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fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat · 9 months

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Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand) Ch. 5

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: Things finally get better, until they get worse again.

Warnings: Death of a parent (that's a big one, please proceed with caution), judgment against unmarried mothers, hospitals, language.

Word Count: 4500

Previous Chapter!

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Notes: I know that I said that poor Stevie was going to get a break soon, but not quite yet.

Steve was sulking on the couch when you came home that afternoon, beaming brighter than the sun.

“How’d it go?” he asked, meeting you on the kitchen tile.

“Amazing!” you replied.

“I told you it would, didn’t I?”

“You are talking to the Roane County Historical Society’s Lead Education Coordinator!” You were practically exploding with excitement. “I mean, Floyd said the interview was just a formality to make the Board happy-”

“You sound so professional,” Steve remarked.

“-but I did it!”

“I knew you would,” Steve said, punctuating with a kiss to either cheek. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

“Shut up.”

“And now you get to be a professional nerd,” Steve teased with a smile. “We should go out to dinner. To celebrate.”

“We should,” you agreed. “But I wanna talk to you about something else first.”

“We’re really living the highlife now,” Steve jested. “Dental insurance and all.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry, I’ll shut up,” he relented, but his smile stayed right where it was. ��Serious time.”

“Floyd asked me about finding a replacement for the front desk,” you explained, “and I had an idea.”

“Okay?”

“And if you hate it, we can just move on like I never said anything.” You were beginning to ramble. “But, I mean, I think it’s a really good idea, and it doesn’t have to be forever if you don’t want it to be, it can be just for now, and-”

“I think you’re gonna start overheating if you keep working yourself up like that,” Steve cautioned with a smirk.

“Right, sorry,” you said shyly.

“What’s your idea?”

“I thought that, if you wanted to, you could replace me at the front desk.”

“Me?” Steve questioned, surprised by the suggestion. He didn’t really see himself as the museum type.

“Just think about it. You’d have better pay and better hours,” you explained. “We’d be working the same schedule in the same building, and we’d both be on the same insurance.”

“I’m not really qualified,” Steve supplied. “Am I?”

“Sure you are,” you responded.

“I don’t actually know anything about Roane County history,” Steve pointed out. “I’m pretty sure that’s a big prerequisite for working at the historical society, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, not really,” you said. “As long as you know which floor everything’s on, you’ll be fine. Besides, you’ll learn it all on the job, anyway.”

“You really think it’s a good idea?”

“Yep. Floyd thinks so too.” You stepped away from him to shed your bag and shoes on the side of the couch.

Your boss Floyd was an odd man, eccentric and contagiously enthusiastic. He was always dressed like he was about to go out on a hike, and nothing about his personality really read as “history museum curator” to Steve, aside from his (somewhat off putting) devotion to the subject. You’d told him about how he used to be a hippie in college and never really dropped the act, and that apparently he never wore shoes when he was in his office, though Steve had yet to see that bit for himself.

“I’ll train you for the first few weeks before I go on leave,” you said. “Which means you’ll get to work with me until you know the ropes.”

“Oh, well, that does sound nice.”

“I promise, the hardest thing you’ll have to do is order the office supplies every other week,” you said. “What do you think?”

“Do you think I’d actually be any good?”

“I think you’d be amazing, and that it’s a fantastic idea, and that I’m still mad at you for quitting your job at Family Video without warning me four months before we’re having a baby, so you kinda owe me.”

That had been a fun conversation full of lots of expletives.

Steve was still feeling hesitant, but you were staring at him with some heart wrenching puppy dog eyes. You were kind of handing him a perfect opportunity on a silver platter.

“Please?” you implored. His apprehension crumbled into dust at how much you wanted him to say yes.

“You really think it’s a good idea?” Steve asked, uneasiness seeping through his words.

“A hundred percent.”

“Okay,” Steve answered. “Yeah.”

“Really?” you asked with bright, excited eyes. “You want too?”

“I think it’s a great idea, my little genius,” Steve said.

“I’ll call Floyd in the morning!” you exclaimed before rocketing from your spot on the couch to wrap your arms around Steve in a hug. “Oh, we definitely have to go out to dinner now.”

“Italian place on seventh?”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied. “I started thinking about that ravioli earlier today, and if I don’t get my hands on some, I think I might cry.”

“Oh, well, we can’t have that,” Steve said through a chuckle. “Gotta get my girl some ravioli.”

Steve’s interview was the following Monday. It was three questions long, and it took all of five minutes.

“Do you want this job?” Floyd asked him from across his desk. Every inch was covered in something or other, stray papers and knick-knacks. The whole office was filled with clutter. Any wall space not taken up by cabinets and shelves was completely covered in posters and frames, every shelf filled with tchotchkes and artifacts. Lamps in every corner lit the room, along with a window lined with potted plants that looked like they were about to take over the whole wall. The scent of essential oils permeated the room, and you had been right to give Steve the warning; Floyd had no shoes on.

“Yes, I do,” Steve answered.

“Can you type?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Can you work the register in the gift shop?” Floyd seemed to be writing some very thorough notes, though Steve couldn’t imagine what they might possibly be about.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great!” Floyd said, dumping the clipboard he had been scribbling on back onto his desk, the force making the surrounding papers flutter to the sides. “You’re in.”

“Oh,” Steve said with a blink. “That-that’s it?”

“Do you have any idea how happy I am to get an actual employee in that position?” Floyd asked, elbows resting on the desk. “With her leaving, I thought I was gonna have to find another group of high school interns again.” He shuddered at the thought.

“Oh, well I’m glad that-”

“Never again,” the older man interrupted, almost seeming afraid of the idea. Steve would have laughed if it wasn’t for the dead serious gaze he was being punctured with.

“Right.”

“I mean, god love ‘em, but if I have to watch any more teenagers try to stumble their way through a conversation with the donors, I might have an aneurysm.”

“O-okay.”

The first couple of weeks were slow going; signing things in, signing things out, learning the computer system (“Baby, there is absolutely no reason for this to be so complicated!”). Floyd had warned him that it was peak season, but apparently, even peak season was still, at least according to Steve, incredibly idle.

“What do you actually do all day?” Steve asked. You shot him a look. “I mean, it just feels like there’s a lot of downtime, is all.”

“Oh, yeah?” you teased.

“You’re so good at your job, you just get everything done so quickly.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Uh, homework? Reading? There are a couple games on the computer, but I never bothered to learn how to actually play them.”

“Hurray,” Steve sardonically remarked.

“I’ve got plenty of books you can borrow,” you told him. “Maybe we could set you up with a hobby, or something. I think you could do wonders with a pair of knitting needles.”

It wasn’t all boring. Despite the strange way about him, Floyd was very funny and took a liking to Steve right away. There were also a handful of volunteers who would show up from time to time, all sweet old ladies who were thrilled to finally be able to meet your beau.

Today’s excitement came in the form of a day camp field trip.

“Gird your loins,” Floyd warned as the yellow school bus unloaded outside.

“Okay, all you’ve got to do is sign them in and hand out the stickers,” you told Steve, handing him a clipboard and a roll of sticker dots. “I’m in charge of everything else.”

Day camp children and chaperones, all clad in matching sky blue tee shirts, filed into the lobby with varying levels of excitement. You stood out like a sore thumb, dressed in all black, save for the neon orange lanyard on your neck that read ‘TOUR GUIDE’ in thick black lettering.

You’d been practicing for today all week long. It was the first of many tours led entirely on your own, and you were getting a little bit in your own head about it; you’d forced Steve into three after hours practice tours, which had actually been pretty mutually beneficial. Steve got to learn a thing or two about his new place of employment, and you were prepped and ready for all the most ridiculous questions Steve could come up with.

Steve handed out the stickers, orange to match your lanyard, going down the line of children reaching a trio of moms huddled together in the back of the group.

“No, thank you,” one of the women spat before Steve had the chance to ask if any of them wanted one. Steve vaguely recognized her; her husband worked for his father. She had attended many a dinner party he had been forced to sit through. Steve couldn’t remember her name.

“You sure?” Steve asked, putting on his most charming smile to win them over. “They’re a very flattering shade of traffic cone.”

“I doubt we’ll get lost,” another supplied through a frosty red, artificially saccharine smile.

Steve retreated back to the desk while you gathered everyone and said your hello’s. As you herded the kids into the main hall, he noticed the women had huddled together and began whispering, though they weren’t very good at keeping their gossip quiet.

“That’s Gary’s boss’s kid, right? The one you were telling me about?” Steve overheard one of them ask.

“Yep,” the other answered. She then gestured towards you, pointing a finger from around her lipstick stained to-go coffee cup. “And that’s the pregnant girlfriend.”

“God, are you serious?” the third asked, incredulous. “And she’s supposed to be the good role model here? Teaching our children?”

“I know, it’s ridiculous.” It took everything in Steve’s power not to get up and slap the coffee right out of her manicured hand. “I’m shocked they didn’t fire her as soon as they heard. I would’ve.”

Steve knew that the two of you had become the talk of the town, how could he not have? It wasn’t like the two of you were doing much to hide it anymore. You really wouldn’t have been able to at this point anyway, but there had been no shotgun wedding to cover anything up, either.

For the most part, people had been congratulatory. Surprised, definitely, but congratulatory nonetheless. Well, except for Robin. And his parents. And Hopper, who at this point, was one more wrong move away from pulling his shotgun out on Steve.

Okay, so strangers and vague acquaintances had been congratulatory.

To your faces.

It wasn’t as though either of you were ashamed about the situation at hand. It had taken Steve a long while to grapple with the fact that it wasn’t wrong of him to be happy, that this wasn’t the great tragedy everyone around him seemed to be so convinced it was. Not that he ever thought it was, not really. It had seemed as though everyone around him thought it irresponsible to be anything but remorseful, but how could he be? He was definitely scared, and so were you, but there was an ever flowing thrum of joy that tinged every moment of his day when he thought about the little one waiting for him, for the both of you.

That being said, all of the snide comments and judgmental side eyes you two had been collecting since April were beginning to be too much. The disgust in that mother’s voice at the idea of her children being around you made him feel like nothing more than some reckless, idiot kid who’d ruined your life by not being careful enough.

Was that really what your future was going to look like? Mothers turning up their noses at the idea of you teaching their children? Getting turned down for jobs because Steve hadn’t pulled out like he should have? He had been so preoccupied with doctor’s appointments and baby clothes that he hadn’t even thought about it. Of course, Floyd was going to give you a job, he loved you and probably didn’t even believe in marriage to begin with, but what about everyone else? The two of you had been concocting dreams of leaving Hawkins for a good decade, but if no one else would be willing to give you the time of day because of the baby, had that all been for not?

Maybe they were all right. Maybe he really had ruined your life.

Steve quickly began to appreciate the quiet of his new job. His whole life had been so hectic and stressful over the last few months (well, the last few years, really), that the slow moving days of making copies and handing out museum maps were a much appreciated respite.

It didn’t last long.

Saturday, June 24th, 1989. You and Steve had spent the day indoors, the sticky summer air too stifling for you to bear suffering through. The 90 degree weather that Indiana became swathed in every year had brought back new bouts of nausea and headaches for you, and you’d spent the whole day splayed across the sofa doing your best to keep your saltine crackers down. Steve had been bringing you a constant stream of ice water and popsicles, worrying about what the rest of summer might do to you; the season had just begun, yet it already seemed to have taken you out.

The sun was finally beginning to set, bringing the temperatures down with it and leaving you in slightly better spirits. You’d just put a record on (the new Cure album that you’d been playing nonstop) and sat at the kitchen table, watching intently as he chopped up salad veggies for your dinner.

“Stop stealing all of the tomatoes!” Steve chastised you as you sneakily grabbed another thick wedge, dousing it in salt. “There aren’t gonna be any left by the time I’m done.”

“Maybe not for you,” you quipped, a small rivulet of tomato juice tipping down your chin as you spoke around the bite.

“You cruel thing,” Steve remarked with a smile. He turned around to pull the dressing out of the fridge. “Not leaving any tomato for the love of your life? I mean, really, that’s just-”

The sound of the phone ringing interrupted Steve’s joke. It was nearly nine thirty, too late for most people to be calling, though he knew a certain group of teenagers for whom common courtesy didn’t really seem to matter, especially when it came to him.

“It’s probably just one of the kids,” Steve remarked as he went to answer it. “I told them my chauffeur services are over, but I swear, it went in one ear and right out the other. Hello?”

“Steven?”

Oh.

Definitely not the voice he was expecting to hear. Actually, it was probably the last voice he was expecting.

“Mom?” he asked. You whipped your head to face him. “Is everything alright? I wouldn’t usually expect you to call this late.”

‘I wouldn’t have expected you to call at all,’ is what he really meant, but he didn’t say it.

“Yes, well,” his mother said. Her voice sounded tinny over the phone, and Steve could hear all sorts of commotion from behind her.

“Where are you?” Steve asked, though his question was quickly answered when he heard the sound of a loudspeaker page for a doctor. “Is everything okay? It sounds like you’re in a hospital.”

“Your father’s had a heart attack.”

His head went cloudy, and he was sure that his ears weren’t working right, and the drive to the hospital was taken in complete silence. Not a sound, outside of your quiet sniffles; your eyes had been filled with tears since the moment Steve told you what had happened, though they had yet to drop.

You’d known Steve’s parents just about as long as Steve had; of course you would be upset, too. He hadn’t really thought about that until that moment, and it made him feel like a bit of an asshole.

Granted, he couldn’t really think of much right now even if he tried.

He hadn’t spoken to his mother in almost three months, and that last conversation had been far from a cheery one. He had handed his mother her worst nightmare on a silver platter. He’d broken her heart, effectively ruined everything. His eyes flashed over to you in the passenger seat, trying so hard not to cry, your hand resting gently on the baby bump that was the very source of said heartbreak.

Steve parked the car and let out a shaky sigh.

The hospital was freezing cold, made even worse by the blistering heat outside. You and Steve were blasted by a wave of frigid air conditioning as you walked through the sliding glass doors. Sterile and unwelcoming. By the time he’d walked up to the front desk, he realized he couldn’t get any of the words he needed to say out of his mouth.

“Oh, um, hello,” you said, having expected him to speak first. “Hi, sorry. We’re here to see Ronald Harrington?”

“Relation?”

“This is his son, and, um,” you hesitated for a moment, “daughter-in-law.”

The woman at the desk seemed unconvinced but told you the room number anyway.

Fluorescent lights, linoleum tile. Beeps and blinks, doctors and nurses racing through halls and sat at bedsides. Room 604 came too quickly for Steve to steady himself. Another shaky sigh, you squeezed his hand as you opened the door.

There was a nurse there, and his father in the bed with tubes and wires going every which way. He was not awake. Steve suddenly knew, as simple as breathing, that he would not be waking back up. His mom said over the phone that the doctor told her there was a chance that he might, but in an instant, he knew they were wrong. Sugar coating it as an act of kindness, maybe, but he thought providing his mother with false hope was more cruel than anything else.

His mother.

She was sitting next to the bed. Her eyes were rimmed in horrible red and her hands shook as she held those of her husband. She was disheveled, and exhausted, and as soon as she set her eyes on her son, she shot straight up from her chair and pulled him into a hug.

“Mom,” Steve quietly cried as soon as his mother’s arms wrapped around him. He felt horribly small, in the middle of the big bad hospital room.

He hadn’t cried; honestly, his brain hadn’t really had the chance to catch up to everything that was happening around him, but now? God, the floodgates had opened. His mother was crying too, an unsettling sight, but not one he hadn’t seen before. His mother had been brought to tears by her husband god knows how many times, and Steve had always been there to do his very best to fix things for her.

This was different, though. It wasn’t her husband’s cruelty that brought the tears this time, and there wasn’t a single thing Steve could do to fix it.

“Oh,” his mother fussed, brushing her hands over the sides of his face. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve blubbered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” his mother said. “You’ve done nothing wrong, alright? Not a single thing.”

You stayed floating by the door, talking to the nurse about the man who never loved him, who was dying right next to him. A waiting game, at this point.

The hospital room had two cushy chairs for family, and a backless rolling stool surely meant for the doctor. That’s the seat that Steve chose, pulling it up next to the one his mother had chosen. He could vaguely hear the greeting between the two of you, see the hug from the corner of his eye, his mother fussing over you, asking how far along and if you’d been feeling alright. He probably should have been paying attention, but all he could focus on was the way his father was lying there already looking dead.

“Hey, Dad,” he muttered. He couldn’t touch him, couldn’t think to hold his hand like his mother had been, because when in his life had his father ever tried to hold his hand? Pat him on the back, give him a hug? Ron would have called him a sissy if Steve had tried something like that; he always got all weird when things got emotional.

His mother came and sat back in her chair, pulling his stool right up against the arm, and there they sat, waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. His mother hoped to stave off the inevitable, Steve hoped it would just happen so that the waiting could stop. Oh, god, that was so awful, wasn’t it? He should be wanting him to wake up, to get better, shouldn’t he? But he knew that wasn’t going to happen, and somehow the feeling of waiting there for his dad to drop dead felt so much worse than it actually happening.

It was well past one in the morning now. You were curled up in your chair, fast asleep. You’d tried so hard to stay awake, but he really didn’t mind. If anything, he preferred it, because it spared you from the horrible anxiety of anticipating something terrible.

He’d been quiet for a while now. He had so many things he wanted to tell his mom, but this absolutely was not the place for any one of those conversations.

“I fear that I’ve been horribly cruel to the two of you,” his mother said, breaking through the quiet without looking away from her husband's sallow face.

“You haven’t been,” Steve assured her. “I promise.”

“I should have been there for you, I should have-” she cut herself off with a ragged sigh.

“It’s fine, really. You were worried about me, that’s all,” he emphasized. “Besides, I kinda needed a good knock to the head like that.”

“You sure did pick a good one,” she said after a moment, in reference to you.

“Yeah, I think so too,” Steve agreed with a small smile. He turned to look at you, tucked under a blanket. Your face was turned toward the window looking out over the hospital's parking lot. The red light of the ‘Hawkins Memorial’ sign cast a soft pink glow across your face from its spot outside, Steve’s last little slice of peace in the middle of this horrible mess. “We’re having a girl.”

Steve hadn’t breached the baby bubble until now. His poor mother was already being pulled through the wringer, and the last thing he wanted to do was open that wound, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Are you really?” his mother asked, a genuine smile in her voice.

“Mhm.” Steve had cried when the two of you found out, you both had. He’d never, ever been happier to be wrong in his entire life.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Steve.” She grabbed his hand in two of hers.

“I wanted to tell you as soon as we found out,” Steve confessed. “I was gonna call you, I just- I thought it would just end up making it all worse.”

“It wouldn’t have,” she said. “I would have happily answered you.”

“I know.”

“You two have any names picked out yet?” she asked, diffusing the tension the best she could.

“Well, we were gonna go with Piper-”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

“-but, then she pointed out that since her middle name’s gonna be Robin, she’d end up having two bird names,” Steve explained. “Piper Robin. So, back to the drawing board.”

“Oh, well, you're both smart. You’ll come up with something good.”

“I hope so.”

It didn’t take too long after that.

Ronald Harrington died in the wee hours of a warm June morning, with his wife and son (neither of whom he ever particularly liked) by his side. Meredith wailed at the edge of the bed, you sobbed quietly, and Steve stood stoic between the two of you, trying his absolute hardest to stay put in one piece. He didn’t know what to do.

He found the nearest payphone and called Robin.

“Hello?” Robin croaked, clearly having been woken up by the call.

“Hey, it’s me,” Steve said. He willed the shake in his voice to go away.

“Steve? What the hell are you calling me at four in the morning for?” she questioned. “And don’t say it’s to apologize, because I swear to god-”

“My dad is dead,” he spat out.

“What?”

“He had a heart attack last night, and-” Steve was cut off by a crack in his own voice, “-and now he’s dead.”

“Oh, my god,” Robin replied. “Shit, Steve. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Steve blurted out. He screwed his eyes shut, trying and failing to keep his tears at bay. He shook his head and choked into the phone, “I think that maybe I’m not.”

“Are you at the hospital?” she asked him. Steve could hear movement from the other line.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to come down there?”

“Please?” Steve squeaked out.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure how long it took for Robin to get to the hospital because it felt like time was speeding up and slowing down all at once. The doctor was talking to him about next steps and funeral homes, and Steve was hearing it all, and nodding along like he was listening, but it all just sort of blended together in his ears. He was handed a brochure. The doctor left the room.

Robin appeared shortly after that, wearing jeans, but still in her pajama shirt on top. Any resolve Steve had left disappeared in an instant.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch,” Robin murmured as she hugged him in the hallway just outside the door.

“I was being an asshole. I deserved it,” Steve relented. “Truce?”

“Yeah, truce,” Robin said before turning her attention to you. “Oh, my god, you look like you swallowed a beach ball.”

“Robin!”

“I know,” you (much to Steve’s relief) agreed with a smile. “Feel like it, too.”

You and Steve went home with Meredith that night, back to the childhood home that wasn’t his anymore. Robin headed back to your apartment to feed your cat. Steve would call the funeral home in the morning, and he would cry into your arms tonight.

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pmak2002 · 3 months

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The Jordan heat was almost unbearable and wearing a stilsuit didn't help at all. Between takes everyone was encouraged to drink plenty of water and sit in the shade. Denis made sure everyone was taaking breaks and staying in the shade.

Timothee spent the majority of his breaks sipping water and talking with Denis and his father who had flown out to Jordan to watch Timothee shoot his scenes for Dune 2. You had flown out with his dad and stayed at a apartment with Timothee while he filmed.

On this hot day. You had stayed back at the cool apartment after getting groceries from a local market. You decided to spend the rest of the day relaxing until Timothee and his dad returned.

Halfway through the filming day.

Timothee started feeling lightheaded and being in a heavy and uncomfortable still suit didn’t help.

He couldn’t really focus enough to say his lines. His entire body felt like it was on fire.

He stumbled through the sand back towards the resting area. Zendaya followed him worried.

Denis looked at the rest of the cast and crew and called them out to take a break. Seeing that Timothee really needed one. Everyone else probably did too.

“Papa I don’t feel good.” Timothee said as he went to sit by his dad.

“donne-lui de l'eau, donne-lui de l'eau!”

Denis called to the crew noticing how sweaty and pale Timothee seemed.

Timothee’s Dad placed his hat on his head as they sat together under the tent set up with a fan and coolers full of cold drinks. Tim’s Dad grabbed one water bottle opened it and handed it to Timothee.

“tu dois boire de l'eau.” His dad said.

Timothee took it and drank it eagerly as if he’d never get water again.

Zendaya grabbed her own bottle of water and sat next to Timothee. She reached up to touch his forehead.

“You’re burning bad Timmy. We need to cool you down.” Zendaya said worriedly.

Timothee’s Dad got up to get a rag and put it in the cooler of ice as well as towels.

Zendaya grabbed an already cold wash cloth from one of the other coolers to wipe Timothee’s face.

Timothee groaned and coughed harshly

“So hot.” He whined

“You’ll be ok Timmy.” Zendaya said.

Timothee: nodded and took a deep breath. Being in front of the fans was nice but to his body it wasn’t enough.

Timothee swallowed hard suddenly feeling nauseous.

“êtes-vous ok?” He heard Denis call in French.

Timothee’s head was swimming. He could barely focus on anything.

Denis sounded so far away. He got up and walked a few steps away to take a deep breath and try to calm down. His stomach started swirling around and his nausea increased tenfold.

He started to gag and the next thing he knew he was vomiting into the sand. He felt the hands of his father on his back.

He could feel everyone’s panic but couldn’t hear anything. He could barely make out his dad and Denis’s frantic french.

Then he was out.

The next thing you know you’re getting a call from Denis and he’s panicking as he explains that Timothee had vomited and collapsed during a film break.

“He’s at the hospital Y/N he’s not feeling well. He’s asleep now but he was asking for you as soon as he woke up when he got to the hospital. His dad is with him now.”

“I’ll be right there!” Don’t worry just make sure he’s comfortable ok?”

“Ok see you soon.” Denis said before you hung up and rushed to the hospital.

You found him curled up in a hospital bed covered in cooled blankets and ice packs.

You greet Timothee’s father and he reassures you he’ll be ok.

“The doctor said he’ll be ok. He’s getting fluids and rest now.”

You nod and look over to Timothee asleep yet shivering from the cold blankets and Ice packs.

You head over and sit next to him stroking his sweat soaked curls.

“Oh my darling boy.” You mutter softly as you stroke his curls.

When he wakes up and sees you he whimpers and begins to cry.

“Oh honey I’m here my dear.” You coo and kiss his nose.

“Don’t feel good. Cold.” He said weakly.

“You overheated and we need to cool down. You’ll be alright.”

His dad nods and moves closer to his beside.

“Je ne me sens pas bien papa.” Timothee whimpered.

“c'est bon Timothée, tout ira bien.” His father said trying to reassure his anxious son.

Timothee continued to cry feeling anxious and so sick. Soon he’s vomiting again and the doctors mention he could have sunstroke which is causing the vomiting spells.

You play with his curls with one hand and brush away his tears with the other. Despite the meds he’s being given intravenously. He’s still feeling really sick.

As the day progressed the med dosages are increased he finally starts to improve.

Soon the doctors give him the ok to be released and send you home with anti nausea medication and a few other medications to help him feel better.

Once back at the rented apartment you help Timothee with the bathroom. (He has the runs from the medicine.) then you help him get comfy in bed and give him water.

“We’ll be on a filming break until you feel 100% ok? Denis freaked and told me we’ll let you rest ok?” You tell him.

Timothee nods exhausted from the day. He headbutts you wanting cuddles.

Timothee’s dad ruffles his curls and scolds him for head butting you.

“mon cher garçon, ne fais pas ça.”

“It’s ok Marc he just wants cuddles is all.” You say.

Marc chuckles “he could have asked.”

“Leave the poor man be.” You say.

You crawl into bed next to Timothee and he moves closer to be held. His dad fetches him more water and hands you another blanket before heading to his room.

Timothee nuzzles you and headbutts you again.

“Hey! Your dad is right you know. Sometimes that head of yours hurts when you shove me.

He does it again and kisses you.

“Love you Mon cher,”

“Love you too. Please rest.”

“Only if you hold me?”

You kiss him.

“Of course lovey.”

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dansconcepts · 2 months

Text

Quirky RC!Hajime - Talentsharer Drabble

Hajime sharing someone’s Ultimate if he touches them (or vice versa) would make SDR2 sillier, probably, and this is my evidence.

Behind The Scenes: “Ultimate Talentsharer? What the hell, that's not even a talent! How can you be good at something that's not even measurable?” Junko sighs. “No, fuck you, that's total bullshit! ...What? He's still able to share talents? What do you mean 'it's canon now'-?! Hey! Hey!” Manicured hands yeet her phone. “Ugh! He's supposed to be a normie, a basic bitch, just a regular fucking guy! What am I supposed to do now?!”

What is my talent? Hajime ponders to himself. The wind blows through the trees, caressing his face softly as he sighs, before turning to the white-haired guy next to him.

“You really want to help me figure out what my talent is?”

Komaeda shrugs, a smile on his face. “Yes. I imagine it’ll be quite fun. I’m sure it’ll be a talent full of hope!”

Man, this guy is so nice. “Alright, but how do I start?”

The Lucky Student looks away for a second. “Hmm. Well, since we’re on the beach right now, maybe we could see if you’re the Ultimate Swimmer, or an athlete of some kind?”

Grayish eyes start roaming over his figure, studying him, and he can feels his face start to warm. He shakes it off. “I guess I’ll swim for a bit.” If only to stop myself from overheating. “You’re free to time me.”

He tosses his shirt off-

“Oh!”

Hajime blinks. “Is something wrong?”

“No, ahem, not at all, sorry.” He grins sheepishly. “I just didn't expect you to do that so suddenly.”

“Why? Do I look bad?” He frowns. Although he doesn't remember much, he does know he was pretty devoted to his exercise routine for a while in preparation for being a Hope's Peak student. But he didn't fill out in the way he was hoping for, so maybe... He looks down at himself.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees white hair swishing and hands moving as Komaeda frantically shakes his head. “No! I didn't mean anything like that! You have an amazing physique. I apologize that I even sounded like I was insinuating otherwise.”

'Physique'? Who says it like that? He huffs, amused, even though he can feel his chest puff with a little pride. With careful folds, he rests his shirt into a pink, as if sunburnt, Komaeda's hands. He's so pale, it makes sense he'd be red even with the breeze...

Hajime tips his toes into the water. The chill sends shockwaves through his body as he cringes at the sensation. He takes a deep breath and tries again. He starts walking in further and further, watching the water rise as he slowly submerges inside. While he's pretty sure he knows how to swim, he doesn't feel anything particularly special when he gets in.

Komaeda calls him back after a bit. “Well, you’re definitely fit, from the looks of it.” He grins. “But it still looked pretty average.”

Yeah, I figured as much. Hajime sighs.

“Oh, there's always more hope, Hinata! Why don't we try something else? Like...” He turns, before whipping back to him. “How about music?”

With that, they head to the Titty Typhoon for some instruments. On their way, Ibuki plows into Hajime.

“Oof!” He exclaims.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” The musician staggers on her feet, her arms flailing. Komaeda reaches out to steady her. “Thanks Nagi-chan! Sorry, Hajimeme!”

Hajime breathes. “It’s alright, Ibuki.”

“What are you in a rush for?” Nagito asks.

“Ibuki promised Kazu she’d help him with a playlist for one of his little machiney-sheens and she mayyyyyyy be running late!” She blurts out. “Sorry, gotta blast!”

She runs off.

Hajime sighs. He can hear her frantic apologies to Souda. Guess he wasn’t that far.

They keep going. You should escape, skip town / No more excuses / Abandon ship or drown / No more excuses. The song plays in his head. When they reach Titty Typhoon, him and Komaeda peruse the spare instruments available, with Nagito grabbing the microphone stand.

“A mic?” Hajime eyes it dubiously.

“You have a nice voice.” Komaeda comments.

“H-huh?” Shit, was I humming out loud?

Nagito hums. “Maybe that’s your talent. How about you sing something?”

He definitely doesn't recall having much of an interest in singing or even doing it ever, so if he’s the Ultimate Singer, it sure would seem strange. But that guitar…

He picks it up and strums. He doesn’t remember owning a guitar, but he must have if he knows how to play it already. As if muscle memory kicks in, he starts playing opening notes and the words escape his mouth, singing along to the song previously in his head.

When he’s done, he steals a look at Nagito, who is looking at him with wide eyes. “Um, we already have an Ultimate Musician, so maybe you’re the Ultimate Guitarist? ...Trash like me’s opinion is useless though.”

Hajime presses on. “But what did you think?”

“I-” Nagito pauses. “I thought it was amazing. You have a really powerful voice.”

Hajime grins. Something in him feels the silliest urge to hug him. He ignores it, and just puts a hand on his shoulder instead. “Thanks.”

“W-well again, I really-!”

“No. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have no idea what my talent could be. So thanks.”

Later on, Komaeda exits to grab Ibuki for a second opinion, and Hajime attempts to replicate his performance. He's on the stage again. It feels strange to be at the center, having pairs of eyes on him, even if it's just Komaeda and Ibuki.

The microphone feels foreign in his hands, the guitar even more so. This doesn't feel right anymore. What did he do earlier? Just move his hands on strings? He does that. Simultaneously, his voice cracks when he opens his mouth. He wants to evapourate into a damn puddle.

“It's okay if you're nervous, Hajimemey!” Ibuki yells, “I get those kind of jitters allllllll the time! What works for me is feeling the music!”

Yeah, just feel the music Hajime... “Haha, sorry.” He tries to laugh off. “Let me try again.”

This time, he starts gentle, singing first before grabbing onto the guitar. He strums, and-

SNAP!

The guitar string breaks. He barely even did anything!

Loud feedback starts playing on the speakers, and Ibuki yelps, covering her ears.

Komaeda immediately steps towards the speakers, yanking the plug off with a ferocity he didn't expect him to have. “Um. My apologies. It must have been my luck that caused the speakers to turn loud. Are you alright?”

“I’m...” Horrified. “fine. I'm sorry, Ibuki. I even broke the guitar string too...”

The musician rubs at her ears. “Ah, Hajim-jim, it's all good! I'm just gonna go repair the guitar string. Ibuki just needs to find a spare.”

Hajime looks down, embarrassed at wasting her time. And oh, would you look at that? A white string is right next to him. How lucky. He grabs it, going, “Is this it?”

“WAH! Perfect! Thanks!” She grins, snatching it out of his hand. She grabs the broken guitar and immediately runs off again.

And he's left with Komaeda once more. He chuckles sheepishly. “...On second thought, maybe this isn’t my talent and just beginner’s luck?”

“Undoubtedly.” The white-haired student shoots out. “Without a question.”

He barks out a laugh. God, was he really that bad? He reflects on it. No, yeah, he was pretty bad.

They go around, tidying the place with amicable silence.

Suddenly, loud sirens start blaring throughout the island. He whips to Komaeda, whose eyes are just as wide as his. They both immediately rush out. A flurry of movement is caught in the corner of his eye as he runs past, meeting most of his classmates at the beach. There's confused noises and fingers pointing at the sea in front of them.

What is everyone looking at? He wonders. He looks out into the horizon.

What was originally calm and serene now had some kind of bump, as if a large wave was incoming. But that's impossible, right?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Monokuma pops up behind them. “What the hell is this? Why'd the tsunami warning alarms go off?!” Oh, of course that's it... what is happening today? “Hell, I didn't even know we had those!” His red eye glowers. “What did you crazy kids do?!”

“We didn't do shit!” Fuyuhiko roars. “Is this supposed to be another motive? I thought you said you couldn't hurt us directly!”

“Ah, yes... this is totally a part of the plan... NOT!” The bear growls.

Monomi shuffles out from behind Monokuma, sobbing, “Oh, this is so bad!”

“Shut up! I'm trying to figure out how to fix this!”

“This must be my fault...” Nagito sighs. “I'm sorry everyone. But we can only unite during this moment of despair to create a newfound hope!” His words are immediately washed away with everyone screaming and crying.

“Hajibro!” A familiar voice yells, and upon turning his head, he sees Souda approaching him, and quickly. “It was nice knowing you!” The mechanic hugs him desperately.

“Everyone, we must start to evacuate!” Sonia yells. Gundham nods. “The god of darkness may greet our souls, and I shall defeat him before we descend into his realm!”

There's no way this is how it ends! He hasn't even figured out his talent yet! Why does it have to be like this? Surely, there's gotta be something that can be made to counteract this... He'll need fuel, a large fan, maybe? Wheels to ensure it can be moved... steel... a wall?

“I have an idea!”

Hajime shares his idea with Kazuichi, who blinks tears out of his eyes and peers up at him curiously. “Didn't know you were into mechanics, Hajime. Man, you really do listen to my rambles! This is why you're my soul bro!” It's definitely not that, but I'll let him have this. He nudges Souda to focus, damn it. “Oh, yeah! I could see that working. The problem is we don't really have the parts on this island for any of that...”

“It's impressive you came up with that in such short notice, Hajime. Maybe you're the Ultimate Inventor?” Nagito tilts his head. As much as Hajime would love to address that- it's a really good point actually- there's not enough time anymore!

The water gets closer and closer, its wave oh so high-

before crashing against the beach, providing them a gentle mist while soaking the sand and settling back into serene waters.

“What?!” Hiyoko screeches. “How in the hell are we not dead?!”

Mikan wipes away tears of relief. “It looked much more threatening earlier...”

“Our hope was high, thanks to Hinata! It turned our luck around!”

“Awesome!” Akane yells out victoriously.

Yeah, I don't know about that Komaeda... I'm just glad nothing bad happened.

“Okay, I'm back!” Monokuma's voice rings. The bear does a double take at the scene in front of him. “What the hell?! It's gone?! Damn it! All that work for nothing!”

#quirky au #talentsharer hajime au #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #ibuki mioda #ibuki holds a special place in my heart bc i love her energy #crack treated seriously #dialogue heavy #also yes junko at the beginning #bc my fav thing is writing an annoyed junko considering everything she's done #junko enoshima #implied komahina #but in the pre-stages i guess #sdr2 #long post #this wasn't supposed to be this long...#there's a set it off reference! i love them #drabbles #danganronpa

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whumpsday · 2 years

Text

Kane & Jim #39: Heat Wave Part 2

Masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, heat whump, claustrophobia, death wish, whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, recovery, comfort

“Okay. However you wanna do it.” Kane heard from within his cocoon. “We’re at the door. You let me know when to step out. If anything hurts, say something and I’ll bring you right back inside.”

This was it. He was going outside, in the daytime. With only a few layers protecting him from the sun. To go to a hunter’s house. While restrained to the point of immobility.

He hesitated. Maybe if he just didn’t say anything, it would all go away.

But he was so hot, so massively uncomfortable. He’d thought it was bad before being wrapped up in blankets, but now the heat was nearly unbearable. And the sooner he gave Jim the signal to step out, the sooner he would feel nice, cool air again.

Kane couldn’t really speak at this point, but he made a soft sound, half-hoping Jim wouldn’t hear him.

“Alright. You’re gonna be fine. Opening the door.” Jim said as Kane’s heart pounded, every muscle in his overheated body tensed with dreadful anticipation.

He could feel Jim walking forward, leaning back against his chest. Somehow, horribly, he felt even hotter.

The sun was shining on him. And despite the unbearable heat, no burn followed.

“Anything hurt?” Jim asked.

Kane shook his head no, shaking.

“Great. You’re doing great, Kane. It’s alright, I’ve gotcha. Not gonna let anything bad happen to you.” came Jim’s soothing voice as he felt himself laid down in what he assumed, what he hoped, was the trunk.

“You all set for me to get the ball rolling on this?” Jim asked.

Kane made a soft whining sound, nodding. He wanted this over with as soon as possible.

“Alright. Shout if you need anything, loud, so I can hear you. I’ll get you out of there soon as possible.”

And with a thunk, the trunk was closed, leaving Kane trapped inside. He soon felt the car begin to move from within his sweltering prison.

It’s not the sun. It’s not the sun. It’s not the sun.

Kane repeated his mantra to himself over and over again, as if it would make the all-encompassing heat he was currently experiencing any better. But it felt like every passing minute, it was getting hotter and hotter, the blankets duct-taped snugly around him, pressing in on his clammy skin. He squirmed, trying to see if he could find a more comfortable position, but he was completely, utterly stuck.

Worse, as the minutes passed, Kane was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. His space was so limited, he felt like he was breathing the same stale air over and over. He couldn’t tell whether that was true, or if it was just so warm and cramped that it only felt that way.

I can’t move. I can’t breathe. It’s too hot! His thoughts spiraled into panic as he lay helpless in the trunk, his short, rapid breaths only making it worse. He thrashed briefly, but stopped as soon as he heard a small rip.

No. He was a full-strength vampire now, kept healthy by Jim’s gracious blood. He wasn’t trapped. He could easily tear himself out of this suffocating prison if he wanted to.

And then when Jim opened the trunk, he would be burned by the sun.

Kane forced himself to lay still, trying to calm down. A rip, there had been a rip. He couldn’t see anything beyond the blanket directly in front of his eyes and the sweat dripping from his hair to his face, unsure of what exactly ripped. Had it been the tape, or one quilt, or both? He was so glad he’d chosen to have two. So glad Jim had offered him more protection from the sun, no matter how hellish this was. Part of him wished he’d taken Jim up on his offer to sit up front.

He’d endured worse. Less than thirty minutes, and he’d be released. But as the car drove and drove and drove, Kane’s anxiety increased. He had no way of telling how long it had been, but it felt longer than thirty minutes.

A horrible thought occurred to him: had all this been a ruse to get him compliant so he could be sent back?

No. Jim wouldn’t do that.

Would he?

Kane’s heart pounded as he considered the possibility. Jim had promised that if he ever couldn’t keep him, he would kill him instead. He’d slowly grown to trust Jim over the last months, trusted that Jim would allow him basic needs like food and safety. But now, trapped in the trunk of a car in broad daylight, he felt stupid. How had he allowed this to happen to himself? For someone with so much reason to hate him to hold this much power over him?

His stake was packed in his luggage bag. Kane wormed around a bit, trying to feel for it, but he seemed to be the only thing in the trunk. His bag had to be in the back seat. Or, well, if it was all a lie and he was being taken back to the hunters, maybe it wasn’t even in the car at all. His only means of self-made salvation, far away in the safe haven Jim’s home had become.

Kane sobbed. Please, please, I want to be good. I was trying to be good. You don’t even need to feed me, you don’t even need to keep me alive, just please don’t make me go back.

Finally, after what seemed much too long to be just thirty minutes bound in the tight, oppressive heat, the car stopped. Kane’s heart hammered in his chest. Anything could happen now. He had no idea where he was, and he could easily be thrown into the sun.

He heard the trunk open, flinching as much as he was able. Luckily, he didn’t burn.

“We made it, man.” came Jim’s voice. “Looks like you’re all clear, I’m gonna carry you inside.”

Kane felt hands on his upper back and behind his knees, lifting him out of the trunk. Please, please don’t let me burn, please don’t take me back, please just let me out somewhere safe.

“It’s okay, Kane. You’re okay. You’re almost there, just breathe.” Jim said gently.

I’m trying! There wasn’t enough air, the world was constricting him.

“He’s restrained, right? You can let him out anywhere.”

Kane never thought he’d be so happy to hear Liz’s voice. Maybe it really had only been thirty minutes, and the heat had just gotten to him.

“Alright, cool.” Jim replied, setting him on a hard surface. The floor, most likely.

“Is that the vampire?” an unfamiliar voice asked, sending Kane’s heart skyrocketing. Jim hadn’t mentioned anyone else being here. “Can I see?”

“Yeah, you’re about to see.” Jim replied. “Just be careful, he gets scared easy. No sudden moves or anything.”

“Gotcha.” the unknown person agreed.

He heard tape being unwound, and felt himself tumble as one of the quilts came off. Instantly, some of the heat subsided, bringing him a rush of relief.

“Oh, looks like you tore through some of the tape there. Guess two blankets really was a good call.” Jim said as he tore off the second set of tape.

And suddenly, blissfully, the blanket opened to cool air. Kane gasped, sucking in fresh air like he’d been denied it for days. It wasn’t nearly as bad as those times he had been, he hadn’t even fully had his air cut off, but being able to breathe normally again was amazing. He tried to steady himself against the floor, before remembering his hands were bound.

Jim rubbed his back. “There you go. You’re alright. We made it. No burns?”

Kane shook his head, which only made him more dizzy than he already was. “N-none. Thank you so much.” He hugged his head with his hands, trying to make the world stop spinning.

“Oh, shit. You okay?” Jim asked.

“I’ve got it.” said the unknown person, sporting a swath of dyed-blue hair. They ran off to the kitchen, and Kane could hear the tap running before they came back with a soaked washcloth. “Here.”

Jim took the washcloth and pressed it to Kane’s forehead, pleasantly cold. “Knew the trunk was a bad idea.”

“Feels nice.” Kane murmured. He was still frequently surprised when things felt nice, it had become such a foreign concept to him.

“Good.” Jim said with a smile. “Um... Laken, this is Kane.”

Kane knew that name. Liz’s friend, Jim had mentioned them before. He turned his attention to the unknown person, a curious smile greeting them.

“Heyo.” they greeted, casually raising a hand. “I’m Laken de la Cruz, Liz’s hunting partner. Weird to meet you, I guess?”

Kane leaned closer into Jim’s arms, suddenly even more wary than he had been before. Of course Liz’s friend would also be a hunter.

“Hey, it’s alright. They’re not gonna hurt you. You’re safe, remember?” Jim soothed.

“Oh yeah, totally. I’m off the clock.” the hunter said lightheartedly, with a wink. “Sides, you’re already locked.” They gestured to the cuffs encircling Kane’s wrists and ankles.

“Alright, alright.” Liz interjected, clearly annoyed. Kane whimpered slightly, clinging to Jim. “Let’s get you guys set up.”

“In the basement?” Kane asked hopefully.

“This house doesn’t have a basement.” Jim said.

No, no, no. That was bad, bad. Basements were safe. In a basement, he wouldn’t have to worry about- “But, but the sun?”

“I’m setting you up in... the spare room. The curtains are closed.” Liz said awkwardly. Kane had a feeling there was something off about what she was saying, but he didn’t dare question her.

Kane didn’t like this. He didn’t want to stay in a room where he was only the brush of a curtain away from being burned. Sure, he hung out with Jim in his living room, but Jim was there. He would be left alone in there, this time. He hadn’t been alone in a windowed room... ever.

But he didn’t have a choice. There were no other options. He should be grateful his life was in the hands of humans who cared enough to close the curtains. He forced a smile. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Yeah, well. It happens, I guess.” Liz said curtly, her irritation spiking his anxiety. He stopped himself from instinctively clinging tighter to Jim, knowing that would only annoy her more.

“Do you sleep in the daytime or nighttime?” Laken asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Oh. Um, nighttime.” he answered. “I’m on Jim’s schedule.”

“What does blood taste like?” they asked next, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Kane could feel Jim freeze against him.

“Laken.” Liz said in a warning tone.

Laken glanced at Jim for a millisecond. “Shit. Sorry. I got carried away, my bad. Just never met a vampire outside of fightin’ before.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “They’ve tried to interview those vampires, too. Mid-combat.”

Laken shrugged. “They weren’t very open to communication, but it was worth a shot.”

“Okay! I’m gonna get Kane set up in Mom and Dad’s room.” Jim interrupted. “You don’t mind me uncuffing him so he can shower, right?”

Ah. That was Liz’s problem talking about the room. Kane didn’t know what to do about it, all he was doing was following the humans’ directions. He just wanted them to be pleased with him so he wouldn’t be hurt.

“Nah. It’s daytime and we’ve got two hunters here, I doubt he’d try anything.” Liz said.

Jim grabbed both their luggage bags, handed Kane’s to him, and dragged him up the stairs. Kane was relieved to finally be away from the hunters.

“Alright, here we are.” Jim said, opening the door to his parents’ old room. “You’re gonna chill here for the next few days while my place gets fixed up.”

Kane warily eyed the curtains, as if gauging how likely they were to leap from the windows and attack. “Yes. Thank you.”

“I know you probably wanna grab a shower after all that. Lemme unlock those for you.” Jim fished the keys out of his pocket and removed Kane’s cuffs. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

“Okay.” Kane agreed, staring at his own wrists.

“Hey.” Jim said, causing Kane to look back up at him. “I know this was real scary for you. Thanks for doing it anyway.”

Kane nodded. “It’s... probably better this way. Than being in the heat for hours waiting for sunset. Thank you for making it... not bad.”

“Yeah, I mean, I know... what it’s like to be really afraid. I wanted to smooth it out, you know? Take a nice cool shower. See you in a bit.” Jim waved him goodbye, dropping the cuffs outside the door and heading to his own room.

He’d slept over a few times since moving out, so it wasn’t that unusual. It always felt nostalgic to be back here, but knowing Kane was one door down made everything... surreal. And despite himself, a little scary.

After he unpacked, Jim started toward the stairs.

“He’s sensitive, Laken. You’ve gotta be more careful with what you say around him.” Liz said in hushed tones, though still loud enough for Jim to hear. He paused in his tracks.

“He can’t be that sensitive. He lives with the vampire. You gotta stop babying him. He’s a grown man.” Laken argued. “Jim’s stronger than you think he is.”

Huh. He never thought Laken saw him that way. He’s never even seen himself that way.

“Listen, I’m not saying he’s not. He’s gotta be, to get through what that fucking monster did to him. I can’t believe the damn vampire’s in my house. It’s just...” Liz sighed. “He’s fragile, okay? You aren’t the one who’s held him after nightmares. You aren’t the one who he calls at three in the morning because he’s scared. You aren’t the one who had to help him write a practice speech begging the vampire for mercy, because Jim was afraid Kane would snap his ankles if he found him. The less reminders of things he doesn’t wanna think about, the better. And the fact that the vampire sees him as food is definitely one of those things.”

Jim winced at the reminder, knowing that only proved her right.

He remembered that speech. He’d written it not long after escaping. He still had it, written on crumpled paper with shaking hands and splotched with tear-stains. Though he supposed he definitely didn’t need it anymore.

“It’s sweet how much you care about him, Lizzie. But if anything’s gonna be a reminder, it’s probably the vampire himself, who he already sees every day. Did you ever think he’d be able to do that? Jim’s up there alone with him right now, taking his restraints off. I’m just saying, he’s obviously still got issues, anyone would after what happened to him, but he’s getting better.”

Better? Am I? Jim didn’t feel better. He felt like he was getting irrationally scared of shit every single day. But Laken was right, in a way. He’d never imagined he could live with Kane again, and willingly.

“I guess you’re right.” Liz conceded. “And I’m glad for it, too. He deserves a little peace, though I don’t know how much he’s getting, considering...”

“Well, the vampire doesn’t seem to be much of a threat these days.” Laken said.

“How can you be so casual about it?” Liz asked. “You know what they’re capable of. And this one’s proven what he’s capable of.”

Jim decided he’d had enough eavesdropping, coming down the stairs loud enough to make sure he wouldn’t sneak up on anyone. “Laken’s right. Kane’s not a threat anymore, I’ve got everything under control.”

Laken gave him a friendly smile, but Liz startled. She knows I overheard.

“Alright, alright. I’m outnumbered.” Liz threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m already letting him stay here, aren’t I?”

“Thanks again for that, Liz. I seriously don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.” Jim said.

“Of course. I’ll always have your back.”

After a delightfully cool shower and a fresh change of clothes, Kane unpacked his luggage. He decided to keep his stake inside the bag, just in case someone happened to be watching him re-pack when it was time to go. Jim came back up shortly after, re-cuffing him and letting him know he’d be right downstairs if he needed anything.

Despite his fear of staying at a hunter’s house, the three days they spent there were relatively peaceful. Jim still came to feed him once a day, hung out for a bit, and he was otherwise mostly left to his own devices.

At night, he dared to peek out the curtain. His glimpses of the beautiful night sky were so rare. He hadn’t seen it since the car ride when Jim picked him up from the hunters, and before that, really only in the dread-filled moments before sunrise, strapped to a board with no escape.

It had been so long since he’d been able to see the stars in peace.

He was able to once again when it was time to go. After sunset on the day Jim’s air conditioning was fixed, he rode in the passenger seat of Jim’s car. No blankets or duct tape or trunk this time. For a moment, he could almost believe he was a regular person again, if it weren’t for the chains binding his wrists and ankles.

It occurred to Kane that he could probably escape, right now. It would be hard to run with the ankle cuffs, but it was only just after sunset, and Jim had given him his strength back. He would be able to make it to vampire territory if he really tried.

But as he looked over at Jim, he realized he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to go back to vampire territory, to explain to his hateful family where he’d been, to return to his lonely life. He was fed and free of pain. He wanted to stay. And more importantly, Jim wanted him to stay. It was the whole reason he was bound. He owed Jim that much and more.

Kane couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as he returned to his basement.

Home.

i got covid and immediately started writing unstoppably because all my prior commitments are on hold. prepare for a slew of QUARANTINE WRITING!!! the only thing holding me back is my fever!! lol

taglist:

@annablogsposts

@badluck990

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@crystalquartzwhump

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@pumpkin-spice-whump

@quietly-by-myself

@quirkykayleetam

@ramadiiiisme

@redwhump

@scp-1296

@secretwhumplair

@the-whumperfly-effect

@the-whumpers-grimm

@thecyrulik

@thegreatwhodini

@themarlo

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@t0rture-me

@whump-blog-reblogs

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whump-me-all-night-long

@whump-my-heart-away

@whump-queen

@whumperfully

@whumpthisway

@whumpilicious

@whumpshaped

@whumpwillow

@whumpworld

@whumpy-writings

@whumpycries

@whumpyzombie

@whumpzone

@wits-and-wrongs

@wolfeyedwitch

#kane and jim #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #heat whump #claustrophobia #whumper turned whumpee #whumpee turned caretaker #recovery whump #comfort #death wish #vampire whump #whump writing

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pwurrz · 1 year

Text

yakumo is already scary when he’s angry but when he’s angry at the people he cares about it’s less ‘cold, threatening anger’ and more ‘passionate, emotional anger’.

…

eiden is sick. very sick. he’s overheated, in pain, exhausted, and generally miserable. yakumo, as the one most familiar with handling domestic affairs like caring for a sick person, immediately took it upon himself to personally nurse eiden back to health.

quincy has also decided to stay. not to look after eiden, he trusts that yakumo has that covered, but to keep eiden company while he rests. he doesn’t fear getting sick himself, after all it really wouldn’t affect much of his daily routine. yakumo is skeptical, worried that he’ll eventually have to care for two sick people, but quincy convinces him to let him stay by assuring he’ll actually make eiden rest.

because eiden is.. stubborn. he can’t sleep because of the fever, and there’s a little voice in the back of his head that criticizes him for simply lying in bed and waiting to recover. cuddling with quincy and being doted on by yakumo is nice, but part of him feels like he could be doing more. he could be working, studying in the library, doing something to repay yakumo in advance for looking after him.

the first time yakumo finds eiden wandering the mansions hallways and not in bed where he’s supposed to be, he’s confused as much as he is concerned. did eiden need something he didn’t provide? was he not checking on eiden enough?

eiden manages to soothe his worries by whining about how he needed to stretch his legs and get out of that stuffy room. yakumo huffs and gently scolds him for leaving his room alone in the condition he’s in. eiden relents sheepishly and gets back into bed with quincy, who ignores a stern and suspicious look from yakumo by pretending he’s asleep.

it’s about the fifth time this happens that yakumo finally erupts. he comes in to deliver eiden some revitalizing soup, made with love to help him recover faster, and gasps in affronted shock at what he sees.

eiden isn’t in his bed, where he’s supposed to be. he is instead hunched over at his desk, papers and open books strewn everywhere to show that he’d been there for quite some time. and judging by the miserable expression on his face, he wasn’t hit by a sudden burst of inspiration caused by his improving condition.

“mr. eiden!!”

eiden whips around, eyes blinking a few times to clear his vision and immediately regretting it when he gets a look at the very angry serpent standing in his doorway.

“just what do you think you’re doing?” yakumo doesn’t raise his voice very often, if he can help it. but considering the lack of restraint he puts on his volume this time, eiden knows he’s pissed.

“oh! y-yakumo! i was just- i-i’m feeling a little better so i wanted to get a head start on.. work..” the excuse sounds weak and unbelievable as soon as he says it, and yakumo sighs in pure exasperation.

“you’re clearly not feeling better, look at you! i’d say your fever has even gotten worse! you’re never going to get better unless you stay in bed and rest!” eiden opens his mouth to argue, but feels the little strength he had remaining fizzle out. before he knows it, he’s being scooped up in yakumo’s deceptively scrawny arms and plopped back into bed. when eiden weakly tries to struggle out of bed once again, the serpent takes out a slipper (where did he get that from? does he just have that on his person at all times??) and holds it menacingly above his head with a glare on his face that could strike fear into the hearts of even the most fearless yokai.

“i swear mr. eiden, if i come back in this room one more time and i find you out of bed for any reason other than to use the restroom i’ll.. i’ll..! throw this shoe at you!!”

and normally eiden would call his bluff, yakumo? making threats? much less following through on them? the idea is almost laughable in its impossibility. but the fire burning in yakumo’s eyes tells eiden to simply nod and stay put.

“and mr. quincy!!”

the man beside eiden tenses slightly before opening his eyes, realizing his act of pretending to be asleep had not saved him from the serpent’s scolding.

“i’m trusting you to keep mr. eiden in bed, okay? i know you’ve been taking pity on him and letting him do what he wants, but that needs to stop if he’s ever going to get better!”

quincy opens his mouth to attempt to refute that statement, but yakumo beats him to it.

“and don’t tell me you were sleeping!! i know what you’re like when you sleep next to someone, you would’ve been awake the second he made a move. no more of that, okay?”

quincy lets out a grunt of defeat and understanding.

“good. mr. eiden, i made you some soup to help you recover sooner. make sure to drink it all, okay? don’t waste a single drop!” and just like that, yakumo resembles a sweet and attentive househusband once more. when eiden nods, he leaves the room with a satisfied smile, shutting the door softly behind him.

the two remaining men in the room make eye contact, and eiden struggles to contain his laughter.

“i’ve never seen him get so fired up before! he didn’t stutter even once!”

quincy nods, the same soft smile he usually has when he talks about yakumo gracing his features.

“hm. he’s quite cute like that.”

#nu carnival #yakumo ♡#eiden #quincy ♡#yakuei #quincamo #quinei #yakuquinei #mouser muses #i’m going to sleep now i prommy i just had to write this down #long post

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psalacanthea · 2 years

Text

WiP Whenever

I don’t know, lol, it’s Saturday night. Thanks, @kirkwalls-dumbest’s and @oxygenforthewicked for the tag. Here’s a little of the Baldur’s Gate 3 fic. NSFWish

A small, confused noise escaped her as her back hit the bed, room spinning.

Zyn had very little idea why she was being tossed about, but she was in no state to defend herself. Besides, as always he was nice and cool, and she was drunk and terribly overheated. She opened her arms wide and flopped them onto the bed, lights blurring above her head as the bed shifted.

“You made a mess. Why’d you do that?”

“Well, I was in a bad mood,” Astarion said, yanking her boots off one at a time. “Because someone was feeling very provoking.”

She pursed her lips, tucking a finger under the lower one as he dropped her boots to the floor with a thud. “I can’t imagine who. What are you doing?”

“Dealing with a lack of discipline. Or did you think you would be allowed to act like that and then come merrily traipsing back here with absolutely no repercussions whatsoever?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she denied lazily, the word ‘discipline’ rousing an intriguing little flicker of interest.

“No? So you think deliberately infuriating me and then running off to play should be allowed?” he asked, grabbing her behind the knees and yanking her towards the edge of the bed. She made a little sound of protest, head sloshing back and forth. His grip was tight around her knees.

“You think I should be expected to put up with that, and then…what? Welcome you home and say all is forgiven?”

“That would be best for me, yes,” she agreed, lips curving up into a little smirk.

“But darling, you’ve forgotten something.”

“What?”

“Bad pets get punished.”

His scarlet eyes were locked on hers, and there was just a moment, a breath of expectation. He was waiting for something. Ah, of course. She should remember and reward him when he minded his manners; after all, he was still learning.

She’d give him what he wanted.

Rather than using her word, she reached up and impetuously clutched him by the cheeks, fingers digging in as she squished his face. “But I haven’t done anything wrong. I never do anything wrong.”

Astarion grabbed her by the wrists, wrenching her hands away and pinning them to the bed. She was pettily amused by a scarlet streak one of her nails left on his cheekbone. She wanted to lick it, but he was holding her down.

“I suppose I’ll have to spark your memory, then. So I’ll give you an option, love. Do you want the hand or the belt?”

The belt was an intriguing idea; it would leave some awfully nice welts. But they’d never played like this before, and she did like finding out what someone could do with their hands. She did love his. On the other hand, the belt was so impersonal, and that could make it better.

It made the punishment worse, less intimate, magnifying every actual touch of skin on skin, making her long for it. Beg for it.

But, mmmh…hands.

“It isn’t supposed to be a difficult question, pet,” he murmured, the stern facade momentarily breaking to let through his amusement with her indecisiveness.

#Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion x Tav #astarion x zynatheri #WiP Whenever

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killemwithkawaii · 2 years

Text

L.S.S.: Alright, you ready for the next round of asks?

Mitch(3): Uh, no? This is stupid. I don’t know why you keep wanting me ta talk to your ‘friends’....

L.S.S.: Because in another life, they’re your friends, and I’m hoping they’ll help me get through to you since you won’t listen to me.

Mitch(3): …. Fine, whatever. I’ll answer some if it’ll get you to shut up and stop hassling me for a minute…

L.S.S.: … It’s alright, Meadow. I had a hard time saying goodbye to him, too…

Mitch(3): Ugh, you talkin’ about your exes again?

L.S.S.: I’m talking about you in the timeline I found you in before this one. He was loyal, hard-working, and nice to everybody… he cared about people. He’s my proof that you’re not really this much of a dick. Or, at least you wouldn't be, if you’d put in a little effort to be nice and let people in.

Mitch(3): … Pssh, he sounds like a little bitch to me…

L.S.S.: …Well, you’re not wrong…. but still.

Mitch(3): ....

Mitch(3): Hey, now we’re talkin! Maybe I misjudged you… Bring over whatever ya got, ‘friend’! We miiiight still have to go on a run here soon, though. Whatever booze she brings ain’t gonna last long, and we are runnin low… [barely audible] I should probably grab some cat food too. Little bastards have to be getting hungry by now...

L.S.S.: Yeah, we’re not doing that.

Mitch(3): Huh? Tsk, fine, I’ll just go by myself…

L.S.S.: Uh, I mean- let’s, uh, do that later, maybe? Why go out when we can get it delivered…!

Mitch(3): ...Yeahhh, can’t argue with that. Going into town during the day sucks, anyway…

Mitch(3): …..

L.S.S.: …Um… I get where you’re coming from, Danu, but that’s not-

Mitch(3): Tch, I don’t need to take this shit... You don’t like me? Good. You don’t have to fuckin’ talk to me. I don’t give a shit. Same goes for you, Sal. If you don't like me, and ya wanna leave sooo bad, then just fuckin’ leave. Nobody’s stopping you.

L.S.S.: ….

I’m not leaving, Mitchie. Don’t worry…

Mitch(3): ….. [grumbling]....

L.S.S.: Score! I am freezing…

Mitch(3): …..You weren’t complaining before…

L.S.S.: That was when I didn’t have anything else to put on, and I was overheated, anyway... Don’t get me wrong, the stuff you gave me is fun to wear sometimes, but it’s not really practical in winter when you're sober.

Mitch(3): …You could put on your own damn clothes if you went home already…

L.S.S.: Like I said, I’m not leaving. These will be fine, and if I’m still cold, you and I can just get snuggly to warm up.

Mitch(3): ….get ’snuggly,’...?

L.S.S.: Well, yeah! We don’t always have to be having sex when we’re together, you know. We can just cuddle sometimes….. I think it would be nice, if you wanna give it a try…?

Mitch(3): …….

Wh…….

…No. No, just… get off me. Go cuddle your friends, if you like em so much…

L.S.S.: ….okay… maybe later then…

L.S.S.: …..

Mitch(3): Ooooh, so your buddies don’t know about you and your bro? [laughing] Why don’t ya tell em why he hasn’t been comin around lately, huh...?

L.S.S.: … Because I told him not to.

Mitch(3): [laughing] You guys should have seen it… little Sally-cat is ice cold- ‘You’re not my brother and you never have been~! I have no family, leave me alone, why can’t I just have fun for once~?’ [laughing] His face… oh man… [laughing]

L.S.S.: … I…. wasn’t in a good place the last time I was here. I was frustrated and detached… I’d been looking for the ‘original’ Larry for so long- That was my entire motivation for being out here in the first place. I’d been through so much shit already, and seeing his other versions… it was starting to get to me. The Larry from this timeline tried to talk some sense into me when he found out what I was doing, and I lashed out at him….

It was wrong of me to say those things. It wasn’t true- even if he wasn’t the ‘original,’ he was still Larry… I understand that now, and I regret how I treated him. I really wish I could tell him I’m sorry…

Mitch(3): …The-

L.S.S.: Yeah, yeah, ‘the door’s right there,’ I’m aware…

Mitch(3): ….

L.S.S.: Well, I bared my soul, so I guess it’s your turn...

Mitch(3): …….

L.S.S.: What? You don’t want to tell them an embarrassing story about doing something you regret when you were feeling frustrated and detached…?

Mitch(3): ……. Fuck that. I don’t gotta say shit.

L.S.S.: …. Alright, I guess I’ll tell the story for you, too:

He tattooed ‘DNR’ on his chest with a sewing needle and ballpoint pen ink during a bender. Did it in the bathroom mirror. It’s crooked as hell, but at least it’s not backwards…

Mitch(3): …..

….

You little…. fuckin’….

….

Okay. Okay, that’s it-

L.S.S.: Wait, what are you-

Mitch(3): I’m sick of this shit. Get out.

L.S.S.: No, hold on a second, we can’t- I mean, I’m not-

Mitch(3): GET OUT. If you don’t want to be here, then just leave!

L.S.S.: That’s not what I was... I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, I shouldn't have-

Mitch(3): I don’t care anymore. I don’t want you here. Just go home already….

L.S.S.: I can’t-

Mitch(3): THAT’S NOT MY PROBLEM. YOU’RE NOT MY PROBLEM. GET OUT.

L.S.S.: …I told you I’m not leaving, Mitch. I can’t-

Mitch(3): And I told you to GET. OUT. Here, I’ll help you to the door-

L.S.S.: Wait… wait, stop! STOP! LET GO-

Mitch(3): I AM-

L.S.S.: STOP IT!! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT… MITCH, STOP, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND- NO! FUCK, FUCK, NO, NOT AGAIN—

#the staycation 🏡💙#l.s.s. answers #dealer!mitch #danu chan #meadow chan #tw drug use #tw self harm #tw unreality #tw abuse #tw degradation #tw objectification #tw mental illness #tw violence #tw needles #meet the fishers

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c0ntr0lledchaos · 1 year

Text

mwmday11 - Johnny's Place

Prompts:

��Ready set go!”

Plastic bag

Overheating

Restaurant

(originally posted in may of 2023)

Sweat dripped off Josie’s face as she walked down the street, her makeup smudging more than it already was. They had just arrived earlier that day and had been walking around since, getting to know the area. Not having a car meant walking everywhere in the hot summer sun. Josie’s feet ached and she was uncomfortably sweaty but she was used to being uncomfortable. What she was not used to, was having a traveling companion that was not.

“Hey,” Carson started, sounding slightly out of breath as he sped up in order to catch up with her. “How about we stop for lunch? I think my mortal body is starting to overheat.”

Josie looked at him and could see he was sweating buckets, nearly soaking through his t-shirt. While the heat was uncomfortable for her, it was deadly for him.

“Sure, I think I see a dinner a couple buildings down,” Josie said, squinting as she looked ahead of them. Carson nodded, adjusting his backpack a bit as they walked.

Heatwaves shimmered as they bounced off the concrete and the cars parked on the side of the road. The small town was quieter than the city Josie had lived in for the past couple of years. It was a nice change of pace. Carson, who grew up in a small town, had mixed emotions about being here. This wasn’t the town he had grown up in but it seemed to remind him of home. Whether that was a good thing, she didn’t think he knew.

They entered the diner and sat themselves, Carson all but collapsing into his seat. The place was busy but slowing down. What Josie assumed was the lunch rush seemed to be coming to an end. It was a pretty small restaurant, less than half the size of some of the places Josie had been to in the city. There weren’t too many decorations hanging up, mostly just school pride for the local football team. Food for the table next to them arrived as they sat and the smell made Josie’s mouth water, despite not needing food to survive.

“Hello, welcome to Johnny's Place. Can I get you guys started with something to drink?” A waitress asked, placing two menus on the table. The waitress looked young and nervous, constantly fidgeting with the ring on her middle finger. Josie guessed it was the girl's first job. She looked over at Carson, about to ask what he wanted but saw he was now laying his head on the cool wood of the table.

“Just two waters for now,” Josie said, answering for him.

“Coming right up,” the waitress said, smiling before walking away.

Josie smiled back before taking one of the menus and fanning Carson with it. “Come on, I can’t have you dying on me now.”

After a minute Carson lifted his head and picked up the other menu, looking significantly better than before. As they both read over the menu, the waitress returned with their drinks, placing them gently on the table. She pulled out a notebook as Carson took a drink, nearly downing half the glass instantly.

“Have you decided on what you’d like to order?”

“I’ll take just a hamburger and fries,” Josie ordered, not seeing anything else on the menu that sounded appealing.

The waitress wrote that down before turning to Carson who was still drinking his water. He finally set the glass down and gasped in a breath before speaking. “Same for me.”

“Coming right up… and just wave me down if you guys need a refill anytime soon,” she said, smiling politely as she walked away. She tore the paper out of her notebook and walked back to the kitchen, leaving them alone again.

They sat for a few minutes, cooling down finally. Most of the people from the lunch rush had left by now, leaving the dinner empty except for a few people who were still eating. They sat in silence for a while before Carson spoke up.

“So, I’ve been wondering,” Carson said.

“Hm?” Josie raised an eyebrow as she took a drink. They had been traveling together for about a year now and Carson was still pretty intimidated by her. Asking her a question was pretty out of the ordinary for him.

“So, you heal fast right?” He asked. Josie nodded, resting her chin on her hand as she waited for him to continue. “How do you have so many piercings then? Shouldn’t the holes close up really fast?”

Josie chewed on one of her lip piercings at the mention of them. “They do. I have to keep the jewelry in them otherwise they close up almost instantly,” She explained.

“Seems uncomfortable,” Carson said, eyeing her eyebrow piercing.

Josie shrugged, “It's more annoying than anything.”

Carson looked like he was about to ask another question but the waitress came up, setting their food down in front of them and refilling their water. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I think we’re okay, thank you,” Josie said, smiling up at her. The waitress nodded and walked off. Josie looked down at her burger and picked it up. She always liked small-town restaurants. The food was made with more care and personalization than big chain restaurants put into their food.

She was about to take a bite before Carson stopped her. “Don’t.”

She looked up at him, staring for a moment before putting her burger down and eating a french fry instead. If questions were uncommon from Carson, commands were even more rare. She chewed slowly as she watched him stare at his burger, brows furrowed in concentration.

“I know that look,” Josie said, pointing at him with a french fry. “What's up?”

“I…” Carson started focusing on his burger for a little longer before looking around the room at the other people eating, a look of horror slowly growing on his face.

Josie looked around too, following his eyes as he watched a man a couple of tables away eat his own burger. The man had ordered his burger rare, the bottom bun soaking up some of the blood while some dripped onto the plate.

“Don’t tell me…”

“There’s… it's..." Carson shoved his plate away from him, nearly sending it off the table. He gripped his short curly hair, pulling on it as his breathing became fast and shallow.

“Hey, breathe,” Josie reminded, “Remember, mortal body and all that.”

“There's fucking human flesh in the meat!” Carson whisper yelled at her, letting go of his hair finally. One hand went to his cross necklace out of habit, holding it tightly as the other hand moved to his mouth.

“And you having a panic attack isn’t going to change anything,” Josie said, eating another french fry.

“Why are you still eating?!"

“The fries don’t have any meat in them!”

Carson stared at her in disbelief for a moment before dropping his head back onto the table, shaking the whole table. A few people turned to look at them, giving them a weird look before returning to their conversations.

Josie watched Carson for a moment, glancing around at the other people as she thought about what to do. She usually tries to stay out of other people's business but this was especially cruel and she knew Carson wouldn’t want to leave without doing something. She glanced at him again before waving the waitress over. “Hey, can we get the check and some to-go bags? Something came up and we need to go.”

“Oh, no problem. I’ll be right back,” the waitress said, quickly walking to the back and retrieving the items. She came back and Josie grabbed her wrist as she set the items down.

“You should take the rest of the day off,” Josie said, looking the waitress in the eye.

“B-But I still have half of my shift left,” the waitress said, smiling nervously, unsure of what was happening. Josie slipped some money into her hand.

"Walk out and don’t look back,” she said, letting go of the girl's wrist.

The waitress looked at the large amount of money in her hand with wide eyes before slowly nodding and walking away. Josie watched as the waitress grabbed her purse and left the building, not even clocking out.

“So, what do you want to do?” Josie asked, pulling enough money out for the check.

“Call the cops!” Carson said, lifting his head and looking at her like it was obvious.

“And tell them what?” Josie said, looking at him expectantly, “Ask them to ignore your warrant cause you sensed human flesh in the food?”

She watched as Carson struggled to come up with another idea for what they could do. After a while, he groaned and put his head back down on the table. A smile slowly crept onto Josie’s face as she got a crazed look in her eye. “We could do it my way.”

Carson looked up at her, frowning. Her heart rate started to rise as she waited for him to respond. It had been a while since she had been able to have any fun. After a few seconds of staring he sighed and leaned back in his chair, nodding.

“Great!” Josie said, trying not to let her excitement get the better of her just yet, ��First, do you sense any bodies in the building?”

“No,” Carson said, looking like he was trying not to throw up, “Just the flesh in the ground beef.”

“Ok, so no bringing anyone back to ask who did this… follow me.” Josie stood up, grabbing her backpack. Carson did the same before following her through the restaurant.

They walked to the back and into the kitchen area, finding it was split into two separate rooms. Josie looked around before smiling at the first person she saw. It was another teenage waiter, this one a bit older and looking like they would rather be anywhere other than here.

“Hello, I was wondering if I could talk to the person who prepared our food today. Specifically the meat for our hamburgers. It was so good,” Josie said, putting on a polite act.

“That would be our chef. He gets all the meat from his father's farm. He should be right through there,” the waiter said, gesturing to an open door that led to another part of the kitchen. “If he's not there he probably stepped out for a smoke and will be back in a minute.”

“Ok, thank you,” Josie said, heading through the door. Carson followed close behind her, nervous energy radiating off him.

They walked through the door and found the other room empty of anyone. While the other room had stoves and ovens, this area looked more dedicated to preparing the food to be cooked. Carson gagged as he spotted the table where the paddies were made, a bloody stain in the middle of it.

“He's not here,” Carson said, turning away from the table.

Josie frowned and looked around, spotting the freezer. “Let's have a look around while we wait.”

Carson protested as she opened the door but stayed close to her anyways, following her inside. The cooler was deep and filled with many different foods and meats. Carson shivered, his shirt still slightly wet from earlier. Josie walked slowly, looking at a shelf that had bags of meat on it. She walked around a shelf, stopping as she saw a suspiciously body-shaped plastic bag on the ground.

“Hey, I thought you said there weren’t any bodies in the building?” Josie asked. Carson rounded the corner after her, tensing up as he saw the bag.

“There aren’t…” Carson said, brows furrowing as he focused on sensing the bodies. “That one is alive!”

Carson darted forward, falling to his knees and pulling a pocket knife out. Josie stood over his shoulder and watched as he cut the bag open. Inside the bag was a woman, breathing shallowly but still alive. Carson looked up at her, shaking so hard that he almost dropped the knife. Josie looked at him and was struck with the reminder that he was not used to the cruelty of the world like her, despite the fact that he was a necromancer. He was still only a teenager, having just turned nineteen a couple of months ago.

“What… What do we do now?” Carson asked, his voice trembling. He gripped his cross tight, swallowing roughly.

Josie looked at the unconscious woman and thought for a moment before kneeling down and gently picking her up. She wasn’t sure what other injuries this woman had, but getting her somewhere warmer was a good first step.

They walked out of the cooler with the woman, only to be greeted by an older man standing by the table. He turned with wide eyes as he saw the woman in Josie's arms. Carson stayed behind her, looking over her shoulder at the man.

Josie smiled wide and gently put the woman down, telling Carson to keep an eye on her. She turned towards the cook and shrugged off her backpack before putting her hands on her hips. “So, you must be the one responsible for those wonderful burgers people are eating.”

The cook hesitated before grabbing a knife and pointing it at her with a scowl on his face.

“Yeah, I am. And you two just found your way into the next batch!” He said, lunging at her with the knife.

Josie laughed, letting him stab her in the hand as she caught his fist. “Come on, attack me before I was ready? Not very fair now is it?”

He looked shocked for a moment before swinging at her with his other hand. She ducked under it and bent his hand back, forcing him to let go of the knife. He cried out in pain and she pulled the knife out of her hand, smiling as she pointed it at him.

“Ready, set, go!”

He glared at her and made a grab for the knife. Josie dodged him easily, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back as she slammed his head onto a table. Before he could even attempt to stand up she was already bringing the knife down, stabbing him through the temple. His body turned limp, falling to the floor as she pulled the knife out.

Josie smiled at her work before looking around, finding a phone attached to the wall. Carson's eyes were fixed on the man's body as she dialed 911. She cleared her throat and waited for the operator to answer.

“I need help! He's trying to kill me! I’m at Johnny's Place, please hurry. He’s been putting his victims in the food. I-” Josie cut the phone cord with the knife, cutting herself off. She dropped the phone and the knife on the ground and walked back over to Carson. “Well, this place was a fun pit stop. Let's go before the cops show up.”

Carson nodded numbly, standing up as Josie picked her backpack up.

“What about her?” Carson said, looking down at the unconscious lady.

“The paramedics will help her, and as far as the cops know she was the one who made the call,” Josie said, leading the two of them to the back door.

“What about your blood, and-and what about him?” Carson asked, looking back at the scene.

“They’ll come up with an explanation on their own most likely,” Josie said, holding the door open for Carson.

He looked at her for a moment before sighing and walking out the door. “You are responsible for a lot of unsolved crimes, aren’t you?”

“Yup!”

0 notes

strwberri-milk · 2 years

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The Weight of His World

AO3 || Uni!AU || Kaeya x Reader || Fluff, Cuddling || 1,711 words

After an exhausting day you decide to collapse in your boyfriend's apartment, showing you a slightly different side to him than you expected.

You exhaustedly make your way over to the apartment, unlocking the door sloppily before dropping your bags at the foot of the couch and collapsing into the couch. Thankfully, the blankets you left on the couch from last time are still here. You use them to wrap around your body, breathing in their scent and sighing happily.

Eventually, the door opens again. You turn over to look at the intruder, not even sure if you could properly defend your boyfriend’s place against a criminal but when you see his telltale trench you roll back into the couch, muttering a welcome home.

“Oh? Did God drop off an angel and forget them in my room, hmm?” he teases, walking over and pressing kisses against any piece of exposed skin he can find.

“Quit teasing me I’m tired,” you whine, making him chuckle.

“I’m not teasing you darling. Just stating the facts, now come to bed if you’re tired. Sleeping on the couch isn’t good for your back.”

“Will you come with me?” you ask, giving him puppy eyes. He shakes his head and shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the couch for now as he helps you up.

“Can’t just yet. I have some things to finish. Just go to bed and I’ll get there when I get there, yeah?”

You nod with a yawn, letting Kaeya help you to his bed. His hands start to work at you and you don’t even ask why until you feel weight getting lifted off your body. Kaeya pulls off your coat and sweater, hands slipping into yours to pull off your gloves. He presses kisses to your cheeks, chilled lips cooling off slightly overheated skin.

“It’s cold outside, isn’t it?” he says softly, realising just how exhausted you are from how easily he pried your outside clothes off.

“Yeah. Windy and snowy,” you respond, crawling under his covers and shivering a little before the heat of your body warms up his sheets.

“I know I keep it colder in here but if you ever get too cold just turn up the thermostat, alright? I don’t mind.”

You nod and feel him get off the bed, about to leave when you make a little noise.

“Yes sweetheart? Is something wrong?”

He’s at your bedside in an instant and you narrow your eyes a little at him.

“Why are you being so nice? You haven’t made fun of me yet. Normally you would have jumped at the chance to.”

Kaeya rests his hand against your forehead, frowning a little.

“You seem warm. Just focus on getting better first, alright?”

“I’m not sick,” you huff, burying further into his sheets.

“I didn’t say you are but clearly you’re exhausted. If you want to, you can spend the night. I think you left some clothes here last time so I’ll go find them so you can change if you want.”

“Fine,” you relent, letting yourself relax into his sheets.

When Kaeya sees you finally resting he begins to move around the room, pretending to hunt down your clothes. He knows exactly where he put the, hell he sat on his bed for an hour trying to pick out the best drawer in his dresser for you to inhabit. Sure, you’d only been dating a few months at this point but he couldn’t help but imagine more.

Kaeya pulls out the casual outfit you left with him last night, setting it on the bed before giving you another kiss and leaving the room to let you rest.

☆⋆∵｡❀*⑅✧♔✧⑅*❀｡∵*⋆☆

You awake a couple hours later, feeling much better. Glancing around for his clock, you find it to be just a little after six, tempted to fall back asleep after getting rest for the first time in what feels like forever. Groggily, your eyes begin to close again when you hear the distinctive sound of hissing.

The sheets fall back as you sit up, the scent of food cooking wafting in slightly. A part of you wants to go and check out what’s happening, see if Kaeya’s cooking something or if he’s just doing some dishes. It’s something awfully domestic that you want to witness but as you step out of the bed and knock against your backpack you remember you have work to do.

Sighing, you pull out your laptop and book, deciding that if he’s going to leave you alone for once then you might as well take advantage of it. Dully, your laptop screen glows with a blank document and you’re about to give up after what feels like eons of brainstorming when you hear a knock on the door.

“Are you up?” Kaeya asks, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Yeah, I woke up a little while ago,” you respond.

He comes in with a tray and a smile, sitting down next to you.

“I looked through your bag while you were sleeping and I assumed you didn’t get yourself anything to eat. You usually pack lunch after all and I didn’t find it. Did you buy something?”

A shake of your head confirms his suspicions and he shuffles around a little to get the tray in your lap instead of your laptop.

“I’m not surprised you’re exhausted. You have a busy schedule and forgot something to eat. You have keys to my place, if you need to grab something before getting to class just come here since I’m closer than you are. Do you hear me?”

He’s very insistent and you nod to get him off your case, still a little new to this side of him. Kaeya looks at you intently and you get to work eating whatever it is he made for you, not minding the taste.

“I’m not going to drop dead, you don’t need to keep an eye on me like that Kaeya,” you tease, making him chuckle.

“I know you aren’t. I just didn’t expect to see you so tired when I came back from the meeting. I didn’t even know you were coming over today.”

“I know. It was supposed to be a surprise,” you say with a pout, letting him pull you into his arms and press kisses to your neck.

“Now why would you do that? I want time to prepare for your arrival and to spend as much time as I can with you. Even if you’re sick.”

“If you think that I’m sick, why are you hanging onto me so tightly?” Despite how harsh your words may sound, you cuddle into his arms, letting him shower you in affection.

“I don’t get sick, ever. And I spent all day thinking about you. Is that so bad?”

He pins you underneath him and straddles your waist, holding your hands over your head. Your raise your brow curiously, wondering if he’ll continue.

“You called me this morning but I didn’t pick up because I was in class. I had a busy day today so I wouldn’t be able to call you back until I got home.” He sounds pouty now, releasing your hands and sitting back a little without hurting you.

“Didn’t you see my text? It wasn’t anything serious. I just missed you so I wanted to call you.” To assuage his dramatics you take one of his hands and press a kiss into his palm, letting him cup your face and staring up at him affectionately.

“I know it wasn’t serious but I missed a chance to talk to my beloved. Can’t I be upset about that?” he mutters, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips.

“You’re making it sound like we’ve been married for years.” He barely lets the words leave your lips before he’s kissing you again, both his hands cupping your face.

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

His words make your heart beat hard in your chest, blinking at him as he laughs.

“As cheesy as it sounds I’m hoping for that to be the case. Maybe one day we’ll be looking back on tonight as the night that cemented it in your heart that you wanted to marry me.”

He flops down on the bed next to you, slipping his arm under your head and pulling you to lay down on his chest. His chin rests on top of your head, slyly avoiding your gaze so you don’t see how much that brazen admittance of affection for you affected him.

“How many months has it been?” you say instead, mind reeling with thoughts.

“Close to six,” he says casually, as though he hasn’t been marking the days off in his planner with his favourite pen, hidden in a drawer that holds your present in the coming weeks.

“Only? It feels like it’s been so much longer.”

“It hasn’t been long enough if you ask me. No, nowhere near long enough.”

You notice Kaeya’s voice getting lower, his words that he normally drawls charmingly to tease you getting a little slower. Even the hand that’s gently petting your head has gotten a little lazier, He’s practically lightly smacking you at this point, a yawn slipping past his lips.

“Good thing it’s Friday, huh?” you say after he yawns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he grumbles, not wanting to admit that being bathed in your warmth was making him sleepier than he thought.

“I have things to grade and stuff to read. I can’t go to bed yet,” he complains, still not making a move to escape from your body.

“You can take the evening off. Maybe we’ll just wake up really early tomorrow and you can do your work in the morning.”

“You’ll stay the night?” he asks hopefully.

“I can stay the weekend. How does that sound?”

“It sounds lovely,” he says into your hair.

“If you need anything just let me know and I’ll go get it for you. But later. I’m tired now. Cooking is harder than I thought it’d be.”

You hear him hum contently after settling down more underneath you, pulling you completely on top of him. Relishing in his contact, you decide not to say anything to spoil the moment, absently drawing little patterns on his shirt as his breathing becomes more regular, falling asleep with the comforting weight of his world in his arms.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin x reader #kaeya #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff

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where-is-francis · 3 years

Note

what about some headcanons for the reader seeing loki in her feminine form for the first time after they’ve been dating for a while

Comfortable

Rules Of My Blog

Pronouns: Not Specified (You) / She/They (Loki)

A/N: There’s no good gifs I could find for femme Loki that aren’t just Sylvie, but that kind of works — you get to imagine her looking however you please 💕 ALSO I’M SO SORRY I FORGOT THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS

TW: Mentions of wine/casual drinking, nothing too in depth.

You’d been with Loki for quite a while

The two of you had become quite unlikely partners, but neither of you would change it

The God was so smitten with everything about you

The pet names you used, how you seemed to cast away their “doom and gloom” demeanor, even the way you’d surprise them with flowers some days

Loki had no idea how to go about courting a Midgardian; and Thor proved to be of no help

It took a while before they accepted that they could trust you, and they could let go of the self sabotaging habits, but you two persisted

Which brought you to where you currently were; sharing a place in Manhattan

Your partner spared no expense and insisted that everything be decorated to your liking

Dark green and (f/c) adorned your personal palace, accented by gold fixtures and weaponry

The Avengers agreed to let Loki move out of the tower, so long as they were still close and could be overseen easily

It wasn’t ideal, but they were gaining the team’s trust

Most days while you were at work, Loki spent their time reading in your apartment

The book shop just a few streets down had grown quite fond of you two, always welcoming you with friendly smiles

If they weren’t reading, they spent their time walking about the apartment in one of their other forms

You knew Loki was never completely cis, and you knew about their female form, but you’d yet to see it

In the summer you had only gotten glimpses of their Frost Giant form, usually just hands or the arm that was closest to you; always keeping you from overheating

The night you saw their other form was one you’d remember forever

You were a bit later than usual getting home from work, the sun having long disappeared by the time you reached the apartment

The opening of your front door was masked by the sound of music coming from the living room

When you entered, you had paused in slight shock with what you found

A gorgeous woman dancing barefoot, in a long robe, a glass of wine in hand

Anybody else would’ve been scared out of their mind, but you’d recognize the long black hair anywhere

“Darling?”

A green halo appeared quickly, seamlessly moving up her body as she turned to face you, the more familiar form greeting your arrival

“I-I… didn’t hear you come in. How was work?” They asked, placing the glass on the nearest surface

You gave a speed run of the events, all mundane, and began to hand over the flowers

“I was thinking maybe we could go out for dinner later this week?”

Their face lit up as they sniffed the flowers; you always knew how to treat them

“That sounds rather nice, actually,”

“I have tomorrow off. What do you say we go shopping? Maybe we’ll find a nice dress — only if you want to.”

A meek smile crossed your features as you took their hand, giving a reassuring squeeze to let them know it was alright

“You… it doesn’t weird you out? That I’m… well…”

“Of course not, love, why would it? I’ll admit, I’ve known about this form for a bit — I just didn’t want you to feel pressured to be open with me. And if you’re still not ready, that’s okay — I fell in love with you. Whatever that may look like, it’s still you.”

The shy flush had turned into a bright smile as the green ring appeared again. This time, you got to see everything happen.

Their jet black waves began to get longer, facial features rounding, and their height decreasing just slightly. The broad shoulders you’d become familiar with changing shape and tone; still muscular, but a bit smaller.

Before you stood your love like you’d never seen her before

It felt like your heart was attempting to escape through your mouth, a new heaviness stalling your words

Suddenly you felt like a lovesick teenager all over again

“Is it too much? I can change—” you noted the higher pitch in her voice, like music to your ears

“No, you’re just so gorgeous… I’m really at a loss for words.”

She smiled, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and pulling you to the couch to share a drink

The two of you raised your glasses in solidarity

“To you, my Goddess, and to me — for having the most attractive partner in all of the Nine Realms.”

“Oh shut it and drink with me, you moron.”

Like my stuff? I appreciate that! If you don’t know, I’m a male/gender neutral insert blog. Reblogs are greatly appreciated, as they help others find my content.💕

#marvel x male reader #marvel x gn reader #marvel x gender neutral reader #marvel x reader #loki x male reader #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #x male reader #x gn reader #x reader

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charnelhouse · 3 years

Note

would you ever write abt a super sensitive/ virgin din 🥺🥺

A/N: My main headcanon will always be Din Djarin is a slut boy who has fucked his way through the galaxy. BUT - I could also see this and here it is.

“You’ve never?” you ask with bright eyes, blinking slowly. Your tone not accusatory or stunned. Merely curious.

“Never really took the time,” he shrugs. “Never really felt safe enough to.”

Safe.

That really had been the truth of it. Fucking someone could put you in a vulnerable position. He’d fisted his cock enough times to know that a climax can make you lose your head.

A moment of bliss or gut-twisting splendor. Seconds and inches and next thing you know, his helmet could be gone and his truth laid bare.

You move towards him, the soft plush of your breasts is a gentle pressure against his chest.

“Din,” you murmur, trailing a finger across the edge of his helmet. “Would you like to?”

It had all gone backward. He had fallen for you. Fallen hard and what did he know of love? He knew of desire - long-harbored crushes that made him ache. He knew of so many who had tried with him because of who and what he was.

You should fuck me, Mandalorian. I’ll make it nice for you.

Just do it. All those lonely nights. All that armor. Let me suck your cock.

They’d never asked - not like you. They’d demanded - they’d needled him - shamed him. They didn’t treat him like you did. He bites his lip, savoring the way you’re clinging to his arms and peering up at him honest and bare and so fucking pretty.

There’d only been bad. Ugly-carved formations of what love could be.

You reach for the lights as he trembles - as he dies just a little bit.

“Let me show you, Din.” Your hot breath fanning over his armor.

“Please,” he replies because everything else has gone to mute.

Heat.

He thinks oh that heat as he sinks inside you for the first time. He didn’t realize how wet you’d get - how tight - and how you’d exhale sharply as he buried himself too fast.

It’s the sounds that make him burn. Your half-slurred moans and sighs and whimpers as you tuck your face into his bare neck and cry out with each slow snap of his hips.

He thought he wouldn’t get it. He thought it would be difficult and awkward, but it’s nature - it’s primal. It turns into sex somewhere along the way as he cradles your face so he can kiss you.

His tongue drags lazily over your own - the tang of your spit mingling with the floral punch of your hair and dewy skin.

“Is this okay?” he husks as your pussy clenches around him - as your heels dig into his ass.

“Yeah,” you reply as you brush his too-long hair out of his eyes. “Is it okay for you?”

Yes. Yes. A thousand fucking times yes.

But he’s out of words - out of thoughts except for the sensation of his cock moving steadily inside you. In and out - driving it forward to catch each ridge and vein before pulling it back.

He collects the slick on his fingertips, putting them into his mouth. He’s surprised at the taste - the warmth - the slight brine - the fact that he’d like to try more if you’d let him. It makes him speed up his pace - pushes him towards something as he relishes how each thrust he delivers sends you slightly up the mattress.

The room echoes with the jolting springs of the bed frame, the crude squelch of your sex. His rough staccato panting and your velvet mewls.

He rubs his nose against yours, sliding his cheek over your hair as he bears his weight above you. It is so fucking sweet - to touch you like this - to be a piece of you - connected through a tangle of their bodies and their cells and his heart pounding against the peak of your breast as you arch into him.

It’s making love.

It’s a million-mile pathway from the concept of what fucking had once meant to him. The sense of it as a danger for him. Here - between your arms - it is messy and wet and his skin is overheating while your silky, molten cunt swallows him deeper as you dig your nails into his shoulders and break.

There had been so much bad - so much impenetrable loneliness throughout his life. Intimacy had been an abstract concept that he had placed upon a shelf, never expecting to pick it up again.

And then you came into his life, snatched it cleanly from him - dusting off the sand and years of dirt.

You press your lips to his, let him kiss you hard and desperate as he grinds himself to the hilt - each roll of his hips slotting into the cradle of your womb - hitting it just right. His climax takes him by surprise - making every nerve in his body fray and explode and burst into a swell of pleasure that knocks him flat. He groans - low and ragged - against your mouth and all the while you hold him tight against you….Din. Din. Fuck - yes that’s it. Oh, love - yes.

It’s the good love.

You’ve shown him all the good love.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x female oc #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #request #mandalorian headcanon #din djarin headcanon #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you

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atveren · 3 years

Text

Monstadt and Liyue Boys S/O gives them flowers

No Warnings but spoilers, for a few stories.

Diluc, Venti, Razor, Kaeya, Bennet, Albedo, Chongyun, Kazuha, Childe, Aether, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli

Headcanons, Gender Neutral (They/Them, You/Yours)

Diluc

It was a busy day for the man, and you’d noticed. You decided to do something small for him, at least it was to you. He’d done it many times for you, and you wanted to return the favour. You had claimed to him that you’d forgotten something at the guild, and wanted to get it. He just wanted to relax with you, and offered to tell someone else to get it. You had dismissed that and walked out, leaving your boyfriend behind. You returned about an hour later, hand-picked bouquet in hand. You walked over and found him, handing it over with a smile. Diluc stared at you, before nervously accepting it. He dearly treasured you, and was grateful you had spent time on somethinh dor him. He softly tugged you next to him, and wrapped an arm around you. He took care of the flowers, and has them planted near the winery.

Venti

Ah yes, another windblume festival. You had spent most of the festival’s duration with the archon, aside from when he needed to be elsewhere. The last day was approaching, and you wanted to do something nice for your beloved. You gathered a bunch of cecilias, and asked him to meet you in the woods. He had arrived there first, and played the lyre while waiting. You walked over, and grinned at him. Venti jumped from the tree, and walked over to you. “So! What does the love of my life ask of me?” He said with a laugh. You laughed as well, and handed him the bunch. He grinned at you, before tackling you to the ground and smothering you with kisses. “Aww! I love them. I’ll get you some too! And we can match!” He said with another laugh. He really does love you, and you won’t forget.

Razor

You had given Razor the flowers, as a gift, just to say how much you loved him. He didn’t understand why, or what to do with them. It was adorable, honestly. When you explained why you did this for him, he had nodded, and ran off. You were a bit scared, thinking you upset the male, but a few hours later and he ran up to you. You tilted your head to the side, confused. He quickly handed you a few flowers, with a smile. He looked absolutely adorable and you smiled back at him. You felt like your heart could explode with the loving way he looked at you.

Kaeya

The cavalry captain did a lot for Monstadt, even if it didn’t seem so. You noticed he seemed a little stressed lately, and hoped to brighten his day even if it was because he made fun of you. Plus, he was your boyfriend! It was practically your job to put a smile on his face. You had ran around, gathering a few of each. You walked into his office that night, as he was working. He looked up at you with a lighthearted, but tired smile. You walked over and handed the flowers to him, with a smile. “Here, for working so hard.” Kaeya did become flustered, if even just for a second. “You really have fallen for me, haven’t you? Well, that is to be expected.” He said with a teasing tone. You were now the flustered one, and you did stay the night with him.

Bennet

You’d noticed your boyfriend had seemed down lately. You couldn’t let that slide, and rushed around monstadt picking all sorts of flowers, but especially windwheel asters. You had eventually ran into him, and quickly handed the bouquet to him. “O-Oh is this for me?” He asked, blushing. You nodded, with a smile. Bennet hugged you, with a grin. It seemed his luck hadn’t affected him this time, that was until he got home and the flowers wilted, instantly. He groaned, and apologised to you the next day. You laughed it off. “It’s fine! I can just find more. I don’t mind, as long as you’re happy.” He swore his heart stopped a moment, he is in love.

Albedo

The alchemist was hard at work as always, you both were in Dragonspine. You watched your boyfriend with interest, but noticed his exhaustion. You hoped maybe this would brighten his day. You claimed you were headed out to go get some supplies for him, and you’d be gone a few days. Truth is, you had gotten the ingredients, yes. But you’d travelled all the way to Liyue to pick flowers there too. He deserved it, after all. You arrived back and handed him the ingredients. But in another pack, you had given him the flowers, you sat and waited for him to notice. When he did, he looked at you, confused. “I didn’t ask for these..” He softly said, not meaning to sound ungrateful. “I know, silly, I got these for you because I love you, and so you can research them.” He stood, and walked over to you, before hugging you gently. “Then, I thank you.” He wouldn’t tell you this, but he used some form of alchemy to keep them alive forever.

Chongyun

Chongyun didn’t know how to react when you placed flowers in his hands, with a shining smile. All he knew is that he was overheating, and was now eating a popsicle. You sat by him, a little guiltily, you hadn’t meant to trigger his condition. After calming down, he looked at you. “Hey..Don’t worry, it’s fine.” You had given a tiny nod in thanks to him, already cheering up. You spent the rest of the day trying to make up for it, but he seemed happy just being by you.

Kazuha

You cherished your boyfriend, and wanted to do something small for him. You’d asked the traveller to pick some flowers while they were in Inazuma. They had given it to you when they returned, and you rushed to your boyfriend’s side, swearing to pay them back later. You tapped his shoulder, and as he turned, held the flowers out to him. The normally laid back male was at a loss for words as he gently accepted them. You didn’t mind his lack of a response, and just hugged him instead. He gave a small smile, and hugged you in return.

Childe

You walked around, at a loss of what to do for your harbinger boyfriend. You wanted to get him flowers, but which ones? Tartaglia had never shared much about his interests, preferring to spoil you instead. You stopped in front of a bush of silk flowers, and decided that hopefully this would be enough for him. You gathered a few before rushing to find him. You did, and he greeted you with a smile as per usual. “Ah, how’s my favourite comrade doing?” You laughed, as he kissed your cheek, like he always did. You looked at him, before handing him the flowers. “I hope these are okay..you never really said what you liked and-“ You were cut off as he pulled you in his arms, with a smile. “They’re perfect, like you.” He laughed, again. But he was grateful. He really only hugged you that fast so you wouldn’t see the growing blush he had.

Aether

The traveller had just gotten back from Inazuma, and stepped off at the docks of Liyue, to be greeted by you. You had a few things, some were food, others were upgrade materials but what stood out was the bouquet you handed to him. It was neatly arranged with all the flowers of Liyue and Monstadt. “Just to give you a sense of home,” you said, opening your arms so he could hug you. Aether did, and held you close. You ran your fingers through his hair, he was stressed but this cheered him up, you as a whole did.

Xiao

The adeptus blinked at you, and you stared at him. It was a late night on the Wangshu Inn’s balcony, when you had lovingly offered him the flowers you had picked for him. Xiao wasn’t used to this affection, or affection in general. You were nervous, as he hadn’t accepted them. It took a few more minutes, before he snatched them, and disappeared. You didn’t see him for a few days, before he appeared with a bouquet of your favourites. “Sorry..I was just surprised.” You quickly forgave him and accepted it, giving a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.” Now, he was blushing.

Xingqiu

You were on a date with your boyfriend, and as always, he’d given you flowers like the chivalric gentleman he is. You wanted to return the favour, and did on your next date. The surprise on his face was adorable as you passed it to him. “My love..what a surprise, I will accept it with honor.” He said, gently taking them from your hands. He kneeled, took your hand in his and kissed your hand. You were the one blushing, as always and laughed, helping him up. He kept holding your hand, and took you to a relaxing area where he calmly read with and to you.

Zhongli

Ever the gentlemen, he would always be prepared with gifts he forced asked Childe to get for you. You felt like a bit of a bad person doing this, but he deserved it. You had gathered a few glaze lillies, and brought them to the next date. It was a bit of a hassle not getting caught, but it was worth it when you saw the shock on his normally chill expression. “I hope this is enough to repay you..” He shook his head with a smile, and pulled you close. “There is no need to pay me back, dear, I do it all because I love you.” You grinned, clinging to him. It was nice, just being safe with him.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact boys #genshin impact fluff #x reader #x reader fluff #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #venti x reader #aether x reader #zhongli x reader

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cuttoothed · 3 years

Text

A little fic for @jonsimsandcats and also inspired by some adorable art on discord! Featuring notes on kitten rearing, and of course some Jmart because it’s me.

Jon works at the Institute here, but a non-spooky version of it!

Martin is doing a final check on the fish tanks when he hears the bell above the front door jingle. He sighs; he knew he should have locked up first. Just his luck.

“This is your fault,” he tells the angelfish balefully. They don’t seem contrite, too busy nosing in the fine gravel for any food they’ve missed. Martin walks out to the front of the shop, preparing his best customer service smile to tell whoever’s come in at—he glances at his watch—three minutes past eight that they’re closed, and no, they can’t just wander around for a few minutes to look at the animals. Honestly, some people seem to think there’s no difference between a pet shop and an art gallery.

There’s a man standing at the front counter, looking around anxiously, a bundled up jumper clutched against his chest.

“Sorry, we’re—” Martin begins, and that’s as far as he gets before the man unleashes a frantic tirade.

“Please!” the man says, “I need your help, I-I’m not sure they’re breathing and they were out there for hours on their own, I know you’re not supposed to move them in case their mother comes back but I couldn’t just—just leave knowing they were still there, and all the vet offices nearby are closed, this was the only place I could think of!”

The man is wild eyed, almost panicked, and Martin lifts both hands in an appeasing gesture.

“Woah,” he says, “Uh, maybe start from the beginning again? Slowly?”

“Right, ah, sorry. Sorry. I spotted them this morning, under a bush just outside my work.” The man sets the bundle of jumper down on the counter, and unfolds it to reveal two tiny scraps of fur: one gray, one black. Kittens, Martin realizes, so small they can only be a week or so old; certainly not old enough to be without their mother.

“I left them alone, because I’ve heard that the mother usually comes back after a little while. A-and I meant to go and check on them again during the day, make sure.” The man sounds anguished now, his face miserable. “But I—I got caught up in work, forgot about it. It was only when I was leaving that I remembered. And they were still there, on their own. Barely moving. Please—is there anything we can do?”

Martin looks down at the tiny creatures in their nest of wool; he can just about see the shallow in-out of their breathing. All day outside alone, at their age, the odds aren’t great. But he’s met enough kittens to know that they’re shockingly resilient little sods, and he’s never given up on a so-called hopeless case before. He’s not about to start now.

“You did the right thing moving them,” he assures the man, moving to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED. “We need to get them warmed up and get some food into them. Body heat is the best thing for them right now—can you start warming them with your hands?”

“Oh—ah, yes,” says the man, turning to his bundle of jumper with a worried frown. Martin leaves him there while he rushes around the shop, grabbing kitten milk replacer and nursing bottles, and then into the back to heat two mugs of water in the microwave while he makes up the bottles. He pops them into the mugs to warm, and brings the whole lot out to the front. The man now has a kitten in each hand, and is holding them pressed carefully to his chest for additional warmth; his expression is still worried, but also desperately tender, and Martin feels a pang of something behind his ribs at the sight.

“One of them is moving,” the man says eagerly as Martin sets the bottles down. Martin can see the gray kitten wriggling weakly in the man’s grip, responding to the heat. Its sibling is still motionless, and Martin’s heart sinks a little.

“That’s great,” he says. “Hold onto her for another minute, and let me see if I can get her sister moving too.”

He holds out a hand, and the man almost reluctantly passes him the black kitten. Martin doesn’t try to notice that the man has lovely hands, with long, slim fingers, narrow wrist jutting out of his shirt sleeve, but, well, he notices a bit. He turns his attention to the kitten; he can’t make out the motion of its breathing anymore. He takes it in both hands and starts to massage it gently. It lies limp in his palms, head lolling, and Martin starts to feel despair crawling cold up his spine.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “You can do it.” The man is watching him anxiously, the gray kitten cradled against his chest, and Martin knows he can’t give up. He keeps rubbing the kitten’s small body, trying to will warmth and life back into the tiny, fragile form. At last, after what seems like an eternity, the kitten squirms in his hands and a faint, plaintive mew escapes it. An answering mew comes from the gray kitten, and Martin laughs, relief washing over him.

“Right, let’s see if we can get them to eat.”

After checking that they’re not too chilled to feed, Martin tests each of the kittens with a drop of formula on their tongue; thankfully they both seem able to swallow without difficulty. He shows the man how to feed the gray kitten, holding its body in a neutral position with the bottle tilted for a gentle flow. It doesn’t take long for the kittens to figure out the process, and Martin can feel the tug on the bottle as his kitten begins to suckle.

“Oh,” he hears softly from beside him, and turns to see the man gazing in delight at the gray kitten, whose tiny, unfurled ears are twitching as it sucks.

“She’s doing great,” Martin comments. “Good job.” The man gives him a tentative, pleased smile, and Martin still isn’t trying to notice but it’s a very nice smile. “I’m Martin, by the way.”

“Jonathan Sims—Jon,” says the man, and then gives a small, tense laugh. “God, I haven’t even apologized for storming in here while you were clearly trying to close up for the night.”

“That’s all right, I didn’t have any exciting plans tonight anyway. I’d much rather be spending time with these little beauties.”

Jon smiles again, more sure this time, and all right, maybe Martin deliberately notices the dimple in his right cheek. Just a bit.

Once the kittens are fed, Martin shows Jon how to stimulate them; both of them only pee a little—poor things are dehydrated—but it’s a good sign. They clean them up and tuck them back into the nest of Jon’s jumper, where they curl up into a small puddle of black and gray. Jon gives a sigh that’s somewhere between relieved and exhausted.

“Thank you,” he says. “I, ah, I think I forgot to say that as well. You know a lot about this.”

“I volunteer at a shelter, there are a lot of kittens. If you like, I can take them for tonight and bring them in tomorrow?”

“Ah,” says Jon. “Do you think that’s—I mean...I-I’m not sure I’d feel right, handing them off to someone else. Not that I think you’re not capable!” he rushes to add, and Martin finds himself smiling.

“No, I get it. You found them, you want to take care of them. I’ll warn you, though, it’s a big commitment. For the first couple of weeks you have to feed them every two hours, even during the night, and then it’s every three or four hours until they start weaning. It’s like having a newborn baby.”

“I don’t get much sleep generally,” says Jon. “At least this way I’ll have something to do while I’m up all night. And my work is—well, I’ll explain the situation.”

He looks set on it, brow furrowed with determination. Martin considers arguing more: that a shelter will be better equipped to care for the kittens, that there’s no guarantee they’ll survive in any case, that Jon doesn’t know what he’s signing up for. But the shelters are always crowded, and kittens this young have simple needs, and really, a dedicated foster parent—armed with the right knowledge—is probably the best thing for them.

“Right,” he says, “Let’s make sure these two are well wrapped up before you take them home.”

He scrounges a cardboard box from the back and they settle the kittens into it, still wrapped in Jon’s jumper along with a soft fleece blanket printed with cartoon fish. Martin gathers a couple of cartons of liquid formula and extra bottles to get them started, and shows Jon how to pierce the nipple so the flow isn’t too strong.

“It should be warmed to body temperature,” he explains, “But not directly in the microwave—put the bottles in heated water, like I did earlier. Do you have a hot water bottle?”

“Yes, I do,” says Jon, frowning intently as he listens. Martin nods.

“It’s better than a heating pad at this age, they’re less likely to get overheated. Don’t make it too hot—body temperature, again—and wrap it in a blanket so they’re not touching it directly.”

“Got it,” says Jon firmly, and Martin believes him. He bags up the formula and bottles and an extra pet blanket, and presses them into the hands of a startled Jon; the till is shut off for the night, but Martin can explain and pay for the items tomorrow.

“What’s your phone number?” he asks, and Jon looks even more startled.

“S-sorry?”

“Or your email. I’m going to send you some links—videos, a couple of good blogs that should be helpful.”

“Oh, ah, right. Of course.” Jon recites his number and Martin saves it under “Jon (Kittens).” He peeks into the box one last time before Jon scoops it up, and sees the kittens snuggled in the folds of the jumper, paws waving in little kitten dreams.

“Thank you again, Martin,” says Jon. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.” His tone is shy but genuine, and it sends warmth through Martin’s chest and up into his cheeks.

“Any time,” Martin says. “And feel free to text me if you need anything—if you have a question or...anything. Or call me if you like.” He’s aware he’s rambling a bit, but it’s not every day an attractive man says that he doesn’t know what he would have done without you, so he can hardly be blamed.

“I will,” says Jon solemnly.

He doesn’t text Martin any questions that night, but when Martin sends him the links to a youtube channel and three blog posts on kitten care, he replies:

Thank you :)

Martin spends most of the rest of the night wondering what that smiley face means.

He doesn’t necessarily expect to see Jon again, and certainly doesn’t expect to see him the very next day. But just before one o’clock in the afternoon the bell above the door jingles and there’s Jon, looking tired and more than a bit sheepish.

“I got all the way into work this morning before I realized I’d never paid for any of the things you gave me,” he says, reaching for his wallet.

“Those were gifts,” Martin tells him firmly. “Sort of a “welcome to foster parenthood” care basket?”

“No, I couldn’t let you—” Jon starts to protest, but Martin shakes his head emphatically.

“It’s no big deal, honestly. I get an employee discount anyway.”

“I...well, then I suppose I need to thank you yet again,” says Jon.

“It’s becoming a bit of a habit,” Martin jokes, grinning, and Jon smiles in return. He hesitates a moment before continuing:

“Maybe I could buy you lunch instead, then? To pay you back.”

“There’s no need, honestly,” says Martin, even as his brain berates him: What are you doing, idiot, he’s asking you to have lunch with him? Say yes!

“Please, I’d like to,” Jon says, and then gives a thoughtful frown. “Only if you want to, of course, don’t feel obligated—”

“I’m on lunch in five minutes,” Martin blurts out before he can overthink it.

“Great!” says Jon, sounding pleased. “If you have time, we could go by my office as well and visit the kittens. I just fed them before I came to see you.”

Before I came to see you, not before I came to pay you back, and Martin feels that warmth crawling up towards his cheeks again. Even if Jon’s intentions are purely friendly rather than...anything else, well, Martin could always use more friends.

“How were they last night?” he asks, and the smile that spreads across Jon’s face this time is pure delight.

“Oh I barely got an hour’s sleep,” he says, waving a hand. “And today they’re sitting under my desk reminding me every couple of hours that they need attention and that they are far more important than whatever I’m working on. They’re perfect.”

“Sounds like cat parenthood suits you,” Martin teases gently, and Jon laughs.

“I think it rather does.”

Lunch is...nice, and only slightly awkward in the “getting to know a new person” sort of way. Jon is serious, but also funny in an understated, acerbic way, and there’s a gentleness to him that wouldn’t be immediately apparent, if Martin hadn’t seen him cradling two tiny, fragile lives to his chest last night. He’s the kind of person Martin would like to know better, he thinks.

Afterwards they go to Jon’s workplace, which is extremely academic with a brass nameplate by the door and everything, and down to the basement office where Jon works; Martin doesn’t really know what archiving entails, but it looks like mostly a bloody great pile of paperwork. Jon’s two colleagues give Martin friendly and extremely curious glances as they pass; Jon pointedly ignores them in favor of directing Martin to his desk and the cardboard box sitting beneath it.

When Martin glances inside, the two kittens are curled up in the folds of the fish-print blanket, lying against the shape of what he assumes is the hot water bottle. Their bellies already look rounder than they were last night, thanks to regular feeding, and their limbs twitch as they sleep.

“I’ll take them to the vet for a check up after work,” Jon murmurs quietly, gazing down at them with a soft expression. Martin recognizes that look of adoration, and he knows this pair won’t be going to a shelter or anywhere else; they’ve found their home with Jon.

“They’re lucky you found them,” he says, and Jon smiles self-consciously.

“I think I’m the one who was lucky,” he says.

They spend a bit more time with the kittens, and then Martin realizes that it’s about time he got back to work if he doesn’t want to get in trouble. He excuses himself, waving goodbye to Jon’s still curious colleagues, and Jon walks him out to the grand front entrance of the building.

“Thanks again for lunch,” he says. “And—you have my number, right? The offer is open, if you need anything, just text me.”

“I will,” says Jon. “And, ah, let me know if you’d like to come and see the kittens again. Any day. Well, most days,” he corrects himself. “We could, ah, maybe have lunch again?”

“That sounds...really nice,” says Martin. Jon smiles, pleased, and Martin isn’t trying to notice the faint flush that spreads across his face, but it’s very cute anyway.

As he walks back to work, Martin’s phone vibrates with a text. It’s a picture of the kittens, curled up on top of each other, with the message:

Come back and see us soon!

Martin grins; the kittens, he thinks, weren’t the only ones lucky to be found last night.

#the magnus archives #jonsimsandcats2021 #my fic #jonmartin

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