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desires-of-chain · 2 years ago

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So I have been lurking and a post grabbed me at the depth of three am. Since I was not able to get rid of the brain rot, you must suffer with me. > Original idea was Wizard Anon <

Fair waring, this is not edited and the first one of these I've ever written. Magic Spar - Fierce Deity x Reader

Part of you wondered how it was possible to be that powerful. To have magic coursing through every vein, rippling under every layer of skin, radiating from your body in intoxicating waves that consumed everything around them. It took everything you had to keep your prying eyes away from each adornment carved into his silver armor and the stained markings that framed his face. A man- no- a deity that shined best under the dark slivers of moonlight that encased him beautifully. You were never sure if he caught your staring, those pure white, shining eyes never betraying his next more. Never giving an inkling to the mysteries that swirled in the war god’s mind.

It hadn’t been long since your party stopped for the night, the cold getting to be a bit too much for their youngest member. You were thankful to sit by the blazing fire with a warm bowl of soup since, though you didn’t admit it, you had been chilled to the bone by the late autumn weather. The perk of Wild’s Hyrule was the abundance of abandoned shelter littered from the aftermath of the calamity. Most of the other heroes had already retired for the night yet you couldn’t help but pick at your soup under the weight of that ever consuming presence. Only you and your wordless tormentor remained illuminated by the soft flickers of the fire. Just having him nearby was a sensory overload, those tantalizing waves crushing you under their iron grip.

And you couldn’t help but revel silently in his presence.

Your eyes roamed over to him before you could realize it, drinking in the precise movements of the cloth he held running over the seamless cure of his blade. Part of you wondered if he ever slept. Could he even feel tired? You mindlessly lifted the warm soup to your lips. Part of you wondered if you could convince him to give you his hat. Just to borrow for a few minutes. Would his magic still dance in between the threads or would it just be a normal hat when you put it on? Despite your efforts of getting closer, part of you couldn’t seem to bring yourself too close to him. Every time you grew to close you could feel your breath grow short, choking on the sheer thickness of his power. Your eyes couldn’t move higher than your boots and a soft quiver jolted through your body with every neuron flaring in warning.

His voice was the deep, dangerous lull of a beast that wished to tempt you close with sweet words. Dressing up sharp teeth with sweet nothings that drifted through your ears like rich velvet. Drifted down your spine like blue fire, burning with a haunted chill. As a mage, you were drawn to magic like a moth to a flame, drawn to the wildfire seering in front of you despite every part of your body warning you to flee. It was a miracle he found you pitiful enough to talk to at all, although your conversations were brief. And yet you still wanted more.

Perhaps you could ask him to hold his sword- Could you even hold his sword?

“You have quite the thing for staring, little mage.”

Your blood ran cold. His whisper ran through your body like molten gold. His movements paused, ears perking up as your panic slowly began to seep deep into the marrow wells of your bones. Even with his back turned, he could feel your stare. A god conditioned by war, conditioned to handle hordes of enemies, conditioned to feel the eyes of a threat even when unseen. You were such an idiot.

“Was there something you’ve been meaning to ask?” White eyes turned to capture your own, “Perhaps a private question you’ve had for a while?”

Your mind was reeling, lips parting to speak yet you found yourself unable to find the right words. The seconds ticked like minutes, his hot gaze burning through your deepest thoughts and rooting your heart in place. The deity dropped the cleaning cloth to the side, returning his blade to its holder as he stood. He stepped towards you, the chains of his magic latching onto you. Step, they snaked up your appendages and danced ruthlessly against your skin. Step, you could feel their strength constricting around your throat, your breath seizing at the deity that towered over you with hand outstretched. And yet in a string of courage you found your hand sliding seamlessly into his. Your bowl half-eaten and forgotten at your side as he pulled you to your feet.

The delicacy of his hold deeply contrasted with the way the air around him seemed to increase in gravity with just being in his presence. How every shift of his hand sent shocks up your arm. How you wished to know what the power that devoured you was truly capable of. He whisked you away from the others, the light that illuminated his back growing more and more faint as he led you wordlessly through the thicket. Perhaps you offended him and he wanted to tear into you for your disrespect. Maybe he thought the walk would ease your heightened nerves.

But it only served to crush you more.

The silence between you was maddening.

And yet your curiosity won against your better, sane judgment.

“Would you be open to a magic spar?” Your voice was strained yet you did your best to keep it level, normal.

The deity was unpredictable, the muscles in his back stiffening in the slightest at the sound of your voice, “you’ve wanted to spar?”

He sounded surprised, face turning to yours with a slightly raised brow. You weren’t sure if you could see light strings of amusement beneath the evident confusion. His towering height held you to the spot, unmoving under that moon blinked gaze. And yet you couldn't get enough of the soft glow that radiated off him in the moonlight. A soft nod was more than enough to confirm his question, bemusement clear and yet he obliged your request.

And now that you stood far from the others, alone on the other side of another patch of ruins did you begin to question your decision.

The cold ripped into your skin, your breath fogging in the dim light that snaked through the relic of buildings you stood between. A simple cloaking spell has bought you a few seconds of time, different enchantments wordlessly racing under your breath as you tried to get eyes on the war god. Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, unsteady eyes peering through each crack of the building you passed for the chance at an upperhand. You couldn’t even begin to try to pinpoint the source of his magic, the very essence of it flowing through the area like his very breathing ricocheting against every part of your body. Whether your trembling was from cold or thrill, you couldn’t decide.

It had been far too silent for too long. You ducked into one of the smaller, more intact buildings for a bit more cover, peering through a gap in the bricks. For a giant man in heavy armor, you felt like you should have been able to keep better track of him…

The air grew stale, constricting, heavy…

You whipped around, thin coils of your magic snaking from your arms and striking forwards towards the stalking figure behind you only for a blur of white to come crashing into you. Gauntlets crunched through the crumbing stone floor beneath you, the sound ringing through your ears as you crashed harshly against the ground. That dark force that shrouded the deity seized every muscle in your body, constricting your body like a snake’s deadly grasp. Your legs scuffed uselessly against the ground, panic fueling you to gain even a shred of distance between you and the omnipotent force that loomed over your trembling body. Massive hands gripped your shoulders, slamming you back to the ground as an unconscious scream ripped from your body. His burning glare bored through your eyes, hot breath fanned against your cold-nipped face. His power mangling you into a tiny, pathetic, shaking mess as it coursed through every part of your body.

It would be a lie not to admit to the momental terror that chained you, choked you.

Soft white hair slid from his shoulders as he leaned mere inches from your face, lips brushing against your ear as a new kind of shiver rippled down your spine.

“I’ve been watching you as well, little doll,” his scorching words fanned against your neck, “though I must admit, sparring was never on my mind.”

Your heart fluttered against your ribcage, wide eyes peering back at his half-lidded ones. Timid voice cracking under the weight of his body, of his power, “-What do you mean?”

His hands trailed down your pinned arms, head tilting to take in your quivering body before flickering back to your parted lips.

“You've been haunting me every waking moment,” one hand trailed back up your arm, your skin ignited with thousands of tiny shocks where his skin met yours, “such a delicate, stunning little goddess.”

His hand pressed against your cheek as you unconsciously leaned into his firm hand. His magic pressed into your skin, unraveling your fear with something that called from much deeper. Even if you wanted to squirm, his intensity held you still. Calling for your aura. Surrounding and cradling it in its unyielding hold much how he had you now. And this perfect, powerful god thought you were stunning.

“I’ve been dying to get you alone,” his melodic voice purred against your skin, “I want to feel your magic from the inside, don’t I get a prize for winning, my dear? ”

A squeak left your lips as you could feel his body press closer to your own, fingers burying themselves in your hair while his face buried into the crook of your neck, “What do you say?”

The hand on your cheek slowly drifted down, pressing comfortably against your nape as his fingers tangled into your hair. His other hand slid to your waist, fingers digging into the previously unmarred skin underneath through the fabric. Just the lightest pressure earned a soft whimper from your now parted lips, “yes, please.”

That was all the deity needed to crash your hips into his own, desperate whines echoing from your squirming body as he left peppered kisses behind your ear. His hands gripped into you as if you would try to slip away at any moment, the bruising pressure earning a small cry paired with his teeth sinking down onto your collarbone, sucking at your delicate skin as you craned into his intoxicating form. One new mark after another littered your collarbone, trailing up to your throat as he nipped at the gentle flesh. The hand on your hip began to pull at your shirt, ravenous eyes peering up at you once more. A single nod was all it took for the god to rip your top away from your body, his lips attacking your smooth skin with the fervor of a starving beast. Soft moans echoed the suffocating space, his power raining down on your bare skin as he attacked your breasts. Massive hands pressed you against his freezing armor while the other teased and twisted your nipple in sync with the gentle swirls of his tongue on the other.

It was mere seconds before he seized your bottom clothing and tore them away from your body, pulling away to stare down at you while either hand held your arms in place. You felt so small under his scrutinizing gaze, each ticing moment thumping against your chest as he drank in every part of your body beneath his eyes. You felt insecure under the massive god, his towering form only contributing to your want to hide your body from him but each squirm only made him press your arms down harder, “you’re even more beautiful than I could have imagined.”

His assault on your body with his lips returned full force, each press of his lips traveling lower than the last as he harshly gripped into the skin under his hands. Soft whimpering under his crushing strength quickly turned to a sharp gasp as his tongue ran through your gentle folds. His tongue was soft yet forceful, his hunger devouring into you as he slipped his tongue deeper, deeper, deeper into a place that sent tiny explosions rippling through your body. Gasps sharply transitioned into sharp moans that echoed throughout the shoddy shelter that hid them away. He was ruthless, each press with more intensity than the last all of those sparks built themselves together in your body. Higher, his tongue thrust deep into you once more, Higher, your head flew back, fingers desperately digging into the small bits of dirt in the cracks of the concrete. Higher- a jolt ripped through your body as your body shocked against his grip. Your mind fizzled into no more than pleasurable fuzz that guided your hands to pulling him closer. Tangling in his hair as he sloppily lapped up every drop of your high that flowed out of you. Every move, every twitch sent your mind reeling. Every kiss he placed on your thighs caused you to fight from the stimulation taking over, sucking at the searing skin as you desperately tried to claw away from him for a moment to breathe. But your struggling only led to his teeth sinking into your skin, his hands crushing you in place yet you didn’t feel anything but the firing shutters of your body.

“Very good my dear, you did so well for me,” you felt a heat flash through your body with every shift of his hands on your body, “such a good little mage.”

His velvety voice purred gentle praises as he admired the way your chest heaved from your climax, his own hands retreating from your body for just a moment to pull away the heavy armor he donned. And then his tunic. And then- You couldn’t help but stare. Even stripped bare he was intimidating.

“Do you still want to reward me, little one?”

Your eyes flickered up to his lustful gaze, “Yes.”

“If I am hurting you at all, you will tell me. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

A yelp escaped you as he descended upon you, pressing your body against him almost painfully as his hands tanged and tugged at your hair once again. His lips sloppily crashed to your own before devouring any part of his body he could get his lips on. Soft growls pressed into your skin as your left whimpering against him, arms sliding behind your neck and pulling yourself closer. You could feel him pressing against your sensitive opening. Teasing you as his hands roamed your body. A gentle shush was all the warning he gave you before grabbing your hips and gently easing himself into you the smallest bit.

“Ahhh-” your cry rang through the room as his gentle affirmations sang against your skin. You could feel yourself stretch around him as he slowly sunk into you, squeezing against him as you writhed against the stone wall that pinned you hard to the ground. Your body was buzzing, each further press rippling through your body with the suffocating swirl of his power taking hold over you. You could feel that knee-bending magic that poured off him in waves ripple through your body and slip into your already fuzzy mind, lighting up your brain with every further inch that sunk deep inside you. His touch made you nuts already, but this. Having him inside you sent his crushing power through your power, pressing and straining against the seams of your skin.

“You really are amazing, taking all of me like that,” You felt so full with him, eyes fluttering as you struggled to fight against the sheer power that radiated inside of you, “now let’s see how much you can really take”

He pulled away from your desperate hole only to thrust hard into tiny body, a sharp gasp leaving your lips each time he rammed his hips hard against your body. Gasps that molded into deep moans with every thrust he laid into you. Your breathing grew heavy, desperate as gentle tears ran down your eyes and saliva dribbled from your mouth. You tried to grab onto anything, fingers digging against the concrete as he slammed into you again and again and again. That familiar rise kicked in on overdrive, his intense magic coursing through your every brain- your every cell. You felt drunk with each course of his body, his heartbeat against yours in perfect harmony. It built up without remorse, hitting its peak as husky moans fell barely audible against your ears from the deity as your strangled screams echoed throughout more than just this tiny building. God you were so full, nearly leaking but he held you up against him so not a drop could drip out of you.

You were shaking, his hands running through your body once he set your hips down. His soft coos echoed upon deaf ears, all you could comprehend was the thick gravity still coiling around your body and squeezing the life out of you. Gentle brushes were all you knew for a moment, delicate butterfly kisses littering your skin. You could still feel that unbelievable power echoing throughout your body, buzzing in your every vein, swirling through your drifting mind.

When Fierce finally began to come back into focus, you tried to pick yourself up off the ground into a sitting position.

Tried.

Instead his rough hand gripped your ankle and yanked you back beneath his hovering form.

“Oh no, goddess. We’ve just started,” that ruthless, lustful face consumed you with that dark growl of his voice. And you couldn’t be more delighted to get just a taste of that power again.

This. Is. a got damn, hearty ass meal. I need a nap adsnweifncvijasds

#.bea answers #anon ask #smut

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flash-exchange · 1 year ago

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There they are! They're safe! Ieyasu can sleep well again... Provided that Keiji doesn't "sing" any lullabies to him, that is.

Now, how does that all make any sense? What exactly happened? Check out our blog to find out -- those are the last postcards we've prepared for you :) We hope you had fun.

Best wishes from the crew of IFE.

Transcriptions below the cut.

To whoever may receive this improperly sealed letter, send help to the location depicted on the other side. I, Hideyoshi Toyotomi, promise to reward you for your efforts. Employing the help of several men may be necessary.

As of now, I have restrained Mitsuhide Akechi myself. Masamune Date has been lost. A search party will be formed immediately after we regroup.

We have secured rations and shelter. Additional funds will be granted to those who can report on the status of Lord Nobunaga.

Little Mouse,

It appears we have arrived in your time. Perhaps our current whereabouts are familiar to you? It shall soon make itself apparent, hopefully.

I take you can reply to this letter? In such case, procure the items from the following list in my name:

brown hair dye,

soothing tea,

ten boxes of the so-called “cigarettes”.

Hideyoshi is not adapting well to the change, as you might have guessed. He has insisted on binding us together by the wrists. Masamune has only narrowly avoided this fate through ingesting “vodka”. He has not been seen since.

Older women keep on giving us blankets and bowls of soup, so do not fear for our well-being. I am certain that, for as long as he has not been eaten by wolves, Masamune is safe too, probably in some opulently carpeted adobe.

I await your reply,

Mitsuhide

Kitten,

I gotta say, the future is pretty fun. Ha, I only wonder if Kenshin is here too. It’d be perfect if we could finally duel for once.

I don’t know where I am, but it’s cold out here. Locals keep on trying to give me this “vodka” to warm up, but I’d rather not. Otherwise, the place isn’t half bad. I think it’s run by those older babushkas? They seem to hold everybody in check, heh.

The oldest babushka is keeping watch over me, Hideyoshi, and Mitsuhide. I plan to steal one of those “tractors” of theirs and to escape tonight. Ha, I wonder just how fast this thing will be able to go.

What do you say? Will you go on a ride with me when we meet?

Masamune

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #hideyoshi toyotomi #ikesen hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi

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turvi · 2 years ago

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Promises-4

To say Severus was feeling tense was selling it short. His heart was thrumming loudly against his chest but as usual, he was able to hide it well. He has been to these meetings more times than he can count on his fingers yet he felt breathless. He felt like he might pass out right now.

No. You can't do that. You have a duty to do.

He felt like he might faint. He laid his hands on the table. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He remembered how soft Y/n's hand felt against his. Soon his heart started to calm down.

He had to do this for Y/n just so she can go back home safely. He felt a presence beside him. He opened his eyes to see Lucius sitting beside him. Although his presence is not comforting it is familiar and that is enough for Severus. He decided to ask Lucius. He has to know something.

"Good evening Malfoy"

"Good evening Snape are you well?" Lucius frowned his eyes examining Severus' face.

"I am well why do you ask?"

"You were smiling" Lucius now gives a smile of his own as if he knows something no one does.

Severus ignored him. Soon there was a commotion outside.

"What is all that about?" he asked Lucius

"They are trying to find that woman who used to roam around here looking like a ghost."

Severus shifted in his seat uncomfortably "Why are they looking for her?"

"Well to be honest the dark lord doesn't need her. There is nothing much she can do. But she can make sure he lives"

"And how are we supposed to find her. She could have left this country for all we know."

Lucius nodded his head "Yes that is a possibility but we are going to get her under control how the dark lord did years ago"

"How?"

"It is quite easy really, there is a ritual and with her full name itself we can get her to do whatever we want, no headache for her resistance as she will be doing everything 'willingly'".

"All this hard work for a woman who does magic differently than us?"

"From what I have heard she is quite good at healing, apparently she saved the dark lord from his near-death".

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

Severus walked away as soon as the meeting was over. It seemed everyone there was preparing for the dark lord's arrival and was planning to control Y/n before he arrived.

This was way worse than he thought. Not only Y/n will be harmed but all the efforts to defeat the dark lord will go waste if he gets hold of her.

He didn't realize it when he reached his front door. He decided to meet Dumbledore tomorrow. He opened the door and heard soft humming coming from his kitchen.

He looked around. For some reason, his home felt brighter and warmer. He made his way toward his kitchen to see Y/n making dinner. Its smell itself made him feel hungry.

"Oh hey Severus, I didn't know what you liked to eat so to be safe I made soup and bread and I know that sounds bad but trust me the secret ingredient will surprise you."

He just stood there and watched Y/n make dinner. How could she kind to him? What does she see in him?

"What?" she turned to him suddenly.

"What?"

"Did you say something?"

"Uh-I...no" Severus looked at her wide eyed. No this is just a coincidence. It happens to people

"Why don't you sit down?"

"No please let me help at least"

"Sev-

"I insist"

He helped her shift their food in their bowls and sits beside her. Y/n watches him as he takes the first sip of the soup she made.

"The food might feel boring tonight but not to worry tell me your favorites and I will make it"

Severus was savoring the soup she made. He could feel his soul warm up. It was not too spicy not too sweet. Just perfect. He let out a hum that let Y/n know he was enjoying his dinner. She smiled and started eating her own dinner in comfortable silence.

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

The next day was more nerve-wracking for Severus. He decided to let Y/n stay in his home as more death-eaters were starting to look for her. Even before going to his class, he went to Dumbledore's office. He knocked on the door leading to his office bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Come in" Dumbledore's voice boomed.

Severus quickly got inside causing Dumbledore to get up from his seat

"Why do I feel you have some bad news, Severus?"

"They are going to get her in control with a ritual using her full name... apparently that is how they got hold of her last time."

"I see it's probably like a hypnosis spell"

"What are we gonna do?"

"Severus I have a solution but you may not like it."

Severus sighed "What is it?"

"Marry her"

Severus stared at him slack-jawed "Are you even listening to yourself? What made you think this was a good idea"

"Look you are already living together and it's the easiest way, you get married in secret, her surname changes, death eaters are unaware and before you know it the war is over and you two will go your separate ways."

Severus paced back and forth there is no way y/n was going to agree to this. But he had to do this time was short and this was the easiest and safest way to make sure she doesn't get controlled

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

Severus was so lost in his thoughts he didn't realize y/n was talking to him until he felt her hands on his. He expected her to be frustrated at him for ignoring her but her concerned look surprised him a bit.

"Are you alright Severus?"

He sighed and pinched his nose bridge. He would just have tell her.

"Y/n... death eaters are looking for you and I found out they are going to control you through the same ritual they did before."

She knew this was going to happen but not so soon

"Dumbledore suggested we should get married secretly and change your surname. And we will separate after the war is over."

Y/n's silence made Severus tense. He knew it was a bad idea.

"Only if you are alright with it"

This was the second time in the day he was slack-jawed. He did not expect this.

"Y/n your life is on the line and you are asking if I am alright with it or not?"

She gently rubs his palm and the simple action is enough to warm Severus' cold heart.

"Of course Severus you have made me feel so safe I am not going to do something that will make you uncomfortable."

He kissed the back of her hand "Thank you"

There was her sweet saccharine smile that made Severus think he is going to protect her no matter what it takes.

"So?"

"What?"

"Are we getting married?"

Severus nods shyly "Yes..... So it seems"

"Oh Godric you are blushing" she chuckles light-heartedly and Severus couldn't help but let out a chuckle too.

"Don't worry it's a secret marriage like I said you won't even notice I am there" she continued

But Severus saw you. He saw your soft eyes. He saw your bright smile. But he had to face the reality that you were not a part of his life neither he was yours. And as quickly you came into his life you will go away and he has to live with it.

A/N: This might feel a bit silly but let's float with it. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS IF YOU LIKE IT

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fishandships · 2 years ago

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Campbell + soup

Universe: Identity V (Time of Reunion/Ashes of Memory) Summary: After getting off to a rocky start, The Prospector learns that he may share some common ground with The Naturalist after all. Word count: 1396 As per usual I end up posting things out of order bc I wrote The Good Parts and am now struggling with the Boring Plot-Base-Building Parts. So I decided to post the Good Part(s) rather than letting them collect dust in my drafts.

—

The aroma that drifted through the hallways of the Manor was so heavenly that Norton might have thought he was dreaming if he’d managed to get any sleep so far that night. If there was any lingering doubt, the growling of his stomach quickly proved otherwise, and so Norton heaved himself out of bed to wander to the kitchen in hopes of finding the source of the tantalizing smell.

To his surprise, he found The Naturalist there, standing over a small pot on the stove. On the counter beside them was an array of herbs and spices as well as a cutting board and knife with the remnants of various vegetables. They turned sharply when they heard him enter. Upon seeing him, the unusually tranquil expression vanished from their features to be replaced with their more typical wariness. “‘Evening,” they said, their tone lukewarm.

“Didn’t expect to find you here.” He moved closer to try to get a look into the pot. “I didn’t think rich people could cook.”

A slight coldness crept into their voice as they replied, “…You make a lot of assumptions.”

“Based on experience,” he retorted, leaning against the counter.

His stomach growling loudly destroyed any efforts he had made to appear casual and disinterested. The Naturalist seemed to thaw out slightly. “Well, your timing is good, anyway. It’s almost done. Would you like some?”

This took him completely by surprise. Why would someone who clearly thought so little of him offer him a meal, especially one they had clearly made for themself? “What’s the catch?” he asked.

They looked offended. “Why would there be a catch? I made enough that there’s two servings if I scrape the pot. If you’re here because you’re hungry, you can have some. Unless the reason you were wandering the Manor at two in the morning was to find me and insult me some more.”

“I might insult you some more after the snack,” he replied. “If the soup is as cold as you are.”

The Naturalist ignored this. They began peering into various cupboards and eventually produced two bowls. They handed one to him, saying simply, “Help yourself.”

Again they surprised him by standing aside and letting him take the first serving. It was a rich tomato and cheese soup, the red broken here and there with speckles of green herbs. It burned Norton’s tongue slightly when he drank it, but it tasted so good he ended up draining the bowl in one go despite the sting. He was licking his lips before The Naturalist had finished serving themself. “Well?” they prompted. “Are you going to insult me, or was it to your liking?”

The soup was filling enough to sate his hunger, and its warmth spread through his body from head to toe. He wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist as he set the bowl aside. “It was good. Really good,” he admitted.

The Naturalist hesitated, then asked, “Would you like some more?”

Norton realized they were offering him their own bowl. Instead of accepting, he retrieved a loaf from the bread box and broke it in half, giving half to them. “Yeah, but I’ll take the pot.”

He used the bread to wipe up any remaining traces of soup from the bottom of both the pot and his bowl. “You were really hungry,” The Naturalist observed.

“It’s good soup,” he replied.

They looked pleased, and a little softer. The latter, Norton reasoned, was probably due to the dim light from the warm orange glow of the stove. He leaned against the counter and observed them for a moment. They looked up from their food when they realized he was watching them. “What?”

“I’m trying to figure you out,” he replied. “Frigid one minute, giving out soup the next.”

The detached air they seemed so good at cultivating returned. “I like sharing the food I make.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that your idea of charity?”

“No,” they said adamantly. “It’s not like that. I just—…it’s the best way I know to connect with people.”

“So this is an olive branch?” A bemused smile toyed around his lips.

“Of sorts.” They sipped at their own bowl. “Just because we’re both competitors doesn’t mean we have to be enemies. To be honest, I hate conflict. And for all we know, it could be a team-based challenge.”

“I don’t consider you an enemy,” he said after some thought. “At least, not personally.”

“But you do hate me,” they pointed out.

He shrugged. “I hate all rich people on principle.”

The Naturalist sighed and lowered their eyes to their food. “We’re really not as different as you think.”

Norton set his empty bowl aside with a loud clatter. “Enlighten me, Educated One.”

“I don’t owe you my life story,” they retorted sharply, but then they seemed to catch themself. “Look, I wouldn’t ever pretend that the hardships I’ve faced are anything compared to yours. But I had to fight to get where I am in life. I know what it’s like to be cold and hungry. To feel hopeless. Why do you think I came here? I didn’t have any other options. I was desperate to find a way to survive. Same as you.”

Again he found himself surprised by them. “But the way you talk, and your accent, your fancy clothes…What, did you marry up?”

“No.” This was an outright snarl - it was clear that his question was deeply offensive to them. “I worked to get my education. I scraped and saved to get nicer clothes and I pay attention to how I speak so people don’t look at me and write me off as just some country bumpkin. It’s all an act. If I lose this Game, I go back to nothing and no one. This is my last chance.”

Norton stared at them, digesting this. It wasn’t just the oven-glow that was causing him to see them in a new light. As they spoke, they could see the same spark of determination and fierce pride in their eyes that he carried in his own chest. It erased any doubt he might have had as to the truth in their claims. After a long pause he said, “Well. If that happens, you could always take up prospecting.”

They stared at him, indignant confusion written plainly on their features. Their expression reminded him so much of a bewildered cat that he couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “You know, cause it’s worked out so well for me.”

Grabbing an oven mitt, they whacked his shoulder with it. “Don’t laugh at me,,” they said, but they were smiling. “I’m just tryin’ to relate to you. Like I said, I wouldn’t last a day in your shoes. I just hate people makin’ assumptions about me that aren’t true. Especially people who aughta be comrades.”

The conscious drop of their affected accent was not lost on him. When they made to whack him a second time, he grabbed their wrist firmly to stop them. “Comrades don’t assault each other.”

Their face paled as they froze, all mirth gone from their countenance. “…promise?” they asked, their voice suddenly quiet.

Norton realized he had overstepped. He became keenly aware of the fact that his fingers overlapped around their wrist, so much more slender and slight were they than he. Perhaps that was why they wanted to get on his good side. With his temper and strength, he could see why they would be afraid of him. Abruptly he released them and stepped back. “I’m not promising anything. But I will say this - I don’t want to be enemies.” He offered them a reassuring smile. “Keep the food coming, though, and I might actually start considering friendship.”

The Naturalist likewise took a step back, but they were visibly less tense now. There was even a little smile tugging at the corner of their lips. “Alright.”

Having finished cleaning the last drops of soup from the pot and devouring the bread, Norton set his dishes in the sink. “Thanks again for the soup. Good night, Naturalist.”

“You’re welcome,” they replied as they rolled their sleeves up to start washing dishes. “Good night, Prospector. Sleep well.”

There was something different in their voice, a softness that hadn’t been there before. As mundane as their parting sentiment was, he actually believed they meant it.

#norton campbell #prospector idv #idv prospector #identity v #idv #oc/canon #the naturalist #rosario killick #otp: magnetic attraction #my writing

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atlasthegreatest · 2 years ago

Text

War of Hearts / Asami Sato

𝘝𝘐𝘐

"Here we go..." Sora said as she lifted her father and leaned his body against the cement wall. Adjusting her father's body, she turned to her side to pick up the small plastic bowl that contained the soup, taking a spoon full to her father's mouth.

Swallowing the soup, Hikari asked his daughter. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Yes, Dad," Sora replied with a nod, bringing another spoonful of soup to her father's mouth.

It was a lie. Ever since her dad got sick, she hasn't been able to eat properly—not that she's always been able to eat properly. Whatever food she found in containers, or stole from the counters, most of the food went to her father. Besides, her body has gotten used to not having food in her stomach for an indefinite amount of time.

Knowing the daughter he has, Hikari can recognize the lie in her answer. He knew when his daughter lied. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn't looking him in the eye; the second thing he noticed was that she was lightly nibbling on her bottom lip. Those two things were what she did when she was lying. It was a bad habit of hers. "How many times have I told you not to lie to me?"

A sigh escaped Sora's lips. Seeing that her father would not continue to eat, Sora put the spoon inside the bowl and placed it on the floor, facing her father for a few seconds. "Don't worry about me, old man. I am fine. Besides, you need the food more than I do."Sora said as she ran a hand through her hair. Of course, her father knew.

"Not worry about you?" Hikari blustered in a tone of disbelief, his pale face twisted in annoyance. "Not worrying about you?! Sora of course I will–" A hard cough ripped from his throat, causing his body to lean forward.

"Gommu!" Sora caught the attention of the man who was near the small fire in search of warming his body in the midst of all that cold. "Hand me that bucket!" Gommu urgently picked up the small wooden bucket that was on the floor to his left and handed it to the younger girl. Sora, already with the bucket in her hands, positioned the object under her father. "Spit, Dad. Get it all out." The bucket that was empty before, was filled with a greenish mucus. Tears gathered in the corners of Hikari's eyes from the effort his body had just made.

Sora looked at her father with a sad face while she massaged her father's back and ribs in an -- failed-- attempt to ease the pain he felt at that moment.

It pained her to see her father like this.

Picking up the canister containing the herbal medicinal water, Sora brought it to her father's trembling lips, tilting her hand so that the brownish liquid would go into his mouth. Once a generous portion of the medicinal water had been drunk, she laid her father back down on the large paper box beneath him and arranged the robes around his body.

"You shouldn't stress too much, Dad," Sora said quietly as he wiped the tears that had flowed from his father's eyes with his thumbs. "I know you care about me... but right now, your health is more important, okay? Now rest." The white-haired girl, without giving her father time to refute an answer, bent down and placed a kiss on her father's forehead.

"Sora..." Before Sora could walk away, Hikari caught her attention, causing her to stop.

"Dad...Please, let's not argue about this again–"

"It's not about that," Hikari said as he closed his eyes. "Mako and Bolin stopped by, saying they had something to tell you."

"Didn't they say what they wanted to tell me?"Sora knew what they wanted to tell her. She just wanted to make sure Bolin hadn't let something slip that her father shouldn't have known. Out of the three of them... Bolin had the loosest mouth.

"They didn't say anything. But they asked you to go to them." Hikari said in a slurred voice. Sleep consumes him entirely.

"Uhm..." Sora stared at her father for a while, watching how his chest rose and fell with some difficulty and how his body was still trembling slightly. Sighing heavily, she went to sit by the fire, in hopes to heat her body from the cold.

"Don't be like that, Sora..." Breaking out of her trance, Sora lured her attention away from the flames and looked at the man beside her.

"Your father is a strong man," Gommu said, as he extended his hands toward the flames. "He'll get better soon." And then he turned, offering her a sweet smile.

"I'm not so sure about that, Gommu..." Sora said in a brittle voice. "Each day that passes seems like instead of getting better, he just gets worse." Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly used the palm of her hand to wipe away a runaway tear and grunted when her fingers touched the wound of her eyebrow. "Shit!" She grunted in pain.

"Don't think negatively, Sora," Gommu advised her as he rubbed his hands over his arms. "Your father is a strong man. You'll see that in a little while he'll be better!" And he looked at her with an amused face. "You're lucky your dad is sleeping, otherwise he would scold you for saying a bad word."

"Oh, come on! I'm old enough to be able to use a curse word, don't you think?" Sora asked indignantly, staring at the older man with furrowed brows as she crossed her arms.

"Well... have you tried telling your father that?"

"No! Are you crazy? Do you want me to die?"Sora exclaimed as she widened her eyes in despair. "My father would scold me if he heard me swear!" Gommu let out a laugh at the girl's despair. "Are you laughing at me?" Sora stared at the laughing man in front of her with an incredulous face.

"Yes, I am!" Gommu said as he tried to calm his laughter. "Weren't you the one who said you were 'grown up'?"And he laughed again.

"That's not funny," Sora said with a sulky face.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not funny."

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is—damn it!" Sora let out a grunt in frustration as she realized what Gommu had done and shot him a glare.

Gommu was just trying to control his laughter so as not to wake Hikari from his sleep while sensing Sora's glare.

"You won't be so amused when I tell my dad that most of the curse words I know were taught to me by you, right?" Sora asked while arching one of her bushy eyebrows, chuckling when Gommu gasped amid his laughter when he heard what she had just said.

"It wasn't funny what you just said. Your dad will kill me if he finds out I taught you that!"Gommu looked at her with a scared face. "Besides, didn't we agree that this would be our secret?"

"Hah!" Sora snorted. "It's not funny when it's with you, right?" Sora asked, tilting her head to the side, a small smile at the corner of her lips. "Do not worry! I won't tell my father anything about the curse words you taught me, and you don't tell him that I cursed." Sora held out her hand to the older man beside her. "Ok?"

"Okay!" Gommu said as he joined his hand with the younger girls, shaking their hands.

#asami sato #the legend of korra #gxg #fem oc #avatar the last airbender #lgbtqia+

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bowandcurtsey · 2 years ago

Text

When y/n is unwell (haikyuu)

Been watching the Haikyuu Anime again because I've been back to playing leisure volley. hehe. Also it's the le kuroo hubby's birthday in a week's time! yay!

Kuroo | Tsukishima | Akaashi | Atsumu x f! reader

Post timeskip

Kuroo Tetsuro

Suddenly becomes the househusband and does everything in the house. Well he's not superb at everything but he makes sure that everything still runs smoothly. or Kinda.

There is a possibility that he'll use the wrong bowl for the cat. Or he may mistake the softener as detergent.. But it wouldn't be anything major.

He'll make sure you're tucked in nice and snug and if you're cold he'll put on them night socks for you. If your temperature gets too high he'll grab a towel and do a cold compression for you.

He gets kinda worried actually seeing how fragile and unwell you are. And when you start muttering nonsense like "am I going to die.." He'll shush you and give you extra kisses on your forehead.

he'll pat you to sleep before he carries on doing other things. Yes he'll slack off a little and watch some volleyball vids on youtube or social media.

He'll buy you some soupy meal because god bless, this man can not cook that well. He'll feed you of course, very gently and blowing at your food before putting it to your mouth because you're his queen.

Well, when you're finally feeling slightly better and you find the strength to get out of bed, you creep out to your living room to find your hubby napping on the couch with the animals. awww.

Tsukishima Kei

He doesn't really know what to do actually. You seldom fall sick and are usually independent so it's really a rare sight for him to see you vulnerable like this.

He even took a day's leave from divisional training just to take care of you.

"Am I dying?"

"Well at least you have the strength to make dumb jokes like that." your husband is as savage as ever.

He disappears for awhile and then he'll come over with some warm water and some asprin. He'll help you get up to take your meds before tucking you in again.

You'll wake up and find those cooling patch pasted on your forehead and water right beside your bed. He came in to take your temperature.

"Good. Your fever went down. Are you feeling better?"

Whether you said yes or no, he'll bring you to see the doctors, to be safe. He was actually really worried about you, while you were sleeping, he constantly came in to check on you, stroked your hair and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

And when you were feeling much better, he would definitely tease you about it.

"Maybe you should fall sick once in awhile, you're more sweeter and less naggy."

Of course you knew he was kidding.

Akaashi Keiji

Your Akaashi was Mr perfect husband. He knew exactly how to take care of you. He would totally apply to work from home and take care of all your needs.

From cooking some hot soup or porridge, to making sure you were properly tucked in, Akaashi took care of you well.

He made sure you always had warm water to drink and he gave you a water bottle with a straw so you could drink without using much effort.

He constantly changed your cooling patch on your forehead and sponged your body with a cold towel to keep your temperature down.

Bokuto was banned from coming over because he was "too noisy and would disturb your rest"

When you took your meds, he would bring in some gummy so that the meds weren't too bitter for you.

He would also make you something yummy and healthy at the same time, like a berry smoothie so that not all your food were too bland. He would let you cheat a little and eat some ice cream too, because a happy mindset keeps the body healthy as well.

Would keep you in his sight 24/7, works in the same room as you with a mask on and a tiny lamp turned on while you were resting.

You should also take this time to ask your husband for anything you want, he'll probably agree because you looked so vulnerable and sad, he'll do anything to make you feel better.

Miya Atsumu

Actually, He's probably sick together with you. But hey in the case that he isn't, he's panicking.

He calls everyone. Osamu, his mom, Sakusa... Even Bokuto and Hinata. Well, initially you had doubts when he called Bokuto but he was the only one that suggested ice cream so you were glad he did.

Well he runs out to the supermarket after leaving an ice pack over your head.

He comes home with BAGS of stuff. Different types of medicine, more ice packs, all kinds of healthy food- fruits and vegetables, and yes, ice cream.

He feeds you some medicine and pastes the cooling patch on your body as well.

He then proceeds to make a lot of noise in the kitchen and tries to make you some fruit salad or some sorts and some miso soup or something that has chunks of fish and chicken inside.

When your fever does not go down by the end of the day, your husband calls 911. Yeap. He tells the person that it's an emergency..

You had to drag you sick ass to your husband and grab the phone telling the person over the phone that you're okay and that your husband is just a little panicky.

You end up telling him to just bring you to see a doctor.

"Oh yeah baby! why didn't I think of the doctor!"

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

Text

Love Sick

Masterlist

Summary: A story about how Spencer’s worst decision ever somehow ends up being his best.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This fic is loosely based on a request I got about Spencer faking an illness to keep the reader from going on a date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: swearing

Word Count: 4k

Spencer has done a terrible, awful thing.

He wants to argue that he doesn’t know what came over him, but that would be untrue and he’s already met today’s quota on little white lies. Spencer knows exactly what possessed him to call you up at seven thirty on a Saturday night, and it wasn’t so that the two of you could discuss the weather or the recent upward trend in the stock market. Spencer’s spontaneous (panicked) phone call to you was a brazen attempt to abate the green-eyed monster that had been whispering dreadful things in his ear for the better part of a week.

To put it simply; Spencer is jealous, and he’s dealing with it rather poorly.

So poorly that he’s resorted to sabotage.

As he sits on his couch and worries at a hole in the bottom of his designated lounging sweatshirt, Spencer attempts to justify his actions. His tiny fib won’t hurt anyone . . . except, perhaps, one annoyingly perfect and stupidly handsome veterinarian. But Spencer can live with that. Potentially scorning an animal care specialist isn’t the thing that has his stomach in knots. That, he can live with. Spencer doesn’t even have pets, so there’s no longterm consequences as far as the vet is concerned. The notion of lying to you, on the other hand?

Spencer is positively sick with nerves.

He’s not sure why. Spencer’s gotten rather good at lying to you. Several months of pining for you from across the hallway of your shared apartment complex has turned him into quite the master of deceit, after all. He was a sucker from the moment he opened his door and lay his eyes on you, arms outstretched and wielding a plate of homemade sweets. The cookies were lovely, but the breathtaking smile on your face is what really did him in.

Since that first day, Spencer’s gone out of his way to ensure that he’s on the receiving end of that smile as often as possible. His efforts are never in vain; for reasons unbeknownst to him, you seem to enjoy spending time with him just as much as he did you. This mutual fondness results in most of Spencer’s off days being spent in your company. Spencer was certain that, with time, he would work up the nerve to ask you out on a date. He’s halfway to convincing himself that you might even say yes when your cat makes the unfortunate decision to steal a brownie from your plate and gulp the whole thing down.

Enter, aforementioned veterinarian.

The sound of your door opening from across the hall has Spencer breaking out into a cold sweat. His hand is halfway to his forehead, ready to wipe away the perspiration when he pauses. His body’s anxious reaction might just help him sell his story. Yes, Spencer thinks, this is a good thing. Authenticity, and all that.

Several soft footsteps are muffled by the door that separates him from you, and then his doorknob jiggles as you struggle to fit your key into the lock. A jolt of adrenaline surges through Spencer and in the blink of an eye he’s on his feet and sprinting to his bathroom in the name of authenticity. If he wants to keep up this ridiculous façade, and he really, really does, Spencer is prepared to fake it until he makes it. The alternative is far too mortifying. Failure is not an option.

Spencer cringes when he lifts his eyes to meet his reflection. He’s been told more than once that he’s an absolutely terrible liar, and the wide, guilty eyes that stare back at him confirm this. All it will take is one look at him and you’ll know something’s amiss. Perhaps it isn’t too late for Spencer to come clean. It would be embarrassing, yeah, but no less embarrassing than it would be an hour from now when you call him on his shit. But then again, there is always the possibility that you will get angry with him and leave, and Spencer isn’t willing to risk you walking away from him. Not tonight.

Spencer barely has the time to splash some cold water on his face and dive to the bathroom floor before you’re pushing open the door to his apartment and calling out his name. His brain, the part that isn’t rendered useless in his panicked state, reminds him of just how many germs can be found on the average bathroom floor. It’s enough to make him pause, but only for a moment. He takes a deep breath before slumping over against the toilet.

Showtime.

“M’ in here,” Spencer calls out in his croakiest voice. It comes out exactly as he intended, all rough and pitiful. Maybe he can pull this off, after all.

The soft pitter patter of your bare feet makes his heart rate increase exponentially. Spencer steels himself, recites a reassuring mantra in his head. I can do this; I can do this.

Spencer’s poor, overworked heart gets a much-needed rest when you step into the doorway. In fact, he’s almost certain it stops completely at the sight of you in a tiny red dress. A tiny red dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Spencer can’t even see past his mounting panic to enjoy the way you look. That damn red dress serves as a brutal reminder of why he’s sitting in his bathroom floor, clutching his toilet bowl and damn near drowning in a nervous sweat.

The thing is, Spencer hadn’t intended on sabotaging your date with the vet. He had every intention of staying in, wallowing in his sorrows and waiting up for you. Spencer even said this to Derek, who was kind enough to call him and remind him of how big of a jackass he was. Spencer didn’t need the reminder. He was well aware.

But then Derek said something that made Spencer’s blood run cold.

“And what exactly do you plan to do if she doesn’t come home?”

So, really, it’s Derek’s fault that Spencer promptly ended the call and dialed your number. It’s also Derek’s fault that Spencer is about to give the most convincing performance of his entire fucking life.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just feel so awful.” And he does feel awful, just not in the way you think.

You’re quick to close the distance between the two of you, dropping to your knees and brushing stray pieces of hair away from Spencer’s clammy forehead. His skin sings where your hand grazes it. If he didn’t have a fever before, he will if you don’t stop touching him.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spence. I wish you’d have called me sooner,” you murmur. Warm, concerned eyes drag across Spencer’s bedraggled appearance. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

Spencer gulps. “A few hours, I guess. I ate my leftovers from last night for lunch. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.”Lies, lies, lies!

Your brow furrows. “That’s strange. I ate mine, too, and I feel fine.”

Spencer doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he fakes a pained groan and rests his head against his arm. He closes his eyes and prays the intro to theater class he took in high school will pay off.

You must deem his act convincing enough because you press a soft kiss to the top of his hair and stand. Spencer hears the sound of a cabinet opening, followed by the sound of running water.

The tender touch of your hand on his shoulder has him raising his head and looking up at you, inquisitive. You place a cold washrag to his forehead, and Spencer melts into the touch. It feels heavenly against his hot skin.

“Do you think you could manage to take a shower?” you prompt, earning a feeble nod from Spencer. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trembles as you run the damp cloth down his neck. “I think I have some broccoli and cheddar soup at my apartment. I’ll go change and grab it while you shower.”

Elation spreads through Spencer, pouring from his heart until it reaches the very tips of his extremities. He can’t believe his scheme hasn’t blown up in his face already.

With the help of your outstretched hand, Spencer rises to his feet and braces himself against the shower door. You make no move to remove your hand from his, and that gives him the courage to ask his next question.

“What about your date?”

You shrug and an easy smile spreads across your face. Spencer feels faint. He blames it on his imaginary illness.

“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I’m concerned with right now is taking care of you.”

Spencer bites down hard on the flesh of his cheek to keep a smug grin at bay. This is a victory he’ll have to celebrate at a later date.

Spencer enters his living room, freshly showered and donned in clean pajamas, to the sound of your voice speaking quietly into your cellphone. He halts just before he enters his kitchen, straining to catch a snippet of your conversation. As he leans closer to the sound of your voice, Spencer halfheartedly chastises himself. First, he deceives you, now he’s resorting to eavesdropping. Rock, meet bottom.

He’s just about to wrench himself away and retreat to the couch, when:

“I really am sorry about cancelling, especially on such short notice.” A short stretch of silence follows. “Next Saturday? Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Spencer is very much like a popped balloon; the earlier feelings of elation leave him in a harsh gust. Next Saturday? He barely managed to derail this Saturday’s date! No way he could get away with it a second time.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, Spencer misses you exchanging goodbyes with the vet before collecting Spencer’s bowl of soup. He’s still standing there, absolutely crestfallen, when you round the corner. You nearly collide with his chest, narrowly avoiding it by skidding to a halt in front of him. Your eyes run up his frame, assessing him, until they rest on his face.

“You scared me, Spence,” you chuckle. You cock your head to the side. Spencer imagines his expression is none dissimilar to that of a disgruntled frog. “You feeling okay? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”

Honestly, he might. The idea of you rescheduling your date with the vet is about as vomit inducing as it gets.

“I’m fine,” Spencer says on an exhale. Funnily, it’s probably the biggest lie he’s told all day. “The shower helped.”

His delivery is flat, but you don’t seem to mind. You smile up at him, relieved, and Spencer’s chest aches.

“I was thinking you and I could watch a movie?” you offer, and Spencer nods his assent. He can’t fathom turning you down. Not when you’re wearing an old sweatshirt you stole from his closet and a pair of fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. The ache intensifies.

“What are we watching?”

You plop down on the couch and look at him expectantly. He follows in suit, settling in beside you.

“I was thinking that you could choose,” you murmur as you place the bowl in his hands. Spencer shoots a teasing smile your way as he raises the spoon to his mouth.

“You mean, you’re actually going to let me pick the movie? I should get sick more often.”

His cheek earns him an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “You always pick the movie.”

He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gotten to pick the movie.

Spencer is about to launch into an impassioned rebuttal when the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp renders him speechless. His eyes dart to your face as you concentrate on scrolling through the TV guide, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple act has on him. Meanwhile, Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.

You begin to read off a list of potential movies to him, but Spencer barely hears you. He’s practically purring as you twirl his curls around lithe fingers, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as an intense feeling of euphoria washes over him. Maybe it’s because he’s touch starved, or maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone just looked after him. Whatever it is, Spencer embraces it wholeheartedly.

“-heard it’s pretty good. So, what do you say, Spence?”

Spencer pulls himself back to the present, blinking lazily at you. You’re looking at him, expectant, and Spencer’s eyes flit to the TV. His eyes skim its contents, reading briefly about a movie in which some family moves into a haunted house.

His face breaks out into a grin and he nods, because Spencer’s known you long enough to recognize that watching a horror movie usually results in you pressed tightly to his side and clinging to his hand. He also knows that nine times out of ten, you choose to watch a horror movie over anything else. No wonder he always lets you choose.

And sure enough, not even ten minutes in, Spencer is ditching his bowl of soup and pulling you into his arms. Once you’ve draped a blanket around the two of you settled in, you glance up at him.

“How are you feeling, Spence?”

Spencer responds by saying that he’s suddenly feeling much better.

Spencer Reid - 1, Veterinarian – 0

Spencer’s not sure at which point he fell asleep. All he knows is that he certainly does not remember sprawling out across your body, nor does he remember tucking his head into the crook of your neck. But this is how he finds himself when the sun begins to pour in through his windows the next morning, and Spencer can’t bring himself to care about how he came to be there.

Spencer guesstimates that it’s no later than seven in the morning. You’re still fast asleep underneath him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. It’s early, and it’s Sunday, and Spencer can’t think of a single reason to wake you. Instead, he snuggles in closer, because he’d be a fool not to enjoy this while it lasts.

Unfortunately, the shrill sound of Spencer’s ringing phone shatters the serenity. He prays that it won’t disturb you, that you’ll remain oblivious and continue to sleep, but that hope is shattered when you begin to shift underneath him. Spencer makes quick work of peeling himself off of you before dashing to his kitchen and snatching his phone off the table.

He’s prepared to verbally assault whoever has the audacity to defile the sanctity of lazy Sunday mornings when a quick peek into the living room finds you still fast asleep on his sofa. He smiles, soft and fond, before pressing the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.” Spencer’s smile transforms into a grimace. Apparently, Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in lie-ins. “I was preparing myself for a rescue mission.”

“It’s seven in the morning. I was asleep.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios, Pretty Boy?”

“You, when you decided that it was acceptable to ring me before eight,” Spencer whisper shouts. He knows that he’s being touchy, to say the least, but who can blame him? Five minutes ago, he was cuddling with the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Now, he’s shooting the breeze with a colleague. Obviously, Spencer would prefer the former to the latter.

“Jesus, kid. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that girl of yours didn’t make it home, after all. You okay?”

The guilty feeling returns and Spencer cringes. “Uh, define ‘okay.’”

Derek curses on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, kid. Try not to beat yourself up about it, okay? There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you’ve just gotta put yourself out there. How’s this; you and me will go out next weekend and bar hop. I’ll teach you some Derek Morgan tricks of the trade. Soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about her.”

“I don’t know, that might be hard.” Spencer scratches the back of his neck. “She’s asleep on my couch right now.”

A long stretch of silence comes from the other end of the line, and Spencer thinks for a moment that the call dropped. Unfortunately, he isn’t that lucky. A booming laugh erupts from the speaker and makes him jump out of his skin.

“My man!” Derek laughs, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you, I’ll be honest.”

“It’s not what you think-”

“How did you manage that? Did the Good Doctor make a grand romantic gesture? Damn, I really hate that I missed that.”

“No, there were no gestures. And it’s not-”

Derek cuts him off. Again. “How’d she take the news? I’m assuming she took it well, if she stayed the night.”

“I didn’t tell her anything!” Spencer spits out, frustrated. “I… I told her I was sick. She came over to take care of me, and we fell asleep on the couch.”

Spencer’s proclamation is met with another long silence.

“So, you sabotaged the date?”

Spencer winces. “I did not sabotage it. I just… manipulated the situation a little.”

“Oh, you certainly did,” Derek chuckles. “How did you pull that off? I’ve seen you try to lie. That shit is laughable.”

Spencer opens his mouth to defend himself, but the pitter patter of socked feet approaching him from behind has his mouth running dry.

“Yeah, Spencer. How did you pull that off?”

Spencer had been correct in his earlier assumptions. The inevitable moment in which you called him out on his shit has arrived, and it’s every bit as mortifying as he expected. So mortifying that he can practically feel the blood drain from his face. And the thing is that he knows he deserves whatever you’re about to throw his way… it’s just that the thought of you being angry with him kind of makes him want to cry. And that would only add to the mortification.

He turns around slowly, his body rigid, until he’s met with the adorably rumpled vision of you with your arms crossed and your hair sticking up in all directions.

Spencer’s never seen anything quite so mesmerizing, and it hurts because he knows he’s ruined everything. He’ll never get to watch another scary movie with you tucked neatly against his side, or wake up in your arms again. He’ll never get to kiss you.

And the worst of all; Spencer will never get to tell you how he really feels. It’s a crying shame, because he thinks he could have been really good at loving you.

“Hey, Derek, I gotta go.”

Spencer presses the end call button and immerses himself in what has to be the most awkward stand-off of all time. You stand there, arms crossed, head cocked to the side with one hip jutted out. Spencer isn’t sure how you manage to look intimidating and endearing at the same time. He supposes the fuzzy socks are to blame.

Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. Spencer is approximately three seconds away from dropping to his knees and groveling when you finally speak.

“You sabotaged my date.”

Spencer lets out a strangled laugh. Perhaps humor is the way to go? It couldn’t hurt to try. In his opinion, the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. “I think sabotage is a strong word. I prefer the term obstruct.”

You let loose a laugh of your own, but this one holds no humor. “And I prefer keeping the company of people who don’t lie to me.” Okay, maybe it can get worse.

Spencer visibly deflates. It was a stupid idea. He’s never been a funny guy.

“I am so, so, so incredibly sorry.” Sorry for lying to you, that is. Spencer isn’t in the least bit apologetic for ruining your date. Given the chance, he’d do it again - in a more tactful way, of course. Preferably, in such a way that didn’t involve him laying in his bathroom floor.

Spencer attempts to take a step forward, only to be rooted to the spot when you fix him with a look. He’s not funny but he is smart – smart enough to know better than to push it.

“Why did you do it?”

Spencer was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that.

“I-I…”

Apparently, an eidetic memory doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to confrontations involving pretty girls. One quirk of an immaculately plucked eyebrow and Spencer loses the ability to recall a single word of the English language. It’s tragic, really.

“Spit it out, Spencer.”

“I didn’t want you to go on the date.” It’s like ripping off a band aid, the way the words tumble from his lips. It’s painless at first, but then the sting sets in when he realizes what he’s done.

Your lack of reaction doesn’t help. Your face remains passive, as if he didn’t just offer himself to you on a silver platter. Spencer squirms uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you want me to go on the date?”

God, this is excruciating. You’re clearly out for blood, and the twinkle in your eye shows just how much you’re enjoying this. Spencer would have never taken you for a sadist.

“Because…” Spencer trails off and allows his eyes to drift closed. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it his way. With his eyes closed, because he can’t bear the thought of looking you in the eye when you reject him. “B-Because I like you. A lot.”

Spencer hasn’t had a lot of practice at being wrong. In fact, he’s spent the majority of his life being right. It seems the universe is making up for that now, because he can’t seem to get a single goddamn thing right today.

You laugh at him. You actually laugh in his face. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“You like me.” It isn’t a question.

Spencer keeps his eyes shut tight.

“Y-Yeah.”

You know how they say if you take away one of a person’s senses, all of the others are heightened? Spencer couldn’t disagree more. In the midst of his despair, he’s completely unaware that you’ve crossed the room and are now standing directly in front of him until you speak again.

“Well, that’s rather unfortunate,” you sigh. Spencer inhales a sharp breath when he realizes you’re close enough to touch. Still, he keeps his eyes closed.

“Uh, why is that?”

Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when your hand reaches up and caresses the side of his jaw.

“Because, Spencer,” you murmur, silky and sweet. “I was hoping you just might love me.”

Spencer’s eyes fly open and he’s greeted by a lazy, contented smile. It’s similar to the one that greeted him when he opened his front door on that very first day, but it’s better somehow. Later reflection will determine that it’s better because it’s the kind of smile reserved just for him. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really.

“W-What?”

“You heard me.” You tilt your head up and rest your palm on Spencer’s chest. His heartbeat is erratic, thundering hard against his ribcage. He’d surely be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to faint from shock. “Do you love me, Spencer Reid?”

Spencer doesn’t even have to think twice.

“More than anything.”

“Good.” Your thumb brushes across the apple of his cheek, eliciting a full body shudder. “I was beginning to think you would never catch up.”

Spencer must be hallucinating. That, or this is all a dream and any second now his alarm is going to go off. He subtly pinches himself on the thigh to test the theory. You can imagine his surprise when nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up in a pile of his own drool, and now the skin on his thigh stings.

“You . . . You like me, too?”

You shake your head. “No, Spencer. I love you, too. Why do you think I bake you cookies and spend all of my free time in your apartment?”

“Because my couch is better than yours?” Spencer deadpans.

“I mean, that certainly doesn’t hurt. But it’s not the only reason.”

“What about the vet?” It must be his guilty conscious talking, because Spencer cannot conjure up any other reason he has for asking such a moronic question. He, personally, could not care less about the vet. Full offense intended.

“Cameron is a nice guy, sure,” you trail off. Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift down to his lips before returning to his eyes. “But he’s not really my type.”

“And what is your type, exactly?” A giddy grin finds its way to Spencer’s face. He’s notorious for being chronically clueless, but even the master of imperception himself can see where this is going.

You snort, and it’s adorable. “Liars, apparently.”

It’s impossible to determine who moves first, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the end result of Spencer’s lips colliding with yours. It’s earth-shatteringly lovely; slow and sweet and tentative. There’s no rushing, no frantic fumbling of hands. Just the reverent drag of your lips against his, warm and intoxicating.

Spencer eventually regains the use of his limbs and when he does, he’s snaking one arm around your waist as the other entangles itself in your wonderfully unruly hair.

You sigh a happy sigh against his lips and Spencer’s heart soars. In a completely unforeseen turn of events, the possibility of more lazy Sunday mornings is now back on the table. Thank God he’s better at lying than he gave himself credit for.

God, and Derek Morgan’s meddling ass.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff

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rezzyromance · 3 years ago

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Idk if you like hurt/comfort stuff but this idea has been living in my head rent free for the last week and I just have to tell someone about it. Heisenberg overworks himself and gets sick (idek if that can happen but I don’t care) and the reader goes to take care of him and he just gets so soft because no ones ever cared about him like that before and just 💕💕💕💕💕

Yess I love this!!

Taking care of Heisenberg while he's sick. (Heisenberg x GN! reader)

(Tw: hurt/comfort) He couldn't even focus his eyes on his work anymore. He was surrounded by notebooks filled with notes, ideas, blueprints, and god knows what else. He had been working nonstop for two months trying to perfect a new creation to add to his metal army. But this whole time he's come face to face with failure and malfunction. He was only working on a just a few hours of sleep. Sleep that he had accidentally fallen into. Now, he was hunched over at a desk. Sweaty, shivering, exhausted, and fighting a nasty cough that echoed through the whole factory. It was so loud even you could hear it.

You left him alone to do his work while you spent some alone time with yourself. You were lonely and worried, but he could get pretty irritable when working so you didn't want to interrupt him. You were laying on the bed that you two usually shared, attempting to take a nap, but the loud echo of Karl coughing his lungs out kept you up. "That's it.", you groan to yourself as you stand up and make your way to his office.

Once you made your way to his office and opened the door, you were greeted with an ugly sight. He had his elbows on his desk with his face in his palms. His hair was matted and greasy and his skin was pale and covered with a sheen of sweat. "What do you want?", he asks with hoarse and weak voice. "Oh Karl..", you're shocked at the state he's in. You walk over to him and take a look at his desk. There were scattered pieces of paper, some were balled up. "I'm working.", he said in a blunt tone. "No you're not. Karl you're in no shape to work right now... this last journal passage doesn't even make sense!", you point at his journal. He had written an entry, but the words slowly became scribbling messes that vaguely resembled letters.

"When's the last time you slept? Or showered? Or had something to ea-" "Did you come in here just to talk shit?" he cut you off before you could finish. "Karl I'm worried. I didn't want to interrupt you but I heard your coughing and.... you really need to rest. I love you and I don't like seeing you like this. You can't even work like this." He was silent until he started coughing again. It was a really nasty cough and when he was done he gave a deep sigh. "You're sick Karl. C'mon.", you started gently rubbing your back. The feeling sent tingles through his feverish body. "Let's get you cleaned up, get you something to eat and drink, and then you can get some real sleep.", you tried to persuade him. He was quiet again. "..fine", he said before he started to stand. His legs were shaky and his vision blurred. You grabbed his arm, scared of him falling. "I'm okay.", he says as he places his hand on yours. You then began to walk with him as he stumbled to the bathroom.

You started to fill the tub with warm water. "I can bathe myself.", he says after coughing again. "You're weak Heisy. Just let me take care of you okay? I wanna make sure you're okay." He didn't fight your words. Once the tub was filled, he began to strip. You took his dirty clothes from the floor and took them to the laundry room, setting them to the side to clean later. When you came back to the bathroom, you saw him laying down in the tub, nearly asleep. "Don't drown on me.", you joke as you grab a rag. His eyes opened at the sound of your voice. You soaked the rag in warm water and began to rub his forehead with it. His brow furrowed at the sudden sensation. "You don't have to do this.", he says, worried that he's become a burden. "I know. But I want to.", you continued to gently rub his face. Next came his hair which you wet by gently pouring water from a bucket. Then, you started shampooing his hair, massaging his scalp in the process. He felt like he was melting under your finger tips. His sickness mixed with the heat from the water made his brain feel foggy, and your touch made it all feel like heaven. He still didn't understand WHY you wanted to care for him. He opened his eyes and gazed into yours, the question still lingering in his head. You responded with a warm smile and a kiss on his forehead.

After the bath, you brought him some new, fresh clothing. "Come on. You're laying down and nothing's gonna change that.", you begin to lead him to the bedroom, taking a towel with you. "Yes ma'am.", he says as both a joke and not. Once he sat up in the bed, you straddled his lap and began to gently dry his hair with the towel. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer, resting his face on your stomach as you continue to dry his hair. Once you're done, you cast the towel to the side and hold each side of his face in your hands. "Am I gonna make it, doc?" he says with a cheeky grin. Finally, he started to look more like himself. "I'll do my best. I'm gonna go fix up some soup. Don't die while I'm gone.", you say as you hop off the bed and make your way out of the room.

He had gotten comfortable under the covers while you were fixing some food. He stared up at the ceiling, a million thoughts racing at once. "Why are they taking care of me? Why are they putting in this much effort? " There was only one answer. One answer that was so overwhelming. No one was there for him like this before. No one went out of their way to make sure he was okay, especially dealing with his stubbornness before hand. His eyes began to burn as tears started to form. He immediately began rubbing his eyes, refusing to let himself be anymore vulnerable than he already is.

You made your way back to the room with a tray that helped you carry a bowl of soup and a glass of water. "I hope it's good. I don't cook often but I tried my best.", you say before handing the tray over to him. "You're spoiling me, buttercup.", he says as he takes you by the hand. He wasn't sure of what he was doing. He just wanted to holding your hand for a second. "Spoiling you? I'm making sure you don't work yourself to death. You've already managed to make yourself sick." He laughs quietly which triggers another cough. He sat up and started to enjoy his meal while you sat beside him, resting your chin on his shoulder. You could feel his body still shivering, but not as bad as before. "Please don't ever do that again.. I mean I understand how important your work is, but I don't want to see you get hurt. You need to take care of yourself. You're important Heisy. And I love you.", Your words made him freeze. He didn't know what to do or what to say. He took a deep breath and swallowed his pride for a second. "I love you too.", his words were quiet but genuine. You knew he wouldn't like it if you made a big deal out of it, so you didn't. Instead, you smile and give him a soft kiss on his cheek. He knew you loved him. It took him until now to truly believe it, but now he knew.

#re8 #resident evil village #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg headcanon #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic

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bokuroar · 4 years ago

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hi tiger! i really love your work abt hq captains as ur bf. u made my heart woosh and pit pat hard. can i make a request? an hc on how would karasuno boys take care of you when u are sick? 👉👈

☽ a/n: omg that description lmao ilysm im so glad you liked it !!! and thanks so much for sending in a request i hope this would make your heart go woosh & pit pat hard too 💗😋 im sorry too this took so long i got so busy with college! (this is still in school setting btw)

haikyuu!! captains & how they take care of you when you’re sick

✧ DAICHI SAWAMURA

daichi drops everything at an instant for you

— both as a volleyball player and a senior, daichi knows how to help his teammates inside and outside the court. he thinks having the role of a captain developed his natural tendency to always look out for and take care of others especially the people around him. however, when it comes to you, his willingness and capacity to care for another doubles. he could be in the middle of practice or in the classroom listening to a lecture, but once he receives a text that you saw your school’s nurse because you weren’t feeling well, everything else but you loses importance to him. he’d ask coach or the teacher if he could excuse himself as this counts as an emergency. he wants to attend to you personally because daichi doesn’t think a simple text or call would suffice. the degree of your sickness doesn’t matter to him too. “daichi, you didn’t have to come i was just feeling a little dizzy that’s all.” daichi only lets out a chuckle at this and kisses your forehead, “i’ll always be there when my baby needs me.”

✧ TOORU OIKAWA

oikawa treats you like royalty

— even after watching hundreds of oikawa’s volleyball matches and witnessing his sets and spikes, his speed when he sees you try to get out of bed when you’re sick is unparalleled. to say that he wouldn’t let you lift a finger is an understatement. he isn’t underestimating your strength, he knows you are strong. but for him, he thinks that it’s the least he could do. it irks oikawa that he couldn’t physically remove your sickness away so, for him, nursing you back to health is his #1 job. you must admit it is kind of amusing and borderline silly to see the cocky volleyball player image oikawa puts on quickly replaced by a panicked concerned boyfriend when he sees you exert effort too much his liking. “honey, i have a cold. i can stand on my own, i am not dying.” you explain. “as your king i am obliged to be at your service!” he dramatically bows and kisses the back of your hand while you roll your eyes. you hate to see him go frantic about a trivial and temporary thing but your heart swells at the amount of effort he puts in for you.

✧ TETSUROU KUROO

kuroo runs you a bath

— kuroo hated seeing you sick. it breaks his heart to see you in such a weak state, example when you lose your appetite or your energy to even do the simplest of things. he’d never admit it out loud but he is actually annoyed that out of all people, you get to be sick. so when you’re feeling unwell, without you even saying a word, kuroo’s already on his move to lend you a hand. when you wake up from your much needed naps, there’s always already a glass of water, medicines, and warm soup waiting beside you. declining kuroo’s offer to feed you, he then proceeds to setup a bath for you instead while you eat in bed. as soon as your done, kuroo puts the dishes on the sink and gets back to you. he crouches down on your once again resting state on bed, caresses your cheeks and gently whispers, “hey. time for a bath?” you give him a small nod and appreciative smile, “a warm one please.” kuroo hums as confirmation. he kisses your forehead and wraps an arm on your back and another arm on the back of your knees, “hold my neck, baby.” he carries you all the way to the bathroom and asks you if do you want him to stay and help or keep you company while you relax on the tub, which you’d no doubt say yes to. as you feel kuroo’s hands massage your temples from his chair outside the tub, you couldn’t help but get one of his hands and kiss the back of it as a non-verbal thank you and i love you.

✧ KOUTAROU BOKUTO

bokuto never leaves your side

— bokuto is already a clingy boyfriend on a normal day, so what if he finds out you are sick? he’d be too worried to lay off his eyes off of you even for a second. bokuto thinks the greatest way he could help alleviate the pain you’re feeling is staying by your side. when you’re walking around the house, he won’t insist you to stop but you’ll have his eyes following you around. if you didn’t tell him you’d be fine to walk around on your own, you’d never stop having a shadow named bokuto koutarou following you around. so instead, he is on full alert if ever you need him to do something for you. he volunteers to be at your beck and call. and honestly, you find comfort with this. even just the feeling of his presence around makes you feel more ease than the usual tension you have when you’re sick. as bokuto gently hugs you from behind as you take a nap, you guiltily whisper, “bo, you don’t need to stay with me all the time. won’t you get sick too?” after realizing he spent all day at your side. bokuto frowns a bit, “look at my muscles, baby, these are too tough to get sick!” you lightly chuckle, “even the strongest men get sick, you know? and i don’t want that.” bokuto only hugs you even tighter and buries his head on your hair, “well that’s too bad. i’d rather get sick than be far away from you when you need me.” sickness aside, safe to say you both fell asleep with the most lovely smiles.

✧ SHINSUKE KITA

kita brings you everything

— kita is a very observant boyfriend. he always knows what to say and what to do in different situations. these situations include when you’re sick. one text of “my love, i can’t go to school today. i’m sick.” sent to him, he’d immediately know what to do. he calls it the “sick baby care package”. medicines? check. bottle of water? check snacks? check. kita once bought atsumu food and drinks when atsumu forgot to take care of himself. what more of it’s his partner? even with the necessities already in his bag, he would still go to a nearby store and ask you what else do you need. he prioritizes your needs above anything else especially he knows how much discomfort being sick brings. after a small reprimand of not looking after yourself, “what would you do if i wasn’t here, huh?” he lightly teases. “i’d probably still be sick. but alone.” you pout and tease back. his shoulders shake a little as he lets out a small chuckle and leans down to give you a kiss, “good thing i’m not going anywhere then.”

✧ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

ushijima searches up recipes and cooks meals for you

— the captain of shiratorizawa is a silent worrier. behind his brooding and intimidating exterior is a warm and kind heart. when he finds out your sick, it may not show on his stoic face but his mind’s an entanglement of thoughts worrying about you. does your head hurt? have you taken your medicines? do you have food? he wants to bombard you with these questions for his peace of mind but he knows better than to bother you even more. so after his errands at school, he immediately sends you a text that he’s on his way to you. seeing you sleeping on your bed when he arrives, he goes to the kitchen to inspect the food stored. as an athlete, ushijima knows that one of the best things to help you get back on your feet is digestion of healthy food. and as your boyfriend, he would love nothing more than that to happen. trying to minimize the loud sounds, ushijima then proceeds to open his phone and searches simple soup recipes when sick. a gentle tap on your shoulder and a hushed “hey” wakes you up from your slumber. when you wake up, there’s already a glass of water, medicines, and warm soup waiting beside you. “hey, you came.” despite your uneasiness, you smile as you see ushijima. he reciprocated your smile and a nod as if saying of course he wouldn’t be anywhere else. he sits beside you and gets the soup he just cooked, “i know you haven’t eaten yet, love. so here you go.” you ask him where and when he bought that when you saw the soup was on your bowl and not a takeout. ushijima slightly blushes and admits he cooked it for you. who would’ve thought, huh? you just let out a giggle and push yourself off the headboard to give his cheek a kiss before accepting his relentless offer to feed you.

; say hi/request — see pinned post!

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holykillercake · 4 years ago

Text

FRIED EGGS

KOBY x Pirate!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: Being infiltrated as a Marine and keeping your feelings under control was easy until you were assigned to work with Marine Captain Koby. How you wished he was a jerk.

highlight: ¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨

warnings: read under the risk of developing diabetes.

notes: Hey, guys! This was a lovely request from @pure-kirarin! <3 I had to stop other projects to make this one because Koby threw me out of my comfort zone hahaha I really hope you like!! ALSO 1) Happy Birthday Sabo-kun! ALSO 2) In order to add more dept to the story, the main character is part of a Yonkos´crew, but I wrote in a way that all fit, so choose your favorite! ALSO 3) ART ALERT!

Leave comments, hearts and love!

¨You have been doing a remarkable job in such little time, Commander L/N. We all have great expectations regarding your transference to our Marine Headquarters.¨

The words of the Rear Admiral barely scratched your mind as you discreetly observed the pink-haired boy´s reflection on the crystal clear window.

He maintained a similar posture to yours: chin up, chest out, shoulders back, and stomach in. However, while your fingers remained paralleled to your trousers, you took a glimpse of his clenched fist, thumb fidgeting the side of his index finger.

¨Vice Admiral Tsuru was reluctant to sign your transfer. She said you remind her of herself in the past, which is always an excellent compliment to hear.¨ you nodded, acknowledging his words ¨We´re glad we convinced her.¨

Your heart warmed with his words, and you almost felt bad because you knew the disappointing outcome O-Tsuru-san would have at the end of this. She trained you with the iron face of a merciless soldier, and the elegance that resembled the animal of her name.

It has been three years since you received the green card from your captain to part ways in a long-term solo mission. A journey to excavate the putrid secrets of the so-called defenders of the law. You learned after a short time that justice is not so black and white.

Not that you planned to reveal the dirt, no. That intel your captain could sell to the Revolutionary Army and keep the capital running. You were interested in the arms race, the corrupt diplomacy, and more importantly, the dark pipes where traitors flowed.

Someone from inside the Yonkos was feeding the Marines with crucial information about the Emperors´ activities. And in such a close fight, you could not take those risks.

All other Emperors must have their own undercover agents within the Marines, but even that was a dispute. You could point some names to your boss, who confirmed what was suspected. Those would usually be the best of the best, extravagant and loud.

But not you. You didn't have to make that much noise. You slid between the floors of New Marineford like a snake swimming with the current. Earning the respect of your superiors and being promoted without ringing any bells. You accepted each medal with a firm salutation and relentless performance.

¨The trip must have been displeasing. Submerging ten thousand meters underwater and rising to these fiendish waters require a good rest. Our Marine Captain Koby will escort you to your quarters, Commander Y/N. The remaining instructions shall be presented tomorrow.¨

You saluted the Rear Admiral in front of you and turned to the exit, passing by Koby, who waited for you to leave first. When your paths crossed, the pace of your heartbeats quickened, pumping more blood through your body and leaving a burning sensation on your cheeks.

The involuntary response was instantly interpreted as alertness to danger, which needed to be handled with caution.

Can´t let my guard down around this one, you thought.

In fact, you planned to keep as much distance as you could from him. An officer let slip that he has been gaining incredible control over his Observation Haki since the Paramount War.

But the wind seemed to change direction, and you began to swim against the current. When the morning came, you were assigned to be his partner for an undetermined time, and he would act as your superior. The idea of being bossed around by a younger marine got your temper sparked.

Only he was not like the others, treating you in a patronizing and condescending way. He spoke to you with the same cordiality and politeness he addressed everybody else.

Slowly, your concrete cold expression began to soothe. You would still remind yourself how annoying his good manners were, though. So annoying, seriously!

¨Good morning, Y/N-san!¨ he greeted as you joined him for breakfast.

¨Good morning, Koby.¨

¨Our Border Force correspondent sent his report early in the morning with information about possible Yonkos´ alliances in the Wano Country. We are arranging a meeting as soon as possible.¨

You didn´t like to handle work so early, but this subject, in particular, raised your spirits. ¨Good. It was about time.¨

You noticed that he wore a different headband. ¨What happened?¨

¨Hm?¨ he brought the soup bowl close to his mouth.

¨The bandana. Green, with the fried eggs.¨ he choked on the miso soup, coughing like he had swallowed poison.

You reached for a paper tissue and handed it to him. ¨K-Koby, are you ok?¨

¨Y-Y/N... Y/N-san...¨ he coughed some more ¨They´re not... fried eggs...¨

¨Oh...¨ your brows raised slightly ¨What are they?¨

A depressive aura grew around him ¨They are flowers, YN-san...¨

The edge of your lips contorted as you tried to hide a smile. You haven´t felt like smiling genuinely for years. Annoying boy!

From that moment on, ignoring him became more difficult. He started to ask you to train with him or invite you to spend some time with him and Helmeppo whenever you had free time. Eventually, he began to ask you how he looked before an important meeting.

Most of the time, you would reply something like ¨ok¨. But sometimes, the mouth was quicker than the brain, and you would let an ¨impeccable¨ slip out, followed by an awkward throat clearing and blushed cheeks.

From both sides.

•

¨Oh my-¨ you stopped yourself from finishing the sentence.

You were chosen to complete this mission due to your excellent skills in hiding emotions and acting calm under stressful situations. No one could break you.

Within the Marines, no joke could make you crack a smile, and no torture could make you spill secrets.

Why did you want to ask if he was ok?

Koby had entered his office with bumps and bloody bruises over his face. His always neat uniform was blotchy, and he carried a first aid kit.

¨Garp-san paid a visit.¨ He sat on the couch and opened the white box, throwing everything on the coffee table. ¨I bet it wasn't like this with Tsuru-san.¨ he chuckled.

¨No. She would beat me up, wash me and hang me up to dry.¨

You shot from the chair, moving towards the clumsy pinkette, who struggled to attend to his injuries. He tried to hold the mirror with one hand and suture his gash with the other.

¨Thank yo-¨

¨Shh. Don´t move.¨

You leaned closer to have a better look, giving Koby the same chance. Your delicate perfume smelled like it was tailor-made for you. Your breathing was slightly irregular, and your lip twitched with every given stitch. Your fingers felt like feathers on his skin, so much that he didn´t even feel a sting.

The job was fast and efficient, making Koby wish Garp had put more effort into his Love Fist. Grabbing a piece of wet cotton, you cleaned the dried blood.

¨Alright...¨ you whispered.

¨Alright...¨ he whispered back.

You were inches apart from his face, your eyes traveling across the scar on his forehead, the pink locks, and kind features. Your mind traced back all the way to the Paramount War. You had very little knowledge about him, but the words he spoke that day have always made your heart pound like cannonballs.

You will make an excellent Admiral one day, Koby.

I hope you don´t hate me.

¨Y-Y/N-san...¨

¨Hm?¨

¨Your smile is beautiful.¨

¨What?¨ The stupid scene of yours was interrupted like a DJ stopping the record player.

With cheeks getting pinker than his hair, you shot up and marched back to the chair and your newspaper. ¨You clean this up.¨

He left a low chuckle out and began gathering the mess.

Oh, no, Y/N. You have got to be kidding me.

He is a freaking marine. Breathe.

There were a vast number of reasons why you couldn´t like him: from him being a Marine Captain and you being a pirate to the fact that your mission was coming to a conclusion.

Meaning that your journey as his partner would be very soon reaching its end. The meeting with this mysterious correspondent regarding the Yonkos´ operations in the New World would be the last move in this chess game. You would be going home. Mission completed. Everything perfect, right?

Right, perfect. Impeccable! Ugh!

•

¨... confirm secure line.¨

¨This is Border Officer code 404890. Secure line confirmed.¨ you spoke with a low but clear voice through the nail transponder.

¨What´s the status on our birdie?¨

¨Positive. The birdie is located at 03:24:01.¨ you gave your boss a coordinate to the name of the Marine informant. The answer you took three years to find out remained on file number one, third page, suspect number twenty-four.

An amused laugh echoed on your end, and you buried the speaker on your jacket to muffled the sound.

¨At least he is not one of ours.¨ a chuckle ¨Great job, Y/N.¨

¨Thank you, boss.¨

¨I know this mustn't have been easy, but you were impeccable as always.¨

Yeah, impeccable.

¨You know the protocol now. We´ll see each other in a few days. You´ll have a party waiting for you, kid.¨

¨Aye, aye, boss. But I want the good booze.¨ Both of you laughed.

You finished the call, and the smile on your lips died as the image of a pink-haired boy invaded your mind. You wished he was a jerk like everybody else.

It would have been so easy.

¨Who were you talking to?¨ your chest contracted, pushing the air out of your lungs and sending extra blood supply to your muscles.

You hid the transponder into your jacket and turned, facing your Marine Captain.

¨Eavesdropping, Koby?¨

What should I do?

¨Y/N-san, who were you talking to?¨ he repeated himself, offering the benefit of the doubt. You sighed.

¨My captain.¨

Why the need to be honest with him?

¨Y/N-san, please don´t tell me-¨

¨I´m sorry, Koby. I wish I didn´t have to do this.¨ you couldn´t bring yourself to face him.

¨A-Are you a pirate? Why?¨

You chuckled ¨Why am I a pirate?¨

¨Why did you do this?¨ his face was pale, making your guts twitch in guilt.

¨I´m on a mission. But I´ll leave soon.¨

¨You are like... Vergo-san.¨ he sounded disappointed.

¨I am nothing like Vergo. You know this.¨ or at least you hoped he did.

He closed the door slowly, eyes fixed on your figure. The bright light from the window made him look like an ethereal painting.

While you tried to predict his next move, whether he was going to interrogate you or kick your ass, Koby acted calm and collected, not hesitating. He trusted his Observation Haki to guide his next move. Or maybe his heart.

You saw a pink blur closing distance like a missile, and before you could dodge, his hands pulled you by the waist, connecting your bodies and lips.

He forced your back to meet the thick window with a gasp that was muffled by the kiss. His touch was rough upon the fabric of your uniform, but his mouth felt soft against yours.

Your hands moved to his hair, removing the round pair of glasses and the green bandana so you could get lost in his locks. His grip was harsh under the fabric of your uniform, but his hair felt soft on your fingertips.

A moan escaped your lips when he parted the kiss with a loud snap and struck the glass with both hands, keeping you trapped in the middle. You let go of his hair and grabbed him by the collar, not letting him go away.

¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨ his breath was heavy and carried with a myriad of emotions.

¨I know... I am sorry.¨

¨Why?¨

¨Because I like you, Koby. A lot.¨ he paused for a second, fighting the urge to admit the same.

¨What was your mission?¨

This is the last lie, I promise, Koby. ¨The Marines possessed vital information about something my boss wants. I needed to get it.¨

¨Now that I know that you´re a pirate and that you stole Marine´s assets, I´m gonna have to hunt you down.¨

¨I´ll be waiting for you.¨

You stared him in the eyes, and he kissed you to stop himself from saying what he really wanted.

I love you, Y/N-san.

Diary of Koby-Meppo: The Fried Egg Life Crisis.

💕 @vemuabhi

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yuriko-mukami · 3 years ago

Note

⚠️NSFW⚠️

~Kitsune Dreams Event~

"Is not it nice to be home alone once in a while? A cozy evening. Just the two of us."

Smiling, Ruki put two bowls of soup onto the table.

"I still cannot believe that you wanted a simple soup. You know I would cook you a proper dinner any time."

After Yuriko and Ruki sat down, they began to eat.

"It reminds you how we met? I see. But if you are honest, you have to admit that we did not have a good start."

Suddenly, Yuriko startled, because she had seen a spider. Accidentally, she spilled soup on Ruki's hand.

"Good grief, Yuriko. Calm down. Nothing happened. Only a few drops landed on my fing— Oi! What are you doing!? You cannot— Haah... You can and you do."

A mischievous grin spread across Ruki's lips.

"Heh, I cannot say that I do not like. Hmm~ Yes, exactly. Lick it nice and clean. Such a good girl~ You really like your master's fingers, do you not?"

Enjoying Yuriko's warm mouth, Ruki's loins began to burn.

"Fuck. Yuriko. What have you done?"

Ruki stood up and threw Yuriko completely on the table.

"I beg your pardon. I hope the tabletop is not too hard in your back."

With a jerk, he ripped her shirt in half and threw it on the ground. Immediately afterwards, her bra followed. Grinning, Ruki grabbed one of the bowls and poured some soup on Yuriko's belly.

"Dinner is served~"

Like a hunter on the hunt, Ruki crept around the table. Taking off his jacket, he went halfway around it and leaned over Yuriko.

"Now it is my turn~"

Slowly and teasingly, Ruki lapped up the soup from Yuriko's belly. Every now and then, he sank his fangs into her flesh and drank her sweet blood as well.

"Hmm~ Delicious~"

With relish, Ruki licked his lower lip and spread more soup on Yuriko. This time, her chest.

"You look so good right now. Just irresistible."

While Ruki lapped up the soup from Yuriko's chest, his hand went under her skirt and pushed her panties aside.

"Already so wet for your master? You really are a shameless woman. What should I do with you?"

Before Yuriko knew what happened to her, Ruki had turned her around on the table.

"I hope the tabletop does not feel too cold on your belly. But do not worry. I will heat you up right away."

Skillfully, Ruki opened his pants and let them down to the ankles. His shorts followed immediately.

"Look what a small spider can do."

With little effort, Ruki pulled Yuriko a little towards himself, so that she just leaned over the table and her feet touched the ground. He spanked her butt and left a red mark.

"Very beautiful~"

Another slap followed.

"I suppose we have to go buy a new table tomorrow. When I am done with you, it will definitely be broken. Prepare yourself, Yuriko. Your master will devour you completely."

~Kitsune Dreams Event~

Would you like Yuriko to visit your muse’s dream?

Send your muse’s dream into my ask box, and I’ll write Yuriko’s point of view version and/or reaction to the said dream for you.

The dream can also be NSFW but only if both muse and admin are adults.

Why does everything look so big? Yuriko asked herself as she roamed through the hallway in the Mukami manor. Just then she looked down and realized that she was staring at paws, not her toes.

Oh? WAIT? Why am I fox now? Did I finally turn into one? Oh no… This isn’t good…

Suddenly a pleasurable aroma lingered from somewhere, making Yuriko sniff. Her stomach grumbled as she hurried after the smell of her favorite soup that was coming from the dining room. She sneaked into the room, sniffling even more than before only to realize that there were more scents in the air.

Lifting her gaze up, Yuriko stopped completely still. Not even the tip of her tail swung anymore. Drops of soup were dripping to the floor of the room which was filling with moans mixed with the creaking of wooden table legs that shook as if they were about to give in.

Meeting another pair of golden eyes, Yuriko’s tiny mouth dropped open. The other eyes, the human ones, were only half-open and hazy with… Was that lust? It surely smelled such! And the red face with the whining coming between pink-tinted lips told their own story. The lower groans that mixed with wet noises only paint the picture in Yuriko’s mind of what was going over the table. She couldn’t see it all but she didn’t need to…

OH MY GOSH! This must be one of those kitsune dreams again! But… this… OH – MY – GOSH! Do I really look like that when Ruki…? THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING!

“Oh my gosh, Ruki!”

Do I sound like that?! I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE! This is like watching an adult movie but I’m the main actress! Gosh, I’m going to die from embarrassment!

Yuriko turned around and dashed away from the dining room.

“Oh my gosh!”

Gasping, Yuriko opened her eyes. Her heart was bouncing as an unbearable heat washed over her covering her all over. She turned to her side, gazing at Ruki who had his smug smirk on his lips even though he was still sleeping. Suddenly he frowned, muttering her name.

He… Is he actually still having that dream? Oh my… That was… Would he truly like to do that on the dining room table? And why there was soup dripping…?

Yuriko tried to calm down but the images and sounds didn’t leave her alone. Hot moistness spread in her as she stared at the still sleeping love of her life.

“Umh… Ruki…” she whispered and inched closer, raising her hand. She let her fingertips trace his neck with a featherlight touch. “Ruki… you don’t need only to dream about it. Time to wake up~”

#ask-ruki-mukami #ruki mukami #yuriko tsukino #kitsune!yuriko #kitsune dreams event #steamytimes #(( OMFG ))#(( soup has never been this hot! ))#(( i mean... soup... hot... hot... soup... ))#(( all the more reason to love soup ))#(( thank you <3 ))#(( this dream was really something ))#(( and suits perfectly for the sinday too xD ))#(( damn the soup ))#(( HOT ))#rukiko

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just-a-creep-babe · 4 years ago

Note

I am craving soft Candy Pop.

Maybe him baking care of his S/O that's sick. (Though he's bad at it and asks the other Creeps how to help) 👀👀

Thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy uwu

Masterlist: x

Requests are closed

You grip the sheets tighter between ice-cold fingertips and close your eyes

Everything hurts

You’re miserable

You’re just on the brink of feeling sorry for yourself when a sharply clawed finger pokes at your cheek

You groan

“(Y/n)?”

His voice is uncertain, questioning—something rare for the blue-haired demon

“Mmh...” you sigh in response

A frown flashes over his usually brightly animated features

“Are you... dying?” he hesitates

“...”

You push your face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound you make because you feel bad for laughing at him

But he still hears your weak giggles despite your best efforts to cover it, and it has him making that annoyed sound he makes whenever he’s, well, annoyed

“I-I’m sorry, Pop, I don’t mean to laugh at you,” you apologize, still chuckling. “I’m just a bit sick, that’s all. I’m not dying. I’ll probably get better in a few days, really”

He tilts his head, the bells at the ends of his hair jingling slightly

“Sick? Have you been cursed? Poisoned? Did someone do this to you?”

Magenta eyes widen in worry

You don’t bother hiding you chuckle this time—except it’s cut short by a cough raking it’s way through your chest

“No, s’nothing like that,” you eventually answer after your coughing fit. “It’s a human thing, it happens”

You don’t quite have the energy to explain basic human biology to him, so you hope that your brief simplification is enough to satiate his curiosity

But judging by the look on his face, it, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to be enough

His frown deepens

“So you’re just stuck like this?”

“Mhm”

“And it’ll just go away on its own in a few days?”

“Mhm”

“But you’re not going to die?”

“Nope”

He pauses for a moment, thinking

You appreciate how pretty he looks when he’s lost in thought out of concern for your well-being

“…Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

The question admittedly catches you off guard

As sweet of a lover as Candy Pop is (no pun intended), he isn’t always the best with being attentive to your needs

To put it bluntly, he could act like a spoiled brat at times

You still love him despite that, of course, but it’s rare that his attention is so adamantly focused on you instead of himself

“Mmh...” you hum, considering his offer. ��I dunno. I’m tired, but I can’t fall asleep. My head hurts and I feel a little nauseous, but I’m not sure there’s anything you can do about any of that...”

Though you didn’t know whether or not it was possible, his frown deepens even further

“What do humans usually do when you get sick? Surely, you have some kind of remedies available”

He prods at your cheek again, as if his knife-like fingertips could poke some health and vitality back into you

“Uhm... we have soup”

He pauses

“...Soup?”

A smile quirks at your lips

“Mhm, soup”

You have to stifle your weak laughter again at the sight of the puzzled look on his face

“Well... if that’s what you need, then I’ll go bring some. You better not move until I get back, my sweet~”

You shake your head, nuzzling deeper into your sheets, trying to find some semblance of warmth and comfort in your sickly state

“Don’t worry, I won’t, Pop. I’ll be right here when you get back,” you promise

You watch him head out the room, listening to the jingling of his bells get fainter and fainter as he leaves

You wait a few minutes, then a few more minutes, and a few minutes more

What feels like at least a good half hour passes, and your clown lover still shows no sign of returning

You wonder if he really decided to make a soup from scratch instead of just heating up one of the pre-made cans you no doubt have in the pantry

The thought of him trying to cook for you is simultaneously very amusing and very worrisome

Still, he told you not to move, and it’s not like you have the energy to do so anyways, so you stay nice and snug in bed

Your eyelids eventually grow heavy and you begin teetering along the edge of unconsciousness

Right as you’re on the cusp of falling asleep, welcoming a sweet respite from your cold, you hear the jingling of bells as he returns

“Soup!”

You’re jolted awake from your half-asleep state, and as soon as you look up, a warm bowl of... something is thrusted into your lap

“Oh”

Looking down at the contents in the bowl, you suddenly decide that maybe soup was, after all, a bad thing to put him in charge of

“Pop, I, ah...” you hesitantly trail off

You glance up at his hopeful grin, then back down at the questionable... food? he placed onto your lap

“I’m uh… I’m not entirely certain this... soup is edible. For humans, I mean”

He blinks

“Why not? It has all the essentials—syrup, milk, coco powder, sugar and a hint of nutmeg for that spicy flavor”

You stomach flips

So that’s what those brown clumps are

“Uhm... soup isn’t... it’s not supposed to be sweet, usually. And those ingredients combined definitely don’t make a meal. I was thinking something more along the lines of vegetables and a good broth, and maybe some kind of meat like chicken or something, you know?”

He blinks again

You move the bowl to your nightstand

And just as you’re about to open your mouth to speak, another cough grates up your throat

You feel dizzy and nauseous, and the pain has you forgetting what you wanted to say

So instead, you let yourself sink back into your sheets, groaning through the soreness rolling through your stiff muscles

“(Y/n)?”

Concern laces his features as he mutters your name

He seems to want to reach out to touch you, but at the same time, he looks too scared of hurting you to go through with it

You offer a small smile through your discomfort

“M’fine. Don’t worry, it’s ok”

He nervously chews on his bottom lip

You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him so openly afraid like this

His concern warms your heart

“Ok, ok. Stay here, I promise I’ll be back and I’ll make things better”

He’s spinning on his heels and heading back out your bedroom door before you can muster the strength to call out to him

It isn’t long for him to return the second time around

After only a few minutes, he returns with another bowl in his hands, a large grin on his face, and E.J. trailing in behind him

You breathe a sigh of relief when Candy Pop places the bowl on your lap and the contents inside look edible

Hell, it even smells good

“We had some leftovers, so I helped him reheat them,” Jack explains. “How long have you been sick?”

You shrug, picking up the spoon and tasting the broth

It’s delicious, and your appetite immediately roars to life in response

“A day or two maybe?” you answer after swallowing, “I think it’s just a cold”

“Just a cold?” Candy Pop interjects. “They haven’t even been able to get out of bed. This is much more serious than they’re letting on!”

Jack ignores his worried outburst, and address you again

“Have you been throwing up? Feeling feverish? Any heart palpitations?”

“I might’ve been a bit feverish earlier, but not much. That’s about it”

He nods, then turns to finally speak to Pop

“If you get worried for them, you can come get me. But if they tell you they’re fine, there’s probably no need to worry”

He gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he turns to take his leave

“If you want to be helpful, you can cuddle up with them. It’s not like you can get sick too, so you’ll be fine. And I’m sure they’d appreciate it”

“Thanks, Jack,” you call out to him as he leaves

He waves his hand in a “don’t mention it” motion, and you’re left alone with your boyfriend in your room

Candy Pop looks down at you, still frowning

You scoot over to one side of the bed, patting at the empty space next to you

He gets in, wrapping his arms around your form as you curl up on his chest, welcoming his solid warmth

A quiet moment passes before he tentatively breaks the silence

“...You promise you won’t die?”

You chuckle

“Yeah, Pop, I promise”

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #candypop #candypop x reader #crp

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toujoursinvaincu · 2 years ago

Text

december 12th

16:41 — i feel like soup. i'm soup in somebody's bowl and they're trying to drink me with a fork and every time they try to scoop me up i droop between the gaps. it was so cold on my way home the skin on my left hand was so red and oddly wrinkly. from an outsider's perspective, i'm just another cold person huddled in a big black jacket, hands in their pocket, pace picking up so they can get to the warm comfort of their destination as soon as possible. from an insider's perspective, perhaps all the cells and neurons and organs within, i'm battling urges in my silly little head. really, all that occurs on my way back home is a flood of compulsions trying to get me to do anything and everything future me would absolutely regret, for the simple reward of present me's temporary delight. indulge! indulge in sugar! go buy every single thing u've ever craved and eat it all at once. it's okay if you mess up today, surely u can starve tomorrow! don't u want to feel the sweet bliss of a meiji chocolate melting inside your mouth? don't u miss the satisfying crunch of savory chips? wouldn't u just kill for a piece of tiramisu right now? why are u so persistent on not giving in? it's not like u're making any progress anyway. alright then, don't spend it on food. you have a couple hundred to spare elsewhere, why don't u go buy u some new books? so what if u just bought new ones? surely they'll all be read one day, won't they? u're not broke, u're getting paid next week, aren't u? so what if u spend the little money u have left, u'll always make more, come on! by the time i'm home, i'm too tired. i've exerted all my effort pushing this tsunami with my bare hands. with the entirety of my body's weight, pushing myself against it, trying to block it from flooding every vein every artery within me. i'm exhausted. i lay in bed and think about all the obligations i no longer have the mental or physical capacity to care for. i am soup.

#diary #december22 #soup #meiji chocolate #tiramisu #cold #winter

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stiltonbasket · 4 years ago

Note

Could we 🥺 have maybe one more scene 🥺🥺 between lqr and his nephew in law 🥺🥺🥺 or lqr and his grandbabies 👉🏽👈🏽 please? 🥺

(author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

On the morning after baby Shuilan’s arrival, Lan Qiren banishes Wangji from the infirmary and orders him to bathe and get some sleep.

“Wei Ying will not wake for a while yet, and the healers are close at hand,” he coaxes, while Wangji stares at his weary husband with so much love and tender protectiveness that Lan Qiren’s neck itches. “He and the baby are in the best of care, and you will be better equipped to look after them once you have rested and eaten.”

“I cannot leave him,” Wangji says wretchedly, despite being nearly dead on his feet; he smells of sweat and spilled goat’s milk, and the shadows under his eyes are so large that he looks more like a raccoon than an immortal master of the Lan clan. “If he should wake, and call for me, and find that he is alone—or what if A-Lan cries, or…”

“Go wash, at least,” Lan Qiren commands. “I will remain here until you return. And Xichen is here, too, so you have no reason to fear.”

At last, Wangji gives Wei Ying one last, lingering kiss and returns to the jingshi to bathe and break his fast, while Lan Qiren pulls up a chair next to his third nephew’s bed and begins composing the birth announcements, which will have to be sent out to every major and minor sect by the end of the week. A-Lan is not the heir to the sect, despite being the only child Wangji has ever fathered, so the announcements are fairly simple: merely a declaration that Xinhua-jun had given birth to a healthy baby girl without complications, and a brief note of the date and time of the happy event, along with the child’s name and a standing invitation to her full-moon celebration thirty days from now.

Wei Shuilan, Lan Qiren muses, as he traces the three characters on a sheet of blue and white notepaper. The elders had not been pleased to hear that Wangji’s firstborn would not share her clan’s surname, but both Wangji and Wei Ying chose well in giving her the name Wei; Wei Ying has no blood relatives save for his newborn daughter, and it is quite likely that little A-Lan’s future marriage will be ruzhui, with her husband marrying into her family rather than the other way around. Thus, Wei Ying’s name will continue into the next generation after this one rather than dying with him, as he must have thought would be the case only six short months ago.

Young master Jin—or Jin-zongzhu now, Lan Qiren recalls—was the one who chose the personal name, insisting that his dajiu’s child should be tied to her biao-ge and jiujiu by her name, if not by her clan. Shui was for the waters of Yunmeng Jiang, where Wei Ying grew up, and the lan was the lan for orchid: the very same lan in Jin Ling’s courtesy name, half of which he now shares with a tiny, chubby-cheeked cousin.

“It fits you, A-Bao,” he murmurs. “Wangji’s little river blossom.”

A-Lan starts to whimper at the sound of his voice, grasping at the empty air with her fists as she opens her puffy eyes—and almost before he knows it, Lan Qiren has the baby in his arms, bouncing her gently against his chest as Wei Ying sleeps on beside him.

“No, none of that,” he chides, reaching for the bottle Wangji left behind. A-Lan refuses the cloth nipple, apparently intent on being held rather than eating, so Lan Qiren tucks his great-niece close to his heart and lets her fix her beady gaze on his face.

He looks back at her in turn, testing her warm, solid weight and examining her tiny limbs one by one to see if everything is as it should be. Wei Shuilan is a sturdy infant, plump and strong with pink hands and feet, and remarkably quick reflexes; her fists grab on to everything that gets near them, and she can already lift her head a good inch or so when she lies down on her back.

“You have your grandfather’s eyes,” he says, as Shuilan wrinkles up her nose and sneezes a tiny baby sneeze. “Just like Wangji.”

Lan Qiren hardly remembers what his brother was like before his seclusion, but he never quite forgot the expression his xiongzhang made when he was exasperated with him; and A-Lan is making the same petulant face now as she follows the movement of his eyes with hers, only a great deal smaller. He feels his heart clench at the memory of his brother’s warm hands ruffling his hair, and sometimes even pinching his cheeks despite his protests—which is why he can scarcely help it when he leans down and kisses the middle of his great-niece’s forehead, dismally noting that her soft skin smells exactly like lotus root and pork rib soup.

“Your A-Niang ate too much of it while he was expecting you,” Lan Qiren tells her, very firmly. “If you grow up to be a picky eater, who refuses everything but that soup, he will have only himself to blame.”

Presently, Wei Ying shifts under his blankets and pushes himself upright. “Aiyah, Lan-xiansheng,” he says groggily, brushing his sweaty hair away from his eyes. “Look at how big my A-Lan is! My shijie’s soup worked wonderfully.”

“You will not be saying so when it is time to wean her.”

Wei Ying laughs and cuddles his daughter to his chest, dropping kisses all over her round cheeks before reaching for the abandoned milk bottle. “I’ll just feed her my spicy congee when she gets her first teeth. If she can eat that, she’ll eat anything.”

Wangji returns only two minutes later, while Lan Qiren is halfway through a lecture about the benefits of plain starter foods for babies, and stares at his snorting husband and his uncle as if wondering whether he ought to have left them alone together.

“Why are you writing down recipes?” Wangji asks, flummoxed. “Shufu?”

“Your husband means to feed that child with his nightmare porridge as soon as he can, and I am listing safe infant foods out of concern for my great-niece’s health.”

“But Wei Ying told me that the pepper congee would be a healthy first food,” his nephew assures him. “He feeds it to Xiao-Yu all the time.”

Lan Qiren throws his hands up in despair. “Wangji!”

(In spite of his best efforts, Wei Shuilan’s first solid food is rice porridge seasoned with an ungodly helping of chili oil, and she eats the whole bowlful and then cries for more. Wei Ying is intolerably smug about it, and Lan Qiren is forced to concede defeat; but he surrenders with his great-niece babbling in his lap, so it hardly feels like surrendering at all.)

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #renouncement verse #wangxian arranged marriage au #my fic #lan qiren #wei shuilan

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