#isn’t nausea when you get too hot a normal thing??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blackwolfstabs · 11 months

Text

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 17

THE CATCH

What if Tara had followed Frankie up the stairs?

Warning!!! contains rape/non-consensual elements & violence / mild gore.

‘ “No, dude, Anika, I’m not that bad. But I appreciate you looking out for me.” ’

Tara’s own words echoed in her mind as she looked around Frankie’s room. As a matter of fact, they burned, as if telling her to turn around right now before that door could shut on her. As if she had just made a move that was destined for her to regret.

Turn around. Change your mind. Run.

Too late.

The sound of the door clicking shut became louder than her thoughts. She told Anika she was fine. She told Quinn she was going to be fine. She wanted Sam to know she could make her own decisions and be fine once they were made. She could do this. She was fine. Right?

She swung her arms awkwardly as she turned around, “So… why do you choose to keep alcohol in your room?” She pulled a smile that outwardly seemed natural, but inwardly was a tri-brid of anxious, awkward, and mockingly casual. “I mean, isn’t that what cabinets are for?” she half-joked.

The door locked.

Her heart skipped a beat, and anxiety immediately started to fizz in her stomach, making a wave of nausea hit her from the amount of alcohol she had drunken already. She swallowed it back.

Frankie looked up from the door. “Because it’s easier to get girls like you away from the crowds, when I hide it up here,” he answered, the thick intoxication that had threaded his voice downstairs not as convincing as it was then.

Carpenter went hot, then ice cold. Her heart went into a pound that was so hard, it made her chest hurt. And suddenly, her next breath was harder to get in than the previous one. She was frozen. It was right then that she knew she had willingly stepped into a trap.

And she had been given so many signs. She had almost taken the very first one: when he had told her he had liquor up here. Something in her paused and stared, as if running a thousand messages through her head:

Yes? No? Maybe?

Should I stay? Should I go?

The human mind was a complex thing. But a traumatized human mind was impossible to pull apart, which was what led her to bet on it.

“Fuck it. Yeah. Go.”

She had carelessly pushed her caution aside, thinking of it as her living in the past. Thinking of it as just her being that same scared, little girl she had been chained to ever since September 23, 2022. She didn’t want to be her anymore. She wanted to be the survivor, the go-getter, the normal Tara Carpenter she would have been, if only it wasn’t for…

Sam.

“Y-You said…” she started, not realizing she was stuttering, until she had to choke the words up her throat, “You said, um… that you had Fireball up here?” Her legs were starting to shake.

“Yep, sure do,” he replied, confidently, stalking towards her like a cat to a mouse. He grabbed his crotch, clutching it to draw her attention to its swelling nature, “I got two fireballs right here waiting for you, Michigan.”

This sobered her up fast. Her throat tightened, and her chest seemed to clutch so tight she was sure she would stop breathing. She shook her head, backing up as he continued to come towards her, “No…” her voice was quiet, nearly speechless. She knew what he was thinking, and that was what scared her to death. Fuck, she should’ve brought her taser. Why didn’t she bring her taser?

He watched her retrieve her inhaler from her back pocket. He had her right where he wanted her. He rushed forward and captured her small body in his hold, one arm secured around her back and the other supporting her hind end as he picked her up and had them torso-to-torso.

Tara yelped in alarm, dropping her inhaler before she could deliver its medication to her lungs. She heard him chuckle as his grip on her tightened, to which she resisted, pushing him away, while trying to untangle her legs from his torso.

“Gotta give little, Miss Freshman a proper college initiation,” he purred, easily able to keep his hold around her squirming as he carried her towards the bed. “You said you might rush it, right?”

She barely even heard him around the blood roaring in her ears. “No! Frankie, put me down!” She bucked, but that only seemed to enthuse him more. The room became a blur as she was forcefully released, thrown away onto the mattress, which had her figure bouncing once before staying down.

Frankie grinned as he crawled up on to her, already anticipating the colors he would force out of her within the next couple of minutes. It was fun to watch her tipsy-self try to gain control of the situation as she backed up, uncoordinated. He could hear her anxious breathing become hyper, which told him he needed to take the next steps: securing her. “You need to settle down, baby girl,” he growled and grabbed her ankle to yank her into a lying position.

But Tara continued to thrash, starting to wheeze on her breaths as he straddled her hips and pinned her wrists down with his hands. She shook her head. “No! Stop! What are you doing?!” she shouted at him, her face turning red in response to the tears coming into her eyes. “Get off me!”

This was all her fault.

Her attacker squeezed her hips with his knees and dug his nails into her skin, earning a cry as he leaned down to snarl in her ear, “Stop screaming, and I’ll be gentle.”

The distance between his lips and her ear was so close, it took her voice away, leaving her whimpering while trying to regain control of her airways.

“Good girl, Michigan…” he then cooed.

She flinched as his moistened lips pressed against her cheek. “P-please… don’t,” she begged him, “Ple-hease…” She couldn’t hold back the sob that convulsed her chest.

Frankie didn’t listen, just shushed her and continued kissing down her face and onto her neck, sliding one of his knees in between her clenched thighs to rub it against her clothed privates. There, he began to moan with each peck.

His victim swallowed with a whine, trying to squeeze her legs against his to keep him from doing any more. “S-stop it,” she hissed, failing to pull her upper half away, while trying to block his kisses with her shoulder. But this only made him use his teeth as he sucked her collar bone. She cringed harder and jerked. “Stop!”

He pressed his knee into her shorts—where her vulva was hiding—and captured both of her wrists above her head with one hand to move the other down her body. “Mmm…”

Tara gasped with a wince. She started to writhe again, shifting her hips uncomfortably when his fingers played with her beltline. They slipped beneath to duck below her underwear’s hem. Panic shot through her faster than she could process his next steps. “Frankie, no! Get off of me! Let me go-ho!” He was down to her sternum. His hand undid her shorts and tugged them down at the same time she felt his tongue glide beneath her top to lick her cleavage, catching her left breast. She nearly lost it. His hand moved to grab her groin, which was now only protected by her panties, and he squeezed gently, forcing out a squeal from her.

Her vision went black. She stopped breathing. Her throat was so tight, she could barely even make the noise she had. She was shaking violently. Everything that had brought her to this night—this reckless, rebellious night—seemed to flash behind her eyes. A million things. Mom. Dad. Sam. Mindy. Chad. Wes. Amber. Liv. Sam. Amber. Phone call. Ghostface. Amber. Pain. Sam. Hospital. Fear. Death. Sam. Blood. Amber. Escape. Pain. Sam. Moving. Quinn. School. Anika. College. Sam. Forgive. Forget. Chained. Free. Sam.

Sam. Everything went back to Sam.

She should’ve listened. Why didn’t she listen?

Sam. Where was she? Surely, she’d follow her, right? She was here? She had to be here.

Sam.

Frankie pulled the thick black strap clinging to her shoulder down to begin undressing her, which made her snap to her senses. Well… what she could sense was real. What felt real.

She ditched that crappy promise he made from earlier. No one ever got anywhere being quiet. “No! No!” She tried to kick, buck, and twist to keep him from going any further. “Let me go! Get off of me! Help!” Around her hyperventilating, she managed to scream. Just like the very first night… “He-heeelp! Plea-hease!”

“Shut up!” Frankie barked. He pulled his hand away from her pelvis and gave her a hard smack across the face.

She sobbed, her tears feeling hotter than the sting as they rolled down her cheeks. “Ge-he-het oh-hoff!” There was a ringing in her ear from the slap, but around it, she thought she heard thumping, like someone was banging on the door. Had she gotten someone’s attention?

“Fuck!” Her assaulter let his dividing knee fall hard onto her private area, which made her cry out, but he shoved his hand over her mouth. “Look at what you’ve done!”

More thumping. And voices. Familiar voices.

“Tara!”

“Get away from her, you motherfucker!”

“Tara!”

Sam. There were different voices behind that door, but the last one was Sam’s. It was her sister’s. She knew that for a fact. And that made a faint ray of hope break open in Tara’s chest.

She yanked her face away from his makeshift-gag and shouted at the top of her lungs. “Saaam! I’m here, Sam! Help me! Please, he’s ra-hay-haping me! Sa-ha-haaam!”

Above her, Frankie ripped off the do-rag she wore for her pirate costume and shoved it into her mouth, “Shut the fuck up!” His eyes were wild as they met her glossy ones.

“Mmm! Mm-hmphh! Mmm-mm-hmph!”

“Shut! Up!”

Then what sounded like an explosion came from Carpenter’s left, and the shadow that loomed above her with its weight holding her down was gone.

—

Sam cursed herself for not being there to tell Tara ‘no.’ She cursed Quinn for letting her go, when she knew she had already been told. However, Tara was old enough to know better. She didn’t care if her little sister was feeling caged in from her overprotection, because it was situations like these that made Sam make decisions for Tara. Decisions not to go somewhere she may not be able to return from.

Now, here she was at the top of the stairs with the news that Tara had drunk a little too much and had been dragged up into a stranger’s room. The door was locked. She was still underage. And from behind that damn door, Sam had to listen to her sister scream and beg from beneath a sorry excuse for a human being.

Chad flanked her and beat violently on the door, cussing the guy—whom Anika had shared was Frankie—out, while Mindy and Anika shouted from behind. They called out to Tara, unable to do anything but let the youngest member of their pack know that they were trying to get to her.

But Samantha couldn’t even be mad at Tara, or Quinn, or the twins for letting Tara do as she pleased. All she could think about was tearing Frankie apart. With a weapon, without one, it didn’t matter. That urge—the thrill—she had confessed only a short while ago in her therapy session engulfed her, drowning her into dark waters that were controlled by her demons.

She wanted him dead. She wanted to see every disgusting, conniving thought behind his unimaginable eyes vanish to leave them dull and without any more chances. And she would do it, if it was the last thing she did as Samantha Carpenter.

“Tara!” She yelled after throwing her body against the door for the 3rd time.

And what she heard next shattered everything that made her sane into a million pieces that could not reverse time.

“Saaam! I’m here, Sam! Help me! Please, he’s ra-hay-haping me! Sa-ha-haaam!”

Nothing could take back what she just heard. Out of the 7 billion people in the world, she would always be able to pick out Tara’s voice saying her name, no matter who was around. But hearing it this distressed, this helpless, this desperate…

“Mmm! Mm-hmphh! Mmm-mm-hmph!”

Her master was calling. And she would answer.

“Shut! Up!”

Her eyes darkened, eliminating the differentiation between her irises and pupils. A murderous growl rumbled in her throat, giving her voice a depth that had never been reached before. Her black, painted nails dig into the paint on the door to leave shredded wood shavings in their wake.

No one pulled that shit on her baby sister and lived.

She pushed Chad back with her arm and kicked the door in, the force leaving it tearing away from its hinges. As if she had seen their positions from behind the door, she knew exactly where to attack. And she did. Her gaze was only set on Frankie, unable to look at Tara being held down and gagged with tears streaming down her face and clothing disheveled from his attempt to undress her.

Samantha was far from sanity as she ripped him off of her with a snarl that was far more animal than human. She felt something in her bicep pull from the awkward transitioning from the mattress to the floor, but she couldn’t feel anything more than a strain in the muscle.

No pain. No mercy. Just rage.

She completely blocked out everything else around her, only hearing Tara screaming for her over and over and over and over and over again.

The surroundings she was missing consisted of Chad immediately going over to Tara, who was still in shock as she stayed trembling on the bed with her do-rag pushed into her mouth and eyes draining all of the emotions it couldn’t take. Mindy followed in close behind, tailed by Anika.

As angry as Chad was to see Tara in that state, he knew she didn’t need him losing it like Sam had. She needed compassion and comfort. He pulled the gag from her mouth to hear her break out in hyper pants, gasping for breaths that were a mixture of wheezes and sobs. “It’s okay, Tara,” he spoke calmly to her, finding her wide, horrified eyes meet his own. “It’s alright, we’ve got you. Breathe.”

Tara watched him nod, which made her mimic him, but it was a thoughtless action. She couldn’t comprehend any emotion right now, she just knew her entire system had been stunned. Frankie’s agonized cries had her slowly looking away from Chad to where they came from.

Her older sister was on top of him—almost the same way he had been on her—punching him over and over and over. Each time she brought her hand back, there was more blood that coated her skin. Every strike came with a grunt that was half-angered and half-pained, drowned out mostly by her victim’s yelping.

“You fucking bitch!” Frankie choked out.

And then Sam yelled back, “Don’t you ever lay your fucking hands on my sister!” She hit him again and again.

Tara stared at them, beginning to full-on hyperventilate. She tried to sit up more than Chad had already helped her, but it didn’t clear her airways enough, which made her regain control of her hands and bring them up to her throat, as if trying to pull the invisible object constricting her away.

“Chad, we need to get her out of here,” Mindy told her brother, still watching the pool of blood that grew the longer Sam beat the ever-loving shit out of Frankie.

Then, Anika spoke up. “Wait, where’s her inhaler?” After a quick glance around the room, she spotted it lying on the floor, leaving her guessing it was either dropped or thrown away from its owners reach.

While Chad gathered the younger Carpenter in his arms, Mindy beat her girlfriend by jumping across the bed to retrieve the inhaler. In one fluid motion, she picked it up and tossed it to her. “Go ahead, I’ll get Sam,” she ordered.

Anika nodded and turned to follow the other two out.

“You’re alright, Tara. You’re safe. I got you,” Chad spoke softly to the quivering girl clinging to his neck.

On the floor or the bedroom, Sam was far from done with the piece of shit that decided to push his luck on the wrong day. By now, she had broken his nose, fractured his jaw, and knocked out a good handful of teeth from punching him repeatedly. Her knuckles were purple, but her adrenaline eliminated any recognition of it. She clawed his neck, gripping the gold chain around his neck, just to pin his head down by his hair with her other hand. She yanked his hair to tilt his head back, before ripping the necklace in two and throwing it down. Franie coughed and struggled, shoving his hand against her chest to push her off, but that only made her even more mad. Like a rabid dog, she dropped her head and sank her teeth into his wrist, until she felt blood bathe her canines. Then, she yanked away, tearing the skin from his bones and spitting it out. He screamed, but it wasn’t loud enough for her.

Mindy watched her from where she had picked up Tara’s inhaler. She couldn’t move, because she no longer knew who she was trying to lure away. This wasn’t Sam. Not the one she’d known most of her life. This woman was rabid, feral, mindless, impulsive, violent, sadistic, and seemed to hold a bloodlust only one other person could have mastered.

Billy Loomis.

Her father.

The way she tilted her head. The way her eyes seemed to lack any sense of heart. The way she licked the blood from her teeth, like it was a sugary syrup. She may have spent her years running from the name Samantha Loomis, but as of this moment, she was the spitting image of her bloodline.

She was starting to kill Frankie.

“Sam!” Mindy yelled. She gave no sign that she’d heard her. “Sam, stop! That’s enough!”

But the appointed being didn’t hear anything at all other than her victim’s voice. She just felt. She was a machine, mindless and running on gasoline that had been too close to an open flame.

“Bitch!” he cursed at her.

She clutched his throat. “I’ll rip your fucking throat out!” she snarled, sinking her black claws into his flesh. She felt hands come upon her shoulders to try and pull her off, but she jerked away, enticing her to grip his neck tighter. “I’ll send you back to the Hell you came from!”

“Sam! Stop, you’re killing him! Samantha!” Mindy continued to shout at her, but she knew better than to get too close to someone who was that far gone. She might take Frankie’s place, if she did anything too threatening for Sam’s liking. However, she was relieved when she heard footsteps running up the stairs and looked up to find her brother coming in.

“Tara’s okay, Anika’s with her,” he informed, before she could ask.

But she wasn’t concerned about that at the moment. “Can you get her off him? She’s gonna kill him!”

Without any hesitation, her sibling rushed forward and grabbed Sam around the waist.

And she didn’t like that at all. Her nails left deep red tracks along Frankie’s throat as she was pulled away from his body. She thrashed, still trying to get to him, for whoever was forcing her away was much stronger than she was.

“Easy, Sam!” Chad tried to calm her as he tightened his arms around her, “That’s enough, Tara’s okay!”

“No!” she screamed, blinded by what could’ve been. What would’ve been, had she not been there. “You unimaginable bastard!” she barked at the nearly unconscious man lying on the floor, “You ever come near her again, I’ll kill you where you stand!”

“Samantha Carpenter!” Mindy yelled at the top of her lungs as she jumped in front of the older, blocking her view of Frankie and grabbing her face to have her look at her in the eyes.

This made Sam stop. She was still panting, still shaking with rage, but she stopped. There was only one other person who would shout her full name with so much conviction, it was only second nature to listen.

Her mother.

Now that she had stopped fighting, Mindy went on. “Stop it, this isn’t you,” she told her in a quieter tone. “Take a deep breath.”

The other’s brow twitched, unsure whether or not it was safe to let her guard down. He came for Tara. He wanted Tara. But no one would ever hurt Tara. Ever. She huffed as she took a breath, her larynx still emitting animalistic growls that could’ve fooled anyone into thinking she was some sort of werewolf about to spill the secret.

“Tara’s okay. You need to calm down.” If Mindy didn’t know better, she could’ve sworn she was looking into the eyes of Billy Loomis. Her eyes were so dark and empty of any empathy there was to give when the thirst for blood was running free.

“Settle down, Sam,” Chad joined in, feeling her stomach convulse beneath his forearm as she fought the urge to lunge again. “Tara’s fine, she’s with Anika. But she needs you to be fine, too.”

And all of the sudden, Carpenter snapped out of it. The instinct to hunt and kill vanished as quickly as it had come on. For a moment, she wasn’t sure who she was or where she was. She blinked, and the black in her eyes returned to their dark chocolate essence. The hands on her face now felt warm, and the hold on her waist was protective, as if keeping her from entering dangerous territory instead of keeping her away from something in dire need of attention.

Mindy could physically see the change when it happened. She knew she was talking to her friend again. “We’ve gotta get out of here, okay? Tara’s waiting for you.”

Tara was waiting. Tara was waiting for her.

Tara was waiting…

Sam relaxed in Chad’s hold, allowing him to let her go. “Where is she?” Her voice was hoarse and strained, which caught her off guard. Why did she sound like that? She hadn’t been yelling. Had she?

“Outside,” Chad answered.

Her eyes found Frankie, then found her bloodied hands that matched his face. She swallowed. The foul, metallic taste of fresh blood on her tongue made her mouth water in a defensive way.

Had she done that to him?

And then, everything hit her. Why she was there and what she’d heard.

‘ “Saaam! I’m here, Sam! Help me! Please, he’s ra-hay-haping me! Sa-ha-haaam!” ’

She immediately looked at Mindy, her gaze hard but also alarmed at what had happened before she lost control.

Mindy read her mind. And she nodded.

“She’s safe, Sam. Thanks to you.”

might have made Sam take things a little too far???? (i just really got into it. like the idea that Frankie was likely going to rape Tara infuriates me.)

p.s. special thanks to "Eyes Of The Devil" by Seether, "Whispers In The Dark" by Skillet (cover by Caleb Hyles and Johnathan Young), "I Know I'm A Wolf" by Young Heretics (cover by Courbe), "Dance With The Devil" by Breaking Benjamin (acoustic cover by Kevin Staudt), & "Attack" by 30 Seconds To Mars

All my best! ♡ - parker

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #scream v #scream vi #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #anika kayoko #frankie #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #team loomis!!!#30 day writing challenge #the catch #AU: Same As It Never Was

36 notes · View notes

truly-quirkless-a · 2 years

Text

Headcanons center around: YagiFin/Bloody Cinnamon.

Theme: Fin’s Monthly/Periods

Monthlies- the Red Tide- Satan’s Waterfall- Shark Week- Aunt Flow’s Visit. It is suffering, and Fin knows that full-well. Some AFABs get away with having rather light periods, or perhaps minimal cramps, or a lack of intense hormone swings. Fin... Fin was not that lucky.

The first two days are very often Hell, with the first having been so bad at times they were screaming for God to smite them, to kill them and end the pain because the cramps were just that intense. Swallowing pills didn’t work (they’d throw them up, alongside whatever contents their stomach contained at the time), hot water bottles only made the nausea worse, and clothes hurt to have on, quite literally. It doesn’t help that Fin’s more testy than normal a week prior to their period, and has a higher libido than usual after- it’s a mess of a time, and it makes them a mess in the process.

Yagi is well aware of what periods are, as well as how they can affect their victims (I refuse to call this a ‘blessing’ and you cannot make me call this awful thing a blessing). However, he didn’t quite have the scope of how bad it could get until the first time he found Fin naked, sitting on a toilet, screaming in agony. Of course, his methods haven’t changed in terms of how to deal- if anything, they’ve gotten a bit more intense over time. He’s gotten used to helping Fin during that final week, noticing the signs before they’re about to hit the worst of it.- They apologize for their behavior every time, but due to Fin usually being rather lax in attitude... It’s easy to tell when they’re close.

The days leading up are usually lightly clothed with gathering supplies- Fin’s favorite chocolates, making sure their heating pad is ready for another week of use, purchasing a pack or two of Midol... Yagi’s not the only one to do this, since Fin does experience some of their cramps up to a week before they hit the worst of it.

During their monthly, the first few days, Yagi doesn’t try to move them too much- if anything, he hides with Fin in their ‘nest’ of a bedroom, reading a book of his or playing some game with them. He knows they can’t move a lot and they don’t want to be alone, so he sticks by their side whenever neither is at work. There isn’t really much he can do beyond getting whatever they might need, and it hurts him just a little each time they apologize for sending him on a fetch quest for something.

Fin basically hides while on their monthly- all their supplies are gathered in their room, close at hand, and they only leave to do the most basic of tasks like use the restroom and bathe- they’ll venture and do more after the first two days, but the first two days, the cramps are so painful they’re borderline debilitating. All the same, Fin won’t let that stop them from going to work or going shopping if such a thing needs to happen, but they do appreciate Yagi doing his utmost to make sure they’re not suffering too badly.

They’ve spent most of their life dealing with their period on their own. Though, Fin’s not exactly closed about it- any info Yagi wants to know/ask about, they openly tell. After all, he’s their boyfriend- they’re not going to try to hide information like that from him, and they’d rather the topic not be embarrassing to the male.

Yagi’s doing his best, especially during that time.- He just misses that Fin can’t cuddle him in return the first few days, for fear of getting crimson on him. Not like he really minds, since his coughs and fights have resulted in similar far too many times over the years... But he doesn’t want to make them uncomfortable, so he doesn’t press the issue.

....It is nice to be able to lay on top of them though, his head just beside their own... They’re nice.... Plus, he can just claim he’s helping them stay looking upright while sleeping during their monthly, though the two both know exactly why he’s laying on top of them. Cuddlebugs...

#Twenty Days of Fluff | Writer’s Yearly Challenge #//old posts\\#Look into my eyes/Everything I’ve left behind | Finley Musings #One For All/Coursing through as I stand tall/No threat will ever take hold | Toshinori Musings #Ain’t it funny how love hits you when you least expect it to?/Any time/Any place/It can come out of the blue | Bloody Cinnamon Musings

3 notes · View notes

runawaymun · 3 years

Note

Can I make a request? How is Lindir and legolas with a human s/o who has a horrible first couple of days during her period. 😅 In addition to cramps (extending to back and leg pain) I get heat flashes, tension headaches, nauseous, I typically don’t eat the first day.

Ooooo I'm currently on my period so this is an easy one for me! Okay, let's see...

How They Would React to: Human S/O with Awful Periods

Lindir

Lindir isn't clueless in this area. He has a sister, and so to your surprise he knew just what to do (even though Elves are a little different to humans).

He did panic a little at first because you were clearly in pain and cocooning yourself off from the world. He thought it was a mortal ailment and that you might even be dying, but as soon as you explained what it was he turned very pink, looked relieved, and immediately began to fuss.

Most doting boyfriend in the world. 10/10 will bring you anything you ask for. Hot water bottle. Warm blankets. Herbal teas. Sweets. Chocolate.

Actually knows quite a lot of Elvish medicine and is able to provide you with some common cures for both cramps and nausea.

He does get very fussy and concerned when you won’t eat (you’re human!! you’re fragile!!! you need sustenance!!), but once you explain this is normal for you he’ll only fuss a little bit, trying to bring you things that are easy to digest and not really forcing them.

He gives the best scalp massages. Like, immediate tension headache relief. He’ll also massage your lower back and calves to help with the cramps.

General period mess does bother him a little bit, but he’s very understanding and able to push aside most of his natural squeamishness.

He’s a minstrel and that counts for something. He knows a few healing cantrips and will definitely use them to ease your symptoms.

He is very busy, being Lord Elrond’s steward and assistant, but he will be sure to check in on you often and make sure you’re feeling okay. To the point that it might get annoying after a while.

If you do get annoyed he’ll swiftly apologize and try and give you space, but he can’t keep away for very long.

(He maybe still worries that you’re on the brink of death. Just a little bit. It just seems so extreme for a mortal. Elrond assures him that Edain are not as breakable as Lindir might think).

Legolas

Legolas knows of periods from Tauriel. They’re best friends, after all, but he isn’t super experienced with them and is kind of awkward-- only because he isn’t 100% sure what to do when he finds you curled up in bed with cramps and a headache and hot flashes.

Like Lindir he actually worries you’re dying for a second and automatically grabs the healers.

Once both you and the healers explain what’s happening he’s really embarrassed. Tauriel thinks it’s hilarious though.

Tauriel doesn’t have the best advice for him because her periods are pretty mild. It’s actually Thranduil who tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he is not to leave your side unless you ask him to, and details how he can best make you comfortable. His own wife dealt with similar periods and so he has a lot of experience in the area.

Legolas takes methodical mental notes and is very good about asking what you need. He make a list and then go off to the healing halls and comes back with an armful of supplies and deposit them on the bed.

He TRIES to fuss. A+ for effort. He’s a little clumsy about it though.

But he’s an INSANELY GOOD CUDDLER. Great scalp massages. Great lower back massages. Will drag you into a private hot spring and let the hot water do its magic. Absolutely does not mind if the blood gets places (he’s a feral boi. Mess doesn’t bother him).

He doesn’t make you eat, because nausea’s no fun. Instead he joins you and always fasts the first day, since misery loves company.

He’ll usually take that day off from everything too so he can just lie in bed and comfort you and keep an eye on you in case he needs to run to the healing wing for painkillers or other medicines.

Can be a bit of a smotherer. Mostly because you’re mortal and it’s just ??? so concerning ????? that you just bleed for days and days??? Okay sure an Elf would be fine but an Edain ????? ARE YOU OKAY

It’s very frustrating for him to see you uncomfortable, but he knows its natural and there’s nothing he can do about it. So mostly he just chills with you and does his best to be sympathetic.

#lotr imagine #lotr x reader #legolas x reader #lindir x reader #legolas imagine #lindir imagine #lindir #legolas #And Rohan Will Answer! (Requests)

990 notes · View notes

sweetleaf-cafe · 2 years

Text

Childe when his s/o is sick

First, he knows he has a job to do, and it will get done.

Still, he can take a little time off to take care of his s/o… right?

Even if he can’t he’ll rush through his jobs to get home as soon as possible.

Maybe after doing a little shopping tho

It’s more than a little.

Comes home with his arms full of ingredients, stuffed animals, books, medicine, anything and everything you can think of.

Actually ended up being a bit later than normal, since he spent so much time trying to find the right stuff.

Still, once he’s home, it’s all hugs and cuddles, knowing full well he’s bound to get sick.

No matter how much s/o protests, he wants to make sure they get plenty of affection so they can recover quickly!!!

Also, not opposed to getting sick after them so he has an excuse to make them take care of him.

That doesn’t mean s/o isn’t going to get teased.

No way he isn’t taking pictures of every notable moment.

They’re never going to forget just how awful they looked wrapped up in the thick comforters Childe insisted on layering on them.

At the same time, he’s quite attentive and will make sure his s/o is as comfortable as possible.

He’s quite good at it too.

Childe will cook up food that’s easy to digest and quite yummy too, as he’s learned a lot from taking care of his younger siblings.

He doesn’t really mind going all out, he just wants a/o better as soon as possible.

Although, he does find them fun to mess with when they’re tired, sick, and grouchy.

Overall, he’ll be extremely sweet and also an absolute menace, but it helps liven the house up a bit, so it’s not too bad.

“I’m back! And I brought your favorite!” Childe chirps as he carries in the loads of stuff that was honestly unnecessary. Still, given your current situation, you didn’t really have the heart to care. Although, you would have to try to find places for it all later. A picture of your partner rushing from store to store, practically burning money as he goes, just because you’re a bit sick brings out a small chuckle. For all the good he does, Childe is quite the handful. However, after a few moments, that same chuckle turns into a groan as a wave of nausea crashes over you.

Hearing your extremely audible suffering, Childe pops his head through the door before coming inside, armed with a stuffed animal and a hot pack. “Hah, looks like you’re in for quite the fight, if only I could battle this thing myself.” Childe muses cheekily as he helps you with the pack and to get you more comfortable. When he finds himself met with a glare for his words, he only laughs.

“Well, if you want to fight this thing, I’d happily let you take it off my hands.” You complain, wanting to throw your hands up in exasperation as your patience runs thinner the longer this goes on.

“Is that a challenge? Because I most certainly accept.” Childe flashes you a grin as he climbs into bed with you, layering on the affection.

“Hey! Wait- wait a sec! You’re going to get sick too!” You protest, not wanting to have to take care of him because of his recklessness, and maybe slightly bitter that’s he’s stealing some of your covers.

“Maybe, or maybe not. And if I do get sick, then you can pay me back for this.” Childe grins, quite content with himself.

Despite your soreness, you still attempt to kick him out of bed, not that it works. Even when perfectly healthy, it would be a challenge, but now it just seems a waste of energy. Turning over, you huff as you give up on trying to get him off you.

Wrapping an arm around you, it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, although, he never does. While sleep does seem rather nice, he prefers to watch over you to make sure you’re comfortable. Slowly, once he’s sure you won’t wake up, he peels himself away and off the bed to cook something so that you have something to munch on when you wake up.

Though, before he leaves the room, he brushes his hands, although still gloved, over your hair. Each stroke is featherlight, not wanting you to awake from your slumber and respite from suffering. He can’t help but find you endearing in this state, and he swells with pride knowing that you trust him enough to see you like this. Still, he quietly leaves the room, and takes care to shut the door as quietly as possible.

It doesn’t take him long to finish cooking, as he picks a traditional recipe from his home, thinking about all the warm meals Sonya made for him when he was young. Really, he couldn’t wait until you could meet his family and you could try her cooking firsthand. Still, there’s time yet for that, and he decides on focus on getting you better now. Maybe, he’ll ask you to visit them with him once this is over. His family would be incredibly excited!

After he finishes plating the dish, he heads inside your room, first checking if you’re awake and ready to eat. Once he realizes you’re still asleep, he sets the bowl and plate at the bedside and sits himself down next to you on the floor. It’s not the most comfortable, but but it’s nothing like the rough winters of Snezhnaya spent on hard wooden floors and huddling for heat. No, in comparison, this seems quite preferable.

While still asleep, your face scrunches up and a slight whimper passes through your lips as the symptoms grow worse during sleep. Childe takes your hands as you stir, whispering softly to you as he attempts to lull you back into peace. It squeezes his heart to see you in pain, knowing what he’s able to do is limited. Time stretches on as you show little improvement, and despite knowing it’s not too serious, he can’t help but worry. Once it passes, he presses a small kiss to your hand as he hopes for pleasant dreams to distract you from your sickness.

#childe #childe x reader #genshin impact #x reader #genshin impact childe #headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #childe headcanons #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia headcanons #tartaglia #ajax x reader #ajax headcanons #Ajax #genshin impac Ajax

186 notes · View notes

angry-geese · 3 years

Text

For Myself

Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: nsfw mention. mention of violence, blood, injury, and cannibalism. implied murder. starts off kind of dark but gets fluffier towards the end. gn!reader.

obligatory warning for my poor editing skills. if theres any egregious errors i'll get to them when i get home from work

Summary: some fluff where Sukuna comforts the reader while they're sick

Word Count: 2.4k

He's certain you would be more comfortable in his lap than on the floor. Even as he beckons you to sit, you refuse, turning your gaze away. You adjust your position to a more comfortable spot on your knees. The floor is hard and cold, but you don't have much longer to wait anyway. Sukuna has grown bored of the man standing in front of him. A peace offering, in exchange for not razing their village. A young woman, brought here against her own will. Her life to replace yours. It's nothing Sukuna wants, nor can he make use of her. She’s no sorcerer, likely no good in a fight, and too frail to be worth eating.

Worst of all, it insults you.

An insult to you, is an insult to Sukuna himself.

The man was only delaying the inevitable. Humans have a habit of doing that. They’re resilient, like cockroaches. You can squash, poison, trap, or drop a nuke on as many as you want to, but they’ll always come back.

He planned on killing him from the moment he stepped foot in the door.

And when he kills him, he makes sure to have the woman watch. She lays curled at your feet as you regard them both with cold eyes. Not a scream passes her lips. She’s either frozen with fear, or knows that moving is the worst thing she can do.

She begs for her life.

Sukuna leaves it up to you to decide.

It was an insult to you, after all. In a past life you could see yourself letting her go. There's many things in life you used to do that are no longer habits of yours. You were in her shoes years ago. Time has hardened you, made you cruel. If a past version of you could look at you now, you don't know if you’d recognize yourself. Not all change is bad. People are meant to change, and they’re going to do so.

You give her a minute to start running. After that, it's up to Sukuna with what he wants to do with her.

She takes the opportunity, thinking she has a chance to survive, and flees. The guards and servants let her. Your word is second to Sukuna’s. The only person who could overturn an order put in place by you is Sukuna himself. He usually doesn't. The resulting chaos from anything you do is good entertainment. And he has all the time in the world. Being immortal leads to a lot of boredom.

Sukuna would hunt her down before she could escape the estate.

Nobody got away from him. Not even you. Nowadays you’re much less serious about leaving but you still threaten it if he dares piss you off.

He'd never let you go. You know that. Try as you will, you're never getting free.

Not that you have anything to go back to. And you're rather comfortable here. Comfortable may be a bit of a stretch, but you're housed, fed, and protected. The basic human needs are taken care of. Sukuna cares about you in his own, twisted way. You may have first been just a plaything to keep his stomach full and his balls empty—a toy to be discarded after a day or two—but you've earned a place by his side. He wakes up next to you, he goes to sleep next to you. He's grown used to having you around. And you to him.

You're just as much his, as he is yours.

Everything about the man is selfish, and all-consuming. But when he is with you, he finds himself giving for the first time in his life.

He gets a servant to draw him a bath. He has the decency to scrub the blood off before finding you, and asking you to join him. His bloodied kimono is replaced with a clean one. It's black, the sleeves are wide enough to accommodate his four arms. Blood doesn't bother you, but he doesn't want to track it all over his house.

Something is wrong.

He doesn't remember you getting hurt, but you’re acting like you’re injured. He thinks back to this morning, how he had to drag you out of bed. How sluggish you acted.

Worry creases itself between his eyebrows.

Your mortality was something he knew of, but never gave much thought. There was no need to. The mortality of others was something he didn't care about. You weren't supposed to be kept long. You were merely a sacrifice, meant to appease Sukuna, and in turn he wouldn't raze your village. While young, and pretty, not good enough to save your people. He planned on fucking you, burning your village to the ground, then eating you. Not necessarily in that order, but that was the plan.

He's taken everything from you. Your home, your life, your family. Even as you were forced to face your fate, you never gave in, never lost your bite. You defied him and lived. You had a malicious streak in you. You were never as sweet and as innocent as the people of your village first played you up to be. Years later you still put up the same fight. It's a constant back and forth between you two.

You’d never be able to hurt him. As much as you'd scratch and bite, you'd never so much as draw blood. Harming the King of Curses was not an easy task.

His 'love' was much more material at first. As you got settled down, survived more than a week, gifts appeared. Jeweled hair pins and beautiful, expensive kimonos appeared. All made just for you. He'd never admit to being behind it. You were not complacent, but you were comfortable. You were his spoiled pet. That didn't stop you from clawing at his eyes whenever he picked you up when you didn't want to be touched. Being spoiled didn't make you nice.

None of his pets have lasted quite as long as you have. At least eight times the trees of his estate have shriveled and turned brown in winter, and the ground has hardened with frost. At least eight times they've bloomed and have had the life of spring breathed back into them, and the ground has thawed and turned muddy. You just did what you had to in order to survive. You've more than just survived. Some would say you’ve thrived. You would beg to differ. If you were the begging type.

He still views you as a pet. You’re human after all. Though sometimes it feels like you’re becoming more curse than human. Being viewed as an equal to him is impossible, but he values you. You're not something that can easily be replaced.

His hand touches your shoulder from behind. You don't flinch. You used to flinch. Then you started swinging. You're never able to hurt him. You're strong, but not that strong.

"She was far too frail to eat," you say, "I assumed you didn't want to keep her for that."

You don't eat human meat. Or try not to. Early on in your stay, before you knew better… It wasn't pork. Uraume was a wonderful cook, but not for anything you ate. Personally it's not your thing. Non-human meat is hard to come by around here, so you’ve stopped eating the stuff altogether. If you wanted it, Sukuna would make a servant get it for you, but you are content without it.

"You made the right call." He says. You always do.

He slips beside you, watching as you remove the intricate pins from your hair. You always loved your hair. Even at your darkest moment you took great care of it. It was a source of pride for you.

A wave of nausea rolls over you. Sweat beads in your hairline, rolling down your back, under the thin fabric of your—his—robe. You have little need for clothes. It doesn't get that cold here. Sukuna tears them off you anyway. Covering yourself up isn't necessary, but you do it out of modesty, and a sense of normalcy. You protest as he pulls at the fastenings of your robe, the flimsy fabric pooling at your feet. You have no plans on getting wet, you’d much rather go to bed. You’re tired, and you don't want to be bothered.

The tub is large enough to fit several of you. You guess it's fitting. The man is huge. He settles into the water behind you, pulling you to his chest. Try as you will, you’re not going to be able to struggle out of his grip. You’re too tired to put up much of a fight, though you do complain.

One of his sets of arms wraps around you, effectively trapping you in place. The other pulls a washcloth from the side of the tub, into the water with you. As much as you hate to admit it, the warm water feels nice against your sore muscles.

Sukuna is not a sentimental man. But with the way his hands trace across your skin, soft, lovingly, like he’s reading a book of braille, makes you think otherwise. He doesn't leer at the curves of your body like he normally does. His eyes scan across your body, looking for any sign of injury.

When he deems you clean enough, and your skin has turned a nice shade of pink from the hot water, he lets you go. You're the first to get out, drying yourself off. You never realized how cold the room was before.

He hauls you into his arms. You do little to protest, which worries him.

The King of Curses has no need for sleep. The bed mostly serves for asthetic purposes, though he's not opposed to fucking you across any flat surface, you seem to favor softer ones.

Much like the tub, his bed is large enough to fit several of you. You feel dwarfed by its size. The man is huge, he needs a bed to fit. You could sprawl out as wide as possible and never have any of your limbs hanging over the sides.

He follows you, silent.

He can't recall ever letting any of his pets share his bed before. Some have tried. Tried. He can't recall any of them surviving as long as you have, either. He finds himself irritated at the thought of anything bad ever happening to you.

He doesn't join you in bed.

He doesn't need sleep the same way humans do. He can, but if he were to decide not to, it would bring no harm to him. He used to never dream. It was something he did, back when he was human, but that time has long passed. But whenever he dreamed, he’d wake up next to you. Experiences like that made him realize just why humans like to sleep so much. Before he never woke up rested; he was never tired in the first place.

You shove the covers aside and crawl underneath. They smell like him. He snubs out the candle burning on the side table with his index finger and thumb. Though it's dark, there’s enough light in the room to make out his much-larger form.

You shiver, although sweat forms along your skin in a thin sheen. Sukuna knows it's not cold. He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. The back of his hand presses to your forehead. You’re burning up.

You were warm before, but he thought it was because of the bath. He’s not really sure what to do. It's rare moments like these that he's forced to face your mortality. He knows you're fragile—compared to him—but he can't bear the thought of something bad happening to you.

One of his large hands moves to cup your cheek. It's just as warm as your forehead. The pad of his thumb runs across your cheekbone.

"Stay with me." You say. You stretch your arms out towards him, making grabbing motions with your hands.

You’re not one to beg. Even when faced with death, you look it straight in the eyes. Call it bravery, or lack of self preservation. He admired that about you. You ignored your mortality because it did not matter to you.

“What's the matter, pet?”

“I don't feel too good.” You say.

Though he doesn't say it, he can tell.

“I’ll get Uraume-”

“No,” your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him back towards your chest, “no. I’m okay.”

He settles down beside you in bed, on top of the covers. When he opens his arms, you go right into them. He makes sure to keep the blankets tucked around you. Sukuna runs warm naturally. You huddle close to him, trying to steal his warmth. Though your face feels abnormally warm, you shiver. His much larger body lays partially on top of yours, his head resting on your chest, ear pressed to your skin. He can hear your heartbeat. Steady, and alive. Something low in your chest rattles when you breathe.

He should get a servant to bring you water, or some tea. It occurs to him how little he knows about the mundane things humans do to make themselves feel better. Not that he ever needed to care. In all the years you’ve been by his side, he’s never seen anything like this happen. He can't decide, and instead calls for both. If you need medicine, he’ll get that too, but you don't seem to be at that point. Uraume knows more about humans than he does. He’s no doctor, but he’ll work. If he asks you, you’ll just say you’re fine.

He holds the cup up to you, beckoning you to drink. The glass is cold against your lips. Even as your hands wrap around it, he doesn't let it go. He sets the empty glass on the side table with a soft thunk.

His large hand smoothes over your head, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His nails feel nice against your scalp. Nothing about the man is soft, but when he’s left alone with you, moments like this are bound to happen. You allow yourself to be pet. The heat, combined with the weight of his body, threatens to lull you off to sleep. The ache in your joints keeps you from doing so.

When he kisses you, you taste like a curse.

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff

509 notes · View notes

goldenavenger02 · 3 years

Text

I can't be alone with all that's on my mind

But the hatred took over, after all. He should've been the green ninja. He should've been the one who was chosen to defeat The Overlord. "I don't want to control it! This isn't anything I don't already feel!"

Takes place after The Forgotten Element

•••

Kai's stomach convulsed as he gripped onto the toilet seat tightly, his knuckles going white.

As soon as the horror had sunk in that Skylor and Lloyd were injured by his greed and that Skylor had been taken, he had bolted to the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet in time before his stomach spilled over.

Which brought him to where he was now, bent over sick in the small bathroom just outside of the main room.

•••

"You have to destroy the staff, Kai!" Lloyd pleaded, running up to him as he continued to blast Chen's lackies.

"Chen was right! This thing's awesome!"

"Kai, it holds too much power! Destroy it!" He heard Lloyd say to someone "if we don't get that staff out of his hands-!"

"No one is taking my staff!" He yelled, anger in his voice. This was his now. He deserved it, after all. Lloyd just wanted to be the special one again. "You had all the power, now it's my turn!"

He shook the thoughts out of his head briefly, glaring at the offending object. "What am I saying? I can't… I can't control it!"

"No, Kai! Don't!" Lloyd pleaded, his arm in front of Skylor. A pathetic attempt to stop him, really, as he started to use the powers, the rush flowing through his body

"I should've been the green ninja!"

And with that, he launched the blast, watching the terror in their faces. He relished it with a grin.

•••

"Kai?" A voice broke him out of his thoughts, resulting in a shudder. He couldn't quite place who it was, but then it came again. "Kai, can I come in?"

A cough cut him off from responding to Cole, but he swallowed it back. "Yeah."

The door opened and Cole sat on the floor next to him, setting his hand against his back, "FSM, you're sweating through your gi." He heard him mutter under his breath, "I brought some water if you're up to it."

Kai shook his head; he wasn't very nauseous anymore, but he also wasn't sure he could keep anything down just yet since the nausea was now being replaced by the sinking feeling of guilt.

"Sensei G's got Lloyd," Cole spoke, clearly knowing exactly what Kai was thinking, "He's got some burns, and he's kinda weak from the whole "powers being sucked out of him" thing, but he's gonna be okay."

Kai nodded, but then the second thought came to his head. 'Nya still thinks I betrayed her and everyone else.'

Once again, Cole cut him off before he could even speak. "Lloyd explained the whole thing, they're not mad. Nya said your plan was dumb, but that was it."

Kai couldn't hold back his chuckle at the mental image of Nya critiquing his plan, but it was short-lived. 'Skylor's still hurt. And missing.'

"No one blames you, you did what you thought was right." Cole spoke softly, gently setting his hand on Kai's shoulder, who finally mustered up the strength to move away from the toilet and take the cup of water from Cole's hand, muttering under his breath as he drank.

"Don't think telling Lloyd that I should've been the green ninja before blasting him was right."

"You weren't in your right mind, the staff-"

"The staff brought out my subconscious thoughts that I've had since we found out about the prophecy." Kai interrupted, setting the empty glass down on the floor.

"The staff makes one greedy, power hungry. I don't know how it does it, but it obviously does. The reason it had no effect on Chen was because the dude was already cuckoo for cocoa puffs," Kai couldn't hold back a snort at the ridiculous phrasing, "and if you don't believe me, you can go ask Lloyd for his two cents."

Kai sighed. He knew he should talk to Lloyd, at least see that he was okay for himself, but at the same time, he had hurt Lloyd, the one he swore to protect when he was fully aware of what he was doing.

"It's up to you. Alternatively, you could help us try to find Chen, but considering you just threw up your guts, I'd go with the safer choice of talking to Lloyd."

Kai used the wall to pull himself to his feet, hitting the knob on the toilet before allowing Cole to support some of his weight since his legs were still shaking before speaking.

"Take me to Lloyd."

•••

Lloyd winced as Nya wiped at the cut on the side of his cheek.

While most of his injuries were from his fight with Chen, that one had occurred when the jet crashed into the basement and the staff hit him across the face as it flew out of Kai's hand.

Although, if he was being completely honest, he didn't remember much of the whole situation.

•••

Lloyd winced as he was pulled to his feet by two of the lackies who kept referring to themselves as Kapow and Chop, his side throbbing horrendously from his fight with Chen.

Despite trying to fight back, he was weak both physically and emotionally, not to mention the vengestone keeping his hands behind his back.

As he was forced down the halls and the echoes of the large serpent hit his ears, he fought back the tears that wanted to stream down his face.

'How could Kai do this? How could he hurt the team like this?' He tried to push back the selfish thought of 'how could he hurt me like this?' and tried to replace it with 'how could he do this to Nya?' but he couldn't do it.

As the chanting grew louder, he tried one more time to break out of the two men's hold, but one just kicked him in the leg, forcing him forward into the large room all four of them had snuck into on their first night here.

But Cole and Jay were nowhere to be seen, and as he looked at Chen, Clouse and Skylor who were surrounded by guards, he swallowed harshly, seeing Kai standing next to them.

The chanting rang in his ears as he was forced to kneel, the vengestone quickly being replaced by two giant chains attached to the floor.

He looked up as footsteps approached, seeing Kai grow nearer; the sadness and fury consumed him as he demanded, his voice thick with tears. "Why would you help them?"

"Don't worry," Kai insisted in a hushed tone, but as Clouse approached, he raised his voice, "it won't hurt. Much." Before walking away from him with a cackle, the chanting stopped altogether.

Lloyd watched as Skylor offered herself willingly to the spell, a pit growing in his stomach as she cried out in agony.

He had to shut his eyes.

But the cries stopped shortly afterwards and he opened his eyes, only to see Chen approaching him with a wicked grin on his face and his stomach dropped in fear.

"And now for the final element," the staff was pointed towards him and out of the corner of his eye, Lloyd saw Kai turn away, "only one can remain."

The white light surrounded him, and he was immediately hit with a searing pain in his chest that sent him to his knees before forcing a scream from his throat.

It was over fairly quickly, but he collapsed onto his hands and knees, trying to regain his breath as his body, now weaker than ever and heaved harshly.

•••

"Alright, that's the last injury," Nya announced, bringing Lloyd out of his thought process to see a joking smile on her face, "unless you're hiding something from me."

"No, you got everything. Thank you." Lloyd smiled softly, receiving a hand in his hair and he couldn't hold back his laughter because of just how normal that was.

"I'm gonna go help them find Chen, but your dad is right outside if you need anything. Get some rest."

Lloyd nodded, watching as Nya exited the room before laying down on his back, biting back the sharpness of the bruising from where he was thrown by Chen with his own abilities directly into the leaderboard.

The pain dulled out enough for him to close his eyes and try to let sleep take him when the door opened and two sets of slow footsteps approached him.

He couldn't stop from flinching due to the sting as a hand gently touched his burned wrist, but he instantly regretted it when he heard the voice. "Lloyd? Are you awake?"

'Kai'

Lloyd opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness to see Cole and Kai standing over him. "Yeah, I'm awake," he noticed the guilty look on Kai's face, as well as the paleness, "you okay?"

"I should be the one asking you that."

"I will be," Lloyd nodded, getting a good look at Kai's face and already knowing that if he was gonna get any information out of him, they needed to be alone, "Cole, can you-"

"Yeah, I need to talk to your dad anyways," Cole smiled, winking to ensure he got the hint before making his way out of the room.

The door barely closed before Kai spoke up, "Lloyd, I am so sorry about all of this."

"You did what you thought was best, I can't blame-" Lloyd started, but he was cut off quickly.

"I meant the staff."

'Oh'

"Kai, that wasn't your fault-"

"I could have killed you!" Kai shouted, cutting Lloyd off again, "I could've killed you and Skylor, I said things to you that I haven't believed in years!" He had tears coming down his face now even though his cheeks were still red with frustration, "I hurt Skylor, I hurt Nya… I hurt you."

Lloyd wasn't thinking when he wrapped his arms around him, all he knew in that moment was that he needed Kai to stop crying, to stop feeling so bad for something that wasn't even his fault.

He felt hot tears soaking his shoulder as Kai's body shook against him, like he had been holding this in for a long time. 'How do I make him see that it isn't his fault?'

•••

Garmadon wasn't sure what he was expecting when Kai came out of the small room that his son was currently residing in while he recovered.

He definitely wasn't expecting him to come out with tears in his eyes and bright red cheeks though.

"Kai, are you alright?" He asked softly, in order to avoid startling the obviously in distress teenager.

"Yeah," he stopped to wipe his face on his sleeve, "yeah, I'm okay?"

Garmadon raised an eyebrow before motioning him closer. "Take a walk with me, Kai."

"No, you need to stay with Lloyd-"

"Just down the hall and back," Garmadon didn't like the idea of leaving his son, but he also knew that the majority of the elemental masters were nearby, and if there was an emergency, they would be informed before anything could happen to Lloyd, "Lloyd will be fine."

Kai relented after that and the two of them started walking at a steady pace with only the silence lingering in between them.

"You know, Kai," Garmadon spoke softly, watching as the fire elemental's gaze met his, "when I was bitten, I did a lot of things that I didn't have control over. I became corrupted and hurt a lot of people I care about. My brother, my wife, you four ninja, even Lloyd."

Garmadon heard Kai's breath hitch and saw a few tears forming in his eyes. "But after my son saved me, you all forgave me even though I didn't feel as though I deserved it. I still don't know how all of you did that so easily."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, it took me awhile to forgive you for all of that." Kai said in a joking tone, even if his voice was thick from crying and the tear stains on his cheeks were becoming fresh again.

Garmadon shot him a soft smile before continuing, "there are things in this world that we cannot control, things that have to balance out. Although it takes time to heal from those things, to forgive ourselves for those things, that doesn't mean we can't let others forgive us for them and to give us a second chance."

Kai wiped his face on his sleeve again and Garmadon put his hand on his shoulder, feeling his body shake under his touch.

"You don't have to forgive yourself right away from what happened with the corruption from the staff. In fact, I wouldn't expect you to do so. But letting the others in, letting them give you a second chance… It's a good place to start."

Kai nodded, tears rushing down his cheeks at full speed now, "I'll do that."

"Good man," Garmadon smiled as the two of them turned to make their way back down the hall, "and if you need someone to talk to about this again, my door is always open."

"You don't have to-"

"I'll have none of that," Garmadon shook his head, "You will come to me if you need someone to talk to about this again."

"Is that an order?" Kai smiled, the tears finally starting to slow and his mood was clearly starting to brighten, given that his sass was coming back.

"Yes, it is." Garmadon nodded, seeing that he had accomplished what he set out to do, "do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sensei Garmadon." Kai winked as the two stopped in front of the door, his demeanor growing serious again, "I'm gonna go help them find Chen."

"Very well." Garmadon smiled, watching as Kai pulled his hood over his head before running to join the others outside.

#Ninjago #lego ninjago #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #lloyd montgomery garmadon #sensei garmadon #nya ninjago #ninjago skylor #kai angst #angst #hurt/comfort #takes place after the forgotten element #but also is slightly altered so Kai had blasted lloyd and skylor before the others came in with the roto jet #tournement of elements #kai and garmadon solidarity #emeto cw #emeto tw #its not that graphic but i know it can be triggering for some

107 notes · View notes

obeymehasinfluncedmythoughts · 4 years

Note

KINDA GROSS BUT ANYONE WITH A UTERUS HAS TO DEAL WITH IT SO FUCK IT

MC having the monster of all periods and all the boys or in the middle of it. And when I say the monster of all I mean it. Everything is happening. Clots, bloating, zits/pimples, PAIN, nausea, heat, anger, emotions going crazy, fatigue, headaches, back pain, insomnia, BLOOD, anxiety, aggression, food cravings, irritability, muscle pains and all the other gross and painful shit we have to deal with every month. How do they survive/react

This personally hits home for me 😔.

Before I was on my birth control, I had periods 24/7, all year. I know it's gross, but at my worst I went through 7 of those overnight pads in an hour. I had to go to the hospital for it (And then proceeded to get called a drama queen by a doctor). My cramps were horrible, and man, I still have bad periods but not nearly as bad as that. This is going to be a bit "gross" (Because despite how comfortable we can be discussing them, and how natural the process is, you can still be a bit grossed out by it. I mean blood by itself isn't bad, but sometimes it's like you give birth to placenta and that's pretty gross) but it's also hella fluffy.

Lucifer.

Very unbothered by periods. Out of any natural body process, it's probably the one that bothers him the least.

He pretty much treats it the same as any other basic need. Every bathroom has toiletries that he's got placed in some neat little box and their medications in any available cabinet.

But that's pretty much all he thought was needed.

When he realizes just how bad your periods are, he's a little under prepared. The household isn't exactly equipped to handle this situation, so he, and a few of his brothers (particularly Asmodeus and Mammon), scramble to gather whatever items might be needed from the various corners of the house.

Lucifer grabs you towels for your bed, in case you're the type to bleed through during the night. He finds you a heating pad, rub-on muscle relief creams, and a multitude of pain meds that exceed the typical Midol relief.

He can get a little peeved about your attitude, but knows that you can't really help it. So he'll grin and bare it, and accepts the fact that you're going to be a bit different until this is done.

Mammon

He's not extremely well-versed in the topic of menstruation.

However, I think this is one of those topics that despite not understanding, he automatically is incredibly accommodating.

There's lots of cuddles, lots of playing with your hair, and a lot of nonsensicle rambling that is mostly comforting (but sometimes headache inducing).

He is a little weird about bleeding through though. Not in a bad "You're disgusting" way, but more of a "I'm extremely confused as to what I'm supposed to do in this situation" way.

Thankfully he becomes pretty quick at just wrapping his jacket around you in public if you do start to leak.

He does think a cold wet rag is the secret to everything lmao.

At least it takes away from the hot flashes!

Leviathan

He might be a little embarrassed when there are obvious signs of a period (like blood or toiletries), but otherwise he handles it normally.

Levi doesn't point out your acne. He doesn't mention when you leak onto his sheets during the night. He won't call you out for being a bit more aggressive then usual (or even crying, because sometimes that's just all you can do).

All he does is just be a silent support. It's a nice break from the others tbh.

Like when you're in the bathroom, turn between feeling like you're going to throw up because your contraction-like cramps are wrecking havoc on your entire body, he'll be beside you. Stroking your back, holding up your hair incase you do vomit, and running around for whatever you need.

Definitely the type who, when you ask him to pick up pad/tampons, grabs every size and brand, puts them in the cart as discreetly as possible, then rushes home in a frenzy.

Satan

Satan is just as irritable during your period as you are lmao.

He's absolutely understanding, sure, but I think he feeds off of anger. So the minute you start getting pissy, he does too.

It's like a sympathy period thing, but uh, more linked to his sin then anything else.

Everyone is absolutely tired of you two squabbling by the end of your cycle.

Someone probably tries to lock one of you away tbh. You two are just extremely annoying.

It's even worse that after every fight you guys just cuddle. Like nothing ever happened. And everyone else is just kinda left there tense as hell because you two were arguing over fucking fruit for no reason.

Asmodeus

He's kinda like a big sister in this situation.

Asmodeus will give you acne treatments, run baths for you (always makes sure you don't worry about cleaning out the tub!), and gives you massages that sometimes get a bit spicy (But he always makes sure you're okay to handle it).

Yeah, I'll say it, Asmodeus isn't scared of period sex.

This is like the one time of the month he actually breaks his "strict" diet and junks out with you.

Cue lots of food photos! And a few that he sneaks of you for his personal folder. Expect to see your rather bloated self as a part of his aesthetically set up phone background. He thinks it's cute!!

A lot of body worship and praise is going down. Between him and Beel it's enough to make your head spin.

Beelzebub

This is like prime Beel time.

Cuddles, food, and massages are his speciality.

(Also not opposed to period sex but tbh he's like, extremely concerned about your well being the entire time.)

He's like, always kneading your muscles and thighs. Whenever you get self-conscious about your pre-period or period body, he'll always be ready to lay down a thick layer of praises that seem almost too good to be true.

Always let's you finish the snacks ❤

He gets you heat and cold packs. Well, tries. Somewhere along the line he gets distracted and tends to come back with cold peas instead of a ice pack. Works the same way, just, uh, food driven.

Beel is extremely calm during this whole thing. He rarely ever gets offended by your emotions or aggression either. Probably just pats your head and walks away when you're getting a bit too much for him to handle.

Belphegor

He is like, the biggest fucking asshole, but like in the funniest way.

Genieunly doesn't care about toiletries or whatever, but he's so blunt about it

(What size pussy kinda guy)

Oh you leaked and bled onto his sheets? Go back bed. Throw a towel over it. He'll sleep on that side if you want.

Absolutely no help to your insomnia btw, unless he's like blessed with magic sleeping powers, you're going to need to stay up with someone else.

Honestly though... he's not the best with handling periods but I think he's extremely casual about it. He doesn't look down on you, or your cycle, an does whatever you ask.

Extremely passive lmao.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

419 notes · View notes

ghostdrew22 · 3 years

Text

Angel || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No. Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: Lots of angst in the beginning, mentions of self-harm/self-destructive behavior, mentions of blood, quite a few mentions of the devil, ptsd, just a lot of dark themes ig (let me know if i need to add another warning) Summary: You’ve always been an angel in Draco’s eyes and now, years after the war, he’s reminded why once again.

WORDS: 3440

I’ve been wanting to write about the ‘devil on the shoulder’ trope for a while and I felt like @anchoeritic‘s 3K WRITING CHALLENGE was the perfect opportunity though i think i lost the plot a bit at some point and this probably isn’t what you had in mind.

i had to do so much research for this, probably the most research i’ve ever done for a fic. It’s a lot heavier than I’d intended for it to be (i almost cried at certain points) but I still really love it.

anyway this fic is inspired by ‘Angel’ by FINNEAS (which is a great song that I recommend listening to) and i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

~~~

Anger.

So much anger that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Red, hot, fury just begging to be unleashed.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. When he opens them again his fist collides with the wall. “Fuck!”

The miniature Mephistopheles that’s made home on his shoulder tells him to keep going, that this is the only rational response. Draco heeds the advice until his knuckles are bleeding and there’s a dent in the wall.

He lets out a frustrated sigh as he thinks about you returning in a few hours, then he punches the spot one last time out of frustration. Draco’s own love for destruction lies parallel to the myths surrounding Beelzebub, his own virtues bringing him to peril instead of an unseen force of evil. But it’s much easier to believe that the voice always telling him to do wrong, is not his own.

Maybe this is who he is, a fucked up kid with anger issues. Maybe this is all he’ll ever be, knuckles spotted in crimson and harmful thoughts being shoved down as to not raise alarm.

He feels violated by the mark on his arm. Sobs stacking up in his lungs at the very thought, but all he can express is anger- all he can understand is the resent that crawls beneath his skin and settles into his bones like calcium.

Was it his choice? No. Did it matter? No. Choice means nothing in a world run by circumstance. Intention holds no value when there’s no action to follow through. In another world, a better world perhaps, he would’ve had the right to choose and he hopes that he would’ve chosen the right side- the good side.

Forgiveness, they say, is often practiced by the strong willed. He’d tried to forgive, he really had, but Iblis had told him that it didn’t matter who he forgave because they’d still done this to him anyway- they’d still sold his soul to the Devil.

“Draco, when will you forgive me?” She pleads and he shrugs with a thin smile.

“I don’t know mother. I don’t know.”

“It’s been years.” He turns a steal glaze toward her.

“And yet I still can’t get the mark off.”

“What am I meant to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s too late to do the right thing.”

“What would the right thing have been back then? Huh?”

“The right thing to do would’ve been to protect me.”

“I did protect you. I took the Vow for you!” She yells as she stands out of her chair and points an accusatory finger toward him. He’s seen this scene so many times before that it’s permanently imprinted in his mind, but this time he’s not a scared teenager being scolded by his mother.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” He stands as well, “I just asked you to save me. Why didn’t you save me?”

“What?” She’s taken aback,

“Summer before fifth. You told me that you’d had enough of him, you told me that we were going to leave and run away so that you could save me from him, from all of them.”

“So now you hate me because I couldn’t leave your bigoted father?”

“No, mother. I hate myself because you couldn’t leave my bigoted father.” He tucks his chair back into the table and pulls out his wand, “Thank you for dinner mother, it was lovely.”

Then he’s gone, and he doesn’t come back.

Draco had shut himself out from the world, hoping that his loathing would dissipate with time but it hadn’t. He still wakes up every morning with that tiny voice reminding him that he’s worthless, and he still believes it.

Why had he done it? Why had he allowed them to put the mark on his arm in the first place? Why had he put his own morals, his own principles, on the line to save a family who might not have done the same for him? Why had he allowed himself to succumb to the many ministrations of Diabolous, which dragged him further and further down the dark side?

Weakness. That’s the only answer he can conceive. Or maybe that’s the sound of Lucifer on his shoulder, consistently reminding him that he’s no match for the evil that resides deep within his soul. He can’t fight it, it’s who he is. He’s weak and he’s unholy. Bathed so often in sin that it’s sunk into his DNA. Does that even make sense?

Draco shakes his head and runs his hands down his face in an attempt to ground himself. But it doesn’t work, all he can see is red and all he can hear is his own conscience belittling him for continuously making the wrong choices. Why does he always make the wrong choices?

His throat so dry it feels as though he’s swallowed sand. His palms sweaty like he’s dipped them in oil. He paces around the room in a desperate effort to remember where you’d placed the box last time this happened. He can feel himself disconnecting from the world, feel himself sinking further and further into the dredges of his mind that torment him most.

That part of his brain that holds the memories, the shame, the anguish, is his biggest obstacle in recovery. It’s always on good days, days when… He blinks when he realizes that no fond memories come to mind. Does he even have good days? Or does this always happen, is this what’s become normal for him?

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and steps back in shock, completely forgetting about his mission to find the box. The man in front of him looks clean, taken care of. When had he become this man and stopped being the terrified teenager that never ate and wore bags beneath his eyelids like name tags.

There is muscle on his arms, taut beneath the dress shirt that he must’ve put on that morning before going to classes… or work? When had he earned the right to stop looking the way he felt? Which of his actions had merited his beauty returning, when the dark mark still lays clear beneath the dress shirt that he’s got on? There are hickeys along his chest- one, two, three, littered around his torso like a map to his heart- and he can only assume that they’d been left in the wake of your last meeting, because he can’t seem to piece together the memory of them being made.

You. Where are you? Why can’t he remember where you are or what you look like? Did you finally leave? Did you finally realise that he wasn’t worth any of the pain and anguish that he’d put you through? Had you ultimately decided that Draco and the dark mark could not be separated, both physically and mentally? Maybe he never managed to redeem himself in your eyes, and it hurt so much to lose you that he made himself forget.

Redemption, he’d searched far and wide for it. He’d spent the months after the war trying to find some spiritual cleanse for the ailment in his essence, had dabbled in every muggle religion he came across in hopes of finding something that would provide him freedom from guilt. The Bible, the Qur’an, the Gita, the Torah, the Guru Granth Sahib, the Tripitaka- none of the holy books he’d read had promised him enough solace to feel deserving of love from a higher entity. They had all just reminded him of the purity and innocence that muggles embodied, the same qualities he came so close to erasing.

Redemption wasn’t in the cards for him. If it had been a game of Poker, Draco would’ve been the first fold with the knowledge that he didn’t stand a chance against the better players at the table. Who were the better players? He didn’t really know, he just knew that he wasn’t one of them.

His eyes drift toward his reflection once more and he feels disgust crawl through his anatomy. Nausea, a familiar friend in times like these, making itself comfortable in the barrel of his gut. Why had he even eaten today anyway? Sustenance won’t fill the emptiness that’s making domicile in his chest, it won’t make him less of a habitat to repulsive regret and desolation.

He walks toward the dresser and picks up a pocket knife that’s sitting in-between some make up and a music box. Then like deja vu he can already feel the weapon pinching, digging beneath his skin as if it’s trying to excavate bone. He recalls blood pouring out, drowning his pale skin in spills of vermillion and carmine, and dropping to the floor. The floor, chalky tile with tiny chards of black glass engrained in it, something that he hadn’t come up with himself but liked anyway. Who had come up with that again?

Screams, familiar but unrecognizable, had filled his ears soon after. He remembers his arm being wrapped in a bandage, him being carried off the bathroom floor and taken to the Hogwarts infirmary, no, it was actually St Mungo’s. He remembers being treated and loud cries settling down into comforting whispers beside him. He remembers feather light touches being placed on his face and kisses settling onto the skin of his palm.

He remembers something good, but he doesn’t know what.

He remembers the injury, and knows that it didn’t work.

Draco takes a deep breath and puts the knife back down. Staring at his reflection once more he sees that the man standing before him is not the same child that had stepped into battle way back when. When was that? Months? Years? He can’t tell.

The box. The box will tell him. But he doesn’t know where it is, he doesn’t even know where he is anymore. This room is definitely not his Hogwarts dorm room, it’s not in Hogwarts at all, and it’s not his room in the Manor either. Where is he?

His eyes shoot up when he hears a door shutting, and soon after voices follow suit. The voices are coming toward him, in this strange room that he’s in, and Draco struggles to identify them. His dorm mates potentially? No, this clearly isn’t Hogwarts. Friends? His mother? You?

Then there’s a laugh, from a child, from two children, and suddenly none of it makes sense any more. He knows those voices, he knows those laughs, so well that they might as well be his own, but he can’t seem to attach faces or names to them.

A few of the voices drift off, further down the hall, and one gets louder as the door to the bedroom opens. Draco holds his breath as the person walks in, not knowing what to expect, and feels a confused sense of relief wash over him when he sees you standing there.

You laugh as you enter the room, “If you can get an outstanding in Transfiguration then we’ll get you whatever your heart desires.” You respond to your daughter as you recall how both you and Draco had struggled with the subject during your Hogwarts years.

You furrow your eyebrows at the state of your bedroom- documents scattered across the bed, clothes in tiny piles all over the floor, and a tiny dent in the wall beside the bathroom door. A sigh escapes your lips as you process the mess and prepare yourself for what’s about to come. You turn and your eyes land on your husband, and your heart breaks at the sight of him. He’d promised this morning that he’d be fine, it was the only reason that you’d left him alone, but clearly he wasn’t.

“Love? Are you okay?” You ask softly as you take the shoes off of your feet and close your bedroom door behind you. He tilts his head to the side momentarily in confusion, but then realisation flashes across his eyes and he takes quick strides toward you.

“Oof.” You breathe out when he pulls you into his chest and rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Y/N.” He muffles into your shoulder and you feel your heart swell with love for him- this man who recognizes you instantly, even when the entire world is nothing more than a distant memory.

“Miss me?” You ask with a small laugh as you bring your hands up to wrap around him tightly. He mumbles an agreement and you smile, “I missed you too.”

“Bad day.” He whispers and you nod, rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him.

“I know baby, wanna talk about it?”

“No. Can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” You pull him away from you and kiss his forehead with a warm smile, “We can just lie down for a while.”

He obliges as you pull him toward the bed and shuffle the papers off of it, climbing on after you and setting his head in your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and hum, trying to your best to make him feel calm and prevent another breakdown.

But your efforts are futile, within the hours that Draco had been alone he’d thought every terrible thought that he possibly could, Al-Shaitan had already tormented your husband through a series of painful misconceptions. Draco had never really subscribed to religion or faith but after the war he’d identified quite quickly with the concept of the Devil- confessing that he believed he had an evil conspirator sitting on his shoulder- and felt that his own soul deserved to be damned. You’d tried to rid him of that notion, many times, but it never worked, he was in too deep.

You tense up when you feel a cry escape his lips and his fingers tighten into the space of your torso. “I’m sorry.”

He feels terrible, terrible for ruining all of your hard work. All the effort you’d put into rebuilding him now disintegrating in the blink of an eye. But you’re here now, you’re going to fix him again, he knows it.

You try to level your breathing so that you don’t cry too, so that you don’t fall into this pit of despair with him, because Merlin knows that any pain Draco feels takes as rough a toll on you. You pull him off of you and sit up, bringing him to sit as well, so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Sorry for what Bub?”

“For being broken. I-“ He feels another sob rock through him and you pull him into your chest. “Please fix me Y/N.” He pleads, a whimper following suit.

His fingers are digging into you again, he’s clinging so tightly to you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t stay close enough, and it hurts you to know that even after all these years he’s scared that you’ll leave.

“You’re not broken Draco, there’s nothing to fix.”

“But I’m- I’m-“ Cries start to escape rapidly and interrupt him. He can’t see clearly anymore as tears form in his waterline and obstruct his view of you. It hurts, everything just hurts.

“You’re not broken, my love.” You whisper as you cup his face, “You’re not evil, you’re not bad. You’re good. You’re my husband, I love you. Did you open the box?”

He shakes his head, “Couldn’t find it.”

“Okay, let me get i-“ You’re cut off by your bedroom door opening and your children marching in.

“Dad, you’ll never guess what happened at school today- Oh, is this a bad time?” Ariel, your daughter, stops in her tracks as she raises her eyebrows at you.

You shake your head and gesture for them to come in. “I think it just got a little much for him this year. Please get me the box, love.”

Ariel goes to the headboard and pulls out the aforementioned box from the first drawer, before her and Cael, your son, get comfortable on the bed beside you and Draco. But Draco doesn’t need it anymore, he can already sense himself coming back down to earth. He knows where he is- with you, in your house, with your children, in your bed. He’s home, he’s safe.

He takes the box anyway and begins to unload its contents in silence, the three of you observing him with admiration. It’s a small circular box that your children made a few years back after witnessing one of his episodes for the first time, containing momentos from the last 18 years of you and Draco’s lives together. Pictures, notes, a few school projects.

“Tell him about what happened at school today, it’ll probably make him laugh.” Cael encourages his older sister Ariel, and she does as told.

Draco pays a significant amount of attention to the story, piecing together facts that he’s slowly starting to understand and recognize as a part of his normal life. He intertwines his fingers with Cael’s as Ariel continues telling the story from her spot on your lap.

Love.

So much love that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Bursts of it just choking him out.

Draco remembers everything now. He remembers this house of yours, the one he’d bought straight out of Hogwarts and begged you to live in with him because “It’s nothing without you in it”. These children that you’d had 14 years ago, that’d he’d been so scared to raise because he thought they’d resent him, and that made everything in the world just seem brighter. This life that he modeled with you on the embers of his haunting past, this life that reminds him he’s good.

Before you, he would’ve been terrified to show any one his vulnerable side, especially his children, but you’d taught him that loving someone means loving all the good bits and the bad bits, all the happy moments and the sad moments. Now he knows that when days like this happen, when he gets so lost inside the mental maze of his own construction, the three of you will always be waiting to help him out.

Ariel finishes her story and Draco bellows out a laugh, feeling thankful to have you three around in his moments of weakness.

His three guardian angels- the only people who can always lead him away from the shadow in his mind and toward the luminescence that he carries within him. “All the good within us is split in the middle, half from you and half from mum, just as it should be. I hope you remember that we wouldn’t be who we are without you both.” Cael suddenly speaks up and you smile pridefully at him.

“They wouldn’t.” You add once he’s done and smile, “I couldn’t have done such a bad job without you.”

“Hey!” Ariel accuses and you all laugh.

“She’s right though, I am the one who taught you hexes at age 7.” Draco grins bashfully and you roll your eyes.

“And look at us now, acing Charms!”

“See love,” Draco turns to you, “There is a method to my madness.”

“Mhmm.” You hum with a small smile. “Go do your homework, dinner soon.”

“Yes, I’m making pizza tonight.” Draco adds as he kisses both of your children on their foreheads.

They excitedly hop off the bed and run out of the room. “I can’t belie-“

“Harry called.” Draco interrupts you and your eyes go wide at his statement but you nod for him to continue, “He wanted to know how I was doing, you know with it having been 18 years since the war and all. Offered to come spend the day with me and make sure I’d be alright while you were gone.”

“And you said no?” You raise your eyebrows and he shakes his head.

“No, I told him that I’d come by his office instead. Then when I was getting ready… I just started having flashbacks again, and my mark hurt. I felt horrible all of a sudden, like there was huge weight on my chest and this fog obscuring my vision.”

There are few things that Draco has faith in, but you, you he never runs short on trust for. You’re a constant in his life, a shoulder that he can always rely on when he needs it, and as he sits here and tells you about his day, he feels love for you hit him tenfold.

You, this beautiful, kind, ethereal being that has no place on earth. You, the one who’s managed to convince him that saints are real. You, who has given him your entire life, along with all the love that you have to offer. You, Y/N, the love of his life.

You.

An angel.

~~~

get added to my taglist

taglist: @dracoscene @dreaming-about-fanfictions @astoria-malfcy @gwlvr @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @dracomalfoyposts @realityblocked @is-it-really-a-secret @louweasleymalfoy

#draco #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco fluff #draco angst #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #kelly’s 3k wc !

197 notes · View notes

giggles-and-freckles · 3 years

Note

bed bargain for satine and obi-wan maybe?? 😍

bed bargain: [Obi-Wan] won’t stay in bed. [Satine] convinces them. (from these prompts)

Obi-Wan groans from his desk as knuckles rap against the other side of the door. It’s Anakin, no doubt, come to question him on the events of the day. There’s no confusion on exactly what Anakin will be wanting to know.

Girlfriend. A ridiculous accusation and just something to get under Obi-Wan’s skin. The trouble is Anakin’s always been far too good at that and Obi-Wan let it get to him today.

He’s in severe need of a break. But Death Watch seems to be a larger issue than the Council had thought and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

The knocking continues.

He sighs deeply and pushes away from the desk. As he stands, there’s a rush of hot fuzziness that fills the space behind his eyes. But he blinks and it’s gone. Yet another side effect of the long day, apparently. To accompany the dizziness that has developed in the past hour.

The knocking is louder. More hurried.

Definitely Anakin.

“I’m coming!” he yells, making his way to the door. “Honestly, all these years and you have learned nothing of patience—“

He stops as the door slides open.

“You would be amazed at the patience I have developed, actually.”

“Duchess,” he says stiffly.

Her lips twitch into a frown, but flatten back out into a thin line. “Hello.”

“It’s late.”

“Yet you are still awake.”

He casts a quick glance behind him, but the movement is too quick. The room spins and his hand reaches out, blindly. He finds the edge of the door and grips it.

“I’ve been busy,” he says, turning back around to find that her eyes are fixed on his hand, clinging to the door.

She looks back up. “I assumed as much. Before tomorrow, when the Republic will undoubtedly take your words and twist them until I am the villain they are apparently so desperate for,” – she ignores his scoff – “I wanted us to try and get on the same page.”

“We have never quite managed to achieve that, my dear,” he says.

Her frown deepens as she studies him. “Not for lack of trying.”

He clears his throat. “Is this something we could discuss in the morning? I still have–”

“No,” she says, and pushes past him into the room. “Now is good.”

“For you,” he grumbles, but allows the door to slide closed. He turns and follows her in the room. She sits on the sofa easily, as if this is the most normal thing. “I didn’t have the opportunity to thank you for the luxurious accommodations. Anakin hasn’t stopped talking about–”

“He’s not what I expected.”

Obi-Wan blinks. He wants to sit, but can’t bring himself to join her on the couch. So he hovers. “Pardon?”

“Your student. He idolises you, clearly. When you used to call and tell me of him–”

“That was a very long time ago,” he says quickly.

“Yes,” she agrees quietly. Her eyes move to the floor between them. “It was.”

His visions swims and he can’t determine whether it’s exhaustion or a response to the lowness of her tone. The unopened nook of hurt and betrayal that she clearly feels, though he can’t understand why.

But then–that’s not true either. It’s just what he’s told himself for the past ten years, to avoid the habitual pain he was putting himself through for so long. Constantly comming her–and thinking about her in the meantime. Something had to give if he was to honour his commitment to the Jedi and his commitment to Anakin.

He drops to the couch next to her. “I was lost.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But you also didn’t want to be found.”

“I needed to…” he frowns, looking for the words. It’s painful revisiting this part of his life, immediately after Qui-Gon’s death, when everything was overwhelming and nothing felt right. “Needed to figure it out.”

“No,” she says, but there’s no chastisement in her voice. “Not by yourself.”

“Yes,” he insists. “I–”

“My dear Obi-Wan,” she says. Fixes him with those eyes that have seen too much of the galaxy and too much of him. There’s too much compassion that he doesn’t feel particularly deserving of. “Accepting help is not a crime.”

He shuts his eyes, but it does nothing to stop the pounding in his head or the pain in his chest.

“Obi-Wan?” she says, her tone sharper than it was before. Then– “Obi-Wan!”

“I’m all right,” he manages, opening his eyes as the wave of nausea passes. He pulls a weak smile. “Sorry. I just–”

She fixes him with a hard stare. “You’re ill.”

“I’m not ill,” he scoffs.

She lifts her hand and rests it on his forehead. Doesn’t let him pull away. “Stubborn as always.”

Since she’s not letting him move away, he figures there’s no real harm in leaning into her a bit. “You have no experience with that.”

Satine laughs loudly and lets her hand fall to his cheek. They watch each other for a moment and Obi-Wan wonders if she sees the wayward young padawan the way he sees the headstrong young duchess. So much has changed, in the galaxy and between them, but beyond the light wrinkles (which he’d never point out, obviously) and thinner face, it’s the same eyes blinking back at him. He’s thankful for something consistent.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “for not holding it against me.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she hums. Her hand falls to the place on the couch between them. She moves it so that it rests over his.

He rolls his eyes at her snark, but turns his hand over under hers. Links their fingers together. “When Qui-Gon died. You were so…” A deep sigh. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I didn’t do anything, my dear. You–”

“Exactly. You just listened. Let me talk, grieve, process,” he says. “I needed that. Even though I left...you never…”

She squeezes his hand. “There was never a question of you leaving. I knew it was coming–and I wasn’t angry. You had to return to the Jedi. I...I had a system to lead.”

“But even so. When I sought your help–”

“I’ll always be there for you, my dear.”

His gut twists over. “I don’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” she says, nodding. Then, lifts their interlinked hands up and drops the lightest of kisses on the back of his palm. “You deserve so much more. More than this harsh galaxy will ever be able to repay you, I fear.”

“With Anakin. And...everything. I was overwhelmed. I was...I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry. I...I didn’t mean to lose you, too.”

She smiles at him. “You didn’t.” Kisses his hand again. “And you never will.” She stands from the couch, then, pulling him up along with her. The motion jars him, and he has to grip her shoulder to stay upright. She looks him up and down with a frown. “I believe it’s time for bed for you, darling.”

He pulls away as well as he can. Grounds his feet and takes a breath. “No. I have to finish–”

“Obi-Wan,” she says firmly. “Bed.”

“I have work to do. Death Watch. They...I need to keep you safe. Need to–”

“As the ruler of this world, I order you to go to bed.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth opens, then closes. “You can’t,” – he frowns at the floor for a moment, then smiles victoriously – “I have diplomatic immunity!”

“This isn’t the Republic,” she reminds him. “And if you remember–I’m particularly stubborn.” She begins to guide him toward the bed, even as he struggles against her. “Oh, honestly, Obi-Wan. Stop being such a child.”

“Stop treating me like one!” he cries, then stops walking abruptly as the room begins to spin again. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and takes a shuddery breath. This bout of dizziness lasts longer than the ones before and it takes him an extra moment to gather himself.

A light hand is at his back immediately, rubbing small circles. For some reason, the motion cracks his resolve.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, scared of how broken he sounds. “When I do...it’s just nightmares. Images, memories–”

“I’ll stay,” she says, and wraps an arm around his waist.

“That’s highly inappropriate,” he says immediately in response because it’s what he’s supposed to say. And Obi-Wan Kenobi has grown very good at saying what he’s supposed to say. If the Council were to catch wind of this. A Jedi Master sharing a bed with a Duchess–

She lifts an eyebrow and his face reddens. Because he knows she’s remembering what he’s remembering. How unconcerned he was with what was appropriate once upon a time. He’s lost the padawan braid since then, though, and she’s gained a system of planets. It’s not the same.

“I’ll only stay until you fall asleep,” she says, saving him from further embarrassment.

Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to admit his disappointment, so he just nods, and sheds his outer robe. She watches as he kicks off his boots and sets them in the corner of the room. Watches as he unties his belt and drapes it over a chair. When he finally makes his way toward the bed, she is waiting for him, standing with her arms crossed and a patient expression.

“Are you quite done?” she says, and her lips quirk up at the corners.

He doesn’t respond. Only rolls his eyes and slides beneath the sheets. She pulls back the other side in a much more graceful manner, making sure her long dress doesn’t get wrapped around her. She’s always had such a talent for making the mundane look like a dance. He tries not to stare; it’s hard.

There is at least a foot of space between them in the bed and neither makes a move to close it.

“You didn’t use to sleep with so many clothes on,” she says after a moment of silence.

“Neither did you.”

She makes a sound of indignation, then sighs. “Touché.”

He chuckles and reaches for her hand, under the sheets. She flinches when he first grabs it and he wonders if this is too much. Physical contact within the confines of a bed. He moves to pull back, but her grip is vice-like. She doesn’t turn her head to look at him, but he’s glad. He’s still having a hard time not staring.

“Thank you,” he says finally.

…

When the sunlight filters through the curtains he never drew closed and wakes him up the next morning, she’s still there.

#my fic #obitine #and just like that...it becomes 2k words HAHA OOPS #throwing this in the q because i'm gonna be out of commission for a few days so who knows when this will pop up on my feed #writing prompts #prompts now closed btw!#q

162 notes · View notes

kiki-shortsnout · 3 years

Note

For intimacy prompts: #36 being pushed against a wall for Frostironstrange! 💚❤️💙

I might have cheated a little and made it a door....

***

Jealousy wasn’t an emotion Stephen had much experience with. He’d been top of his field when he’d been a doctor, a pioneer, a trailblazer, he was the one people regarded with envy. Even in his romantic life, jealousy wasn’t an emotion he’d fallen victim to, never having formed a lasting attachment to another person.

He knew the root of the emotion stemmed from a feeling of insecurity, that the best thing he could do was turn his gaze inward and think about his own personal growth, to address his feelings of low self-esteem.

This…didn’t feel like feelings of low self-esteem. It felt like a coiled ball of barbed wire and razor blades sitting in his stomach, strangling the life out of him every time he saw them together.

The words on the page wavered as his eyes went unfocused, his ears straining to hear sounds of them whispering, torturing himself further by hearing fragments of their conversation, his mind filling in the blanks.

Why couldn’t it have been me?

Stephen had fallen in love with Tony first. He’d agonized over that, spent countless nights thinking about the reason why, if the rationale behind his jealousy was born from some adolescent feeling such as, I saw him first so therefore he’s mine, but that wasn’t it.

A bond had formed between them when fighting Thanos, a trust that Stephen seldom found in others. He knew Tony, probably better than anyone else in the world after his little exploration of millions of possible outcomes, but that wasn’t what made him fall in love.

It was the man’s determination, his courage, his sarcasm, all wrapped up in an appealing aesthetic package that was Tony Stark. He had been willing to sacrifice himself for the world, just as Stephen had sacrificed countless lives in the Dark Dimension, and at that moment against Thanos, Stephen knew he’d found someone in this huge, boundless universe who could understand him.

He looked up at that moment, staring at Tony across the gloomy Sanctum library. His legs were folded beneath him on the armchair, his elbow on the desk as he rested his head on it, idly swiping through his Starkpad as he worked.

Stephen hadn’t been able to let him die, had used every possible resource he possessed and those around him to save his life. He hadn’t even known Tony that long, but he had still sobbed alongside Rhodey and Pepper as Tony finally inhaled a lungful of battle charred air after excruciating seconds of being dead.

Sensing Stephen’s stare, Tony glanced up, giving him a gorgeous smile, the type that sent euphoric sensations squirming through his stomach. Ignoring Tony’s mouthed question asking him if he was okay, Stephen turned back to his book.

He’d never understood what it meant to love someone until the moment he’d lost Tony. Despite already witnessing millions of potential lifetimes, ignoring millions more, Stephen still wanted to remain by Tony’s side, as a friend, a lover, whatever capacity he was allowed as long as he could be part of the man’s life.

‘What’s got your attention, Anthony? I’m over here.’

Then Loki had happened.

The trickster had faked his death at Thanos’s hand. Not for his own personal gain this time, it was the only way he could save Thor and Bruce, ensure that Thanos would leave whatever Asgardians he hadn’t slaughtered alone. Stephen had doubted Loki’s intentions were as honorable as that, believe a large part of his actions were to save his own hide, but he wasn’t made of stone, despite how he was perceived, and Thor begging him to help find his brother hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.

It was Tony asking him to help bring Loki home, to give him the second chance they’d all had at some point in their lives, that swayed Stephen into action. The man didn’t even know about his repressed feelings, and even then, he was powerless to Tony’s wishes.

‘Lokes, I can barely concentrate as it is when you’re near me,’ Tony flirted.

He ripped the corner of the page from the tightness of his grip.

Stephen couldn’t actually put a finger on the exact moment where his feelings for the God of Mischief had changed from irritation to begrudging respect.

And then into complex complicated feelings of their own.

But he’d known when Loki’s and Tony’s relationship had changed, had seen the way both of them looked at the other, the swollen lips after they returned from meetings.

‘Stephen? Everything alright?’ Tony asked, destroying the painful recollections, making him look up at them both. They were trying to hide their relationship from him, and he wasn’t sure why.

I’m not important enough to know.

‘Yup,’ Stephen snapped, slamming his book shut and throwing it onto the desk between them.

‘Usually, you only look like that after I have spoken to you,’ Loki teased, placing both hands flat on the desk and leaning forward, goading him. That was their relationship, provoking each other, encouraging character growth through spite and teasing.

Today it felt like salt was scouring the wounds on Stephen’s soul.

He needed to control these feelings, these emotions. He’d already convinced himself that he was content with being Tony’s friend, that whatever stirrings of interest he had towards Loki had to be his libido talking. Tony Stark deserved whatever happiness he could find, and Stephen was the biggest advocate for it.

‘No, you’re not, honey.’

Stephen flinched in his chair as he looked up, Tony directly in front of him, his hand reaching out. The way his eyes had become soft and tender with worry for him made Stephen want to weep, to launch himself forward into his arms and speak his deepest desires.

They already have each other. There isn’t room for you.

He batted Tony’s hand away, ignoring the way the man flinched even as a wash of shamed nausea crept over him.

What are you expecting, Strange? That they’ll include you? That Tony will leave Loki for you? Normal people don’t have two partners.

‘Hey, it’s okay…I didn’t mean to scare you, we can leave if you’ve got things on your mind,’ Tony reassured, taking a step back.

‘Nothing’s on my mind,’ Stephen answered straight away, his voice coming out too loud and panicked. He saw Loki’s eyebrow raise in question, the Asgardian looking between them both, analyzing.

Shit.

‘Stephen, something’s obviously wrong, and I don’t think it’s because you don’t understand…’ Tony paused, tilting his head so he could try and read the title of Stephen’s book. ‘Yeah…I don’t know what you’re reading. Look, if it’s something I did don’t be shy,’ Tony told him with a playful grin, but Stephen knew what was behind it, the insecurity he hid behind those smiles.

‘No! It’s nothing you’ve done,’ Stephen lurched forward to grasp Tony’s elbows before remembering who else was with them. Immediately he let go, shoving his chair back with the force he used to escape. Cursing his treacherous body, his gaze went to Loki who was watching the whole thing unfold with shrewd eyes.

‘Come on, asshole, what is it? I’m not a mind reader you know.’

‘No, but I am. I have a glorious feeling this is going to be fascinating,’ Loki’s silky voice wrapped around them both, his fingers lit up with his magic.

He can’t find out.

‘Leave me alone…’ he spat, his hands readying themselves to create a portal as he leapt to his feet. ‘You can’t be serious?’

‘Deadly,’ Loki growled, extending his fingers with a snap, his emerald magic twisting forward and nullifying the portal Stephen had been trying to create.

I need to get out of here.

‘What? What’s going on? Loki, stop it don’t-’ Tony yelped as Stephen launched himself into a run, barreling him over in his haste to escape. Loki gave chase, both of them scrabbling against the wooden floor as they sprinted to the door.

Tony can’t know. Neither of them can know.

Stephen ignored Tony’s frantic shouts for them to stop, the burn in his lungs as he ran, the pain in his shoulders as he collided with the bookcases. Books rained down on him, the library around him fading to one, singular point.

Get to the door!

He could hear Loki hot on his heels, felt the tendrils of his magic trying to ensnare him, his snarls of frustration as Stephen ducked and weaved around the bookcases, no finesse to his movements, just a dogged determination to escape the situation.

Crying out in relief when he made it to the door first, he skidded to a halt when the Cloak billowed up, blocking the way, trapping Stephen inside.

‘They can’t find out! Move!’ Stephen hissed at the Cloak.

The Cloak shook its collar, spreading itself out so it appeared huge.

‘Please!’ Stephen pleaded, his voice cracking. ‘I’ll lose them both otherwise!’

‘What the hell is going on? Are we under attack?’ Feet pounded on the floor behind him, the sounds of his suit forming was audible even over Stephen’s pounding heart.

Think. Think!

Reaching forward to rip aside the Cloak, Stephen found himself slammed against the back of the door, a lithe muscled body pressed against him, and a hot mouth sealed over his. Despite wanting to moan into it, the electric current of unbridled lust surging inside of him, he didn’t stop fighting to escape.

He didn’t want to hurt Tony with his lustful feelings and burgeoning affection for his lover, didn’t want to damage their friendship. Then there was Loki, whose tales of cruelty had reached them all. Who knew what he would do to Stephen for coveting his lover? He would desecrate the feelings he held dear, spinning this into a story that they shared with other while in bed, their mocking laughter surrounding them.

‘Desist your struggles, Strange,’ Loki whispered when he stopped, leaving another scorching kiss on his lips as he held him still. ‘Your feelings are making you foolish. You know I cannot read minds, yet you crumbled under your fear and left your true self bare.’

Stephen strained against the hold, his head banging back against the heavy door, nails gripping the wood. Loki didn’t budge, his strength far exceeding Stephen’s, but he moved his hands to his forearms, allowing the blood to flow back into his damaged hands with a pained hiss.

‘Sorry,’ Loki murmured. ‘It is not my intent to-’

‘You already knew I had feelings for him,’ Stephen hissed, looking over Loki’s shoulder, trying to understand what the expression on Tony’s face was, memorizing the detail of him before he’d be no longer allowed to look.

I never wanted this to happen.

‘Yes, but I did not know of your attraction to me. Which makes this conversation so much simpler,’ Loki answered.

‘What conversation?’

‘You are not alone in your feelings, darling,’ Loki called over his shoulder, his sharp green gaze never leaving Stephen’s.

He slumped in Loki’s hold, hanging his head as shame burned his cheeks.

‘You’re not listening to my words, Stephen.’ Loki brought his head down to whisper in his ear, adjusting his grip so Stephen could rest against him, holding him instead of restraining him. Even with all of the panic making him light-headed, his chest flayed open for all to see, Stephen still took the time to breathe in Loki’s scent, the unique alienness of it.

‘Stephen? Is Loki right? Do you…have feelings for me?’ Tony asked, his voice wavering in bewilderment.

Rubbing his head against Loki’s shoulder for a moment, Stephen took a huge, quivering breath before he drew back, trying to find his courage.

‘No, Loki’s voice rumbled through his chest, oscillating through to Stephen’s skin. ‘It isn’t just lust you have for me. You hold feelings for us both.’

‘Stephen?’

‘Yes. God, I’m sorry, I fell for you, months ago, Tony,’ Stephen sighed, not looking at him, staring at the glossy black hair brushing against Loki’s collarbone. ‘I knew you were together, thought I could be happy…No, I wanted to be happy for you-’

Stephen stumbled as Loki vanished from before him, flailing until he was caught by Tony’s smaller frame. He only had a second to figure out what had happened before he was being kissed again, a sharp whipcrack of shock drowning out any thoughts.

He retained enough sense to break apart, his gaze seeking out Loki, fearful of retribution. Loki’s façade cracked at his stare, relaxing into an expression he’d often seen him look at Tony with.

‘You were blinded by what you did not have, saw only what you wanted to see. You never realized that Anthony was watching you too, snatching gazes of you when you were preoccupied with your melancholy.’

Stephen looked down at Tony in his arms, his brown eyes blazing in that look of determination he’d fallen for.

‘Stephen, I…you too? I never thought…you never gave any indication of-’

Stephen silenced the words with a kiss, reaching up to cup Tony’s face with his hand, expressing everything he could through his actions, his longing, his repressed desire, his love. Their tears mingled together, seeping down to their lips, binding their kiss with suffering sweetness.

‘Idiots, the both of you,’ Loki said, wrapping his arms around them. ‘I know this type of relationship might not be considered… acceptable on Midgard, but I believe now that I know of your feelings, it would be wise to explore the possibilities.’

‘This, this isn’t normal though,’ Stephen mumbled against Tony’s lips, lifting his free hand so he could grip hold of Loki.

‘Who cares about normal? I’m Tony Stark, I do what I want,’ Tony asserted, kissing him soundly on the lips, before turning and kissing Loki’s jaw.

‘Ineloquent as always, but I believe this time the sentiment comes across nicely,’ Loki said, eyes closing as he accepted Tony’s bestowed kiss.

‘You both? How long?’

‘Since Thanos-’

‘Since you found me-’

They answered together. It was Loki who blushed though, uncertain how his own declaration would be taken.

‘I’ve known Tony longer, understood and accepted my feelings for him before I found you, but that doesn’t mean what I’m feeling towards you isn’t real, Loki,’ Stephen assured, his confidence growing, the earlier panic and fear dispelled by their touch.

Loki swallowed and nodded once, his grip tightening before he took a step back, gesturing at the Cloak to move aside.

‘I realize we’ve forced this confession from you, and if you would rather take some time to-’

‘Do you want to go on a date?’ Tony interrupted.

‘A date?’ Loki deadpanned.

‘A date? Like drinks? Food? Music? Somewhere we can get to…well not know each other better, but talk. About what this means for us?’ Tony encouraged, his gaze darting between them both.

‘Anthony. I do not think-’

‘A date sounds great,’ Stephen interrupted him this time, pressing his lips together to hide his amusement at Loki’s confusion, reaching down to take both their hands in his.

#frostironstrange #fanfic prompt #ask answered #thank you so much #thanks for this!#stephen strange #tony stark #Loki #Yet more Kiki prompts!

62 notes · View notes

nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

91 notes · View notes

sickficsies-and-whumpsies · 3 years

Note

hi, may i ask you sick semi eita fic? he went amusement park with his team despite feeling a little bit unwell. Later he feels dizzy & nauseous, his team then take him to doctor/dorm. thank you 🥰

Oui oui, mon amie!!

TW: dizziness & nausea, vomiting, hospitals, brief mentions of IVs.

1.4k words, Gen.

ーーー

“Oh, the queue for that one isn’t too long!! Let’s go, guys!!”

Semi sighs. While Tendou’s volume doesn’t usually bother him, right now, stuck in the middle of Yagiyama Benyland, surrounded by screaming people and running children, he wishes his friend could turn it down a notch already.

The fabric around his neck feels constricting, suffocating. Semi tugs at the collar of his shirt lightly, clearing his throat silently as he trails behind the rest of the team.

He massages his stomach under the grey hoodie, feeling it gurgle under his touch. It was only two days ago when the pinch-server’s stomach first sent a painful, sudden jolt of white-hot pain throughout his body, making him shudder and gag, taken aback. But since his appendix has long been removed, Semi’s confident that it’s probably just a matter of too much coffee and too little water in his guts. It’s been a stressful week, after all. Nothing he can’t fix. It still hurts, though.

“Are you sure we’re tall enough for that ride?” Goshiki jokes, and everyone laughs, Tendou wrapping a lanky arm around the first-year and ruffling his head with the other hand. More laughter echoes among the group.

Semi shudders, chills running down his spine, stomach twisting. He struggles to even only force out a tiny smile.

ー

The safety belts press against his stomach and shoulders uncomfortably, and Semi doesn’t think he will make it. Next to him, Ushijima sits quietly, waiting for the ride to start. He briefly glances over, humming.

“Are you scared, Semi?”

There’s no malice in his voice, no curiosity either. It’s something along the lines of… Concern? Annoyance? Both?

“M’fine.” Semi gulps, “Just excited.”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“M’not.”

“Alright. But if you were, it’d be okay.”

“Ushijiー!!” he gets cut off, abruptly, as the thing finally starts to move.

The higher it goes, the more Semi knows he’s not going to make it. There’s no doubt about it. He quickly tries to recall if there’s some sort of trashcan near the exit but he realises that he hasn’t seen any.

His complexion bleaches rapidly. The thing is, Semi isn’t scared of roller coasters, he quite enjoys them, to be fair. Right now, the thing he fears the most is puking all over himself or worse, over the team’s captain.

And he knows it’s going to happen.

The people in the front row start screaming, Semi only a few rows back. It’s only a matter of seconds before he feels himself falling, and the world tunes out.

ー

He doesn’t actually pass out, really. Instead, once the operators remove his safety belts and wish him and his friends a fun day, he lets his shaky legs guide him down the metal staircase, eyes glazed over, blind. He’s not quite sure he’s moving, either. And he looks green.

Semi doesn’t even register that Ushijima’s strong hand is wrapped around his right upper arm, the left in the care of Tendou himself, eerily quiet. They set him down on the first empty bench they find, the team quiet behind the three.

It’s Reon to crouch in front of the ill teen, a firm hand squeezing his knee encouragingly. “Semi? Dude, hey.”

“...up…” he murmurs, seemingly catatonic, staring somewhere behind the team that has gathered in front of him, eyes filled to the brim with apprehension.

The setter swallows, a thin trail of saliva making its way down the corner of his chapped lips and down his twitching chin. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out, and soon enough he ducks his head between his knees and retches onto the pavement without a second warning.

His teammates gasp, horrified and worried, but Reon is quick to avoid the onslaught and immediately usher the others away, leaving Tendou and Ushijima behind. The taller guy rubs at his back firmly, while the other puts a palm flat on Semi’s forehead, preventing him from giving himself a whiplash.

His skin feels cold and clammy, ashen. Tendou hisses.

Not long passes before Semi throws up again, more and more bile splashing between his feet, little droplets staining his shoes and jeans. He retches and gags, helpless, eyes stinging painfully, about to pop out of his skull.

Reon jogs back a minute later, stopping a couple of meters away to give Semi some breathing room. “Should we call an ambulance? He looks like death warmed over...”

Ushijima shakes his head. “We should try and make him drink something, first.”

“I don’t think he’s up to it, Toshi.” Tendou reasons, “Semi-Semi, hey, you need to take a breath, my man.” he adds, patting the boy’s shoulder while Ushijima keeps massaging circles on his back.

But Semi doesn’t. He can’t. His stomach twists and knots painfully, and he doubles over, arms wrapped protectively around his abdomen as he hiccup and dry-heaves weakly.

“Does your stomach hurt?” Reon asks, careful, calm as ever, “Do you need an ambulance?”

“Yeah, we should call ‘em.” Tendou says, “It’s not normal to feel this sick after riding a roller coaster as bland as that one, andー”

“He was feeling ill before the ride, too. I didn’t think it was this bad, though. I apologize, Semi.” Ushijima interjects. “I think the ride was simply the last straw.”

The three stay quiet for a moment, Semi’s desperate struggles and pants and hiccups drowning out every other noise. And finally, blissfully, about ten minutes after sitting down, his jagged breaths come to a halt, and he slumps to the side, crashing into Tendou.

“Semi-Semi...? Oh shit. Is he dead? Semi-Semi?” Tendou gasps, “Guys, a little help?”

The ill teen is quick to blink his eyes open, glassy and dull, spent. “H’rts.”

“What hurts?”

“S-stomach. Head.”

Reon nods, serious. He then takes his phone out and quickly types something, before glancing at Ushijima and Tendou, who are both massaging Semi’s trembling back, subconsciously.

“Okay, the closest bus stop is about five minutes away on foot from here, and then it takes about ten minutes to get to Sendai Red Cross Hospital by bus, and another minute on foot after that. What do you guys say?” Reon asks.

Tendou is fast to nod, “Let’s go, we might catch the first bus available if we hurry.”

“I’ll carry him.” Ushijima adds.

Semi then struggles, shaking his headー aggravating his nausea and gagging silently. “Th-the others, and y-you, th-the pa-park and- and the tickets andー”

“Woh, woh, slow down, Semi-Semi!! It’s fine, we’ve been here for hours already anyway, and the entrance fees aren’t that expensive. No worries, okay? Let us worry about the rest.” Tendou says, cheerful, “We’ll text the others to let them know we’re leaving. We can always reschedule for another time, alright?”

“Done.” Reon smiles, waving his phone, ‘Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club’ chat open and rapidly flooding with texts from everyone. “Let’s go.”

ー

Luckily, and unsurprisingly, the bus is perfectly on time, and Semi doesn’t even have the time to register that he’s an eighteen year-old being offered a piggy-back ride from another eighteen year-old. He couldn’t care less. Instead, once he’s on the bus, he drifts, drained.

ー

“Anyone here for Semi Eita?”

Tendou, Reon and Ushijima are quick to reach the doctor, wide-eyed. “How is he!?”

She smiles, “Your friend will be okay, nothing to worry about. He was terribly dehydrated and overall exhausted, courtesy of the raging viral gastroenteritis he has. The nurses gave him an IV to pump some fluids into his system, and once it’s done, I’m going to prescribe him some probiotics to help with the infection and he’ll be free to leave.”

“Can we see him?” Tendou frets, “Is there anything else we should do? Are you sure he’s okay?”

The doctor nods, her expression firm and reassuring. “Viral infections are extremely common, we treat thousands of similar cases each day. I promise you, Semi-san will be okay. And yes, you may see him, of course. Come with me, please.”

The three follow the kind doctor quietly as she leads them to Semi’s bed, in the ER, the thin curtains between his and other patients’ beds being his only source of privacy.

Upon seeing them, Semi sits up, grinning sheepishly, cheeks tinted in red. “Hey there.” he grins.

His friends chuckle, rapidly making their way toward his bed, ruffling his hair and pushing him around with calculated motions.

He’ll be fine.

ーーー

I got carried away and started researching how to get to the closest hospital from Yagiyama Benyland, a real amusement park in Miyagi. And yeah, the Red Cross Hospital’s real, too, and the bus as well. I had so much fun researching this stuff. So yeah, I hope you liked it, let me know!!

Also, anon, if you have an AO3 tell me so that I can gift this fic to you when I post it there in a few days.

September 2, 2021

#pardon the french- literally. just wanted to say oui oui mon amie #my fic #haikyuu!! sickfic #sickfic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu sickfic #semi eita #tendou satori #ushijima wakatoshi #oohira reon #dizziness & nausea #vomiting #brief mentions of IVs #hospitals #shiratorizawa

41 notes · View notes

fenristheorem · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can you make part 2 of Guardienne and Lance relationship, the first one was so cute got me curious for more

Hello there! No problem at all, I know of a few more headcanons that you may like!😊

*Very minor NSFW in this (pretty non-descriptive except for maybe a few small parts).

~Under the cut~

Lance and Guardienne’s relationship - Part 2:

I’ll start out small: terms of endearment. Now Lance probably isn’t one to use cuddly words like ‘sugar, honey, etc.’, but I could definitely see him using the occasional ‘dear, darling, my love’ on Guardiennne, because let’s be honest; he’s a hardened warrior who probably enjoys witty banter and sensuality more than bubble baths and sugar-coated words. These terms of affection may be used far and few in between, but he’d definitely still use them on occasion.

However, he’d be much more likely to use endearing terms to describe her when complimenting her - especially when she’s feeling a bit subdued as of late. He’ll call her things like ‘cute, adorable, beautiful’ and the whole rest of that spectrum. These sudden bouts of compliments can happen at the most random of moments, as well.

Guardienne may be taking off her shirt to change - in their shared room of course - with Lance doing his own thing. Her back will be towards him when she’ll suddenly hear “fucking gorgeous” from behind her, and she’ll look over her shoulder to cast an amused glare at him as he gifts her with a wolfish grin. This can happen at almost any time; as she changes, steps out of the shower, undresses for an intimate moment - the possibilities are nearly endless provided it’s an appropriate moment.

Other times she’ll be doing her own thing - feeding her companion, organizing her clothing, redecorating her room - and he’ll come to her and wrap his arms around her, littering small, playful kisses along her cheek and neck while muttering things like “beautiful,” “my gorgeous woman,” “perfect,” “you’re a living goddess” as she blushes and squeals in his grasp.

Terms like ‘precious, adorable, and cute’ are typically used in teasing moments - like when he’s trying to get a rise out of her, or while they’re having one of their many intimate moments. Seeing her face flush as she bites her lip and squirms underneath him, completely unable to shoot back a witty statement in retaliation of his fervid comment, really does something to him that he likes to indulge in on occasion.

He’ll certainly compliment her attitude and intelligence as well. However, this is usually under a different scenario, like when they’re talking over, planning, or debating something. This’ll be primarily when she mentions something that hadn’t occurred to him, but he also certainly likes to give her chances to express a thoroughly thought out idea - whether he agrees with it or not - and he loves to stress his approving opinion on her wisdom and perceptiveness when she expresses her detailed decision. Of course, she definitely has times where her thoughts and decisions are... incomprehensible for Lance, but he still makes sure to show when he’s impressed by her.

He doesn’t compliment her too often, but when he does she knows it’s sincere, and he certainly makes sure it won’t be missed by her. The last thing he wants is to compliment her but for it to be forgotten because it was just a small, passing comment.

That��s also why he makes sure to compliment her when he’s having a random bout of intense affection. Lance is very inconsistent on when he sparks affectionate moments, but occasionally the feeling will hit him where he’s just so overwhelmingly happy to be in a relationship with such a powerful, respectable woman that he needs to stress to her how deep his affections run. This will likely only happen later in the relationship - when he knows she won’t run from him for being so incredibly emotional about her - and once he feels safe to express himself in such intense ways she’ll basically be spoiled rotten. Occasionally he’ll come back with flowers or a small trinket as a gift, but it’s much more common for him to take a day off to spend it solely with her, wrapped up in her arms underneath the blankets as they cuddle the day away. He’ll touch her whenever he has a chance, hold her whenever he can get his hands on her, kiss her whenever the moment presents itself and refuse to let her go - so long as she agreed to spend the day with him. Lance will know how to spoil her without being too clingy if she needs to spend the day working, but if she did agree to spend her whole day with him then she should expect to spend the whole day with him. Seriously - he won’t let her go.

This leads to how they cuddle then, and this can range from soft, gentle, and sensual to... basically pinning the other down and refusing to let them up. On a normal day it’ll be soft nuzzles while they hold each other in their arms, quietly talking or not talking at all as they embrace the rise and fall of their partner’s chest. These moments are calm, but can’t begin to rival the comfort of after-sex cuddling. In those moments, as their harsh breathing calms and dewy sweat cools on their skin, they’ll hold each other so close that they can feel the other’s pulse, and every breath they take threatens to suffocate them as there’s absolutely no space left between the two. Guardienne will fall into Lance’s strong, broad chest and rest her head over his heart to enjoy the alluring rhythm while the dragon will pull her tight against him, letting his hand run over the outer side of the leg hooked over his waist as his other arm pulls her close. These gentle caresses after sex are laced with moments of Guardienne brushing her fingers along his chest and abdomen, pressing gentle, sensual kisses to his skin as Lance tangles his fingers in her hair and curls an arm around her waist to keep her close. On the other end of the spectrum, they partake in a lot of aggressive cuddling, and this can be provoked by either Guardienne or Lance when they’re feeling aggressively playful or a bit territorial with the other. Lance may be feeling a bit jealous one day - there are many faeries who like Guardienne due to her valiant effort at saving Eldarya, and while he doesn’t blame them for doing so, she’s still his now and he will fight any rival - and will be seeking her attention, so he’ll pick her up and lay on her the bed... and lie down on top of her - literally. Only for a moment though, he’ll adjust himself to be only half lying on top of her as he wraps both arms - and both legs for the hell of it - around her and gently squeeze as he nuzzles into her neck. Guardienne can fight all she wants, but it’ll be no use. Lance’s strength overwhelms her’s without question, so whatever struggle she may try to put up to escape from him, it’ll feel no different than a leaf fighting the wind to Lance. Of course, there are times where Guardienne sparks this aggressive cuddling as well. She might be feeling particularly aggressive one day, and - knowing that her rough mannerisms is, to Lance, the equivalent of a Musarose batting at a door - she won’t be afraid to grab him and drag him to the bed or couch - and he’s only moving because he’s allowing himself to be moved - shoving him onto it before laying atop him. Now Lance could easily get up, but he loves when Guardienne has her aggressive, territorial moments (provided no one is hurt because of it, which is unlikely anyways) so he’ll humor her by poking fun at her demanding attitude or by just allowing her to express her affections via death grip. Occasionally he’ll be even more aggressive in turn and they’ll have a contest on who can be most aggressively affectionate towards the other.

Their cuddling and aggressive affection can depend on - or even help her with - her menstrual cycle as well, and, frankly, he’s become a master of pleasing a temperamental, hissy-fit woman who can be taken down only by blood loss when he needs to be. Lance knows how to keep himself calm under heavy pressure and anger from another person, so her futile attempts at getting a rise out of him will... really only get a rise out of her as she realizes he won’t throw a tantrum as easily as her. Any cramps she has? Well, he may be an ice dragon but he knows basics in controlling fire, so he’s certainly not against raising the temperature of his hand to rest on her abdomen and ease the cramps via makeshift heating pack. If she experiences hot flashes - or nausea flashes if the cold helps her with those - he’ll do the opposite and bring his body temperature down until he serves as a cool pillow for her to rest on. Those aggressive cuddles I mentioned before help ease any of her aching muscles as he holds her tight, and any aggressive affection he’ll shower her with - when not irritating her, as she’s pretty unstable between loving and hating this intense attention - will remind her that she’s not alone going through her torment and that’s he’s there to help bring her comfort if she wishes to utilize him.

He’ll take good care of her overall during her periods; making sure she’s hydrated, bringing her anything she needs, and certainly isn’t afraid of retrieving sanitary products (pads, tampons, whatever she uses) from the market if she needs him to. Lance will bless her with massages, random fits of aggressive affection or gentle loving, and will happily carry her around the room if she needs something but is feeling too pained, fatigued, etc. to actually be able to walk around. If she’s having a day where she wants to be left alone? No problem, he can basically ignore her by distracting himself with work until she comes crawling along to start irritating him for attention, and when that happens he’s usually quite fine with wrapping up whatever he’s working on and providing his affection to her. Of course, this isn’t to say that Guardienne can’t take care of herself during her menstrual cycles, but it shows that Lance is very prominent in helping her if she needs help during these times.

Knowing all of this, it's easy to imagine how restless they can get when the other goes on a long mission. Usually when Guardienne goes on a mission, Lance is sent with her for safety purposes (how could anyone forget her tendency of getting hurt?), but there is the occasion where she's sent without him. Lance, of course, will worry about her the whole time she's gone; wondering if he should have pressured Huang Hua more to send him with her, fretting that she's already hurt and alone somewhere, hell - even worrying that she's alright but another man in a foreign land is trying to court her, regardless of if she's interested or not, but frankly he's not sure if he'd be more disturbed if she is into romancing another man or of she isn't but is living through that forced experience anyways. Goodness so many things he doesn't know while she's gone!

When he's not worrying about her, he might be spending his time restlessly trying to distract himself. His partner is gone for an amount of time in which he only has a rough idea, so he’s left without anyone close to him to hang out with. Suddenly he finds that he’s very bored very often... He’ll occupy himself with work, basically; starting from the most important daily things and continuing until he retires for the night or until he’s done every task possible until there’s basically nothing left to do for the day. In the case where the Obsidian guard has basically nothing else to do in terms of daily tasks, he’ll take to planning things, or scheduling, or re-scheduling, or gathering information from other Obsidians, or running errands for Huang Hua, taking on extra missions, taking on a mission that will send him away for as long as she’s away, anything to keep himself busy. Mathieu has proven a bit helpful in these times - the young human is almost always happy to spend time training or just hanging out with Lance - but, of course, he’s not always available, and Lance can’t spend all his time with one person who’s not his partner. He does get a bit fed up with others once in a while after spending too long around them.

At night, or at times where he would usually find himself curled up with Guardienne, he’ll pacify his drowning ache to feel her in his arms by digging through her clothing drawer and taking a few items that smell like her to curl up with instead. He’ll bury his face in his partner’s pillow and sleep on her side of the bed, sometimes even taking her pillow - or a pillow in general - and placing one of her stronger scented shirts over it to hold close to him at night so he can breathe in her scent as he sleeps. Guardienne has come back to this sight many times - it’s quite adorable to find Lance passed out on her side of the bed, laying on her pillow with her shirt on another pillow clenched tightly in his arms. On the topic of clothing; he won’t wear her clothing, but he may keep a shirt or coat of hers over his shoulder in the daytime as he walks around their room - never doing as such outside of the room, though. When he’s outside of their room he’s distracting himself from her existence by working himself, but when he’s inside their room he’s indulging in her scent and memories until her fateful return. He makes sure to keep what happens outside his room versus inside his room separate.

When she finally returns she’ll be flooded with affection and attention like she wouldn’t believe, specifically being held captive in his arms for countless hours when they have time alone together as Lance does his best to express how much he truly enjoys her company and misses her when she’s gone.

Guardienne has a tendency to do very similar things when Lance leaves on a long mission; working herself more, sleeping on his side of the bed, taking other missions. However, she has friends that she hangs out with a bit more when he's gone. She certainly makes time to hang around them in general - she knows how to balance her relationships - but since Lance is gone, all her social time is now spent with her friends. Of course, that changes when night falls and she retires to her room, remembering that she's now alone until Lance's eventual return. Guardienne doesn't really like sleeping alone after so many nights with the warm dragon, but she's found ways to counter the cold loneliness that overtakes her. Like mentioned before, she’ll sleep on his side of the bed, burying her face in his pillow to drink in his scent, but she also has a tendency to dig through his shirt drawer and wear one of his stronger smelling shirts when she’s alone or as she sleeps. Throughout the day - when she finds herself missing his presence even more so - she’ll make a point of keeping anything he gifted around her more. Any jewelry, trinkets, ornaments, gems - basically anything he gave her - will be kept around her to ward off loneliness. She’ll also wear clothing he gifted her, and then wear one of his shirts over that. However, once again, those habits are usually restricted to inside the room. She’ll wear gifted jewelry and clothing in public, but that’s the extent of it.

Her reaction when Lance returns isn't too far off of his reaction upon her return, except when he finally relieves her of loneliness she'll throw herself onto him and kiss him in a passionate, desperate manner. Only in private though. If she meets him in public - at the gates of the guard, or something - she'll throw herself into his arms and embrace him in a tight hug before likely trailing him all the way back to their room to help him settle back in. Either way, the first night they spend together in a long time will be an endless night filled with heated touches and lustful whispers.

These were quite fun to write, so I hope you like them as much as I do! Since these are general relationship headcanons, I still have more that I could write about. There’s so many different aspects to relationships that it’s hard to run out of thing to write, haha. Happy to write a part 3 if anyone would like to request. 😊

Also happy to write a scenario on their aggressive cuddling, although I may do that as a special un-requested scenario anyways. (Perhaps as a 100, 200, 300 followers thank you sort of thing. I nearing 200 now and I want to do something special eventually 😉)

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#eldarya #Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #Eldarya Lance ane #eldarya lance headcanons #fenristheorem writing #askfenris

74 notes · View notes

leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 43

Chapter 43

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, heart break and heartache, swearing, drinking soft, smut

Word Count: 12000

You are awoken at 8am by Elise stirring slightly beside you. Knowing she is hungry and this is the last time you will get to feed her before the honeymoon you adjust your top and pull her into your embrace. You have plenty of milk in the fridge ready for your trip, but you want to enjoy this intimate moment with your daughter.

She immediately latches and you lean back against the headboard gently brushing her thin hairs from her forehead you stare down at her. Normally you would be completely mesmerized staring down at her; this huge piece of you, piece of Fred resting in your embrace. Just as you had felt with your three sons; and every morning with Elise up until this point.

Normally you use these quiet moments with your kids to try to determine what traits they have taken from you, what they have taken from Fred, their father, the man you are set to marry today.

But not today.

Today you feel uneasy, anxious, a ball of nerves resting in your gut. Your stomach doing backflips, nausea washing over you. Your entire body gets hot, palms getting clammy; you take deep breaths in through your nose and out your mouth, hoping you can make it through the feeding without puking.

You hear Carlee groan at the light knocking at the door, followed by her footsteps on the tile floor. Making your way out to the living room Allie stumbles out of her room wiping sleep from her eyes. Metal squeaking accompanies Carlee as she rolls the tray into the room. She pulls the lids off as you flop onto the couch as Sarah makes her way to join you.

“Good morning beautiful, can’t wait to see you in eight hours when you finally become my wife. Love you xoxo Fred” Carlee reads from a card that accompanies your breakfast. There is a round of “aww’s” from everyone as their eyes fall to you. You swallow the lump in your throat giving a fake smile that nobody seems to see through, still foggy with pre-coffee haze.

The room quickly gets busy after breakfast, Amalie and Charlotte arriving first. Some girls are getting their makeup done, others, yourself included, still having their hair done. You have a white silk robe slung over your shoulders, while all the girls have a pistachio coloured one. Each embroidered with cursive font on the back.

Maybe it’s the buzz in the room; the giggles and chatter, that nobody notices you have barely touched your first mimosa. Or maybe they think you are trying to take it easy, not wanting to be that bride. The bride who spends her wedding with her head in a toilet bowl. Or maybe they think you are pregnant, given your track record it’s not an unreasonable assumption.

Maybe it’s the excitement of Kathy walking in absolutely glowing, six months in to her pregnancy. Or maybe it’s Elise who spends most of the day being passed around the room from woman to woman. Even as she naps she never sees her bassinet, someone always free to bounce in her arms.

But if someone had of looked a little closer they would have seen how your nose scrunched up and you gagged taking that first sip of your mimosa. If someone had of listened they would have heard, well they would have heard nothing.

They would have noticed how 90% of your responses have been under five words, or how most of your responses are half smiles with a small nod of the head. If anyone had of watched they would have seen how you haven’t held your daughter in almost 5 hours, how you are the only person not to rub Kathy’s stomach in hopes of feeling a kick.

If they had of paid attention they would have noticed that you are constantly picking your nails. Your knee is anxiously tapping against the floor, so much so you are surprised a hole hasn’t developed.

If anyone had of noticed they would have seen the emptiness behind your eyes as you slowly fade further and further back.

But they don’t.

Or maybe they do. But maybe they think you are just nervous or so excited you are caught in your head. Maybe this is how some brides feel how some act.

Uneasy at the thought of walking down the aisle.

Uneasy at the thought of getting married.

“Oh you guys are gorgeous” you say as your bridesmaids walk into your sight in floor length pistachio A-line dresses. The top has a scoop neck with a white lace overlay and a racerback. The bottom is a chiffon skirt complete with white heels and matching earrings. It’s something you gifted them all with as a thank you for standing beside you, being a part of this day with you.

It’s after 2:30 and everyone is getting into their dresses, you the last person. You hand Elise over to Charlotte having just got her into her wedding day outfit. The seamstress did an amazing job and the dress that was too big mere weeks ago fits her perfectly.

Carlee and Allie lead you to an attached room and unzip the bag, both of them gasping at the dress before them. They of course helped pick it out, but they haven’t seen it since then. And there is a pretty big change that nobody including yourself knew about until the first fitting.

“Hey babe” you call out walking into the kitchen setting your purse down on the counter.

“Hey” Fred’s arms wrap around your stomach puling you back against his chest. “How’d it go?” his hand gently rubs over the bump.

“Well bean here decided before my first fitting was the perfect time to pop, so the dress would barely do up around it” you laugh. “My dress fittings going forward will be interesting.”

“I’m sure you still looked gorgeous babe” his warm breath is on the shell of your ear. “Wear track pants for all I care.”

“Funny thing though” you gently rub your hands over his as he hums in response. “It wasn’t the dress I picked out.”

“Hmm that is weird” he mumbles.

“Yeah see I ordered a white dress, the one I tried on today was blush.”

You pull his hands away and turn gently in his arms. Your hands land on his shoulders and his eyes stare down at you.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?” you ask quirking an eyebrow.

“No” he shakes his head. “That is super weird.”

“You sure?” you ask seeing him trying to hide a smirk but he just nods in response.

“When I asked them about it they said my fiancé went in and made the change” you explain. “Two days after I ordered it.”

You stare up at him, your gaze getting firmer. Your arms cross over your chest and you take a step backwards until you hit the counter running out of space. Staring into his eyes he is the first to break with a deep sigh.

“Kay. So the girls came down last month and you all went shopping, and that night I facetimed with you.”

“Mhm” you nod.

“You wouldn’t tell me anything about the dress just that you loved it but I could tell you were holding something back. Well Lucas started screaming and you passed the phone to Carlee for a couple minutes. Well I kept pestering them and finally Allie let it slip that she didn’t think you were 100% happy with it.”

Shaking your head slightly Fred continues on, his eyes softening “she said there was this dress in blush and you loved the colour but not the dress. Then you tried on the dress you bought and loved it but it was in white. They said you could get it in blush, but the customization was an additional $5000 so you said no and decided to go with white. She said you tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal but they could tell you were a little upset. When I got back into town I stopped on my way home. The stylist you had was working and remembered very well how you seemed disappointed. She said it took you over thirty minutes to come out of the dressing room. So I pulled my credit card out and paid for the change then and there.”

“Fred that’s very sweet of you, but I was fine with white” you say softly.

He walks forward and pulls you into his chest before he has the chance to see your face. If he had of waited he might have seen through you, that the problem wasn’t the colour of your dress, something much larger kept you locked in that dressing room. Instead your face is pressed into his chest and he continues on, none the wiser.

“You shouldn’t be fine about your wedding dress. And you know I don’t care about money, the dress even in blush was actually much less than I thought it would be. I just want to make sure this is the wedding of your dreams.”

You should have been thrilled at Fred’s surprise. It should have made you feel like the most special girl in the entire world. That you have a fiancé who is willing to stop at nothing to ensure today is exactly as you dreamed it.

Only thing is this isn’t how you dreamt it. How could you?

Instead of feeling butterflies about seeing Fred you have an overwhelming pit in your stomach. No amount of distractions or mental pep talks making it go away.

Slowly Carlee zips the dress up, working on the couple of buttons of the ball gown. Taking a few uneasy breaths staring at yourself in the mirror, you feel tears prick your eyes, just as Allie attaches the vail to your head.

“You look so beautiful” Carlee squeals fixing some of your hair.

“Thanks babe” you reply taking yourself in. The top is lace and beads, dropping into a low V on the front and back. Below the waist blush coloured tulle falls to your feet, trailing a few feet behind you. It’s not a classic ball gown, lacking the puffiness of a princess dress, but still not having a form fitted bottom.

A part of you was worried about the fit, being pregnant the seamstress only had 10 weeks to make the changes. And during that time your body was constantly changing, adjusting to no longer being pregnant. You had no idea what to expect, and this has been a major stress for you.

Finally ready complete with the earrings Charlotte leant you, the pair she wore on her wedding day. You walk over to the window looking out at the 200 guests who are patiently waiting in your seats, sun shining down on them. The clock quickly approaching 4 and everyone is laughing and chatting amongst themselves, every seat full.

You sigh and sniffle back the tears seeing them.

The two empty seats in the front row.

Walking out to the other room joining your other bridesmaids you notice Charlotte has left. Finding her way to Fred, for him to escort her down the aisle. Only Elise and the five bridesmaids left, all eyes falling on you.

“Mommy you look beautiful” you hear your son call. Turning around you see the three of them in matching navy tuxedo’s complete with black bow ties. Fred took you and the kids out a couple months ago to the tailors to pick out the looks for the groomsmen and the boys but you never imagined they would look this adorable.

The dark fabric against his light skin, matching suspenders and hair combed to the side just tugs on your heart strings. A white boutonniere pinned to the outside of his jacket. Fred styled his hair off to the side, his wavy red hair framing his face. You wipe away a stray tear quickly picking him up for a big hug.

“Oh my goodness look at you” you coo pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You are just the most handsome best little man.”

A smile tugs on the edge of his lips and a blush hits his cheeks “thanks mommy.”

“How is daddy doing?” you ask giving him another kiss tickling his side.

“He said I can’t tell you” he giggles making you laugh. You hoped Oliver would divulge some details into how Fred was handling today. If his nerved were getting to him, or if he was calm, like when he is in net on game day.

You wish he hadn’t told him though, you wish Oliver would tell you he is anxious. That he had to pour himself a glass of whiskey to calm down, his leg was tapping anxiously against the wood floor. That he was being pulled in two different directions while trying to play it off. But it appears Fred beat you to the punch, telling your child to stay tight lipped.

“Oh and look at your brothers” you say trying to distract yourself as Mitch stands there, holding each of the twins hands. They have on identical suits to Oliver, hair combed over to the side. “All of you are just so handsome.”

You walk over completely bypassing Mitch and scooping them for a big hug. You press your lips to their foreheads holding your three boys tight. Oliver begins to groan about it being too tight and you release him standing up to be met with Mitch.

“Hey Mitch” you say straightening his bow tie before he wraps his arms around you for a tight hug.

“You look beautiful momma” he says into your ear.

“You look nice too” you smile.

“I look better than nice” he scoffs jokingly. “Is the little lady ready?” he asks looking over to Elise. Wide eyes and smiling in her bassinet dressed in a white dress. It has a lace top and tulle bottom, a large bow tied around it, a white floral headband on her head.

While planning the wedding you tried to find a way to include all of the kids in the day. When you thought you were having a boy you planned on one of the bridesmaids pulling him down the aisle in a wagon. With the surprise of having a girl you switched to a groomsman pulling her down the aisle, and Mitch immediately volunteered to escort her. During the ceremony she will be with Charlotte in the first row but you still wanted to have her be a part of the ceremony.

“Yeah we just have to get her in the wagon” you respond as he walks over picking her up. He grabs a blanket placing it over his crisp suit to protect himself from the potential baby vomit, before pressing her against it. She coos in his arms reaching out to grab his thick brown locks giving them a tight yank.

“Okay” the planner comes into the room scanning around at everyone “Fred is ready and waiting for you.”

“Ready” Carlee comes up wrapping her arms around you for a tight squeeze. You feel yourself tense at the words, fists clenching firmly. Your nails dig harshly into your palms and you take a few uneasy breaths. Unclenching your fists you see the crescent shaped marks you left behind. All day you thought these feelings would go away once it came time to walk down the aisle, but instead bile rises in your throat.

Pulling away she sees some tears in your eyes, your bottom lip beginning to quiver. “Hey don’t cry” she wipes away the tears with her thumbs. Immediately recognizing these aren’t happy tears, they are the tears that often come before a collapse of emotions. Her voice drops to a hushed whisper as her lips find your ear “what’s going on?” she whispers.

She pulls you in tight and an involuntary sob slips from you before you breakdown against her. The room goes quiet only your sobs echoing as her hand tangles into your curls holding you close.

“(Y/N)” she whispers running her other hand up and down your back.

Your chest heaves and you fall apart in her arms “I don’t know if I can do this” you whisper through a deep shuddering breath as Allie comes up to you wrapping her arms around the two of you. Your chest tightens and your breathing gets erratic the room feeling like its crumbling around you.

“What do you mean (Y/N)” they usher you over to the couch your head falling onto Allie’s shoulder, Carlee crouching down in front of you. The silence that fills the air is deafening. You can feel the tension in the room as everyone watches on, waiting to see how everything unfolds.

“You don’t want to marry Fred?” Carlee asks softly squeezing your hands, your body stiffening at her words.

Your eyes stay locked on your feet but you crumble hearing her words, your heart breaking into a million pieces. You become frozen unable to respond, everything around you fading into the background. Taking a deep breath, anxiety brewing low in your gut slowly inching its way up to your surface

You don’t know how long you sit there, your eyes glazed warm tears barreling down your cheeks. Allie gently squeezes your hand and you remain frozen eyes locked on the floor. “What do you need babe? Need to run, we can do that.”

Silence.

Over what feels like the next hour Carlee and Allie try to talk to you. You hear Oliver object while Mitch, Amalie and Sarah usher the kids outside to provide you with privacy. His cries make your stomach churn and your chest tightens but you can do nothing to help calm him down. You barely have control of yourself at this point.

You spend the next ten minutes sobbing against Allie’s shoulder, Carlee constantly dabbing your tears trying to preserve your makeup. You have a tight hold on one of Carlee’s hands and one of Allie’s as they try to encourage you and talk you down. But it’s no use.

Your hands are shaking, blood running cold while the ringing in your ears drowns everything else out. They become inaudible; the only sound you hear is your heart beating through your chest. You feel like you are outside your body watching everything unfold. Stuck in a glass box and no matter how hard you pound your fists against it, it won’t break.

Tears are streaming down your face, and you know nothing will ease them at this point. Biting the inside of your cheek, the taste of copper fills your mouth. Your entire body tenses up “I can’t” you say pushing up from the couch walking away “I can’t do this.”

“(Y/N) you can do this” Carlee says walking up to you.

The blood pounds in your ears. Your heart thudded in your chest. Your hands trembling, feet tingling as you kick your shoes aside. You have to get out. You cry harder, chest growing tighter as bile rises in your throat. Your fists are so tightly bound you expect to draw blood

“No!” you yell stopping her in her tracks “you need to get me out of this.” Turning around to show her the buttons on the back “I can’t breathe you need to get me out of this.”

“Okay okay okay” she fumbles with the buttons, Allie coming to help her. Finally you push it down your body and step out of it standing in just underwear. Immediately you fall to the cool tile floor your dress in a pile a few feet away. Bending your knees and putting your head between them taking a few deep breaths.

You don’t move sitting on the cool floor in your underwear taking deep breaths while your friends silently look on, unsure of what to do next. Seconds feel like minutes, your heart still pounding through your chest. “I need Fred” you whisper so low it’s almost silent.

“What sweetie?” Allie asks your head not lifting from between your legs.

“I need Fred” you repeat and hear her heels click against the floor as the door shuts.

“Wow Frederik” your mom calls walking over to you. She grips your face placing a kiss on your cheek “you look so handsome.”

“Thanks ma” you place a kiss on her cheek pulling back slightly “you look great too.”

She smiles wide “ready?” she asks fixing your sleeve. You can see the tears resting behind her eyes, seeing her first born on his wedding day.

“You have no idea” you laugh holding an arm out for her. “I can’t wait to marry her.”

“Well between you and me, she looks absolutely beautiful” Charlotte says kissing your cheek again. You just smile in response, you have no doubt she is going to be breathtaking. You don’t even know if you’ll be able to get through your vows without breaking down.

Her arm links with yours and you begin the walk down the aisle, past the crowd of onlookers. Scanning around you see friends and family on both sides, team mates from all your years in the NHL scattered around.

You don’t spend much time scanning the faces, mostly looking ahead to your awaiting groomsmen. To the altar where you will finally get everything you’ve ever wanted. The squared off altar with soft coloured cloth draping it, white, red and pink roses mingled in it. The large oversized lanterns, soft coloured flowers littering the edge of the aisle, the oval backed brown chairs.

You had no idea this is how it would look. (Y/N) showed you pictures throughout the entire process, but you mostly helped nudge her when she couldn’t pull the trigger. The colour of flowers, the shape of the twinkiling lights, size of the candles. None of them really mattered to you, so you mostly tried to figure out what way (Y/N) was leaning and encouraged her to choose that. She wasn’t always subtle on what option she preferred, but all you need is her standing across from you and nothing else would matter.

But taking in the décor, all you can see is (Y/N). Everything looks amazing, not that you should be surprised. Kissing her cheek she makes her way to her seat and you finally take your spot at the altar beside your groomsmen. Next are the bridesmaids, your kids and then (Y/N).

You shutter just thinking about how in less than thirty minutes she will be your wife. You have the four most amazing kids, and soon this woman you share everything with will be your wife. You thought your family was complete when Elise was born, but today is the final piece to your forever.

“You ready for this” Auston whispers in your ear and you quickly whisper a yes not even bothering to look towards him. Your eyes stay locked down the aisle waiting for them to appear.

Scanning around the crowd you can see the guests getting antsy in their seats. You didn’t go through how long after you arrived at the altar the bridesmaids would start to walk but you are beginning to think it’s taking a little longer than expected.

Shifting awkwardly on your feet you turn to your watch, over twenty minutes late. While being punctual isn’t always her strong suit when dealing with four kids, today is the one day you can’t imagine she will be late.

And that’s when you see her.

Allie.

Quickly making her way down the aisle.

Too quickly.

That’s when it hits you, you shouldn’t be seeing her. It should be Amalie first. And Allie doesn’t look happy, she looks stressed. You swallow the lump in your throat as she comes up to you, turning you so your back is to the crowd.

“You need to come” she whispers in a hushed but assertive tone. “(Y/N)…” she trails off “(Y/N) needs you. Now.”

Your back stiffens at the firmness in her voice. Before she spoke you knew something was wrong, but hearing her tell you that makes you want to fall apart. Instead you turn saying nothing to nobody and head in the wrong direction, back where you came from minutes ago.

Gasps and whispers fill the crowd, your mom trying to reach out for you but you are gone. Long strides propel you down the aisle, once around the corner and away from the guests you take off running. Past Mitch who is bouncing Elise. Past Amalie who is trying to distract the twins. Past Oliver who cries out for you as Kathy holds him so he can’t chase after you.

Opening the door you don’t know what you expect. But it is not (Y/N) naked on the floor, her dress haphazardly thrown in a pile on the floor. Her head between her legs as she takes deep breaths. Her cries the only thing you hear.

Your stomach churns as you watch the site unfold in front of you. Swallowing back the lump in your throat, your heart breaks into a million pieces. Carlee shooting you a soft half smile before wordlessly slipping out around you.

You hear his dress shoes click on the polished floor. He can feel the pain rolling off you in waves long before he reaches you. Sighing he slides onto the floor beside you crossing his ankles. He doesn’t say anything, watching your chest heave, listening to your strangled sobs. He glances over at you. You can feel his gaze burning into the side of your head but you refuse to meet his eyes.

Too frozen, too afraid of what you might see. What you have caused. You don’t know how long the two of you sit there, but he doesn’t talk, he doesn’t touch you. He sits. Silently. Uncomfortably, Heart breaking as every second ticks on, but he knows you need time.

Finally your tears begin to subside, the walls pulling back from around you. Your knees bent and arms curled around them you take an uneasy breath mustering the strength to stare at Fred who has yet to move.

Your eyes flick to meet his deep brown orbs, they are glazed over, the tears pricking his eyes yet to fall. He stares down at his feet taking some uneasy exhales waiting to see if his life is about to unravel in front of him. His face is a blanket of panic and fear and it bruises your heart.

You see the pain in his eyes, the pain you caused and you immediately crumble yet again. Your head falls onto his shoulder, the touch startling him. He closes his eyes, focusing on the gentle touch before taking a deep breath. Without thinking he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. He holds you tight to his chest, worried this is the last time. That if he lets go he’ll never get to hold you again.

One hand tightly grips your arm his other gently stroking up your cool skin. You continue to sob against his chest, but relax against him. You feel him exhale because you didn’t recoil from his touch. The silence in the room is ominous certainly loaded with meaning.

You don’t know how long you sit on the floor with him “you still want to be with me?” he hesitantly asks. Hearing him say those words breaks you. It’s not the words themselves, it’s the absolute despair and heart break he tries to hide but even still you hear the fracture in his words.

“Do you actually think that?” you whisper.

“Up until five minutes ago I had no doubts at all. Then Allie comes barreling towards me and I find you sitting in your underwear, your dress in a pile on the floor. Now I don’t know what to think.” The strain in his voice trying not to let it crack tears your heart in two and sends warm tears barreling down your cheeks.

You choke on your tears, pulling your eyes up to meet his. The look on his face nearly kills you, inadequacy, rejection, humiliation. The silence hangs thick in the air, a gentle thumb wipes the tears that have stained your cheeks. You smile lightly at his actions. As he sits there waiting to find out if you are about to break his heart he still is putting you and your needs first.

“Is this a Cody situation?” he whispers.

“What?” you say a little too harshly.

“Your ex”

“I know who Cody is Fred” you groan.

“You once told me you didn’t know why but you couldn’t commit to him that something was missing. When the time came for you to decide you couldn’t do it. Is this” he trails off trying to find the strength, but you don’t know if it’s to ask the question or for the answer. “Is this like that?”

“No. I love you Freddie so much” you whisper unsure if you can use your full voice.

“What’s going on babe” he asks softly thumb gently stroking over your cheek. Your bottom lip trembles as you struggle to find the words before you finally choke out“my parents.”

You watch him exhale the breath he has been holding onto for the past few minutes. His shoulders relaxing slightly but he still keeps you tight to him. His arms had never felt better wrapped around you. Holding you safe.

You have had a pit in your stomach for months, but you tried to push it aside. You have known since you were 12 that you had to do this on your own. You weren’t going to call your mom and facetime her minutes after accepting the proposal. Your dad wouldn’t cry when he saw you for the first time in your dress, your mom wouldn’t watch on during the father daughter dance.

You have been telling yourself it’s normal, that these feelings are to be expected but on the actual day you thought excitement would supersede your anxiety. But now you are wrecked with nerves and you just know you can’t do it. You can’t stand at the altar, with two empty chairs in the front row staring back at you. Seats that shouldn’t be empty, seats where your parents should be sitting.

Neither one of you says anything, Fred allowing you to cry against his smooth suit fabric. He feels your body slowly begin to relax, your sobs becoming less strangled but he doesn’t say anything giving your arm a soft squeeze. The soft thudding of his heart helps to slow yours down, calming you down.

“I’m sorry” you say faintly.

“Don’t apologize, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now” he hums pressing his lips softly to your temple. You melt into his touch and instantly felt all the tension he had been holding escape.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard” you sigh. “I thought I could make it through today, I didn’t expect to feel this way.”

“You didn’t think you’d miss your parents on your wedding day” he laughs lightly.

“I don’t know” you groan. “I thought I would be too busy to think about them, with everything going on. But now all I can think about is them; how they aren’t here.”

“How long has this been going on?” he asks knowing this didn’t start today.

“For a while” you mumble “first happened when I tried on dresses.”

You spent twenty minutes having a breakdown in the dressing room over the fact that your mom wasn’t there. That she didn’t get to be a part of the experience with you. You had long known she wouldn’t be there but that day sitting in the dress you fell apart. You told your friends you spent the time trying on dresses that you instantly knew were no’s and that’s why you were in there for so long. There have been a few times since then, but that was the first moment you truly missed her.

“You want to run” he asks causing you to snort slightly. “We don’t have to get married smuk. We have four kids and two houses. You already are my wife; I don’t need some piece of paper that says that. Just need you.”

“No Fred” you laugh for the first time all day. “I want to marry you, I just…I need a minute to miss my parents.”

“Take all the time you need, I’m not going anywhere” your head falls onto his chest listening to the soft beating of his chest. The light thud against your ear slowly soothes you, and for the first time in a while you feel at ease.

Finally you smile at him “I am so happy I have you.”

He leans forward to gently press his lips to yours. The kiss starts soft and hesitant. A kiss that tastes and feels like home making your arms wrap around him as you sink into the kiss. “I love you” he mumbles against your lips as he captures his breathe before returning his lips to yours.

His hand squeezes your arm tightly as he groans against you tongue sliding back inside your mouth. You run your fingers through his hair gently tousling the curls as the kiss becomes more heated. Fred is the first to pull away breathless, lips covered in your lipstick.

“I’m ready now” you say capturing your breath.

“Sure you don’t need another minute” he smirks pulling your face forward for another heated kiss. His tongue slips inside your mouth, your hand gently raking through his scruffy beard.

“So if it’s bad luck to see each other on the wedding day, what do you think kissing is?” he laughs against your lips.

“Let’s go” you rise to your feet pulling him up. Feet firmly planted on the ground you finally feel grounded. He pulls you back into his chest your arms tangling behind his jacket and he presses one last kiss to your forehead. The two of you stand there for a few minutes before you pull back. “You have lipstick all over your face” you tease.

“You’re naked and late to the ceremony” he quips back. “See you down there babe” he presses his lips back to yours before slipping back out the door.

“For years I’ve watched guys stare at their families through the glass, smiling at their wives and doing some pregame ritual with their kids. I never realized just how jealous I was of them until I saw you on the other side.”

You smile at Fred, the gentle breeze blowing through your hair, warm sun shining on you. The pond is your back drop a low chirping of birds and rustling of trees can be heard. Even though you saw Fred not too long ago, walking down the aisle was the first time you managed to take him in. Swathed in smooth navy, his hair slicked back, sun reflecting off his red hair. Everything you could have imagined in life standing a few feet away. Your hands gently resting in his as he recites his vows, you having just finished yours.

“When I saw you there bouncing Oliver in your arms I knew I wanted you there for every game. That I need you to be there every game. Feelings I thought were gone were suddenly awakened seeing you with our son. I knew I could have everything I ever wanted in life all I had to do was yes to love…and get you to agree.”

You roll your eyes and a few members of the wedding party chuckle but he continues on unfazed. “You are so funny and always able to make me laugh. But I don’t love you because you are funny or smart or kind, I love you because you are my best friend. I love how when you smile you get these cute crinkles by the corner of your eyes and the dimples in your cheeks. How when your favourite song comes on you will involuntarily start dancing while you cook dinner or make yourself a tea. That when you are truly happy your face lights up with the purest of radiance.”

You hear some commotion to the side cutting Fred off. You and try to ignore it, Fred clearing his throat when it gets louder. A smirk crosses both your faces glancing to the side to see Noah fussing. Fred opens his mouth but is cut off by a loud shriek followed by a “momma.” In typical fashion Lucas picks up on the fussiness of his twin and begins to squirm joining in the crying.

“They missed their nap today” Fred explains causing everyone to chuckle. Your eyes glance to the side and you see Charlotte and Ernst trying to soothe the two of them before bringing your gaze back to Fred. There is a sparkle in his eye with a wide grin spread across his face as the twins begins to calm down.

Clearing his throat he goes to start again “I can’t imagine my life without you” he starts but is quickly cut off by their cries again.

“One sec” you take a few steps and pull Noah into your arms. As you grab him Lucas is quick to call out “momma” and make an up motion with his fists. Shaking your head you pull him on to your other hip bouncing the two of them they begin to calm down as you return to Freddie. He quickly pulls Lucas from you, his head falling onto his dad’s shoulder relaxing against him.

Placing a quick kiss on his forehead and brushing some of Noah’s stray hairs he curls up on against you. “Okay ready” you smile taking your one free hand to grip his.

“I love that you are an amazing mother” he laughs bringing a hand up to Noah’s cheek brushing away the few tears that fell. “You are a fierce protective mother, and always put the kids first. Almost to a fault sometimes” he glances towards the boys who are standing up at the altar with you, not with their grandparents a few feet away. A large smile spreads across your face but you don’t care. The past few years your lives have been centered around being a family, and having them up there with you for this feels right.

“I had no idea when I met you that you were going to implode my life, but in the most amazing way possible. But now I can’t imagine a day without you. Standing here with you there isn’t a single thing I would change because it all led me to this point. I only went out for a drink and I got a whole lot more than I bargained for.”

He turns his attention to Lucas and places a soft kiss on his forehead. He has since calmed down and is resting against Fred, his eyes getting heavy. Turning back to you he smiles as Noah sleeps against your shoulder and chuckles. “Can’t believe all this happened because two people got drunk.”

“Geez” you laugh rolling your eyes as a few of the guest’s chuckle in response.

“(Y/N)” the officiant says “repeat after me. I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), take you Frederik, to be my husband. I promise I will be faithful to you and honest with you; I will respect, trust, help, and care for you. I will continue to share my life with you and build our dreams together. I will love you and honour you, and be by your side for the good and the bad times, as long as we live.”

Taking a deep breath you smile at the man standing in front of you. One arm is holding your tired son, the other is holding onto Fred’s free hand “Jeg (Y/N) (Y/L/N) tager dig Frederik. at være min mand.”

He takes a deep sigh hearing you repeat the words back in Danish. It’s something you have been planning and working towards over the last couple months, trying to embrace this part of his life, your children’s life. Charlotte was eager to help you while she was visiting and you have been working on it since then. You sat down with her a few nights ago to repeat it one more time and she told you it was perfect. That you finally got the few words you have been struggling to pronounce.

“Jeg lover, at jeg vil være tro mod dig og være ærlig over for dig; Jeg vil respektere, stole på, hjælpe og passe på dig. Jeg vil fortsætte med at dele mit liv med dig og bygge vores drømme sammen. Jeg vil elske dig og ære dig og være ved din side til gode og dårlige tider, så længe vi lever.”

As soon as you finish he steps forward and his lips gently brushing against yours. It’s a soft and brief kiss but his hand lands on your hip to keep you close. His tongue traces along your lip, as your mouth opens. Before he can slide his tongue in you hear laughter from the guests. But it’s Oliver announcing “daddy is kissing mommy” that makes you laugh into the kiss and pull away.

“You’re ridiculous” you mumble softly and Fred just shrugs it off smiling wide to you.

Your hand trembles slightly sliding the ring on his finger, partially from the excitement that he is now your husband, but also because it’s slightly more difficult with a baby sleeping in your arms. Once it’s finally on his finger he laces his hands with yours and takes a step closer, minimizing the gap. His eyes drop to your lips, but this time he waits for the minister to tell him to kiss you. He glances slightly to his right before back to you, his tongue licking his lips slightly.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss your wife...again”

Before he even gets the words out Fred ducks down to bring you in for a kiss. Unlike the last one this is full of passion and heat. He slides his tongue in swiping across the inside of your cheek while his free hand finds the small of your back. You groan into the kiss bringing your free hand up to his beard. Your tongues continue to fight for dominance, and you begin to feel heat hit your cheeks.

You never imagined your wedding day kiss would be so heated. Thinking of all the people staring you chuckle lightly and pull away from him, foreheads still touching. Fred has a wide smile as he closes the gap once again, this time for a soft and brief kiss.

Everyone has wide grins on their faces, laughter filling the room around you. Multiple conversations are happening at every table, Fred chatting with Auston and Mitch while you are sitting, watching people enjoy themselves and having an amazing time. Fred’s chair is right beside yours, one hand resting on the tulle that covers your bottom half, a glass of whiskey in his other hand. Scanning around the room you smile taking in your friends and family, alcohol and laughter coursing through them.

Suddenly you hear a shriek and look out to see Lucas with orange juice staining his white shirt. Charlotte is quickly making work with some napkins to try and clean him, but you know it’s no use, the stain unlikely to come out.

“It’s not a big deal” Fred says into your ear.

“I don’t care" you smile turning your attention to Fred.

“You don’t care?” he repeats almost baffled.

“Why would I?” you move closer and breathe in his cologne, your hand landing on his thigh. “We have kids, they spill things, besides that shirt won’t fit him in a couple months anyways. And I’m married to the most amazing man, we have the most amazing kids. All of our friends and family are here, nothing else matters.”

“Almost everyone” he corrects brushing his lips to your temple. “What would they be doing if they were here?”

Taking a sigh you turn to him with a tear lining your eye. “Dad would always have a beer in his hand, walking around talking to everyone. Be the life of the party, laughing with anyone because if he didn’t he’d break down over his daughter getting married.”

“And your mom" he laughs taking a small sip of whiskey.

“She would always have one of the kids in her hands. You wouldn’t see her once without them. She’d hold Ollie and be out on the dance floor with him, rocking E to sleep, and constantly be playing with the twins to get them to laugh. She’d probably miss the cake cutting or a speech so encapsulated with them.

The only thing she wouldn’t miss is the father daughter dance. She’d watch the whole thing tears rolling down her cheeks.” You laugh slightly pulling back some tears.

“They would have loved you” you turn to Fred smiling.

“Yeah? The guy who got their daughter drunk and pregnant after one night?” he laughs.

“Well maybe not at first” you chuckle. “Dad would have hated you then, been an absolute dick to you. Even once we started dating he still would have been short with you, my mom would have had to talk to him. He reluctantly would have invited you golfing to appease both of us but he’d make it known he was only doing this for us and he wasn’t going to have a good time. Then he would see what I see and the two of you would become best friends.

He’d always have your favourite whiskey in the bar, ready and waiting for you. He’d go golfing and play tennis with you on weekends, tell you that you are barbequing wrong“ you say laughing lightly.

“Wish I got to meet them elskede" his lips gently brush against yours.

“Me too" you turn back to the scene unfolding, curling into his chest as his arm wraps around your shoulder. “Me too.”

“Oh my god that is just the cutest thing ever” Steph says staring onto the dance floor. Turning your attention over you see a few couple scattered around dancing before finding what she is talking about. Fred holding your daughter against his chest and you see his lips moving, him whispering to her as she sleeps in his arm, moving with the beat of the song.

You grin wide looking out, leaning against the bar behind you “I know he makes my ovaries explode” you groan as you feel of wetness go straight to your core.

“Watch it or you’ll make baby number five” she adds and you through your head back laughing.

“No, there will be no baby number five” you laugh. “But when he does shit like that it becomes hard for me to not want another.”

“Just wait until he sees your lingerie later he’ll be saying the same thing” Steph smirks winking at you.

Groaning you turn around to face the bar to order a drink while you continue to talk to her. The lights brighten slightly and you hear the DJ say something about a change of pace before feeling the bass vibrate under your feet.

“What are you ladies talking about” Fred asks as you turn around to find him, Auston and Mitch joining you by the bar.

“You guys having baby number 5” Steph teases and Fred chokes on his drink while Auston’s eyes go wide.

“Oh my god I said there will be no baby number 5” you laugh as Fred pulls you into his side, relaxing his grip. “We were actually talking about your girlfriend Maddie” you look to Auston.

The two of them have barely been dating for 6 months; Fred told you he is actually crazy about her, never having seen him like this with a girl. He told you Auston deleted all his dating apps and hookups phones numbers within weeks of meeting her and Fred thinks she could be someone serious for him.

He waited a bit to introduce her to the team and bring her to a game. She is a little more reserved and he didn’t want to overwhelm her with this part of his life, but this is the first time she has been around a large group of players at once.

“Wondering when it will be your wedding” you deflect some of the attention off you and onto him. His cheeks heat up and he shifts on his feet with a smirk on his face.

“It’s a little soon for that” he says softly but a part of you doesn’t believe it. He has basically been attached to her all day, constantly pulling her onto the dance floor, hand resting on the small of her back.

“Stop teasing him, he’s in love” Mitch teases.

“Fucking hate you guys” he mumbles.

“Elise and the twins are heading to bed, Ollie says he hasn’t had cake yet so he won’t go” Fred whispers in your ear. He grips your hand and pulls you over to the kids to say goodnight and goodbye, not seeing them until you return from the honeymoon.

“I don’t know if I’ve told you today, but you are absolutely breathtaking” he murmurs in your ear pulling you back against his chest. You just spent the last few minutes with Oliver spinning him on the dance floor, his laughter almost louder than the music. The lights have been dimmed; mostly it’s the warm glow from the twinkling lights and candles illuminating the space.

“You might have mentioned it once or twice” you turn your head to glance at him.

“Once or twice” he presses his lips to your temple “I need to up my game.”

Leaning back your head rests against his chest watching Oliver lead Mitch to the treat table to grab another cupcake. “You know for someone who never stopped pestering me about her wedding band, you haven’t even looked at it.”

“Oh” you realize. “I guess nothing really matters except the fact that I’m married to you” you smile.

You raise your hand and turn your attention to examine the rose gold band resting around your finger. There are multiple tiny diamonds evenly spaced around the band, shimmering back at you in the light.

“Oh it’s beautiful” you gasp examining the band, spinning it on your finger. Something about it looks familiar but you can’t place it.

“Mhm” he hums. “Recognize it?”

You stop fidgeting the ring and try to think of the one Charlotte has, maybe he had one designed to be similar to it. But her band is gold, and doesn’t have the number of stones placed on it. And you know it isn’t your grandmothers. Her wedding band is the one her mother managed to keep hidden during WWII, it’s a simple gold band with one small stone. But somehow this ring feels very familiar.

After a few minutes you finally sigh and turn your head back to look at him. There is a few beads of sweat in his hair line, only wearing his dress shirt having discarded everything else a while ago due to the heat. The top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, his chain visible on his hard chest.

“No I don’t” you say eyes trained on his.

“It was your moms” he says softly and you feel tears hit the back of your eyes threatening to spill out.

“What?” you choke out turning around in his embrace.

“Your grandmother offered it to me the day I asked them for permission” he explains, hands resting on the small of your back. You bring your hand back up into your view as you other tangles around his back, grabbing a chunk of his fabric.

“You’re dad had good taste” he says leaning down to press his lips to your forehead and a few stray tears start to roll down your cheeks.

“I can’t believe you-“ you choke on your tears sniffling against him. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Seriously? I was so happy when she offered it to me There was no way I wasn’t going to give you this ring. ” He gently brings a hand to yours lacing his fingers with yours and gently spins the band around your finger with his thumb.

“I wish they were here babe but this ring is a part of them. It represents their love, their marriage and their family. I can’t think of a better wedding band for my wife. Every time you look at it you will think of me and my love for you but also the love they shared.”

Your tears continue to fall as he tightens his arms around you. A slow song has begun to play and he slowly rocks the two of you to the beat, holding both of your hands against his chest. He hums the tune, his lips gently pressed against your forehead.

Standing tangled in his arms you have never felt so at ease. You realize that as long as you have Fred, you have everything you will ever need. Everything in life will be okay, and even if it isn’t somehow everything will sort itself out.

“Why don’t you put me down” you giggle as Fred struggles with the key. It’s not a typical key card it is an actual key and he is fumbling to unlock the door while your arms are wrapped around his neck.

“It’s our wedding night, I’m going to carry you over the threshold” he mumbles finally getting the key in.

“So traditional” you smirk pressing your lips to his neck, sucking soft marks under the collar of his shirt. His bow tie was long discarded and top couple buttons released.

“Be a lot easier if you weren’t distracting me” he groans as you gently nip his skin. You chuckle lightly hearing the door unlock as the heavy wood frame creaks open. Stepping inside he kicks his shoes off and the door softly closes behind him. He carries you into the living room of the honey moon suite and you pull back turning your head.

The low flickering of the candles on every surface capturing your eye. Next you see the countless bouquets of flowers, your favourite flowers, scattered around the room. He lets you take it in for a few minutes before bringing you into the bedroom. There is a selection of chocolate covered strawberries and other fruit with champagne waiting on the dresser. A rose petal heart on the bed and he quickly drops you on it, petals scattering around the white duvet.

“You do all this?” you ask softly.

“It’s the honey moon suite babe, I think they just do this” he smirks.

“Uh-huh. And the flowers? They just knew these are my favourite and brought in easily a dozen bouquets.”

“Thirty one” he corrects crawling over to you. “They did the candles, champagne and stuff but I may have called the florist last week about the flowers. For the record they would like more than a weeks’ notice to fulfill this along with the wedding bouquets, centre pieces and everything else. Might have paid a lot for these” he smirks “but you’re worth it.”

“One bouquet wasn’t enough?”

“Nope” he grins as a hand finds the back of your neck pulling you towards him. His lips brush against yours hooking an arm around your back he slowly drops you to the bed, hovering over you he closes the gap with a wide grin on his lips. You moan against him, tongue tracing along his lower lip your hands find his dress shirt grabbing a fist full of fabric. His jacket and vest being long discarded.

Your hand moves to the front of his shirt, giving it a tug to free it from his dress pants. “Someone’s eager” he groans as your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, slowly releasing them.

“I’m just excited to have sex with my husband” you grin emphasizing the word.

“Husband” he smirks against your lips “I like that.”

He pulls away rising to his knees and takes over the buttons of his shirt. He slowly pops the buttons revealing more skin, your eyes wandering over his bare chest. Dragging the fabric off his arms he discards it in a pile in the corner. Next his belt clanks against the wood floor, and he is off the bed. He pushes his pants down his legs tossing them in the pile of clothes, leaving him in just boxers.

Your eyes rake over his body, taking in every curve of his muscle. Taking a deep breaths your hips voluntarily arch up towards him. He grips your wrist pulling you onto your feet and spins you around “This dress looks amazing on you" he hums in your ear.

“Believe it or not it looks better off" you moan.

“Oh baby I know it does" his hands gently rub up and down your arms. His mouth is gently nipping the skin on your neck, his words sending an electric current straight to your core. His large fingers not in a hurry, slowly popping the button. You feel him fumble around your back struggling to undo the small buttons before dragging the zipper down your back.

His hands find your shoulders, gently pressing the straps down your skin but you step away from him. “I have something” you explain walking to the bags in the corner.

You pull out a small bag and Fred immediately knows what is waiting underneath the white tissue. “Save that for tomorrow” he pulls the handle from you dropping it on the floor.

“But I bought it for tonight” you whine.

“Baby I know you are going to look phenomenal in whatever lingerie is in that bag. But honestly I don’t want to wait for you to get changed only to have to take it off two minutes later, that’s two minutes of me not fucking you.”

He ducks his head down, warm air ghosting over your neck “and baby all I want to do tonight is fuck my wife.”

Hearing him call you that almost makes your knees buckle, heat rapidly building in your core. You too want nothing more than to feel his cock stretching you out. “I’m wearing it tomorrow night” you command.

“Look forward to it” his fingers return to your shoulders pressing the fabric down your body. A mess of blush tulle landing at your feet and you step out of it. Fred bends down to grip the back of your legs but you stop him picking up your dress to hang on the back of a chair “it’s expensive “ you shrug.

Once in front of him you push him backwards until his knees hit the bed and he slowly falls back. You drop to your knees in front of his quirking an eyebrow while your fingers toy with his elastic band. You can see the large bulge tenting his boxers making a fire ignite in your core. As you pull the fabric down he lifts his hips slightly his thick member slapping against his stomach.

Your moth waters staring at his throbbing cock, precum dripping form the tip. “Fuck” he groans as your lips wrap around him, tongue cleaning the sticky liquid from his tip.

Your tongue swipes up the vein on the underside of his shaft and his eyes practically roll into the back of his head. Soon you begin bobbing on him taking more and more each time, your hands gently stroking up his thighs.

You swirl your tongue around him, your nose pressing into his pelvis. Your eyes stay locked on his, watching as his snap shut and he takes a few uneasy breaths. Digging your freshly manicured nails into his thigh his hips buck up, tip resting against the back of your throat.

“Babe” he whispers, unable to use his full voice. Although quiet you hear but you don’t stop continuing to bob up and down on his long member.

“Fuck (Y/N)” he says more firmly as one hand begins to gently massage his balls. “You can’t do that.”

He pushes you off him, saliva dribbling down your chin and a pout crossing your face.

“Why?” you pout “I want to suck my husband’s dick.”

He swallows hard at your bluntness, eye lids fluttering. You shoot him an innocent look, squeezing your breasts together between your arms and batting your eyelids to him. Shaking his head he grips your wrist and pulls you harshly onto the bed.

You land hard on the mattress and he quickly rolls over you spreading your knees with his thick thigh. He manipulates you to raise your hips, pulling the remaining piece of fabric, thin white lace, down your legs. “Because baby I want to do this.”

You gasp loudly as two of his fingers find your folds, gently playing with your entrance. He moans feeling how wet you are, wet and full of need, waiting for him. You smile against his touch and his lips gently press into your temple.

“You’re soaked eh” he smirks sliding his two fingers over your heat, coating them in your juices. Before you can respond they part your folds and sink in. His thumb presses into your clit while his fingers begin to fuck in and out of you at a slowly building pace.

“Fred” your entire body squirms at the feeling and you hear a quiet dark chuckle against your neck. His mouth begins to place warm open mouth kisses all over your neck and chest, before finding your breasts. He licks over the orb before sliding his tongue between the valley of them before sucking on your nipple. You slide your hands over his bicep, your feather like touch making his fingers curl into your G-spot.

“I’m gonna cum” you warn feeling the slow build low in your stomach.

“That’s the whole point” he smirks increasing his pace.

“Not fair” you whine at the fact you couldn’t take him to completion but he isn’t going to stop until you do.

“Want me to stop?” he teases popping his head up to look into your eyes.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your lower lip being pulled through your teeth. In an attempt to answer you only muster a need filled whimper and he just quirks an eyebrow in response continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you, thumb pressing harshly into your clit.

“Good” his lips land on your cheek before finding your collarbone. He nips the skin, dragging his tongue along you “this is my favourite part” he muses.

You tilt your head slightly and he pulls back, dark brown eyes finding yours. He gives you a wink and the coil in your stomach is now tightly bound. A few final thrusts, you chanting his name through breathless pants and it snaps. Pure euphoria floods your veins, toes curling as he slows slightly to draw out your orgasm.

He groans when your nails anchor hard into his back but doesn’t stop, working you through it as warmth spills down his wrist. You’re vision begins to clear, the orgasmic haze lifting. Finally he stops keeping his fingers buried deep inside you but allows your fog to settle.

“I’m so happy I get to do this every day” his lips press to the corner of your mouth “make you fall apart on my fingers,” he places a soft kiss to your jaw slowly takes his finger out of your slick heat. “With my tongue,” he moves to suck on your earlobe and you whimper slightly.

He shifts his weight and his hard member pokes at your entrance. His voice is low and husky and he only pulls away briefly “or around my cock.” A loud gasp tumbles through your lips as he easily slides inside your walls, your juices providing an easy lubricant.

Slowly pulling back he brings his lips to your ears. “The best part though” he growls in your ear “I get to do it with my wife.” His hips snap hitting your cervix in conjunction with his words. Foreheads pressed together and lips ghosting over yours as he begins to rock into you.

A loud groan falls from your lips, they vibrate in your core and your nails scrape along his back, harshly digging into his skin. He adopts a slow and steady rhythm, hitting you deep with each thrust before dragging himself out to do it again. His head drops and he places a soft kiss against your lips. Along your jaw. On your neck. On your breasts.

His mouth is everywhere and you are turning into a mess under him.

Neither of you are in a hurry, relishing in the feeling. It’s not a new experience, you under him, leg wrapped around his waist as he loves you. But tonight it’s different.

Your first time married.

First time with your husband.

And because of that it hits different.

Your hands snake around his neck, tilting his head to pull him closer. His mouth quickly finds yours while you roll your hips up to meet his. He groans at your movements continuing to drive into you a hand finding your breast. He begins to gently massage your orb, rolling the nipple through his fingers his tongue swiping inside your cheeks.

You whimper into his mouth and he buries his hips against yours in response. Each thrust is deep and calculated, as he slowly drags his cock back. He almost pulls out completely but drops back into you, his tip pressing against your cervix.

He has you right where he wants you, teetering on the edge. Your heel digs into his back and you feel his lips curl upwards against you “let go for me baby” he mumbles before bringing you back in for a heated and sloppy kiss.

Soon he pulls back slightly, lips hovering above yours. Grunts and moans fill the room as you both approach your highs.

“Gå videre baby slip. jeg har dig” he coos in your ear (go ahead baby, I got you). Almost if on cue your second orgasm crashes over you. Still reeling from your first it’s intense and your entire body erupts with tiny flames. Limbs are tingling, incoherent sounds spilling from your lips.

He continues to mumble into your ear but you can’t focus on anything. His deep voice fades into the background as you shudder under him. Upon feeling your walls flutter around him Fred begins to feel his release. Giving you a final few thrusts he spills coating your insides with everything he has.

He collapses on you, his head landing on your shoulder. Coming down from your high you can feel some warm cum spilling around his cock and down the inside of your thighs. But the two of you continue to lay there, your fingers gently playing with his hair.

Finally the two of you have partially recaptured your breaths and he pushes himself off of you. Sweat is dripping from his roots glistening on his forehead but instead of pulling away me mumbles into the crook of your neck peppering kisses along your collarbone.

“I love you so much” he smiles. “My wife.”

“That’s a lot of food for the two of us" you laugh as Fred wheels the tray of food to beside the bed. There are plates of bacon and hash browns, scrambled eggs, a gigantic tower of pancakes and a few bowls of fruit.

You take one of the cups of coffee bringing it your lips, the faint hazelnut smell filling the air around you. Before you can take a sip there is a knock on the door.

With a soft grin he presses his lips to your temple and walks away. You sit silently trying to guess who is at the door when suddenly you hear the light pitter patter of Oliver’s feet followed by one of the twins light squeal.

You set your cup down just in time for Oliver to jump on the bed and wrap his arms around your neck as he tells you about his sleepover with Amalie last night. You help Lucas onto the bed when Fred rounds the corner with Noah and Elise tight to his chest. He quickly drops Noah onto your legs.

“My babies" you laugh pulling all three boys in for kisses on their cheeks. Fred sets Elise in the middle of the bed and begins cutting some food for the kids.

“What are you doing here?” you ask tickling Oliver. He squeals with excitement unable to capture his breath.

“We’re having breakfast” Ollie laughs.

“Figured you’d want to see them for a few hours before I whisk you away on our honeymoon. Get in some last minute snuggles" Fred explains as you release your toddler so he can take his breakfast from his dad.

Noah curls into your lap and you rest your chin on his head, holding him tight against your chest. Before you can reply Lucas climbs in beside him and you wrap your other arm around him.

“This is perfect” you say as Noah begins to whine, Lucas invading his space. Elise begins to cry and Oliver is talking a mile a minute about all the fun he had last night.

“This is perfect" Fred jokes setting the plate of food for the twins down and grabbing Elise to try and soothe her. “I can barely hear myself think" he laughs kissing her forehead bouncing her in his arms “it’s chaos.”

“Yeah but it’s our chaos” you smile pressing a soft kiss on both of your twins foreheads.

***

“(Y/N)” you hear Fred softly call out to you. “Were almost there.”

His lips press against your cheek and your eyes slowly flutter open. Reaching out he grasps your hand and helps you sit while you reach out to stretch.

You have no idea how long you’ve been on the plane, having fallen asleep but you are happy to know you will soon be getting off and can properly stretch your legs. You tried to get Fred to tell you where you’re going about twenty times, but he refused any information, not even giving you hints.

“Where are we" you push the blanket off your body as the seat rises back up. Taking the blanket from you he reaches over to grab the sun shade from the window and pulls it up “take a look.”

Excitement washes over you and you eagerly turn your head to look out. You blink a few times unsure if it’s from the sunlight flooding in, or if it’s shock unsure you are actually seeing the skyline through the glass.

“You didn’t” you gasp.

“Mhm" he hums pressing his chest against your back. Warm lips hit your neck for a soft kiss before he pulls back lips ghosting over your ear “you always said you wanted to go here, seemed like the perfect time to do it.”

You manage to pry your eyes and turn your face slightly to meet him “I can’t believe you did this" you say softly. His lips gently brush against yours “I’d do anything for my wife.”

***

Authors Note: This is the final chapter of this series, I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you so much for reading it, this story started as the first thing i ever wrote. And it slowly evolved into something.

I wish I could commit to keeping it going but I have been struggling with the story the last few chapters (I always had the plan it was the getting pen to paper). So that is why I decided to end it, my original outline only had 31 chapters though so I’m glad I was able to expand on it.

#because two people got drunk #because two people got drunk fic #frederik andersen #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #Freddie Andersen #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #Fred Andersen Fic #nhl smut #NHL Fic

64 notes · View notes