#i was going to do another chapter of my fic for today but i'm sick yet again

[damagedintellect]

ADA Dazai x Reader

💌Obligatory sex pollen fic I guess?? chapter 2💌

Summary: Certain abilities Dazai can dispel outright without touching the user. This has always confused the brunette greatly where the technical line was drawn. During Q's apocalypse, he couldn't bring individuals back to their senses but with Shiwabusa's fog he could prevent Chuuya’s ability from manifesting. Apparently this “Sex pollen” ability was more like the former example. Which left Dazai the only one conscious of their actions as everyone fucked like rabbits.

Notes: Based on a dream I had a few nights ago....This chapter is shorter because I started waking up once I realized it was THAT DREAM, I'm literally crying it got a second chapter some one help😭

Contains: sex pollen, dubcon, pregnancy, mpreg, pregnant Fyodor, Fyodor being painfully religious, 🍋 in chapter 1

💌 Wordcount 1,971 💌 Chapter 2 of ?? [If I have another dream I am obligated to update this] <= Previous chapter

Just like that for a few weeks everything was back to some semblance of normalcy. Out of sight out of mind you guess. Once you stopped feeling sick all the time you could hardly tell you were pregnant at all. You were still confined to the office since it would take anywhere from 3 to 6 months to fully heal from your injuries but that was fine with you. Honestly you don’t understand how Dazai does it. You've been pampered by Yosano's ability. It didn't even occur to you that you'd still have to have some sort of physical therapy afterwards either. Meanwhile Dazai gets shot and stabbed all the goddamn time and he takes it like a champ. Just one more reason to like him you guess.

Dazai looked up to catch you staring. You didn’t look away but your face did start to feel warm. You hadn’t really sat down and talked about it in depth yet. That night or about the child and honestly no one in the office has really tried to bring it up either. Although you still don't know what to say, sooner or later someone has to say something and hopefully it won't have to be you. Unfortunately you have a feeling it's going to be you.

Dazai glanced at the door and frowned. He's been trying to avoid any meaningful confrontation but judging from the sounds outside he swallowed. He knew those footsteps better than anyone and it was only a matter of time before “he” showed up. This might as well be happening today. Without warning Chuuya emerged from the doorway looking annoyed. 

“Okay, which one of you is the weretiger!”

Atsushi hesitantly raised his hand. You raised an eyebrow at the exchange. What was the mafia executive doing looking for Atsushi? Dazai sighed and rose to his feet, putting an arm around Atsushi as Chuuya approached the two. 

“Why Chuuya, what brings you out to our domain! I almost didn't see you there, have you gotten shorter?” He smiles cheerfully. You swear you could see flowers and sparkles surrounding him.

Chuuya crossed his arms “Go to hell and wait your turn. I have a bone to pick with you after I square away business with the tiger boy.” He glared at Atsushi, sizing him up. “And you, my boy Akutagawa hasn't been the same since your guy's little rescue operation. Mind telling me why that is?” It was surprisingly less threatening and more of a genuine question.

Atsushi’s face flushed a few shades darker “Why don't you ask him! He's the one who-” He stopped mid sentence, groaning. He figured Akutagawa wouldn't talk about it to anyone either but being asked directly because Akutagawa was out of sorts was insulting. How did he think Atsushi felt? “You know what, the bottom line is I'm pregnant and it's his fault he used his stupid ability like that. If anything I should be the one who's traumatized!” 

Chuuya hummed, putting his hand under his chin as he thought about an earlier encounter. “Oh so that's why he was muttering about being bound to the weretiger. He was saying something about not even holding hands yet and having to marry you. Guess that makes me the godfather for two babies then.” the redhead shrugged like this conversation was an everyday occurrence.

Atsushi slouched, was this karma for trying to suggest that Fyodor and Nikolai should get married? 

“Don’t tell me Akutagawa is religious too.”

Chuuya furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No listen kid, this is about stepping up to responsibilities. Raising a kid's a big deal.” He looked over at Dazai with a smirk about to add one more thing but Dazai interjected, flicking the brim of Chuuya's hat.

He continued to wave his hand in the other's face. “Who said you were the godfather? I don't remember calling you.” Both of their expressions went flat for a moment as they glared at each other passively.

“You should have, it would have been better to hear the news from you than from Mori.” He huffed “Why didn't you? It's not like you to go back on your word. What happened too, I wouldn't lie about something like this.” He mocked in a Dazai like fashion.

“I thought you were too drunk to remember that!” Dazai whined.

“Yeah well I also remember promising to be your best man if you ever lived long enough to find someone.” Chuuya leaned back into his hip “So?” the redhead crossed his arms, waiting.

“So what?” Dazai said matter of factly. As the two stared back at each other, Atsushi finally sat down. Why did they have to do this at his desk?

“So what? You're not even going to introduce me!”

Dazai rolled his eyes. Is that really what Chuuya came here for? When Chuuya walked in you had gotten up from your desk to make tea. As you brought the cups over Dazai walked around you and put his hand on your shoulder “(Y/N), Chuuya, Chuuya, (Y/N). There, you happy?”

“Wait (Y/N)? You mean your-” Dazai cut him off but Chuuya looked surprised. You wonder what he was going to say. It sounded important.

Dazai pankicked and grabbed the other from behind covering his mouth as he dragged him out into the hallway. “Nope that's it you overstayed your welcome.” 

Once the door shut Ranpo pouted “I'm pregnant too ya know. I wouldn't mind Mr. Fancy hat being the godfather.” He puffed out his cheeks.

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “That's all you got from that!”

Ranpo sighed “No, I also got the image of Akutagawa tying you up so thanks for that.” 

Atsushi stood up so fast his chair nearly fell over. “How can everybody speak about it so casually!” 

He looked over to you with pleading eyes. Atsushi was probably hoping you'd back him up. Instead you laughed, handing him the disregarded tea. 

“Well for starters only the adults are here today and the more you talk about it the less power it has.” You handed the detective another cup. “Although instead of putting you on the spot Ranpo should have asked if you wanted to talk about it first or at least opened up about his experience.”

He took a sip of tea before shrugging. Ranpo didn't mind sharing at all in fact he’s glad someone asked about it. “Not much to say really. Poe hugged me from behind and by the time I realized he wasn't doing it to be cute I just kinda went with it.” Ranpo shrugged with a smile on his face. “I'm more curious what happened with Kunikida!”

The blonde tensed as you set the last cup down in front of him. He had stopped his typing as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. “Do I have too?” Out of everyone in the office Kunikida had been the one trying the hardest to skirt around the conversations. He wanted to forget it ever happened. It was bad enough that Dazai would tease him about it whenever they were alone.

Ranpo hummed “Akiko's really careful because she could never give up drinking for that long, so since you're not forced into being a dad, dealer's choice?” You all nodded in agreement, it only seemed fair since you were putting him on the spot.

Kunikida pushed up his glasses. You assume he probably doesn't want to share. Instead he turns to address you. “Which reminds me, I thought Yosano gave you a contraceptive too?”

“I was so exhausted I forgot it was in my pocket and never took it.” You frowned. It didn't feel like a priority in the moment but like most of them you were out of it. “But forced parenting aside, right now this is about sexual trauma.”

 Kunikida cleared his throat “I wouldn't know what to share. I turned to look at Yosano and the next thing I know we're kissing in a passionate manner.” He paused wondering if he should say something about the elephant in the room. “Also this should go without saying, but no one is forcing you to be a parent. Ranpo and Atsushi might not have a choice but there's still plenty of time for you to think it over. No one would stop you if you decided you're not ready to be a mother.” This was true but your mind was already made up. 

Somehow only Ranpo knew of your crush? You thought it was fairly obvious. Had it been anyone else you probably would have gotten rid of it by now. 

Ranpo laughed before you could answer, sharing his two cents. “Who said I don't have a choice? I'm choosing to have this little munchkin! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to see what me and Poe create. Besides, I've always wanted a mini me!” He patted his stomach proudly.

Atsushi sipped on his tea “That's true. So in a weird way it kind of worked out for you and Poe huh. At least one of us lucked out.” He’s been avoiding Akutagawa as much as possible ever since that night.

Ranpo snickered, “I would say two of us lucked out.” He draped one around your shoulder opening his eyes to give you a smug look. “Well you care to share with the class? This was your idea after all.” 

So that’s why he bothered to bring all of this up. You sighed in defeat. “Lucked out my ass!” Your cheeks were red as Atsushi and Kunikida gave you incredulous looks “Keep in mind Dazai was fully conscious of his actions. He kind of just let me get it out of my system in hope that I would eventually snap out of it,” You groaned hiding your face in your hands “and yes, apparently I was begging him to fuck a baby into me. Is that what you wanted to hear, Ranpo!”

Ranpo blinked a few times “You didn't have to go that far but yeah I was just trying to get you to mention your crush on Dazai.”

“You have a crush on Dazai?!” Both Atsushi and Kunikida shouted. Kunikida nearly spat out his tea. You groaned “That’s why I was planning on keeping the child but I feel like I'd be baby trapping him.”

“It’s not baby trapping if you decide to keep the child, it's your body. I already told you that you have the final say.”

Everyone slowly turned their heads back to see Dazai coming back into the office. You swallowed “How much of that did you hear?”

“Not much but you already told me your reason for wanting to keep the kid.” He shrugged nonchalantly and everyone wiped their heads back to you.

Atsushi was dumbfounded. “Wait a second, let me get this straight. He knows that you-”

Dazai spoke over him. “-Always wanted kids, it's not that big of a deal. Unless that's not what we're talking about?” He tilted his head to the side. Did he miss something? It took a lot out of him to turn Chuuya away especially after the stupid slug made his own revelations about the situation. 

You released the breath you were holding. Everyone else understood Dazai was just as oblivious to your feelings as always. Eventually you would have to tell him but it was still early enough in the process to figure that out. At least everyone else in the office knew why you’ve been acting weird since that night.

Kunikida groaned at the realization. “I don't know if I can handle a mini Ranpo running around, let alone a mini Dazai.” He went back to his work. “It’s bad enough having to work with Dazai as is.”

You laughed as the two tried to defend themselves.

#bsd imagines #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #my bsd brainrot is showing #x reader #based on a dream i had #i can't believe this got a chapter 2

[pearlcaddy]

lockwood & co appreciation week 💀 favorite ship

Locklyle [insp]

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwoodandcoedit #l&coaw2023 #anthony lockwood #anthonylockwoodedit #lucy carlyle #lucycarlyleedit #locklyle #locklyleedit #tvedit #userbelin #pearlcaddyedit #pearlcaddy l&co #500 #i was going to do another chapter of my fic for today but i'm sick yet again #my other edits are already done so maybe i'll get time and energy to finish it before the week is up but if not please have this #can't believe today's prompt of all days is the one i phoned in so hard 😂 i remain a locklyle stan first and human second #the original text post is perfect for them so hopefully this looks okay #i'm already regretting the last gif because i know it's going to be a bat signal for book fans to give me teg spoilers in the tags #hate that i already know the vague shape of that spoiler because of book fans in the tags #generally begging people to be more considerate with how they interact with show fanworks

[miabrown007]

a minute of silence to my skills to estimate how long a project is ever going to take

#my google calendar and Carl bot (and my friends) have been kind enough to inform me today was the estimated posting date of heist au #suffice to say that is not happening #it would have been rad to make a habit out of the co-occurrence of starting a new job and starting to post a finished WIP but alas #that will not be happening for a while longer #I have no idea when will I find the time for writing between two jobs and the big bang but. we'll work something out. #but hey it's good to give your projects breathing space so your brain can do the work in the background and solve the problems for you #I'll probably need to go back and revamp the whole last chapter I've been working on #but I'm still too sick and jet lagged and sick to be thinking about that so I'll consume some more media in the meantime #and complain about how bad the fic I'm listening to is. like god it's supposed to be so romantic and cute and he's literally #depriving her bodily autonomy and her friends support him I want to leave a strongly worded comment so bad #I will not be doing that but god it's so awful I should have stopped listening to this fic long ago. so that's a lesson learned. #put the fucking fic down there's plenty of stuff that's going to be better #hot take I sure no one saw coming sometimes things that are popular are actually bad #anyway have some stream of fucking consciousness /ref to another fic I'm fighting hard to keep discontinued #I know I won't like it why is this so hard #heist au should have been posted today based on maths btw. maths I did wrong for the first time which means it should have been posted #a year ago really #not like I have the proper structure to do a heist au daily #but it would have been fun to post the first chapter on the exact day it takes place. idk just for flavour #does all this make any sense? hardly. this is a diary entry and my two braincells are firing random thoughts at each other #that's fine though. it's all fine. here have some popcorn to go with all this nonsense 🍿🍿🍿 <3 #(and also all the drama in the new shadow and bone season. ugh it's so good I love Wesper SO. MUCH. or just Waylan. and Nikolai. #he's my blorbo assigned at first relevant information. relavant information: he's my friend's blorbo #but gods he's so my type it's scary. of course I'll have him as my blorbo. of course of course! #*puts him on a shelf next to Adrien Draco and Hunter* #*steps back to think before putting Waylan there too and sitting Zuko on the far end* #war crimes look so good on them :3 #miaing #heist au

[arminsumi]

I WANT TO KISS YOU / キスしたい

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

you and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

2.9k

Chapter index

Summary : you've come to visit Japan to meet these two boys you met online. Though Satoru can't speak English and you can't speak Japanese, the two of you still fall in love. Very cute. Very cheesy. Oh no... wait is there a tension between you and his best friend, too? Oh boy...

Warnings : romantic tension with Suguru / potential love triangle, cat scratch

Note : i think of this fic a lot and i found the continuation hiding out in my drafts sooo here 👍

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works

Satoru blinks awake to see your face. His heart beats harder.

結局昨日は夢ではなかったのか？ Yesterday was not a dream after all?

He's not an early bird at all, but from the first day of your visit he magically woke up early as if his soul was too excited to sleep when it knew you were right there, in the flesh. No screen. Just you.

When the first day starts, it feels like you've always been together. Was there ever a screen separating the two of you? And were you really going to disappear behind one again in just a month?

今のところ、彼女はここに留まるように感じています。彼女が訪問を終えて出発するとき、私は空港で赤ん坊のように泣くことになると思います。 For now, she feels like she's here to stay. I think I'm going to cry like a baby at the airport when she leaves after her visit.

Morning routines are carried out. The sky is cloudy at first, threatening rain, and by the time you three cluster into the kitchen to make breakfast together, it starts raining.

You and Satoru banter like two cats. Suguru's morning rasp is very strong.

"Satoru... uh... sugar?" you ask, preparing to make yourself a second one and automatically making Satoru another one, since he looks still very bleary-eyed even after spending an hour freshening up in the bathroom.

"...? Yes?" he tilts his head, then you raise the sugar cube jar. "Yes. Uh... four. Thank you."

Suguru's blushing because of the cute tension between you and his best friend. It fills the whole kitchen, which already felt full with their two bodies and a third one now. Everyone keeps bumping elbows and yet not complaining about it, in fact it's enjoyable to be squished together. Maybe because you three waited so long to be together in person, you don't mind it. There's a silent, ever-present comedy in the air about the tight proximity.

You hum happily, tossing in one, two, three... four? That's a lot of sugar. "Suguru, tell Satoru he mustn't have so much sugar all the time. It's not good for his health."

Suguru laughs. "I try to tell him that every day. But his sweet tooth is incurable."

"His dentist must hate him." you smirk at Satoru, who's been looking at you blushingly after hearing his name mentioned.

彼女の声が今では一番好きな音だと思います。 I think her voice is my favorite sound now.

もう一度私の名前を言ってください。 Please say my name again.

"Satoru? Coffee?" you interrupt his lovey-dovey thoughts and he suddenly reanimates himself, because for a moment there he zoned out and just stared at you with those pretty eyes.

"Mmm... thanks." he takes the coffee from you with a noticeable timidness that you can't quite explain. There's a lot about him that's indescribable, you're having a small internal crisis; aren't you supposed to be fluent in English? And yet you can't even begin to describe just how sweet and gentle Satoru behaves. The most you can do is use metaphors that barely justify him.

"Suguru, tell her... her voice is nice, and also sorry for cuddling you in my sleep (and that she can definitely kick me away at night if it bothers her.) Also!" (the three of you head into the living room, and Suguru habitually trips over the cat who stalks under his feet too quietly to notice) "Also tell her... if it rains today, does she still want to go out? Because if we go out in the rain, she might get sick. And I don't want her to get sick on her trip. Not that I'd mind taking care of you, Y/n, of course."

Suguru lets out a long sigh and pulls a funny face. You smile amusedly.

"...It's too early to be a translator..." he grumbles in English after Satoru overloads him.

"What? C'mon tell her everything I said!"

"Let me have my coffee first. How about the two of you write to each other?" he suggests, putting the rim of the cup to his lips and sipping languidly.

"Eh, fine." Satoru pouts, and stalks off into his bedroom to get his phone.

Then, when he's in his bedroom, his chest flutters for some reason when he sees your suitcase standing there opened and emptied into the free cupboard space. He takes his phone, smiles at the homely feeling of seeing your belongings in his room, and leaves.

"Oh..." he has a sudden idea, and remembers the magnetic drawing board that's hanging in the kitchen. He and Suguru usually use it for writing reminders to each other, like get milk or you're an idiot or sometimes it has doodles of Mint the cat with sunglasses on.

So he returns to you with this magnetic drawing board, and points at it meaningfully, then holds one finger up and bows his head as he begins writing very slowly.

Suguru's checking the weather forecast and muttering sour complaints under his breath to you. "Of course it would rain for three days just when you arrive... at least by the weekend it will be clear and sunny..."

"Mmm... it's alright. A little rain never hurt nobody." you respond.

"I like your optimism." Suguru compliments flippantly at first, but then continues; "It's really uplifting. I think Satoru said something about you being a joy once, he said it really poetically but I can't recall it now."

"Aw..." you dip your head beneath your coffee cup, hiding the bashful expression on your face, which Suguru chuckles at.

And then, for a long moment, you just stare and watch Satoru writing on the board. You're completely captured in this moment, completely captivated in his enveloping presence as he sits next to you. He has slow, meticulous wrist movements. His knees press together, like he's worried that he'll invade your personal space if he sits too comfortably close to you. Funny, considering he cuddled you all night and you had no complaints about it.

He's writing very simply and neatly, just like how he texts you. You're a bit baffled by the characters he's using, though he's trying his best to avoid using any kanji knowing that you don't know a lot of it. He's sure you can figure things out by slowly pronouncing each hiragana character, or at least he hopes.

"Here." he hands you the magnetic drawing board, and then raises from the couch to go feed the cat.

"Minto-Minto... " he calls after the cat and makes a small cute sound to lure her out.

You're trying to read each hiragana character, eyes squinting a bit.

Suguru leans in close to you. He just takes a look, but the proximity for some reason gives both of you butterflies.

"Ooh... that's cute." Suguru comments after reading what Satoru wrote. His voice reaches deep in your tummy.

"Hm... I'll spell it out and... figure it out... anyways, why did you name your cat Mint?"

"Oh... well. There's two reasons. So the first..." he sets down his coffee, like he's about to tell you a great story, "Is because Satoru watched this show called Tokyo Mew Mew growing up, and he liked the character Minto. So he calls her Minto. And then I agreed on calling her that, but I call her Mint, because I hate mint the herb."

"You — haha, wait what? You call her Mint because you hate mint?"

"Yes. I hate mint, both the herb and the cat. She hates me too, clearly." Suguru raises his hand to remind you of how the cat scratched him the night before.

"Such a cute Hello Kitty sticker..." you tease.

"Thank you. Only the manliest men wear Hello Kitty Bandaids."

"How did she scratch you anyways...?"

"Oh, she likes to hang out in the washing machine if Satoru accidentally leaves it open. And when I try take her out of her comfy spot, she scratches me."

You sympathize, "Poor thing."

"What, the cat or me?" Suguru laughs.

"The cat." you lie teasingly.

"Wow! And here I thought you were being sympathetic!" he raises his brows.

You giggle and look at him, eyes finally making contact — ooh no that's bad bad bad, better break it immediately. So the two of you look away like you've both just indulged in a taboo intimacy. His stomach flips.

"Minto has been fed. She gave me cuddles." Satoru comes back into the room, and you admire the feeling he brings with him.

"No scratches?" Suguru asks.

"No, obviously, she loves me more than you." Satoru cheeks.

"Fuck you, haha."

Satoru makes his voice lower and leans to Suguru, "(Did she figure out what I wrote yet?)"

"Y/n did you figure out what he wrote?" Suguru asks.

"I'm trying so hard. What does this part mean...?"

Suguru shakes his head and puts his hands up. "Like I said, I'm not Mr Translator in the mornings."

"But you've had your coffee! Please, just this part..." you beg, and he can't deny that sweet begging. He easily folds for it, just like when Satoru begs for anything.

"Okay, where — this? Uh... Satoru your handwriting isn't usually this neat, is it...? That part means... 'voice'."

"Oh... ohhh!" you suddenly realize, and then the boys swoon over you when you pronounce the characters out loud to yourself.

"Uh... I think I know what it means..." you feel your cheeks warm up from the crown to your jawline.

あなたのこえがすき。 a-na-ta-no-ko-e-ga-su-ki.

"I like your voice, too." you respond to Satoru, and he half-gets it and gives you a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

You look at each other and then promptly look away with shy smiles.

"You two are cute." Suguru comments.

"Ahah... ahah shut up... hey, the sky has cleared up." you point out.

"Ooh... it cleared up 'cuz Satoru walked back into the room."

You awe at what he said.

"?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Translator — (stop talking about me behind my back!)"

Suguru chuckles, "I wasn't! I was just — never mind. Let's get ready to head out."

And so you head into Satoru's bedroom to get ready, and Suguru heads into his bedroom, and Satoru himself goes into the cramped bathroom. Poor boy. He's really too tall for that archway, he bumped his head again.

彼女に花を買ってあげるべきでしょうか？それともちょっと多すぎますか？ Should I buy her flowers? Or is it a bit too much?

（なんてことだ）、なぜこのシャツには穴が開いているのでしょう？ (Oh my god), why does this shirt have holes?

The door slides open, he steps out of the bathroom half-dressed, and intends to quickly slip into Suguru's bedroom to borrow a shirt instead of awkwardly knocking on his bedroom door and disturbing you.

But oh, you know what? The cheesiest possible thing happens instead. The universe likes making Satoru's life a little more fun in odd times. So the two of you encounter each other in the hallway; you're fully clothed and he's got just pants and socks on.

He stutters once, swallows awkwardly, and even more awkwardly places his hand on your head as if to say sorry for this inconvenience.

But you laugh in response to the funny situation.

ああ、またあの美しい笑い声。 Ah, that beautiful laugh again.

"Sorry." he mutters, and disappears to go get a shirt from Suguru.

"It's okay." you reply.

The image of your pretty smile is burned in his head.

You can hear him telling Suguru something in the other room, and then you hear Suguru's muffled laugh as a response.

"(Don't laugh! I'm embarrassed! She's seen me shirtless now! No one's seen me shirtless except you!)"

"(You're such a virgin.)"

"(Say that again, I dare you.)"

"(Sorry, I don't understand you. I don't speak virgin, only English and Japanese.)"

You're wondering why Satoru sounds so embarrassed and annoyed, and then he groans down the hallway. It feels like you're their roommate, it's funny.

"Hi."

"Hi."

The two of you encounter each other in the hall again. This time he has a shirt, yes. And this time Suguru is there, too, and he's holding back an amused smile. He fluffs Satoru's hair as a way of embarrassing him more.

So Satoru leaves, and he leaves in such a way that it's super comedic, making you and Suguru laugh. Ooh, what a laugh that boy has; his Addam's apple shifts up and down deliciously.

"Ah... Suguru? I need help with the washing machine..."

"Yes...?"

"...this kid on the plane who sat next to me, he spilled strawberry juice all over my shirt and now it's sticky."

"But at least it smells like strawberries, right?" he jokes. "You can put it in the washing machine, I'll be doing the laundry in a second anyways..." there is a small moment of eye contact shared, then Suguru looks down, and frowns at something he sees, "(SATORU YOU LEFT YOUR SOCK ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!)"

"(Haha, sorry.)" you hear Satoru half-heartedly apologize from the other room.

So Suguru picks up the sock like an annoyed mother and goes to lecture Satoru.

"(You're embarrassing me in front of our guest. For the love of god, don't leave your goofy ass socks on the floor. What if she slips on them?)"

"(You're such a mother, Suguru.)"

You're calmly and casually going to put your juice-stained shirt in the washing machine like Suguru said, but then...

(the boys are talking and there's just this hilariously dramatic scream from the laundry room)

"DID THE CAT SCRATCH YOU?"

"(Did the cat scratch her?)"

"Ow, y-yeah!" you whine.

Suguru's the first one at the crime scene, and he picks up the cat and proceeds to lecture the cat as if it understands Japanese. It licks its lips and nubby nose and has an evil stare. You giggle.

"I'm so sorry... come, uh — (Suguru, we still have Hello Kitty adhesives somewhere, right?)" Satoru instinctually holds your hand that got scratched.

And he holds it so tenderly and caringly that it makes your whole chest quake for him.

彼女の手の傷はとても小さなものですが、それでも私は心臓がチクチクするのを感じました。 Although the wound on her hand was very small, I still felt my heart tingle.

He leads you to his bedroom, picking up some adhesives and antiseptic on the way, and sits with you on the unmade beds. You watch his fingers nimbly peeling the plastic off the adhesive, admiring how swiftly and perfectly he does even the littlest things. He has such a great attention to detail, it makes you self-conscious; is he thinking of you with the same attention to detail as everything else? Yes... he is.

He dabs some antiseptic on your small scratch, and then gently wraps and pats the Hello Kitty adhesive around it. You're pretty sure he's the one who bought them. Oh, if only you could ask him, but where even is your phone? Lost in a void somewhere, probably.

"Thank you, Satoru."

His eyes light up. His heart thumps. Why did those small, simple words have such a great effect on him?

"Mhm." he hums in acknowledgement. "You're welcome."

あなたの傷がもっと良くなるようにキスしたいです。 I want to kiss your wounds to make them better.

A second after thinking this and looking at your hand, he brings it to his lips and presses a very delicate kiss to the edge of your wrist, where the small cut spanned up to the base of your palm. Can you even call it a kiss? It's more like his lips graze your skin, hovering timidly.

And for some reason... the atmosphere becomes very intimate. Is it because of the place where he kissed you? The inner wrist has never occurred to you to be an intimate spot, and yet you're feeling as if he just kissed you on the lips.

You hear him audibly swallow, like he's conscious of this, too. The both of you become very aware of the tension in the atmosphere.

And then he looks apologetic, as if he overstepped a boundary. So you mutter a small, whispery "thanks..." which lifts his heart up into his throat and reassures him that you don't mind the intimacy.

"Mmm..." he blinks at you, pursing his lips.

His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and it feels like he's about to... well you know his body just wants to... he sort of...

"Hey, how's the wounded patient?" Suguru interrupts, and you and Satoru spring apart like you're elastic bands that just got released after being stretched.

"Ahah, I'm okay. It's not a bad scratch." you lift your hand, "I'll cherish this Hello Kitty Bandaid forever, thank you."

"Yeah, Satoru bought 'em so you can thank him."

"I knewww he bought them, haha! So expected... cutiepie." you admire Satoru, and he's pretty sure that the last thing you said is some cute nickname, so he smirks.

"Okay, well... anyways, let's head out before the sun rises too high and it gets too hot to walk."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

#gojo #gojo satoru #fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x fem reader #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jjk fic #gojo fic #gojo x reader fluff #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader x geto #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujustu kaisen #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #satoru

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 4

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Gif by:@sh214

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: ~2.3K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi there! To those of you who have read and are still with me, THANK YOU! I love you all. I'm sorry that my chapters are taking longer and longer. Work has been a bit more hectic lately and I also just had some serious writer's block with this chapter. That being said, it feels a little rough and I apologize if its awful lol. But either way, thanks for hanging in there with me and please let me know what you think! Your comments make me happy!

__________

You groaned, stepping out of bed and drifting towards the bathroom. Your face was sticky and your eyes stung from crying late into the night. It was silly, naive, and frankly stupid… but sometimes you can't control how hard emotions hit. Seeing that Pedro didn't actually watch your video was a let down - to put it mildly. Obviously he's a popular guy. A star. He has better things to do.

You should be grateful he even responded to your Instagram message before. Even though it hurts, surely he has more interesting things to do than message someone like you. Just because you wrote a song and he said he liked it doesn't mean he owes you anything more.

So after a fitful night's sleep, you were utterly exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Luckily, it was still your weekend and you could rest today. 

More like spend the day wallowing in your self pity… you think, disdainfully at yourself.

Looking in the mirror, you notice your puffy eyes. There's some new acne, and a mop of frizzy hair on your head. After using the toilet, you step on your bathroom scale before your shower; a morning routine you started during years of dieting. Another 3 pounds. Up again?!

You look in the mirror, pinching your stomach with a sigh. I guess I shouldn't have had those cookies yesterday…

The food guilt creeps up as you think of the goodies you've eaten recently. Cookies yesterday, fast food the day before. You were bitter that you weren't one of those people that could just magically eat whatever they wanted without gaining an ounce. 

But you aren't, and you should know better. 

Frustrated with your appearance, you begin your usual internal debate about how to fix it.

Maybe I should go back on the diet…

But the diet caused you so many problems. Remember the stomach issues? The hunger? The lack of joy? Binge eating on cheat days until you were sick?

But! I lost so much weight!

Yeah, until you started gaining weight…

Maybe I didn't cut enough. People said I looked so good. I was *almost* skinny.

Maybe people would like me more if I was skinny… Maybe Pedro would like me if I were skinny. There's no way he would be with me looking like this.

These were the debates that plagued you for months… years… a lifetime.

You showered, tears beginning to flow again as you tried to push out the thoughts. He was probably just busy, but either way you knew you didn't have a chance. 

Your friends were right. You were an obsessed fan. It was… concerning, as they said. They pitied you when you felt sad about your feelings. Just find someone you actually have a chance with, they pushed. Someone real.

But... he did message you. Maybe he didn't even know you had an interview yesterday? Maybe he watched it later. You were being utterly ridiculous. It didn't matter anyway.

But what you didn't know was that Pedro felt just as disappointed. He wanted to be the one on your list. The one you loved. He went to bed just as mopey as you did and woke up just the same.

_____

Having washed away your bad feelings as best as you could, you gave Skipper a kiss on his little forehead and made some coffee while scrolling Instagram. You were nervous to see what people had to say about your interview, but you had to face the music eventually.

As you could have predicted, people were running through the potential suspects (or prospects, that is) who have brown curly hair and brown eyes. Some supported you and loved your interview. Others criticized you for being too chicken to show yourself. 

You weren't used to this level of attention, and you really weren't sure you enjoyed it. But you were grateful to have your two lives kept separate, your true persona still shaded in privacy.

What you did not predict, was a notification popping up from Pedro, interrupting your scrolling. Forgetting to breathe, you immediately clicked on it. If the message were food from the oven, you would've burnt your hand the way you grabbed it so fast. 

Perhaps I should've been a little more chill about opening this so quickly... Oh well.

Pedro Pascal messaged you: "Hey! I watched your interview yesterday. You did fantastic. I know fame is new to you and you're nervous, but you're a natural."

Your heart swelled. He did watch it!! He must have just been busy during the live stream.

You replied: "Pedro! You watched it!?! Thank you so much. That really means a lot to me."

Pedro read your message immediately, but instead of sharing in your level of excitement, he was hit with a wave of confusion instead. She must just be trying to not hurt my feelings. She already knows I watched it.. unless she didn't even notice my name. Or she didn't care enough to look for it…?

He decided to play along with it anyway. "Absolutely, I did. I've had it marked on my calendar since the day it was announced a couple days ago and watched it as it was streamed live."

His response took you by surprise, and then made you angry. If he really watched it, he would know that they gave you a list of the people who watched it live. Why was he lying to you about it?

You started to plan out your response, maybe even send an accusatory comeback, but then you thought about it again.

Why would he lie about it? What would he gain by lying? He messaged you.

With this in mind, you instead chose to take a different approach. One better designed for fishing. One you had to be very careful about, so as not to reveal the fact that you looked for his name.

"Wait!? You watched it live? I didn't see you on the list. You're one of the few people I've spoken to who actually seem genuinely friendly and interested in having a conversation with me. I had sort of hoped you were listening."

There. That doesn't sound too revealing, right? Totally friendly…

Pedro opened your message and was met with both confusion, and something else he wasn't expecting. Hope. Did you look for his name??

Still, he wanted to address the confusion. "You didn't see me on the list? That's odd.. but I'm sure there were a lot of names to scan through. Maybe my name was just buried in that list."

You knew it wasn't buried. He was the only name you looked for. The only name you cared about seeing on that list, not that you'd admit that to him right now. But you also didn't want him to feel that insignificant either.

"There were a lot of names, I'll give you that. But I swear you weren't there. Were you logged into your account? Maybe your Internet crashed, or you missed part of it?"

Instantly he remembered the ten or so minutes that Oscar interrupted him. 

Oscar!

"Oh shit! That's it. Oscar barged into my house while I was watching it and I slammed my laptop closed."

"Oscar… Isaac? Wait, why did you slam your laptop closed?"

"Yeah, that's the one. And… I don't know. He just surprised me, I guess. It wasn't a planned visit."

Slamming your laptop closed is an odd reaction to your friend visiting, but okay, you thought.

"So you closed your laptop, and missed a few minutes. And that must have been the moment they pulled the list of viewers."

Pedro replied. "It must have. But I was there, more than happy to listen to what you had to say"

If my name had been on the list, would her answer have been different? When asked whether the man she loved was on the list and she said no, would my name have changed anything? Pedro wanted to ask you these questions. But he couldn't. Not only was he scared, but he also didn't want it to come off as some douchey comment that made you uncomfortable. He wanted to get to know you better, even if just as a friend, and he wouldn't let a silly little crush ruin that.

You sent a response that could be deemed as friendly or neutral, still cautious. "Thank you Pedro. I'm really glad you watched it."

He replied without hesitancy. "Of course. But, I am sorry that your guy wasn't on that list."

He sounds genuine. Not like he's fishing for information like everyone else on the internet. In turn, you decide to be playful with your response. Risky, but still not too revealing. "It's okay. It turns out that list wasn't as accurate as I once thought it was" you typed with a smirk.

"So maybe he was watching after all," Pedro answered.

"Maybe he was."

Pedro soon changed the subject, "I did enjoy hearing about your favorite things, though. You may know this already, but I love movies. Some of the ones you mentioned are a couple of my favorites as well. But as for your favorite books, I haven't read them, but I've been meaning to find a new book to read."

The fact that he was a reader made your heart flutter; the thought of him sitting with a book, his glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he stroked his thumb over his lip in deep concentration. You were overjoyed at the thought of him reading *your* favorite book and potentially having someone to talk to about it. Before you knew it, you had frantically sent multiple excited messages.

You: "Oh! If you read any of my favorite books we HAVE to talk about them!"

Second message: "AGH the first book I mentioned is my favorite, out of all of them. The ending blew my mind. And the characters were just so amazing! Well except for that one guy.. but I won't spoil that…"

Third message: "But my favorite character has the greatest lines!!! Sometimes I like to quote it but nobody else gets it. And the way the author describes the settings is so magical, it makes you want to be there."

Pedro caught himself smiling at his phone, wrapped up in your excitement, as you were finally able to talk to someone about your favorite book. It was adorable how happy you seemed.

He started to type a reply when you sent another message. "Shoot… I'm sorry. I got a little too carried away…"

"Who told you that?"

Huh?

"Who told me what?" You asked.

"Who made you feel like you had to stop talking when you became excited about your interests?"

His question took you aback, but your mind struggled to pinpoint the answer to it. There's been so many people that have told you that over the years. People you assumed were friends. An old crush who didn't like multiple text messages at once. Classmates who would complain or make fun. It was routine.

"Oh. It's not a big deal. It's just something I've heard over the years. But I also know how I get and I don't want to be too much. I'm sorry. I don't want to monopolize the conversation too much either. But hey, you didn't mention, what are your favorite books?" You tried to change the topic.

Pedro felt that protective feeling bubble up in his chest again.

"Over the years!? There have been multiple occasions?" Pedro shook his head, even though you couldn't see through the text. "I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel that way or said anything to imply that your interests weren't worthy of being heard. Fuck them. They should be thankful that you shared your interests."

They should be grateful to hear your beautiful voice get so excited. To get to see your excitement and smile, Pedro thought to himself angrily. He hoped he could someday witness you getting excited over your interests in person too.

"Thank you Pedro. But really, it's okay. I know I get a little… obsessive and crazy, especially with sending multiple texts, so I don't blame them. Haha. :)" you tried to soften the mood.

"I don't want you to ever feel that way with me. I liked hearing you talk about your interests."

You began to type, but Pedro beat you to the punch.

"In fact… if you'd like to talk more," he gave you his phone number. "Feel free to text me, or you can call me too. I like talking on the phone, but I know not everyone does."

Holy shit. Is this real life? Did Pedro Pascal just give me his phone number? And ask me to call him?

Truthfully, your introverted self really didn't like talking on the phone. But the idea of talking to Pedro, hearing his voice on the other end of your phone was too much to handle.

What you didn't realize, was that Pedro wanted it just as bad.

Your fingers danced over your phone keyboard, trying to find the right words for a reply. What do you say when the love of your life (that you didn't think you would ever have a chance with) gives you his phone number?

Pedro watched anxiously as the three dot-dot-dots of typing appeared and disappeared over and over. His heart was racing, and he began to worry he may have overstepped this time. 

Why did you give her your number? She's going to think you like her!!! 

But you do like her, you idiot, Pedro berated himself.

He ran his hand down his face, waiting for your response in agonizing suspense. But instead of hearing the pop of a notification, his phone began to ring instead, an unknown number displayed on the home screen.

Wait… is that her? Is she CALLING me?!

He answered frantically, practically dropping his phone in the process. 

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

_____

Thank you for reading!! Let me know your thoughts :) More will be coming soon. I know this is a painfully slow burn lol. Thanks for being patient.

Next chapter! Here

_____

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #rpf #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal x afab!reader #key to your heart

[lov3m3darling]

Apple of my Eye (Obsessed!Wally Darling x Short!Reader) Pt. 2

Heyyy 😊 So I'm really glad a lot of you seem to like what I'm doing here. You're all very kind ❤️

I woke up feeling pretty good today so I figured I'd be at least a little productive and write another part ✨️ How long should this be?? I'm totally down to make this a long fic if ya'll would like that. I would still write oneshots and headcannons in between chapters of course 🤗

Idk, lemme know

!!!(TW: obsessive behaviors, eye imagery, slight blood/injury, mention of a kn*fe)!!!

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Wally spent that evening thinking of nothing but you.

Your smile, your eyes, your laugh...

It was like his world finally had color again. He imagined the date vividly...bringing you flowers when he arrived at your door, showing you around town while you held his arm, picking a nice grassy spot in the shade for your picnic.

Would you dress up just for him? Would he hear your charming laugh when he made jokes? Could he...kiss you?

Wally covered his blushing face at the idea, and Home rolled their eyes, creaking mockingly.

Wally sat up from where he was laying across his chair.

"You don't understand, Home! (Y/n) is...they're so..."

He tried to describe you, but could only manage a happy, dreamy sigh. Suddenly, he heard a record player start up.

A love song.

"HOME!!" Wally exclaimed, his face now entirely red. Home knocked quietly, almost like a sly snicker. Wally sighed again.

"Oh, but...I could just imagine asking them to dance with me to a song like this. Wouldn't they look divine? ...Home, what on earth is wrong with me?"

The music stopped, and Home creaked.

"Lovesick? What are you talking about? I'm not sick, I feel fit as a fritter!"

Home's eyes rolled yet again, and the front door swung open with a squeak.

"You're right. Frank can explain it to me, I'm sure. He's very smart!"

With that, Wally set out towards Frank's house.

Meanwhile, you were in your own house, fussing over your clothing options. Clothes were strewn across your otherwise tidy bedroom as you dug through your closet and rejected nearly every article of clothing you owned.

But then, hanging at the very back, you spotted the miracle you were hoping for!

---------------------------------------------

(Option 1: a multicolored striped blazer and pants combo with a white dress shirt underneath and some red sneakers to keep it from being TOO dressy!)

(Option 2: a white, knee-length dress with multicolored polka-dots and a pair of red ballet flats. and for a cute little accessory, some red apple earrings!)

(...orrrrr any combo of the two! Up to you! Doesn't really matter, I just wanted to give some visuals here. Reminder: ya dress like a cartoon character because ya ARE one!)

---------------------------------------------

Oh, it was perfect! You'd been saving this outfit for a special occasion, and if a date wasn't the perfect situation, you didn't know what was!

You carefully hung it up for tomorrow, then made your way to the kitchen to pack the picnic basket.

As you sliced up an apple, you couldn't help but think about Wally. You'd only just met him that morning, and yet you already had a massive crush on the guy.

But who could blame you? There was just something so charming about him. And strangely suave, too. He seemed like the type of guy to bring you flowers and kiss your hand...a gentleman.

"Ow! Oh dear.."

Maybe cutting an apple wasn't the best time to be daydreaming...

"Tsk..."

You sighed, setting the knife down to go grab a bandage for the small cut on your finger.

But suddenly, there was a panicked knock on your door.

"Who in the world..?"

You settled for wrapping your finger in a tissue, and went to answer the door.

Wally stood, wide-eyed, on your stoop. He seemed worried.

"(Y-Y/n) I was walking by and heard you yelp!"

Your face felt a little hot. You didn't realize you'd been so loud...

"Oh, I'm sorry to worry you but I'm alright. I was slicing an apple for our picnic and...well...I suppose my mind was somewhere else. And silly me, I cut my finger a little..."

Wally's eyes shifted past you and looked at the knife on the counter, and his pupils grew and shrank again in a matter of just a second. You barely noticed.

"Thank goodness, I thought something terrible had happened. I don't know what I'd do if-...ah, would you like me to help you? I have bandages at Home.."

You were about to decline, when you realized something. You didn't have any of that stuff! You'd only just moved, after all.

So, you had to agree and let Wally lead you to his house.

Home's eyes fixed on you when they spotted you approaching with Wally. The door opened, but the squeak it made sounded like a question.

"(Y/n) is coming in for a moment so I can tend to the cut on their finger, if that's alright"

Home said nothing else, but the door remained open, so Wally nodded and brought you inside.

He had you sit on the couch while he retrieved a box of bandages and a cotton ball soaked in something that smelled like a hospital.

Carefully, he removed and threw away the tissue you'd wrapped around it, and looked it over. A tiny drop of blood trickled out and you winced, feeling like a little kid with a scraped knee again.

But Wally just smiled and brought your hand to his lips, gently licking away the drop as he gazed up at you lovingly. His pupils grew just a little, and you felt as if you would combust at any moment.

Wally chuckled and cleaned the cut with the cotton ball before wrapping a blue bandage around your finger and giving it a kiss.

"You've turned red, (y/n). Feeling alright~?"

"I-I don't...w-why did you...?"

He laughed.

"You're so silly, (y/n). It had to be wiped away, what was I supposed to do?"

You couldn't answer him. Your face was entirely too flushed and any nervous jumble of words your brain could think up just wouldn't come out no matter how hard you tried.

"Hey, I know! I'll sign your bandage. People do that with casts, I think! Barnaby says it helps the person feel better faster"

Suddenly, he was back to normal. Acting just as he did when you first met him.

Wally left the room for a moment and returned with a red crayon. He took your hand and gently wrote his name and a smiley face on the bandage before helping you up from the couch. He smiled at you.

"How's that? Does it feel better?"

"M-Much better. Thank you, Wally.."

You excused yourself so you could continue to get ready for tomorrow, and left, waving to Home as you went.

You shut the door to your own house and slid down it, finally being able to breathe and think.

What WAS that?! He licked your cut! Why?!

After a few deep breaths, you collected yourself and stood up, returning to the kitchen. You went to pick the knife back up, only to realize the blade had snapped off of the handle and was in several pieces...

"How did that happen..?" you wondered aloud. For some reason, looking at it gave you a nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach and you hastily threw it away.

As you did, you glanced at the bandage on your finger again. You weren't sure where the thought came from, but his name written on it almost felt like a claim over you more than a nice gesture.

And...why were you strangely okay with that...?

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Too much? 😅 That was a little intense, I know. But I promised yandere, and I keep my promises. Of course it's never gonna be a downright lemon 🍋 🚫 but who says it cant be just a liiiiiittle spicy? Just a dash of pepper, am I right?

Anyways, hope this was good 😊 more to come!

#wally darling #welcome home #welcome home fanfic #yandere welcome home #yandere wally darling #wally darling fanfic #obsessive wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally x reader #wally darling x you

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER FIVE: OATS

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink

This is chronologically the fifth chapter in the series

---

The day after the failed feast Dr Lecter enters your unhappy chamber to find you already awake, greasily feverish in the maelstrom of narcotic hangover. Moaning under the dripping cloth of your bedsheet, you wince from the light that punctures the room as Hannibal draws back the curtains with a determined flourish.

"This is what happens when you do not eat and drink enough, I'm afraid," he says, putting a lusciously cool hand to your brow. "The excitement around the table certainly didn't help matters. Had you been receptive, then you would have been hydrated, full-bellied, and ready for the day ahead. Alas, your mulish nature is the portcullis that refuses you entry into better health. I cannot raise it for you."

You haven't the life in you to retaliate to such sanctimonious jibes, and he well knows it.

Humming a strand of Vide Cor Meum, Hannibal glides about you, first plumping your pillow, then holding a glass of water to your lips until you must either drink, or drown. In fractured gulps you salve your chapped throat with it, then part your lips again for a spoon of porridge; to your surprise, the portion spilled from cutlery to tongue is slim, a suggestion of treaty, of a temporary kind.

"I will never make you eat more than is reasonable, little one," says Hannibal, meeting your narrowed stare so frankly that you are almost abashed by the look. "It would do you no good to upset your stomach any further. I will minimise your intake for a few days, at least."

The suggestion is so unbelievable that you search his plain expression for the merest taint of trickery.

"You're not... angry with me," you observe, at last.

Dr Lecter's head inclines.

"Any ill feelings between us were settled at dinner, were they not?"

He helps you to the bathroom, stepping politely outside the door as you list at a sloppy port-wise angle, gripping either side of the bowl with preventative force; you may fall should you let go, humiliate yourself in the necessity of further care.

That Hannibal reverts to a veneer of nurturing aid after an episode of violence with such undisturbed ease frightens you, as does your instinct to accept that profferred assistance. Too many years span from here to the last time you allowed yourself to do so, and though you know well Dr Lecter's malign in having manufactured such frailty, you may never regain the position to resist it without him.

As with Will, your way out of this house is to drive yourself further in.

"I'll return home early today," says Hannibal, as he eases you back into bed in stops and starts to accomodate each shimmer of nausea. "I can reschedule my afternoon appointments for another time."

"Don't bother," you mutter, against your pillow. "I want to be on my own."

"I'm aware of that. Nevertheless, I will be here to monitor you. If you're feeling better tonight, then I will conduct your next therapy session."

Fear flowers at your core, all thorn tipped leaves.

"I won't be better," you say, your lips still crushed to starched cotton. "That promise I made to you about trying— I can't stick to that. I can't be the person you need. And I can't eat. It's too hard for me."

Hannibal lays a hand on your back, soothing you as he might an infant with colic.

"I know," he says, simply. "Relapses are to be expected. Neither Will or I will admonish you for that. What I will not tolerate is rudeness. I have demonstrated what will occur if you do not keep your tongue in check."

At this your head snaps upright against the pull of sickness.

"Aren't you rude?" you ask, sharply. "And Will?"

Hannibal pats down your coverlet, quite unoffended.

"One might argue that is down to interpretation. I pride myself on cultivating elegance, which includes manners, as a matter of course. Will, however, is— unique. I overlook his cruder moments for the complexity layered beneath them. As for what we have done to you, it is unfortunate that you cannot observe the act through our eyes, and perceive its beauty, as well as your own."

To this, you have no answer. You can think only of snaring hands, of Will's stubble scarring your cheek, and the blood broken like bottled wine across your inner thighs, so much ugliness paraded as glory.

"Please drink the water I've left out for you," says Hannibal.

You do, for he will know, if you do not.

*

There was something in that glass, or the oats, you comprehend, for when you are next conscious you are propped upright in a leather chair, only part returned from witless repose.

A metronome clicks at your ear, back and forth.

Lights flash and cease, white and black their blinking through the timeless night in which Dr Lecter has you drown. You sit, or swim in it; you cannot tell. The fungal spell of Hannibal's cooking robs you of both voice and tether to the earth. You could be foam in a Homerean ocean, where men become pigs on its alien isles.

You too might be such a beast, or a child, or some sylph of amorphous matter trapped in such hampering skin.

The sound of your breath comes, shuttered and sharp.

A warm hand cups your chest, and your lungs seem to open to its gesture as though by unknown magic.

Then a voice murmurs from a face before you, its shape without edge, an orb.

"You are safe. You are cared for. You belong."

Like a switchblade across your eye the light comes again, and you are part of it, an impulse that is all life, all one.

Hannibal speaks your name, grounding you to him, as to a stack in some wild sea.

"I'm going to ask you some questions now," he tells you. "They may be difficult. Try to answer them honestly."

There is only a man here, there is only light; you cannot refuse them.

"Okay," you mumble.

Hannibal's pleasure in your answer is a current timed to the swishing metronome.

"How did your eating disorder begin?" he asks. "What did it look like, then?"

"Just a diet, at first," you say. "The meals got smaller and smaller. Then a lot of food scared me. I started counting calories. Throwing food out. Being around anyone eating was like I was being tortured. That's when I knew that something was really wrong with me."

You hear the scratch of a pen on an unseen pad.

"I see. And how did that realisation make you feel?"

"Nothing. I didn't care. Then I started to like it. Challenging myself. The compliments— feeling like I had something nobody else did, that I was so good at— It became everything I was. My identity, kind of."

How easy it is to speak, when you cannot see the expression of the listener before you.

"Trauma frequently shapes us in our formative years," Hannibal comments. "It is a natural response to build oneself in its image. So, let us retreat to older memories. Tell me of a time that you recall being afraid."

The flashing light numbs to an ebbing glow.

"There was this guy," you say. "A guy that my dad was friends with. Still is. His name is Leland Frost. He used to come over to our house all the time. He was always so friendly, but I knew that there was something wrong with him. There was something in his eyes, the way he laughed too much, or stood too close to me. Like he was putting on a rubber Hallowe'en mask of a regular guy, and everyone was just pretending it was fine, but they really weren't pretending."

"Elaborate."

You gnaw at your lower lip until you taste warm iron, and consider spitting out the calories.

"I tried to tell people about it," you say. "But Dad could never see it. He'd just say, 'oh, that's just Lee. Silly old Uncle Lee. That's just how he is.' But I knew. I saw him. I smelled the cheap rubber mask."

"Did this Uncle Lee ever hurt you?" asks Hannibal, softly. "Touch you in an inappropriate manner?"

This memory is dusky, a cobwebbed photograph.

"I don't know," you admit, at last. "I always thought he wanted to, though. I always thought the minute my parents left me alone with him something bad would happen. The waiting was always the worst part."

A pause, in which you sense rather than see Dr Lecter watching you through the dark-light-darkness.

"But maybe it wasn't Uncle Lee that I was waiting for," you say, at last. "Maybe it was you and Will."

The gloom becomes further marred by tears, and you feel a box of tissues being pressed into your loose hand.

"That's enough for today," says Hannibal, rising from his seat. "You've done well for me. This calls for a reward."

He crosses the room to pick up a telephone, glancing at you with an unintelligible heat in his eyes.

"Good evening," he says, into the receiver. "I hope this is a convenient time for you. Yes, that is correct; I'm calling about your daughter's progress. I am very satisfied with her cooperation today. We are approaching some early milestones."

Hearing the tinny, distant voices of your parents, you struggle towards a lucidity that feels so desperately out of touch.

Hannibal crosses the room towards you again and turns the phone away from his mouth to murmur, "I will allow you a few words to them, if you will be sensible."

By this he means: if you do not give the game away.

You nod your head jerkily and extend a fist as Dr Lecter introduces you into the conversation.

"She is here, now. Somewhat tired, but all is well."

You clenched the receiver to your ear, tears coming in such a quick patter that, at first, you can only sit in hyperventilating silence as your parents babble at you, their voices sharp with an underlying guilt.

"How are you, honey? It's so good to hear from you! We love you! Is everything okay?"

Each day you've been parted from them you've missed them as you would your most vital structures, with a sore and deathly strength, yet your love is not so stark as your disappointment in being so abandoned by them.

"No," you say, at last. "I'm not okay, Mom. Dad. How could you send me away and not even warn me?"

The babbling rises, panic in male and female iteration.

"We had no other choice. It was all we could think to do! We tried everything. But Dr Lecter's helping you, isn't he?"

Hannibal's stare is, itself, a warning.

Pressing your knuckles to your anguished mouth, you pass the telephone back to him, not trusting yourself not to scream for help and damn yourself to the harshest punishment that such an executioner of free will might hand to you.

"She is overwrought," says Dr Lecter, apologetically. "I'll call again next week."

He hangs up, and leans across to clean the tears from your face himself, ensuring the tissue is discarded in a wastpaper basket; even in this he must be perfect, organised and pristine. You hate him for it, this performance he makes of his life, preserving such details as no one would be likely to notice but him.

"I wish you hadn't let me talk to them," you whisper. "Now I feel even worse."

"Of course you do," says Hannibal. "Your family betrayed you. It would be much more unusual if you held no resentment towards them at all."

You squint up at him in accusation.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Leaving a wound open may sometimes allow it to dry, and subsequently heal. You will not advance without acknowledging the harm your parents have done to you, whether through dispatching you to me without consent, or by ignoring your justifiable fear of Leland Frost. The map to your mental injury is unfurling before us: the continents take shape, as do the names that mark each turn in your unhappy life. In time, I will know them all."

Weeping, you slip down in your chair, not wanting to see the truth that thrusts itself up from the outcrop of evil.

"I will help you to your room," says Dr Lecter. "More sleep is in order, I think."

*

Will Graham enters the house some time in the night; you hear his low voice through the floorboards as you lie in swaying wakefulness, wondering what brings the professor here at so late an hour. He stays for so long that he accepts an invite into one of Hannibal's spare rooms, a fact that you discern from the voices passing your door in the hallway.

Again you sleep, though not pleasantly, your psyche disturbed by the third presence in the building, and by the lasting bruise of Dr Lecter's relentless torments.

In this sleep you dream of an antlered thing burying you in a terracotta wood, its face so darkly passive as soil smothers your airways that you might well be a bone, stored there to be gnawed at some late and starving hour.

When you emerge from this haunted slumber you still feel the threads of it still noosed around you; dream-sick, drug-thick, you stagger across your bedroom and, finding the door unlocked, tumble on into the hallway beyond.

By chance you find Will's room, letting yourself into quarters that smell of night-sweat, and pine, and male musk. You scarcely know what you do as you climb into bed with him against his salty heat, nor why it is he, of your abusers, that you seek.

Will starts awake, wild-haired and horrified as he senses your body beside him. Your name bolts from his lips, scarcely recognisable, the utterance of an animal groomed to speak a human tongue.

"What are you doing here? You should be in your own room."

Keeping your back to him, you drowsily reply.

"Had a bad dream."

Will breathes an ironic laugh.

"And you think you'll sleep any better in my bed? I destroyed you, remember?"

Self-blame, self-loathing, all jagged and tail-swallowing teeth.

"No," you mumble. "He did. Not you, Daddy."

You feel Will sit up behind you, scratching a hand through his unruly curls.

"You're not in your right mind," he announces, gruffly. "I'd better tell Dr Lecter to stop giving you whatever medication you're on. It's not good for you. No wonder you're having nightmares."

Still, he doesn't attempt to turn you out of bed, or to call Hannibal to eject you on his behalf. He only slouches, gazing at you, until you turn on your side to look back at his pretty, troubled face in its nest of brindled shadow.

Will's shoulders still droop in a mode of shame, yet the black of the room deepens the blue of his eyes into a yearning colour through which many a woman would gladly fall. He wants you here, you realise, perhaps likes the power he holds in having you soft and needful beside him, in his lair, after all he's done.

You should detest him for feeling it, and you do.

But recognising that craving within him reawakens the understanding of that power you may yet hold over him, in return, the mistress of a cur that bites all but those that direct the leash.

It is a long way off, this control, but the taste of it will do, for now.

"Let me stay," you implore, fluttering sodden eyelashes in a coquettish attempt to convince him. "Please? Just for tonight? I don't want that dream to come back."

You'll loathe yourself for this, in the morning, but now all you care for is the night. Will seems to be having the same thought, for he lies back down on the mattress again, taking care to leave ample space between you.

How does he compartmentalise his violence—his taste for it—from his revulsion towards you, and further still from the empathy that stirs in him like a stamped out fire?

"Just one night," says Will, sternly. "I don't know what Hannibal is going to say about this."

You pull the quilt up under your chin, almost giddy with your achievement, and with it the comfort that pours over you like a September afternoon. This strange happiness you will remember, and wonder at, when all you should have known were the tatters of despair.

"Dr Lecter left my door unlocked," you say, as Will moves in restless, settling motions at your back, still refusing to make contact with your skin. "So it's really his fault I'm here, you know."

At this Will half-rises again, but whatever question or comment he murmurs is lost to your abrupt slumber.

By morning he is gone, and you are alone again, only the scent of the monster remaining about you to mark out your miserable self-treachery.

He is not there to see you thrust the sheets against your face and inhale their bitter stink, if only to claw back the triumph of having made vulnerable a man so very closed to contact of the most human kind.

He is not there, and he is everywhere.

Will is as part of this house as Dr Lecter, now.

#ao3 writer #manna fic #yandere will graham #yandere hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #tw darkfic #tw eating disorders #tw anorexia #tw abuse #tw drugs #tw noncon #dead dove do not eat #hannibal lecter fic

[chaithetics]

i absolutely adore your stewy fic and have re-read it 50 times already 😭😭 would love a small sequel based on the 9th episode of him supporting the reader during the funeral and butting in to defend her/hold when she breaks down without caring about what other think, im not kidding when i say i’ve read it 50 times i can’t believe i’ve found a fic this good that’s touched the part of my brain obsessed with stewy and starches it to well i adore you

Don't Let Me Go

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Author's note: THANK YOU SO MUCH NONNIE! I ADORE AND LOVE YOU! Every time I think about this request or read it, I'm kicking my feet and twirling my hair. This is so sweet and just the highest praise ever! WOW. I appreciate you, it was so sweet and I really hope you enjoy this! Please let me know what you think and feel free to message me! I love grief-related shows/movies (I love to be in my feels) so this was quite the interesting one. I apologise for any sadness this fic causes. I have more requests that aren't sad dw! Always open to Stewy requests as well. This can be read as a stand-alone/sequel to Furtive Hands. This also HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD lol. I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter/content warning: established/secret relationship, GRIEF, GRIEF, funeral, some fluff but just funeral grief and supportive Stewy.

The last week had been miserable, there was no other way to describe it or to do it justice. It should be raining, that would make sense for the funeral of such a commanding and depressing man, there also should’ve been thunder and lightning. Now that would’ve done justice for the thunderous man that your father was but maybe there was no thunder in the sky because it all left with him. 

You’re sitting in the backseat of the car with Shiv right in front of you as you wait for your brothers, both of the Roy daughters are dressed head to toe in black and a fine picture of grief. You’d gladly taken the backseat, it was worth the small risk of motion sickness, it meant it would be easier to distance yourself from any potential, yet inevitable drama. 

Shiv had a glassy expression that was hard to read, you picked up that there was something there that wasn’t just grief. You sat up a bit and leaned over closer, so your arms were resting on the back of her seat. 

“Are you okay?” You asked softly. 

Shiv’s head quickly turned to look at you, grief was there, some unshed tears in her eyes and she looked like a deer in headlights. Her lip trembled for a second and then she sighed and her blue eyes pierced yours. 

“Full disclosure…?” 

“Go.” You immediately replied and Shiv’s body moved more into your direction. 

“I really uh, fucked things up… Ken found out and Mencken, well he’s a form of stabbing a knife in return.” She breathed out and her eyes quickly left yours as she looked down at her body. “And I’m fucking pregnant, I-I told Tom and well he thought it was a fucking tactic.” She humourlessly chuckles as her eyes move to focus on the ceiling of the car. 

“Holy shit, Shiv.” You moved closer off your seat to rest your head on the top of the back of the seat dividing you two and put your hands out to hold hers, squeezing them softly and doing your best to genuinely smile for her. “I’m sorry, that’s a fucking lot. But congratulations! Congratulations? Should I be saying congratulations? If not we can go and sort it out, I’ll go with you if you want. Anything you need.” 

Shiv nodded as she kept her hand in yours and used her free hand to rub at her face a little. “I thought about it but I’m going to keep it. It’s fine. Thank you though. I’m planning to tell mom and that today so yeah.” 

“Thanks for telling me.” You responded giving her hand another squeeze and she nodded. After a few seconds, she let go of your hand and turned back around in her seat and not long after that your brothers joined you both. 

*******************

It had been an awkward car ride, you’d sunk into your seat, looking out the window as Roman and Shiv argued. You didn’t say a word, Kendall had eventually intervened and called for a truce which was agreed upon. Kendall had discussed Rava leaving the city with the kids which you thought was justified and you struggled to not call Kendall out, having to bite your tongue and fully focus your gaze on the windows. Right now was not the right time for sibling arguments. You’re sure that Kendall saw your pointed expression before looking out the window again. 

This had been tougher than you’d imagined. Roman had immediately broken during the speech, everything that hadn’t come out of him did then. Kendall had taken over, with a speech that had been well received but genuinely made you uncomfortable. Ever since you’d all sat down you’d been close to Roman, one hand gently on his back and the other hand holding his, he had a tight grip on it but he was doing slightly better now. Well, he was visibly. 

Each sentence that comes out of your sibling’s mouths feels like a blow and the casket is haunting you. Not as much as Roman though you suppose, if he wasn’t firmly planted onto the pew and with a pale, iron grip on your hands you thought you’d maybe float away. Or maybe you’d just sink down with the pressure of all the eyes, tears and smirks. 

As Shiv speaks, you know she’s right, her words about being his daughter have never been easy and it’s starting to get hot. Too hot. Sure there are hundreds of people in the church but it’s too hot even with that, you’re starting to overheat and your thoughts are overcrowding your brain. 

You look at Roman, your hand on his back and your other one holding his hand. You bite your lip, trying to force tears not to come. Unsuccessfully though. 

“I’m sorry, yeah, um I’m sorry Rome.” You let go of his hand and quickly move to squeeze past Connor and Willa in the pew. 

All of their eyes follow you in concern, you start to fidget with the corner of your sleeve while trying to regulate your breathing as you walk off to the side of the Church. You don’t know where to go, it doesn’t feel like anywhere is an option but it feels like you just need to leave. Anywhere but here, home or any place that’s ever had that title. Your mind is racing with that train of thought and another million ones, none are easier than the last though. It’s becoming overwhelming,  impossible. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it and you can feel it beating so quickly it’s trying to carve itself out of your chest. It’s all so claustrophobic.  

An arm grabs you and you turn around to see that it’s Connor. 

“Hey, hey. Are you okay?” 

“It’s just a lot, I don’t think I can be- I don’t really want to be in here right now.” You quietly say, trying not to choke on the inevitable sobs. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” 

Connor’s gaze is focused on you and it’s gentle. Which somehow feels more intense, it amplifies the feeling of being under a microscope. You tug at your sleeve again as you feel the tears starting to get worse, you try to bite your lip as tightly as possible to stop the incoming sobs from arriving, to distract from the emotional pain with something physical. 

It doesn’t work though. 

You start to step away from Connor as your crying can now be heard, Roman stays frozen in the pew still trying to find some of his abandoned composure. Kendall’s noticed that this isn’t a toilet break and that Connor’s intervention isn’t cutting it and starts to make his way over. 

Kendall quickly realises that he’s not the only one who’s noticed and who is making their way over. Kendall’s compassion for you is still somewhat intact but today, controlling the narrative and putting out fires is his priority. 

“Stew, go. People are going to talk.” Kendall sternly whispers with a disappointed look, doing his best to communicate his point without drawing anymore attention to the scene. 

“Let them talk, I don’t fucking care Ken.” Stewy spits out with widened eyes. 

“You don’t want this story to break today, trust me.” 

“If it broke today it would drown in the rest of the funeral, Roman and the fucking GoJo numbers. You know that. Everybody does, it’s why Shiv and Matsson leaked it today.” 

“Follow the money back to your fucking seat.” 

“The money isn’t my priority here. She’s my partner.” Stewy says, Kendall scoffs and they both quietly walk over towards you and Connor. But you’ve been too overwhelmed to have noticed any of that interaction or them joining you and Connor in your weird corner towards the back of the church. 

“I need to- it’s so hot in here. It’s really fucking crowded, I know that you want a good turn out at a funeral but this is- it’s so unnecessary you know?” You cry out rambling and Connor’s concern shows more. You hadn’t publicly broken over your father’s death yet and Connor hadn’t seen you cry since you were a child. 

“Yeah, sure. Sure. A lot of people”

“It’s just so hot in here. I need cold air. Maybe some wine? Do you think there’s uh w-wine around? It’s a church, there’s bound to be wine, it’s Catholic- Holy Communion and all… Fuck.” 

“I don’t think there’s wine here you can drink.” Connor’s voice breaks a little.  

“I can’t do this, I don’t want to be in here. Connor please? Just I don’t know- I don’t fucking know.” You sob out and the tears and sobs just don’t stop. Connor puts his arms around you and does his best to keep some composure for your sake. 

Kendall and Stewy have now come over, Connor’s arms are still around you but you feel a hand on your back. One that rubs a little circle and you recognise that little pattern, the pressure, the touch itself. 

“Stewy?” You whisper out between a little sob.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is soft and gentle as he continues to rub your back like he has a dozen times over the last several days. 

“I just- uh. I just, it’s so hot and claustrophobic. I needed air.” You’ve now left Connor’s arms to press yourself into Stewy’s side, his arms quickly replacing Connor’s as they wrap around you. You’re too overwhelmed to even consider or worry that your tears and makeup might be rubbing on his blazer. 

“I know.” 

Kendall is standing in an attempt to shield the rest of the world from this interaction, Connor’s hand is on your shoulder now. Stewy looks at Connor, tilting his head slightly towards you. Stewy smiles at Connor and nods, silently communicating that it’s okay and Connor can go back, which he does after squeezing your shoulder softly. 

“Can we- can- I need to go outside. I need air.” You muffle into Stewy’s side. Kendall pointedly looks at Stewy. 

“I know baby, I know. But there’s a lot of people outside still and cameras still.” Stewy says, as he rubs at your back comfortingly. Stewy isn’t worried about people seeing you both out there but about people seeing you in this state and it being immortalised in the media. 

“Fuck.” You mutter and the sobs become louder, more painful and desperate. 

You knew today would be hard, nothing was easy with your father. But you didn’t expect today to be so awful and to feel so trapped, he was gone, you shouldn’t feel like this but you just felt vulnerable, like the defenseless kid you were trapped in your childhood. Under a microscope for hundreds to zoom in on your pain, today wasn’t suffering just for your father’s amusement. 

“Yeah. We can get some air at the cemetery and take the long way back to the reception? Stop off somewhere if you want?” He asks softly. 

“We all came together-” Kendall starts. 

“I know-” Stewy quietly interjects. 

“I think I’ll go with Stewy, Ken.” You say quietly, you peek out a little from Stewy, puffy faced and wet with tears. Kendall doesn’t look super impressed at that, you can tell but he just gives a small nod.

There’s something about Stewy, his mere presence is a salve on your soul. Being buried into his side, being able to try focusing on the scent of his cologne instead of everyone and everything else is helping you remember how to breathe again. Your lungs remember how it all works again with Stewy at your side. 

“Do you want to sit down again before it ends?” Stewy gently inquires now that he’s noticed that your breathing is a bit more normal and the sobbing is more contained.  

“Sit with me?” Stewy nods. Kendall scoffs quietly but audibly and takes one of your hands and walks back to the front row pew of Roys, Stewy’s hand is gently on your back as he follows. You sit at the furthest end from Kendall, sandwiched between Willa and Stewy. Willa offers you a small but gentle smile and you press into Stewy’s side as he holds your hand in his. 

“Snot siblings.” Roman says as he finally looks at you, leaning across to give you a tissue. “Courtesy of the old Gerr-bear.” He adds as he refuses to look at the woman behind him. 

“Oh, thank you.” You whisper quietly and he nods looking away, just across from him. 

You’re aware that there’s more attention on you now over your little breakdown and at the development of Stewy coming over and then being at the front Roy children pew, Willa’s there of course but not even Tom or Rava are. You can tell Stewy’s aware of this as well as you look at his handsome side profile, he notices you staring and smiles at you, his arm around you squeezes you softly and he brings the hand of yours that he’s been holding in his lap up for a soft, sweet kiss. 

“Just breathe.” He whispers quietly as your hand in his goes back into his lap. You take a deep breathe, even consumed in your grief and the horror of this day you are so grateful for him. 

Despite the context, there is something freeing and peaceful about that. Being able to hold your hand in front of hundreds of people, kiss it and sit next to you. Stewy feels it deeply in his soul and while you perhaps can’t appreciate that right now, you can feel it too. 

****************

You didn’t stay to receive condolences like Kendall did. You immediately left with Stewy, ignoring the pointed and curious looks from everyone as he had an arm around you as you both quickly walked, he held the door open for you and you both sat in the backseat. 

As soon as you both were in and that door closed, you couldn’t help it. You just started crying. It was so overwhelming. 

“Hey, hey baby.” Stewy whispered into your hair as he pulled you tightly into him, he pressed some soft kisses to the top of your head. “I’ve got you.” He said softly. He was so soft with you today. But Stewy was always soft with you. 

Stewy held you tightly for the rest of the drive and when the car got to the cemetery you tilted your head, so you were still pressed against his chest and looked up. 

“Everybody knows now.” He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, it was a fact either way. 

“Yeah-” 

“Are you okay with that? I’m sorry-” You asked quietly, letting out a little hiccup. Tears still in your eyes. 

“I don’t fucking care who knows. I love you. You baby. The whole world can know and there’s a lot going on today, I think this will be the least of anybody’s concerns or key takeaways. I just care about you.” 

You lean up to give him a soft kiss on the lips, which he eagerly but gently returns. 

“I love you too.” 

“That always helps.” He says and you let out a dry chuckle at that, as you bite your lip looking out the tinted window. “Should we try one of those exercises?” 

“Exercises? I don’t think we can fuck in your car at the cemetery when everyone is here to dispose of my dad-” You say with another dry laugh but some more tears come to stain your cheeks. 

“No, no, no baby.” Stewy chuckles and flashes you a charming smile. “Those like grounding, breathing, you’re an amazing professional ones? Oh the colour one! Um, what’s something purple you can see?” 

You look at Stewy in awe of his sweetness despite the douchey exterior most have to deal with. Your eyes briefly skim around the car and the sea of people in black outside. 

“We’re at a funeral, everyone’s wearing black… Where’s the purple Stewy?” You ask in a tone as teasing as possible but a small sob comes out of you. 

“Well you know I have nothing against outfit repeating but I’d worn a purple blazer to the wake- that wasn’t even a week ago baby. There’s a line, and it would’ve crossed the line. With the turtleneck and trousers and a purple blazer it would’ve looked like I was wearing the same outfit. I can’t do that, not in a week, let alone for two death-related events. People would know.” Stewy rambles on. 

You can’t help but laugh at his ramble, only he would be acutely aware of that and have considered this all in great detail. You laugh into his blazer and nod. He wears a large smile on his face as he notices that this seems to have cheered you up somewhat. There’s still tears but that’s to be expected, he’s just glad that there’s somehow some smiles and laughs in there as well. 

You press yourself into him tightly, inhaling his comforting scent and presence. “Don’t let me go. Not out there, in here. Ever, please.” 

“I’d never dream of it, baby..” Stewy says softly as he presses a kiss into your head and then you both leave the car holding hands.

#stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x you #stewy hosseini imagine #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini x f reader #stewy hosseini x roy!reader #stewy hosseini fic #stewy hosseini fanfic #stewy hosseini fluff #succession #hbo succession #succession s4 #succession hbo #succession roy reader #succession fic #kendall roy #roman roy #connor roy #shiv roy #siobhan roy #arian moayed #arian moayed fanfiction #arian moayed characters #successionfanfiction #succession fandom #fanfic #teamstewy

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Hi. I was wondering if you'd be willing to write an kind of AU where Sihtric can actually hear people's thoughts. Something like telepathy. And he meets Reader and he can hear all her thoughts also about himself. That would be kind of scary 😂 but also I'm sure you'd make it super fun. I don't care if you make it medieval or modern,anything you'd like.

Note: giving u all a break from my Halloween fic as I edit the next chapters. And oh my god, this idea was so cute! I could've made this SUCH a long fic, but I got too much going on already, so I kept it simple. hope you like it!

Warnings: suggestive, lots of curse words...

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

Summary: Sihtric noticed a new library employee, and you certainly had loud thoughts about him.

Word count: 1,8k 

Masterlist

'I just can't focus on the words anymore.'

Sihtric worked from home, as it was the only way he could keep a job. And to prevent himself from isolating, he goes to the library every day, when his work was done. He had been going to the library ever since he recently moved, and by now he already knew all the employees by face, and thoughts. But today, as he had to return a book he had borrowed, he saw someone new behind the service desk. Someone seemingly innocent who took his breath away at first glance.

*******************

Sihtric was blessed with a curse. He was one of the very few who was able to hear other people's thoughts. It had driven him insane when he grew up. But as he got older, he learned how to deal with it. He could almost tune it out, so to speak, but it was still always there. He was sick and tired of the people in his hometown, so he had recently moved. He found the library in his new city a lovely place, as it was quiet and with little people around, and those who were around usually had no thoughts going on, because they were reading or writing in peace.

'Hi,' you looked up from your computer, 'how can I help you?' Holy shit, you thought, which Sihtric heard.

'Hey,' Sihtric smiled, 'eh, I'd like to return this book.'

'Sure thing, you got your library card?' what the fuck…

'Of course, hold on, it's somewhere in my backpack,' Sihtric said and started rummaging around in the bag.

Where did this guy come from? Oh my god… what a babe. That jawline, that accent, those arms- wait, are those scars on his face? Oh my… I sure like a bad boy. And that hair! Oh, sweet Jesus, the wild hair. Wait, what book is he returning… you glanced at the book on your desk, damn, A Brief History of Time? Okay… pretty boy got the brains too...

Sihtric smirked as he looked for his library card. He usually didn't enjoy hearing what people thought of him, but you had to be the prettiest lady he had ever seen. And he was happy to hear you thought he wasn't bad himself.

'Here,' he handed you the card and looked into your eyes.

What the fuck, he has two different coloured eyes? IS THAT EYELINER? Oh my fucking god, I am very unwell right now…

'Thanks,' you smiled as you took his card. 

Are those lines tattooed on his fingers? Jesus fucking christ, I'd let this guy rail me in the backroom right now…

Sihtric suddenly coughed and tried to compose himself as you scanned his card and the book he's returning.

'There you go. Anything else?' you pushed his library card back over your desk and smiled. If you need any help… anything… ANYTHING

'It's taken care of?' he asked while putting the card back in his backpack, trying not to smile.

'Yep, you can borrow another book again if you wish.' do you want me to read you anything? At night? In bed perhaps?

'Thanks,' he smiled, 'not to be nosy, but… are you new here? I've been here daily for a few weeks now, ever since I moved, and I haven't seen you before.'

Aha, new guy in town I see… well, hello...

'Oh, no, I've been working here for years,' you said, 'but I was on holiday, only returning last weekend. So back to work it is.' you are hotter than the temperature on that island I was at…

'I see,' Sihtric chuckled, 'a damn shame time flies when you're on holiday, right?'

'A damn shame,' you smiled. A damn shame you're probably not single…

'I am,' Sihtric blurted out.

'W-what?' you froze. What the fuck?! 

'I mean,' Sihtric cleared his throat, 'I… I am Sihtric,' he saved himself, holding his hand out to you.

'S-Sihtric,' you smiled, 'I'm (y/n),' you said and shook his hand. Fuck, I love a guy with a firm handshake. I wonder what else is firm about him…

'Nice to meet you,' Sihtric tried to suppress a grin, 'I'll be seeing you around.' He winked before he turned his back to you, on his way to pick another book to read.

He did not just wink. Did he wink? Oh my god. OH. MY. GOD. I have to text the girls…

Sihtric chuckled to himself as he heard your thoughts. He scanned his eyes over numerous titles until he found something that seemed interesting, before he purposely went to sit close to the service desk. Close to you. 

You looked up as you saw movements in the corner of your eye, and you found Sihtric smiling at you as he sat down. Sir, the whole library is free… why… why must you sit there. A torture.

'Found a new one to read,' Sihtric said, holding up a book.

'Enjoy,' you chuckled. My god, he is cute. He is ridiculously cute. And hot. That's it, I'm calling the cops. This is a whole crime… I better call the fire brigade too. AND the medics, because someone needs to check my pulse…

Sihtric hid his face behind his book and couldn't stop smiling. He thought you were cute, yet not that innocent though. But Sihtric didn't mind that, because if he was honest; he would totally rail you in the backroom too right now. But he was a gentleman, for now, and you were at work. 

******************

Do your job, girl, come on. Stop letting your eyes wander to the insanely hot guy with the strange name- oh, fuck no!

Sihtric looked up from his book.

'Hello, beautiful!' a man said as he walked up to you.

'Shhh! This is a library!' you hissed quietly, 'how many times do I have to tell you?'

'I know, I know,' the man said more quietly now, 'just came here to see you again.'

I know, you fucking creep. You smiled.

'So, you never answered my question the other day… when I was here?' the man said and leaned over the counter, peeking at your legs under your work skirt. I'd make good work of those legs, mhm.

Sihtric grimaced at the unheard interaction. You were clearly creeped out by the guy, and rightfully so, he was old enough to be your grandfather, but he clearly had other ideas than slipping you some money to go and buy an ice cream, you know, the thing grandfathers are supposed to do.

'I'm sorry, but it's a work policy that I cannot go out with customers,' you said politely. This lie better fucking work…

'Oh, come on,' the man said. One night, he thought, that's all I need to ravag-

'Lady?' Sihtric called out to you, 'do you have a moment?'

'Yes!' you rushed away from the old creep. Oh thank god, praise the lord. Wait, better grab that clipboard and hold it behind my back so the creep can't check out my ass…

'Do you need something?' you asked Sihtric.

'Not really,' he whispered, 'but, I couldn't help noticing…' Sihtric cocked his head slightly towards the old man.

Fucking hell, that's how obvious it is? This is so embarrassing…

'Yeah,' you said softly, 'he's been hitting on me for months,' you made a grossed out face, 'I keep telling him no but he keeps coming back.'

'Won't your boss do anything about that?'

'My boss?' you scoffed, 'he doesn't give a shit about the employees.' He only cares about money. He doesn't even care that the creep waits outside until closing time, following me home…

'Can I help you somehow?' Sihtric asked, concerned about the behaviour of the man and the way no one seemed to care.

Oh my god, he's so fucking cute… why can't this guy wait outside for me until closing time...

'No,' you smiled weakly, 'that's…that's really sweet, but there's nothing you can do, I'm afraid.' But you could hold me in those muscular arms…

'Okay,' Sihtric said, 'does he… does he stick around?' he carefully asked.

'Yeah, the creep figured out my shifts… his name is Aethelhelm, by the way, I guess calling "the creep" is a bit rude.'

'No worries,' Sihtric smiled, 'he looks like a creep.'

'He is,' you laughed softly and looked into Sihtric's eyes. Fuck… this guy is so beautiful. Wait, did his eyes just light up?

Sihtric quickly looked away and bit down on his lip.

'Anyway,' you cleared your throat, 'I… I should get back to work. Back to the creep,' you made a face, to which Sihtric smiled. 'But thanks for the distraction.'

'Anytime, lady,' Sihtric said and gave you a small nod. And he couldn't help checking out your ass when you walked back to your desk, and he bit down a smile when he heard your thoughts.

Yeah... I'd totally let him do me in the backroom…

**********************

'You finished that book already?' you asked about an hour later, when you saw Sihtric got up and was on his way to head out of the library. What kind of question is that, you dumbass. Well done being smooth…

'I guess,' you smiled. I hope so…

'No,' Sihtric smiled and shrugged. He had been glancing at you the whole time when you managed to focus on your work again, and his eyes kept trailing back to you. 

'I just can't focus on the words anymore,' Sihtric continued, 'so that's my signal to go home. I'll see you around.'

*******************

'No, no, no,' you sighed when you saw Aethelhelm was waiting for you again as you closed the library. Maybe if I'm really fast he won't be able to catch up with me...

You quickly locked the door and almost sprinted around the corner, where you bumped into someone.

'I'm sorry!' you blurted out. Oh my god… oh no…oh no, I'm feeling myself blush!

'Oh, hey,' Sihtric smiled, 'are you okay? You look a little spooked.'

'Yeah, fine,' you lied and glanced back over your shoulder, 'just eager to get home.' 

And get away from that fucking creep! Oh, no. No he's coming over. Oh for fuck sakes.

You looked back at Sihtric. I hope you will forgive me…

You grabbed Sihtric by his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. It took him a few seconds to adapt to the situation. He already knew you were hiding from Aethelhelm, but didn't quite expect this. Yet he wasn't complaining, and he kissed you back without hesitation.

Fuck he's a good kisser, you thought, and Sihtric smiled against your lips as he pulled you closer. 

Oh my god, you moaned softly against his lips, oh my god, fuck, he's so hot. Wait, what is he doing, you felt Sihtric's hands slide down your lower back, onto your ass. Sihtric knew "the creep" would see it, and he also knew what you had been thinking about earlier that day, so he amusingly squeezed your ass, firmly.

Oh, fuck, those hands… oh dear lord, I will be thinking about him tonight…  

You raked your fingers through his loose hair, kissing him as Sihtric pushed you back towards the library entrance while "the creep" had already turned and left, looking upset. 

Wait… you thought as you were pushed up against the library door, his lips still pressed onto yours, what… what is he doing… the library is closed…

'You wish to be railed in the backroom, lady?' Sihtric grinned

Oh, sweet Jesus, it's like he can read my thoughts, yes, please...

******************

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#modern!sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: nausea, hangover, the park jimin effect, drinking, cursing? a time skip of a month

☆word count: 9.6k

☆a/n: why is posting making me anxious? fun fact, I'm posting from New York City this week! Went to the two first Agust D concerts ayyy

☆a/n pt2: always and forever thankful for @moonleeai and her dedicated work as my beta reader <3

☆series masterpost here

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, May 19th

                Jungkook feels sick. Sick of everything, but mostly sick because his hungover has kept him in bed all day. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to pull up for dance practice later. All he knows is that his room has been spinning whenever he wakes up from naps, and that he fucked up majestically last night.

He doesn’t quite remember everything he said. He just remembers you, in his room, and then you being gone, replaced by Jimin and Taehyung.

The only thing he knows is that you know. The text that’s been sitting on his phone all day is reminder enough.

[11:12 am] You: hey, i hope ur okay this morning.. if u ever wanna talk about last night, we can grab a coffee or smth😌

He doesn’t know what to say, so he hasn’t replied. Because he’s not okay at all, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Especially not with you.

Especially not when he hasn’t been able to eat anything since the first time he woke up today. It’s nearing 4 pm now, and he technically needs to be at the studio in two hours. Hobi already said he’d pick him up, but he’s still far from being presentable right now.

Jungkook groans, hiding his face in his pillow. You come up in his mind, the look of horror on your face last night making everything spin around him twice as much as before. Whenever he closes his eyes, you’re there, and he almost hopes to go blind.

Though he’s pretty sure you’d find a way to haunt him even if he was blind.

Another groan escapes him, and he turns his head to the side as someone knocks on his door. “Uh?” he lets out, loud enough for whoever it is to hear.

He’s surprised to see it’s Yoongi as the man opens the door. “I made you soup,” Yoongi says, and sure enough he is carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup on top of it.

Jungkook expects the thought of eating to make him feel worse, but surprisingly enough, no nausea rises inside of him. Instead, he realizes his stomach feels dreadfully empty, so he forces himself to sit, wincing at the throbbing pain at his temples.

It’s almost enough to make him forget the pain in his leg.

“Did you take any painkillers?” Yoongi asks as he puts down the tray at the foot of the bed. “And have you drank any water?”

“Yes and yes,” Jungkook replies, voice raucous from disuse. “Pretty sure I could use some more painkillers though.”

Yoongi nods, watching his younger friend carefully. “Do you need me to go get you some?”

Jungkook slowly shakes his head no. “I need to get out of bed if I want to make it to dance practice.”

At that Yoongi laughs. “Good luck with that.”

Jungkook frowns, glaring at Yoongi. “I’m very capable, I’ll have you know.”

“Your room smells like someone died in here.”

Though he’s usually sensitive to smell, Jungkook’s hungover state keeps him from being able to tell if the room really does stink. “Tae and Jimin cleaned up.”

“Then you must be the dead body,” Yoongi says, in that deadpan kind of way of his. He shrugs his shoulders, before adding, “Anyway, just eat and then take a shower. I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

Jungkook nods and watches as Yoongi makes to move out of his room. Yoongi’s at the door when Jungkook says, “Hyung?” Yoongi turns around, a quizzical look on his features. “Thank you for the soup.”

A smile breaks out across Yoongi’s face. “Anytime.”

And then Yoongi leaves, shutting the door softly behind him, and Jungkook is left alone once again. He looks down at the soup, and he realizes he really is hungry. He pulls the tray closer to him, making sure the soup doesn’t spill over the rim of the bowl, before grabbing the spoon.

The first spoonful of soup has his eyes fluttering shut with delight. Yoongi’s always been an amazing cook, and he hasn’t disappointed today. It awakens Jungkook more than anything else could have, and he’s finished the bowl of soup so quickly he almost considers eating the tray.

He’s still famished, but at least he’s got something in his stomach now. It’s enough to get him to stand from his bed, and though everything wobbles for a few seconds, he’s able to start gathering what he’ll need for his trip to the shower.

The shower really helps make him feel human again, and he’s relieved. As he steps out and looks at himself in the mirror, eyes dipping to his scars, he feels ready to confront the whole world if need be. He won’t have to bail on dance practice after all.

He’s down in the kitchen, eating some reheated pizza from last night, when Hobi arrives. His older friend pats him on the back, before putting down a Gatorade in front of him.

“Thought you’d need this,” he says, before climbing on the stool next to Jungkook.

Jungkook chuckles, immediately uncapping the Gatorade to take a long swig. It’s the last thing he needed to feel as good as new, and he offers Hobi a wide grin as soon as he puts the bottle down.

“I sure did,” he says, and the two friends laugh.

One thing that doesn’t change though, is the heaviness in Jungkook’s heart. Because if you know, then it’s just a matter of time before the rest of the crew knows. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to deal with everyone pitying him at the same time.

Maybe then he’ll just have to dip again.

Jin comes into the kitchen, and he stops as he sees Jungkook and Hobi at the counter. Valeria trails behind him, and Jungkook is struck dumb once more.

He never thought Jin would be able to pull the girl. He’s still surprised that she does exist, and whenever he’s alone with Jin he makes it a priority to remind his older friend.

“Sup’ losers,” Jin says as he starts moving again, heading towards the fridge to store the bottle of rosé wine he’s holding. “Surprised you were able to get out of bed.”

He says that over his shoulder looking right at Jungkook, who rolls his eyes. “I’m not a senior citizen like you, I’ve still got youth on my side.”

“Listen you little shit,” Jin bursts out, and Valeria starts laughing. It has the effect of a calming shower on Jin, who only glares at Jungkook. “You’re lucky the lady is here. Otherwise you’d be dead.”

“If you’d be able to catch me, that is.”

Jin looks towards Hobi.

“Don’t ask me for help,” Hobi says, raising his hands in defense. “You’re all alone on this.”

Jin’s head turns towards his girlfriend next. She’s shy, and Jungkook has never really talked to her before. So when he and Hobi look at her too, she blushes, before shrugging.

Jin lets out a childish whine, before saying, “Alright then, I’m old.”

“We like you like that.” Valeria is the one that speaks, and Jungkook chokes on a laugh as he turns back towards Jin.

“You heard her.”

Jin is fake-glaring at his girlfriend, but then his features soften. “Yeah, but at least she’s pretty.” And just like that he moves out of the kitchen, pulling Valeria behind him.

“I’ve been told I’m pretty too,” Jungkook yells behind Jin, and Hobi laughs next to him. “He’s so whipped,” Jungkook says after a few seconds, just to make sure Jin is out of earshot. His comment makes him think about another couple that’s starting to form, and he turns to look at Hobi. “And you? What’s up with Jiho?”

Hobi chokes, flushing fully red, up to the top of his ears. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows as he tries to hold in the shit-eating smirk that wants to form on his lips. “What do I mean? Why did you invite her yesterday?”

“I –” Hobi says. “I just thought it’d be fun to hang with the crew…”

“The crew?” The smirk has won now, and it breaks across Jungkook’s lips.

“Well, you know, just like…” Hobi falls silent, before letting out a strangled laugh. “I honestly didn’t see it coming.”

It’s cute, and Jungkook’s smirk turns into a softer smile. “To be honest, me neither.”

“She’s got balls though,” Hobi says, laughing lightly this time. “She’s the one who suggested we should go on a date, after dance practice last week.”

All that Jungkook remembers of that night is that he walked with you after. The rest is a blur of anxiety and his leg hurting. But he’s not surprised that Jiho’s got balls: she has to be your closest friend for a reason.

“You said yes, I hope,” Jungkook says.

Hobi slowly nods. “Yeah. But I invited her yesterday because of that too. And we’re going to a restaurant she suggested tomorrow.”

Jungkook doesn’t have to fake the happiness that takes over him right now. He’s happy for his friend, he really is. For his friends, plural. Because Taehyung, Jin, Yoongi and now Hobi… They’re all happy. They all have met someone, someone to care for them where no one else can. Strangely, it’s something Jungkook doesn’t really want for himself right now, maybe because he’s too stuck in the past.

Too stuck trying to heal from the crash, knowing some parts won’t ever heal and refusing to give up the fight for now.

It brings him back to you. To last night, and to whatever he said. He wishes he could remember the words, just to know how bad he fucked up, but he doesn’t. He won’t remember, and he won’t ask you.

He won’t take you up on your offer for coffee. He knows pity when he sees it, and he abhors it. Especially when it comes from you.

Instead, he focuses on Hobi, on the smile that lights up his friend’s face as he tells him about Jiho, about how they’ve been texting almost constantly. It’s all Hobi talks about on the ride to the studio, as he mentions stuff Jiho told him.

Stuff she told him about her when she was younger, but also about you. About how you’ve been friends since the first day of kindergarten, when someone pulled her braids and laughed at her and you punched them in the face.

He’s not surprised child you would punch someone that deserved it in the face. He’s pretty sure adult you would do it too.

Hobi parks his car next to the studio, and they are getting out of the vehicle when Jungkook notices you walking, hands buried in yet another oversized sweater. You’re wearing yoga pants underneath, and your hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. You catch his gaze a few seconds after he notices you, and he’s about to smile at you when you just look away, walking in the building without once glancing back.

What the fuck?

Jungkook frowns, especially as Hobi says, “What happened with Y/n last night?”

For some reason, Jungkook immediately grows defensive. He shrugs, a little vehemently before starting to walk towards the door. “Nothing happened. Just let it slip that I got into a car crash.”

“So she knows?” Hobi asks.

Another shrug of Jungkook’s shoulders. He buries his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, just to hide the way he’s clenching his fists even though he’s trying to stay calm. “Yeah. So everyone will know.”

“I don’t think so,” Hobi says, and Jungkook glances at him, brows knit together. “I mean, she’s good at keeping secrets.”

“She’s probably already told Jiho,” Jungkook points out as they reach the door. He doesn’t see you on the other side, and that’s the only reason why he opens it.

“Well, Jiho didn’t say anything about you, if that can reassure you.”

Hobi has felt the switch in his mood, hasn’t he? Because his voice is careful, as if he’s afraid to spook him.

“I don’t care,” Jungkook lies. Because he really does care. He doesn’t want everyone to know. Because it makes it too real, and for now he still can pretend it hasn’t happened.

He wishes for it to stay that way.

Hobi doesn’t push him more, and a tense silence moves between them. Jungkook wishes he could go back to his previous good mood about his friends’ happiness, but he’s back where he was last night. Somewhere in the dark of his own mind.

Not a good place to hang, if he’s honest.

He already knows he’s going to see you when he reaches the studio. Somehow, it still makes his heart constrict in his chest, that same way it did last night. As if someone is clenching their fist around it, and it makes it harder to breathe. He shrugs it off, taking a deep breath to calm down, before looking around.

Everyone but Heather is already here. And no one is looking at him, no one seems surprised or seems to be pitying him. You don’t even act like you noticed him entering – you take off your sweater, dropping it in a corner of the room with your phone and your keys. He hates it, but his eyes follow the curves of your body, and he wants to curse you for only wearing a sports bra.

Your body is lean, the results of dancing for most of your life with a mother that used to be a ballerina. Jungkook is pretty sure she’s controlled everything you ate growing up, and drilled it so hard into your head that you can’t stand bad food now. He remembers, when you were younger and someone brought cake to practice to celebrate a birthday, you always barely took a bite before saying you were full. You claimed you didn’t like cake, but he always noticed the way you eyed it while everyone else ate.

He used to make fun of you for it, and today he knows he was an asshole. All he can hope is that your relationship with food is better now. And it looks like it is – you’re not as thin as you were before. You look healthy, and your skin and hair are glowing.

It takes him a few good seconds to realize he’s staring, as if something about you has changed. And he doesn’t know what changed, just knows that he feels struck.

You notice him staring, and you furrow your brows. “What are you looking at?”

It’s said aggressively. As if you’re angry. He only then realizes that you might be, and maybe that’s why you ignored him outside. He can’t for the life of himself figure out why you’d be angry – did he say something yesterday?

“Nothing,” he replies, and he looks away as his heart beats out of his chest.

You act like that for the whole of practice. For all the pity looks Heather throws his way, you send twice as many glares. It feels like last night never happened, and maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was just a nightmare, and he never told you everything.

He knows you know though, because whenever he puts too much weight on his leg as he demonstrates the movements he has in mind, you clench your jaw. A muscle feathers under your skin, and then you look away. Shame passes on your features, and then it’s gone to be replaced with a scowl.

He’s getting tired of it by the end of practice, so he pulls you aside to talk. Jiho stubbornly stays next to you, until Hobi walks up to her and asks if he can talk to her, probably sensing that Jungkook needs some time alone with you.

You both glare at each other while the others filter out, wishing you good night. Jungkook hears Scottie teasing Lance about meeting up with a girl, and the last thing he hears is Lance telling him to fuck off before everyone is finally out.

It takes almost twenty seconds before you blink and say, “What do you want?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, folding his arms on his chest as he cocks an eyebrow.

You scoff. “With me? Nothing. What’s wrong with you?”

Do you know or do you not? He’s a little confused as you just look at him, clearly expecting an answer. He’s dumbfounded – the last thing he expected from telling you everything was you being furious at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

It’s just a back and forth of questions at this point, with no visible answers in the distance. Indeed, you just say, “Do you think you did something wrong?”

It’s absurd, and it makes him laugh. Which, he reckons, might be taken as insulting. And of course you take it the bad way, because how else would you take it?

“You’re so fucking oblivious,” you grumble.

He’s still laughing. He wants to stop, but for some reason he cannot.

“What’s so funny?” you enquire, and your cheeks are turning red.

“Just,” he starts, “I don’t know. The last thing I expected from last night was you getting angry at me.”

You roll your eyes. “If you were looking for pity you won’t get any from me.”

That’s the thing. He doesn’t want any pity from you. And you saying so makes something warm blossom in his chest, and it sobers him up. His face falls serious, and he holds your gaze long enough that you raise your eyebrows in question.

“Thank you,” he says.

You scoff. “You’re fucking weird, Jeon.”

He shrugs. “That’s why you like me, uh?”

Your eyes widen, and you look so appalled he just starts laughing again. “Quite the opposite actually,” you say even though he’s laughing. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “I’m just relieved you haven’t changed.”

He really is. You have no idea how much.

“Okay?” you let out, and it sounds like a question. You scoff again, before adding, “Why didn’t you reply to my text?”

Oh, so this is what it’s about. You’re upset because he ignored your text. It feels absurd and stupid and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, so Jungkook just smiles and shrugs. “I genuinely don’t really want to talk about last night. I’m all okay today.”

And he does think he is, now that he’s talking to you.

You remain silent for a while, pulling at some dry skin on your bottom lip. You then brush a strand of hair that’s fallen from your ponytail behind your ear, nodding your head. “Understood. Won’t be nice to you again.”

“Oh please,” Jungkook teases. “You can’t resist it.”

He’s happy. The more he talks to you, the happier he is. He feels like he’s floating, and he wishes you’d both stay right then and there, in the studio, until the end of time.

He hasn’t felt so light in forever.

“Oh, I can, Jeon.” You fold your arms on your chest, imitating his posture. “Watch me.”

But there’s a teasing glint in your eyes, probably awakened by his own teasing demeanour.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your text,” he apologizes, because he feels like he needs to clear the air with you. He doesn’t want you to be upset with him anymore. “I genuinely didn’t know what to say, and I figured I was going to see you tonight anyway.”

You look away for the first time in the conversation. Your eyes move down, and he’s pretty sure you’re looking at the scar on his stomach. It makes it itch, and if he weren’t with you, he’d scratch it. But he resists, offering you a tight-lipped smile as you look up at his eyes again.

“Well, forget I suggested coffee then,” you say. You wink at him. “I’ll start being a bitch again now.”

“Please do.”

You look startled. “You want me to be a bitch?”

He laughs, scratching the nape of his neck. “No.” He scrunches up his nose, thinking really hard about what he wants to say. Only he doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he’s never talked to you before in his whole life. He can barely remember breaking down in front of you not even twenty-four hours ago. “Yes? Just be your same usual self.”

“Noted,” you say, nodding your head forcefully.

It’s cute, and it makes your ponytail swing behind you. He has half a thought to reach and pull on it, just to annoy you, but he resists.

Instead, he looks around, before resuming his attention on you. “Just, one thing.”

You hold his gaze, cocking an eyebrow in question as you purse your lips. “Mmh?”

“Please don’t tell the others,” he says. It’s a little more serious than he was just a second ago, but he feels like it’s needed to get the point across. “I’d prefer if they didn’t know.”

The corners of your lips stretch into a small, soft smile. “I didn’t plan on telling anyone. I figured you’re the one that should tell them if you want to.” You glance towards the door, and you’re not watching him when you add, “I think Bridget told Heather though. And I don’t know if Heather will remain silent”.

He doesn’t care if Heather tells the others. He just doesn’t want you to do it. It makes no sense, but at the same time it makes all the sense in the world to him.

“Yeah, I think she knows too.” He pulls at his piercing, letting out a small sigh. “I’ll talk to her.”

You nod, and the room falls silent. He wishes he had more to tell you, but it seems you’ve run out of conversation topics, because you eventually wet your lips and say, “Well, I guess I’ll be going home now”. And then you laugh, shaking your head. “I was supposed to leave with Jiho, but I’m pretty sure she’s gone with Hobi.”

“Hobi talked about her for like an hour before we got here,” Jungkook admits, relieved that you provided a topic. “They’re going on a date tomorrow.”

You smile, widely, and he reckons you’re like him. Your friends’ happiness makes you happy, and happiness truly looks good on you. It makes your eyes sparkle, and you look like a kid who’s just received the perfect gift on Christmas morning.

“I know!” you yelp, taking him by surprise when you even clap your hands. “They’re going to the restaurant I suggested.”

There’s something warm in Jungkook’s chest. It just becomes stronger and stronger the more he looks at you, and it makes him feel wary. Enough so that he looks away and tries to tame it down.

“I hope everything will work out for them,” he says, and he scrapes his throat because the warmth is choking him up now.

“I’m sure it will”, you reply, confidently. “Jiho has been into him for like three years now.”

Jungkook feels bad for her, because three years ago Hobi was still with his ex. But it seems patience makes miracles, because she’s getting a date with Hobi now, isn’t she?

It makes Jungkook realize that sometimes, the right person for someone might have been around all along. They’ve just been blind to it. Now, that’s a thought that makes him want to get out of this room. To flee this cloud before it breaks, and he meets your gaze.

You’re watching him already, with a wistful look on your features. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He hates it. Hates everything that your little sentence makes him feel, so he just nods his head, before saying, “It’s getting late, I should hurry if I want to catch the bus”.           

Your eyes widen. “I’ll order you a Lyft, come on.”

“No!” he refuses. “It’s all good.”

“But it’s late,” you insist, and you bend down to grab your phone on your sweater.

It offers Jungkook a straight view to your cleavage, and he freezes, right as pink dusts his cheeks. “I swear,” he reassures you, adding your name before continuing, “I’d rather take the bus. But thank you for the offer.”

You fake-glare at him. “Right, I’m supposed to be a bitch anyway.” You fold your arms on your chest, cocking an eyebrow arrogantly, and you look just like you’ve always looked when you say, “What the fuck are you still doing here? You’re wasting my oxygen.”

It makes the both of you laugh, and Jungkook just shakes his head. “Please, I know you love looking at me.”

You look offended, somehow, and you scoff. “I’d rather gouge my eyeballs out of my head instead of having to look at you for a second longer.”

“Ouch, that was rough.”

“You deserved it.” You shrug your shoulders, before motioning at the door in a swooshing motion. “Now, go lick your wounds somewhere else.”

“Aren’t you leaving too?”

You glare at him now, and you’re so good at it he almost thinks you’re angry. “Why, do you want to walk me home?”

His mouth falls open. Would you let him walk you home? For some reason, he’s pretty sure you’ll punch him if he even suggests it. So instead, he chooses to say, “And suffer the whole way? Nah, I’m good.”

It’s a low-key mention of his injury. You immediately catch on to it, and Jungkook hates the look that takes over your features. He thought that you didn’t have pity for him in you, but it seems you do. You do and it feels like the fist around his heart is back, and the air burns a little.

You seem like you want to say something, but he’s quicker than you.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Jungkook.”

“No, I’m serious, don’t you fucking look at me like that.”

And just like that the light atmosphere shifted back into darkness.

You scoff, shaking your head. “And here I was starting to think that you’re a decent guy. Never mind, Jeon.” You scoff once more, and the corners of your mouth are pulled down in a look of pure disgust. “I’m going home.”

He lets you go. He doesn’t even look at you as you pick up your stuff and leave, not once glancing back.

No matter how enjoyable this interlude in your usual relationship was, Jungkook prefers the usual hate. It’s safer, more comfortable, and a habit that protects him from the vulnerability.

Why then is he staring at your text two hours later in his bed at home, unable to fall asleep, wishing he didn’t say what he did?

In all truth, he knows why, he just doesn’t want to formulate the thought. Doesn’t want to give it the power to exist in the confines of his brain. So he ignores it, shoves the warmth in his chest so far down in the hole occupied by his lost dream that he can’t really feel it anymore.

Only then does he feel safe again, but he still can’t fall asleep.

He hopes you’re not struggling with insomnia as much as he is.

Thursday, June 28th

                The auditions for nationals are in a week. Seven days, and you’re still not sure you’ve mastered the choreography well. You’re anxious – have been for weeks now – and all you want is to lie down on the floor until everything is over.

Which, coincidentally, is what Lance has been doing for the last fifteen minutes, claiming he needed a break from Jungkook. Because Jungkook is worse than Hobi, making you repeat the choreography for stupid unnecessary things like Jiho’s hair was in her face or Scottie’s shirt rode too high while he was doing a certain move.

In May, when you learned about what happened to Jungkook, you had a few days of feeling bad for him. Wishing you didn’t get in a fight with him during that dance practice, wishing your relationship with him wasn’t just hateful.

It feels like there’s been too much history between you for it to ever change. Because you saw a glimpse of something else, for a few minutes that night. Jungkook was more open, calmer, and his expressions were set in a softer look. It was easier to be around him, more enjoyable, and you wished for a fleeting moment that it could last.

Alas, it only lasted a few minutes before he moved back to the harsh look he reserved for you, only because he assumed you were pitying him. Which, maybe you were. You don’t know. It’s hard to tell when you haven’t been through what he has, and when you can tell he suffers.

But you’re not sure if it’s pity or concern. You don’t think he can tell the difference either.

“Lance,” you grumble as you finish the choreography, heart beating out of your chest. “Get the fuck up we need you.”

Lance mumbles something incoherent, before turning his head away from where you’re glaring at him. It makes you look up to catch Jungkook’s gaze, and he immediately looks away the moment your eyes meet. He’s been doing that a lot now too. Where he used to glare at you or smirk insufferably, Jungkook just ignores you.

You don’t think you like it. But you’ve gotten used to it over the course of the last few weeks, so you just roll along with it now.

You’ve kept his secret safe. You thought it would be hard, especially to hide it from Jiho, but after a few days it just became normal. Jiho has more to tell you about Hobi anyway.

Because they’ve found time to go on dates every week since then. Sweet dates, with him picking her up and bringing her flowers and doing things that he knows make her happy. Even at dance practice, everyone can see how they are sickly into each other. You’re happy for Jiho, you really are, but it’s starting to feel a little lonely.

At least you’ve got Jo and the other girls now too. You’ve met the mysterious Kiko now – a sweet girl with the voice of an angel – and your girl’s nights with Jiho have turned into Thirsty Thursdays. You haven’t understood the meaning of the Thirsty yet, considering all of them are dating now, but you just roll along with it.

It’s led to fun nights, and that really is the only thing that matters, right?

Tonight makes no exception. Jiho, Heather and you have dance practice until 10 pm, and then you’re supposed to meet with the girls at a bar on their side of town. Which means you’re already dressed up, though you put on a sports skirt to avoid showing off your ass to the rest of the boys. Not that it would matter – Scottie is not interested in women at all, Lance only has eyes for Chaeyeon now, Hobi is way too respectful for that and Jungkook doesn’t even look at you anymore.

You scoff, glancing away from Jungkook to settle your gaze back on Lance. “Get up,” you repeat, before walking over to him to kick him in the ribs. “Or I’ll tell Chaeyeon how much of a loser you are.”

He fakes offence. “Me, a loser? Nah, we’re going to win this shit.”

The sudden confidence is a boost to everyone’s mood, and soon enough you’re back to dancing, with a much-needed vigor. It’s enough that Jungkook lets you go after you’ve done the choreographies two times more, telling everyone they did a good job.

“Same time Saturday,” he says.

You think you notice him looking at you in the mirror, but as soon as you turn your head in that direction he’s already glanced away, focusing himself on typing something on his phone.

“We know,” Lance says jokingly, before punching Jungkook in the shoulder.

Jungkook snickers, and he deadpans, “You were two hours late last week because you were too busy with your girlfriend”.

“Can’t blame me,” Lance says, shrugging his shoulders. “Chae comes first, the rest of you can suck it up.” It’s cute and endearing, and your heart feels warm as Lance glances your way. You have no idea what brings him to think of that, but he scans the whole room before suggesting, “We should rent a cottage. After the auditions. We should all get shitfaced for three days straight.”

Hobi laughs from where he’s standing next to Jiho. “Scottie is too young for that.”

“Hey, I’m twenty-two!” Scottie exclaims. “I can get shitfaced.”

“You’re a baby,” Heather puts in. “Just accept it. I refuse to acknowledge the fact you are major now.”

Scottie rolls his eyes, placing a sassy fist on his hip. “Then sucks to be you because I am, and I’m going to get shitfaced with Lance. Right?”

Lance has a large grin on his lips. “Damn fucking right.”

“As long as we get a cottage with a hot tub I’m in,” Jiho says innocently. Hobi cocks an eyebrow as he looks at her, as if he didn’t just say Scottie can’t go. “What?” Jiho adds, shrugging her shoulders. “A cottage weekend does sound like fun.”

It does. It really does. You haven’t gone to the countryside in years now, and you can already picture a cute, picturesque cottage on the side of a lake, with a long quay you can lie on and stargaze. The cottage has a fireplace, a circle of rock in the middle of which flames burn at night until they turn to embers and you roast marshmallows on it. You can almost feel the warmth of the hot tub, and the laughter of friends seems to almost overtake your ears…

Yeah, you’re due for a trip out of the city.

“I want marshmallows,” you say, sighing dreamily. “I haven’t had marshmallows since like…”

“Since the camping trip when we were thirteen? When Jisung got shit on by that seagull?”

You burst out laughing at the same time as Jiho does, right as the memory comes back to you. It had been a fun camping trip, with Jiho’s parents renting a camper. They had invited you along on their trip, and you had gone to the beach with them.

Good memories indeed.

Your laughter recedes, and you notice everyone is looking at you. Even Jungkook. His eyes are a little widened, as if he’s surprised, and there’s a light flush on his cheeks when he looks away.

It’s the strangest sight to see, and you’re unable to shake the feeling away while you get ready with Jiho later to rush to the bar where Jo and the others are already waiting for you. Jiho notices your unease as she applies your eyeliner.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” you immediately say, way too fast for it to sound casual.

She just cocks an eyebrow and keeps applying the makeup. At least she has the decency to ignore the blush that creeps on your cheeks.

“It’s just…” you sigh, and turn your head when she starts to work on your second eye. “I don’t know.”

“Jungkook?”

You want to kill her for knowing you so well, so you remain silent, choosing peace over violence.

“I’m going to say something right now that might make you want to kill me,” Jiho says, lips pursed.

“I would advise not saying it,” you mumble and she playfully pats your cheek.

“Don’t move.” You pout, but obey nonetheless. She continues working in silence for a time, before saying, “I know about the accident”.

Your heart stops in your chest, and you’re pretty sure all colours have drained out of your features. You still try to play it cool, saying, “What accident?”

“February last year? Jungkook got injured, then ghosted us. Ring a bell?”

You can’t really pretend you don’t know what she’s talking about, can you? “How do you know?”

“Hobi told me,” she admits. “He made me promise to never talk about it, but he mentioned you knew already.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t blame you for not telling me,” she reassures you, having sensed your discomfort. “Actually, it tells a lot about your relationship with JK that you respected his decision.”

You scoff as she pulls the eyeliner away from your face, putting it down on her vanity to grab her La Neige lip tint. “My relationship with Jungkook? We’re not even friends.”

“Why though?”

It’s a good question that just pisses you off further. “Because he’s a dick. He told me about the accident and got angry at me for looking concerned and then he started ignoring me.” You chuckle bitterly. “It’s not like I’m going to try and make him talk to me. I don’t give a shit about him.”

Jiho is silent for a long time. Far too long for it to be normal. Like she doesn’t believe you at all and is waiting for you to realize. You’re just as stubborn, so you don’t say anything as she puts the lip tint on her pretty lips.

It makes for an awkward two minutes, but she’s the one that breaks first. “You don’t believe that.”

You furrow your brows. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

She laughs. Not in a mean way, probably just because your cheeks are burning and she believes she can read you like the back of her hand. “Because you don’t believe that.”

You fold your arms on your chest, sitting back in the chair she’s forced you to sit in while she did your eyeliner. You remain silent once again, clenching your jaw as you choose not to get upset. You’re not sure it works, and Jiho just playfully punches you on the shoulder.

“Calm down, babe,” she says. “He’s changed.”

“He’s still an ass with me,” you point out. “He’s changed with the rest of you guys, but he’s even worse with me. He’s been completely ignoring me for weeks.”

“Because he’s scared of what you think about him.”

“He doesn’t give a shit about what I think of him? He’s made that clear enough.” Jiho goes back to her infuriating silence. And you don’t want the conversation to keep going in that direction, so you ask, “How has it been going with Hobi anyway?”

She flushes red as she always does whenever Hobi is mentioned. “Do not think this conversation is over,” she says, threatening you with the lip tint bottle. “But it’s been…” She chuckles. “It’s been great. I think we’re pretty much official now.”

It’s disgustingly cute. It makes you think of Lance and Chaeyeon, of Heather and Bridget, Jo and Taehyung and Kiko and Yoongi…

It makes you feel lonely, like Lance did earlier. It’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to growing up, so it’s easy to let it slide over you instead of letting it fester inside.

“Look at you,” you say teasingly. “Who knew you’d pull your lifelong crush?”

“Lifelong?” she snickers. “I’ve had a crush on him for like two years.”

You throw a no-bullshit look her way.

“Okay maybe three…”

It makes you both laugh, and it diffuses the situation that was escalating just a moment ago. You’re relieved, because you’re pretty sure if she mentioned Jungkook just once more you would have blown up in her face.

You take shots downstairs with Jisung and Felix before going, and you giggle in the Lyft on the way to the bar the other girls chose. As per usual, you’re the two last to get there – fashionably late is the way to go, right?

It takes you way too long to realize girl’s night will in fact not be girl’s night. Yoongi is the first you notice, maybe because he’s looking at the exit when you walk in, as if he’s just waiting for the right time to bail. He nods as he sees you, and Kiko turns. She smiles her shy smile, the one that doesn’t show her teeth, and she nods as well, almost a copycat of her boyfriend.

Then it’s like a domino effect, and everyone turns to look at you. Nine pairs of eyes, all on you: Jin, Valeria, Taehyung, Jo, Bridget, Heather, Kiko, Yoongi and Jimin. The latter offers you a secretive smile.

You might have been texting him a little. Nothing serious, but he does appear in your dms once in a while, replying to a story you posted. You always decided to ignore him, only liking his replies, but tonight there’s something in the way Park Jimin is looking at you, sitting there, that makes something warm trickle down your spine.

Maybe because of your conversation with Jiho. It’s hard to tell, and your best friend pulls you towards the rest of the group before you can figure it out. The feeling only increases tenfold when you stop next to the table, and Jimin gets up to greet you, quickly followed by the others.

You hug everyone, and Jo holds you a second longer. “Sorry for inviting the rest, Tae begged and I figured…” You pull away from the hug, and she does have a sheepish look on her features. “Thirsty Thursday doesn’t mean no men?”

You laugh at that comment, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

And really, you don’t mind. You like hanging out with them all. You’re relieved they didn’t think to invite Jungkook though, because one thing you’ve figured is that, where Jimin goes Jungkook usually follows.

The night starts off with talking and a few drinks with the group, until you find yourself intoxicated more than you have initially planned to. It doesn’t really matter – you have a day off tomorrow at the internship. Indeed, it only goes from Monday to Thursday, since the lawyer you follow takes the day off on Fridays for the whole of summer.

So you drink, and when they clear a spot for the dancefloor, you let Jiho pull you to it. Let her dance with you, like you usually do when you’re trying to get a guy’s attention. You reckon she’s drunker than you – she’s a giggly mess and she keeps stepping on your feet, which she never usually does. It’s fun, and you feel some anxiety peel away from your skin as if you’re an onion and someone’s about to cut you up to pieces.

You do feel like somebody is about to cut you up to pieces when Jimin moves closer to you, and the smirk on his lips sets something on fire inside of you. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. It doesn’t matter because you pull away from Jiho to move closer to him, almost instinctively.

It’s like he fits like a glove. You face him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him into the dance as his hands find your waist. One of them slips to your back, and he presses you against him as you move to the music, the rhythm a sensual dance between the two of you.

“Hello, you,” he purrs, and you look up at him.

“Hello,” you reply in the same tone, and he makes you spin until your back is facing him. He’s impossibly close and as his hands guide your hips, your eyes trail up.

You entirely stop moving when your gaze meets Jungkook. He’s standing near the door, clad in different clothes than earlier today, but in that same black shade he seems to adore. He also has a chain, with large links that give a rougher vibe to him.

The look on his features is rough too, especially as Jimin leans to speak into your ear. “I thought you might want to piss him off.”

You chuckle, turning your head to gaze at the man behind you over your shoulder. It brings your face way too close to his, and you have to resist the lava in your blood that makes you want to close the gap.

It’s the self-destructive kind of magma, and you don’t feel like indulging in it. Instead, you purr, “Why do you think I’d want to piss him off?”

Jimin chuckles, and you turn your head away from him because damn him, his lips really are inviting. “He’s been a little shit at home. I assume he’s been that way with you too.”

You laugh, and it’s bitter, angry. It surprises even you. “He’s been ignoring me.” You turn in Jimin’s arms, until you’re facing him. You keep your head hung low, enough so that he can’t lean down and press his lips against yours. Jimin is a gentleman though, you know he’d never kiss you without asking for consent first.

“Explains why he’s been a little shit then,” he says matter-of-factly. He straightens a little, putting a comfortable distance between your faces.

“And you think this little show is going to piss him off?”

He smirks, tilting his head to the side. All the while he’s been making you move to the music, and you know to outside gazes you look like you’re flirting. Can planning to piss Jeon Jungkook off count as flirting?

“Oh, I know it will,” Jimin says, shrugging his shoulders. “Jungkook wears his emotions on his face.”

Maybe he does. Around you, his emotion is usually mostly contempt, so you don’t really know.

“What do you gain from pissing him off?” you ask, and you genuinely wonder. What is Jimin trying to do?

“Nothing,” he admits. He purses his lips, before offering you yet another dashing smile. “Mostly I just want to see what he’ll do.”

Jimin pulls you a little closer, and his forehead presses against yours.

“What are you doing?” you murmur, as your heart beats like a hammer against your ribcage. Hell, even if you’re not really into Jimin like that, he’s Park Jimin. You don’t think anyone in their right mind could stay indifferent to him.

“He’s looking right now,” he replies. He chuckles, before saying, “Now, let me tell you what you’re going to do”. His lips move so close to you it feels as if your brain is short-circuiting in your head. “You’re going to act as if I’ve just offended you, and you go to the bathroom.”

“Why?”

“He’ll follow, and maybe he’ll finally…”

Jimin never finishes his sentence. Someone bumps into you, and it breaks the contact between you and him. Instead of pulling you back in, Jimin motions towards the bathroom, offering you an encouraging smile. You’re stunned for a moment, and you hope it does the trick. You hope you really do look offended, because in truth, you were enjoying Jimin’s proximity.

You don’t like that you were. It feels like you shouldn’t be enjoying his proximity at all. He’s not even really your friend anyway.

You don’t have a choice but to follow his advice though, and you turn around, beelining straight to the bathroom. You make your way through the crowd, scrunching up your nose in disgust at the sweaty guy your hand accidentally touched, and a few seconds later you finally find the line to the bathroom.

It’s a unisex bathroom, with three stalls that are currently all occupied. There’s a guy in front of you, and you glare at him as he smiles at you. He frowns, but it works and he turns back around. A stall frees up a little under a minute later, and you’re mindlessly watching a girl washing her hands when a large hand finds the small of your back.

You startle, and you turn around fully ready to knock some sense into whoever it is, until you see it’s Jungkook.

You freeze for a few seconds, and then let out a laugh as you realize whatever Jimin was doing worked.

“You and Jimin, uh,” Jungkook says bitterly, and his hand clenches into a fist where it falls at his side.

You cock your head to the side. “So you’re talking to me now?”

He plays with his piercing in silence, before scoffing. “I was never not talking to you.” You widen your eyes and let out a disbelieved laugh as you fold your arms on your chest. “I’m serious,” he adds. “I just…”

“Don’t even try to explain, Jeon, save your oxygen.”

He’s frowning now, and you reckon he probably has the same expression on his features that you have on yours. “I thought you said you weren’t going to flirt with Jimin.”

“That was over a month ago,” you point out. “People change, unless you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, chuckling bitterly. “But Jimin? There are dozens of guys in this bar, can’t you just choose someone else to fuck?”

You’re starting to see red. You feel it in the tremble that starts deep down in your core, before taking over the whole of your body. “I’m not going to fuck Jimin. He’s just a friend.”

“You dance with all of your friends like that?”

You turn away from him, hoping one of the stalls will be free now, but you’re in no luck. He grabs your arm, forcing you to turn back around. Your eyes drop to his hand on your arm. His fingers are gentle, way gentler than his features. “Fucking let go of me,” you snap. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t know what part of getting into an accident made you want to act like you’re just a fucking victim of everything around you but my life has nothing to do with yours. Why do you fucking care?”

He looks stunned. “I… What?”

His confusion douses your fury, and you furrow your brows. “What do you mean, what?”

“I don’t care.”

You don’t know who he is trying to convince right now. And you don’t feel like getting to the bottom of it with him. In fact, you really don’t like the look on his face, and you just want to put distance between you and him. So you roll your eyes, before saying, “Alright then, leave me alone, Jeon. I won’t dance with Jimin again.”

He doesn’t even look happy or relieved that you’re saying that. Instead, his features fall a little, moving from a frown to a sad expression that makes something stir in your chest. “I… If you want to get with Jimin, you can.”

Now, you really are confused. “You come here to be a little bitch about this all and now you’re saying it’s fine?”

He pulls at his piercing, and his eyes flicker to the man that walks past you, indicating that a stall must be free now. “Yeah. If that’s what you want, who am I to tell you not to do it?”

You don’t know. You have no idea how the conversation managed to take this turn, so you wet your lips, cocking an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I…” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “I was being a dick. You’re right, I should stop acting like I’m a fucking victim.”

Now, your heart really does ache in your chest. Because what you said was inconsiderate, and you don’t even really mean it. Not the way that he interpreted it though, that’s for sure.

“Jungkook…”

“No, it’s really okay,” he says. He still looks sad, but he offers you a tight-lipped smile. “I’m sorry.”

Just like that he’s walking away, and why are you following him? You stop him by grabbing his arm, just like he did to you a moment ago. You hold on to him longer than he did to you, because his skin is warm under your fingers. His tattoos didn’t take away the softness of his skin, and you don’t really want to let him go. Not just yet.

“I didn’t mean it.” You look him in the eyes as he turns just enough so that his gaze can meet yours. “I got angry.”

“No but you’re right,” he insists. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know why I don’t like you talking to Jimin. You can do whatever you want.”

You let his arm go, albeit reluctantly. “If it can reassure you, I am not interested in Jimin like that. Like yes, he’s attractive, but I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

At that Jungkook laughs. It’s somehow melancholic, and you reckon you’ve brought his demons to the forefront of his mind tonight. “Jimin-hyung doesn’t do relationships, you’re in luck.”

“No,” you grumble, and you shut your eyes, as if you have to explain something to a thick-headed five years old. “I’m really not interested in Jimin. Like at all.” Your eyelids flutter open, and you catch the movement of Jungkook’s eyes as they snap away from you.

“Okay,” he lets out flatly. “I’m sorry I ruined it.”

He looks genuine. You’d be angry at him if he didn’t really look as genuine as he does right now.

“Nothing’s ruined, I promise,” you reassure him and you offer him a small smile. “I was tired of dancing anyway.”

The word ‘dancing’ has his gaze trail to the dancefloor, and he bites at his piercing before glancing back at you. “Oh.”

You realize this is awkward. Because what you said really seems to have upset Jungkook. And you can’t really blame him, it was low. The only thing is, you’re not close enough to him to make him understand. So all you can do when he says he’s going to head home is wish him goodnight.

You feel horrible as you watch him leave, and he’s only just crossed the doors leading to the world outside when you break into a small jog. You make it outside in a hurry, just to see he’s leaning against the wall next to the door.

He seems startled to see you, and you feel just as startled to see he hasn’t really left yet.

“I was wondering,” you let out, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Are you going to come to the cottage? You didn’t say you would earlier.”

You have no idea why that’s come to your mind, but you’re just going to roll with it.

“Uh.” He glances down at his phone in his hand. “Am I even invited?”

You wet your lips, shrugging. “I mean, you’re part of the crew, of course you are.”

He holds your gaze for so long you think the Earth has time to revolve around the sun once before he speaks again. “Am I really part of the crew?”

You reckon he might need to hear it, so you don’t hesitate when you say, “Of course. We’d be nothing without you.”

At that the sad expression on his features melts away. It does so slowly, starting with his eyes. They crinkle at the corners, sparkling a little, and then it trickles down his face, until the corners of his lips tug upwards. It makes you smile too, and you just gaze at each other like that for a few heartbeats. It feels intimate, miles away from the usual bickering and hatred that you share.

It’s new, but it doesn’t feel scary. Jungkook doesn’t feel scary when he’s smiling softly.

“Yes, I’ll come,” he finally says.

It makes you blink, and it’s like the scene is coming back into focus. You realize there are a couple of people smoking a few meters away, and a soft breeze pushes the smoke towards you. You hate the smell, but somehow you can’t shake the smile from your lips.

“Good.” You nod once, and you glance towards the door. “I guess… I guess I’ll let you go home then.”

He nods too, and he tilts his head to the side. He’s surveying you with those big eyes of his. They shine with stars right now, as if his happiness brings the constellations to his gaze. Or maybe it’s just the reflection from the streetlights and car headlights, but it’s beautiful.

Jungkook has beautiful eyes.

“Just waiting for a Lyft,” he says, motioning up with his phone.

You worry at your lips, before flattening your skirt mindlessly. “Is it going to be here anytime soon?”

He looks at the rectangle of light, face falling serious. It takes him a few seconds, but then he nods. “Yep. Should pull up pretty much now.”

You glance at the two sides of the street, and sure enough a car slows down until it stops in front of you. “Alright then,” you say. “Good night, Jeon.”

You don’t usually say his last name like you said it just now. It feels different, in all the right ways that it can.

“Good night,” he echoes, tentatively adding your name at the end. “I’ll see you at practice Saturday?”

“Yes. See you then.”

You’re grinning like an idiot when you’re home later, thinking of the interaction. It felt refreshing to be with Jungkook like that. As if you can be friends.

You never imagined you would want to be friends with him, but somehow tonight you want it. It only doubles up when a series of texts appears on your screen, hiding the top part of the anime you’re watching in bed before going to sleep.

[3:02 am] unsaved number: lmaooi jmin saud i cockblocled him😂 [3:02 am] unsaved number: cockblocked* [3:02 am] unsaved number: sry im drunk

You laugh softly, turning on your back as you pause the anime. You go to the conversation, and you’re about to reply when he adds,

[3:03 am] unsaved number: plz ignorr this

You don’t hesitate when you save his number under his name.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

What do we think of this chapter?? Enemies to lovers not too enemies anymore uh? Hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts 2023. Please do not copy, repost or translate.

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[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 1

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes

Synopsis:  When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we're defined by our job, it's those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Also available on Ao3

Alright, check it! Here we go, everybody!

The current rating of the fic is Teen and Up. I'm going to be going ham on a chapter by chapter rating/tagging basis because I don't want this baby to sit in Explicit until it is, if that makes sense. It will definitely become so in the future, but until then I'm going to rate it as is. Speaking of, when that switch does happen, please look for the notes before each chapter that will signal that. If you're reading on Ao3 you'll find more handy tagging notes.

Reader will be as gender neutral as possible until/unless otherwise stated. For my outline so far, this will involve sex and fem-coded activities such as make-up application and dress. I'll mark before each chapter if something is going to lean towards more of a fem!reader.

Otherwise, please enjoy! This is going to be a long ride so let's go!

Oh, please, not today.

Maneuvering around a corner, you doubled back to duck your boss. You could almost cry; not that you ever would over something so ridiculous at work. Looking back towards where you had just come, you felt the anxious sweat form on the back of your neck. This hallway only went in one direction and if your boss was already heading this way then surely he was about to run into you.

That was not something you could handle right now.

Clutching your bag tighter to your chest, you pushed off the wall to make a run for it when you heard a coworker call out.

“Oh! Perfect timing, sir. Do you have a second to look at something?”

You heard your boss stutter and your eyes went wide. Who was this prince that stepped in and saved your lunch hour? You wanted to bestow them with a thousand gifts, but you hadn’t heard enough of their voice to identify them. Shoving down the urge to peek, you listened until the two’s conversation slunk away. It meant the coast was clear and you speed walked your way down that now empty hall. In mere moments you were at the elevator landing and jammed the button with repeated anxiety. The display for which floor the accursed machine was on had been broken for about as long as you could remember. You glared at the black screen. It would only been busted on your level. Another tick to the record of your inefficient boss. You were so lost in your glaring that you scarcely heard two more co-workers walk up until the elevator chimed its arrival.

“Tell me something!”

Standing right in front of the silver doors, you surged forward as soon as they parted. There was an elderly suited man in the back and you tucked yourself right against the panel to hit ground floor.

“What’s up with these women wearing hot pants at the gym like it isn’t 45 degrees outside and then they get fucking mad when you look at them!?”  

Unable to hide the disgust on your face, you grimaced into the corner.

“I don’t know man…”

These two weren’t colleagues you considered often, but they had rapidly shot down to the bottom of your care’s list.

“Seems inappropriate!”

You soured further as you heard the old man chirp out a response. Three was far more than a crowd it seemed.

“What about you? You gotta have some idea, right?”

You felt a tap on your shoulder.

They were not trying to pull you into this bullshit.

Seriously, this was not the day.

You prepared a barbed response and turned to sick it on them when the elevator signaled a premature stop. You lifted your head and watched as a immaculately done up woman in a skin tight dress clicked her way into the elevator on daggered heels. She not only towered over you, but everyone else in the square. The tension was so palpable you imagined pricking it with a needle. You wondered if the woman could sense it considering she didn’t have the inane context. Either way, you worshipped her as the goddess she was for even unknowingly averting a confrontation for you.

When the elevator hit the bottom floor, you were the first to scurry off. You heard your two idiot co-workers start petty conversation with the woman and you marched straight to the many glass doors that granted exit to your high-rise. It wasn’t a breath of fresh air when it came to New York City, but it was certainly a reprieve. Still clutching your bag close, you strode down several sets of steps and onto a busy sidewalk. Hundreds of suits bustled and knocked shoulders with you as you settled into the traffic. It was a necessary evil that didn’t grate on your nerves any less. Parting the clouded thoughts as best you could, you looked forward into the ray of sunshine that sat on a lone sandwich shop. After several turns, that same storefront appeared tangible in the real world.

Your heart leapt at the sight. Somewhere in your bag you pictured your online pick-up order confirmation. You didn’t need it, but its receipt meant that no further fouls could come into play. Reaching for the handle, you watched through the glass as a gentleman did the same except his head was turned back to his companion within the shop. You reeled to dodge, but it was too late. The door flew open and clipped your shoulder as your failed to completely move away. You hissed into the sting and his sudden flurry of apologies took a bit of the edge off. You gave him a passing hands up gesture to pardon his transgression and he thankfully pivoted to hold the door for you. You heard a snippet of his companion berating him as the door returned to its stationary position.

Sighing, you fell into the shop’s embrace. The smell of freshly baked bread filled your nostrils and the thrum of patrons caressed your ears. You had eaten here a few times, with its proximity to your work, but this was the first time since they’d set up their online system. It meant you could skip the line and move right over to the pick-up counter. Straightening and finally letting your bag fall away from its defensive position, you headed to said post. There was no awaiting bag and you gave a little frown. This was exactly why you had your email at the ready. Reluctantly pulling up your bag, you rifled through it for your phone. Unlocking it, you watched in dismay as the email appeared only for the UI to refresh. Squashing a whine in your throat, you waited as the mobile data couldn’t seem to catch up with the page. Shifting a thumb to see if the shop had maybe set up free Wi-Fi along with ordering system, you heard an authoritative voice call out.

“Online pick-up! Club, hold the ham, roasted tomato, add oil!”

All the petty joy in your body surged straight to your head. That was your exact order.

Now this you needed.

You closed the gap between you and the counter with a near hop as the employee set down the bag. Your hand reached out as if an angel were serving penance and you watched in slow motion as another hand did the same. Confusion twisted on your features as you both clutched the paper in tandem. Your dopamine spike skittered to a halt, leaving you at a flattened emotional midpoint.

Not now.

It had finally gone right!

“Huh?!” The pitch was far deeper and had way more gravel than you ever remembered your voice having before. You nearly growled as your shoulders bunched up and you went into full on defense mode over your lunch. You turned your irritation on your would be sandwich thief and found yourself caught at the sight. Towering over you was clearly a mutant. You blinked out of your glare and stared openly. Instead of looking at you, the man instead gazed straight through you. You saw a bit of brow sat neutral against a wash of purple. He seemed encompassed in layers as a hint of green skin peeked out from between the purple and a black mask. It made the angular glasses perched upon them all the more apparent. There was a faint tint to them that you couldn’t quite make out from this distance. From there you skirted the edges of his black ball cap and down to his black wool coat. It framed the tight black turtleneck that clung to every crevice of his seemingly chiseled torso.

You came back to yourself all at once and found that barely a second had passed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s mine.” Thankfully your mouth still knew justice and held none of the awe that had passed through your brain.

Something about your curt response seemed to catch his attention and you watched in real time as his focus seemed to adjust to your form. With the mask you couldn’t be sure, but he seemed prepared to respond.

“Online pick…!”

You watched as the man turned away from you and to the confused employee who had choked on his announcement.

“Weird! This is… the exact same order?”

Reluctantly, you finally dragged your gaze away to the staff member. “What?”

“Some kind of glitch in the new system?” The employee posited, pulling the first bag away from both of your still outstretched hands.

In your periphery you saw the mutant move and pull out his phone.

“The order numbers and names are different…” The employee struggled and juggled both sacks.

“Simply a coincidence.”

Both you and the employee jolted at the mutant’s voice.

“I’d like my lunch now if you’re done manhandling it.”

The employee nodded dumbly and before placing both bags on the counter. He then made a scared show of pushing one in each of your directions. You caught your bags at the same time and you turned to see the mutant still scrolling his device with what you supposed was purpose.

“Some coincidence, huh?” You remarked, clutching your lunch.

The mutant gave a curt nod and you heard the employee retreat.

You were about to do the same when he seemed to find what he was looking for. In a flash of movement, his device fell in a slack arm and he leaned forward. You had no time to move away as he entered your personal space. You heart hitched as he reached out to your bag. Basal instinct told you to pull away, but curiosity kept you in place. You watched as a tridactyl hand passed the sack itself and moved to lift the receipt attached to it. From this distance you could finally see the color of his glasses; it was a barely there shading of blue in one and red in the other.

“You have my order.”

One of your brows descended while the other shot sky high. “So?”

You watched for the second time as his gaze seemed to struggle to focus on you like a malfunctioning camera lens.

“Just like the guy said: the orders are the same.”

You could only glean information from his eyes and they were set sternly to stoic. He bypassed responding and instead lifted his device. The screen was turned toward you and proudly displayed his own receipt.

So, that’s what had kept him.

“You had trouble with the internet too!”

In the first show of emotion you had seen, you watched one of his brows incrementally raise. A full centimeter seemed like quite the hurdle for him.

“I’m to assume you won’t give me my sandwich.”

He straightened and your heart sank the tiniest bit.

That was strange.

You knew nothing about this man other than he was apathetic and apparently a stickler for order numbers.

Still, he was the most interesting thing that had happened to you all day.

Hell, maybe even all year.

When was the last time you had gotten to interact with a someone in banal terms?

It didn’t have to be a long lunch to be fulfilling.

“How about…” You tilted your head to the side and did your best to peered into his eyes. “I give it back to you if you sit down and have lunch with me?”

His stare was completely flat.

“If… you have time that is?” You shoved the afterthought in quickly.

He rolled his shoulders and adjusted his sandwich into the crook of his arm. You watched as he then placed his device into his pocket and pinched one of his lapels. You continued to wait with ever growing curiosity as he then swiveled his neck to look out over the dining room. You followed his gaze for a moment trying to spy exactly what he was looking at. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it and his head crawled back to you before he gave a little sigh.

“You have terrible taste.” He said simply and made a slight movement with his neck for you to follow.

“I literally ordered the exact same meal as you.” You bounced in line with him as he lead you both over to a table tucked into a windowed corner.

He waited for you to sit before he delicately took the one across from you. His posture was so perfect it was almost laughable as he set his order on the table. In contrast, you heaved yours down and struggled to take your bag off. When you’d finally slipped it to your side, you rose up to find him still holding his meal as if it were a valuable item in a criminal handoff.

“Not what you meant, got it.” You noted, grabbing your order in a similar manner to indulge him.

His head tipped down incrementally and you both made the switch. He seemed to examine the contents while you, in contrast, shoved your hand down the paper bag to retrieve your parchment wrapped sandwich. You wanted to gripe about how he had eyes on the meal from the employee until now, but he hadn’t spoken past insulting you.

Oh, yeah. You should probably be more upset about that.

Your stomach grumbled as you dismissed the thought to instead languish in his curious company. Instead of fully unwrapping your sandwich, you peeled back the wrapper to keep your hands clean before taking a big bite. As you chewed you watched as he made work of flawlessly folding his parchment until his own meal was fully exposed. He then procured napkins from his bag and set his shoulders to finally eat.

“At least you’re aware.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at that. He certainly liked to take his time to respond.

“Why this sandwich?” You took another hearty bite and relished the way the tomatoes burst with flavor.

“A club could be considered a base standard for a sandwich shop.”

You slowed your bites as he reached both his hands up. It was only then that you realized he’d have to remove his mask to eat. It seemed like a delicious cherry on top of your silly little scheme. You watched curiously as you noted that he had no ears for the straps to attach to. Instead you took notice of the poignantly sewed on buttons to his ball cap that were keeping the elastic in place. His head came down as he removed the mask and his green snout came into view. He then tucked the mask into his coat as if it were a pocket book and brought his hands back to his sandwich.

“Enjoying the show?” He kept his eyes down on his meal and seemed to be calculating the best way to tackle it.

“Yes, actually.” You hummed, swallowing your bite. You watched with tepid joy as your stark response caused him to flick his gaze at your momentarily.

He hadn’t needed to adjust that time.

“Do you have a mutant kink?”

What a return lob.

“No, it’s just been awhile since I’ve been able to have a civil conversation with someone.”

He finally picked up his sandwich and though you could see his mouth now, its tight line read the same as his eyes, giving nothing away. He seemed to digest your words as he brought his purchase up. You felt your hands squeeze a little too hard as his lips parted. Maybe it was your imagination, but it seemed to open a little wider than necessary and you got a good luck at the pricks of his canines as he bit down into the relenting bread. A tomato falling into your lap brought you back to your senses.

You cursed and switched to palm your sandwich with one hand to retrieve the red offender. A napkin slid across the table in your periphery and you grumbled out a thank you as you took it. Wiping your slacks and frowning at the oil that had already seeped in there, you huffed.

“Very convincing.”

It was almost impressive how much sarcasm he could inject into his flat tone.

You snapped your gaze to him and scooted closer to the table to prevent another spill. “It’s not an obsession! I mean you must know…”

He didn’t bother to look up and instead inspected the crescent carved out of his meal.

You gave him a few more moments, but it seemed apparent he wasn’t going to answer so you continued on. “What you look like.”

“And what is that?” Dropping his sandwich back to the folded parchment, he peeled back the top bread to examine the ingredients.

Though his question had appeared devoid of emotion, your cheeks flushed at the thought. You didn’t mind saying it as you had long grown past that kind of fearful shyness, but it still struck you how he was able to conjure up those sort of nervous butterflies when he didn’t seem particularly interested in you in the slightest. If that aloof attitude was why, then maybe it had been far longer that you’d previously thought since you’d had a decent conversation. You could consider the ramifications of it later. For now, it was a nice reprieve to be able to indulge in the sensation of a crush, even if it felt like the meeting would only last through lunch.

“You’re attractive.” You hid the little flip your stomach made by taking another bite.

You heard a little hum and chanced peeking at him through your lashes. He wasn’t looking at you, but his attention had finally been split away from his sandwich as he considered your statement. You continued to eat until, after a certain amount of time, he joined you. You smiled to yourself through a bite of turkey. He’d deemed it another non-response, but something about that was almost endearing. If he were anyone else you probably would be labeling him rude, but there was something about his aura that you found intoxicating in a mysterious way. His looks certainly helped, but you tried to see past the superficial.

No harm in being the reacher if only for a bit of fun.

“Earlier you mentioned something about a standard?”

There was a slight hitch as he brought his sandwich up to his lips. “That’s correct.”

“Are you like a food reviewer?”

You could have sworn you heard another hum, but this time the concurrent sounds of the shop made it impossible to be sure. You waited nonetheless and prepared a few other questions just in case this one also didn’t take.

“I’m looking for a new lunch spot.”

“Oh?” You gave him a once over and watched as he dabbed his face with a napkin.

“I’d been going to one shop for years, but despite my best efforts it closed down.” He passed you another look and your heart clenched at the sight of his eye line.

“You would be a creature of comfort.” Maybe another tease would bring his gaze back to you.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky.

“Presumptuous.” He said in a manner that seemed for his ears only.

“Am I wrong?” You tilted your head curiously.

He retracted ever so slightly and it brought your elbows to the table as you leaned in. He stood strong against the move before finally, instead of only a flitting glance, he looked straight at you. If you hadn’t  already craned yourself to the table, you might have collapsed.

“It was meant as a negative. A note about how you venture to guess my habits based on so little data.”

This guy was something else. He suddenly reminded you of a computer. He was the embodiment of an analytic assault. If it wasn’t the way he picked apart his food and his talk creating a sandwich baseline, then it was how he seemed to be tallying up some sort of report on you.

Gosh, you just wanted to tease him.

“But am I wrong?”

If it were possible his level gaze became even more sardonic.

You couldn’t keep the widening smile off your cheeks.

He went back to his sandwich and you were starting to get a feel for when a subject had been dropped. Maybe a little data was just enough.

“I get it.” You dropped a new line in amity. “Everyone has a favorite place and it sucks when it closes.”

You didn’t get a sense that he was ignoring you this time, but rather had little to comment on the kindness you extended. It made you all the more curious.

“Why the club? Was it your favorite?”

One of his brows arched incrementally and the fact that you noticed surely meant you were just flat out staring at him. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to care or if he did, his face continued to betray nothing.

“No.” The rounded shape his lips made around the word lingered past when it left his vocal cords.

You wondered which of the two questions he had answered or if he had tidied both up in one go. You could almost curse yourself for not spreading them out.

“Almost every shop has a club sandwich.”

You perked up slightly, putting together what he meant. He had answered the questions in reverse order. You wondered what about them had confused his processors.

“Then why modify it?” Remembering your own sandwich preferences brought attention to the fact your lunch was being sorely neglected. It was still in hand, but you still couldn’t touch it as you found him giving his first emotion of the day: the slightest downturn of his lips.

Who knew a frown could do so much for the chemicals in your brain?

“It’s frustrating that something so basic doesn’t have a clear consensus.”

“Wha-?”

“It isn’t supposed to have ham on it and yet an infuriating amount of establishments default to the product. Plus that isn’t even mentioning construction which can be slapdash at best and I’ve even been to a shop that had the audacity to put an egg into the stack!”

You blinked wide as you realized it wasn’t just a frown, but something akin to anger. The way he bit down on the end of the sentence and then shifted in an almost imperceptible way to recompose himself made your heart rate spike. What a hang up! Your mind went into a flurry. You wanted to ask if he disliked eggs in general or just on a club. You didn’t even know his name, but you wanted to know all about his culinary preferences. Imagination running wild with the list, you imagined making his favorite breakfast after a night of-

Infatuation was a hell of a drug.

You squashed any further excitement with a tepid and, hopefully, understanding smile. “And the tomato?”

The way his chin tipped up seemed to say something, but you weren’t sure what. He opted to fold his arms and you found yourself unconsciously leaning ever more forward as you awaited his response.

“The cooking process concentrates what little flavor industrially-grown tomatoes have.”

You nodded, this time genuinely knowing what he meant.  

“And the oil to add fat?”

His tightened grip on his arms laxed as he moved from looking at you to a full on survey. Feeling very seen, you dropped your gaze and picked at what was left of your sandwich.

“Yes, it also enhances mouth feel and can combat dryness.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up. Though his own tone could use a little of that seasoning, you swore you caught the tiniest note of appreciation for the catch.

It was also entirely possible you just willed it to be that way.

“Salt Fat Acid Heat…”

There was that hum again. This time you were sure you heard it.

You brought your gaze up to find his squarely on your face.

“Quite the read.” He gave a single approving nod and you could feel cupid’s arrow shoot straight through your heart. If nothing else this lunch would serve as an emotional meal for at least a week.

You really needed a new job.

“I’ll take that as you changed your mind about my tastes.” You gave a satisfied smirk and moved with the the intention of finishing your meal off.

“Absolutely not.” 

His instant reply halted your hands mid journey.

“But you just…?” You trailed off weakly.

“Something can be said about your gastronomic choices, but that wasn’t what I was referring to.”

Did he mean earlier?

Was he talking about himself?

Your head tipped to one side curiously.

You watched him stare at you long enough to blink a single time before he returned to his sandwich. Remembering you had been trying to do the same, you followed suit. You were able to get through one more bite before another question chomped at the bit.

“How many shops have you evaluated so far?”

Under the guise of popping the final corner of your lunch into your mouth, you watched him through your lashes.

His cheeks paused in chewing before he swallowed. 

“This will be the 12th one.”

You gave a snort as you stole one his napkins to wipe your hands. He responded by reaching into your forgotten bag and replenishing his supply.

“You’ll just keep going until you find a suitable replacement?”

He gave a single nod and you balled up your dirty parchment. 

“How does this one rank? I’ve been here a few times before.”

He finished off his own sandwich and took to a careful process of folding his parchment further before depositing it into his bag.

“Mid, the turkey was nothing more than watery deli slices and the bread is particularly unremarkable.”

“Yeah, I can see that. The tomato was pretty good considering it’s out of season though.”

“Quite.” After thoroughly scrubbing his hands, he wiped any errant crumbs off the table and gathered up the trash into the bag as well. “You work nearby?”

You had been in the midst of following his table manners when you faltered and ripped your bag in the process of depositing a used napkin. Your lips parted and you almost wanted to ask him if you had heard him correctly. He had actually asked you a question.

“Yeah… How did you know?” You tried to salvage the bag as your mind ran rampant again.

Had he seen you before?

Were you really about to live out some kind of romantic comedy scenario?

“Why else would you chose the mediocre if not for proximity’s sake.”

Crushing your bag along with the ridiculous thoughts, you smiled at him a little too brightly. “You got me there.”

His chin tipped again, but this time it was down. You really wanted to map out all his little tendencies, but you’d need a notepad for that. You had the perfect one in your office, but that would mean heading out.

Your heart sank.

“My lunch break.”

The statement hung in the air as you left your trash abandoned in exchanged for your bag. Within a few flurried motions you pulled out your phone and stared in anguish as it awakened with the time.

“I am so late…!” Your voice waned and you looked to the mutant with desperation.

He seemed immune to your plight and moved to stand. Though you had long resigned yourself to satisfaction of the little time you’d gotten with him, the closing window didn’t sting any less. Squinting weakly at your trash, you dropped your phone into your bag and heaved yourself up. Gathering your things, you couldn’t help the surprise that passed over your features as you found him standing beside his pushed in chair and the mask back on his face, waiting.

“Thanks.” You mumbled off and he brushed by it as he headed for the door.

You followed him and waited your turn as he dumped his bag at the receptacle.  

You had so many questions once.

Where had they all gone?

You waited sullenly as he seemed to take an extra moment before he stepped aside and you hucked your garbage ball into the appropriate hole.

“And thank you for indulging me. Works been…” You trailed off with a grimace and a wave of your hand.

He reached for the door handle, but kept his even gaze on you.

“Let’s just say this long lunch is not going to help the matter!” You sighed and wondered if that angelic coworker could distract your boss with even more edits.

That would probably be asking too much.

“It’s just a shame I won’t be able to hear the rest of your reviews.” A bit of dry laughter found its way out of you.

Finding a grip on the door, he opened it and slipped out first.

You chased after him having a feeling he wouldn’t hold it.

“I’ll just be stuck eating the same old meh meal!” Twisting your bag into both hands, you prepared for the parting.

You found him staring down at you with that ever-present aloof nature.

You opened your mouth to say your goodbye when you saw his hand come up with a clean napkin.

You tensed and forced your awareness to your face in attempt to feel if something had been left dried up there.

“I’m going about my search in an orderly block by block manner.”

Twisting your neck, he pulled your attention with his sudden speech.

“I’ll be in this vicinity for the next few days. Your options might not be so limited.”

Finding nothing in his eyes, you let your gaze trail down to his hand. Between green fingers you saw the telltale scrawl of numbers.

Your heart skipped such a beat you thought you might go into cardiac arrest.

“Though I’m going to the next shop tomorrow, so do find a way to appease your superior.”

You watched in horror as both your hands came up to take the slip as if it were some precious artifact.

You wondered if he found it funny.

Or endearing.

Or maybe he already regretted his decision entirely.

“Don’t worry. Sometimes I think he keeps me on just to bitch at me.” He let go of the napkin and it came fully into your possession.

Even though it acted as a record, you tried to commit the writing to memory.

Donatello

XXX-XXX-XXXX

Curt and to the point.

Just like him.

“Also, I don’t care for idle banter. Only message me when completely necessary.”

“Sure.” Pulling the napkin close, you looked up to find him already moving away. You jolted at his retreating form before planting your feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He surely heard your shout, but continued on unperturbed.       

NEXT

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #villain donnie #weakspotfic

[quotidian-oblivion]

got any fic recs for a poor starving victorian girl?

Hi ghosty!! 'Course I do!

So i created a fic rec list over here before, but I'm happy to give more fic recs! I'll combine the ones I've posted individually and new ones under the cut

So obviously there's envysparkler's works. She is iconic. Every one of her fics are iconic.

And obvi @sardonic-sprite as well.

But there is one fic I will forever rec and it's Rebel Without a Claus by DangerBeckett. Really. It is in every one of my fic recs. It has me writing comments longer than a page long. It's still in progress and it's currently 10 chapters though. And updates are slow, but the highlight of my day when I get the email that it's been updated.

Now next we have...

One totally normal, completely inconspicuous Fererro Rocher Crack! It's by @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego and I love it, one of my comfort fics to read at 2am.

And another one by Evie is the ongoing Did you ever love somebody with a death wish? We all love evil Tim Drake AUs >:)

The Dragon's Keep(ing Us Sane) - Itslivybear Crack! And emotional fluff! It's about Tim, Bart, Cassie and Kon starting a band and no one recognizes them. There is also a BANGER song in this.

two against the world - carolinaa Hurt/comfort! Angst with a happy ending! TIM GETS A DOG IN THIS ONE!!! AND THEN THE TWO RUN AWAY FROM DRAKE MANOR!! THEN THEY GET ADOPTED BY THE BATS!!!

head in the clouds - Alienu Humor! Crack! *falls to the floor* It's so funny and so batfamily, I can't.

Little bird - Ididloveyou_once Hurt/Comfort! Whump! Seriously, the whump is so good in this Titans Tower AU

The Product of Procrastination - egg_thief Humor! Crack! I read it whenever I go through tough times and feel so weighed down, and it still makes me laugh. Tim's procrastination leads him to ask for help from his two older brothers on his English assignment.

A Touch of Midas - Ellegrine Humor! Fluff! Seriously- such good fluff. When I read that dragon metaphor, I nearly sobbed. But yeah, Tim messing with his brothers is peak.

Sprinkles - SunnyBlue Whump! Angst! Fluff! AND FOREHEAD TOUCHES! GHEFOUJDS Tim's almost dying and Damian does not intend to keep it that way.

The Thing™ - InkpotSprite Crack! Humor! AND ME SCREECHING OUT LOUD AND LITERALLY CACKLING OUT LOUD WITH LAUGHTER. OH GOSH, IT'S ANOTHER TITANS TOWER AU BUT IT'S SO HILARIOUS.

Okay, let's do some multichap fics

Green rings and red things - siren_of_the_ocean In this one, Tim becomes a Green Lantern and the storyline is so good, it had me entertained as I was reading it while I was sick.

Let's be Brothers - Honeybuttons Funny, twists, adorable friendships, adorable plots, I LOVE IT!! Tim is intent on getting Jason to be his brother and so he creates a whole plan to get him and Jason close enough to be friends then eventually brothers. Roy makes an amazing appearance and ooh... what's going on with Damian over there... hmm...

cards on the table - wesslan This... oh boy, this. *takes deep breath* I LOVE THE TROPES AND THE CHARACTERIZATION AND ITS SUCH AN ADVENTURE!! PERFECT BALANCE OF FLUFF (not fluff per se, but cute moments) AND ANGST!! Tim is a fortune teller who scams Gotham's elite society to make a living. But then the fortunes turn and he finds himself facing the whole family of Bats the Waynes who keep roping him into bonding sessions.

And those are the fics for today!! Thanks so much for the ask, Ghosty, I had fun reminiscing on the lovely lovely fics the lovely lovely writers have written.

#quotidian asks #ghosty <3 #st4r <3 #fic rec #fic recs #fanfic rec #fanfic recommendations #batfamily fic recs #batfam fic rec #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfam #dc #damian wayne #batfamily #dc fic recs

[rhoorl]

Week in Review | Sept. 3

Happy September and welcome to another week in review! This past week had been circled on my calendar for a while. Do you ever have those weeks that you know are going to be an absolute cluster? Well, that was this week for me at work. On top of that, we had a hurricane to track...luckily we are all safe!.

I was so overwhelmed by all of the messages and comments sending good vibes my way this week. It seriously gave me some much-needed wind in my sails. Anyway, here we go to my fic recs and other fun stuff under the "read more" because I'm apparently super long-winded this week in everything I do 😆

Fics I read this week:

Three of my absolute favorite fics posted final chapters this week. Congrats to Megan, Mel, and Jo for wrapping up the main stories, and I'm looking forward to your epilogues and anything else you share! 

Frankie Morales

The Layover by @goodwithcheese - I’ve been shouting about this one for a while now and Megan just keeps knocking it out of the park. While I’m sad that this story came to an end, I’m so excited to reread it and for the epilogue. (I'm especially keen to reread that scene where Frankie and the boys clear the yard)! 😉

Shared Breaths by @frenchiereading - Another great Frankie fic that I’ve been following for a while! Frankie deserves the world and this story is just so sweet! The epilogue Mel posted was just … ugh so good! It made me feel every emotion. And she also posted a behind-the-scenes post that was so interesting and insightful. I love seeing how others organize and work on their stories.

Just a Number by @linzels-blog - There was a fun little extra published this week about a girls’ night that was especially fun! I'm loving Frankie so much in this.

The Pilot and His Girl by @avastrasposts - If you’ve followed me for a while, you know I love this TLOU/TF crossover so damn much. And with the inclusion of a couple of Millers into the story recently I’ve been over the moon.

Javier Peña

Late Night Texts by @mvtthewmurdvck - The concept for this fic is so good and I love how the relationship between these two evolved. I was an utter mess reading the last chapter. Bravo!

La Camisa Negra by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - I feel like a moth called to a flame anytime there is a mention of black shirt Javi … and now there's a whole one-shot dedicated to it 🫠. Speaking of Angela, she put together a compilation of her favorite Frankie fics and was sweet enough to include Delta Landscaping, so thank you!

It’s Never Too Late by @javierpena-inatacvest just gave us all of the content this week! Besides, the main story there was also this ask called Again that made me lose my damn mind! 🫠

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

The House by @gemmahale. Chapter 3 was posted this week and it was a fun journey through time to see how OFC grew up going to her adopted grandfather’s farm which was located next to the Stateman Distillery.

Marcus Pike

Sick Day by @trulybetty - Our favorite FBI agent is under the weather. I just love the fluff and domesticity of this, there's nothing like someone taking care of you when you're sick. 🥹

Dieter Bravo

I am deep in my Dieter feels these days with Working Title and as a result, I haven’t been reading much with him. The only exception is  Destiny & Deliverance by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings - Ugh, this one is so good! Between all of the teasers and hints dropped along the way, I’m so intrigued to see where this one is going!

Benny Miller

I’ve been in the deepest of deep dives with all things Garrett Hedlund, particularly Benny Miller. I just have to show this post again and the photo that came out with Garrett and Charlie (and then the subsequent video of Garrett at the roller rink). I mean, sir, are you serious?! I’m still not fully recovered. Thank you @musings-of-a-rose for giving me a crash course in all the Garrett content I've missed … and for letting me run feral in your DMs about this man 😂 Also, today is Garrett's 39th birthday, so yay. I hope that he has a great day!

Anyway, @wildemaven posted a one-shot titled  Supply & Demand that shows Benny at his best - sexy, charming, and sweet.

Things I watched:

I didn’t really get a lot of TV in this week that wasn’t the 100th rewatch of Frozen for my daughter. We have tried to sprinkle in some other movies like Tangled and Zootopia, but Elsa is her girl and who are we to deny her?

Last week, I talked about the method my husband and I use to go and see movies. This week, I went and saw The Curse of the Demeter. I know this is based on a chapter in Dracula, but I’ve never read it, so I can’t give any insight as to how true to the text the movie was or wasn’t. It was fine. Like, it was suspenseful…not super scary (I mean, you know it’s Dracula and he’s going to bite people). If I had to put it on a scale of 1-5, it would be like a 3. Perfectly fine movie, but there are other movies I’d tell you to go see first.

My husband went and saw The Haunted Mansion after I raved about it last week and he confirmed a lot of my thoughts, especially that LaKeith Stanfield is amazing in it.

Not in theaters, but I watched Mojave last night - that scoundrel Garrett Hedlund strikes again, but Oscar Issac is in it too! I liked it, but then again it may have been because of how hot Garrett looked and sounded in it! I mean look at this man:

Things I'm excited for:

Tonight I’m going to my first-ever Halloween Horror Nights event at Universal. We have a babysitter so mom and dad are ready for a date night! The only mission I have is to do the Last of Us house. There’s also some cool Last of Us-themed food that I want to try as well. I’ll report back and share some photos if anyone is interested. I'm sure to be channeling my inner Pedro-at-the-Beyonce-concert and saying "I'm fucking dying" at how amazing it's all going to be.

Fic updates:

Both WIPs had new chapters this week! I keep adding ideas for future one-shots and possibly a series, I’m not quite sure yet. I need to concentrate on the two I have going right now though! Thank you to everyone who has read and left me feedback and sent messages - it means so much!

Anyway, that’s all for me! If you made it this far, thank you for reading my ramblings. I hope you have a great week!

#rhoorl week in review #pedro pascal fanfiction #garrett hed

[cranetreegang]

Tell Me, What do You See Now? - Ominis x FemReader

AN: jesus christ and all his disciples, this chapter kicked my butt. BUT, i did it. It is DONE. and i'm very happy with how it turned out. Hopefully y'all will enjoy it too <3 thank you @roohuh for literally just letting me shove this into your face repeatedly. the ominis pov was a great idea and i love you <3

READ PART 1 HERE * READ PART 2 HERE * READ PART 3 HERE

Summary: Forgiveness is hard to find, but with the help of their friends, the two lovers may once again find their way to each other. Perhaps, emerging stronger than before.

Word Count: ~6,300

Read my other Ominis Fics Here

----------------------------

Natty drums her fingers on her arms as the hour grows later and later. She begins to wonder if her friend will return tonight at all, or if she’s chosen the wrong place to take watch. The sound of rushing air gets her attention, and Natty lets out a soft sigh as her friend lands in the lonely courtyard. Before she can cast her Disillusionment Charm, Natty approaches her. 

“Hello, my friend,” Natty greets with a warm smile as her friend whips around with wide eyes. “Back from a flight?” 

She’s shocked for a moment before she nods, “Yes, I was just about to head inside. Were you… waiting for me?”

Despite the darkness, Natty notices how her puffy eyes are like deep wells, bottomless and devoid of their usual bright spark. Natty’s brows furrow, and she steps closer. 

“I was. After today, I was worried. Seems rightfully so, given the late hour.” 

Cursing her observant nature, the Fifth Year tries to force a genuine smile.

“I’m fine. Just… couldn’t sleep.”

“It seems we are both plagued with restlessness then. Come,” Natty turns on her heel and says over her shoulder, “Walk with me.” 

She watches Natty as she strides away with a huff. The request isn’t one to be refused, so she follows after Natty. Natty is as proficient at sneaking around after hours as she is, and they manage to go unnoticed by the Prefects patrolling the corridors. They ascend the winding staircase to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Walking into the darkened circular room, the wood boards creak under their feet and the wind chills their cheeks. They slip underneath the telescope hanging by metal wires then Natty sits down, her feet overhanging between the railing. She joins Natty and, for a brief moment, the worries of the world recede. 

The breeze is pleasant, albeit chilly, at this height and they can see for miles around.  Like glittering jewels, the soft glowing lights of the different hamlets dot the dark rolling hills of the valley. In contrast, the moon’s dark face allows the stars to shine brighter against the deep velvety black sky. The Milky Way stretches across the sky like a river and the night feels infinitely more vast.  

“I like coming up here,” Natty says in a quiet, thoughtful voice. “Makes the world feel smaller, yet huge at the same time.”

She nods in agreement. Her grimace drags down her features and she looks down at the ground far below them. With her feet swinging over the edge, her stomach does a flip at the sheer height. Like they’re teetering over the edge into oblivion. 

“What is on your mind?” Natty’s voice breaks the silence, causing her to look over at Natty. “And do not tell me ‘nothing’. I will hear no more of you saying ‘nothing’.” 

Natty’s stern stare makes her wince and she’s forced to look away.

“Ominis returned without you today,” Natty adds. “Did something happen?” 

Her brows furrow, “I don’t want to talk about it, Natty.” 

“You must,” Natty replies. “It is eating you alive. Like a sickness.”

There’s another long pause, where the only noise between them is the breeze whistling between the wooden banisters above them, and Natty sighs.

  “Do you not trust me? Is that why you are adamant about keeping me in the dark?” 

Like she’s been stricken, she whips her head over to Natty with a stern frown. 

“I do trust you. That’s not the problem,” she says with a shake of her head.

“Then what is? Mhm? Tell me.”

She frowns and looks away from Natty’s pressing gaze once more. Gnawing on her lip as she stares at the ground below; she closes her eyes, hoping when she opens them again this will all be a dream, but Natty’s heavy stare keeps her where she is. 

“It feels like everything is falling apart,” she whispers. “Things I felt so sure about, are unraveling. And Ominis-,” 

Her fingers dig into the wood boards. Even saying his name makes her heart twist and she finds it impossible to speak without shedding more hot tears. 

Natty moves closer, “What about Ominis? Has he done something?”

“Yes,” she hisses. “He… broke our promise.”

“What?” Natty exclaims with wide eyes. “Th-That doesn’t sound like something he would do. What happened?” 

Shifting in place, she can’t swallow down the lump in her throat. Natty’s hand reaches for her tightly clenched fist.

Natty’s smile is kind as she says, “You do not have to be alone in this. I want to help.”

Her fist relaxes and she holds Natty’s hand which is warm, like an inferno, against her own cold one. The tightness in her throat releases enough for her to speak.

“After class today, Ominis took me to look at flowers,” she begins. “He was asking me what happened today, and why I… haven’t been talking to him about what happened below Hogwarts.”

“Did you tell him?” Natty asks with the crane of her head.

“No. No, I-I don’t know why I can’t tell him, but I can’t!” 

As she starts to cry, Natty holds her hand tighter. 

“So what did he do?” 

She chews her lip, sucking in a sharp breath, “You can’t tell anyone this, but Ominis is a Legilimens. And I’ve been… letting him in my mind on occasion. But, today, he peered into my mind without my permission, something he swore he’d never do! A-And he saw everything. He swore he would never do such a thing, yet…,” 

She falls silent with tears streaming down her heated cheeks. Natty stares out towards the horizon in deep thought.

“I see,” Natty murmurs with downcast eyes. “That is most troubling indeed. I am very sorry, my friend. I know how much you love him, and I can see why you would not wish to speak to him again.”

Her eyes lock with Natty’s as she swiftly turns her head, her brows raised and her eyes wide. Her lips part in shock and her shoulders drop as if she's been kicked in the gut. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. And to never speak to him again… she shudders at the thought. 

Natty smirks, “Ah, I see that you are not open to that idea. That is good. Then, you may be willing to listen to what I have to say next.”

Natty turns towards her and she does the same. Natty grabs both of her hands and squeezes them.

“I have seen people in love do very strange - and very stupid - things, for those they hold dear,” Natty states. “I have noticed how Ominis is with you, and I do not believe he’s ever had someone like you in his life before. It would not be hard to imagine he would be willing to do anything to keep what he has with you.”

Natty looks down with a heavy sigh, “I fear, I too, have been wishing to find out what happened below Hogwarts. You have not been the same, and we have all been very worried about you.”

She turns away with a scowl, “So, you agree with what he did then?”

“That is not what I am saying,” Natty bites back. “What he has done is wrong, and you will need to address the matter with him. What I am saying is that I understand why Ominis did something so rash and hurtful. Because he loves you. And he feels helpless to do anything to ease your pain. For I too feel just as helpless.” 

Natty’s features contort into a heartbreaking expression. The Fifth Year’s gut twists at Natty’s anguish. 

The Fifth Year’s head lowers with a whimper, “I don’t know how to talk about any of it.”

“You have not even tried,” Natty says, frowning. “That is very unlike you. Do you think the worst in us? That we will not listen? That we do not care about you?”

“I don’t know!” She snaps with a biting tone. “I don’t know how any of you will react once you know the truth. But, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d never wish to speak to me again. Why can’t any of you just let me deal with this on my own?!”

“We are trying, but you are not getting any better on your own,” Natty grimaces and squeezes her hands once more, “If you don’t wish to talk to us, fine. But, you must talk to Ominis. If you are still wanting to be with him, then you must talk to him. Keeping him at a distance is not an act of love, nor kindness.”

Natty cups either side of the Fifth Year’s face - holding her tear stricken gaze with a determined look,

“Work through this. Together with him. You may find that you will emerge even stronger than before. But, you have to be willing to open yourself to him again. Do not be afraid of what he may do, for you do not know for certain that is how he is going to react.”

She closes her eyes and more tears slip down her cheek, “And what if he doesn’t want to speak to me.”

Natty hums in thought again then she has a sure smile, wiping her tears with her thumbs.

“I don’t think Ominis will stop speaking to you. You’re important to him. Otherwise, he’d never do something like this. We tend to hold on tightly to those we love. Even if it hurts them sometimes.”

Her shoulders sag and she falls onto Natty’s shoulder with a whimper. Natty pats her head and holds her. It’s because he loves her… that he would ever do something like this. Because she left him no choice. The bitter realization that her efforts to keep him at a distance made him do this, tightens her throat. 

“I… hurt him, too,” she murmurs into Natty’s robes. “Do you think I made him have to do this? Did I drive him to break his word?” 

Natty rubs the Fifth Year’s back as she whispers, “I cannot say for certain. Only you and Ominis would know that answer.” 

“Do you think there’s any hope for us?”

Natty giggles, “I do. You two are so in love, it’s sickening.”

She smiles and closes her eyes with a quiet sigh. She still loves Ominis - there’s no question in her mind about it. Natty releases her from her embrace, and the Fifth Year sits upright with a shuddering breath, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve.

“W-What should I do?” She questions in a near whisper.

Natty smirks, “Talk to Ominis. That is the only way to move forward. And do not keep this pain in your heart, my friend.”

Taking a deep breath, she nods, “You’re right. I’ll speak to him in the morning. Thank you, Natty. For everything.”

Natty hugs her, “That is what friends are for.”  

They both stand and head out of the Astronomy Tower, with Natty heading to her dorm and the Fifth Year towards the Room of Requirement. As the Fifth Year enters the Room of Requirement, she heads over to her Vivarium and closes her eyes. The bond between her and Ominis has been reduced to a near whisper towards the outer edges of her mind. 

She frowns at how quiet he is, retreating so far away from her. It makes her stomach twist with unease at the idea that he truly did not wish to speak to her again. Taking in a deep breath, she reaches for him anyways and whispers:

Ominis…,

====================

Ominis can’t bear the silence of his thoughts as he paces around the humming furnace - not even attempting to sleep. The events replay in his mind, tormenting him with their weight: her battle with Ranrok, Fig’s death, the fear of power, then all the horrible nightmares that led up to today. Bile crawls up his tight throat from the last thing he felt from her - betrayal. A sharp gasp threatens to escape his lips, but his jaw is clenched so tightly, it keeps the noise at bay. 

He’s done many regrettable things in his life, and this most certainly was one of them. How could he have done this? How could he hurt the one person he cares for, the one he loves so much? He truly is no better than his family - causing misery and pain to all those around them. He is a Gaunt, through and through - and he’s nearly sick at the thought.

In the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. He curses himself for not thinking much further beyond glimpsing into her mind. How did he think she would react to being deceived and invaded by someone she trusted? His arms circle around himself in a vain attempt to provide some comfort, but there’s nothing to keep this coldness at bay. 

A pillow is thrown at his general direction - narrowly missing his head - followed by a mumbled, 

“Go to bed, Gaunt.” 

Then, Ominis hears the creaking of someone’s bed from the other side of the room, followed by the sounds of bare feet padding towards him.

“Come on,” Sebastian’s sleepy voice murmurs. “Let’s talk,” he grabs Ominis by his forearm and drags him out of the dorm room. 

Ominis is unceremoniously shoved onto the couch in front of the fireplace, with Sebastian settling beside him with an exaggerated sigh. Ominis shoots him an annoyed glare which Sebastian responds with an eye roll.

“What’s eating at you, Ominis? You’ve kept everyone up all night with your incessant pacing,” Sebastian grumbles.

The crackling, popping fire - a sound Ominis normally finds most pleasant - does little to ease him. Even the heat emitting from the burning logs, and the smoky wood scent, doesn’t combat the chill seeping from his heart. 

Sebastian groans, “Don’t you start giving the silent treatment too. She does that enough as is.”

Ominis whips his head over to Sebastian with a snarl, “Just go back to bed, Sebastian. I’ve already bothered you enough as is.”

Sebastian shifts and the couch slumps further - creaking and groaning from their weight - as he moves to be next to Ominis. 

“Don’t be that way. What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! I’ll tell you what’s wrong, everything!” Ominis hisses, his brows furrowing. 

Sebastian chuckles, “That certainly narrows it down.” 

“I’m not in the mood, Sebastian,” Ominis snaps while he goes to stand, but Sebastian yanks him back down onto the plush couch. “Quit man-handling me!” 

“Then stop acting like a child,” Sebastian replies sternly. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Ominis scowls in Sebastian’s direction, but the scathing action is fleeting. He lets out a heavy breath and turns away with a grimace.

“Do you ever feel that, no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape your true nature?” Ominis asks in a low, quiet voice.

Sebastian’s eyes darken, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…,” Ominis squeezes his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. “I try so hard to distance myself from my family’s legacy. Yet, n-no matter what, I-I just end up exactly like them. I will always be a Gaunt.”

Sebastian places a hand on Ominis’ shoulder, “What in Merlin’s name makes you think that? That’s not remotely true. You’re nothing like them.”

“I am,” Ominis hisses through his teeth. “I just proved it today. I-I broke our promise. She and I swore to each other something sacred, and I went and ruined it. All because I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear to feel her suffering - her wasting away - any longer.”

“Ominis, what did you do?”

Ominis’ head falls, tears threatening to spill. He can barely breathe, his chest and throat are so painfully tight. Sebastian’s grip tightens on his shoulder as he looks at his tormented friend with a deep frown.

“I know you, Ominis,” Sebastian whispers. “I don’t believe you’re capable of doing something so terrible, especially to her.” 

“But, I did,” Ominis’ hands ball up the fabric of his pants into tight fists. “I promised I would never enter her mind without her permission, and today… I did. I became the very thing I swore I would never be. I-I was just like my father.” 

Ominis sucks in a sharp breath, his hands cover his face. Sebastian stares at the dying fire in disbelief. Ominis feels Sebastian’s arm wrap around his back, gripping onto his other shoulder in a side-hug. Even Sebastian’s fiery presence does nothing to warm him. 

“Why did you do it?” Sebastian asks softly. 

Ominis lowers his hands back down to his lap, knotting his fingers together. His lips press into a tight line, and his brows pinch. It’s the same question he’s been repeating to himself all night. Before he knows it, the words start tumbling out of his mouth.

“She’s been pushing me away - pushing everyone away - ever since she fought Ranrok. I’ve tried to be patient and let her speak to me on her own. But, after the Boggart today… I didn’t think she ever would. So, I thought if I saw what happened, she would be more willing to open up to me - or at least be comforted in knowing that I knew too, and she wasn’t alone anymore,” Ominis lets out a sharp, bitter laugh and his face twists into a cruel expression. “What a foolish thing to believe. Now, she’ll never speak to me again, and she’ll continue to suffer alone.” 

Sebastian rubs up and down Ominis’ arm, his frown etches deeply into his freckled face. 

“I doubt she’ll stop speaking to you, Ominis,” Sebastian says with a slight smile on his lips. “I know you can’t see the way she looks at you, but she’s absolutely, madly in love with you, just as you are with her.”

“And I used that against her!” 

Sebastian winces at Ominis’ anguished tone. He squeezes Ominis’ shoulder, eliciting a whimper from Ominis. 

“You’re not your father,” Sebastian insists. “You didn’t do this for some sick twisted reason. You did this out of love. And sometimes we do… anything for love. Regrettable things,” Sebastian’s voice grows quiet and Ominis turns his head towards him. 

A heaviness seeps into the air as Sebastian’s hand retracts from Ominis, and he grips onto his knees. 

“I know all too well why you did it,” Sebastian says with a solemn grin. “You were worried about her. And you went too far. That’s what you need to tell her.”

“Like that’s any excuse,” Ominis whispers, a frown creasing his face. “I doubt she’ll want to speak to me anyways. Why would she?”

Sebastian smiles, “She will. If she truly loves you - which I think she does - she’ll want to talk to you. Then you two can work this out, and our roommates will stop plotting your demise.” 

Ominis flushes, his gaze falling to his lap again.

“I… didn’t mean to keep them up,” Ominis says with a faint smile tugging on his lips as the fire’s light dances in his pale eyes. “I appreciate you pulling me aside. Although, I would appreciate it more if you weren’t so literal in the meaning.”

Sebastian tousles Ominis’ already messy hair, grinning widely, “That’s what best friends are for.” 

Ominis swats Sebastian’s hand away with a scoff.

“I should go find her,” Ominis says, mustering a smile before his features fall into a grimace as he stands. “Did you mean what you said? That I’m not… like Father?” 

“I did, and I do. You may be a Gaunt, but I’m confident when I say that you don’t live up to the family name.”

Ominis’ heavy eyes lighten for a moment and he nods, “That’s the best compliment you’ve ever given me. You must truly be exhausted.”

“I am. And on that note,” Sebastian stands with a sigh - patting Ominis’ shoulder, “I’m going to bed. Good luck.”

As Sebastian’s heavy feet trudge back towards their dorm, Ominis feels a presence pressing against his mind. He nearly resists, but he recognizes who it is  - a voice he longs to hear.

Ominis… if you can hear me, and you still… wish to speak to me… then you know where to find me.

Before he can reply, she withdraws from his mind, leaving him gasping for breath. Without hesitation, Ominis leaves the common room - determined to find her and face the conversation that awaits him.

==================

Ominis ascends the final stair and faces down the corridor with a grimace. He walks down the hallway, cautiously approaching the place she’s taken refuge at. He stops and faces the wall - silently praying for it to reveal. Doubts fill his mind. What if the voice he heard was a product of his desperate imagination. After what he’s done, she may never want to speak to him again. His jaw clenches, gripping his wand tightly. He must try. He has to pull her off this ledge she’s so stubbornly clinging to. 

Reaching out, his hand meets the cold, metal doorknob - eliciting a gasp of relief. Closing his eyes briefly, he opens the door and steps into the Room of Requirement.

The gray waters reflect the gloomy, overcast sky, blurring the line of the horizon and the sea. Waves break to shore, washing over her legs, before retreating back into the vast expanse. She wonders if there’s an end to this ‘endless’ ocean. Would it swallow her whole, or would it spit her back out? She grimaces, considering the temptation to hide here forever. But, she knows that would be too easy. She digs her fingers into the wet sand and closes her eyes. 

Since talking with Natty, she’s been trapped in a harrowing depression. Waiting for Ominis hasn’t helped in the slightest. It’s like she’s caught in an indefinite limbo, awaiting for this storm to end. She pushed him to this point, and now they’re both laying in the wake of their actions and inactions. Ugliness pervades their beautiful relationship like a toxin, and she doubts he’ll ever want to speak to her again now that he knows the truth. Perhaps, that’s for the best for them to go their separate ways, but the mere thought makes her heart lump in her throat. 

Amidst the symphony of crashing waves, the chirps and growls of her beasts ring off in the distance. They run and play behind her - having given up on her long ago for any sort of attention. She smiles softly at their joyous noises, reminiscent of their excitement when she first enters the Vivarium. Her eyes fly open and she scrambles to her feet to turn around. There, walking towards her, is Ominis. 

The waves nudge against the back of her legs, urging her to approach him. She’s overjoyed to see him, but then the crashing reality of what happened slams into her. Her fists clench to her sides the longer she stares at him. The dormant indignation stirs within her chest and ignites her rage.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” she hisses between clenched teeth. 

Ominis turns his face towards her, her various beasts scampering away at her harsh tone.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Dark circles are under his eyes and unkempt, wild hair gives him an uncharacteristically sloppy appearance. His disheveled suit and dress shirt adds to the unusual sight. She looks away, afraid of what she might find lurking within his gray eyes if she lingers any longer. Her fists form into tight balls. 

“You have some nerve,” she says, her voice cracking. She clenches her jaw, determined to keep herself from going to him.

Ominis steps closer, pleading, “Please, I only wish to talk.” 

She scoffs and shoots him her most scathing glare, “Talk? Is that what we do?” 

“No. Not lately,” he replies quietly. A haunting shadow dulls his usual vibrant eyes, and she despises how hollow he looks. Clinging harder onto her anger even more, she resists the urge to go to him.

He inhales sharply and admits, “I should not have delved into your mind.”

“No,” her voice cracks, her emotions spiraling out of control. “I trusted you, Ominis. You promised me!” 

“I know,” he whispers, his head lowering. “I broke your trust, and our promise.  And I will live with what I’ve done for the rest of my days. My word may not mean much to you right now, but I will spend every day trying to earn back your trust in me. I swear to you.” 

Every day? 

Her brows furrow as a startling realization hits her. He’s here. He chose to come back to her, despite knowing the truth. She’s not sure what to feel, so she anchors herself to her anger amidst this chaos. 

“You are such a hypocrite,” she seethes, her voice unrecognizable even to herself. “You condemned and chastised Sebastian for breaking his word, yet you had no qualms doing it yourself!”

“You had left me no choice!” His cry rattles her and he takes an intense step forward, “You weren’t going to tell me, and it was tearing you apart! Did you expect me to just sit back and let you destroy yourself?! Do you not believe that I love you? I would do anything to ensure your happiness, even at the cost of you never speaking to me again.”

His pained words matches his tormented expression and she looks away once more with a gasp. Tears brim in her eyes and she digs her nails into the flesh of her palm to keep them at bay.

“You don’t know that,” she mutters in a low tone. 

“Then tell me, would you have told me otherwise?” 

Her teeth grind together from her clenching her jaw so hard. She looks up to the overcast sky in a vain attempt to find an answer. Bitter tears stream down her cheeks like raging hot rivers, and her lip trembles. 

“Damn you, Ominis,” she seethes through her teeth. “Is that why you’ve come? To tell me you were justified in what you’ve done?” 

“No. Please,” Ominis grimaces and he reaches towards her, but she steps away from him. His brows pinch. “I’m not trying to justify anything. I’m saying we’ve both been making these terrible decisions and assumptions based out of fear, and it needs to stop.” 

She steps further away from him and shakes her head, “Why can’t you just leave me alone? It’s what’s best for both of us.” 

He takes a sharp breath,  his jaw sets as he stares her down, “No. I will not.” 

“Why?!” She screams. “Is it because of the bond we share? Did you feel obligated to come because of it? Well, don’t. In fact, I will gladly find a way to… t-to make it all stop. Then you won’t have to deal with me ever again!” 

He closes his eyes with a wince, “No. I came because I care about you. And I love you. And I… don’t want to lose you. Which is why you can’t hide away forever. It’s not good for you.” 

She lets out a bitter laugh, “Well, you would know. You know everything now!” 

He flinches at her venomous words, but he remains quiet. Her brows knit together and her nostrils flare. 

“You once asked what I see when I look at you,” she steps towards him and hisses in a cruel, harsh tone, “So, tell me, Ominis Gaunt. What do you see when you look at me now?”

He doesn’t back away. Instead, his features soften, impossibly so, and he whispers, 

“I see you, my love.”

His words carry warmth, love, and genuineness. She recoils with a sharp breath. How dare he? How can he still hold such affection for her? Her thundering rage surges, overpowering her, and she storms away. He snatches her wrist before she can get far. 

“Let me go!” She tries to wring herself from his grasp, but he grabs her other arm amidst her thrashing. Her eyes widen and she lets out a wailing scream as he pulls her towards him. 

“Let me go! Let me go!” She cries, like a child, turning around to beat against his chest. 

“I am not letting you go,” he says firmly. “I won’t ever let you go.”

She gasps, her fists clenching the starched cloth of his tweed vest. She stares at him with anguish and despair. 

“Why don’t you hate me?! Why?” She sobs. 

She fights against him as he pulls her closer to him, but it’s all but finished. As soon as her cheek touches his chest, she collapses against him in a pained cry. They fall to their knees on to the sandy beach and he clutches tight around her.

“Why are you doing this? Why can’t you let me go? Please… Ominis. I’ll only ruin you,” she pleads through her mournful sobs. 

“You will do no such thing,” he whispers into her ear. “I know you. And you have only brought joy and warmth into my life. I won’t let you lose yourself.”

It breaks his heart to hear her so… broken. He has allowed her to rot in these horrible, vile thoughts for too long. It takes all of his strength not to cry with her, but he remains stoic and silent - allowing her to unleash the pent-up feelings she’s been keeping at bay. And once she finally calms, he speaks.

“Tell me. Tell me everything,” he urges, gripping her tighter. “I want to hear it from you, from your own mouth. Your own lips. Tell me what happened. Please, stop running from me, and let me in.” 

She pulls away enough to look at him, grasping his hands tightly and placing them in her lap. 

“I promise. I am not going anywhere,” he whispers when she stays silent. “But, I will if you don’t let me in.” 

She swallows the last of her tears then takes a shaky breath. Staring at their joined hands gives her enough strength to speak.

“Before Ranrok destroyed the Repository,” she shivers as she recalls the events, “I made a promise to Professor Fig that I would try to keep the magic within, contained. But, after I fought R-Ranrok-,” her voice wavers and he squeezes her hands to urge her to continue. 

“After I fought him, the power was overloaded. It was going to surge and destroy everything. And I was left with a choice: mend the Repository and hope that no others like Ranrok would seek its power, or…,” she takes a deep breath, “I could release it. Let the magic be used by all. Used for something good instead of  hiding it away in fear.” 

She sighs, “So I made my choice. And I had to… absorb some of the power in order to stabilize it.”

Her gaze meets Ominis’, and she’s met with understanding. Not loathing, nor disappointment. She shakes her head with a grimace. 

“No, you don’t understand. I am just like Isidora! And it’s only a matter of time before that same power consumes me, as it did her,” she says, her voice filled with desperation.

Ominis frowns for a moment then shakes his head with conviction.

“You are nothing like Isidora.” 

She’s about to argue, but his pale gray eyes seem to stare right into her, silencing her. He holds both of her hands firmly and leans in close, his expression serious.

“You have been focusing only on the harm you could potentially do, that you’ve completely ignored all the good you have done. You have done great things with your abilities. You’ve saved people, countless lives, and there is more yet to come. You are good. You are kind.”

“But, so was she,” she whispers. 

“That may be. But, there’s something else which sets you two apart. She was alone,” he squeezes her hands with a soft, warm smile. “And you are not. You have so many people who love and care about you. I love and care about you. You are not alone in this. And I will not let you be consumed by this power.”

She lets out a soft gasp, “I can’t burden you with such a thing, Ominis.” 

He chuckles gently and cups her cheek, “This is no burden, my love. You are far stronger than you think you are. And if you ever stumble, or fall - I will be right there to lift you up. And before you object, I already know you would do the same for me. So, why wouldn’t I do the same for you?”

She wants to argue with him, but her words fail to form. Looking into his earnest expression she wonders why she ever assumed the worst. 

“Y-You’re too good to me,” she finally says.

His brows furrow and he shakes his head, “No, I haven’t been good to you, my love. I broke your trust in me. I was terrified of losing you, and I-,”

“Stop,” she places her finger over his lips. “Do you promise never to do it again? Do you swear to not break your word to me?” 

He nods, gripping her hand tightly, “I promise.”

“And I promise to never put you in a position like that again. I won’t keep things from you, and I won’t ever doubt your devotion again,” she replies.

She closes her eyes as a great weight seems to fall off her shoulders. Her arms wrap around his neck and he’s quick to embrace her. A warmth blooms in her chest at how good it feels to be in his arms once more. He sighs, feeling this lightness within her. Then he crashes his lips against hers in a passionate, heated kiss.

She realizes how much of a distance had formed between them, and the intensity of their kiss brought a crashing wave of relief and longing. Her fingers tangle in his hair to keep him just where he is and she grips onto his shoulder for balance. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers against her lips, continuing their passionate kissing. Tears mingle with the salt of the sea on their lips. Lost in the feeling of her, he invigorates her senses, and the electric connection of their bond is at a crescendo. It ignites his skin and burns away the last of the cold he’s felt from having to be withdrawn from her presence. 

Lowering her onto the sand, he finally breaks the kiss with a sigh. He gently strokes her cheek, tucking aside her wind-blown hair behind her ear. She stares up at him in awe, taking in his disheveled appearance and heated face. The darkness which loomed in his eyes earlier is all but vanquished with an adoring brightness. The smile on his lips and the devotion in his gaze, ignites a fire within her. She reaches up and traces over his features, as if discovering him anew. 

His eyes soften at her gentle hand, and as she stares into his swirling mists, she’s quickly falling in love with him all over again. With a light touch, she traces the constellation of moles on his cheek, each one a unique mark of his beauty. Her fingers dance over his skin, tracing the edges and curves of each mole with a tenderness he’s only ever experienced with her. As she leans in closer, she breathes in the scent of his skin, cherishing the warmth and closeness of the moment.

Their lips meet once more, tender and full of love, making him whimper at the sweetness of it. When they part, they sigh and he kisses her cheek then he trails his lips down to her jaw, working towards her neck. Soft, loving kisses fill her neck, and he nestles himself against her chest. 

Listening to the strums of her heart and the rise and fall of her chest, he finds peace. She wraps her arms around him, holding him close to her. The weight of his body on hers brings her to a state of utter bliss. She strokes his hair and he nuzzles into her neck with a sigh. He can’t imagine being anywhere else. The ocean waves are calm as they break to shore, and the sounds of beasts as they play makes him smile. His hand remains on her cheek, stroking her fondly. He savors the feeling of her smile under his fingertips and the softness of her skin.

“I love you, Ominis,” she whispers as she kisses his forehead. “And, I won’t ever shut you out like that again. I am so much stronger when you’re by my side than I ever am alone.”

Ominis shivers at the power and sincerity in her words, releasing a breath as he fully melts into her.

“And I won’t ever betray your trust again. I will always be by your side. I love you. Fiercely. And I won’t let anything try to take us apart.” 

She kisses his forehead and his hairline, wearing a warm smile as she whispers, 

“So, you’re saying I’m stuck with you?”

He laughs into her neck and nods, “You are. As I’m stuck with you.”

“What a pity,” she giggles. 

“Indeed. A tragedy, really. But, I’m sure we’ll find a way to manage,” he teases, kissing her neck.

She’s aware of her beasts coming over. They laugh as one of the Puffskeins works its way between them with a happy chirp, while more swarm over him. He’s covered in fluffy Puffskeins and she can’t stop giggling at the sight. 

“I think they like you.”

“At least they’re soft,” he grins as he pets one. 

They both start to drift off to sleep in a pile of Puffskeins - the exhaustion of the past few days, and weeks, having finally caught up to them. She hears his faint mumblings of his adoration and love for her, his voice and warm touch soothing her into a peaceful slumber for the first time in days.

-----------------------

AN: probs shouldn't have added the Puffskeins at the end because of that one image going around, but i do what i want. DUDES thank god for ChatGPT and Forefront for letting me just brainstorm with the stupid AI. Forefront came up with the idea of talking to friends before Ominis and MC talked, and i was like... shiiit you on to something. and i liked the idea of Natty being rather blunt and like 'yo GIRL' and even Sebastian being a bit on the 'DUDE' side.

But yeah this chapter... i really wanted to get right because i wanted them to make up in a meaningful way. Instead of just kissing and being like 'love ya babe' like i really wanted to at times LOL.

Anyways, let me know what y'all think <3 we're nearing the end dudes. i got like one more fic for this then some letters then... yeah. on to 7th year!

#ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy #fanfic #fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #creative writing #ominis x mc #ominis x you #legilimency #ominis x oc #comfort #ominis gaunt x you #drama #slight angst #magic bonds #angst #hurt and comfort #light angst #natty onai #natsai onai #boggart #chatgpt #openai #fluff #sebastian and ominis #sebastian sallow #natty is the best friend

[bluestar22x]

Chapter 4

Baby Fever - Chapter 4

Series Summary: It all started with a classic case of baby fever

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!(Wife)Reader

Rating: 18+ Series

Warnings: Lots of fluff, supportive Marcus, mentions of morning sickness, some swearing, and health anxiety.

Word Count: 2,611

Author's Note: Finally got the chance to update this fic. Real life was making me very tired but today was a day off work so I had the energy to get this done. So happy.

xxx

You woke up that morning in the best kind of way, to Marcus calling out your name softly and pressing his lips to your forehead. You sighed, drowsy and still slightly annoyed you'd had to be woken up at all, but grievances were forgotten when you blinked your eyes open and saw your husband gazing down at you with a tenderness in his eyes that always made you melt.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked you quietly, kissing your temple, the one on the same side of you that he was lying next to, belly down and propped up on his elbows.

"Well, I'm not rushing to the bathroom, so that's something," you replied, glancing over to the alarm clock on your nightstand.

It was six-thirty in the morning. You groaned. "Fuck. Why'd I agree to an eight o' clock doctor's appointment?"

"Because otherwise she wouldn't be able to see you for another month," Marcus reminded you, lifting his brows slightly. "And you need to get your tests done. Want to."

It had been four weeks since you'd found out you were pregnant, and you had called Dr. Harrington the very next day to find out when you needed to go see her, which had led you to set an appointment with her during your tenth week of pregnancy, for your first ultrasound (ever) and bloodwork that would check on your health and the baby's.

You were excited about the ultrasound, you really were, but you weren't looking forward to getting your blood drawn, especially after the night you'd just had.

You'd escaped morning sickness for two more weeks after finding out about the baby, but you had indeed eventually started to get the queasiness you'd expected. You'd thrown up once or twice a day consistently since then, but the previous night it had been three times, all within an hour of each other, plus lots of dry heaving in between.

Marcus had spent half the night up with you, rubbing your back comfortingly as you knelt in front of the toilet and offering water to you to rinse out your mouth when your retching became productive.

It was after two o' clock in the morning by the time you felt like you could stray from the bathroom, so exhausted Marcus had to guide you to and into your bed, tucking you in and curling his body around yours, gently pressing a warm hand against your stomach under your flannel night shirt. The heat radiating from his palm acted like a hot water bottle and finished what the vomiting had started, lulling you to sleep faster than any other time you could recall.

You were grateful for everything he'd done for you, how if he wasn't at work he was always with you, doing whatever he could to help you as promised, so you couldn't find it in your heart to be annoyed with him, but you were annoyed that he had to wake you not even five hours later, appointment be damned.

He was right though. You did want to see your baby. The knowledge that you would that day already had warmth blooming in your chest.

By sheer will you rolled yourself out of bed and cupped your face in your hands. "Dibs on the shower first," you declared, yawning.

Marcus tilted his head at you. "Of course. I'll go get breakfast started. Pancakes?"

"Sure," you mumbled. "Though I don't know if they'll stay down."

He stood and pulled on one of the white t-shirts he tended to wear with his flannel sleep pants, lips pushed out in a frown. "You should bring that up with Dr. Harrington. See what other suggestions she has besides peppermint tea and pretzels to help with that."

"I will." You waved him off. "Now go and make it. I’m hungry. Let's eat before my body realizes I'm awake."

Marcus couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Alright, I'm on it."

He marched off and you started to strip down, taking a moment to feel the space between your hips. You still didn't feel a difference, couldn't see a difference there, not yet, but you still liked doing it, if only to remind yourself that you being nauseous for half the day was for a good reason.

"You'd better be okay," you warned your unborn child, though you knew they couldn't hear you yet, let alone understand you. "I'm not going through this for nothing."

x

You made it past breakfast and the drive to the hospital before your queasiness returned, brought on by all the paperwork you had to fill out in Dr. Harrington's waiting room. All those questions asking about your medical history, and Marcus', and both your families. Marcus' side was mostly healthy, or as much as the typical family was. He had one grandfather who died of diabetic complications and a grandmother who died of a stroke, but who didn't in America, really?

It was your side of the family that was making you nervous. You didn't know anything about your bio family, and that was disconcerting. You'd never considered that before, that you could be sentencing an innocent baby to some terrible disease your family had that you had no clue about.

When you expressed your concern to Marcus, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and squeezed them slightly. "I'm sure they'll be fine, honey. You are."

"That doesn't mean anything," you argued, and he shook his head at your insistence.

"Not worth worrying about when there's nothing you can do about it," he told you.

He was right. Well, you could've gotten a DNA test, but you'd heard those sometimes gave results that added on more health anxiety than necessary. You didn't need that.

You forced yourself to hand back the paperwork with its blanks and sat back down with him, clasping his left hand in your right, trying to focus on his solid presence instead of your mysterious family history.

You found yourself glancing around the room, at the four other women in varying stages of pregnancy waiting there for their own appointments and were even more grateful for him.

Only one of the other women had their partner with them, the one that seemed farthest along. Probably almost ready to have her baby judging by how round she was.

The rest were alone. You hoped for their sake it wasn't the norm, or at the very least it was because their partner couldn't get out of work. Still, you couldn't have imagined what it would have been like coming here alone if Marcus hadn't been able to take the day off. You could’ve done it, sure, of course, but you would've definitely thrown up because of your nerves.

You were tightening your grip on his hand when you heard your name called out. Swiveling your head towards the voice, you spotted a nurse by the door that led to the back rooms, a clipboard of papers and a pen in hand. Her name tag read Harper. You recognized her, the only woman you had ever seen with a mullet. She was fairly new, but she'd been the nurse to escort you to a room the last time you had your yearly physical. You recalled her being nice enough.

You followed her through the door wordlessly, Marcus close behind you, and Harper gestured for you to step on the scale. After she'd written down your weight you were led into the very last room, one equipped with an ultrasound machine next to the examination table.

After you'd sat down, she asked you further questions about your medical history, if you were on any medications currently (you were not, besides the prenatal vitamins you got at the pharmacy ten minutes from your house), and she probed for why you hadn't filled out your family history.

"I'm adopted," you informed her patiently. She started clicking around your files on the laptop in front of her and nodded. "Ah. Yes. That is already in the notes."

She scanned the files and filled in the missing information that she could for the next few minutes then stood from the stool she was planted on. "That's it for now. I'll go get the doctor."

You nodded and tried to relax as she stepped out, eyes wandering to Marcus, who was seated in a chair next to you, studying the posters on the wall. You'd seen them at least a dozen times, having been a patient of Dr. Harrington for nearly a decade so you knew which one his eyes ended up lingering on most - the one with the stages of pregnancy drawn on it with the baby's position in the uterus and size shown. The attention he gave it made you warm again. You'd really chosen your partner well.

He'd felt your eyes on him and you were sharing smiles when there was a knock at the door and Dr. Harrington entered.

"Hello," she greeted you brightly, saying your name after. She pushed her reading glasses higher up on her nose. "How are you doing today?"

"Alright," you answered automatically.

"She's being modest," Marcus told her. "She was up half the night sick."

"Peppermint tea and pretzels not working?" Dr. Harrington inquired, turning back to you.

"It helps," you replied, "Just not always. I still get sick once or twice a day. And something must have really tipped me off last night cause it was three times."

"What did you eat last night?"

"Just toast."

Dr. Harrington hummed. "One night doesn't say much, but keep trying things out. There's crackers and ginger that might work better for you. And keep avoiding harder to digest foods."

Neither you nor Marcus brought up the pancakes from that morning. It was your dirty secret and it was one of those few carb loaded foods you could handle so it didn't matter.

"If it keeps getting worst or you notice you're losing weight, just call me and I can get you a prescription for the nausea," Dr. Harrington continued, "But I'd rather you try all the simple remedies first."

You nodded. You'd expected as much, but it was worth bringing it up to her anyway, so at least she knew it wasn't going so smooth for you.

"Congratulations, by the way," she added. "I know how anxious you were for this to happen."

"It was about time," you said, and she laughed.

"I know, I know how it can feel like forever when you're trying. But I promise you that this took a normal amount of time."

She twisted to face Marcus for a moment. "It's nice to finally meet you, Marcus. You must be excited too?"

"I am," he confirmed, a hand reaching out for yours automatically.

A smile flickered on her face upon witnessing it. "Good. I'm glad you were able to come in today too."

"Nothing could've stopped me," Marcus told her firmly, and you had no doubt that was true. If his boss hadn't given him time off, he'd have come anyway, no matter the consequences. He was determined to be there for you and didn't want to miss a thing.

"Good man," Dr. Harrington noted, nodding her head in approval.

"The best," you affirmed, and caught Marcus looking a bit flushed at that. He was used to giving compliments, not receiving them, even after being with you for two years.

After that Dr. Harrington got to work, giving you the typical physical and engaging you in a series of questions throughout the exam, mostly about how you were feeling, other than queasy.

"I don't feel much different otherwise," you had answered honestly. "Maybe a little more tired, maybe a little more hungry, but that's also not not typical of me, you know?"

She had snorted at that. "I know what you mean. Day to day life, especially when you have a full time job is tiring enough without having to grow a baby at the same time."

"Marcus suggested I take a break from working," you informed her. "But I said no. Am I crazy?"

Dr. Harrington chuckled again. "No. If you want to keep working there's nothing wrong with that. Your job isn't too physically demanding and it's good for your mentality to get out of the house and interact with people too. Just go to bed early and make sure to take breaks when you need them."

Once she was done examining you, she had you lay back and unbutton your jeans to allow her access to the part of your abdomen that she needed to use the ultrasound probe on.

"The gel will be cold," she warned just before squeezing it onto your belly.

It was cold, but not enough to make you flinch. You still glanced down at the pile of goop as she spread it around the surface of your lower belly with the probe, but once you had, your eyes quickly turned up to the screen.

There was mostly darkness, with patches of white and gray at first, nothing shaped like anything you knew was inside you. Not even intestines. You hadn't been trained to be able to discern anything on a machine like that after all. But when an oblong shape appeared on a backdrop of blackness you immediately knew what it was because you'd seen all of your sister's ultrasound pictures and a bunch online as well.

You beamed at the sight and briefly craned your neck to look at Marcus, who squeezed your hand when he saw your joyful and awed expression. He was grinning just as widely as you and it took ten years off of him.

"That's our baby," you stated, whispered.

"I know," he said back, voice also low and calmer than he looked. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple and then replaced it with his forehead, eyes closing momentarily. "I love you so much. Thank you for making me a dad."

Your heart soared. Marcus a dad. You a mother. A mom. Both, together. "I love you too," you said a little breathlessly.

"How are they?" Marcus asked Dr. Harrington, pulling away a bit.

She smiled even wider than she already had been after having watched your exchange. "The baby is looking perfectly fine. I can't see anything concerning. I just need to turn on the sound to listen to the heartbeat."

You quivered with excitement. "You think we'll hear it today? Since I'm ten weeks?"

"Yeah, it's usually long enough," she told you.

She did what she needed to do to turn up the volume and a sound that reminded you of horses galloping on a soft surface emitted from the device in her hand. You'd also heard this before, having listened to the sound of fetal heartbeats on YouTube while you and Marcus were trying, but that hadn't prepared you for hearing your own baby's heartbeat for the first time.

There was something so profound about it, knowing with absolute certainty you were pregnant and that the baby's heartbeat sounded strong. Fast.

"Normal?" Marcus questioned, eyes flickering briefly from the screen to Dr. Harrington.

"Sounds good to me," she replied simply. "Congrats again, you two."

"Thanks," you said to her, before your eyes met Marcus' once more. "I have a feeling I'll sleep better tonight." Your nausea had faded through the course of the sonogram. “Once I get through the blood draw.” Just saying that had the nerves kicking back up.

Marcus briefly grimaced for your sake. "I will sleep well too," he said after, lifting your hand up and kissing the top of it. "Nothing but good dreams tonight."

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#Marcus Pike Fanfic (Mine) #X Reader #Baby Fever Series

[inmarbleimmobility]

1.1.3 Good Bishop - Difficult Diocese

augh two posts in one day because I was too busy doing my Actual Job last night to do my Fun Homework :(

I love this chapter!!! Jesus!Myriel is best Myriel. imagining all 5'5" or whatever of "his highness" rolling up on a donkey kills me every time.

in the continuing trend of "Alex wants more bishop fic," I really want Myriel And His Gals Go On A Road Trip now.

this entire chapter feels like Hugo whacking me upside the head with a hardcover brick and going "see!!! this is what Jesus meant!!!! Myriel is the only one who Gets It!!!!" and you know what? he's right. I'll let it pass.

"he preached less than he talked" because Myriel Getting It means he understands you don't change minds by literally preaching to them, you change minds by meeting people where they're at and talking to them person to person - in their dialect, using examples they understand, suggesting changes that are both actionable and beneficial for all. (as a side note, the only priest in my young Catholic life that did this was also the one that nearly convinced angsty teen Alex that maybe #NotAllCatholics, so. rip Monseigneur Bienvenu you would've loved Fr Alvaro.) not sure if I can think of another example off the top of my head of Hugo emphasizing this approach again - les amis are somewhat implied to have done this, but we don't see much of it on page; Enjolras in particular is... not exactly going to succeed at the Just Some Guy method, and Combeferre almost scares Marius away forever with his sick burn, so. I'll keep an eye out for it though!

again in his parables advice Myriel is emphasizing those Big Three - helping ensure men benefit from their own labor, providing for women, and free universal education. (and, as others have pointed out, education simply to combat ignorance, not to further an agenda!)

there's also been some discussion today about Myriel describing Queyras as "a little republic" and I've been thinking about it for hours. What Does It Mean, Hugo!!!

also Thinking about how someone mentioned how the "law" in Queyras is One Good Mayor and how that foreshadows Madeleine, as if Myriel somehow silently passed that specific example on to Valjean. Interesting too that he specifically cites the lack of judge or constable - Hugo has Lots still to say about how the Law and its arbiters and enforcers help maintain the systems that oppress people like Valjean, and here he's suggesting for the first time that good people being in power (or people in power being good, which I don't think is quite the same?) does more good than the law. Is Queyras like a little prototype Montreuil-sur-Mer? Is M-sur-M a little republic? Is this what you meant all along, Hugo?!

and then, just in case you didn't get it before, Hugo makes sure to tell you Myriel has "the very eloquence of Christ". the way he's going on I'm a little surprised he doesn't have anyone wash Myriel's feet.

#sorry i can't remember who brought those very good points up #it's way past my bedtime (can you tell from my descent into madness during this post) and i simply Cannot backread rn #anyway! #time to go rotate myriel in my brain microwave for several hours while i wait for sleep #les mis #les mis letters #lm 1.1.3