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anna-hawk · 6 months

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Dexterity

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You're having some quality time on your own when Frank pays you an unexpected visit.

Explicit 🔞 • WC: 4,1k

Tags and warnings: masturbation, finger fucking, teasing, praise kink, hand & finger kink, dirty talk

Always time for Coffee series

⚠️ If you follow me on AO3, this is NOT a new fic! ⚠️

A/N: This month will mark five years since I posted my very first Frank x Reader fic. I made a small post for the series a few years back, but never a dedicated one for the first ever fic. After the news and pics of getting Frank back today, even if it's only for a small role, I was thinking back to the time I got first inspired to write and actually post something for once. It's been quite the journey since then and this series has now 16 parts, but most importantly, this fic played a big part in me joining the beautiful fandom that I've been a part of these past 4 years and getting me to meet incredible people. So I figured, let's be nostalgic and officially post it on here too.

Ever since meeting Frank Castle, you’ve been obsessed with his hands.

You know they have killed numerous people and could do cruel things to the ones deserving it, but you also know how kind and gentle they can be. When he would come to your shop as Pete, you’d seen how he would talk to one of your employees' kid, the boy having always had a short fuse, and manage to calm the boy down by simply putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The couple of times when he’d handled the fragile elements of your ice cream maker while repairing it with those deft hands had also shown how gentle they could be.

Yeah, you really have a thing for his hands and the guy himself.

The first time you'd met him, you'd met Pete Castiglione the construction worker, who’d been visiting your Café for the first time. You had followed the whole Punisher debacle on TV and had been very intrigued by the man’s story. Yet even though you'd thought that Pete looked familiar, it had taken you a few weeks of him coming in every other day and helping you out with an electrical problem, to realize who had actually been hiding under all this wild hair and beard. That had been the first time you had come into contact with his hands, too. He had taken off his baseball cap, looked at you to ask where the problem was while standing really close to you, and something in his expression had finally made it click inside you. You'd breathed out, “Frank Castle,” in stunned realization a moment later. In the next second, he'd had you by your throat and against the opposite wall, asking who’d sent you. You had been so startled that you’d just started laughing at the absurdity of you being able to hurt him. Okay, so maybe not really laughed as much as choked, since he’d had his fingers squeezing rather hard around your windpipe. But you'd managed to wheeze out your thoughts, and he'd released you enough for you to tell him why and how you had recognized him. He’d deemed you trustworthy enough, apparently, because he'd let go of you and apologized for overreacting.

You had promised him that you would never tell anyone about him that same evening.

As weeks passed, and he’d still come by your Café, you'd managed to build a rather close friendship. After a while, though, you'd noticed that he was coming by less and less until he stopped coming altogether, making you worried. Finally, after the day everyone had found out that Frank Castle was still alive through live TV, he'd come to your shop when you were closing. You had been even more scared for him since the news and beyond relieved to see him unscathed. You had been touched to learn that he’d wanted to make sure that no one had found out that you knew about him and come to hurt you to get to him. He'd also told you that he would have to lie low for a while. You'd suggested that he should come to your place and hide there. He had declined, too worried about what could happen to you. Still, as you'd accepted his concern, you'd told him that he could come to yours whenever he needed to, no matter the time of the day or the night. You had never been more glad about giving him your address because weeks later, he had come to hide for the night and had done so several nights until the whole thing with Billy Russo had been over.

Nowadays, he still shows up every now and again. Mostly nights because he has some business to take care of, or just to say hi. You both grab a drink (mostly coffee) and chat. You enjoy his company a lot. Okay, more than a lot. You’ve had a thing for the Punisher even before meeting Frank, but since knowing the man himself, you couldn’t help being attracted to Frank and his beautiful large hands and agile fingers. Among other things. You don't know where he stands with romantic or even only physical relationships considering his past, but you do kind of flirt with one another. You know that Frank likes you a lot; otherwise he wouldn’t come to see you regularly. But even if you want him, badly, you feel that it’s more like bantering to him and nothing more.

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming or fantasizing about him and the filthy things that you’d love him to do to you or you to him, though. And that's actually exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re lying on your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, one hand inside your sleeping shorts while your breaths come harder and faster. You’ve been teasing yourself for what feels like an hour, fingers alternating between circling your clit languidly and pushing three deep into you to mimic the size of two of his, getting yourself closer and closer to one spectacular orgasm. You’ve got your eyes closed, face flushed, bottom lip between your teeth, while your middle finger is rubbing faster and faster over your slippery clit. Harsh breaths leave you as you picture Frank spreading you wide with his fingers and whispering dirty nothings into your ear. You’re right there, on the brink, ready to fall, when there’s a resounding knock at your door.

You yelp in surprise and flinch so hard that you nearly hit yourself in the face with how fast you remove your hand from between your legs. You’re trying to get your bearings back, your body still trembling from being strung high for so long and not getting what it wants, when there is another knock. You groan in frustration and get up on wobbly legs to go check on who wants to see you so badly at that time of night. You look through the peephole and gasp when you see Frank’s face. He'd been here only last week, and he usually shows up only once a month at best, so you’re completely thrown when you open your door to the smirking man.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greets in his signature gruff and deep voice, upper body pressed lazily against the door jamb.

He’s looking calm and carrying no signs of a recent fight. Meaning that this isn’t an emergency call. Good. He’s wearing dark jeans and a charcoal Henley with his usual combat boots, three days worth of stubble on his face. He looks mouthwatering, and you valiantly try not to let anything show on your face.

“Was in the neighborhood visitin' Curtis and thought I could come check on you too. Sorry it’s so late,” he continues, confirming your earlier thoughts on there being no immediate danger.

“You’ve come by way later, Frank,” you remind him with a snort and motion for him to follow you inside.

You notice that your voice came out a bit strained, and hope that he doesn’t see how your knees are still shaking after the near orgasm and the effect his unexpected presence has on you. Well, turns out that you’re out of luck.

“You okay there?” He asks, as he follows you into the kitchen.

You groan inside, of course he noticed. You still try to play it off.

“What? Of course, I’m okay.” You hate how your laugh sounds off. You’re usually better at faking stuff like that.

“Yeah?” he says, coming to stand right before you to give you a once over. “'cause you’re all flushed and breathin' kinda hard.” He even lifts one hand to feel your temperature, but you dodge it and turn to the sink, reaching over it to get two coffee mugs out of a cupboard. Anything to avoid him see you blush even more.

“I’m fine, Frank, don’t worry… Coffee?” You desperately hope that he’s going to let it go. You need to put yourself back together and slow your breathing.

“Can never refuse your coffee.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief when he seems to accept your answer and smile at how fond he sounds of your coffee making skills. You’re about to reach for the coffee beans when he says, “Seriously, though, am I makin' you this nervous or what's goin' on?”

You put your hands back down and groan in defeat, hanging your head.

“Could you just let it go, Frank? Please?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you don’t turn around to look at him while you wait.

“Did I interrupt somethin'?” He finally says, amusement clear in his voice. Damn him and his perceptiveness.

You hide your face in your hands and whimper in embarrassment.

“Oh God, just shut up, Frank!” Your voice is muffled by your hands. He barks out a laugh, making you lower your hands again. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Hey, hey, `s okay Sweetheart, there’s nothin' to be embarrassed about,” he tells you gently, though you can tell that he’s still grinning, the bastard.

“Yes well…” You still refuse to turn around, even though you can hear him move closer behind you.

“'could always show me, y'know,” he says, and even though the words hit you to the core because the thought alone sends a new wave of deep arousal through you, you can’t place his tone.

That's why you do the only thing that comes to mind and gasp, turning around to backhand him in the chest and play into the joke.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole.”

You meet his eyes and see that there’s something there, lying just under the teasing glint. You suck in a breath, holding it in, while your heart beats a nervous tattoo against your rib cage.

“Or… I could help 'course,” he finally says, voice low, after what feels like minutes and not seconds, his piercing eyes never leaving yours.

You stare at him, still barely daring to breathe. The idea of him helping you out nearly sends you to your knees. Eventually, you exhale in a snort because come on, he doesn’t mean it, and go back to facing the counter, taking the coffee beans out of the cupboard.

“Yeah, right… Let’s get back to that coffee, yeah?” Bonus points for sounding offhand.

You hear him taking another step and then see his hands coming to rest on the counter, one on each side of you, effectively caging you in. His voice is a rough whisper against your left ear, making you gasp.

“Is that a no?”

Your hands, now inches apart from Frank’s, are gripping the marble beneath them, hard. You close your eyes and swallow.

“Don’t play games with me, Frank.” Your voice goes deeper and colder in warning. You might not expect anything romantic-wise from him, but you won’t be made a fool of.

“‘m not playin', Baby.”

To confirm his words, he glides his nose along your nape and bites you lightly on the juncture between neck and shoulder.

You moan, all need. That nickname. He's never used it before, but it does something to you. Babe you’ve never liked. But Baby? The way Frank says it, just gets to you. You incline your head to the side, a silent surrender, and feel him grin against your skin. Your eyes are closed so that you don’t see his right hand leave the counter, but feel it settle on your hip and slowly glide down your thigh to the hem of your shorts. To your dismay, his mouth leaves your neck.

“Spread your legs for me, Sweetheart,” he rumbles into your ear.

You oblige instantly, parting your legs and leaning slightly forward to accommodate him. Frank hums in approval. You can feel his fingers on your skin now, just beneath the hem of your shorts, slowly making their way under your right butt cheek and to your center, the touch light and measured. How is it that he's barely touching you and making your breathing speed up again? You try to relax your hands because you’re still gripping the hard kitchen surface like crazy; anything to anchor you. But Frank chooses that moment to push the short’s to the side, hooking it between your ass cheeks and the left side of your outer lips, to grant him easier access. One large finger slides through your still wet folds. One lazy pass through your slit and up to your clit, and your hands lock into place again, a harsh gasp leaving your mouth.

“Shit, already so fuckin’ wet, huh? Guess I did interrupt somethin' good.”

You say nothing, you can’t right now.

Frank keeps up his slow and torturous pace, sometimes staying over your clit and circling it with a featherlight touch that has you nearly screaming in frustration. You try to get a bit more pressure by pushing down on his finger every time he does this, but he just goes back to teasing your slit. Your arms are trembling from the strain, and you murmur a nearly silent plea for more. He seems to hear you though because he chuckles kindly and applies enough pressure for you to moan in satisfaction for a few seconds, before he stops again, too soon. When you fantasize about him, you usually picture him as the teasing kind of lover, but your imagination could never have reached this level.

“Tell me… What you been thinkin' about earlier?”

You’re kind of put out to hear that his voice is still steady, so you decide on the truth. In for a penny and all that.

“You,” you breathe softly.

His movements stop, and you’re satisfied with his reaction, when you realize that you might have overshared. His hand is moving again a moment later, and he growls deep in his throat. He presses his chest to your back, left hand coming up from the counter to grab your jaw and pull it to the side to press biting kisses into your neck and shoulder, making you keen.

“Me, huh? Fuck, now I really want ya to show me sometime…,” he pants roughly into your neck, index finger rubbing tighter and harder over you. “And what was I doin’?”

You have to concentrate to answer him, the pressure on your clit so delicious now. Your voice ends up breaking on each word.

“Something… like… that…”

“Something?”

“Finger-fucking… me.”

He inhales sharply, and you feel him adjust his position behind you, his clothed erection brushing against your ass for a second.

“Something like that?”

Two of his large fingers plunge deep into you, filling you to the brim. You cry out in bliss and go up on your tiptoes for a second as your body rises. Your back bows backward, resulting in your head coming to rest on his shoulder, while your eyes close, and you catch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Fuck, you feel so good for me, Baby,” he groans into your temple. He withdraws slightly before pushing back all the way in, setting a steady rhythm as the way his name keeps falling from your lips keeps him going.

The hand on your jaw slackens after a while and travels down your neck, over your collarbone and a covered nipple. He’s stroking down your belly and to the junction of your thighs before he finally stops directly over your clit. He rolls it between index and thumb with just the right amount of too much and not enough pressure, or flicks quickly over it repeatedly to keep you on your toes and not know what to expect next. The rhythm of his two hands are completely different. Where his left hand is teasing you slowly but mercilessly, his right hand still has two fingers fucking you fast and deep, making you whimper brokenly. His fingers feel absolutely incredible, yet you know that it’s to keep you on the edge of release. You love and hate it at the same time. The dual sensation has you removing your head from his shoulder to take your weight with your hands on the counter again, leaning forward a bit more to push your ass out and give him even better access.

Frank grunts his approval and keeps up the pace. You feel him resting his forehead on the nape of your neck.

“Holy shit, girl, look at ya takin' my fingers so perfectly,” he says gruffly. You squeeze down on said fingers at the praise, resulting in a groan of appreciation from him.

Eventually, no matter how long he’d intended to keep you on the brink, you’ve been strung so high for so long, that your orgasm is building inexorably, your body ready to crash back down again. His continuous praise is speeding it up as well. Your legs start to shake and a light sheen of sweat is covering your skin. Your harsh breaths are intermingled with moans and gasps of please mores and yesyesyes.

“Frank, please,” you beg one last time. “Please!”

“I gotcha, Sweetheart,” Frank answers finally and starts upping his pace on your clit.

“Yes!” you hiss, elated.

But Frank is apparently not completely done with you because he removes his two fingers from inside you, only to push back but with a third one, this time. You can only cry out in surprise and deep pleasure as he gives you half a second to adjust, before he starts an intense rhythm again. You’ve never felt this full with only fingers, and you can now feel as your release starts curling hotter and tighter in your belly.

“F-f-f-frank, I’m so, so close,” you manage to breathe out.

Frank keeps a litany of words spilling out of his mouth against your neck, “So fuckin' perfect for me” and, “Takin' me so beautifully”.

Suddenly, you're right there again, just like before, ready to take the leap. You feel the shivers running through your whole body and centering where Frank is rubbing tighter and tighter circles. Frank lifts his head from yours and growls deeply into your ear. “Now come for me, Baby. Come on my fingers.”

“Oh fuck, Frank!” You mewl, high-pitched, and that’s it. Everything in you snaps at his words. The intensity of this so long to come orgasm hits you like a freight train driven by Frank Castle. Your body curves back against his, your head back on his shoulder, facing his neck. Your hold on the kitchen worktop becomes deadly again after having slackened somewhat, and you cry out in pure, unadulterated bliss. You dimly feel Frank stopping the fingers inside you and taking them out to circle your waist and push you even more back against him. His focus is on his left hand, index finger still stroking your bud with intense precision, prolonging your release.

As you’re slowly coming down, your body begins to tremble and Frank tightens his hold on you to prevent your knees from giving out on you. You finally release the worktop, fingers a bit stiff, and put them over Frank’s arm to hold on to. His finger hasn’t stop working you, though, and while it’s sending you nice aftershocks, which have you jerking and gasping against him, you finally reach down with one hand to grab his wrist to stop his movements and rest it against your waist with the other.

“Too much,” you mumble into his throat.

You stand like that for a while, both not saying anything while you try to get your breathing back under control. As the seconds trickle by, and you process the last fifteen minutes, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and escapes your lips.

“What?” Frank asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“That was so not what I was expecting from your visit… Not that I mind, of course,” you grin, all relaxed limbs and all.

Frank chuckles, “‘m a man full of surprises.”

You reach down to tug at your shorts and make yourself presentable again, and snicker.

“That you are,” you say and turn around in his arms to look at him, your hands coming to rest on his strong chest.

Your heart misses a beat when you see his face. He’s a bit flushed, and he’s still breathing rather deeply, but it’s his eyes that capture your full attention. They are still dark with arousal, the gaze intense and fixed on yours. Frank’s lips break out in a smirk as he catches you staring. You swallow and clear your throat as you finally take in the hard outline of his dick against your body. You’re about to open your mouth to inquire about it, but he beats you to it.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, Sweetheart.”

“But-”

“‘m good,” he cuts in again, kissing your temple to take the sting out of his rebuttal before letting go of you.

You stay quiet and lean back against the counter as you nod vaguely. Frank takes a few steps backwards away from you, one hand coming up to rake through his hair and down his neck in a nervous gesture. He doesn’t look at you, so you decide to break the silence. You’re still floating on your high a bit and don’t want things to get uncomfortable between you two.

“So… coffee?”

You see him take a small breath and look back at you with a smile. His eyes are kind but unreadable, like they so often are when he’s thinking about something.

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks.”

You smile and get back to grab the things you need, Frank going to sit on the couch. The silence is only broken by the coffee grinder for a small while. Your apartment is one large space with an open kitchen that gives on a big living area. A comfortable couch and a coffee table, that are framed by two armchairs, face a flat screen TV and huge floor to ceiling windows. Your bedroom with en suite bathroom is on the opposite side from the kitchen. You adore this place. From where you’re preparing the two mugs, you only have to turn your head to the left to see Frank sitting on the couch, arms thrown over the back of it, legs spread wide. He stares unblinkingly at the darkness and buildings outside your windows. You bite your lip and sigh softly. Once you’re done, one mug with strong dark coffee for Frank in one hand and in the other one with decaf because you definitely don’t need any more excitement tonight, you make your way over to him.

You walk around the back of the couch to sit at the opposite end, your back resting against the armrest. You extend your hand with Frank’s mug toward him. He blinks down at it for a second before taking the mug. He turns his upper body to face you, and you relax a little more at the half smile, half smirk that he usually wears and that he gives you now.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully and hums in pleasure when he takes his first sip.

“Anytime,” you chuckle warmly. You had been proud to find out that Frank had initially come to your Café because he had heard people talking about the quality of your coffee.

You sit there without saying anything, but this time it’s a comfortable silence, both savoring your drinks.

“So how’s Curtis?” You inquire after several long minutes.

It’s an honest question, but you also want to show Frank that you can still talk like you used to. You’ve never met Curtis, but you’ve heard a lot about him and how he has always been there for Frank. That alone means a lot in your book. You end up talking for a small amount of time, conversation becoming easier, before Frank decides to bid you goodnight. You walk him back to the door, and he envelops you in a hug that you hadn’t been expecting at this point. He kisses you on a temple like he often does, making you smile into his neck fondly before returning the kiss but on one cheek instead.

“Take care,” he rasps into your ear, before letting go of you and opening the door.

“Be careful,” you counter with raised eyebrows and a meaningful look.

Frank chuckles and nods. “I'll see what I can do.”

He walks off to the elevator, which opens for him immediately when he pushes the call button, and steps inside. He lifts a hand in a wave as the doors slide closed in front of him, and then he’s gone.

You close your door and lean against it, heaving a heavy sigh. You don’t really know what to feel right now. You’ve just had one of the most memorable orgasms of your life, but still don’t know where you stand with Frank. If you go back to how things were before tonight, that’s fine with you. You’re kind of afraid that you might have scared him off, but the way he behaved before leaving makes you feel confident enough that you haven’t. The ball is definitely in Frank’s court now. You would have to wait and see.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle #reader insert #the punisher #mes fics #always time for coffee series #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle smut #the punisher fanfiction

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weirdsht · 2 months

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Longing - LoTCF & Molan! Reader

notes: There's so much I want to include here but it's so long already... I might make a part 2. Also I woke up and decided to change the way I address reader lol. I used to use _____ because it was easier to type but I've decided to go for aesthetics now (disillusioned will still have the same format though so readers won't be shocked with the change).

tags: female reader, death, blood, injuries, angst(?), hurt/comfort

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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[Name] Molan was about to fall asleep when intruders suddenly infiltrated the Molan Estate.

“...Mom I’m scared.”

The 5-year-old clutched her mother’s skirt. Screaming and clashing of weapons can be heard throughout the house.

Her mother said nothing at first. Opting to get her greatsword from underneath the child’s bed first.

“Baby you started learning stealth techniques with your brother right?”

[Name] nodded as she felt her mother squeeze her hand.

“Remember what Dad taught you okay? You might have to use it tonight. Think of it as an exercise to see how well you’ve learned.”

The situation is scary, but despite that [name] feels calm because her mother is smiling at her.

But that doesn’t stop her hand from shaking as she hears their family members’ screams.

Slowly, the mother-daughter duo slithered out of the bedroom. Their main goal is to find Ron and Beacrox before escaping the estate.

Run, hide, roll over, they did everything just to avoid the eyes of the masked people attacking their estate. As they run away corpses of their family members and servants can be seen everywhere they go. The stench of their blood overtook [name]’s senses making her want to puke.

Everything seemed to be going well at first. However, they have been discovered after a few minutes of sneaking around. It was inevitable. With every corner being surrounded by those mysterious people massacring the Molans.

“[NAME]!”

[Name]’s mother just hadn’t expected one of those bastard’s swords to pierce the child’s chest instead.

The Molan Mistress was surrounded. She was trying her best to fend off everyone who dared to hurt her child.

But her efforts weren’t enough.

One of the enemies still managed to slip past her greatsword.

At that moment Beacrox, her first child, entered the room they were in. His eyes were shaking along with his legs as he ran to hide behind her mother.

“Beacrox take care of your sister.”

Her voice was calm. Fitting as the wife of the Molan Patriarch. Her hand tightly clenched on her greatsword. Eyes fierce, their gaze holds a promise of protecting her children.

Meanwhile, Beacrox sat on the ground. His arms cradled his baby sister while also trying to apply pressure to where she was hurt.

“Orabeoni… it hurts… it really hurts…”

“Just hold on a little longer. Father will get here soon.”

Beacrox’s hands are covered in blood. [Name]’s blood. No matter how hard he tries he can’t stop the bleeding. He can’t stop his younger sister’s body from going cold.

“Orabeoni… Orabeoni…”

[Name] tried to lift her small hands, but was too weak to do so. Beacrox shushed her, reassuring her that she’d be fine. That she’ll make it through the night. That they’ll get out of here alive.

She has to. Beacrox doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same if his baby sister dies here.

“I’m scared… Everything hurts.”

Beacrox is scared too. Scared of the copious amounts of blood escaping her little body. Scared of her body slowly becoming colder as the seconds fly by. Scared of her eyes that are slowly fluttering themself close.

“Hey, hey, you can’t sleep yet. We have to wait for Father first okay?”

Despite all of those things, the Molan heir stood strong. He has to. He needs to be strong enough for the two of them.

[Name] tries hard to follow her brother’s orders. However, the task starts to feel impossible to accomplish as time goes on. Sleep tempts her, tells her that if she closes her eyes the pain will disappear.

Her surroundings became more and more hazy and her family's voices grew quieter until she couldn’t hear them anymore. She was fighting to stay awake despite her body desperately shutting down.

“Dad…”

She mumbles as she sees a blur of a person that she thinks she recognizes as her father.

“It’s okay. Everything is okay now. We’ll get out of here.”

Ron tries to reassure the girl but she can’t hear him anymore. He pressed his fingers on her pulse desperately trying to find one. Once he found it he asked his son to monitor the pulse as he aides his wife.

Bathump

“Baby stay with me. Dad’s here now. Dad will get you out of here.”

Thump

“[Name] you can’t close your eyes. Beacrox try to keep her eyes open!”

thump

“Mom! Dad! I- I can’t! I can barely feel her pulse. She’s also not breathing anymore!”

…thump

“Run. I’ll handle it here. Go with your father!”

“But what about [name]???”

“...It’s too late for her…”

…thum…

…

Only then did Beacrox let go of [name]’s wrist. Even after removing his hand, he felt like he could still hear it.

Her last pulse.

The feeling of it lingered in Beacrox’s hand. He clenches and lets go of his hand, but still…

Still, he could feel it.

Even as he runs away while looking at his father’s back. Even decades later when his serving the Henituse family as a chef.

That feeling never goes away.

Meanwhile, the one left at the Molan Estate is still fighting. Desperately fighting the intruders with all her might.

She knows she’s outnumbered. She knows that she will die at their hands. She knows she has no fighting chance.

But still, she fights.

In hopes of buying her husband and her son time. In hopes of letting them escape and live to see another day.

And as she expected, she didn’t last long. After a few minutes of swinging her greatsword, he had finally succumbed to her wounds. Her body fell on the ground of what used to be their home. Of what used to be a safe space for her and her family.

Luckily, they left her alone after that. Figuring that she’ll die on her own either way. It gave her a chance to crawl over to her daughter. Gave her the chance to hug her one last time before her inevitable doom.

[Name]’s body was still bleeding. It had slowed down considerably thanks to Beacrox’s efforts but it was still bleeding. But her mother didn’t mind. She didn’t mind the puddle of blood gathering underneath her daughter’s body.

She just wants to hug her child one last time.

That’s why she ignored everything. The sticky blood, [name]’s cold body, her own ragged breathing. She ignored all of it and imagined that they were back in her daughter’s room. That she’s just hugging her daughter to sleep after telling her a bedtime story.

…thump

Ron’s wife wasn’t sure if she heard that right.

…thump …thump

She pressed her ears closer to [name]’s heart and heard the faintest of pulse. It was almost nonexistent.

But it meant that there was still hope for her daughter.

Gathering her strength. She draped over her body on top of her daughter. This effectively hid her and put pressure on her wound.

She didn’t know if her daughter would survive. But she knows that she won't. This is her last ditch effort to make her daughter live. The only thing she can do with her dying body.

Kissing the crown of her sweet baby’s head for one last time, she let her body finally succumb to its wounds after fighting for so long.

Gasp!

[Name] gasped awake from her sleep as she dreamed of that night again. It’s been a few years since then. She has somehow managed to escape with her limited stealth skills at that time. Managed to go outside the borders of the Molden Kingdom in order to live.

For the first few years, she had to live on the streets. It was a sudden change. From having her own room and servants to barely eating one day a meal. But still, she persevered. It’s what her mother would have wanted.

She has nothing on her except the clothes on her back. She can’t even use her real name anymore for fear that someone will recognize it.

However, she did have her father’s teachings.

It may not have been much as she was just starting out before their family fell apart. But she still practised them every chance she got. Tries to expand what she knows by remembering what she has read and her experience while living on the streets.

“You’re already taking another job? Go out and play or something! You’re too young to be taking job after job!”

Her hard work paid off in the form of her being a mercenary. She used her skills and wits to qualify for such a dangerous job. In turn, she became a full pledge mercenary at the young age of 12.

Every mission was life-threatening. She never knows if a mission is going to be her last one. But it puts a roof over her head and a warm meal on her plate.

“Nalom, why do you take so many jobs? You already have enough money to last you for at least 3 months.”

One of the mercenaries ruffled her hair but she ignored it. Focusing her attention on the name she was called.

Nalom…

The opposite of Molan.

Cheesy. She knows it was cheesy to make her alias just the reverse spelling of her last name. But she feels like she will inevitably forget her real name if she doesn’t do it.

She might have lost everything that night but she promised herself that she’ll take revenge one day. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, she will get it done.

Hence why she takes job after job. Honing her skills and pushing her limits. Trying to discreetly sniff out any information about the secret organization that attacked the Molans.

“Bud I heard we’re going on a war with Arm?“

The now 27-year-old [name] sneaked behind Bud.

“Nalom! How many times do I have to keep telling you that you’ll give me a heart attack if you keep sneaking up on me like that?”

[Name] ignored the Mercenary King holding onto his chest as she waited for an answer.

“Yes, the veterans will attack their secret base in a few days.”

“I’m included right?”

Bud Illis looks at her as if she’s joking.

“Of course you are. You’ve been here for 15 years. There’s no way you’re not a veteran.”

Good.

That way she’ll finally get her revenge.

“By the way. Is the investigation about our first base done yet?”

[Name] could see Bud’s shoulder tense at the question. She honestly didn’t care much. It was devastating that it had been blown up and the directory is now gone but it’s not like anyone from their side died. So it’s not her problem.

Well at first at least.

Until she heard the rumours that the one who attacked the directory was Molan’s last patriarch.

“Not yet. I wasn’t there when it happened and we’re putting all our efforts into the upcoming attack that’s why the investigation is taking longer.”

She could sense that Bud was only telling half the truth but she let it go.

“Say Nalom, did you learn your stealth techniques from someone?“

The Mercenary King asked just as she was about to go out of his office.

“No, I learned during my time living on the streets.”

A half-life. It was only fair since Bud also lied to her.

With that [name] closed the door behind her making her unable to hear the conversation that happened in her absence.

“Her techniques feel similar to Patriarch-nim…”

Bud mumbled under his breath once the stealthy mercenary was gone.

“It’s different but their foundations are similar.”

Glenn agreed from the couch. Both of them wondered if there was a chance that Nalom was somehow connected to the Molans.

“Where’s the kid?”

One of the mercenaries asked as they prepared to attack Arm’s secret base.

“I don’t know, you know how Nalom is. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Another mercenary reassured the guy.

“Nalom? Who’s that?”

Cale asked Bud who was also trying to look for the missing mercenary.

“She’s our youngest veteran, only 27-years-old. But she’s the best among the mercenaries when it comes to stealth.”

Bud checked one last corner before sighing and giving up.

“She was here just a second ago… Well, it’s not like she can’t handle herself. But she has never gone on her own during large-scale attacks.”

The Mercenary King decided to trust the missing mercenary and continued with the original plan.

“Who goes there!?”

Beacrox hears a familiar yet foreign voice ask him as he dodges a flying dagger.

“I should be the one asking you…”

Brown hair that was the same shade as his own greeted him. Her one hand preparing to throw another dagger while her other hand was clutching on a flag that had been drawn on.

22 years. It has been 22 years since he last saw his little sister. His last memory of her was her body growing colder in his arms as he felt her pulse slowly stop.

Even today he could still feel her pulse linger in his hands.

“[Name].”

Beacrox called out. If only he knew that it was the first time in 22 years since anyone had called [name] by that name.

He could see the mercenary stop in her tracks. Her arm lowered as she processed his voice and the name he called her.

“Orabeoni?”

She asked and Beacrox nodded. Yes, it’s him. It’s her orabeoni.

[Name] slowly walked towards him. Her steps slow and staggering. Almost falling in his arms once she was close enough.

“It’s you. It’s really you. You’re alive.”

She cried in Beacrox's arms and for one he didn’t mind that his clothes were being tainted. He’ll take as much dirt as he needs as long as he can hug his sister in his arms.

Bathump. Bathump.

Instinctively his hand reached out to her wrist. The same wrist he held onto that night. But unlike that time, her pulse is loud and clear. Full of vitality.

Alive

“What’s taking you so long? I thought you were going to check out who was sneaking around your sister’s room?”

Ron’s voice echoed through the halls as he walked closer to where the siblings were.

“Dad’s alive? It was really Dad who blew up the first mercenary base?”

[Name] heard her brother hummed in affirmation. His chest vibrates against her cheek as they are still hugging each other.

Ron’s footsteps were silent but [name] could sense that he was close. Letting go of the hug, she stepped outside of her room to greet him.

They didn’t say anything. They don’t need to.

For Ron will be able to recognize his daughter anywhere.

That’s why he didn’t say anything and just accepted his running daughter with open arms. Hugging her tightly, as if trying to make up for the two decades they have been apart.

“Dad I was so lonely. I was so scared.”

She confided in her dad. The veteran mercenary who’s the best in stealth and wields double daggers is gone. In the arms of her dad, she’s simply [Name] Molan. She’s just the daughter he loves.

The daughter he thought he lost.

“It’s fine now. Everything is fine. You can tell your dad everything that happened.”

Ron stroked his daughter’s hair. His hands shaking ever so slightly.

Tears gathered in his eyes but only Beacrox noticed them.

The chef said nothing about his father’s vulnerability. He stayed silent even when a lone tear managed to escape his father’s eyes.

His strong father. The same one who bulldozed through everything just to keep him alive. The same father who worked hard to train him while discreetly investigating the organization that attacked them. His father showed no weakness.

That same father of his has been overcome by emotion.

And Beacrox can’t say anything about it for he was the same.

#trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #lcf #lotcf #totcf #lcf x reader #tcf x reader #lotcf x reader #totcf x reader #manhwa x reader #female reader #x female reader #lout of the counts family x reader #trash of the counts family x reader #ron molan #beacrox molan #tcf ron #tcf beacrox

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casper-spills · 7 months

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♡ 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮'𝓼 𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷 ♡

♡ ᴘɪʟᴇ 1 ~ ᴘɪʟᴇ 2 ~ ᴘɪʟᴇ 3 ♡

Happy Valentine's Day! ♡

I hope everyone's doing well! ♡ It's been a while since I've done one of these and I've been really excited to do this one! This time, I'm writing these almost like a story of what's going to happen but I will warn you, I am not the most amazing story teller in the world haha but I hope everybody enjoys the reading they got and remember to only take what resonates ♡

All feedback is appreciated!

Sincerely,

Cassy the friendly ghost ♡

Discaimer: Tarot reading is for entertainment purposes only and should never take the place of professional therapy or professional legal, medicinal or financial advice.

𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝒟𝒶𝓎 𝒟𝒾𝓈𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉! ♡

𝟧𝟢% 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝒫𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈!

Ends on Feb 19th 2 Questions £10 ~ £5 3 Questions £14 ~ £7 5 Questions £24 ~ £12 10 Questions £40 ~ £20

| BOOK A READING WITH ME | KO-FI |

♡ ᴘɪʟᴇ 1 ♡

Cards: Five of Swords, The Sun, Knight of Wands, The Hierophant (reversed), The Hanged Man, The Moon, Five of Cups (reversed), Four of Cups, Six of Coins, The World (reversed), The Devil, The Fool (reversed), Ace of Swords (reversed)

Some of you might be a part of the LGBT community and for those of you who aren't, it might be that you are not very traditional and don't play into the roles that society would have placed you in.

It is a warm and sunny day by a lake or some kind of body of water but I get the feeling that maybe this is someplace you are not supposed to be, like a private or closed off area. Maybe this could be a closed off pool area in an old building. You find your way in and I see your date being reluctant to go but they follow you anyway. They're becoming increasingly more anxious about being here but you reassure them that nobody comes here and reveal the suprise, a game! This might be some kind of arcade game or ping pong table that has been left on the property and, soon enough, they give in (since they're a sucker for games.)

Now this is interesting. You actually aren't sure if this person feels the same way about you and this is you shooting your shot. Again, I get the feeling that the majority of you might be LGBTQ+ and you're really taking the leap of faith on this. Good for you!

You both having lots of fun, your date managed to score a point and you cheer together! (So cute). There's a moment of silence and there's intent behind their gaze, and you think to yourself, 'its now or never'. So you pour every ounce of faith into this chance and swiftly kiss them, waiting for their response. To your relief, they return the kiss, and it is passionate and warm and perfect ♡

Messages from them to you: 'You're so beautiful and I don't know how to tell you' 'I hope it is what i think it is' 'I really hope you're sure about this and about me' 'I'm sure that it's you that I want' 'Please make the first move'

♡ ᴘɪʟᴇ 2 ♡

Cards: Eight of Cups, Page of Coins (horizontal), King of Cups, The Devil (horizontal), The Lovers, Three of Coins, The Tower (horizontal), Page of Cups (horizontal), The Hanged Man (horizontal)

This is somewhere quiet, somewhere where people might come to learn like a library accept there isn't many people here. I could be that you're a student and I'm getting major breakfast club vibes. I feel like you and your person are in detention together or perhaps it feels like you're getting punished with the work you have to do. (I know this isn't the most romantic date in the world but stay with me.)

I'm getting the feeling that you are paired with this person for a project. Even though you really want to focus and not fall behind, they seem to be distracting you and weighing on your mind. You like them because how can you not? They're gorgeous! But they're annoying the heck out of you, 'plus, they're super weird', you think to yourself.

You eventually decide that this is getting too much and get up from your seat to start looking in one of the isles for a book. You feel your face turning redder and redder the more they try to get your attention. Once they realise that they aren't getting anywhere, they begin to actually talk to you about the work and ask to see the book you have taken off the shelf. Suddenly, they don't seem as ignorant as you thought, and they're pretty smart when they actually want to be. You wonder if maybe this person just wants to connect so you give in and entertain them a little.

You very quickly regret your decision when they boldly ask you if you're blushing because you like them. Not saying anything, you look away, poorly hiding the fact that you're clearly red in the face. Under your breath you ask them, 'please, stop messing with me' because you're starting to feel like you could cry if this keeps up. There's a moment where they don't say anything and the silence becomes defening. All you can hear right now is the beating of your heart and you can't help but feel like their gaze is becoming too intense for you.

Unexpectedly, the awkwardness is broken by a kiss on the cheek. You're thinking, 'what the heck? Are they trying to give me emotional whiplash?' But before you can say anything they apologise to you. 'I'll stop messing with you and we can get back to doing the project.' They seem sincere and a little different to how they were a second ago. So you shake it off and agree to continue the project, though it's really difficult to focus properly.

Messages from them to you: 'If I don't do anything now, then you'll never consider me' 'I like how intelligent you are' 'I want to get to know you more' 'I need to know what you think of me' 'I want to get closer to you'

♡ ᴘɪʟᴇ 3 ♡

Cards: Four of Swords (reversed), The Star (reversed), Three of Swords (reversed), Seven of Wands (reversed), Nine of Wands (horizontal), Queen of Coins (reversed), Eight of Swords (reversed)

You're at their house, in their bedroom and I have the feeling that maybe you've known this person for a while now. It's not anything too crazy, just laying down, listening to music and watching the star projector spin. This is perfect because you've been having a really tough week and you really need to just relax. Things might have been tough at work or home and you really need someone to vent to.

So they have set up a comfortable space for you, brought snacks and drinks, and offered to listen for as long as you wanted. This isn't really intened to be a date and honestly, it isn't much of one either, but it's intimiate and it feels different from all the other times that you've hung out with them. They're normally more energetic and chaotic when you hang out with them but today they're really trying to be more considerate and more sensitive. You really appreciate that from them. You're not sure that you want to progress this feeling yet, so your boundaries are clear and all you want right now is a friend. But that doesn't mean things won't change.

Messages from them to you: 'I admire you' 'You're so beautiful' 'You've seen so much' 'Everything is going to be okay' 'You can stay here as long as you want'

♥Thank you for your support! Happy Valentine's Day♥

Special thanks to: @kittywatching @livelythoughts @visualbutterflysworld @honeytarotmind @jeff-satur-is-my-baby-girl @miraclekay97 @artscapismsworld @julyourwitch @notakitsune @mercurialstime @soledad-montoya @depressedcap @bibislutmarvel @coconuttreesstuff

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mooestriovermind · 2 months

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Hypnosis - Everything can work

It's the combination of the desire to be hypnotized and the understanding that you can be hypnotized that combines together to make someone susceptible to trance. If you know how easy it is to go under, but you don't want to, you won't. Vice versa, if you want really bad to drop, but feel that it's impossible to do so, you won't fall.

Some people are in the second boat- quite a few, actually. If you want to be hypnotized, but think that your mentality or a certain mental illness prevents you from being hypnotized, you misunderstand. Everyone can experience trance. Many frequently have and didn't attribute the state they were in as hypnosis. It doesn't even require the ability to picture something in your head, or the ability to focus. Hypnosis can be brief, it can be long, but it is accessible by everyone. You need only notice that you're being hypnotized, and recognize that it can happen, in order for it to happen.

Take for example, right now. You've been reading down this informative post, your curiosity piqued by the knowledge I have to offer. And thusly, you have locked your attention on my words, here. Eager to learn, happy to recognize the hypnotic nature of a good monologue. Even if you don't picture a comfortable place like your back porch on a cool day or a beanbag when it's raining outside, you can still find it possible to recognize how my words affect you.

Even if they affect you minimally, it's possible that you still notice something as small as a change in your breathing. You see, small changes, however noticeable, tend to occur when you take note of the fact that someone is trying to hypnotize you. You can find it easy or difficult to follow what I'm saying, but ultimately you will be able to recognize that I am indeed trying to hypnotize you in this moment.

For some, the mere mention that someone may be actively hypnotizing them could lead to the familiar fuzzy feelings of trance to overtake them. Maybe you can already feel the sensations you recognize as trance. Maybe you don't know what hypnosis feels like! Maybe you've never been hypnotized (or you feel like you haven't) and you're just curious enough to keep reading. Either way, you are reading, and I am hypnotizing you, which means you are feeling at least somewhat different.

Considering that many experience trance in different ways from others, it's not entirely possible to say exactly how my words are making you feel. It could be any number of sensations or ideas. As long as you're capable of receiving sensory input or holding onto imaginative thoughts in some capacity, you are likely feeling open or even following along so closely that the world around you is no longer important.

Because you've read this far, I can imagine that I've successfully managed to at least entertain you. If you're feeling hypnotized, that's great! Keep feeling those sensations and keep allowing your behavior to adjust according to my words. If not, that's fine too! I've entertained you enough to provide you with some useful information that may assist you in any number of hypnotic endeavors.

Of course, all trances must end, and so must every Tumblr post. Finite and measurable, this little script and informative text must now draw to a close. You'll be able to awaken from any trance you may be in- as everyone is fully in control of their own hypnosis experience. Don't let anyone trick you into thinking that you can't resist, or that you absolutely must stay entranced. This is a sign that you're either doing a discussed CNC scene, which is fine, or you're being approached by an abusive dominant, which is less fine. (Very important distinction!)

Either way, thank you for reading my post! I hope it provided at least a modicum of entertainment.

Farewell, and don't forget to stay hydrated!

#thoughts on the brain #cw hypnosis #hypnok1nk #hypnosis

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zepskies · 3 months

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PSA on Tumblr Tags: Tag Lists & # Tags

Just wanted to spread this news for people who don't know the new Tumblr updates that have to do with tagging on posts, both for user tag lists and for descriptive hashtags to help people find your post. I've had to learn them the hard way. 😅

User Tagging:

This first part is for people who have tag lists. Tumblr has recently changed the rules on tagging other blogs/users on a post.

You can still tag up to 50 blogs per post, but they must be spread out into groups of 5. Otherwise, the blog won't be highlighted/tagged and the person will not be notified.

Example (and more) below the cut: ⤵️

✅ Example:

And this is what it will probably look like if you don't spread them out into groups of 5:

Notice that only the first 5 blogs in each section are actually tagged.

Also something important to note: copy/pasting a tag list alone often isn't enough. After I copy over a tag list from another post, I always have to click on each blog name individually to select the blog and make sure it's tagged properly, so people get notified.

Trust me, I get why some writers have decided to ditch tag lists altogether. They can be tricky. 😂

Hashtags on Posts:

As most of you guys know, hashtags help people find your post. The limit of how many tags you can use has bumped up to 30 tags.

Now, this doesn't mean you have to use all 30 slots. But using the most popular tags will increase the likelihood that people will find your post.

By no means am I an expert on this, but I've been reading a lot of stories that should have SO many more reblogs, comments, etc. If some of them were using a few more key tags, they'd likely be getting much more traffic and notes on them.

Want to find out which hashtags are the most popular, relevant to your post?

Well, you can actually search them in the Your Tags tab, Tags You Follow, and go to Manage:

For Dean Winchester fanfiction, for example, here are the tags I use most often:

Ignore the first and last tags, which are just for me to organize the post for my blog. But I would say the most important tags here are the first few:

[character's full name]

[character's full name] x reader or [character's full name] x oc

fandom name

These three are absolutely key for any romance pairing fanfiction post, in my opinion.

Aside from being the most relevant for a pairing fanfic, these are often the most popular tags overall, as they are the tags with a high follower count. The rest can also be important supplemental hashtags relevant to the post.

You can also just start typing into this bar in your post draft and see what "popular tag" recommendations Tumblr gives you:

And that's it! For anyone who finds this PSA helpful, I salute you! 🫡 And I wish you all luck on future tagging endeavors. 💜

I'm also including some of my fellow writers just in case they have something to add to this — or if they don't know this info, though I'm sure they probably do already:

@luci-in-trenchcoats @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @rizlowwritessortof @artyandink @waynes-multiverse

@jacklesbrainworms @deanwritings @deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @waywardxwords

@angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @kayleighwinchester

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thalialunacy · 4 months

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[for the @calaisreno May Prompts Tour, which affords me the opportunity to be supremely self-indulgent]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) 13: laugh (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

Is this still the number for John Watson?

John pauses, thumb hovering. Before he can choose a response, another message flashes in.

It's Harry

He nearly drops the phone. Or maybe he nearly throws it against the wall. Hard to say.

His reflex to caretake wars with his lingering resentment of her absence. But he knows he would regret ignoring an olive branch… or whatever this is.

Everything okay?

No small talk, got it

Yes I'm fine, good in fact

and no I'm not going to ask you for money

He breathes in deeply.

I'm glad things are going well for you

And he is, at least in the abstract.

Thanks

I know this is the part where I'm supposed to ask how you are

But you know I'm pants at texting

Can we just have coffee or something?

John taps his phone to his lip absently and considers his options. A public reunion seems like it could be a volatile mistake, not to mention it's 7pm on a weekday. Sherlock is at the lab, Rosie is having her after-supper blanket time, and John is catching up on charting.

And to be honest, he's pretty bored.

Come to mine for tea?

Harry's three dots wibble for a while, which John supposes is fair.

Right now?

With my schedule, I have to take opportunities where I can

Okay, yeah, I'm free

He sends her the address, feeling both pleased and annoyed. One would think that hitting his own rock bottom would make him more sympathetic towards his sister. But really, it just piles helpless anger on top of guilt on top of anger, ad nauseum.

He's not even sure she knows he's a father, for Christ's sake.

Turns out, she doesn't. She walks through the door he holds open for her, and stops abruptly when she sees Rosie. 'Oh my God,' she breathes, staring. 'Oh my God. You--' She turns to John, eyes wide. 'She-- Johnny. She's yours?'

He nods, and despite everything, he feels his face curve into a proud smile. 'Her name's Rosie.'

'Can I--' Harry indicates the blanket with a sharp movement. 'Can I say hello to her?'

'Yeah, course.' He follows her, and folds himself down behind Rosie. 'Sweetheart, this is your Aunt Harry.'

Harry makes a bit of a squawking noise, probably at the 'aunt' bit, but tamps it down. 'Hi, Rosie,' she manages, her voice rough but determined. 'It's lovely to meet you. What are you playing with?'

'Avocados,' Rosie mostly manages to say, then holds one up for Harry without hesitation. Harry takes it with a giggle, and before long they're thick as thieves with a pile of emoting avocados between them.

Harry glances up at him when there's a lull. 'So. The dad life is treating you well, yeah?'

He hesitates, then nods. 'It is now.'

She eyes him, but doesn't ask about what came before now. Instead, she says, 'I'm just going to ask, alright -- who's the other parent?'

He raises an eyebrow. 'Why d'you say there is one?'

Her eyes twinkle. 'Because you do not have the fashion sense to have bought her this outfit. Your bird rich, then?'

He coughs. 'Well. No.'

She waits, though he can see she's trying not to be annoyed by his reticence. She's never understood people wanting to keep things private. 'No?'

'My… flatmate. He's able to buy her things I don't give a toss about, yeah.'

She blinks. 'You have a gay flatmate?'

John feels his ears heat up. 'I do, yeah.'

She seems weirdly impressed. 'You've come a long way from being a rugby lad, haven't you?'

He snorts. 'I'm learning how to do plaits, if you'll believe it.'

'She's not got enough hair for that yet.'

'Sherlock--the flatmate--insists it's a useful skill, though I've no idea why.'

She doesn't reply, and he looks up from where he's helping Rosie with her current avocado. 'What?' he asks, though he knows it's useless. Harry is no Sherlock but honestly, she doesn't have to be, because his emotions have always been written all over his face. It's a curse and a blessing.

'Oh holy shit,' she breathes out.

'Language,' he admonishes reflexively.

'Sorry, I mean-- Holy noses, Johnny.'

'Don't be smug.'

'Oh, I take no credit for this, I always knew the overcompensating locker room talk was hiding something.'

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching. 'Yeah, insecurity about willy size.'

'Okay, ew, first of all. Second of all-- What the--' He gives her a warning look. 'Ever-loving heck.'

'Short version?' She nods quickly. He decides to also give her the slightly-less-mad-sounding version. 'Got married, got pregnant, had baby, wife passed away, realised I had feelings for my flatmate. Who is a man. And who is effectively fathering my child.'

She claps her hand over her mouth, and for a moment he fears she's going to cry, but then realises she's laughing.

'Oi, that's just not on,' he protests.

'But it's ridiculous!' She holds out a hand to him placatingly, speaking through continued laughter. 'It's lovely and sad and all that, but you have to admit--'

There are tears escaping the corners of her eyes, and he feels it begin to bubble up in his chest, too. Her laugh has always been a thing of beauty, of loud, annoying, contagious, unforgettable beauty, and he can't help it.

And she's right, really. It is kind of ridiculous.

He lets out his own laugh, finally, and reaches for her hand.

[❤️]

#it's gonna be MAY 2024 #May Prompts 2024 #MayPrompts2024 #BBC Sherlock #Parentlock

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varpusvaras · 4 months

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They are both breathing hard when they finally get back to the Senate.

Fox leads her through a smaller door, one that Leia, even with all her time spent in the Senate Dome has never even seen before, and pushes her into an elevator that currently has only three maintenance droids in it. They all beep at them, but quiet down when Fox shushes them. He takes the coat from Leia, while Leia starts to comb her hair open. They need to work fast, so Leia unceremoniously puts a part of her hair in her mouth, while she starts braiding another part of it.

Fox watches for a moment, before he reaches for her head.

"Same part from this side too?" He asks. Leia raises her brows at him through their reflections on the elevator's shining wall, but nods. Fox pulls his gloves off, and takes a part of her hair into his fingers, and starts to braid with surprising speed and skill, managing to match the tightness of the braid to hers closely enough when in the moving elevator. He holds the braid in place until Leia gets to tie it up, and pulls both the braids behind her head as she starts to braid the last braid on the front.

"You seem to know what you're doing", she comments, as her mouth is now free from hair.

"I braid Thorn's hair a lot", Fox answers. "And I've seen this same hairdo on your mother. The last one goes through the middle, right?"

Leia swallows, but gathers herself quickly.

"Yes", she answers, and throws the last braid over her head as well. He pulls it through and tightens it up. He's much gentler than Leia's or Mama's ladies-in-waiting, who would pull the braid so tight that Leia could feel the pull in her teeth. "Mother used to wear this when she was younger."

It was one of the braids that were easy to do, even for someone who wasn't too experienced in tying up the Royal ladie's hair, so it was many times chosen when there was, for some reason, not too much time for doing the hair to any of the more complicated upstyles. Mother had liked it when Leia had been small, especially on the days she had had more time to spend time with just Leia and father. Leia had learned to do it pretty young as well, so she could match up with mother on their days out.

Something turns and tightens inside her chest for the thought that Fox had spent enough time just looking at her mother, and paying attention to every little detail, that he knows how to do the braid without instructions. It's bittersweet, because it also makes her feel warm amidst all the turmoil. He has paid enough attention to her mother to know how to braid hair.

Fox backs away a bit, and hums.

"Looks neat enough", he says, and starts to pull his gloves back on. "Deep breaths. We're there in just a moment."

Leia has just enough time to touch her hair and turn around, when the elevator stops and beeps, and the doors open. Fox holds the coat for one of the droids.

"Put this into trash", he tells it. The droid beeps, opens its compartment and stuffs the coat in, and then wheels out after the two other droids. Fox steps out first and glances around, and then waves for Leia to follow.

"I'm going to take the maintenance door, and go up to the next floor", he tells her as they walk down the corridor. "Go straight from here, and take the elevator on the right side of the hall. I'll be there."

Leia nods. She brushes her fingers against his, and he curls his fingers around them briefly before they part ways.

Leia holds her head high and walks without looking around, to the end of the corridor and through the next door, and she crosses the hall on the other side without anyone stopping to even look at her. She steps into the elevator, and puts herself into the corner in the back, behind a few other Senators and aides. She recognises a couple of them. It's strange, every time, to see people she has known all her life, but who now have no idea who she is.

The doors start to beep, but before they can close, Padmé Amidala steps in, and behind her is Anakin Skywalker.

Leia's heart slams to a stop, before she can control herself.

Deep breaths, Fox had just said to her. Deep breaths.

She breathes, and stares at the spot on the wall, trying to keep any unsavory thoughts out of her head. She had done it before, while being in the same room with him, while he was watching her cry in pain he was inflicting upon her.

He is just standing there now, not looking at her. She is safe. She is safe.

The elevator starts to move. Leia breathes in, and thinks about anything else than her birth parents standing right there in front of her.

#fox my man you are a goner you know?#also leia is trying so hard not to just stab anakin in the kidneys lmao #sw #tcw #Star Writing #snippets #Leia Time Travel AU #Leia Organa #Commander Fox #my writing #bail/breha/fox

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hyakinthou-naos · 3 months

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Hey, hope this is ok. I need some reassurance.

I've never felt a God's presence (except a vague warmth/peace when meditating about them sometimes I guess), much less talked directly to them (as in hearing them answer) and with so many people, esp on tiktok and here, talking like they have a private relationship with the Gods, a close friendship, even dating I just... I feel lesser I guess? Like so many people were chosen but not me and that must be a problem on my part. Like the Gods prefer everyone else over me. Like I'm not doing enough, even though I'm doing what I manage to do, given my limitations. I'm jealous of people who do communicate directly to the Gods. Part of me doubts them but part wants to believe them because it would be so shitty to lie about something like this and I don't want to believe these people are shitty. I don't believe non harmful hallucinations are all that common either, which would be the other explanation.

From what I understand you don't have this kind of direct communication either and I wanted to ask - how do you prevent yourself from feeling bad seeing all these people who (claim they) do?

I'm struggling here :( It's already hard for me to keep a consistent practice because of executive dysfunction and chronic illness and other stuff and this makes it harder. Feeling like I'll never be at everyone else's level of connection makes it harder.

Sorry for the vent-ish ask. You don't need to answer but I'm already glad if you read. Thank you.

Dear Anon,

Thank you for your ask, I am so sorry to hear that you are struggling. I want to tell you right off the bat that you are not lesser than any other worshipper - you are not less preferable to The Gods - and you should not feel any guilt around your spiritual/religious experiences. I would like to say the following to you, but also to the wider HelPol/Pagan community:

PLEASE Do Not Trust Spiritual Influencers on TikTok.

I cannot claim to know the legitimacy or the intentions/motivations behind every individuals actions regarding divine experiences, but I can say with confidence that most of the spiritual content on TikTok is dripping with lies and exaggerations.

Now, as someone with a mental health degree (I don't talk about my education often but I do have a bachelor's in Social Work and a minor in Psychology) I can also say with confidence that just because someone is lying doesn't mean they're necessarily a "bad person" but you don't have to be a "bad person" to have bad motivations.

Bad Motivations Can Include:

Lying for Financial Gain: This could be selling a product, selling a service, or trying to monetize on being an "influencer".

Lying for Attention: Many people do not have supportive friends, families, or communities - so as a maladaptive coping mechanism they will lie to get the attention they are lacking in their personal life.

Lying for Prestige: Some people don't feel important in their own lives, so they will lie so that other people will think that they are important.

Lying for Fun: In the age of the internet, the ability to make others believe something you know to be false can give someone an adrenaline or a dopamine rush. This is why "trolling" is still so popular.

And, not a "motivation", but still an explanation of why someone might "lie":

Mental Health Concerns: This could be a severe mental illness, a delusion, a hallucination, or conditioning from trauma.

People are weird and wonderful and diverse - and that diversity includes people who will lie (consciously or not) for a variety of reasons.

I speak about this openly as you mentioned, but I do not - nor have I ever - had any direct communication from any entity, deity, or spirit. Everything I know about my Gods (outside of myth, tradition, and history) I have learned through divination, ritual, and intuition.

Answering how I prevent myself from feeling bad when I see so many people "experiencing" something I can't - is a little bit complicated.

When I began my journey into paganism 11 years ago, TikTok didn't exist - Instagram was only 2 years old - and Tumblr had been around for a little under 5 years. My early knowledge came, mostly, from books. I wasn't comparing my experiences to those of others - because the only "others" I could compare myself to were limited to one high-school friend and the authors of the books I read. That kind of experience as a modern pagan doesn't really exist anymore because of how much the world has changed, but I wish it did. So, by the time I got to where I am now, the idea of comparing myself to others was so foreign. And as someone who grew up with the early internet - I learned very quickly that very little online is 100% real and truthful.

If you want to connect with your deities in an honest way that also feels real - you might enjoy trying one of the following (some of these might sound silly and/or childish - but if you truly want to grow as a pagan, you must throw away the idea that childish = bad):

Go outside at night and spin, put your arms out wide and spin and spin until you're dizzy (but not sick). Then lie down on the ground and close your eyes. That whirring sensation? That unreality of gravity? That is the Earth. That is Gaia. That is Demeter.

Listen to the rainfall on a stormy night. Sit somewhere you can hear the drops hitting the ground. Look and wait for a flash of lighting. The following thunder, that sound that you can feel in your bones that makes you jump, That is Zeus.

Write a letter to a friend, or to a loved one, or even to yourself in the future. Pay attention to how emotions become thoughts, thoughts become words, and words become writing. Communication - Language - Thought. That is Hermes.

I could go on- but at the end of the day, people are going to tell you that The Gods are "otherworldly"; but they're wrong. The Gods are of this world - The Gods are this world.

I hope that some of this has helped?

Eirene, peace and farewell,

- Aön

#helpol #hellenic polytheism #textpost #ask #asks #asks answered

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kaytheday · 3 months

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Dallas Winston In New York Headcanon

I've been wanting to do some of these for a little while because I am fascinated with Dallas's life before the events of The Outsiders.

Story Headcanon's

Dallas had a bad home life. His mother was in and out of the house and when he turned ten she was gone for good.

Later he grew to understand that his mother was a prostitute.

His father canonically hit him and ignored him. I think this messed young Dallas up, and definitely contributed to his ‘look out for number one’ attitude.

He was ten years old the first time he was in jail or juvie or whatever they called it in the 1960s. He was put in jail for a robbery with some other boys.

Being in juvie for the first time also changed him. The reformatory in the Bronx wasn’t a good institution. While he did his time, other boys and the workers there beat on him, boys often didn’t have enough to eat, and the conditions were filthy. He came out hardened and meaner with black eyes and a selfish attitude.

He would be in and out of juvie or reformatory for the rest of his time in New York.

He was twelve when he started middle school and in the same year he started doing favors for an official outfit. He mostly just ran errands or did other low level stuff. Though this didn’t mean that he didn’t see anything terrible. He definitely did.

Later when he got into the 13-14 year old age, they let him do more high level crime stuff.

He saw many murders while living in the impoverished neighborhood that he did. A couple of the ones were similar to the way he died. (getting shot while shooting at the police) Whether or not he got the idea from those shootings or it was in his subconscious can be debated.

When he became an official mob associate, he became very paranoid and careful. After getting beat up by mob members for a stupid mistake, he became worried that he would be wacked.

He was anxious and was always watching his back. He worried constantly about being followed.

He was always prepared for a quick getaway, though he never originally planned on leaving New York City.

He left New York when he was 15 because he did a job wrong and accidentally got someone killed. Due to his paranoia he got out of town quickly and went down to Dallas Texas.

While in Dallas he meets Buck Merrill who offers him a room in return for some work at the bar. That's how he gets into Tulsa.

General Headcanon's

Dallas was born and raised in the Bronx. (I just see him as a Bronxy boy)

He got his St. Christopher's necklace from some Roman Catholic guy who lived in his building. The guy gave him a jacket as a favor and the necklace was in the pocket. He slept on this guys couch more than once because of his dad.

He learned how to bartend by watching bartenders at the Snakehead bar. Which was a gang hang out for some guys Dallas was associating with.

He quickly learned not to trust anybody. He gathered this through his interactions in his home life and gang stuff. Because of this, he didn't have very many close friends and was always disappearing when he thought people were mad at him.

There were some kids in his building that used to beat him up. They stopped when they heard he had gangster friends.

He watched many gangsters die, he threw up the first time but after that he became indifferent to it.

When he left New York, he took none of his parents' possessions. There was nothing he wanted.

There was one night a few weeks before Dallas left for good that his father was beating him. In between hits Dallas managed to get a gun out of his pocket. His father stopped and left the house. Dallas still doesn’t know why he didn’t kill him.

He cried after his mom left.

He stopped crying all together when those kids made fun of him and then beat him up so bad he could hardly walk for the next few days. The next time he cried was in the hospital when died.

Upon comparing the reformatory he spent time at in New York versus the reformatory in Tulsa, he would say that the one in Tulsa was significantly nicer.

#dallas winston #the outsiders #johnny cade #dallas winston st. christopher necklace #headcanon #dallas winston pre-canon #dallas winston before the outsiders #dally winston #dallas winston headcanons #matt dillon

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nc-vb · 1 year

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𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 pt. ii

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

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

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

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

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

wc → 9.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gross,” you repeat, voice rasping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, good morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why not visit a doctor?”

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

“Oh? A stomach bug, perhaps?”

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

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

“Yes?” You scowl at his instantaneous reply.

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

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

“I’m not your subordinate.”

“A subordinate.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry?” You hold back an annoyed breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of what?”

“None of your business, that’s what.”

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

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

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

“Archons alive…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“-_____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm? What for?”

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

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

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

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

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

… and again, and again, and again…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” is all that you manage to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now who’s using who as an excuse?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, ______. There you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It does anything but.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It… did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. We are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm… no.”

“Aw, man…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your leave?” you repeat. He nods.

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

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

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

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

Tumblr asks: kiddo extras! ✰ ✰

𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

for those who might be confused about my url! i am formerly @/niicevibe, but my blog was permanently locked on me. if i have your url wrong, let me know! sorry if i couldn't properly tag some of y'all.

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

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