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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

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a place for the weary

Convincing the boys to take a break and rest their head on your lap, because they all work so hard and need a comfortable place to just ... be - plus … some of them just need love and affection (please)

Includes: Albedo, Diluc, Scaramouche, Kaeya

Warning -> SFW

Character X GN reader

Albedo

He’s busy, always busy - whether he’s working on some research in the labs or out in the field, he’s hardly ever taking a moment to stop. What he finds most relaxing is drawing, painting the scenery in front of him until he gets it all perfect, and while you love to watch how his face twists, his eyes scrunch together as he examines the lines on the page, you also wish he would take a moment to do nothing

If you suggest the activity to him, he may wonder what could be the purpose of it; he might ask you a lot of questions as he leans down to rest his head on your lap

“Albedo,” you call out to him as you watch him shuffle through the crates examining the bottles and other items sprawled in the container. He tilts his head to look at you, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a glass contained filled with some sort of liquid. “You’ve been working for so long, come take a rest.” You pat your leg and invite him to join you on the soft blanket you’d laid out some time ago.

“I’m trying to make sure we have …”

“I know,” you chuckle, “and it’ll be there for you after you take a quick break.”

He straightened himself out, his torso stretching and overcorrecting slightly as he elongated out his muscles. The bottle slipped further into his palm as he moved his hand up and down, bouncing it slightly as he contemplated your suggestion. You knew it wasn’t like him to take breaks like this, still, you hoped he would at least this time.

“If it makes you feel more productive, bring your notebook so you can draw.” That seemed much more enticing, you smiled to yourself as you watched him retrieve his journal before falling in place at your side.

You were always persistent in getting him to take a moment, a small second to stop moving or relax his eyes which only seemed to be tired when he rested against you

After the first few times, he had tried a couple of different iterations until he found the best position to be the one he was participating in right now. Legs bent so he could prop his drawing notebook or journal onto them; his legs acting as a makeshift easel so he could sketch or paint what was in the background

He may be inclined to share his thoughts with you, perhaps dominating the conversation as he ponders on rhetorical questions and thoughts that fill his mind, but you don’t care because your hands are busy in his hair anyway

After finding a comfortable place for his head, the back of his hair pushed itself up as he slid along the edge of your thigh. You shifted so he could have enough space and while he began to work, you could continue reading through your book. These moments you cherished, these simple, peaceful moments that allowed you to be close to him while giving him all the freedom he’d ever shown you.

Every once in a while you glanced down to his notebook and became transfixed by the way his pencil moved across the page. How each line transitioned from nonsense into a masterful capture of the world stretched out in front of him. It was incredible how his eyes were able to see so much and his hands moved to copy it all down. He didn’t seem to mind the corners of the page fluttering in the wind or how leaves would fall haphazardly around him, resting quietly on his chest or in his hair.

Your hands instinctively went to retrieve them, your thumb sliding across the bumpy surface and fingers pushing against his soft blonde hair. Letting the leaf meander on its way to the ground, you returned your fingers to his head. The tips ran over his forehead, trailing until they came to rest on his outer ear and carefully you tucked some strands of his hair behind it. You heard him sigh and noticed the quick movements of the pen slow to a near stop, a sign for you to continue.

Carefully, you returned your bookmark to the page before resting it onto the blanket. Your hands found their way back to his hair and they began to work their way to his scalp. Your nails sliding along, underneath, below, and over each strand as if you were inspecting it all. The soft texture of it, and the reaction of its owner, made the experience all the better.

After a while, Albedo seemed to pull himself away from the trance you had put him under. A line here, a curve there, his pencil began to move again and the once empty spaces of the paper grew into a beautiful work of art. You too returned to the book you were reading but left one hand against his hair, your fingers moving every once in a while.

The two of you shared in a moment, uninterrupted, and through the connection, the both of you felt more energized than before.

Diluc

Relax? What is relax -> Diluc doesn’t know how, when, or what he would even do to relax so getting him to take a break, to have a moment would be a battle to say the least

You’re much more likely to find success if he’s tired, like super tired, tired to the point you see him shaking his head or rubbing his eyes with his fingers - here he is less likely to deny you - here you have more push in your persuasion

You walked into the study knowing full well what you would find when you pushed open the door. There he was, just as you had imagined him, with his head peering down at documents, his fist balled and pressing against his forehead, his other hand gripping a pen and moving across the papers.

The light from the midday sun slipped through the window and surrounded him in a beautiful glow; an ethereal being with hair the color of juiciest apples and skin paler than the cups of china stocked in the kitchen below. If Diluc would allow it, you’d have stolen several photos of him while he worked, but he wasn’t fond of pictures.

You walked up to the desk and noticed that he had barely eaten the lunch the maids had prepared for him, a few bites taken but nothing substantial. He continued his work even as you approached the front desk, moments like these reminded you how much he trusted you. To allow someone to invade his space like this was an unbelievable sign of faith from the ever distrustful Diluc Ragnvindr.

“Diluc, are you finished with this?” You asked, resting your hand on the edge of the desk and the other grazing the edge of the plate.

“Mm?” He looked up at you, his eyes fuzzy and tired, you glanced with your eyes toward the plate and he followed their gaze. “Oh, yes. I’m finished.” You gave him a weak smile as your fingers closed around the cold ceramic. His head dropped back to the paperwork and you shook your own. Moving to place the plate on the tray next to the entrance of the study, you quickly returned to him but this time moving to his side.

“How’s it coming?” You asked him, your hand drifting toward his shoulder and you grinned as his torso shifted to press deeper into your touch.

“More and more orders are coming in. Seasonal changes always bring business, but it’s difficult to keep the orders together.”

“Hmm, well I know you’ll get it done, you always figure it out.” You slid your hand along his back and noticed how he stopped the movements of his pen. “Why don’t you take a break?”

“I’m far too busy for that.” He voiced, pulling himself back and away from you.

You reached for his hand, your fingers sliding over his bare skin. He disliked wearing gloves while he worked like this. “Indulge me?”

You’ve instructed him to remove his jacket, the heavy fabric would distract from the relaxation you explained would come - he’s a bit hesitant about it, but you’ve asked so nicely how can he possibly say no to you

He will lay on his back and look away from you in an effort to hide his embarrassment or weakness - as the master of the winery, the owner of this business, the pride of so many resting on his shoulders he always told himself that he has to hold it all together, until the day he realized you were the only thing holding him together

He melts, purely and simply, the ever stoic Diluc finds peace with you

His head provides a nice pressure on your legs, his shoulders press against your thigh as you help him get comfortable here. He’s so tall that his feet fall off the daybed, but he doesn’t say anything or really move after. One of his arms rests at his sides while the other lay across his stomach, and you can’t help but smile at the tense way his fingers wrap themselves into a comforting fist.

“I won’t hold you here for long, just try and relax.” You express knowing full well he will have a hard time doing just that. You’ve made sure his hair isn’t tucked underneath him and you admire the way it contrasts with your dark pants. With deft fingers, you undo the ribbon that keeps his hair in place, and as soon as it’s released you begin to fan the strands over your legs.

Carefully, you run your hands over his hair, pressing lightly as you start at the crown of his head and work your way over the red pool on your lap. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed his fist beginning to relax, the way his long fingers extended across his stomach told you that he was finally committing to your request. From there, you decided to work your way through his hair, your fingers sifting and moving through the mess of wildfire on top of his head.

Each time you moved to a new, untouched spot he relaxed more. His legs bending slightly, his hands opening up, his expression softening and soon, he began to turn toward you. His head moved, forehead now pressed against your hip, his body shifted just slightly to be closer to you.

You began to softly hum, the sound of your voice adding to the calming atmosphere of the quiet study and, in a matter of minutes, you could see the steady rise and fall of Diluc’s chest, the inhale and exhale of air as it slipped past his lips and the irregular twitch of his fingers as he slipped off to sleep.

A maid entered the room shortly after and when she saw the two of you in the back of the study and noticed the smile slightly hidden under your index finger as you indicated to her of the sleeping man on your lap, she bowed and exited the room.

Scara

Grumpy - the embodiment of grumpy and absolute worst at taking any suggestion, ever. So when you bring this idea up to him, he’s super against it. He doesn’t want to appear, look, seem soft in any way - ‘what is this silly little thing you are asking me to do?’

He’d push the idea away every time you bring it up -- that is until the day your legs look so tantalizing they are practically calling his name. Perhaps it's the way your hands rest in your lap as they hold onto a book, or the light as it hits your legs, or just the sound of your voice as you offer him a place to rest again and again - he finally succumbs

You’ve been sitting in Scara’s living room for some time now. You learned early on to let him do his own thing and not get in his way, he had made that very clear. Still, you were happy he let you invade his space, that he let you be someone that he tolerated more than most. It definitely ignited your pride to have someone of his stature interested in you.

Though, the only issue with him was the fact that he was always on the move. He never seemed to be stationary for long, and often would be gone for days or weeks at a time, sometimes with a warning. So, you learned to keep yourself busy and take in every moment you could with him.

He had been in and out most of the day so you found yourself preoccupied with your things. Reading, working, relaxing, whatever followed the requirements of the day; you just went with the flow. Today held those sentiments very strongly as you got comfortable on the couch, one leg resting underneath you and the other bouncing on the ball of your foot. You had been engrossed in your book for so long, the characters' adventures gripping you and pulling you through every hill and valley they traveled. You were so absorbed in the words that you didn’t notice Scara calling your name, or how he stood in front of you with his hands on his hips.

Fingers entered your vision and a loud snap sound directly in front of you. You looked up startled and when you saw his face you finally welcomed him.

“Hey, I didn’t notice you were home.” You show him a kind smile and receive nothing in return.

“I was calling you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“What have you been doing all day? Lazing about what it looks like.” He crossed his arms and looked around the room before returning his attention to you.

“I’m taking a break, you’re welcome to join me.” You added, patting your lap.

“I’ve already told you I would never do something so childish.”

You chuckle, slipping your fingers in between the pages of your book. “I know, figured I’d give it another shot. Are you heading back out?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He replied; conversations were often like this with him, short and to the point and almost always without any real answer. So you returned your attention to your book, the pages calling your name as your eyes scanned down the page before landing back on the sentence from which you had been pulled from.

You were drawn back into the scene only to be ripped out of it once again. The book in your hand was pushed to the side, your elbow knocking into the arm of the chair and your head snapping to the source of the disturbance. Scara’s face suddenly came into view as his head rested against your lap, his eyes staring at the ceiling and cheeks speckled with the color silk flowers.

He has this response to things that can throw others off so quickly. He’s violent and angry, but he shows these small signs of humanity in his actions, simple, small things every once in a while it reminds you of a small child who isn’t sure what he really wants

The more he participates in this activity, the more likely he will invade your lap whenever the urge comes over him. He’ll push whatever is in your lap away, if he’s feeling really nice he’ll pick it up and place it elsewhere, otherwise you learn to never hold anything breakable here - he won’t look at you either, his eyes will look away, always, and he expects you to know what he wants, don’t make him beg for anything

You never once expected him to follow through with your request, not in a million years. So when he settles against your legs, his face right next to your stomach and eyes looking upward at you, you're unsure how to respond.

“Well, I’m here.” He says, crossing his arms and legs as he waits expectantly for your attention. You’re so taken-aback that you can’t help but burst into laughter. Covering your face with your hand, the sound of your voice spills into the room and makes the harbinger shift against you. “I knew this was stupid …” He huffs and you have to use so much more strength than you anticipated to pull him back.

“I’m sorry. I just … I never expected … please, don’t go.” You look at him with hopeful eyes and with a sigh he returns his head to your legs. While one of your hands rests against the top of his head, the other works to save your place in your book before resting it on the end table. You don’t even notice that your fingers have started to play with the short locks of his hair until you look back at his face and see his eyes closed.

You stall, but only long enough for him to slightly open his eyes and look at you, his expression of ‘did I tell you to stop’ speaking volumes. So, you start to work your fingers through his hair, the dark purple strands slip easily through your fingers as you shift them around. Spreading your hands out and pressing the tips of your fingers against his scalp and, as your bravery grows, you move your fingers toward his jaw and along the edge of his hairline. His short hair gives you a great view of his face, and you wonder if this is the first time you’ve ever really had the opportunity to look at him. He’s incredibly handsome, one reason he was able to capture you so easily, and the longer you played with his hair, the further the corner of his mouth moved into a faint smile. You would do almost anything for that smile.

A soft chuckle sounds from your throat and the calmness of your actions is gone in an instant. His eyes are open and he’s slipped from your lap, his feet connecting to the floor and the warmth of his body dissipating from your legs. You protest, but he’s already halfway across the room and is clearly trying to keep you from looking at his face.

Kaeya

He is all about this activity - honestly, he’s all about any type of touch you want to offer him and while he has a lot on his plate, he will take these moments to be with you. He doesn’t care either where or around who, he may be partaking in this delectable experience - his mind is filled with you and, when you hold him, touch him, love him, he can think of nothing else

You hadn’t seen him all day, which wasn’t uncommon when there were new recruits or the knights were preparing for a subjection out in the wilderness, Kaeya was typically busier during these times. So, when there were days he wouldn’t be able to get away, and you knew he would continue to work until everything was done, you would find your way to him and offer him a short reprieve from the duties of his work.

He was standing in the hallway consumed in a conversation with one of the knights. His usually peppy demeanor seemed faded, his shoulders drooped a bit further, his gestures more muted as spoke with the other party, and overall, he didn’t seem as energetic as he normally was.

The closer you got, the more attention you drew, and soon Kaeya turned to look at what was drawing the eyes of his speaking partner.

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.” He perked up when he saw you, the light in his blue eyes flashing, a smile stretching across his face.

“Hey! I wanted to stop by since I had a moment. Are you free?” You asked him, crossing your hands behind your back and giving the other knight a quick head nod who returned your hello in a similar manner.

“Of course, I will spare all my time for you.” He closed the distance between the two of you, an arm draping around your shoulder and pulling you close.

“Captain, we’ve been asked to …”

“Yes, yes. I’ll get right on it.” He affirmed to the knight before turning all his attention to you and ushering you down the hallway toward his office.

“Are you sure you are free? If you need me to come ba …”

“Nonsense, how could I pass up this opportunity. Do not worry your pretty little head.” He laughed, his smile wide and eyes closed.

“Okay, I won’t keep you long then.”

“Oh, but I was hoping you’d save me from this boring day.” He laughed and squeezed you closer to his side, even though you could tell he was more tired than usual he was still able to give you so much of his energy.

Kaeya will turn his head toward you, he’ll wrap his hand around your waist because even here he cannot get close enough

Here, he can breathe you in and be the center of your attention - which is his most favorite thing

What he prefers, what he loves most, is when you touch his face, stroke his cheeks with the back of your fingers or your hands as they slide over him, the way you run your fingers along his brow, his jaw, and across his neck - these actions will give him the chills and it may be the only time you truly see him react in such a way

When you get settled onto the couch in his office you call him to you. He eagerly takes the space next to you as if it was always meant for him.

“Lay down, you look exhausted.” You explain, extending your arm around him and waving him to rest in your lap.

“Hah, are you trying to take advantage of me?” He asks, moving closer to you rather than doing what you asked.

“If taking advantage of you looks like letting you take a break, then yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing here.” Your laughter fills his ears and he remembers just how much he missed the sound.

“How can I possibly say no to you?”

“I know, I’m pretty convincing. Now, come here.” You pull on the sleeve of his arm and he quickly follows your guidance. His head settles onto your thighs, his face as close to your stomach as he can get, and his hands resting against his chest.

You help him drape his hair over your leg and start working your way through his bangs, sliding your fingers along his forehead. His playful smile slips into a relaxed expression as he takes in the feeling of your touch on his skin. The way you trace your fingers down his cheek, over his nose, across his lips, his jawline, he is beyond happy here.

“Do you know when you might be able to take a real break?” You ask, running your fingers through the blue strands of his hair, admiring the way it looks as you move them to places they don’t normally rest.

“It seems there are many days ahead of us. These new recruits are …” He lifted his hands into a shrug before dropping them back onto his chest, “Well, progressing at their own pace we’ll say.”

“So it’ll be a while.”

“Perhaps. Don’t fret though, I’ll always make time for you to refill my reserves.”

“I’ll take on that request.” You look down at him and catch his eyes staring back, he moves his hand to rest against your arm and gives it a tight squeeze before turning his face toward you. His eye closes and even as the conversation dies down, as his breathing becomes slower, and his hand slips down the side of your arm you know he won’t fall asleep. He never falls asleep when you are with him like this, no matter how tired he is he refuses to miss a single moment.

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stefciastark · 3 years

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Heir to Stark Industries ~Webpril Day 28

A/N: Tony thinks long and hard about the future of Stark Industries. He didn't think the answer would be standing right in front of him. I had to write this one a bit more quickly than the last ones because life loves to get in the way. I hope you enjoy this one :) x Only two more left to go!

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“Could you please pass me the spanner, Mr Stark?”

Not moments after Peter asked for it, Tony let it fall into Peter’s open hand with a thwap.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, kiddo.”

“Almost...done….” Peter’s words were punctuated by harsh twists of the tool in his hands, securing the last of the nuts and bolts in place.

“Let’s do a quick power test, shall we?” Tony called from over by the interface beside the project.

Peter scampered over to where Tony stood and tried to wipe the grin off of his face and keep his excitement at bay. The last eight attempts had failed to even power it on without something short-circuiting, so even if movement wasn’t on the cards, something was better than nothing.

“Your call, boss.” Tony took a step back, giving Peter access to the button that would mark their ninth trial.

“Here goes nothing.” Peter tapped the button rimmed in electric blue and watched as the laboratory lights dimmed. At first, Peter had thought that it was to conserve power, but it was later revealed to be for dramatic effect - of course it was.

The sound of a soft jet engine slowly crescendoed as the electricity travelled through a thick tubed wire that ran into the hip joint of the contraption. Just over thirty seconds after the trial began, it ended in a shower of sparks and Tony leaping for the button that said ‘OFF’ in large capital letters. Peter sighed, glad that he took his own advice and hadn’t gotten his hopes up.

Resisting the urge to swear in a way that would make Tony proud or kick the nearby stool across the room like a child, he leaned over the workshop table, and puffed air out through his cheeks before burying his head in his hands.

“How do you even do stuff like this, Mr Stark?”

Tony clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I kinda grew up with the whole ‘tech genius’ thing. I had my dad pummelling mathematics and robotics into me before I even knew how to walk. I’m pretty sure I knew advanced calculus before I knew how to wipe.” Tony chuckled humourlessly. “Other than that, he was cold and shrewd. Then came MIT - much like you - and then lots of trial and error.”

Peter looked over at the table where his droid of sorts lay lifeless and cold. Not like it wouldn’t be lifeless and cold once it was able to hold power for more than half a minute, but there was something about watching a creative endeavour come to life and become an entity of its own that made it seem so...alive. Peter was beginning to understand how Tony must have felt when he first designed the Iron Man suits.

After his first year at M.I.T had drawn to a close, Peter had travelled back down to New York during the summer break. He had a pet project he’d wanted to pursue for years but only recently manifested the courage and redeemable points with Tony to ask for his mentor’s help.

Years of watching footage and seeing the Iron Legion in action inspired Peter to want to have one of his own flying amongst them. While the second iteration of the Iron Legion were destroyed after Ultron, Tony had begun reconstructing the battalion of sorts in Peter’s last year of highs school. So, it was with a surprising amount of enthusiasm - Peter expected approval under sufferance - that Tony happily agreed to help Peter make his mark amongst the androids.

Peter also made the decision - he hadn’t decided whether or not that was a mistake - to refuse any solutions from Tony. Peter spent some time studying the Legion and the complexity of them daunted him. Which is why, with stubbornness Peter was sure he picked up from Tony, he wanted to figure it out on his and be able to say: “This was all me.” Well...it wouldn’t be all him...maybe ninety percent him.

When Peter didn’t respond, Tony probed, “Sure you don’t want me to make a few tweaks?”

“No!” Peter responded with a volume he didn’t intend. “Sorry, no...I’m just,” Peter groaned, a frustrated sound that Tony knew all too well, although he had learned to confine the screaming to a small locked box deep inside his brain. Peter didn’t quite finish his sentence, lost for words while his mind raced to come up with an alternative solution to the power problem his droid was facing.

The eyes that stared back at Peter were dark, and it felt strange to him to look at something that looked just like him in those moments when he stopped being Peter Parker and became Spiderman.

“I get it,” Tony said, an almost wistful smile playing at the corners of his lips. There was no question that Tony loved tinkering in the labs and creating and just being Tony. But, and Tony hated thinking about the ‘but’, it was coming time for him to think about retirement. He couldn’t be Iron Man forever, nor could he be the head of Stark Industries forever.

Tony had thought long and hard about the future of Stark Industries. Pepper had said she wanted to retire when he did, and no matter how much they’d bickered and argued over it, Tony ceded. And, after some thought, Tony understood why; Tony was the paintbrush and canvas and Pepper was the splashes of bright and beautiful colour. They needed each other to make art, even if that was retiring in a lakeside cabin.

Then he’d thought about Morgan, but she was far too young, even by the time they took a backseat from it all.

“Oh my god, wait a sec!” Tony jumped slightly, caught off guard when Peter all but leaped off the ground, passion oozing out of him in waves.

Sprinting over to the droid once more, Peter worked quickly, loosening the fasteners and rerouting various wires that sat at its core. Tony watched as Peter sprinted towards a stack of crates at the back of the room that housed the latest batch of miniature arc reactors.

“Can I?” Peter gestured towards the box at the front. Tony nodded and Peter grinned.

Already three out of the fifteen reactors had been taken out, Tony having used them to power some of Peter’s latest upgrades to his suit.

Darting back to his work, Peter crafted and developed a home for the small reactor right where the droid’s heart would be, had it been capable of having one.

Tony had long since taken a seat on the lounges behind the work stations, sipping out of a mug that read ‘#1 Dad’ in large print and reading through the latest industry headlines on his tablet.

“Ready for attempt ten, Mr Stark?” Peter was basically vibrating where he stood. He had a good feeling about this one.

“Fire away, kid.”

Tony watched as Peter pressed the power button once more, and saw the faint glow that lit up Peter’s smile. The kid had done it.

As the android progressively lit up from top to bottom, a soft hum filling the room, Tony kicked himself mentally for not thinking of it before. He almost saw Peter for the first time; not just as a brilliant kid who was going to go places, not just as one of the greatest heroes of his age.

The heir to Stark Industries.

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