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dittanyinbloom · 11 months

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I can finally (sort of) show you guys what my MC looks like!!!

My first time using AI art was thirty minutes ago, and this was the second result and the one that I think looks the most like her. I don’t know how to make hair look right yet ???? Send help ?? She had loose curls, sort of frizzy, but more defined than Hermione’s in the first couple of movies. It keeps giving her braids! And she is meant to have dark green eyes, but I don’t know how to achieve that either!!

Lyra Lovegood

-about fourteen in the image above

House: Gryffindor

Traits:

There are two sides to Lyra, the first is the person she presents to the world. She needs to be the funniest person in the room or else she is quiet and insecure. Her laugh is loud and contagious. People who don’t know her well would describe her as ditsy. If she shows up to class at all, it’s just to talk with another student that she needed to discuss something with. She hasn’t turned in a homework assignment since the start of term, and reading deeply frustrates her. Her hair always looks a bit out of place, and she usually has a bit of dirt on her face somewhere.

Then there is the more outgoing side her companions know. The more one gets to know Lyra, the louder she gets around them. She’s stubborn, but not because she is angry, she just likes to see how others react to being challenged. During meal times, she moves from one table to the next to catch up with everyone. Savory food makes her melt. She’ll stay seated for a longer amount of time if the food is good enough, and she is not shy about eating. What?! She’s a growing girl with a million quests to fulfill! Is she supposed to not dig into the feast presented to her for the sake of being ladylike?! She lies for fun, but she immediately gives herself away by laughing. Her poker fake is rubbish. Most times she laughs while telling jokes and can’t follow through with it.

Features: green eyes, her hair is reddish in the winter and a bit blonder in the summer months, she’s thick- she eats good, alright! Her thighs could crush you, but she wouldn’t even think to do such a thing because deep down she is embarrassed a little by her size, even though boys find her curves very attractive in later years, they are a bit mean about it when she is younger.

Family: She’s halfblood from her father’s side. They live on a farm in Ireland and all work on it. Her older brother is stocky as well, but he is much calmer with a heart of gold. Her three younger siblings are rambunctious. Their mum has always had to play “bad cop” to their father’s jovial nature, but she knows how to have fun as well. They have two herding dogs and a stray orange tabby that lives in the barn and chases the chickens. Their mum can’t figure out why the damned cat keeps coming back. Everyone is feeding it behind her back, even their dad. Wrestling was how the kids used to pass the time. There was five kids in their three bedroom farmhouse. It was a tight squeeze growing up, but that made her accustomed to physical contact, a trait her friends at school were alarmed by at first. Especially Ominis who is touch starved and doesn’t know it.

Friendships:

Sebastian and Lyra do not get along, but only because Lyra feeds into Sebastian’s competitive side. She hasn’t shut up about that one time she beat him in a duel during class. Sebastian regrets complimenting her about it afterward. Even if they agree on a topic, Lyra will play devil’s advocate for hours to piss him off. He hates that she doesn’t have to try at all in class for the professors to like her. Her stance against dark magic is rather serious though, and she ends up crying while shouting during those arguments. Does she show up to the classes they share just to stare at him, maybe. But she just does it to bother him! No really! She isn’t like other girls! She doesn’t care that he is pretty! That’s a lie.

“Bet you only hang around the library so much because you fancy Ravenclaw girls.”

“Careful now, you’re sounding jealous, Lovegood.”

Ominis loves to listen to Lyra and Sebastian bicker, but he can not stand handling Lyra alone. In his opinion, Lyra is like if Sebastian was on cocaine and was suffering from rabies. She’s abrasive. She grabs Ominis’s hand and drags him places without warning or consent. The way she has to say hello to everyone is overwhelming. Ominis can’t keep up with all the people she stops to talk to and he hates being confused about who is speaking. When Sebastian showed Lyra the Undercroft, Ominis seriously debated switching schools. During the Into the Shadows arc, Lyra was on his side and really defensive against Sebastian for Ominis’s sake. She sent a howler to his older brother once during winter holiday, and Ominis still laughs every time he thinks about Marvolo opening up the letter at the dinner table with their parents present. She had sent it as a Christmas present to Ominis. So, there are benefits to knowing her.

“I just wanted a peaceful nap in the sun, is that too much to ask?”

“Stop playing hard to get or else I will have to carry you again. I’m not above it.”

Poppy is terrified but also in awe during every conversation she had with Lyra. Her willingness to take down a dragon fighting ring with her was impressive, but the fire in her eyes when she was battling the poachers was alarming. She might be the only one who ever gets to see Lyra’s soft side because shockingly, she’s kind with animals. Lyra grew up on a farm, so she knows how to be respectful. Beasts love her. Poppy finds it endearing. Absolutely no one believes her when Poppy tells people that she and Lyra care for a hippogriff together and have ridden it. Poppy canonically doesn’t have many friends, and when students made a comment about her finally making one, Lyra tackled one of them. Sebastian had company in detention that week.

“-It might be a bit dangerous because Centaurs can be-“

“I’m in.”

“But, you didn’t even hear me explain why-“

“You had me at dangerous.”

Natsai and Lyra are roommates and practically sisters at this point. She supports Natty in all her incessant endeavors to track down dark wizards. Professor Onai is very wary of Lyra, but she is the closest friend Natty has made since moving to Scotland, so her mother allows the friendship, though she doesn’t encourage it. Natty is the only person that can convince Lyra to go to class, and Lyra is the only one to convince Natty to skip class. Natty is teaching Lyra wandless magic, and every time Sebastian teaches Lyra a new spell, Lyra races to the dorm room and will even wake Natty up if it’s the middle of the night. They had to share a bed for a few weeks after Lyra taught Natty Confringo.

“I know where Harlow is.”

“Are we going to strategize first?”

The girls stare each other down and then burst out in laughter. They flew straight there and kicked down the door, excited to use Confringo in a real battle.

Garreth sees how Lyra is with others and thinks they would be perfect partners in crime. His personality is big like her own, and Lyra finds that unsettling. How dare he tell a funnier joke after she told one! Garreth’s charm and easygoing personality are natural to him. Lyra puts on that persona to get people at school to like her, so she envies him a bit for being about to have such a calm vibe. She’s quiet around him which makes Garreth think Lyra is nervous. He assumes she has a crush on him. One day he smugly tries asking her out. Lyra assumes he is joking around and trying to get a rise out of her. She casts a trip jinx on him in the halls. After that, she feels horrible and they talk it out. They become atrocious to sit behind in class. Professors simply can not lecture if they sit together.

“A troll walks into a bar…”

“Not this one again, Garreth, please. Last time we both got detention.”

Amit has been stuck in a whirlpool ever since Lyra arrived. After he gave her his old telescope, Lyra seemed to make it her mission to take him to every Astronomy Table she finds in the Highlands. At first, he is excited to have a new friend and go on mini adventures. But then she starts tapping on the window of his dorm in the middle of the night and insisting he climb on the back of her broom. What is he supposed to do? Say no to studying constellations just because he has an early start the next day? They have fun together. He doesn’t understand why Ominis and Sebastian complain about her. Lyra has never once been disagreeable with him, she has only ever been a joy to be around.

“How are you on a broom?”

“Terrible.”

“How are you on the back of someone else’s broom?”

“Terrified… When do we leave?”

Lyra in First year and Fifth year!

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #FINALLY I CAN SHOW OFF MY BABY #she’s so insecure deep down and if anyone ever found out she would cast bombarda at her feet #so stupid too bless her soul #would not read out of enjoyment even if the world ended and she was the only person left and was stuck in a library #basically built like an American linebacker but short #my little shortieeee #love her.#Lyra Lovegood

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chickensarentcheap · 1 year

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I wouldn't say he babies them, but he talks to them and calls them by them when he's out taking care of the goats and the chickens and pigs. His dogs, yes. He tends to spoil them a little too much and sneak them extra treats and allow them on certain pieces of furniture Esme would rather they not christen lol. The only one I would say he really babies in how affectionate he is with it, is his horse. Bodhi.

I'm not entirely sure . He hadn't sex in four months, so it was probably something like 'holy sh*'t'. And it had been so intense; from screaming and arguing to the hand around the throat to them just being naked from the waist down and him railing her against the wall. Sorry, pearl clutching anon, it is what it is. I don't think he had much time to think, because after a short recovery, it was pretty much just letting the hormones run everything. But when they were both exhausted and needed actual rest, he thought about it how nice it felt. Not just the sexual release, but the having her there with him. In the same bed. It had been a long time since that happened. He realized that despite their tendency to be at each other's throats bickering, there was a level of comfort and ease between them. He didn't have to put on any aires and they let each other really 'see' one another. He did tense up when she snuggled into him, but that was just a shock response. To her wanting that from him and him not being used to that.

No. She wouldn't allow herself to. She just took it a day at a time. Sometimes an hour at a time :(

Just once. He was held for twenty four hours but not harmed in anyway and let go after negotiations with Nik. It was more a power play than a punishing him thing

They do. She's got those little legs though so he has go pretty slow for her to keep up lol. They'll bike into town together :)

He does. Just in random places for her to find around the house. Like she does with the little love notes she places everywhere. It's a cute little thing between them :)

She doesn't really know just how bad things got in Ireland after she left and then in New Zealand (Sanctuary)

Butt ass nekkid. lol. Well fitting jeans (blue), white t-shirt, ball cap (preferably backwards)

They'll follow their breakfast and tea and coffee and conversation on the back deck routine, then likely go for a walk on the beach and maybe a swim. He'll take her surfing or he'll go paddle boarding with her. Have a nap on the hammock. Lunch (sometimes in town, and then they'll browse the shops), sex (because damn it, the kids are gone and they can be as wild as they want), a shower or bath together, and then just hang out maybe on the back deck and wait for the kids to come home.

TJ once announced "I'm superman!" and jumped over the stair banister. He proceeded to break his collarbone and left arm. He is the reason they can't have nice things.

@youflickedtooharddamnit, @secretaryunpaid, @munstysmind, @tragiclyhip

#Tyler and Esme series

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witchthewriter · 2 years

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Hiii love thank you for this opportunity ❤️. I choose level 4 .

Also , I didn't know about the shot out so I made you a moodboard on Eddie Munson 😅 . Hope you like it 🥰 ( I see he's your bias ...it's cute ☺️)

Nevermind , I'm just copying my previous ask 😅

Personality :- I'm a very down to earth person with a tint of fierceness. I'm an Aries afterall 🤌. I kind of had a rbf . I can be sweet as honey and bitter as bittergourd. Depends on how the other person treats me . I can be your biggest supporter and best friend if you treat me right but if you backstab me then be ready to face your worst enemy . Haha I hope I didn't intimidate you too 😅. Yeah basically this .

Hobbies :- Reading ( I'm a harry potter fan since 2 yes old hahaha) , dancing , researching , Acting , listening to music ( I can't live without it ) , cooking and eating .

Pronouns :- She / Her

Fandom :- PEAKY BLINDERS , HARRY POTTER , GRISHAVERSE

Want one? Here be the rules 🦋

Thank you!!! I love it <3 Okay so I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to ship you with someone new or do more headcanons with the people you were already shipped with so I did a mix of both for each fandom. Love ya!

Also I do apologise that my headcanons are all over the shop - I jump from when you are in a relationship to before, to really later on. So yeah I do apologise xx

What your ships have in common:

⋆ Aren’t afraid of much ⋆ Intimidating ⋆ Courageous ⋆ Loyal ⋆ Tragic backstories (they really do??)

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with with Arthur Shelby!! I think you two would get along so well. Definitely friends > lovers > soulmates. You would be so good for him, it would be a healthy ASF relationship.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・ Calls you ‘dolly,’ ‘sweetheart,’ ‘pumpkin.’ He isn’t afraid of showing PDA either, neither is he afraid of calling you sweet names

・ I think you guys met because he was a constant visitor of a shop you worked at. Maybe you worked for your family, or family friends? He noticed you there a lot and would strike up conversations.

You didn’t know he was a Shelby until months later. But still, you weren’t intimdated.

・ You like that Arthur is a man who wears his emotions on his sleeves. And I feel like you wouldn’t be the type of person to take advantage of that. (You’d be surprised by how many people DO.)

・ Making each other tea, sitting by the fire. You would definitely have a rocking chair and I can see you taking up knitting omg (remember this is the 20s or whatever so basic hobbies would be popular and common)

・ I can also see you guys living on a farm with cows, chickens, a rooster who wakes you up at 6am. Oh and heaps of dogs, barn cats etc. (Aw I want to come live with you guys....)

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

How calm you make him feel. Because of your down to earth nature, even just your presence makes Arthur feel at ease. Not many people take the time to listen and actually care about what he feels, so he knows he can feel at ease with you. Rather than be shouted at by Tommy or riled up with John.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

Polly! I think you two would be such a fun pair. Listening to the stories about the Shelby’s growing up, childhood memories. You would definitely have tea together and hang out for hours and hours

𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I already shipped you with Kaz, you didn’t say your sexuality so I would ALSO ship you with Nina! I think you and Nina would be chaotic, messy and absolutely wildfires together. You would definitely take on the world and everyone would know who you guys are.

With Kaz, I definitely you aren’t scared of sir dirty hands (is that his nickname I literally cannot remember for the life of me!) He is taken aback when you don’t shudder or show your fear of him.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・ Buys you ALL the stuff, and/or steals it. Jewellry, clothes, scarves, weapons, art etc.

・ The relationship would take time ... slow burn ... he doesn’t want another liability ... doesn’t want to care about another person.

・ But you make it so easy to love you. And he can’t stop himself

・ So he falls. And he just hopes you’ll catch him

・ When he falls in love. HE. FALLS. IN. LOVE. LIke you will be his WORLD; if anyone touches you, or even breaths near you, he’s like “What, WHAT DO YOU WANT,” and would totally hit them with his cane (I am NOT being overdramatic at all...)

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Your fierce nature. He is astonished by you and how much passion you possess (Aries coming out there).

��𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

inej! I think you two would totally be badass together. Train, tell each other stories about childhoods and be real. Always have each other’s backs in a fight and the loyalty ... man oh man ... she would take a bullet for you

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I SHIP YOU WITH SIRIUS BLACK <3 I was going to say Draco, but I actually don’t really like Draco that much. Too me he’s a bit of a piss baby - but pls don’t be offended if you do like him. I just don’t know when to keep my mouth shut. ANYWAY-

I think you would be so good with Sirius. He’d tease you, rile you up and secretly you’d love it. He’d always keep you one your toes, but be real with you. I think because of your particular traits such being either really sweet or really bitter (I’m taking that as you either really like someone or really hated them) it would be such a good ass match man.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・ You guys have your own song, movie, radio station. Like I think relationships were based on you and Sirius - like you’re the blue print. Everyone looks up to you guys and wants to be like that.

・ Play fighting - you guys definitely wrestle for fun. I can so see you flipping him onto his back, and he’s like, “WHAT. Show me how you did that!”

・ Definitely best friends and everyone was like, “that’s an old married couple right there.” And it just naturally shifted into something romantic

・ Pillow fights as well. Not too rough tho!!!

・ Would absolutely do ANYTHING for you. I mean it. He’s like a lovesick puppy when it comes to you. Protective like you’ve never seen before dude

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Your loyalty. He only has a handfull of friends, but those people - he would die for. So his favourite thing is your ability to feel that same passion and care.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

Lily (if Marauders era) or Molly (if present). Both are kind, motherly and would do anything for their children. Loyalty, compassion and empathy are big parts of your friendships.

#ship game #let me ship you #match ups #requests are open

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servin-up-surveys · 2 years

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survey #048

(from yesterday, my b)

Do you drink more or less water than is recommended? Way, WAAAAAAY less. I drink practically none; I'm literally only alive because of the water in food, haha. Do you like taking walks? Sigh, I used to love walking. In my school years back when we lived in the woods, I would walk outside usually at night with my iPod for literally hours on end. I seriously worn down a path in my front yard at night, back yard during the day. Now just walking to the bathroom directly beside my room is incredibly painful because of muscle atrophy. Do you remember The Land Before Time movies? Who was your favourite character? Oh god, of course, I was OBSESSED. I even had a computer game based on it. Littlefoot was my favorite. It's even a possibility that I'll get a tree star tattoo in remembrance of my mom when she passes. Are you one of those people who texts back instantly? Usually, yes. Assuming money wasn’t an issue, what car would buy right now, given the chance? Ugh, I wish. Whatever Mom wants; I don't need my own car. It'd be a fucking dream come true if I could get a nice, new car for my mother. What she has now is hanging on by an actual goddamn thread. Do you think going to college/university is the best option after you’ve left school? This varies person-to-person. Do you buy your lingerie at Victoria’s Secret? No, that shit is way too overpriced. I don't know how big their undergarments go, either, but I highly doubt they reach my size. Do you have a large dog? We have literally the smallest breed of dog, haha. Mom's not a massive fan of small dogs, but Cookie just worked for us. Have you ever been to Europe? No, but I'm going to Germany one day. Do you like breaded chicken sandwiches? Love 'em. When was the last time you bitched someone out? Idr. I actually think the only time I truly did that was on this one occasion with my sister's fucking abusive ex-boyfriend. Maybe. "Bitched out" implies being aggressive and merciless to me and Dustin fucking got it, idk about anyone else. What does your ex look like? "The" ex is your average height for a guy I think, an olive sort of tan with his Italian blood, underweight (even though he could EAT this mf never gained a goddamn pound), brown eyes, thin black hair (though in some light it looked more dark brown) that was kinda long for a guy, and last I saw a picture of him, he had a full (but not necessarily long) beard and mustache. What is your heritage? German, Irish, and Polish. We don't know Dad's side, though, other than his last name being Irish. Is your best friend a virgin? No. For two million dollars, would you pose for Playboy? Ugh... that would be life-changing but I just really don't think I could. I hate my body so, so much. Would you accept a boring job if it meant you would make mega bucks? Probably not, because I'd be very depressed. My brain is very bad at confusing boredom for depression, so. Have you ever used your parents’ credit card before? Not without their express permission. Are you afraid of plane rides? Not especially. Turbulence can make my heart speed up for a bit, but I'm not terrified. Have you ever made a turkey dinner all by yourself? Hell no. Do you have a gay friend? Yep. How many sex partners have you had? Names? Well I didn't/haven't gone "all the way" with either of them, but I've had two sexual partners, Jason and Girt. I guess maybe Sara, but to be totally honest I'm not sure if I'd count her here. Nowhere near on the level of the other two. Do you ever feel like people get tired of you? Oh god yes. Are you good at hiding your feelings? Nope. I feel too strongly and am just too expressive of it at like all times. Would you rather sleep for 3 days, or stay awake for 3 days? Eugh... I guess stay awake for three days again, even though last time I did that it had a very negative affect on my body. My nightmares are just SO frequent nowadays that THREE STRAIGHT DAYS of sleeping with those going on... oh god kill me. Whose bedroom were you in last? Besides mine, Mom's. Are you watching TV? What’s on? No; I don't even have a TV in my room. Ever made out on a rooftop? Can't say I have. Would you date anyone you met online? Probably not again, but who knows. Have you ever made your parents cry? Mom, oh yes. Sadly. I THINK the night I called Dad and made up after the divorce, his voice was shaking/kinda choked, but I don't know if he was tearing up or anything. If the last person you kissed invited you to a family dinner, would you go? Of course. Is your hair longer than your shoulders? No. When’s the next time you’ll be drinking? I don't know, but I want to in a rare instance. Did you sleep alone the last two nights? Yeah; well, if you're only counting human company. My cat cuddles with me pretty much every night, haha. Are you dressing up as anything for Halloween? Idk. Most likely not. Have you met the last person you kissed’s parents? Mom, yes. Dad's dead. Who is the first person you see in the mornings? Mom, seeing as she's the only one I live with. Have you ever fallen asleep with the last person that kissed you? Yep. Are you one of those people who just don’t care? God no, I care too much. I mean, about most things. When is the next time you will kiss someone? I absolutely hate questions that assume I'm a psychic. But if things go the way I want them to, the moment Girt next steps through my doorway, whenever that'll be since he's kinda sick. Who was the last person you were in love with for more than a year? Jason. Do you have a secret life? I guess you could say that, as hardcore of a secret I keep me being an RPer ss. Who was the last person to call you baby? Girt. When shopping at the grocery store, do you return your cart? omg yes I FUCKING HATE when people leave their goddamn shopping carts randomly about the parking lot. I can barely walk and I'm not even that fucking lazy. If abandoned alone in the wilderness, would you survive? There's no way. If your house was on fire, what would be the first thing you would do? Is my mom out? If so, get Roman out, then Venus. I hate hate hate picking between them, like I want them both out IMMEDIATELY, but... Who was the last person you shared a bed with? Girt. Where was the furthest place you traveled? Illinois. Do you like mustard? Yes. Do you look like your mom or dad? I've heard both, idk. How long does it take you in the shower? Not even 10 minutes. Can you do splits? Hell no. Was your mom a cheerleader? Oh god I could NEVER picture her as one. I don't think she played any kind of sport growing up, but I could be wrong. Do you like Care Bears? I think they're cute, but that's the extent of it. Do you wear your seatbelt? Yes, WEAR YOUR GODDAMN SEATBELT. My own sister would be dead without one. Seatbelt burns ARE worth your fucking life. Anything big ever happen in your town? Maybe? I dunno. Nothing THAT big. Is your tongue pierced? Not anymore. :( It was damaging my teeth. Snake eyes were my favorite piercing I've ever had, though, they were SO cute. Ever been to L.A.? No. Whose house did you last spend the night at besides your own? Sara's. Have you ever seen somebody get shot? No, thank fucking god. Have you ever taken a picture in a bathroom mirror? Ha, yeah. Have you ever hated someone, but ended up being friends with them? Lmao hi, Rachel. Sara was once this situation too, but we're not friends now. What are you listening to right now? "Cowboy" by Lindemann. What’s worse: a headache or a stomach ache? STOMACH. I CANNOT handle stomach pain. Have you ever drank sweet tea? Did you like it? Living where I do, of course I've tried it, it's like, THE staple drink here, but I hate it to the point I refuse to drink it. Anybody ever tell you that “you could do so much better” about a person? I feel like someone mighta said this about Jason at some point... Have you ever kissed an ex after you two have broken up? No. When was the last time you talked to your most recent ex? Months ago. Ever kissed someone who smokes? No; someone who smokes kissed ME, but I went full statue. Do you prefer a window seat or an aisle seat? I STRONGLY prefer window. I've actually noticed that while taking off and getting the plane in position and all, I get fairly dizzy if I can't see outside/the surroundings. Do you ever wear boots with skinny jeans? UGH I used to love wearing my tall, leather black boots with them in high school, like that was THE LOOK, but I don't wear jeans anymore. Have you ever showered with someone? Only as a child. Are you racist to any race? Nope. What are/would you like to go to college for? I'm never going back to college. I dropped out three times; I can't afford to keep doing that. What kind of tea do you prefer? None. Have you ever intentionally hurt an animal? I've given like dogs a mild pop when misbehaving and shit, but nothing beyond that. I never would. Have you ever read all night long? I don't believe I have, actually, but maybe. Have you ever "done it" in a hotel room? No. Y'know, I've never even been to a hotel with an s/o. Have you ever peed in the woods? I'm quite certain no. I remember I really, really needed to once when fishing on the boat with my dad and sister, but I'm pretty sure I didn't/wasn't able. What’s your favorite love movie? The Notebook. Do you have any magazine subscriptions? No. Magazines have never been my thing. What kind of mom are you? Not one. Where are you ticklish? Like... everywhere. What hurts your feelings more than anything else? Probably calling me weak. Do you believe you’ve had a past life? No. Has a family member ever hit you? My mom has with the excuse of "spanking" when growing up. When you look back, do you think your life story will be a good one? Who fuckin' knows. Ever had any drug addictions? No. Do you have any anniversaries coming up? With Girt in less than a month, yeah. Who is the most shallow person you know? *shrug* What was your first intimate experience with a person? That woulda been with Jason in high school, but if I'm being completely honest, I can't really remember the first time we went beyond making out, oddly enough. Like I remember a lot, just... not the first. Did you ever play Frogger when you were a kid? BITCH I LOVED THAT GAME. I sucked at it except for the first level, but it sure was fun, haha. When were you at your lowest in your life so far? When my first real boyfriend Jason left me and I was in a constant state of literally wanting to die for over a year.

#survey #surveys #random surveys #random questions

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sidetongue · 3 years

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Marjory is a very nosey chook

#she would rather hang out with the dogs than the other chickens #she was a rescue chook who came as part of a pair #but unfortunately her buddy was a rooster so had to go to a property #so marj is a little bit of a loner #hence her friendship with the dogs #marjory #chickens

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falling-pages · 3 years

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A hug and chicken noodle soup: Takashi x Reader

Feel better @ohshcscenerios <3

Maybe love was as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

Takashi Morinozuka x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: None

Takashi was not used to being disobeyed.

The national martial arts champion, head of his own security firm, and father of three was used to holding power in his massive hands, for the room to fall silent at his command. He made the decisions, though with valid input from others, but he was the top dog, the one on whose authority they relied. Respect emanated from his veins, care and courage were his pedestal. When he gave an order, it was for the greater good of his company, or the safety of those he loved.

So when he returned home to find you washing the dishes, he was absolutely livid.

Not at your disobedience, per se. He was used to your sass, your jokes, your spitfire ways. Fourteen years of marriage would do that to a person, especially one as easygoing as him. But at your abject defiance, going against his advice for your own good--did you not trust him?

“What are you doing?”

You dropped the cup you were washing, the water splashing against your apron and the wall in retaliation. Soap bubbles clung to your arms, and with your deer-in-headlights stare, one would have thought he had just caught you stealing the Hope Diamond rather than just a simple chore.

“Takashi, I…” you sputter, wiping strands of hair away from your face. They had escaped from the bundle atop your head and creased your neck and forehead, though sticking with sweat or water he couldn’t be sure. If it were sweat, so help him, he was going to tie you down to the bed himself.

He left the shadows of the threshold and walked noiselessly towards you, groceries weighing heavily in his hands. You dare not move, pinned to the spot by his steely gaze. Your husband was a quiet man, not often prone to outbursts of emotions despite a wildly passionate heart. But like a predator towards prey, he came closer, until you saw the disappointment lining his brow.

Disappointment was always worse than anger.

But when he approached you, so close you could feel the energy radiating off his skin, so close but not touching, all that was left in his eyes was concern, a worried quirk on his lips that left knots in your stomach. Kindness framed him as he set down the groceries, took a towel, and wiped down your arms, leaving them soft and dry.

“I thought I told you to get some rest, love,” he whispered.

You swallowed, wincing at the ache in your throat. “I tried, I really did, but this was the only time I could get some chores done,” you whined. “The kids are with your parents this weekend, and it’s finally quiet and I can do stuff without worrying about watching them--”

“My parents took the children because you’re sick,” he responded, voice measured and even. His tone was stark, hands lingering on your wrist. Not tight enough to bruise, but enough to remind you of his strength. “You need to rest. I told you I would do the dishes once I got back.”

“But I--”

“Darling.”

His eyes flickered with hurt, and though he was never a man prone to begging, he would do anything to stop you hurting. Every weak inhale you took he felt in his own lungs, trapped and weak and congested. With the raging fever you were sporting this morning, it was a wonder you were even standing right now.

With a sigh, you let the dish fall into the puddle and stepped off your footstool--everything in this house was freakishly tall to accommodate his height--as he untied your apron, hanging it on the peg behind you. While his hands wandered around your waist, enjoying how you felt in his embrace, he bent to press a kiss behind your ear.

“I hate it when you’re hurting,” he murmured.

His warm voice broke through the gauze wrapping around your brain, and you sighed, relaxing against his chest. So warm, the only stable thing in your swimming vision.

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” you said.

“Yes there is.” He scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and smashed his mouth against your neck, kissing and nuzzling your sweaty skin. “Go to bed, and I’ll make you some soup.”

Despite your squeals, broken and congested before they left your mouth, hiccupped and weak, you didn’t push him away, finally letting him baby you into bed. He walked seamlessly to your bedroom and pulled back the covers with you still clinging to his neck. As he lowered you down, you could have cried at how soft the sheets felt, cool silk against your sore muscles, warmth immediately drawing you into sleep. He layered the blankets on top of you before walking to the other side of the bed, climbing in and drawing the sheets around him before spooning you back against his chest.

His arms were rapture in and of themselves, an escape from your burning head and weak lungs, so tight and strong that you knew he would keep you safe from any sickness trying to harm you. His gentle breaths against your ear calmed your heart, tickling that part of your brain that sparked with love. Even as his lips traveled across your cheek you could barely find the energy to scold him.

“Taka,” you whined, as seriously as your hoarse voice would let you. “Stop...you’ll get sick…”

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, smooth and comforting like chocolate or rain. Another kiss to your temple, slicking down to the underside of your jaw. “My body has been through worse.”

Though that much was true, it still irritated you. How could he reprimand you for disobeying him and then not even listen when you do the same?

“‘S not the same,” you mumble. “Being shot is a different kind of pain, I’d imagine.”

Takashi chuckled against your neck. Your mind traced over the diagram of his body, the scars stretching across his chest and neck, dyeing his hands and striping through his legs. His line of work was dangerous, full of deceit and corruption, but you knew he’d never have it any other way. “You’re right, my love. A bullet hurts like hell.” He wrapped you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you welcomed the loving suffocation. “But I’d take them all over again if it meant you and our little ones were safe.”

Grisly and gruesome though his words were, they comforted you, lulled you into the security that he worked so hard to provide. Though you prayed it would never come to it, you knew he would lay down his life in a second to ensure yours or your children’s happiness. He even showed his love in less extreme ways--for example, forcing you to rest, holding you as you slept, even at the risk of his own health.

Over and over again you were amazed at the selfless love of the man you married.

Before you could even stop it, the tears were falling from your eyes, stinging the hot skin of your cheeks. Your heart felt full to bursting, and its hammering through your chest didn’t help at all. The world felt full of sunlight yet you clinched your eyes shut to keep in the tears, but they didn’t fool him.

Takashi felt you shake and quickly turned you over onto your back, laying you beneath him as he hovered above, one hand wiping your tears as the other held fast to your waist. “Look at me,” he whispered, the urgency in his voice making your eyes pop open. He stroked your cheek, running his finger along your nose, cooing and shushing until your gaze met his. And as soon as you saw that beautiful smile split his tan face, you knew everything would be okay.

“There she is,” he whispered, tenderly stroking beneath your eye. “Does it hurt that badly?”

“No,” you whispered. “It’s not the fever. It’s the feeling of being loved so terribly.”

Never a man of words, he furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I love you so, so much.” A dry sob creases out your throat. “I’m so glad I married you, and I’m so glad you’re the father of my kids, and I’m so glad I not only know, but get to love such a wonderful man for the rest of my life.”

He chuckled at your delirious confession, words he had all heard before but sounded more tender in the context of your sickness. Such tenderness in your voice soothed the aches and quells of his body, the wounds he had sustained inside and out during his life, until all that was left was you with a rag and antiseptic and a bandage. He adored you so deeply that though he wanted to hear you say more, it was imperative that you rest.

“I’m so blessed to have you by my side. I love you,” he whispered, giving you a gentle kiss. He frowned at how hot your lips were and resigned himself for the afternoon. “Go to sleep, beloved. When you wake, I’ll make you soup.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, the crying finally tuckering you out. Pliantly, you rolled back over onto your side, and he laid back behind you, guiding your head to rest against his bicep and laying his other arm over your waist. As you drifted back off to sleep, you could only think of one thing.

Love really could be as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

Kofi

#ouran high school host club #takashi morinozuka #takashi x reader #mori x reader #takashi morinozuka x reader #ohshc

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xaharadesert · 3 years

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Accidental Potion Drinking - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Main 6) x MC

A/N: This is one of the super cute requests I’ve gotten from @firefly-child! It’s taken some time to get to it (as I’m currently working through older requests), but I’m super excited to write something light and fluffy :) the backstory provided was along the lines of MC and their LI having a little wine night when MC accidentally grabs the wrong bottle and they end up drinking a harmless potion instead, which is a really fun request! I don’t know anything about wine, so I’ll just casually skirt around that issue by leaving it to the reader’s imagination, but since the type of potion was left up to me I’ll definitely be having some fun describing the effects! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, and requests are open!

TW: drinking, consumption of alcohol, tipsy characters, mentions of alcohol, sorry I don’t really know how to tag for this kind of thing, but the alcohol bit is really only mentioned briefly to set up the scene

❤️Julian❤️

It didn’t take long to realize that you had grabbed the wrong bottle, considering that after the two of you had taken a few sips of what you had thought was wine you had both started slowly floating upward

There were a few moments where Julian thought to himself “wow, this stuff must be pretty strong, I kinda feel like I’m floating” before he realized that, oh, he was, in fact, floating

This was followed shortly after by only a second of panic, which quickly turned into delight when he remembered he was dating a magician and this sort of thing was probably normal for you

Honestly though, as endearing as it would be for him to simply trust that you were pulling a harmless prank, you would probably be panicking a bit more because oh my stars you grabbed the wrong bottle and which potion was this exactly?

But of course, Julian has an infectious laugh, and seeing as you were already a bit tipsy and nothing majorly bad was currently happening, you dissolved into a fit of giggles as well

By now the two of you were drifting near the ceiling (thank goodness you were inside), laughing at each other as you tried not to spin too far apart

The effects of the potion wore off a few minutes later, seeing as you had only had a few sips each, and you settled down peacefully, no harm done

🧡Portia🧡

The two of you had been having a rather peaceful evening, for once devoid of any sort of job or task that needed tending to

You were genuinely relaxing, drinking wine and telling bad jokes that would send you into full-bellied laughter— the kind that only seemed to grow whenever you tried to stop

With that being said, it wasn’t that surprisingly when the two of you developed a bad case of the hiccups after a while

What was surprising were the bubbles that floated from your mouth afterward

Although you were initially confused, Portia’s obvious delight at the magical turn of events quickly dissuaded your worries

She was always thrilled whenever you performed even the smallest bit of magic in your daily life, and this was no different, even if it was an accident on your part

Her hiccups only seemed to get worse as she laughed harder, tears of joy starting to spill from her eyes

The mood was infectious, and you would find yourself joining her in her pure delight

Small moments of joy such as this permeated your relationship, but this one in particular would always be a favourite of Portia’s, she was sure

💛Lucio💛

You know, even with Mercedes and Melchoir’s incessant barking, you two had been having a rather relaxing evening, sharing your favourite wines with each other as Lucio regaled you with endless stories of his epic past battles and parties

However, as always, things took a turn in the most unexpected way

The two of you had only taken a few sips of a bottle you had brought out when you noticed the dogs’ barks seemed to sound… different

You tuned out Lucio for a moment and came to the realization that you were, in fact, hearing actual genuine words coming from the dogs’ mouths as they yelled at Lucio, an endless chant of “Dad, dad, dad!”

Lucio seemed to have not noticed, so you gave him a gentle shove and motioned for him to be quiet and listen to the dogs, which promptly lead to his own eyes widening and his mouth hanging open as he processed what was happening

He was thrilled, obviously, to be able to communicate with his beloved dogs, and all thoughts of the story he was telling were forgotten

In all honesty, Mercedes and Melchior didn’t seem to have a lot to say other than “Dad!” and “Love!”, but Lucio’s eyes were brimming with tears anyway as he hugged his dogs close

Let’s be real, having the opportunity to tell a beloved pet that you love them and to have them understand it would be one of the greatest feelings of all time, and Lucio was determined to not waste a second

What may have been a small mistake on your part was one of the greatest moments of Lucio’s life, in his words

💚Muriel💚

It wasn’t noticeable at first— then again, Muriel’s voice was rather deep

But after a few more sips, you couldn’t deny it; his voice was definitely getting higher

He had been in the middle of telling you about something funny one of the chicken’s had done that day, and you had been quietly listening, but now you absolutely had to know

So, as politely as possible, you interrupted him, only to find that, oh, yeah, your voice was much higher than before

Both of you seemed pretty shocked, but let’s be honest, it’s hard not to laugh when it sounds like both of you had just inhaled helium, which, apparently, was the effect of the potion you had accidentally poured out for the two of you to drink

Muriel tried to stifle his laughter, but failed miserably as you embraced the situation and let out a long and loud sound of joy

There was no harm in drinking the potion, luckily, so the two of you decided to continue as you were, telling stories in the most serious voices you could while trying not to burst out laughing

💙Asra💙

Most evenings you spent alone with Asra were filled with quiet laughter and gentle light continuing to illuminate the room even after the sun had bid you goodnight, and today was no different

You had opened a new bottle of wine just a few minutes prior, despite both you and Asra having slightly rosy cheeks from being a bit tipsy already

The cozy light of the lantern above your head reflected off of him in a way that almost made him seem like he was glowing, although combined with the way he dressed it wasn’t very unusual

That was until you reached out to him to push aside a stray curl from his face and subsequently realized that relative to you, he really was very much actually glowing

You had been telling him about a particularly stubborn customer earlier, and as a result, hadn’t had as much to drink, so the difference was clear

He picked up on your surprise quickly, and reached up toward his own hair, thinking perhaps there was something stuck in it that startled you, only to also see his skin was glowing with a faint light

Of course, he knew as well as you did that potions were often misplaced in the shop when there was no real urgency to keep them sorted, so he knew right away what was happening, and, frankly, he found it hilarious

If you were at all apprehensive about drinking random potions while tipsy, Asra would have been pick to put those thoughts from your mind by quickly downing more of the potion and snuffing out the lantern

This on it’s own would have been a funny sight, but when he smiled widely at you and you noticed that even his teeth were glowing with a bright white light, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything but laugh, which, of course, had been his plan all along

He would encourage you to drink the potion as well so the two of you could wander around in the darkened Vesuvian streets and scare other citizens :)

💜Nadia💜

Wine nights with Nadia are pretty common— it’s one of her favourite ways to unwind after a long day of working to improve Vesuvia

However, she’s usually the one providing the wine (seeing as she’s a very wealthy Countess), so nights like this one, where you brought over some of your favourites to share, were rather uncommon

The two of you weren’t particularly tipsy when you accidentally poured a potion into her glass instead of wine— an accident that you immediately recognized when Nadia morphed into an entirely different person in front of your eyes

Nadia herself seemed a bit surprised as well, seeing as the effect of the potion usually left the user with a mild child down their spine

You were quick to point out the error and apologize, but to your confusion Nadia seemed thrilled with the mistake

Blending in with Vesuvia’s population to gain a better understanding of her people was something she had always struggled to do, but you had just handed her the perfect opportunity

Wine forgotten, she grabbed your hand and lead you toward what was sure to be one of the most adventurous nights you had ever had in Vesuvia

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namethat-i-oughttohavetoldyou · 2 years

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Eel!

And here it finally is, the long-awaited Tuggerstrap fic! It’s quite short and silly, but I am very happy with it. Although I mostly write the cats as actual cats, I very much have Nicky Wuchinger Tugger and Robert Marx Munkustrap in mind here. Gender cat and chonk cat, my beloveds. I’m a little shy to tag this, but: @falasta @cryptidvoidwritings I am finally pulling my weight here! Haha. Anyhow. My love to all who read/like/reblog and enjoy! ♥

“Uh-oh.”

That was the last thing that came out of Etcetera’s mouth before an avalanche of rubbish rolled over her, burying her up to her ears.

The tomkittens screamed, Jemima began to cry and Electra hid her face behind her paws. When she dared to look, George was plodding through the litter, whining and snuffling at the two small white ears sticking out. He shoved his muzzle downwards, nosing around like a newborn kitten searching for milk, and finally pulled Etcetera out by the scruff of her neck. Pouncival screamed again, but this time in joy, or so he claimed later. Still wiping tears from her eyes, Jemima scampered over as quickly as she could, worriedly batting at Etcetera’s flanks when she was close enough.

“Are you alright?” she asked, almost tuned out by Etcetera’s squeal (she was very ticklish), ears pulled back against her skull. She looked a lot like Bombalurina in that very moment, but none of those present dared to mention it. “Are you? You need to tell me!”

“I am,” Etcetera assured her, standing on her hind legs and bravely fighting off Jemima’s inquisitive paws, baring her tiny fangs in a hiss.

Jemima hissed back. She immediately felt a little better.

“George, you saved me!” George found himself receiving the biggest hug that Etcetera could offer, which wasn’t really that big, considering her small size. On the other hand, coming from Etcetera, everything felt a lot bigger than it actually was, be it a hug, a ladybug that she had discovered on her way to the den or a piece of chicken that she benevolently shared with her peers. Even Munkustrap seemed to grow a little taller whenever she climbed onto his shoulders, even though that was highly improbable.

If dogs could blush, George would have certainly done so, but instead he panted a little, tongue hanging out of his mouth and his tail doing the windshield-wiper movements that the other kittens just couldn’t seem to correctly imitate, no matter how hard they tried.

“George can be Cat Morgan,” Pouncival decided, and Electra nodded firmly.

(The avalanche had interrupted their play, or rather the distribution of roles. Etcetera had demonstrated an impressive amount of back walkovers to be cast as Etterberry, which had unfortunately placed her too closely to one of the haphazardly stacks, resolving in a chain reaction with the whole hill collapsing in the process. Luckily for the kittens, said hill mostly consisted of waterlogged newspapers and old shopping brochures, with the occasional book here and there.)

Tumblebrutus huffed and complained, but he was mercilessly shot down from all sides, so he sat down a few steps away, hugged his tail and sulked.

As his friends began their play, he examined the trash spread around him in a desperate attempt to stave off the advancing boredom. A big, colourful book caught his eye, half-hidden beneath a stack of Harrod’s catalogues turned paper mush. While he couldn’t read the title, the cover showed a big fish of some kind. It had teeth. Intrigued, Tumblebrutus crawled closer and freed the book from it’s paper-maché prison, gasping with delight when he discovered a second fish next to the first, which had even more teeth.

“Guys! Look!”

“Don’t distract us! We’re at a key scene,” Electra complained, not exactly knowing what a key scene was. Munkustrap always said it to Tugger when the big tomcat wanted to cuddle in the middle of the kitten’s designated story time, no matter if he just started the story or was in the middle of the most thrilling climax. Tugger never heeded Munkustrap’s plaint anyway, so maybe he just said that out of habit. Who was to say. It sounded very grown-up, at least.

“I’ve never seen so many teeth on a fish before,” Tumblebrutus said half-goading, half-astonished.

He needed to say no more; in less than a blink of an eye he was surrounded by his playmates, tiny noses and paws curiously nudging the book in front of them.

“Do you think it’s a book about monsters?” George whispered fervently, tail wiping his imaginary wind shield.

Jemima meowed impatiently from where she had been pushed to the back of the group. “Let me see, let me see!”

Pouncival ducked a little so she could climb over him and squeeze herself between the book and Tumblebrutus.

“Creatures from the deep sea,” she spelled out painstakingly, little forehead throwing wrinkles. “The sea is always deep, Gus said. Is there a flat sea?”

“Shallow,” Electra corrected her, hooking a claw into the soggy cardboard and opening the book to the first page. “Alonzo said that something being called ‘deep’ just means that the humans haven’t completely explored it yet, because it’s too far away. Like deep space.”

“Then how can they write books about it, if they don’t know?”

Electra didn’t know that either, so they settled on asking Alonzo later and concentrated on the book, whiskers almost brushing the pages and pupils blown wide. More than once they had to ask George to pant a little less so he wouldn’t drip on it.

Since Jemima was the only one who had been patient enough during Jellylorum’s lessons to actually learn how to read a little, the kittens surrendered the part of turning the pages to her, even though it was very hard, their curiosity almost too vast to stay on one double page for too long.

Luckily the texts grew shorter after they had troughed through two and a half pages of “preface” and subsequently argued about what in the world a preface was. Pouncival insisted that it was the “first face”, like the humans called their first names “prenames”, but thinking too long about humans having multiple faces scared them a little, so they left it at that and returned to the task at hand.

“Look, that’s an ew,” Etcetera pointed when Jemima leafed to then next page, showing a snake-like monster with small eyes and pointy teeth.

“It sure looks like one,” Tumblebrutus giggled, and Pouncival added: “It looks so slimy and slippery!”

“It’s not an ew, it’s an eel,” Jemima corrected them patiently, her small paw wandering along below the letters to not lose her place. “But it says here that they produce slime, so I guess you’re right.”

“Ew,” Electra said.

George shuddered. “No, eel,” he corrected.

“I’ll say eel now if something is slimy,” Etcetera decided before Electra could roll her eyes, and the other kittens thought that to be a great idea. It would certainly confuse some of the adults, and it could be their secret language!

Jemima’s paw had reached the bottom of the right page. She read aloud: “European eels, however, are not the only serpentine creatures that can be found in our oceans. As they both belong to the An-gui-lli-for-mes, what a terrible word, they bear close resemblance to...”

Impatient and excited, Electra reached out and flipped to the next page, and in the next second all six kittens screamed like banshees.

Jemima kicked the book away and buried her face in George’s flank, George began to howl, Tumblebrutus scrambled back so quickly that he stepped on Pouncival’s paw, crashed against Electra and making them both fall over, Pouncival cradled his hurt paw and cried, and Etcetera launched herself back into the same paper pile that George had rescued her from earlier.

Munkustrap was there before they could take enough breath for a second bout of screaming.

He gathered an armful of kittens and ushered the rest to hide behind his spread legs, pupils wide, whiskers spread out fully and ears erect to look out for danger.

When he couldn’t find anything unusual after a while and the screaming had quietened to a fearful whimpering, he set the kittens on his arm down and loafed, George flopping before him onto the floor and the other kittens crawling to hide under his thick fur. Munkustrap washed George’s face and ears with his tongue and purred, radiating so much calm and safety that another cat was drawn into the little pile, laying on his side and resting his maned torso on George’s forelegs. The silver tabby lifted an eyebrow into the cat’s direction. The Rum Tum Tugger smirked. They shared a long blink, then Munkustrap extracted a paw from his fluff and looked at the kitten that appeared beneath it.

“What happened?”

“Eel,” Pouncival sniffled, showing Munkustrap his injured paw.

“Eel?” Tugger asked, playful confusion in his voice, but the kittens were too drained to laugh about it.

Munkustrap examined Pouncival’s paw, finding only a small bruise that would vanish quickly with a bit of ice.

Jemima’s head popped out under Munkustrap’s chin, pointing at the book that lay sprawled on its back a few metres away. “It’s a monster book.”

“I see,” Munkustrap responded, exchanging a look with Tugger.

Tugger nodded, rubbed against George one more time and then stood up, sauntering over to the book. He pulled a paw back and lashed out, slapping the book until the kittens were certain the monsters inside had nothing left to give, and then he sat on it.

“Aha,” Tugger said, smugly grooming his paw. “Nothing to be feared now.”

Pacified, the kittens emerged from their protective living blanket. Pouncival limped noticeably.

“I’m sorry, Pounci,” Tumblebrutus said, sadly reaching out a paw to bat at Pouncival’s ears. “We ought to go to Jenny, she’ll make it go away.”

George jumped up, almost running Munkustrap over. “I’ll lead the way!”

“Very good. I’ll come meet you at the nursery later for a story,” Munkustrap said, quickly straightening up and ignoring Tugger’s immature tittering.

The kittens made agreeing noises and the small procession toddled off, lead by George and tailed by Electra, one or two of them giving the book a good smack when they passed it, just for good measure.

The two tomcats watched them go, Munkustrap shaking out his fur to smooth it out, hackles still a little raised from the sudden cacophony of screeching.

“Eel,” Tugger mused after Electra’s triangular tail had vanished around the corner, standing up from where he still sat on the offending book and examined the opened page.

“Moray,” he read, squinting at the letters, ears pressing to his skull without his notice.

Munkustrap joined him. “Oh. That does look terrifying. Poor things.”

The page showed a long, spotted fish with a gaping mouth full of sharp teeth, drawn in such a way that it seemed to jump out of the book.

“It’s very-” Munkustrap started, but in that moment Tugger hissed and arched his back, swiping at the drawing and ripping out almost half of the page. Then he sat back on his haunches, dragging a paw through his mane and yawned.

Munkustrap said nothing, but the grin tugging at his muzzle was certainly obvious and also went stubbornly ignored.

“I like my fish without teeth, please and thank you,” Tugger grumbled after yawning again, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“I agree.” Munkustrap closed the book to look at the cover. “Creatures from the deep sea. If they were looking for a book to be frightened by, they certainly found one.”

“Those look weird,” Tugger commented, abandoning his mane to look at the cover. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in a spooky mood. Let’s see what else they’ve got.”

“As long as it doesn’t end with your ripping the poor book to shreds…”

“Hush.”

Munkustrap grinned and hushed.

Tugger gave his paw a lick and leafed through the thick cardboard pages of the book, the smell of wet paper and mould rising to their noses. He saw Munkustrap scrunching his face from the corner of his eyes. Hand-drawn illustrations of the most interesting sea creatures adorned the pages, and the font was big and bold enough for even him to read, were he interested in doing so. He was not, and so he leafed on, halting here and there to giggle about especially strange-looking fish and various other sea-dwellers. Munkustrap had draped himself over his shoulder and purred whenever he remembered to do so, occupied with trying to read the texts quicker than Tugger could turn the pages. Every now and then he would chirp with soft annoyance when the page was turned just when he came across an exciting fact, but his annoyance was quickly forgotten as soon as they both set their eyes on the new page, hunting for information and entertainment like Bustopher for his next dinner.

“Oh,” Tugger said when they came to the last few pages. Munkustrap opened his eyes after his very long absolutely-not-about-to-fall-asleep blink and looked. Tugger lifted one paw and pointed at a small round sea creature, aptly named “puffer fish”. “Look, it’s you!”

Munkustrap’s purr broke off into a rumbling laugh that made Tugger’s whiskers quiver, a heavy warmth pooling in his chest.

“Oh? Am I really so prickly?”

“Nooooo,” Tugger sighed languidly, leaving the book be for now and rolling over. Munkustrap gave in and let himself be gently flung on his back with a little “oof”, Tugger landing on top of him like a purring, fluffy blanket.

“It’s just the shape that made me think of you. You’re round, even more so when you’re cold or angry.”

“Why, what happens then?”

“You puff up. Like... a puffer fish cat.”

“Oh, I see.” Munkustrap laughed again, an unworried, airy kind of laugh, letting his head fall back and stretching his hind legs.

(Heaviside above, Tugger was so in love.)

Legs sufficiently stretched and front paws comfortably resting on his chest, Munkustrap almost mourned Tugger’s weight on him vanishing as he lifted himself up and sat back on his haunches, even though breathing came a lot easier now.

Before he could complain, big paws began to knead his vulnerable underbelly, and Munkustrap felt a little weak with the revelation of how much he trusted this cat looming over him, of how he trusted him enough to let his claws get even in the vicinity of the most tender part of his body.

“So soft,” Tugger hummed appreciatively, gently pressing his muzzle against Munkustrap’s round belly, paws still making biscuits as if it was going out of style. Munkustrap sighed blissfully. A pair of black paws sunk into Tugger’s mane, starting to knead in kind, claws just short of reaching the skin underneath the thick, fluffy coat.

“So soft,” Munkustrap reciprocated with a dorky smile, his purr bubbling up again and vibrating under Tugger’s paws.

The heavy warmth in his chest was back. Tugger blinked a long, long blink and kneaded with a little more force, joyfully noting how Munkustrap seemed to melt under it, his own rhythm faltering. “My puffer fish.”

A playful frown. “Ah, now I don’t have a nickname like that for you – that just won’t do. Let me get up and see if I can find a long, cocky fish with big fins on its neck.”

Another “oof” followed when Tugger let himself fall forward again, paws shifting to make biscuits on the silver tabby’s sides instead, his head tucked under Munkustrap’s chin.

“No can do, ’m afraid. Gravity… you know how it is.”

“I do know. Seems to be especially bad in warm patches of sun.”

“You’re very warm. ‘S gotta have to do with it.”

“Am I? Then you’re probably right.”

They stayed like that for a while, their purring lining up and reaching the exact same frequency that seemed to make their very bones vibrate.

Then a small weight collided with Tugger’s back, and Pouncival appeared behind Tugger’s mane, paw fully healed and very unwilling to wait much longer for Munkustrap to come to the den and tell them a story at his own pace.

Munkustrap sighed and pressed a kiss to Tugger’s nose, who groaned in protest. But he gave in after three or four more kisses, because really, he loved hearing Munkustrap’s stories, and he loved to interrupt him in the middle of a “key scene” even more, so he held onto Munkustrap’s tail with his teeth like a kitten crossing the street with their mother and let Pouncival ride on his back like a cowboy on a wild horse, bucking and bouncing.

(Munkustrap had to put his paw down when the rest of the caboodle wanted to ride on Tugger, too, including George.)

“You’re a fluffer fish.”

“What, you couldn’t come up with anything better than that, my beloved puffer fish?”

“I would have, if you’d let me read the book.”

Mirrored smiles on white muzzles, one surrounded by stripes, the other by spots.

“There’s nothing I enjoy like a horrible moray…”

“Now I’m insulted.”

“Don’t be prickly, now.”

Munkustrap wheezed with laughter.

Everlasting eel, Tugger thought. I am so in love.

Me: (finds out that cats yawn and lick their paws when they are embarrassed) man I’m gonna use that in every fic ever (I’m not an expert in cat behaviour, so don’t come for me sjdkajskd) Fun fact! In my fics, all kittens with two “canon” names, like Sillabub and Jemima, are seperate kittens, and I wanted to use all of them here, but I constantly lost count and stayed with the 98 kittens instead. The others are still existent, of course, they’re just... napping somewhere. I love that I finally got this done. The cuddles and biscuits scene was there first and the Plot™ came afterwards. It worked out, I suppose! XD Thank you for reading, and I’d like to say one last word: Eel. <3 Oh yeah, and this Tugger and Munk are obviously not related. Just in case.

#cats the musical #munkustrap #rum tum tugger #tuggerstrap #namethat-i writes #namethat-i's catsiversary #general silliness <3

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Yours Truly (Pt. 2)

Requested By: Some of you!

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

AU: College

Word Count: Part 1 -> 9,786 // Part 2 -> 7,433

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Here's the second and final part of the imagine, gang. I hope you enjoy the adventures I wrote for you! Let me know about your fav part(s)!

♡ Happy Reading ♡

Part 1 -- Click Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

5.) Epiphanies

A Week Later

"Yuqi, why the hell did you drag me here? I'd so much rather be writing…" you shove your hands further into the pockets of your hoodie and look at her with a scowl. Rows of people fill the bleachers around you, everyone excited for the football game that's scheduled to start soon. Happy couples sit together all around the stadium, and the sight only works to remind you of how weird things are with Jisoo right now.

"One: it's a Friday night and you need to let loose, and two: I wanted to come, so you have to tag along by default. The rules of friendship are very simple, Y/N," she trails off, tilting her head at you with a smile.

"Well I am gonna go get some food," you imitate her, "Do you want anything?" You stand from the bench and look down at her, noticing how her permed hair sticks up in a few different places. You smooth it out for her as she answers, "Nachos, please."

"Alright, dork. I'm sure the line's kinda long, but come look for me if I'm not back in 20." She pats your butt as you leave, and you just shake your head with a smile.

"--I know! Did you hear about Lee's new girlfriend? I heard she got in a fight with his ex last ni--"

"I'm fucking starving bro."

"Yeah, they totally hooked up at Jackson's party!"

Various conversations work their way to your ears as you walk towards the back of the line, but you attempt to not get too invested in the gossip. As welcoming as your school tends to be, even it has its fair share of scandals and drama. You've never been one to care about rumors though, and you don't plan to start now.

"I heard that Jisoo likes someone."

Funny how plans can change in an instant, don't you think?

You can't find it in yourself to ignore the childish desire to eavesdrop, so you listen in as the line slowly shifts forward with each new customer served, doing your best to be inconspicuous.

"Supposedly she's been into them for a while but they don't know about it. I guess Lisa is planning to get them together tonight or something, I don't know." You recognize the brunette speaking as Seulgi, a dance major that you share a couple classes with. She's talking to Yeri, whom you've seen a few times in passing.

That must be why she was defensive about the kiss; she has feelings for someone else.

"Ooh, that'll be interesting. I can't say that I'm not disappointed, though; now Jisoo's gonna be off the market." The shorter girl frowns, basically reading your mind with her statement. You've never fooled yourself into believing you have a chance with Jisoo, but knowing that she'll be whisked away by some lucky classmate of yours definitely isn't an easy pill to swallow.

You pass the remaining wait time by imagining who that person may be. Jisoo has a lot of friends, but you've never seen her around campus with any particular love interest; she always puts her studies first, deciding that her education is far more important than any potential relationship.

You remain lost in your thoughts until it's your turn to order.

"Hey Y/N, what can I get for you?" The cashier greets, resetting the register as she grins at you.

"Hi Yeji," you smile back, happy to see your old friend again after what feels like forever. Your busy schedules have kept you from hanging out much lately, but seeing her now is something you're grateful for. "I'll take two waters, a medium nacho, and 1 hot dog, please."

"You want everything on it?" She asks in reference to your last request, assuming you still stick with the order you used to go with in your childhood.

"You know it. And make sure to--"

"--spread the toppings out well. I remember, girl." She says with a wink, turning around to get started on your order. The familiar interaction warms your heart, aided by the idea that some things never change. After she packages your things up in a convenient little container, you thank her and pay, walking away with a promise to meet up at the school's café next week.

About halfway back to your seat, something unexpected happens.

"Rosie, we can't buy out the whole place. This is the 4th trip we've taken back here and the game hasn't even started yet!" You freeze as you round the corner, almost dropping your food as Jisoo's low voice sounds off nearby.

"Unnie, I didn't even get to eat much of the other stuff at all! Lisa and Jennie stole it and shared it with everyone else," the artist pouts, rolling her hands into fists at her sides like a toddler.

"Fine. But this is the last trip I'm taking." She warns, rolling her eyes when the Australian attacks her with a flurry of kisses. "Yah! Let's go before we miss something." She says, pushing her off of her with a smile on her face.

Even her voice makes your heart ache, and it reminds you of what her kiss felt like against your lips. It was short, no doubt, and barely there; but the sparks remain, waiting to be reignited anytime she's around. Maybe you're just destined to pine.

----

"There you are! I was literally about to go steal some food from Shuhua because you were taking so long."

"Yeah, yeah," you say, sitting down beside Yuqi with the cardboard box in your hands. "You're lucky I love you enough to pay for this. Now I'll have to survive on 3 grains of rice and ramen for the next few weeks."

"Oh, the struggles of being a broke college student." She says woefully, clutching her hands together in front of her chest to add to the effect.

"Precisely," you agree, scooting closer to offer her some nachos. When she tries to greedily take the whole tray of them, you're quick to stop her.

"Ah, ah, ah," you warn, pulling her wrist back down. "We're sharing, chica." She huffs, but eventually settles down and decides to shove her face full instead of protesting anymore.

Now, with your best friend happily eating, you relax and begin to prepare yourself for the match.

"LET'S GO!" You shout with Yuqi, chanting together as your school's anthem echoes throughout the stadium. The rival team has been behind the entire game, but they closed the gap in the last few minutes and now it's neck and neck. Your band plays loudly to encourage your team, and it seems to be working; they manage to repeatedly hold the others off and keep them from scoring.

It's the start of the fourth quarter now -- the home stretch. With their spirits still high, your team continues to keep victory out of their opponents hands. The black paint underneath their eyes is really streaked now, showing all the effort and sweat that they've put into the game so far. A beautiful sunset just previously gave way to a rapidly darkening evening sky, allowing some stars to peek out now.

"My high school team sucked; this is epic!" Yuqi says, making you laugh. You tear your eyes away from the heated game to say something to her, but all thoughts soon disappear from your mind and you stop mid-sentence.

She notices your sudden silence and looks at you, only realizing what's happening once she follows your line of sight. Jeong is standing against the metal fence that borders the track, mingling with everyone at the bottom of the bleachers. That doesn't bother you, but what you see next certainly does; you spot Jisoo beside him, giggling at something he said as he tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Oh shit," Yuqi breathes out, fully grasping the weight of the situation now. She doesn't even attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he knows how in love you are with Jisoo and yet there he is, flirting away. He's the only other person besides Yuqi who knows of your feelings for the brunette, and you really trusted him with it. Clearly that was a mistake. You blink a few times and set your jaw, quickly looking away as he moves closer to whisper something in her ear over the noise of the crowd.

"I'm gonna head out to the car. Just let me know who wins," you mumble, brushing past her on your way toward the exit. You know there's no way you'd be able to focus on the game anymore after seeing that, so going is your best option. She catches your arm before you can slip away, and says, "Wait, I'm coming with you. And don't even try to tell me no; I can always watch highlights later. I'm not gonna let you be alone right now."

Knowing it's pointless to argue anymore, you nod once and wait for her to gather up her trash and coat. "Let's go," she says, taking your hand after tossing her garbage in the can conveniently placed at the end of your row. She squeezes it a few times for reassurance, and a bittersweet smile works onto your lips at the gesture.

You don't notice how Jisoo's eyes follow you, every fiber of her being yelling at her to go after you. She hates seeing you sad, and although she isn't 100% sure of the reason for it now, all she wants is to cheer you up.

"So, Jisoo. Do you have any plans after the game?" Jeong smirks, quirking a brow suggestively at his own question. Jisoo grimaces, saying, "Yeah, I do. I have to study." She tries to find you in the crowd again, but it seems that you've already slipped away.

"We're throwing a party tonight, you should come." He leans a little closer to her, but she takes a step back. The only reason she's even talking to him right now is because Lisa introduced them, and it would be impolite not to. She turns him down, yet again sneaking a glance around the stadium.

"No wonder Y/N's too chicken to ask you out; you're hard to get, but I don't mind a challenge." Her head whips around at his statement, heart regaining that familiar uptick at the mention of you. "What?" She blinks, not believing her ears. Surely she was just hearing things.

"I said I don't mind a challenge," his words come out slightly slurred, and the effects of the alcohol he's been drinking are beginning to show themselves in all the wrong ways. The more he talks, the less Jisoo can stand him. "Look, Jeong -- I'm not interested. I'm sure there are other girls here that would love to get to know you, but I'm not one of them. Now, if you'll excuse me," she says, turning her body to the side to maneuver around him and get to the stairs. He lets her go without another word, his pride too bruised to come up with a more fitting response than a muttered insult.

She makes quick work of getting to the parking lot, where she spots you approaching Yuqi's car, head hanging a bit. Seeing you upset saddens her, and she's determined to find out what's wrong.

"Y/N! Wait up!" The shout catches your attention, and you slowly spin around. Jisoo begins to jog out to you, and a scoff slips past your lips (though you don't put much effort into stopping it). You're hurt, and half of the reason for your pain is staring right back at you like nothing happened.

"What do you want, Jisoo?" You sigh, not looking forward to where this conversation will most certainly go.

"I want to talk, Y/N." She's in front of you now, scanning her eyes between yours to gauge your reaction.

"What is there to say? Just go back to talking to Jeong; you looked like you were enjoying yourself." She can hear the jealousy laced in your tone, and things finally -- finally -- begin to click for her.

"Is that what this is about?" She asks in reference to your sadness. The question isn't accusatory at all; she's genuinely trying to piece things together.

A disbelieving laugh leaves you at that. How is she still so oblivious? "Yes, Jisoo, it is. I just had to witness someone who I thought was my friend flirt with my crush. So yeah, that's what this is about." Sensing that she doesn't know what to say, you decide to conclude things for her. This is already pitiful enough, and you'd rather spare the both of you from having the "it's not you, it's me" talk.

"Look, I get it. You don't like me back, and you were only trying to be friendly by inviting me to the rehearsal that night. Just please, for the both of us, forget it even happened. Forget all of this. It was a mistake, and I won't do it again."

Jisoo hates that you're jumping to conclusions without even knowing her true feelings; you automatically think that she couldn't possibly feel the same, and you use her moment of silence as a form of evidence to prove that. The complete opposite is true, though you'd never give her enough time to straighten out her jumbled thoughts and tell you that.

She finds her voice when you turn away, and she reaches out to touch your hand. "Stop, you've got it all wrong." Your eyes glance down to your intertwined hands, but you wiggle out of her grip with a heavy sigh. Over your shoulder, you shakily say, "You don't have to pretend for me, Jisoo. I'll be alright. If he makes you happy, then so be it."

With that, you get in Yuqi's car and tell her to drive away, leaving Jisoo to deal with the sinking feeling in her chest that worsens as the car's tail lights grow dimmer and dimmer in the distance. You're gone, and she really has no idea how to come back from this.

6.) Broken Hearted

The next few weeks were hell. You avoided Jisoo as much as possible, too embarrassed to face her after what happened and too weak to be close to her again. You'd surely fall even harder if you allowed yourself to grow any closer, so you didn't take the risk. How could you? Falling alone isn't an enjoyable experience, and you've been teetering on the edge of no return ever since that afternoon at the daycare.

It was hard enough to escape her hold -- her face was everywhere, plastered on ads and bulletin boards all throughout campus, on reminders and sign ups for student council. You used your sick days in order to hide away in your dorm and block out the world, only being comforted by Ryujin when she wasn't busy with her own life or Yuqi when she could spare a few hours. They always made sure to care for you as much as they could, knowing first hand how tough heartbreak can be -- especially with the added stress of schoolwork.

One person you thought about often was Jeong. Every time he'd cross your mind, dirtying up your brainwaves with the mere notion of himself, you'd grimace. He didn't deserve the attention, and yet you couldn't help but question why he did that to you. He hadn't reached out since that night, likely due to Yuqi giving him a piece of her mind after the game. He made it clear that he wasn't sorry, and that if given the chance, he'd play his cards even better and hopefully score a date with Jisoo.

Maybe that was the worst part of it all. Hearing that it hadn't just been a stupid thing he did because he was drunk; he realized the weight of his actions, and he'd do it again, over and over, without caring about how you fit into the equation. That football game was simply a turning point, hidden in plain sight as an unassuming night for you to hang out with Yuqi. But you learned more then than you had ever intended to; Jeong's selfish, and he probably never even cared for you in the first place. The idea of that makes you feel dirty -- like you wasted so much of your time with such a horrible person, sticking up for him and defending his name when he wasn't around when he never even deserved that in the first place. You wish you would've known who he really was back then; you would've stayed away.

Unbeknownst to you, Jisoo was struggling much like you -- minus the whole "betrayed by a best friend" situation. Every time that she showed up in class, she hoped with every piece of herself that you'd walk through the door and grace the room with your presence. You seldom ever did, though -- but when you ran out of free days of absence and were forced to attend class in order to keep your grades up, you never even uttered a word to her. She'd make it a point to ask questions in class, hoping that hearing her voice would bring something out of you, as yours did to her. She longed to talk to you again, if only for a minute; but your resolve remained strong, and her determination grew weaker as the days went by.

Being the person she is, though, she knew giving up wasn't an option. After a few weeks of that cycle, greeting stands were placed at the front doors of each complex on campus, manned by different members of the council. She came up with a story for the administration on the fly, using her people skills to convince them that it would be good for student morale and getting more people to join clubs. It was a great effort, but she underestimated your avoidance skills; you thwarted her plans again, slipping right through her strategically linked fingers.

Eventually, she lost hope. She exhausted every option she knew to try, and the girls ran out of new ones as well. Seeing their unnie so upset saddened them, and they did all they could to cheer her up in any and every way they knew how.

7.) Premiere Night

"Y/N, get up. You're gonna shower and get dressed if I have to force you to do it myself." Yuqi commands, blasting into your room and flipping on the overhead light that shines far too bright for your liking.

"Mmm," you groan in protest, not even bothering to roll over.

"I mean it; don't test me, you know I'm true to my word."

"Why, Yuqi?"

"Because we're going to the performance tonight. The big show that everyone has been going on about is premiering, and you're coming with me to see it."

"I can't do that." You say, her words sobering you up from your sleepy stupor.

"I know who the lead is," she informs, already knowing about your reasons for being hesitant, "and that's precisely why we're going. You can't keep living like this, so either go get your girl, or agree to be friends with her and work past what you're dealing with."

"You sound like a mom at the end of an 80s movie."

"80s movie moms are valid, so I'll take that as a compliment. Now go!" She shouts, shoving you off the bed. You tumble to the floor in a heap of blankets and pillows, still managing to hit your funny bone as you let out a pained groan.

"Remind me to slap her later, Ryujin."

"Will do." She salutes, reaching a hand down to help you up. With one last glare at an annoyingly bubbly Yuqi, you head to the bathroom to shower.

----

"How do I look?" You ask, looking yourself up and down in the skinny mirror attached to the wall.

"Is it gay if I say I'd ask you out?" Yuqi asks with a smile, fanning herself animatedly when you strike a pose.

"Very much so, yes."

"Well, hand me the rainbow suspenders, then."

You push her over with a laugh -- the first real one you've shared in a while -- and wrap her in a hug.

"Thank you, for real. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you." You say against her shoulder, pulling back to look at your roommate and add, "Either of you." The three of you settle in for a group hug and tell a few more jokes before Yuqi finally drags you out of the dorm.

----

"How does it feel to be back in society?" Yuqi whispers, leaning in close to you to read the seat numbers printed on your tickets.

"As lame as ever." You add, amusingly unenthused.

"You're never gonna convince Jisoo to date your dumbass with that attitude." She retorts, feeling a little guilty when she sees your expression change upon hearing her name. You're afraid to see where the two of you will stand at the end of the night, so saying it's still a sore subject is the understatement of the year.

"I'm messing with you, dude. If she doesn't want to be with you, then it's her loss; but I highly doubt that's the case. I've heard she misses you a lot." For once, Yuqi's words are halfway encouraging to hear, and you let out a light smile.

"Well I'm prepared to worry about that whole situation later. For now, let's find our seats and enjoy the show." Your best friend quickly agrees, and the two of you squeeze through the crowds in the aisles to get to your row.

----

"Jisoo, I promise you'll do well. You've been practicing for months; you've got this," Soo-hyun says, rubbing his co-lead's back in reassuring circles. The certainty in his deep voice gives Jisoo some semblance of security, and she stands to look at him with one final, nervous sigh. Stage fright has never been this big of an issue for her, but the size of the crowd and the idea that you might be out there scare the hell out of her. She wants you to be there with all of her heart, but she doesn't know if she'll be able to handle watching you walk away again. The past few weeks have been torture, and she misses your presence and witty remarks more than she ever thought possible.

"Thank you, Soo-hyun. I'll meet you out there in a couple minutes, just let me collect myself."

He nods and says, "Take your time. I'll let Mrs. Choi know," before leaving and shutting the door behind himself. Now alone again, Jisoo digs through her personal bag that lays neatly on the small futon of the dressing room. When her fingers come in contact with that familiar material she's spent hours staring at, she bites the inside of her cheek and unfolds it for the millionth time. Multiple poems and blurbs litter the page, accompanied by cute doodles and cartoons here and there that give it a personal feel. She's spent the time away from you methodically working through the different writings, restraining herself from reading all of them in one setting so that she can have new content from time to time.

She's down to the last one, now, and a surprising sort of realization hits her when she reads it. It instills within her a sense of determination -- determination to get you back and set things right, one way or another. She makes a plan to find you after the performance.

-- After The Performance --

It was even more spectacular than you ever imagined it could be. The school spared no expense in getting the best props, employing the most skilled technicians on hand, and recruiting the best artists that the school had to paint the backdrops. Everyone behind the scenes worked tirelessly to produce the best show possible, and their efforts really paid off.

And, of course, you can't forget the actors.

The entire cast was incredible, their talent matching some of the world's most sought-after stars. Every part was played to perfection; even the smaller, supporting roles were acted with passion, really bringing the piece together as a whole. The production left you wanting more, too inspired and awestruck by the amazing performances to be content with just seeing it once. So, after numerous calls for an encore, the cast returned to run through a few of their key scenes.

---

As the cast takes their final bow, large cannons placed on either side of the stage shoot out bursts of colorful confetti, and you watch it flutter down around them. Some try to catch a piece or two to add to their scrapbooks, wanting to have a trinket from their college years, while others just hug each other and twirl around with content smiles on their faces. The crowd continues its loud cheering, and eventually you find the courage to sneak a glance at Jisoo.

To your surprise, she's looking right back.

Her eyes hold a mixed softness; she's proud of herself and glad that you came to support her on such a big night, but part of her wants to escape the busyness of it all and tell you everything she's been feeling. She'd be content with looking at you forever, she realizes, as she studies you. You're the true star in her eyes, always shining so bright and making everyone feel at home whenever they're around you. She hopes you know how special you are.

Mrs. Choi approaches the cast from stage right, gathering their attention to congratulate them and commend them for their performances. Jisoo reluctantly looks away from you, unsure if it's the last time she'll be seeing you tonight. The thought upsets her, but there isn't much she can do about it right now; so, she gives her attention to her professor and flashes that smile that makes everyone weak in the knees.

You knew it was just a matter of time before she'd be pulled away and immersed in some conversation about the show, but the selfish side of you never wanted her to look away. No matter how confusing things may be because of all of your unresolved issues, she still looks at you like she always had before -- her gaze is kind, albeit bittersweet, but it's full of care. Seeing her like that makes you feel like even more of an asshole than you already do -- maybe you should have just listened to her at the game. Running away was an immature choice, rooted entirely in your own sadness in that moment as you deprived yourself of any explanation she could've offered, though you can't judge yourself too harshly. The situation is complicated, and you still don't know whether to hate yourself for running or go easy on yourself in light of what happened.

When Yuqi sees you stand up and shuffle towards the end of your row, she sends you a warning look.

"Dude, I'm not gonna run away. I'm literally just gonna step outside for some fresh air, I promise." She visibly relaxes, no longer having to prepare herself to wrangle you back into the seat.

"Fine. But if you aren't back in 15 minutes I'm coming to track you down. You really need to talk to her."

You sigh, nodding in agreement. "I know, trust me. Just let me get my thoughts together first." She sends you off to do just that, but not until the two of you complete the special handshake you made up all those months ago.

---

Brisk air rushes over your skin in waves the moment you exit the side door of the building, automatically sending goosebumps to raise in its wake. It feels nice, though; it grounds you, and works to cool off your heated skin. The atmosphere inside was thick with the tension you've been feeling ever since what happened that night at the game, and its effects were only heightened by the raw performances of the evening. Passion and longing were the driving factors of the play, ironically, and many of the scenes drew eerie parallels to your current situation. So, it's no wonder that you're thankful to step away from it all for a bit.

You greet a few stray audience members that're puttering around outside as well, opting to walk down a little further away from them and lean against the building. The wall's brick material feels rough against your back, lightly scratching it whenever you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You don't mind it, though; it's oddly nostalgic, somehow.

When you hear the door open again, you think nothing of it. The metal hinges latch just the same as they had for you, so there's really no reason for you to even look up. However, that all changes when you feel someone's eyes on you.

Unprepared is leaps and bounds away from being a fitting statement to describe how you feel in that moment; Jisoo stands merely 10 feet away from you at most, right next to the stage door that she just came out of. Her hands fiddle with the drawstrings of her costume, seemingly always needing to be occupied when she's nervous or unsure of herself; it's a habit you've picked up on after seeing it so many times.

The longer you look at her, the more you want to look away; she's so beautiful it hurts, and the silence is eating away at you. You can't blame her, though; neither of you know what to say or do, and the only thing you seem capable of is staring at each other. When you break the intense eye contact you were sharing to turn away, only intending to take a minute to collect yourself, Jisoo is suddenly set in motion.

She's afraid you'll leave again, and she's prepared to fight even harder for you this time.

I love you as the stars love the night sky

A fateful, cyclic romance

A game of eager greetings and reluctant goodbyes

Those words -- ones that you remember penning one day in class while completely entranced by Jisoo -- roll from her lips effortlessly, as if she had spent time committing them to memory. She had, in fact; whenever days passed without her even catching a glimpse of you, she always found herself unfolding that note again, tracing a finger over the curve of your unique letters as she reread the poem. It always brought her comfort to think that you were in just as deep as her, and a similar sense of hope blossoms in her chest now when she spots an unbelieving smile tug at the corner of your lips as you slowly turn to face her again.

You're still into her, and she's falling even deeper at the realization. Maybe she didn't lose you after all.

She takes calculated steps towards you and breathes a sigh of relief when you stay put, not showing any signs of running. The wheels in your head are going into overdrive now, turning and churning as you process her little recital, and she prays with all of her heart that you won't be upset once you put two and two together.

"How did you…"

"You dropped it one day, and I picked it up. I meant to give it back to you, but I guess I just never got around to it." She feels a little guilty for keeping it as long as she has, but it's served as a way of keeping you close during your time apart. Those bits and pieces of you, scattered around on that page, encapsulated by the annotations and doodles you so kindly left behind, have stayed in her heart. Ever since she discovered it all that time ago, it's never been very far from her; she cherishes it more than you'll ever know.

"You didn't show it to anyone, right?" Your voice is laced with worry, lowered a bit to keep others from overhearing.

"No, no! Of course not. I just… kept it for myself. You're really talented; I couldn't stop reading your stuff."

"Thank, I guess?" You awkwardly chuckle, still a bit rusty on how to interact with her after everything. Plus, to be fair, having your crush read one of the love letters you wrote about her is a bit unheard of. Newfound territory, you think to yourself.

"How long?" You ask after a minute of silence, only realizing how loaded your question is after it slips past your lips, turning into a puff of steam in the chilly atmosphere. "How long have you… felt that way about me?" You quickly add, "Assuming that you feel what the poem says, of course."

An amused smile tweaks her lips at how cute you are. "I do, Y/N. I always have; ever since that afternoon at the daycare."

"Really?" The question is quiet, full of childlike disbelief.

"Really. It was always you." She says it freely now: unafraid.

The sentiment is sweet, but memories of the football game come flooding back and you're reminded that as much as you want to skip this next part, you still have things to discuss.

"What about Jeong?"

"What about him?"

"Did you ever like him?"

"No. The girls thought so, but it was just a misunderstanding. That's why Lisa introduced us at the game; she thought I had a crush on him, but I told her that you were always the one I was looking at. I told all of the girls that, after that night."

Her confession renders you speechless -- only capable of listening and nodding every now and then. She takes advantage of your silence to finally explain herself and tell you everything she's been dying to.

"I didn't know you felt the same until our talk in the parking lot. I mean, I was hopeful after some of the moments we had, but I didn't know for sure until then. I wanted to beg you to stay and hear me out, but you left before I had the chance."

You blink a few times as the reality of her words begin to sink in. "I had no idea…"

"Yeah, well…" she trails off, unsure of what to say next. She's forgiven you for walking away, knowing you were just hurt, but the whole situation still left a bad taste in her mouth. So much pain could've been avoided for the both of you if you had just listened.

"How did they take it?"

"They yelled at me for waiting so long to tell them, but then they tried to help me get you back. Remember those student council booths?" She leans in a little closer to ask that last line, her lips pulling to the side in that iconic smirk of hers.

You audibly gasp and point at her animatedly. "I knew that was you!"

"Mhm, pulled some fancy-sounding excuse out of my ass to convince the board, and boom; 20 brand new tables set up the next day. I still can't believe you managed to slip past them, though. I mean, c'mon, have you seen how talkative those kids can be?"

"Trust me, it wasn't easy," you laugh with her. "I had to sneak to the back entrances like a drug dealer."

"I can totally see that."

"I'm dedicated, what can I say?" The stupid hair flip you do makes her laugh even harder, clutching her stomach as those beautiful sounds slip past her lips.

As your shared laughter eventually turns into soft chuckles, she smiles at you, saying, "I really missed this. I missed you, so so much."

"I've been a wreck without you, Jisoo. It's honestly embarrassing."

She looks at you with something new shining in her eyes, and she carefully contemplates what she's about to admit. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"I rarely cry, Y/N, but I did over you. So you have no reason to be embarrassed. It seems like both of us were pretty bad off." She looks down after saying that, scuffing her foot against the concrete of the sidewalk. Being vulnerable isn't usually easy for her, and she never really lets people see that side of her -- not even the girls. She feels like she has to stay strong for them to keep things running smoothly, but she fails to realize how important her own feelings are. You're different, though; she feels like her entire collection of secrets would be safe with you, and you make her feel secure enough to be open like that.

When she feels you step closer and hook two fingers underneath her chin, her eyes dart up to yours and her heart speeds up. Your other arm hesitantly wraps around her waist, giving her plenty of time to step away and deny you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she couldn't possibly want someone like you that you're genuinely surprised when she steps further into your embrace, pulling your arm tighter around herself.

Her right arm comes to rest loosely on your shoulder as her other hand caresses your forearm, rubbing various patterns against your smooth skin. "I tried so hard to get you to pick up on my flirting," she starts, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck as she holds you close. "Every touch," she runs a finger down your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. "Every look," she moves her hand from your neck to your cheek, cupping it sweetly as she gazes into your eyes. She strokes your skin with the pad of her thumb, smiling beautifully when she feels you nuzzle into her hold even more.

"And that kiss…" she says, sounding breathless at the mere thought of it. "I wanted it to last forever."

"Why didn't you tell me that, then?" You ask, not even a trace of anger in your tone. You're determined to let go of all the hurt and fear that your misunderstandings have caused, opting instead to finally get the answers you've wanted for so long. "After I came back from putting Aera to bed you were just… different. And then when you said it was just a part of the script--"

"I know. I was afraid that if I let myself have you like that -- if I let you in all the way -- there'd be no going back." When she sees the confusion building in your eyes, she continues on. "I don't usually let myself get distracted; I can't afford it. You know how seriously I take my studies." You nod, recalling the numerous times you've found her in the library until it closed, studying hard for the exams everyone knew she'd ace. "But you wiggled your way past every line of defense I ever put up. You became my favorite distraction." A dopey grin tugs at your lips at receiving that title, and you subconsciously hold your head a little higher.

"But I wasn't prepared for that. You make me feel things that I've never felt before, and I really didn't think I could afford to let myself have you. Not fully, anyway. I could deal with a crush; I told myself I could keep you close enough that I wouldn't miss you, but far enough that I could keep myself protected."

"What changed?" You ask, smoothing your hands over the small of her back, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. They've worked their way under the hem of her shirt during your conversation, subconsciously seeking to share her warmth, and Jisoo has been acutely aware of it the entire time.

"When I saw you walk away like that I didn't know what to do with myself. I've had people leave before, so it's not a new thing; but I never missed them like I've missed you."

A bittersweet, melancholic look settles on your face at that; she deserves every good thing that the world has to offer, so knowing that you played a part in her sadness -- whether it be direct or indirect -- disheartens you a bit.

"But you're here now, and that's all that matters." She says, leaning her forehead against yours.

"And I'm not going anywhere," you affirm, holding her even closer than before. She brushes her nose against yours with a quiet sigh, relieved to be in your arms, caught safely in your warm embrace. If falling feels like this, she's more than okay with it.

"Can I?" You ask, glancing down to the heart shaped pillows you've dreamt of having against yours again.

She nods, uttering a soft, "Please", as she tilts her head to the side in expectancy. You close the remaining distance, bending your knees slightly to tighten your hold on her waist and pull her flush up against yourself. Both of her arms wrap around your neck now, occasionally coming down to tilt your head and allow her better access, or run her fingers through your hair. It's sensual and meaningful, but an air of urgency hangs in the air, thickening it the longer her lips are on you. Both of you are making up for lost time, so it's no wonder you're so eager.

She takes your bottom lip between her teeth as she backs you up, pressing you against the brick wall that you had migrated a few steps away from during your conversation. If she were kissing anyone else, perhaps she'd care about the strangers staring, or what they might say; but as she stands here, feeling your hands explore her body in the ways that she's dreamed of and your lips kiss her senseless, that's the furthest thought from her mind. Her hands grab at the collar of your shirt, balling the material up in her palms as she pushes her lips against yours from a new angle.

When you eventually pull back for air, you can't help but say the phrase that's been sitting on your mind for weeks. "I love you."

Her heart speeds up to match yours, both of them racing as you look at each other with giant smiles on your faces. "I love you, too. If you hadn't already guessed that," she chuckles, leaning up to kiss you again. This one's more innocent, though -- full of giddiness as you replay each other's declaration in your minds.

"Y/N L/N IF YOU AREN'T OUT HERE--"

Yuqi bellows loudly, blasting through the side door and out into the chilly night air. The metal smacks against the wall from the force she exerted, and you physically cringe at the sound. Jisoo does the same, quickly pulling away to find out what's going on.

When Yuqi's line of sight settles on the two of you, her eyebrows raise and a smirk lands on her lips. "Well, well, well. Looks like my work here is done," she says, cocking her head to the side self-assuredly when she sees how swollen both of your lips are and how mussed your clothing is. You send her a look that she registers as "Get lost", and she retreats back into the performance hall with her hands raised in surrender.

"Idiot," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head as you watch the door close behind her, its poor hinges still recovering from her assault. Jisoo's giggle makes you turn back to her, finding a breathtaking smile forming on her lips. "You're so cute," she coos, poking your cheek, "especially when you blush like that."

You fight the bashfulness that attempts to take over, managing to cock a brow at her and say, "Hey, watch it -- I might not be so kind in my next poem if you don't stop teasing me."

"Aww, don't be like that, baby."

She tenses up after realizing she let that pet name slip out at the end, but your smile only widens.

"Say that again."

"Baby," she drawls in her signature sultry tone, stepping closer to you again.

"Mmm, I could get used to that." You hum against her lips, pressing yours to them at the end of your statement.

"Good, because there's more where that came from."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," she settles into your arms again, looking into your eyes with so much love you nearly swoon. "This is only the beginning for us."

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

Text

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal#ppascaledit #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x oc reader

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spacedikut · 4 years

Text

(nearly) lost love ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: “hi idk if you’re taking requests but if you are i’d love to read something where the reader ends up getting hurt somehow (maybe by an unsub) and is in the hospital and spencer is super worried about her and maybe confesses his feelings for her bc he thought he was gonna lose her?? idk just something super fluffy with a little angst if you’re up for it” 2890 words

a/n: im gon na be honest idk how to write angst so i just went where the story took me????

masterlist

Spencer was proudly stood in front of his geological profile in the Austin precinct when the frantic call was made over the comms.

“Agent down! I repeat, Agent down! We need a medic!”

It was Morgan’s booming voice, firm and commanding, and Spencer first felt relief knowing at least Morgan was safe. But fear follows, prickling through his entire body when, oh no, someone on his team has been injured.

Morgan kept his comm connected. Spencer could hear all the chaos on the other end – he picked up that JJ was counting bodies, there was at least four medics requested, and, the most gut-wrenching for Spencer, was listening to Morgan repeat variations of, “Stay with me Y/N. Don’t close your eyes – listen to me, baby, stay with me, Y/N!”

You. You were the agent down.

You, who, less than two hours ago, laughed at your own joke so hard you couldn’t get it out. You, who made plans with him to go shopping for Halloween decorations that weekend (which Spencer was way too excited about, by the way). You.

You, who Spencer recently realised he’s in love with.

Why does he feel like this is his fault? He knows, logically, it isn’t – the obvious reason is because Spencer wasn’t there (which, a little voice in the back of his head says well maybe if you were there this wouldn’t have happened…) and it’s likely that this is entirely the ubsub’s fault. He attacked and you were the unlucky target.

But the history of Spencer’s love life shows there is a definite risk to being associated with him.

Is this the world’s way of telling him he shouldn’t love you? He shouldn’t tell you he loves you?

Was the big speech Derek gave him, the month they spent building Spencer’s confidence up, all for nothing? Because Spencer’s cursed?

This isn’t about you, Spencer, he thinks, angry at himself. God, you’re hurt, injuries still unknown, and he’s floundering because he’s convinced himself he’s cursed.

“Reid? You there?”

It’s Morgan, still talking through the comm, and it knocks Spencer out of his head. “Y-yeah, I’m here. Y/N? Is it Y/N? Is she okay?”

Morgan’s voice is calm and collected, as always, “Hey, kid, chill. She’s with a medic on the way to the hospital. You wanna-“

“I’ll meet you there.”

Spencer dashes out of the room.

+++

When he arrives, Hotch and JJ are waiting for him at the entrance. JJ expected Spencer to be worried, a little agitated, but she didn’t expect him to look so dishevelled and distressed. His hair, usually so well-kempt, sticks up in all directions. He abandoned his jacket and satchel at the station, obviously in a rush, and now his shoelace is untied and it’s giving JJ anxiety.

“Reid,” Hotch greets.

“How-“

“She’s fine, she’s okay,” JJ immediately says. Spencer has always said JJ knows exactly how to soothe him. “A nasty knock to the head, but she’s been taken care of and she’s resting now.”

Spencer’s whole body sighs in relief.

He sounds fragile when he asks, “Can I see her?”

JJ gives a small, bittersweet smile, then gestures for Spencer to follow her. He stays close, basically standing on her heels, the entire way to your room, where Emily is leaving.

He struts straight in, acknowledging no one, intent on seeing you and seeing you only.

You lie there, lifeless. All he can hear is the haunting sound of the heart monitor, combined with your chest minimally moving up and down being the only signs you’re alive. You’ve lost all your usual colour – Spencer recalls JJ mumbling something about you losing a lot of blood – and the whole sight makes his stomach lurch.

He walks in, and walks right back out.

Everyone shares looks of bewilderment. He did a complete 180, hardly sparing you a glance, and ran straight into the hospital’s bathroom where the team hears the distinct sound of retching.

Derek sighs and follows him. Their gazes meet: Spencer’s head barely lifting from the toilet bowl, Derek shutting and locking the bathroom door with pitying eyes.

“I’m sorry-“ Spencer starts.

“Don’t apologise. How you feeling?”

He groans in response, leaning against the wall. He begs himself to not think about all the germs and diseases that are probably infesting his body as they speak – his heart stings too much in his chest for that.

Spencer swallows the stone in his throat, grimacing at the remnants of bile, “Seeing her like that..”

“I know.”

“I never thought I’d see her like that. I’ve never wanted to see her like that and-and.. I couldn’t be there to protect her and help her-“

“None of this is your fault, Reid. It’s not your fault, or her fault, or anyone’s fault except the guy that did this. And he’s dead. And she’ll be fine. Please,” Derek warns, “Don’t guilt yourself into mayhem. I know you, and I know her, and all she wants is for you to be the first thing she sees when she wakes up. If not, or if she finds out you’re beating yourself up over this, she’ll kill you, man. With her bare hands.”

Derek’s smirking at the end of his speech because he’s right and Spencer knows it too. And Spencer can’t refrain from grinning a little at the thought of you, just gaining consciousness, and leaping from your bed to smack some sense into him.

You’re incredible. Which both pains him and makes him fall for you harder.

When Spencer rises and starts swirling his mouth out with water, Derek gives him a firm pat on the shoulder and leaves, Spencer not far behind.

This time, he won’t run out of the room like a weakling. Because it’s you and you need him to be there for you.

It’s what you’d do for him. And before that thought can go any further, he’s taking a deep breath and opening the door.

You’re still resting, looking exactly the same as when he first saw you, and his stomach jumps into his throat again – it pains him to see you like this.

But Penelope is leaning over you, fingers brushing your hair back with the trademarked tenderness that is Penelope Garcia. You’ve always called her your Fairy Godmother, your guardian angel, the true love of your life.

Maybe you’d rather see her when you first wake up.

So he stays back, lingering by the entrance of the room, until Rossi nudges him and he stumbles to the top of your bed. Right by your face, your oh-so-gorgeous but bruised face, and Spencer stares.

He can’t explain how glad he is that you’re okay. You’re here, a little beaten up, but he knows that in a couple days, maximum a week, you’ll be back in the bullpen with your quirks and nudges and warmth that is so you and he’ll never let anything come near you again.

(He knows he can’t actually do that. You wouldn’t let him. But he still thinks it, because he loves you and he’ll do anything for you)

The team silently agrees that Spencer will be the one to stay with you. At least until you wake up.

(Why? You might ask. Because you drunkenly told the girls that you’re convinced the closest thing to heaven on Earth would be waking up and Spencer Reid being the first thing you see every day. Ever since, they’ve committed themselves to trying to set you two up)

Spencer sleeps next to your bed, cramped in the uncomfortable and tiny chair, until about seven am. Then he recites some books in his head, just to pass the time. Then Penelope calls.

“I’m on my way with baked goods, Doctor. Would you like me to pick something up for you and the sleeping beauty?”

Spencer goes to decline, before looking at you, “I think Y/N would appreciate a burger. Maybe two.”

Garcia hums down the line, “You know, she’s always been full of good ideas. I’ll buy too many burgers then be on my way. Kisses!” Then hangs up.

In the meantime, Spencer scrolls through your conversation on his phone. He’d never been one for texting, or technology (notoriously), but you always send him things you think he’d like – maybe an article (he’s read every single one you’ve sent, even the one about the monkey using a frog to masturbate), a picture of a cute dog (this one looks like you, spence!!!!!!), and anything else that catches your eye.

For example, a comprehensive list of way too many “why did the chicken cross the road?” jokes.

They’re your kryptonite. Even after you explained the joke to Spencer, in depth, he still doesn’t quite understand the appeal. But you love them.

So he reads them to you.

He knows you can’t hear him. Being asleep is obviously very different to being in a coma, where people have claimed to be able to hear the people around them, but it passes the time and eases him a little. Cause he also knows that if you were awake you’d be chortling away, happy as can be. And that’s how you should always be.

Happy.

Spencer hopes he makes you happy.

Damn, he loves you.

Damn.

He has to tell you he loves you.

It feels like this need, this obligation – if he doesn’t tell you when you wake up then when will he tell you? The next time you’re injured?

The thought sends him reeling.

No matter the outcome, you need to know. He needs to tell you.

“Why did the rooster cross the road?” He reads aloud, “To cockadoodle dooo something.”

He’s cheesing at his screen, at the audacity and stupidity of these jokes. But they’re sweet, just like you, and they take everyone prisoner when it comes to making people smile.

“That was a good one.” You heh.

Your voice is croaky after not being used in hours, but it’s still the same dreamy voice Spencer loves to hear.

You’re awake. And already smiling, which is one hell of a win in Spencer’s book.

“Good morning.” He whispers.

“It’s morning?” You ask, moving your head slowly to see outside your window. “At least I got a full night’s sleep for once.”

“Should you really be joking in your condition?” Spencer teases, leaning to fluff your pillow when you wince.

You exhale deeply, “And what is my condition, exactly?”

“You look as sexy as ever, buttercup.”

Garcia’s grinning from the doorway, Derek the same from behind her, two bags of food in her hands.

You’re ecstatic when you say, “Penny!” Trying to hide the pain when she hugs you. You’re too happy to see her to turn down her love.

She dishes out the burgers and, as expected, you ask if there’s another in there for you. You chomp happily, despite the dull ache still present, chatting jovially with the three of them.

Penelope gets caught up in telling you about the most recent documentary she saw. When he notices, Derek nods towards the door, making Spencer furrow his eyebrows in confusion. What does he want?

Derek does it again and Spencer gets it. He lifts from his seat the same time Derek does, saying nothing until they’re out of the room and the door has shut behind them.

“I’m gonna make Penelope leave-“ Derek begins, and Spencer stutters.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

Derek chuckles at Spencer’s reaction, “Kid, everything’s fine. You just gotta tell her.”

Spencer doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t know what Derek’s referring to. He peeks through your door’s window, staring directly at you as you giggle at something Penelope says.

“Do I?” He ponders. “It could-“

“Nope. We’re not doing that “it could ruin everything” spiel. You’re an adult, she’s an adult, and adults don’t play around with feelings like this. Tell. Her.” Derek’s got both hands on Spencer’s shoulders, grip tightening and loosening sporadically as he talks. He looks like a football coach giving a pep talk before the big game, and Spencer feels invigorated.

“Alright.” Spencer nods once, “Let’s do this.”

“I will remove Penelope Garcia from the premises.”

They nod at eachother and move back into your room.

+++

When Penelope is pulled from your room by Derek, stumbling and muttering and stuttering, all you do is blink in confusion.

“What’s going on there?” You say, speaking out of the side of your mouth, as if you’re sharing a secret.

Spencer doesn’t answer. You turn to look at him, another question on your tongue, but the words die when you see his facial expression.

It’s so tender. So soft, and gentle, the littlest of smiles on his lips as his cheeks darken.

“If I tell you something really dramatic right now, do you think you could handle that?”

Your head tilts, brows furrowed, looking far too endearing with your bandaged head.

He clears his throat, “I just-just need to make sure it won’t overwhelm you.”

You don’t know what to expect, but you agree anyway. Is this why Derek and Penelope left?

“I vomited when I saw you in bed. In this bed. In hospital.” He begins.

“Oh, thanks, Spence,” You tease.

“No- no. Hear me out!” He gives a little laugh, hands coming up in defence. “I don’t have a script, and statistically, both men and women speak around sixteen-thousand words a day – I want these ones to be special. Because you’re special.”

You’re still visibly confused. You clasp your hands together in your lap, “I’m listening. You have my full attention.”

Having your full attention is terrifying and electrifying at the same time. Spencer wants you to know that.

“You make me feel things, you know.” He reveals, “Things I’ve only ever read about, fantasised about – you know… things.”

This is going terribly. For a man who’s read the dictionary more times than he cares to count (he does care to count – twenty two times), he is very much struggling to explain himself to you.

Deep breath. From the start.

“It’s alright, Spence,” You console, hand resting on his closed ones. “Take your time.”

He does. He takes a few more breaths. “I don’t know where to start so- so bear with me.”

“Always.”

Why do you have to make his heart race like that?

“What?”

Oh. He said that out loud.

Well. Might as well repeat it.

“I said,” Louder this time, “Why do you have to make my heart race like that?”

“I’m sorry?”

“No. No- I like it. I like you, that’s what I’m trying to say. Maybe not like since Derek told me we’re not in high school, kid,” He lowers his voice to impersonate Derek, “But the l word is scary, especially when I don’t know how you’re gonna react. But whatever you say, however you react, we’ll be okay. I know we will. I just need you to know how you make me feel and how-how good I think I’d treat you, I guess.”

It feels like your silence goes on forever. Then you quietly ask, “And how do I make you feel, Spence?”

“Like I’ve never felt before. I meant it when I said you make me feel things I’ve only read about – you’re so easy to love, you know that? Infuriatingly so. And you’re so open – I think that’s what drew me in at first. You knew nothing about Doctor Who, but you heard I was asking around for someone to go with me to that convention and you said you were available if I wanted you and I… I had to practice how to ask you in the mirror for three days straight. Of course I want you, Y/N. I think I always have.”

His voice is timid when he asks, afraid of what the answer might be.

“Do you think you want me too?”

“Are you crazy?!” You cry out.

The volume makes Spencer jump. Then he registers what you said and slumps, rejection seeping in.

“Spencer-“ You say, exasperated, “You’re the most incredible person I know. I tell you all the time cause I mean it.” You give a short laugh, “How could you even think that I wouldn’t feel the exact same? I’m kind of obsessed with you, Spence.”

The shock on his face melts into pure joy. Is this really happening? You..

“I want you an embarrassing amount, Spencer Reid. I always have and I always will.”

He doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he leaps forward and smashes your lips together. It’s messy and a little clunky, teeth hitting together and mouths unable to stop grinning, but it’s perfect. Everything you could’ve asked for in your first kiss with Spencer.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

And he thinks the exact same of you.

He pulls back, heart racing and entire body burning, strong hands cradling your head. It doesn’t take a profiler to realise the two of you, foreheads leaning against eachother, are the happiest you’ve been in a long time.

“You taste like burger.” Spencer breathes, soft and low.

You giggle. “You taste like coffee and burger.”

His lips quirk, raising an eyebrow, “You like it?”

You hum, rubbing your nose against his, “I like it a whole lot. I like you a whole lot.”

Spencer kisses you again.

And again.

“Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #mine #i like this one! i think #does anyone else struggle infinitely with titling fics #i go with the randomest shit lol

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