#not to mention that my fever went away for like three hours today and then came back and I'm pretty sure I've got a fever rn

[kittyhazelnut]

I am LOSING my MINDDDD

[chrisevansonly]

The Phone Call

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female Reader (Harry's Angel AU🦋)

Summary: The first weeks of your flower shop opening was supposed to be filled with happy memories, not the past coming back to drag you back down...

Warnings: These TW should be taken seriously. Abuse, violence towards reader, mentions of sexual assault, toxic behaviour and foul language towards reader, potential warning of attempted sexual assault, slight? mentions of self-harm, extremely angst filled, will end with comfort and very soft Harry, but majority of this fic is not to be taken lightly

A/N: this fic was intense and hard for me to write, as someone who has been a victim of domestic violence, and sexual assault as well as r*pe, I do not write this with ill intention or to be fun and add a spin to this AU I had to pause a few times which is why this is late, but it brought up memories I didn't really want to remember. Angel although a nickname for female reader, feels like she is a part of me, I feel the pain she experienced first-hand through my own eyes. Her backstory is dark but that doesn’t mean she is bound by it if anything she is a fighter and she is strong. Albeit this was hard for me to write, it was time people got to know her deeper and to know the struggles she went through. I ended up taking out a few really dark parts because I just couldn’t publish it. Anyway, I am here if anyone ever needs anything at all, thank you for the endless support xox – rue 

Word Count: 2K+

Standing in front of your own business, the one you’d been planning to start for years was almost like a fever dream for you, it took hours of hard work, long hours, and the dedication you threw into the project from the start. You were blessed to be surrounded by not only an extremely supportive family, but your partner in crime and ever so sweet boyfriend Harry. He would do anything in his power to help you and to see you achieve your dreams, even if it were dreams that reached as high as the stars, he would give you the entire universe to show you how much he loved and cared for you. It was a stark contrast to the love you though you received from Sam your ex-boyfriend, whom you split up with two years ago. Despite the split he had continued to find ways to haunt you whether it was repeatedly getting new numbers to text you, sending letters and gifts to your apartment, hell he even stalked you. When you met Harry that all seemed to stop and you finally found a sliver of peace you could allow yourself to bathe within, Sam’s hold on you dropping enough for you to begin to heal and find yourself after years of abuse. 

It was a Tuesday when it happened, Harry’s range rover pulling up to the curb as he dropped you off at the shop, he had a few meetings today but those never stopped him from driving you to work and picking you up, you were his first priority, his angel. You smiled looking at the shop before turning to Harry and smiling 

“Thank you for dropping me off love”

He squeezed your hand gently, a radiant smile on his face 

“You’re welcome m’angel, I’ll be back to get you around three?”

“That’s perfect, I love you H”

He leaned over to press his lips to yours sweetly, his hands framing your face, one of the many things he did that had your heart pounding 

“I love you more”

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you were sure to grab your tote bag with your lunch and the remained of the things you’d need throughout your day. Stepping out you blew Harry one last kiss before closing the door and heading to the shop, Harry made sure to wait until you were inside before pulling away and driving off down the road. The smell of fresh flowers and botanicals filling your senses which only added to your happiness, it was going to be a good day, you could just feel it.

-

The crowds had been steady throughout the day, people coming in and out, but also leaving enough time for you to get some work done in the back office, any bills you needed to sort out, or companies you had to email back regarding events or inquiries. You’d managed to get the majority of the things you needed done before the bell sounded through the shop, dusting your overalls off and letting out a tired sigh, you stood up and walked out only to freeze when your eyes locked on the man standing by the door 

“There’s my firefly…”

It was almost as if someone had unplugged your body from a power source with the way you shut down, your hands tensed at your sides, calculating what your next few steps would be, and how you were going to get out of this situation. The button to press for emergencies like a fire, or burglary that the security company had installed which would also phone Harry, was too far from reach now, and you knew how Sam was, if you freaked and ran to it, he’d get to you first

“What? No words Y/N? I knew you were stupid, but come on”

“G-Get out.”

He nodded and when his eyes locked on yours it was like he was void of absolutely all feeling and emotion…had he always been that way? He said it was your fault. Was he just always this way? Your brain was spinning out of control, your breathing picking up.

“Hmm no, don’t think I will, you owe me.”

Owe him? What could you possibly owe him, the last time you’d seen Sam, he had beaten you within an inch of your life, you were placed in a medically induced coma for almost a month, he’d broken three ribs, fractured your arm and given you a concussion, amongst other things, you were essentially unrecognizable 

“I-I don’t owe you anything get out!” 

His jaw tensed and you knew he was getting angry; he’d always had a bad temper and that was enough for you to take off towards the far wall to hit the little purple button. The second your finger skimmed the wall you were yanked backwards, and your head smacked the concrete floor, obviously hard enough to fill your vision with black spots, a groan of pain escaping

“I wish you hadn’t of touched that sweetheart, I was here to talk amicably, now I’m not so sure you bitch.” 

He straddled over your hips sending a smirk your way as you tried to wiggle enough to get him off, but being already disoriented was not helping you much 

“Please, just l-leave me alone…get off me...”

“Aw come on firefly, you used to love this game…used to love when I’d hold you down and make you feel good? Remember? Yeah, you’d fight me so hard…it only made it more fun for me”

You shook your head thrashing as much as you could, you didn’t know if you’d managed to hit the panic button, but god were you hoping you did

“Fuck you Sam.”

His fist came down and slammed into the side of your head twice, the second one enough to snap your nose, evidence from the audible crack that filled your ears. You were gasping in pain at this point, your whole body on fire and screaming in pain

“You ungrateful bitch, I should have beaten you harder back then, maybe now’s my redemption huh? Been a while since that seemingly loud mouths made me feel good, maybe we should put you to work”

The grip he has on your wrists was terrifyingly strong as he continued to hold you there, you couldn’t even look at him, your right eye swelling and tears had started to blur your vision, or was it the throbbing pain in your head? You couldn’t be sure at this point. 

“Stupid bitch.”

Sam got up walking around the shop before you started to hear things smashing against the floor, his yelling going unnoticed by you as you weakly pulled yourself into a corner between two workbenches, the flashing purple above you let you know you had in fact hit the button, but you weren’t sure how long it would take anyone to get to you. It sends an alert to Harry as well, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t come until Sam was long gone. The shouting had stopped for a few seconds before a hand grabbed your ankle and you let out a scream kicking your legs, that only landed you back against the floor with his hands at your neck. 

His eyes dark with murderous intent, and in this moment, in this exact second you wished he would kill you, you wished he’d take the life out of your heart. Take the pain from your mind, your body, pull the night terrors you still got out of your head, put your body to rest, where you could find peace for once. 

“J-just kill me a-already…”

You had given up in this moment, you were done, you had come to terms with the fact that you might not ever see Harry again, and if the memories you began to think about were the last thing you saw as you took one last breath, then so be it…he had made you so happy in the almost two years you had been together than anyone had ever made you feel within your lifetime. He had added sunshine to your dark days, light to your shadows and warmth to your once frozen and nervous heart, he was the safe space you’d struggled so hard to find, and if you never had that again…it was your time to go then. 

-

Sirens and talking back and forth filled the open space you were sat in, a blanket around your shoulders, your stare on the far wall, only it was like you weren’t there, it was like you were empty. Memories of being so low you’d turn to alternative ways to heal whether it was showering with the water too hot, not eating or leaving marks where no one could see. You never thought you’d fall back into this dark place you clawed your way out of, you don’t even remember when the paramedics or police showed up, and you can’t remember what happened to Sam, but you didn’t care

“Let me through! No-NO I need to see her, please! That’s my girlfriend!”

Harry had just gotten to your shop after receiving the alert on his phone, and the minute he pulled up and saw the first responders he felt his heart fall, he knew something was wrong when you didn’t answer the phone any of the times, he spammed you on the way over. He fought with the police for a while before moving around them and bolting for you, pausing when he kneeled down and noticed just how in shock you were

“Y/N? Angel...? Hey, can you hear me?”

You remained quiet despite your brain yelling at you that Harry had come, that he was here, that you were alive, trying everything to get you to snap back into yourself. Harry had seen this once before, and he thought before gently taking your hands and holding your index fingers to the pulse points on his wrists, noting that you didn’t pull away which was a good sign 

“Harry…?”

Your eyes slowly moved to him and despite the blurred version of him, you knew it was your Harry, he was here, holding onto your hands, his eyes filled with traces of panic and worry as he watched you carefully 

“I’m here baby, I’m right here, I’ve got you angel, promise”

You couldn’t help the sob of relief that left your lips, the floodgates of emotions finally spilling over after shutting yourself down, despite the pain you still felt you leaned forward, and Harry took you into his chest, holding you tight to his chest, still remaining careful not to hurt you 

“I know, I know baby…I’m so sorry, you’re safe now”

“I w-was gonna d-die” 

Harry pressed a few kisses to your head, his hands rubbing your back 

“You didn’t, I’d never let that happen, I’ll never let anything like that happen again, okay?”

“Promise me…”

“I promise angel, I promise.” 

You remained on the floor with Harry, your hands holding onto his sweater tightly before the paramedics advised the two of you to head to the hospital, upon fighting with the medics Harry said he would take you, knowing you needed him now more than ever, and he wasn’t going to let you out of his sights.  Seeing you sitting there on the floor with a black eye and blood over your faces, the bruises that littered your once clear skin, sent him over the edge, and he made a promise to himself to never ever let anything like this happen to you again.

If you had of been okay, you would have noticed the blood on his knuckles from punching Sam a few times as he wandered out of the shop with the police, thankfully who let Harry off with a warning. He would have killed him for you, but now his one and only goal, was getting his love healthy, getting her home to where she would be safe, and being there for her in any way I could. Poppy your older sister was already on her way from London but knowing you wouldn’t want your parents to know he told Poppy to handle that, which she was more than happy too. You were his whole entire world, and seeing you fall asleep in the passenger seat as he sped to the hospital, and knowing the pain you were in, was something he would never forget, it was a memory even to this day that harbours his thoughts.

He knows if he’d have lost you that day, his world, his universe, his everything would have come to a halt, and he wouldn’t have known what to do. Which is why he loves on you every second he gets, checks in every minute he can, and fills your life with as much sunshine and warmth as he can, because he’d do anything for his angel. 

[wroteonedad]

Hyperfixations 001

Usually I try to keep myself busy as much as possible, cherishing the time I have before I need to clock into work and also be busy for another 6-7 hours. I like to go for walks in the afternoon before work, I enjoy going out for coffee and reading, doing spots of shopping and calling family members. This weekend on the other hand, has been tough for me. Where I live, we have an air show that always takes place from the last day of August until around the 3rd September (so today as I'm writing this), but these days always feel a little bit like more of a quarantine to me. Having a sensory issue with loud noises is so difficult for me, especially being sat at home waiting for these planes to pass by. Some are bearable, others are a lot more difficult to cope with. So I've essentially done nothing for the last 4 days before work and it is driving me crazy. So I had this grand idea to perhaps use some of my free time to discuss other things I have done in my free time, things I am consuming and enjoying in the hopes to sway others to look into it and enjoy these things too.

Sims 2

First of all, I have been playing a lot of Sims 2. I dip through phases where I choose between if I like Sims 2 or Sims 4 and at the moment it's definitely 2. I've had the Ultimate Collection for years on my laptop and it truly feels like a fever dream playing this game, the options really are endless, you can drive a car and you can even spawn in burglars who run away because Bigfoot is also living in my house and he likes to go out and scare them. Last night I came back from work at 3:30am and the first thing I thought to do was get my laptop out so I could squeeze in one more hour of Sims before I went to sleep, it is getting bad. My insomnia is returning and this game is perhaps rotting my brain.

With the option of three whole towns in the base game alone, how could you not want to play the game? I still think Seasons and the Night Life packs are the best in the series and without them I'm not sure I would know where I am. The University expansion is also lots of fun and a lot more versatile than the Sims 4 edition of the game (I've never played it, but I saw enough reviews to know I never need to play that one).

Kylie & Kendall Jenner's Rebels: City of Indra

Second of all, I am still very slowly trying to read my way through the Kendall and Kylie Jenner book. I mentioned a few months ago on my Instagram that I had purchased a second hand copy of the book since I could not comprehend spending nearly 20 British pounds on a book that is written by a ghost writer. It's been hard trying to read this book, really hard. I am about 100 pages in so far and knowing that I am going to write a review on this at some point does pain me because I'm not sure how I'm going to do it. The basic premise of this book is about two orphan girls who are very much like wow I'm so quirky and different from everyone else, but they're really not. Many aspects of this novel are not particularly captivating or in depth, but I am also beginning to enjoy some of the story.

If you're really interested, MTV were so kind to produce a chapter for free online here.

The Simpsons

I've been watching The Simpsons with my boyfriend, we are watching it all chronologically and I'm not sure how long it will take to watch a show spanning about 33 seasons and over 20 episodes per season on average, but I think it's going to take a while. I'm very much enjoying it though, I think everyone needs to go and watch the first season so you can watch as all the voice actors really immerse into their character over time. The show is streaming on Disney + so you have plenty of time to watch it since Disney own nearly everything these days.

On that note, speaking of Disney, let's quickly discuss their rival, Nick. Remember the classic movie Good Burger? Please say you do, it's one of my comfort movies. Well after all these years, it seems the movie is getting the sequel that literally nobody asked for thanks to Paramount +, they've even posted a teaser trailer for the upcoming film on social media. If anything, I think it's pretty cool that the original cast still speak to and like each other enough to even think about rebooting a 25 year old film.

Film Breakdowns

I've been spending quite a lot of my free time watching movies, going out for dinner in places I've never explored, and listening to the same music that I've been listening to for the last three years. But as for movies, here is a quick roundup.

Was feeling down the other week so I ordered a strawberry and white chocolate waffle from Creams and watched Asteroid City. It might be one of my favourite Wes Anderson movies to date, and I was obsessed with the little alien guy. I want to write a full scale review though so I won't go into detail.

*This is Mikes Mic by the way.

I finally watched Freaky Friday in full, I'm truly not sure why I hadn't sat down to watch this before, but it was a perfect no thoughts head empty movie. Jamie Lee Curtis spends the entire movie serving MILF and I think that is a very important thing to note. I watched this because I watched Blue Valentine first, which features Ryan Gosling not driving much, but instead being a drunken and horrible boyfriend. There were lots of layers to uncover with this movie and it was a dreadful movie to even think about releasing on Valentine's Day and I can see why people were so mad about it. I watched the original Blade Runner with the intention of watching Blade Runner 2049, but haven't got round to it yet. I think I'm just having a bit of a moment with Ryan Gosling, kind of just want to watch every film he has been in ever.

Music

Music wise, there are lots of little pieces of music I am currently listening to on repeat. First and foremost, Olivia Roderigo's sophomore album GUTS finally came out on Friday. The album is full of fun singalong hits, lyrically more in depth and tune with the current affairs of her life in comparison to SOUR and overall a really enjoyable listen. I see where the critics are coming from in terms of 'but it sounds the same as her last album' and I do see characteristics of it, in some places it does sound like an extension of SOUR, but I don't think it always has to be a bad thing.

Secondly, for all my house music people. I need everybody to spend just under an hour of their time listening to Cherry by Daphni. I feel as though it has changed my life. There are elements of city pop which has been revamped to sound modern with its bass and vibe and in other places, it sounds like something Mount Kimbie would have dropped 5 years ago. It's a wonderful piece and has a song on the album for everyone.

[pancreatic-cancer-research]

How Did You Discover You Had Pancreatic Cancer?

That’s the most frequently asked question I hear. For good reason - there’s no early detection alert system available. And since the pancreas cancer is a well-hidden organ within the body, tumors growing in it stay well-hidden too.

When it's discovered, it’s usually too late to do much to stop the disease. I don’t like exploring the statistics because the numbers are terrifying for the prognosis of Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Basically only about 20% live past 1 year. Less than 3% live 5 years. As I approached the anniversary of my 2nd year since diagnosis, I’m joining the 6% of people who are gifted this time. Terrifying!

I focus on the fact that while the incidence of pancreatic cancer is increasing, the survival rate is also increasing. The five-year rate today is based on people who were diagnosed 5 years ago. I’m part of the group of more recently diagnosed people who together are marching towards creating a higher survival rate.

My discovery story: As our lives are played out in a series of stories, my story is both similar and unique to most cancer patients.

I’m not the profile of a person who would develop the disease: smoking, overweight, diabetes, male and African American. None of these apply to me.

I did not have any of the usual symptoms: Pain (usually in the abdomen or back), weight loss, jaundice, nausea, pancreatitis or recent-onset diabetes. 

I did have vague symptoms that I thought were caused by an ongoing flu: loss of appetite, change in stool, tiredness. I also had a ball-bearing size lump in a gland near my collar bone that I mentioned to three different doctors in the year prior to diagnosis. All said to alert them if it changed. It did.

My discovery gift was that I developed a 24-hour fever just days before Thanksgiving in 2017. It went away and I was fine. Two weeks later it came back so I decided to seek medical care for this vague, never-ending flu-like crud. I mentioned to the Nurse Practitioner that I just hadn’t felt right for awhile and my ball-bearing lump had grown a twin.

I could tell something didn’t sit right with her. She seemed to suspect something was wrong. She kept asking and asking if my stomach hurt. I kept answering no…. is it supposed to hurt?? When she left the room to consult, I could feel the start of quiet tears; I knew something was wrong.

And so the testing began - fast!

An ultrasound discovered the blocked bile duct causing the fevers, lack of appetite and changes in stools. A blocked bile duct is not uncommon with pancreatic cancer research. A ct scan suggested a tumor was hiding in my pancreas. An x-ray revealed a field of small tumors covering my lungs. It wasn’t good news and it had spread.

So, my journey had begun. I was terrified and overwhelmed as it began. Today, frequently I am still terrified and overwhelmed. But, I’m still here. And for that, I am grateful. I appreciate everyone who has stepped into this journey with me. And I am especially grateful to the nurse practitioner who really listened and believed me. Every day I make a plan for tomorrow and I expect to be here for it. And by the grace of God, so far, I have been.

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader Genre: Smut, 18+, Mafia AU Trope: Woke up married Dialogue Prompt: “Aren’t we supposed to be working?”  Warnings: overdosing on cold medicine, mixing cold medicine with alcohol, dub-con, mentions of sex while unconscious, vomiting Word Count: 4,480

This is my contribution to this month’s bnharem collab. I was so happy when I spun the roulette wheel and it landed on my favorite au, the mafia au. I hope you all enjoy and make sure to check out everyone else’s contributions here. Also a big thanks to @doinmybesthere​ for being my beta reader and putting so much work into creating the master list for this collab.

“A fever? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You winced at the voice coming out of your phone. You were curled up in bed, a heavy futon draped over your achey, chilled body. “I’m really sorry,” you croaked into the receiver. “I can’t get out of bed; there’s no way I’ll be able to come into work today.”

“You know how important tonight’s meeting is.”

You could feel the fire in the eyes of your underboss as he spat at you about how important tonight’s festivities were. You couldn’t care less. You hated the guy, but more importantly you hated your father for getting you in this mess.

A debt needed to be paid and your family couldn’t afford to take out a second mortgage on the house. So your father, as smart as he thought he was, went to the nicest restaurant on the far side of town where the boss of one of the most dangerous mobs in the city stationed his office.

A debt for a debt. That’s what he told you as he came home smiling with a big check in his wallet. No one in your family knew where he got the money, but he seemed confident enough that he’d be able to pay it back.

A month went by and one day, three scary men knocked on your apartment door. They said they were there to “collect”.

You were terrified. You thought they were there to rob you, to take the money you had been saving in a rainy-day fund. But no, they came to collect you. Now, it’s been four months and you’re still stuck doing odd jobs for them--grocery and coffee runs as well as spending reports and other money related things you are less than qualified to do.

You hate your job. You hate having to put up with the unorthodox hours and the unsavory jobs and the complaints about your work ethic and the having to do it over again because you didn’t do it right the first time. You want out. If you weren’t positive that if you left they would be able to hunt you down, you would have fled the country by now.

But your father’s debt still hasn’t been paid.

“Look,” you pleaded. “I can come in tomorrow and work double my usual time. Please, Kirishima-san, I just need the day to rest.”

“Not a chance. You’re coming in today and that’s final. If you don’t, well, then maybe we need to take an extra payment from your parents.”

Before you could even process what he just said, he hung up the phone.

Another payment from your parents. You couldn’t possibly let them take any more from your family. With a new threat looming over your head, you mustered up enough strength to push off of your futon and get dressed for the clients’ dinner.

By the time it was 7:00 in the evening, you had taken a large swig of cold medicine and were ready to spend the night serving these criminals.

Outside of the restaurant, two bodyguards were stationed at the front door and one at the back entrance. All three of them were dressed in black from head to toe. You, on the other hand, were tasked with serving your boss’s clients, so your outfit differed from theirs.

You were dressed in attire suited for waiting tables. Black slacks stretch across your legs and your pristine shirt was smoothed against your body. A tight black vest clung to your chest and pressed against your boobs, squishing them together. If it weren’t for the fever, chills, and headache, you would look like you belonged with this crowd of criminals.

You flashed your ID to the guard at the back door and he nodded you in. Your eyes had to adjust to the fluorescent kitchen lighting, but once they did you saw how busy everyone was. It truly was one of the most important nights for your boss, so you understood why you were needed. Still, this night would truly take the most out of you.

“Oi, (L/n),” one of your boss’s associates called for you. “Take these to table four. I’ve been covering your ass for the last twenty minutes.”

“Of course, Kaminari-san.” You bowed your head and skirted over to the table where two well-dressed men spoke with one another in a hushed tone. You placed their meals in front of them and bowed your head.

“Wait,” one of them called as you began to walk away. “I asked for a Jasmine tea. This is Sencha.”

“Yeah,” the other one piped up. “And I asked for a Sencha tea and this is Jasmine.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to yell into the abyss and slap those men across the face. But of course all you did was bow in apology and take the cups back. Kirishima’s words to you over the phone rang loud and clear in your mind.

“Anything they need, you get it for them. These are important people the boss works with and we can’t have idiots like you messing this up for us.”

The men smirked at you and as you turned around to grab their “correct orders,” the man who ordered the Jasmine tea leaned over to leave a hard, painful smack across your ass.

You froze but didn’t say anything and walked away.

It was still early in the night but you had run yourself thin. You needed to sit down or to at least take a sip of water, but there was no room for breaks as you bounced from table to table getting the people what they wanted. You had even left the venue a couple times to retrieve items like the proper creamer one client required in their coffee.

Your throat was so sore and dry and it was aching for a break. Your entire body was aching for a break. But as you saw someone sitting at one of the tables raise her hand to wave you over, you had to put all of your aches aside to tend to her needs.

“Good evening, ma’am.” You bowed your head. “How may I assist you?”

A small smile was on her dark red painted lips. She seemed to be searching for something as she eyed you up and down. “Do you happen to know when Bakugou-san will be joining us?”

Bakugou-san… Were you supposed to know who that is? You had never heard the name before, although you knew your boss had many ties throughout the district. It could be one of them.

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I could ask my supervisors if they happen to know.”

She waited a moment. She seemed to be searching for something in your expression. “That’s all right. You may go back to work now.”

You bowed and thanked her.

Bakugou-san.

The name did sound familiar, but you’re not sure where you could have heard it. It wasn’t until you were deep in thought, trying to recall where you had heard the name, that you could feel something pushing up against your throat. Oh god. Your stomach was churning.

You ran to the bathroom, pushing someone out of the way to get there. You’d probably hear an earful from Kirishima for pushing a guest, but you needed to find a toilet before--

Oh no.

You barely made it into the stall before emptying the contents of your stomach onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Your legs collapsed from under you and you kneeled in your vomit as you coughed up your stomach lining into the porcelain bowl.

Tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breathe while hacking everything you had into the toilet. The black eyeliner you threw on before leaving the house had smudged into raccoon eyes around your lashes.

You rested your cheek against the toilet, ignoring all of the germs that were most likely crawling up your skin and into your pores. The toilet seat felt cool against your burning cheek and watering eyes. You thought you could die happily here, kneeling on the bathroom tiles in a pile of your slowly cooling vomit.

“Aren’t we supposed to be working here?”

Your eyes shot open, and in trying to stand up you slipped. Your ass landed in the smeared vomit. You winced and let out a drawn out, “fuuuck.”

It took you a moment before opening your eyes again and looking up at the man in front of you. And boy did your eyes widen. He was clearly a guest at the clients’ dinner. His blonde hair was slicked back and the bulge of his muscles under his crisp black button down didn’t go unnoticed by you. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms and as he crossed his arms over his chest, his sleeves began to tighten.

“Who the hell are you and why are you puking on the floor?”

It took you a second to find your voice. “I’m, um...” you trailed off. “(L/n), sir.” You cleared your throat. “I am a worker for the person hosting this dinner.” You tried to stand up and bow, but he put a hand up to stop you.

“You work for them.” It was a statement not a question, but you nodded anyway. “Why? What do you owe?”

You’re not sure why he was asking, but his intimidating glare compelled you to answer his every question. “My dad owes them money,” you admitted. “And he wasn’t able to pay them back.”

“Who do you mean by them?”

You weren’t sure how to answer. You didn’t even know what these people did. For all you knew they were drug mules or assassins. You never wanted to know what they did when you were roped in. After all, the less you knew meant you could have more of a normal life. “The boss,” you finally answered. Who the boss was, you weren’t sure. You answered to Kirishima but he didn’t have much power aside from ordering around you and every other person unfortunate enough to be roped into working for them.

The man in front of you scoffed. “Get up.”

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that hit you. The man led you out of the bathroom, and as you walked behind him, people who passed the two of you stopped and stared. Oh no, it had to be from the vomit stains on your leg and down your shirt. You probably stank to high hell and your eyes wouldn’t stop watering from your fever.

The man stopped and you had to keep from bumping into him. “There’s an extra work shirt in the closet,” he said. “There should also be some slacks in there. Leave your dirty clothes in a pile and I’ll have someone collect them.”

His voice was demanding and it took you a moment to register what he said. It wasn’t until he snapped in your face that you moved.

“We don’t have all day, princess.”

You flinched and nodded before scurrying into the closet and flicking the light on. Inside the closet was the restaurant’s sad excuse for a boiler room. The low humming from the machinery brought you back into the present as you searched for the change of clothes you were promised.

There was a crisp white shirt folded on one of the shelves as well as a few different slacks in varying sizes. The shirt was a size too small, so you had to leave the first couple buttons popped open. Before leaving the closet, you tried to think about who the man was and why he was helping you. Was it possible that he wanted something in return?

When you emerged from the closet, he looked you up and down. You were too tired, however, to notice his lingering glare on your chest and the way the button down squeezed your breasts closer together.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes. You’re not sure why you were too scared to look into his vermillion eyes, but the way he called you princess earlier as he snapped at you had definitely made you tremble in your core, and you swore that if you looked up to meet his eyes, your fever would only go higher and higher.

“Why the hell’d you come here if you were sick anyway? Are you trying to poison everyone in the damn building?” His words were like little bullets that shot at every one of your doubts of coming in tonight.

You thought back to why you had come in the first place. You were huddled up in your futon that morning when Kirishima called. You begged to stay home, right? But you couldn’t. You squinted hard as you tried to remember why you weren’t allowed to rest. “I was threatened,” you thought out loud. It wasn’t directed towards the man but he nodded in any case.

“(L/n) was it, right?”

You finally managed to look up at him with bleary eyes. “Yeah, um...” You couldn’t seem to remember what his name was. Wait, he hadn’t told you. He had just led you around and given you new clothes, but he never properly introduced himself.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he said as if he could read your mind. His lips turned up into a smirk. “But call me Katsuki.”

“Katsuki,” you mumbled. “Bakugou Katsuki.” You had heard that name before, but where. “Bakugou,” you mumbled again as if you were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. “Bakugou-san.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“Oh!” It hit you like a ton of bricks and as soon as you shot up, you had to recoil because of the ache in the back of your neck. “There’s a woman looking for you, Bakugou-san, er, Katuki,” you bowed.

He just chuckled. “There’s a lot of people looking for me tonight. Who was it?”

That’s a good question. You squinted as if you were looking deep into your memories to remember who it was who asked for him. “She was a woman,” you remembered. “With long dark hair and dark red lips.”

Katsuki nodded. “I see the Yaoyorozus are here.”

The Yaoyorozus. You weren’t sure what that could mean but you didn’t feel like questioning it, so you nodded instead.

Katsuki was looking down at you. His arms were crossed over his chest but a smirk that had been playing across his face all night wouldn’t seem to go away. “Feeling better?”

You didn’t feel better. Although you felt cleaner in the new clothes, there was still a throbbing in your head that wasn’t going away and the overhead lights made your eyes water. But the way that Katsuki looked at you like he was expecting you to say yes just drew you in.

He could tell that the way you nodded a yes in response to his question was a lie, and his face fell before pushing a hand up to your forehead, checking your temperature. “Have you taken anything today?”

You had to think back to earlier that day when you brought the bottle of cold medicine up to your lips, not even reading the recommended dose before downing what you could and leaving your home. “Yeah, um, I took some medicine.”

The grin that had been spread across Katsuki’s face returned. “Well I guess we’ll have to get you some more.”

He grabbed your wrist and led you through the halls and over to the bar. You didn’t pay attention to where you were going. The world seemed to be going too fast for you to keep up. What you were able to notice was that everyone’s eyes were on you as you gently swayed back and forth, trying to settle yourself down. As you were in your own head, you couldn’t start to picture what everyone else saw when they looked at you. You with your raccoon eyes due to streaky makeup that you couldn’t stop rubbing.

“Here.” Katsuki shoved a glass in your face. “Not necessarily traditional medicine but it’ll get the job done.”

You looked up at the whiskey glass in his hand. The ‘medicine’ was a deep brown color which swirled around as he handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his thick ones as you took the glass. You lifted it up to your nose and took a deep breath in, gagging at the smell. “Um, I don’t think I should.” You had been warned about mixing alcohol with drugs and the dangers that came with it, but no one had ever told you not to mix drinks with cold medicine. Still, that couldn’t be right, right?

“Come on, it’s good for you,” he egged you on. “Besides, it’ll get that nasty taste out of your mouth.”

You had never tried whiskey before. You were used to lighter drinks, something bubbly with a shot of vodka or two in it. But this was almost too much. You lifted the glass up to your lips and tilted it back. Your lips stung as they made contact with the drink, but you didn’t want to seem weak to Katsuki. He’d taken care of you so far and seemed pleasant enough, albeit intimidating.

As you tipped it back further and took more of the drink into your mouth, Katsuki pushed his hand against the bottom of the glass so you couldn’t tear it away, making sure you would drink every last drop. It stung going down and the cubes pressing against your lip were colder than you expected. You gagged as a couple loose tears rolled down your face from the drink’s burning sensation. You bet you looked even more of a mess now.

“Good girl,” Katsuki said with a low demeanor. With his thumb, he wiped away a drop of whiskey that rolled down your chin.

“And this’ll make me feel better?” You didn’t think you were supposed to drink when you were sick, but you were far too tired to even think about what was wrong and what was right. If he said that it’d make you feel better, then that had to be a good thing. You’re sure of it.

“Sure will.” He placed a firm, calloused hand on your head and stroked down your hair. You nuzzled into his warmth.

It was such a nice sensation that it almost made you forget that you were supposed to be working. That there were people waiting on you to bring them their food and fetch their creamer, people who were ready to slap your ass and laugh as soon as you turned away.

“I have a,” you started, not really sure where that sentence was going. “I have to go back to work.”

As you began walking away, Katsuki stopped you, pulling you back over so your face was practically pressed up against his chest. “No you don’t. You’re sick, remember?”

Right, as if you hadn’t forgotten. But he was right. You were sick and your medicine hadn’t kicked in yet. You couldn’t risk spreading your germs and getting anyone else sick.

You watched the dinner guests from afar. You leaned in to hear conversations about hitmen and other rivaling mobs around town. Some were about money laundering and clients that needed to be taken out, whatever that meant.

At one point, someone asked to pull Katsuki aside and talk alone, but instead he just pulled you closer.

“The hell do you want, Yoarashi?”

Yoarashi was a big guy, bigger than Katsuki, but it was clear even to you that he was intimidated by the blonde in front of him.

“You owe me for what I let you borrow last month.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

To you, they sounded like they were underwater and you weren’t sure what they were discussing, but you were curious to learn more.

“Come on, Bakugou. Work with me here.”

“I’m a busy man, Yoarashi. Now get out of my face before I have my men take care of you.”

Something about the raw power and the threatening tone behind Katsuki’s voice made you excited. You wanted to melt into his words, but you weren’t sure why.

“Busy man?” Yoarashi scoffed. “Come on, Bakugou. You’ve barely been seen all night. Where have you been, fucking this little lackey of yours?”

He didn’t mean you, did he? Before you could even comprehend what he just insinuated, Katsuki turned you around and pressed your face up against his chest. You could feel yourself growing even hotter as you were pushed into one of his pectorals. One of his hands cupped the back of your head. Was he protecting you?

“Listen here,” you heard him say. “Don’t contact us ever again unless you want to end up like your first boss did. I can make your life a living hell and I will, got that?”

“Don’t think I don’t have other contacts, all right? You aren’t the only one in this town with resources, Bakugou.”

You felt something jab into the other side of Katsuki’s chest. Did Yoarashi hit him? A few seconds went by before you heard the snapping of fingers and two men came over to drag Yoarashi away.

Katsuki released the hold he had on you, and you watched as the tall man struggled out of his hold. “You aren’t gonna tell anyone what you saw here tonight, right princess?”

You shook your head. You weren’t sure what exactly you felt when you saw that man being dragged away. You were scared, of course; scared for your own life and of the raw power that Katsuki seemed to hold. But on top of fear there was something else. There was a tingle between your thighs that wouldn’t seem to go away, and there was also a sense of excitement. Out of all the people here, this man was paying attention to you. You were far from Mafia material, but he clearly saw something in you and you wanted more of his gaze lingering on you.

Your mind felt hazy with Katsuki and you wanted even more. You didn’t know what to do when you felt him smooth his hand down your back. You didn’t know what to do when his usual smirk turned into something much more dangerous. And you didn’t know what to do when he leaned over and pressed his lips against your own.

His lips felt heavenly as they explored you. They were soft and welcoming despite his cold and dangerous exterior. His tongue probed its way into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and something else which you assumed was just him. He bit your lip and it felt like he smiled when you let out a moan.

When he released, you felt as if the whole world was spinning with Katsuki. You wobbled around a bit and he chuckled. You tried asking if you could sit down, but the words refused to come out. The last thing you remember is seeing the world go black, the sound of the clients’ dinner fading out of earshot, and two strong arms carrying you away from reality.

You were in pain by the time you woke up. Your body, especially your head, ached tremendously and you wished the sun would stop shining so bright through your window. But wait, the window in your bedroom at your apartment faced another building. The sun never shined too bright in the morning when you were at home.

Slowly, you peaked your head out from under the covers and looked around. You weren’t in your bedroom, but you were in a bedroom. The bed you had been asleep in was enormous, but aside from that there was not much else furniture in the room or even any pictures to signify who the room could belong to.

It wasn’t until you sat up that you realized just how exposed you were under the covers. You couldn’t find your clothing anywhere. What were you even wearing last night? Where were you last night?

You remembered being sick and being called into work by Kirishima. You were stressed. You were nauseous. There was a beautiful woman who asked for someone in particular but you were too sick to remember what their name was, right?

And then you raced to the bathroom and met--

A groan from beside you shook you out of your thoughts, and as soon as you saw the person lying in bed next to you, all of your memories came flooding back.

“Morning, baby girl,” Katsuki said.

You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth hung open and you felt lightheaded.

Katsuki was shirtless under the covers and you were too scared to ask if he had anything on covering his lower half. “You put on quite the show last night.”

Last night. Where you met him. What did you do last night? “I...” You didn’t know what to say, and that made Katsuki let out a booming laugh.

“Come on, you remember at least a little of it don’t you?”

You shook your head. Then you shook your head again. You couldn’t stop shaking your head.

Katsuki put a hand on your shoulder and you stopped. He had a shit eating grin spread across his face that you wanted to both punch and kiss at the same time. “First throwing up at my party and then getting blackout drunk in front of all my guests.”

“What?” You could barely remember anything. What did he mean ‘his party’? The clients’ dinner was run by…

Your eyes widened as you realized just who you had found yourself naked in bed with. Who had found you puking on the bathroom floor. Who that stunningly gorgeous woman was asking for earlier.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and Katsuki let out another chuckle. “You really were the life of the party.” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you over to his side of the bed, and you let him. He dragged his hand up and down your exposed body and roughly cupped your sex. “I had a blast toying around with you last night, but now I want you to be able to remember what it feels like when I bury my cock inside of you, sweetheart.”

You hated the way he was grabbing you and the way he forced your legs to open up for him, but what you hated more than any of that was the way his words made your inner thighs ache and how they instinctively parted just for him.

You turned away as he leaned down to smother your chest with rough kisses, and as you looked over to your left hand, you couldn’t help but notice a diamond ring that wasn’t there the night before.

[dragonmuse]

Okay so the end of your newest fic has me in PUDDLES and I’m absolutely in love with the addition of the Law Offices of McGraw & Gates and how Lucius and Eddy bond over their shared hatred of Flint. Is there anything in the world that would make Izzy and Stede join forces? How would that play out? I kind of love their dynamic lol

(I mean there's one thing that would get them to unite every time)

“If you mix bleach and ammonia, you’ll create a dangerous gas and knock yourself the fuck out at best,” Izzy said with what he thought was miraculous patience considering Read was accidentally trying to kill herself again. 

“I’m pretty sure my mom used to do it,” Read started then stopped. “Ah, fuck.” 

“Just put the fucking bleach down,” he instructed. His phone pinged. “Hold that thought.” 

He was waiting for a message from a client, but this wasn’t it.  The contact that Izzy had marked as ‘Motherfucking Asshole’ came across his screen. Considering he had the man’s number at all, it was a pretty useless expression of his general feelings, but he had to get his jollies somehow these days. 

Stede: I need your help. 

“Am I having a stroke?” he muttered. 

“From the bleach?” Read asked, anxiously. 

“No, just put some water and baking soda on it. That’ll lift the worst of it.” 

Izzy: with what? 

Stede: Lucius had a very dizzy spell, nearly fell over. He’s refusing to even stay sitting down let alone go to the doctor. He made me promise not to tell Pete, but he forgot I had your number. 

Izzy’s blood ran cold. 

Izzy: I’ll be there in ten minutes. Give him something to eat. 

It was hot as hell out today and Lucius’ inability to remember to drink water when it was not placed directly in his line of sight had probably gotten him. It was likely fine. 

Izzy did not settle for ‘likely fine’ under any circumstances for Lucius. 

“Okay, bye then!” Read called after him. 

“I’ll explain later!” He called back, already hitting the button for the elevator. 

Stede: I’ve tried that already, but he said earlier his stomach was bothering him.

Izzy: is he glassy eyed? Flushed? 

Stede: Not sure about the eyes, it’s not bright enough in here to tell, but yes he might be flushed. 

Izzy: is he being a dick? 

Stede: I wasn’t going to say anything. Seems rude when he’s not well, but yes. Very dickish. 

Izzy: He’s got a fever. 

Which was bad, but also at least an explanation. Pete had mentioned, off-handed, that Lucius got dizzy with fevers. If he’d been attempting to power through one, on top of the heat that would easily fell him. 

Stede:  He shouldn’t be here then. He knows better. 

Izzy: in the car. Get water into him. 

It wasn’t possible to shave much time off the drive to the Revenge this time of day. Lights and traffic prevented any real speed. That didn’t stop him from gunning it at every possible point. When he arrived, he parked in the first open spot and not particularly well. 

The side door was propped open for him. Opening wasn’t far off, though the show was hours away. Lucius’ long Friday shift would only just be beginning.  Izzy walked in, warily. 

Lucius was behind the bar, but he wasn’t moving around or giving out directions to the Swede. He was just standing there, holding on to the bar like it might slide away from him. His eyes were closed. The glass of water just a foot or so from his hand was being ignored. 

Stede came out of the bathroom and as soon as the door creaked, Lucius’ eyes snapped open and his attention went back to his hands, the flash of a knife as he returned to slicing limes.  Stede saw Izzy and let out a relieved breath as he crossed. 

“All right, that’s enough now.” Stede said in his callous director’s way. A tone that Lucius reacted to with a snarl instead of a scoff. Woah, okay then. Definitely a fever. “I’ve called the Swede to come in early.” 

“It’s his day off,” Lucius slapped the knife down a little too carelessly for Izzy’s taste. 

“And you covered his last three sick days, Pup.” Izzy walked into Lucius’ line of sight. 

“Oh you fucking Judas,” Lucius hissed at Stede. 

“I know, I’m very terrible,” and maybe, in fairness, it wasn’t the ruthless director at the moment, but a very concerned friend. “But I think you might be unwell.” 

“I’m not sick. I just needed to close my eyes for a second.” 

Izzy reached over, tugged Lucius down by the neck of his shirt and kissed him. The fact that Lucius sort of toppled into it was sign one, but the heat of his skin as Izzy cupped the back of his neck sign two through a hundred. 

“What hurts?” Izzy demanded. Lucius knew from colds and fevers. He whined through them mostly, making big productions of mild malaise. He wouldn’t have come in if he had the sniffles, so it was something bigger. 

“Nothing. I took some painkillers before I came to work and it was fine.” 

“Pup.” He stared at him at close range. Lucius blinked first. Sign one hundred and one. Shit. 

“My ear felt weird. Stuffed up. I figured it was allergies, you know I get gross this time of year. Hurt a little more this morning, but the Swede was looking forward to going out and then I got here and everything was a mess from last night-” 

“We’ve got it,” Stede said firmly. “Please, for the love of all thing, go home, Lucius. Or better yet, go to urgent care or something.” 

For a second Lucius looked like he might protest on principal a last time, but instead he sagged over the bar with a pathetic whimper. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Several hours later, Izzy reluctantly picked his phone back up. 

Izzy: very bad ear infection, caught it just in time. Horse pill antibiotics for the next ten days. 

Stede: not like him to bully through that kind of thing.  Is he resting now? 

Izzy: passed out on the couch.  Pete knows.  Says he’s been weird the last day or two. 

Stede: Glad he knows, did he say why? 

Izzy: his cousin’s wedding is this weekend. 

Stede: The one he wasn’t invited to? That makes more sense. 

The very same. Without his mother brokering the connection, all of Lucius’ relatives seemed to have forgotten he existed. Lucius was clear that it was unlikely she was spreading the word around, just his lack of presence and his mother’s silence would be enough. 

Izzy: I hate that woman. If he didn’t love her so much, the things that I would do. 

Stede: I would drive you there and provide the alibi.  

Eventually, Izzy got Lucius into bed. Got him to drink some water too and eat a little. Lucius grumbled, but curled around him afterwards. 

“Sorry,” he muttered into Izzy’s stomach. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, Pup.” 

“I should say sorry to Stede.” 

“He understood.” 

Lucius paused, then barked a laugh. “You two. You teamed up on me. Peace between nations! Release the doves.” 

“Shut up, you’re hallucinating. It never happened,” Izzy groaned. 

“You totally did. I can’t believe it.  And now I know it’s possible. Oh the things I can do.” 

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” he sighed. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure you’re alright.” 

“...I hate when you ruin a perfectly good evil planning session by being really really sweet. Fuck,” Lucius wrapped an arm around Izzy’s  hips.  “Stop that. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Izzy assured him and let him drift off like that. It’d be deeply uncomfortable soon, but for right now, he could tolerate just about any annoyance. 

Stede: Can I doordash him some soup?

Izzy: got homemade stuff here. 

Stede: what a lovely little homemaker you are 

Almost any. 

Izzy: Doordash yourself some fucking vegetables before you die of malnutrition and fuck off. 

Stede: Your concern, as always, is appreciated and duly ignored.

[missmorosis]

sick manager :)

-> feat. bokuto, oikawa, and tsukishima

part 2 with sugawara and kuroo here!

personally i loved writing these, so lmk if you want a part 2 with other characters 👀

TW: PASSING OUT :))

To sum up how you felt in one word, you were exhausted. You were physically overworked; pushed to your limit with tons of schoolwork, stress, extracurriculars, and on top of that, you were your school's volleyball team manager. You were merely a first year, but you did your job well, and the entire team loved you.

You had tried to power through the classes, running with just two hours of sleep. Work was starting to pile up, so you had no time for sleep.

You felt yourself falling asleep during lectures, curling up on the grass for quick naps during lunch, and throughout the day, you had the worst headache.

With luck, you managed to make it through, but you still had hours of volleyball ahead of you. You blinked hard, trying to get rid of the sleepiness clouding your head. Your head pounded, and nothing was really registering in your brain.

There was no denying it, you were sick.

It was bound to happen sooner or later, but it was still annoying. You didn't want to miss the day's volleyball practice, because you had an upcoming game, so you decided to just push through and deal with it. 

Ignoring how bad your head hurt, you slung your bag over your shoulder and walked out of the classroom.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto, someone you recognized as the captain of the team you were the manager for, spotted you from a distance and was already bouncing, beaming as he waved. You smiled back with a small wave. He didn't mind that you didn't match his enthusiasm; he was used to it, so he didn’t find anything suspicious about it.

The two of you walked down to the gym, Bokuto talking animatedly the whole way there in the background. You didn't mind though, it was nice to just listen. However, every word he chirped bore into your brain, seeming to echo.

You didn’t want to be rude, but you couldn’t help but try to drown out his voice by focusing on your surroundings.

A green bush. A tall tree. A group of students.

“Y/N?” Bokuto waved his hand in front of your face, and you looked up at the mention of your name.

“Hm? Sorry, sorry, I’m just... oh, we’re here!” you said, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want him to worry, and it was no big deal anyways... You could finally see the gym, and you let out a sigh of relief. It felt like the short walk was actually several miles long. 

You finally made it- 

Shoot.

A sudden dizzy spell overtook you. Shutting your eyes tight, you stumbled on your own feet, your legs giving out beneath you. No, no, no....

"Y/N!" Bokuto yelped as he caught you. He pulled you close to him, and whimpering, you leaned on his chest, trying to stay conscious.

“Sorry...” you breathed softly, just trying to focus on the way Bokuto’s chest went up, and down.

Up... and down. You shut your eyes tighter as a wave of your headache hit. Bokuto’s arms around you were definitely helping you stay standing, and you were thankful. Up... and down.

Then you slumped into his arms.

...

The second your eyes opened again, you were knocked back with a hug. You grunted at the unexpected impact, but smiled when you realized it was Bokuto.

"Y/N! You're awake!" Bokuto yelled, his voice watery with relief. "I thought you died," he sobbed, and you hugged him tight.

"I'm fine, I promise," you said with a laugh. "Just... thirsty." Bokuto leaped to get you a glass of water as fast as he could.

While he was gone, you looked around to see that you were in the nurse's office. You could just imagine Bokuto running with you unconscious in his arms, and you smiled at the thought.

Bokuto came back with the promised water, and he lay a hand on you to check up on your temperature.

"You're really burning up... why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he asked, pouting.

"I didn't want you to worry... I thought I would be fine, and that I would make it through practice." He shook his head.

"I want to know, okay?" You nodded with a smile.

"How long was I unconscious?" He thought for a second before responding.

"Only for a couple seconds, but you were kinda drowsy so we made you rest. It's been a couple hours now." You immediately got up.

"Practice isn't over yet?" you asked, still hopeful. Maybe you could at least stay for an hour? It was better than noth-

"Y/N..." he sad warningly, and you knew going wasn't an option.

"Fine..."

"Good," he responded, satisfied with your answer.

Walking out of the classroom, you met eyes with Oikawa Tooru, who immediately lit up at the sight of you. His smile immediately turned into a frown, immediately noticing something was different about you, given how perceptive he was.

"What's wrong?" he questioned slowly, and you shook your head.

"Nothing's wrong, Tooru... I'm just tired," you said, but he looked at you suspiciously.

“You should take a break,” he reminded you gently, and you shook your head, no matter how tempted you were.

“I really can’t, I’ve got… a lot to do. But I’m fine, I swear,” you assured him, gesturing towards the gym, despite the sick feeling in your body. You swallowed, trying to swallow the dizziness. “Let’s go!” You tried for a smile, and Oikawa responded with a hesitant one, finally deciding to let it go. 

Starting to walk towards the gym with the volleyball player following close behind, you shook your head, trying to shake out the growing light-headed feeling that you dreaded. It wouldn’t go away.

Shutting your eyes as tight as you could, you didn’t even notice that you stopped walking until someone tapped your shoulder. 

“Hm?” You peeked your eyes open slightly to notice Oikawa standing next to you. 

“Y/N-chan?” His face was written all over with concern.

“Sorry, I just…” You laughed sheepishly, trying to shrug it off, but the pain was beginning to be way too much. “I.. just…” you tried to say, but you were unable to finish as you swayed to one side, tripping over your own feet trying to stay standing. You heard Oikawa's yelp as he rushed to catch you, and you blinked slowly before passing out completely.

...

As soon as you woke up, you found yourself in your own bedroom. When you got up, wondering how you got there, you were met with Oikawa's frown.

"When was the last time you had at least seven hours of sleep?" he asked, disapproval in his eyes as he pushed you back into bed. You gave a shy smile.

"Maybe... two weeks ago?" Oikawa gasped dramatically before tutting in distaste.

"You need to sleep, or else your health will plummet," he said, shaking his head. Of course, at that moment, your headache had to come back. You winced and shut your eyes, burying your face into your hands. "What's wrong?" You shook your head with a sigh.

"My head's killing me," you admitted. "It's been like this all day."

"Wha- Y/N," he scolded, leaving the room. Where was he going? Ah. He came back with some medicine and a thermometer.

"Thanks." You swallowed the medicine, and Oikawa immediately forced the thermometer into your mouth.

"103.2?! Y/N, you'll be here for a good three days. I'm not ever letting you leave your bed until you get better, and I won't leave either." You laughed at his motherly antics.

"But what about pract-" you started, but Oikawa shushed you.

"Think of it as a much needed break." You stared at him.

"Did you at least go today?"

"No, of course not! You were freaking unconscious, I can't go and hit some good serves if I know that my precious Y/N could possibly be in pain," he said with a pout.

"Aw, Tooru..." You kissed his cheek. "You're too swee-" He pushed you back into your pillows, pulling the covers up before you could finish.

"Now rest up, Y/N-chan."

You glanced at your phone; you still had an hour until volleyball practice...

A little nap wouldn't hurt, right?

You found a nice, private corner, and huddled up. Using your backpack as a pillow, you fell asleep almost instantly.

Some time later, Tsukishima was walking by, on his way to practice. His eyes spotted you asleep in the corner, and he smirked.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, laughing to himself softly. "Hey, get up, Y/N." He flicked his finger on your forehead, and laughed when you began to stir awake.

"Mm?" Your voice was raspy from both sickness and sleepiness, and you blinked your eyes, trying to adjust. You shielded your face from the light with your hand, and you finally made out Tsukki's tall figure kneeling in front of you. "Oh, hi Tsukki..." He held out his hand with a smug smile, offering to help you up.

You groaned when you realized that the nap didn't make your headache go away. Getting up too fast, you swayed for a good two seconds; Tsukki's hands were on your shoulders, trying to steady you.

"Ten bucks you don't make it through practice without passing out," he joked, but you had a feeling he was going to be ten dollars richer soon enough. You nodded sleepily, but quickly froze.

"Wait- am I late for practice?" You frantically dug your phone out, sighing in relief when you learned that you still had ten minutes to spare.

"What, you think I would be late?" Tsukishima said, jokingly. "But anyways, I'm not letting you go to practice today. Clearly you need rest... and..." His hand rested on your forehead, and he nodded. "Like I thought, you have a fever." You swatted his hand away.

"Today's practice is important, I can't miss it. I'll be fine, Tsukki, since when do you worry about me?" You turned around, heading towards the gym, when your head hurt just a bit too much. You winced, and faster than your brain could process what was happening, you were already falling to the ground and everything went dark.

...

"Oh, you're awake." You opened your eyes and saw Tsukishima waiting for you. You were in the nurse's office from the looks of it, and Tsukishima got up with some water and medicine.

"Here, take this." You nodded and followed his command.

"Thanks," you said, rubbing your head.

"Hm. You know how you asked when I started to worry about you?" he asked, sticking a thermometer into your mouth.

"Hm? Oh... yeah." You recalled how you had said something like that right before you passed out. You took the thermometer out and glanced at the temperature.

103.2. You hid the thermometer behind your back, knowing Tsukki would not be happy with your temperature.

"The answer was always; I always care about you, even if I don't seem like it."

"Wow, Tsukki..." It surprised you; you never thought you would hear anything nice coming out of Tsukishima's mouth.

"Also, you act like a five year old sometimes, people can't help but worry about you," he added. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile. "Now hand over the thermometer. I didn't forget." Sighing, you reluctantly gave it to him.

"Welp, will you at least cuddle with me until I get better?" you asked with pleading eyes.

"Come on, Y/N. You're contagious..." You pouted, and he sighed. "Fine."

BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDDD!! THANKS FOR READING BABE

this is 100% not edited or proofread IM SORRY- IT MAY NOT EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE HAHSJFJRI

ANY THOUGHTS?? IM DYING TO KNOW OMG

send an ask to be added to my haikyuu taglist 👀

[waybrights]

sashannarcy week day 3 - sports

OLYMPICS AU TODAY !!!!!!!! hope u all enjoy hehehe i do actually like this one so >:)

also just a quick warning for implications of an ed and sasha does get hurt but it's nothing explicit!! still just be careful if u do know that stuff upsets you!

but yes hskahk dpls do enjoy!!! i promise this isn't even angsty i just wanted to put that there just in case!!! also no it hasn't been edited i apologise for any mistakes <33

---

"you're such an idiot, you know that right?" anne asks a half-awake sasha, one hand gripping sasha's tightly and the other carding through the blonde hair, ever so gently undoing all the little braids and twists marcy had done a few hours ago.

"that's mean, annie," sasha grumbles, pouting up at her from her pillow, her face squashed into the white fabric of the pillowcase and her eyes closed. "besides, everyone gets hurt now and then."

"not everyone tries to land the hardest jump knowing their old injury is acting up," anne scolds, but her voice is too full of worry to convey any anger. "you're hurt, sash, that's not something you can just shrug off."

"skating is a dangerous sport, you know that-"

"so is snowboarding but you don't find me breaking my neck just to get a trick right," marcy adds as she pushes the door to sasha's room open with her back, her arms full of medical supplies and snacks she's most likely snuck up from the canteen area.

"well you're no fun, marbles," sasha groans, turning her head into her pillow to avoid the worried looks the other two were giving her. (it's not like it was her fault she did the jump, she'd hardly had any say in the matter, what with her mother somehow managing to breathe down her neck even when she was so far away.)

scoffing, marcy drops her haul onto the bed, painkillers and pastries fall over sasha's legs but garner no reaction. "no, i just care about you, sashy," marcy laughs, leaning over to press the back of her hand to sasha's forehead. "well, good thing is you don't have a fever, it's just your ankle and hand then."

"thank you doctor marcy," sasha replies, her tone dripping in sarcasm.

"i will eat all this food if you keep being rude to me," marcy threatens, pulling back with a smile, leaning against anne's side.

"gee, save some for me," anne giggles, sitting up straight at the prospect of food.

"convince sasha to be nice to me and i'll save you a croissant," and with that, marcy is digging through her pile and pulling out all the food she's so evidently stolen for herself.

"hear that sash? my croissant is riding on you cheering up," she whispers, bending over again to lay her head on sasha's pillow. in response sasha sticks her tongue out and pulls her sheets over her face.

"you can go hungry," her words are muffled by the three quilts she's pulled over her face, but anne can hear the smile in her voice.

"sure but can you?" she'd said it as a joke, but as soon as the words leave her mouth she remembers just why sasha is like this in the first place.

anne hadn't been there when it happened, she'd been in training for their upcoming match against germany when marcy's texts had come through. even just thinking about it sent a spike of fear through anne's heart. from what she knew, sasha had been practising her triple axel when she'd messed up her landing and sprained her ankle, falling to the floor and somehow cutting her hand open in the process. what she hadn't known was that sasha hadn't eaten that morning, only picking at her cereal before rushing off to train, leaving her full bowl on their table. based on what both marcy and sasha's coach had told her, she'd mentioned feeling lightheaded before her session, but still went along with it (of course she would, anne thought bitterly, sasha didn't seem like the type to person to let illness get in the way of her dreams).

"you need to eat something," anne says after a few minutes, shaking her head to rid herself of the thought of sasha laying on the ice, pale and broken. "and i'm pretty sure there's something with your name on it," she coaxes, smiling when sasha slowly pulls the layers away from her face, revealing a curious look disguised as one of annoyance.

"what is it?"

anne shrugs and sits up, scanning the pile in front of her. "there's some of those chocolate things i've been trying to get you to try," she says, snatching it up before marcy can reach it and holding it out for sasha to take.

a bandaged hand appears from under her blankets, waving in the general direction of anne and the pastry. "you're gonna have to sit up first, i highly doubt choking on a pastry is going to help your recovery."

"it wont," marcy adds through a mouthful of food, sitting on the other side of sasha.

"you really should become a doctor, mars," sasha laughs after a moment of thought, slowly pushing herself up on shaking arms. "seriously though," she says, taking the pastry from anne's hand with a weak smile and a blush, "thank you both for this, you didn't have to come but i'm glad you did."

"nonsense, you're our friend, of course we would come!" marcy says, bumping sasha's shoulder with her fist.

"yeah, sash, we're not going to let you sit here alone being sad until you heal," anne affirms when she sees the guilty look on sasha's face. "we care about you too much to leave you alone."

"thank you," sasha whispers, taking a small bite out of her pastry.

"it's no problem, sashy," marcy mumbles, dropping her head onto sasha's shoulder. "now, annie put on the tv. i want to know what happens next!"

"it's twilight, marmar, everyone knows what happens next," anne laughs but leans forward to pick up the remote and flicks the tv on, hardly paying attention to the movie playing, all too focused on sasha's warmth as she takes her hand under the sheets.

[teenyweenynightghost]

@superchrystaldrug

“Enjoying the view, beautiful?” X Damiano

Dream View

Y/n looked out the balcony and took in her surroundings. Right in front of their house was a long alley leading to a meadow, hidden deep in the woods. There were trees, plants and flowers everywhere and y/n thought she could never be more in love with a place.

What made it truly special is that it was hers. Hers and Damiano’s.

Their relationship had been long and rocky. To say the least.

With Damiano being an international rockstar and Y/n an achieved medic, work and stress brought them apart more often than they would have liked.

Oh how many nights could y/n think of in which she would cry herself to sleep, praying she hadn’t lost Damiano forever.

All her prayers must have been answered, because just today they had moved into their new house.

It was a large villa in the countryside. They both loved every single thing about it, especially the privacy and intimacy it offered them.

One month ago, when they had come to visit the house for the first time, both of them pointed out how large it was. Because of that single thought on their head, they brushed past it.

Once they went upstairs, the agent mentioned that there were plenty rooms for more than two people, a soft smile on his face. Damiano immediately dragged Y/n to a spare room and hugged her from behind, resting his hands on her stomach.

“Love, I think I want to spend the rest of our lives here.”

They were both grinning like love-struck teenagers when they exited the room, exploring the house once more, with a new-found interest.

The way y/n was currently prompted against the fence made it easy for Damiano to embrace her just as he did one month ago.

“Enjoying the view, beautiful?”

She hummed, her eyes lighting up at his presence.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered in her ear, leaving countless kisses on her neck.

“You..” she purred, pleased at the contact. Damiano chuckled a little and turned her around, pushing her against the fence.

“Aren’t you always.” He said smiling, brushing a few strands of hair from her face.

“Im bored.” Y/n sighed, looking around the balcony.

A devilish grin appeared on Damiano’s face as he led her back inside.

“You know what we haven’t done yet?”

Y/n raised a quizzical eyebrow and hummed.

“Ikea. Furniture. Chaos. Let’s go babe!” He turned around, still holding her hand so she would follow him, a hand raised in the air as he gestured widely.

“Oh gods have mercy.” Y/n giggled, before she grabbed her purse and a water bottle.

***

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE Damiano! WE are NOT getting a NEON PINK glow in the dark couch!” She exaggerated each of her words, making sure all of them reached her incredibly stubborn boyfriend.

“Fuck yeah we are.” He said calmly, checking the price tag.

“I swear to fucking god, WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WITH IT?”

“FUCK ON IT!” He screamed out so loudly, the whole store heard.

Y/n closed her eyes tightly and pursed her lips, hoping the ground would open and swallow her whole.

“Please tell me I had a hallucination and you did not scream that out.” She whispered, embarrassment creeping up her cheeks.

“You told me that honesty is key. Are you saying you were wrong?” He asked loud enough for the people around to hear, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“No fucking kisses for you, motherfucker.” She deadpanned, while brushing past a pouty, devastated, mess of a man.

***

“Y/n look!” He whispered excitedly in her ear, pointing to the baby section.

“I can see that, darling.” She answered softly, already grinning like a fool.

They made their way towards a small cradle, which was decorated with white stars and dark blue sheets.

“This one is so beautiful.” Damiano breathed out, brushing a finger along the wooden structure.

“It actually is!” Y/n responded, surprises at the creative decorations.

“Until now I think I’ve only seen clouds and princesses or bows. But not galaxies.” He commented, his gaze now fixated on the lamp above.

“So were you serious about wanting a baby?” Y/n asked reluctantly, afraid to hear his response.

“Are you kidding me? Did we really buy a fucking mansion for two people and two cats?” He faked an emotionless expression, but Y/n could tell he was amused.

“Okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure.” She blushed at the whole conversation and continued to look at the furniture.

“What would you want to call the baby?” He peeped in, magically appearing next to her.

Y/n hummed and thought of an answer, before speaking again.

“Well, If it’s a girl, I really like Calliope, we could call her Alia, and if it’s a boy, I’m kinda obsessed with Sebastian or Matteo.”

“Ew.”

Y/n frowned, confused, and turned to him.

“What?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I have two names being repeated in my music and you don’t even bring them up. Rude.”

Y/n snorted and gave him a quick kiss.

“Oh, you baby. Of course I like Marlena and Coraline but I don’t want our child to be named after someone who keeps leaving or someone who always cries and has anxiety.” She joked, earning a dazzling laugh from Damiano.

“Fair enough. I really did like Alia though!” He commented, picking up a pair of baby shoes.

“Y/N!!!” He exclaimed, holding the little shoes in his large hands, while jumping up and down.

“THESE BARELY FIT ON MY FINGERS!!” His eyes were full of adoration and longing as he looked at them, a million possibilities speeding around through his mind.

“Can you imagine? Having a little munchkin who looks just like us and is this small?” Y/n giggled, holding one of the shoes delicately.

“Honey I think we should have children with separate people.”

Y/n was shocked at his words and pulled away instantly, insulted at his words as regret flashed over his face.

“WHAT?!” She all but screamed, already feeing a dreadful sensation in her stomach.

“Chill. I meant that we are both so hot out future child will probably anger Venus herself with their looks.” He replied wide eyed, mimicking his version of a goddess.

Y/n bursted out laughing as Damiano joined her, the couple becoming the centre of attention once more.

“We should really be more quiet.” Y/n whispered through giggles, as she pulled Damiano behind a wall.

He nodded and kissed her gently, before pulling away and continuing to look at clothing.

The couple spent hours at the shop, proud with their purchases, and returned home on the dark streets.

They were both seated on a swinging chair, y/n in Damiano’s lap, overlooking the woods.

“We’re gonna make great parents some day.” Damiano whispered, breaking the silence, as his hand wandered over her stomach.

Y/n had never felt happier, her heart filled with love and certainty, as she nodded and nuzzled further into Damiano.

Author’s note: I have baby fever part two (?) or maybe three. Anyway. I think it’s cute👏🥺😩

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo

[keijislove]

Surprise: Harry Potter x Wife!Reader

A/N: warning, i guess there is a slight mention of NSFW (i do not write smut btw) and vomiting, sickness, etc.

Your eyes fluttered open as you were snatched out of your sweet dreams.

You looked to your left, where your husband was still sleeping.

Giggling, you got up and dressed for work.

‘Wake up, sleepyhead.’ You spoke. ‘You’re going to be late for work.’

Harry let out a small groan, sitting up in bed.

‘Morning love.’ He said through a yawn.

‘Morning, dork.’

---------

‘Mrs Potter, good morning!’

‘Hello Mrs Potter!’

‘Hi Y/N, alright?’

‘Good day Mrs Potter!’

‘Hello, hello.’ You briskly said, rushing through the stampede of Ministry wizards, making your way to your office.

‘Y/N, thank goodness you’re here!’ Hermione spoke. ‘Samuel Goodman’s having trouble with that spitting guitar again.’

‘Really? Again?’ you whined. ‘I didn’t think to bring lunch! That man’s job is going to take hours.’

‘I’ll tell Ron to get you something.’ Hermione giggled.

You fake gasped. ‘Minister, are you helping an employee?’

Hermione snorted. ‘Very funny, get going, he’s already knee-deep.’

You raised your hands in surrender, running off.

---------

‘Now, Mr Goodman.’ You seriously stated. ‘I do believe I told you to leave this instrument alone?’

The man blushed scarlet, muttering something that sounded like an apology.

You sighed. ‘Well, it’s done. It won’t spit at you anymore. Good day.’

You lead him out of your office.

Minutes later, there was a knock on your door.

‘Come in.’

‘Hey, Y/N.’ Ronald Weasley popped his head in. ‘Mione told me to bring you lunch, here you go. George has fixed this up for you.’

‘Ah, thanks Ron.’ You yawned. ‘Tell him thanks, that looks great.’

After eating your delicious egg-sandwich, you headed to your husband’s office.

‘Hi Y/N.’ Harry smiled as you entered. ‘Long day?’

‘The spitting guitar again.’ You answered.

‘Again? I feel sorry for you now.’

‘Oh, shut up.’ You laughed. ‘I expect-’

But at that moment, a wave of nausea overcame you, so powerful that you doubled over.

‘Love?’ Harry worriedly asked. ‘Y/N?’

Not speaking, afraid you would throw up, you ran into his bathroom and retched into the toilet.

After panting and cleaning yourself up, you went back out.

‘Love, a-are you alright?’ Harry asked.

‘I’m fine...’ you answered. ‘Maybe George cooked a bad egg or something in his sandwich...’

Harry nodded, unconvinced.

--------

The bell on the door of the shop rang as you entered.

The red-haired man at the counter didn’t look up. ‘Hello, welcome to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, best joke shop in Diagon Alley, I’m George Weasley and you may look around and ask me if you need anything.’

You politely waited for him to finish his monologue before you spoke.

‘Hem hem.’ You said, fighting your giggles as George’s head snapped up in horror.

‘Oh, it’s just you.’ He spoke. ‘I thought it was old toad-face who came to shut down my shop.’

‘Just me?’ you asked. ‘I’m offended.’

‘Yeah, yeah, hello Y/N.’ George snickered. ‘May I help you?’

‘Well, thanks for the sandwich.’ You began. ‘But did you-’

Before you could say put a bad egg in it, another wave of nausea washed over you.

‘Bathroom?!’ you choked out.

‘Y/N, what-’ George began. ‘Uh, yeah, just there.’

He pointed to the door.

You ran in and retched again.

‘Are you alright?’ George asked.

‘Well, I was going to ask you if you put a rotten egg in the sandwich, but now I’m wondering if you put a Puking Pastille in it...’

‘Puking Pastille?’ George repeated. ‘Why would I put that in your food? And we aren’t even making those anymore, it’s limited to Fever Fudge and Fainting Fancies.’

‘Am I sick?’ you wondered aloud.

‘By the looks of it, yeah.’ George spoke. ‘Maybe go home and rest?’

‘Yeah, maybe drop by at St. Mungo’s....’ you muttered, leaving.

----------

‘Hello, you’re at St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, if you want to get treated, use that elevator, if you’re meeting someone, you have to wait, if you’re wasting my time, then please leave and- OH MERLIN!’ the woman gasped. ‘Y-you’re Y/N Potter...’

‘Uhm, I do believe I am.’ You said uncertainly.

‘Oh, well, oh, Mrs Potter, uh, big fan.’ She stuttered. ‘How may I assist you?’

‘Well, you see, I’ve been vomiting since this afternoon, it’s happened thrice already and I don’t recall eating anything off or drinking something old... overall, I need help.’

‘Well, of course you do!’ she breathed. ‘We will call our best healer for you, Mrs Potter, given how much you do for this nation!’

You fought the urge to giggle. ‘Er, thanks. I hope this best healer of yours can cure me.’

‘Certainly dear! He is one of the most skilled.’

The woman grabbed a microphone of sorts and bellowed. ‘HEALER MALFOY, I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE ASSISTING A DYING PATIENT OR WHATEVER IT IS THAT YOU’RE DOING, GET. HERE. NOW!’

You gasped. ‘Did you say... Healer Malfoy? As in Draco Malfoy?’

‘Yes, dear, quite right.’ She distractedly said.

‘What do you want, you horrible old woman?’ a voice asked behind you.

You didn’t dare turn.

‘Malfoy, kindly assist this lovely lady here.’

‘Alright, hello, how may I help?’ asked Draco.

Cursing internally, you turned around. ‘Hi...’

‘Y/N?’ he asked.

‘Draco.’ You spoke.

‘Ah... um come on, then.’ He awkwardly led you to his office.

‘We haven’t seen each other in quite some time, have we?’ he asked once you entered.

‘Yeah, the last time we met was when we both thought Harry was dead.’ You spoke sarcastically.

Draco smirked. ‘So, what’s with you and Potter, L/N?’

‘That’s Y/N Potter to you.’ You corrected.

Draco’s eyes grew wide. ‘Y/N Potter? You’re serious? That’s you? I thought it was some other Y/N or something...’

‘Honestly Malfoy, how many Y/N’s would marry Harry Potter?’ you asked.

‘I expect you have a point. Alright, Mrs Potter, what ails you?’ he asked.

‘Dunno.’ You simply answered. ‘Been retching all afternoon.’

‘What?’

‘Wait...’ something wasn’t right.

Oh no.

You ran into his bathroom and doubled over inside the toilet and let out your stomach’s contents yet again.

‘Blimey, you alright?’ asked Draco. ‘When did this start?’

‘This afternoon!’ you panted. ‘I thought George put a Puking Pastille in my sandwich, but then it didn’t stop. What’s wrong with me?’

‘I have a very good idea of what might be wrong with you.’ He began, making a disgusted face but you couldn’t place why. ‘But if it’s not true, I don’t want to worry you uselessly. Here, take these pills and if they don’t work, come to me right away. It will take two or three hours to have an effect, so tomorrow should be fine if you’re still... a human hosepipe.’

You snorted. ‘Yeah, alright. Thanks Healer Malfoy.’

‘My pleasure, Y/N Potter.’

---------

‘Hey love, how are you feeling?’ Harry asked as you entered your house.

‘Bit better, I went to St Mungo’s and apparently the best healer they have is Healer Malfoy.’ You spoke.

Harry laughed. ‘And what did Healer Malfoy tell you?’

‘He didn’t. He said he knew what might be wrong with me, but he didn’t want to uselessly worry me in case this is just a nasty stomach bug. So, I’ve got these pills for now.’ You explained.

‘Well, that’s nice.’ You husband said in amusement. ‘For once, you and Malfoy had a conversation where the both of you weren’t constantly threatening to break each other’s face.’

‘I was in for a surprise myself.’ You sarcastically said. ‘I’m going to bed... it’s been a long day, y’know?’

‘Yeah, I understand.’ Harry soothed. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

And yet after eating the pills, you puked almost four times that night.

-----------

‘MALFOY!’ you bellowed. ‘OPEN THE DOOR!’

The door swung open.

‘Pills not working?’ Draco asked before you could open your mouth.

You aggressively nodded.

‘Ugh.’ He spoke. ‘We’re going there, aren’t we? Oh well. Come in.’

He shut the door and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Er, Y/N, I have a question that is necessary for finding out what’s wrong with you... uhm, you’re married and all right? So, um... did you and Potter have your... em, fun night yet?’

Your cheeks blushed a heavy scarlet as you choked on your own spit. ‘Fun *cough* night?’

Draco looked fairly embarrassed as well. ‘Sorry, er, let me rephrase, when did you have your last menstrual cycle?’

‘About...’ you suddenly gasped. ‘It’s ten days late!’

‘Mhmm.’ Draco wore the same disgusted expression as before.

‘What?’

‘Sorry, it’s just really hard to imagine Potter wanking himself in your presence...’

You slapped the back of his head.

‘Sorry, sorry.’ He said again. ‘Alright, um, take this.’

He handed you a small tube of sorts.

You raised a brow. ‘The Draco Malfoy, offering me a muggle instrument? What day is it today?’

‘They’re surprisingly reliable.’ He said delicately. ‘And it’s Wednesday, by the way.’

You giggled.

Minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom.

‘So what does two lines mean?’

‘That there’s one baby Potter in there.’

----------

The next morning, you set out for your friends’ house.

You knocked on the door.

Several minutes later, a shabby-ooking Ron came out. ‘Whozzerre?’

‘Y/N.’ you answered.

‘The bloody hell are you doing here seven in the morning?’ he asked, nettled.

‘I need to see your wife, Ronald.’ You responded with equal mock-anger.

‘Oh, for Merlin’s sake Ron!’ said a voice as a fully dressed Hermione appeared at the door. ‘Y/N! Hi!’

‘Hey Mione, can I speak to you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Er, privately?’

‘Oh don’t mind me. I’m going to bed.’ Ron yawned.

‘Charming, Ronald.’ Hermione snapped as Ron trudged back. ‘Yes?’

‘Mione... I’m pregnant.’

‘What? I’m sorry, I must’ve misheard you, could you say that again?’

‘I’m serious Mione. I’m pregnant.’

‘WHAT?’ Hermione squealed. ‘Y/N, but that’s... amazing!’

‘I know!’ you squealed.

‘Does Harry know?’

You looked away.

‘You didn’t tell him, did you?’ Hermione accusingly said.

‘I’m not sure how he’s going to react.’ You muttered.

‘Well... maybe tell him by the end of this week... the Auror requirements are crazy at the moment. Maybe you ought to wait till he’s relaxed?’ she suggested.

‘Yeah, I’ll do that. And Mione, could you please cover for me just this once? I’ll work overtime maybe when you know, the baby’s born? It’s just... I’m quite tired at the moment.’ You pleaded.

‘You will not work overtime after your baby is born.’ Hermione sternly instructed. ‘I will cover for you all the same. Take care, Y/N.’

-----------

‘Love, is something the matter?’ Harry concernedly asked. ‘You’re... distant.’

‘I’m working long hours, Harry.’ You responded.

Harry arched a brow. ‘I don’t recall ever seeing you at the office in the last two days. Where do you disappear to in the day time?’

‘I have other work to do besides stay at the Ministry, Harry.’ You snapped in irritation.

Pregnancy was giving you mood swings.

‘See, this is the problem.’ Harry said. ‘You’re not telling me something. When was the last time you called me Harry in that tone?’

‘I dunno, but I’ll use it more often if you act like this.’

‘You know what, that’s it.’ He slammed his fork on the table. ‘I can’t take this anymore. Do what you like.’

He stomped up.

Yup, you blew it.

Sighing and rubbing your temples, you followed.

‘I’m not sure you’d be happy if I told you why.’ You muttered when you got there.

‘Happy?’ asked Harry. ‘Why would I be happy with something that is the cause of my wife ignoring me? I’d personally hate it.’

Tears brimmed in your eyes.

‘Oh yeah?’ you asked in a shaky voice. ‘Well good job, because I’m bloody pregnant with your bloody baby. And you hate it, don’t you?’

Harry was dumbstruck.

He opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.

‘Y/N...’ he choked out. ‘I didn’t mean...’

‘Save it.’ You said, running downstairs.

Harry messed up his hair.

‘I’m gonna be a dad?’ he whispered to no one.

A crash from the dining room followed by a whimper of pain snapped him out of his thoughts.

‘Love?’ he called.

No answer.

‘Y/N!’ he ran down.

‘I’m... nothing, I thought it was going to... come.’ You panted. ‘Babies don’t come that fast, do they?’

‘I... don’t know. Love, I’m so sorry.’

Harry gently picked you up and carried you to your bedroom.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek. ‘Rest, darling. Don’t exhaust our little child here.’

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

‘It’s a boy!’

You let out a choked sob, reaching out as the doctor placed your creation in your hands.

Everybody, Harry, Ron, Hermione, George, Ginny, Bill, Fleur, Percy, Mr and Mrs Weasley had come to see you.

‘It’s so cute!’ Ginny whispered.

‘He’s beautiful.’ You spoke.

Your husband approached you.

‘C-can I?’ he asked.

You smiled and shifted over as Harry sat down, cradling the baby boy in his arms.

A tear escaped his eye.

‘James.’ You cooed.

‘James Sirius Potter.’ Harry declared, pressing a kiss to your temple.

After you had gone home, Harry had taken you to the nursery he designed for the baby weeks ago.

‘I love you so much.’ He muttered.

‘I love you too, idiot.’ You laughed. ‘And I love this baby.’

‘Hmm. Let’s make another one.’

[hansoulo]

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

hi

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver.  “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

 “Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of  strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.  

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting.  “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Twenty Two

⚠WARNING: Hospitals, mentions of hospital treatments (ethical and unethical - it is just speculated, there is no graphic descriptions nor is there any unethical hospital treatments used on any characters.)

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You're folding the picnic blanket when you think to turn your phone back on.

Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki are discussing their plans for the rest of the day - they want to keep reminiscing and there’s talks of pulling out yearbooks and photos. You let them plan, knowing you’d be on board with whatever they want.

Your phone fully comes on, and a text pops up immediately.

Your heart plummets in your chest. You quickly unlock your phone and call Kita immediately. You don’t want to wait long before he picks up.

“Hello Y/N-san.”

“Kita,” you reply. Your throat feels dry as a desert. “What’s wrong, is Osamu okay?”

“Yes, Osamu is okay and not in any immediate danger.” He is quick to quell your fears, not wasting any time with pleasantries. “His fever intensified after he woke up so we brought him to the hospital. He was admitted in the later morning, but the doctor is confident that with plenty of medicine, fluids and rest Osamu will be fine.”

You sigh. “Thank goodness. I’m glad he’s okay.”

There’s a slight pause before Kita replies. “Yes, as are we.”

You didn’t like that pause. Nor the way he phrased his response.

“Kita, what’s wrong?”

There’s another pause before you hear a sigh. Then Kita speaks. “Osamu was admitted for his fever. But he is going to remain in the hospital under psychiatric watch.”

Your heart drops to your stomach. Out of the corner of your eyes you’ve noticed your friends paused in their cleaning efforts and are giving you concerned looks.

“What?” You whisper. “What does that mean?”

“It was at the advice of the in-house psychiatrist that Osamu remained until his parents could talk about next steps, and Osamu agreed. His parents are less than an hour away - we contacted them last night when we came to Osamu’s apartment. He is not a threat to himself at this time but during this limbo they want to keep him under watch.”

Kita speaks in his soothing, calm voice you’ve gotten familiar with and his words are meant to reassure you. But you’re scared, very scared. All you can picture is Osamu locked in a room, alone and chained up and scared. The vision makes you grip your chest.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Kita says over the phone. “Aran, Suna and I are at the hospital right now. We’re going to greet Osamu’s parents and stay for however long we can remain useful. You are more than welcome to join us.”

“I’ll be there,” you answer immediately. “I’ll be there soon.”

You hand up the phone and finally turn to your friends. They look extremely worried.

“This morning Osamu woke up with a really bad fever and he went to the hospital. I guess the psychiatrist wants to keep him there for observation.”

“Observation?” Makki repeats. “What does that mean?”

“They think he could hurt himself.” Mattsun says quietly. Makki blanches.

Oikawa steps up. “Are you okay?” He asks quietly.

You stare at him, trying to figure out your emotions. “I don’t know,” you say truthfully. There’s really only one feeling you have. “I’m worried about Osamu.”

Your voice breaks on Osamu’s name and Oikawa pulls you in for a hug.

“Are you going to the hospital?” Mattsun asks.

You hesitate, despite giving Kita your affirmation not even five minutes ago. You want to go, and be there for Osamu. But today is for Hajime, and you want to be there for your friends.

“You should go,” Oikawa tells you. You look at him in surprise. He planned this whole day and wanted to spend it with everyone - yes that’s when he was being a bit more of a dictator but you’re still surprised to see his change of heart.

“Iwa-chan would want you to support your friends, all of your friends.” He gives you a small smile. “Go, but text us updates.”

You nod, smiling at him. You turn and start to walk away, but the quick thought of deserting your friends makes you pause.

When you turn around all three of your friends are waving their hands at you. “Go! It’s fine!” Oikawa calls.

You laugh quietly, then turn and run to the bus stop.

The ride to the hospital is short, quick and uneventful. Your mind is whirling and you’re barely paying attention. You spare enough attention to know when to jump off the bus and run into the hospital lobby, dodging other people. As you scan the area you immediately find Kita, Aran and Suna tucked in a corner. Kita stands from his seat as you approach, as does Aran. Suna remains in his seat, exhaustion having taken over his features. Aran also looks defeated, but Kita’s calm and collected expression keeps you from spiraling too much.

“How is he?” You ask as you get within earshot.

“There are no updates since our phone conversation from earlier.” Kita replies. He offers the plush seat next to Suna and you gingerly sit. “All we know is that his fever has gone down and he checked himself in for voluntary watch under self-harm precautions.”

The reminder makes you flinch, still shaken by the events. Kita reaches an arm out to your shoulder. “It will all be okay. We should have some more answers soon - the Miyas should be here any second.”

“Shin-kun!”

He barely finished his sentence when a voice called out, making Kita turn to the entrance. Two more people are rushing to your group, a man and a woman. You immediately peg them as Osamu’s mom and dad - besides the fact that you knew they would be joining you all, the woman has the same eyes as Osamu. Now they’re tight with worry and apprehension as she throws her arms around Kita.

“Thank you so much for calling us!” She tearfully cries with her arms wrapped around Kita. The father is currently hugging Aran, both holding onto each other tightly. “I’m so glad we were able to get here so quickly.”

“It was nothing.” Kita answers calmly. The mother jumps over to Aran to give him a hug while the father hugs Kita. Both parents turn and give Suna a big squeeze, sandwiching him between them.

Kita continues talking. “In fact, Y/N here was the one who helped us find Osamu.”

Both parents turn to you, making you freeze in your seat. You swallow thickly, standing up quickly.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N. I’m a friend of Osamu’s here in Sendai.”

It’s quiet for another second before the woman launches herself at you. You feel your eyes widen but you’re able to move your arms in time to catch her.

“A friend, oh thank you, thank you!” She is nearly sobbing while clutching onto your figure. “I thought my Osamu was alone in the city, but you’re his friend.” You feel tears on your neck as Osamu’s mom starts crying, but you do your best to pat her back and comfort her.

“Osamu is one of my very good friends,” you say as the mom pulls away. “He means a lot to me.”

She gives you a tearful smile while Osamu’s father speaks up. “If you don’t mind me asking how did you two become friends?”

“It was a random meeting,” you say, not necessarily lying. “But we became good friends because we’ve both lost someone close to us.”

The father’s eyes soften while his face falls ever so slightly. He steps forward and opens his arms. “Can I give you a hug? I like to ask, seeing how my wife just jumps right in.”

You smile but step in for a hug as well. It’s warm and all encompassing, and you feel a bit of tension release from your shoulders. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” He says before pulling away.

“Thank you.” You say earnestly. “And I’m sorry for your loss also.”

He nods. “I’m sure you know how important it is to talk to someone about this, even if you’re just talking to a friend. Having that support is immeasurable. So thank you for being Osamu’s friend.” He gives you a smile. “It means more to me than I can explain.”

You’re slightly taken aback with how genuine he sounds, but you nod all the same. “It was the same for me.”

The dad gives you a smile before his wife comes up to him. “Kita told me we can go see the doctor and Osamu now.”

The father nods at her, giving you a smile before departing. As they walk towards the elevators you see him wrap his arm around his wife’s shoulders and hold her tight.

“Oba-san asked us to stay at the hospital if we could.” You turn and see Kita standing by his chair. Aran has sunk down into his and Suna already looks fast asleep, long legs sprawled out in front of him. “You are more than welcome to stay, but I don’t know how long we will be here.”

“I’ll stay,” you answer. You sit back in your seat next to Suna, feeling the wariness of the day catch up to you. You might copy Suna and let your eyes drift close for a bit. You know it’ll be awhile before you hear anything from Osamu anyway.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: I like to think that Kita's typo in his text is because he's stressed out, not because I made a typo when writing this.....anyway, finally we meet Osamu's parents! They're are absolutely lovely people and I can only imagine the pain they've been through in the last few months. Thank you all for reading!!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU (bold cannot be tagged): @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef @badkarma-a @reina-de-tay @meianshugoswife @creepykawass

[cursestothemoon]

Paging Dr. Weasley

Requested: yes

George Weasley x fem! reader 

Warnings: strong language, asthma, fever and illness symptoms, food

Word Count: 3031

Summary: George is excited to go see the new products at Zonko’s and the harsh weather isn’t going to stop him. The reader has asthma and she's a bit apprehensive about going out in the cold, dry weather but George insists it’ll be fine. George, unfortunately, is wrong.

***

The night prior it was quite clear to you that the weather would be horrid. The wind, aggressive in nature, thrashed and collided with the walls of the stone walls of the castle. You were fortunate, however, tucked under your boyfriend George’s arm, asleep in his warm dorm. He had insisted that you stayed the night with him, when it got cold out he got clingy, and you had no objections to his suggestion. The following day you were to venture down to Hogsmeade with George, a week ago the plan was made when he mentioned needing prank supplies from Zonko’s, Fred unable to go because of a weekend detention he got himself. With the oncoming storm you had assumed that tomorrow’s plans had been canceled, knowing from past learning experiences the harsh cold was no help to your asthma.

Light flooded through the window in George’s dorm, a bright white that pierced your eyes even as they rest under your lids. You turned away from the harsh light, nose pushing into the warm, inviting chest of your boyfriend as you tried to slip back into a deeper sleep. A deeper sleep would not come, it wasn’t long after you turned that you were fully awoken by a deep groan.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, I told Lee to close the stupid curtains when he got in too.” George grumbled, hand smacking against his face to cover his eyes.

You were silent as you slowly shimmied yourself higher onto the pillow, motioning for him to lower himself so his face would be in your neck, concealed from the morning sun reflecting off the night's snow. George happily complied, humming his gratitude as he nuzzled into your neck before placing a gentle kiss where your shoulder met your neck.

“Who opened the fucking window?” Fred’s voice was heard after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

His tone showed his clear annoyance, followed by a groan and the shuffling of covers probably a result from him angrily pulling them over his head.

“I might’ve forgotten.” Lee answered from his bed making Fred chuck one of his pillows at him.

George groaned into your neck, “Will you two wankers shut up. We’re trying to sleep.”

“We?” Lee and Fred asked in unison before Fred continued, “Is Y/n there with you?”

George and you had retired to bed quite early last night, and neither of you expected Lee or Fred to check to see if George was alone last night before going to sleep.

“Yeah she’s here so shut up.” George grumbled again.

You could hear Fred, or Lee you weren’t sure, as they moved around in their bed before they spoke. It was Fred.

“Was the poor girl buried under the blankets all night?”

You decided to respond this time, “No, I had my face out to breathe.”

“Guess it’s time to get up.” Lee grumbled, moving to swing his legs out from under the covers.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains we’d all still be asleep a bit longer.” George sassed as he moved to sit up, not before giving you a good morning kiss on your forehead.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains…” Lee mimicked in a high voice, getting up to go to the bathroom.

Deciding that sleep would not be achieved until tonight, you too, sat up, knuckling at your eyes as you leaned against George’s chest. He circled his arms around your waist, placing another kiss to the crown of your head.

“Morning, pretty girl.” He rasped into your ear.

Unfortunately it was loud enough for Fred to hear and make a gagging noise as he turned away from you two.

“Disgusting. When you guys leave feel free to close the curtains, yeah?” He mumbled from under his covers, a few tendrils of fiery hair poking out.

You shuffled your legs over the edge of the mattress, standing up and stretching before grabbing the pillow you had been using to go over and smack Fred from over the sheets.

“Get up you wanker.”

He yelped before sitting up abruptly, hair a literal mess with strands sticking out randomly, “Georgie! Your girlfriend is attacking me, make her stop.”

George pretended to think for a moment before answering, “No. I don’t think I will.”

Fred feigned offence before also getting up and out of bed, his maroon boxers with green ‘F’s on them were quite the sight.

“Mate, it’s snowing out. How are you only wearing your knickers.” Lee asked, coming out from the bathroom.

“Run hot.” Fred answered simply with an overly flirty wink directed at Lee.

“Merlin…” George muttered, shaking his head as he got out of bed.

You smiled at your beloved, his hair- much like his brother’s- a frizzy mess of red locks and his eyes still puffy from just having woken up, but unlike his twin, George had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old Gryffindor t-shirt that he had cut to show his midriff. He was quite literally perfect, his pants hanging low on his hips- just exposing his v-line- and his t-shirt, now crop top, ended just above his belly button, an auburn happy-trail in view.

“You ready for today?” George asked, pulling you out of your less than innocent thoughts, his knowing smirk a clear sign that you had been caught ogling at him.

You stood for a moment in thought, “Today?”

George nodded, “Zonko’s, butterbeer, our plan to go to Hogsmeade.”

“I thought we would postpone that, the weather is horrid.”

He peered out the window before turning back to you, “It isn’t snowing much anymore, I think we should be in the clear.”

“Don’t you have asthma though? Won’t it make it act up?” Fred asked as he slipped on his shoes.

You nodded slowly, moving to fix the astray sheets on George’s bed, “Yeah, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go out today.”

George pouted slightly, “We’ll bundle you up extra warm, and it’ll be quick. You’ll be ok, you haven’t had an attack in so long.”

You knew why he was so keen on going, Zonko’s had a new line of products that he was dying to get his hands on. He’d been talking about it for months, he and Fred finally saving up enough money from selling their own things to go purchase a few things. You felt bad, and he was right, you hadn’t had an asthma attack in a while so perhaps you’d be fine.

“Alright, but we’ll need to stop by my dorm so I can get my thick scarf. The one that goes up over my nose.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it anyother way.”

An hour later you and George were ready to go, two scarves- one long enough to go over your nose- a beanie, fuzzy socks, and a pair of George’s mittens were part of the outfit you were sporting. You felt a lot more confident in your attire now, nothing could go wrong...right?

It went wrong.

So very wrong.

The first half hour out on the town was fine, a bit chilly but George was there to wrap an arm around you and pull up your scarf so it covered your nose. Then, as the forty-five minute mark hit, you started to feel a bit...wheezy. The scarf kept slipping, the wind had picked up, and it was extremely dry out. Once it hit an hour you were in a full blown asthma attack, having to pull out a rescue inhaler- something you made sure to bring with you no matter how confident you were at first- and George felt absolutely terrible as he watched you try to catch your breath in The Three Broomsticks.

George rubbed a hand in comforting circles on your back as you took a few inhales of your inhaler trying to stop the painful wheezes. You reached behind you, putting a hand on his to try and tell him it was alright and you didn’t blame him, knowing he’d be beating himself up over this.

Once your breathing had leveled enough for you to string together a few words uninterrupted, you turned to your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry but I think it would be better if I went back.” You muttered, voice still a little raspy.

George crouched down, face to face with you sitting in a chair, as he spoke, “Baby,” He cooed, “You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m sorry I forced you to come out knowing you have asthma and you were worried. I should’ve been thinking more about you, pretty girl.”

You shook your head gently, “It’s alright George, you were excited. No one needs to apologize, let’s just go.”

George silently agreed, moving to remove his scarf as you stood up. He pulled up your scarf so it went over your nose and wrapped his own scarf around it in hopes of it staying up better. Once he was happy with his work, he grabbed your mitten covered hand and you two walked out of the little pub.

Fortunately, you two got back to the castle without another asthma attack hitting you. George took you straight to his dorm, and sat you on his bed. The dorm was empty, it was still rather early in the day, but you felt your eyes start to droop as fatigue from the asthma attack, shivering in the cold, and fighting your way through the snow all came crashing down on you. You were also starting to get a headache, something you were definitely not happy about.

The lanky ginger noticed how tired you started to look and felt his heart melt all while guilt nearly ate him alive. He knew it was his fault you were feeling so bad, but your tired eyes and grabby hands at him made him smile.

“We need to get you changed, love.” He said quietly, going to his own trunk to pull out a sweater and pajama pants for you.

With his sweater and pajama pants in hand he got down to his knees in front of the bed where you sat and started to unbutton your coat. Once unbuttoned he helped you shrug it off, then helped shed all the other layers until you were in a thin t-shirt before pulling his sweater over your head. You moved to take off your bra but George muttered to let me, his hands sliding up under your shirt to unhook your bra, then letting you shimmy around to get your arms out before grabbing the undergarment and putting it in his trunk- he doesn’t need the boys coming in and seeing his girlfriends bra.

He then unbuttoned your jeans, slowly helping you pull them down your legs before replacing them with his own pajama pants.

“Stan for me for a moment.” He said, going to tie the drawstring in a neat bow to make sure the pants didn’t fall off of you.

“Thank you Georgie.” You smiled leaning into his chest.

“No problem, love. Let’s get you into bed.”

You shuffled onto the bed and situated yourself under the covers, looking up at George expectantly making him chuckle.

“You take a nap, I’m going to go get us food alright?”

“Ok.” You nodded, getting comfortable.

Before George was even out the room, you had fallen asleep, the day had taken a toll on you evidently. He smiled at your peaceful form, asleep in his bed, before carefully leaving the dorm to go grab some food for a late lunch.

George came back with the food fifteen minutes later, but he couldn’t find it in him to wake you up just yet. He waited around an hour before gently kissing your hairline to wake you up, but he grimaced at the unusual heat that your skin held.

When you woke, you felt fine, maybe a little lethargic, but fine. Usually asthma attacks didn’t take this much out of you but perhaps it was just because of how intense this one was and your head was still pounding.

You two quietly ate, George asking how you were every so often, you responding with a soft ‘alright’ before going back to the sandwich he brought. When the food was finished you crawled back into George’s bed, still feeling a bit sluggish but the food helped.

“Can you lay with me?”

George nearly awed audibly at how soft and small your voice was.

“Let me just change ok, bubs?”

You nodded, “Wear the cropped shirt please.”

George chuckled at your request but of course complied, pulling the shirt over his head and letting it fall just above his belly button. You smiled at the sight making him shake his head before pulling his own pajama pants on and climbing into bed next to you.

Hushed conversation started between the two of you. He was sitting up slightly with your head placed on his chest. As the sun went down and the other boys came back to the dorm, you let the melodic thump of George’s heartbeat lull you to sleep.

***

The night was a bit rough to say the least, George barely got any sleep due to his worrying about your wheezing. You didn’t usually wheeze when you slept, so it worried him. You on the other hand woke up with a stuffy nose, painfully dry cough, and achy muscles.

You were sick.

Even worse, it was Monday morning and you could not muster up the strength to get yourself dressed and to class. You had woken up first that morning, an aggressive cough pulling both you and George out of sleep. Once you the coughing fit had subsided you turned to look at George.

“I don’t think I can go to class today.” You pouted.

George pushed your hair out of your face as he answered, “Don’t worry about it, darling.” He placed an open palm on your forehead, “You’re burning up.”

Just as he had said it your body shivered before you erupted into another coughing fit.

“My thoughts exactly.” He smiled. “You are not leaving this bed today, and I’ve just gotten word that Dr. Weasley is in.”

You let out a raspy laugh, “You don’t have to miss class, I’ll survive.”

George shook his head, “Nope, I’m going straight to McGonagall to tell her that you are sick and I need to take care of you.”

He left before you could protest any further.

You turned around, getting comfortable again, and started to doze off before Fred piped up.

“I thought you two would never quite fucking yelling.” He groaned.

Lee responded for you, “Shut up you twat.”

***

George jogged to the transfiguration classroom still in his pajamas getting interesting looks from the people in the halls. He didn’t care though, not when his little love was sitting in his bed sniffly and sick waiting for his cuddles.

He made it to the classroom and pushed the door open, startling Professor McGonagall and the few students in the room.

“Mr. Weasley! You cannot just come stampeding into my ro- what in Merlin’s name are you wearing?”

George caught his breath before speaking, “Professor, Y/n is sick and she can't come to class and since she’s sick she obviously needs me to take care of her so I also cannot attend classes today.”

“Is Miss L/n alright?” McGonagall asked, now worried about the girl.

“It’s my fault, I took her out in the cold yesterday and her asthma acted up but now she’s also got a fever and she was wheezing all night.” George rambled, the guilt coming back.

His Professor put her hands out to stop his rambling and push him toward the door, “Alright, alright, you go take care of the poor girl, both of you are excused for today and tomorrow if it’s necessary. If it gets any worse take her straight to Madam Pomfrey, understood?”

George nodded and McGonagall continued, “And for Merlin's sake next time send someone else to come tell me, we do not need you strutting around the school in- in- whatever this is.”

She gestured toward George’s outfit making his ears turn pink, realizing just how many eyes are on him at the moment.

“Right, of course. Thank you.”

***

George made it back to his dorm just as Lee and Fred were stepping out to leave for their first class of the day. He offered them a quick good morning and ‘see you later’ before making his way to you. He found you asleep in bed and tucked the covers under your chin before sliding into bed with you, pulling you into his chest as he let sleep take over.

A few hours later he woke up to you already awake and reading a note, he assumed it was attached to one of the two bottles that had been placed on his bedside table sometime while he was asleep.

“Who’s that from?” He asked, sitting up and looking over the note.

“McGonagall, she sent up medicine.”

“How sweet of Minnie.” He smiled pulling himself out of bed, “Alright, let Dr. Weasley read it.”

You laughed, “Dr. Weasley?”

He nodded feigning shock, “Yes, Dr. Weasley, and I’m going to nurse you back to health.”

George plucked the note from you and read it over, taking in all the instructions on how and when to take the medication which he assumed were the two bottles.

The rest of the day passed with George waiting on you hand and foot, bringing up food, rubbing your back, cuddling you, you name it he did it. He also did it all in his cute little crop top that definitely helped speed up the process of your recovery.

Now as you lay in bed, George tilts your head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips but you stop him before he can.

“You’ll get sick.”

He chuckles, “I’ve been kissing on you, and cuddling with you all day. I’m going to get sick either way, pretty girl, so please let me kiss you on the lips at least once today.”

“Alright but we can’t tell anyone, I don’t think it’s very proper of me to be snogging my doctor.”

taglist:

@amourtentiaa 

@hufflepuff5972 

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 4 | You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly is making friends and life is settling into a routine until Molly gets sick and Tom takes care of her.  

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

Molly left that afternoon with two new numbers in her phone and a lunch date for next week.

“Can’t believe you are having lunch with my mother and sister without me.” Tom pouted on the way back.

“Once they heard I wasn’t working and didn’t know anyone, they insisted. Was I supposed to say no?” 

“You could have scheduled it when I could come.” 

“But you are so busy. And talented.” She poked his side. 

“I’m driving here, darling.”

“Sorry, but just one question…” They pulled up to a red light.”

“What?”

“Are you ticklish?” she attacked his side and Tom squirmed and giggled.

“You will be the death of me.” He panted as Molly stopped when the light was green.

“Note to self. Tom is very ticklish.” 

“No, no notes to self. That is something you can promptly forget.”

Molly batted her eyelashes. “But real husbands and wives would know these things about each other. We have to pull this off for an entire year, right?”

“Fine, but expect revenge.” Tom wagged a finger at Molly. 

“I’ll sleep with one eye open.” 

-

Over the next several weeks, Tom and Molly fell in a routine. The marriage certificate came in the mail and they applied for a family visa for Molly to stay there.

“I didn’t think you would want to become a citizen.”

Molly smirked. “No, not right now.”

A new debit card came in for Molly. 

“With great power…” Tom handed it over.

“Yeah, yeah, Loki.” she tucked into her wallet. “I am burdened with glorious purpose. To keep you well fed.” 

Molly had a standing date with Emma every two weeks, much to Tom’s consternation. They continued running together in the mornings. Tom, more often than not, ended it with a kiss. 

“This is becoming quite the nasty habit, Mr. Hiddleston.” she commented one morning.

“Then stop me, Mrs. Hiddleston.” He pecked her lips again. 

Molly blushed. “You just love what they are saying about us in the papers.” She pushed Tom away and towards the door. 

“I will admit the good news is definitely a perk. Plus, you are such lovely company.” He went to hug her, but she pushed him away.

“You are all sweaty, Tom. Take a shower and I will make breakfast.”

“French toast?” he asked hopefully.

“You ate the last of the bread yesterday.” 

“Pancakes?”

“I think I can swing pancakes, if…” She held up a finger. “You also eat a side of fruit.”

“Deal.” Tom headed towards his room wearing a huge grin. 

Molly shook her head as she grabbed a mixing bowl out. “Lunatic.”

-

One morning, Molly wasn’t awake when Tom got up to run. She almost always beat Tom up, sipping a cup of tea in the living room, reading a magazine or one of the books from his shelf. There was a small stack building on a side table of the ones she finished reading. But that morning, no half-drunk cup of tea perched precariously on the coffee table. No crossword puzzle half done in pen. 

Tom peaked into Molly’s bedroom. The covers, in colors of navy and grey, just like his, pulled up tight around her. There were a few prints of classic travel posters on the wall. 

“Molly, darling.” He called out. Usually that was all it took to roust Molly from her sleep and get her going for the day. Today, nothing. Tom stepped into the room. He felt like an intruder in his own home. 

“It’s time for our run, love.” He said a bit louder this time. 

Molly rolled over, groaning and coughing. Tom’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that cough. Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and rocked Molly gently by the shoulder.

“Are you feeling okay, darling?” He hoped it was just allergies or waking up in the morning. But then she woke up.

“Uggh, Tom?” Molly croaked out before rolling onto her back. She was pale. So much more pale than usual. She coughed again, covering her mouth. 

“It’s me, Molly. Are you feeling alright?” He repeated. “That’s some cough.”

“I’m fine, fine. It’s just,” She waved him off and pushed up to sitting, only to fall back onto the pillows. “oh, that’s not good.” 

Tom placed the back of his hand to her forehead and replaced it with his lips, checking her temperature. She was running hot. 

“You have a fever. I’m making you an appointment to see the doctor.” He stood, but Molly caught his wrist. Her palm clammy against Tom’s skin.

“No! It’s just a cold. Go on your run. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.” She insisted.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.” 

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Tom leaned down and kissed her very warm forehead. “I’ll keep it short. Go back to sleep.”

Molly nodded and rolled over. Tom tucked the covers around her and headed out. He barely made it to the end of the street before he returned home. It confirmed his fears when he stepped back inside and heard Molly coughing. Tom grabbed the phone and searched for a number and called it.

“Yes, Urgent Care? Do you have any appointments today? Name? Molly Hiddleston. Thank you.”

-

Tom helped Molly get dressed, averting his eyes when appropriate. Her entire body burned under his fingertips, but Tom noticed her shivering. She stumbled to the car where she slept the entire ride over to urgent care. Tom did his best to fill out the paperwork.

“What do you put for family history?”

“Nothing. Unless there is a place for mental illness, then check that. That’s all I know about. Mom didn’t chat much.” Molly muttered, leaning heavily against Tom. “Meth does that…” Her brow furrowed and she coughed again. 

“Shh, darling.” Tom soothed her. “Only happy thoughts.”

Molly hummed and smiled. “Happy thoughts.” More coughing. 

It took twenty minutes before they called Molly back. They didn’t let Tom back with her. He alternated between sitting with a bouncing knee, pretending to read on his phone and pacing the waiting room, making the other people nervous. After forty-five minutes, before Molly returned with several papers in her hand. She coughed again.

“Upper respiratory infection,” cough. “Along with a sinus infection and a viral infection.”

Tom smiled. “Triple threat. Let’s get you home.”

Molly’s hand, holding the papers, flopped up. “I have prescriptions and they want to see me again in two weeks. To make sure I don’t get pneumonia.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “That’s a possibility?”

Molly nodded. “It’s all in here.”

Tom took all the papers, skimming them, including a script for antibiotics as well as a cough suppressant. It all sounded grim. “Let’s get you to bed and I will take care of getting these filled.”

Molly coughed and nodded. “Thank you.” 

She fell back asleep in the car. Tom carried into the house, not having the heart to wake her up again, and settled her into his bed, which was bigger, more comfortable and the bathroom was right there. Once she was settled and asleep, he headed off to the pharmacy. While waiting in line, Tom dialed Luke. 

“Luke, is there anything absolutely pressing in the schedule for the next three days?” he asked after Luke picked up. 

“Nothing I can’t reschedule, why?”

“Molly’s ill.” He bit his lips and sighed. “The doctors are afraid it might turn into pneumonia. And I…”

“Consider your schedule cleared until Monday. And tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“Thanks, Luke. I’m worried about her.”

“That’s because you love her, Tom. You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.” Luke chuckled.

Tom paused at Luke’s words but pushed it away. Of course he cared for Molly. That has the tendency to happen when you live with a person for nearly three months. Especially someone as congenial as Molly. Congenial wasn’t the word. Lovely. Molly was lovely. He laughed it off. “I worry about you too, Luke. I got to go.”

“Take care of her. Bye, Tom.” 

After picking you the medicine, Tom popped into the grocery store and picked up some soup, drinks, and Molly’s favorite cookies. When he got back, she was still asleep. And still coughing. He put away the groceries and then checked on her.

“Darling, I’m back with the medicine. Time to take it.” He helped her sit up, Molly groaning the entire time. She swallowed the pill with a sip of water, gagging.

“That’s awful!” she coughed. 

“Now the cough medicine.” Tom poured out the cough syrup and handed it over to Molly. She hesitated, sniffing it first. “Take the medicine and get a biscuit.” He held up a package of cookies.

“They’re cookies. I thought I ate the last of them.” she moaned, downing the cough syrup. Her face contorted. Tom smiled and handed her two cookies. “Good girl. Now rest. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

“Don’t you have work?” Molly muttered as she laid back down. Tom pulled the covers over her, putting the cookies on the nightstand. “You had… interviews… or something…”

“My schedule is clear through the weekend. I am at your disposal.” Tom rubbed Molly’s back, and she purred. 

“You don’t need to do that.” She half-heartedly complained, dozing off.

“And leave you to fend for yourself? What kind of husband would I be? It was no trouble. Now sleep, darling.”

“Mmm… kay.” 

-

Tom busied himself with absolutely nothing. He flitted from reading a book to watching a TV show to peeking into the bedroom. At one point, when Molly was particularly quiet, he seriously contemplated putting a mirror under her nose to just make sure he was still breathing. He managed to get her to eat half a bowl of soup. 

“You need to eat, love.” he scolded.

Molly coughed and croaked. “Says the man who considers chocolate a food group.” 

“Look at that, some humour.” Tom smiled. “Eat please.”

“Yes, sir.” She slurped the soup off the spoon before falling back asleep. 

Tom, worried, did the unthinkable. He called his mum for advice.

“She’s coughing. A lot. And all she does is sleep.” Tom ran his hands through his hair. 

“Is she eating, love?” Diana asked. Tom could feel the smile across the phone.

“A bit, but not as much as usual. I brought her soup.”

“Soup is good. And she is taking her medicine?”

Tom nodded. “I set a timer.”

“Of course you did. And the fever?”

Tom blinked. “What about her fever?”

“Has it broken?”

“I don’t—”

“Tom!” Molly’s bedraggled voice called out.

“I gotta go. She needs me.” Tom hung up the phone and sprinted to the room. 

“Molly! What is it?” He noted she was shivering.

“I’m cold.” she chattered. Tom grabbed the blanket at the foot of his bed. 

“Is that better?” He tucked it under Molly’s chin. Tom touched her forehead. Hot.

“Much.” 

“I’ll let you rest.” He patted her shoulder and stood. Molly reached out for him.

“Stay.” She coughed. “At least until I fall asleep. Please lie down. Just five minutes.”

Tom’s heart broke in that moment for Molly. That confident woman he grew so fond of seemed so small in that moment.

“Of course, I’ll stay. Anything for you.” Tom crawled on top of the covers next to Molly. He laced his fingers in hers. He heard her exhaled, and he exhaled too. 

“Sleep well, darling.” But Molly had already fallen asleep. Tom soon followed.

-

Molly woke the next morning in sweat soaked pajamas and on top of drenched sheets. She still coughed, but her fever was gone. As she blinked her eyes open, Molly realized she wasn’t in her bed, but Tom’s. And Tom was there too. Asleep next to her, fully dressed, holding her hand. She had vague memories of Tom bringing her soup and her asking him to stay. And some very not safe for work dreams. 

“Fever dreams.” she muttered. “Tom…” Molly rocked his shoulder.

“Huh?” Tom sat up. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“It’s hard to be a nurse. I think your sheets may need washing.” she smiled.

Tom pressed his lips to her forehead. “No fever.” His spirits lifted. 

“It must have broken last night.”

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes.” 

Tom noticed their hands still laced together. He let go and stood up. He made a poor attempt at smoothing out his sleep wrinkled clothes. “Up to move to the couch? And maybe some movies?”

“I would like that.” She slowly sat up and got out of bed. “But first a shower.”

Tom frowned. “First medicine, then shower.”

“Nurse Ratched.” Tom didn’t smile or budge. Molly sighed. “Fine, medicine, the shower.”

Tom grabbed the bottles and dispensed the medicine, which she took still gagging. “And a biscuit.” He handed her a cookie. 

“Cookie.” She popped it into her mouth and headed off to her room and Tom went to his own bathroom. 

-

Once they were both showered and dressed, Tom popped his sheets into the laundry and made a makeshift bed on the couch for Molly.

“You pick the movie.” she offered. “That way if I fall asleep, you won’t be bored.” 

Tom picked The Jungle Book. “One of my favorites as a child. I still watch it when I feel under the weather.”

“I don’t think I have seen it.”

Tom’s mouth fell open. “That is a travesty.”

Molly shrugged her shoulders. “You know, group homes, foster care…”

Tom stopped. “Well, we are going to watch this right now and you can listen to the vocal genius that is George Sanders as Shere Khan.”

“More of a vocal genius than you?” Molly raised an eyebrow while she settled onto the couch. 

Tom blushed. “A man-cub, how delightful.” He purred deep in his chest, sending shivers through Molly.

By the end of the movie, Molly’s head was in Tom’s lap and his hand in hers. They watched Disney movies for the rest of day, alternating picking the title. Tom made sure she took her meds on time and ate more than just cookies.

“I will eat a meal if you do.” Molly chided.

They both ate soup and Tom also ate a sandwich. It was late when they finished up Robin Hood. Molly stretched and sat up.

“I should go to bed.”

“I can put the sheets back on the bed.” Tom moved, but she stopped him, squeezing his hand.

“My bed. But I will keep the door open so you can spy on me.” She smirked. “I can’t take your bed again.”

“It’s fine if you did. I don’t mind sharing.”

“I know but…” She glanced away. “We should keep our own space. To keep things from getting complicated.”

Tom nodded. “Right. No complications here.” he lied to her and to himself.

Molly hugged Tom tight. “Thank you for everything, Tom.”

“My pleasure.”

She coughed a bit as she headed off to her room. Tom turned off the TV and cleaned the dishes before going to bed himself. He spent most of the night tossing and turning.

[p-artsypants]

Wip Ask Game

Spy X Family - Enlisted, Avatar Grin and bear it, and Your HTTYD stuff all look interesting.

Hi hi!! From this WIP Game post. I mentioned Enlisted already, but I’ll talk about it again.

I haven’t written any of it yet. It was supposed to be about Twilight being compromised and having a hit out for him. His identity is revealed while he, Yor, and Anya are hiding in the house. But the SS find Yor’s weapon stash and they assume she’s in on it with him. So the family has to stealthily flee the country. While escaping, Yor and Anya reveal themselves by their actions. Anya tells Twilight to give his gun to Yor while he’s driving, “Mama’s a great shot!” And Yor takes out two cars while their being chased. It’s all in my head. Maybe it’ll get written one day lol

Grin and Bear It- I started writing it right after we finished Avatar. I didn’t get very far, but I shall share it! 

It hurt. It hurt every waking moment of his pitiful existence. The salves were supposed to be helping, that’s what the healers had said.

“It’ll get better once the fever breaks.” A woman said.

“The scaring shouldn’t be too bad.” Said a man.

“It’ll be okay,” said someone that sounded like Uncle Iroh.

But the horrible truth was, he would never be the same. Honor lost, skin gone, pain, hate, anger...

It was so much. So much to bear. Even for a full grown man, but he was just 13. 13 and a prince of the most powerful man in the world. This shouldn’t have happened to him.

Hours went by, too tired to stay awake, but in too much pain to rest. So he laid there in agony, waiting for the fever to break or the infection to take him. Whatever happened first.

Then, after hours, days maybe, he opened his eye, and asked for water.

It was so cold. So soothing. So everything these last few days hadn’t been. He gulped it down, wanted to just dive in it.

But the cup was taken away, and he was pushed back down to lay.

Then there was silence, but only for a moment, until the door opened and closed again.

The temperature in the room rose, evaporating his sweat.

Zuko opened his eye again, seeing the light glint off of a crown. The Fire Lord’s crown.

“I’m disappointed in you, Prince Zuko.”

It was like being burned all over again.

“You failed the very simple instructions given you, time and time again. You spoke out of turn, and you refused to fight in the Agni Kai.”

“I’m sorry...” Zuko whispered. And he meant it. He truly was sorry. He’d never act with a free spirit ever again.

“Sorry doesn’t restore honor. You humiliated me. You dishonored you’re family, your nation, everything. Now what will you do to make up for it?”

What could he offer? Zuko has nothing of his own to give. He was just a boy with no accomplishments. What could he possibly do.

“Anything...” he whispered. “I’ll do anything.”

Ozai gave the smallest twitch of a smile. “The only thing that stands in the way of our nation’s greatest achievement is the Avatar, master of all four elements. He must be out there somewhere. Either an old water bender, or an even older air bender. Capture him, or convince him to join us, and I’ll restore your honor.”

“Thank you...father...”

“But until that day, you are banished. I’ll grant you the rest of the week to heal, and then you must leave, and never return without the Avatar.”

“But..how do find him...?”

Ozai stood. “That is not my concern.”

“Thank you for coming to see me...”

“It is beneath me to visit the infirmary. Count it lucky that I gave you this mission in person. The next time I see you, you better have the Avatar.”

“Yes, My King...”

The door shut behind him.

—

That was three long years ago. Three long years of searching, hopping from town to town, ruin to ruin, shaking up villagers and merchants and never finding a single clue.

The Avatar was a myth. A fool’s  errand.

But he couldn’t be. He just couldn’t be. For the sake of that scarred, dishonored 13 year old boy, he couldn’t be.

“Have you eaten yet today, Prince Zuko?” Asked Iroh.

“No. We haven’t stopped at a village in days and I’d rather starve than eat more of that grizzle the chef calls food.”

“You should plug your nose then, it’s better to eat gross food than no food. You’re a growing boy.”

“I’ll pass.”

Iroh lingered for a moment before saying. “You know, we really ought to be making our way north again. The man have been complaining about the cold, the food, everything. It’s not wise to keep a crew unhappy for so long.”

“We haven’t finished scouring the ice yet. We knew this was going to be rough. It’s their fault if they didn’t prepare.”

Iroh sighed, out of steam. “You’re right, my dear nephew.”

Just then, off the front of the ship, a beam of light burst from the ice in the distance.

“That’s it! That has to be from the Avatar! Tell the crew to double the speed south! We’re close!”

As Zuko left the cabin, Iroh muttered to himself, “that’s what I was afraid of.”

—

Zuko stood at the front of the ship as it poorly navigated through the icy straits.

“Can’t this hunk of iron go any faster?!” He shouted at the Captain.

“We’re low on coal, your highness. This is as fast as we can safely go.”

Zuko ground his teeth in frustration.

They were close. He could feel it.

Like a blessing from the spirits themselves, a flare shot into the sky.

“Is that a Fire Nation flare?” Asked Iroh, confused as to where it would have come from.

Zuko ripped a spy glass out of the captain’s hands, zooming in to the launch site. There. There were two figures, one definitely an airbender based on his movements.

“Pretty spry for an old man…”

“Where did he come from?”

“No clue…” he panned the spy glass over, catching the outer walls of a water tribe village just a mile or two out. “…but I bet that’s where they’re going.”

“What is your plan, Prince Zuko?” Asked Iroh, calmly.

“We’re going to pay the Southern Water Tribe a visit, and have a talk with the Avatar.”

“Just a talk?” Asked the captain, vainly containing annoyance.

“Yes. There’s no way we’re going to convince him to join our cause if we resort to violence. We have to do this carefully.”

“Very good,” Iroh praised. “What are you going to say to him?”

“I have that speech you helped me write out. I’ll read that.”

“You’re just going to read to him? Oh come now, Nephew. He’s not going to take you seriously unless you’re sincere.”

“I’m not improving.” Zuko said firmly. And everyone on deck agreed, that was a terrible idea.

“Still,” Iroh continued, “You shouldn’t rattle off the whole thing. The Avatar is wise, old, and as an airbender, a pacifist. He will appreciate human connection.”

“Why don’t you do it then?”

“This is not my quest. It is your destiny to speak with the Avatar. Don’t let nerves ruin it for you.”

“I’m not nervous!”

Despite this proclamation, his heart rate still rose as the little village came closer.

Zuko stomped across the deck, talking to himself. “Your alliance is critical in ending this war. If the other nations see that you’re working with us, they will see we have nothing but good intentions towards them.”

“Like what?”

“What?”

“You’re doing good, Nephew, what are the good intentions?”

Zuko clenched his jaw, narrowing his eyes, before continuing his pacing. “Technological advances, ways to improve agricultural and fishing. Also seizing the means of production to create steel, which allows for stronger ships, tools, and buildings.”

“Good good. Keep going.”

“A tight alliance between the Fire Nation means armed trade routes to protect imports from bandits and thieves, though the Fire Nation itself has cut back on crime with stricter punishments and programs that help the impoverished. With stricter policing, citizens feel more comfortable living in the city, traveling out at night, and spending money on goods and services, making a prosperous economy.”

“Excellent, wrap it up.”

“So, in sort, the Avatar represents a foundation of truth and hope, and to have you align with us would show we only have the best intentions and the fighting will cease.”

“Well done, Nephew. How do you think that went?”

“It sounded rehearsed, like the 50 other times I’ve said it.”

“But it sounds less like the formal speech you have prepared in the cabin.”

“Father would have gone with the prepared speech.”

“Your father is not the one leading this mission. You need to conduct it the way you see fit.”

“Brace for impact!” Called the helmsmen, mere seconds before the boat gave a sickening lurch.

Zuko nearly ran down into the hull, waiting for the nose of the ship to drop. Finally, finally after three years, they found the Avatar. Now, just to convince him to join.

It seemed a lot easier in his head.

Iroh was right beside him as the nose dropped. “It’s best to be cordial with the village. It will give the Avatar a good first impression. Take a couple breaths.”

Zuko could concede, on occasion, when his uncle made a good point. He took a deep breath, steam spewing out.

“Again, without the smoke, please.”

The breath was clean this time. “I’m ready.”

They descended down the ramp, looking to the water tribe all the invaders they were, and not the peace bringers they were hoping to be.

Zuko let his eyes drift across the crowd. Children. Mothers. Elderly. And one spunky teen with a boomerang.

That attack was deflected a bit too easily, and did nothing to disrupt Zuko’s advance.

“Where is he?”

Iroh had to hide a wince. That was neither diplomatic or…or even remotely helpful. This was going just as he had predicted. Badly.

“I know he’s here!” Zuko barked, “Where’s the Avatar?”

A child started crying.

Zuko took another calming breath, not really caring if there was smoke coming out of his nostrils or not. “We…we’re not here to hurt you. We just want to talk to the Avatar.”

He continued to be met with near silence, minus the crying child. And sadly, patience was not one of Zuko’s strengths.

“Where is he!?” He shouted, a burst of flames coming from his hands.

It was a little too close to be ‘intimidating’ and more just straight up ‘an attack’. But before the flames to lick a single person, a gust of air blew it back.

Then a monk stood in front of him. Decked in orange, bald head with tattoos. A child. The Avatar was a child.

Why was the Avatar a child!?

“I’m the Avatar.” He stated.

“Yes,” said Zuko, smartly. “We’d like a word with you.”

“If I come with you, will you leave this village in peace?”

“You have my word, Avatar.”

The boy relaxed his glider to his side, as Zuko gestured some of his men forward.

“Please escort the Avatar to the top deck.”

One man grabbed him and gave him a shove.

“He is our guest!” Zuko barked.

Someone scoffed, but it was unknown if it was from his men or the water tribe.

Zuko tried not to notice the look of dread and horror the boy threw over his shoulder as he was led onto the ship.

The table on the top deck was cleared, and the Avatar was placed in a chair. Everyone else sat in a circle around him.

And there was silence.

“So...uh, how’s it going?” Asked the Avatar. The child Avatar.

His memorized speech had completely vanished at this baffling turn of events.

“Uncle, go get the speech from my cabin.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know if—“

“Get the speech!!” He barked, making the boy flinch.

Unbothered, Iroh strolled our of the room, like he wasn’t even in a hurry.

Which left Zuko to fill the awkward silence. “You are...much younger than I expected.” How old was this boy? 8?

“Oh uh, yeah. I’m 12. Katara thinks I was frozen for a hundred years. She says there’s a war...and last I knew, there wasn’t. So...” He rubbed his head. “Uh, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I am Prince Zuko, eldest son of Fire Lord Ozai.”

“Ozai? Okay. Sozin was Fire Lord last I knew.”

“Sozin was my great grandfather.”

“Wow! Then I really was frozen for a hundred years! This is so weird!”

Weird indeed.

“I’ve been searching for you for a while, Avatar.” Zuko confessed. “Now that I’ve found you, you can help end this war.”

“Well, that’s great! First real task as Avatar is to end a world war. Seems kind of daunting, but I’m willing to try! For peace and all that.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

Finally, Iroh returned, a rolled up paper in hand.

“What took you so long?!” Zuko snapped. “My cabin is right down the hall!”

“My apologies nephew, but you can’t rush an old man.”

Zuko growled before snatching the paper out of his hands. Then he began to read aloud the prepared speech that he and his Uncle had written for a old man.

“Sozin’s declaration of war was not an act of violence, but an act of goodwill and rebirth to all nations.”

The Avatar rested his elbows on the table

—Peace should be established on the basis of the Fire Nation with the Capital Island as its capital. This is the Fire Nation and international consensus and anything else has no value—

The Avatar was frowning, one hand resting on his chin.

—This is a significant political step that obviously needs to be augmented by additional steps of goodwill, this is not a 100-meter dash, it is a marathon. It’s about building relationships for the long term—

Iroh took notice that the Avatar wasn’t even looking at Zuko. Just glancing around the cabin.

—Ba Sing Se, like most of the Earth Kingdom, long rejected official diplomatic ties with The Fire Nation, saying recognition should only come in return for concessions in peace talks. Its accord with The Fire Nation would break that long-held tenet and could usher in agreements with the other states, undermining an unspoken consensus that was a rare source of leverage for the Northern Water Tribe—

As the speech continued its long and laborious ramblings, the Avatar became more and more distracted.

Which Zuko took no notice of.

—According to the Northern Water Tribe, and to many others in the world who agree with them, peace can't be reached without conceding to the Earth Kingdoms' demands, including uprooting settlements and colonies, and troop withdrawal from Earth Kingdom cities. No more. This concept of ‘peace through withdrawal and weakness’ has passed from the world—

Some of the other men in the room started to shift uncomfortably after standing for so long.

—We stand by our position that only a negotiated one-state solution can bring lasting peace to the World. Together with our Militant partners and the region we have campaigned intensively in past months against an annexation and for the resumption of direct negotiations—

The Avatar was face down on the table.

—Many economic opportunities will open now, and these trust-building steps are an important step toward advancing states’ interests.

Zuko rolled the paper back up and looked to the Avatar. “So, what do you think?”

The boy sat up straight, a tight smile on his face. “It was—interesting! Very interesting! And really good! Moving, in fact!”

“So you’ll join the Fire Nation?”

The boy’s smile turned into a wince. “Oh, that’s what you were trying to do?”

In rage, Zuko crumbled the paper, igniting it, and turned it into ash.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what you were trying to tell me. Read it again, I’ll pay more attention this time!”

But Zuko just looked at the ash in his hands and sighed.

Iroh sided up to Zuko and spoke softly. “He’s a child, Zuko. He’s not going to understand idiosyncrasies of politics.”

“But that’s what I’ve been practicing!” Zuko hissed back, as quietly as he could. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re a child. Speak to him like one.”

“I’m not a child!” He barked, not even trying to be quiet.

“Of course not,” Iroh placated, patiently. “Just keep it simple.”

“Simple. Okay...” Taking a calming breath, Zuko took a seat at the table across from the Avatar, hands folded on the top.

Maybe if he relaxed, the other rehearsed speech would come back to him.

“Your alliance is critical in ending this war. If the other nations see that you’re working with us, they will see we have nothing but good intentions towards them.”

“Oh, okay! I mean, from what Sokka and Katara told me, the Fire Nation did some pretty horrible things.”

Zuko squeezed his hands, hiding wince from his face. “I’m certain if the Water Tribe experienced any hardships from the Fire Nation, it was self-inflicted, or the actions of a soldier that was not representing his country well.”

The Avatar looked doubtful, but offered a smile anyways. “Okay, well, you said the Fire Nation has good intentions. Like what?

It was just like he had rehearsed. “Technological advances, ways to improve agricultural and fishing—“

“Oh really?! So you’re helping people grow more crops? How does that work?”

It was almost like he was speaking a different language. Zuko wasn’t sure what he was asking at first and just gave a long slow blink. And then he realized the boy had asked him ‘how’.

“We…have…tools.” Zuko started, haltingly.

“Tools that are better than Earth Benders?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“I…don’t know.” Zuko turned to his Uncle. “Help.”

“Tools that non-benders can use,” Iroh elaborated, coming for the rescue. “In case the farm doesn’t have Benders.”

“Oh, I see!” Said the boy, ever enthusiastic. “What else do you have?”

“We’ve also seized the means of production to create steel, which allows for stronger ships, tools, and buildings.”

“What do you mean, you’ve ‘seized the means of production’? What does that mean?”

“It means…” Zuko turned to his Uncle again for help.

“We’ve taken over old iron mines, and we’ve employed Earth and Fire Benders alike to work the metal into steel, like this ship is made of.” He very carefully avoided that the Benders in question were in fact prisoners in labor camps.

“This does seem like a very sturdy ship,” commented the Avatar. “Probably great for Fire Benders! I saved a couple of Fire Nation ships when I went on my temple trial. It seems like the old wooden ships ignited really easily in the summer.”

“Yes...they would.” Zuko wasn’t really interested in hearing the child’s anecdotes, so he pressed forward. “A tight alliance between the Fire Nation means armed trade routes to protect imports from bandits and thieves, though the Fire Nation itself has cut back on crime with stricter punishments and programs that help the impoverished—“

“Oh that’s smart! What do you guys do?”

“What?”

“To help with poor people? Do you have like, charity pools? Or work incentives?”

Zuko looked to Iroh, who shrugged.

“I guess we don’t...actually know how those programs work...but we have them in place!”

“Okay, well you can tell me about it later.”

Zuko mentality back tracked to find where he was in his little spiel. “...With stricter policing, citizens feel more comfortable living in the city, traveling out at night, and spending money on goods and services, making a prosperous economy.”

“Oh I think I get it.” The boy nodded. “So what happens to thieves? Last I knew, the Fire Lord had them work in mines, or…depending on the crime, they lost their hands. You don’t do that anymore, right?”

“I…don’t know what happens.”

The Avatar frowned again, in that perplexing way of his. “You don’t know, and you’re going to be Fire Lord?”

“I…haven’t quite…gotten there yet.” This kid was throwing him off and making him look like an absolute idiot. “So, in sort, the Avatar represents a foundation of truth and hope, and to have you align with us would show we only have the best intentions and the fighting will cease.”

“I mean, I guess that makes sense,” said the boy, rubbing his chin. “But who started the fighting? And I heard the Fire Nation wiped out all the Air Benders. What was that all about?”

As for the HTTYD ones, I have a lot, so I’ll share those on a separate post if there’s interest. 

[missymurphy1985]

Nobody's Perfect (part11)

Warnings - smut / mentions of baby loss / fertility issues

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers

It had been three weeks since your romantic cottage getaway with Cillian and things had been perfect. The filming was going well, and you'd both agreed that there was to be no talk of babies or IVF while you were here filming. The other cast members knew what you were going through and we're going above and beyond to make sure you were both always distracted and busy, be it with a night out or dinner. Your relationship was back on track and you couldn't have been happier.

Apart from today. You'd been to a sushi restaurant the night before with the girls while Cillian was playing video games with the boys in Joe's hotel room and clearly picked up a bad case of food poisoning. You'd spent the last hour throwing up, sushi was definitely not as pleasant post-digestion.

"Babe, you okay in there?" Cillian knocked the locked bathroom door lightly. "Overdid the wine last night?"

"I didn't even drink Cill, I drove last night... I'm off alcohol remember?" He'd bought you a glass of wine a couple of nights ago in the hotel bar but you'd simply played with it, the thought of drinking it really not appealing to you.

"I'll call Steve and let him know you're sick - I've got the scene with the priest to film, I can't stay. I'll call Helen though, pretty sure she's got this morning clear?" You didn't answer as another bout of nausea flooded you and you vomited again. "I'll take that as a yes..." He chuckled, making the call to Helen to come look after you while he was out.

Helen entered your apartment an hour later while you were lying on the sofa feeling sorry for yourself. She had a carrier bag and a bottle of water with her. Sitting on the chair opposite you, she smiled.

"How you feeling love?"

"Like I've been pummeled by one of Tommy's racehorses..." You grumbled. "I'm aching, I'm vomiting like crazy..." You welled up again. All you'd done so far was vomit and cry.

"Drink this water - just sip it occasionally, we don't want you dehydrated." She felt your forehead. "No fever. Is it just sickness? Nothing the other end?" You shook your head. "I don't think this is food poisoning y/n..."

You looked at her confused. "What else could it possibly be? The sushi was clearly off, it even tasted weird, but I was that hungry I'd have eaten anything..."

"The sushi was fine. Tasted fine too, and the rest of us aren't sick are we?" She pulled the bag from behind her on the chair and took out a box. You could see the words 'ClearBlue' clear as day and you scoffed.

"That's not funny..."

"Just take one, please? What harm can it do?" You scowled at her, part of you highly offended that she could even suggest such a thing after what you'd been through, but she glared back and you knew you'd lose the battle. Snatching the box from her you went to the bathroom to pee on the stick before leaving the test on the bathroom sink and reclaiming your space on the sofa sipping your water. You were starting to feel a little better when Helen stood up and went to the bathroom.

"I wouldn't bother, there's no chance - "

"Y/n!!!!! Come here quick!!!!" She squealed from the bathroom. You edged yourself out of your horizontal position and walked into the bathroom rolling your eyes. She held up the test and you froze. Clear as day, 'Pregnant - 3/4'....

"No... No Helen... It's wrong, it has to be..." You started sobbing as Helen pulled you into her arms letting you cry. You were happy, but absolutely terrified at the same time.

"Now you listen to me - you're going to call your doctor back in Dublin right now and tell him the news. Whatever recommendations he gives you, you're going to follow them, even if that means you're going home, okay? We're taking care of you and this little peanut." You nodded, tears streaming down your face, your hands instinctively holding your belly.

"I can't believe it... I need to call Cillian... This is really happening isn't it?"

"Yes it is love. But I have a better idea," she smirked before picking up her phone.

Cillian came back an hour later to find you in bed, Helen had left half an hour ago after helping you set everything up. He saw you were sleeping so didn't disturb you, instead heading to the fridge to grab the milk to make himself a coffee. There was a post it note attached to the milk...

"Follow the clues to a gift for you.... The first one's easy, it's in your shoe..." He furrowed his brows, exhausted from filming his fight scene with the priest and wasn't in much of a mood for games but he played along. Heading to the shoe rack, he found another note.

"I know this is fun and you think it's neat... Go to the place where we sit and eat...." Rolling his eyes, he walked to the small dining table.

"This ones easy, go take a look... This one's hidden in your favourite book..." Walking into the bedroom quietly, he picked up the book on his nightstand and opened it to another little post it note.

"The very last clue, try not to peep... Are you feeling tired? Wake your girl from her sleep." He moved over to you and peeled the cover back slowly. Your eyes stayed closed as you moved onto your back, revealing a white T Shirt with 'Open me' written in black marker pen at the bottom. Lifting it off you gently, he furrowed his brows again, making you smile as you opened your eyes.

"10% loading?" He questioned, confused. You raised your eyebrows smirking. He looked at your belly again and you saw the penny drop.

"No... You can't be?"

"I can be, and I am!" You held out the pregnancy test you'd been hiding under your pillow, grinning. He pulled you up and held you, unable to form words.

"But how??"

"That weekend in Helen's cottage was exactly what we needed Cill.. I don't think we left each other alone for more than an hour!" You laughed pulling away from him.

"I've already spoken to Doctor Neal. As long as I feel well, I'm fine to stay filming. He's got a contact here in Manchester that'll look after us for the next 3 months while were filming, he's booking us in for a scan in a few weeks. I'm just to take it as easy as possible until then."

"And do you feel well? Really?"

"I'm fine, honestly. Bit sicky and my boobs feel like lead but I'm okay."

"Does that mean I can't play with them?"

"Touch them and I'll cut you, Shelby." You glared, making him laugh. He couldn't take his eyes off your stomach, planting small kisses along it, linking his hand in yours, laying his head down against it as your stroked his hair. You laughed when he sat up.

"You've got black marker all over your face, ya tit."