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killjae · 6 days

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leon catdad fluff cause he’s such a cutiepie, this is for you anon!! i hope you see this :3

this is also my second fic, so please enjoy!! special tags :3 @wriosmilk @scorpiolara

ribbon border made by @cherubify !!!

ermm sweet sickle leon, praise and appreciation, catdad leon!!! you’re surrounded in lovebites!!!!!

it was storming outside, the light pitter patter of rain hitting your windowpanes continuously. the sound of thunder booming every now and then, despite the fact you were huddled under a blanket trying to keep yourself warm while watching a movie.

a ring could be heard from your doorbell as it chimed loudly, the sudden noise making you turn your head towards the door and get up.

your soft footsteps making their way across the floor before your hand reached the doorknob and opened it to a small soaked cardboard box with a wet piece of paper attached to it.

what? who would leave this here? you questioned yourself, unsure of what lies inside of the mysterious box. the thought lingering in your head as you carefully peaked over, the sound of rain filling your ears as it was pouring down outside.

there was no one to be found, who could have done this?

a small mew comes out and startles you. what? it was an animal inside, left out in the rain.

you leaned over and opened the box to find a small calico cat, it was soaked with water and mud in it’s fur as it stared up at you. poor thing. you quickly moved to take it inside despite the water leaving a trail as you brought the box inside along with the note attached.

it read. “i’m giving this cat up for adoption, as i cannot hold another one. i don’t have much time left to foster anymore animals so i’ve been sending them out to be adopted by other loving homes. please take care of her, she’s very loving and energetic when you get to know her.”

the feeling after reading the soggy paper left you with a frown and a feeling of sorrow as you looked down at the kitten once again, another meow could be heard.

you grabbed the kitten despite the mud, fleas and murky water coating your hands before bringing her over to a small bowl and filling it with warm water.

giving her a small dawn-soaped bath getting all the fleas and dirt off of her tiny body as she mewled and whined out, not yet used to the feeling of this new warmth.

she was a beautiful calico cat with a brown heart birthmark on her left cheek, almost reminding you of leon with the way you smiled at her. you wrapped her in a small blanket to keep her warm before calling leon, holding the phone to your ear as you rubbed both her sides in the blanket to warm her up faster.

“i-i found this kitten outside left in a cardboard box, with a note about her owner having a limited time left on this earth. i know you said you wouldn’t want a pet, let alone a cat, but she needs us—“

“…are you kidding? you know i’m not very fond of cats.”

“—leon, come on. she’s a baby, she looks barely 4 years old. plus, i kinda gave her a bath and everything, including the flea treatment and now i just have to get some formula that would be good for her to feed on till she gets big enough on her own.”

“..i’m coming home now.”

“don’t be mad, okay? she’s really cute.”

it wasn’t until twenty minutes later you heard the front door open and leon was taking his work boots off and his uniform before leaving himself in a tanktop and his workpants. you were sitting on the couch, keeping the kitten in your lap as she snuggled into your embrace.

“so, where is she?” leon’s booming voice came from behind as he moved from the side of the couch to sit next to you, his eyes instantly going to the small animal sitting in your embrace.

he lightly gasped seeing her fur pattern and genes before leaning closer to her. “..she’s pretty. you said someone left her on our porch? what a shame they can’t take care of anymore but that doesn’t mean we can foster her.”

“leon. she’s just a baby, a kitten literally. why can’t we keep her?” you tilted your head with a frown, looking at him before he huffed.

“we have to get her spayed, her check-ups, and going to the vet.. that’s a lot, plus YOU like her, i’m not into cats like that.” leon gave you a look, although secretly he was considering the possibilities of keeping the kitten.

“i’ll handle all of that, she’s gonna be my baby. she’s gorgeous and such a beautiful breed.” you smiled, lightly petting the kitten’s fur as she yawned before closing her eyes.

“are you sure? i still think we shouldn’t, and we should wait to get a bigger house.” leon spoke, as he crossed his arms.

little did he know.

months later you three are staying at home on a saturday as he’s throwing a squeaky mouse for your cat to catch. you ended up naming her miri, despite leon’s protest on not keeping her. he protested for a long 12 months, eventually coming to like miri.

“you’re a reall, pretty girl. a good one too, you really like this mouse, huh?” leon chuckled as he watched miri repeatedly chase it with excitement.

you stared at the two of them with a smile, remembering how leon went against keeping her a year ago when she was left on your front porch in the soaking wet rain. that stormy night, you’ll never forget the staying up late and having to change schedules because you two were new cat parents.

“shut up, okay? i know what you’re thinking of. i didn’t realize she’s not that bad and she’s actually pretty adorable.” leon spoke out of nowhere as miri was on his shoulder, nibbling his earlobe and slow blinking to signal she was really comfortable around the two of you.

leon felt a sense of pride and achievement in his life, being a catdad despite his previous attitude in the past.

he was happy to have two beautiful girls in his life that he would die for.

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #fluff #cute #cat dad

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outerbankies · 3 years

Note

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

@moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @rafeseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @theepoguelandia @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan @sofiatheseconf @hockeyshmockey @supersouthy @coffeeandcrimeshows @emptyloverofmine @infinitleyethereal @nerdypartytrashpsychic @mrs-cameron @tcmhollnd @nicavass @sakikos @catonthesideoftheroad @jemimah-b99 @serrendipiity @depressinq @svechnibrock @julianakawaja @ctrlcherries @lostaurorax @wildflower98 @babygirl2022 @lieswithoutfairytales @painlesslies @messagesinthesky @orrsoared @destourtereaux @sammywilscn @tylernagle @anonymousobxfan @lilacsandwhiskey @raphaelcameron @mardema @princesspogue @alwaysclassyeagle @brittlehe-art @drewswrld

528 notes · View notes

xtodorcki · 3 years

Note

could you make a picture of Levi or Eren, where he is sick and y/n takes care of him? love your imagines ❤️

“Sick Days,” Eren & Levi Headcanon

The only gif of Levi and Eren I could find. Its fitting ;)

Summary: Levi and Eren’s s/o taking care of them when they’re sick

Warnings: none none

Levi:

It had shocked you to see when Levi had gotten sick, he’s usually the healthiest between the both of you plus he made sure everything was always clean and spotless. He would always go overboard to make sure anything wasn’t even slightly dirty, he was beyond picky.

Definitely a germ freak. Hated anything dirty or germ related.

But the day he suddenly caught a bad case of the cold, you were quick to force him to stay in bed and take a few days off until he was better.

It led to him bickering with you, him refusing to stay in bed and do nothing. He hated to lay around when there was work to be done but you argued with him until he finally gave in.

You had walked into the bedroom, holding a tray with a variety of things laid up on top of it. You seen him cuddled underneath the blankets like baby, his tired eyes moving to look at you when you walked into the room.

“You feeling okay?” You quietly asked, setting the tray down on the bedside table and sat at the edge of the bed, leaning over to caress his cheek.

“Eh.. but get any closer and you’ll end up getting sick too.”

“I don’t care about that, I care about you getting better.” You rolled your eyes, moving the blankets and gesturing him to sit up.

“I got you soup and tea, just how you like it.” You moved the pillows up against the headboard for him to lean back on comfortably, his eyes looking at you and he gave you a small smile.

When you had handed over the steaming hot bowl of soup, you had sat beside him and ate a simple sandwich, glancing over at him from time to time. You could tell how frustrated he was with being sick, his nose too stuffy to even breathe and the lingering sore throat that made him want to cough every few seconds.

Now you can see why he’s such a germ freak, he turns into a angry child when he’s sick. You laughed under your breath at the thought, leaning forward to grab his cup of tea and hand it over to him.

“What are you laughing at?” His voice was low yet very groggy, you could barely tell it was his own voice.

“Nothing nothing, you just act like a big baby when you’re sick.” He grunted at your response, giving you a cold stare and another laughed slipped out.

“Whatever, maybe you should get sick then.” He said with amusement, your head automatically shaking as he stared at you.

“No thank you, Captain. This one is all you.” You had put all the dishes back on the tray, grabbing the medicine you had brought and handed it over to him.

He let out a baby like whine, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the medicine, already wanting to gag without even tasting it yet. You scoffed at him, opening up the bottle and poured the liquid into the small cup and held it out for him.

“I don’t want to take that.” He groaned, crossing his arms over his chest and you raised your eyebrows at the little fit he was throwing.

“Levi, you’re not five. Take the damn medicine.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand and forced him to grab onto the small cup.

“But this medicine is so disgusting.”

“I don’t care, take it before I force it down your throat.” His eyes went wide at your response, mumbling curse words under his breath as he stared at the liquid.

He scrunched up his face, not wanting to even have a tiny taste of it on his tongue but the look on your face was a bit more scarier than having to take this medicine so he quickly chugged it down, almost gagging at the taste and reached over for a cup of water to take afterwards.

You held back a laugh at how dramatic he was, setting everything to the side and lifted up the blankets for him to lay back down. You tucked the blankets around him, brushing the small strands of his hair off his forehead.

“I hate you for that.” He said dramatically, making you gently pinch his cheek on purpose and smiled.

“Quit being a baby, taking the medicine will make you better faster.”

“So? It’s nasty, I rather stay sick than take that.”

“Okay, big baby.” You responded, standing up straight and you felt his hand wrap around your wrist gently.

“Stay in bed with me, please.” He said, making your heart swell up and you simply nodded.

You had climbed into bed beside him, hearing him cough made you cringe but when he moved himself over to cuddle into you like the baby he is, his head on your chest and his arms secured around your waist, it had made your heart flutter.

You didn’t really mind him being this close, you didn’t really care if you would get sick, as long as you made him feel better- that’s all that mattered to you. Your fingertips had traced shapes on his back before moving up to massage his scalp, instantly making him fall asleep on top of you.

Soft snores had left his parted lips, his arms still tightly around you and you glanced down at his sleeping state. You continued to brush your fingers through his hair, trying to lay completely still because you were afraid of waking him, he needed the sleep.

Even though he was sick, you thought it was cute of him to be extra clingy and dramatic, it was definitely an experience to deal with him and try to take care of him without him throwing any fits.

You planted a kiss at the top of his head, making sure the blankets were pulled up enough to cover him up and your eyes had stayed on him, making sure he was sleeping peacefully.

Eren:

(Adult Eren hereee)

Eren was an idiot at times, at one point he was fully convinced that being a titan meant he was almsot untouchable and he could heal from pretty much anything.

That is until he got sick.

He stayed out training one day while it poured down with rain, making him completely soaked and cold but he continued until he felt like he was done with training.

The next day, he woke up almost coughing up a lung which woke you up. You rolled over in the bed, shooting him a tired yet dirty look at how badly he was coughing and blowing into a tissue.

His bright eyes had moved over to look at you, his nose red and the guilt written across his face when he noticed he woke you up.

“I told you that you were going to get sick from being out there last night.” You scoffed under your breath, ripping the blankets off of your body and stood up.

“I don’t need a lecture, Y/N.” He mumbled, wiping his nose and you looked over at him.

“You’re a pain sometimes. If you listened to me, you wouldn’t be in so many shit situations, babe.” You teased him, moving down to ruffle up his already messy hair.

He groaned, trying to slap your hand away from his head and you grabbed a hold of his chin to look up at you. You could tell how tired he was, his lips parted open as he stared up at you, a small smirk coming across his lips.

“Are you going to take care of me, hm?” He asked, making you roll your eyes playfully and let go of his chin.

“Why should I? You never listen to me anyways.” You teased, making him place a hand over his chest like he was offended.

“Oh c’mon, you know how great you’ll look in a Nurse outfit taking care of me.” He fake pouted, giving you a puppy eyed look and you stared at him.

“Definitely not wearing a Nurse outfit for you.”

“Why not?” He whined, his large hands reaching up to grab onto your hands and pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

“Just shut up, you should be worried about getting better and resting.” You leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead and he sighed loudly at your response.

You smiled down at him, moving your hands away and stood up straight. You had fixed his shirt that you were wearing and turned around to go towards the kitchen in the small house you owned not too far from the scouts main base.

Eren had stayed in bed, pouting and having his arms crossed over his chest while you made some tea and a small breakfast. While everything was cooking, Eren had walked out of the bedroom, wrapped up in a blanket as he huddled towards the couch.

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Because I missed you.” He said sweetly, making you shoot him a amused look as he cuddled up on the couch, his eyes looking over at you in the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but grow soft at how cute he looked on the couch with the blankets wrapped around him, it was even wrapped around his head.

After everything was done, you set it all on the coffee table in front of him and sat beside him as he blew into another tissue, making you cringe at the noise.

“Take medicine first, please.” You handed over the medicine and he surprisingly took it with no issue, you were convinced he would throw a fit over it.

But when he took it, obviously this being his first time trying it, his face completely scrunched up and he looked as if he was going to spit it out but realized he couldn’t. He forced himself to swallow, almsot gasping for air and coughing.

“So dramatic.” You mumble, shaking your head as he reached over for the cup of hot tea and took some sips.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.” He coughed again, taking a few more sips and gave you a dirty look like you were at fault for the medicine being nasty.

“Please, quit being a child and eat.”

He had grumbled a few words under his breath, making you look over at him before eating the small breakfast. Eren had opened up the blankets, wrapping it around the both of you as he stayed close beside you.

He didn’t hesitate to eat, you could tell he was starving at the way he was eating so quickly. You had to remind him to slow down and take his time but he never listens— that’s why he was sick.

“Thank you, gorgeous.” He leaned over to kiss your cheek and you glanced over at him.

“Be careful, I don’t wanna get sick.” He looked at you like he was offended again, his eyebrows raising in amusement.

He suddenly had tackled you down on the couch, his arms wrapping around your body and peppered sloppy kisses all over your face, making you place your hands on his bare chest to try to pull him off.

“Eren, stop it!”

He stopped to look down at you, his eyes lighting up and a small smile on his face but as the pounding headache started to hurt his head more than it did before, he couldn’t help but cuddle into you like a giant baby, keeping the blankets around the both of you.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you.”

“Why are you saying sorry now?” You asked him, glancing down as his head laid on your chest and your fingers brushed through his soft hair.

“Because I feel like shit.”

Here y’all goooooo

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

#levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi Ackerman #levi imagines #levi fanfic #levi x reader #levi headcanons #eren jeager headcanons #Eren imagines #Eren x reader #eren yaeger x reader #aot imagines #aot headcanons

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jamielea81 · 3 years

Text

Conversations

Bonus Chapter: Colorado

Description: Takes place a year and a half after the first bonus chapter Back to the Beginning. The reader and Chris are married with life changes ahead. Original description for the series Conversations: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader, Scott Evans

Warning: Slightly NSFW (18+ only!), cursing, talk of pregnancy, fluff, Grumpy and Sassy shenanigans.

A/N: Look who finally wrote a bonus chapter for Conversations! This girl, right here! Just a little timestamp in the reader and Chris’ life. And of course we needed some Scott time. You do not have to read the series to read this one shot, but it doesn’t hurt. Reblogs, comments, asks, what have you, I enjoy.

Italics are internal thoughts

“Honestly, love, it’s fine,” you spoke softly into the phone, trying your best to keep your voice even. The last thing you want is for him to feel worse than he already does.

“I don’t know…” Chris trailed off. “Usually, when women say the word fine, they really don’t mean, fine.”

“Such a guy,” you chuckle. “I promise, Scott and I are going to have a terrific time. He’s taking care of me and promised not to get us into any trouble.” You raise an eyebrow at your travel companion seated next to you in the hired car.

Chris laughed and then followed it up with a groan. “That does not make me feel better. Put me on speaker.”

You rolled your eyes but did as he asked or rather demanded. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”

“Scott, you better take care of my wife. She’s precious cargo. And she’s carrying precious cargo. So, it’s extra precious cargo.”

You laughed; hand automatically going to your stomach. You were four months along and just starting to show. Family and close friends knew the two of you were expecting your first child, but the tabloids had not caught wind. The two of you had been going back and forth on whether to let People Magazine do an exclusive cover shoot when baby Evans is born. The money earned from People would be donated to charity which was the only reason you were even considering it. Plus, the whole you two breaking the news rather than the public finding out when you weren’t ready. Chris wanted to be the one to introduce his child to the world rather than having paparazzi sneaking into your backyard to get a picture. You couldn’t argue with him there.

“Would you relax! You’re going to give yourself a coronary and then I’d have to take care of both precious cargos and you don’t want that.” Scott shouted.

I really hope the driver doesn’t recognize Scott.

You smacked his arm, taking the call off speaker and bringing it back to your ear. “Chris, we are both going to be just fine. The plane ride was as relaxing as any plane ride can be and we are almost to the hotel. Scott and I are going to pamper ourselves and eat lots of great food. Work is important and I completely understand.”

Chris got called back to Los Angeles for reshoots that he couldn’t get out of. He planned a couple of mini babymoons and this was going to be the first one. Because of your advanced age – insert eyeroll – your doctor had mentioned it may not be safe to travel a lot once you were six months along. Chris took this seriously and booked a trip to Colorado at a gorgeous snowy mountain resort. There wouldn’t be any skiing, just loads of alone time and cuddling by the fireplace. When Chris had to cancel, Scott stepped in and volunteered the cuddles.

“This is one of the many reasons I love you. I’m just disappointed our romantic getaway is now being shared with Scott. My brother,” he said, voice in mock disgust.

“It’s fine. Scott and I haven’t hung out just the two of us in forever.” Scott reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Alright, sweetheart. Have a great time and rest please.”

“You know I will. I love you, babe. Say hi to Pedro for me,” you said, smile evident in your voice.

“I will. Love you too.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Evans?” The check in clerk, Barbara according to her nametag asked.

“That’s right,” Scott chimed in, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Newlyweds.”

You forced a smile and bit the inside of your cheek so that you wouldn’t laugh.

“Congratulations!” she replied with a sweet smile on her face.

She tapped her chin with her index finger before going back to her keyboard. “Let’s see what I can do here,” Barbara replied, typing away on the computer in front of her. “We have you in a one-bedroom suite with a mountain view, but,” she paused for dramatic effect. “I’m moving the two of you to one of our honeymoon suites.”

Scott gasped and slapped his hand on the countertop. “That’s mighty nice of you,” he spoke in a fake southern accent.

Where did that come from?

“Me and the misses really appreciate it. Don’t we honey?” he asked, turning his attention back to you.

“My pleasure,” Barbara said before you could reply, laying two room keycards on the counter next to Scott’s hand.

You smiled brightly but kept your mouth closed, so afraid of letting a chuckle out or saying the wrong thing. Scott steered you away from the counter, placing a hand on your bottom.

Once you turned the corner to the bank of elevators, you yanked Scott’s hand off your behind.

“Newlyweds. Really?”

“It got us an upgrade, didn’t it dear?”

The first night you were fine. Scott kept you occupied with stories of the single life and the wonders of online dating. You weren’t sure how he did it. Or rather, how he didn’t. After he told you about the guy who wore Barney the dinosaur underwear in a child’s size husky, you laughed until you cried.

“But did you still sleep with him?” you asked wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“Sassy! Of course not. Barneeeeyyyy,” he drawled out.

Shrugging your shoulders, you got up to grab yourself a tissue from the bathroom. Coming back in the room, Scott was on his phone, fingers swiping feverously. You plopped down on the couch, tucking one leg under yourself.

“Here,” Scott said, handing you his phone. On screen was what you would refer to as tall, dark, and handsome.

“He’s hot,” you said, passing the phone back to him.

“Barney.”

“No,” you gasped.

Scott sighed before he started to laugh which got you going once again.

The second day you weren’t so fine. The two of you ordered breakfast in the suite. Pancakes dripping with syrup, crispy thick cut bacon, sausage links, a bowl of mixed fruit, and decaf coffee because Scott was in solidarity with you on your caffeine hiatus.

“Let’s go for a walk. There are tons of trails that the resort clears of snow. I need to work off this breakfast,” Scott said patting his stomach.

“You and me both,” you said, getting up to put on actual clothes instead of the pajamas you were still wearing.

“You are so lucky. Get to eat whatever you want and can just blame it on the baby.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turned around to face him, lower lip slightly wobbling. Since the minute you found out you were pregnant, you found it really hard to control your emotions. You knew Scott didn’t mean anything by the commit, but your brain couldn’t help itself.

“I have to work really hard to be healthy. It’s bad enough the doctor said I’m old.” A sob escapes your lips. The tears already starting to roll down your cheeks. “I can’t have any caffeine, can’t eat a lot of my favorite foods, have to cut back on my salt. My salt! You know fries are my jam. Doesn’t help that my husband is built like a fucking Greek God. I’m not a model or an actress. I already feel like Dodger’s poo compared to him.”

Scott was out of his seat before you could utter another word. Strong arm pulling you to his chest while one hand cradled your head.

“Stop that. You are fucking beautiful and frankly my bonehead brother is lucky you agreed to marry him. Do you even know how many times I have had to leave the room in the last two months when he starts talking about you growing his child inside you and that it turns him on?” Scott pulls away slightly an emulates puking.

“Stop,” you said, burying your head in his neck.

“Why is my neck wet, Sassy.”

“It’s snot,” you said with a chuckle, wrapping your arm around him and holding on tight.

“You two are meant for each other.”

After a minute he pulled away and grasped both of your hands. “I’m with you in any way you need. If you need a healthy eating buddy, I am your man. If you want to say ‘to hell with it’, I’ll pick up McDonalds for the two of us every day if you like.”

You wiped at your eyes and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I love you Grumpy.”

“Love you too,” he replied and then clapped his hands together. “So, are we napping or are we walking?”

“Walking,” you stated, making your way into the bedroom to finally get changed.

That evening, the two of you got dressed up and went to your dinner reservation at the hotel where you were addressed as Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Scott stuck to sparkling water even though you encouraged him to get an alcoholic beverage.

“I don’t need to drink to be the life of the party. You know that.”

He wasn’t wrong. He’d kept you entertained even without the raspberry liquor he force fed you years ago.

“I think we need a dance party when we get back to the room. For old time sakes. Before I am too big to shake it.”

“Done and done.”

The night ended in a bubble bath with both you and Scott in your swimsuits in an oversized soaking tub. Dozens of pictures were taken with many going to your husband. Rather than a text in return, he called.

“What is this? My brother movin’ in on my wife?”

“Babe! You know that it was me and Scott from the start,” you teased.

Chris chuckled. “You go away for a couple of days and it’s like that.”

“You know you are my one and only. Scott’s just making me smile.”

“I know baby. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you said.

The next day you were weepy. As much as you tried to put on a happy face, you were missing Chris. Pregnancy hormones or not, Chris had been working a lot and you had barely seen each other. This romantic babymoon wasn’t what you had in mind. Yes, spending it with your best friend was great, but it wasn’t the same.

The fire place was roaring while Magic Mike was queued up on the flat screen. You and Scott were dressed in jeans and cable knit sweaters with fuzzy socks on your feet. The snow was coming down heavy which was fine with you since neither of you had any place to be.

Pop in hand, though you wouldn’t let Scott hear you call soda that, diet for you, regular for him, the only thing you were needing was Dodger’s wet nose on your stomach and Chris.

“You know, Chris can do that,” you said pointing at the screen where one of the dancers picked up an audience member like she weighed a pound.

“No. Stop. Do not ruin this movie for me. I do not need to picture what you and my brother do.”

“Scott, you do know where babies come from, right?”

“Gross.”

You chuckled, standing up to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Why you brought up Chris when you already cried twice this morning was beyond you. After using the bathroom, you cleaned up your face and stepped back into the living room of your suite.

Scott draped himself over the couch, phone in hand, eyes shifting between the screen of his phone and the TV.

“I think I’m going to take another bath. Need to relax a little bit.”

Scott looked up. “Not too hot.”

“Yes, dad,” you said, offering him a mock salute.

You kept the bath water warm, but added extra oils and bubbles to make it feel more luxurious. The lights were off but a few candles were lit and your phone played 90s R&B. You snapped a pic of your soapy legs and sent it to Chris. Within a few minutes you had a reply.

Chris: My brother better not be in there

Y/N: I’m all alone

Chris: We can’t have that

You heard the door open and you scolded yourself for not locking the door. This text conversation seemed to be heading into rated R territory. You did not need Scott to witness that.

“Scott,” you drawled out. “I’m not wearing my suit tonight. Get out of here.”

When you heard the distinct sound of a belt buckle, you turned around. Rather than Scott dropping his pants, it was Chris.

You gasped, mouth hanging open.

“Room for one more sweetheart?”

You nodded your head unable to form words but those tears had no trouble forming.

Chris continued to undress while you tried your best to compose yourself. He joined you a moment later slipping in behind you.

“How? I thought you were working.”

“I put in some long hours so that I could get to you. I was miserable without you.”

“I know that feeling,” you replied, leaning your head against his chest. Chris lightly rubbing your stomach before sliding his hands up to your breasts, fingers tips rubbing against your nipples. “Babe, did you lock the door?” you asked.

“Don’t worry, I got Scott another room.”

You reached your left hand behind you grabbing on to Chris’ head bringing his mouth to yours. Chris kissed you deeply, your back automatically arching at the taste of his tongue.

“Was he mad?” you asked.

“I don’t even care,” he replied, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Neither do I.”

Tagging: @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob @patzammit @xoxabs88xox @heartislubbingdubbing @twittytelly @linki-locks11 @ab-baybay @impalaimages @jesseswartzwelder @rainbowkisses31 @xostephanie @smoothdogsgirl @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xxloki81xx @firstangeldragonranch @soitmightgetweird @maeleeme @denisemarieangelina @rvgrsbrns @icanfeelastormbrewing @kitkat1690 @smilexcaptainx @dangerouslovefanfic@kelbabyblue @sweetlittlegingy @dont-need-another-fandom @chrisevansforever @evansxxx @southerngracela @bitterstar88 @squirrelnotsam @kitkatd7 @marvelislove10 @the-doctors-fallen-angel @hista-girl @cocomel0613 @also-fangirlinsweden @mustangshelby04 @bellaireland1981 @carolina-thiell @straightforwardly @torntaltos @denise1605 @mcuclintasha @iam-cj @trynnabemultifandom @chrisevansforever @kelbabyblue @broadwayandnetflix @kyjey @thevelvetseries @i-just-feel-like @daddieslittlefangirl @stankface @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @whymalu @mariswritingforfun @tessabb7 @lakamaa12 @deidrashouseofpain @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @greyeyedsmile14 @dangerouslovefanfic @ripvandrinkle @bitterstar88 @zestygingergirl @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @onceuponathreetwoone @supraveng @michelehansel @fanfictionaffair @agirlcanstilldream @what-is-your-plan-today @jessyballet @capstopavenger @wiczer @titty-teetee

#chris evans #scott evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fic #chris evans imagine #conversations

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

Maria. *Grabs your face* MARIA. I would LOVE to see 15 bobbing for apples from the autumn fic meme written by you. Nothing would delight me more!

Anonymous asked: Halloween prompt #15 please!!... "Bobbing for apples but we meet accidentally underwater lady and the tramp style." OR "I thought we'd have fun bobbing for apples but you actually hate it and are really mad now"

15. Bobbing For Apples

from autumn fic prompts here

KATE ❤️__ ❤️for you id write anything... and anon the lady and the tramp scenario is so fucking funny/good

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

It’s a really good thing that Hermann has Newt, because if Newt’s being honest, he has no damn clue what the poor dude would do without him. Work himself to death, probably. Or spend every Saturday night alone in his bunk. So depressing. Newt considers it his big charitable act of—well, of all time—to force Hermann into social functions, whether it's fun nights out at the bar (with Newt!), or down the hall a few feet for awesome movie marathons in Newt’s quarters (with Newt!), or something like tonight, which is a super awesome and fun Halloween party that, like, everyone on the base was invited to (including Newt!).

Hermann was all set to spend another night alone (probably changing the batteries in all his calculators or rearranging the hangers in his closet) when Newt dragged him out, more or less by the collar of his argyle sweater, with multiple threats to make his life a living hell the following week in the lab if he didn't comply immediately. "Seriously, dude," Newt had said, ominously, while Hermann looked at him like a furious cat ready to take a swipe, "you're gonna put in those vampire fangs and get drunk with me, or you're gonna regret it. I mean it." Newt was not opposed to blasting the shittiest depths of his Spotify account over his bluetooth speakers or using Hermann's favorite coffee mug to hold his dissection tools. Luckily for both of them, Hermann decided the risk wasn't worth it.

Newt knows Hermann is bound to recognize how selfless Newt is being and thank him for it eventually. Probably. Maybe a few years from now. For now, Newt is enjoying the warm and fuzzy feeling of having done a good deed, and also of drinking a considerable amount of spiked punch.

Hermann is not enjoying either.

"I did, in fact, have plans for tonight," he tells Newt, sipping his ginger ale and observing Newt with a fierce scowl. He flat-out refused the booze Newt tried to push on him. It's fine, whatever—it's enough for Newt, right now anyway, that he actually came. They'll work up to bigger stuff like that later.

"Like what?" Newt says. "Doing a crossword puzzle and watching the second half of that boring-ass documentary you put on last weekend?"

Newt considers it an affront to the very concept of movie nights that Hermann used his pick on a documentary, and one about the jaeger program that didn't even bother interviewing him, no less. Newt loves a good documentary, don't get him wrong, but movie nights are for escapist shit. You don't see him switching on Godzilla. Plus, having to watch stock footage of Dr. Gottlieb Sr. blabbing his mouth about how smart he was while you were debating making a move on his son (who was currently in you bed, looking super cute in your sweatpants, because he'd forgotten to pack pj's) was kind of a mood-killer. "It wasn't boring," Hermann sniffs, which tells Newt that his guess was dead-on. "It was...interesting. And anyway, just because they aren't your idea of plans..."

"Okay, whatever," Newt says. "Let's just have fun. That's the point of a party."

He throws an arm around Hermann's shoulder and drags him closer, until their heads knock together painfully. He hears Hermann growl low in his throat. Newt doesn't say, soon, we won't have the time to do stupid shit like this anymore, so we should enjoy it while we can, even though he wants to. It's better to not make fun stuff depressing. Plus, Hermann might decide to take that as an invitation to bail and put on his documentary. Instead he reaches up across Hermann and flicks his chin. Hermann's whole body stiffens. "I can't believe I got you into this super awesome party and you're not even pretending to be thankful," Newt says.

With no great deal of difficulty, Hermann pushes Newt off of him. Newt lands heavily back in his chair, making the whole thing wobble, and he laughs as he just manages to catch himself from falling off the other side. "You got me in?" Hermann says. "Newton, I was invited three weeks ago."

Newt stops laughing. "You were?"

"Yes," Hermann says. The corner of his lip twitches up, with a smugness so powerful Newt can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Bastard. "I took it upon myself to ask if you might be permitted to come, too." He adds, sarcastically, "Out of the kindness of my heart. I know how terribly put out you get when you aren't included in these sorts of things."

Newt considers this new information, and then discards it, because it really doesn't fit the image of himself he's been cultivating as the cool, hip friend to Hermann's uncool, unhip nerd. Like, come on, between the two of them, Newt is obviously the one you'd want at your party. Hermann's gotta be kidding. Probably. Maybe. "It's a lame party anyway," Newt mumbles.

He tries to put his arm around Hermann's shoulder again, remembers that Hermann really didn't like that the first time, and then drops it back down at his side instead. "Totally lame," he continues. Newt recalls the Halloween parties of his youth with a warm, fond glow: elaborate costumes, tacky decorations, passing around bowls of peeled grapes in the dark, carving jack-o-lanterns while his dad hovered protectively over him to make sure he didn't take a finger off with the knife. This is none of that. Barely anyone even dressed up! The lack of Halloween spirit is tragic. "There aren't even any party games."

"Yes there are," Hermann says, mildly.

He points across the room at a large metal tub that Newt somehow missed before. It looks like it's filled with water, and...

"Dude," Newt says.

He doesn't wait to ask before he's hopping to his feet and dragging Hermann along after him by his blazer cuff. Hermann swats at his heels a few times with his cane, but eventually—like he does with most of Newt's ideas—gives in. "I'm a fuckin' champ at bobbing for apples," Newt boasts. "I used to—oops, excuse me," (he runs into two guys who are, like, twice his height, upsetting their drinks, and he hears Hermann groan as something purple spills on his sweater), "I used to always win it at the fall fest when my dad would take me." And then when he went back as an adult by himself, but it was less impressive a win when you were up against a bunch of ten-year-olds.

"You do have an exceptionally large mouth," Hermann says, rubbing at his stained shoulder. "I suppose that helps." As Newt bends to investigate the iron tub, he says, "Oh, Newton, don't, it's been out all night. Who knows what sorts of germs are in there?"

Newt gets to his knees and rolls up the sleeves of his PPDC-issued labcoat. He's a mad scientist to Hermann's vampire (vampire librarian?) tonight. Yeah, it's kind of a lazy costume, but it was free—he already had everything he needed in the lab. "I can get it in five seconds, max," he declares. His record is one second, but he's the first to admit he's a little rusty, and he'd rather impress Hermann by beating his estimate. "Will you hold my headlamp?"

Grumbling, Hermann takes it. Newt sets his glasses on the ground. "You're going to get yourself bloody soaking," Hermann says, and then he complains about something else, too, but Newt is screwing his eyes shut and ducking his head into the tub, which makes it difficult to hear him. One second—two seconds—two and a half—Newt emerges victorious from the tub, teeth clenched down firmly on an apple, and accidentally splatters a large amount of water on Hermann's shoes. He pulls the apple out of his mouth with a grin and waves it at Hermann. "See. I'm a fucking pro."

He tucks his glasses back on his face to discover that Hermann is staring at him with a very strange expression on his face. Newt can't decide if it's the blacklight bulbs overhead that are washing him out and making him look so flushed, or something else entirely. Then, in a second, he's grumpy and scowling and tsking over his wet shoes. "A pro," he echoes. "Hardly. It can't be that complicated."

Newt gestures grandly at the tub and takes a bite out of his apple. Hermann can always be relied upon to never turn down a challenge, especially when it means making Newt look—potentially—stupid. Newt uses it to his advantage often. Whatever it takes to help the guy have a good time. "It's all yours, dude."

Hermann grumbles something again about Newt being too arrogant for his own good, and something else about showing Newt how to do it without making a mess of everything, then gets down to his knees with a quiet hiss of discomfort. He shoves his cane, and Newt's headlamp, at Newt, though bewilderingly leaves his blazer on. "I'll be just a moment," he says, and dunks his head into the tub.

He splashes back up no more than five seconds later. Apple-less. "Bugger," he coughs, and then coughs some more. The entire front of his sweater is soaked. "I didn't—I didn't start out right. Let me—"

Newt watches Hermann try to drown himself a few more times in mild interest before he finally intercedes. "Need a hand?" he says, getting to his knees next to Hermann.

"No," Hermann splutters.

Newt takes his glasses off again. "Yeah, you do. Okay, now watch me—"

He emerges with another apple in seconds.

Hermann grits his teeth. "Newton—"

"One more?" Newt says, his grin widening.

Back under. Another apple. He winks at Hermann when he goes in for a fourth time, and this time, he feels the water of the tank being upset as Hermann (refusing to be outdone once again) splashes in alongside him. God, Newt loves riling Hermann up like this—he gets so funny, and kinda cute, when he's mad about something. Red in the face, and scowling, and sometimes (when he's real mad) speaking in a dangerously low and rough sort of voice with his r's rolling that makes Newt shiver, just a little. Like, Newton, you worthless, pathetic little man, cease this immediately, or else I'll... He actually said that to Newt once. It made Newt feel a little warm under his collar. Hermann's probably going to say something similar to him this time, and Newt can't wait.

Ten seconds in. Newt has been cutting Hermann a little slack at first, just to see if he can catch up, but finally decides to just go for the apple that's been bobbing steadily against his mouth this whole time. (He loves beating Hermann at stuff.)

And, well, apparently Hermann goes for it too.

They both miss the apple. Newt's mouth is up against Hermann's for another five seconds before he realizes what's happening (that that is definitely not an apple, that that is definitely a mouth, that that mouth is wide and weird another to belong to only one person Newt knows, that that mouth is parting in surprise, oh my God) and then he pulls away so quickly that he breathes in what feels like half the tub of water. He falls back on his ass, coughing furiously, and it's not until he shoves his glasses back on with a shaking hand that he realizes that Hermann has done the same. "I," Hermann says. His eyes are wide. "I'm sor—"

"It's fine," Newt squeaks.

"It was—"

"I know!"

Newt and Hermann's mouths were touching for five whole seconds. Underwater, while apples bobbed against their foreheads, but their mouths still touched. Oh my God. In elementary school, Newt thinks dizzily, that would be enough to catch cooties. This was so not how he wanted his awesome eventual seduction of Hermann to go down. For one thing, it wasn't even a seduction.

"I'm gonna get a towel," Newt says.

Hermann nods. He looks strangely adorable with water droplets on his nose and his hair plastered to his head like that. Newt has to get out of here before he does something stupid, like take Hermann's pointy cheeks between his hands and put their mouths together on purpose. He doesn't think Hermann would respond to that very well right now.

"I'll get you one too," Newt says, and it takes a lot of effort to force himself to his feet.

Hermann nods again.

"Okay," Newt says, and stumbles away. Out of the corner of his eye, he just catches Hermann raising a hand to his mouth.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #hermann's pov in that one bit was just 'mouth............'

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ogravensimp · 3 years

Text

this one is for@mistkissedmoon a lil more Dad!Constantine with a ft. from Jason Blood and John would be so terrible at taking care of ppl but still like really care, so I hope I captured that feeling in this

“This was your big emergency?”

Jason Blood gave a blank stare to the British man across from him.

He didn’t usually just drop everything to attend to someone; especially if that person was John Constantine, but ever since the exorcist decided to take care of the Gem of Scath he proposed it would be a good idea for John to keep him on speed dial.

He didn’t actually expect John to use said number.

Constantine was a demon expert in his own right. Jason believed that he was right to assume that the only reason his help would be sought after was only if the apocalypse had begun.

He felt a nerve in his temple twitch in annoyance (and, ashamedly in disappointment).

It's just that when John rang him and pressed for him to come to the House of Mystery, he had simply been expecting more...destruction. Maybe some blood and fire raining from the sky, the earth itself cracking open to release eldritch horrors of all kinds or even complete ripping of the fabrics of reality.

Anything along those lines would have justified his presence being required, but instead, he was met with-

“achoo!”

Jason looked down at the small form below him.

The spawn of evil incarnate was smaller than he thought it would be. If one ignored the glowing red gem wedged into its forehead, it could easily fool for another harmless 7-year old girl.

Especially as it laid half-dazed in its bed, staring up at the ceiling in a lucid trance. With only half its face poking out from under their star themed blanket, it sniffled pitifully due to the snot dripping out its flushed nose.

The room was perfectly mid-temperature, but the child has so drenched in sweat that even the towel on top of its forehead had over-soaked but yet it still shivered as if it was below -0 degrees.

Was the level of the child’s symptoms extreme? Yes.

Was it worth calling him for? Definitely not.

The daughter of Trigon was sick, yes, but it was obviously just the flu.

“That’s what I‘ve been saying.”

Jason turned to the source of the voice—a young woman stood in the doorway and held a tray of what seemed to be cups and bowls.

John had introduced her as Zed and he had just assumed they were in a relationship— to focused on the assumed threat to try to examine their personal lives.

Maybe he should’ve guessed this excursion would be a waste of time by Zed’s expressions. When he arrived she had shot him nothing but apologetic looks. At first, Jason believed the worst laid behind the doors he was led to but as he now knows, that was not the case.

“That idiot thinks it’s some paranormal curse,”, Zed huffed as she sent a glare at the blond man who began to try and defend himself.

“It's been weeks and she's still under the weather. You think Beelzebub gets the bloody sniffles?!”

“But a child of her age would! Especially one who reads in the tub and doesn't dry her hair before going outside in August,” Zed rolled her eyes as she spoke as if the answer was obvious—and they were, "maybe if you stopped treating her as the destroyer of worlds and instead as a 7-year-old, you won't have wasted the poor guys time."

Jason couldn't help but internally agree with her words.

John continued his defence, "All I'm saying is when I got a cold, I just carried on with my day maybe a bit foggy up there but hardly half-dead like Blackbird over 'ere."

Another eye roll from Zed was the only reply.

Approaching them, she extended the tray towards Jason. He gave a look at the cup of tea and noticed it seemed to be next to another 'sweat towel' in a bowl, he cringed a little before rejecting the offer.

Zed just shrugged before dropping the tray onto a side table and drinking the cup herself. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, her gaze was soft as she stared down at the child, her hands ran through the child short dark tresses in a comforting manner.

Jason studied how she gently cupped the back of the Gem of Scath’s head and raised it, picking up a cup of water from the side and bringing it to the demon’s mouth and it drank with obedience.

The more Jason watched, the less he could even continue to refer to this child as a demon.

Etrigan was a demon—looked like one too.

How could he use the same term he'd use to describe the bastard in him, to describe this tiny looking thing before him? And though he could sense the hellish magic pouring out of her, for now, she was harmless.

"Alright, summon him out."

John's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He gave him a perplexed look before asking, "Excuse me?"

"Etrigan. Your demon buddy," the way John looked and spoke, you could tell he saw no issue with his request, "Just wanna confirm from a primary source whether if this is something worse or natural way of life."

Jason was flabbergasted, 'was this why he was called?!'

John sighed.

Actually looking peeved by Jason's confusion.

To the side, he heard Zed's chuckle as she began to switch the towels on the girls head, "told you he wouldn't do it."

"Oh bog off," John retorted back before turning back to him and placing a hand on Jason's shoulder, "Listen, it's either you or I visit ol' Luci and I'm simply not really...eager to have that encounter. So do me a favour here, and just bloody say the rhyme."

Jason looked at the hand on his shoulder like it was a parasite before smacking it off. Taking a breath to compose himself, he turned to the exorcist, " I assure you, there is nothing Etrigan can assist you with that I cannot also offer."

"A huge fuck-off sword?"

Jason glared, "Let me see the child," he spat—obviously ignoring the previous statement.

John put his hands up in surrender before indicating with a turn of his head to the child who had actually risen during their conversation and was now sitting upright—well, slouched and she was staring half-lidded at the wall with the only sign she was awake being her harsh breaths.

He bent down as to be in her level of sight and stuck his hand out, "Hello, my name is Jason Blood, you must be..." "Raven." "-yes, thank you, Zed. They tell me you are a bit under the weather?"

Jason realized halfway that he never learnt the girl's name and had simply just been referring to her as the Gem of Scath. He felt a tinge of guilt for his rudeness, but the dazed stare the girl gave him was confirmation that she was barely conscious enough to even notice.

He also realized it was ridiculous to try to shake a child's hand and was bout to retract it when he felt a pair of smaller ones latch onto his fingers.

Looking up he met a sleepy pair of amethyst eyes trying to focus on him, "N-n-nwot sick...jus-jhwust..uh sleepy and...cwold," with a voice that was softer than a whisper, plus the slurring of her words due to the fever, she was basically incomprehensible.

He was going to try and retract his hand again when he felt something soft come in contact with it. He looked down to see that she had placed her face in the palm of it and wrapped around it like a snake.

With a single muttering of, "...warm...like hellfire", she fell asleep with his hand still under her.

He looked at Constantine.

Not really sure what to do, but the con-man only grinned before giving him a tap on the back, "Good lad Jason, put her to sleep. Even I couldn't do that, let alone Etrigan. Guess I'll leave it to you."

And with that, Zed and John stood up and began to exit the room.

Jason was still in shock to even speak; so before he realized what they were doing, they already switched off the lights and closed the door with a soft click.

He simply stared into the darkness, the only illumination being the moon and stars outside.

Sighing, looked down at the fiend holding his hand prisoner and contemplated yanking her off. She was small. it would incredibly easy to flick her away and then he could simply depart home...but then he felt a squeeze.

As if the girl sensed his thoughts, she clung harder onto his limb like it was a lifeline.

She looked truly at peace right now; her harsh breaths were now nothing but puffs and she was less...sweaty. Demon spawn or not, the girl was no more vulnerable than a newborn fawn at the moment. Jason just didn't have the heart to disturb her peace for his own gain.

Another sigh could be heard in the silent room.

'Maybe an hour longer won't hurt but after that, never accept a favour for John Constantine again.'

hope you like it, feels weird writing characters that aren't just raven and my other faves, hope I didn't make anyone ooc

#raven dc #raven teen titans #john constantine #zed martin #john x zed #dad!constantine #constantine & raven #dc comics #raven fanfiction #jason blood #etrigam the demon

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maybedefinitely404 · 3 years

Text

For You Became My Lighthouse

Genre: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Prinxiety

Content: food/wine, Patton and Logan offscreen, anxiety attacks, argument, crying, fear of breakup.

Word count: 4k

Note: Not proofread. We die like men. Also part two is coming soon~

5:24

It definitely wasn’t every day that Virgil spent the early evening dancing around the kitchen while making dinner. But today was no ordinary day, and he was just too damn excited to stay still.

Figaro sat on the floor in the bedroom doorway, licking his paws and glaring disdainfully at the speaker system that had disrupted his nap. Virgil spotted the dark cat and grinned, dancing over to scoop him up. He hummed along to the music, bopping the disgruntled cat to the beat (much to his chagrin). Once upon a dream, Figaro might have fought tooth and nail at being used as a dance partner, but living with Roman for years had worn down his resolve. And after Virgil had entered their lives, he’d completely given up fighting their excuses for attention. Instead, the cat just yawned and went limp.

“Aw, did I wake you up, Figgy?”

The cat did not answer.

Virgil let him hop from his arms onto his scratching tower and went back to slicing spinach on the counter, humming along to the music. He wanted it louder, loud enough that it numbed the excited tremble in his hands and drowned out his internal butterflies, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with noise complaints. Again.

Instead, he opened the drawer in front of him and ran his fingers over the small box he’d placed in there hours ago. As he’d done countless times since, he opened the lid to make sure that the ring inside was still there, still perfectly centered and shining as brightly as it had been when he’d picked it up earlier that morning.

Roman would never expect him to propose. Ask anyone who knew them and they’d agree that the romantic, outgoing, type-to-propose in their relationship wasn’t Virgil. Plus, he’d dropped no hints. Any time he met with Logan to plan, or went to the jewelers, and the million other things he’d had to do before this, he’d chalked it up to ‘having a bad day’ or ‘needing time alone’.

He felt… a little bad, knowing in the recent months many of Roman’s attempts at dates had been turned down, only half the time due to actual bad days. But it would all be worth it in the end. The plan was to start with dinner; the meal they’d had on their first real date, followed by Virgil suggesting a walk. As they put on their jackets, he’d sneak the ring box into his pocket, and innocently lead them past a cafe for dessert, “coincidentally” the spot where Roman had asked Virgil to move in with him. Finally, the park, strung up with fairy lights and electric candles Logan and Patton had set up just before. It was their perfect mix of solitude and ‘extra’. Virgil would propose, and Roman would hopefully say yes, and everything would be perfect and amazing and-

The oven timer beeped. There was fifteen minutes left for the dough to set; time to make the filling for the ravioli. But he’d barely started cooking the spinach when his phone chimed, alerting him of a text.

Hey V, dinner and a movie tonight? You can choose.

Virgil bit his lip and sighed, thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a second. As old as the excuse was getting, he needed to side step Roman’s plans one more time. Just one last time.

not feeling well. anxietys been all over the place. sry.

He laid the phone back on the counter and returned his attention to the frying pan, flipping the greens and watching them wilt slowly. One eye on that, he pulled out his other ingredients from the fridge. He’d rather be ahead of schedule than behind.

Ding ding.

Yeah, shocker. What else is new.

Virgil felt his heart drop. That wasn’t… at all in character for his boyfriend. Yeah, he’d used the excuse more often lately, but was it that much? He stared at his phone, hardly breathing, trying to think of some way to answer that, when a burnt smell reached his nose.

“Shit,” He hissed, trading his phone for a spatula and turning the spinach once more. It was just on the brink of being overdone, just the edges turning a tad too dark, but nothing he couldn’t save. He scraped the pan’s contents into a bowl to cool and dumped it in the sink. The hiss and steam of the hot pan in water made him wince (he’d been told a million times it was bad, but he couldn’t recall why), but he left it on the bottom of the sink to fill and soak. Scrubbing dried spinach off it tomorrow would really put a damper on the ‘recently engaged’ mood.

“Mrow?”

Virgil shut off the water and turned to the trill, cursing when he realized Figaro had abandoned his tower in favor of sniffing the food on the counter.

“Figgy, no! Get down!” He plucked him away from the bowl just as he looked ready to pounce inside, much to the cat’s annoyance. “You would just spit it out, you big baby. Don’t look at me like that.” It probably wasn’t safe to keep cooking with the cat around anyways, so he went to their room and left him on their bed with a soft order to behave. Figaro blinked once at him with indignation before the door was closed, and Virgil hurriedly pulled out his phone.

Real mature, not answering.

Virgil took a deep breath to push down the rising anxiety. He’s… probably just playing around, right? It’s probably meant in a lighthearted way but he was just misinterpreting the text harshly. It’s not malicious. Right?

sry, put figgy away

He paused for a moment, before shooting another quick text.

ur not actually mad right?

The typing bubble appeared.

And went away.

And popped up again.

And vanished.

That was enough confirmation to get Virgil’s heart pounding, all hope that Roman was just fooling around out the window. He was typing again, and this bubble was staying for longer, but now it was too long to be a simple affirmation.

I don’t know, Virgil. You used to actually contribute to this relationship, and now I’m the only one really trying. We barely ever go out, for like a couple months now. You always dodge my plans. I miss the old you, because right now I feel like I barely know you. I’m getting sick of it.

Now Virgil properly couldn’t breathe. That sounded like the beginning, if not the entirety, of a breakup if he ever heard one. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck his stupid ideas, his stupid plans, fuck all of it. This is his fault, and Roman’s about to dump him, because he took his overdramatic proposal too far and it was about to end their relationship.

I’ll be home late.

Okay, that wasn’t… a breakup? Unless, of course, he was going to do it in person, and needed time to plan how it was going to go.

Cognitive distortions, is that what Logan had called them? Magnifying? Is that what was happening right now? There was a solid chance that Logan would agree with him, say that he wasn’t actually sure what Roman planned, and it would probably be okay, but it was very hard to be objective when he was in the middle of it.

how late?

Another deep breath. He placed the phone next to his mixing bowl, screen up so he would be sure to see the notification, and absentmindedly added in the ingredients he’d pulled from the fridge earlier. Shit, did they have thyme?

Of course they did, he’d gone shopping for all the ingredients like two days ago. He needed to get out of his own head.

The final timer went off, signaling the dough was ready to be used. Before he unwrapped the ball and got his hands covered in the stuff, he checked the lock screen on his phone. Nothing.

It was fine, it was fine.

Rolling out the pasta into one thin sheet took far more effort than he would have thought, and it took embarrassingly long before he was able to lay it out on the big ice cube tray he was using in place of an actual ravioli mold. He checked his phone. Nothing.

Once he got the hang of filling the molds without making a huge mess, it was actually an easy process. He finished three and a half trays-worth before running out of dough and filling simultaneously, but that’s more than enough for the two of them. No answer yet.

ro?

He set a pot on the stove full of water but didn’t turn it on; it would just be one less thing to do when he was ready to cook the ravioli. For now, he placed the pasta in the fridge so it didn’t dry up. Roman generally got home from work at six, which he had prepared for, except on late rehearsal days when he was held back an extra hour. That’s what Virgil consciously chose to believe; he meant he’d be home late because it was a longer day. He wasn’t answering now because he was on stage. Technically it all made sense, but it wasn’t enough to relieve the icy grip around Virgil’s lungs.

romans gonna be late. push back an hour?

Logan sent back a thumbs up followed by his ‘-Logan’ sign off. Virgil sent a quick apology but didn’t bother to check the response when his phone lit up, focusing back on his plate of raw ravioli.

So, at five to seven, he’d boil the pasta and warm up the tomato sauce. It had been finished that morning and had been waiting in the fridge all day, because Virgil was a firm believer that it would taste better having had time to sit. Plus, he’d been excited, and had needed something to do with his hands.

But now he needs something to do with his hands again, but instead of excitement, it’s a tingling discomfort spreading through his limbs and curling in his stomach. Convinced that there was nothing else in the kitchen he could do, he untied the apron and pulled it over his head, pleased at the stark black button up he’d successfully kept flour-free. The satisfaction doesn’t last for long.

Now that he’d acknowledged his shirt, it was impossible to ignore the way it wrapped far too tight around his neck. It’s fine, he thought as he unbuttoned the top button, I still look okay.

He may as well set the table. Patton, similar to Roman in regards to going above and beyond, had insisted Virgil go all out for the dinner. Stark white table cloth, silverware set perfectly next to the plates, and a tall, white candle as the centrepiece. Virgil had cringed a bit at the idea, but after being assured that Roman would love it, he’d reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t his style but, well, the night wasn’t supposed to be about him, no really.

Watching TV did nothing to relieve the knot of uneasiness in his stomach, even when he unrolled his weighted blanket from the side basket and huddled into it. It brought a calm familiarity with it, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could pretend that someone was holding him. Patton’s soothing words, or Logan’s gravity, or Roman’s warmth or Roman’s safety or Roman’s gentleness or Roman-

6:53

Time to throw in the ravioli. He shut off the television, he hadn’t been watching it anyways, and turned the water on to boil. As it heated, he scuttled back to the table, some of his excitement returning. Sure, things had been tense on the phone, but Roman would be home any minute, and the rest of the night could go as planned. He pulls a small crinkle out of the white fabric and recenters the candle, stepping back to admire his work. It’s okay. If Roman had done it, it would probably look better, but who cared. It was fine.

7:01

Virgil sighed, looking over his final creation once again. A part of him was cringing with the cheesiness of it all; the lit candle, food already plated, a bottle of wine fresh from the fridge. Getting a new wine may have been too much of a giveaway, so the feature was a half finished bottle from their last date… a few months ago. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if it would pair well. He didn’t even like wine. But it was Roman’s favorite, so it would have to do.

He’d bitten three nails down to the nub by the time he figured he could add the tomato sauce over top. Roman was never later than seven, so the pasta wouldn’t even have the time to get soggy.

In a combination of unfortunate events unlike any Virgil had experienced before, the tomato sauce bubbled the moment he grabbed the handle, dozens of pinpricks of heat burning his hands. He yelped and dropped the saucepan in favor of grabbing his scalded hand, jumping back as the pot hit the side of the counter and sent tomato sauce flying directly into the open drawer next to it. In his search for a match to light the candle, he’d left open the drawer containing the ring box, and in moments, the velvety exterior was coated in a fresh layer of marinara.

“Fuck!” Virgil shouted.

Heat be damned, he grabbed the box from the steaming puddle around it and rushed it to the sink. Running it under water would just be asking for the situation to be worse so he tried to scrape off the mess with a dishcloth. Was this even salvageable?

No, it turned out. The white velvet had stained a shitty orange in a way he definitely couldn’t play off as the original color, and even though the interior (or god forbid the ring) hadn’t been touched, he found himself trying to fight off tears. This wasn’t fucking going well, and now…

7:28

Roman was never this late, not without telling him. Virgil checked his phone and, nope, only the previous message from Logan and a newer one, asking if they could set up yet. He sent a quick:

no, hes not home yet

Panicking was not a move he wanted to make right now, despite how his brain was trying to convince him otherwise. Roman was probably stuck in traffic, right? And Virgil was always getting on him for texting and driving, so that could be why he hadn’t said anything. Sure, the route from the theatre to their house was barely ever busy, and yeah, it was way too late for there to be real holdups, but there was a first time for everything.

He made quick work of cleaning up the disaster of marinara sauce, surprised that a decent amount was salvageable. Apparently in his panic he’d righted the pot before it had all spilled, so there was maybe just enough for the meals. The inside of the drawer was a stained, orange, mess, and the area under the burners was caked in dried sauce, and that was just too much work for right now. He slammed the drawer shut and threw a towel over the element. Out of sight, out of… well, not out of mind, but maybe it would take a backseat on ‘worries for the night’.

Might as well get a head start on dishes, he thought, since the thought of texting Roman is daunting and his whole body is aching for something to do. One second more of standing still and he may very well have combusted. He couldn’t even summon up the will to turn on music, the mood from before totally vanquished. If he could just get that burnt pan done, perhaps the tension in his chest would ease up a bit.

But he cleaned the pan, and the rest of the dishes, and scrubbed the sink, and Roman still wasn’t home. At some point when he’d decided to just finish all of the dirty cookware he’d rolled up his sleeves, which he quickly lowered and rebuttoned around his wrists. The dishes were drying; nothing left to do there.

He swallowed thickly. How was the shirt still too tight around his throat?

Virgil unbuttoned the next one down, hoping to ease the ball of fear in his throat. It didn’t help.

The food was lukewarm, at that point. It was still edible. It was microwaveable. It was fine. Again, the thought crossed his mind to text Roman, but what if he was driving? He might check it and get pulled over, and that would not help the uneasiness in their relationship right now. What if the phone’s light distracted him and he got into a car accident? He couldn’t lose Roman, not when their last words had been so strained, and it would be his fault on top? Not a chance. He’d be home any second now. He had to be.

Virgil quickly found himself under his weighted blanket once more, watching whatever sitcom was on with dissociated interest, arms wrapped around his waist in a vice grip and feet bouncing under the covers. This time, though, the television worked less as a distraction and more as grating noise in his skull and he muted it, but that didn't stop the sudden stream of noise. Water was running through the pipes under him, some of his neighbors were shouting, and the fridge was humming and the lights overhead were buzzing and it’s all so loud-

His sound blocking headphones were also in the basket next to the couch and he shoved them over his ears. The world went quiet except for the sounds of his shaky breathing; breathe in, and out, and in, and out…

8:07

With the thick padding over his ears, the only sound he could hear was his breathing. It was somewhat reminiscent of Darth Vader’s, seeming far too loud, but also a steady foundation for him to ground on. Without the outside distraction, it was far easier to focus on his breaths, to slow them down, to get into a rhythm of long inhales and longer exhales. Bit by bit, the swarm of butterflies that had clasped around his heart gave way, allowing the anxiety to morph into numb sadness.

If Roman had come home on time, would they be in the park already? Would they be engaged? Maybe they’d already be back home, sharing the news to their families. Roman would probably already be gushing about wedding ideas as Virgil nodded along in amusement. They probably could have convinced Patton and Logan to come home too, and they could have had a great rest of the evening, finishing the bottle of wine and reliving the past and…

Were they even going to get engaged at this point?

He fumbled for his phone and sent a text to Logan.

plans off. sry

The headphones were overly effective in silencing the world, now amplifying his thoughts too much, so he slid them off. He took a deep breath, the sound now camouflaged in the rest of the apartment’s noise. A lump formed in his throat as he took in the arrangement of the dining room, and the more he pushed it down, the harder it was to stem the tears that were steadily filling his eyes.

Virgil didn’t like feeling helpless, but that was all he felt at that moment.

Fuck.

Without forethought, he rubbed at his eyes, and instantly froze.

He drooped his head with a sigh that bordered on a groan, reluctantly lowering his hands from his face. Mixed in with his intercepted tears were the smudged remains of his makeup smeared across the web of his hands.

Might as well; everything else went to shit anyways.

Usually, Virgil didn’t spend more than a minute removing his makeup. But that day, he spent an inordinate amount of time scraping off every streak of color until his face felt raw, watching his hard work be erased. He’d spent forever getting it perfect.

Even after he finished, he couldn’t get himself to move. That familiar weight of anxiety was settling again into the pit of his stomach as rushes of adrenaline, but he found it impossible to tear his eyes away from the mirror. As he stared into his own eyes, he vaguely remembered reading somewhere that looking at yourself in low lighting could trick one’s brain, causing the face to morph into something totally different, oftentimes not human; monstrous. Something about the brain trying to find faces everywhere, and creating them where it can’t see one properly.

This didn’t happen to Virgil.

All he saw in the mirror was someone who had messed up his hope for a future.

Huh. So maybe a ‘monster’ wasn’t too far off.

He laughed humorlessly and finally flicked off the bathroom switch, reentering the living room. The candle was still burning strong on the table, a good half way down. Virgil blew it out.

9:12

The state of apathy Virgil had sunken into was violently replaced with sharp anxiety when he finally bothered to check his phone, realizing it was past nine o’clock. Once more he considered asking Roman if everything was okay (heh, as if anything was okay) but he was quickly reminded why he hadn’t in the first place. Light distracts a driving Roman, bad things happen, it’s all his fault…

Instead, he replied to Logan’s response.

Why? Virgil, what happened?

-Logan

we had a fight

His feet led him by their own will, pulling him to the wall so he could flip off the lights, dousing the apartment in darkness. Using the light from his phone screen, he stumbled to their room- or was it just Roman’s now? Would he have to move out? Oh god… where was he going to live?- ignoring Figaro’s mewls for pets.

What did this fight regard?

-Logan

idk. a bunch of stuff.

He stripped out of his formal shirt, hands shaking so bad he could barely undo the buttons, and exchanged it for his favorite hoodie. It may be too hot to sleep in, but he felt the need for comfort more than he was concerned about heat.

Virgil dropped onto the bed next to the clothes, finally relenting to Figaro’s complaining and stroking down his back. In the stillness of a silent apartment, it was suddenly harder than ever to not completely break down. At least he wiped off his makeup.

This was over dinner?

-Logan

no. over text. he never came home.

He allowed the first tears to fall.

Maybe this had all been building up for a while and Virgil had just been too dumb to see the signs. Was this the night he lost everything? Would the one person he never grew tired of, the only person he had truly loved, leave him? He didn’t know what he’d do without Roman and somehow, he didn’t think he’d have a hope of ever finding someone like him again.

The tremors and blurry vision made it difficult to type.

i think romans going to break up with me

It took barely half a second after it sent for his phone to start ringing, Logan’s name showing up on the caller ID.

Later, Virgil wouldn’t even remember pressing the answer button. The moment he heard Logan’s voice over the phone, his unusually concerned voice overlapping with Patton’s questions, the dam broke. He sobbed his way through an explanation the night, the text messages they’d swapped, and his snowball of anxiety.

To no surprise, the two on the other line immediately offered to come over, but Virgil declined. There was still the tiniest part of him, the littlest hope, that Roman was still going to walk through that door any second. If (when, when, when) he came home, they would need to talk, and it would complicate matters if Logan and Patton were there.

When he eventually yawned in the middle of a sentence, he was encouraged to go to bed. He really didn’t need to be convinced; he was more than ready for this evening to be over. After promises that he’ll update them first thing in the morning, and multiple reminders that Patton loved him, he was left alone in the apartment once again.

He curled into a ball on his side of the bed and cried himself to sleep.

Part two HERE!

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #virgil sanders #roman sanders #romantic prinxiety #prinxiety

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a-purple-lizard · 3 years

Note

Hello lovely! I know ur still working on part two of the smutty raiden story but can I request a short fluffy one shot of Raiden making sushi with his wife who’s a total cinnamon roll 🤗

Thank uuuu🙏🏼

Sushi at the sky temple

Raiden x Fem wife reader

Oh goodness! I’ve been writing too much angst, the fluff- it’s putting life into my soul! Goodness! The tooth rotting fluff!

Raiden groaned slightly in his sleep, arm stretching to his right, searching for a warm body to no avail. He grunted at the lack of contact. “Raiden.” An excited whisper sounded in his ear. “Wake up darling.” The god groaned, rolling on his side. A frustrated huff sounded above him as he was suddenly pushed out of his semi conscious state by a weight on his chest.

Opening his glowing eyes, he could see the source of his slumbers interruption. His beloved wife, S/o sat on his chest, thighs pinning his arms to his sides. She smiled down as him before dipping her head down and painting gentle butterfly kisses over his face. The thunder god smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling.

With one last light kiss on the tip of his nose, she sat up and allowed him to open his eyes. “Is there a reason for this awakening, s/o?”

She smiled down at him, sliding off of his body to stand next to the bed, “Yes, come with me, I have a surprise for you.”

Standing up, he started to take off his silk pajamas as s/o grabbed his robes, laying them out on the dresser as she grabbed the thunder gods armor plating from its stand. Raiden quickly slipped into his robes, turning as a/o approached with his metal plating. The god attached the arm plates as his wife strapped on the chest and back plate. After a few more adjustments and layers, the god was fully dressed and ready. Well almost.

His silver hair was in tangles from his restless slumber. S/o ran her hand through the silky substance before grabbing a brush nearbye and gesturing for him to follow her.

The two made their way down to the next floor of the sky temple, Raiden didn’t worry about anybody seeing his messy appearance since the top three floors of the sky temple were forbidden to the monks and they were not expecting any visitors.

His beloved finally halted at the food preparation area, her smile bright. Raiden scanned the surface of the table, two wooden bowls of rice sat side by side, behinde them was a large sushi bowl decorated in carvings of Sakura trees. A small glass pitcher of amber liquid rested in the countertop next to a large wooden spoon.

“I’ve been really wanting some sushi recently, I mentioned it to Kung Lao last time he visited, and he surprised me the other day with the items needed to make it.” She gently grabbed his hands, leading him over to a spot wheee he could easily access all the items. “I thought we could do it together! Make it fun?”

The god felt his neutral expression shift to a smile at the woman’s offer. After all, not even a god could resist that hopeful look in her eyes. “Where do we start?”

The light of her smile was enough to shame the sun as she stood beside him, brush still in hand. “I’ll fix your hair while you prepare the rice, I’ll instruct you.” She explained, stroking the object through his hair. “First, pour those two bowls of sushi rice into that big wooden sushi bowl.”

Raiden could feel the heat radiate off of the rice as he gently let it fall into the sushi bowl, she must had just made it. S/o hummed behinde him, “okay, now grab that glass of seasoned rice vinegar and pour it on the rice.”

Turning around to grab the glass pitcher, he was ambushed with a kiss on his cheek. He managed to playfully nuzzle her hair in retaliation before returning to the task at hand and guiding the glass over the sushi bowl and pouring it onto the rice. A playful tug at his hair told him what when to stop. “I’m almost done, now grab that flat wooden spoon and break up the rice.”

Glowing eyes, slid over to the wooden spoons location, next to where the glass pitcher once was. He turned once again to obtain the object, smiling as he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned his head as S/o’s lips landed on his. She squealed in delight, allowing their lips to press together for a moment before she returned to her task, smiling at the brush as she did so.

With the spoon in his hand, the god broke apart the vinegar soaked rice, a smile still on his face. S/o ran her fingers through his silky locks, a hum of approval sounding from her throat. As she walked over to the table in the next room she yelled over her shoulder, “oh, make sure you’re folding the rice over itself.”

She returned shortly after, the brush no where to be found. She nodded in approval at the sushi bowl. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a bladed fan that Raiden recognized at Kitanas. He sent her a questioning look as s/o started to fan the rice. “What? She left it here! Plus I’m going to give it back to her! I just keep forgetting...” she smiled sheepishly at her work.

The two stood side by side, repeating the process over and over until the glass pitcher of vinegar was empty. S/o took charge, placing a sheet of silk over the bowl before disappearing behinde Raiden, returning with sheets of nori. “Lay these out Raiden, make sure to put the shiny sides face down, oh and put them on those wooden mats I have piled up over there.” She instructed before disappearing again.

Doing as he was told, he lay out each sheet in an orderly fashion on the counter, carefully aligning them with the wooden Mats, His wife returned, a wooden basket filled with cut up herbs and vegetables as well as a bowl filled with water. “Here, wet your hands.” She placed the bowl down. Raiden dipped his hands in, shaking off the excess water.

“Why did I do that?” He asked as s/o placed the vegetables in a neat row. She smiled at him, leaning forward to kiss his eyelid.

“So the rice doesn’t stick.” She explained briefly, “now get a bit of rice for each sheet and press it down to cover the sheet, leave an inch of nori paper open though, it’s for later!”

Softly, he pressed the rice on each sheet into the requested position, as soon as the last grain was put in place, he felt lips place themselves on the back of his neck. “Thank you, love. Now go wash your hands, I’ll take over.”

S/o slid in front of him, placing the herbs and vegetables in a neat line in the center of the rice covered paper. Walking over to the sink, Raiden pressed down the leaver, showering his slightly sticky hands in water before pouring liquid out of a small red bottle nearbye into his hands.

When he turned around, he found that each sheet had a row of filling on top. S/o was currently folding a mat over, rolling the paper along with it. She tucked the mat in at a certain point, squeezing the mat before undoing it, revealing a loose roll underneath. She then flipped it over, using the mat to shape the roll.

When she noticed raidens gaze, she smiled warmly at him, “do you think you can do the other ones? I can start the cutting!”

He chuckled at her cheerful smile, walking over to the remaining rolls and mimicking her movements. As he did that, s/o grabbed a knife from the drawer and delicately pressed it down at multiple points in the roll, cutting it evenly. She religiously swiped a silk cloth over it after each cut.

Finally, they were finished. Raiden handed his wife a glass platter. She smiled and gave him a thankful look as she started to neatly placed each sushi roll. “Here, I know I had some soy sauce saved in that cabinet.” She gestured to a cubby above raidens head. Ye thunder hod opened it, finding only a few small bottles, “it’s the one next to the pink one.”

Grabbing the desired bottle, he handed it to s/o who had just finished her work. She nodded before placing it on the counter and leaning down, opening the cabinets below her. Raiden turned away, grabbing the supply’s that needed cleaning and taking them over to the sink. As he washed, s/o took out three bowls and a few more unnamed bottles.

She placed each bowl on the platter, spreading them out and filling them with soy sauce. Taking the unmarked bottles, she drizzled different sauces on the rolls. S/o screwed the bottles shut, walking around the food preparation area, putting each back in their place. Raiden had finished up with cleaning the supplies and started to put each item away.

S/o quickly dashed over to help. After everything was put away, Raiden grabbed the platter and headed to the table, his wide staying behinde to grab two pairs of chopsticks.

She handed a pair to Raiden as the two sat down side my side. S/o leaned on her husband as they both tried one. The woman anxiously grabbed at her clothes, waiting for the gods response.

Raiden didn’t eat food, well not anymore. When he was still new to existence, he tried many kinds of food, experiencing as mush as he could. As time went on, the god started to lose interest since eating gave him no benefit other then the temperal pleasure on his tongue.

His expression morphed into a satisfied one as he finished his last bite. S/o smiled and let out a small squeal, earning a playful nuzzle from the god.

The two lovers stayed there, side by side, tasting their creation as s/o went on and on about different things they could try. Raiden just smiled, enjoying watching the adorable passion rush throughout her face.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #raiden #raiden x reader #fluff #sushi #this is too cute #my teeth are rotting from this fluff #I need some angst #send help

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luninosity · 4 years

Text

It’s @whumptober2020 time again! For prompt 10 – “they look so pretty when they bleed,” specific prompts: blood loss/trail of blood; AND prompt 15 – “into the unknown,” specifically magical healing!

Time for some more Evanstan with witch!Seb! This story takes place in the same universe as “every inch of north and south.” Warnings for...blood & magically inflicted injuries? I promise he’s going to be fine though! It’s magical healing, after all!

Chris steps in through the side door of Sebastian’s magician’s consultation rooms, where the wards know him as Seb’s boyfriend; he’s tired but cheerful, because it’s been a productive day of meetings about the directorial project he’s taking on for fun, the film about rescue dogs, and also he’s brought coffee for Seb from that new place down the street they’ve been meaning to try.

He’s expecting the familiar tickle of Seb’s magic, and he smiles, the way Seb’s wards generally smile back, all warm and smoky and glittery as opals.

The magic is familiar. It recognizes him. But it’s also wrong. Frantic. Scurrying. Spiking. Singing and shouting, sounds Chris doesn’t quite physically hear but feels—

He’s not a witch the way Sebastian is. But he is magic-sensitive, kind of adjacent to it and aware of it if it’s happening, and he’s Seb’s boyfriend. Sebastian’s magic knows that.

The hairs at the nape of his neck stand up. His skin prickles.

He takes another step. “Seb? Sebastian?”

No answer. But Sebastian’s protective magic’s shrieking now, a cacophony of clashing melodies and scents and textures—burning scarlet and blinding gold and copper on Chris’s tongue and whistles in his ears—and it wraps coils around his wrists and ankles and begs for his help—

He runs. Shoving coffee onto Seb’s table next to the silver scrying bowl. Heart twisting in his chest at the sight of neatly labeled herb-bottles and jars on the shelf, at Seb’s black leather jacket tossed over a chair, as if Sebastian’d expected to be right back—

“Sebastian? You in here?” Something nags at his brain; his eyes catch up after a second.

A space on the wall rack. A missing knife. The silver one, the moon-knife.

Sebastian’s protected against most ordinary blades, but magicians sometimes need to offer drops of blood. Seb’s got a few specific knives for that purpose, which means a few weaknesses. Chris tries to breathe. To think.

Sebastian doesn’t have any specific enemies, not that he knows about; magicians can be envious and prickly and wary, but Sebastian’s generous and happy and clever and kind, and good at warding-spells, also.

But Seb had said—something, that morning—something about being asked to consult on a local case, a missing child, and of course he’d said yes, and Chris had nodded because that was a good thing, of course…but Sebastian hadn’t said it’d be anything difficult…

Or had he? By not saying so, by smiling, by kissing Chris as a distraction?

Sebastian’s a good witch but—in his own words—not anywhere near the sorcerers of legend. Gifted at cures and summonings and counter-curses, not at leveling mountains or flattening enemy armies. And he and Chris have only been a them for three months—maybe Seb hadn’t wanted him to worry…

Chris is worried now. Chris is fucking terrified now. “Seb! If you’re here, if you can hear me—say something, come on—”

Magic pulls at his arm, insistent. Wind howls past his ears, though nothing in the main consultation room physically stirs.

He spins in the direction of the tugging. Of the two doors plus small staircase, one leads to Seb’s distillery and store-room; the other’s the private workroom, for anything that can’t be handled out in the sunny front space. The staircase goes up to Sebastian’s bedroom-slash-library, with the books on astronomy and the low cozy bed with the decadent satin sheets, where they’ve spent a lot of enjoyable time.

The door to the private workroom has a small trickle of red underneath it, seeping out.

Chris stares at it for a second. Then throws himself that way.

The knob, heavy and bronze, doesn’t turn. Chris slams a hand against thick wood. “Sebastian!”

No sound.

“Sebastian, please! Can you—you gotta open the door, Seb—just that, you can do that—let me in, please, Seb, just try—”

No word from Sebastian; but a click echoes through horrified silence. This time the knob turns.

The red’s blood and the blood’s so much, a vicious trail that stretches crimson from the door to a puddle over tidy chalk lines and up to—to—

Chris’s lips say Sebastian, without noise, even as he’s flinging himself across the room. A sizzle scratches down his spine, a hint of burning singes his arm-hair, as he crosses chalk marks; but it’s weak. He doesn’t care.

Sebastian, lying on his back, blinks and tries to focus as Chris bends over him. He’s clearly just collapsed in place, knocking over equipment along the way. The knife lies silver and deadly amid broken ceramic bits of what looks like a coffee-mug; Sebastian can do scrying-work with anything, Chris knows, and is actually best with an object he uses daily, a coffee-cup friend, a connection. The big silver bowl in the consultation room’s mostly for effect.

Sebastian’s bleeding from—from everywhere, all over, red soaking his shirt and jeans, Chris’s jeans where he’s kneeling in the puddle, Sebastian’s hair—red streaks Seb’s face, his nose and mouth, his ears, his bared and laid-bare arms, which Chris almost can’t look at because of the raw—

He clamps hands over the closest wrist. Sebastian’s blood’s hot. Sticky. “Seb—oh god—”

Sebastian coughs. Starts to talk, coughs again, then manages, “Oh, hey…love you…”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Seb—I love you, of course I—what, how, what can I—no, no, oh god, Seb—”

“Not…as bad…as it looks…”

“It looks like you’re fucking dying!”

“Well…not quite…that was his plan…but it’s not all me…the water…”

Chris looks more closely. It’s true: it’s not all Sebastian’s blood. The water from the coffee mug’s thinned it and spread it out and contributed to the pool.

Contributed to. Not all of. He’s keeping hands over Sebastian’s left arm, holding edges together. The right arm’s just as bad; Seb’s still horribly injured, blood pulsing under Chris’s fingers, making them slippery. “What can I do?”

“I’m…trying to…heal it.” Sebastian’s face is white. His eyes stand out against the lack of color: that silvery grey-blue Chris loves so much, now etched with pain. “We found her…the girl…it wasn’t that hard, I’m good at talking to the earth…and to water…I just…wasn’t expecting to fight an amateur warlock for her…I won, obviously…”

“Obviously…”

“He’s not dead, don’t worry…I don’t do that…just in custody…sort of very not conscious, I think. Him, not me.”

“Let me help,” Chris pleads, hands wet, jeans wet, workroom wet with hideous ruby splashes. “Please. Anything.”

“I can’t…” Seb coughs again. Then shuts his eyes. When he opens them his voice is noticeably weaker. “I can’t ask you to…”

“You’re not. I’m offering. I love you, Seb. I said fucking anything. Do it. I’m here.”

“It’ll hurt.” Sebastian’s trying hard to sound more all right, and failing. “Chris…”

“Don’t you fucking dare ask me if I’m sure.”

“No…I know you are.” A ghost of a smile hovers at the corner of Seb’s mouth: bittersweet, evanescent, affectionate. “Okay. I can stop it…I think…but I could use an anchor…more strength…getting kind of tired, here…but you’re good at awareness, at being present…”

“I am.” He presses harder. Some of the cuts are healing—he can see them—but not enough. “I can do that. What do you need me to do?”

“Look at me,” Sebastian whispers. “Look at me, think about me…about who I am, who you think of…when you think of me…and just relax, be open, let me in…”

Chris draws a wobbly breath. Lets it out. Keeps his hands over the deepest slash. Focuses on Sebastian’s face, Sebastian’s eyes.

Sebastian, he thinks. Bright and beautiful, ridiculous and generous. Made of stories and magic, a smile through a coffee-scented drift of steam, a love of pizza and outer space and other people. Pure joy in running around the woods on a hike, by turns jumping out at Chris from behind trees or just talking to said trees, running a hand over them, starting conversations.

Sebastian’s eyes are cool and sweet, shimmering like mist and starlight. Chris finds himself distantly aware of the rest of the world—his hands trying to hold Seb together, the way his jeans stick to his legs, the hardness of the workroom floor—but it’s all going dimmer now, far away.

More, if Seb needs that. More intimate, more personal. In bed, under him, laughing and fearless. Sebastian sprawled out half atop him, cat-napping, both of them naked and contented in sunshine. The smoothness of Seb’s skin, the dip where his back curves into his ass, the soft little sound he makes when Chris caresses him just right.

Sebastian doesn’t say anything aloud, but Chris feels something like a yes, rose-pink and amber-laced and dancing like eighties rock music because Seb likes Bon Jovi: Sebastian’s magic, worn thin but glinting and prismatic, reaches out. It draws him in.

He’s always thought Sebastian’s magic felt and tasted like light, so many kinds of light: wry cool moonbeams and lazy honeyed sun-thrumming and mischievous star-twinkles and quiet shafts of shyly happy radiance unexpectedly hiding in deep green pools. The burst of airiness from a cloud-like meringue. Whipped cream and edible gold dust. The kiss of sun through water in a lake. The hushed glowing of candles, lit with a thought, pooling liquid along entwined bodies.

Right now the light’s present—Chris can feel it, can taste it—but very ragged, scarlet-tinged. It asks without words, wistful; Sebastian’s giving him one last chance to duck out, he understands. Sebastian isn’t sure that Chris should have to do this, maybe because it’s only been three quick months, maybe because Seb himself wants this so badly—Chris can feel that the same way he can feel how much Seb loves him; no lying here in this place—and Seb is consequently afraid it can’t be true.

Fuck that, he thinks: you saved me once already, you save me every day I get to kiss you, you make my life more full of magic; let me save you; I love you.

And Sebastian laughs: stunned, grateful, overwhelmed. And accepts.

Pain hits first. White-hot and searing. Chris can’t even scream. Can’t think. Can’t process the sensations. If that’s what Seb’s been feeling—how is he even talking, how is he alive, how—

Sebastian does something else, some tug at a thread in the embroidery of shades of light around them. The pain ebbs: not gone, but covered over by clean wintergreen and mint. The sense this time’s vaguely apologetic, though distracted: Seb’s having to juggle a lot of those threads, with no energy to spare.

Chris shakes his head. Tries to project don’t worry about me, I can take it that direction. Sebastian does a sort of mental headshake right back at him, and then—

It’s the strangest feeling. Not bad, not exactly—but dizzying. Stomach-flipping. Vertiginous. The light’s laced itself into his head, his gut, his chest—and it pulls gently and tugs and draws something out of him, taking it in, leaving him lightheaded as it drains.

His heart thumps faster. He’s off-balance, shaken. And it’s something like a release as well, not orgasmic but close, something like Sebastian stroking him or sucking him until the climax rushes up and out involuntarily, nothing he can do to hold it back, as he shudders and cries out at the flood of release, emptying himself into Seb’s mouth or hand or body.

The world still tastes like mint, and a little like pain, hot and copper and iron-sharp, but Seb’s shielding him from the worst of it, he’s aware.

He can feel Sebastian’s magician’s fingertips skillfully taking each strand, each bit of Chris’s energy, and patiently painstakingly reweaving pieces of self: closing wounds, connecting tendons, knitting veins back together. Chris stays very quiet, holding more pieces of Sebastian in his mind as an anchor, and watches him work.

He doesn’t know how long it takes. Time doesn’t matter, not here.

He knows he’s growing more tired, more hollowed out; he can feel that. Giving himself, and gladly—but even as he thinks that, the draining eases, and recedes, and backs away.

Sebastian’s breathing more easily. Sebastian’s arm’s whole, under his hands; Chris blinks, discovers that he has hands, that he can see and feel a world that isn’t diaphanous and timeless and made of light. He’s sticky with drying watery blood, his jeans are ruined, and he’s starving; Sebastian, still lying in the same spot on the floor, opens both eyes. His skin’s less white, and the blood on his face is dried, not new.

Chris holds his hand, his arm; runs fingertips over bright pink tender flesh, new-made skin. Gazes at Seb, amazed, in awe, thankful.

“So,” Sebastian says, visibly exhausted but with sparkling eyes, “candles? And…whipped cream?”

“It’s how you feel.” He touches Seb’s arm again. “Light. You’re not…it’s not finished. All the way.” It’s not: he can see the lines, the tracks. Closed over, safe and not spilling life anymore, but not gone.

“It’s enough for now.” Seb pushes himself up on an elbow, gingerly; he makes a face as his sleeve lands in a puddle. His shirt’s tattered and slashed open as well; so are his jeans. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m not—”

“If I took much more I would. Trust me.” His eyes meet Chris’s again, less magically hypnotic this time; then flinch, glancing away from the admission of potential harm. “It’s kind of my job. Knowing how far to go. As a professional. And I can do the rest, just more slowly. Are you—”

“I’m fine!” Drained and wobbly, like he’s just run two back-to-back marathons, and his stomach’s growling. But Seb’s alive. “Should you be sitting up? What else can I do?”

Sebastian’s expression goes through several emotions, and then he just says, “Chris,” a sigh, a giving in; and he reaches out, and Chris puts both arms around him right there on the messy workroom floor, holding on.

“I love you,” Seb murmurs after a moment, head resting on Chris’s chest. “I wanted—I might’ve been okay, I was trying hard, I wanted to be—but I wasn’t sure. I was scared. I kept thinking about you, and wanting to see you, and then you were here…”

“I’m here.” He squeezes more tightly. “Brought you coffee. I had been kinda thinking we could order pizza and stay in, y’know, kind of a long day for both of us…”

“And then you walked in and found me.” Sebastian tips his head to look up at Chris more. “Sorry.”

“Hey, you were saving a kid.” He runs a hand over Seb’s hair. They both need a shower. Maybe like three showers. “My hero.”

“And you saved me. It’ll rebuild—the energy I borrowed, I mean—over a day or so, I think. How’re you feeling?”

“Hungry,” Chris says truthfully.

Sebastian stares at him, and then dissolves into giggles: loopy, tired, relieved, and above all real. “Of course…of course, yes, always, after a major working…so am I…oh, Chris. My Chris. Yes.”

“Yours,” Chris agrees, equally truthful and wholehearted. “What can I do, though? For you? You’ll need to rest, right?”

Sebastian scrunches up his nose. “Shower? And…yes. We both should, really.”

“Shower,” Chris concurs firmly, and carefully gets him up off the bloodstained floor.

He holds onto Sebastian in the shower. He holds Sebastian while red slides away down the drain. He tenderly cleans Sebastian’s skin, trying hard to keep touches weightless over recent and sensitive repairs. He kneads shampoo through Sebastian’s hair.

The scent of apples and soap rises around them, light and bracing. Sebastian tips his head back, eyes closed, water sliding down his face. He’s beautiful and tired and trusting, letting Chris keep him on his feet. Chris’s heart flutters.

The world grows easier, steadier, cleansed.

He tucks Sebastian into bed, gently, after. The workroom will handle its own clean-up—Sebastian’s got a spell in place for that, and it’s automatic—but their clothes’re probably a lost cause; Chris attempts a quick rinse and then just leaves the whole disaster in the shower for later. He can deal with it if Sebastian needs to recover.

Seb’s half-asleep and drifting, a long-legged enervated kitten, but stretches out a clumsy hand to find Chris’s. “You should rest too.”

“I will. I’m ordering pizza. Pepperoni okay?” He is, poking his phone, salvaged from a pocket; he plays with Seb’s fingers in his, sitting on the side of the bed. They’re more slender than his own, but long and graceful and talented in so many ways. Magical. “Shower, food, rest. What else?”

Seb yawns. Pink and red streak his arms and his chest, a reminder; Chris can’t not glance at the marks, unable to help it. “Well…if you wouldn’t mind…there’s a jar on the third shelf, downstairs…yarrow and lemon balm…”

“Got it.” He hops up. Throws on sweatpants. Returns with the requested jar and some trail mix and some orange juice, and eases himself into bed beside Sebastian, who smiles tiredly at him.

Chris feeds Sebastian some trail mix, gives him some sips of juice; has some himself. He’s not a witch but he does know about exertion and depletion, and this’ll help. The pizza—from their favorite local place—will be here in twenty minutes, too.

The food does seem to help. Sebastian sits up more, with pillows and Chris’s arm; Chris’s stomach feels better. Low lamplight paints the room in jeweled color, because Sebastian’s bedside lamp is set with tiny lapidary bits of glass. It’s soft and warm and rich, tracing light-patterns over the bed, the blankets, Sebastian’s hair.

Chris dips fingers into spell-infused balm, and begins to stroke it across Seb’s arm. The night takes a breath, scented with healing herbs and protective lemon, and unwinds. Tension ebbs, dwindles, fades: not wholly gone but ameliorated. Sebastian’s ward-spells are quiet and pleased.

He’d thought he’d gotten used to dating a magician. He mostly has: he’s purely delighted when he gets to watch Seb help people, find lost puppies, talk to raindrops. He adores Sebastian’s genius and Seb’s playful sense of humor and Seb’s cheerful way of getting the strings of the universe to play along.

He’d forgotten, or maybe just not thought about, the fact that his boyfriend’s one of the most genuinely powerful white witches currently practicing. Someone the authorities ask when they need assistance. Someone who can fight a warlock at a distance and win.

Seb says he’s not that powerful and laughs about it, but he’s comparing himself to centuries-old stories: no one’s that strong, not these days. Sebastian’s better than he admits to being, though. Good enough that other people come to him for advice. That includes other white witches; Chris knows Sebastian’s done some consultations with colleagues before.

Chris Evans is a director, an actor, a producer of movie-magic stories. Good at empathy, moderately famous these days, and power-sensitive, a little. It’s not nothing, but it’s not the same.

He keeps his touch cautious, not wanting to put any pressure on newly made skin. “How’s this?”

“Good.” Seb yawns again, sleepy. “It’ll help…healing, renewing…’s an old classical recipe, this one…stored power, infused in it, kind of…it shouldn’t even scar, with this.”

“So it won’t cost you anything, like, in terms of power, right now.” He touches Seb’s chest, spreads balm across a thin angry line. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not.” Sebastian gazes up at him: gorgeous as ever, brilliant as ever, powerful as ever, and right now vulnerable and somehow younger, framed by a navy satin pillowcase and the familiarity of them both mostly naked in this bed. “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” Chris says, heart aching with the word, with too many complicated emotions, with love. “You don’t have to say it.”

“But—”

“You’d do it for me.”

“If you ever for some reason had to fight a warlock, I would. You said you had a long day too…?”

“Long, but good.” His hand over Sebastian’s tanned skin, his fingertips bringing healing. Sebastian’s chest lifting and falling, vital and present. “Getting things moving on the heroic rescue dogs movie. Lots of the boring stuff today—logistics, budget, all that—but it’s stuff that has to happen first, so it’s kinda fun, y’know?”

Sebastian just looks at him for a second; the smile warms every atom of those opal oceans, and makes the small joyous lines around them crinkle.

Chris has to laugh, half-embarrassed, paying some closer attention to healing balm and a darker less-knitted red line. “Okay, what?”

“I love you.” Seb reaches up to touch his wrist. “I just…I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too? Um. About you.”

“Not just tonight, I mean.”

“Hey,” Chris says, heart in his throat, in his words, in his eyes as he looks at Sebastian, “I’m glad I was here tonight. I want to be here, Seb, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Sebastian’s cheeks are pinker now, but he nods. “I’m here too.”

“I know you are.”

“Tell me about your meetings,” Seb requests drowsily, “and all about your movie, again, and the dogs,” and Chris laughs a little, scrubs a hand over his treacherously damp eyes, and does, while gently treating Sebastian’s battle scars in between nibbles of food and traded kisses.

#whumptober2020 #no.10 #no.15 #blood loss #trail of blood #magical healing #evanstan #fic #injury tw #blood tw #my fic #every inch of north and south #the sequel #well sort of #not the actual sequel i will someday write #with the sex spell #witch!seb

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Peggy is sick (like, cold... nothing serious) and hates being taken care of, but Steve isn't going to let her suffer alone.

SOFT. This should be 40s AU but I suck at medical from the 40s. So hello modern, no-powers AU.

Peggy Carter hated, more than anything in life was to be sick. She was not a good patient, she was miserable when sick. She mostly hated when people doted after her like she was some weak, helpless person.

She wasn’t. She was just sick.

And right now, she was miserable. She couldn’t breathe out her left nostril while her right nostril wheezed every time she attempted. Her throat felt raw and aching and worst of all, she couldn’t get enough to drink. Top it off, her body was trying to decide if she should have a fever on top of all of this or not.

The knocking at her apartment door made her groan, only because dragging herself to her feet and stumbling to the door. She almost fell when it opened by itself, another groan dragging from her lips when she saw who was it.

Steve. Of course her hot, new neighbor, and landlord of the apartments.

“I’m sorry,” Steve flinched when she almost fell, lowering the plastic bag he had in hand. “When you didn’t answer, I was just going to drop this off inside the door, I promise.”

Peggy wanted to get mad, wanted to throw a fit and demand that Steve at least tell her he was coming by or give her some warning about how he was going to invade her privacy, but then it struck her. He probably had and she’d been non the wiser with her phone currently off to avoid people from work blowing her up about a new patient.

So she couldn’t get mad even if she wanted to.

“I didn’t think you were that type,” she mumbled, speaking out of her nose and no louder than a whisper given her situation. “To invade other’s privacy, I mean.” She could see just how awkward this 6’0, 240-pound man was, looking impossibly small somehow in her doorway.

“No, no I’m not. I grew up with landlords like that and I fuckin’ hated it.” In fact, Peggy got the impression he hated being a landlord too. His biggest passion seemed to be the pastries and sweets he brought around every Friday.

It’s why rent was so cheap and everyone was lovely taken care of, every little need met. He normally catered to those struggling, Steve told her once when they were walking from apartment to apartment to see which one she liked. He catered to the elderly who could barely get up somedays or to the single moms and those on hard times, and especially veterans. Why the hell she was picked as a tenant, she had no idea. She was none of those things and quite frankly, she was almost afraid to ask.

“What’s in the bag?” Peggy asked, the question coming out nasally. Even Steve flinched.

“Oh, uh, chicken noodle soup courtesy of my ma. She was the blonde lady you spoke to the other day when you dropped off the rest.” Steve’s face flushed a shade of pink and shrugged his impossibly big shoulders. “She said you sounded sick and made this. Guess she was right.”

Peggy’s tongue darted out to lick her dry lips. The smell of the broth made her stomach grumble, becoming fully aware that she hadn’t eaten in forever. She could remember Steve’s ma, almost a spitting image of her with the hair and eyes, even the same freckled nose.

“Do you want to...come in?” Her head jerked and Peggy regretted that action, nearly stumbling back if it wasn’t for Steve’s arm reaching out to prevent her from making contact with the coat rack.

“Sure.” He paused, looking her up and down. Her nose was a bright shade of red and her eyes rimmed red like she’s been rubbing at them. She curled in on herself, like trying to huddle in all her warmth. She didn’t wear her normal poised clothes, instead of pajamas and a housecoat.

“You really are sick,” he breathed. “Jesus. How long have you been in here?”

“Three days. I hated calling out of work, but I can’t even smell, and believe it or not that’s a big part of my job.”

Steve lead her over to the couch and tucked her into the cushions, picking up a thick blanket to wrap around her. He turned the heater off and instead turned to the fireplace to get a roaring fire going. The windows were cracked to let in some fresh air.

He paused at her description, still kneeling by the fireplace with tender in hand. “Part of your job as a veterinarian is to smell the animals?”

His laugh made Peggy’s heart flutter. The way he laughed, he looked so carefree and warm. Like she wanted to bury herself in his chest and listen to his heart beating. “It is, if I can’t smell then I might miss a key factor as to how they’re sick. Plus, I can barely see straight.”

Steve’s tongue clicked on the roof of his mouth, nodding his head. “You do look terrible.”

“Anyone ever tells you that you suck at talking to women, Rogers?”

Steve smiled, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “Sometimes. You stay there, I’ll get you tea and soup heated up.”

By the time he was back with a tray full of crackers, soup, and tea, Peggy was properly dozing on the couch. Setting the tray down, he knelt down by Peggy’s side and used a cool rag to press to her forehead, glad to see that she wasn’t so hot. Maybe the fever had broken.

When her beautiful eyes opened, Steve’s smile only grew. This close, Peggy could count his lashes. Oh, he had such pretty eyes, flecks of green inside of a chamber of blue.

“Hi,” she breathed, fully aware right now that she hadn’t been able to brush her teeth for two days due to gagging and the mouth wash wasn’t helping her sick breath.

“Hi,” he breathed in return, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her head. “Soups heated up. C’mon, ma’s cure-all.”

It took some maneuvering to get her to sit up, involving having to lean into Steve’s chest because all energy had escaped her. He had to feed her and Peggy wanted to be frustrated at this, but all she could think about was being pressed into his warm body and thinking how nice this was.

The soup was wonderful, even with hints of ginger and pepper burning her throat. It was a pleasant burn and almost washed away the achingness. The chicken was tender and the noodles perfectly cooked, even Peggy, whose not a snob over food, had to admit it was a wonderful meal.

Steve seemed pleased that she finished half the bowl at least before calling it quits, setting the tray aside. He seemed to get ready to get up but she leaned back into him and this close, Steve smelled that sickness that settled when someone was sweating a fever out.

“Have you showered?” He asked, attempting to be nonchalant, but going by Peggy’s snort, it was anything, but.

“Again, terrible at talking to women.” Her head leaned back and she breathed out a long, aching sigh. “And no, I haven’t been able to get myself off of this couch beyond the kitchen and the bathroom. A bath seems like too much.”

“I think it’ll do you good, so will sleep in a proper bed, not the couch. C’mon, I’ll run you a bath.”

Before Peggy could protest about how her landlord was going to see her naked, Steve was gone. She could hear him upstairs and the sound of water running. When he came back down, his shirt soaked to the point she could see the abs through the white material.

Oh, that was a nice sight.

“Are you going to strip me?” She teased after Steve had slowly helped her up the stairs, a hand on her lower back to keep her steady after she refused to be carried.

“I-no-but-you.” Steve was fully aware his face was flushing a bright red, feeling how warm he was.

Peggy was rewarded with the sight of his neck turning a shade of red. He was a full-body blusher then. “I was teasing. I can strip. Just...be here to help me out if I fall? I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Steve stayed outside her closed bathroom door, the floorboard creaking under his feet as he teeter tottered, listening to her heavy sigh as she laid back in the warm water. “Are you okay?” He called.

“Yes, darling.” A pause, a splash of water. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Pegs. I’m going to go clean downstairs. Just call me if you need anything.”

Before he could do something stupid, Steve found himself rushing down the steps, shaking his head. While Peggy bathed, he took her sick blankets and pillows, airing them out after spraying them down with disinfectant. He wasn’t sure if she wanted them washed or not. He sprayed the couch down while he was at it, opening the windows more to let fresh air in.

A sweep through the kitchen and last check of the living room, Steve was satisfied that Peggy’s beautiful home wasn’t too sickly-smelling. When Peggy had called him, he was already up the stairs, a warm towel in hand.

“Here,” he called after knocking on the door, sticking the towel through the opened door.

“Oh, it’s warm. Thank you. I’ll be out in a minute.”

When the door opened, Steve saw the bath did help some. She looked better and her face wasn’t so flushed. “How do you feel?” He asked, taking the damp towel and leading her to her already warmed bed, thanks to the heater.

“A bit better, still feel like I could sleep a week.”

“I think you should. The soup should help you feel better in no time. Here.” Tucking her in, Steve paused to gently tuck a loose lock of hair behind her head. “Do you need anything?”

Unable to help it, her lips pursed in thought. “You to stay?”

The question posed made Steve stall in mid-step, turning to look back at Peggy. He fully expected to leave and call or text her later, not ask to stay.

“Stay? With you? Sure, I can...can go downstairs?”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “No, Steven. With me. In bed. Just to...cuddle, until I fall asleep?”

There was no answer to be had because World Infamous Worst-Talker-To-Women-Ever couldn’t say no, not when Peggy was asking to cuddle her until she slept. He slowly got into bed, on top of the covers. She pulled herself in, close to his chest, and breathed him in with a heavy, exhausted sigh.

This close, fresh from a bath, she no longer smelled like sickness, but instead soft and floral and Peggy.

“Get some rest,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her temple. “I’m right here.”

“You better be,” she grumbled in midst of his pecs. “Or I’ll have a serious complaint to the landlord in the morning.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #3pirouette #Sick Peggy #Modern Steggy

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Chris Reece

(My gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You met Chris after transferring to the all female boarding school. Your new dormmate had insisted you come into town with her and her friends to relax after your first week of classes. Figuring you deserved a bit of a break, you happily accepted her invitation.

- The night was going perfectly normal until your hang out was invaded by a few of your dormmates male friends who’d coincidentally arrived a little after you did. You suddenly felt a bit awkward as they pulled up more chairs, joining your tables conversation as though they’d been there the entire time. Your discomfort only skyrocketed as the girls and guys excused themselves to go dance.

- You expected to be left alone at the table but to your surprise, one of the boys hung back with you. He introduced himself as Chris, mentioning that he hadn’t seen you around before and asking you a few friendly questions about yourself.

- The two of you ended up talking for most of the night, during which he offered to show you around town in response to you saying you had no idea where anything was “around here”. You planned to meet on Sunday before your dormmate returned and informed you that you’d all better head back to school before you got in trouble.

- Sunday came and the two of you met up early in the afternoon. As promised, he showed you around, taking you to all of the cool hang-out spots and warning you about the bad. Even though you hardly knew him, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were already great friends so when he asked if you’d like to meet up again Wednesday night, you were quick to agree.

- The two of you continued to spend a lot of time together, genuinely enjoying each others company in a relatively platonic way. I say relatively because, unbeknownst to you, he was beginning to fall head over heels in love.

- You’d been friends for about two months when the subject of boyfriends had somehow come up in conversation. It started off with simple questions, things like “we’re you going steady with someone” and “had you dated anyone before”. You sort of thought nothing of it, they didn’t seem pointed just vaguely curious. Then came the question that started to raise your suspicion.

“Do you mind if I ask what kind of guys you like?” He asked. He’d said it with enough nonchalance that you didn’t immediately assume there was an ulterior motive behind it.

“I don’t know,” You laughed. “I guess I’ve never really thought about.”

“Well I mean, whats your type? ...Tall? Blue eyes? Mature? Understanding?” He questioned quietly, his eyes focusing shyly on his hands while he spoke. Embarrassed, he was adorably embarrassed.

“You’re not trying to set me up with one of your friends, are you?” You joked.

“No! No, nothing like that, it’s just.... Well, you see I.... I.” He took a deep breath, his eyes flitting across the room nervously as the tips of his ears turned shade of red. “ ...Uh, I was just wondering if there was... maybe a chance that... well, you...wanted to go out sometime. ...Like on a date....”

- The look he gave you when you agreed was something akin to that of a person winning a million bucks.

- Your first date was sort of an amalgamation of things since the two of you had already kind of done everything you could do in town together. You went bowling, visited a pizza place and ended the day off with a trip to an ice cream parlor.

- Obviously, the two of you had a great time together and even though you hadn’t really thought of him romantically prior to his confession, you couldn’t help but admit, at least to yourself, that you could see yourself dating him.

- It doesn’t matter when you decide to give him a kiss on the cheek for the first time, just know that it was a magical experience for him. He was reborn; the world around him brightened, the air was fresh, his heart was full.

- You had your first real kiss about two weeks after your first date. The two of you were kind of taking things slow, testing the waters to see if you should really be a couple or stay friends.

- So you were stood in the dark of the night, right outside your campus after another lovely date with the boy. You were both semi-stalling, neither of you really wanting to say goodbye. It was then that he looked you deep in the eyes and asked if he could kiss you.

- This was it, the make or break of your relationship. His lips met yours in a sweet, soft kiss... and then another, and another. He pulled away but only for a moment: to ask if you’d go steady with him. You could feel him smile against your lips as you pulled him into another kiss, and then another with no signs of stopping....

- Chris is extremely fond of pda, any affection from you is like a dream and he can’t help but act all lovey dovey with you no matter where you are. Of course he can respectfully contain himself when he has to but when he doesn’t have to his hands are going to, in some way, be on you at all times.

- He tends to just call you your first name in public, at least when he’s with his friends or on campus, but the minute you’re alone he’ll call you things like “sweetheart” and “angel”.

- He gives you his class ring when the two of you start to go steady. He loves seeing it glinting on your finger whenever the two of you are together.

- He likes to sit behind you and wrap both his arms around you in a little hug whenever you’re together.

- He always offers you his coat when it gets cold or, if you have your one, helps you put it on/take it off.

- Before you started dating he’d sneak long glances at you whenever he could but now that you’re together he can finally lovingly stare at you without it being weird. Even so, he’ll often still pretend like he wasn’t watching you whenever you catch him.

- Just so you know: if he see’s you in one of his hoodies there’s a good chance he’s going to attack you with an onslaught of affection. You won’t be able to get him to leave you alone and you’ll spend the whole night lovingly wondering what’s gotten into him.

- Malt shop dates. Is there anything better than sharing a milkshake with your lover?

- Dancing together. Whenever you’re feeling down, he’ll put on a record and dance around like a fool to make you laugh.

- Going to his games and cheering him on. He puffs up proudly but shyly tries brush off the compliments you give him when he joins back with you.

- Sitting on one of the benches on campus and having lunch together.

- Beach dates in the summer time.

- Board games.

- Soft kisses.

- He’s a pretty big fan of cuddling. Anytime you feel like it just snuggle into him and he’ll immediately wrap his arms around you.

- He has this hidden talent of knowing exactly what you’re feeling and being able to guess why it is you’re feeling that way. It’s both incredibly helpful and mildly irritating.

- He’s always quick to come to your defense, defending your honor like a true knight in cotton armor.

- Sarcasm. He goes easy on you but you stifle a lot of laughs when you’re with him and his friends.

- Lip bites that drive you crazy. He may or may not be aware of what it does to you.

- He melts whenever you stroke his hair.

- Reading together or swapping books that you enjoyed.

- Whenever the two of you are home for the holidays or summer, you’ll go over to his house and spend the day together. Oftentimes you’ll soak up the sun in his backyard, drinking lemonade and listening to the radio.

- Tv dates. He’s grown particularly fond of the new show “Alfred Hitchcock Presents”.

- He tends to buy you a flower before each of your dates, he’ll stop at some street vendor on his way over and pick out the prettiest ones he can find. Only the best for you.

- He always loves talking with and learning new things about you. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever you trust him with some secret of yours.

- Ranting to each other about school or your different family/friend issues. You had a long talk about the whole David and cheating scandal.

- He makes a big deal out of your birthday and anniversary every year. What else should be more celebrated then the day the love of his life was born and the day he finally got together with her?

- Whenever the two of you are breaking rules, you always tease each other about him being a prefect.

“You know, I think it’s my responsibility to escort you directly to your headmaster.” He jokes, picking you up and marching off in the direction of your school as you try your best to stay quiet.

- His mother insists on getting pictures of the two of you together when you’re with his family. He always gives her one of those embarrassed mommmm’s but secretly he doesn’t mind.

- Shoulder massages, especially when he’s trying to convince you to do something or reason with you when you’re being stubborn.

- Baking together, he’s sort of clueless but he tries his best to be helpful; plus: he looks adorable with flour all over himself.

- Chris loves snow so you bet your ass he’s going to force you to come outside with him. Making snow angels, snowball fights, being tackled onto the cold,soft ground and subsequently wrapped up in his warm arms, it’s all bound to happen at some point and you can’t help but love it.

- This boy is like a heater 90% of the time. If you ever get cold all you have to do is snuggle into him and you’ll warm right up. Believe me, he won’t mind.

- Cheek kisses, he just lays one on you whenever he feels like ...which is often.

- He compliments you every time he see’s you, he wants you to know that he thinks you’re beautiful.

- Handholding, the nicest way to prove that you’re together whenever you’re in public.

- On the outside he may not seem the type but Chris is quite the jealous boyfriend. He has a tendency to glare at boys who act all buddy buddy with you and isn’t above starting a fight when someone gets too close for comfort. Although as a prefect, he has to choose his battles wisely.

- He insists on walking you back to your dorm after dates even though it means he has to make a long trek back to his own.

- He’s very protective of you so he appreciates when you tell him where you’re going to be. He always asks for you to call him when you return to your dorm so that he knows you’re safe.

- You certainly don’t have a lot of fights but there has been a few during the course of your relationship. He’s not too great at articulating his feelings so he tends to just give you the silent treatment without meaning to.

- At some point he’ll be forced to face the issue. He might point fingers and argue fiercely but he rarely raises his voice. You’ll both take some more time to cool off, ignoring each other for a little while before you finally receive a visit from him.

- He has no problem apologizing when he’s wrong, he might even apologize when he isn’t just because he wants this whole thing to be done with. You can never stay mad at him for long.

- He cant stand seeing you cry. It makes him feel sick, his chest tightens and it feels like he can’t breathe right until you’re okay again.

- “I love you’s” all the time. Most of the time he says it without even thinking about it because, well, he does. He loves you with all his heart so why shouldn’t he say it?

- The two of you have a bright future ahead of you and everyone around you can see that. I advise that you prepare yourself for a proposal once he lands himself a job.

#school ties imagine #school ties #school ties headcanon #school ties headcanons #chris reece imagine #chris reece headcanons #chris reece headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years

Text

College au! Doyoung (>,<)

Okay I am in the mood for some domestic boyfriend Doyoung!

Fluff! Doyoung x reader

Enjoy!!

I open the door to my small shared apartment. I've just finished studying in the library for finals. It's snowing outside and I forgot my umbrella. Therefore, I am drenched in the snow after walking from the bus station near our flat. The lights are on and a pair of shoes greets me over the welcome mattress. I smile to myself as I quickly enter the flat and lock the door. I drop my belongings on the floor (quite a commotion. It made a loud bang!) Quickly, while jumping over my feet I fumbled with my jacket zipper as my mouth mumbles "Cold cold cold cold" . A frustrated groan slips when my frozen fingers can't cooperate to unzip my jacket. Just as I was about to call help, the shower door opens and a steamy hot air escapes along with a man in a comfortable pajamas.

"You're home!" he grins and walks to greet me.

"Gosh! You're frozen." He said when he saw how my lips and body trembles.

"The zipper, help" I control my breath when the urge of sneezing tickles my nose.

"There." He gets it off in one go, and takes me out of the thick jacket.

"Go shower first. You need that. I'll make hot cocoa. Have you eaten yet?" his voice comes from the pantry.

I yelled my answers back to him after grabbing my towel and clothes.

"Yeah just a sandwich," And shut the toilet door.

The man with his damp hair and round eye glasses walks to the refrigerator. He checks and grimaces when he realizes they have to go shopping. There's not even a single egg and milk. All they have is a bottle of soju and two packs of Yakult; those two and nothing else.

He feels bad but he has to feed her. So, he boils a pot of water and pick out two packs of ramyeon.

He hums his favorite song as he took out two mugs and fills them with water. He place both into the microwave and picks out a sachet of hot cocoa and coffee.

His hum and cooking come to an end just as the girl who has been singing under the shower opens the door and appears in a better condition.

I return in a couple pajamas and my body is not as shaky as before.

"I can smell it from the bathroom. Ramyeon! Gosh you know what I've been craving!" I walk excitedly to the kitchen.

The table was set and two bowls of ramyeon and two mugs of hot drinks are steaming before our eyes.

"Thank you Doyoung! Let's dig in" I pick up my chopsticks and start savoring each taste of this wonderful mankind discovery.

"I'm sorry we only have ramyeon. We ran out of kimchi and eggs." Doyoung said after they finish their bowl.

"My bad, I forgot to check them. I should've gone to the supermarket." I gulp down the hot chocolate liquid and hold the glass between my hands to keep them warm.

"We can go shopping tomorrow. It's Sunday and I'm free." Doyoung gulps his coffee.

"Is that coffee?" I ask when I notice the different color and fragrant.

Doyoung nods and smiles his bunny smile, "I haven't drunk one today. And I need my caffeine."

I shrug my shoulder and focus on him in front of me.

"How's studying? Is the library crowded?" He starts asking about my day.

I nod my head, "it's two weeks to finals. Every corner of the library is filled."

"Were you alone earlier?" Doyoung asks carefully. Well he's the type who needs to know if his girl is safe.

"I'm with my friends. We studied together for the Korean studies. You know I'm still foreign with the idioms." I said. Well being born Korean and raised in USA was great, but then when I return and start college here, I struggle with the Korean language studies.

Lucky me, Doyoung, my boyfriend for two and a half year is best at teaching me all the hard Korean test.

"Ah! You could have gone home and study with me." He picks his glass up to drink some more coffee.

"You're going to have finals too! And I know you need to focus well. That's why I asked Jaehyun's help to teach me. Don't worry; I completely understand the test materials now." I place my hand over his free palm on the table and gave it a small squeeze.

Yes I saw the spark of jealousy in his eyes, and I realize maybe I shouldn't have mentioned his name. Jaehyun is a big no no in Doyoung's dictionary. And I happen to forgot that today.

"Sorry, but there are other friends too: like Yuta, Mark, Claire, and Scarlet." I tried to make the situation brighter.

The air is too thick now, as I mentally curse myself for letting Jaehyun's name slipped. But how can I not? That guy saw me struggling and offers me help. I who was completely clueless and hopeless gratefully said yes and thank him tons of time.

"Good. That means you'll ace your Korean test right? Guess that Jaehyun is a nice guy." Doyoung's sinister sound launches from his tongue.

He stands up, grabs the dirty plates and empty glasses.

"I'll wash them. How's your day hm?" I get hold of the washing glove and sponge faster than him. I ask him question while washing.

"I'm dismissed early. Class ends by five when the weather forecast warned there will be heavy snow coming at seven. That's why my professor dismissed the class earlier when he saw most of us did not carry umbrella or drive a car." Doyoung helps me drying them and putting them on the drying rack.

"Oof lucky you. Wish my professor thinks like that too. But no, he told us he has to finish the lecture. I got soaked under the last drops of snow. Not that heavy, but you saw my jacket." I glance to my jacket.

Doyoung has hung it nicely beside his.

Upon remembering how I shivered and got drenched under snow just to have extra lesson to not disturb him, Doyoung feels soft and grateful. He's lucky to find himself a girl, as simple, loving, caring, cheerful, and cute like what he wished in his girl friend list.

She's not the type to fuzz over small things, thus they rarely fought. She doesn't get jealous easily, while Doyoung is especially jealous of Jaehyun (just him). We get along well because some times they can comfort one another in silence. We find peace in our quiet times, only exchanging small quick gazes, we laugh over the same jokes. Enjoy the same type of music and likes singing to it. And many more!

"Come, let's stay warm. I turned the heater on already before and it's starting to feel toasty. Let's stay under the warm covers." He leads me to our room and turns the lights out.

"The stove is off right?" I ask him while I charge my phone and do my night skin care routine.

"Uhum. I turned it off. Don't worry. Now quick! It's starting to feel so empty." He attempts aegyo and succeeds

"How cute," I jump to the bed and dive under the cover. He quickly pulls me by my waist and tangles his long legs over mine.

"Cold," He mimics me while snuggling deep into me.

"You want to be the little spoon tonight?" I chuckle. Doyoung always wants to be the big spoon, and yes he fits that better. My body fits perfectly in his.

"Nope, of course I will return to being the big spoon after this. You can't even wrap me completely with your petite figure." He leans in for a quick kiss.

"I'm tired. I need sleep." I yawn

"I can't sleep."

"Who told you to have coffee at this hour?" I stuck my tongue out.

"Just sleep. Tomorrow we have the whole day to fight." He giggles and brings me into his arms.

Doyoung plants a soft kiss on my forehead and plays with my hair.

He hums me a melodious lullaby and I drifted to dream land.

We dated for about two years already. I met him on my freshman year. Unlike the usual science geek gets attracted to another science geek, or a cheerleader who loves their team's football captain, or name any other expected couples! No. Doyoung is from another faculty plus he's a year older than me. He's majoring in arts and culture, while I'm pursuing my dream to become a doctor. How do we meet? We did not bump each other in the hallway, nor did he started as a bully and fell for me, no one set us up, and our first meeting happens to be a coincidence. Not an accident.

We were participating in the campus' annual athletic championship and both of us happen to be a team for the archery game. I'm one of the aces in archery and Doyoung is someone I never heard of during practices. He looks like someone who doesn't do sports. I'm surprised when my coach told me he will be my partner.

At first I almost gave up on the competition. From the first glance, I had a feeling he only participated here to attract the female students attention. He's cute and attractive. Don't get me wrong, I only judge him by his first look.

He's not like Baekhyun, my fellow doctor classmate who happens to be my best friend though he is loud af (I often question myself how I can keep up with him.) Doyoung is more of the cold and short-answers guy.

True enough, within 30 minutes of preparation and warming up. I only got his name and faculty. We never met before, we don't know how good our partner is, and my ego tells me to not practice here. I just feel like using all my potentials directly in the field. He seems relaxed and I, even though I won several competitions before, am feeling nervous. This is my first game and the whole school is rooting on us. The game is held between schools; today's match came from our top three rivals.

I touched my bow and closed my eyes, calming down myself on the waiting bench and anxiously bounced one of my leg.

"Nervous?" his voice suddenly enters my ear; a gentle low voice.

I jumped a bit from my daze and stop moving my legs. "No, it's just a bit loud here." I let out a weak reply. My sound's shaky though.

He patted my shoulder and gazed into the field, where the other players were aiming their arrows. "You'll do great. The field is always loud."

I tried to control my heart beat. What's this feeling? No. I should not fall for him this soon. I don't even know his class and I don't even know him for more than an hour.

We were called to enter the arena, I pull myself together and we walked side by side.

I turned to see the score board and smiled when I saw the scores our competitors earned.

Doyoung started first and as he took his stance, the whole audience gets even louder. I grimaced at the deafening sound but he doesn't seem bothered at all.

He launches his arrow neatly and hit the 8 points.

A good start I thought. The other teams started with a 6 or 7.

He finished his part perfectly with a ten twice in a row.

The game requires each member to shoot 5 times and combine the total point for 10 shoots.

Doyoung scored a total of 46. He bowed to the audiences and judges then switched place with me. He threw me a smile and nothing else.

I waited for the property team to pluck out the arrow and I prepared myself.

Let me show you who I am. Well, like I said I'm very good in archery. Not to brag but I caught everyone's attention and breath away when my first arrow hits the center point. I smiled satisfied and gain my confidence. The next four arrows all hit a 9 and 10. I won over Doyoung's 46 with a 49.

He seemed surprised, but his face showed no readable emotion. We won the game and I won his attention.

No we did not exchange number or emails, we both left one another just knowing each other's name and faculty. I even got the information that he's a year older than me from Baekhyun.

I skipped my archery routines during the final exam weeks. I spent most of my time in the library with my fellow striver. And after that sleepless and busy month, I return to the club.

That's when I met Doyoung for the second time. And that's where he got my phone number and my interest.

He brought me to lots of quick coffee dates and accompanies me in the library whenever I have exams tomorrow. He's also busy with his laptops. Typing in essays and presentations.Sharing the same hobby, liking the same style of music and dance, enjoying peace and quietness over loud atmosphere, helped us get along well.

After a good four months of knowing one another, he gets down on one knee and asks me if I'm interested to be his. He did this after we finish our archery routine

Well, I said "Only if my arrow hits the 10 points it'll be a yes."

He almost complains, but seeing how I'm enjoying my time teasing him, he reluctantly agreed.

I pull my arrow without much focus and doubt. I just launch it quick and I knew it'll be his happiest day.

He totally lost his cool. He screamed and jumped to me when the answer means yes.

I kind of regret knowing he can be this loud and so Baekhyun-like. But we'll see how this goes. That's what is in my mind.

On our first anniversary, I agreed to move in to his apartment. He said his room mate graduated and move out. So I started sharing the same roof with my boyfriend.

Things sometimes gets rough, but trust is our foundation, and through our trust we finish our little fights well and get all lovey-dovey in the next 1 hour.

Doyoung is always busy with his laptop. Be it typing an essay, editing videos, doing covers, and writing scripts. Well, he's in the main committee for our school's theatre club. Every three months they hold a small musical show, romance, comedy, or a classical play. I tried my best to come and support him whenever the musical takes place. There are one timewhen Doyoung returns to the apartment with several clothing that needs modification. I was watching my favorite TV show when he and one of his friend, Suho-if I'm not mistaken, brought two packs of costumes.

I remembered what happened that night.

"Hey you're back!" I stood from the sofa and rush to greet him.

He looks tired, but returns my hug with a kiss.

"What are those?" My curiosity can't wait any longer; I kneel on the floor and open the boxes. My eyes lighten up when I see the costumes.

"Are we playing dress up tonight?" I tease him a bit, and it successfully brought a smile to his face.

"Actually.. I have to make some modifications. We kind of went over the budget for this upcoming show. But it will be the best! I can feel it. We tried to cut down the costs, but ended up having to modify the clothes by our self." He explains.

"Oh! I thought you have a team for the costume department?"

"There used to be, but the last one graduated last year and the freshmen are not interested in entering the costume department. So, I asked around for help and no body is brave enough to take the responsibility." He huffs and slackens his shoulder.

I consoled him with a pat on his thigh, "Hey, it is hard being in the committee. It is also hard to take the responsibilities. But seeing that these babies are now in our house, you know what I'll do."

He smiles, "You sure?"

"Nah. I'm going to support you on the side. I thought you're the one responsible. Come on start! I can fetch you needles and thread." I grin

His face goes white and he's about to cry and faint right then and there, but I failed to hide my laughter and bursts laughing out loud

"Silly! You know I'll help you eventually. Besides there's nothing your girl friend can't do." I winked and stand up to fetch all of my sewing kit.

I return to a living room full of colorful costumes and Doyoung in the middle with his papers.

"Here are the designs. It'll be simple. We only add things and glue some gems here and there."

"We better start now. We still have Saturday and Sunday to finish and rest." I cheer him up and we both spend our night chatting and telling stories while our hand works nimbly.

"2 down! 6 more to go!" Doyoung screams joyfully when we finished the main characters garments.

"I will make sure to mention your name by the end of the credit."

"You don't have to. I like doing this. Besides my anatomy book is quite killing me, this sewing session calms me down."

Just as we thought our boat can sail a smooth journey, things got worse when my studies requires me more time learning and thus going back home late. Doyoung who frequently text me what I am doing and where am I, suddenly vanished. I no longer receive simple caring text from him. I think he sometimes did not realize I'm not homed yet.

I heard from my friends that Doyoung has been close with a younger girl from the arts faculty. I know he has the right to befriend anyone, same way where he allows me to be friend with other guys. But still, I lately feel I've been distance from him.

I forgot what it feels like to clean my mind from everything for a while and just relax in his embrace. I forgot how a simple dish can taste like a 5 star restaurant dish. I forgot what it's like to have a 2 am laundry session because we ran out of fresh clothes. While I am suffering from the big gap between us, he seems fine and happy. Heck he checks his phone every minutes and smile stupidly as his fingers dance over the keyboards. Gosh had he given me that smile in the last few months?

"Hey," he tapped on my back.

I glanced over my book and raised a brow.

"I need to go out for a while. I planned to go for a night out with the boys, want to join?" he asks me.. I think he dare offers me to join since he knew I'm studying for a test tomorrow.

"gosh.. out of all nights.. why does it have to be today." I sighed at my fate.

Doyoung seems a bit sad, well the night out is a routine he and his best friends held since freshmen and I've been joining every single one of it. Except today, the test tomorrow is a hard one and I badly have to pass this or I'll flunk my GPA.

"Is it okay if I go?" he feels bad asking me this.

"Can't you skip this one?" I pleaded

"Is that what you want?"

"Fine. You can go." My mood is ruined. Of course he will try to go his secret girl is there.

"You're not mad are you?"

"I'm not wasting my time for a useless argument. Just go. You're not even helping me with my studies. Have fun." I turn my body to face my book and heard him close the door.

He left.

He freaking left.

I close my book and silent sobs escaped my lips tears stream down my face.

Doyoung fucking left, He doesn't even hesitate to be by my side during this horrid night. Plus who goes to a night out with boys all dressed up?! I mean he usually wears his favorite blue sweater and cap. But tonight? He dressed up nicely. Even his hair is on point!

There's no use in studying anymore. My brain will not be able to stick anything. Instead I took my laundry basket which surprisingly is full and walk my way to the laundry room downstairs.

That's when I accidentally met Mark, who happens to bring his laundry in to.

"Mark?" I utter his name in a confused tone.

"Hey! Didn't see you there.. Where's Doyoung?" he asks while putting in his clothes and soaps.

"I thought you were having your night out. He told me he's leaving for the routine.. and I skipped this one to study for a test tomorrow." I explained while turning on the washing machine.

"Hey it's the third week of the month. Our night is on the fourth right... we're doing it next week and you must join!" Mark said in his astonishing voice.

"Oh.. Right. Then where is he?" I ask myself, but I think Mark heard me.

"Then where is he?"

"Don't know. Probably hanging out with somebody else, I happen to be busy lately and Doyoung seems to find some business to do too."

We talk and talk, Mark consoling me and telling me to look at the bright side: focusing for my test better.

We tell jokes and talk about the upcoming gathering, what we should do and others.

I return back to my room after I dried my clothes with a better mood. Laughing with Mark over some corny jokes really ease my stress. I come back right at the same time Doyoung hugs a girl good bye. He seems surprised seeing me doing the laundry by myself. Usually we go together.

"Oh, good evening eonni." She greets when I reach the front door.

I gave her a small nod. Dark round eyes, smooth long hair, petite figure, and a sweet voice! No wonder Doyoung enjoys his time with her.

"You are Doyoung's roommate?" she asks curiously.

I look at Doyoung, and he did not flinch nor reacts.

"Yes, she is my room mate. Now, please step aside so she can go in first, I'm sure those laundries are pretty heavy." Doyoung pulls the girl to step aside from the door and I enter the room. He closes the door and stayed outside with her.

I put my clothes in my room and walks to the kitchen. Actually I just want to see Doyoung again. After all, Mark told me maybe I've ignored him too long and I need to reach back to him.

After some minutes the door opens and Doyoung rushed inside with a small smile. He looks ashamed being caughtlying.

"Night out with the boys huh? I met mark earlier in the wash room."

Doyoung stares at his feet.

"It's next week babe. You miscounted. Anyways, she's an interesting girl. Who's she? You never told me... Right?" I ask him nicely. No, there's no reason for me to be angry. He's not cheating; he's only hanging out with a girl not the gang.

"I've mentioned her before, but you're too busy with your books. Sorry, she's my junior. She just moved from Japan and she needs a lot of helps. She called me earlier to accompany her to the library." Doyoung steps closer to me and reaches for my hands.

"It's not that I'm cheating on you.. I have to lie because.. I don't know.. I'm afraid you will think I cheated on you and your head will hurt then you won't study to the max and it'll hurt me if I see you cry while holding your grades. I will feel bad. Sorry for lying." He explains (ironically) sweetly.

My heart softens at his remarks. Even when most people cannot relate, I am really relieved and thankful for his explanation. Gosh the stress of these finals really impacts my mood and hormones. If I lose my temper earlier, I might blame him for something he did not do and this might end with a big fight.

I laugh and hug the man who has been my reason to smile. "Yak you should've told me the truth like now, that way we'll both feel good and have no doubt or silly ideas about one another."

"I'm sorry.. it's because Yuta is supposed to be the one taking care of her. He's from Japan, but he's sick for the whole week; thus leaving me in charge. Since the other guys can't speak Japanese."

"It's okay Doyoung. I get it. Don't make this a big deal. I'm fine. Besides I trust you. I trust you that you're not the silly type to play with fire behind my back. Also lately I ignored you so much.. I'll make it up to you." I snuggle into his embrace.

He tightens the hug, "Hell yeah, you forgot I exist for a good two weeks. You've been ignoring my words my texts; those are why I stop sending them fearing it'll disturb you and you even slept on the couch or table. Do you know how tiring it is for me to bring you to bed and tidy up everything?" He rants out while still hugging me tight.

"But you love me right. You love me for always falling asleep in the middle of learning... You love me for trusting you... you love me for my panic actions when things don't go as I planned and I love you for everything you do that suits me and understands me. Thank you babe."

"I like that you are the type to think rationally and not emotionally drive. Gosh I was afraid before that you might lose control and things ended. Oh such horror!"

"Lucky you. Now, I have to return to my desk and cramp everything." I pout as I let go the hug.

Doyoung pats my hair and shoulder then pushes me lightly to my room. "Let's go. I'll accompany you tonight. We'll sleep by 10. You need your 8 hours bed. No buts."

I smile knowing that tonight the gap is slowly disappearing and I know I have my sweetheart back and he gets his girl back.

Because in a relationship, you bicker, you fight, but mostly you trust, you forgive, and you move on with the blooming love.

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hesesols · 4 years

Text

of soap suds and broken dishes

Summary: There will never be a right time for some conversations. In which Rukia has some exciting news to deliver and the timing is ... less than ideal.

Rating: T

FF/ao3

Chapter 1: Timing Is Everything

Her hands started shaking even before her mind processes the gravity of the situation.

The plus sign on the pregnancy test stick is staring right back at her and no amount of heavy breathing; thigh-pinching; fervent prayer that this is all a bad dream she's ten seconds from waking up from; is going to change that.

She gulps.

Ichigo.

Ichigo needs to know.

She needs to tell him and part of her is scared shitless of what he's going to say.

She doesn't tell him.

It's not intentional on her part- at least for the first few days after she found out.

It just slips her mind sometimes about her new condition and then there's the fact that she could never seem to find the right time to tell him. This doesn't feel like the sort of thing that is light enough to be shared over the breakfast table or when they're cuddling in bed with their bedclothes on, mind switched off, body wrapped around each other.

Outside these hours, their lives are bound to the vigorous demands of the mundane world and its limitations. Time is finite in this world. Him with his busy university classes and lab sessions, her with her odd shifts at the local coffee shop and double-life as a seated officer of Gotei 13 meant that dinner is sometimes take outs and pizzas served on cheap plastic plates, wine in everyday mugs, excuses they make to ignore the presence of the growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

That there are mornings when Ichigo will jump out of their bed with a curse and start throwing on wrinkly clothes from the day before, screaming about how he's late as he shuts the front door with a bang that's loud enough to rattle the whole building but not before he rouses her, barely awake and squinting from the brightness with a goodbye kiss.

That there are nights when she will come back after a week-long stint in Soul Society and the ache of separation hits her more than she would care to admit but Ichigo leaves the light on. He greets her with his pretty eyes and hungry kisses and they'll spend that morning and the next in bed, making up for the lost time in the coil of their needy bodies.

This is a snapshot of real life for the two of them living together in relative anonymity in the Human World. She loves Ichigo and he loves her. Society has come a long way since feudalistic times and what Nii-sama doesn't know won't hurt him.

Take away the Shinigami aspect of their lives- the crazy out-of-this-realm misadventures they get swept into, wars between worlds waged and won in the span of a summer holiday, the battle scars adorning their bodies and they're literally as normal as their next door neighbours, human and barely out of their twenties, trying to find their place in this strange cruel world, somehow made warmer with Ichigo's hand in hers.

Being with Ichigo just makes her happy- happy enough to live in the now and not think ahead. She doesn't want to ruin what they have, doesn't want to upset the resemblance of a normal life she's constructed and cocooned herself in within the confines of their tiny apartment.

They haven't even talked about the future in so much as to where they would live after he graduates from college. Springing this on him just seems cruel- cruel when his life is only just beginning, about to take flight and she's gone ahead and done the unthinkable to clip his wings.

What if he's disappointed?

What if he doesn't want the baby?

The last thought renders her physically sick. Sud-covered hands reach instinctively for her baby bump that's barely showing.

For now, anyway.

Give it a few more weeks and he's bound to notice something. He's not that dumb (or at least she hopes he isn't). There are only so many times she can say no to the casually-offered beer and wine or mumble something along the lines of that time of the month to disguise the however many trips to the bathroom before he catches on.

"I'm home."

The sudden noise makes her jump and she loses her grip on the slippery half-washed dinner plate. It clatters to the floor, broken.

Shit!

Swearing comes entirely second nature when she cuts herself on the edges.

"Rukia?"

"In here," she calls out to him, holding the cut finger under the running water. Truth be told she's more upset about the broken plate- there were four in a set with matching bowls and now they're one short- than her injuries. The cut doesn't even look deep and the bleeding is bound to stop soon.

"Let me see."

Ichigo seems to think otherwise as he unceremoniously drops his bags and the heavy groceries by the door, eyebrows furrowing deep as he crouches down next to her, inspecting her wound.

Though calling it an inspection may have been a stretch.

He barely even glanced at it before he's hollering at her to stay put while he grabs the first aid kit.

"You're being ridiculous! It's just a cut!"

He should know better- what with his experience of violence and theoretical knowledge as a future physician. She's been through worse. They both have. Cuts that are deep enough to see gaps of bones in between, torn ligaments, broken bones, ruptured organs, a fist through the stomach- the memory makes her shudder now more than ever. He shouldn't be fussing over her for a flesh wound that barely registers on her scale of pain.

But he doesn't let go of her hand and merely grunts when she calls him a fool for making a big deal out of something as trivial as this.

"It'll heal quick. I don't s-"

She hisses, surprised by the sudden sting of antiseptic over broken skin. His gesture is uncharacteristically apologetic when he presses a kiss to her knuckle.

It doesn't make sense.

She's suffered much, much worse in her line of duty. He knows she has and she has survived, grew stronger and thrived. With every cut and blow that aims to knock her down, she rises up, bloodied and valiant to meet the next challenge. Yet she doesn't think she has ever seen him quite so serious, cleaning her cut and dwarfing her hand in his like she's soft, fragile like glass and twice as likely to break. Lord knows that she has never been neither of those things.

"I'm sorry. We don't have any bunny plasters but Yuzu left some Hello Kitty plasters in the first aid kit the last time she restocked it for us and I think you'd like them- why are you crying?"

Tears.

She can't remember the last time she felt them running down her cheeks. Have they always tasted so salty?

Through the burn of them, she sees his panicked face. His fists clench tight and grip at her as he holds her- shuddering breath and all, waiting for her to still and quiet so she can tell him who to hurt and who to maim.

This idiot!

Look at what he's reduced her to- this teary-eyed walking bundle of hormones who tears up because her boyfriend/baby daddy gave her some Hello Kitty plasters when she cut her finger.

"I'm pregnant, you dolt."

Ichigo wears his heart on his sleeves and the vulnerability on his face- the sheer multitude of emotions- shock, awe, joy, love, above all, love- when he absorbs the impact of the news and embraces his new reality is enough to make even a hardened warrior like her choke on the waterworks.

His eyes widen and the grip on her tightens as he presses her deeper into his embrace.

"H-How long?"

"It's early."

She thinks she's barely passed the sixth week mark.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to!"

Her hands fist at his clothes. She has lost count of the number of times when she wanted to reach for his hand under the covers as they spooned against each other and whisper it soft and slow into the night and put it to rest.

But every time she wants to open her mouth and speak, doubt makes her swallow those words whole because-

What if this isn't what he wanted?

This isn't something that they've planned for and she is too in love with the tranquillity of the moment, the peaceful look on his face, smiling at her- like she makes this life worth living for, to even consider ruining it. Is it wrong for her to think that the news can wait for another day if only to make tiny beautiful moments like these last a little while longer?

"…There just doesn't seem to be a right time to tell you."

He deadpans, "and you think now is the perfect time for us to have this conversation?"

There are soap suds in her hair, dirty dishwater stains on the front of her shirt. He has dark circles under his eyes, stinks of alcohol sanitizers, looking tired like he hasn't slept well for days. In the background is a precarious mountain pile of dishes to be washed waiting in the sink, shattered pieces of a broken dinner plate on the kitchen floor that still needs to be swept away.

Them in the comforts of their own home- the very essence of their domestic mundanity stripped down to the bones- messy, loud, less-than perfect; but at its heart, once the initial embarrassment of her housekeeping skill or the lack-there-of passes, is love.

She sighs, resting her forehead against his chest. "This is all your fault. This would have never have happened if you listened to me when I told you it's your turn to do the dishes."

"You could have waited?" he challenges, "You know class ends early for me today."

Rukia rolls her eyes as she informs him rather drily, "We ran out of clean plates two days ago."

Laughter rumbles low and throaty from him, his heartbeat thrumming steadily from his chest- a symphony strung along with bits of heart and soul, hopes for tomorrow that sooth her.

When the laughter dies, he buries his face in her hair, soaking up the warmth of her tiny body with his. He holds her, drawing lazy circles on the skin of her bare arm, tentative as he asks.

"Rukia. Were you afraid that I'd be disappointed? Or angry?"

She squirms in his arms, ashamed almost when she tells him, "A little of both."

A snort followed by a fond exasperated "Idiot. I love you and I promise to love you and to love our child forever and always and-" his breath catches, his world whirling, and he's looking at her like she's made of starlight and moon dust and- "you're carrying our baby!"

The hard lines on his face soften, his hands clearly shaking and the disbelief from the happiness that threatens to leave him in tears as he presses kisses to her- "We're going to have a baby."

The heat of his open palm is reassuring on her still-flat stomach. She smiles, mirroring his joy, and keeps his hand there, holds it in place with her own.

"We're going to have a baby."

There is never going to be a right time she realizes.

But that's ok.

It's ok if he's there with her, holding her hand through it all. As long as he's there with her, she thinks, she is brave enough to do anything. They can take on the world and be none the wiser for it.

He is her rock and he grounds her. Now more than ever when her soul feels light enough that she just might float away.

"As far as your brother is concerned, this baby is conceived immaculately. Agreed?"

She snorts and kisses his forehead. As if Nii-sama is the person he should be worried about!

Clearly her absentminded idiot is forgetting about his overly enthusiastic father and the man's over-the-top antics and flair for drama during the bi-monthly Kurosaki family dinners, scheduled to happen sometime this week.

Rukia humours him anyway. He'll catch on soon enough.

"Agreed."

FF/ao3

Reblog, review, like or comment or even ask to send some love my way :D

#ichiruki #ichiruki month 2020 #IR month 2020 #of soap suds and broken dishes #mine #fanfic #us against the world #warning: FLUFF #all is well #686 who?#day 9: us against the world

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peakyblinders1919 · 4 years

Text

Cody

Hey! So here’s a long awaited (?) Finn Cole imagine. Just pure fluff. Let me know what you think and if I should do more?

“Hey babe.” Your morning started the same almost everyday when he was home; waking up beside the man you loved, and preparing breakfast for him before he got up… who were you kidding. You weren’t a great cook; you were both content to spend your mornings cross-legged on the couch besides each other, a bowl of your respective cereals in your laps. It was the life of luxury.

“Hmm?”

“I think it’s time we took our relationship to the next level.” Finn’s expression mirrored a deer caught in headlights with big wide eyes looking at you.

“What do you mean?”

It was a fair question on his part of course; you’d moved in together two years ago so the natural succession of your relationship meant you were either suggesting getting engaged or skipping a whole step and having a baby. Right?

“I think it’s time we become parents, properly.”

Finn crinkled his eyebrows, looking over at the prickly succulents sitting on the windowsill soaking up the rare London sun. “Excuse me? What do you mean properly? The plants are our children, don’t insult them like that.”

Your laughter rang through your comfortable-sized flat, every girl's modern-minimalist dream covered with plants, crips white linens, circle mirrors and macrame on the walls. You couldn't help but poke his shoulder playfully. “I’m sorry my loves,” you called out, “but they’re kind of underwhelming now that I’ve mastered how to take care of them. You can’t say my plant-caring skills haven’t improved.”

“That’s true, when I came back from AK, Spike over there was on his deathbed; he wasn’t even green.”

“I know, look at your son now, thriving,” you giggled. Finn had picked Spike out specially, a mini cactus with prickles that the vendor swore couldn’t be killed, an impulse buy that later turned into a slight obsession until 20 or so succulents ranging in size decorated your flat. Crossing the room, you gave them all a good spritz, Finn’s gaze lingering on your long legs protruding under the oversized t-shirt you called pajamas. “They were good company at first but it’s kind of a one-sided conversation when you're gone.”

“I’ve told you you can come with me when I go back to Cali…” Finn began, putting his cereal down as he brought you into his lap, a kiss pressed against your lips gently. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a little thing you’d grown to love and he couldn’t resist. You didn’t mean to make him feel guilty for leaving, you knew exactly what you were signing up for when you started dating him after being the lucky intern who got to interview up-and-coming actor Finn Cole for the magazine.

“And as I’ve told you, you don’t need a distraction while you're working. And I’ve got my own articles to write here.”

“You can bring a bloody laptop and work from set.”

“I come and visit for a few weeks, but I can’t be away for months. Plus I’d get homesick,” you finished with a giggle and a kiss. “Which all leads to my proposition of expanding the family. I think we should get a dog. A puppy maybe.” Well prepared to make an argument for if, you realized you wouldn’t need to as he wouldn’t object. Finn has love for you and a close second for dogs, all dogs really.

“A puppy? Really? And just because you can water a cactus every week you think you won’t kill a dog while I’m gone?”

“Finlay Lewis J! How dare you have no faith in me!” Could you really be surprised? No, of course not when he was right, you had totally neglected the plants while he was away and it had taken him weeks to resurrect them, although your mouth was shaped in a perfect ‘O. You took to pouting, which got you a pity kiss in return, but still you poked and pinched at him for his lack of faith.

“Come on, please? It could be our little fur baby, we can get a big guard dog, a pit bull or maybe an Australian Shepard and it could help protect me when I’m all alone here. Plus, you're not going to America - for what, nearly four months?- just enough time to train him. Can’t we go to the shelter tomorrow? Please! We’ve always talked about it Finn…”

“Yeah, alright, stop twisting my arm. We can go look.” You shared a laugh because you both knew he was joking. You weren’t twisting his arm, he’d never say no to a dog. You couldn’t suppress your excitement either, squealing sheepishly like a schoolgirl while pulling him in for a kiss.

—

The next day, you couldn’t hide her smile as you hung onto Finn’s arm. He was a kid in a candy store, his eyes bigger than his stomach as they walked by cages filled with Labradores, Golden Retrievers, Dachshunds. He wanted them all.

“Finn, look at this little one.”

Rushing to your side, there sat a Husky puppy trying desperately to paw at you from under the cage, whining because you were just out of reach. Her fur was a mix of white and grey, but the thing you liked most about her were her mis-matched eyes, one a beautiful icy blue reminiscent of Cillian’s (which you’ve been lucky enough to experience in person many times and still it was hard to believe they were real) and one brown. She pawed at you like a toy, stopping to look up at you both with a goofy look on her face as her tongue stuck out.

“Oh she’s perfect, isn’t she?”

And just like that you were taking home your new baby, crying from the crate in the back of your car. You already felt so close to her, wishing the London traffic would move faster so you could let her out.

Once you were finally in your flat and you opened the crate, she began running around the apartment, sniffing everything in her way, immediately finding one of Finn’s shoes from the bedroom and running back to you two proudly, laying at your feet and chewing on the string.

“She’s a ball of energy, that’s for sure.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know,” he joked, pulling you in for a kiss.

“She needs a name.”

“How about… May?”

You crunched up your nose at him, looking at the puppy. “May? Really? I don’t know what about something like… Shelby. An ode to your TV family.” You couldn’t help but laugh, though that name seemed much more fitting for her.

“In that case call her something like Smurf.”

“I know she’s not real but I still hate her. No. Michaela? Ada?”

“Mia.”

“What about Cody?” That’s when she barked, or it was more like a baby yap as she looked up at you two on the couch, trotting over proudly with the show. “Cody? You like the name Cody, huh? I guess her name’s Cody babe.”

“Cody it is. You take good care of her when I’m gone ok, she’s my daughter now.” He joked while picking her up so she could join you two on the couch.

“I promise we’ll take good care of each other, right Cody? You’ll take care of me when Daddy’s gone?” The pup looked up at Finn before yapping happily again, making you both break into laughter.

#finn cole imagine #finn cole imagines

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christianserver · 4 years

Text

Chugging Contest

Another party. I know, I keep writing these, but it’s just so fun, and I will not stop.

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” Anthony heard Riley and Eric chanting as he came up from the basement with ice cream, and narrowed his eyes as he turned into the living room, hearing the crunching of plastic.

The noise was coming from a now-empty 2-liter bottle of soda, which was dropped off of the couch onto the carpeting. “Really, Betty?” Anthony asked flatly.

Betty let out a burp, patting her swollen stomach with a mischievous smile as it bulged out from under her shirt. “I don’t know wha-” she was interrupted by a hiccup that shook her stomach, the sloshing audible, even to him, due to how much was inside it. Anthony looked back down at the ground and saw a couple more empty 2-liter bottles, letting out a sigh. “What you’re talking about,” Betty finished.

Anthony rolled his eyes and sat down next to Betty, leaning against her giant stomach like a pillow. He pulled away as she let out a quiet groan.

“Sorry, just a little bloated and full,” she apologized, rubbing her stomach. She turned back to the movie as Anthony started dishing up the ice cream.

“Wow, does that mean you’re not going to eat all of the food?” Riley asked teasingly. Betty didn’t bother to dignify her with a response. Anthony handed Riley the dish, and took the scoop to the ice cream.

Suddenly a deafening burp rang out, causing Anthony to screw up his scoop and get some ice cream on the ground. “Oh, that’s much better,” Betty said, glancing at Anthony out of the corner of her eye. Anthony handed Eric a bowl, grabbing a napkin and wiping the spilled ice cream up.

Anthony heard another hiccup behind him, then hands grabbing his sides, his vision going dark as his head entered something warm and damp. “Betty, don’t you dare!” he protested, trying to pull himself out. But as Betty tilted her head back and forced more of him into her mouth, her throat muscles tightening around him, he knew he didn’t have a chance, and just held his breath as he splashed into the stomach, noticing the liquid level was a lot higher than usual, and he had to push his head upright and tilt it to make sure he could breathe without inhaling the sticky soda, which was soaking into his clothes and making him feel gross and sticky. “What happened to being full!?” he shouted as he pushed against the cramped stomach walls to try and get more air.

A burp shook the stomach, forcing Anthony to hold his breath for a moment. “The big burp cleared up some space,” Betty said, and Anthony felt what was probably her hand pressing against him and rubbing her stomach. “And besides, you were so upset about me drinking all the soda. Now you can have some for yourself!”

“I don’t want your stomach soda,” Anthony protested. “And I can barely breathe in here.” Unfortunately, Betty’s stomach decided to do a bunch of growls and groans when he was saying this last sentence, so she probably wasn’t going to let him out.

Luckily, the level of soda was slowly lowering, so Anthony didn’t have to nearly press his face against the top of her stomach so he could get some air. He lay back, still tilting his head back, and feeling Betty’s stomach groaning and shifting quietly from the leftover carbonation from the soda, a quiet burp coming from Betty.

“How ya doin’?” Betty asked, patting Anthony through the stomach wall, causing some of the soda to slosh around. He held his breath, not wanting to accidentally inhale any more than he had to.

“Well, I can breathe now, so that’s a plus,” he said once the soda waves had died down a bit. “Next time don’t drink too much soda.”

“Alright, fine,” Betty said, not sounding like she was taking what he had said seriously. The stomach shook and a groan came from Betty as she stood up, using a hand to help support Anthony. She took a few steps, each one causing the stomach to twist slightly. It groaned quietly as the shaking from her steps stopped. “Now, Riley, ready to go home?”

“Yeah, sure- WAIT!” Riley started as the stomach jolted from sudden movement, and the quiet groaning rose to a crescendo as a heavy shape landed on top of Anthony, pushing him under the sugary surface of the miniature soda pond. He shoved Riley off and sat up, taking a deep gasp of air. He was close and tight with Riley, unable to get any personal space in between them.

“G’bye, Eric,” Betty said fondly as the stomach started shaking and twisting again, suggesting she was walking again.

“Bye, Betts, let them out before you go to bed, okay?” Eric suggested, his voice muffled due to being outside of Betty’s stomach.

“No promises!” Betty chuckled as a creaking came from the door from her going outside.

“Don’t you just love friends that always lis-” Anthony started, before shutting his mouth as the stomach heaved around them, the click that came from moments ago suggesting Betty was climbing into her car, and something that felt like a steering wheel digging into him.

“Ugh, how close the seat is feels so uncomfortable,” Betty complained, shifting the seat backwards so the pressure eased up, though it was the steering wheel was probably barely in her reach now..

“Not having people in your stomach would probably help with that,” Riley suggested, but Betty didn’t respond as she started up the car.

“At least most of the soda’s drained out, so we can breath without having to move around awkwardly,” Anthony said, for once looking on the bright side of things.

“Yeah, she’s not good with-”

Betty interrupted Riley. “Y’all better shush, or I’ll keep you in there tonight,” she demanded.

Riley let out a quiet sigh, and the two guys listened to the groans of the car and Betty’s gut until they pulled to a stop a couple minutes later. The stomach shook again, but the liquid level was low enough so they didn’t need to hold their breath as Betty climbed out of her car and went inside a building, and the stomach started to wobble slightly as she started to dry heave. Riley climbed up slightly, and grabbed Anthony’s hand, being clumsy in the darkness. “Almost out,” he whispered. “Then it’ll be time to raise our water bill.”

Anthony chuckled as he felt the stomach start to heave, pushing Riley, then him up her esophagus, it clutching tightly around them before they spilled out onto some damp, but soft carpeting. “Fresh air, how wonderful,” Riley gasped, taking a few deep breaths.

“Ugh. There, I’m not a monster,” Betty rolled her eyes, a hand set on her stomach and looking slightly queasy. “Have a good night, seeya.” She turned and walked out the door.

“Bye!” Riley called as she closed the door behind her, trying to find a dry spot on his clothing to rub his hand off on. “Rock, paper, scissors to see who gets the shower first?”

Anthony slowly blinked at Riley, before scrambling to his feet and running as fast as he could to the bathroom. “HEY!” Riley called out, climbing up awkwardly and stopping himself, seeing how far ahead Anthony was. “Leave some hot water for me, alright?” he called through the door.

“Don’t worry,” Anthony called back with a smile as he turned on the shower to let it warm up. “You could also try using the sink instead of getting everything sticky.”

“I’m not an apple from the grocery store, you idiot,” Riley retorted, but Anthony heard footsteps moving away. Man, he was tired. He hoped he didn’t fall asleep in the shower again. Riley would not be happy about that.

#vore story #safe vore #soft vore #unwilling #unwilling vore #same size vore #stomach gurgles #soda #Betty Blascowiz #Riley Tren #Anthony Palskon #christianserver

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