#myfanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silverstark · 4 months

Text

Heavenly Demon Baby Fever pt.4

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3

BingQiu get baby fever. Tentatively rated M instead of T.

x-x-x-x-x

Despite spending most of his time traveling the world carrying out all of Luo Binghe’s roleplay fantasies, Shen Qingqiu tried to set a good example for his disciples by never neglecting his Peak Lord duties. He made sure that his and Luo Binghe’s visits to Cang Qiong Mountain coincided with Peak Lord meetings whenever possible. He usually enjoyed these meetings…meaning he enjoyed opportunity to put on his finest poser act and learn all the Peak Lord gossip he had missed while he was away.

That wasn’t the case on this particular day. Shen Qingqiu woke up feeling ill to the point that he couldn’t even attempt to hide it from his husband. Luo Binghe, of course, fretted and clung and conveniently tried to coax him to stay in bed, but Shen Qingqiu had refused to compromise his morals.

And so, Shen Qingqiu dragged himself all the way to Qiong Ding Peak, took his customary seat by his sect leader, and braced himself for a long meeting. The Peak Lords engaged in their usual chatter as they waited for the meeting to begin.

“Shen-shixiong, try this new wine I made!”

“Is it really appropriate for us to drink before the meeting has even begun?” Shen Qingqiu demurred.

“Fine, fine, you don’t have to drink now. You can drink with us later at Zui Xian Peak! Just give it a smell for now.”

Shen Qingqiu obligingly gave the jar of wine a sniff. He froze then. The one sniff had made his head spin, and not in a good way.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

He stuffed the jar of wine back into his shidi’s hand and then he rushed out of the hall.

“En? What’s wrong with Shen-shixiong?”

“Is that new wine of yours really that bad?” someone teased.

The wine-making Peak Lord bristled. “If shixiong thinks so, then I won’t trouble him to try my wine from now on.”

“Shidi, I was wrong!”

Shen-shixiong was in fact finding a quiet spot in Qiong Ding Peak’s ornamental gardens to puke up his entire breakfast.

Motherfucker. Shen Qingqiu was supposed to be immune from all disease thanks to his regular medical appointments with the Heavenly Pillar. What kind of unscientific bs was this?

He tidied his appearance and made his miserable way back to his seat. Yue Qingyuan had considerately waited to start the meeting until Shen Qingqiu returned. Shen Qingqiu was embarrassed. He’d only come because he didn’t like making trouble for his kind shixiong when he could help it, and look what had come of it!

Shen Qingqiu strictly admonished himself to endure any further discomfort. But he had to run back outside again when it was the Ku Xing Peak leader turn to speak. He liked to angrily wave his hands around when he spoke, wafting an acrid smell around the room. It wasn’t particularly unpleasant, just a side-effect of always meditating using rare incense. But it wasn’t particularly nice either. Shen Qingqiu for some reason could not bear the scent today.

He apologized to Yue Qingyuan under his breath before he fled. His only consolation was that his absence this time was shorter: He had already found Qiong Ding Peak’s ideal secret puking spot! He gave himself a little achievement badge in his mind and then tried to sneak back into the meeting. Yue Qingyuan frowned at him in concern when he returned.

“Shidi, is everything alright?” Yue Qingyuan asked.

Shen Qingqiu smiled tightly as he fanned the cold sweat off his face. He wished Luo Binghe were here. If he were, Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t even have to say anything. Luo Binghe would quietly place before him a tray of mild tea and a light snack to settle his stomach. But Cang Qiong Mountain Sect had mysteriously done away with the tradition of having peak lords bring their top disciples along with them to regular sect meetings.

“Of course. Let shidi continue.”

The Ku Xing Peak leader gladly resumed his diatribe about kids these days who preferred fast-fashion cultivation styles over committing to Ku Xing’s steady, tried and true cultivation style. Shen Qingqiu was a little piqued -since when was Qing Jing Peak’s cultivation style unreliable?- but he couldn’t focus on that once the servants brought forth trays of snacks to place before each peak lord.

A sickly-sweet smell rose up from something on the tray, and Shen Qingqiu had to abruptly leave the meeting again.

When he came back, his fellow peak lords didn’t bother to hide their gossiping.

“—probably from some exotic demonic cuisine.”

“The air can’t be wholesome in those underground palaces either, not when he’s used to Qing Jing Peak’s pure air.”

“And don’t forget those qi deviations he used to have,” someone whispered. “It can’t be good for his core that he’s dual-cultivating with a Heavenly Demon all of the time.”

“Shixiong!” someone replied with a delighted and faux-scandalized gasp.

Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat at the door. Once everyone had shut up and noticed his return, he swept a trademark cold look around the table. Then he made his dignified way back to his seat.

He almost made it. As he prepared to gracefully take his seat, Liu Qingge suddenly appeared beside him and grabbed one of his arms.

“…What is the meaning of this, Liu-shidi?”

Liu Qingge ignored him and turned to Mu Qingfang.

“Will you come here, or do I drag him over?”

Mu Qingfang looked at Shen Qingqiu apologetically before glancing over at Yue Qingyuan. Shen Qingqiu likewise looked over. Surely Yue Qingyuan would put a stop to this nonsense!

…Yue Qingyuan lowered his eyes to sip at his tea. Before Shen Qingqiu could even voice a complaint over this betrayal, Qi Qingqi had showed up to grab Shen Qingqiu’s other arm and help drag Sheng Qingqiu over to Mu Qingfang.

“Shixiong!” Shen Qingqiu whined at Yue Qingyuan, who ignored him. Shen Qingqiu turned to pout at Liu Qingge. “This is completely unnecessary.”

“It would have been unnecessary, if that disciple had taken care of you the way he promised he would,” Qi Qingqi scolded.

Shen Qingqiu drew himself up in indignation. He got as far as “Binghe takes care of me perfectly well,” before his brain caught up. When had Luo Binghe promised to take care of him? To whom had he promised? Had Qi Qingqi secretly given Luo Binghe the shovel talk? Why had Luo Binghe said nothing of it to Shen Qingqiu, his husband?

By the time Liu Qingge took Shen Qingqiu’s hand and held it out in front of Mu Qingfang, Shen Qingqiu was feeling disgruntled with everyone. He barely even cared about the results of this silly health check. It wasn’t like it could be anything serious: Dual-cultivating with Heavenly Demons was very good for one’s health, whatever that ignorant person had whispered earlier.

Mu Qingfang cleared his throat and said, “Liu-shixiong will have to let go of Shen-shixiong’s hand first.”

Liu Qingge gave Shen Qingqiu a stern glare before releasing his hand as if he thought Shen Qingqiu would flee at the first opportunity. Shen Qingqiu resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him. One of these days, he was going to release a nest of demonic hornets on Bai Zhan Peak. See if Bai Zhan Peak Lord could fight hornets. Or maybe demonic mosquitoes. Demonic mosquitoes would be quite formidable after feeding off Liu Qingge’s spiritual energy-rich blood.

Mu Qingfang undoubtedly saw the evil thoughts on Shen Qingqiu’s face and feared that they were directed at him.

“May I?” he asked.

Shen Qingqiu thought it over, realized it would be better to get it over with sooner, and nodded coolly.

“You may,” he said magnanimously.

This dramatic mess wasn’t Mu-shidi’s fault, after all.

Mu Qingfang took Shen Qingqiu’s hand and read his pulse. Everyone in the room, from the peak lords and little An Ding disciples to the servants, scooted closer to listen in on the diagnosis.

Mu Qingfang’s expression was calm as he focused on his work. Then his face turned pale. Then it gradually reddened.

“What is it?” Liu Qingge demanded, before even Shen Qingqiu asked.

Mu Qingfang let go of Shen Qingqiu’s hand and began to cough violently. Shen Qingqiu became a little uneasy. Mu Qingfang had been quite composed when he told Shen Qingqiu about his Without a Cure poisoning. Then again, Shen Qingqiu had been unconscious when Mu Qingfang had made the diagnosis.

…In any case, it couldn’t be anything worse than Without a Cure, could it? Shen Qingqiu mentally went over his activities in the past few days. He and Luo Binghe had…just the night before, after they had arrived at Qing Jing Peak, so what could have attacked him in the course of the morning? Were there really already demonic mosquitos on Cang Qiong Mountain? How could they have dared to bite him with Luo Binghe around?

“Mu Qingfang,” Liu Qingge insisted.

Mu Qingfang cleared his throat once more and managed to pull himself together.

“Shen-shixiong is well,” he announced.

“As if we’d believe that,” Qi Qingqi complained. “What was that reaction for, then?”

Mu Qingfang reddened again. “False alarm!”

Shen Qingqiu opened his fan with a sigh. He appreciated his shidi’s efforts to be discrete even though they were completely useless. He didn’t know why his sect siblings had to be so nosy. It was probably some wife-plot disease that Lou Binghe -or rather, the Heavenly Pillar- would resolve two days from now during their scheduled sex session.

“Stop badgering him. Mu-shidi will tell me in private later and if,” he emphasized, “it is any of your business, I may share the news.”

“Boo,” someone jeered under their breath.

Shen Qingqiu ignored it. He straightened out the little wrinkles Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi had made on his sleeves and returned to his seat. Yue Qingyuan finally re-established order. Shen Qingqiu decided not to worry about it. He had gotten pretty good at dealing with Shang Qinghua’s shitty wife plots, after all.

x-x-x-x-x

#SVSSS #BingQiu #implied mpreg #myfanfic #Shia LaBeouf meme from Shen Qingqiu's previous life: Don’t let your dreams be dreams~

29 notes · View notes

nothingwronghere · 3 months

Text

(i read about this AU: when it rains, everything is silent and the only thing a person can hear is their soulmate. I liked the idea and wrote this short fic)

When Julian was a child, he hated the quiet during the rain. He curled together in his bed or in a corner of his room. Sometimes he even put his hands above his ears, as if that would change anything about the quiet. It was all consuming and all around him. He had this wish, this deep wish for a soulmate, simply to make it less quiet, so he wouldn’t feel so alone during the rain. When he got older, this wish never really disappeared but he realized that it wasn’t actually the wish for a soulmate but the wish to fill the silence.

And so he did the next best thing to finding a soulmate. He found out where it never rained: which was space. Everywhere in space, on a space ship, on a space station, it never rained there. As long as he was in space, he’d never have to bear the silence. That was the reason why he signed up for Starfleet. He wanted to become a doctor, that was without question. But the reason why he wanted to become a doctor in Starfleet was that he wouldn’t have to bear the silence ever again.

It was wonderful Julian loved to be in Starfleet, he loved the commotion, the noise, the people all around him. If he didn’t want to, he was never alone.

When Elim was a child, he wished it would rain more often on Cardassia because that was the only time during which he found peace. It was the only time no one nagged him. When no one berated him, told him how stupid he was or forced him to become better. When it rained, the quiet around him was soothing. Then he was happy and he wished he’d never find his soulmate so he would be able to enjoy the silence during these times for the rest of his life.

When he got older, he realized that it wasn’t the wish not to have a soulmate but to be left alone. He also realized that he’d never find peace because he couldn’t simply leave Cardassia to find a place where it rained frequently or where no one bothered him.

When Elim left Cardassia, he was aware that he’d probably never find his soulmate because without rain in space, there was no way to tell who might be his soulmate. It didn’t matter anyway, there wasn’t rain in space, a soulmate wouldn’t make all the nagging worse. What Elim missed on the space ships and space stations wasn’t necessarily the rain, but he only knew peace and quiet during these times. On space stations it was never quiet and he hated it. Even in his quarters, there was always some form of noise, as unobtrusive as it might be, it never truly stopped. He couldn’t escape the noise and he couldn’t escape the people. No matter how much he wanted to, he was never alone.

Julian and Elim didn’t notice they were soulmates for years. Neither of them cared to search for their soulmate, Julian not because he didn’t need one, there was no silence he needed to fill. And Garak not because he didn’t want one, he enjoyed the silence, if he was able to have a second of it, too much.

But as it is with soulmates, even in space, fate always finds a way.

Julian is on this planet, a planned mission, with several others, including Elim. On the second day, it begins to rain. Julian grimaces as the silence stretches all around him. He still wants to sit in a corner and wait until the rain is over, as he has done as a child. But he is no child anymore.

Elim on the other hand smiles. It is amazing, to finally have some quiet, after decades of endless chatter and noise. After years on Deep Space 9 he has missed it more than anything else. It is such a relief, he never wants the rain to stop.

Julian as well as Elim continue with their work, the same as everyone else. Just because they can’t hear anything doesn’t meant they should interrupt their task.

Both realize at the same moment that something isn’t as usual during the rain. Both look up at the same time and scan the room. Their gazes meet.

Julian is the first to speak. “Garak?” He doesn’t truly expect anything in answer, but Elim freezes and continues to stare.

Elim isn’t sure if he should be happy or not. It is still quiet all around him, this deep unbreakable silence that he loves. But in this silence hangs his name. For a moment he wonders if he should fake not having heard but then he notices something else: he isn’t annoyed about hearing the doctor. Not as he is with everybody else.

Though Elim doesn’t answer, Julian is sure he has heard him. He knows it. And though Elim doesn’t answer at first, doesn’t break the quiet of the rain, Julian feels immediately better. Less lonely, less smothered by the all-consuming silence.

Julian as well as Elim only then think about what it means that they can hear each other. They are soulmates. Years of time spent together, it never crossed their minds. But it is fitting. They are good together.

During the stay on the planet, it rains several more times and they both learn something about themselves. Julian learns that he doesn’t need anyone to actually fill the silence with sound. It is enough to know there is someone who could do that. Someone who will say his name when he needs it. It doesn’t make him like the quiet during the rain, but it makes him not hate it anymore.

Elim learns that he doesn’t hate when someone fills the quiet during the rain with sound, when it is the doctor who does it. He finds that it actually has one huge advantage: he can fully concentrate on the person talking to him during that time. Which is wonderful when that person is doctor Bashir, his soulmate, who never berates or insults him or makes him feel less. Who never bothers him. Garak actually likes that he is able to listen to him without anyone interrupting. And when he wants to enjoy the quiet of the rain, he can still do that because Julian understands the peace a bit of silence can give.

Elim also learns that his soulmate brings peace independently from rain while Julian learns that his soulmate brings some quiet, even when it doesn’t rain. It isn’t about how much they talk, it is just a feeling. A feeling of neither rainy nor rainless being the better weather, but that both have their advantages. It works, because knowing they are soulmates changes the dynamic between them. Suddenly there is a depth of emotion, trust, that hasn’t been there before.

Julian still likes rainless better while Elim enjoys rainy, yet they don’t hate the other anymore. Because they are not alone and a soulmate can change ones view of the world.

#star trek #ds9 #garashir #rain au #myfanfic #bashir #garak

40 notes · View notes

die-schwanenkoenigin · 5 months

Text

Partners [4/4]

》 Read on AO3

#mirandy #miranda priestly x andrea sachs #miranda x andy #mirandy fanart #fanfiction #myfanfic #ownedit #tagged:sk

29 notes · View notes

xinfinitegalaxiesx · 1 year

Text

Look at my beautiful bitter/sweet darlings!

Sweet frat boy Ben making CEO Rey dinner 🥰

Ty @ratsandlove for this lovely commission!!!

#myfanfic #infinite art #commissioned art for my fics #mine #reylo art #reylo fanfiction #reylo fic #reylofic #Reylo

192 notes · View notes

goodlucksnez · 4 months

Text

It's time to sharpen your skills.

Merry Christmas everyone!!!

I participated in the secret Santa that @kawaii-kushami…so my secret Santa is….@sneezydarling

they asked for fuk/uf/uku from b/ungo stray dogs, so here is a short fic sorry it is not longer (life got in the way)

Also has a bit of mess, sorry if you don’t like it. Also, I am really bad with spelling sneezes, so I did not.

Summery: In their mid twenties before fate would tear them apart Fu/ku/zawa and Fu/kuc/hi, were brothers in arms, or lovers if they were alone. One holiday season Fu/kuc/hi caught a cold and luckily his boyfriend is there to make him feel better!

CW: caretaking, sneezing,mentions of mess (not much), fever mentions

Fukuchi hadn’t spoken a word all night. That was the first clue that something was wrong. He would usually stir at around 4 or 5 am, an ungodly hour as far as Fukuzawa was aware, and whisper something about doing sword training or making a cup of tea. Still, being woken up before the sun wasn’t exactly appealing, and so he slept on, oblivious to the fact that beside him, Fukuchi did the same. The heat rolling off his boyfriend’s body was what woke him up and was the second clue. Disgruntled, Fukuzawa huffed and scoffed and finally rolled away from Fukuchi, kicking off the covers while he was at it. “Hey,” he grumbled, finally turning to face the other. “You’re burning up. I’m suffering.” No answer. The third clue, as Fukuchi always answered him. Worried now, Fukuzawa sat up, watching Fukuchi’s sleeping form for a moment before crawling over and gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmured, gently shaking the other. Fukuchi’s breath stuttered, and his dark eyes slowly peeled open and focused on Fukuzawa. Even in the washed-out, dim lighting, Fukuzawa could make out a slight flush across the other’s face and a glazed look to his eyes. Hesitantly, he reached out and put his hand on Fukuchi’s forehead. “Jesus, Fukuchi. You’re burning up.” He got only a groggy blink as an answer, and his own eyes narrowed. “I told you that outing yesterday was a bad idea. You remember? You’d left your scarf at home?” The day before, they’d had some rare time off, during which Fukuchi had insisted, against every rational argument Fukuzawa could come up with, that they fill that time with even more practice.

Fukuzawa had a feeling his very rational and compelling arguments would have won out on their way back to the temple, but as fate would have it, at that very moment, they had passed by a public Kenjutsu and Fukuchi’s stupid face had lit up with so much childish glee that Fukuzawa had had a hard time saying no. And so, after an hour and a half of standing around outside without a scarf and eight hours of sleep indoors, apparently, Fukuchi had gotten himself sick. With an exaggerated sigh that covered up how worried he actually was, Fukuzawa leaned over and switched on the tiny lamp they kept in the room, scrubbing at his eyes with a fist. “Hold on. If you get out of this bed, I’ll kick your ass. I don’t care if you’ve got the flu.”

With that, he jumped out of bed still in his nightclothes, padding across the floor like a cat and gradually turning on all the lights as he went. Habit, he told himself. He glanced at the clock as he rifled through the medicine in the pantry- 7:13. He swore under his breath and grabbed a few different bottles, as well as a glass of water, and made his way back into the bedroom. Fukuchi was sitting up now, looking at him with misty eyes that squinted at him through the light in the room. Fukuzawa set the pills and the water on a side table and glared, hands going to his hips as he raised an eyebrow at the man. Fukuchi’s voice was scratchy when he answered. “At least I didn’t get out of the bed.”

“Don’t care. This still counts as exerting yourself.” Fukuzawa snarked back, turning dismissively and starting to pour a few pills out onto the counter. Fukuchi pressed further, “How could I take the medicine if I didn’t sit up first?” Fukuzawa began to answer, his pointer finger raised, when he stopped, his jaw snapping shut as he turned away again. “Fair.” He admitted. “But your incessant need to backtalk is a form of wasting energy.” He turned back, smirking and presenting the glass of water for Fukuchi to take. “Nice try though.” Fukuchi, with a complacent smile, went quiet and obediently took his medicine, wincing as the pills scraped against his sore throat as they went down. He let out an exasperated sigh as he flopped back down into the sheets, casting a pitiful look up at Fukuzawa. “I feel gross...” he took a tentative sniff. “And I can’t breathe.” He paused as his face began to take on a painful grimace as his breath began to gather in intensity. Fukuchi never did anything by halves and from the looks of his twitching nostrils this was going to be the start of a very messy cold.

Fukuzawa sat at the edge of the bed, scooting closer, grabbing the oversized sleeve of his tunic he hovered it in front of the twitching man nose. “I got you”. That seemed to be the tipping point and the man beneath him sneezed harshly against the rough fabric. “Should I say bless you or call a priest? You still have a soul or was the expelled out along with…” He paused looking at the damage done but doesn’t continue as the man laying in the bed starts hitching more. He tugged the blanket away from Fukuchi’s body, which the other responded to with a slight shiver and another desperate hitch. Fukuzawa felt a stab of guilt. “I know. It’ll be over soon.” He then took a deep breath- this was going to be bad- and reached down, gathering Fukuchi up in his arms and lifting. Fukuchi stayed in desperate limbo, having complete trust in Fukuzawa’s actions. Fukuzawa allowed himself to be stunned for a moment before he smirked down at the man in his arms and ran his tip of his fingernail over the later nose. The effect was instantaneous, and the man jolted with harsh sneezes that even Fukuzawa felt guilty for causing them.

When the fit calmed down, they were both flushed. “Is it broken?” Fukuchi mumbled as he was placed back down on the mat. Fukuzawa turned from where he was wiping the blanket which was destroyed and arched one of his perfect brows. “What?” Fukuchi blinked slowly at him. “My nose is it broken.” Fukuzawa didn’t answer for a moment, pure disbelief running through him before he turned back to him. “No, it is not broken, you have a bad cold sneezing is just a-”

“If you say part of having a cold I will kill you-”

“You would not, then who would spar with you?” He let out a mock huff of frustration. “Unbelievable, love bug. Hurry up and blow your nose.” Fukuchi, despite his various aches and pains, managed his own very dramatic eyeroll, noticed but ignored by Fukuzawa, before he began to blow his nose. “Gross,” he muttered, finally onto the floor and placing his hand on his forehead.

Within a few minutes Fukuchi began to feel achy and cold again, going to burrow back under the blankets as Fukuzawa took his turn wiping the other nose, and talking about antibodies so something unimportant. If a headache hadn’t chosen that moment to start pounding in Fukuchi’s skull, he would have let him continue. Still, he had to admit, it seemed Fukuzawa was trying to keep his own voice down, which Fukuchi was immensely grateful for. He tried to express the sentiment to Fukuzawa, but all that came out were sleepy, unintelligible mumbles. “Go back to sleep.” Fukuzawa whispered, carding his fingers through Fukuchi’s hair. “It’s still another few hours until you can take those pills again. I’ll be right here.”

That was an order that was hard to ignore, and before he knew it Fukuchi was blinking awake again, the fuzz in his head clearing and allowing him to register that Fukuzawa had not, in fact, kept his promise. He reached out and felt the Fukuzawa-shaped indent on the other side of the bed; still warm. He sighed, sensing calling out would be a bad idea, if the pain in his throat was anything to go by. He didn’t want to worry his boyfriend either; he recalled the time he’d called Fukuzawa’s name from the kitchen, prompting the other to panic and race in half-dressed, demanding which knife he’d cut himself on. It hadn’t taken long to reassure Fukuzawa he was fine and had only been looking for a pan, but the fearful look in those eyes still haunted him. So, he closed his eyes and lay still for a few minutes more, looking up as Fukuzawa came in, a steaming bowl in his hands.

Fukuchi’s face turned questioning as he watched a blush spread its way across Fukuzawa’s face. “I thought you’d like some soup… I read that when you are sick chicken soup is especially rich in a compound called carnosine, and it's this that studies suggest helps reduce that stuffy, congested feeling in your nose and throat.” He states while setting the soup on the side table and once more shaking out a couple of pills from their respective bottles. The dopey, lovestruck look on Fukuchi’s face was soon replaced with his trademark fond smile, the one only Fukuzawa earned, and he sat up and began making his way through the bowl of soup, letting the warmth soothe his throat and inching closer to Fukuzawa when the other sat beside him.

Halfway through his meal, Fukuchi let the spoon clink back into the bowl and leaned into Fukuzawa with a very uncharacteristic whine. Fukuzawa’s tone was firm but not cold as one hand snaked up to rub at the nape of Fukuchi’s neck. “You should finish it.” He murmured. “You won’t have what you need to get better otherwise.” Fukuchi didn’t answer, just nuzzled closer, seeking the coolness of Fukuzawa’s skin. “It’s hot.” Was all he said, earning a look. He pulled back for a moment, worried he’d said something wrong, before Fukuzawa turned to face him, cupping Fukuchi’s face in his hands and gently pressing his palms to Fukuchi’s face. “Better?” Fukuchi stared, feeling his chest starting to tighten. He really does love me. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep soon after that.

#snzblr secret santa 2023 #sneeze #snez #my fic writing #myfanfic #my fanfic #b/ungou stray dogs #b/sd #sneezefic

14 notes · View notes

aditublog · 18 days

Text

Medusa leaned against the fence around the garden and watched Rhasta. She loved to watch him when he was occupied and didn’t notice her, like now.

The sun shone hot and bright, no cloud in sight, warming Medusa's skin. Her hair moved slowly around her head, the snakes enjoying the warmth of the steppes.

From where she was standing, Medusa could hear the shaman humming softly as he dug through the earth, pulling weeds from between his herbs and flowers.

Considering the constant heat, they were astonishingly green, the flowers bringing colour to the yellow and brown all around them. It was pretty.

As Rhasta stood up to refill the watering can, he swayed slightly, maybe he had gotten up too fast and was dizzy. Or he simply moved to the music in his head.

As soon as he saw Medusa, he put the can down and sauntered over. “Hello my beautiful.”

From anyone else, these words would have sounded mocking, but when Rhasta said them, Medusa had learned he meant it and she almost blushed. She answered his happy smile with one of her own.

“I apologise for not noticing you. Did you want something?” Rhasta leaned against the fence from the other side. His skin, where it was visible, glistened from sweat and dirt streaked one cheek. It had the colour of dried grass and sand, as if he had been marked as part of the steppes.

One of Medusa’s snakes moved towards him and he raised a hand, running a finger over the cool scales.

Rhasta’s hands were soft, even after digging through soil all morning and Medusa stilled, savouring the contact and waiting for the snake to retreat before answering. “No, I have nothing to do and wanted to watch you for a bit.”

Rhasta’s smile widened into a grin. He rested more heavily against the fence, his hip jutting out. “Because i am sexy as fuck.”

That wasn’t arrogance (or maybe just a bit), it was the truth and Medusa leaned over the fence until she could kiss the cocky shaman. Even with such a short brush of lips, she could taste the salt from his sweat and smell the sun on his skin, the earth clinging to his hands, the crushed leaves of weeds.

Her hair brushed against Rhasta, liking him no matter if he was dirty or clean. She could relate to that.

“Since you are here to watch, I assume it is fine for me to finish my work.”

“Go on little shaman.”

With a wink, Rhasta pushed away and retrieved the watering can. Humming filled the air a moment later.

About an hour later, Rhasta straightened. When he came over to Medusa, who hadn’t moved away from her spot, he carried a hand full of flowers. “Pretty flowers for my pretty girlfriend.”

That was one reason why Medusa loved the shaman. He treated her like she was precious. Like she deserved pretty things. It was wonderful and this time she definitely blushed.

@maidot a littly shippy fic :)

#dota #dota2 #dota 2 #myfanfic #shadow shaman #medusa #fanfic

8 notes · View notes

ilitiaforever · 2 years

Text

Day 15: Labor. Again I arrive with an important scene of my Nobis story. Enjoy it.

#mpreg #myart #ilitiaforever #symbrock #love #veddie #venom #baby #mpreg birth #fic nobis #nobis #myfanfic

251 notes · View notes

medusapelagia · 8 months

Text

28 AU-gust: Royalty

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: omegaverse, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson WC: 1794

“You are so lucky Steve! You will never have to go through the humiliating process of being presented to society to find your mate! You already have one!”

Steve sighs, he knows that being presented to society is a very stressful thing, but also being destined to a mate you have never seen doesn’t sound so exciting.

The only thing that he knows about his mate is that his name is Eddie that he is the nephew of King Wayne Munson and that his parents were lucky enough to get him engaged with the king's son as soon as he was born.

Something about an eclipse or a premonition or who knows what.

In any case, he is not going to be presented to society like all his friends. He will be kept hidden until the moment the king makes his appearance.

This means no more walking around the castle, no more threats from the kitchen, and no more time in the garden.

Robin is trying on another dress while Steve thinks that all that he will be able to do in the next few days will be staying in his room and staring from the little window in his chamber.

He is an omega, and omega can’t be trusted among so many alphas. That’s what his father said.

He sighs.

A week is not so long after all, right?

***

Three days and he is ready to climb up the wall.

Not only he can’t get out, but he can’t even see the servant and they are giving him his meals on a tray outside of his as if he was in jail!

When his father told him that no one could look at him he wasn’t joking.

He sighs.

Being an omega and being left alone for an entire week it’s almost a punishment. He needs love, and cuddles, and his friends, and at least Robin!

“Steve?” She calls from the garden.

Steve let out a little whimper from his bed, too sad and tired to get up and try to force open the closed window.

“Steve?” She calls again, worriedly, and then she starts to speak with another person “That's his room. Are you sure you can break it?”

An alpha’s voice full of pride replies “Of course I can. Tell your friend to stay away from the window.”

“Steve! Stay away from the window!” She yells, and then he hears a loud crash and sees a big rock falling next to his bed, followed by a curly dark-haired boy.

“Good morning princess, we came to your rescue!”

Steve’s heart starts to beat faster at the smell of the alpha's scent.

“Alpha?” He calls, trying to get up.

“My beautiful sweet omega.” He gets closer, brushing his hair away from his face “What have they done to you?” His eyes shine red for a moment, and Steve lets out a little whimper.

The dark-haired alpha hugs him even tighter, letting him inhale his scent directly from his bond gland.

“You are ok, omega. I’m going to take such good care of you.” He murmurs, still petting him like a scared dog.

“Is he ok?” Robin asks, getting closer to the window and trying to jump high enough to see inside the room.

“He is ok, but he is going to feel so much better when we take him out of this place.

“Alpha.” He calls again while the alpha picks him up like a baby.

Steve keeps his nose deep In the crook of the alpha’s neck, inhaling his lovely smell.

The alpha looks back at the window.

“Robin, do you think you can hold him if I pass him to you through the window?”

“Why? Is he unconscious? Oh my god, he is dead and you don’t want to tell me!”

“He is fine! Just, not in his finest shape but he’ll be ok. We just have to find a way to take him away from this fucking prison.”

They think for a moment and then Robin says “I will check who is supposed to bring him food and see if I manage to open the door!” She yells, running away while the young alpha keeps comforting Steve.

“Alpha, alpha.” He keeps calling like a litany, while he feels his body getting hotter and hotter.

He trembles. That’s not possible! He can get his heat right now and with an unknown alpha! His father is going to kill him.

“No one will touch you sweet thing.” The alpha murmurs in his ear, but when finally the door opens it is not Robin who is holding the key, but his father.

“I knew it! You are such a slut! Like all the omegas! You are such a disgrace to our family! An omega male it’s the worst thing that could have ever happened to our family! And now you are ruined! No one will want to mate a slut omega like you!” He screams, filling the air with angry pheromones.

Steve whines, hiding making himself even smaller in the alpha hold.

The young alpha’s eyes are red with fury “You are making him distressed. You left him alone in this room for days! What kind of alpha are you?” He yells at him, ready to fight for the omega that is clenching at him like a little clamp.

“The kind of alpha who doesn’t know how to treat an omega, clearly.”

Everyone turns and King Wayne Munson is glaring at Steve’s father from the corridor.

“My king!” He says getting on his knees “I tried my best to keep him away from any alpha, but this one was relentless.” He lowers his head “I’m sorry if he is not a good match for your nephew anymore. I will dispose of him! He will get punished and I’ll send in some retreat for broken omegas.”

“You will not do such a thing!” The young alpha growls and Steve’s father gets up suddenly.

“We are going to lose everything and you will pay the consequences as well young man!” He threatens him.

“Come here kid, and bring the omega.” The young alpha gets closer to the king and the man gently brushes some hair away from the omega’s face “How are you feeling pup?”

“It hurts.” He complains, feeling his body getting feverish.

“I’m sure it does but Eddie will take good care of you, you just have to hold on a little longer.”

Eddie, the young alpha, snarls at Steve’s father “What about him?” He asks and Steve stares at him. How could he talk like that to their king?

“I’ll take care of him. Now you have an omega to take care of. Does he have a nest?” He asks looking back at Steve’s room.

“I didn’t see any.”

The king doesn’t seem surprised “ You have to make one for him. I’ll have the servants bringing you some of his blankets. I should have taught you how to make a comfort nest, right?”

The boy nods in agreement and moves to the king’s chambers, the omega still wrapped in his arm,

“We can’t go there.” Steve murmurs “Those are the king’s chambers.”

“Oh sweet thing, you are too out of it, right?”

Steve doesn’t understand what he means so he keeps silent.

“Let’s make you a nice cozy nest and when you feel better we could talk.”

Steve nods, while his body starts to burn from the inside.

“Alpha…” he calls.

“I know baby… I know… just let it go… I got you.” he whispers in his ear.

Steve’s eyes fill with fear.

Feral. He is going fucking feral.

He tries to escape from Eddie’s grip, he doesn’t want to risk hurting him, but the boy holds him tight.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll be fine. I’ll be here with you all the time. I will not let anything happen to you.” he assured him.

“But you… if… if I’m going feral…”

“I’ll deal with it pup. Don’t worry. Just try to relax and let it go.”

Steve shakes his head, trying to clear his mind, but he is not lucid anymore.

“Come on. Let it go. I’m here with you.” and finally Steve surrenders to hormones that are making him crazy.

***

When Steve wakes up he doesn’t remember what happened, he just has a few flashes of being cuddled, loved, and fucked out of his mind. And now he is lying, naked, in a cozy little nest, and the alpha, his alpha, is singing in his ear.

“Hello there sweet thing, are you feeling any better?”

He nods, sniffing at the nest that now smells so familiar.

“Did I…. Did I hurt you?” he asks, ashamed, and the other boy smiles.

“I have dealt with worst.”

“I… I’ll always go feral?” he is terrified at the idea.

Eddie hugs him “I don’t know baby. I think that too many emotions triggered your body response and you weren’t ready for it, but I can’t assure you that you will not become feral next time. What can I assure you is that, no matter what, I’ll be at your side.” he replies looking him in the eyes.

Steve blushes and lowers his eyes, and then he looks around him and realizes that they are in the king’s chambers,

He startles but the alpha, Eddie, holds him tight “It’s ok. We can stay here. It’s my room, you know?”

His room? But that means…

Suddenly everything clicks and Steve tilts his head in submission.

“Don’t do that, sweet thing. You are going to be my mate and I’ll treat you like an equal.”

“But…”

“No buts, baby. Now, can you drink something for me?” He whispers, getting a cup close to Steve’s mouth.

While he drinks and eats Eddie tells him about how he had been searching for him for days because he could feel how miserable he was and that his friend Robin has finally helped him to get into his room.

“My uncle has dealt with your parents. They will never see you again if you are not the one asking to see them. And our mating ceremony will be private, not public. And who knows, maybe we will be blessed with a pup.” He concludes by kissing Steve’s flat stomach.

“Is this real? Are you really the king's nephew?”

He nods, cradling his head into his hands “I will repeat everything when you will feel more lucid honey. Why don’t you try to sleep a little more, uh?”

Steve nods, getting more comfortable in his mate’s arm.

He can’t believe that he is going to be mated to the king's nephew, but after he broke Steve’s window to save him, he would have probably mated him even if he was a housekeeper.

#tumblr fic #myfanfic #steddie #au gust 2023 #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #writing challenge #omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #royalty #medusapelagia fanfic #medusapelagia #my fanfic

332 notes · View notes

givereadersahug · 5 months

Text

My Fanfic 💖 You Gotta Make a Sound (SK8 the Infinity)

Matchablossom & Loveblossom, Rated G, 1.2k words

For @ficwip’s @multifandommatch. Team Angst.

Prompt: secrets/confession

DK Era, Childhood Friends, Unrequited Love

Kojiro had been telling Kaoru he loved him ever since the day they met as kids.

Kojiro and Adam have a small heart to heart one night regarding Kaoru.

Link: AO3 or Dreamwidth

#myfanfic #ficwip #multifandommatch #mfmteamangst #sk8 the infinity #sk8 kojiro #sk8 kaoru #sk8 adam #matchablossom #loveblossom

13 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 19 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

4K notes · View notes

silverstark · 3 months

Text

SVSSS Fic Posted

Title: Unmaking Amends

SVSSS; BingQiu; Complete (2,880 words); Rated T; Time Travel AU, Hopeful Ending

Summary:

Meng Mo said, “You can use Xin Mo to go back to a moment before this happened. Let Xin Mo make you some amends.” — After Luo Binghe learns the truth about Shen Qingqiu’s sacrifice at Huayue City, his regret and grief move Meng Mo to help him go back in time.

Read it on Ao3 (registered users only)

#SVSSS #BingQiu #myfanfic #Scum Villain

22 notes · View notes

nothingwronghere · 1 year

Text

Teddy Bear

“Doctor Bashir, I ...” Garak stops just inside the room as soon as he sees the doctor curled together on the couch. He has his eyes closed and a teddy bear pressed against his chest. He has answered Garak’s knock, but now he doesn’t react to his presence.

“Doctor?” Worried about this unusual behaviour, Garak approaches. It is a show of vulnerability that is unsettling.

“Garak, what can I do for you?” The doctor opens his eyes and at the same time pulls the teddy bear closer.

Garak has forgotten what he has wanted, his worry overriding all other thoughts. “My dear, what happened?”

With a sigh, the doctor closes his eyes. “I lost a patient.”

Garak hasn’t heard about any deaths but that doesn’t mean anything. It could’ve been a natural death that wasn’t noteworthy. For him. It is, of course, important for the doctor.

Seeing the doctor this miserable makes Garak insecure. Doctor Bashir is rarely earnest. It isn’t uncommon for Garak to be irritated because the doctor goes through life as if it is a game to him. But not today.

Unsure how to react, Garak sits down on the couch, at the doctor’s legs. The doctor scoots a bit back to make room for Garak.

“I am sorry to hear that.” Not that Garak is sorry that some unknown person died, he couldn’t care less, but he is sorry that the doctor is sad about it. He doesn’t know how to deal with a sad doctor. He waits and when he gets no reaction, he puts one hand on the doctor’s hip, drawing small circles with his thumb. It is too intimate, but he is at a loss about what to do instead. He could leave but that would be about the shittiest thing he could do.

The doctor doesn’t seem to mind the intimacy of the touch, instead he slowly relaxes. Until he sighs again and opens his eyes. A wry smile curls his lips. “Sometimes it upsets me more when someone dies. Our technology is so advanced, we can cure diseases we couldn’t hundred years ago but of course there are things we are helpless against. It is normal, people have to die, we can’t hope to live forever. Yet it is difficult to accept at times. Can you tell me about your day, please?”

Garak has always kept some distance between him and the doctor. Yes, he has flirted but mostly because he has been sure that the doctor wouldn’t recognize it as flirting anyway. It has worked, until today. This show of trust, this show of vulnerability from the doctor, it crumbles all walls Garak has built to keep him away.

It burns through his body and consumes his heart in an instant. The doctor’s smile is etched into his memory until he is sure he will never forget the way he cuddles a teddy bear to his chest. He lets Garak see his pain and he doesn’t shy away from it. And Garak is helpless, he is simply not able to keep the doctor at a distance when he is sad and in need of comfort. Comfort he clearly wants from Garak, of all people. “Of course, my dear.” He smiles, though the doctor can’t see it because he has already closed his eyes again. “It has been an exceptionally exciting day.” It hasn’t. None of his days are exciting anymore but sometimes Garak has to admit that he is glad about it. “When the first customer entered my shop, when I had just opened a minute ago, I knew they would bring nothing but trouble.” Garak weaves a story, a story about spies and machinations, one he knows the doctor will enjoy, but one with a happy ending.

Some of the aspects are happenings from Garak’s past, but definitely not the happy ending. Nothing of what Garak has experienced during his life has ever had a truly happy ending. But he is aware that the doctor wouldn’t like to hear about death and defeat in his current mood. And so he doesn’t tell the truth. Not even barely. While he talks, he leaves his hand resting on the doctor’s hip.

While he talks, the doctor shifts closer until he is curled around Garak, warm against his sides and back.

While he talks, all tension leaves the doctor’s shoulders and the sadness vanishes from his features.

While he talks, the light dims a little, telling him that it is evening for the doctor and creating a comfortable atmosphere.

When he has finished the story, the doctor smiles. He turns his upper body and looks at Garak. “You know, you are astonishingly good in telling stories. You could make a book out of this one, a book even humans would like.” His smile widens. “Thank you.”

Garak has made his story likeable for humans, because the doctor doesn’t particularly care for the cardassian style. He knows his taste after so many shared lunches with discussions over literature.

“This was not merely a story. You asked me to tell you about my day and I did.”

The doctor chuckles softly. “Garak, if you experienced all this today, then something is seriously wrong. With you, with Deep Space 9 and with everyone else here.”

They sit/lie there and stare at each other until Garak becomes uncomfortable. This is too intimate for his liking. He needs to get the walls back up that keeps the doctor at a safe distance. He stands up and tugs at his shirt, to keep his hands busy, not because he has to.

The doctor sits up and puts the teddy bear next to him on the couch. “I guess you wanted to fetch me. For dinner. If you don’t mind that it is a little late, we can still go.”

Garak minds. He’d rather get to his quarters and push the doctor out of his thoughts. But since he can’t possibly tell him that and since there is still a trace of his vulnerability left, Garak agrees.

That is a mistake. He knows it when they sit down and the doctor’s smile is warmer than usual and when he immediately responds with a genuine smile of his own. Garak has left the stage of flirting behind him, the only thing he wants to do now is have the doctor curled around him like earlier. He frowns at his own emotionality but when the doctor begins to talk, all cheerfulness and smiles, he is captured by it immediately. He supposes there is no use in trying to push his feelings away now anymore. It has been effective before, when the doctor hasn’t been in every fibre of Garak’s being but it will be impossible to push him out now that he has broken down all of Garak’s defences.

The doctor has snuck his way into Garak’s heart, unintentionally, and once there Garak has no chance of getting rid of him again. It is fine, he thinks when he watches the doctor and finds himself happy about being here, with him. It has been a long time since he liked someone as much as he likes the doctor. He’ll simply roll with it and enjoy the sensation. Because it does feel nice, even though he doesn’t think there will come anything from it. It is nice nonetheless.

Garak places a hand over the doctor’s. “My dear, you should slow down with all your talking and take the time to eat.” He can’t even bring himself to add ‘doctor’ after the ‘my dear’. He supposes there goes all the distance. Swept away by one sad and vulnerable doctor Bashir, cuddling with a teddy bear and in dire need of comfort. And Garak, helpless not be the one who offers comfort.

#star trek #garashir #garak #bashir #ds9 #myfanfic #well #here is another one #i like it #yes i do

105 notes · View notes

die-schwanenkoenigin · 23 days

Text

the joys of spring [30/30, rated E]

Andy comes back from her lunch break one day and finds a large bouquet of flowers on her desk. It’s obviously for Valentine’s Day, but who could have possibly sent it?

》 Read on AO3

#mirandy #miranda x andy #miranda priestly x andrea sachs #fanfiction #myfanfic #sigh

11 notes · View notes

bellysoupset · 9 months

Text

He really wants a drink right now, Billy thinks, lying on his back on the couch and staring at the movie that he's pretty sure he's watched before, but he couldn't tell you the title if you asked.

He's not paying any attention, actually, and for once it's not because of all the yelling and laughing coming from the next bus or because Daisy snuck into his bus again and is making his head spin by just existing next to him. No, this time it's because of a fucking sandwich.

He had been starving after his run, trying to burn out the manic energy inside of him, so he had idiotically thought it'd be fine to buy a gas station sandwich on his way back to the bus. It had not been fine.

His stomach rolls again and Billy groans, pressing a hand against it. Right on cue, the door of his bus opens and Daisy catches the tail end of his groan and promptly misinterprets it.

"Aw c'mon, I don't snore that badly," she says in a way that is meant to hide how suddenly wounded she is by him apparently groaning at her sneaking into his bus.

Billy can't help smiling at her silly commentary. He shakes his head, leaning it against the comfortable back of the couch, "it wasn't because of you, bad timing."

"What's up then?" she asks, squinting at him. Nowadays she doesn't even ask him to join him for the night. It should be something he asks, Billy vaguely thinks. He's married. He shouldn't be sleeping next to the woman he's more than a little in love with and who happens to not be his wife.

Whatever, it's not like they do anything more than sleep. Maybe giggle like school girls, trade secrets. Sometimes they write. Often Daisy dozes off on his shoulder, because she's not good at all at watching movies and often he ends up just lying there, unable to move away while her head rests on him, considering setting his whole life on fire just so he'll have a minute more of Daisy Jones draped all over him.

"Ate something off," he shrugs, "stomach hurts."

"Aw, poor baby," Daisy coos teasingly, kicking off her boots and crawling on the couch, personal space be damned. In fact, he's pretty sure Daisy is touch starved. Whenever her walls come down, she's all over him and anyone who's near. He's watched her comb her fingers through Warren's curls for fifteen minutes uninterrupted during a rehearsal, before realizing what her hands were doing and pulling them back as if they were burning.

"Uhm," Billy makes a face at her light remark, because as pathetic as it is that he's a grown man brought down by a measly sandwich, his stomach really hurts. He rubs a hand uneasily, then feels a burp rush up his throat and swallows it down.

She's a lady and he was raised better than this. For the first time since she first asked to sleep in his bus, he wants her gone. It's embarrassing, not just because she's a lady, but because she's- Because he's in love with her, even if he won't ever say that out loud. It's mortifying that she's getting a front row seat of his disgusting plight.

As if reading his mind, which Billy is pretty convinced she can do, Daisy frowns at him and then laughs, "what? You're embarrassed? Great Billy Dunne is embarrassed?"

"Fuck off, Daisy," He groans, cheeks burning and tugs at the blanket he had draped over his legs but not actually covered himself with it. He pulls it up to cover his stomach, hiding the puffiness. Daisy doesn't miss that.

Her green eyes sparkle with mischief and Billy knows he fucked by up by giving her such an opening. Her biggest joy is to find ways to torture him.

"What's the matter, baby?"

He really, really needs a drink. Billy ignores her, continues to watch the television and pretends not to see Daisy's gigantic smile from the corner of his eye or how she moves closer. He doesn't want her any closer, his stomach let's out a loud whine and he feels gurgles roll around his inside, causing his heart to miss a beat with how horrified he is by this display. Daisy doesn't even seem to have heard it or if she did, she doesn't care.

Since he continues to ignore her, Daisy pouts and gives up trying to get his attention, draping herself on the couch next to him. She's got her arms spread out, behind the couch's back, legs criss crossed, so her knee is meeting his foot.

Billy swallows down the urge to burp again and winces as it causes his stomach to churn a little more. Daisy startles him by grabbing his ankle and he looks away from the TV, eyes wide, "Daisy?"

"Do you need something for your belly?" belly it's a childish word and it sounds weird in her raspy voice. Daisy does this thing, so does Billy, of bringing in childish words here and there, except it's for widely different reasons. In his case is because he's a father and that's how he talks with his kid. He says tummy. Daisy, in the other hand, is because she never had anyone tell her to stop. No parents to subconsciously show when to stop using childish language.

"Billy?" She's looking up at him, with those big green eyes filled with concern and he allows himself to groan, loudly this time, when butterflies join the mess in his belly.

"No, I think I'll just try to sleep. It should pass on it's own," he's not lying, but not quite telling the truth. His stomach feels unsettled enough that he knows sleep won't come easy.

Daisy nods, "okay... But let me know if I can get you anything- Well, not me, Rod," she rolls her eyes, as if that's obvious, "...I'm gonna turn off the lights, alright?"

He nods, so she gets to it and turns off the lights, once again getting in the couch. There's a perfectly large spot available, so she can sleep without ever touching him, but instead Daisy grabs her pillow - that now lives in his bus - and pulls it closer to his side of the U shaped couch.

"Daisy-"

"Shhh," she says, then grabs the remote and turns off the TV, no thought given to the movie he was, theoretically, watching, "get some sleep so you'll feel better."

It's so sweet, it makes his mouth water. Billy gulps down, then moves on the couch, struggling to find a good position. When he does, he wraps his arms around his belly and in the dark allows one hand to slip under his shirt to rub it.

It is gurgling something awful and Billy squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will it to stop. Another churn causes him to bite down a groan, because it felt horrible. Liquid and nauseating.

He hears as Daisy turns in the couch, then feels her hand wrapping around his ankle again, as if he's a teddy bear she needs to hold. It's weird.

Billy rubs at his chest and this time around, when a bubble goes up again, he can't bring himself to swallow. He allows his cheeks to puff out and lets it out in his fist, cursing himself for belching when Daisy is literally right there-

Daisy lets out a sigh and then she starts rubbing her thumb up and down the bone of his ankle, in a weirdly soothing way, "I can tell you're awake," she says and Billy huffs, but doesn't answer. She doesn't say anything else, not until his stomach let's out another disgusting whine.

He swallows the thick saliva, that tastes tangy, like the sandwich. Daisy moves, let's go of his ankle and he can vaguely see her sitting up, figure standing out because of the street lights faintly getting through the windows.

"Billy, that sounded horrible."

"Uhm-" he sits up correctly too, feet meeting the carpeted ground and hangs his head, giving up on fighting the urge to burp. A wet belch slips pasts his lips and all he can say is a sad, "excuse me... I'm sorry, I know this is gross, but I really don't feel well..."

She scoffs, "Billy, please, you've seen me do much worse," Daisy says and yeah, that is true. Between the insane amount of drugs she was using a couple months ago and the overdose he witnessed, he did see her at her lowest. But it is Daisy... And even at her worse she had seemed beautiful and dream like.

He feels painfully, disgustingly human.

She scoots closer, then places a hand in the middle of his back and rubs up and down. Her nails are soothing as they meet the hair on the base of his nape and comb at it. Billy burps again, bringing his hand to muffle it. It tastes like the sandwich, so much so it causes his eyes to water.

"Honey, you don't sound good," she says and he fights the urge to apologize again, because he knows she doesn't mean it like that.

"Uhm..." he swallows the saliva accumulating in his mouth, "you should sleep in the guys bus-"

"Please," he hears the exasperation in her voice, "you feeling sick is way less disruptive than them behaving like a pack of monkeys on woollies."

Billy lets out a weak chuckle, but then his stomach cramps and he feels the hot prickles of nausea run down his back. He feels clammy, "I'm gonna be sick," he groans, staggering up and Daisy jumps too.

He doesn't think he can make it all the way to the back of the bus to the cramped bathroom, so he tries moving forward. The driver isn't on yet, they would've heard the beeps or even felt the movement.

Billy barely makes it. He jumps the two final steps of the stairs leading outside and the inertia hits him like a punch to the gut, so he's throwing up before even fully standing on the ground. In fact, he goes down to his knees, only to hear Daisy let out a nervous, "Billy!" and then grab him by the shoulders, stopping him from getting on all fours in a puddle of his own sick.

His stomach feels sour and warm and even as the first gush of vomit empties out, he doesn't feel any better. If anything, he feels worse. His head is spinning and his belly cramps again.

"Shhh, just let it up," Daisy says sweetly, concern dripping from her words as she holds him steady by the bicep, her free hand planted between his shoulder blades, "c'mon, you'll feel better."

He doubts it.

His stomach rolls again and Billy groans, pressing on it, causing another burp to rush up, this one bringing a dribble of vomit along with it. It's liquid and unsatisfactory, so Billy digs his fingers deeper on his belly, rubbing another gush of chunky vomit.

This one is thick enough to cause him to choke and then another gagging fit overtakes him and he can hear Daisy curse faintly in the distance as there's a buzzing in his ears and he struggles to breath.

When he finally manages to get enough air, he can feel her hand on his forehead, giving his head some support, worry rolling off of her.

Billy pants for the longest time, daring to open his eyes and then squeezing them shut again as he sees the horrifying splattered mess on the gravel.

"Sorry... m'done," he spits the bitter taste in his mouth, then wipes the tears from the corners of his eyes. He doesn't feel any better, but Billy knows himself. It's very rare for him to throw up more than once, his self control is something he's proud of.

"Are you sure?" Daisy says, and he only then realizes she was holding his hair away from his mouth. As if it's not disgusting, she moves that hand that's on his forehead to stroke over his cheek, crouching next to him, "Billy?"

He loves her, fuck.

"Yeah, I'm good..." he grabs her for support and pulls himself up, causing Daisy to almost fall. She might be steadier on her feet than he is at the moment, but she's still considerably shorter.

"Okay..." she doesn't let go of him even for a second, following him back inside the bus. Instead of falling on her own side of the couch, as he'd expect, she sits right next to him and then pats her lap when he eyes her weirdly, "c'mere."

"Daisy..."

"C'mere you huge manbaby," she scoffs, tugging at his sweat drenched shirt and Billy doesn't have it in him to even pretend he doesn't want her comfort. He rests his head on her lap and she sighs, sliding down on the couch, enough that his head is nested between her lap and stomach instead of her thighs. Her cold fingers feel heavenly in his hair, nails scratching his scalp here and there.

Daisy looks all delicate, but her fingers are actually quite rough, from playing the guitar. He loves the sensation, it's so very her.

"You poor thing," Daisy mumbles, causing him to huff in annoyance, then press his face to her naked stomach. He's never seen her wear anything that covered her midsection, it drives him up the walls.

"Sandwich one, Billy zero," he groans, voice thick with the nausea still swirling in his belly. He wants to puke again, but he's not going to.

Daisy chuckles, moves one of her hands to his chest and leaves it there, "I can ask Rod for tea..."

"It's fine," Billy sighs, "I'm fine, this is so... So silly, there's no need to bother anyone."

"At least drink some water?"

Water sounds great, but that means getting up to get it or having Daisy get up and he really feels terribly comfy with his head on her lap. Billy shakes his head, "not now."

"Stubborn asshole," she mumbles darkly and then yawns, "get some rest, baby."

The earnest petname, not in mockery as she normally says it, causes him to blush and move closer. Vaguely Billy thinks he really shouldn't be cuddling the woman he's doing his hardest not to fall even more in love with, when he's married, when they could never ever be together...

Daisy folds in half and he feels her press her lips to the top of his head and then yawn again, settling against the couch. Billy doesn't move from her lap until morning.

#myfanfic #not tagging any of the characters for obvs reasons #i wanted to write a belly rub so much but I think daisy genuinely wouldnt even know they're a thing #and billy would rather walk into open traffic than ever ask for one

39 notes · View notes