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dragonotaku-justineverything · 2 years

Note

DxD Pokémon AU: How Issei charmed Clair by helping out with a horde of wild Dragon Pokémon. He was such a natural it turned her on a bit.

I got a bit carried away with this ask, just over 5000 words!!! This is quite literally the longest ask I’ve ever written. I hope that makes up for the insanely long wait @megareader93-aka-composcreator. I also hope you all enjoy it.)

Issei had to say, when he chased down Clair to demand that she actually give him a chance to battle her (who cares if Charizard was being an ass like always and didn’t listen to him?! That’s no reason to just declare the battle over! She’s a gym leader and she had to accept his challenge!), he hadn’t expected it to turn out like this.

Almost two dozen rather aggressive looking Gibles and Gabites had cornered the two of them in a deep part of the Dragon’s Den cave. And Clair didn’t seem to be able to calm more than a handful of them down at once. Not only that, she wasn’t very familiar with these Dragon-Types like she was with others like her Dragonairs. Aaaaand Charizard had left before he came into the cave because he didn’t want to be underground, so Issei was only left with Shelgon who still rarely listened to him, and Goomy who, no offense, was too weak to use in battle still. Especially against this many Pokémon at once. So Issei decided to do what he could do best.

Just wing it and act like he knew what he was doing.

However, that still didn’t mean he was prepared to find himself gently petting one of the larger Gabite’s heads as the rest of the Ground/Dragon Type Pokémon all settled down around him. Some even got docile and comfortable enough to fall asleep. Issei had to admit, he wasn’t quite sure what got them so calm around, but he wasn’t complaining as they weren’t about to attack them anymore it seemed. He just kept petting and hoped that’d be enough.

It appeared to be plenty because after a little bit longer, the Pokémon cleared away from Issei and let the two pass. Issei took the offered opportunity and booked it out of there, Clair in tow behind him. They made it back down the mountain side and back into Blackthorn City, Clair and Issei were panting from their sprint back.

After they settled down and were welcomed back by their friends, Clair had turned to Issei and apologized for her behavior. She shouldn’t have acted the way that she did. She had responsibilities as the city's gym leader, and she had to fulfill them. Issei just accepted her apology, as long as she actually battled him next time he challenged her. She promised that she would.

However, Issei was a bit caught off guard when Clair also asked him to come to her sleeping quarters that night a few minutes later. It took a slight nudge from Rias to signal to Issei that he should accept, so he did. Rias nodded at him happily, then subtly winked at Clair, unbeknownst to Issei.

——Several hours later that night——

A few minutes past 10:00 pm and Issei was standing in his usual traveling attire outside the Sleeping quarters of Blackthorn city’s gym. This was where all the gym trainers and its leader spent the night. It was also where Issei was supposed to be meeting Clair. He had honestly felt a bit awkward being led through the dark building to Clair’s room by one of her younger female gym trainers in the middle of the night, but it was definitely more awkward to just be standing outside said room all alone after the girl had knocked on the door frame and announced that he was there, then just left with a quick goodbye to Issei.

Issei stood outside Clair’s room for a good minute before he heard a faint voice from in the room say, “You can come in.”

Issei exhaled slowly to relax himself and then gently slid open the door. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. It clicked shut and Issei looked up into the room to take in his surroundings.

And promptly fell back as blood shot out from his nose, his pants got tighter from his cock rising to full mast, and let out a perverted giggle right when he saw Clair sitting on her futon mattress. Gone was her usual cape and a tight blue singlet type outfit, the one that hugged her form and all the curves Issei loved to see and had committed to memory since he arrived in Blackthorn. Now she was only in a soft looking, white bathrobe with her feet resting in a folded up comforter off the side of her futon. Issei knew that was all she was wearing because the opening wasn’t closed in the slightest. It hung loosely on Clair’s body, showing off all the cleavage that she could. And the way she was sitting gave Issei a clear view up the bottom of her robe and at her clean shaven pussy.

“Ah, I-Issei. Thank you for coming.” Clair tried to sound confident or suave, but anyone could easily hear the nervousness shake in her voice. Had the only other person present not been staring at her chest through her open robe with a stupid smile on his face. “I-I see you like my choice of attire tonight?”

The rhetorical question did manage to catch Issei’s attention. He wiped away the drool forming at the corner of his mouth and nodded vigorously. “Yeah definitely! It freaking rocks!”

Clair sighed, both in relief at the nerves in her voice going over Issei’s head, and in exasperation by how easy it was to turn his brain off. ‘I guess this will be easier than I thought. He really is a huge pervert like Rias said.’ “I’m glad. I did wear it for you after all.”

“For me?”

Clair stood up from her futon which caused her robe to shift. The bottom moved and sadly hid her pussy from Issei’s view, but the top fell open even more and let the nibble of her right tit slip out for Issei to almost squeal at seeing. “In the cave today, you showed immense talent and skill with calming all of those Dragon-Type Pokémon. I…” Clair let out another sigh, crossing her thighs slightly, rubbing them together before she continued. “I found it rather… enticing. Seeing such a display of natural skill. Seeing a person be such a natural with angry Dragons is a rare sight to see. A very rare, and appealing, sight. And with how I acted prior to that incident…” Clair slowly grabbed the edges of her robe and pulled it open, shedding the white cover and letting it slide down her body. “I thought I should apologize. Particularly in a way that your girlfriend has suggested I should.”

Her body was now totally bare and open for Issei to gawk at. And gawk he did. His eyes didn’t blink as he looked her up and down. From her long, slender legs with matching thicc thighs, to her pussy that already looked wet, and obviously ending at her fat tits. They weren’t as big as Rias’s or Akeno’s, but they were still C cups at the very least and were nothing to sneeze at. Her iconic blue hair was down and framing them beautifully, though anything with tits was beautiful to Issei. One conative thought crossed Issei’s mind as he stared. ‘Thank you Rias~! You’re the best~!’

Seeing Issei’s perverted and happy staring, Clair became more confident. She smirked and lowered her hands to rest on her hips. “I see Rias wasn’t wrong about how I should go about this. Now, do you think we should move on to the real apology?”

Issei giggled like an idiot and nodded slowly. “A-and w-what would that be?”

Clair’s smirk widened as she strode over to Issei and took a hold of his collar in her fist. “Let’s find out, shall we~?” Clair walked backwards towards her futon, pulling Issei along with her. Issei was captivated by the way she was swaying her body as she led him. Her tits were so perky they didn’t move too much, but they did jiggle enough (quite wonderfully as well, Issei would say) for Issei’s viewing pleasure. He was so busy watching Clair’s tits that he was completely caught off guard as she yanked him forwards, basically throwing him past her and onto her futon.

Issei yelped as he hit the soft bedding, but was cut off as Clair captured his lips in a deep kiss. Her tongue immediately pushed its way past Issei’s lips and against his own. She had mounted his waist and already started undoing his pants. Without pulling away from their kiss, Clair started working on Issei’s pants. She got his belt undone and buttoned his pants open, pulling them open and down his legs. His boxers got pulled down with them. His cock sprang free, all seven inches. It throbbed with need, want, and showed just how horny Issei was after the last few minutes.

Clair broke away to take in a deep breath, and looked down at Issei. With his lips no longer needing to kiss Clair’s in their heated kiss, Issei’s perverted smile once again spread across his face as he looked like he was in his own personal paradise. Clair watched him catch his breath and hummed lightly in delight. Despite how horny she had been all night since she had seen how skillfully Issei calmed those Pokémon in the cave, she found it funny how eager Issei was already. She flashed her tits at him and after just a kiss, he already seemed to be in heaven.

Clair gently took Issei’s hand and moved it to her left tit. “I heard you really liked boobs Issei. How do you like mine~?”

Issei almost squealed in joy as his fingers sank into Clair’s soft chest pillows. “They’re incredible! They’re absolutely amazing, squeezable fun bags!”

Clair honestly hadn’t been expecting a compliment like that. ‘But I guess that just means Issei legitimately meant it.’ Clair sighed, the feeling of her breast being squeezed and played with in Issei’s hand was a feeling she wasn’t quite familiar with, so every little movement side to side or light squeeze Issei did made her get even more turned on.

“I’m glad you enjoy them~. However, I have something you might like even more.” Clair gently pulled her tit away from Issei’s hand and scooted down his body, trailing her fingers down Issei’s bare chest and stomach. She kept her eyes locked with his the whole way down to where she stopped with her head right above the tip of his penis and her fingers right next to it on his pelvis. Issei watched her as she gave a little wink up at him, then let a long trail of spit fall down on his head. Issei could immediately feel the wet feeling landing and running down his cock.

That feeling was soon shot out of the water like a Hydro Pump as Clair followed the trail of her spit down and took Issei’s cock into her mouth. Her warm, wet, inviting mouth that was very excited to wrap around Issei’s cock head. She teased the man’s phallic tip like never before. Clair bobbed her head up and down along his cock. Her blowjob made Issei moan loud and boisterous. She felt herself smirking as Issei put his hand on the back of her head, trying to pull her down even further on his dick. She was all too happy to cooperate with him. Her lips sank down his shaft and didn’t stop until they reached Issei’s pelvis, where she quickly swirled her tongue all around the large cock in her mouth.

After a few minutes of this incredible talent assaulting his cock, Issei couldn’t hold on anymore. With a mix of a happy squeal and a deep, throaty moan, Issei came. He came hard, and he came a lot. Right into Clair’s waiting mouth and throat. The blue haired Gym Leader quickly pulled her head up on Issei’s dick, locking her lips around just his cock head and teasing it with her tongue as he came, milking as much semen out of him as she could. She knew that she could have taken him all into her throat and let him cum there, but she wanted to taste the seed of the man that easily tamed over a dozen Dragon-Types at once.

And boy did she taste it. Taste it, AND feel it. Issei’s cum not only tasted faintly sweet to her, it was also extremely thick~. Like she could feel it each load he shot out brush along her tongue, despite how full her mouth was getting, she still felt it move and churn in her mouth. Her cheeks started to puff out just a little bit to hold all Issei’s baby batter in her mouth before he finished cumming. As she felt the loads of cum stop and Issei’s cock stop twitching, Clair didn’t waste any time pulling back and swallowing everything in her mouth. It took two goes, but when she opened her mouth and breathed out a “refreshed” sigh at having her mouth unburdened once again, there wasn’t a drop of cum left.

Issei’s head fell back against the futon as he panted from coming down from his climax high. A stupid smile was spread across his lips and sparkles seemed to shine around him as he giggled to himself. He hadn’t had a chance to cum like that for almost a week since Rias and Akeno wanted everyone to focus on their upcoming gym battle, ironically with the person that had just sucked him off to completion in less than 15 minutes.

Clair smirked as she watched Issei look like he was ready to die happy. His cock didn’t seem as hard as when she was sucking it, but it was definitely still more than half hard. He hadn’t even gone down a full inch yet. ‘He must still be ready to go~.’ While Clair had truthfully only planned on giving Issei a blowjob, maybe also a handjob, as an genuine apology, she had also hoped that it would possibly quell the heat that had grown in her loins and chest.

Sadly it did not. It made it worse. Her watching Issei melt under her lips and swallowing his admittedly tasty cum had made her so much hornier than she had been all day since the cave. And now seeing that he was also still ready for more, it made her want more too. Sure, she hadn’t planned on taking things much farther tonight, but Clair wanted to have some fun herself tonight too. And she didn’t think Issei would object~.

Clair sat back on her futon and slowly turned around on her ass. The sound of movement got Issei’s attention. He lifted his head back up and was met with a perfect view of Clair’s creamy, plump, and flawless looking ass! It looked so plump, and like it was made to be squeezed~!

While she was facing away from Issei, she propped herself up on her hands and knees. Her firm ass pushed out towards him, swaying slightly. “I know that my chest is not as stacked as some of the girls that you travel with, but I do think that my ass definitely matches up~. Don’t you Issei~?”

Issei scrambled off his back and onto his knees, looking at Clair’s rear end like a hungry man would look at a three course dinner, drool and all. He nodded dumbly, and slowly started crawling forwards, still smiling.

Clair smirked, but then spoke up and stopped him. “Upupup, don’t be so eager. Before you go humping away, you need to know that Rias had a condition for me doing this with you. You can’t put it in my pussy tonight unfortunately. Buuut,” Clair reached behind her with her right hand and smacked her ass lightly, pulling her ass cheek afterwards, opening up her buttcrack and letting Issei see her asshole. “My ass is still fair game~. And I think you're just the kind of kinky perv that would love that. Am I right?”

Issei giggled happily and nodded, still nearly drooling over her flawless rear end. “Y-yeah hehehe. Totally!”

‘Knew it~.’ Clair thought as she kept her smirk up, confident in how things were turning out. “Well what do you say we get started~? That is, if you can keep going.” Clair didn’t need to say another word before Issei’s chest was pressed against her bare back as he mounted her. His arms snaked their way under her arms and both took a hold of her tits, both grabbing handfuls of her C cup tits. His hands rolled and played with them. Squeezing them so that his fingers sunk into the soft mounds. “I think that’s a yes is it~?”

Issei giggled like the happy pervert he was. “Hehehe~, you better believe I can keep going with a sexy, thicc body like this being offered to me!” Issei excitedly gave her tits a final squeeze, seemingly knowing that doing so would get his cock back up to full mast. Which it did, as Issei’s now very eager cock throbbed before he maneuvered it towards Clair’s offered hole.

Issei let go of her tits and straightened his back, standing up on his knees behind Clair. He stared down at the blue haired woman positioned under him. And her firm asscheeks were being pushed out right at him. It looked… so damn inviting… and like it was begging for attention.

**SMACK**

“Oooowwmmmph~!” Clair’s head arched up in a sudden yelp of pain as her ass was very audiably spanked by Issei’s left hand. However, that painful yelp had also turned into a very pleased moan in her throat halfway through. Issei’s hand was still on her ass, resting on her plump ass right where he had spanked it. The slight red mark hidden under his hand as he looked at her.

“S-sorry. I should have asked before I did that!”

Clair looked over her shoulder behind her, looking at Issei. Said man felt his breath hitch when he saw the sheer amount of lust and desire in the Gym Leader’s eyes. She looked at him with the same amount of want that a hunger predator looks at its favorite meal with.

“Do it again~. While you’re fucking me!”

Issei then realized that he never actually pushed his cock in her ass. Still looking her in the eyes over her shoulder, Issei slowly pushed his still rather slippery cock against her asshole, and moaned as his head slipped into her tight rear. “F-fuck this is the best!”

Clair’s arms shook as she held herself up, pleasure very quickly shooting out from her ass after Issei penetrated her ass. Then even more so as he pulled back and wordlessly started fucking her. And fuck did it feel good~! The same person that she wrote off as a wannabe trainer earlier that day was stretching out her ass, slapping his hips into her asscheeks and making them clap. And it felt amazing~!

**SLAP**

“Hoh FUCK me~!” Clair cried out as his hand again slapped down on her butt, in the same spot as before no less. “Fuck me Issei! Fuck me you perverted Dragon Trainer~!”

*Pap* *Pap* *Pap*

Issei did just as she demanded. Breathing evenly, he thrust his hips back and forth, slowly as to savor the feeling of Clair’s tight ass squeezing his dick. His other hand came down on her other ass cheek, slapping across the bouncing flesh eagerly.

Clair’s arms were still shaking, looking like she was struggling to hold herself up. And she was. It wasn’t her fault, but she was so horny and felt so good from feeling such a stiff, large cock filling her ass was amazing. She’d always gotten just as much pleasure from her ass as she did from her pussy. That and the painful pleasure from having him spank her quickly made her want even more pleasure. S-surly she could spare a hand to rub her pussy? O-or squeeze her tit?! Tweak her nipple a bit, give it a hard squeeze~?!

Clair never noticed Issei’s thrusting had stopped while she was thinking her own perverted thoughts. She did notice when she felt hands on her forearms, and then her arms being pushed out from under her. Without their support, she fell face first to the futon. She tried to look up, but her chin and mouth were still pressed into the mattress when another spank came from Issei. She moaned deeply into the bedding, looking ahead of her at the wall in front of her, letting Issei have a field day behind her. A very explorative field day as she felt his hand slip around her belly pressed against the futon and slid down to her pussy, where he showed just how skilled those hands he used to calm Dragons were. If Clair wasn’t already moaning into the futon, that did it. Even muffled Issei knew how loud she was moaning under his touch.

Unfortunately, with Clair now being prone on the bed and laying on top of her to finger her wet pussy, Issei couldn’t really spank her ass too well anymore. But he could show it more attention another way.

Clair felt Issei shift behind her, but didn’t know why. Not until he was slightly raised up above. She never realized that Issei was actually a bit taller, but having his head right beside hers from behind really drove it home. Like how Issei threw his hips down and shoved his cock deeper into her ass than anything ever had before.

“MMMMMNnnnnnn~!” And boy did Clair love it.

With his new position, Issei was pounding down into her ass with a new vigor, as if his previous thrusting hadn’t shown enough. Though, now he was fucking her with every inch of his cock much harder.

For the next few minutes, which Clair would swear went by too fast to be several, Clair felt the build up reach its peak in her loins. Issei’s cock in her ass and his fingers in her pussy became too much for the Gym leader to handle, and when Issei lightly nibbled on her ear from behind her? She couldn’t help but cum.

Clair unconsciously bit down on the material of her futon and let out a stifled scream as she crushed the sheet between her teeth. Her pussy let out a very sudden flow of cum all over Issei’s hand and her own thighs. Her scream turned into a high pitched squeal while she rode out her climax.

She wasn’t alone in reaching her limit. Issei had been ready to cum himself for almost two minutes, but he’d learned to hold himself back thanks to plenty of experience and practice with both Rias and Akeno. It was nice letting the female cum first~. So as Issei felt Clair’s juices hit his hand, he took that as a trigger to let himself unload. With a heavy grunt and drawn out groan, Issei buried his face into Clair’s neck, then his hips met her ass cheeks as he slammed every inch of cock he had into her ass, and came himself.

Rope after rope of thick cum was unloaded into her ass, and Clair felt it all. All of his cum shooting into her still very tight ass and building up around his spasming cock. Clair could also easily picture in her mind how this man on top of her was essentially repainting her insides~.

The two stayed in that position together, neither daring to move or pull away as they both came down from their highs. Issei was still very much on top and inside of Clair, and Clair very much was still biting down on the futon material in her mouth. Both panted for breath, regaining the ability to think clearly without anything being foggy due to lust or desire.

And the only thing Clair was bothering to think about with her new clarity was how much she enjoyed this apology herself~.With a satisfied smirk hidden from Issei by the futon, Clair slowly pulled her arms back in, stopping when they slipped past Issei’s hands to interlock her fingers with his. Clair pushed one side of her back into Issei and he must have gotten her message.

Almost as one, they rolled over onto their sides, Issei still behind Clair and holding her hands. After getting to the new position, Clair swiftly freed one of her hands and lazily pulled on the edge of the blanket folded on the side of the futon and dragged it over the both of them, then settled in once more and let Issei hold her as she fell asleep.

Not even realizing or caring that his cock was still in her ass.

——Afternoon the next day——

Issei let out another sigh of defeat as he hefted his backpack off the ground and up onto his back. Despite the amazing sheet romp that he had last night with Clair, it hadn’t let him with his gym challenge with her today.

Charizard had barely listened to anything Issei had said and basically ended up forfeiting his match. Shelgon had held up decently okay for a while but seemed to get progressively more annoyed each turn battling for Issei and eventually went out of bounds, forfeiting his match, and took a nap. And poor Goomy didn’t stand a chance. She was all ready to battle, even leaving it’s pokeball without Issei doing anything and entered the match. And she was knocked out with the first move from Clair’s Kingdra. Thankfully Clair only ordered her Kingdra to use a normal water gun instead of some of the other insanely powerful moves he’d seen her use. However, Goomy was still practically knocked out cold after getting hit by it and Issei conceded to Clair. After it was all said and done, Issei had only been able to knock out one of her Dragonairs.

‘Talk about a total ball buster.’ Issei looked over to the rest of his group, all doing the final touches of packing up and getting ready to depart from Blackthorn City after he got Goomy and Shelgon healed up. ‘Got my ass kicked by the girl I just slept with is one heck of a way to get her to remember you Issei.’ Issei berated himself, but turned away any more thoughts like that as he saw all his friends were ready to go and grouping up to leave. Issei started walking over to them, but was stopped as a voice called out, “So, finally time to leave?”

Issei looked in the opposite direction of his group and saw Clair standing there, in her usual tight blue spandex suit with her arms crossed. Her usual confident smirk on her face.

Issei rubbed his head and shrugged at her. “Yeah, we spent enough time here as it is. You should know. It took you almost a week to battle all of us.”

Clair nodded once to him. “Yeah, I know. I’ve just gotten a bit used to seeing you all around town. You all gave me and my Pokemon some fun battles.”

Issei chuckled awkwardly. “My quick loss is excluded from those I expect?”

“Don’t beat yourself down. I am a gym leader after all. I need to be stronger than most. Your friends Xenovia and Koneko didn’t beat me either. And Akeno barely beat me herself. But that Luxray of hers is really something else.”

“Yeah I guess so. That probably means that we’ll be back sometime for the three of us to try again.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me. I definitely wouldn’t mind having another round with you.” The way she said that made Issei a bit confused about what kind of round with him she meant, but a blush still appeared on his cheeks. “But until then…” Clair uncrossed her arms and sauntered up to Issei. Reaching out, she quickly slipped something in his jean’s pocket. Before she pulled her hand away though, she gave the pocket a few light pats on the outside. And then a grazing pass of her finger tips over his crotch. Issei didn’t know if that was intentional or not, but memories of the prior night still flashed through his head. “My number, hopefully we can keep in touch a bit. That way you can let me know when you’re all coming back to Blackthorn so I can… be ready for you. And maybe we could even have some fun in some other way with it~.” Clair, who had been looking Issei in the eyes the entire time she was within arms reach of him, gave one final wink before turning around, still looking at Issei as she did. With a flash of her usual smirk and a wink, she waved at him. “I’ll see you around, mister Dragon Master~.” And then she turned around and left, walking away down the street.

Issei couldn’t help but watch her go. Or more accurately her swaying ass in that wonderfully tight outfit of hers~. ‘Maybe Akeno would be willing to wear something like that~?’

“Come on Issei! We’re ready to go!”

After hearing Rias’s voice call over to him, Issei’s eyes snapped open from leering half lidded at Clair’s rear and he quickly wiped away the trail of blood that had started flowing from his nose. He turned around and jogged over to her. “C-coming!”

While he rejoined his friends, of which Akeno and Rias were finally happy to have their man back with them as they both hugged his arms into their large boobs, Clair couldn’t help but glance back at them. She stopped the sashaying walk she’d been doing to tease Issei one final time and just walked normally.

Her ass was a bit too sore from her match with Issei the previous night for her to keep it up. Not that she didn’t find the dull ache in her rear a bit of an enjoyable reminder itself~.

#high school dxd #pokemon #crossover #issei hyoudou #pokemon clair #clair #issei x clair #devils pokemon au #ask #non sfw #lemon story #lemon #megareader93 aka composcreator

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the-heaminator · 2 years

Text

October 24: Sleep Deprived || Injury and Illness

Yes this is from an already existing fic of mine but I added more so it still counts

England and Germany, two overworked fucks who won't sleep if their already flimsy sanity depended on it, and behold the voice of reason and some fucking divine intervention gets the idea through their thick skulls that sleep Is good and that maybe they are more than friends

Arthur was in a hurry, as per the usual, there were train strikes today so he had to leave earlier because, unlike some people, he did not enjoy or condone being late, for a meeting in his own lands even less.

He had not had time for breakfast and did not eat dinner the previous night as he kept procrastinating until the morning came while he was typing a report up.

To everybody else, he looked like shit, and to himself, he felt like shit, perhaps he should have maybe slept more during the past week, but he was keeping up a steady correspondence with Germany over the said week.

It was regular things, trade agreements, economic reports and all that, but being England and Germany, they both had to be extremely thorough with it.

Arthur may have been mildly concerned that an email sent at 4am was returned not 15 minutes later with an attached document of over 5000 words. But he was really not one to talk as he may have sent an email as well about half an hour later.

Anyhow, the bus came at a blessedly early time and there was minimal traffic, meaning Arthur managed to get to the hall 20 minutes early. Though he almost missed his stop because he was either daydreaming or falling asleep, perhaps both, but he managed to scramble off the bus just in time.

When he entered the conference room, it was mostly empty, save for the usual people, Germany, and Switzerland.

Anyhow, the lack of sleep was causing his eyes to not function properly, even through his glasses and he had to blink very hard to be able to discern which Germanic was which, he had not had time to put his contacts on this morning so he came wearing his unmistakable rather thick glasses, purely because he liked not bumping into things, being able to recognise people, and being able to read.

Switzerland was looking both non-confrontational and very confrontational at the same time, though that in itself was not entirely unusual, Germany looked like absolute shit, which was strange considering Arthur really liked how Germany looked normally, he had eyebags, not large ones, but unlike Arthur, he did not get eyebags often and even from a distance England could see his eyes were inflamed and he was slouching, completely irregular, considering the German brothers had always prided themselves in being neat and orderly.

Gilbert would have had a fit looking at his little brother.

Switzerland was eyeing both of them warily, once again normal Switzerland behaviour, but the wariness seemed different, more worried for them than himself, though neither sleep-deprived nation realised that.

They were all sat in their designated seats, Ludwig was leaning his head on his hand while writing something and Arthur was attempting to read what was each presentation to be about today, this was the first day of meetings and there was to be more.

Blessedly this meeting would be short, considering this meeting was non-EU countries mainly, communicating with Germany and France, Liechtenstein was not to be attending, though Switzerland was going to take notes for her. Norway and Iceland came in next, Iceland pointedly avoiding looking at anybody in the room while Norway wordlessly shot England a pointed look of concern, which he brushed off with a practised glare, though much more tired than usual.

France sauntered in with Turkey, both no doubt talking about something deeply irrelevant to anything useful, probably food or who fucked who. It was France and Turkey after all, I do not know what you would expect of them.

Though they both shut up immediately sensing the level of I am done with this shit and will eat your liver vibe emanating from both England and Germany, though they both seemed dead on their feet, possibly the cause of said vibe. But anyhow neither of them wanted to cross a sleep-deprived England or Germany if they wanted to keep their livers at least, and everyone is fond of their liver.

The meeting continued without much disruption due mainly to the lack of nations, but everyone picked up on the unfocusedness of England and the much more snappish attitude of Germany, possibly also being a cause for the calmness, though Basch seemed more tense than usual.

Once the meeting was over, all the nations sans the first three that were there, had left.

Germany was apparently asleep and Arthur was staring at some unspecified place in the middle distance, unfocused and all weird.

Basch was just concerned, so he tried to communicate with England first, seeing as he seemed to be the most sentient at this point, it did take an unreasonable time for him to realise someone was talking to him, but he did eventually realise and turned to observe him.

Basch gave a pointed look which really could have only meant one thing, "I am fine Switzerland, stop fretting, there is no need for you to be sweating."

He raised an eyebrow at the weird rhyming, but said nothing about it, instead saying, in the driest voice he could muster, "Sure, eyebrows that are more suitcases than bags clearly show your wonderful sleep schedule."

"Basch, shut your face or I may be tempted to maul it with a mace."

With the look he was receiving, he was sure of it, but again with the rhyming?

He the attempted to approach Germany, who, due to him being asleep, was less likely to maul him.

Probably.

He poked Ludwig, expecting him not to wake up, and to be fair he didn't, but he did mumble in German "Fuck off Gilbert."

He poked the sleeping nation again and said "Not Gilbert, Basch, you're in the meeting hall and asleep."

Ludwig sort of came to his sense, kind of, and looked blearily at Basch who looked back at him and continued "you're still in the meeting room Ludwig."

While this was happening, England was mumbling some unintelligible but vaguely threatening words that Basch gave an ear to but sort if ignored though they played in his head later, even though he understood just about none of it.

Ludwig finally decided to look up and Basch swears to God he had never been this scared in his life, Germany looked fucking undead, with pale, clammy-looking skin, bloodshot eyes and the lot.

"JESUS FUCK LUDWIG, GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead, I have stuff to do you know." He said, still somehow sounding annoyed while looking both physically and mentally exhausted.

"You look dead, that has to count for something." Basch deadpanned.

"For fucks sake Basch leave him and go away or you may have to be slain."

Switzerland looked at him weirdly "Stop rhyming, it is very off-putting." Even Germany, in his corpse-like state looked mildly uncomfortable with Arthur's odd rhyming and general off putting atmosphere that seemed to surround him.

Switzerland did not exactly know what caused him to say that the rhyming was concerning, I mean this is englad we're talking about, and despite never having really faced him, everyone else told him to stay well away from the blonde, as well as telling him to stay well away from Ivan.

Usually, he could see why, the fucker generally fought the first person he saw, usually France and to be fair he would have done so if he had such a reputation. Germany had also garnered a pretty bad reputation despite still being a babe in arms for most of everyone, especially in Europe and Asia, but apparently, two world wars and being the so-called master of Europe does that to your reputation.

But right now, he couldn't see it, not for either of them, he had the strongest motherfucking urge from when Ludwig was a tiny, sickly thing and Gilbert was a stressed older brother who had no idea what the fuck he was doing, and one who would rather eat his own foot than ask Hungary or Austria for help, to comfort him, put him in a blanket and make him sleep. Like back in the 1870s and 80s.

This was not the time for fucking nostalgia damnit!

He let the two walk out of the room, now that they were somewhat awake-ish he proceeded to get 3 cups of coffee, he still knew not why he was being so protective over the two, they were grown adults, and he barely knew one of them at all, but their very clear exhaustion was palpable and Basch did not like that.

He sat at the table where the two were discussing something at a rapid pace in hushed tones, right they had a one-to-one meeting after this didn't they.

After that BAsch would drag the two and knock them out with a shovel if he had to to make them rest, because for god's sake this can not be healthy, while he was in his mental ramblings, and it wasn't even a very long mental rambling either, at least by his standards, but the two, mind you, steaming cups of coffee had been drained and the two looked like they had a little more life in them, just a little.

Unfortunately, it was now the time for the two t have their meeting, and time for Switzerland to leave, but as he did so, he made sure to call Gilbert.

After exactly 3 rings, Gilbert finally picked up the phone and in German said "Basch what happened?"

Ah so he knew something was up.

Not one to beat around the bush too much he said "Ludwig looks like a corpse."

Gilbert sighed over the phone, sounding like a long-suffering father "Well fuck he did it again. Listen Basch, you're in England right?"

"Yes I am, Why?" He asked a bit suspicious of what Gilberts intentions were.

"If Germany is overworked like this, I can also assume that England is at about the same level of dead, I want you to take both of them to his house, I will call Wales, he will probably be able to help."

Switzerland was not expecting Prussia to have a whole protocol for this, but he shouldn't be complaining as he knew Prussia would more than happily go out of his way to irritate him.

But now he had the task of dealing with the two while Wales got here, conveniently for him Wales wasn't too far away, currently waiting for a train at Langley station, bit it would take at least 2 hours for him to get into central London

Basch would have to deal with this himself for now, and he was definitely not fucking ready.

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social-muffin · 1 year

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Hello! Hope you're having a great day. Here are a few of those emoji's from that I wanted to ask! 🥺✨️🎯🎶🌞👀🥰💌

Okay, so... yeah. That's more than a few, lol. Have fun!!!!

Thank you for the ask my dear! I hope you're having a wonderful day too!! 💞

No readmore cause this didn't turn out that super long :3

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Oh this is a tough one cause Hurt/comfort is one of my big weaknesses. So I'm gonna just explain two interactions!

I catch the biggest feels when a more reserved character can't contain their emotions anymore and has a somewhat public breakdown. Made even better if someone cares enough to try to hide them/hug them!

I also catch the feels when misunderstandings are cleared up in a shouting match. It doesn't even have to be between two people that get along. Just let people be so emotional that they forget to control their volume! 😭💜

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

I'm really proud of my old writing, so this is a compliment for my new/not posted writing! It sparks a lot of joy when I read through my notes, even if I'm not ready to post anything yet. ;u;

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

I feel like yes, people have guessed major plot points before, but it's only happened a few times? And I can't recall any of the times when it did happen. It also happens a lit taht someone will suggest something happening and I fall in live with the idea and then I just. Steal ideas from comments with credit to the commenter in the next chapter. 👉👈🥺

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I do listen to things when I write! I can't write in absolute silence. But the music/video I listen to varies a lot. I mostly look for music compilation type things, so I will for sure have music for like an hour at least. Or I listen to chemistry videos while I write, though I don't know why that one works lmao

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

I can write anytime, but my most emotional writing happens at around 3 am usually. Which is not conducive to having a day job. 😔 Especially since I need 8 hours of sleep to function! 😧

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Hibari has taken over my brain and demands I write for him. For one of the up and coming fics I'll try to write is Teen!Hibari's POV of the future arc! It'll be a mega self indulgent thing with a lot of headcanons and quite a few OCs, just because. Where the hell did he go and what did he do inbetween his arrival and the end of the future arc???

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I am so open to receiving questions I made a whole ask blog specifically about my stories!! So if you have random questions, here's the place to as them! @ask-skull-and-muffin

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

I feel that, for a while now, I'm being a bit of a glass canon about comments. Sometimes they are super motivating and get me to write 5000 words in a day! And other times a single comment can burn out my entire passion for a whole fic... It's pretty confusing to my soul.

I also have.... A shame I want to admit to here. 😔 A year or so ago I abruptly had the worst depressive episode of my life and I couldn't make myself reply to/answer comments as they came in at all for a good few months. So now there are 450 comments in my inbox and I think that's one of my biggest issues when it comes to getting back into writing properly... 😭

I'm so sorry to all my peoples that crave comments and don't get nearly enough! I wish I could give you some of mine, I swear! Feels like comments are a little wasted on me right now...

#ask game #thanks for the ask!#khr fanfiction #Muffin answers #Muffin lore #My biggest Shame 😔

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smallcatwoman · 2 years

Text

Oof

honestly I had no idea Taylor was releasing anything until I happened to look at instagram this morning when I woke up. I certainly don’t pay as much attention to her anymore. Her albums are so lyric intense that it takes a while for me to process it enough to analyze it. I listened to the whole thing but only really was able to process tracks 1-7 before everything just turned into mush. give me a month or two and I’ll have significantly more insight. It took me literal years to get the gist of some evermore tracks and I still haven’t listened to most of them. I mean her songs are good but I like analyzing the ones about her actual life and not the “story” songs.. I guess?

To me it seems like a lot of the songs are about her mental health, about fame, about some of her dating experiences after getting over a devastating miserable breakup and feeling up to meeting new people. Like I said, it really all just turned into mush after a few songs. some songs are about karlie but they’re pretty mild compared to the absolutely devastating “never gonna love again, standing on a cliffside saying give me a reason” type of breakup songs on folklore/evermore. I mean irl I had a really devastating breakup in 2020 it took me 5000 years to get over (it feels like) and those songs/the whole thing with karlie really spoke to me.

I feel better most of the time and I’m capable of at least being attracted to other people again even if I haven’t met anyone that I have mutual feelings for.. but I’m glad she seems to be feeling better?? Focusing on her mental health and possibly meeting new people. I guess I’ve seen people speculating about her and Zoe Kravitz but I think she’s being extremely low key if she’s dating new people. Obviously kissgate and public scrutiny affected her and Karlie a lot so I think she’s really trying to avoid “being the problem” and repeating mistakes.

I guess she’s feeling a lot of pressure to have a lavender marriage, from like.. fans and public opinion, from her publicity team, maybe from toe himself? Idk. I mean she would have one hell of a prenup I would think. I also gathered from snooping around she released some kind of very hetero excuse for the song Lavender Haze a while ago since people were reading into the name. I didn’t realize that until after I’d listened to it and a couple of other songs.. I couldn’t believe she was singing so blatantly about a lavender marriage. Like not trying to disguise it at all. No wonder she had to pre empt it like that. I guess. Like.. her plan seems to be glass closeting and keeping her actual relationships extremely private. At least she and Joe seem to be good friends and not hate each other like Calvin. I’ll probably have more thoughts once I’m able to listen to more of the album without the words turning into mush in the early hours of the morning.

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sushimmorg · 2 years

Text

Best voice recognition software for writing a book

Best voice recognition software for writing a book how to#

Best voice recognition software for writing a book plus#

You can send them to a transcription service like or you can upload them into Dragon Transcription or another program. Use a recording device to record your words now and later have them transcribed. (2) Dictate now, transcribe later Dictating while I walk open email program, send messages and more. You may also be using voice commands to do other tasks e.g. Use a microphone to dictate straight into a text program, and adjust the words on the screen as you go. There are two main methods of dictation: (1) Voice to text in real time For the Indian character names, I am just using an easy placeholder word that I will go back and fix later.” Different methods of dictation It also gives you a pause between each speaker to consider what they might say next, so perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. There are only a few commands that you use regularly, and dialog is the worst but you get into a rhythm with that. I did think I would find the punctuation difficult, but that has also been easier than I thought. I definitely need to plan the scene more before I speak it, which will save time overall in both dictation and editing. I need to ignore this when I'm dictating. But actually, when the transcription was done and I edited it, it really wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. “It felt like the words were really bad and the story clunky and poor. Here are thoughts from my journal after the first session: I want to write stories faster as I have so many in my mind that I want to get into the world.” This should make me a healthier author, and also someone who writes faster.Īuthors who use dictation are writing incredibly fast. Something will shift in my mind at some point, and it will just work. I'm so used to typing and creating through my fingers that doing it with my voice feels strange.īut I learned to type with my fingers, so why can't I learn to type with my words? I just have to practice. I'm worried that I won't be able to find the words. Here's what I wrote in my journal on the first day I tried dictation before I'd actually even started.

Best voice recognition software for writing a book how to#

“I can't spare the time to learn how to dictate.”.“I don't know how to set it up technically.”.“I write fantasy books with weird names which won't work.”.“I have a difficult accent which will make it impossible.”.“I write in public so I can't dictate.”.“I don't want to say the punctuation out loud.I don't have the right kind of brain for dictation.” I know them all because I've been through this journey several times! There are a number of reasons why people resist dictation. If you dictate, you can bypass this critical voice, get the first draft done and then edit it later. They struggle to finish a book because they are constantly editing what they have written. Some writers have a problem with perfectionism and the critical voice in a first draft. There is a trade-off with ‘finished' words as you will have to at least lightly edit to correct transcription issues, but if you want to get that first draft done faster, then dictation can be the most effective way. I've made it up to around 5000 words per hour with dictation, while I only manage around 1500 words per hour typing. (2) Writing speed and staminaĭictation is faster at getting words on the page than typing, especially if you are not self-censoring. Walking along the tow path, occasionally dictating!ĭictation can help alleviate or prevent pain right now, but learning how to write with dictation can also future-proof your living as a writer in case of problems later.

Best voice recognition software for writing a book plus#

I started using dictation when I had RSI and used it to write the first drafts of Destroyer of Worlds and also Map of Shadows, plus some chapters for this book, which I dictated while walking along the canal towpath. You can dictate standing up or while walking, or lying in bed with injuries, or if pain stops you typing.

#Best voice recognition software for writing a book

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ancient-mystical-features · 2 years

Text

the busy series (e-journal, again)

February 5, 2022

Busy Ep. 1

This probably won't be my last time of using that as a title, so I put an Ep. 1 so I can use it as an excuse to resuse the title. I'm not a fan of adding a title to these entries, but oh well. We're pretty busy with filling out the content plans with student's names for our class project. The project proposal is due on Monday. RIP us.

🚀

February 22, 2022

✉️

BU is so much work. Like why do I even bother going through all this process? Why do I even bother applying? I'm not even planning to go? As a lot of my friends say: "For clout lang." 🤡

🚀

March 11, 2022

7 days before my funeral

Due on March 18:

JECS Essay Exam

JECS Spoken Word PC

HMSS116 Poster (DONE)

HMSS116 Reaction Paper

🚀

March 12, 2022

Busy Ep. 2

I surprisingly did well with spontaneously interviewing someone for our project, especially that it had been my first time. It wasn't necessarily a comfortable experience but I mostly felt well. I am currently in another meeting and really busy with a lot.

Do not be deceived with the title. This is not just my second time being busy. I just use the title when I can't think of anything else and too busy to write a bunch.

🚀

March 13, 2022

5000 characters in one sitting

I got to write an entire essay in one sitting on a SUNDAY. I don't do stuff on Sundays intentionally. I dedicate Sundays and after-dinners for myself with no school nor org-related stuff to do unless if it's urgent. Since a lot are due next week on Friday, I figured I'd compromise last night and use that time to do one of the major stuff I needed to do. I uhh wasn't able to do that. But hey don't bite my ear off, I compromised Sunday anyways instead and I was able to finish my draft in one afternoon.

🚀

March 14, 2022

Busy Ep. 3

I can't write a lot right now but I'm working on something good!!

🚀

March 16, 2022

Busy Ep. 4

I finished all four major stuff to be submitted on Friday. Seems like I don't have to bury myself six feet below the ground after all.

🚀

March 25, 2022

Busy Ep. 5

I wrote another letter to myself last night, to be opened two years from now. I'm a little busy today prepping for tomorrow and finishing stuff and also attending a meeting and another after this one.

🚀

April 6, 2022

Busy Ep. 6

I remember typing that title yesterday, but something might have came up that got me distracted and I was unable to continue writing. Yesterday (or, well, the date in this entry) was quite a lot. We had to finish our project proposal and brainstorm on specifics so we could submit the proposal for approval in the morning so it wouldn't be pending until the end of the holy week. I was drained out yesterday but our late night call to brainstorm the rest of the stuff was fun and you could hear us either crying or laughing, we weren't sure. We even got to invite really great speakers (ONE OF THEM WHO I'M A FAN OF AND I CAN'T SPILL DETAILS BUT SINCE I BET THERE'S A GOOD CHANCE THAT NOBODY'S GONNA SEE THIS BUT HE WAS IN AHEB THE MUSICAL WOO). This event is a big one. And I hope we'll be able to keep our sanity by the end of it.

🚀

April 21, 2022

lots on my plate

One more move and I'll be experiencing another major burnout. I still have a PT due tomorrow and ALD and our culminating activity on my plate. I'm gonna take an hour break with an episode of OITNB before I fall apart.

🚀

April 23, 2022

work

We went to the vet this afternoon so work starts a little later than usual. I knew ALD was gonna be heavy but you never really realize just how heavy it is until a few days before the event when you're all in shambles.

🚀

April 24, 2022

prep

I am currently preparing the stuff to be donated for our Community Engagement Outreach.

🚀

April 26, 2022

Busy Ep. 7

It's been a while since I've watched OITNB. I don't even have a minute these days. It's reasonable though, and I kind of expected that. I just didn't expect myself to be mentally all over the place and not as organized as I was in my first project.

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hrrorflm · 3 years

Text

Daddy's little slut.

Steve Harrington x reader.

Warnings: Smut (first time writing), Daddy Kink ! Swearing.

Words count: +5000

From the first moment Steve saw you, he just knew you had to be all of him. The cherry-colored lipstick that decorated your lips, the way that skirt managed to highlight your butt and how your blouse fitted perfectly to your curves, drove him crazy. It was as if he just saw you, everything in him lit up and sent a signal directly to his crotch. He had to force himself to think about his grandmother so he wouldn't have to resort to jerking off in the high school bathroom while they were in the middle of class. So Steve wasted no more time and within a week of the start of school, he was already around you. He started by earning your friendship and trust, because even though he longed to get between your legs he was not going to put aside chivalry and his manners. Steve wasn't the type of guy to treat someone badly like that. It was just a one-night stand. And with you he made it more than clear. And in less than a month, he was already asking you to be his girlfriend.

With the wind in its sails, sex between you has become common but not boring or everyday for that. Each time he managed to surprise you more with his developed skills and talents, hand in hand you two were in charge of discovering new ways of satisfying each other. And recently, Steve had read about couples where calling the man "daddy" was exciting, so much so that with the simple idea of imagining yourself calling him that way he had to lock himself in his room for half an hour just to satisfy his needs.

On that afternoon, one that seemed like any other, Steve frantically came to your side just to tell you about that crazy idea that he had been running through his head for the past two weeks.

"Stevie, calm down, what are you talking about?" You laughed lightly when you noticed the frenzy in your boyfriend's voice, so you soon took it upon yourself to wrap your arms around his neck.

"Listen, baby ..." During the next ten minutes in which they stayed that way, Steve was in charge of explaining to you in great detail everything that he had investigated just to put it into practice with you. "So you really want me to call you daddy?" The disbelief in your voice was noticeable, but Steve didn't seem to be disturbed one bit by that, on the contrary, hearing you call him by that nickname activated that vein in him.

"Don't call me that if you don't pretend to use it, darling." The rigor in his voice made you notice that something had changed, and that lump that was felt against your belly made you realize exactly what it was.

Tempted to see how far that could go and intrigued to see Steve's more dominant side, you decided to continue that game. "How, daddy? You don't like me calling you daddy?" You flirtatiously flicked your lashes and your index finger moved slowly up to your lips, only to suck it slowly and that hint of mischief Steve adored.

"You'll make me fuck you in the middle of the parking lot and you know that doesn't bother me." He murmured hoarsely close to your ear, pulling a soft moan from between your lips.

"Fuck me then, daddy, please, I need it. I need to learn my lesson." You whispered close to his ear and Steve didn't need more. He took your hand tightly, pulling it to walk to the school gym. You could swear that the touch he applied to your wrist was starting to hurt but at that point, the moisture that grew between your legs made it impossible to think clearly.

As soon as they entered the gym locker room and Steve made sure they were alone, he led you to one of the walls where his hand was placed around your neck. "Tell me what you need, tell me."

Your cheeks were colored crimson and with a small voice you managed to respond. "I want you to fuck me, daddy, please."

"Are you so needy that you have to beg to feel my cock inside, darling? His voice had grown thicker, husky. Getting you wetter if that was possible.

His free hand moved to the level where your skirt ended and he lifted it, just to see how the underwear you were wearing exposed your wet vagina. His fingers went down to the part where your underwear was hidden between your legs and in one movement, he moved the fabric to the side and his index finger was placed on your clit, moving it in circles.

"All wet for daddy isn't it? I'm going to fuck you so hard." Steve murmured near your ear, pulled his finger away from your clit and in a moment of rudeness, he ripped your underwear to reveal your wet vagina.

"Daddy, please ..." You begged when you saw Steve linger, and with a flirtatious smile on his face, he pulled down his pants next to his underwear, releasing his big hard cock.

"Beg, beg like the little daddy whore you are." Arousal was evident everywhere, from the way your legs were shaking to Steve's thick voice.

"Please, daddy, fuck me." And without doing you waiting for him, he took his cock in his hand and began to slowly enter you, growling in the process. "As tight as ever, you squeeze me so good, baby" once inside you, he brought his hands up to your neck to encircle it, beginning to choke you as the lunges on his part became faster stronger, causing the sound of their skins crashing was heard in all the locker rooms.

"Oh daddy, harder please!" An outrageous moan escaped from your lips. Your legs were around Steve's waist and your head was thrown back against the wall; while Steve was in charge of penetrating you as fast and hard as he could. Your mouth was open in a way that made Steve to introduce two of his fingers in it, waiting for you to lick them and like his little slut, you did it.

Sorry for my disaster, English isn't my first language so don't be rude, please. My first time writing smut, isn't it that bad, I think. Send some requests!!!!!

#steve harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #stranger things #Stranger things x reader #Joe Keery #Joe Keery x reader #Steve Harrington smut #Ste Harrington fanfiction

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anika-ann · 2 years

Text

His Lucky Charm: Apple Pie Life

Type: one-shot to (mini)series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 5000

Summary: The first time you talked to Steve Rogers, he earned himself an apple pie. Now, several dates in, he earned himself a lesson in making one.

And maybe some cuddles and kisses in between.

Warnings: mention of a death of a parent, brief allusions to smut, terrible puns, language and sugar-overdose with pie (and fluff)

A/N: Can be read as a fluffy standalone, I suppose. Timeline-wise it’s set after chapter one, BUT it contains HUGE spoilers for other chapters since it’s from reader’s POV. Seriously. If you read this before chapter two/three, it will spoil the hell outta this series and I think you’ll lose part of the experience.

A/N: Following a His Lucky Charm challenge, three of you earned themselves the right for a drabble request. Right. A drabble. This one is for @annathesillyfriend and her request simply reading apple pies.

Story masterlist

The giddy feeling a single ring of a doorbell awoke in you might seem ridiculous to some, but here you were, catching yourself smiling wide when you heard it.

If that feeling wasn’t followed by a brief worry, it would be perfect; but you weren’t complaining. In fact, you welcomed it, because it made this date – your seventh now – much more palpable. As you let Steve up, waiting by the door for him, you checked your outfit of a little too simple long-sleeve and leggings and tried to mentally prepare yourself for the sight to come.

This was the shortest Steve ever had between a mission and a date with you, only having arrived from an impromptu two-day mission in an undisclosed location three hours ago. When you had found out about the mission almost colliding with your date plans, you offered to cancel without hesitation, despite being as excited about the date night. You didn’t want Steve to push himself through exhaustion and perhaps some pretty strange mind-space, but he insisted he’d actually welcome it.

You made him swear that if his opinion changed, he would call it off even if it was five minutes prior, no matter that you had changed your schedule at the café already. You promised you wouldn’t be mad at him (but didn’t admit you’d be sad.)

Steve called off nothing.

So here you were on a Friday night, face to face with a gorgeous man with a band-aid on his left cheek and a dim shadow of a bruise under his eye, smiling at you sheepishly, but holding out a plastic bag with almost twenty Granny Smiths with undeniable enthusiasm.

He seemed a little smaller than usual, as if the mission weighted on his shoulders still – no matter how much of those shoulders there was, almost entirely filling your doorway – hair ruffled as ever, but it was obvious he put care into looking as normal as possible. And even though your heart ached at his still visible injuries, you felt it skip a happy beat at seeing him. More so in a wonderfully tight dark jeans and light-blue button-up peeking from under his leather jacket.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Hey handsome,” you greeted him back, dropping a kiss to his unharmed cheek, only now noticing that his other hand purposefully reminded behind his back. Your eyes narrowed as you ushered him in, peeking behind him when taking the apples – only to spy a tub of vanilla ice-cream. Of course. “Fair enough. I’ll allow it.”

Steve chuckled at your antics, saluting you since you were the master baker here, toeing off his shoes and losing his jacket as you made your way to the kitchen. You weren’t sure how you were both going to fit in the very limited space, but if you had to be rubbing on the large shoulders of his the whole evening? You were not about to complain.

He patted behind you wordlessly, sneaking towards the freezer to put away his little surprise as you laid the apples on the counter. Just as you turned to face him, he took a large stride towards you, resulting in you barely catching yourself against his chest before you could walk straight into him. His hands steadied you confidently, landing on your hips.

“I didn’t get to say hi properly,” he muttered, already bowing his head, weary smile playing in the corners of his lips.

The infamous butterflies erupted in your stomach, your momentary hesitation to reply leading to you not getting an opportunity to speak up at all. Steve’s lips pressed to yours, hand cradling the back of your head gingerly, your left hand sliding to his nape to toy with his short hair. With a content hum and a parting of his lips, his other arm locked firmly around your waist; you found yourself leaning into it gratefully, slightly lightheaded as Steve lovingly stole all air from your lungs bit by bit.

He retreated with a few more pecks, his breathing barely affected unlike yours; but you were now both smiling widely, happy in your bubble.

“…hi,” you whispered, blinking up at him – dazed, much to his apparent satisfaction.

“Hi.”

“That’s one hell of a greeting,” you noted, licking your lips to savour the tickly sensation his kiss gave you. There was the lightest feel of a two-day stubble still echoing on your skin and you were certainly not complaining.

“Well, I missed you helluva lot,” he mimicked, brushing the pad of his thumb over your cheek, reminding you of the damage to his own. It must have shown in your expression, because he shook his head and pecked your lips again. “It’s healing as we speak. I’m fine. Ready to bake the best damn pie in New York City.”

At that, your eyebrow jumped, teasing.

“Oh? Those are big words, Steve. You sure about that?”

“I’ll have a lot of help from the greatest baker I know, I hope,” he hummed, not so subtly complimenting you, making you feel shy and proud at once. If there was something you did feel rather confident and at home in, it was your baking skills.

With a content sigh, you wrapped your arms around Steve’s torso, curling in his embrace as you rested your cheek against his chest, simply enjoying the feeling of his body against yours – and the exquisite feeling of safety his arms offered so willingly.

You weren’t the only one revelling in it, however – Steve’s arms squeezed you a little tighter, nose tucked into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo; it didn’t escape your attention how some of the tension you failed to notice before melted away from his body. Your thumbs started drawing calming circles on his back on instinct and Steve didn’t protest, relaxing further, making you smile into his shirt.

“I guess that can be arranged.”

It wasn’t until you let go and started preparing the ingredients when it occurred to you that for all Steve’s effort and your seemingly lacking effort in choosing an outfit, it wasn’t that you were underdressed.

It was the other way around: Steve was overdressed.

Not because this was a date, but because you were supposed to be baking. And yes, flour sprinkles would be less visible on a light shirt than on a dark one, but still – it was a shirt. And while you didn’t think Steve was splashing out money where he could, it was an undeniably quality shirt, even if his large frame could use one a size bigger; not that you were going to tell him that and miss the view of how the seams fought for their lives on Steve’s biceps.

“Not to complain, but… aren’t you dressed a little fancy for a baking session?” you asked carefully, using the opportunity to give Steve a meaningful and thorough onceover. He looked so good.

Steve just shrugged, side-eyeing you, clearly unbothered. He reached for his sleeves and unbuttoned each, rolling them almost up to his elbows, as much as the fabric allowed.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit to yourself that for the several seconds that the task took him, your brain switched off. And judging by the wannabe innocent smile to Steve’s lips – the picture of innocence completely ruined by the self-satisfied look in his eye – Steve knew exactly what he was doing.

“Figured I’d just do this.”

Who knew Steve Rogers was such a menace?

You. You did. You knew it since he kissed you the first time without holding back; you kept finding out with whenever he threw in a dirty joke here and there and finally when he took you to bed… but he was still surprising you.

You kinda liked it. You liked it a lot, in fact.

Because for all the teasing, Steve’s eyes spoke of kindness. His menacing ways were still safe enough for you to get tangled in. You hoped.

“… that’s dirty pool, Steven.”

“I use what I’ve got. It works, no?” he offered, his smile turning boyish.

For me? Yes. For the task at hand? Not so much.

“For the baking? No. You could still get flour on your shirt and pants. That just won’t do… so either you can bake in your boxers only-“

Steve’s eyebrow rose incredulously and he just stared at you quietly for a moment as he always did when he managed to bring to life the playful part of you, normally hidden behind a shy exterior. It was something he managed to do ridiculously easily and you loved it – and then usually, as he did now, he proceeded to burst out laughing.

You chuckled with a shrug, feeling the pride of making him laugh like that filing you to the brim as you reached for the white apron hanging next to the fridge on its black ties, its front hidden from sight.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying. Here, you can have this.”

You handed it to him with a secretive smile, letting him inspect it on its own. It took him a second – and you could already see him biting his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh again. But there was a fond look in his eyes as he peered at you from over the top of it.

“What are you gonna wear if I rob you of this magnificent apron? Will you be baking in my boxers only?”

You grinned at his suggestion – and at his understanding that even if the apron might be a little ridiculous, it was very dear to you and you did find it magnificent. What else would you call a group of friends consisting of a carton of milk, a bag of flour and an egg, with a caption Let’s dough it! right under it?

“Nope, I can’t have you distracted, handsome. I’m dressed up for the occasion and have a full closet of things I can change into,” you explained easily, not missing the glint in his eye telling you that he would be distracted indeed. About as much as you were seeing him with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his strong forearms, the prominent vein like a magnet to your gaze.

“Fair. I can wear this. Thank you.” He pulled the apron over his head, not even a sound of complaint even if it barely covered what was necessary, nimble fingers tying a bowknot on his back. “Let’s do it.”

He faced you then, showing off his adorable attire – somehow looking absurdly hot and sweet at once, an irresistible combination – and you couldn’t help yourself. Hands setting on his shoulders, you pulled him down for a brief kiss.

“You mean let’s dough it, right?”

Steve chuckled and kissed your nose before shaking his head. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“Now so are you.”

You knew that most people probably wouldn’t call Steve Rogers cute – with his absurdly broad shoulders, bare forearms and with jeans that fit him so perfectly that his ass literally called out for you to try and bounce a penny on it – but no one else saw him in a puny punny apron either.

Maybe it made you a little too possessive, but the fact you were the only one who got to see this? It filled you with pride and satisfaction; and with undiluted happiness.

If you got the privilege to make memories with him, what was a little secret sharing about baking pies in return? You had be much, much bigger secrets to share and the outcome could be considerably less pleasant.

You quickly chased away the dark thought, fixing a smile for him that soon grew genuine.

“Let’s get to work.”

You had enough ingredients to make two pies and due to the limited space, you opted for showing Steve how to make the dough first and only then letting him make his own. You even went as far as discarding the food processor for once, because simply throwing things into a bowl and let the modern technology do the work would be rather boring.

“Alright. Now we add the butter. I advise you to stick your always hot hands under the cold water for a bit, otherwise the butter will turn too sticky. It’s a little unusual for making a dough, but we don’t want-“

“-to knead the dough,” he finished, a hint of a smile playing in the corner of his lips, his eyes, having been laser-focused on what you were, doing turning a little distant.

Your hands froze in their movements, eyebrows drawing together. How did he know that?

“How did you know?” you queried, genuinely curious as you leaned your palms on the counter.

Pink dusted his cheeks as you watched him, a nervous chuckle spilling from his lips – almost as if he hadn’t meant to speak up. You narrowed your eyes playfully, scrutinizing him now, causing the tips of his ears to redden too.

“Steve… Am I being hustled now? Are you secretly an apple pie expert?”

He chuckled, some of the sheepishness leaving his face, replaced by a wistful smile.

“No. My ma used to make them in autumn when the apples were the cheapest, two or three on a good year. I couldn’t be out at that time of year anymore. So I helped whenever I wasn’t practically tied to a bed because of a cough.”

He shared the memory with unspeakable fondness; but you could tell he also carefully observed your reaction to him mentioning his poor health, looking for signs that you were bothered – either because of worry or (Merlin forbid) disgust. As if.

Obviously, you didn’t like the idea of Steve being sick; you’d lose your mind worried about him, but you saw this as more of an opportunity to admire him, because even when he saw still tiny, with weak body, his heart and soul were strong. You admired his and his mother’s resilience, for she pushed through and went out of her way to make their life a nice one despite their circumstance.

“Every time you mention you mum, she sounds more and more extraordinary,” you said, causing a full smile to break out on Steve’s face.

“She was. And until I met you, she was also the one who made the best damn pie in New York. I mean--- in a way it still is, there’s something about it I remember being just… I don’t know, I guess it’s just nostalgia.”

He shook his head dismissively, beckoning for you to continue.

You couldn’t move an inch however, feeling as if something unfinished hovered in the air. As your gaze bored into Steve’s, your mind raced a hundred miles a minute; still wasn’t enough to comprehend how strong a memory like that had to be for him – a memory of his late mother, a memory that to him was only few years old and belonged over seven decades back. Your throat went tight, but you hoped it didn’t bleed into your voice much.

“Well, I can see how something your mum put so much effort and love into made it pretty special.”

Of all smiles Steve graced you so far, the one you received in response must have been one of the softest ones; his eyes turned a little teary which you didn’t dare to comment on. For one, the sight stole your voice for a moment and for two… he had every right. And yet, you didn’t think it was sadness; only nostalgia, like he said.

“I guess so. It was different from yours, but at the same time… well. I’m just curious how you do it.”

This time, it felt like closing a chapter, gently bookmarking the page to open the book at any given time again. You allowed yourself to breathe in deeply, tasting the change in the air.

“It’s probably the sauce,” you noted casually, biting your cheek as not to laugh at Steve’s bewilderment.

“The sauce? We never made sauce.”

You bet they didn’t; many people didn’t, for many different reasons. But if you were going to teach Steve how to make your pie, you were going to do it properly.

“Uh-huh. It’s mostly just butter and sugar. It’s more expensive and definitely richer in calories, but it’s absolutely worth it. It’s also highly classified intel, so I trust you to keep my secret safe, mister,” you said, feigning gravity, motioning with your index finger.

“I am honoured to be worthy of it,” Steve exclaimed theatrically, hand over his heart. And yet, his eyes spoke of sincerity.

Good. It was a well-kept secret. Your colleague Lily would know.

“You should be. I only shower it to Lily after a few months of working at the bakery together. Until then, I only made it in secret. Do not mess around with my apple pie sauce.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

You didn’t comment at the endearment slipping off his tongue so effortlessly; and not for the first time. You weren’t sure he was even aware of doing it and if he wasn’t, you sure wouldn’t be the one to tell him.

Instead, you smiled to yourself and let the warm feeling wrap around your heart like the fluffiest blanket.

For a man who used to merely help out his mother with baking and only occasionally, Steve sure knew how to work the dough. He had it ready in no time, ending up with both of you rightfully proud of his creation. You placed his dough to the fridge right next to yours, setting a timer for a little less than an hour – so you wouldn’t pull it out too soon.

“Time for the apples and the sauce – a very very important part,” you emphasized. Steve nodded in acknowledgement, taking your instructions with almost comical gravity. “We have a little less than an hour, so we should be just fine-“

“An hour?” he wondered, eyes widening.

You made a small sound of affirmation; he pursed his lips, brows furrowing minutely.

“Sounds like a lot of time. I’m already craving something sweet,” he muttered, drawing a chuckle from you.

Steve and his sweet tooth… time and time again. Your very first impression of him – after you had worried about the broom possibly brushing over his shoes – was proven correct more than once and it always made you giddy, because… well. That worked just fine for you, didn’t it?

“Well, your sweet tooth is almost as bad as mine, so luckily for you, I think I’ll be able to find something to satisfy you until we’re done,” you hummed, amused, turning to the pantry only to have Steve’s hand land on your hip, using the hem of your top to spin you back to him. You startled a bit as you found yourself flush to his body, his face mere inches from yours, but – and you were proud of it – you didn’t let out a single noise of fright. “What?”

Steve observed you, eyes roaming your face as his right eyebrow lifted, his own expression as amused as yours was a moment ago. It appeared as if he was waiting for something and on instinct, you felt your lips parting, your body inching closer to his as his lips descended until they almost touched yours, moving in slowly, slowly…

“Oh,” you exclaimed as it suddenly dawned to you. Something sweet. He meant you. “Wow, that’s—that’s very cheesy.”

The silent ‘you love it’ was already spoken to your mouth, Steve’s lips meeting yours sweetly indeed, large frame backing you against the counter, one hand on your nape to dominate you gently, the other leaning onto the counter by your side to keep you in spot.

“Yes, yes I do,” you whispered when he gave you a chance to breathe in before kissing you again, not giving you the chance to say the words that crept into the back of your mind almost as often as Steve’s sweet tooth crept up on him.

I love you.

But he kissed you again and again, until you found a little flame of passion flare up in your belly and you had to stop before you blurted out things that needed to mature a little more inside you and--- and you were here for a reason.

Not that kissing Steve was an unpleasant distraction. More like the opposite.

“We need to make the filling.”

The corner of his lips twitched wildly against yours as his hips grinded into you, causing you to barely bite down a moan as you felt something else twitch minutely. He grinned against your mouth now, question marks gradually replacing the feel of Steve’s lips that had occupied your mind solely.

“What?” you muttered to his mouth, because damn it was difficult to string more words together when he pulled at your lower lip like that, filling your head with images of-- and it finally clicked.

Filling.

You gasped, tearing away your mouth despite his grumble of protest.

“Steve! I am scandalized!”

The filthy, filthy man that still had his hands on you snorted ungracefully, twinkle in his darkened eyes as he shrugged, entirely unapologetic.

“Look, you gave me the apron, you started with the puns-“

“But it was innocent ones!” you protested, an astonished laugh spilling from your lips. Wow. So filthy. Who knew…? You did. You knew ever since he had gone down on you as if you were his last meal few nights ago. Uhm. “Just… wow. So dirty.”

“Didn’t hear you complain before…” he quipped, causing your jaw to simply drop, no words coming out. He chuckled again, kissing your cheek in a conciliatory manner, skimming his lips lower to your jaw and neck, stubble prickly and tickly against the sensitive skin, making you squirm and squeal.

“Oh for Merlin’s beard—please, please! Stop, it tickles so much, Steeeve-“

He laughed against your neck, but relented, one last peck landing on your nose before he took a step back, hands up as if he was giving himself up.

“Fine. I do want to know your secret trick.”

“Uh-huh, right. Because you’re such an exemplary student” you hummed, earning a boyish smile that had a little more apology to it than before. Joke was on him – you’d let him get away with murder, let alone dirty puns and kisses. Happily. “Apple filling now. We can do other stuff later… I know I’d love to.”

“I’m onto peeling the apples right away now, ma’am.”

Despite your teasing, Steve was an exemplary student and you were proud to say that the pies turned out pretty great. Delicious even.

In fact, they were so good and Steve was so eager for them that you ended up having pie with ice-cream for dinner, which might have been an awful life choice, but you didn’t have a dinner so tasty in quite a while. Plus, Steve seemed to really appreciate the homey feel of it after the mission.

And for all the talk about other fillings, you both ended up yawning on the couch, you practically lying on top of Steve, limbs intertwined, the laziest of kisses exchanged every now and then, neither of your pushing – let alone rushing – to take things further.

It was a really cosy feelings; you didn’t care if someone would call you an old, thirty years married couple. These were your moments and the fact you were growing more and more comfortable with each other, enough to spend your time together like this? You wouldn’t change a thing.

“Will you stay the night?” you asked, sensing that sleep creeping up on you. You wish for nothing but moving this to bed and let the dreamland take you.

You didn’t dare to assume; yet, it surprised you how tense Steve’s body turned under yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing, sending your heart racing with unease. You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much that he clearly hesitated, he had every right.

“Oh, uhm… I’d love to,” he said, voice wavering. You could already hear the ‘but’ coming – and it did. “But I- uhm, I don’t usually sleep well the night after a mission and I don’t want to disturb you.”

Oh. That certainly softened the blow. The mission. It made sense, you supposed. But honestly, all you’d want had your mind been unsettled, would be a warm embrace. You knew it worked differently for everyone, but… you’d still love Steve to stay.

You propped up on your elbows, careful not to dig your elbows too hard into Steve’s chest as you looked into his eyes.

“You wouldn’t… I think. And you don’t have to tell me what exactly not sleeping well means, but I just- I’d like to help, you know? Maybe I could so something...?“

Steve gulped, averting your gaze, taking a shaky breath and you could smack yourself for being pushy. Even if you genuinely wanted to help and you honestly believe you could; more than your average girlfriend, you liked to think.

“I’m sorry, you don’t ha-“

“I get nightmares sometimes,” he blurted out, his face an image of embarrassment that had your ribcage tighten with pity and anger at once; anger, because had anyone ever guilt-tripped him over that? For Merlin’s beard, you hoped not, because if they had, they were idiots.

His next words were quiet, slow, as if they were heavy on his tongue – but he looked into your eyes again at least.

“I’d hate to keep you awake or… or worse.”

You had to bite your tongue not to react, trying hard to school your expression when a smile threatened to break out.

It was terrible of you, but you were hoping he meant nightmares; because bad dreams you could beat. It was one of the little spells you actually knew, one your mother taught you even during her period of mostly refusing her own magic.

You could do this. You could help; you felt almost a physical need to do so all of sudden.

Seeing the deep shame etched onto his face hurt and you’d do anything to wipe it out. But you had to fully understand first, because there was a nagging feeling that his shame did not only stem from suffering nightmares – which in your opinion was certainly not something he needed to be embarrassed about – but there was more to it.

Or worse, he had said.

The way he way staring over your shoulder now, having grown absent and anxious for your reaction, his fists clenching and unclenching on your back… understood that the supposed weakness he was admitting to wasn’t the whole story. It was dismay at his own strength, the power his body held.

Funny how you could relate to that, wasn’t it?

At least he was indirectly admitting it, being brave. Unlike you.

“Steve,” you whispered, causing him to hesitantly focus his attention on you again. When he did, you took your time to laid your palm on his cheek slowly, giving him an opportunity to pull away; an opportunity he didn’t take. “I’m not scared you’d hurt me.”

His lips parted in wordless surprise, regretful eyes growing wide at your deduction. Clearly, you were spot on.

“And I’m not pushing you into anything, I swear you can say no, but… I’d be happy to have you. Maybe I can chase away the bad dreams. But if you’re not comfortable with that… that’s fine.”

Steve opened his mouth and closed it again without a single sound coming out, pools of warm blue taking in your face, soft but reluctant. The corners of your lips lifted unwittingly in a small smile, eyes gaze drifting over Steve’s features; a face of a tired angel. The arches of his brows, the bridge and slope of his nose, cheekbones now free of band aids and bruises, strong jaw, plush lips. Of their own violation, the pads of your index and middle fingers traced the path, sending Steve’s eyes fluttering close, a soft exhale tickling your palm.

“Okay.”

Your hand stopped mid-motion, hovering and inch from his lips. Their corners turned upwards before he shifted, kissing your fingers.

“Okay,” you echoed, touched by his affection, astonished by his courage again. His courage to open up his heart to you. It was a bittersweet feeling, but you’d give in to the sweet part, swallowing the bitter down.

“Have a told you I feel lucky to have you?”

Funny he should say that.

“Once or twice. I feel the same,” you whispered, earning another kiss to your knuckles this time before he pulled you close, forcing your elbows to give out, sending you flush to his body again.

He carefully carded through your hair before his hand found yours, toying with your fingers.

You let the rebuilt quiet intimacy wash over you again, ignoring the few more insistent butterflies reminding you that the size of the fingers playing with yours was extremely telling. They finally subdued when you closed your eyes, sighing contentedly as you melted into Steve’s frame, inhaling his cologne mixing with the cinnamon and sweet aroma of apples.

As if he read your mind, it only took a few beats of silence before he spoke up.

“A small piece of pie before bed?”

You burst out laughing, muffling your laughter in his shirt, but nodded in an instant – even if you didn’t think that you could as much as look at the treat with how full you still were.

“Sure. Why not?”

Maybe it would bring him sweeter dreams.

Despite your wishful thinking, you didn’t rely on that. So when you finally settled in bed, you fought to stay awake a little longer than Steve and for once, it wasn’t too hard, the exhaustion from the mission and the amount of food he ate finally taking its toll. He was out like a light in no time.

Brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingered on his temple; with eyes closed for better focus, you whispered the ancient words, hoping you were powerful enough to keep his nightmares away for the night and give him the peaceful sleep he deserved.

His Lucky Charm masterlist

S.R. mastelist

I made the mistake of looking up aprons 😭 Beside the let’s dough it one, I found a one that would be the perfect gift for this Steve 🤭 Now I want them all 😂

Oh and I never made an American-like apple pie in my life, so I just stole inspo from here 😇

Anyway. Thank you for reading and feedback💗

#fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america fluff #captain america x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america x you #captain america imagine #his lucky charm #apple pie life #anika ann

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therenlover · 3 years

Text

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @dazzlingseb, @avgravy , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader

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zuluc · 3 years

Text

@kookieyachi requested: i hate to be that one person but i doubt they'll increase the rate but imma try my best & start saving for zhongli & childe 😼🤚 anYWAY-, i was wondering if u could write another diluc x reader whr they're in a secret relationship (only kaeya knew somehow-) & one of the mcs & paimon heard rumours of diluc having a s/o & decide to follow him, to see him gg on a date w the reader or summ,,, hope its not too confusing haha🥺💖

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

style & genre: written; fluff

warnings: none

notes: i meant rng rates those screw me over when it matters but i hope we get good ones when their banners come in, i wish the best of luck to everyone pulling may we get our dream teams; THIS IS CUTE ty for all your requests you know what’s good 😪😪

the mc in this is aether because i love aether

“I hear someone has Master Diluc’s heart!”

“Is that so?”

“Aw, man! I wanted him...”

It’s been the talk of the town for longer than he expected and wanted it to be: Diluc’s love life. He was always the private one and never shared anything about his personal life so it was only natural that no one, minus Kaeya it seemed, had a clue as to who took Mondstadt’s most wanted bachelor.

“Are they sure he’s even with someone? Isn’t it just a rumor?” Paimon asks her travel companion as they make their way into the tavern for a late night drink. The pair had travelled back to the town for a few days and while walking through they listened in on what the townspeople were gossiping about this time around.

“Not sure, he doesn’t seem like the type. Why not ask him, Paimon?”

Paimon flies in front of his face and places her hands on her hips, “You don’t just ask him! He’s so secretive and... and well just that! Also, Paimon thinks he’d just avoid the question.”

“You won’t know it’ll work if you never try.” Aether suggests and opens the door to the tavern. He himself actually wanted to know the truth to those rumors because, well think about it, it’s Diluc and any information that made him seem more emotional than he let on was interesting. He steps inside, seeing the people inside drinking and laughing. They all greet him with their cheerful, yet drunk replies, and Diluc nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Welcome back. What’ll it be for tonight?” He asks them. Aether places his drink order and Paimon hovers over the bartender with a judging look on her face. Convenient that he is working tonight. He raises a brow, “Can I help you?”

“U-Uh,” she turns her attention to Aether who simply looks back at her and sips his apple cider vinegar, a look of you’re on your own for this one on his face. “Have you heard what’s being said around Mondstadt, Master Diluc?” She asks in a way to slowly lead into the main question. Diluc picks up a glass and shakes his head, turning around to place the item on one of the shelves.

“I’ve never paid attention to gossip if that’s what you’re referring to. And like I’ve said before,” he eyes the emergency ration suspiciously, “I don’t dwell on idle chat.” Those words, while they weren’t intended to be as cold as they sounded, prevented Paimon from pressing on. She pouts while flying, but her gaze lands on his hands. They are void of his usual gloves and Diluc wore them even while working. She brushes it off as a useless observation and the door of the tavern opens.

“Evening!” Charles greets them. He waves a hand to Diluc who finishes the last of the glasses he is cleaning, silently thanking the bartender for taking the rest of his shift. He walks out the back and Paimon floats up.

“Does he have something else to do? He usually stays for the rest of the night.” She questions Charles who shakes his head in amusement.

“He must be working hard,” Charles comments, “or maybe taking some time for himself.” Paimon perks up at what he says and she looks at Aether. The traveller finishes his drink and narrows his eyes at her.

“What?” He barely gets another word in before she is rushing out the door. “Paimon!” He places mora on the counter and bids Charles a good night before following her. The door swings open and Aether is met with Paimon flying in front of his face.

“We’ll follow him!” She states confidently, a glint in her eyes.

Aether stares at her blankly. “Uh, why?” Again, she doesn’t give him an answer when she sees a flash of red hair behind his head. They keep quiet and hide behind the stone building when they see Diluc look side to side, almost catching them in his sight.

“He’s definitely going somewhere!” She is much more invested in this than Aether thought, but his own curiosity was overpowering the possibility of getting caught by the pyro user as well. He wordlessly agrees and they quietly tread behind him through Mondstadt, hiding behind every pole and wall whenever they thought he believed someone was following him.

Minutes into their mission Aether catches sight of the Knight of Favonius building and his suspicions are raised. Diluc wouldn’t be caught dead near this place, what more just by walking by it? He stops at the side and Aether tugs his hovering companion away from Diluc’s line of sight when it opens, a familiar person stepping out.

“It’s--!”

“Honorary Knight!” Huffman interrupts Paimon’s exclamation as he rushes to the both of them. “Would you be able to help us out near Windrise? Quite a lot of slimes showed up and the other knights are preoccupied with their own missions. I know you just got back but...”

“We’re good!” Another knight shows up, running to them, “Captain Kaeya helped us out!” Aether looks back and forth between then before looking at the door. It seems that the person and Diluc had already left.

“Ah, I see. Sorry to intrude on your evening.” Huffman excuses himself and leaves with the other knight. Paimon flies towards the empty stairs, floating around premises as if looking for clues.

“Paimon saw y/n! Do you think they’re together?” She questions.

“Isn’t that too much of an assumption?” Paimon floats to Aether’s face with mock anger on her features. “Maybe they could just be well-acquainted.”

“Let’s just see who’s right then! I bet...” she places a finger to her chin, “...5000 mora!”

“You don’t even carry mora.”

The commissions burned you out but you are more than happy to see what awaits you after you leave the building. Bidding Jean goodbye, you settle into your coat and push the doors open. He’s standing there waiting like he said he would and you notice there is no one around, though you had an inkling that someone was watching you. You are broken out of your thoughts when Diluc’s warm hand cups your face. He was initiating more touches after becoming comfortable in your relationship, so you felt happy that he could do so outside though with no one to see.

To you, it was hard to believe that you managed to attract him in the first place, considering his many suitresses, but despite that he insisted that it was you he was after.

“Something the matter?” He asks gently, removing his hand when he could hear steps behind him. You shake your head and smile at him causing his heart to warm at the sight. “Good, shall we?”

Your dates aren’t like the usual ones. You walk around the sides of Mondstadt when everyone is asleep as you both share what has gone on in your day. Sometimes, you even take a stroll outside the city and sit under the large tree in Windrise, watching the stars twinkle. Going on many secret rendezvous were fun and brought an excitement and mystery to both of your lives when they occured.

But even so, sometimes you wondered what it would be like if the townspeople knew.

Diluc never explicitly mentioned that he wanted the whole town to know and you both came to the conclusion that keeping your relationship from the public would be beneficial. He was known to be aloof yet protective of Mondstadt. He had a reputation to uphold and the enemies would otherwise have vital information to his weaknesses if they came to know of your connection.

You know he loves you, he tells you every night before you have to part until you see each other the next day. And any doubt in your mind is gone when your hand is held tightly in his.

“Paimon, we’ve been following them for too long. They’re just talking.” Aether felt uncomfortable doing what they were doing and spying on the both of you. He watches the both of you engage in a regualr conversation. After losing sight of you at the Knights of Favonious building they glided around trying to track you both. He couldn’t see that your hands were intertwined due to how your coat concealed it.

“Ahh! Fine, we should go rest,” Paimon says defeatedly, “Paimon can’t believe she lost 5000 mora!” Aether rolls his eyes and jumps down from the roof to head to a nearby inn. The streets are quiet but there are audible footsteps from their right as they move through the houses.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you back in town.” Kaeya greets him with the usual lilt to his voice. “Why are you two still up?”

“We were following Master Diluc because we think he’s seeing someone!” Paimon really has no shame, does she? Aether thinks to himself and he looks up at the Cavalry Captain when the latter lets out a light chuckle.

“What an interesting activity... I do hope you find your answer,” Kaeya nods his head to direct it behind them. Aether and Paimon follow his direction and see the two they had been trailing for the past hours. “Good night.”

“I almost forgot!” The duo’s ears perk at the sound of your voice. You and Diluc are at the front of your home and their eyes widen at the sight of your hand in his. You reach into your coat pocket to pull out his gloves, “You left them here.”

“Thank you,” Diluc replies, lifting the hand he held to his lips and kissing the back. “Good night, my love.”

“Good night, Diluc.” The smile on your face is ever radiant and he leans down for his kiss. You oblige but pull away to lean closer to his ear, “It seems that we have company.” Your hold leaves him and you open your door, disappearing inside. Diluc turns his head and sees the shocked faces of the traveller and ration.

“Paimon wins.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin impact imagines #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc

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givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper -Pt 14

Paring: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Warnings: just a bunch of fluffy family fluff, some dude being a nosy creep, overbearing mothers Length: 1.1 k Notes: This one is slow, babes. Just needed to build a bit of this new world, introduce Annie a bit and show you how things are progressing. It’ll pick up again soon I promise, bear with me! (Or don’t, I mean I can’t force you to like where this is going, lolz) Also, just typed this up tonight while raging at the laziness of men, so there are going to be mistakes, I can’t be fucked to find them. Trying to post this with NO links, as I’ve heard that may be the reason for the tagging issues? LET ME KNOW IF YOU GET THE NOTIFICATION THIS TIME!

Turns out, two people with zero child-caring experience are not going to have an easy time suddenly becoming parents. There wasn't any one particular thing that you could pinpoint the difficulty one, either, it was just a complete one-eighty on how you had previously lived your lives.

Frankie immediately stopped working such late hours, effectively putting a bookmark in the cider's expansion. He didn't even have to think twice about it, it was a no-brainer to him. Didn't make the loss of potential income an easy pill to swallow, though. Date nights were officially off the schedule, so were sleepovers and all the fun things that accompanied them. There had been a few heated moments between the two of you, but Frankie felt weird about having sex anywhere near his daughter and you refused to let him fuck you in the barn. Again. Especially after the last two times resulted in unfortunate splinter placement.

Annie took less time to adjust than the two of you did, she really was an amazing little girl. She loved her little nook in the loft, although the décor was not to her taste and she wouldn't stop dropping hints about it until you took her to pick out new everything. Frankie had tried to put his foot down by explaining she wasn't going to get everything she wanted in life, but all it took were widening eyes and a protruding bottom lip before he was handing you the truck keys before you could blink.

Annie's attachment to you had surprised everybody, including her. The conversations you and Frankie had had before her arrival usually skirted around the conversation of what your role would be. You knew she was mourning her mother and were wary of trying to replace her, so you had fully expected to take a step back from Frankie's life while he and Annie built their new one together. You had her at apple farm, however, and now the two of you were best buds.

Well, until the six-going-on-sixteen attitude reared its ugly head and suddenly sweet, angelic Annie was replaced by a stubborn, moody, unwilling child who decided that screaming was the best response to negotiations.

For the first couple of months, Frankie had allowed it, not knowing what was normal acting-out behaviour for a kid who had experienced parental loss. He also had a hard time being strict, as he still felt like it wasn't his place; some weird kind of imposter syndrome. However, after Jacquie and Mark had been witness to one such episode, they had gently pulled Frankie aside and encouraged him to find a therapist for Annie and that structure and rules would be beneficial for her.

New routines were set, some of which you were involved in and others were special between Frankie and his daughter. Saturday was movie night, she was asleep by 7:30 so it was more of a movie evening, with popcorn, Twizzlers, and coke floats. You were invited to these, as Annie insisted on educating both adults on which Disney princess was best.

Frankie drove Annie to school every day, he knew he could easily send her on the bus but he needed that extra assurance that she had gotten to school safely. There had been an odd incident, which no other adults seem to have witnessed, where a man had apparently approached Annie and started asking her questions about her parents.

This had, understandably, upset the girl, and the two of you, but the busy body's identity was never revealed. Frankie had been irate. Initially, he interrogated Annie, asking her for every little detail. Then the bus driver, parking lot attendant, teachers, and other kids were subject to his questioning. He went so far as to request all security video footage from around town, but nothing showed up. Neither of you suspected Annie of lying but it was like the man was a ghost.

Eventually, it was chalked up to a parent wanting to get the scoop on your and Frankie's lives, as you'd been very private considering your first action as a couple was to practically dry hump on a carnival ride. After that incident causing Frankie's panic attack, and now creeping out a kid, you were a lot less inclined to appreciate the meddling from bored townsfolk even if it did bring the two of you together.

Frankie was always thinking up new ideas to build trust and create new memories for Annie, his guilt at missing out on her toddler years was exasperated by having her now. They created a memory book for her, so she could write down, colour, or paste anything that reminded her of her mom or her life in California. You were secretly building a memory book for the two of them, to show Annie when she was older how hard her dad had worked to become the man she needed him to be.

Twice a week Annie got to pick the recipe and they made dinner together. This usually resulted in a massive mess and only semi-edible food, but the smiles on their faces were worth it.

On Wednesdays, you picked her up and had a girl's afternoon getting something from the bakery and perusing books at the library, making up stories about the people walking by the café windows, or driving over to Jacquie's so Annie could play with her kids.

It was after one such outing when you were dropping Annie off at the farm, that Frankie came out to greet you with a guilty look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he began, rubbing the back of his neck and readjusting his baseball cap. "I didn't look at the caller display before picking up, and then once I was on the phone I got nervous."

"Frankie," you said lowly, dread filling your stomach. "What did you do?"

"I couldn't help it, I panic talked and I don't even know how much I blurted out! She's like Oprah or Barbara Walters! She just knows how to get people talking!"

"I know, Frankie," you ground out, trying not to lose your shit in front of a very interested little girl who has no filter during Sharing Time at school. "That's why we don't answer her calls!"

"But, babe, she's your mom. We can't keep ignoring her-"

"Apparently not!" You didn't realize how frustrated you were before it was too late. Your voice had gone shrill and loud and, judging by the look at Annie's face, angry. Taking a deep, calming breath in you tried smiling at the two of them without it making you look demented, "I need to call her and do some damage control, make sure she doesn't do something rash like-"

"Ahhh..." Frankie was back to looking guilty and you could have sworn your heart stopped. "She knows about Annie. Called herself Grandma. Said that Mother's Day would be extra special this year..?"

"FUuuuuuudge.." you barely managed to withhold the swear, looking at Frankie with a slightly panicked yet amused look on your face.

"It's okay," a little voice piped up, "I know that word. Mom said ‘Fuck’ all the time while we were stuck in traffic."

Part Fifteen - coming soon!

TAGS: Let’s see if these bitches work...

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