskirts of town, where the wild animals have taken over a part of a forest. They don't entirely live in harmony with the wanderers there. Some say they're no longer animals, but meat is meat, and only fresh meat will do for his beloved, especially when she's sick

He'd come home with freshly butchered meat, and the blood from the meat in large bottles, hoping she'd be able to get some benefit from drinking such a valuable and rare fluid

Foreseer

He wouldn't treat you. You don't belong in the tower. You'll only get sicker here.

"Go back to your people. Only they can help you. I have no means or the experience to cure you here."

But you won't leave. Stubborn, even in the face of an illness that makes you weaker and weaker by the day. But you've experienced this before. It's nothing new

Soon, you and Jas annoy him enough to convince him wild game is actually high in iron and, with his powers, he'd easily be able to hunt one near the tower

It would be his first meal with someone. A warm, hearty meal with the girl he's seen his other selves eat with so many times before

Master of Fate

"Close your eyes and hold my hands. Imagine my energy flowing out of my body, crossing over our hands like a bridge, and being absorbed into your body. Take as much as you need."

The Master of Fate is also a master of ancient energy magic, so something like mana or energy transfer would be easy for him if you're ill or need a boost

This won't fix the cause of your low energy of course, but this would be a start to get you on your feet

Once you have enough energy to travel down the mountain, he'd bring you to a healer, someone who works with and sells all sorts of dried herbs and Chinese medicines

Protest all you want but these bitter, smelly concoctions are going into your mouth one way or another. He'd laugh at your reaction and call you a child for making a fuss about taking your medicine, and he'd promise you a sugary treat if you take it like a good girl

Sylus

"Are you ignoring Zayne's advice again? You're really putting him through his paces, huh? I'd have my own personal doctor take a look at you but I have a feeling you'd listen to him even less. Well, if it's iron you need, then tonight we'll have steak. And we'll have steak for as many nights as you like after that. I'll have the chef work on a meal plan with you."

With your steak dinners, he'd offer you a particular red wine. It tastes a little sharper, a little richer... The way he watches so carefully when you take a drink, and the way he smiles at you when you swallow... You'd be suspicious about it, if it weren't for the fact that you did in fact feel much better after each meal

[jeonscatalyst]

Hey May, welcome back we missed you so much and I'm so happy you are back.

What are your thoughts about AYS so far? Loving it?

Hey anon, thank you so much and I missed y’all too so much.

I actually have alot of thoughts about AYS so far and I might be making a more detailed post later but if there is any particular thing you would like to get my thoughts on, you can shoot me an ask.

I think AYS so far has been amazing. The first two episodes gave a more calm and domestic vibe as we just got to watch Jimin and Jungkook go about normal daily activities as well as doing a few fun stuff like going camping, kayaking, yacht rides, motobike rides etc but I never thought i’d see the day where Jimin and Jungkook would head out to walmart to get a sponge to do dishes lol.

I think Episodes 1 and 2 gave us a closer look at what I always imagined Jimin and Jungkook’s off days would look like. By off days, I mean days where they weren’t working. I had mentioned before that one of the biggest things that convinced me about the possibility of Jikook being more than friends was how real they are. It’s the good, the bad and the ugly and the way their story so far with all it’s ups and downs makes perfect sense in the context of things.

While watching them, I couldn’t help but smile at how domestic and comfy they looked doing such simple everyday chores and activities. Getting out of bed, Jungkook immediately going to lay by Jimin’s side and just bask in his presence and company right before they start their day. It was also so refreshing to see how Jimin and Jungkook don’t necessarily need to be doing or saying alot to actually just enjoy being by each other’s side. I had mentioned this before in one of my post from my previous account. They have such an interesting dynamic and I would be lying if I said I don’t get fascinated at times.

I didn’t love the fact that Jimin was sick most of the time though but I thought it was so cute how Jungkook took care of him and how he also tried to make light of the situation by making jokes about it. Jungkook’s ability to tease Jimin in any and every situation is very telling of how comfortable he feels with Jimin. He doesn’t always have to try being the nicest or trying not to laugh in certain situations. The more you know someone and the more comfortable you are with someone, you show them more of the authentic you. You laugh when you find something funny without being too worried of how you might come off because you know that, that person knows YOU. It’s the same way your best friend would laugh at you after you fall before they think of helping you up while a friend or an acquaintance would help you and subdue the laughter for fear of upsetting you because they might not know how you would take it, while a bestfriend knows that sometimes that fun is better than feeling sorry for yourself. While some other people have shown concern about how Jk chose to handle certain things by claiming that he wasn’t careful enough, I think that is very on brand for Jikook and anyone who knows them, and has paid close attention to them all these years knows that.

Jk would scold Yoongi for teasing Jimin about saying “Sorry” at the UN and ask him to make Jimin feel better instead of teasing him, but will later tease Jimin about the same thing to make him laugh. It’s like he hates it when other people tease him but knows that he can because Jimin knows and he feels that his teasing makes things better for Jimin or atleast makes him laugh. I mean on rookie king, Jk told us that he teases Jimin alot because he like him so much and Jk had also admitted that he likes the reaction he gets when he teases Jimin. Need I say more? I honestly love how realistic Jikook feel.

I also noticed that Jimin really has a problem not helping when he sees someone else doing something even for him. At the camping site, Jungkook was in charge of cooking and all but Jimin just couldn’t sit still even though he had a stomach bug and went to go help in slicing the onions. In episode two, after they got back from walmart, Jimin again just couldn’t let Jk make the carbonara without helping in some way. He lingered around for a bit and then went to start cooking the kebab. Let’s not even talk about how he immediately jumped up to help the pregnant waitress at the first place they stopped to eat. He is the sweetest human alive.

Jungkook is not so different. I have always mentioned that Jungkook is the most sensitive and one of the most thoughtful people ever and it is kinda sad that many people misunderstand him because of his looks. The way he always thinks about the staff is so wholesome. The way he felt bad about the staff not having anything to eat and made sure he gave them something to eat was so beautiful.

As I said earlier, I have alot to say about AYS but will do that later. So generally, I think the first two episodes were absolutely amazing and just gave us a glimpse of domestic Jikook (we ofcourse should expect that things should be a little different when they are not being filmed) and it was just as I had imagined.

Episode 3 felt like a completely different show. While the first two episodes were more domestic and calm, episodes 3 felt more like run bts to me. I guess this was because of all the games they played and that fact that it just lacked that homely feel that episode 1 and 2 had but episode 3 was probably the most interesting to so many people for so many reasons.

There was a third member, there were more upbeat activities than just sailing on a yacht, cooking at home, cuddling in bed or going shopping. I also think Tae being around helped Jikook relax more. In the first two episodes, they seemed relaxed around each other but there was still this tense air that I could sense, you know that tense, awkward energy that Jikook always have around them when they are too aware of the cameras? Yes that one but with Tae in the mix, they had a buffer of sorts and someone else they could interact with to make things more “normal”. I think it was beautiful seeing Vminkook together just living. Jimin wasn’t feeling his best at the beginning but it seems like things got better before the day was over and I think with episodes 1,2 and 3 we could really see how different Jikook’s dynamic is when they are alone Vs when they are with another member (we ofcourse cannot get the full picture with them being filmed and everything but atleast we got an idea).

PS: Tae was an absolute ray of sunshine. I noticed that he seems to be back to his fun, chaotic, quirky and slightly weird self and I love that. I had missed that Tae so much.

Let me know if there anything else in particular you would like me to talk about.

[djarintreble]

Two Lines || e. munson

pairing: dad!eddie x fem!reader

tags: part of my dad!eddie series, arwen munson asks all the right questions, pregnancy test + positive results, repair shop eddie canon, so much fluff i could cry, eddie being the best dad + husband

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hi friends, it’s been so long! i see all your requests and im working on them slowly but surely! i couldn’t find the post that requested this but it was along the lines of “GIVE ARWEN A BABY BROTHER!” so surprise! the munson family is growing!! ✨✨

_____________________________________________

Arwen was always a chatty baby. Taking from her father, she made her presence known anywhere you went. The grocery stores, libraries, you name it. You loved that about her. Eddie always encouraged her and would follow along with her antics creating endless entertainment for you. She was also a smart child. Your husband claims that's a trait she could only carry from you. The combination of both traits created a curious baby who, when words could be articulated, would question everything around her.

At the age of two, she was able to comprehend the fact that she could ask for a sibling. As if that’s all it took to have one. That grocery trip was very memorable. Eddie began to drive away from the store when Arwen asked "Where's my baby?"

Now as she turned five, her observant nature continued to create milestones as she asked yet again, "How much longer until I can have my baby?"

You were brushing out her hair, helping her get ready for her second week of kindergarten. She asked while looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. Her beautiful brown eyes wide as she tapped her legs at a steady tempo, fighting the urge to move as you fixed her hair.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" You asked with a slight smile.

"You've been sick. Heather's mommy said she was very sick when Heather had her baby brother."

You've yet again been left speechless. You have in fact not felt well the past few days. Something was off. They say children and animals know first...

"Well, uh, Arwen... As soon as mommy knows she's having a baby, I'll be sure to tell you. But you can also get very sick for other reasons too. Like eating too much sweets after dinner." You nudged her, giving a knowing look in the mirror. She gave a nervous smile. She's been caught.

"But daddy said I could have them." Your change in topic worked well as you finished putting her curly hair into a loose ponytail.

"Of course he did. It's alright. As long as dad or me say you can. Maybe that's why I haven't been feeling well."

"Eating too much sweets?"

"Eating too much sweets.” You confirmed. “Now let's go. You don't need to start your tardy record this early on in your academic career."

•••••••••••••

You got back into your car after dropping Arwen off for school. Her words seemed to haunt you as you began your trek to the general store.

This trip was originally suppose to be to pick up a few items needed to make dinner and more toilet paper. Now you couldn’t help but steer into the aisle that held the item that might confirm or deny the lingering question in your head. “Was Arwen right about me being pregnant?”

Aimlessly walking through the aisles, you kept thinking through the ‘what if’ questions in case the test does come back positive.

What will eddie say? are we ready? is arwen really at the age to handle a sibling? do we need to move into a bigger house?

The one thing that you didn’t necessarily care about in Hawkins was that everyone talked. You knew that if you were picking up a test and anyone saw you checking out with it, people would talk. Not that you cared, it came with the territory, but it made it real. You grew up here along with Eddie. Eddie was always the talk of the school. Apart of you was always scared, despite being out of high school, of anything causing Eddie or his family to be in the center of the towns gossip.

You picked the most discreet package and quickly checked out with the cashier you knew the least. It felt stupid, but you always wanted to do what you could to keep your life more private in the drama filled town called Hawkins.

With groceries for dinner, toilet paper, chocolate and a pregnancy test, you left bradley’s big buy and headed to the house.

••••• | | ••••••

Two lines.

You couldn’t believe it.

Two lines.

You were expecting another child. Joy clearly painted on your face as your mind raced off all the ways to tell your husband. All the jokes of starting a family band. All the times Arwen asked for sibling.

After pacing the bathroom over ways to tell Eddie, you finally figured it out. Eddie would pick Arwen up from school and they’d both be home in about an hour. It was perfect.

••••••••••

The door opened and you could hear your daughter running into the house as her sneakers squeaks through the halls.

“Hi mommy, we’re home!” she yelled.

You were in the kitchen starting the preparations for dinner. You listened out for Eddie as you continued to hum to yourself, cutting up some carrots. You couldn’t hide the smile that came from the anticipation of sharing the news to your husband and daughter.

“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie entered the kitchen and went straight to wrap his arms around you. You continued to cut up the vegetables. “How was your day?”

Your husband smelled like fuel, forest mint shampoo and a touch of cigarettes. It was a scent you became familiar with and it suited him. He worked at the local repair shop and the fumes always seemed to linger home with him. You didn’t mind it though, it was your Eddie.

You put your knife down to turn around in his arms and look at him. He had his typical messy work ponytail, the coveralls were unbuttoned and rolled to his waist so he was left in a white t-shirt that had some grease stains and his guitar pick necklace laid over the shirt. You could never get over how beautiful your husband was. Sure you agreed to other words, but beautiful was what came to mind in that moment. Maybe it was the hormones.

“Well hello to you,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “Better now that you’re here.” You smiled.

“You know flattery gets me.” He smirked, giving you another peck before letting go and heading toward your room. “I’m going to get a shower real quick. I’ll be right out.”

While he showered you finished putting your dish together to cook in the oven for an hour. This was all the time you needed to share the news.

“Hi mommy.” Arwen said, following you into the living room.

“How was school, sweet girl?” You asked, hoping she’d ignore the guitar case that was randomly on the coffee table.

“Good.” she shrugged. “Ms. Jones said we’re doing a concert for veterinarian day.” Arwen smiled wide, showing off her new missing tooth.

“Veterinarian day?” You puzzled.

“Yeah! Where we sing for the soldiers of America.” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Do you mean ‘Veteran’s day’?” You pondered.

“That’s what I said! Veterinar-ran’s day.” Her furrowed eyebrows in confusion made you laugh even more as she didn’t see a difference in her words.

“Well that sounds like fun! Did you tell daddy?” You brushed back Arwen’s fly away hairs as she bent down to sit against the coffee table. Some of her coloring books laid open from her previous drawing session and she continued where she left off, clueless to the guitar case still.

“Yeah he said I’m going to get a solo.” She shrugged again so nonchalantly as she colored it amazed you the amount of confidence one 5 year old have. Well imagine having two.

That reminds you.

“Hey, Arwen, sweetie.” Your daughter looked up at you. “Would you wanna help me keep a big secret? I’m gonna surprise daddy in a second and I need your help.” You whispered. She jumped up and dropped her crayons with a big nod.

“Okay!” The giddiness expressed on her face was enough to make you cry. She scurried over to put herself between your legs as she leaned in to hear the secret.

“Remember you asked me earlier if I had a baby in my tummy?” Her eager nods almost hit your head before you leaned back a bit. You pulled out the test and showed her. “I went and got a test that tells me if you were right. Look, it has one line for no baby and two lines for yes baby. Can you count with me?”

Arwen was learning her numbers so it was important to find any chance to have her count. This seemed like a fun moment to remember. She stuck out her finger and pointed in the air as she counted out loud.

“One… Two… There’s two.” She smiled at the accomplishment of counting properly. By then, she realized just what the two lines meant. With a shriek that could alarm the neighbors, Arwen jumped into your arms and gave you the biggest hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She repeated.

“Thank you?” you laughed. Those were not the words you were expecting.

“I wanted a baby sister for so long.” She beamed.

“Well I can’t promise a sister but we will see! Now listen, I want to surprise daddy but I promised I’d tell you as soon as I knew. When he gets out of the shower, can you keep a secret while I’ll tell him?” You made a shushing sound as you quietly put the test inside the guitar case. When Arwen realized what you were doing, she snickered to herself, covering her mouth with her tiny hands.

“Was that Arwen?” You heard Eddie say from across the house. Arwen looked at you with wide eyes and tan back to the other side of the coffee table to resume her coloring as you sat, pretending to open the guitar case.

“Yeah… She was showing me how she was going to audition for that solo you promised her.” You looked up at your husband who was now fashioning a pair of black lounge pants, a faded band tee and he was scrunching his wet hair with his towel.

“If that’s how you’re gonna sing I might need to take that back.” Eddie laughed. “Is something wrong?” He grew more suspicious. With hearing Arwen scream from his shower and then you messing with his guitar case, he was nothing but skeptical.

Your eyes grew wide as you noticed his eyebrows begin to bunch up the same way Arwen’s did just moments ago. “Yes, Arwen told me she put a toy in your case but I can’t seem to open it to get it out, can you try?”

Eddie looked over at Arwen in a slight disappointment of messing with his guitar case but you reassured her she was okay with a quick wink.

After sitting down beside you, Eddie gave your leg a pat and pulled the guitar case closer to him.

“Let’s see what toy you got stuck this time. If it’s Ozzy Osbear, we’re going to have to have a word.”

As soon as he said that, the clicks of the guitar latches undid and you sucked in a breath. The case opened and you could hear Arwen begin to giggle next to you but to you were too busy looking at your husbands reaction.

Eddie’s face was blank as he stares at the positive test sitting in his guitar case. The quietly controlled giggles from your daughter turned into a fit of laughter and cheers. She jumped up from the coffee table once more and wrapped her arms around your neck as you both waited for Eddie’s reaction.

He hasn’t moved since he opened the case, staring at what signified a new chapter in the book you called life. This was the exact opposite reaction he had when you shared you were expecting Arwen. Then, it was so sudden. You woke up one morning sick as a dog and Eddie suggested you took a test as a joke. When it was ruled positive, it was you that was silent. Eddie was ecstatic, jumping around your bedroom with hoots and hollers before smothering you in kisses.

Now he just stared.

“Eddie, you okay?” You finally asked. He finally turned to face you with an uncertain face.

“We need to move the band equipment to the garage.” He said, randomly.

“What?” you giggled. “We don’t have a garage.”

“Oh.” Your husband responded, contemplating. “Then I need to sell some of it or see if Gareth could hold some of it. We need a house with a garage.”

“Is daddy okay?” Arwen let out. She was just as confused as you were.

“Let him think it out, Ari.”

“Do we need a bigger car? I knew it was stupid to get rid of the van. Maybe a mini van?” Eddie continued.

“Eddie-“

“Did we get rid of all of Arwen’s baby clothes? Maybe we could reuse them to save-“

“Eddie!!” You caught his attention. “Hey, stop that smart brain of yours for one second.” You placed a hand on his cheek to which he had no choice but to lean into.

“You’re pregnant.” He said quietly.

“Yes, I am. And we’re going to have another baby.” Saying it out loud made it a reality and suddenly you couldn’t hold back the tears. “And you’re an amazing father because before anything you’re first priority was to provide. We don’t need a new house or a new car. You’re all this baby,” you pointed down to your stomach, “Arwen and I need. I am so thankful for you.”

Without another word, Eddie pulled you into a deep kiss. One that confirmed with you that he was just as happy as the day you found out you were pregnant with Arwen. It just caught him by surprise.

“We’re having another baby.” He repeated.

“I’m having a baby sister!” Arwen exclaimed. This caught the three of you in a laughing fit. Eddie leaned into you, wrapping his arms around you as he nudged his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Or baby brother.” You responded to which Arwen gave a grimaced look.

“No. A sister.” She shrugged.

“Whatever it is,” Eddie started. He pulled back to place a hand on your stomach, “Welcome to the Munson family band, kid.” He kissed your stomach and pushed back up to kiss you again. “I love you, sweetheart. You’re amazing.” He then jumped up to grab Arwen. “Let’s go, Princess. It’s time to celebrate! MOMMY IS HAVING A BABY WHOOO!” He ran across the house holding Arwen upside down. Her giggles faded as Eddie ventured to the kitchen for a celebratory dessert.

You took the test out of the case and followed after them. If this is what life was like with Eddie and your kiddos, you could totally see having more. Maybe it’s the high of the celebration or the deep love you had for your husband. Either way, it clicked…

You really did new house with a garage because your family, both chosen and given, was getting bigger no matter what.

—

series taglist: @geekmom3 @ruinedbythehobbit @dark-academia-slut

honorable tags I think would enjoy this story based on previous interaction (I love your comments on the last stories so hi ily): @aesthetic-lyssa @yodelingtea @wintermunsonreads @lovelyladymayyy

eddie munson taglist thread: @catpjimin @senthiasworld @foxsmvlder @a-lil-pr1ncess @cryuki-patootie

[yeowangies]

Me with no makeup, you in the bathtub

❧

PAIRING: Renji/AFAB!Reader RATING: Mature CONTENTS: Established relationship, Comfort, A little explicit sexual content by the end WARNINGS: Mentions of mental health issues (I don't go deep into them) WORDCOUNT: 1900

Summary: Renji takes care of you after a few difficult days.

Notes:

This was @actuallysaiyan idea, and I wrote it for the two of us because we both needed the comfort

“I said I was fine, Renji!” You said, reluctantly letting yourself be dragged by your boyfriend to the bathroom. “You don’t have to do this!”

“Stop complaining!” Renji practically yelled, as he tightened his grip of the hand around your waist. “You were sick until yesterday! You have to take a bath, it will help you, so don’t argue with me!”

The entire block probably heard him with how loud he was yelling. It was an embarrassing trait to be so loud sometimes, but it mostly amused you, so you didn’t complain any further. 

You had been sick lately, too stressed and busy to sleep properly, it was obvious it was going to happen. Renji had seized the opportunity to take care of you for the last couple of days, and after resting and eating, a bath was next in his plans. Which, honestly, was going to make you even more sleepy. 

You expected him to leave you in the bathroom, but once he helped you undress, handing you a robe to cover yourself in the meantime, he started taking off his own clothes. 

“What are you doing?” You asked him, eying him curiously. As if you haven’t seen his wonderful naked body before. 

“I’m getting in with you.” Renji said, arching an eyebrow. “Did you think I was going to let you bathe alone? What if you fall asleep and drown?”

“I think you’re being a little too dramatic, babe.” You smiled, amused. 

Still a little tired from the fever you had only until yesterday, you rested your hand on the counter, almost stumbling backwards in a moment of weakness. Renji jumped to grab your arm, holding you firmly, and looked at you with knowing eyes. 

“You were saying?”

You rolled your eyes, but remained silent. 

Besides, why would you complain further when Renji stood fully naked in front of you? Tattooed body exposed to you, muscles flexing as he got into the tub already filled with warm water. You blushed a little as you got rid of your robe, taking his hand as he guided you to join him, settling between his legs. With a hand around your shoulders, he brought you closer, pressing your back to his chest as he planted a kiss on your neck. 

“Better?” He asked soothingly, squeezing you in his hold. 

“Surprisingly, yes.” 

“What do you mean ‘surprisingly’?” Renji asked, pinching your side and making you giggle. 

You stayed in silence for a while, basking in the presence of each other, listening to the gentle sound of water trickling and sloshing with your moves. It was a mystery if the actual bath was comforting, or if Renji's arms wrapped tightly around you were soothing your body more. You were much more inclined to believe it was the latter; Renji was simply made to be comforting. You might as well have stayed in bed to cuddle, it would have had the same effect. 

However, you were thankful he had insisted on getting you out of the bed. Sometimes you could get too much in your own head, and he knew that too well to let you stay in bed for too long. It was inevitable if you were sick, but as soon as you got a little better, the scenery had to change, and he was more than willing to help you. 

Bless his heart.

“I know you said you didn’t have a fever anymore,” Renji commented, gently putting his hand on your forehead. “But you still feel too warm.”

“I’m fine, Renji,” You rolled your eyes, letting him play doctor as he measured your temperature for a few seconds before putting his hand away. “You’re acting like such a mom.”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of you?”

You didn’t expect him pinching your side again, and you squeaked, making the water slosh and spill onto the bathroom floor. 

“You should be the kind of boyfriend who doesn’t tease his girlfriend!”

“That’d be too boring now, wouldn’t it?” Renji grinned before planting a mushy kiss on your cheek. 

You let it slide because your heart skipped a beat so strongly you worried you might suddenly die. 

It was a silly thing that sometimes invaded your brain, but you were concerned that you might actually like Renji more than he actually liked you. Evidence proved that at the very least he liked you just as much; taking care of a sick person was something not every partner would do, as basic as it was, and he actually helped you before you even considered asking him for help. But your own insecurities got the best of you sometimes, and trepidation slowly but surely crept inside your heart. 

“What’s up?” He suddenly asked, and you jolted slightly in his arms. 

“What?”

“You tensed up suddenly, do you feel sick again?”

“Oh… No, I’m fine.”

“Tell me.” Renji pressed you as closely and tightly as he could, nuzzling his nose against your neck. 

You sighed, pondering on whether or not to be fully honest, moderately honest, or just straight up lie. 

Since he had been so caring with you this time, you figured you owed him sincerity.

“Do you love me, Renji?” You asked quietly. 

“Huh? Wh-Why are you suddenly asking me that?! Of course I love you!” 

His face was almost the same shade as his hair when you turned to look at him, and warmth spreaded through your heart.

“You didn’t just ask me that to embarrass me, did you?” Renji inquired, burying his face in your hair. 

“Is it embarrassing to say you love me?” You teased him.

“You know that’s not-”

“I’m kidding!” You giggled as he huffed, and you relaxed in his arms, leaning your head on his shoulder. You were relieved by a whole lot, though the anxiety you had there was still there, even if it was shrinking. It was always going to be there, no matter what you did, so while he had answered you truthfully, you might need to be more honest to let him understand you better. “I was just asking ‘cause, you know… I have doubts sometimes…”

“About me?” Renji asked, and you could see his own nervousness when he asked you that, and you mentally slapped yourself in the face. 

“No, not about you! I love you, it’s just… am I not too much sometimes?” Those words slipped from your lips with a quiet voice, and when he didn’t reply right away, you went on. “This is not because of you, but sometimes I think I feel things too deeply. And no matter what I do, it’s never enough, like, how can someone love me, right, if what I do just feels like the bare minimum? And you know how sensitive I get about so many things and I can’t even help it, it must be annoying as hell for you to deal with me… So what is there to love?”

You sighed, voice softened the more you spoke until you felt like the words melted into thin air. 

“That’s weird. I never actually thought of you that way.” 

“No?” You sniffled, realizing you were closer to tears than you initially thought. 

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” Renji replied in a gentle tone. “I know you overthink, way too much, it’s not like I didn’t notice. But that’s not a deal breaker for me. If anything I wish you wouldn’t think so lowly of yourself, or of me. What kind of man am I if I tell you that I love you when I don’t?”

Renji had a way with words sometimes. As much as he was hot headed and smug, there was a sensitivity to him that you weren’t sure if he even knew about it. He would certainly be embarrassed if you pointed it out, but you appreciated it more than anything. 

“Besides, there’s so much to love about you.” He continued, his hand reaching for yours inside the bathtub until your fingers were intertwined. “You feel things too deeply, you said, so? I think that’s an awesome thing. You’re considerate, sweet, you work hard. You always tell me to eat well and rest. Not to mention you’re hot, but I’m sensing that’s not what you wanna hear right now.”

You chuckled, and you felt him smirk against the back of your neck. 

“That’s always a nice thing to hear.” 

“You’ve been there when I needed you, so I’m gonna be here when you need me, and I’ll even carry you if that’s what it takes to keep you going.”

Renji wrapped his arms back around you, where they were when you first got into the bathtub, and squeezed you in his arms for the umpteenth time before running his hands up and down your sides, breathing softly against the skin of your neck. Having him so close, and the wonderful words he had just said to you, gave you comfort, and your heart swelled in your chest with affection. 

“Thank you, babe.” Turning your head to the side, you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. “You’re so sweet, you know that?”

“Don’t compliment me now,” Renji rolled his eyes, and you watched him with amusement as redness spread across his cheeks. 

With a hand sliding up his jaw, you guided him to meet your lips in a soft kiss. He hummed contently when you tangled your fingers in his hair, and you were upset that he still had his ponytail and hadn’t let it loose. He inhaled sharply as you deepened the kiss, parting your lips to let him slide his tongue across yours.

The softness and heat of it all gave you goosebumps all over, reminding you that it has been a while since you’ve been intimate. You knew Renji had your wellbeing in his mind at the moment because he hadn’t attempted to touch you more than what was necessary, but you actually needed him then, needed to feel his affection for you. 

Pressing your body as possibly close to his as you could, you purposely moaned into the kiss as you noticed he was already hard. His hands rubbed your sides and waist before sliding up and settling on your breasts, squeezing them softly. You sighed, tugging at his hair tie and letting it fall down his shoulders, happy to thread your fingers through it. 

“Just relax,” Renji whispered huskily, dragging his lips along your cheek and planting a kiss on your jaw. “I’ll take care of you.”

The trust you had for him made it easy to unwind, especially when one of his hands traveled down your abdomen, towards the place you needed him the most. He kept pressing kisses along your neck as his fingers reached your slit, tentatively dragging them over your folds before pressing one inside your entrance, an easy task since you were already aroused. You moaned, closing your eyes once he started pumping it slowly and carefully. 

With his thumb rubbing your clit, Renji got another finger inside you. The heat inside your abdomen began to grow impossibly fast, jolts of pleasure making your thigh shiver, and your mind soon went blank. 

“I’ll always take care of you, baby.” Renji pressed a kiss underneath your ear before dragging his tongue along your earlobe as he picked up the speed of his digits. 

[owmyeyeballs]

Batstarion Fic

I had to. Batstarion is too adorable for words. He's still a spawn in this fic, because I say so. Tav is Silence, my tiefling monk, and she's so done with her adorable weird vampire

It’s probably nothing. Of course it’s nothing. He’ll show up any minute. He’s fine, everything will be fine… Silence had been pacing so long, she wondered she hadn’t worn out the Elfsong’s shiny floorboards. Astarion was missing. Astarion had been missing for hours. Usually at this time of day he would be lounging at her side, reading a book and cradling a glass of wine. Ordinarily Silence wouldn’t have worried quite so much, but since the death of Cazador, Astarion had been a mess. Joyous one minute, on the verge of weeping the next, and through it all, extremely reluctant to leave Silence’s side.

He probably just needed some space. He’s probably just gone to track down some prey. He’s probably totally fine, and hasn’t fallen victim to a vengeful spawn, or a Bhaal-crazed murderer, or…

The door opened, and Silence turned in worried expectation, only to find Wyll regarding her sympathetically.

“Still no sign of our favourite bloodsucker, I take it?”

“Nothing. I should be out looking for him.”

Wyll came to stand by her, and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“You should be with the rest of us at the bar, relaxing. Astarion’s a grown man. There’s no sense worrying until we know for sure we have cause.”

“He’s barely been out of my sight since Cazador, and this city is dangerous, and…”

“And Astarion has two hundred years of experience navigating those dangers. I tell you what, if he’s still gone in another hour, I’ll join you, and we’ll go looking for him together. But until then, try to relax. I know Astarion’s been a little out of sorts since taking down Cazador. But so have you.”

Silence opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. In truth, Wyll was right. After coming so very close to losing her lover, she had barely relaxed once.

“… You may have a point.”

Wyll smiled warmly, and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Try to relax. If you won’t join us downstairs, at least sit down for a while up here. Even with your light feet, we can hear you pacing your way through the floorboards!”

As he left her to rejoin the others, Silence took his advice, collapsing on her bed. The absence of Astarion laying beside her, holding her close, did little to ease her worries. Without the vampire to hug, she clutched a pillow to her chest instead.

“Where are you, Stars…”

Her eyes drifting aimlessly across the elegantly furnished room, until they came to rest on her alchemy bag. A thought darted across her mind, and she leapt to her feet once more, taking the bag and rifling through the contents, until at last her hand closed on the bottle she wanted.

“I mightn’t be able to sniff you out, but I know who can!”

Scratch had settled quite happily into the Elfsong, and had already become a familiar presence at the bar, delighting in being petted and fed treats by patrons in various stages of inebriation. Seeing Silence, his tail began to wag, and he loped across the room to meet her. The taste of the animal speaking potion still lingering on her tongue, Silence knelt to scratch behind his ears.

“Hope you’re keeping well, Mistress! You haven’t joined us tonight! You’re missing out! There’s been singing!”

“I’m well enough, but worried,” Silence replied. “And I think you might be able to help me. Do you think you can track someone for me?”

Scratch tilted his head, the wagging of his tail slowing a little.

“I think so… But is it Astarion you want me to track? That… Might be a problem.”

Silence felt her heart begin to race in fear.

“Why? What’s happened? Do you know something?”

“He’s alright, Mistress. Well, I think he’ll be alright. But he made me promise not to tell!”

Silence frowned.

“Not to tell me what? Please, Scratch. I’ve been worried sick!”

Scratch let out a low whine, and tilted his head again.

“I don’t know… He said he’d bite me if I told! But… He likes you so much. I don’t think he’d like you to be worried… That makes telling you alright, doesn’t it?”

“I think so! And don’t worry, I won’t let him bite!”

Scratch let out a sigh, his tail wagging once more.

“If you go back to your room, Mistress, I’ll bring him to you there.”

Giving Scratch one last pat, Silence rose to her feet, halfway between relieved and worried.

What in nine Hells have you gotten up to, Stars?

Silence didn’t have long to wait before finding out.  She had barely settled back onto her bed when she heard Scratch’s claws clicking merrily on the floorboards, and her lover’s voice raised in indignation.

“If you don’t drop me at once, you filthy hound, I’ll visit you tonight and drain every last drop of blood from you! Do you hear me? You miserable fleabag, I mean it!”

Scratch came bounding into the room, something white in his mouth. Something winged and flapping angrily, and yelling in Astarion’s voice as it was dropped at Silence’s feet. A bat. A white, fluffy, red-eyed bat.

“At last! Ugh, I’m covered in your slobber, you beast! I ought to…”

Red eyes looked up at Silence, and blinked.

“Ah. Darling. I… Suppose I ought to explain.”

Silence knelt, and scooped the bat – Astarion? – up off the floor. He flapped his wings clumsily, trying to get his balance, and clawed feet gripped at her hands. Torn between laughing and shouting in disbelief, she stroked her thumb over soft, fluffy white fur.

“You’re a bat.”

Astarion heaved a sigh, and shot a glare at Scratch.

“I’ll deal with you later, mongrel. Now, shoo!”

“Ignore him, Scratch. But you can go back and have fun with the others.”

Tail wagging and tongue lolling out happily, Scratch left. Astarion gave an annoyed huff and folded his wings. Or, attempted to. His control over them seemed to be somewhat lacking.

“Well. I suppose an explanation is in order. I found a book, you see. When we were looting Cazador’s palace. A book on vampires, and vampire spawn. Turns out the bastard was keeping even more from us than I realised!”

He waved a wing angrily, nearly falling from Silence’s hands. She quickly sat down on the bed, and set Astarion down on a cushion.

“Turns out I’m capable of more than I realised. All of us spawn are. Apparently Cazador didn’t want us to get any ideas… According to what I’ve read, I ought to be able to turn to mist, to walk upside down on ceilings, to… Well, to turn into a bat. It took some experimenting, but I figured it out! Only…”

Silence bit her lip to keep a laugh from bursting out.

“Only you can’t work out how to turn back?”

Astarion groaned, burying his head in his wing in embarrassment.

“More than that, I can’t even figure out how to make this useless form fly! I’m stuck as a winged rat, scrabbling around on the ground… Do you have any idea how many times I’ve nearly been stepped on? And the kitchen cats tried to make a meal of me! I had to beg that damned mutt for protection! And… Are you laughing? Is this funny to you?”

Unable to hold in in any longer, Silence let out a snort of laughter, and only laughed harder as the little white bat gave her what he clearly imagined to be a ferocious glare.

“I’ve been worried about you, you precious bastard! And all the time you were a cute little bat!”

She scooped him up again and pressed a kiss to his furry head, holding him up and taking in the long, twitching ears, the leaf-like nose, the sharp little teeth he revealed as he shouted.

“Will you take this seriously? Imagine what the others are going to say! The sheer indignity will kill me!”

“That’s what you get for skulking around and playing with powers you don’t know how to use! Now, where’s this book? We’ll see if we can’t find a way to change you back.”

“Outside, on one of the tables out the back. Assuming no one’s stolen it, that is. Wait, you’re not leaving me here? What if the cats come back?”

Silence, paused, halfway through placing Astarion down on the bed again. He flapped his wings in indignation, and she sighed and placed him on her shoulder instead.

“There. Stop getting yourself in a flap – literally. Those wing claws are sharp!”

At last, with Astarion settled on her shoulder, Silence made her way downstairs, where the tavern rang with cheerful singing. Astarion let out a slight groan.

“Let’s get out of here, quickly. This form has sensitive ears, and that drunken caterwauling is making my head throb!”

Silence tried her best to avoid the rest of the party as she made her way to the door, but with no luck. Spotting her, Gale cried out.

“Ah, there you are! Joining us at last? Come on, pull up a chair, pour a glass! Hello… What have you got there?”

“Oh gods...” Astarion groaned, as Gale approached, looking curiously. “He’ll be insufferable…”

“Well, aren’t you a chatty little fellow?” Gale asked, reaching out to stroke the bat’s head. Astarion snapped at him. “And bitey! Reminds me of Astarion. Any luck tracking him down?”

“Don’t you dare tell him!” Astarion hissed. “I’ll die of embarrassment!”

Gale couldn’t understand, Silence realised. Not without the animal-speaking potion. Although… Her eyes darted to the bar, where Halsin stood close by. Sure enough, the druid was smiling, having clearly understood.

“It seems our pale friend is in something of a predicament! How have you managed that, Astarion?”

“Astarion?” Gale frowned, and looked around the bar. At long last, his eyes returned to the bat currently fuming on Silence’s shoulder. “He isn’t… Is he?”

Well, there was no avoiding it now. One by one, the others turned their attention to Astarion, who hid his face in his wings.

“That’s Astarion?” Karlach cried, leaping from her seat and coming to pet his fur. “He’s so cute! And soft! Aren’t you just precious?”

“Certainly an interesting development,” Wyll remarked. “Could be useful for scouting ahead, or getting to places we can’t…”

“Have you figured out your wings yet?” Halsin asked. “Many druids struggle with flight when they first take a winged form. I can offer some advice, should you need it?”

Astarion flapped his wings angrily, brushing away Karlach’s hands and nearly falling from Silence’s shoulder in the process.

“Unhand me! Gods above, get me out of here!”

“Aww, listen to the cute little squeaks!” Karlach exclaimed. “Is he having a little tantrum?”

“He’s… a little overwhelmed. We’re going to go back upstairs and try to figure things out. See you all later!”

The book, thankfully, was where Astarion had said it would be. An ancient volume, full of loose and torn pages, which Silence briefly flicked through curiously. Arcane diagrams, bizarre illustrations, archaic text…

“You can browse it upstairs! Hurry, I can hear the cats coming back!”

“Alright, calm down. Relax, I’m not going to let you be a cat’s dinner.”

Making a brief detour past the bar for a bottle of wine, Silence hurried back upstairs, and settled onto her bed, the book in front of her, Astarion settling himself onto her lap. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she tried not to laugh as he clumsily attempted to open the cover with his wings, and failed, a giggle bursting out.

“Will you stop laughing? Do you have any idea how hard these wretched things are to control? They feel as if they ought to work like hands, but they don’t! I can’t pick anything up, I can’t turn pages… I can’t even scratch my nose!”

“You’ll figure it out in time, I’m sure. In the meantime…”

Silence gently scratched at the delicate, leaflike nose with one fingertip. Then, unable to resist the soft fur, turned her attention to the fur around his ears. Astarion closed his eyes, letting out a little sigh.

“Well… that I could get used to…”

With one hand now dedicated to bat-scratching, Silence opened the book with the other.

“Right, where were you up to?”

“There’s a page marked with a ribbon. Turn to that one.”

Silence obliged, turning to a page covered with illustrations of bats. Cruel-looking things, not at all like the fluffy white creature in her lap. Seemingly content in his lover’s lap, satisfied that his problem could soon be solved, and rather enjoying having his ears scratched, Astarion yawned, showing off those sharp little fangs again.

“Now, then. If you’d be so good as to turn the pages when I tell you…”

Peace settled over the room. Silence could make little sense of the archaic style of writing, but Astarion seemed to be puzzling it out. She sipped her wine, humming idly, the bat’s fur so very soft under her fingers…

“I wonder… Would you mind?”

Astarion flapped a wing clumsily at the glass in her hand.

“Seriously?”

“What? Perhaps things taste different in this form! It has to come with some perks!”

Silence gave a snort of laughter, but lowered the glass to Astarion’s level all the same, watching him lean over the rim.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Ugh! Gods, if anything, it tastes worse!”

The white fur around his mouth was now stained red, and he clumsily tried to wipe it with his wings. Silence rolled her eyes, and drained the glass herself.

“Now, if you’re done experimenting, ready for me to turn the page?”

How much time passed, Silence couldn’t say. After a while, it occurred to her that she was no longer being asked to turn pages, and the tiny body in her lap was making a rather curious sound.

“Stars? Are you… purring?”

“Hm?” Astarion twitched an ear in her direction, his eyes closed. “I… I suppose I am.”

He yawned again, and the purring resumed. Marking the page, Silence closed the book and set it aside. Gently picking Astarion up, she lay down and settled him on her chest, high enough that he could nuzzle into her neck.

“You seem comfortable, and I’m tired. We can read more in the morning.”

When Silence woke, it was to a familiar figure in bed beside her, arms wrapped around her waist, nose nuzzled into her neck. Letting out a sigh of relief, she stroked a hand through Astarion’s white curls, and scratched lightly at a pointed ear. Not as twitchy and delicate as his bat ears, but still adorable. He gave a sleepy hum of pleasure, and held her tighter.

“Well, last night was interesting. You figured out how to turn back.”

“Not consciously, but it seems the form wears off when I sleep. I think I’ll do some further reading before trying that again.”

“That sounds wise,” Silence agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Though, for what it’s worth, you do make an adorable bat.”