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mommalosthermind · 11 months

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So this happened:

Me: “I feel like I wrote Lisa kinda snotty in this passage, d’you think she could pull off snotty?”

Him: “Not really? If you want bitchy then you need Yae Miko, Lisa’s kinda normal unless you’re late with a book.”

Me: “…Lisa’s vaguely condescending though.”

Him: “Yeah, I can see that. Miko can be straight up mean but Lisa would be like, ‘Careful cutie, keep that up and I might forget your safeword,”

Which I can fucking hear, and it is thus completely not my fault that this immediately popped into my head:

(Lisa/Jean/Kaeya under the cut)

Teatime is meant to be sacred, you know. It’s a darling little ritual to break up the day. Peaceful, harmonious. If, lately, it’s also come with a delightful side of spending time with Jean, and occasionally Kaeya, well, that’s just two more reasons for teatime to be important, don’t you think?

Sometimes, though, not even the fear of Lisa’s wrath can keep Jean’s underlings from interrupting.

Lisa’s fingertips rub circles into her temples. In all honesty, she tuned out whatever crisis this is ages ago. Her tea’s lone gone. The other two cups, so carefully brewed, are cold. No one’s touched the assortment of sliced fruits, nor the biscuits.

It might be selfish of her, to be sad over such a silly thing, but really, is it? Jean works so hard. Lisa all but bullied her into routinely meeting up like this, and Kaeya’s no better. Yes, she’s sad about the loss of their quiet rest, the lack of time together, but at the heart of it, Lisa’s upset at how the rest of the world is intent on working them both into an early grave.

Varka’s in for an earful when he returns.

Half an hour. That’s all she’s trying to give them. Half an hour to breathe.

Instead, Kaeya paces the length of the rug, voice rising and falling in its most persuasive tones. Jean stands behind her chair, one hand curled over the back. Bruises are beginning to darken under her eyes. How much more lovely would she look, if she was simply allowed a full night’s sleep? How broad would those shoulders really be, if they weren’t coiled so tight with tension? For that matter, Lisa’s willing to bet Kaeya’s lip would swell so much sweeter if the teeth sinking into it weren’t so rife with worry.

Irritation spikes in Jean’s voice, calling Lisa back to the present. She purrs, “Careful cutie, keep that up and I might forget your safeword.”

They freeze. They always do. It’s adorable, really, how easy it is to trip them up like this.

Jean’s flush is a thing of beauty, much darker than Lisa can usually pull out with a single line.

Lisa tilts her head, and blinks.

Neither of them have moved. They’re simply… staring at one another.

Her brows bunch together. Hmm. Perhaps she’s overstepped.

All at once, Kaeya animates, a too-loud laugh filling the space between them all. He waves an extravagant hand in the air, ambling back to Jean’s side. “Be careful yourself,” he says, glancing from Jean’s red face to Lisa. “Lines that like are liable to lose you the soft domme reputation you’ve so pointedly cultivated.”

Lisa smiles, making sure to allow it to bloom slowly. She watches a lovely shiver work its way up Jean’s spine.

“What I’m hearing is you think I’d make a good domme,” she says, and allows her smile to curl into sultry as the edge of Kaeya’s lip tucks between his teeth.

Jean’s inhale is sharp.

Like the blustery thing he is, he opens his mouth as soon as he catches her looking. “Is that so? Do good dommes often ‘forget’ safewords?”

“Only with permission, darling. After all, it would be my job to take care of you, wouldn’t it? That includes giving you the punishments you want.”

Kaeya’s eye is blown wide enough to lose its star shape.

“Although, I do find myself far more interested in giving out praise over punishments. And I wouldn’t need to punish the two of you, now would I?”

“I feel,” Jean squeaks, stopping to clear her throat. “Oh my goodness,” her hands come up to pat at her still-burning cheeks.

Kaeya attempts what Lisa assumes is meant to be a laugh, but it comes out more like a rough breath.

“This is maybe not a work appropriate conversation,” Jean says, still squeaky, still red, still staring at Lisa like she’s never seen her before.

Lisa stands, and watches how they swallow in unison.

And then the door bangs open, Amber rushing in with another fistful of papers.

“You will not believe the amount of nonsense,” Amber exclaims, only to stop dead and stare at the three of them. “Um. Is everything okay here? Is this a bad time?”

Jean shakes herself, once, twice, and when she pulls her gorgeous eyes off Lisa for the first time in ages, Lisa finds that she’s had quite enough of that, thank you very much.

“It is, yes,” she says before Jean can dive right back into whatever inane thing needs her attention now. “Go ahead and drop that anywhere, and we’ll get back to you later, okay?”

Amber’s already nodding, her eyebrows pressed tightly together. “Yeah, yeah, okay, and I’ll tell Wyatt not to let anyone else in for now.”

The girl’s gone in the same rush she arrived, door thunking closed behind her. As an added precaution, Lisa activates her personal wards, watching both doors glow a faint purple.

“Did I know you could do that?” Kaeya asks mildly.

Jean’s already moving to collect the papers Amber left behind.

Lisa tuts. “Jeanie, sit.”

Jean sits.

Jean sits, and then an absolutely baffled expression takes over her pretty face. That flush is back in full force.

“Good girl,” Lisa says, leaning one hip on the table across from her.

Oh.

That flush goes so dark Lisa’s a little worried the poor thing’s gone dizzy.

Goodness, if this keeps up, Lisa is going to be the dizzy one.

“And I believe that’s my cue,” Kaeya chirps, easing around where Jean’s still gaping up at Lisa. “Mind undoing the door long enough to let me out?”

“I’m afraid I do mind. Your turn, sweetie. Sit down for me.”

“Aha,” Kaeya says, but his feet stop moving.

“Jeanie baby?”

Jean slings one arm out, tugging Kaeya in until he sits across her lap, held in place with her arms around his hips.

That one blue eye slides from Jean to Lisa and back again, as though he can’t decide where he should be looking.

“So good for me,” Lisa says again, delighting in the way the two of them melt into each other. “Aren’t you two just the prettiest little kittens I’ve ever seen.”

She sits back down, leaves them to press into each other, lets them keep their eyes on her as she starts preparing them all new cups of tea. When she looks up, Kaeya’s slouched down to cuddle into Jean’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around her middle. All three of those gorgeous eyes are fixed on her, exactly where she likes them best.

“Now then. I think we have some new things to discuss, and you two darlings have some safewords to pick out.” She winks, and relishes the way two sets of teeth sink into lower lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget them unless you want me to.”

#Momma writes #genshin impact fanfic #lisa/jean/kaeya #Lisa/jean #lisa/kaeya #kaejean #kaejeanlisa? Does this one have a dedicated ship name?#kaeya alberich #lisa minci #jean gunnhildr #this is messy as fuck but it’s a tumblr fic i slapped together while yelling at my partner for giving me brainrot so it is what it is #im so sorry lmao #Now. The real question. Is do i clean it up and slap it on ao3 or pretend i never wrote this #Anyway: Lisa just wants to take care of her idiots: a thread #The mortifying ordeal of posting fic

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softgrungeprophet · 14 days

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my kaine playlist is 2 and a half hours long...

okay well actually it's more like—

there's my primary Kaine playlist which is 2 and a half hours long and kind of doubles as a partial Janine playlist (still mostly Kaine but there's bound to be some overlap, all things considered):

and maybe it has some questionable song choices

—

There's my Spider-Man (well, really it's just Peter) playlist which is also 2 and a half hours long and has perhaps what some might call "too much" Blink-182 and pop punk on it:

—

There's a mixtape from Annabelle to Kaine which probably isn't done yet but is 40 minutes long:

—

There's a response from Kaine that he makes after leaving which is 44 minutes long and also probably technically not done yet:

—

There's also a playlist for the "worst year of peter's life" fic-in-progress which is 55 minutes long, probably complete, and which is sort of about Kaine but is also about Peter and in general about the entire situation that they've all been subjected to (including like, Flash's interactions with not-Peter (Ben)) and also a little bit about the past:

—

I don't have a playlist for Ben lol

#00/12 means 2000 / 2012 ftr which are partially related in terms of some of Peter's traumas in the AU #though 2012 specifically is more damaging as far as his long-term mental health goes (gee thanks professor warren)#of course it's not like it's the ONLY factor in his PTSD but it's arguably the most debilitating....#anyway #nadia rambles #came in through the window last night #if it wouldn't be annoying and time consuming I would make youtube versions of these playlists but. that's a pain in my ass.#music #if i wanted to be truly extra I would restrict the last one to use only songs released prior to 2012 #but i don't feel like doing that #ALTHOUGH if i cut ''go ahead and cry'' ''real boy'' and ''dancing with a ghost'' it would be acceptable for 2012...#but i need the last one as a space filler to cut to ''unchained melody'' and the other two are like thematic #even if they are from 2023 #the mixtapes though—those are indeed only songs from earlier than 2015 (which is the year they are relevant to in the AU)#actually most of the songs on those are from between 1998 and 2007 LOL but i figure that works since annabelle is like... in her 20s #as far as the main big kaine and spider-man playlists i don't bother trying to restrict that by year #both because they're TECHNICALLY more than just AU playlists and also because they are more all encompassing conceptually #so like. they're not for a specific fic set in a specific year. so like sure yeah i'll slap whatever on there.

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acermp100 · 19 days

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WAWA WEEK PART 6: THE FINAL WAWA

Decided to post my combo tonight. So yeah, I wrapped together the last two prompts: Comfort and Birthday.

HAPPY BDAY WAWA!!!!!!!!

Serizawa is sick and Reigen comes over to care for him.

I have had many a respiratory diseases so sorry for the projecting.

Teen Audience. Seri Rei be here in full force. Depictions of illness and suffering. Dimple sass. Snuggles.

~3000k words

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Opening his eyes just led to more pain. Light, be it natural or from electricity, seemed to drive toward the back of head, increasing the dizziness before plunging into his stomach to do more damage. It wasn’t that he was hungry; more that he had tried to eat too many times and now lay in failure. And that constant, throbbing ache in his temples didn’t help either.

Serizawa rolled over hoping that lying on his back would provide a fraction of relief. Used tissues had long over filled the little trashcan he had brought to the side of his bed. Groping at the nightstand, he managed to find a clean one but nothing would stop the visceral coughing whenever he took more than a shallow breath. It started out at a little chest cold: a bit of a tickle in the back of his throat and a runny nose. Now a few days later he didn’t even have the energy to take medication let alone keep it down. Weary eyes wandered toward to bathroom door before Serizawa curled up in on himself under the blankets.

Nope. Too hot. He thought he had managed to create a decent homeostasis with his legs outside and his chest protected, but instead all the heat would swell into his head bleed from there, leaving him sweating even with the blankets fully off. Then a shiver would start and he’d have to wake up long enough to bundle himself once more.

Sleep would be nice. That’s what his mother always said- just lie in bed for a day, drink some juice, have some soup and it will be fine. His clouded mind attempted to recall if he ever suffered an illness this severe and long when a kid, however that just brought back memories he’d rather keep buried. A groan as he rotated once more, limbs and joints ever sore.

None of this compared to the shame writhing in his guts at having to call off work. It was day three now and all of his desperate attempts to get back into shape had only made him feel worse. Still, he kept his phone by his head ready to text at the first sign of good news. The weekend lay far away and even then he was missing classes and running out of food and clean laundry. His head seemed to buzz with even more pain and he let out a grunt, one eye opening. It turned out to be his phone.

“Happy birthday, son!” Came the text, followed by several heart emojis. “I hope you feel better soon and the care package I brought helped. Love, Mom.”

He cracked a tired grin as tears weld up in his eyes, not helping his congested sinuses. His birthday. He had forgotten all about it. Lifting his head he could still see the quaint basket his mom had brought over a few days earlier. Cookies he was unable taste now, medication that sadly couldn’t tackle even a half of his symptoms, cans of soup he was too weak to heat up, and a little potted plant that was slowly drooping from lack of water. Wincing, Serizawa buried his face in an arm and began to desperately sob into a sweat drenched sleeve.

His phone buzzed again. Sorry, mom. I’ll reply later. Just assume I’m asleep. But it went off again. And again. On the fourth time, Serizawa gritted his teeth and reached for the annoying thing, laying back into the pillow while his eyes tried to focus on the screen.

“Hey Tsuya. I rang but you didn’t answer.”

“You in there?”

“Please answer or I’m going to kick down the door.”

“KATSUYA PLEASE DON’T BE DEAD.”

A moan followed by slow, heavy footsteps. Serizawa had to brace himself against the wall with an arm before gathering enough strength to even unlock and open the door.

“Heeeey there!”

Reigen stood just outside with arms full of packages and bags. From the reaction, Serizawa assumed his pale face and sunken eyes with a raw, red nose and cheeks wasn’t doing him any favors. Without the will to even crack a welcoming expression, he glared ahead as he took short, rasping breaths. No ill will intended but appearing sociable was not exactly the first thing on his mind.

“Door bell’s broken. Sorry.” A bit of a phlegmy hack followed his words.

“Dude, you look fucking horrible.”

While Reigen still wrestled with figuring out if Serizawa had turned into a zombie or not, Dimple chimed in.

“Wait. What?” Serizawa stumbled back a bit, still holding on to the door frame. “Why are you here? It’s still the middle of the day right?” A panic as he glanced at his phone. 10:23am and still Tuesday. Didn’t lose track of the date yet. “Don’t you have clients to-“

Reigen was already letting himself in and setting down all his bundles, organizing them on the mail covered table near Serizawa’s meager kitchen.

“I brought some soup and medications- the really good stuff I use when I used to get sick running on one meal a day.” Bottles and cans and veggies with other ingredients even a blanket and some cooling pads. “And Shinra send over this charm that is supposed to keep spirits from getting at you when ill.”

“Hmph.” Dimple rolled his eyes at the little golden and beaded tag. “Telling you right now that’s just gonna gather dust.”

Reigen glared up mid opening a bottle of cough syrup. “Can you not for like ten minutes?”

“Just saying!”

Having used his legs longer than he had ever in the past few days, Serizawa limped over to the table and used a chair as a crutch, wincing from muscles sore from both disuse and inflammation.

“Reigen-san. What- what about the office?” He stared down at a week’s supply of food and medication. “How long are you-“

“Nope.” Reigen held a finger against Serizawa’s lips. “I’m here to care for you for as long as it takes. And the office-” A glance away while he tried to come up with the right words. “I decided to close for a bit.” He couldn’t meet Serizawa’s eyes but still managed to turn back. “You need to get back on your feet.”

In the dark apartment it was hard to tell if anyone was blushing, but a confused joy swelled in Serizawa’s chest and he straightened up, only to be taken by a rough spasm of coughs. Reigen frowned. After a few short breaths to catch back up, Serizawa tried to speak again.

“You- you both came to take care of- of me?”

“Hell no.” Dimple pointed at Reigen. “He’s the one doing the gross stuff.” A grin as he started to float backward. “I’m here to wait outside and scare the pants off of any would be solicitors.”

“Yeah. He loves doing that now.” Reigen let out a sigh, brining a hand to his face. “I found out the hard way when MY PAKAGES STOPPED SHOWING UP.”

The angry gripe was not received as Dimple had already slipped through the closed door.

A long sigh. “Welp, start off by taking some of this.” Reigen help up a little clear, plastic cup filled with a bright red liquid. “It helps a ton with keeping coughing down and I assume you have a sore throat too.”

Serizawa nodded back. Even with his sense of smell and taste obliterated, he still winced as the syrup went down his throat. Strong stuff indeed.

“How’s that feel?”

Serizawa let out a shudder. “Like I took a shot of brandy.”

“Good.” Reigen grinned. “That means it’s working.”

He continued unpacking the mountain of supplies. Vapor rub, a small electric humidifier, movie DVDs, more vegetable even packs of noodles and spice containers already opened from his own apartment. The hands normally furiously gesturing in the air were now adept at separating, organizing, and readying everything. Serizawa felt himself growing a bit dizzy at it all.

“Reigen-san.”

“Don’t start that.” Reigen looked over, now finished. “This is far cheaper than a stay at the clinic anyway.” A clap of his hands. “Alright! Let’s get you off your feet.”

Serizawa couldn’t object to being helped back to bed. A few more pillows wouldn’t hurt either.

“No, not there.”

The sudden stop caused Serizawa to stumble but he was caught under the shoulder.

“I meant the couch.” Reigen forced a grin as he bore far too much dead weight. “C-come on. It’s just a bit further.”

Serizawa didn’t mean to, but the dizziness was starting to really get to him. So much congestion and needing to take short breaths left him grateful for the assistance. Now sitting, he brought a hand to his temples to try and alleviate some of the pressure while the room spun around him.

“Wh- why not the bed?

Frowning over at the one pillow, Serizawa just wanted to cocoon under his blankets and go to sleep. The sweating had returned and he wrapped his arms around himself as he began to shiver.

Reigen had walked away but now returned with more pillows and started to form a mound with them at the far side of the couch.

“Here, lay back but keep sitting. That will help the cough and let you eat.”

A grumble. Serizawa’s stomach protested at just the mention of food. “I don’t think I can eat.”

More pillow adjustment as Serizawa sat back, legs finally resting on the couch. He was going to complain more about the many fun times he had in his bathroom but a blanket was tossed over him. A grunt as he pulled it around himself and off his face.

“That’s wool.” Reigen had returned to the table but still spoke over his shoulder. “It’s not going to get soaked from your fever sweats and should keep you from overheating as well.” He returned with the little humidifier and got it plugged in and active. “And you’ll be able to keep the food down.” Their eyes met. “Trust me.”

Serizawa breathed in some of the warmed mist. At first a sneeze but his throat and airways slowly turned from raw and burning to a soothing dampness. He looked up to try and cough out a thank you but Reigen had already set his sights on the kitchen.

Pans, knives, a bit of oil, spices- the man knew where everything was. Soon water was boiling but Serizawa couldn’t smell what was cooking. Judging by the vegetables and large pot he assumed it was some kind of soup. Carrots were peeled with potatoes and onions chopped up all together while the waste and skins went into the pot to start forming a stock.

Serizawa watched with hooded eyelids, no longer dizzy just exhausted. He himself never got too skilled at cooking and cracked a smile watching the master at work. But how did Reigen even learn this when he ate fast food and instant noodles so much? Images and thoughts blurred together as Serizawa closed his eyes and slipped into an uneasy state between dreaming and being awake.

“Almost forgot!”

When he opened his eyes again there were several things cooking and stewing on his small stove now. Reigen was smiling down at him holding Serizawa’s phone.

“Here watch this.” It took a bit for Serizawa to properly take the phone with shaking hands but Reigen remained patient. “The kids all recorded a happy birthday thing for you.”

“Oh.” Serizawa tried to focus his eyes. “Thanks.”

“The soup needs more time so in the meanwhile I’m gonna wash your bedding and do some laundry.” Reigen already had a heap of blankets and sheets in his arms. “There’s some pills and a glass of water on the table, it’ll stop your stomach from going sour again.”

“Wait, Rei-“

Too late. The man was already out the door. His laundry? Serizawa felt terrible. His own boss tending to him like a spoiled child: cooking, cleaning, everything. A little visit would have been enough but this felt wrong. Would this be coming out of his paycheck? Even if his mom was here performing the same chores he’d feel just as guilty. Still, he was glad for the help despite his embarrassment.

After downing the pills, he settled in again, the phone screen glowing back at him as he pressed play.

“HEY SERIZAWA.”

Shou appeared in frame only to be playfully pushed out of the way by Teru.

“Happy birthday!”

Ritsu poked his head in. “Yeah, happy birthday.”

Then the camera focused on Mob. He gave a little wave. “Happy birthday, Serizawa.”

Tome was yelling something in the background. The only word that got through was ‘party’.

“Yeah! Don’t worry about missing anything!” Shou took over again. “You can always move your birthday!”

“No you can’t.” Ritsu mumbled from the side.

“I meant the party!”

There came the sounds of a scuffle. Pens and papers flew into the air as Mob stood in frame expressionless while he observed something off screen. After a bit, Teru refocused the shot.

“Anyway, we wanted to wish you a speedy recovery.”

Mob poked his head over Teru’s shoulder and spoke softly despite all the commotion going on in the background. “When you get better, we can go to that karaoke place again.”

“Karaoke!” And once again Shou forced himself into frame. “I’m so gonna get one of the Kageyama’s up there singing just you wait!”

“Pfff. You should at least go first.” Quipped back Teru.

Ritsu also chimed in. “Oh I’ve heard it. Like a dying bird.”

And there went everyone back to arguing, save for Mob. He smiled a bit and looked into the camera.

“This is getting a bit long so: Happy birthday once again! Hope you get over your cold too. Bye Serizawa!”

A few blurry fumbles before the video ended. There was a smile forming on Serizawa’s face throughout it all, but weariness also spread, leading to the phone and his hand to fall at his side. The throbbing headache faded away to much needed sleep mixing with memories of singing and drinking and laughter. Reigen sat next to him and grinned over. Can’t look into his eyes but the tingle in his chest Serizawa could feel even through asleep lying with sore ribs and lungs from coughing so much. Then he’d see Reigen’s hand on the bar, fingers tapped as a tale was spun. Just reach for it. It’s only a dream.

“Katsuya? Sorry to wake you.”

Serizawa cracked open one eye, mumbling something while the weight of reality pushed down on him once more. It took a bit for dizziness and focus to line up enough but in the end he was staring at a hand in his own. Was he still dreaming? He gave a weak squeeze back before noticing Reigen over him.

“Hey, there you are.”

The soft smile and eyes without a hint of judgment. Serizawa lifted his other arm in his addled state, wanting nothing more than to rest his hand against Reigen’s face. A memory of them on this same couch together, shoulders pushing against the other from the limited space. It would have been so easy to reach around a waist and pull him in for a hug. His arm faltered at his own chest while he jerked, letting out a rough, wet series of coughs.

“Sounds like you might need more syrup.” Reigen released the hand, concern on his face. “At least your fever is down.”

Serizawa held his breath as a palm was placed on his forehead, the thumb tracing through his hair. Thoughts raced back and forth, colliding into to one another until all he was left with was a quiet calm, leaning into the touch. This is nice. His boss here taking care of him when he needed it. But why did he feel so tense still? Muscles and thoughts always resisting. Serizawa let out a raspy exhale.

What had his mother said?

“Don’t give me that face. Just because you’re all grown up now doesn’t mean you won’t need help from time to time. Never think of yourself as undeserving.”

Serizawa smiled up weakly at Reigen. “Thank you.” He had to take another breath in before continuing. “For all of this.”

A soft grin back, Reigen’s hand still gently resting on Serizawa’s forehead.

“No problem, big guy. Now!” He stood up, clapping his hands together, but Serizawa could see his red face. “I got your bed all set up and clean; however, you should really get some fluids and food in you before sleeping. How’s your stomach?”

“Surprisingly well.” Serizawa sat up a bit against the pillows, rubbing at his gut. The only pain there now was from hunger. “I’d like to try eating.”

“Good!”

Reigen turned toward the kitchen. The sounds of clacking plates and pouring liquids could be heard. Though still unable to smell, Serizawa remembered all the fresh vegetables and licked his lips, stomach complaining right along with his brain. The last time he had anything stay down must have been over two days ago, and that had been instant noodles.

“Tada!” Reigen knelt down with a tray, revealing its contents with a flourish of his hand. “Happy Birthday!”

A few lit candles were stuck in some peanut butter plopped between plain, salted crackers. Right next by sat a bowl of steaming soup with some fancy fishcakes floating amid chunks of vegetables and noodles. Reigen had even decorated the plate with shiny paper and crude origami animals he must have practiced just before coming over.

“Well- it’s not a proper cake and everything.” Reigen was grinning down but avoiding eye contact. “But you probably shouldn’t be eating that kind of stuff anyway. Not in your state.”

Serizawa felt warmth against his belly as the tray was placed down. He took up the spoon after a long inhale at the vapors trailing up. For a moment he could smell a bit of spices but mainly just basked in the pleasant sensation of it all.

“It’s wonderful, Reigen-san.”

A quick huff and smoke now rose from the small, colorful candles.

“Did you make a wish?”

Serizawa looked over the decorated tray of food again before glancing up at his boss hovering over him.

“Yeah.” He smiled warmly. “Hope it comes true soon.”

Reigen rubbed the back of his head, turning to look back at the kitchen.

“Oh! I forgot the tea!”

Reigen returned with a mug and set it at the side table. Beaming, he sat down at the opposite table waiting for a response. Serizawa started with a few spoonfuls of broth but soon went straight for some carrots and noodles with some of the fish cakes. The crackers were a bit annoying to chew compared to the steamed vegetables so he had only few, making sure to get his protein in with the peanut butter. After only five minutes, the bowl was empty along with the tray and the tea half gone.

Serizawa let out a pleased sigh. Not a stomach cramp in sight. Now full of food, he started to feel even wearier. He closed his eyes for a moment as Reigen cleaned up the dishes and returned.

“Ha. Guess you’re ready for a good rest.” Reigen held down his hand in offering. “Come on, I’ll help you over.”

There was a mild struggle to get Serizawa’s legs cooperating again until they settled on Reigen bending down a bit with the larger man’s arm slung over shoulders and neck like a drunk being escorted home. Serizawa still felt the annoying spells of dizziness so the going remained slow. Suddenly he froze, covering his mouth after letting out a weak cough.

“Reigen-san!”

Reigen looked up. “Crap, you ok? Don’t have to puke or anything?”

“N-no!” Serizawa pulled back but still couldn’t support his own weight. “I just realized! I’m going to get you sick too!” He turned his head away. “I’m so sorry.”

“Heh.” A nudge from Reigen’s arm. “Why do you think I closed the office? And brought so much food and medication? And that soup’s not going anywhere. Made about two day’s worth. Plus snacks.”

Serizawa kept his hand over his mouth. “Reigen-san.”

“Come on.” Reigen forged ahead. “You need your rest to get any better.”

There was already a bit of swelling in the man’s eyes with some minor sniffles between words. Serizawa flopped into the bed, rolling onto his back now as sore and tired as he’d ever been, yet sated with nutrients and medication garnering a feeling of a coming recovery instead of more suffering. Reigen fluffed up the pillows before bringing the blankets up while he failed to suppress a cough.

“There we go. All tucked in.”

Serizawa watched his boss smile. Reigen was still leaning down, hand feeling against his employee’s neck and forehead again. Nerves danced sleepily at the touch and Serizawa felt a flutter in his hands and chest.

“Fever still feels down.” Reigen started to pull his fingers away. “Need anything else?”

Serizawa took the hand, keeping it just above his face. His grip was light around the wrist while he slowly pulled his boss closer, eyes flicking up to meet flush cheeks and a shocked yet willing expression.

“Wh- you alright?”

Another arm reached out, trembling fingers lingering inches from the back of Reigen’s neck before resting there, waiting. Serizawa could feel Reigen giving into the suggestion, leaning ever closer. Their eyes closed and their lips met; the hand in Serizawa’s grip twitching as he’d force himself forward, wanting more, only to be pushed back with the same need. A gentle caress at his face, the bed creaking when Reigen supported himself with a knee. His taste came back along with being able to smell: a mix of Reigen’s cheap cologne and his heated, desperate breathes. After a few moments they separated, faces still close, both quivering from the sensation.

“Ha. Haa.” Breathing hard, Reigen appeared exhausted, still leaning down with his knee and arm keeping him from collapsing.

“Arataka?”

A sneeze, Reigen turning his head away before he suffered through a brief coughing fit. When he looked back his face was beet red.

“Well. That’s one way to get inoculated.” His entire form was tense, showing in the edges of his smile. “Guess I’m staying here for a few days.”

He stepped back, eyes darting from side to side while stealing glances at Serizawa lying on the bed. Normally animated hands now sat still with one slowly rising to grip his chest no doubt feeling the heart there beating frantically.

Serizawa let out a chuckle before holding up the blanket. “Wanna join me? He found himself saying. “It’s warm, and the couch is pretty uncomfortable.”

Now one of Reigen’s hands was rubbing against his face. “Yes.” He whispered. “Let me take some cough syrup first.”

He downed a cup like a nervous bachelor at a party. Time moved in slow motion as Reigen crawled over Serizawa, settling in against the wall with part of his body resting on the man he had just cared for. A pleasant weight as they laid there, breathing gradually slowing in each other’s arms. Serizawa’s entire body was soaked in bliss from his heart to his stomach, all dancing together. He had started to drift off before feeling Reigen snuggling his shoulder and neck. Never having someone with him in bed before, he was content with cuddling until falling asleep. Still, he knew the illness would hit the worst in a few days and turned, pulling his boss closer.

“Come here.” Serizawa made sure the blanket was fully wrapped around them both. He blushed when Reigen buried his face in his chest. “Thank you for coming over. I’m starting to feel better already.” His hand pet through Reigen’s hair. “Guess I’ll have to take care of you now.”

A few muffled words, Reigen refusing to show his face, but the initial tense muscles had melted away to happy acceptance. Serizawa left it at that, closing his eyes and drifting towards sleep while wreathed in the warm and comfort of another’s hold. Before his brain fully committed he heard Reigen’s voice against his chest.

“Happy Birthday, Katsuya.”

#serizawaweek2024 #dimple has a new hobby #mp100 #fan fic #mp100 fan fic #serizawa katsuya #reigen arakata #serirei #reigen slaps his bag #THIS FUCKER CAN FIT SO MUCH COMFORT IN IT #he got the good stuff #like that cough syrup that makes you pass our for 6 hours #and real anti stomach issues like quality

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aeoris4lovers · 1 year

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Angstpril 2023 Day One: Liar

There were very few things in life that Eadwulf insisted upon without any chance of compromise. Choosing battles was a matter of survival under the tutelage of Master Ikithon; incurring punishment was easy enough to do even without the added risk that stubbornness presented. To resist bending only made it inevitable that one would eventually have to break, and as far as Eadwulf was concerned, the world offered little of great enough importance to justify tempting that fate.

It was not an oath made lightly, then, when he promised that he would return every day that he was able to one particular cell in the depths of Vergesson Sanatorium.

Astrid refused to speak to him for weeks after the incident, after what he did that night to save her from a fate far worse than a scar. So, with no one there to swear it to, he made his promise to the gods themselves.

He knelt on the floor of his bedroom, hands clasped together in his lap. Outside the small window above his bed, the cool light of the nearly-full moon fanned out across the skies, setting the shadowed room aglow with the night’s ghostly haze. His gaze settled on the nearest mountain peaks; ancient and immense and unmoving, he thought they must be the closest things to gods he would ever lay his eyes on. When thoughts of his past, of his people, of his own actions that night threatened to creep to the front of his mind, he pressed them back into the darkness of memory. They were gone now; there was nothing more to be done for them. Instead, he turned his thoughts again to Bren, to bright red hair and wild eyes and roaring flames and the crack of rock against bone.

“If I condemned him to this fate,” he whispered, so quiet it was more thought than speech, “let me be the one to see him through it.”

Only a moment later, the soft moonlight was eclipsed by the silhouettes of two ravens coming to rest on the windowsill, and he knew somewhere deep within him that his oath had been sealed.

The next morning, he rose earlier than usual and ate his breakfast as quickly as he could manage to hold it down. The sun still hadn’t even begun to show itself in the young day’s sky when he slipped past the guards at the sanatorium, giving each of them a look which told them not to stand in his way if they valued their lives. They had no way of knowing that, in truth, he wasn’t sure if he would have the courage to make good on that threat; they only saw the determination in his eyes and stepped aside.

As he pushed through hall after hall, he wasted no time looking at anything other than the faces in each cell, searching for blue eyes and red hair. Any strange looks that may have been aimed his way were lost in the blur of stone and bars and wrong faces.

When he finally turned a corner and saw a short-cropped burst of orange in the nearest cell, he was just in time to stop the guard who was preparing to enter with whatever sad excuse for a breakfast they had prepared for the day. He caught the guard by the arm, stooping down to look her in the eye, and pressed a few coins into her hand.

All he said was, “Let me.”

She stared at him for a long few seconds, head tilted to one side, before shrugging.

“If you insist.”

Handing him the tray of oatmeal and water, she unlocked the door of Bren’s cell and started off toward the next one down, leaving Eadwulf there alone. He slipped through the door, closed it behind him, and crouched down next to Bren, truly taking in his current state for the first time.

Perhaps the most noticeable thing should have been how beat up he was – the dark bruises, the blood that no one had bothered to wash from his skin. But instead, all Eadwulf could see was how empty he looked. There was always such a fire behind his eyes, a kind of passion and life there, like his mind was working so feverishly to puzzle the world together that you could watch it happening from the outside, and now? That fire had been all but doused. His eyes were glazed over, wandering helplessly around the space, looking through it all and not truly seeing any of it. There was a slight strain on his face, a clench to his brow that Eadwulf knew his resting face didn’t possess, which betrayed some process of thought, no doubt an unpleasant one. It was distant, though, and passive, as though the thoughts had taken on a life of their own within his mind and he, in this clouded state, was helpless to resist or engage them at all. When his gaze finally fell on Eadwulf, there was a soft spark of recognition that sent Eadwulf’s heart into his throat.

Eadwulf returned every morning after that, and again every night, so long as he wasn’t off on a mission or locked away for the sake of some punishment. Each morning, he fed Bren whatever breakfast the guards had prepared, careful to make it a far more gentle process than the other meals likely involved. As Bren’s hair grew longer with time, Eadwulf took to brushing it, and trimming it when the ends began to fray. A few times, he considered cutting it short again; surely, it would be more comfortable for Bren to have less of it. But there was no ignoring how his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of it being brushed, or how he hummed in a way that almost seemed to approach contentment — better to keep it long, Eadwulf always ultimately decided.

At night, Eadwulf would clean him — easy enough to do with a simple spell, but most nights Eadwulf wiped his face and hands the mundane way first, probably more for his own sake than for Bren’s — and tended to whatever wounds may have been sustained since the last visit. Then, he would take out whatever books he had been able to find that day, sit by Bren’s side, and read. Bren’s favorite of the books, judging by the way his eyes brightened ever so slightly at the sight of its cover, was an old children's story about a young boy and a cat prince, so they always started and finished with that one. In between, they cycled through as many of the other books as Eadwulf thought they safely had time for, and by the time he closed the fairytale for the final time, Bren was almost always slumped against his side, asleep.

Eventually, once the rifts between them had been repaired, Astrid joined him for some of his visits, though she was quickly given more responsibilities than him and often found it more difficult to get away. On those days, Astrid would braid Bren’s hair once he had brushed it in the mornings, and alternated reading with him at night.

And after every nighttime visit, he would sit in his bed and write a few lines in a journal: how the day’s visits had gone, what had gone on in the outside world that day or over the past few days, what he and Astrid were doing in their own lives. Someday, he told himself, Bren would have his mind back. Someday, he would hand over the journal, a meticulous record of the days Bren was locked away. Someday, Bren would be able to read it, and it would be as if he hadn’t missed a thing at all.

In all that time spent in Bren’s cell, Eadwulf never feared being discovered by Master Ikithon — not out of carelessness or apathy toward the consequences he would inevitably incur, but because he knew it was foolish to assume he hadn’t already been discovered at the very start. The archmage’s gaze took immense care to avoid, and nowhere was it more omnipresent than in the halls of the sanatorium. The chances that he had gone unnoticed were laughably slim — it was better to assume Master Ikithon was well aware, that a confrontation would come soon enough.

And come it did.

One morning, nearly two years into his visits, Eadwulf arrived at Bren’s cell to see his teacher standing there, calmly watching him approach. Inside the cell, he could see Bren’s eyes wide and his face held more tensely than usual. He was shifting slightly where he sat, as though his own body were the walls of a prison preventing him from running away.

All at once, Eadwulf was overcome with the urge to run forward, to lunge at Ikithon, to scream, because how dare he come here and strike that kind of fear into someone so helpless, hasn’t Bren been through enough? But he pushed the urge down and kept calm as he walked in spite of it. It was him that the archmage was angry with, it was him who would face the consequences of his actions; Bren had no reason to be afraid.

As it turned out, neither did he. Master Ikithon wasn’t angry, not at Eadwulf nor Bren; he never said or even suggested that Eadwulf would be punished, and the calm smile never fell from his face. He seemed entirely unfazed — pleased, even — by Eadwulf’s actions.

“You are welcome to visit our dear Bren whenever you wish, Eadwulf,” he said in a tone that could almost be mistaken for good-natured, “as is Miss Becke. In fact, I think it’s wonderful that you three have grown to care so much for each other, even after all this time. By all means, do continue to come visit him if it pleases you.” Moving closer, he added in a lower tone, “I would only urge you to remember that it is for you, yes? As much as it pains me to say this, Bren is — how shall I put this? — absent, by all accounts. You are a smart boy, I have no doubt you’ve noticed. Each time you leave this place, it is to him as if you were never here at all; he won’t remember. The sharp young man we knew is, I’m afraid, no longer with us.”

And every night since then, as silence fell over the sanatorium’s halls, Eadwulf would look down at Bren, tucked against his side the same way they had once grown used to laying in their beds, and ask himself: how could that possibly be true?

How, when he still squirmed at the mere sight of his old teacher standing nearby, when his eyes still sparked at the sight of his favorite fairytale’s cover, when he still remembered how to fall asleep next to Eadwulf like it was as simple as breathing, could Bren be gone? How could it be possible that such a sharp mind, so full of passion and of life, simply slipped away? Even if he remembered none of it, even if each day felt to him like the first time, Bren seemed in his own way to welcome their company far more than any other’s, to relax in some small way at their presence; did that not count for something?

It would take him many more years to truly make sense of it, to fully understand the weight of what it meant, but the simple fact remained: that Bren was gone was the first of Trent Ikithon’s lies that Eadwulf ever saw through.

#yes this is a day late. no i don't know if its good or not. yes im posting it anyway because these are my babies #im deep in an Eadwulf My Beloved Who The Fuck Are You kick rn so most of my entries will probably be centered around Him™️#i want to peel him open like an onion and see what's going on inside. yknow #*slaps eadwulf* this baby can hold so much love shown through acts of service inside of it #angstpril2023 #criticalrole #fanfiction #day1 #liar #cr fic #critical role fic #eadwulf grieve #bren aldric ermendrud #caleb widogast #trent ikithon #<- literally my number one parasocial enemy tbh. and hes not even real #i would tag astrid but she's only very briefly mentioned so it feels wrong #this will eventually be on ao3 but for now i'm just slapping it here and getting the FUCK to bed

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