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noicevibes · 2 years ago

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𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 pt. ii

That virgin albedo and reader smut was fucking perfect, it was fucking beautiful, it was realistically awkward, I fucking loved everything in it. Now I wanna know if they manage to create a baby? I've heard some couples say they had to do 'it' multiple just to be sure. Just imagine Albedo noticing and acknowledging the almost visible baby bump every time reader visits him (Idk if it's safe for her to visit dragonspine with her condition)

Etsu, my dear, you really got in my head with this ask. I know it was like, three months ago that I promised this part two! But!! It's finally here!!!

masterlist | taglist pt. i | pt. ii | pt.iii

warnings → 18+ (minors & blank blogs dni), no explicit scenes but there’s a lot of suggestion; use of medical & anatomical terminologies; description of vomiting & nausea, & a couple of near-death experiences through cause of embarrassment; not beta'ed (i'm 'eepy (_ _ ) . . z Z).

character mentions → jean, sucrose, kaeya, aether & paimon, bennett

wc → 9.8k

Lately, you’ve dreaded mornings. Today is no different.

It hadn’t been so long ago that the sun peaking through your curtains meant just another day of peace for you and the people of Mondstadt. Gone were the days of cowering beneath the belly of a corrupted dragon and within your homes to avoid being swept away by its fierce winds— it’d been so long where you were even able to enjoy having your lunches atop the Knight’s headquarters rather than in your office; you had been grateful.

Glaring over at your window, you find yourself wishing the sun would fizzle out of existence. You’d wished your curtains could be as black as the depths of the Abyss, and that the nest of chirping birds sat outside of your window would finally “fly the coop”.

Every little sensation seems to exist solely to set you off and create a mood you’d been stuck in until late in the evenings, and every little movement had only made the strange nausea you’d been experiencing even worse than normal. It’d been for the latter reason why you’d begun to keep a large pot at your bedside, as for whatever unfair reason, you’d been struck with a case of morning sickness so debilitating that after your first attempt of crawling to the toilet bowl before last night’s midnight snack could be expelled and was expelled, you’d learned your lesson.

Still half-tucked in the sheets of your bed, you shift in discomfort, a strange burning sensation ripples beneath your tongue. In your haste to sit up, you become tangled on your way to reaching for the pot, yanking it unceremoniously from your bedside table and into your awaiting lap— and, just in time.

Eyes squeezed shut, you start heaving over the rim, chin hanging inside the bowl of the pot, and with a trembling left hand, you keep your face clear of obstacles and—

Gross, gross, gross, gross… the colour, the smell, the sound it makes from all the water you’d consumed since before falling asleep— you vomit once more from the sensory overload. Heartburn would follow indubitably afterwards; a side effect to a side effect, and no amount of medicine would subdue it.

At the very least, there has always been the calm before the storm continued, a lull in which you could get out of bed and tend to yourself before the rest of the symptoms could appear. And so, you finally rise, having swung your shaky legs over the edge of your mattress and dragging the sloshing pot along with you to dispose of its contents. You hold your breath and squint, eyes open only wide enough for you to ensure your vomit spills safely into the toilet bowl.

“Gross,” you repeat, voice rasping.

It’s been almost two weeks of this… With a face cloth you’d used from last night, you run it beneath cool water and practically slap it against your face, unflinching from the amount of water dripping from it and onto yourself. Just how much longer can it possibly continue for?

Somehow, it didn’t even occur to you the reason why you’d gotten sick so suddenly. The sudden exhaustion, the sudden aching in your chest, the sudden morning nausea— because of it, you’d been late to work almost every day since. The acting Grand Master had been sympathetic; as things have been surprisingly quiet in regards to the records department, Jean encouraged you to take your time and to rest well before attempting to work.

“We may not say it enough, but we really do rely on you, and appreciate what you do for us, ______. Please, rest well.”

Of course, you knew that they did. Some of the knights certainly might not be as vocal as others, but the sheepish smiles of apology they wear when they hand you a new pile of field reports or copies of finance charts proved enough. Even when Grand Master Varka was still around, he’d throw “thank you’s” at you like candy, too the point where it got so sickeningly sweet that you had to beg him to stop.

But Jean’s reminder of all of this, when the knights are so overextended and too tired to muster even a fake smile, is also enough. That’s why you’ve been resting as much as possible, returning immediately home when the clock tolled for the seventeenth hour, doing minimal chores around your abode in an attempt to surplus your energy and resting in bed immediately after that, so you could return to them healthy.

But is this what death feels like? Has some strange illness crept into Mondstadt? Was that sweet honey chicken from Good Hunter you ate last night not cooked thoroughly enough? Or…

Your thoughts stutter when your eyes move from your mirror to out you door, and land on a wooden board hung up above your night stand. Memories, as many as you could nail to it, resided there. Receipts from your favourite lunch dates with your friends and coworkers; a ticket from a popular opera performance you attended, put on by the famous Yun Jin; and, photos taken with the new Kamera model, gifted to you on your last birthday. Vividly, you could remember the events of each day that the pictures took place in.

The one of you and the other department heads, captains, and Grand Masters, was one you struggled to take, in the sense of timing; everyone had been everywhere, yet you managed to find a split second for them to come together for this single memory. And so you’d set the timer, ten seconds for everyone to get into position, and in the last two seconds, poor Mika had just managed to sidle into frame next to you wearing a tired, photo-ready smile.

Another photo had been Kaeya’s attempt to take a front-facing picture of himself with you, asleep at your desk, your cheek resting on the ink stamp pad— a second image had also been taken, of you waking up and taking in the situation, followed by a third of you attempting to catch Kaeya as he ran away and back to his own office (lunch was purchased as an apology, and you had made a copy of the photos for him), all strung together in chronological order.

There are several miscellaneous photos about, too, such as of you and some of the cats at the Cat’s Tail Tavern and some scenery shots from all over Mondstadt. But the one that catches your attention and instantly has your tired, thoughtless brain piecing together your symptoms is the one you’d taken on a timer of you and Albedo out front the doors of his lab, you, with your arms crossed and smiling, and he with his arms down at his sides, unsmiling, but his expression kept a warmth to it as in the picture, he’d been looking at you.

Even the thought of being the object of his affection brought heat to your cheeks. Somehow, during your illness, you managed to forget what the reason behind yours’ and Albedo’s curiosity had been — is he capable of reproducing? — and by extension, the list of symptoms you knew you had to watch out for. Considering they began almost two weeks ago now, and all you’ve done thus far is let it cripple you for half of your mornings, rather than make a visit to an apothecary or report your symptoms to either Albedo or Sucrose (who’d been brought up to speed on what the experiment entailed, and, despite her explicit embarrassment, had been asked to be available for result submissions while he remains out of the city for the next three weeks).

Maybe she’d been why you hadn’t bothered reporting anything to her— in trying to save face and spare the both of you from an awkward conversation, you’d kept your less than mild symptoms a secret from even the Acting Grand Master to make sure it didn’t get around that you were a sickly mess. Yet somehow, you’d forgotten along the way that morning sickness, of all things, is a clear sign of pregnancy. How you managed to let yourself stay ignorant these past couple of weeks frustrates you; to spare yourself even further, you easily deign to blame it on the confusion brought forth from your constant nausea. It’s been almost seven weeks since then, ______, you tell yourself. Otherwise, you’ve finally reached a point of clarity, enough to remind you of your responsibilities and how you’ve neglected them.

Even your reflection looks peeved. Or maybe it’s the lingering nausea.

You spit your soured saliva into the sink, drawing your gaze away from the mirror discouraging reflection of you and toward focusing on brushing the taste of bile and yesterday’s dinner off your tongue. Upon reentering your room once you’d finished the rest of your morning hygiene routine, you dare to gander at the small clock resting atop your windowsill, and sigh.

“Ten after eleven,” you mutter, yanking your pyjamas down your trembling legs. “A new record of tardiness.” Nude, you cross to your armoire and pull together a simple, comfortable outfit. So far, half of your wardrobe had managed to offend you by being too rough on your skin— it made you feel claustrophobic, oversensitive, and you’d wanted nothing more than to see them burnt to ashes—

A rhythmic knock on the wood of your door startles you from your flame-fueled daydream. Carefully shoving your arms through the sleeves of your shirt so as not to over-exert yourself, you make your way down the steps from the second floor, holding onto the banister to stay balanced. You end up pulling the door open halfway through the same pattern of knocking, revealing a familiar tanned face.

“Well, good morning.”

You can’t help the frown that settles deeper into your face at the rehearsed smile Kaeya wears— rehearsed for your sake, because the last time he showed up here out of the blue to check on you, you looked to be near death, and he certainly didn’t bother to hide its obviousness.

“… I think I’d rather you be grimacing at me like before,” you admit, shaking your head and stepping aside to allow him in. “You know, potentially holding back your own vomit, perhaps? Somehow, I think I’d be less offended...”

A dry, hesitant laugh escapes him as he shuts the door behind him, and almost nervously, he glances around your foyer, eyes flitting past the wooden arches and into the small kitchen, toward the mess of used dishes and pots by your sink and the numerous wrapping articles stemming from your lack of energy toward cooking— in recent times, you’d been the Good Hunter’s most loyal customer.

“Still ill, I see,” he notes quietly awhile following you back up to the second floor. Though, in your small apartment, it’s easily heard. “It hasn’t gotten any better?”

“Nope,” you mumble. A strange smell suddenly punches the air ahead of you, one that you cautiously sniff at and almost immediately, you recognize it. Having sat down on your bed again, boots in hand, you pull them on and pull up on the zippers, one by one; “I don’t know how much more I can take resting like I’ve been. I’m tired of being tired.”

“Then why not visit a doctor?”

“Because I don’t need to visit one…” Because it’s not a doctor I need to see first, you think. “Honestly… I probably know what it is, but…”

“Oh? A stomach bug, perhaps?”

You’ve never had to summon so much willpower to not laugh before as you do now.

“Yes… m-most likely.” From his place, leaning against your front door, arms crossed, and only one visible eye lidded in scrutiny at you, of which you take notice of from the corner of your own eye, you can only assume the experience hardened Cavalry Captain knows you’re hiding something before it finally clicks. “Kaeya—”

“Yes?” You scowl at his instantaneous reply.

“I should’ve asked this sooner, but I’ve been seeing you quite often at my front door lately. Just why do you keep coming over?” This time, he doesn’t immediately answer.

“… to check up on a subordinate, of course,” he finally says.

“I’m not your subordinate.”

“A subordinate.”

“I don’t belong under your regiment, nor any regiment, for that matter— I run my own department.”

“We still work quite closely together, though, wouldn’t you say? And, we’re friends.”

“Then why wasn’t that your first answer, over “subordinate”?”

“I—” he stops himself from speaking any further, lips painting a thin line across the lower half of his face.

“The truth would probably be easier,” you point out. “It’s funny, though, because you’re usually so careful about these types of things…”

“Sorry?” You hold back an annoyed breath.

“You smell like broth.” At the confused look on his face, you quickly add, “Not food broth. It’s a chemical used in laboratories. Like, Sucrose’s, for example.” And you raise an eyebrow at him. “Kaeya.”

His sigh is long and drawn out, and rather absentmindedly, he begins playing with the feathers of his cape.

“Fine. You caught me.” You scoff at his sudden petulance. “I overheard a conversation between Sucrose and Albedo from a few weeks ago… about an experiment the two of you had been involved in together.”

“A-And what about it?” you inquire hotly— Just what did he overhear?!

“I was right to assume that you wouldn’t say a word if there’d been anything to report about it— not to Sucrose, at least. Albedo, however… Well, I’m sure I’m not the only one to have noticed, but the two of you have been thicker than a pair of thieves lately, even more so than usual. I don’t think I’ve seen him so reluctant to have to return to Dragonspine before.”

While you wish you could argue each and every one of his observations — damn that Kaeya and his stupidly keen eye! — even you had to admit that the chief alchemist had been acting increasingly out of character. From his task to Sucrose, to short handwritten letters delivered to you every other day meant to ask for any news, and even the small argument the two of you had gotten into over him remaining in Mondstadt to watch over you, instead— Kaeya insinuating your sudden closeness to him isn’t far off at all, which is exactly the opposite of what you’d hoped would happen.

“… obviously you visited Sucrose for a reason,” you say after a minute of silent deliberation, “and clearly it’d been for a long enough time that you now smell like a portable laboratory. How much did you overhear that day? Because for you to go to her out of curiosity, it must’ve been because you heard enough.”

Kaeya clears his throat lightly, and to your horror, his own brand of blush rises atop his sharp cheeks. “That… indeed, is the case.” Lips parted to speak, you struggle to even find the proper words to say, but only the most uncouth sputtering is conjured. Not knowing what your reaction will be, Kaeya steps forward, hands raised in defence of himself, “Don’t be embarrassed—”

“”Don’t be embarrassed”?!” you exclaim back at him— you instantly reel, your head spinning from having suddenly raised your voice. “… t… there’s nothing more embarrassing than this.”

“Just… stay calm, ______…” Kaeya shakes his head, an awkward chuckle tearing itself from its throat. “I… For once, I’m at a loss for words…”

“You say this like it’s a bad thing,” you mutter.

“I suppose it’s not… but… I’m simply… surprised. Can I ask why?”

“You just said you were at a loss for words!” you grumble. Pushing yourself off your bed, you snatch up your satchel from the end corner bedpost and your cloak from the standing coat rack, and move Kaeya and yourself in the direction of the downstairs exit.

“But why all of a sudden like that? Really, I could say it isn’t like you, but it’s truly not like Albedo at all—””We got curious,” you hiss, interrupting his speculation.

“Of what?”

“None of your business, that’s what.”

“Of what having sex feels like?” You nearly drop your house key, your hands trembling. “After all, you did once tell me that you were still a—”

“Sure, Kaeya, that’s exactly what the curiosity was all about! Not that I couldn’t have gone and experimented with anybody else or anything like that.” Hoping that by his silence, your answer has placated him, you take the time in the quiet to finally, successfully, lock your apartment. You’re quick to travel down the staircase, each step creaking loudly beneath you as you move, and stirring Kaeya from his thoughts.

“No, that wouldn’t make sense for the good alchemist to do,” he mumbles behind you, “so then it must have something to do with his research? Oh. You did just say “experiment”, didn’t you? Hm… an aphrodisiac, perhaps?”

“Archons alive…”

“Yes, yes— did he make you drink anything? Eat anything? A potion to improve one’s libido— now that would be a fascinating experiment.”

“That sounds like a terrible thing to make,” you shoot back, shaking your head at him. “You want a stronger libido?”

Kaeya chuckles at you, and you immediately realize you’ve spoken incorrectly.

“Are you implying that yours is strong enough? Or, his? How did he perform, anyhow? I can’t imagine he’s had much practice.”

“Oh, not quite so unlike yourself, right?” Kaeya chokes out a cough at your knowing glance. “”Mondstadt’s number one bachelor”— do they know you’ve yet to even enter a relationship? Talking about a stronger libido… Perhaps you should use the one you have now and go from there? Or, attempt courting someone first— Barbatos knows you already have a plethora of fans waiting for an opportunity to jump your bones—!”

Rather harshly, he’d reached next to him to clasp a hand over your mouth and behind your head, an attempted non-nervous laugh fleeing past gritted teeth and a fake smile— the fellow knight that passes the two of you by whilst on his morning patrol raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, secretly curious, but not enough so for him to desire receiving any similar strange behaviours from the Ordo Favonius’ Cavalry Captain as you, their records keeper, just had.

“Suppose it’s a bit too early for that kind of talk, hm?” Beneath a clammy palm, you can’t help but snicker at him. Hypocrite.

“Maybe,” and you drag his hand away. “I know you’re a busy man and all, Kaeya, but there’s no harm in pursuing a relationship, or even something more casual if that’s your fancy.”

The two of you manage to sigh in unison in time with beginning your ascent to headquarters, yours sounding more relaxed now that you’d managed to subdue Kaeya’s curiosity. But it’s not like you couldn’t understand it— if you were in his position, you’d likely be nosey about it, too.

“There’s just… no one available for my interest, is all,” Kaeya relents. “And besides, who has time for new relationships, with all the work to do in fixing up Mondstadt?”

“Hm, not even with that Traveler? It seemed like you two hit it off as friends fairly easily. I don’t see why—”

“-_____!”

In your attempt to begin matchmaking your friend, and your remaining sickly stupor that had you leaning into him, you don’t immediately register that it’d been your name to be called until it’s shouted once more. You flinch, head snapping up to the top step in front of headquarters where an… unfortunately familiar face stands.

“S-Sucrose,” you end up stammering, and your entire body jerks to a stop. “W-What are you—? I-I’m… surprised to see you outside the laboratory…”

Quickly, you hustle up the rest of the steps, and though it leaves you winded, you’re at least energized enough by the embarrassed heat that flooded you from Kaeya’s own knowing look as he followed the two of you down the cobbled street.

“I visited your office to find you, but one of the guards said you hadn’t arrived yet today. I got worried, a-and came to find you, but it seems Captain Kaeya found you first. But you look terrible, ______— I-I mean! I-I didn’t mean to say it like that, I—”

“No, no, you’re right; I do look terrible,” you murmur. “I… It’s something I’d actually like to speak to you about, Sucrose…”

“Oh? If it’s a cold, I do have a special recipe I once created, though it will take a few hours to brew, and I believe I am out of Slime Concentrate…”

“W-What a shame it is, then, that you’re out of Slime Concentrate…” You hold back the gag you’d almost released upon recalling the experiment you and Albedo performed after the experiment— What a texture… “But no, it’s not… a cold. It’s actually about what you and Albedo spoke of a couple of weeks ago.”

“A couple of weeks ago…” Sucrose pauses at the bottom of the stairs to headquarters, a hand on her chin, and while still lost in her memory recall, her skin tone begins to clash with her mint green hair. “Oh!! About… the experiment you and… Albedo… c-conducted, right?” You nod, albeit hesitantly. Kaeya hides his chuckling with another cough. “Then, we probably should head back inside to the laboratory… Though, I would’ve asked you to come with me there, anyway.”

“Hm? What for?”

“Well… because Albedo is here in Mondstadt today.”

You could have fainted. You should have fainted— it might’ve gotten you out of having to face not only Sucrose, but the man you both dreaded having to see, and desired to see almost painfully so.

The time the two of you spent in his mountainside laboratory had been lengthened by how severe the squall raging outside it had become. You’d thought yourself clever for having thought to pack so aggressively, being warned of Dragonspine’s unpredictability by one of your coworkers upon mentioning your intent to visit Albedo there. And so, half a day became half a week, the two of you surviving off of the squishy treats you’d brought along as a gift, hearty stew made from what ingredients Albedo had left near the entrance to his laboratory, and an assortment of dried fruits you’d prepared the week prior in preparation for your journey.

The events of what had transpired over the course of those three days and nights, varied. That non-freezing adventurer’s water you had theorized over, and that Albedo had concocted a solution and balanced a formula for, had been completed faster than you had expected. With his next planned experiment put on hold until visibility improved, he thought to fill his time with you.

“There isn’t a guarantee that doing this once is enough for the sperm and the egg to take,” he’d explained. “I once read that persistent copulation is sometimes necessary in receiving positive results… If you feel you’re well-rested enough, shall we go again?”

… and again, and again, and again…

So deeply lost in your own thoughts, your mind’s eyes replay those shared moments, recalling just how unexpectedly lascivious Albedo had grown since having his first taste of sexual intimacy with you— no, that’s incorrect. The sudden change in his expressions, from the usual cat-like curiousness you’d been accustomed to seeing in him, to the purest form of lust and desire upon receiving your affection, true affection, and not emotions forced by the parameters of an experiment— the change in the Chalk Prince had been instantaneous, and it had been something you could never deny. You, nor anyone else who has crossed paths with the alchemist, has ever witnessed anything so lewd and wanton from him.

And you, alone, had been the honoured one in his reciprocation.

It doesn’t even register that you’d entered the Knights of Favonius’s headquarters until you bump into a soft object. Blinking quickly, you realize you’d run into Kaeya from behind, simultaneously taking in the familiar chess flooring pooled around your feet. In its recent cleaning, you spot a bit of your reflection through a black tile and quickly recognize the expression you wear to be of a flustered nature.

“Hm?” Kaeya glances behind him and at you in time to catch you rubbing at your cheeks. “You alright, ______?”

“Yep, and I don’t want to talk about it,” you’re quick to respond. Eyes flit across your face and with a shake of his head, Kaeya snickers. “Sucrose, is Albedo in the lab with you today?”

“When I left him to find you, he had still been in his office,” she explains from ahead, “waiting for… you.”

“Oh,” is all that you manage to say.

“B-But, I figure that I should ask for a blood sample from you today, since it’s been a little over two weeks… Albedo wasn’t… happy, that you haven’t been reporting in anything, j-just to warn you…”

“Well!” You jump at the abruptness of your male companion, hand over your chest to comfort your startled heart. “I suppose I should be saying reporting to our Acting Grand Master for late duty,” Kaeya says. Your scowl, it being your first instinct to send one his way, quickly morphs into an expression of surprise.

“What? This wasn’t your break? Don’t tell me you just skipped out on working, Kaeya? Wait, no— you used me as an excuse to skip out on working, didn’t you? Wait, even worse! You’ve done this eight times in two weeks! Kaeya!”

He peers down at you, and in his failure to mask his amusement, “I was simply performing a good deed on a quiet day, where my talents would have been wasted sitting behind a desk to write a non-existent report. And look at that! I saved you the trouble of having to file it!”

“Quiet days, you mean? And, it’s my job to file reports,” you grumble at him, sighing. “If not for your actual talents as a knight, I would never understand how you became a captain…” With a sigh, you finally relent. “… I should check in with Jean, too, before I go with you, Sucrose.”

“Sure.” She nods. “I’ll meet you in there.”

Eyes stuck on her retreating form, Kaeya has to nudge you back into focus.

“Now who’s using who as an excuse?”

With your left hand’s knuckles stinging from where it connected with Kaeya’s clothed bicep, and Kaeya aggressively rubbing at the very same spot, the two of you enter the Grand Master’s office a moment later after receiving permission to enter from the female voice inside.

“______,” Jean greets you, rising from her seat and rounding her desk to meet you and Kaeya. “I’m glad to see you’re looking a little better than how I’d left you yesterday. Are you feeling any better?”

Your chuckle is dry. “I wish I could report that this was the case, ma’am, but seeing as I’m this late today, well…”

“That’s… a fair point. The good news is, things have been rather quiet here in terms of any reports, so please don’t work yourself ragged trying to get them all done in one day?”

“I—” your sentence catches in your throat, and instead, you laugh again, knowing full well of your intentions to completely them before you had to return home again. “Yes, ma’am; I’ll take my time.”

“Good. Then, you are dismissed; I also hear Albedo is looking for you?” You nod. Jean smiles warmly at you one last time and nods before directing her attention onto your blue-haired escort. “As for you, Kaeya…”

The man gives you a fleeting look of desperation, not having expected Jean to actually start chastising him. You offer a slight shrug and a short wave of your hand before fleeing the office in search of Sucrose.

Once or twice, I could understand, but almost ten and without telling our Acting Grand Master? Out loud and away from your thoughts, you click your tongue mock-disapprovingly, but in fact, you were utterly touched that Kaeya would risk reprimand just to check on you. You hadn’t asked him to, after all, and yes, he’d just been a good friend for doing so, but his choice, his punishment. I hope he doesn’t actually get in trouble, though… not for me. Well, maybe I’ll treat him to something nice later as thanks.

You’re quick to climb the grand staircase within headquarters, taking a sharp right up the stairs to the second floor to the alchemy wing. There, and two floors above your records office, one would find both the laboratory and Albedo’s office, and thankfully, for safety reasons, there’d been nearly a whole half building of difference between even those two rooms. Any accident within the laboratory would give time to spare any materials and or documents within Albedo’s office with a simple defence rune activated by a danger trigger, courtesy of the Knights of Favonius’ Magical Inquiry Division Captain.

The laboratory would be the first room one would encounter on their venture into the west wing, the door adorned with a simple sign of caution to those wanting to enter it. Not that many did besides the two people under Albedo’s apprenticeship; Kaeya, apparently, whenever he feels nosey enough; Grand Master Varka, when he’d still been in Mondstadt, but more likely for his own personal curiosities of alchemy; Jean, as the Acting Grand Master, and actually for the purpose of her duties; and, you, whenever you’d been in search of Albedo, also for your own personal reasons.

Quite suddenly, your chest decides to squeeze when you’d reached for the handle. Wasn’t it just anxiety? You’re only visiting Sucrose; you won’t be seeing Albedo until after your testing gets done. So then, a premonition?

Having dawdled enough, you twist the knob and shove the door forward. Heavy, it creeks upon its hinges to announce your arrival. Not bothering to open it all the way, you slip in through the few feet wide space and shut the door behind you with a bang. You spin on your heel, an apology hanging off your tongue for Sucrose for the loud interruption, when the air in your chest catches in your throat— at least this time, it isn’t due to the scent of broth.

“Oh, ______. There you are.”

You startle easy, greeted not by the green-haired alchemist you’d been entrusted to, but by the man who entrusted you to her, and swallow harshly, the flesh of your cheeks quick to bloom with warmth.

“A-Albedo,” you stammer, hand pressed against your chest when you exhale. “Hi.”

“Hello. I was about to come looking for you; Sucrose mentioned that you arrived and met with Jean. I was just about to come and find you.”

“O-Oh, I…” You mentally curse at your unintelligibility, but his appearance had caught you just that off-guard. “Sorry, I— I was expecting Sucrose.”

“I had a task I needed to delegate that she has assisted me with before, and she offered to assist me again. So instead, I’ll be overseeing this… belated check-up.”

Your lips instantly drop into a tight-lipped frown. He’s upset, you realize, tiptoeing further into the laboratory. Ugh, I should’ve just come sooner. He can probably already tell something’s wrong—

“Come in; take a seat here, please.” You do, having just passed him as he sets up multiple objects on a metal tray, shuffling back on your behind until you hit the backrest. Albedo spins, clutching the tray tight to transfer it to the table closer to you, and his eyes flit upwards to examine your pallor. “______, you look pale.”

“Oh, I’ve been a bit under the weather lately,” you tell him. Spotting a stethoscope on the tray, you begin willing your heart to calm down. It doesn’t.

“For how long? Sucrose didn’t mention anything in her report,” Albedo hums, glancing to a clipboard. “It only mentioned that you had taken time off.”

“Only Jean and Kaeya knew about this, and Kaeya had only found out due to his own curiosities… And, um, for about… two weeks now...”

There is a brief pause from the man that has you correcting your already-stiff posture, your spine hitting the wooden backrest hard enough to have you jolt even straighter— “I’m sorry. I’m… I’m sorry I lied in those letters to you. Honestly, I… I don’t know why I decided to do that. I didn’t want you to worry about me, o-or something like that… I’m just… I’m sorry.”

Albedo finally looks to you, his eyes having been pointed down at his clipboard for so long that you began to fear something potentially greater than disappointment from him. What’s worse than disappointing Albedo, though? a part of you wonders woefully, and it had been right. Because his promise to you that he would not leave you on your own through any of this venture was made with a conviction that blazed brighter than the fire burning in his caveside laboratory the night your fools’ experiment took place.

And once more, like when you’d assumed wrongly of him that same night, you’d managed to slight him again by denying him your candor.

A comforting hand extends toward you all the same, to rest itself on one of your shoulders.

“If, subconsciously, you’re thinking yourself to be some kind of burden to me by reporting every little change in your health, or if I’ve burdened you by tasking you with reporting to me, then… I apologize.”

Your shoulders sag at the realization, and you raise a hand to hold his.

“Albedo, n-no, it’s nothing like that at all— I promise. I just… really didn’t want you to worry about me when you’re so busy, especially as something as small as this. I was going to tell Sucrose today about everything, so she could justify me bothering you with a detailed report.”

“I like hearing from you,” he says, and squeezes your hand in return. “No matter how small… I like being able to stay in touch when I’m so far away from Mondstadt. Even hearing about the most mundane things of your day, I find joy in. But hearing that you’ve been ill and on your own in taking care of yourself… I would’ve come back sooner.”

“But that’s what I mean. What if it’s just a cold? Then it’s nothing I haven’t already handled before, and I would have just inconvenienced you.”

“And what if it’s not?” he counters— you knew he would, the second you stopped speaking. “Symptoms of influenza or symptoms of pregnancy— should it matter?”

“I… no… but also, yes— I-I get where you’re coming from here, Albedo, but the second I would find out the results, you know I would’ve contacted you immediately.”

Albedo shakes his head. “Your well-being has always been important to me— now, even more so, and for obvious reasons. It doesn’t matter what it might be. If you’re feeling unwell, please tell me.”

“I…” You weren’t going to argue, even before you’d been on the receiving end from his stern expression, but you go tight-lipped, only spewing the answer you know he wants to hear. Because he’d been right, after all. There hasn’t been a time where he hadn’t shown concern for you— not before that day, not when you’d been scaling Dragonspine and braving both the cold and one of its resident Frostarm Lawachurls, and not when in the throes. And you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him that. In fact, finally accepting the truth of it, yourself, “Okay.”

Partial frustration transforms into a look of relief on Albedo, and in response, you exhale, experiencing the same sense.

“I’m going to take a listen to your heart, now.” Albedo pulls his hands from yours to grab the stethoscope from his tray, your own curling into your lap in wait for him to begin examining you. Earpieces fitted gently into the curve of his ears, “Could you lift your shirt for me?”

“Y-Yes…” You pull at the material of your blouse until it untucks from the waistband of your slacks, holding it high above your navel and sitting a little more upright when he presses the larger of the two circles beneath your left breast.

His fingertips, neutral in temperature like the rest of him, brush across your abdomen in absentminded wait— you’re not sure if he realizes he’s doing it or not, but you don’t ask, already still so nerve-wracked at seeing him sooner than you’d planned. It hadn’t only been out of the guilt from not keeping him apprised on you that you weren’t ready to see him— no, it had been the fact that throughout your illness, and despite the effects your symptoms had on you, you just couldn’t stop replaying your time with him behind your eyes.

Albedo’s hand shifts the diaphragm along your skin to rest against the sideward swell of your right breast.

“Your heart rate just increased,” he notes aloud. You swallow harshly, and avert your eyes when he tries raising his gaze to yours. “______?”

“… it’s not because of my symptoms,” you murmur, and busy yourself in watching the gentle simmering of some green liquid over on the furthest table.

“… would you indulge my curiosity if I were to ask, then, what it’s from?”

Your lower lip quivers as hot anxiety courses beneath your flesh, and you pin the trembling thing down between chittering teeth.

Wordlessly, Albedo continues, a haggard silence having come down on you and your forced patience. He listens to your uncooperative heart from three more points before he shifts behind you, only to pause.

“You can lower your shirt on your end, ______,” he says. You nod, releasing the material and letting it fall back into place. “I’m going to listen to your breathing now.”

What awful timing, you irritably muse, as when he lifts your shirt up without proper warning, your breathing hitches. And instead of pressing the stethoscope against you again, you feel the cool relief of his palm on your ribcage; a gesture meant to comfort.

“You’re extremely warm… ______, are you in any pain?”

It does anything but.

“Your breathing is a bit shallow, too— have you been experiencing any shortness of breath?”

Because I’m ill? “No,” you answer. Because of you? “Yes.”

When Albedo hums in contemplation — a habit long since formed — you immediately note his confusion, and sigh at him.

“I’m tired,” you inform him. His hand draws away from you, a slow drag across flaming hot skin. “Constantly. I don’t normally sleep in because of work, but I’ve been unable to wake up unless I get a minimum of ten hours of rest. I have migraines so often that I just sleep even more. I ordered traditional Liyuen medicine to be delivered last week and it’s been my saving grace. My lower back… is always so sore, and I’ve used the bathroom more in the past two weeks than I might have in an entire month. And if I even smell Fisherman’s Toast again, I will vomit. Oh, I’ve been doing a lot of that, too,” you add. “Like clockwork, every day at eleven in the morning.

“But my shallow breathing, fast-beating heart have nothing to do with those.”

You heave one last heavy breath before slumping back against your chair, but instead of solely meeting the backrest, you hit the plush of Albedo’s chest. There’s a tickle against your cheek when he leans forward over your shoulder, his bangs dangling to invade your space, a gesture you return when you lean further into him; you reach up for him, targeting his closest ear, and pulling the stethoscope’s earpiece from it.

“It’s you,” you whisper. “I’m hot and bothered because of what you did to me… and I can’t get it out of my mind.”

The stethoscope comes untethered from his opposite ear, clattering to the floor; you hear the glass shatter. You’re more surprised that with his expert reflexes, Albedo didn’t bother to catch it— but you can understand why, since you’d just unbuttoned and slipped off your blouse with your lips pressed to his jaw.

“______,” Albedo calls to you— shaky hands find their way to your shoulders, your biceps; they anchor to you so strongly that you can’t tell if he’s trying to encourage you or stop you. “______…”

“What, ‘bedo?” You pull your shirt away, dropping it to the side. “You don’t want to?”

“I… We… We should… take blood samples first…”

“First?” you echo, leaning forward out of his grasp and glancing back to see his eyes blown wide and his pale cheeks flushed like the reddest rose. “I don’t think an hour difference will make the probability of me being pregnant by you any higher or lower…”

You turn back around, and rise out of the seat to instead straddle the stool. Draping your arms over his shoulders, you pull him close, and smile. He gulps.

“Help me out with that belt again, would you?”

Pure silence coats the entirety of the laboratory now, a stark, black and white contrast to what made up that same hour spent filling it with such lascivious noise— even making the comparison after noting the difference has pink crawling across Albedo’s cheeks again. It’s quiet again, after all. And in waiting for the results of the test done to your blood, there hadn’t been much else he could distract himself with.

You made it difficult, after all. Not in an aimless sense, of course— sure, the very first time the two of you engaged in an act of coitus, your inexperience shined, one guiding the other and vice-versa into the throes of pleasure and painless copulation. There were several times post-”loss-of-virginity” that you ended up taking the lead, and not for the fault of either of you, but there’d been something about you taking charge that had Albedo’s head swimming with thoughts of you while he’d been on his lonesome in Dragonspine, waiting for a proper reason to return to Mondstadt without being questioned— he would return for you, after all. In a heartbeat.

In his attempt to shake off any further inappropriate thoughts, his head tossing left to right, he catches your attention with a raise of your brow.

“Something on your mind?” you muse at him, unable to hold back a chuckle at his deadpan stare your way. His pursed lips and rouged fleshed are a dead giveaway.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” he’s quick to reply, voice cracking partway through. You laugh again, a little more heartily, when he moves away from you and toward the desk. “… the solution should be ready to use now.”

“Okay.”

According to Albedo, blood testing for the purpose of pregnancy discovery isn’t particularly common— in fact, it’s an entirely new concept that not many have adopted. It would certainly change how the medical practices across Teyvat would treat similar cases, but according to him, it would be a while until it could be universally adopted. The more data recorded using it, the sooner it would.

Two experiments in one, you think as you watch Albedo use a dropper to collect the liquid to drop into the vial of your blood. He sets it aside, grabbing for a thin glass stir stick of sorts to combine the two.

You find yourself watching him, for his reactions, rather than for whatever reaction the solution would cause. The flutter of eyelashes as he blinks in incredulity; every small twitch in the muscles around his jaw as his lips part dubiously; how his shining turquoise eyes have somehow managed to grow a little brighter, a little wider, a little more… more…?

“______… look.” He gestures down at the table with a nod of his head, but and you have to tear your own eyes off of him. Within the vial, it is no longer the dark red you remember it had been only seconds ago— considering the solution had been clear, the sudden change in hue made zero sense.

“What… am I supposed to be seeing?” you ask, eyes narrowed at the vial. “Why is it blue?”

“The colour change,” he explains, breathless. “It wouldn’t have changed if… you weren’t pregnant.”

“I…” You look back to Albedo, eyebrows teetering the border of your forehead in disbelief. His head whips your way, his own eyelids blown as physically far apart as possible. “It… worked…?”

“It… did.”

You reach up for him, a single hand rising from your side to hold onto his shoulder. Too many emotions have made themselves known to you, all too quickly to register without dizzying you; Albedo holds your hand in its place before it can slip away, his eyes never leaving yours.

He can tell how deeply you’re allowing yourself to process the news. Maybe, he figures, you thought it wouldn’t work at all. To not believe in the possibility after not only the time spent together up in Dragonspine, but all of the time shared with one another before then and in the past three years— maybe, you were still concerned that he might not live up to the promise made to be at your side through not only the experiment, and not only through the pregnancy, itself, but for the years after.

You never questioned anything past said promise. You never assumed he’d go and break it on you, either. If anything, him being busy with his assigned duties, personal research, and Klee (of course) hadn’t been something you would hold against him, and quite comparatively, you already had much more time on your hands thanks to your early morning to late afternoon position. And being that you are the lead of your own department, it would be so simple to bring your child into work with you. You’d have your office in the records department set up to your convenience. And, if you ever needed a moment to yourself, you’re quite sure your fellow Knights would have no problem doting over your child in your place. And with any luck, the child would be mild-mannered like its father, and as it grew older, it would be inquisitive, insatiably curious, and indubitably kind.

No, you could only be so honoured in having a child by this wonderful man.

“I-I…” It should go without saying, considering how ecstatic you’d been to hear Albedo reciprocate your affection, albeit in the chalk prince’s typical brand, how happy you are to learn that the experiment is to bear such sweet fruit. But it startles him to see a tear slipping down each of your cheeks.

“______?” Without hesitating, as he might have done two months ago, the alchemist reaches for your face, brushes them away, and holds it in the palms of his gloves. You sniffle, a small, choked noise quick to follow, before you laugh. “… ______?”

“These… These are happy tears, I swear,” you say, your grin between his hands only a little compromised by how intensely he holds you. “I-I’m so happy right now that… I don’t know how to properly express it with words. Hehe…” You raise your hands from your lap to cradle his cheeks. “It worked. You can procreate! Haha!”

Albedo’s gaze averts from yours, and beneath your bare hands, you feel his skin grow warm before you see it tint pink. Still giggling, you lean forward, fitting your lips between his smiling, parted ones, before they travel along and up to his forehead. Hands dropping to loop around your waist, your own shift when you wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.

“We’re going to have a baby,” you whisper. A knock on the door of the laboratory stirs the two of you, both pulling away to find the other grinning.

“Yes. We are.”

“I told him that it wasn’t necessary to go out of his way and commission the Guild for this— please; I’ll pay you three for your troubles, but this really isn’t necessary!”

“What do you mean it “isn’t necessary”?!” You sigh, the naturally high voice of the Traveler’s floating companion somehow a little more grating to you than usual. “Walking around like this even outside of the city walls is dangerous for you!”

“Paimon, dear, I think you’ve seen me sitting behind a desk for far too long, since you’ve forgotten that I am a qualified Knight!”

“But it’s a little different now, isn’t it?” Bennett offers— you turn your head to the boy so fast that he winces. “I-I mean, you’ve got two people to protect, r-right?”

“I just went up Dragonspine last month; that’s not that long ago,” you try to reason, but even Aether puts his foot down, hands on his hips and golden eyes lidded by, what? Annoyance? Disapproval? Your own frustration blinds you to be able to tell the difference.

“You weren’t so obviously big last month, and even that was a risk you shouldn’t have taken,” he says. “Albedo wasn’t happy about it.”

“Yeah! He’s right!” You huff at her. “Albedo’s just trying to take care of you when he’s not here to do it himself!”

“And isn’t this a good way to do it, too?” Bennett says, grinning. “We protect you, you stay safe, we get paid, and Albedo gets to eat those delicious-looking sweets you made him! It’s a total win-win situation!”

“If I make you some, will you let me go alone?”

“No,” both Aether and Paimon chorus. You click your tongue at them, your frustration thickening.

“Don’t be selfish like this,” Aether adds, and just as you’re about to chastise him— “Do you really think Albedo’s the only one worried about you?”

“If it helps in any way,” Katheryne calls from across the street. You all turn toward her, you folding your arms and resting them across your swollen gut. “This commission is backed by the entire Knights of Favonius— the Acting Grand Master signed it, herself.”

“What?! That Jean, I swear— what a worrywart!” You groan, loudly, startling unsuspecting passerby’s and a hopeful Bennett. “Fine! Fine. I’ll let you join me. The… company might be nice, anyway.”

“Glad you see it our way,” Aether says, nodding. He gestures away from himself, a slight bowing to his posture when he bends, and Paimon copying him with a giggle. “After you.”

“You all are… too much.” Clutching your cloth lunch bag just a little tighter, you stalk past the three of them, shaking your head and managing a thin smile when you hear their soft chuckling.

“Hey, um...?” You glance back at Bennett, who grins guiltily and sheepishly at you. “Would you still make some more desserts for us after…?”

“Mm… no.”

“Aw, man…”

You hadn’t been wrong; the company was nice. Compared to the usual time taken, thanks to a couple of element users being able to traverse through the various Waypoints of Mondstadt, the time taken was cut significantly short.

Typically, your journey through Windrise and up past the Adventure’s Guild’s checkpoint is a comfortably solemn one. Being able to reflect on oneself and enjoying the fresh air, warm sun, and calm winds that the autumn months bring along is always so refreshing. Indeed, it beats being cooped up in the records room where only artificial light existed.

This excursion was something you’d been looking forward to since two weeks ago, when you’d first planned it. Another recipe crossed your path thanks to a convenient mention of it within a Knight’s report— and their verbal gushing over it. In you receiving one-and-a-half days off each week, you often spend the “half” bit catching up on chores and errands, while the full day is spent doing whatever you needed to reset your mind after such a long week.

Lately, if not preoccupied with other plans, you’d been bringing Albedo new dishes to try. This had been your usual routine, normally using him as a test subject of sorts whenever he’d been visiting Mondstadt, with the occasional trek into Dragonspine if you got too restless. This normalcy had gone on for a while, with no question of it by Albedo. Of course, this had only been because you’d managed to hide the fact that your stomach could no longer fit within the parameters of either your blouses or your turtlenecks.

The fascination had been instant— as was the scolding. Albedo didn’t hold back, either. The only reason he stopped was due to Klee’s unexpected arrival.

"Don’t think this conversation is over, ______. You endangering yourself to deliver me food is worth getting upset about, under normal circumstances and especially in your current condition.”

In hindsight, contrary to your point in that argument, it was slightly silly. He would’ve returned to Mondstadt eventually and you could have given it to him then. Was it the hormones affecting your ability to think straight? While Albedo and one of the church’s sisters did mention it could be a possibility, you clearly weren’t heeding the warning of watching for any impulsivity from you. Traveling somewhere so dangerous? Alone? With no Vision? If that didn’t scream “impulsive”…

Despite the sheer cold of the place, you took great joy and pleasure of visiting it if it meant being able to see Albedo. And as you turned the corner from the Waypoint closest to his cliffside laboratory to see Albedo’s back turned to the cave’s mouth, once more sketching away on a new canvas of his, your grin is uncontainable. You turn, gesturing at Paimon and the two boys tasked with delivering you to Albedo to hold back for “just a moment” so you could attempt to surprise him, but to your surprise, and you yelp when you realize it— he’s already looking out of the cave mouth and at you, hand raised in a gentle wave.

Defeated once more, just like you’d been that day, you trudge forward after giving your farewells to the trio when they announce that their “work is done”, and greet Albedo where he stands, waiting for you with open arms.

“That was very sly of you, you know,” you start, “submitting that commission to the Guild without me knowing.” Gratefully, you fall into his chest, wrapping your arms around him tightly with him doing the same in return. “Imagine my confusion when those three showed up at my doorstep, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

“I knew they would be the best to get the job done,” Albedo says, releasing you to encourage you over to the bed. “There are few I trust as much as the Traveler to protect you. And that Bennett, I’d heard, works well with him.”

“I’d have to agree with you there— I’d never seen two people so enthusiastic about taking down a Hydro slime, and so quickly, too.”

Albedo smiles, and the two of you sit on the edge of his bed.

“I see you’ve brought along some more food for me,” he says, glancing at the bag still slung over your arm with slight disdain.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever had this before, but one of the Knights’ reports mentioned it to be extremely popular over in Sumeru.”

“______, I didn’t say that out of curiosity. I’m still upset about your choice to journey here the last time; we never had a proper chance to discuss things.”

“Let me save you the trouble of worrying, then,” you say, patting his knee. “I don’t think it will be safe for me and the baby to come up here from this point on.”

“And what brought you to that conclusion?” Albedo inquires. Grabbing for the zipper of your coat, you pull it down, revealing to him the swell hidden beneath your thick turtleneck. “My… It’s bigger than the last time you were here…”

“It’s been almost a month since we’ve seen each other, so, naturally. But no... Coming here with Aether, Paimon, and Bennett worrying about me with every other step I'd take was a bit of an eye-opener. I'm not just responsible for myself, now. I have another life within me to take care of. In a few months' time, it will be no different to have them in my arms rather than in my body."

Maybe it’s because your adrenaline is finally plateauing, and your heart rate is dropping on account of you finally resting, but it seems like the baby realizes it, too, and it begins to move within you.

“Ohh…” You jerk forward, hands spastically reaching for Albedo’s to steady yourself— his eyes fly wide open, holding on tightly to you in return.

“______? Are you alright? Do you need to lie down?”

You shake your head, wearing a thin smile that confuses Albedo.

“I nearly forgot you haven’t felt it yet, since you’d been stuck up here for a while. Here,” you say, taking one of his hands, flipping it, and in pulling up your turtleneck, you reveal your bare stomach to him, swollen and… twitching?

“This far along, a baby will start to move, and it’ll even start kicking. Put your hand here, and wait. I think it has a favourite spot to kick, too.”

“Is it painful?” he’s quick to ask, not missing a beat when, as you predicted, the baby kicks you, only inches below your ribs.

“Just a little uncomfortable. It actually feels nicer having your hand on me than just my own.”

Wordlessly, Albedo adds his other hand to the surface of your belly; a content hum escapes you.

“It’s still quite… surreal to me,” he mumbles, his thumbs rolling over where one of the baby’s appendages extend outward. “That this is something that’s truly happening.”

“I never expected to be having a baby this way… or at all, any time soon, really, but… now that it is happening, I…” You chuckle, unable to find a proper word. “It is happening, Albedo. Our baby will be born soon.”

“Once this solution cures, I’ll be able to leave it in Sucrose’s care while I take my leave.”

“Your leave?” you repeat. He nods.

“I’ll be in Mondstadt for at least the remainder of your pregnancy,” he explains, tone cheery. “Any work that needs to be done will be done in our home laboratory, though it should be relatively quiet on that aspect of things. I’ll be able to focus on taking care of you and the baby, myself.”

“That… would be nice.” You’re still smiling at him when he looks up from your belly. “Albedo?” you gently call, raising a hand to caress his one cheek. “Are you alright?”

Albedo nods, holding your cool hand still against his fast-warming cheeks.

“Yes. I’m just…” He chuckles at you. “I’m a happy fool.”

Tumblr asks: kiddo extras! ✰ ✰

#the ending was rushed and i'm not happy with it but... finally. i can sleep.#albedo kreideprinz #albedo #albedo genshin impact #albedo x reader #albedo x yn #albedo x y/n #albedo smut #albedo x reader smut #genshin impact smut

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rightcrowlung · 2 years ago

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Fukuzawa x child!reader x child!ranpo

Note: In case you were wondering why he’s so rigid around you and Ranpo, this is a younger Fukuzawa. If you read the Untold Origins light novel he literally thinks of 50 ways to get rid of Ranpo.

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Fukuzawa didn’t know at what point he began to regret every decision that led him to this point in his life. Was it back at the crime scene, when you and Ranpo kicked down the door of the Presidents office? Was it when he watched you two obliterate your red bean porridge?

Whenever it was, all he wanted was to reclaim the calming silence that broke ties with him as soon as he offered to look after you two.

The trio had reached Fukuzawa’s house. It was an old home—it wasn’t very big, but big enough for a man and the little gremlins that followed him. He managed to keep them distracted with unsolved mysteries until night fell over Yokohama, by suggestion of his guide to raising 5 year olds

“You can sleep in this room tonight and I’ll put you in another room,” Fukuzawa said in his usual collected way.

You and Ranpo nodded, for the first time that day, holding back any snarky remarks. Fukuzawa helped you both set up your futons, before retiring to his own room.

As he was about to start changing, he heard little feet running towards his door. He turned around to find you standing there with a cold stare.

“I need a something to listen to,” you said blankly, as if he should have known this despite only meeting you today. You were about to express more grievances, when Ranpo ran up behind you.

“I can’t sleep in the dark,” he whined. Neither of you were blood related, but you managed to hold the exact same expression. Fukuzawa sighed , placing his hand in his head.

Without saying anything he led you both back to your bedrooms, grabbing a nightlight for Ranpo and a small radio for you on the way. He returned to his room, and attempted to begin changing again.

Before he undid the first button, little feet were once again heard stomping towards his door.

“Can you sit with me?” You said quietly. Before Fukuzawa could send you back to your room, Ranpo once again appeared behind you as if summoned.

Feeling the discomfort of these two gremlins staring into his soul catching up to him, he complied.

“You’re a patient old guy, y’know?” You said while staring at the ceiling. Ranpo chimes in, but Fukuzawa was too overcome by tiredness to respond in fear that it would only be met with a snarky remark from the other. He sat there with them for what felt like an hour until silence filled the room.

Being to caught up in the subtle excitement that the two had calmed down, he foolishly believed that he would finally be able to get some rest.

Fukuzawa quietly closed the door, not bothering to take Ranpo back to his own room. He quickly changed into his night clothes and peaked out of his room to make sure the duo had not followed him back.

He slipped into his futon, recounting the days events. He’d been through a lot, meeting new people, vowing to himself that he would never grow closer to them beyond knowing their name. But here he was, his daily routine suddenly taking a drastic turn, having two brats children to look after.

His stream of thoughts was suddenly interrupted when he felt someone place their head on his chest.

His eyes flew open. He looked to his side to find that you had somehow snuck into his room with your blanket. You cling onto his shirt.

“There’s something in my room, I know it!” You whimpered. He was going to point out that the extra scary presence was Ranpo but decided against it. Before he could move, Ranpo appeared at the door.

Perhaps he could hear his thoughts, Fukuzawa thought to himself. Without saying a word, Ranpo crawled onto Fukuzawa’s right side. The man sighed to himself, realising there was no escaping his current predicament. If it was a predicament.

I’m too soft*, he thought to himself. He could’ve kicked them both to the curb, but whether or not he’d be able to sleep at night was the problem.

It was quiet before you raised your head to look him in the eyes. Fukuzawa knew what was coming and before you had the chance to even sign, he got up and retrieved the radio and nightlight he had placed in yours and Ranpos room.

As soon as he laid back down, you and Ranpo cuddled up to him closer than he would’ve liked, but of course accepted it.

“Fukuzawa-san,” you said in a hushed voice, notably the quietest voice you’ve used all day.

“Hm?” He responded. He waited for you to speak up again, but was met with the joint small snores from the children on either side of him.

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anaveragebibliophile · 4 years ago

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He Comes First

Thranduil x Wife!reader x Young!Legolas

Summary: After finding out some exciting news about your and Thranduil’s future as parents, you begin reminiscing on the all the joys and wonders that this life has given you (especially getting to see your husband excel at fatherhood).

PART 1

PART 2:

https://anaveragebibliophile.tumblr.com/post/659269636241637376/cyclical-love

“Are you one-hundred percent certain, Morwen? I know you are an expert at discerning such things, but I cannot help but still feel the uncertainty reverberating through me,” you said, hands gripping your kneecaps as you awaited the healer’s response.

“Yes, my queen. All of the signs are there: the nausea, the subsequent morning sickness, the exhaustion. I am positive that I am correct in my diagnosis.”

“Oh, by the Valar (God),” you responded, your right hand drifting to hold your stomach protectively. “I am with child. Thranduil and I will be welcoming another elfing next fall.”

“Yes, Queen (y/n). When the leaves begin to fall, you will be holding another blessing in your arms.”

Walking back to your and Thran’s chambers provided ample time for rumination on this news (because the healer’s quarters were on the other side of the palace). Now, that’s not to say this contemplation was meant to curb any sentiments of regret, resentment, or anger. Not at all. In reality, you couldn’t stop a huge smile from framing your face. You couldn’t help but embrace the elation that was filling every facet of your heart, soul, and mind. Oh, this was a dream come true.

Obviously, the topic of having another child had been discussed between you and your husband many times (usually on fireside date night with goblets of wine and lots of cuddling). And the funny thing was that the prospect had cemented itself more securely over the last few months. Having and caring for another child no longer appeared to be this unattainable desire, but, instead, it filled you and Thran with this rapture, this thrill. And why wouldn’t it really? Legolas was everything you both could have hoped for, so why not try for that relentless feeling of contentment one more time? You’d have to be asinine not to.

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“Ada, Ada are you awake?” Legolas’ melodic voice asked, breaking through the tranquil haze you’d encompassed yourself in.

“There is no need to fret, my little leaf. Ada is just resting his eyes. He is tired,” your husband’s deep baritone responded.

“Of course, Ada, but that is not why I was asking. Would it be alright if I laid on your chest?”

“You already know the answer to that, Legolas. Climb on up, iôn nîn (my son).”

And climb on up he did, at least from what you saw through the little crack in the door. Once your little elfling’s voice alerted you to the fact that your two favorite people in all of Middle Earth were in your chambers, your immediate instinct was to rush and join in on the cuddle session that was so obviously taking place. Yet, somehow, right as you put your hand on the doorknob, it was as if your feet were tethered to the floor. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. All because you turned your head. All because of what you were bearing witness to.

Legolas was sprawled starfish-like on his father’s chest, his little face turned into the right side of Thranduil’s neck. You could see the red, depressed sleep lines marring his face from his morning nap (where he and the pillow became great comrades). And even though that was such an adorable sight, what you saw your husband doing made joy spread through your entire heart in such a way that you thought it might implode on you.

Sometimes your little leaf struggled to fall asleep at night. Whether it be because of a nightmare or a fear of separation from his parents no one could truly say. His insomnia was variable at best and inevitable at worst. However, regardless of the circumstances, your and Thran’s mission was to get your son some relief, no matter the cost. And you tried everything you could think of: lullabies, rocking, warm milk, literally anything that the rule book on parenting tells you to attempt, but nothing would make any impact. That is, until your husband changed the game.

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One night in mid-winter, Legolas’ inability to sleep had reached its peak. He hadn’t been feeling well for most of the day--spending most of it snuggled with you in the sitting room or with Thranduil in his office--and by the end of the night had been sporting a pretty nasty fever. He was miserable, plain and simple. You had hoped that the illness would’ve given him the opportunity to give in to his fatigue, to barricade himself in a dream-like state. Wrong. Instead, the infection chose to create a pain in his ear that wouldn’t abate by any means. No question, it made him absolutely hysterical.

Despite this, though, he was most at peace with your husband, the man who spent most of that day with his lips pressed in a thin, white line and his stomach in knots. All he hoped for was his son to be improving, but it didn’t seem like Valar (God) was in the mood to grant that wish. So, he did what he was best at: finding a way to take control of the situation. In this case, the problem was Legolas’ discomfort. The little guy was trying to sleep--on his side, his back, in Thran’s arms, in whatever position his brain could conjure up--but would then proceed to hold his left ear and whimper. Anything he did would cause pain to shoot through him.

“Alright, little leaf,” Thranduil said while rocking his son in his arms for the tenth time that day, “how about we try having you rest on my chest. You might sleep better that way.” And all he got was an almost imperceptible nod from the elfling that was clenching his hand so tight.

Moving over to the bed, he slowly settled himself in the center, making sure not to jostle his son too much. Quietly humming to Legolas, he carefully moved his right hand up and down his spinal column and left lingering kisses on his forehead.

“There we go, iôn nîn (my son),” he said. “Hopefully this helps. Gi melin (I love you).”

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“Darling, you can come in, you know. This is your space too,” your husband’s voice articulated, a hint of mockery and teasing in his tone (all in good fun).

Opening the door all the way, you smiled at the treasures that laid before you. One curled into his father’s chest like an armadillo. The other grinning like a fool at said armadillo.

“My apologies, sweetheart. Once I got here, I couldn’t refrain from letting you have that special one-on-one time with him.”

Your husband’s right cheekbone lifted up to create an off-centered smile of sorts. “How was your appointment with Morwen? Was she able to give you some herbs to aid your sickness?”

“Yes, she was. But that is not the only thing she mentioned to me. About why I am ill anyway.”

“What else is wrong? Whatever it is, it is treatable, yes?” Thranduil queried, his voice getting higher by at least three octaves.

“Yes, honey. It is treatable. I’ll only have to wait about six more months.”

At that, your husband paused, concentration taking over his features. You felt his brain’s agony at the mere thought of analyzing the riddle and attempting to figure it out. Every mechanism was moving to decipher the answer.

And then it all clicked.

“If what you say is true, then that means we are….”

TBC

#thranduil #thrandolas #legolas #babylegolas #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #love #children #pregnancy #marriage #battle of the five armies #desolation of smaug #the fellowship of the ring #thranduil x reader #thranduil x wife

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four2andnew · 2 years ago

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Fic Author Self Rec

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers ❤️

Thanks for the tag @liiilyevans! I also find this hard, because it's much easier to be a cheerleader for others than for myself, but here goes -

A Rose in Winter - WIP, M

An Edwardian Era, arranged marriage AU based on a classic, cheesy 80s bodice-ripper romance novel of the same name. After a string of bad luck, the Weasley family is pressuring Ginny to take a wealthy husband. She is swiftly arranged into a marriage contract with the tragic and mysterious Lord Potter, hidden behind a mask and heavy cloak to cover his scars from the attack that made him famous.

I'll even give a little sneak peak of the next installment:

Her nephews and niece gasped and giggled delightedly at the sight of the elves, which earned a broad smile from Whimsy and grumpy scowl from the older elf. Ginny rolled her lips inward and looked down at her plate to hide her smile. Something about the grumpy creature amused her, but she didn’t know her new husband well enough to know if he would think her rude. She glanced at him through her lashes, to find his eyes locked on her, the light shining in from the window behind her and illuminating his irises for the first time. They were a startling green, breathtaking in their beauty and intensity. Ginny felt her cheeks warming under his stare, discomforted by his eyes while the rest of his face remained hidden behind that infernal mask. The moment was broken when Bill leaned toward the stranger on Potter’s right and introduced himself.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. William Weasley, Ginevra’s eldest brother.”

“Sirius Black. Harry’s godfather.”

A hush settled over the table as her brothers stared curiously at Black. Lupin cleared his throat, a smirk swiftly hidden behind his fist. At least she knew why Black’s eyes looked so familiar. It was easy now to make the connection between the two men’s grey eyes and even their black hair, though Ginny supposed Leo must have gotten his bone structure from his mother, because other than his coloring, he looked nothing like Sirius.

Comfortable - 3.7k, T

A self-indulgent, childhood friends to lovers No-Voldemort AU

Neither one of them could definitively say when their friendship had evolved into something more. One day they were tumbling down the hill at the back of The Burrow’s paddock, racing to see who could make it to the bottom first, and then seemingly, the next day they were tumbling into his bed at Potter Cottage, racing to see who could get all their clothes off first.

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t so dramatic of a transition as that. Perhaps it would be easier to define if it had been. In reality, it had been a glacially slow change, one thankfully free from embarrassment and arguing, but antagonizing all the same in that neither knew where the line was drawn.

Cat and Mouse - 20k, M

An AU where Dumbledore doesn't die at the end of Harry's 6th year and Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 7th year, where he and Ginny get caught up in an angsty are they aren't they relationship. The first fanfic I ever shared and will always have a special place in my heart, even if the ending lost its steam.

Of course, it was hard to guard her heart when he kept pulling her into deserted classrooms and broom closets to snog her senseless. He’d wait until she was walking alone and sneak up on her with that damn cloak and yank her into a closet, where they’d spend the next hour driving each other insane. He’d hold her back after practice under the pretense of going over new chaser drills, only to pin her up against the captain’s office door and tear at her practice kit. He’d whisper sweet nothings in her ear until she was this close to giving in.

But then Ginny would remember those awful words, “I forgot,” and she’d push him away.

“Thanks for the good time, Captain,” she’d say, willing herself to not look over her shoulder as she casually walked away. The next day he would find some new girl to walk to class.

Weasley Pub Nights - 600, T

A fic that made me laugh while writing it, and makes me laugh every time I go back a re-read it.

Once a quarter all the Weasley siblings got together sans spouses and parents and got pissed off their arses. Ginny loves Weasley Pub Night, despite being the only female of the bunch. It’s the one night where her brothers forget to censor their raunchy conversations, the one night where they treat her like just another brother and not their baby sister.

But she is about to fuck it up.

Time - 4.3k, M (probably could be a T+, but I'm paranoid about ratings)

Another self-indulgent fic that I have plans to turn into a series of one-shots. Canon Compliant but Not Epilogue Complaint. An unplanned pregnancy during Ginny's 7th year leads Harry to realize he actually has a really good future to look forward to.

We have time , Harry echoed. Blimey, what a concept. The last eight years had felt like he was trapped in the bottom bowl of a giant hourglass while the sand poured in from above faster than he could keep his head above the level. Everything had rained down on him, pressing him closer and closer to that pinch point on the hourglass where the sand would run out and he would suffocate from it all.

And then he had finally defeated Voldemort and that hourglass had blown apart, scattering the sands of time across the universe and freeing him from the pressure to just survive . Now he could live.

Hm, let's see. Tagging: @corneliaavenue-ao3 and @thenicestthingiveseen and anyone who wants to be better at self-recs!!

#tag game #my writing #hp fanfic #hinny fanfic #self rec

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lexiasmind · 4 years ago

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The Compromise. I

PAIRING.

Dark!CEO!Steve Rogers x Reader.

SUMMARY.

Wealthy CEO, Steve Rogers is a businessman before everything. All he ever wanted is to be the best, richest and smartest, owning all the finest companies. His priority: be better in affairs than his father.

But when a huge opportunity is offered to him, Steve would do anything in his power to seize it. And he’s ready to make a sweet and dangerous deal with you. Even though you are not willing to make a compromise with him.

A/N.

Political Relationship/Marriage? AU. Dark AU.

This is DARK. ANGST (i’m sorry) & SMUT (explicit sexual content) +18. Breeding Kink - sort of... Non-Con & Dub-Con. Mentions of Political Marriage. Mentions of Relationship/Marriage of Convenience. Swearing.

Here it is. One of my favorite story. Hopefully you will enjoyed it too. As always, thank you very much for reading! Don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts, comments, and feedback. (sorry for the layout at then, bugs from Tumblr)

A lots of Love! Lex!xxx

P.S: Gif is not mine, credits to the owner and maker.

WORDS.2942ish.

°°°

Being the assistant of the wealthy, arrogant, sexy Steve Rogers has its perks. Your income was very high so you could buy anything you ever wanted. You could use his name anytime you wished to impress your relatives, or friends when they were visiting you for booking the best tables in the greatest and luxurious restaurants in Manhattan. And, one of the greatest benefits of them all was that you could have the best sex you ever had with this gorgeous man. It was one of his “arrangements“ with you. Every once in a while, Steve Rogers, solemn and clever, needed a release from his stressful business life. He was the one who decided the when and where without any confirmation on your part. He just scheduled the meeting in your daily calendar like it was one of his business luncheon. And you showed up.

That’s why, on this Saturday evening you were, naked, sweaty, and panting hard under his muscular chest. Steve was thrusting into you, again and again, hitting the soft delicious spot inside your pussy. You clenched his thick cock once, biting your lips watching him grunted.

“ Baby! “ Steve moaned, still moving above you. He descended one hand caressing your skin stopping between your thighs. The blond man started to stroke your clit with his fingers, urgently. “ Come for me. ” He whispered his red mouth still wet from your previous orgasm. “ Come all around me.“

The bed was creaking with your movement in his darkroom. You were pressed into the mattress, feeling your climax coming once again deep inside your core. Steve pushed harder inside of you, feeling you were almost there. You grazed his smooth back with your nails arching your back as you reached your peak, deliciously hot and blissful. You whimpered, squeezing him hard. Steve swore under his breath, putting his head into the crook of your neck, he came in a low and deep groan, his hips jerking at each spasm, his cock throbbing inside of you. You breathed hard under him, softly kissing his shoulder. Your eyelids were heavy from tiredness but you felt euphoric. His hot breath was fanning your neck, his sweaty chest was against your naked breast. Steve swallowed as he braced himself from you, one hand next to your head the other stroking softly your clit making you shiver. He took himself out, looking at you, he frowned, concentrating.

“ Did you send the fiscal papers to the Financial Department? “ He asked a bit out of breath. His head was clear and turned into business mode.

You nodded once. You didn't know how after all of the sex, he could still think about work.

“ And did you send the e-mail to Stark? The one with the new numbers? “ He continued his voice hoarse.

You nodded again, confused. Because his voice was CEOish but his hand on your stomach was gentle.

“ Good. “ Steve replied.

He licked his lips humming his approval as he tasted your sweet juice on his tongue. He smirked seeing your eyes darkened from the sight closely watching him, but he pushed his body away from you and get up on the steady ground of his bedroom’s floor. He started to walked toward his bathroom, naked like the day he was born.

“ Monday I have a meeting with Wilson & Barnes, don’t forget to buy the beverage, Miss Smith. “ He informed you, his back, turned to you. You could saw the long scratch of your nails on his skin.

You sighed, watching him closed the door of the bathroom. It was back to Miss Smith again. It wasn’t your last name, but Steve Rogers wasn’t the greatest of the boss. And if he used this name it meant that your night together was over and it was the time for you to go home. It was your deal between the two of you since you started to work at Rogers Inc. You were the best assistant ever, he was a jerk and arrogant boss, and sometimes the two of you will meet, preferably in his apartment, and had sex. Just wild and sensual sex, with no feeling and attachment. For him for sure. But for you, it was difficult each day to fool you that you haven’t any feelings, for him. You were lost, one part of you liked the tender man, he was sometimes. And another part of you was scared of how harsh, brutal, and dark he could be when he wanted something.

°°°

“ I heard Rumlow is on the market again, trying to buy Stark Industries. “ James Buchanan Barnes stated, smiling behind his hand, watching his best friend getting angrier at the information. “ Even though he filed for bankruptcy last year, the word in the street is that a private investor gave him the money to buy one of the biggest companies in the world.” “ I don’t believe this lie, Buck’. “ Steve told him completely annoyed that his oldest rival/enemy was back in the game. “ I am the one who will buy Stark’s company. Tony trusts me. “ He continued, turning his chair back to the men to watch the biggest and tallest skyscrapers of New York City through the huge windows of his office. “ The only thing Tony trusts, my man, “ Sam smiled, raising himself from the white couch buttoning his jacket. “ Is money. “ He finally revealed, pointing at the glass door at his associate, he left the room a grin on his lips.

It was barely 10 a.m and Steve Rogers was already mad. The week had just begun.

“ Contact your father, Steve. I’m sure he will have a solution.“ Bucky raised himself from his seat his eyes following Sam leaning against the main desk in the waiting area. The dark-haired man sighed frowning at his colleague who was currently flirting with Steve’s assistant. The CEO couldn’t see them but he could hear them giggling in the lobby. His irritation was going up reaching a new level of anger. “ My father will blackmail me or worse bully me into something I don’t want to, for me to get the money. ” Steve replied without turning his back from the beautiful skyline of the city. “ Yes. “ Bucky admitted walking toward the door. “ But, in the end, you would possess the most important industrial firm in the world. “ He explained, his eyes watching the head of his friend, over his shoulder. He shook his head, before leaving the office closing the door behind him.

Steve knew that Bucky was right. He had to ask his father for the money or he could say goodbye to one of his biggest dream for his career: merging Stark company with his own. He turned around, turning his computer on to make a deal with the devil. Without turning his head from the screen, Steve hit one button on his telephone.

“ Miss Smith, I need you for a moment. “ He talks directly to the interphone set on the device and pushed his finger away.

You entered the office, less than a minute later. A pen and a notepad in your hand already ready to write his orders. He didn’t acknowledge you, still taping on the flat and white keyboard. A couple of minutes later, Steve finished his e-mail. He pressed send then he raised himself from his chair, tucking his tie and buttoning his expensive jacket. He walked around his desk finally looking at you. You had waited for him for the exactitude of two minutes and thirty seconds, but it wasn’t the first time he was a complete asshole to you. It won’t be the last time either.

" Follow me to the Financial Department, I need to know the exact numbers we could pull out for Stark Industries. " He informed you, still walking. " What ordered do I make to the kitchen for your lunch, sir? " You asked, nodding but also preparing your pen to write his answer. " Nothing. I’m going out for lunch and will remain out for the most part of this afternoon too.” He informed you, as he stopped in front of your frame. “Cancelled my appointments.”

You paused for a nanosecond at the new information settle in before putting your pen and small notepad in your skirt pocket. Steve was about to walk around you but he suddenly took your wrist into a firm grip in his hand. His eyes were darker and full of promising threats. You gasped surprised by his sudden movement. And then you felt it, the burning feeling from his tight hold, you winced under his angry face. He pulled on your wrist making you collided into his chest, with his other hand he raised your head, one finger under your chin. Your eyes met his cold blue one.

" It’s the first and last time I hear you flirting with one of my friends, sweetheart. Do you understand? " He asked his voice grave and low, his lips barely moving.

You nodded biting your lips under his glare. Steve leaned his mouth to yours, put a simple kiss on your lips. One. Tender. Then, he released you from his grip, stepping beside you to open the door. You let a quiet gasp escape your lips as you stroked the tender flesh of your wrist.

" Let’s go, Miss Smith, we haven’t all day. " He cried out without turning around, striding into the lobby toward the elevator.

Confused you followed him, tears in your eyes. You paused next to him, waiting for the elevator. Discomfort growing inside your chore.

" Miss Smith, you will do a quick reckon on Mr. Brock Rumlow while I’m away. I need to know everything. From the professors he had in preschool to the girls he's currently banging. " Steve commanded you as the metal doors open up in front of you. " Yes, sir. " You sniffed, quickly wiping away a tear from your cheek taking your small notepad and pen from your pocket you took notes.

Steve step inside. You followed him but pushed yourself at the back in one of the four corners, putting as much distance as possible between the two of you, making yourself small. The elevator closed the doors and start his descent to the floors below. Steve turned around his back to you. " Stop crying, baby. You know how much it makes me hard. " Steve said to you, his voice low. He took his phone from inside his jacket and started scrolling "And, I don’t have the time to fuck you, right now. “

With a trembling hand, you wiped away the remaining tears on your skin. You bite your lips your sighted set on his long fingers tapping the screen. Sometimes Steve Rogers could be much worse than a simple asshole. He could be frightening.

°°°

It turned out to be a horrible and awful Monday as the day goes on and on. Steve was angry at everything. Pushing the bag, harder with his fists, he didn’t hear you walk into the gym room of the building. The night had felt in New York City, and almost every employee had returned home. Except you. You couldn’t leave until he did. Steve was wearing his sports clothes, a white t-shirt with sweat pants. His forehead and face were coated in sweat. He had returned to the office two hours ago without telling you anything. He just took his gym bag and went straight to this room. The space was large and clear with numerous sports machines. You leaned your side against the wall, a big folder in your hands.

Finally, Steve stopped hitting the punching ball. Panting, he put his hair away from his eyes.

" Did you finished what I asked you about Rumlow? " Steve asked, starting to take away the white bandage from his hand. " Yes. " You answered, clearing your voice. " I searched and classified every single information I could find on him. " You waved the folder to him. " From birth to present day. "

But Steve didn’t look at you. His thought turned on what his father had told him over their lunch earlier. “ Find a sweet wife, and makes an heir. I don’t want to see my name tainted and ending with you. “ Sweet words. His father was the worst but he had accepted to give him enough money to gather with what his financial team could bring from his company. It would be more than enough to beat Brock and buy Stark Industries but he still had to look for a wife and make a damn baby. He wasn’t the romantic kind of guy. Steve didn’t believe in love and all the other bullshit the media was brainwashing the world with. He loved sex and was pretty damn good at it. But what drove him was to grow his business and be the best. To be better than his father. And he was one step away from it and nobody or anyone will stop him.

" That’s great, Miss Smith. " He nodded taking the last bit of the bandage from his left hand before taking off the bandage from the right one. " Will you marry me, Y/N? " Steve asked not once raising his head from his fingers.

You froze feeling that you haven’t heard him well. You frowned taken aback by the words that came out of his mouth. You didn’t know if you should be more shocked at him for using your real name in three years or by his proposal. You swallowed hard waiting for him to laugh at you. And announced that all of it was a joke. A bad joke. Steve finally turned his blue sight toward you, raising an eyebrow, waiting for a reply.

" Well? " He asked impatiently, finishing with his bandage. " Oh, you are serious! " You exclaimed your mouth wide open, and almost dropping the huge folder on the floor. " Of course, I’m serious. " Steve replied annoyed throwing his stuff in his large sports bag.

Surprise, you dropped your gaze on the ground. Marriage? Marriage was such a big thing, celebrating and vowing in front of your friends and family to love each other for the rest of your life until death comes to break us apart. For you, it was something to do when you were in love but it wasn’t what Steve had in mind.

" You are great at your job, sexy and I like to have sex with you. " He enumerated looking at you and putting his hands on his hips. " I’m not taking no for an answer. So when we should get married, the sooner the better. " He continued his face dead serious looking at you.

You were so confused and baffled by all this, looking at him like a second head had grown on his neck. What the fuck was happening? You shook your head, making a step back to the door. He was insane. Seeing you moving back, Steve took two long strides to reach you before you could escape from him. Extracting the folder from your hold, he threw it across the gym room, papers flying around felt on the ground. Steve put his hands on both of your cheeks. He raised your head pulling it closer to his own. Scared, you look at his eyes. The word dangerous flashing around your mind.

" I told you, I won’t take no for answer. " He murmured his lips brushing yours. "When we will get married I will offer you everything that you desire. I’m filthy rich it’s almost indecent, sweetheart. You will have everything and more." He explained to you stroking your cheek, his dark eyes looking at your teary and fearful one. " A house, cars, clothes anything you want. All I asked in return is a couple of kids. " Steve whispered low against your lips. He brushed his hard-on in his pants against your lower stomach emphasizing his thought. " It will be your kids, I will send them to the best schools, they will have everything they want." He dry-humped your stomach, wiping a few tears on your cheeks with his thumbs, excited watching you frightened.

Steve was certainly insane selling this dream life to you. You needed to think alone, away from his pushy behavior. Closing your eyes, you tried to shrink away from his grasps but he was holding you tightly. You opened your eyes more tears falling on your cheeks, scared you shook your head once again.

" I-I… " You stuttered, choking a sob as you watched him smirked in front of you. " I told you, baby. I won’t take no for an answer. " He said quietly and pressed a kiss on your lips. He took one of your trembling hands from your side, pulled on it, and guided it inside his sweat pants and underwear. You gasped breaking away from him. You felt his hand forcing yours to pump his thick cock in his clothing. " I already told you, seeing you cried makes me horny, baby. " He mumbled in a low voice. " Horny and hard, just for you. " Steve reminded you, groaning at your touch.

He put his forehead against yours, feeling your hand all around him. He guided you to stroke him as he liked you too. You whimpered sobbing, not knowing what to do. Watching the tears falling on your cheeks, his cock throbbed inside of both of your hands. He darkly smiled at you before putting his lips on yours, pushing his tongue inside your mouth.

You will be his perfect little wife.

°°°

Two. Thee. Four. Five.

#Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader #Dark!Steve Rogers x You #Dark!Steve Rogers Fanfiction #Dark!Steve Rogers Imagine #Dark!Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers x You #Steve Rogers Fanfiction #Dark!Steve x Reader #Dark!Steve x You #Steve x Reader #Story: The Compromise #The Compromise Series

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tommyshelbysgirl · 4 years ago

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It has been a very long & tiring day & all you wanted to was sleep, Tommy was still at the office considering it was only 1 pm in the afternoon you always woke up when he did & you always stayed awake with him when he was unable to sleep due to his memories & him also worrying that his enemies would find out where you lived & they would hurt you he was very protective of you.

You stood up from the couch stretching & yawning you chose to make yourself a warm bath & hope this waked you up a little as the last thing you want to do was fall asleep then Tommy would come home & you would not be ready for dinner & he would not want to disturb you if you was fast asleep.

You made your way up the wooden steps in your home to the second floor, feeling the hardwood on your bare feet & hearing the steps creak under every step you took, but you loved the sound of it especially if the house was quiet.

You made it to your bathroom opening the door & seeing Tommy's clothes on the floor which he would have left from this morning seems he likes to have a bath most mornings before heading to work, you pick up his clothing items then placed them in the basket then you saw his white shirt which you instantly picked up placing it to your nose & taking in his cologne smell.

You then threw the shirt back into the dirty laundry basket, turned the taps on to the bath you watched the water quickly fill the tub after you placed the plugin, you turned the taps off then walked to the cupboard which had all the towels in placing two on the floor then heading to yours & Tommy's bedroom to get some fresh clothing for yourself.

You made your way back into the bathroom placing the clean clothes onto the seat which you had in the bathroom before allowing your dress to drop to the floor then allowing your undergarments to drop to the floor before stepping carefully into the bath.

The warmth shot through your body as you placed both feet into the bath then carefully lay down so the water covered your exposed body, your whole body started to relax & you started to wake up a little as the steam hit your skin.

A few moments later as you began to wash your skin you heard your front door slam downstairs you stopped what you were doing & listened out.

"Y/N Are you here?" you hear Tommy Shout from below.

You get out of the bath wrapping a towel around yourself

"I'm in the bathroom Tommy" you could hear him come running up the stairs & charging into the bathroom as you just tighten the towel, he peers at you then rushes to you & takes you in his hold tightly & protective.

"Has anyone been to the house?" he places both of his hands onto both your cheeks looking into your eyes panicked & out of breath.

"No Nobody has been here what's wrong?"

He hugged you tightly placing his head gently onto your chest you fest his warm breath on your still slightly wet skin.

"I love you so much Y/N I never want to lose you"

"I love you too" he took his grip away from you & looked you up & down.

"Oh so now you come rushing in Tommy now you want me?" you ask him with a raised eyebrow.

"No I'm sorry if I disturbed you I will go & make us some food & get us some whiskey"

You watched as he left you alone you dried the rest of your skin off then got ready, you always dressed a certain wait for him & just him. No one got to see you dressed as you was now only him.

As you pulled up the rest of your tights to fit under your perfect body you allowed your thin black dress to drop gently down as it fell just above your knee.

You walked out of the bathroom & into your bedroom & towards your dresser as you got your perfume bottle spraying some on your neck & wrists.

You place your perfume back down & exit the bedroom as you walk down the hall allowing your fingertips to touch the walls gently, then you quietly walked down the stairs as you heard Tommy clattering around in the sitting room.

You enter the room & see him leaning over your drinks tray & hear the sound of whiskey being poured, you walk over to him placing your hands onto his back then moving them towards his shoulders you feel his body stiffen up as you reach his shoulders you hear him place the whiskey decanter back onto the tray as you reach his shoulders & have him spin around to face you.

Both your eyes meet & he places his hands onto your hips as you wrap your arms loosely around his neck, he leans his head towards your neck & moans as he smells your perfume.

"So this was your plan all along Y/N?" he asks softly as he looks into your eyes deeply.

"You know I always help you to release the stress of the day when you come home from work" he moans a little then looks down to your legs he gently lifts your dress up to take a peak.

Without hesitation he kisses you with hunger & bites your lip gently you returned the favour grabbing onto his short cut hair gently.

He walks you back to the couch then spins you around, you feel his strong hands reach for both of your butt cheeks you moan slightly as you feel him grab tightly onto them & you bit your lip.

You feel his hand wander up to your dress & to your tights pulling them down as you felt the cool air hit your warm skin.

You hear him undoing his trousers so you take the time to take your undergarment off & place them on the floor out of the way, without hesitation or warning he pushes you so you're leaning off the arm of the couch he quickly enters you as you both moan & gasp as the same time as he starts to thrust in & out slowly then he takes a stronghold of your hips you feel his fingers digging into your hips as his pace gets stronger & harder.

"Now this is what I have been wanting all day since I left the morning!" he said between thrusts.

"I want you all Tommy!" you say to him with determination in your breath as he starts to quicken up his pace & hardens it to you both moan in sync as you always do.

"Take it! Take it all Y/N!" he says with authority as you feel the pleasure taking over your body.

As your moans got louder & louder filling the whole house with the sound Tommy began to slowly slow down his pace & keep the hardness of each thrust you lean more down so you get a better sensation as shortly after he cums inside of you.

He spins you around & kisses you, you see sweat trickling from his brow & down from the side of his face.

"Oh, Tommy you think I'm done ??" he knew exactly what you meant by this & gives you a cheeky smirk. You get down onto your knees & take hold of his manhood & start to use your hands to get it to attention again.

He moans as you feel it twinging in between your fingers then you begin to use your tongue to make it more to attention.

"Oh Fuck Y/N!" he moans out.

Without hesitation you shove it into your mouth as you feel the warmth of it in there he placed his hands into your hair & helps you as all you hear is his moans of pleasure fill the room.

You look up at him & he returns the favour looking at you as you see the intense pleasure in his eyes, as you continue to suck it he teases it deeper into your throat he knew how much you could take off him without giving you discomfort.

"Oh Fuck Y/N I'm going to cum for you yet again" with those words you begin to go faster & he lets go of you & tries to grab onto something as he is filled with intense pleasure.

A few more sucks after you feel his warmth fluid fill your mouth you continue for a short period as you know this is the most of the time he is truly turned on you then allow him to take his manhood away from your mouth & you swallow his cum then he helps you up off the floor.

"I guess we need some whiskey & dinner after that session".

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #smut #tumblr #tumblrgirl #writer #writing #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #follow #requested #request #submit

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hes-writer · 4 years ago

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Patreon Masterlist

These are exclusive fics that you can read on my Patreon!

* = complete, ^ = in-progress, + = will be posted on tumblr, (s) = smut (implied or mentioned) writing count: 78 pieces

**billing cycle currently paused** | new patrons will still be charged

This is a reupload of my masterlist with sneak peeks of each piece so you know what's up :D

Multi-Part Series | One Shots | Drabbles | Extras

* Unwavering (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) - 6.5k, the one where harry cheats (again)

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her on the back burner of his mind. "I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

^ + Roommate Series (3) (4) (5) (6) - 9.8k, the one where harry and y/n are roommates

He sighed, “I finished my coffee ages ago. I was just waiting for you to finish studying so we could leave together and go home,” Y/N dropped her fingers from his wrist, slouching the slightest bit as butterflies attacked her stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wanted you to get home safe,” He nudged her forehead with the ball of his palm, his face contorting to annoyance.

^ + Notes on Camp (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) - 16.5k, the one where harry and y/n are camp counsellors

Y/N looked around to be met with puckered lips and clenched hands as the campers practically requested for her to kiss their favourite counsellor. Wide, hopeful stares were willing her to commit.

“Alright, alright,” She bent her upper body to reach his cheek, licking over her lips once before pressing it on his skin. It was only a quick peck and then she pulled back. He stayed unmoving.

Jacky and Emy poked their finger at him on opposite sides. His cheek dimpling with their small indents. “Maybe you should do it again?”

* Friends Don't (1) (2) (3)- 3k, the one where lines are crossed

“It’s Harry Styles fanfiction on Tumblr,” She suggested a conversation, shyly smiling in embarrassment. “I can see that,” He murmured, using his thumb to scroll through the rest of the story, “It’s . . . interesting. People write these about me?” His retort made the situation seem like an utter surprise.

* Digress, Progress, Regress Series - 5k, the one where harry falls out of love

Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

Tickle Fights (1) - 1.2k, the one where bff!y/n teases harry about his boner

“What’s going on here, Harry?” The light tone of her voice indicated that she was teasing him, paired with the subtle movements of her lower half. Harry whined in response, feeling the blood rush downwards to make him even stiffer. “Does this feel good? Got hard over me straddling you, huh?” It was almost degrading, the way Y/N formed her question yet Harry couldn’t help a whimper from lingering in the air. He nodded, hands sliding down to grip at her moving hips.

Real Mature (1) (2) - part two is patron exclusive! - 603 words, the one where bff!harry and y/!n fight

“You shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for being bitter about you and Ruby,” She rested her forearms on his shoulders in a slant when he stood to his full height. “I know you’re happy with her,” Harry gave her a shy smile that confirmed his words. Ruby is someone special to Harry now and Y/N had to learn how to share his time, attention, and affection. “I reckon I’m just missing you a lot more now,” Y/N’s tone was sad and despondent, trailing her gaze to the floor where she almost chuckled at Harry’s fuzzy bunny slippers which she had gotten him.

^ Fine Line Series: Adore You - 1.1k the one where harry and y/n are friends with benefits

Still, with her back against the wall and Harry’s fingers still gripping her hips—she waited for his response. I told you I loved you. Say it back, Y/N thought. “I love her, Y/N,” He mumbled against her neck in a drunken stupor. So close.

Kinkmas Blurbs (1 - 7) - 4.6k, the one where it’s all smutty

Maybe it was the way that his jaw ticked harshly every time he threw his head back at a particularly good stroke. You wondered what he was imagining that had him bucking his hips to his fist before realizing that the movements would probably cause you to wake up. Still, his hooded lids didn’t peel open—not until a core shaking fondle of his heavy balls forced a choked whine out of his throat.

Harry’s neck snapped to your figure, catching the way you looked at him as if you were in distress that he wasn’t cumming anytime soon—not when you were there, willing and able to help.

“Fuck, love. ‘M sorry,” He mumbled, not stopping the flicks of his wrist. In fact, you swore that you could hear the squelching of his clear pre-cum squishing between his fingers.

The Secretary (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) 11k, the one where harry is the CEO and y/n is the assistant (cheating fic)

Two months ago, Y/N unburied a not-so-hidden secret that Harry tried to bury. Two months ago, Y/N walked in on her boyfriend and his secretary fucking on his office table. Two months ago, Y/N experienced everything from pain and discomfort, to disappointment and being scornful. She threaded the line of confronting him or waiting for the day he came forward and admitted it himself. There was a desire for Y/N to see Harry sweat beneath her beady eyes, watching him scratch the back of his pants in a nervous manner. She wanted to hear him stutter as he spat an excuse, she yearned to see him pleading with his gorgeous green eyes for her to stay. Y/N craved for his throat to close up, whimpers choked from his trachea because he was losing his stability as she walked away from him.

(s) Tension (1) (2) - 5.3k, the one where harry and y/n hate each other

“S’that why you hate me so much?”

His fingertips tapped his thigh methodically, crumpling a faint thud against his jeans. With how close they were sitting, Y/N’s bare knee brushed against his clothing. A burn of desire and anticipation lit inside of her like a dose of gasoline another in a flaming hot fire.

Harry shook his head, “Don’t hate you."

Champagne Problems- 4.4k, the one where marriage is a sensitive topic, the 1 - coming soon!

The freshly popped bottle of champagne poured into the flute on the table beside her bubbled and simmered, the sizzling reaction of the golden liquid ignited a moment of realization within her. The reason why her body felt more weighted, why tears filled her glazed eyes, pricking her corneas and threatening to spill down her face. Y/N’s heart had cracked–she was certain that everybody around her could hear it.

One Shot

(s) Achy Back - 813 words, the one where harry draws y/n a bath

A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken shower hours prior.

A Letter to the Man I’ve Loved - 1.5k, the one where harry receives a letter from his ex

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

Renegade - 981 words, the one where harry and y/n do a tiktok dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker.

(s) Drop the Towel - 644 words, the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry!” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

All I Ask - 2.2k, the one where feelings aren’t mutual

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren’t. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

Little Prince - 583 words, the one where 7-year-old harry takes care of his best friend

“Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn’t mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?” Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

Stressed Out - 1.8k, the one where y/n has a huge term paper due

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Valentine’s Day - 1.5k, the one where harry runs into trouble and y/n is there to save him

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

Dream With Me - 1.3k, the one where y/n has trouble sleeping

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black.

Pet Name - 1.2k, the one where bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name again

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself–golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

Shave - 768 words, the one where harry helps y/n shave her coochie

She sniffles some more, “I’m trying to shave, H. It’s so itchy but I-I can’t reach down there,”

Y/N began to sob. The rattle of the razor clanking on the bathtub floor where she sat her bum on the edge. Her baby bump was causing her to teeter over the porcelain which urged Harry to swiftly plant his hands on her to keep her steady.

“I’m so huge! I’m the size of a house,” Y/N palmed the crest of her bump, rubbing it loosely as she admired the stretched skin yet slightly wishing that it would disappear and she was holding their baby in her arms instead.

(s) Don’t Worry, Darling - 1.5k, the one where y/n rides harry

He slipped down the headboard, resting his back flat on the mattress with Y/N sliding with him. She positioned her feet to rest near his knees, wrapping their limbs together so she could have some sort of sanity whilst Harry incepted on his shattering thrusts. Feet were planted on the mattress to give his lower half elevation to propel his hips against Y/N’s core. Harry’s fingers left white marks on her skin, gripping the plush flesh and essentially spreading Y/N open as he rapidly shoved his dick over and over inside of her with no signs of slowing down. He staggered for a few moments when her pulsing core emitted dazing throbs over his leaking cock but Y/N was quick to duplicate and resume the pace he had set with the movement of her hips.

To Be Loved - 2.3k, the one where y/n’s feelings are more than friendly

“I love you. Don’t you love me back?”

Harry’s eyes visibly widened, clearly taken aback by the question spewing from Y/N’s mouth. Her heat cheeks and a shy stance; knees knocking against his knobby ones while her dainty hands interlaced her fingers.

Revelation - 2.1k, the one where famous!y/n and harry are spotted together (pre-relationship)

Before there were Harry and Y/N--the power couple--there was Harry and Y/N.

Y/N, who was one of the most sought after female artists in the industry because of her angelic voice. The woman who had managed to catch the lingering stares of every household and the ears of many listeners with her truthful songs; narrative from the experiences she had gone through and shared through the art of songwriting.

Harry, who was quite the artist for the night. Harry’s limbs were being pulled metaphorically every which to ensure that the cameras captured him clapping respectfully in the audience. Others were asking him to stay for a bit more time backstage for content for an upcoming video. Right now, he was sat in his uncomfortable chair beside a handful of producers and well-known singers. A brief hug and whisper with Ariana Grande were enough for their fans to implode about a possible collaboration, granted that Harry had written a song for her album before. But Harry was certain that that feature wasn’t coming for a long while.

Apple Cheeks - 1.1k, the one where harry says something and y/n isn’t listening

Clearing his throat, he began, “I love you, Y/N. And I know that it might be too soon considering how short our relationship has been so far but I-I really do have strong feelings for you,”

Harry dropped his gaze as soon as he managed to peel off the first three words from his hoarse throat. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to let you know that I really care for you and me. I definitely something for us in the future and I hope you feel the same,”

Dreadful seconds shivered up Harry’s spine. His stare was still fixed on her shuffling feet and the floor. It was painful to hear nothing but silence so Harry decided to courageously lift his head up.

Affliction - 1.5k, the one where Harry breaks down (TW: depressive thoughts)

It wasn’t even that Harry did not know how to say ‘no’ because he truly did. However, anyone would be worn-out by the amount of exhaustion carried on his back. That cold shudder of loneliness--even when he wasn’t alone-- because nobody shared the experience of defeat with him. The twitch of his ears straining to listen when nobody would do the same for him. A subtle jerk of the corners of his lips because he could not keep the smile plastered on his face like paint chipping off the drywalls. The flutter of tired lids waiting to be shut tightly as tears were wrung from his green eyes, lashes tickling his skin underneath the violent colour of his eye bags.

From the Dining Table - 748 words, the one where y/n’s new boyfriend looks a lot like harry

Y/N wondered if her former lover shared the same thoughts as she did. The girl that he woke next to—was she still there? Did they share the bed together—not just in the morning—but the nights as well? If so, did Harry love her like he did with Y/N? Or was he just pretending to be okay like she was?

Blanket for Two - 990 words, the one where y/n kicks harry out of bed

And now, Harry was in bed with the woman he loves. Her light snores echoing in the dim room and he was staring up at the ceiling, shivering in his bones. If she were awake, Y/N probably would have made a snide, joking comment about how he shouldn’t sleep naked, especially in the winter. Not like she didn’t do that either--she was practically naked with the thin camisole over her body. The difference was that Y/N had an extra layer of blanket keeping her warm, shielding her skin from the night air and Harry only had the friction of his palms rubbing against his arms. He was sure that he was a hint away from his teeth chattering. Harry had half the mind to dip his freezing feet beneath the blanket and jolt her awake with the change in temperature.

That’ll show her, he thought.

Around 1:32 - 3.2k, the one where y/n has a wet dream

“What?” Harry spat, tugging his shirt over his head, waiting for you to form a coherent excuse. “‘Think that jus’ because you woke up horny from a dream that y’can touch yourself? What a slut. Are you that desperate?”

Your cheeks flamed at his words of degradation, doubling your arousal and one that had you smushing your thighs together to relieve the ache. You rolled your eyes as he continued his rant instead of using the time to keep you satisfied. That was his job, wasn’t it? To make you cum and make you feel nothing but pleasure, yet here he was shaming you for touching yourself. Granted, you did it without his permission and done so while he was asleep beside you, but still.

“Wouldn’t have touched myself if you treated me well.”

+ Stories in My Eyes - 1.2k, the one where dad!Harry gets woken up in the middle of the night

And while he liked to think that he had gotten the hang of—quite literally— his kid dangling on his leg like some sort of koala, pulling on his hair every time he gave Beau a piggy back ride, and the random visits late at night where the small child would stand at the doorway with his teddy bear so quietly only to say, “Can I sleep with you and mumma?” He was not at all prepared for tonight’s’ events.

+ Feather Boa - 1.5k, the one where harry comes home after the Grammys

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Oh, stop that!”

“Stop what?” Harry nudged the strap of his custom tote bag higher on his shoulder.

“You just won a Grammy, you goose!”

Harry’s gaze softened, endeared at how happy Y/N was for him. She was jumping on the tips of her toes, hands clasped in front of her as she stared at him with admiration and awe.

(s) Roughed Up - 2.8k, the one where harry’s domestic and y/n’s mind wanders

You whimper in return, almost collapsing straight on his body when Harry uses your body to move you up and down his cock. His curls flop on the soft pillow beneath his head, sweat matting the tiny hairs to his face. The way he looks at you with such intensity and a certain kind of awe as if he couldn’t believe that this was really happening is rewarding. Hooded eyes observing how your body twitches in his grip, gasping at how strong he felt underneath you like you were merely a ragdoll to be played wit

Pudding Cups - 1k, the one after harry steals food from the kitchen (Notes on Camp Extras)

“So is it common practice for counsellors to steal food from the kitchen?”

Harry lifts his head up at inquiry, shifting his attention from gently taking out the contents of the reusable bag towards Y/N. She was laying on his mattress, flat on her back as she stared at the wooden ceiling. If she looked closely, Y/N was sure that his light bulb was flickering the tiniest bit and usually, she would’ve been freaking out over the fact that she was in the middle of the woods, hovering over a potential power cut. But the fear subsided once she reminded herself that Harry was around.

“Hopefully not,” He muses with a suggestive eyebrow.

Drabbles:

(s) Drabble #1: Fratboy!Harry - 469 words, the one where y/n meets fratboy!harry at a party

Y/N snapped her head towards the member. When she applied for the rush, she didn’t expect that she would have to sleep with someone in order to officially join the sorority. “What? Why him?

Sadie chuckled, sensing the panic in her voice. “Don’t worry, Harry’s nice. Besides, everybody does it,” She swirled her drink around, mixing the liquids together. Her lashes draped over her cheeks, almost touching the apples. “Are you in?”

Drabble #2: Asshole!Harry - 848 words, the one where harry cheats

You were calm, silent, and patient to see where he would take the conversation. Guilt was not present when you stood face to face in a battle of tranquility that pierced through your heart. His eyes gleamed in concealed smugness while his tongue curled in endless apologies. You knew him too well that he didn’t even stand a chance to hide his true intentions. But to Harry, you were a naive little girl that failed to acknowledge the difference between his acting and the truth.

(s) Drabble #3: Tease - 1.4k, the one where harry teases y/n

Harry plunged two fingers in her hole carefully, biting his lip to suppress the sound he was bound to release from the feeling of her wet walls suffocating his digits. He delivered punctual thrust, making sure to graze her sensitive spot to heighten her arousal. “Harry,”

He stepped back abruptly, pulling his fingers out and creating distance between them. “We have dinner to get to,”

(s) Drabble #4: Dessert - 1.7k, the one where y/n makes dinner but harry wants dessert

His thoughts were always about her no matter how hard he tried not to. And the fact that she took the time out of her day to prepare him something that he will enjoy; well, Harry’s heart just about swelled up to three times the size in his thumping chest.

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

(s) Drabble #5: Mine - 579 words, the one where harry is obsessed with y/ns tits

But he couldn’t exactly do that when all Harry wanted to do was do her. The smooth skin was supported by a navy blue push-up bra; he could tell by the lace mesh that he could see peeking out. It gave Y/N every favour because Harry was trying so hard not to let saliva pool in his mouth and drip out in a line of drool, his eyes widening with each movement she made with her arms, jostling her boobs a little bit here and there.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Y/N waved her arms to catch his attention. A frown creased her brows as he blinked sluggishly before finding enough coherence to recognize that she was trying to talk to him.

(s) Drabble #6: Early Mornings - 1k, the one where harry thinks y/n is prettiest in the morning

“Get to see ya’ when you’re most beautiful,” Harry tickled his nose on hers, smiling at the way the feature scrunched up as she giggled. He groaned at the contractions her walls gave while her tummy flipped in gentle laughter. “Oi! What’s so funny?” He smushed her face with kisses, pausing his thrust halfway through which had her whining.

Drabble #7: Getaway - 952 words, the one where harry is always cold in the mornings

"Y/N, have you taken my purple bathrobe?"

“No,” Y/N tugged the lavender coloured fabric by the sleeves first. Then, by the lapels draping over her chest, drawing them tighter to block the gust of wind currently caressing Harry’s floppy curls.

Twisting his body, a knowing look overtook Harry’s face as Y/N exited the cabin door. The sheepish smile on his lover’s face granting all the information he needed for this morning’s chilly inception.

There she was, clad in the said purple bathrobe.

Drabble #8: A Little Chilly - 451 words, the one where harry sleeps on the couch

“‘S my bed. Dunno why Lydia can’t jus’ stay on the couch,”

“It’s Y/N!” She wailed, walking closer to the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Dear, we didn’t know that you were coming home,” Anne tried reasoning with him, not seeing the gravity of the situation as Harry was making it out to be.

Text Messages:

Text Messages #1 - ‘would you love me if I was snail?’

Text Messages #2 - ‘did you know we had a quiz today?’

Text messages #3 - ‘did you steal my hoodie?’

Notes/Behind the Scenes

Notes: Tarnish

Notes: Stressed Out

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #masterlist #hes-writer

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minaslittleone · 4 years ago

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Fission & Fusion (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story “And I failed to climb the mountain”.

Word count: ~3300

Wilhemina woke lazily the following morning to the warmth of sunlight on her face as it peaked through delicate lace curtains. It took her a few moments to remember where she was and to identify the source of the insistent scratching which had roused her. As she rolled onto her right side towards the bedroom door she caught sight of Miko's white dipped paw batting beneath it, scrabbling and scratching at the obstacle that dared to impede his free reign. An affectionate smile pulled at her lips as she watched his antics as she sleepily scrubbed at her eyes. His scratching stilled as she let out surprised gasp as her knuckles made contact with her bruised cheekbone, which was now undoubtedly swollen and probably a fetching mottle of red and purple. Now aware that she was awake, Miko's insistent scratching was replaced by a disgruntled meow. Wilhemina tried to ignore him, not really sure if he was allowed in the bedroom to begin with, but she was powerless to resist him once his meows were replaced by what could only be described as plaintiff cries. Who could resist that?

As she eased herself to her feet the full effects of the previous two days began to make themselves known. Her back was undoubtedly stiffer than usual but whether that was the result of two nights in unfamiliar beds or from crashing face first into concrete she couldn't be sure. Likely a combination of the two. The throbbing ache in her right wrist and hand as she supported herself on her cane was definitely a result of the concrete she rued, as she transferred the loathesome object to her uninjured left hand, her back complaining instantly. Today was looking like such a promising day.

Miko continued to make his displeasure known as she slowly made her way towards the door, his cries becoming increasingly insistent now that he could hear her moving. The moment she cracked the door the slightest distance ajar a flash of grey fur shot past her, heading directly for the patch of sunlit warmth at the centre of her recently vacated bed.

She tried valiantly to keep her features schooled as she scolded the cheeky feline who was currently in the process of kneading the covers into an acceptable state of comfort.

"Are you really meant to be up there, Miko?" The grey tabby cat shot her a questioning look as if to say "really human? You're the guest in my house and you're going to question if I'm allowed on the bed" before promptly turning his back on her and curling into a ball on his appropriately fluffed portion of the quilt.

She shook her head fondly, slowly making her way back towards the now occupied bed. Miko raised his head to study her as she gingerly lowered herself back onto the mattress, easing herself forwards to retrieve her book bag from beneath the bedside table. With practiced ease she flipped the lid on the amber pill bottle, dispensed two pills and threw them back dry. Normally she would muscle through the discomfort while the pills took effect but today, she reasoned, she had nothing to do and nowhere to be so for once she could actually listen to the pleading ache in her bones. It also helped that there was no one to witness her indulgence, other than Miko who had made his way across the bed to her and was currently standing about a foot away from her with his head cocked to the side, still not entirely sure what to make of her.

As she returned the pill bottle to her book bag she noticed the glass of water, which had evidently been left for her earlier that morning, and the handwritten note peaking from beneath the coaster on which it sat. She relished the way the cold glass dulled the ache in her hand as she raised it to her lips, pointedly ignoring the way her stomach churned at the tenderness behind it. Miko seemingly sensed her unease, trotting over to her and curling into a cosy ball against the side of her thigh. Her left hand rested against his tiny head, thumb stroking absentmindedly against the side of his chin, while her right hand returned the glass to the bedside table and retrieved the hand written note. She still could not place the feeling of unease it produced in her but she was emboldened to push past it by the comforting warmth of Miko pressed against her thigh, his rhythmic purring easing her nerves.

Good morning dear, I wanted to let you know I was leaving but I didn't have the heart to wake you, you looked so peaceful. I hope you slept well, I'm sure you needed it. I should be back around 6 baring any disasters but help yourself to anything in the meantime. And don't worry about Miko, he has been fed though I'm sure he will try to convince you otherwise. My office number is by the phone if you need anything. Try to take things easy today and be kind to yourself my dear. - Elizabeth

Wilhemina silently tested the shape of her adviser's given name, lips tentatively forming around the sounds. Of course she had seen the name Professor Elizabeth Thompson written for years but the explicit use of her christian name felt scandalously personal. A voice in the back of her head chided that thought - you spent last night in her guest bedroom and you're worried about using her given name? Ridiculous. Evidently in her preoccupation her left hand had stilled for Miko let out a sleepy chirup of annoyance, drawing her attention away from the complexity of her current relationship with her Professor. Elizabeth she reminded herself.

Having already disturbed Miko she took the opportunity to reposition herself to lay back down. The grey tabby was initially unimpressed to have his pillow so rudely removed but forgave her in short order, gently clambering up onto her chest as soon as she was laid flat. Miko stretched himself languidly, face contorting in a gigantic yawn that Wilhemina couldn't help but chuckle at. His little face came to rest upon her sternum, head cocked to the side, eyes watching her intently. Gently he lifted one paw, tiny pink toes pads coming to rest against Wilhemina's unmarred cheek, tenderly inquiring "more scritches, please." She happily complied, arm draping loosely across the little ball of fur who had wormed his way into her heart and her bed. As she began to scratch affectionately under his chin Miko craned his necked back in contentment and began purring again in earnest. Wilhemina smiled to herself as she allowed her eyes to close, the warm weight of the purring feline ensconced upon her chest lulling her to sleep. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to rest, just for a little while. Besides it would be cruel to disturb Miko when he looked so comfortable.

It was several hours later when she awoke again, judging by the way the sun no longer shone directly through the bedroom but instead created a bright indirect glow from further overhead. Wilhemina's stomach let out an indignant growl at the late hour, rousing Miko in the process who glared at her from beneath half lidded eyes. She scratched behind his ears in an apology which was evidently accepted as Miko began to nuzzle into her hand in response.

As she tentatively began to lever herself from the mattress Miko jumped down onto the bed and began to stretch out the kinks from his nap. Wilhemina looked on jealously as his spine extended as she slowly convinced her own vertebrae to support her weight. As she brought herself upright for the second time that day she noted gratefully that the painkillers seemed to have worked their magic, leaving her only slight tender even after the events of the past few days.

Navigating her way down the stairs proved to be somewhat challenging not merely from coordinating her balance with her cane in her left hand but also because Miko refused to leave her side, wending his way between her legs as she focussed intently on not breaking her neck. Having successfully reached the landing she made her way into the kitchen in search of breakfast, or whatever meal this now constituted. She noted gratefully that an assortment of cereals had been left on the kitchen counter, alongside a bowl and the necessities for tea and coffee, saving her from rooting through her professor's cupboards. She set the kettle to boil before preparing herself a bowl of muesli. As she set her tea to steep she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the mug Elizabeth had selected for her which proudly displayed the figure of Little Miss Stubborn, she couldn't really argue with the assessment but for once felt like such a gesture was meant as an affectionate jibe rather than an outright condemnation.

Miko stayed pressed against her ankles throughout the entirety of breakfast and whilst she cleared her dishes afterwards. He trailed behind her as she made her way back up the stairs, intending on changing out of her loungewear and into some proper attire. And he stopped beside her as she caught sight of contents of the room beside hers peaking through the door which had been left slightly ajar. The walls were painted with the most tender depictions of rabbits, squirrels, owls and deer, each peaking from amongst a lush forestscape. She found herself magnetically drawn to the scene, fingers ghosting across the hand painted figures on the plaster. Unfazed by her exploration Miko made himself at home on one of the two child-sized beds clothed in crisp white linen. An old oak bookself sat in the far corner of the room, practically bursting. Wilhemina's eyes skipped over many of the brighter, more modern spines, instead drawn to a shelf higher up full of older, more battered volumes whose titles she recognised from her own childhood. Familiar names jumped out to her like old friends - Blyton, Potter, Milne, Dahl. Far too many hours had been spent alone save for their company, whether alone and immobilised in a hospital bed or hidden beneath her bed clothes by torch light trying to block out her parents arguing, these had been her constant companions. She tenderly retrieved Matilda from the shelf, thumbing through the well worn pages, allowing the little girl she kept so securely locked away a moment to breathe, smiling fondly at the words which had given her hope in those moments of darkness.

So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.

She remembered vividly the delicious taste of revenge the first time she had partaken in Matilda's retribution against all those adults who had tried to squash the precocious young girl. More than once she had allowed herself to imagine what it would have felt like to exact similar vengeance against her mother. How sweet it would have felt to bleach her perfectly coiffured hair, to place newts in the punch at one of her horrendous soirees or terrorize her parents with ghostly reminders of their failings. How she longed to make her mother feel an ounce of the pain to which she herself had been subjected.

Still clutching the much loved volume she curled up next to Miko and allowed herself to retreat to a world of childhood comfort in which the underdog could triumph, in which I'm big, you're little could be usurped, in which Miss Honey might reach tenderly from the pages and adopt her too.

That was where Professor Thompson found her several hours later, relishing in the climax of the novel as Matilda vanquished Ms Trunchbull. She smiled fondly at the young woman she had always known to be so controlled and regimented curled lazily against the wall on her granddaughter's bed, Miko lounging against her thigh and contented smile playing across her lips behind a curtain of firey red hair. The floorboards creaked beneath the older woman's feet alerting Wilhemina to her presence. Her cheeks flushed furiously as she sheepishly met the older woman's gaze but found only genuine affection in her grey-blue eyes.

"Don't even think about apologising, my dear. I told you to make yourself at home and I meant it."

In spite of Elizabeth's assurances Wilhemina still felt the need to explain herself. "I didn't mean to end up in here" she began, "I saw the paintings and I only meant to look at them but then I saw the books and -"

"Wilhemina," the older woman cut her off kindly, "stop apologising. You've done nothing wrong, you needn't justify your every action. Not to me at least" she added knowingly. "My daughter will be flattered that you liked her paintings, though I really should show you photos of the masterpiece she created in the children's room back east. She works as a children's illustrator, though I think she would much prefer to do larger pieces like these if there was the work in it."

"I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful" Wilhemina whispered reverently. "Their little faces are just so sweet."

"I'll be sure to tell her you think so. Now, I should leave you to finish with Matilda, dinner should take me twenty minutes or so which, knowing the speed you read at, should be ample time."

"Oh no, it's fine" Wilhemina interjected, "I know how it ends, I've lost count of how many times I read it as a child. I should come and help you."

The older woman sighed, of course Matilda would be a favourite of hers. "Nonsense dear, finish your book. I'll call you when it's ready." And with that she was gone.

Wilhemina was indeed finished with the book when the older woman called her for dinner twenty minutes later, her voice floating up the stairs as if Wilhemina's presence at her dinner table was the most natural thing in the world. The simple meal of pasta Alfredo was passed in companionable silence between the two women, with Miko dividing his time equally between them. He remained under their feet as they cleared the dishes, with Wilhemina bracing her weight against the kitchen counter through her left hip to grant herself two free hands with which to dry the clean dishes as the older woman handed them off to her. Elizabeth shook her head fondly at the young woman's stubborness, once she set her mind to something there really was no stopping her.

Wilhemina was drying and putting away the last of the cutlery when the older woman disappeared momentarily, only to return with a manila folder which she placed atop the freshly cleaned kitchen table. Wilhemina eyed it warily. The older woman placed two cups of tea beside it and gestured for Wilhemina to join her. She did so cautiously.

"No need to look so nervous my dear, it's nothing bad. I just brought home the list of available casual positions from the careers centre on campus, I thought you might like to take a look to see if anything interested you."

Wilhemina froze. Of course it was too good to be true. Of course the kind older woman had grown sick of her already. Why wouldn't she, when she was nothing but a useless burden? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could you think that anyone would actually put up with you?

Professor Thompson caught the way Wilhemina's shoulders stiffened and how her jaw tensed, as if preparing herself for an attack. She reached out and took the younger woman's hand in her own.

"There is no pressure dear. This is not about me getting rid of you. I simply thought you might be interested, I know you must be anxious about what comes next, you've never been one to be without a plan." Wilhemina suddenly felt very small and seen in a way she never had been before. It was simultaneously terrifying and yet so, so safe.

"It can wait as long as you like" the older woman continued, "but I'll leave it here for whenever you're ready."

"No, I mean, I'm ready now" Wilhemina blurted, "I just thought you meant-"

"I know my dear, I know" the older woman cut her off with a firm squeeze of her hand, earning her a shy smile from the younger woman. "Would you like me to stay or -"

"Stay" Wilhemina affirmed, "please?"

"Of course dear, now where do you want start?"

"Well, I suppose law or business makes the most sense" Wilhemina sighed, "at least I have some experience there."

"I didn't ask where you should start dear, I asked where you wanted to start - there's a difference. You said your parents chose law for you, what would you have chosen? If you could start over and choose for yourself what would you do?"

Wilhemina froze at that. She had accepted so long ago that she would simply follow the path her parents had set out for her that she had almost managed to convince herself that she wanted it too. It did no-one any good for her to pine after a future that could never be hers.

"I don't know" she stared at the older woman, eyes wide with the realisation.

"What do you miss from highschool then?" the older woman tried. "Is there a subject you enjoyed that you had to give up?"

She considered that for a moment. "Science, maybe?" she added shyly, "I liked that it was predictable, that I could know what to expect."

"Ok" the older woman prompted, fingers rifling through the folder, "any particular area?"

"Electronics or computers, maybe?" She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, as if waiting to be punished for daring to express her own desires.

"Ok, there are a couple here that could fit." The older woman traced her finger through the list of positions. "This one looks interesting. A couple of graduate students from the engineering faculty are looking for someone to help with data management and organisation for a start-up. They seem to be interested in bionic limb development" she added, sliding the paper towards Wilhemina, finger marking the appropriate notice.

Wilhemina scanned the brief description greedily, trying to temper her expectations. It sounded perfect but she daren't allow herself to even begin to hope that it might be possible.

"I think you would be perfect for it."

Wilhemina scoffed in response, "I don't know the first thing about robotics."

"But they aren't asking for that dear, they're asking for someone to help with organisation. They want someone who is meticulous and logical to help keep track of their data - that is you to a T. You would be brilliant at that. And it would allow you to see if it's an area that you like and maybe later you could transition into a more technical position, or go back and study more about it if you wanted."

"Look" the older woman reached out to tap the paper in front of Wilhemina, "it even says they have patents filed and a company formed. It seems to have all the makings of a long term prospect."

Wilhemina could feel her heart start to flutter at the possibility, that maybe, just maybe it wasn't too late for things to change. She scanned through the notice again, Elizabeth was right, it did sound perfect. And try as she might she couldn't help but look at the company name printed at the end of article with the hope that maybe it also inscribed her future.

Kineros Robotics

A/N: there is one more part to come after this, though I think I will likely dip back into this universe as one-shots from time to time to explore some of the key moments between here and apocalypse. If there are any particular things you would be interested to see feel free to hit me up

#sarah paulson #wilhemina venable #baby mina #mina #gif: sussoria #lucyintheskywithxanax

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kayr0ss · 5 years ago

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Dancing Queen

[Family, Diakko, Diakko baby!, kinda sad at first, but ends happy!]

Summary: Diana remembers being four, dancing with her mother at home. She remembers it all falling apart. Now she's the mother to a lovely little girl - and she's surprised to be dancing again.

---

“You can dance!”

Diana giggled, arm reaching up towards the warmth of her mother. Their hands connected, their feet barely on-time while they swayed to the beat of one of the world’s most recognizable dance songs. “You can jive!” Bernadette twirled her in place—they were having the time of their lives.

In all her four years of existence, nothing ever felt as right as moments like these.

“Mother!” She giggled out, standing at the tips of her toes with a radiant grin so wide her sparkling blue eyes had creased around the corners in mirth. She wanted to be carried, and her mother would always oblige; in the same way she had indulged Diana when she knocked on her office door in the middle of the workday because she missed her.

Diana was hoisted upwards—the room was filled with music and laughter.

“There’s my little dancing queen!”

Her mother always had the most charming smile.

“I’m just a princess!” Diana pouted. “You’re the queen!”

Diana switched off the speakers’ power source so sharply that Hannah and Barbara reeled.

“Is something wrong?” Hannah tilted her head, looking a little miffed at her roommate’s behavior. “It was a good song.”

“It was distracting me from studying,” Diana replied coolly. “Apologies. Midterms are tomorrow and I must insist.”

“Loosen up.” Hannah grumbled. Barbara had only shrugged, but they dropped the subject, choosing to bury themselves back into their notes with a curtain of heaviness falling on the room’s atmosphere.

The memory was burned into her mind; something sore, and raw, and mocking in how happy it had all seemed. Diana bit down at the end of her pen—a habit from her childhood, one that she had outgrown except for when the troubles that plagued her were from her childhood as well.

But this was a temporary discomfort. She would take a moment to collect herself and begin her nearly perfected art of compartmentalizing emotions.

She didn’t have a mother; but it shouldn’t matter.

There was nothing that could be done anymore. Accept it. Compartmentalize it. And carry on. Doing so was easier when one had duties and responsibilities to attend to, so she would throw herself back into her work.

The radio stayed quiet. The feelings died away at the sound of silence.

“Next up on deck is a beloved ABBA classic!”

The radio jock’s voice was booming, and Diana immediately felt the pit of her stomach twist into itself and sink. She reached forward with the intention of turning the volume knob of Akko’s old-style boom boxed until it ‘clicked’ off, but her hand was swatted away (“Hey!”) by the bull-headed brunette.

“—everyone get ready to dance and jive!”

The song intro was a downwards glissando that she knew by heart. Make it stop, she clenched her jaw, reaching for the volume until it was back to dead silence quicker than Akko could intervene.

“I love this song!” the younger witch whined, pushing herself up from where she laid down on her dormitory bed, staring up at Diana who sat beside her. Sucy and Lotte were elsewhere, so they were studying together. Akko liked the music from a certain throw-back radio station that was near enough for Luna Nova to have reception of them. In true Akko fashion, she had narrowed her eyes towards Diana in a challenge, reaching towards the radio on her desk and turning it back on until music filled the room—

—and her heart.

She couldn’t tell if it was in a good way or bad way; but it was always too much. It was a suffocating tightness that wrapped around her chest. She nearly flinched when the first verse rolled in—warmth was so familiar, but so far away. Gone. It slipped through her fingers like wispy memories beginning to fade—but the thought of forgetting them forever terrified her just the same.

It was too much. Diana missed her too much. Almost on reflex, she closed the music again.

Akko was quiet.

“Dia?”

There was a tentative hand that settled above hers, and Diana looked up. Akko had forgotten all about her homework, the music, the radio. The brunette took her hand, her red eyes were wide, searching, and… worried?

“Why are you crying?”

---

“They’ll love having you around for a whole week!” Akko grinned, reaching over to hold Diana’s hand while they weaved through the traffic of Tokyo’s streets. To everyone’s surprise Atsuko Kagari wasn’t as bad a driver as they had expected. “We’re still in for a long drive, my family home is at the outskirts of the city, along the suburbs.”

“We’ve been dating five years, since before graduation.” Diana muttered. “I remember where your house is.” Was she nervous? Quite a bit, if she were to be honest. Akko’s parents were wonderful people who had all but accepted her as their own. But at most, their meetings were dinners and parties; not a whole seven-day stay in the family home Akko had grown up in.

And never before had the agenda been asking for their daughter’s hand in marriage.

Not that said daughter knew it yet.

Akko’s head was bobbing excitedly, her fingers drumming along the steering while to the tune of a boppy Japanese song from the eighties that was foreign to her. By the time they escaped the deadlock of traffic along one of the main thoroughfares, the song had faded out. There was banter among the radio jocks, one of them began speaking loudly. Diana wasn’t listening in, but it sounded as though he was announcing the next song and—

“Akko?” She blinked. Her girlfriend had moved so quickly, switching the station to something else. “What were they saying?”

“Nah. Nothing.” Akko smiled. It was a little sad, and there was something suspicious about the way the brunette’s gaze had lingered on own, and how softly Akko reached out to hold her hand. It was firm, secure.

“I just didn’t like the next song coming up.”

---

Everyone was a little wine drunk and having a good time.

That alone was the criteria by which Akko decided that their wedding reception was a “booming success!”

Diana, of course, rolled her eyes, straightened out the wrinkles on her wife’s after-party dress and looked around to make sure that the party was carrying on with no incident.

“You’re not supposed to play school prefect on your wedding day, honey.” Akko scrunched her nose while Diana lightly dusted off the shorter woman’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t have to if I hadn’t married such a troublemaker.” Diana smiled sweetly, leaning downwards when Akko moved in closer for a quick peck on the lips.

“This troublemaker didn’t force this marriage upon you, y’know!”

“That’s still up in the air.” Diana teased, holding Akko by the waist when the latter draped her arms around Diana’s shoulders. They were by the dancefloor—Amanda had dragged them to join everyone else once formalities were finished and the DJ took over the booth.

It was a cruel twist of fate when a certain song began to roll in.

A timeless tune, one that artists never dared to touch with tacky remixes or remasters. The same glissando from her memories of twenty-two years ago marked the start of the song.

The dancefloor erupted into cheers. Of course it would—it was a crowd favorite. A small group nearby heckled for the newlyweds to dance together, but Akko had smiled politely, pulling her wife towards the side for some space. The ballroom was dimly lit at this point in the evening, much to their relief.

“Want me to ask them to change the song?” Akko tilted her head, her eyes betraying softness and care. The sight of it soothed the dull ache beginning to take hold of Diana’s chest.

“No.” Diana shook her head. “It’s quite alright. The guests are enjoying.”

Akko chewed on her lip tentatively. “Do you miss her?”

“I wish she were here today, yes.”

“I wonder if she’d have liked me!” The brunette offered an unsure grin, trying to coax a smile back from Diana with a bit of humor. “I’d have probably said something stupid to her, like, thirty times by now, I think.” Akko narrowed her eyes in thought. It was adorable. “Hm. Yeah. Maybe forty.”

Diana chuckled. It worked. She brushed back Akko’s hair, smiling in a way that left a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

“My beautiful wife,” the blonde started tenderly. “She would have loved you so much.”

---

Diana sighed, dropping her glasses onto her desk while she leaned back and gave her shoulders a roll. It was only six in the evening; did people get backaches from overworking as early as thirty? She spared a glance towards her work, there was quite a bit left to finish, but Akko would have words to say if she missed dinner for work again.

There was a little knock on her door.

“Come in,” she called. Curious. It was too light to be Akko’s. Therefore…

“Mum?”

The way her lips quirked into a smile was nearly involuntary. “Yes, Sara, darling?”

She was timid the first time she peaked her head through the doorway, but upon her mother’s invitation, Sara grinned (identical with Akko’s) and all but ran into Diana’s studio. Her mop of light brown hair was wavy and pulled up into a ponytail, her bangs were similar to Diana’s own blonde ones, framing the sides of her adorable, four-year-old face. In her hands was…

“Where did you get that?” Diana blinked.

“I was looking around the storerooms!” Sara gave a toothy grin.

“Honey, I told you it isn’t safe to go through boxes alon—”

“Ka-san was with me!” Sara pouted. “We found this. Then she told me to bring it to you and fetch you for dinner. What is it, mum? Why is it flat?”

Diana leaned forward, feeling breathless at the sight of a memento from long ago. “It’s a… vinyl record.”

The cover was yellowed and thin, almost falling apart at the edges if it hadn’t been so well-kept. Four foreign faces were photographed in a square frame, outlined by white. The rest of the cover was black. It was from her mother’s collection.

ABBA (1976) | Dancing Queen

She ran her fingers along the record’s front. There was no dust. Either Akko or Sara had wiped it down, and the thought of them taking care of something so precious to her warmed her heart. She took a breath, realizing how similar her studio looked to that of her mother’s.

“Mum?” Sara chirped, eyes wide and curious and so familiarly red. “Can we play it?”

It only took a few minutes. They had finally set the needle down, and the record began to spin. Diana braced herself for the sting of longing, and fading memories, but—

“Mum!” Sara was gasping. “Dance with me!”

She wasn’t given a moment to respond. The little girl had taken her by the hands, pulling her upwards from the chair in a fit of giggles while awkwardly jumping. Diana felt a swell of pride to see that Sara was on-beat. She took after Akko. Sara raised her hand. “Spin!”

“Spin?”

“Like in the movies!” Sara pulled on her arm and—ah—she wanted to be twirled.

How could she say no?

She didn’t even realize she was grinning, ecstatic at the sight of Sara’s lounge dress flaring outwards while she twirled on her heel. “You’ll get dizzy,” Diana hummed, taking both of her daughter’s hands to keep her steady upright.

But Sara just laughed.

The sound of her laugh warmed her up so profoundly that it drove away bitterness and melancholy.

The void in her heart so filled—there was no space for longing.

“You know this song well, mum?”

Diana tilted her head in question.

“You’re singing it!”

She was? She didn’t even realize.

“Your grandmother would dance this with me, when I was around your age.”

Red eyes widened into saucers full of childish awe and boundless wonder. “You and grandma?”

Diana nodded, eyes glistening while she smiled. She sharply realized that now she was the mother—and she was dancing with her daughter.

She wondered, did her mother feel as wonderful as this during those dances? She didn’t know she could love so deeply, so unconditionally.

I was loved like this too, she breathlessly remembered the feeling of Bernadette’s hand on her own, always within reach and making sure she didn’t fall when she spun too quickly, too hard. It left her in awe. Sara was so carefree, and Diana saw the same four-year-old girl she had shut away in the smile of her daughter.

Why did she ever want to forget that feeling?

Why did she want to stop hearing this song?

Sara was a breathless mess of Akko’s energy and her own finesse, but all the dancing and laughing had tired out her legs.

“Take it easy, my little dancing queen.” Diana cooed.

“I’m just a princess!” Sara pouted, holding out her arms for her mother to carry her.

Diana’s eyes had widened; and then immediately began to sting and water. She smiled, lovingly, amazed at how her daughter—in so few words—repaired something that was broken for so many years.

She was now a mother—and it meant everything to hear the very words she had once said:

“You’re the queen!”

Having the time of her life

See that girl?

Watch that scene—

Digging the Dancing Queen

fin

A/N: Hey guys! Holy sh*t, this is my 30th uploaded Diakko fanfic (on AO3)! Damn! This is (obviously) inspired by ABBA's super classic song Dancing Queen. It would be cool if you guys had a listen to visualize the last part. :)

I hope you enjoy this. Hammered it out at an ungoldy hour in the morning, but I wanted some feelings!Diana and in case it isn't obvious, songs are a really strong motivator and source of inspiration for me when writing. Thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos, shared wonderful, wonderful comments that honestly give me life, drive, and motivation LMAO on all the short stories I've shared thus far. Can't wait to share more!

*Insert turtle copulation noises* *cries in Appointments update*

#Diakko #Dianakko #Diana Cavendish #Atsuko Kagari #Family #Fluff #Angst #Bernadette Cavendish #LWA Diana #LWA Akko #Luna Nova #LWA #Little Witch Academia

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duuhrayliegh · 4 years ago

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watch your six - part two

pairing: eventual bucky x reader

warnings: some violence, trigger warning of sedation (it isn’t in there for a long time and the description of it isn’t super good BUT it’s still there), mentions of kidnapping, i think that’s it.

word count: just a bit over 3k

a/n: okay! here’s part two, i’m experimenting with the longer parts, so let me know what y’all think of it. bucky does make an appearance soon, i swear y’all :) just be patience with me babes. also, i know this isn’t like the typical fan fic because it isn’t in the second person but we’re powering through together. i hope y’all enjoy babes <3

p.s.: if y’all want to be added to a tag list for this series, shoot me a message and we’ll get it worked out

series m.list

ray’s m.list

*****************

I shot up from my bed, eyes wild and frantic searching for anything to ground me to my current surroundings. It was just a dream, just a dream. It was just a dream. Except it didn’t feel like a dream. Everything was too detailed, too crisp for it to have really been just a dream. I swung my legs off my bed and grabbed a hold of the fluffy white comforter. Groaning, I pushed my feet to touch the cold hardwood of my apartment. I made my way towards my kitchen and my coffee maker. I popped a breakfast blend K-cup into the slot and dumped a mug full of water into the side of the machine. Pressing the button, I turned while listening to the coffee machine force the water through the coffee grounds and filter and into my cup.

Looking out into my living room, I eyed my couch. It was intact with no bullet holes riddling the cushions. It was still the pristine white that I’ve spent many nights curled on watching movies. The dark stained wood coffee table in front of it brought memories of long study sessions with books and loose papers strewn across it. A faint smile graced my lips as I was reminiscing. The black coffee maker spit the last of the dark substance into my mug, so I reached into my cabinets and pulled out the essentials. I’ve never been one for pure black coffee, tastes like tar in my opinion. The aftertaste isn’t something that I want to deal with for as long as it’ll last.

I dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into the cup and then poured a dash of liquid creamer in along with it. Stirring the now light brown liquid, I raised the mug to my mouth and took a much needed sip. Sighing as I swallowed, I walked around to the couch in the living. Plopping down, I kicked my feet to rest on top of the coffee table. Leaning back against the cushions, I tried to process what my dream was about.

It was just too real to be a dream, right? It was awfully specific to be a dream. Squinting my eyes, I nodded my head and set my mug on the table. Reaching for my laptop and opening the first browser I could, I searched ‘dream analysis.’ Maybe they’ll have something that can give me an answer as to why it was so clear. Scrolling down the first website, my eyes scanning the bolded letters. Nine Common Dreams and What They Could Mean, oh perfect. Flying, being naked in public, teeth falling out, cheating, none of these are like my dream. I shook my head and swiped out of the website and back to the search engine.

It was late in the morning and the sun was rising to its peak when I finally gave up. It’s obvious what happened though, I’ve gone mental. Absolutely insane, just plain certifiable. No, no, that’s not what it is. My coffee now gone cold, I placed my closed laptop on the coffee table next to the discarded coffee mug. I stood and my head started throbbing. Deciding I would have a better outlook on things without a pounding head, I took a shower. The water was a pleasant, scalding temperature. Leaving the bathroom with my hair in a towel and another wrapped around my body, I changed into a simple pair of ripped mom jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Hanging my towels on the rack in the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and then turned out the light as I left.

Today was my one day off of work this week and I was going to savor it. Slipping on a pair of ratty sneakers and grabbing my purse from the hook next to the door, I left my cozy apartment. I locked the door and shoved my keys all the way to the bottom of my purse. I left my building with the intention of trying to shake off the nightmare that I had. To do so, I went into the coffee shop at the end of the block. I pushed the doors open and was greeted with a warm and inviting atmosphere. Dark floors gave way to twinkling lights illuminating the charcoal gray walls. Behind the counter, I make eye contact with the barista and receive a tight-lipped smile from him. “Hi, welcome to Beniot’s Beans. What can I get started for you today?”

I glanced at the chalkboard menu and ran my eyes over it quickly. I already knew what I wanted, but I needed to prepare myself to say it out loud. “Hello, can I get a medium caramel iced coffee to go, please?” I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet as he scribbled my order onto the clear plastic cup. He told me my total as I looted in my wallet for my bills. After placing the money in the register, he explained that they would call my order when it was ready. I nodded and walked off to find somewhere to sit that was out of the way. After situating myself on one of the comfortable armchairs, I pulled my phone out in an effort to discourage human interaction. After retrieving my order from the counter, I sat back down in the armchair, trying to decide what to do next. The hour was just rolling over to being almost lunchtime, which made me realize that I hadn’t eaten anything yet. Shrugging my purse back onto my shoulder and shoving my phone into it, I left the store throwing a small wave to the barista behind the counter.

Sighing contentedly, I made the trek back to my apartment while steadily drinking the iced coffee. Some people say coffee shouldn’t be cold, and then there’s people who have sense. Giggling to myself, I took in my surroundings. Brick buildings lined the small two-way road. The donut shop on the opposite side of the street had two cop cruisers sitting in front of it. The contrasting black and white paint with black lettering outlined in yellow was intimidating. There was no reason for it to be, but there was just an aura of discomfort encapsulating the cars. By this time, I had stopped, slurping on my almost empty iced coffee. Breaking out of my trance with a ring of a bell, four officers exited the donut shop. Two of the officers held off-white cardboard boxes, they were all laughing at something. I tilted my head and scrunched my brows, guess the stereotype about cops is true, they love their donuts. Sensing a stare, one of the officers looked around for the source. Eventually, our gazes locked and he winked. Uh, ew. Making a face, I shook my head and went about my way back to my apartment.

Despite that experience, it was nice to be able to have no specific agenda, just relaxing and going with the flow. My inner monologue stopped when I got to my kitchen and started deciding what to prepare for lunch. Finally landing on a box of macaroni and cheese to satisfy my hunger, I set to work. The pot of water now on the stove, I tossed my empty plastic cup from the coffee shop into the garbage bin. I went around to my living room and grabbed my coffee mug from earlier and placed it in the sink, after rinsing it out. I’ll wash that and the stuff I use for lunch after I finish eating. I dumped the box of uncooked noodles into the now boiling water. Soon, the macaroni was ready to be eaten, so I poured the cheesy noodles into a bowl. Hoisting myself onto the granite countertop, I began to inhale the food. Wow, okay I was hungrier than I thought. It didn’t take long to finish off the noodles. As I was washing the dirty dishes, the intercom system of the apartment went off. Weird, I wasn’t expecting anyone. “Who is it?” I inquired into the speaker box. “Hi, I’m looking for the inhabitant of this flat.”

My brows furrowing, I asked again, “Who is this?”

“Ma’am, please don’t waste my time or yours. Is this the woman who lives in this apartment, yes or no?” They sounded exhausted. “I need to speak with the woman who lives here.” I was shocked, this didn’t seem right. Alright, I’m a woman living alone in an apartment building. Some stranger comes to my building, asking to speak to me, so what do I do?

“Uh, yeah they’re not here. You’ll have to come back later.” The lie was easy. Safety first and all, right? There was no reply after waiting a few minutes, so I went back to doing my dishes. After drying and putting them away, I kicked my shoes off and settled into my couch with a fluffy blue throw. Flicking the TV on, I picked the home improvement channel. I stretched out on the couch while wondering how realtor Bessie May was going to find this couple the perfect home. Snuggling further into the pillows, I was able to drift off into a dreamless slumber.

*********************************

It was loud banging that eventually roused me. Untangling myself from the fluff that wrapped around my legs, I toppled onto the floor. “I’m coming, hold your horses!” I shouted at the door. Who the hell? I swear if it’s my crazy neighbor again. “Marge! If this is you, we are going to have a problem!” I huffed my way to the door and yanked it open to reveal a group of men in what looked like dark tactical gear. Confusion overtook my facial features. I took a step back and tightened my grip on my door knob.

“Um… hi? Can I help you?” I questioned the group at large.

“Ma’am, we’re looking for the permanent resident of this apartment.” The man to my left said. He was short and stocky, he was also the only man wearing a dark gray suit. “Are you the permanent resident of this unit?” He continued while trying to see over my shoulders and into the living room.

“No, they’re not here right now.” I repeated the lie from earlier. I had an inkling this had to do with that, what else could it be?

“Well, do you know when she’ll be back?” He pressed, still stealing glances into my abode.

“No, she didn’t say. You’ll have to come back later. Goodbye.” I stated while closing the door. I was almost home free until a combat boot clad foot was stuck into the door frame.

“You see ma’am, this really isn’t the time to be lying to me.” The suited man explained. I took a deep breath and continued trying to close the door.

“Well, I’ve already told you all I know. The person who owns this place isn’t here right now.” The door was stopped yet again by the same foot.

“Ma’am, you need to invite us inside. We have things to discuss.” Suits ordered.

My brows raised, “Or what?” I scoffed, “Look you need to leave before I call the police. Good day to you gentlemen.” Another attempt to close the door was once again defeated, but this time the door swung in. Allowing entrance into my apartment. My eyes widened and I rushed away from the door, putting as much distance between the group of men and myself.

“What the hell are you doing! I’m calling the police.” I reached for my phone that was laying on the coffee table. It was snatched away from me by a man in tactical gear. His hair was cropped and dark, he slipped my phone into one of the many pockets of his vest. I raised my eyebrows at the man, and began demanding my phone from him.

“Listen ma’am, we’re going to need you to come with us.” Suits insisted. My gaze darted to him, if looks could kill man. “We’re allowing you the privilege of getting a bag of your necessities.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my ever rising nerves. I brought the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to clear the fogginess of sleep to process what Suits was saying. “We don’t have all day. Get your stuff now.” I shook my head and started refusing.

“Yeah, that won’t be happening. I’m asking you one last time to leave my apartment before I start screaming.” I crossed my arms over my chest in a protective stance. They’ve got five seconds before I raise hell. Suits made a face that looked like he was disappointed.

“Grab her.” The man who took my phone advanced at me. His whole hand covered my upper arm, lifting it and beginning to drag me to the door. I started kicking out, clawing, trying to make contact with anything that I could hurt. Damage, don’t stop fighting. Don’t give in. Whipping my upper body around, I managed to scratch the man's cheek. He cried out in pain and his grip loosened for just a moment. Long enough for me to wrench my arm away from him and run towards the front door. My path was interrupted by a wall of a man. Towering over me, he wrapped both of his arms around my torso. Effectively stopping all of my movement while he turned me in his grasp to face Suits once again.

“Help! Someone help me! Help me!” This was a quiet enough building, shouts like that would surely gain someone’s attention, right? “Help! Someone help me, please!” I was screaming my throat sore. Not stopping until there was a large hand placed over my mouth. Even then, there were muffled cries that could be heard throughout my otherwise silent apartment unit. Stifled sobs were leaving my lungs in heaves. Suits approached me and shook his head,

“It really didn’t have to be like this but, of course.” He turned to one of his goons and nodded his head towards me. I began screaming again as the final goon stepped forward. His hair was slicked back and I could smell the hair gel that he must have just dipped his head into. Hair Gel reached into his pocket and brought out a small white case.

He unzipped the case and gestured to the mass of a man behind me. My head was moved to expose my neck, I struggled against Mass while Hair Gel approached. Screaming and thrashing trying to disrupt what I thought was about to happen. Hair Gel assembled a syringe, outfitting it with a blue capped needle. Hair Gel extracted a clear liquid into the syringe, he got closer to my jolting body, glaring at Mass.

“Hold her still, you buffoon.” He grunted at Mass. The grip around me began cutting off my circulation to the lower half of my body. Not deterring me in any way, I still made it as hard as I could for Hair Gel. There was a pinch on the side of my neck, and then a warm feeling passed through my body. Mass’s hand was still covering my mouth and his arms around my torso, if it weren’t for that I probably would’ve fallen straight to the ground. Oh hell man, what am I going to do now?

My body went limp in Mass’s hold, and my mind was starting to become fuzzy. Looking around at the three men in front of me, I worried what was going to happen. I’ve seen Taken. I know what happens to girls who travel alone. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen to people like me. Suits sighed yet again, looking disinterested in the whole affair. Suits looked to the man who I scratched and shook his head at him.

“You seriously let her get her hands on you?” Suits mocked, “That’s pathetic, Gomez.”

“Pathetic? She was clawing me, man!” The man, Gomez, defended.

“It doesn’t matter, you idiot. You still aren’t supposed to let it happen.” Suits berated Gomez and then waved him off, “Go get the stuff. And don’t mess it up this time, ya got that?” Gomez rolled his eyes at Suits, but nodded anyway. He left the room towards my bedroom. My eyelids started drooping, I willed them to stay open a bit longer.

“How long’s it gonna take that stuff to kick in?” Suits asked Hair Gel.

“Oh, it starts working immediately.” Hair Gel finished replacing everything in his white case, turning to me, he continued, “The body reacts to the compound right away, inducing temporary paralysis. It’s really quite remarkable to watch it in action.”

Suits glanced at Hair Gel, “You mean to tell me it doesn’t make them unconscious? What the hell did I bring you along for?”

“Of course it makes the victim unconscious, what do you think I’m stupid or something? It just takes a couple of minutes for the enzyme to break down for the brain.” Hair Gel tilted his head while looking at me. He gave me a once over and if I had any kind of control over my body, there would’ve been an unmistakable shiver that passed through my body. Gomez emerged with a duffle in tow and dumped the closed bag on the couch.

“Don’t forget the laptop, Gomez.” Suits reminded him while his attention was on the kitchen of my apartment. “Alright, let’s go.” With the effort it takes to lift a feather, Mass carried me bridal style out of my unit. My eyelids were becoming even more heavy and I screamed and shouted in my head, but my mouth just wouldn’t move. The four men made their way out, passing my crazy neighbor Marge.

“Can I help you boys with something?” Marge’s door was open, and she leaned up against the frame, watching this scene go down.

“Nothing to be worried about ma’am. This is official government business.” Suits reported, simply shrugging off Marge.

“Government business?” Marge shrieked, and a glimmer of hope flashed in my head. Marge won’t fall for your bullshit Suits. She’s going to save me. “I always knew there was something off about that one.” What the hell, Marge?

“Like I said ma’am, nothing to worry about. Now if you would, just go back inside. We’re done here.” Suits advised. Marge, who was none the wiser, bounced her shoulders and turned back into her own unit. She could be heard through the door explaining to her guests that her next door neighbor was always strange and never really sat right with her.

“Doesn’t surprise me they’re taking her away. I always knew something was off about that girl. I told you so.” Marge howled with laughter after her statement. My last hope dashed by my crazy neighbor’s complete ignorance and lack of acknowledgement for her surroundings. Mass began his descent of the stairs with a steady pace. The constant rocking back and forth of his body weight served to lull my eyelids the rest of the way closed.

#bucky x reader #eventual bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #sebastian stan #bucky fanfic #female reader insert #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes

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imladris-soldier · 4 years ago

Text

Burn Him Out

DISCLAIMER!!!!!: This piece is 100% just me trying to deal with issues I still have regarding R*an and everything he did. I’m only sharing it here in case it might help anyone else. Please do not take it too seriously. I just thought that writing something out would help me.

The Vagabond betrayed the team. He has to pay.

“He betrayed us.”

The declaration was definitive, though one would be lying if they said they couldn't see the weary grief in Geoff's eyes from behind his desk. The rest of the crew were scattered around his penthouse office in various states of discomfort.

You were leaned up against the wall to Geoff's right with your arms crossed tightly over your chest and your eyes on the floor. It had come first as a shock, and then as a gut wrenching blow when the news about The Vagabond was revealed. Jeremy had been the one to text you. Perhaps they'd known he would be the best choice – or perhaps none of the others were brave enough to do it. You'd gone off grid for days and done a few things you weren't proud of, almost going so far as to revert back to the person you were before the Fake AH Crew had found you and adopted you into their ranks.

Something had convinced you to turn your phone back on, and you'd been greeted by a call from Jack, begging you to come back to the pent house. Her voice was rough as though she'd been crying. That had been enough to bring you back to them – to stand in this room with them and decide what was going to be done about the man who had destroyed your unit. Your family.

“He has to pay,” Lindsay finally said, her voice sharp and brittle. “We can't let this go.”

“We won't,” Geoff assured her. “That's why I wanted you all here. To talk about our options.”

“Let's just snipe him and be done with it,” Trevor suggested from where he sat in a cushy white chair with his elbows on his knees.

“That's an idea. But I figured you lot would want something bigger.”

“He knows what he did,” Jeremy cut in. “He won't show his face long enough for that to work. He knows we'll be coming for him eventually.”

Matt asked, “Then how do we know he's even still in Los Santos?”

“I've kept my ear to the ground,” Geoff answered. “The Vagabond has been seen. Fleetingly, but he's here.”

“Fucking fool,” you muttered under your breath. He should have left and kept his mouth shut – disappeared off the face of the god damn Earth, but no. He was too proud; too convinced of his invulnerability. On one hand, perhaps you could understand why. Even after this, there would still be crews willing to work with him or take him in. Despicable. He'd do the same things all over again if given the chance. He had to go.

“Anyone in particular want the honors?”

The room was quiet. Despite everything, he'd been a friend. Everyone there had cared about him, laughed with him, run jobs with him at their back. The crew was harsh when it had to be, but this even they balked at.

Fiona quietly spoke up. “Well, we have to draw him out first, right? How do we do that?”

Geoff nodded. “I have contacts all throughout this city. We could set up a fake job. Get word out that they're looking to hire him specifically? Could work. We have to be careful though. Can't have any of us connected to it, whispers or otherwise. He'll know it's a trap.”

“It should be secluded,” Trevor added. “Whatever it is. He's done enough harm. We don't need collateral damage.”

Slowly, an idea began to form in your head. “Would a few dead cops bother you, Treh?”

He thought on that for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah. Just no civilians, alright?”

“What are you thinking, Y/N?” Jack asked.

Your eyes scanned the room, meeting the gaze of most of your crew in the process. “You know that out of use gondola station up on Chilead? We lure him up there, and set the cops on him. Get him caught. Then we sabotage the cop cars. Options there, obviously, but I personally wouldn't mind sticky bombs.” You paused, your voice hovering over the thought that had come to you. “I wouldn't mind pushing the button.”

The silence that greeted you was humming with a little bit of surprise, but it soon dissipated as the plan was considered.

“Seems a little flashy,” Alfredo replied. “Why not just gang up on him at the gondola station?”

You shrugged. “We could do that too. But it needs to send a message. Don't fuck with us. Don't fuck with the people we protect. We take care of our own, and nothing gets in our way. Not cops, not sick, traitorous bastards like The Vagabond. Nothing.”

Geoff nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “Anyone got any better ideas?” No one spoke up, so he nodded again. “Fine. We'll do it your way, Y/N. You'll need someone with you to help you plant the bombs without being seen. Who do you want?”

Your eyes passed between each of your friends, considering the pros and cons of each. In truth, you would have preferred Jeremy at your side, but getting him out of his Rimmy Tim outfit for work was nigh impossible, and bright orange was the last thing you needed to pull this off. Matt was quiet enough, but too easily fumbled things – not a good quality when dealing with bombs. Jack would have worked if she wasn't so clearly emotionally affected by everything that had happened.

You sighed, massaging your temples. Fiona and Alfredo were too loud. Gavin goofed too easily and might just as soon attach a bomb to his own foot before the car. Lindsay may have been a good choice as she seemed to share your rage, but she was showing it too much. Given how much of a wild card she could be, you weren't sure she wouldn't run off to beat the Vagabond to death herself and get arrested in the process. Trevor maybe, but he looked so tired already. He was angry, but beat down.

At long last, your eyes landed on Michael. He stared back in stony silence – a resolve and quiet that you needed. “Michael comes with me.”

Geoff looked over to the younger man who nodded shortly. “Fine. Get the supplies you need. I'll start setting it up.”

With that, the crew broke ranks and spread throughout the apartment to brood and stew on it all. You touched bases with Michael briefly, giving him a list of things to acquire while you looked over the map and decided on where to place the two of you for the job.

As you stared down at the paper, Jeremy joined you. He stood there silently for a time, watching you work, then finally murmured, “You sure about this?”

“Yeah. Easy enough. I've run car bombing jobs dozens of times.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You sighed, feeling your shoulders sink some. “You mean am I sure I want to press the button.” He nodded. “I want him gone, Jeremy. From Los Santos. From this planet. But mostly from here.” You pointed to your head. “I want to forget I ever knew his name, ever saw his face, ever heard his laugh. I don't want to spend another god damn second of my life thinking about Ryan fucking Haywood. I don't want him to have this shadow over me anymore. So yeah. I'm ok with writing him out of this story. Burning him out. Fuck him for what he did. He hurt so many people. Including me.”

Jeremy nodded. “I know.” He put his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “Get it done. I'll be here when you're finished.”

He left you alone. An angry tear slipped down your nose onto the map beneath you.

It took a few weeks for Geoff to get the fake job planted, but soon his informants were letting him know that the Vagabond had taken the bait. The job would be run, just as planned, and you and Michael would be waiting.

The two of you staked out the gondola station hours before the job was supposed to take place, keeping to your hiding places in case the Vagabond had done the same. You were quiet for a long time, but eventually you looked over to your companion and told him, “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Sure,” he replied. “It needs to be done.”

You nodded. “Still. Thanks.”

Something about him softened. “I know this isn't easy for you. It's not easy for me either. But it's the right thing to do. I got your back, Y/N.”

With that, a peace settled over you, and you were content to wait out the rest of the afternoon in silence.

As the sun dipped low, you began to strategically place your items to make for quick work. Once that was done, you texted Jack to call the police. It would take them a bit to get mobilized and up the mountain, but just a hint of the Vagabond would send them running.

As expected, in the hazy purple of twilight, you heard a motorcycle heading up the road. You and Michael looked at one another before you peaked out over the large boulder you'd set up behind. It was him, alright. The blue and black of his jacket struck a nostalgic chord inside you, causing your insides to clench in pain. Fuck.

As soon as he disappeared into the building to begin collecting the “loot” (it was really just several boxes of rocks that Matt and Alfredo had put together), Michael slipped out into the darkness to drag his knife through the tires of the motorcycle the Vagabond had arrived on to keep him from escaping on it, then hid himself on the other side of the road, just as the sounds of cars reached you.

The police didn't have their lights or sirens on – some actual wisdom on their part for once. Not until they had blocked the whole road with their vehicles and surrounded the building did they make their presence known.

“Vagabond! We know you're in there. Come out with your hands up!”

He was outnumbered, but of course that didn't keep him from trying to shoot his way out. In the chaos, you and Michael weaved between the police cars, sticking the explosives to the bottoms. You met at the back of the line, then ran off the road once more into the brush and trees.

A few cops went down in the fray, but they were soon leading the Vagabond out in handcuffs. They'd ripped his mask off, smearing his makeup and leaving his dark hair in a frizzy mess. You stared at him as they took him to one of the cars. For so long he had made you feel safe and happy, despite his darker turns. You'd never thought him capable of such a betrayal – of something so fucking heinous. Looking at him now made you feel sick and sad and broken. You missed the man you thought he was. Fuck, you missed that man.

But this one. He wasn't that man. The mask was off at last. Not so infallible after all.

The cars started down the mountain in single file, due to the narrow road, and the one they had placed their prisoner in went last. You waited until they were about 50 yards away before stepping out of your hiding spot into the middle of the road.

“What are you doing?” Michael hissed.

You ignored him and waited for what you were hoping to see. The rear car slowed as the cop driving it saw you, and then you saw him look. The Vagabond turned his head to look out the rear windshield at what the cop had seen. And he saw you – standing there with the detonator in hand. You met his blue eyes and held it up between you.

“Go directly the fuck to hell, Ryan,” you said as you pressed the button.

The cars lit up like a botched 4th of July celebration, sending careening, burning metal flying across the mountainside. The entire parade of them burst into flames and crashed into one another, shrieking and rumbling.

You stood there, staring at the carnage and listening to the screams. The last car in the line was just a pile of shredded car parts, but in the flames you could see the black and blue jacket, burning, and you let that image flood through your veins and into the folds of your brain. Burn him out. Forget.

Michael met you in the road, nodding some in approval. “Nicely done,” he told you. “Let's get back before more cops show up.”

You nodded too and threw the detonator into the fire. “Let's go home.”

The penthouse was quiet when the pair of you arrived back, but everyone slowly filtered into the living room to be briefed. You opened your mouth a few times, but found that nothing would come out. Instead, you turned on the TV and navigated to the news station which was reporting the explosion on the side of Mount Chilead.

The group watched it in silence for a while, then Geoff said, “Well done.”

After that, people began to trickle back to their rooms. Michael pat you on the back and followed Lindsay out. Gavin came and gave you a somewhat awkward hug before he left. In the end, only you and Jeremy remained in the room, staring at the TV emptily.

He came and stood next to you, taking your hand into his own. “Did it help?” he asked gently.

You nodded.

“Good.”

#fake AH crew #my writing #ryan haywood

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hale-13 · 4 years ago

Text

Enterobacter

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 2 - Food Poisoning

Being Spider-Man sometimes means that Peter has to eat on the job and eating in the job means eating a lot of fast food. Some of his favorite stops are new and local food trucks since most of them give him free food for the obvious influx of business he brings to them. And Peter loves Thai so much he just HAS to try the new truck that opened.

Words: 2339, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Tony Stark

TW: Vomiting

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Before the Bite, Peter was a staunch and vehement hater of warm weather. He spent every spring and summer feeling overheated and sweaty and gross and May and Ben would always joke that he ran hot which, Peter supposed, wasn’t completely untrue. He had always spent most of his falls and winters sleeping with the window by his bed cracked to let in the cool air and under a light blanket.

So November through about March was great for him. The rest of the year however? Awful. Miserable. Abhorrent. Just… any terrible adjective you could think of would work as a descriptor. The city heat was always so overbearing that their tired little AC unit couldn’t keep up and would, inevitably, give up and the Parker family would spend half the summer every summer without the blessed cool air flowing through their apartment. And the humidity! Peter felt like he was trying to breath and walk through soup – the heat wouldn’t be nearly as bad without the humidity.

One might think that, with the loss of his ability to thermoregulate well, the warm weather might be easier for him post-Bite but all it did was give Peter new things to worry about. For example: getting heat stroke for doing nothing more than sitting still in his bedroom and doing homework on a hot day.

Yeah. Peter really hated the warm weather.

Which explains why he wakes up on a Thursday in mid-May already angry and irritated and sweating through the ratty tank top and boxers he wore to bed about three minutes before his alarm for school is set to go off.

“Seriously,” he groans, rolling over onto his back and draping one forearm over his eyes in the perfect picture of teenage angst. His stomach twinges a little as he does and he bites back a grimace – probably shouldn’t have tried that new Thai truck while patrolling last night he thought. It didn’t help that he got it super spicy either, he supposed, but the delicious taste would more than make up for the irritability of his bowels later.

His phone started blaring a bright tone and Peter groaned louder, flopping out a hand blindly to snatch his the device up from where it was charging on his nightstand and shutting off the alarm, dropping the phone into the mess of sheets he had bunched up into a corner while he slept. He gave himself another couple seconds for his pity party before rolling off the bed and grabbing the towel he had draped over the end of his bed frame – intent on taking a cool shower to bring his body temperature back down to a reasonable level and wash off the sweat he could already feel drying over him.

“May?” Peter called as he walked out of his room. The apartment was almost eerily quiet for what should be May’s day off and Peter furrowed his brows in confusion – May normally attempted to cook breakfast on Thursday mornings before giving up and making them both bowls of cereal. Towel over his shoulder, Peter wandered into the kitchen and frowned at the fluorescent pink sticky note on the counter next to a fresh box of Lucky Charms.

Got called in to cover ER – twelve hour swing, home after ten.

Eat your breakfast!

Love You!

Peter crumpled the note and tossed it in the garbage. He was looking forward to grabbing ice cream after school with May at the new shop that had popped up the month previous but it looks like they needed a rain check on that one. His stomach bubbled again and Peter wrapped his arm across his abdomen in discomfort. On second thought, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to miss out on ice cream today.

The cool shower was refreshing but Peter, somehow, felt worse after. His stomach was straight up cramping now as he pulled on a light pair of shorts and a t-shirt, forgoing his usual layers and just hoping that the bagginess of the shirt would cover up his muscles. He frowned and swallowed down the sour, burning taste of stomach acid in his throat. He didn’t usually have a problem with acid reflux but maybe the spicy food was messing him up? Choosing to ignore it for now, Peter gathered up his books and homework to shove into his backpack before leaving the apartment to walk to school.

The subway that morning was absolutely vile. The smell that he could already barely handle on a good day was worse since it was simmering in the heat and Peter’s sensitive senses didn’t appreciate it. He had to choke down a couple of gags, which was not normal and hadn’t really happened to him before despite the offensive odor. He was used to the smell, it came with using public transportation in one of the busiest cities in the United States. The only good thing that came out of the nauseous feeling was the extra leg room when the other passengers sidled away from him with disgusted looks on their faces.

His relief (and that of the other passengers) was palpable when he was able to stagger off the car and onto the platform outside Midtown, though the temperature didn’t improve much since there wasn’t a good breeze that morning. Moving quickly, Peter made his way across the field and driveway to enter the blessedly cool school building.

“Dude,” Ned said, eyebrows scrunching, as he met Peter a couple minutes later by his locker. “You look like shit.”

“It’s hot,” Peter told him a little defensively, slamming his locker door just a touch too hard. Ned didn’t look impressed.

“No like, you’re really pale and a little green. Are you sick?” Ned asked, squinting his eyes at Peter.

Peter frowned, all he felt was a little overheated. Well, yeah, his stomach was still bubbling and cramping but that was just from the spicy food. He was fine. It was just the heat.

“I’m fine,” Peter protested, brushing past Ned to make his way towards their home room class. He wobbled just a little, lightheaded.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Ned questioned as he steadied his friend, still looking concerned, pushing them out of the foot traffic of the hallway and back up against the cool metal of the locker bank.

Peter’s mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed down the acid again before shaking his head ‘no’. There was no way he could stomach breakfast that morning – it would be like asking for disaster.

“I think you should call May to come get you,” Ned advised, still gripping Peter’s elbow and frowning deeper when Peter shook his head again in protest.

“She had to pick up a shift in the ER today so she’ll have her phone off and, anyway, I’m fine Ned!” Peter shook his arm a little, trying to dislodge Ned’s hand and not succeeding.

Ned bit his lip but released Peter’s arm. “You could call Mr. Stark?”

“For what?” Peter asked, frustrated. “I’m fine, I’m just hot and have a little stomach ache from eating at that new Thai truck.”

“Wait, you mean the one that normally parks off fifth? The green and purple one?” Ned asked and Peter nodded in confirmation. “Bro do you not look at the news? They had to shut it down late last night because some of their food was contaminated with E. Coli.”

Peter’s stomach twisted and grumbled ominously and his hands dropped to grip at the loose shirt covering his abdomen. “Oh,” he said slowly before abruptly turning to race through the near-empty hallway toward the closest bathroom. He barely made it into a stall, not bothering to close it, before he vomited up everything he felt like he may have eaten in the past week. He vaguely heard the door creak open as Ned entered but paid it no heed, doing his best to stay standing and hunched over the toilet so he wouldn’t have to touch it or the disgusting floor.

A few minutes and a round of dry heaving later, Peter didn’t care about how disgusting the floor might be and was just thankful to slide down the wall of the stall to rest, panting and dizzy, on the tile as he tried to keep anything that might be left in his stomach where it belonged.

“Peter?” Ned asked, peaking around the door to survey him. “Are you okay to walk? I’m going to take you to the nurse.” Peter moaned and leaned over to vomit another round. “I’ll take that as a no,” Ned sighed, his own face a little pale from trying to keep from being nauseous himself.

It took at least ten minutes after round two before Peter thought he’d be able to stand without falling over but Ned still insisted that Peter sling his arm over his friend’s shoulder so he could have support for the short walk to the nurse’s office.

“Oh Peter,” Ms. Shelly, the nurse, said sympathetically as she took in his pale face and trembling limbs. “You look awful honey.”

“He has food poisoning,” Ned told her, depositing Peter into one of the closest chairs and shoving one of the emesis bags on the table into his hand just in case he needed it. Peter gulped and nodded his head shortly in thanks, gripping the bag so tight he thought he might tear it.

“You can go on back to class Ned, I’ll make sure he gets home.” Ms. Shelly made a noise of pity and took his temperature before clucking her tongue in disapproval.

“Feel better buddy,” Ned told Peter with a pat on the shoulder before hastily making it out of the room so he could catch the tail-end of his home room, accepting the excuse note that Ms. Shelly passed him.

“Do you have a preference on which contact I call honey?” Ms. Shelly asked from where she was crouched down to eye-level in front of him and Peter let out a groan and squeezed his eyes shut in misery. May was at work which meant his only option was…

“Mr. Stark please,” he muttered, eyes downcast. Ms. Shelly raised a brow in obvious disbelief before she schooled her features. Peter was just glad she didn’t question him like most of his classmates and some of his teachers had taken to doing once the rumor about his internship had spread through the majority of the school.

“Let me just pull your chart and make the call okay? There’s a cot through the door if you want to lay down,” she gestured to the open door across from him before making her way to her office to pull up his digital chart.

“Thanks,” Peter said, seriously considering how nice it would be to just lie down again. This pleasant thought was interrupted by his stomach clenching again and he hung his head over the emesis bag, dry heaving but not managing to get anything up which was almost worse. He let out a little whine that he was glad Ms. Shelly wasn’t around to hear and stumbled into the single person bathroom in her office, sinking down onto the floor and gagging.

A light knock on the door sounded a few minutes later and Ms. Shelly’s soft voice called, “Peter? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he called back as loud as he dared before swallowing compulsively. It did nothing for the bile climbing up his esophagus and he leaned back over to vomit again.

“Just call me if you need anything sweetie. Your emergency contact will be here in about twenty minutes.” Peter let out a grunt of assent and let his eyes slip closed as he leaned back against the wall. He must have dozed off at some point because he woke up to the sound of the door creaking open and a low whistle.

“Looking a little rough around the edges kiddo,” Tony said, head leaned around the door to peer into the room. Peter, feeling tired and sick and embarrassed, let out a groan and felt his face heat up.

“This is the worst thing that has happened in my life. Ever.” Tony snorted as he entered the bathroom fully and crouched down on knees that popped and clicked to squat in front of Peter.

Peter closed his eyes when Tony reached forward to rest his cool hand on Peter’s forehead and hum. “Running a little warm too. The nurse said food poisoning?”

“Ate Thai that had E.Coli,” Peter said and then gagged at the thought, hanging his head back over the toilet to spit out bile. Tony moved his hand to rub up and down his back and made an empathetic noise.

“Just get it out buddy. Brucie’s waiting for us back at the tower with some anti-nausea meds for you and some fluids to help hydrate you.” Peter moaned and gagged again but nothing came up.

“Think I’m done,” he said a second later, wiping the tears of effort out of the corners of his eyes and letting Tony pull him to his shaky feet. The room spun briefly but he was able to keep most of his balance by leaning heavily on Tony’s arm. The walk to the car after signing out with the stunned secretary was a little blurry but soon he was ensconced in the darkness of the Roll’s that Happy favored driving lately.

Ignoring everything around him, Peter let his face fall to the cool, supple leather and he let out a sigh of contentment. He heard a chuckle before the emesis bag was pushed back into his slack grip with instructions to “Use that if you need to Bambino,” but Peter thought he might be done for a while.

Finally cool and mostly comfortable, Peter fell into a light doze, looking forward to spending the rest of his day cuddled up in a blanket under an AC vent in the penthouse sleeping and watching bad movies with his mentor.

#summer of whump 2021 #Prompt: Food Poisoning #spider man #irondad #summerofwhump #summerofwhump2

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bunnylouisegrimes · 4 years ago

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Sick Day (NOS4A2 Drabble)

A/N: Holy shit! I actually wrote something?! Well, unfortunately, this is probably gonna be my only fic for a while since I’m gonna be so busy. But I hope you all enjoy some Charlie fluff! It helped to let my creative muse out amongst my stress! (Also, I own a Totoro like the toy pictured above) ;)

Sick Day

NOS4A2 Drabble

By: Bunny Louise Grimes

That Friday, the stretches of farmland rolled along beside the Wraith as we went for a leisurely drive. The clouds were grey, the spring air was cool, and dew covered the windows. We took a rest outside of a beautiful and abandoned hospital to eat our fries and crack each other up. Nearby, a park sat where Charlie pushed me on the swings. But by the time we decided to head back home and order a pizza, I noticed I was feeling a bit tired. While ordering the pizza, I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. The only interesting (and scary) thing on was a news segment discussing how a shooter at a restaurant two towns over had threatened to kill people (something like an altercation with his girlfriend who was a waitress perhaps?), and he was still at large.

“Well, that explains the helicopters we’ve been seeing and hearing,” I said.

“Indeed,” Charlie nodded. “We’ll have to be careful tonight and make sure everything is locked up so that he doesn’t try to hide here, especially since this house is the perfect place to hide. Out in the middle of nowhere, miles of forest to run, the mountains... good thing my Wraith has a mind of her own, because if he thinks about hiding there, he’ll be ran over.”

After I ordered the pizzas from my laptop, we went out for another small drive in the grey skies to retrieve them. By then, my tiredness had gotten worse, and I noticed my body had a dull ache. I wrapped myself up in my yellow sweater tighter. Besides that, I was wearing green floral leggings, green socks, and black Mary Janes. It was already a cool afternoon, but it wasn’t this freezing, so why was I so cold? I thanked the fact my hair was done in a pair of long fluffy puppytails held together by my green ribbons so that I had an extra layer of warmth.

“I’m concerned I might be coming down with something,” I told Charlie. “I’m starting to feel real tired, cold, and achy.”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel,” he said. “If you start to feel really sick, we’ll have our answer and we’ll give you medicine.”

After coming home and eating our pizza, my tiredness, alongside my full stomach, overtook me, and I fell asleep. When I woke up from a bizarre dream, I realized how cold, achy, and tired I was. Charlie felt my head and observed that I was feeling very hot. He took into consideration how cold his body temperature was and placed the tympanic thermometer from the bathroom into my ear. I was 100 degrees Fahrenheit on the dot, a definite fever.

He presented me with medicine and he carried me upstairs, where I fell asleep once more. When I woke up from even more odd dreams, my fever had increased to almost 103 degrees. I had developed a headache and chest discomfort. I went to the bathroom due to an odd sensation in my stomach, and I realized what it was once I was done.

“Charlie,” I called weakly to the hallway. “I have diarrhea too!”

“Well, all of this is most unfortunate,” Charlie sighed. “We should call the doctor and he can figure out what’s wrong.”

He got on the landline and contacted the local doctor. I ended up with an appointment that day at three. Charlie helped me change into the clothes I wore yesterday, and he helped me rebraid my hair. When we arrived 30 minutes later, there was only a few other people in the doctor’s office. I was the second person to be called. After a quick checkup and a quick talk with the nurse about my symptoms, the doctor walked in five minutes later and concluded I had the flu.

“Flu season’s in fall and winter,” he said. “It peaks between December and February, but it can run even as late as now. It happens sometimes, someone has it and you just catch it. It’s pesky influenza, you can get it at anytime.” He turned to Charlie. “That elderberry medicine was good thinking. Keep giving her that so it will help her immune system. I also recommend Vitamin C, so orange juice is a good drink idea. Here’s an antiviral prescription.” He gave the paper to Charlie. “I’ll call the pharmacy, you’ll be able to pick it up in a few hours.” He turned back to me. “In the meantime, you just take lots of rest and stay hydrated, especially with your diarrhea. Since your stomach might be upset, you should eat lighter things like crackers.” He chuckled and smiled, saying, “I assume you know all this, however, given you are in the medical field yourself.”

I nodded, laughing as best I could. “I don’t work as a nurse now since moving here, but at anytime, if I do need to work, I think this would be a good place.”

He beamed. “Absolutely! I’m glad you think so! You seem like the person we’d like on board. But you focus on your health first.”

After leaving, Charlie took me home, where I switched into my pajamas and cuddled up with some of my ponies (Razzaroo, Minty, Wysteria, Sweetberry, Cotton Candy, Sunny Daze, Sparkleworks, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and Kimono), Kuchi Kopi (who glowed a comforting green), and my stuffed Totoro on the couch.

“I’ll make you some soup,” Charlie said. “You want some Progresso rice soup with Taco Bell sauce?”

“Just like when I was a kid,” I smiled. “Yes. Can you put in A Charming Birthday so I can watch something small for a little bit?”

He put in the pony VHS tape and went into the kitchen. The soup was done and I had adjusted myself on the couch. He also presented me with orange juice in a glass and ice. I ate my soup and drank my OJ carefully while Charlie turned on the news again once the twenty minute short was over. The culprit from yesterday had been caught, so there was no need to worry about him on the loose anymore. Other than that, the news became annoying, so I asked Charlie if we could watch a movie.

“Could we watch My Neighbor Totoro?” I asked.

“What is that?” He looked puzzled.

“It’s one of the movies I brought. It’s from the 80’s, animated, and from Japan.”

He looked at the clock. “Let me get your medicine. I’ll have to get it in about fifteen minutes, and you know it takes ten minutes to get to town. Finish your soup while I’m gone and I’ll make you some hot chocolate upon my return.”

I nodded, changed the channel to Two Broke Girls, and we exchanged a kiss before he left once more. I had finished my soup almost ten minutes later and my stomach felt slightly upset (not the fault of the food, it had to have just been my stomach being in the state it was in). I weakly stumbled upstairs, chills hitting my aching body without my blanket, and did my business in some discomfort. I did my best to clean myself up with painfilled muscles. I felt clean and wrapped up what I needed to do. The lilac smell of the soap and the warm water I was using to clean my hands up smelled and felt refreshingly pleasant on my ill body.

I snuggled with my toys when I returned downstairs and chuckled at Caroline and Max’s antics to get more money until Charlie returned home. I took my medicine (including the elderberry medicine he gave me yesterday) and he made me hot chocolate, alongside a plate of crackers. He put in the Totoro DVD and I anticipated seeing the serene and beautiful world associated with Studio Ghibli movies. I was snuggled up with Charlie and had my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked.

“Physically, no, but emotionally, yes.”

“I’ve never seen this movie before. How good is it?”

“Very. It’s comforting, light hearted, and filled with lots of innocence and imagination.”

He smiled. “Hmm, seems like it’s right up my alley. I’m intrigued.” He picked up the case. “What is a Totoro?”

“He’s a forest spirit. He’s a mix between a cat, owl, and raccoon. You’ll like him, he’s a gentle giant.”

We watched the entire movie, the two of us making side comments every now and then, and Charlie loved every minute of it. By the time the famous ending credits serenaded, I was ready for a nap. Charlie turned it to Ghost Adventures reruns. I desperately wanted to stay awake, but I knew by then I couldn’t. I didn’t mind too much because I knew I had all of their episodes on DVD. I warned Charlie I might fall asleep.

“That’s fine,” he said, kissing my forehead. “This is just so you have something you like to lull you to sleep. I might take a nap myself.”

Within minutes, I fell asleep and had vivid dreams inspired by the movie (something about it raining and Totoro roaring and flying in the night sky while I was roaming around a gorgeous forest). When I woke up, I needed water. I went into the kitchen and downed as much as I could. Charlie woke up a few minutes later. I had to go to the bathroom again and Charlie helped me this time.

“I feel very sweaty and gross,” I sighed.

“You want a warm bubble bath?” He asked.

“You’d give me one?”

“Of course.”

I slipped my pajamas off and he filled the clawfoot bathtub with warm water and and sparkly white bubbles. He made it smell like two soaps called Cosmic RainbowBerries and Old Fashioned Flowers. Once again, my cold, achy body felt exposed, but stepping into the soapy water melted it away. The scent was amazing, and his firm and gentle hands cleaning my weak body made me sigh in pure content. He unbraided my hair and I embraced every moment of his nails and fingers working their way through my scalp. All the while, he was softly humming “Put Your Head On My Shoulder.”

Once I was all clean, he wrapped me in a soft towel as quick as he could so I would not freeze while he dealt with the tub. I picked out a long and soft nightgown with strawberries on it and thigh high flowered socks. I wandered back into the bathroom so he could blow dry my hair and rebraid it.

“Why look at you! You smell as clean as a spring flower! Perhaps the first rose in the meadow? Fitting for your name, dear!”

I laughed and hugged him. “I certainly feel like one thanks to you.”

When we returned downstairs, he began making chili for me, and I decided to play some Call of Duty Zombies. I took more medicine before I played and drank more water as I did. After eating it, talking with Charlie about various things, and snuggling up with him while playing, sleepiness took over again. By the time I went down from running out of options and being surrounded by the undead, I was about to fall asleep on Charlie’s lap, controller still in hand.

“I think, my darling, it’s time for you to find a more comfortable place for your head,” he coyly teased. “And as I would consider myself a gentleman first and foremost, I would certainly rather have my lady comfortable in a bed rather than my lap.”

I lifted up and rubbed my eyes. “Ugh, you’re right, my fever might be getting a tiny bit high again because it’s night. Sorry, baby.”

He kissed my cheek. “No, no, it’s quite alright. You are correct your fever might be higher now. Let’s head to bed.”

We turned everything off, I put my ponies (with the exception of a random three of Minty, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash) and Totoro back where they belonged, but I held onto Kuchi Kopi. He carried me to bed as I snuggled with my toys and blanket in his arms. I set my ponies and Kuchi Kopi near the lamp on my side of the bed. I brushed my teeth, went to the bathroom one more time (but not to deal with my stomach, luckily, that would maybe be saved for the morning), cleaned off my glasses, and hopped into bed. Charlie has brought up my glass of water and set it near my lamp as well. He turned off the light and left us with the comforting white hallway light and Kuchi Kopi from beside me. We snuggled into bed under the covers and I held onto him.

“Thank you for taking care of me today and helping me every step of the way,” I kissed him on the cheek.

“Of course, my dear, anything for you. I know you’d do the same for me... well, if I could get sick, but I don’t, hence why I was able to take care of you to the extent I could without fearing exposure. But even if I wasn’t a vampire and could get ill, I’d still take care of you.”

“Awww, sugarpop ,” I kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick. I wouldn’t force you to do it. I’m not even forcing you now.”

“I would anyways, and you know this.” He rested his chin on my scalp.

“You are the sweetest man alive, you know that?”

“And you are the sweetest girl alive. Once you are feeling better, would you like to visit the children? I am sure they would love to see their stepmother all healthy and well.”

“I’d love that, and we could make pillow forts, eat cookies and oatmeal, drink hot cocoa and watch Totoro together...” My eyes fluttered just at the thought and my body sunk into his.

“They would love that deeply,” he agreed. “I admit, in some ways, those two little girls in that movie remind me of my own Millie and Lorrie. I think they’d relate to their sisterly bond.”

“Mmmhmmm...” I snuggled closer to him, about to drift off.

“Good night, mignon,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“Good night... I love you too...” I mumbled.

We both fell into deep sleep. It had been a rough two days feeling as ill as I did, and I knew the next few days would be the same, but I had Charlie by my side to help take care of me. And that would make all the difference.

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #charles manx #nos4a2 charlie

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