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soulofapatrick · 6 months

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They Find Out You're Pregnant: One Piece Boys

Summary: How each boy finds out you're pregnant

Words: 5.7K altogether

warnings: unplanned pregnancy but mostly fluff

Y/N's POV

The scent of sizzling spices fills the air as Sanji orchestrated a culinary symphony in the Thousand Sunny’s kitchen. His deft hands move with practiced grace, a dance that spoke of passion and expertise but for once his cooking wasn’t what got my attention. I’m sidling around Sanji, who’s lost in his world of sizzling pans and aromatic spices. The kitchen is his main, a place where he commands both ingredients and flames with the finesse of a maestro. Today, however, my attention isn’t fixed on his culinary mastery. It’s drawn, instead, to the sizeable tub of salted caramel ice cream tucked away in the freezer, calling to me with its irresistible allure.

With a casual lean, I snag a spoon from the drawer and make a beeline for the freezer. The cold air greets me as I retrieve the tub, feeling its frosty chill through the container. My taste buds dance in anticipation; there’s something about this particular flavour that has become inexplicably magnetic.

Returning to the kitchen island, I take a seat, propping myself up on one of the stools, spoon in hand. Sanji, ever engrossed in his culinary creation, doesn’t seem to notice my ice cream indulgence. He moves with a fluidity that’s almost hypnotic, each movement deliberate and purposeful.

I twist off the lid of the ice cream tub, the gentle scent of caramel filling the air. With a satisfying clink, the spoon dips into the creamy goodness, gathering a generous scoop. As I lift it to my lips, the richness of the caramel mixed with the slight saltiness dances on my taste buds, a delightful sensation that brings an unexpected comfort.

Glancing over at Sanji, I marvel at his expertise. Despite my seemingly distracted state, his instincts as a chef seem to extend beyond just the realm of cooking. His attention to detail is impeccable, noticing even the subtlest shifts in preferences. Sanji hums a tune under his breath, his focus unwavering. I continue to enjoy my impromptu dessert, relishing the smooth, cold sweetness against the backdrop of Sanji's culinary artistry.

As Sanji begins to fry food, the enticing aroma of spices fills the air once more. He orchestrates the sizzle and crackle of ingredients in a symphony of flavours, the tantalising scent mingling with the lingering sweetness of the ice cream. But as I sit there, spoon poised for another scoop, an unexpected wave of nausea washes over me. The once delightful taste of caramel now feels overwhelming. With a sudden heaviness, I place the tub of ice cream on the counter, the thud echoing louder than intended.

Sanji glances over, concern etching into his features as he notices my abrupt change in demeanour. "Are you alright, my love?” His voice, laced with worry, cuts through the sounds of the kitchen.

I manage a weak nod, but the queasiness intensifies. Without another word, I push myself off the stool and dash towards the bin, my footsteps echoing in the galley. The retching sounds reverberate in the room, a stark contrast to the harmonious melody of Sanji's cooking. Embarrassment floods me as I lean against the counter, my breaths ragged, trying to steady myself. Sanji, ever the attentive soul, swiftly moves closer, concern etched in every line of his face.

“Maybe it’s… yeah, it’s the combination of flavours.” I manage between breaths, feeling utterly mortified at the sudden turn of events. An anxiety plating in the back of my mind as I’m late for my period and have been for a week now but that’s not that unusual with the resent stresses.

Sanji's worry melts into understanding, his eyes softening with compassion. "It happens," he reassures, his hand resting gently on my back. "Sometimes, tastes change unexpectedly. Let's get you some water.” With Sanji’s comforting assurance, I try to shake off the unease gripping me. As he moves to fetch water, a sudden surge of panic knots my stomach. My mind races, the memory of my late period lingering like an unspoken secret.

“Sanji,” I blurt out, my voice quivering, catching him mid-step. His brows furrow in concern. As he turns back to me, his expression a blend of care and curiosity, “I’m late…” I manage to confess, my words stumbling out in a rush. Embarrassment and anxiety collide, painting a flush across my cheeks.

“Late…?” His voice trails off as he tries to understand me, brows furrowed.

I tug gently at his wrist, feeling a desperate need for support, for someone to share this unexpected worry with. "I don't know what to do, Sanji. It’s been a week, and… and I don't know if it’s just stress or…”

With my confession hanging between us, Sanji's eyes widen in realisation, the pieces clicking together as my distress becomes palpable. Before either of us can utter another word, another wave of nausea overwhelms me, and I lurch towards the bin once more, heaving with a force that leaves me breathless. Sanji’s concern deepens as he rushes to my side, his hands instinctively reaching for a glass of water. "Here, drink this," he urges gently, his voice laced with worry.

Gasping for air, I manage to steady myself and accept the water, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Sanji's swift actions and unwavering support feel like an anchor in this sudden storm of uncertainty.

”Come on," he says softly, guiding me towards the nearby couch, his arm securely wrapped around my shoulder. He kneels in front of me, his eyes searching mine with a mix of concern and care. "Are you sure?”

I nod weakly, the weight of the moment heavy on my shoulders. "As sure as I can be," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing second. Sanji's expression softens, his hand gently resting on mine. "We'll figure this out together," he assures, his voice filled with a determination to be there every step of the way, “I love you so much. We’re gonna be parents.”

Y/N's POV

The sea breeze whips through my hair as I stand on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, watching the waves dance beneath the golden sunlight. Another adventure alongside Luffy and the crew—a thrilling escapade filled with laughter, battles and unforeseen challenges.

But lately, there’s something different. A subtle fatigue creeps in, and I find myself yawning during moments of respite. It’s unlike me, the one who is usually brimming with boundless energy. Yet, I brush it off, attributing it to the rigorous journey. Each day brings its own set of adventures, and with it, an inexplicable weariness that shadows my every step. Yawning becomes a constant companion, stealing moments of wakefulness in between our exploits. Climbing rigging, engaging in battles, and exploring uncharted territories—all thrilling, yet each exertion seems to compound this unexplained exhaustion.

There's a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, a whisper of something unfamiliar. It tugs at my thoughts during quiet moments, a persistent reminder that something isn’t quite as it should be. Yet, I struggle to grasp its elusive form, brushing it aside amidst the excitement of our journey.

The crew carries on, oblivious to my inner turmoil, their spirits high as they revel in the thrill of the adventure. Luffy’s infectious laughter, Zoro’s unwavering determination, Nami’s calculating mind—all paint a vibrant picture against the backdrop of the vast ocean. Amidst the chaos and camaraderie, I can’t help but feel a sense of detachment, a solitary island amidst the bustling sea. My fatigue persists, a constant companion whose origin remains an enigma.

Luffy, with his endless curiosity and knack for noticing the smallest details, seems to pick up on my weariness before I even acknowledge it. He catches me dozing off during our travels, his wide grin turning into a puzzled expression.

"Hey, Y/N! Are you okay?" His voice, filled with genuine concern, cuts through the hustle and bustle of our adventurous escapades.

I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a bit tired. It's nothing, really.”

Luffy's concern persists, evident in the furrow of his brows as he gazes at me with unwavering attention. His wide, innocent eyes betray his curiosity, searching for answers that even I can't provide. "You sure?" He asks, his voice tinged with a childlike sincerity that tugs at my heartstrings.

Luffy’s concern, like an unwavering beacon of warmth, persists despite my feeble attempts to brush off my weariness. He shifts closer, his arms encircling me in an unexpected but comforting embrace from behind. His embrace is gentle yet reassuring, as if he could shield me from the exhaustion I can't shake. I can't help but chuckle softly at the suddenness of his affection, feeling a sense of ease washing over me as I lean back slightly, finding an unexpected comfort in his embrace. The weariness that had been pulling me down seems to dissipate for a moment, the warmth of his care a soothing balm to my tired soul.

But even amidst this comfort, Luffy’s intuition remains unyielding. His embrace lingers just a moment longer, his gaze still searching for answers, as if he could decipher the unspoken truths hidden behind my worn-out facade. His childlike sincerity tugs at my heart, urging me to share what I can't quite articulate.

"I'll be fine, Luffy," I say softly, trying to reassure both him and myself, though doubt niggles at the edges of my words. His concern is a testament to his unwavering loyalty and care, a reflection of the bonds we share as a crew.

Despite my attempts at reassurance, Luffy's gaze holds a depth of understanding that transcends words. He doesn't press further, but the lingering concern in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent promise to stand by me, no matter what uncertainties lie ahead. And as we carry on with our adventures, I find solace in the unspoken support of a friend who seeks to understand even the mysteries hidden beneath a worn-out smile.

His wide eyes dart between mine, a silent conversation unfolding, his desire to understand evident in the furrow of his brows. And with that unspoken exchange, he reluctantly accepts my explanation, bounding off with a promise to resume our adventure. He heads off in the direction of Nami and Robin who are talking quietly, asking them something that has them squealing and gushing over something and the three begin tot talk animatedly but too far away for me to hear.

It doesn’t take long for me to find out as Luffy’s is calling for my attention, “Hey, Y/N!” His voice is tinged with excitement. His finger points at something I hadn’t even noticed,— my slightly protruding belly, a subtle change that had slipped under my own radar as I just thought I had put on weight from the feasts Luffy makes Sanji make for us, “I think you’re gonna have a baby!” His exclamation echoes across the deck, his unfiltered joy a testament to his unique perspective on life.

The crew halts, their expressions ranging from astonishment to joyous disbelief. I stand frozen, stunned by Luffy’s innocent declaration, a revelation that I had yet to fathom. In the moment that follows Luffy’s proclamation, a bewildering realisation sweeps over me. His words—“you’re gonna have a baby”—linger in the air, and as the crew's astonished gazes shift between us, it finally dawns on Luffy that he's not just declaring my news; he's announcing his own impending fatherhood.

His wide eyes widen further, mirroring the astonishment painted across the faces of our crewmates. And then, in a flash of comprehension, a radiant grin spreads across Luffy's face, an uncontainable joy that sparks a cascade of laughter. "Wait, wait, wait! We're having a baby?!" His voice rings out, his expression a mix of disbelief and unadulterated happiness.

Without another thought, Luffy bounds over to me, his infectious laughter filling the air. He scoops me up in his arms, spinning us both around in a whirlwind of uncontainable joy. Laughter erupts from him, a symphony of excitement and wonder as he revels in the revelation. "We're having a baby!" His exclamation echoes across the deck, a declaration that marks the beginning of a new, unforeseen chapter in our adventures.

The crew, initially stunned by Luffy's proclamation, now erupts into cheers and congratulatory exclamations, their astonishment giving way to celebration. Amidst the whirlwind of laughter and cheers, Luffy's sheer delight becomes infectious, melting away any lingering shock. And as he continues to spin us both around, his joy becomes mine, intertwining our destinies in this unexpected, thrilling journey toward parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the Thousand Sunny. It's a peaceful afternoon, the gentle sway of the ship lulling me into a sense of tranquility amid our bustling adventures. Zoro, the swordsman of unwavering determination, has always possessed an uncanny ability to notice the subtlest of changes. Today, however, would mark the day he’d discern a change within me that I hadn't yet comprehended.

I find myself sitting at the ship's bow, the soothing melody of the waves a comforting companion as I stare out into the horizon. The day had started like any other, yet a lingering unease gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, a sense of unfamiliarity that dances just beyond reach.

Zoro’s presence, like a shadow eternally by my side, draws closer. He settles nearby, his stoic gaze fixed on the horizon. "Something on your mind?" His voice, gruff yet tinged with a subtle concern, pierces the calm.

I shake my head, trying to dismiss the disquiet that has nestled itself within me. "Just thinking," I reply with a forced smile, hoping to brush off the weight of my contemplation.

But Zoro, with his unwavering perceptiveness, doesn’t seem convinced. He turns slightly towards me, his gaze assessing, as if trying to decipher the unspoken layers of my thoughts. His eyes, a testament to his keen observation, seem to search for answers that even I'm not yet ready to acknowledge.

As the day stretches into twilight, I notice Zoro's observations becoming more pronounced. He notices the slightest changes—a subtle fatigue in my stance during practice, a hesitancy in my movements that betray a newfound caution.

"Training not going as planned?" he asks casually, a hint of curiosity laced in his words.

I chuckle softly, attempting to mask the undercurrent of uncertainty. "Just feeling a bit off today, I guess."

Under the tangerine hues of the evening sky, Zoro’s scrutiny becomes more palpable. Each swing of my practice sword seems to carry an unusual weight, my movements betraying a faltering rhythm I can't seem to shake. Zoro, a steadfast presence beside me, doesn’t miss a beat. His intense focus during our training sessions amplifies, his watchful gaze tracking every subtle shift in my stance, every hesitancy that sneaks into my strikes.

“Having trouble finding your footing?” His question, tossed casually into the air, holds a knowing undertone that catches me off guard. I offer a fleeting smile, a feeble attempt to cloak the turmoil brewing beneath the surface but I wave off his concerns.

But Zoro, with his uncanny ability to read between the lines, doesn’t let the matter slide. His observant nature persists, his inquiries wrapped in the guise of casual conversation, yet laden with an unwavering determination to unravel the mystery veiled within my uncharacteristic unease. As the sun begins its descent, casting shadows that dance across the ship’s deck, Zoro’s gaze lingers, a silent sentinel amidst the encroaching dusk. His dedication to noticing the subtleties, the nuances that escape ordinary observation, serves as an unspoken reassurance in the face of my growing uncertainty.

The day had settled into a tranquil calmness, the colours of the sky merging into a breathtaking canvas of oranges and purples as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Zoro's concern had become a constant companion, a silent understanding that had evolved beyond mere words.

"Feeling better?" He asks one day, his voice holding a touch of solemnity that catches me off guard.

I hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze. "Not quite myself, to be honest," I admit reluctantly, feeling a sense of relief in sharing even a fraction of my uncertainty.

Zoro’s expression softens imperceptibly, a rare gesture from the stoic swordsman. "If something's on your mind, you know you can talk about it, right?" His words, though simple, carry an unspoken promise of support.

I lean into his touch, finding an unexpected solace in his gesture. Resting my head on his sturdy shoulder, we both gaze out at the horizon, where the sun casts its final golden rays over the endless expanse of water.The tranquility of the moment envelops us, a sanctuary within the tumultuous uncertainty. Words become unnecessary as the serenity of the scene seems to bridge the unspoken gap between us. The weight of my worries feels a little lighter, shared in the unspoken language of companionship and understanding.

“I think I’m pregnant.” I mumble and Zoro's hand, which had been gently clasping mine, tightens slightly at my confession. His gaze, usually steady and composed, flickers with a blend of surprise and an emotion I can't quite place. For a fleeting moment, the tranquility of our shared moment is replaced by a charged energy—an anticipation that crackles between us. His grip on my hand relaxes, only to shift purposefully, cupping my chin with a tenderness that catches me off guard. His eyes, a storm of emotions, meet mine, and without a word, he pulls me closer, closing the distance between us with a possessive intensity.

In that instant, our lips meet in a fervent kiss, a silent affirmation of the unspoken dreams that had nestled in the depths of our shared future. His kiss is filled with a passionate reassurance, a promise of unwavering support and a newfound sense of purpose that we hadn't realised we were seeking.

As the golden hues of the setting sun paint the sky with their final strokes, our connection feels more profound than ever, transcending the unspoken barriers that once stood between us. The weight of my revelation seems to dissipate in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by an overwhelming sense of unity and anticipation for the journey ahead.

When our lips finally part, the tranquility of the moment returns, albeit tinged with an exhilarating sense of possibility. Zoro’s eyes, though still reflecting surprise, hold an unwavering determination—a silent vow that together, we will embrace this new chapter, our shared future now intertwined with the unexpected joy of impending parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The Red Force sails calmly across the cast expanse of the sea, the ship’s sturdy frame cutting through the gentle waves with a reassuring rhythm. Shanks, the legendary and enigmatic pirate, is as astute as he is charismatic. Little did I know, he would be the first to sense the subtle shifts within me that heralded a new chapter in our lives.

It begins with small gestures—a keen observation and a caring intervention—undetectable threats woven into the fabric of our daily interactions. Shanks, with his affable demeanour and keen intuition, notices the nuances I hadn’t yet recognised within myself.

One tranquil evening aboard the ship, I reach for a glass of wine, eager to unwind after a day of adventure. Shanks, however, intercepts the bottle before I can take a sip from it, “Not tonight.” He murmurs with a gentle smile, his gaze filled with a knowing reassurance.

Confusion clouds my features for a fleeting moment, but Shanks’ unwavering resolve speaks volumes. He offers no explanation, but his subtle gesture carries an unspoken wisdom that halts me in my tracks. A realisation flickers within me—an inkling that there might be more to Shanks’ intervention than meets the eye.

As my hand instinctively reaches for the bottle once more, Shanks, with a graceful and deliberate motion, holds it just out of my grasp. His other arm, strong and reassuring, encircles my waist, drawing me closer until I’m pressed against him, our closeness enveloped by the gentle sway of the ship. Before I can voice my confusion or protest, Shanks silences any questions with a tender yet fervent kiss. His lips, a whisper against mine, convey a message that words couldn’t encapsulate—an unspoken reassurance, a depth of understanding that transcends any explanation.

Caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of the moment, my initial confusion dissipates in the warmth of his embrace. There’s an inexplicable comfort in the way he holds me, in the way his lips mold against mine, as if he’s communicating a profound truth without uttering a single word. In that fleeting moment, amidst the whispers of the ocean breeze and the lull of the ship, I sense the depth of Shanks’ concern—a concern that goes beyond a simple denial of wine. His actions, though unconventional, carry an unspoken promise of protection, a silent vow to shield me from something I hadn’t yet comprehended.

As the tender moment lingers, Shanks whispers against my skin, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. "Be a good girl and stick to water tonight," he murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of playfulness and genuine concern. His words carry a cryptic weight, an allusion to something I've yet to fathom. His nose nuzzles against the curve of my neck, a gesture that feels both protective and intimate. "Don't want to hurt our prodigy," he adds, his tone hinting at a revelation that eludes my understanding.

Confusion and curiosity dance within me as Shanks kisses my jaw once more before releasing me. He walks away, the bottle of wine in hand, leaving me to decipher the enigmatic puzzle he has laid out. His cryptic words linger in the air, stirring a flurry of thoughts and emotions. "Hurt our prodigy?" I mull over the phrase, trying to unravel its meaning amidst the waves of uncertainty that crash within me.

The realisation dawns gradually—a glimmer of understanding emerging from the depths of my contemplation. Shanks’ words, though veiled in ambiguity, carry a hidden truth—a truth that I'm hesitant to acknowledge but can't dismiss. Could it be? The notion takes root tentatively within my thoughts, an unspoken realisation that I might be carrying something precious, something that Shanks, with his astute intuition, has sensed long before I even considered the possibility.

In a whirlwind of emotions and burgeoning realisations, I sprint to Shanks’ private quarters aboard the ship. The air crackles with a blend of uncertainty and a burgeoning anticipation that propels me forward. Racing through the door, I almost tear my shirt off, desperation guiding my movements as I position myself before the mirror.

With an anxious breath, I angle myself sideways, my eyes searching for the slightest hint of change. There it is—a subtle curve, a gentle swell that hadn’t been there before. My hand hesitantly hovers over my stomach, tracing the faint outline, a tangible proof of the truth that begins to solidify in my mind.

Before I can fully grasp the enormity of the revelation, strong and familiar arms envelop me from behind, gently covering my hands that rest upon my stomach. Shanks, with a silent understanding that transcends words, rests his chin on my shoulder, a comforting presence in this whirlwind of emotions. Tears blur my vision, a mixture of disbelief and an overwhelming rush of emotions cascading through me. Shanks' quiet embrace, his unspoken support, serves as a grounding force amidst the storm of thoughts racing through my mind.

In the mirrored reflection, I glance at Shanks, my voice laden with uncertainty, "You're not upset?" His frown, reflected in the glass, catches me off guard, stirring a fresh wave of apprehension within me.

Shanks gently turns me around to face him, his expression softening into a gentle smile. "Upset? Y/N, I've never been more thrilled," he confesses, his voice a steady reassurance that eases the knot of worry in my chest. "I've wanted this with you, with all my heart.” His words, laden with sincerity and unwavering affection, wash over me like a soothing balm. In that tender moment, surrounded by the depth of his love and his longing for a future we hadn't anticipated, the flood of emotions begins to settle.

As I process his heartfelt confession, Shanks’ demeanour takes on a mischievous glint. "Now, why don’t you get undressed?" he suggests, his voice a playful tease, though his eyes burn with an intensity that stirs a different kind of heat within me.

Surprised by the sudden shift in tone, my cheeks flush crimson. "Shanks, I..." I stammer, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected boldness but then again it was Shanks. But before I can protest further, his lips capture mine in a fervent kiss, a passionate affirmation of his desire and unwavering affection. His hands trail down my sides, urging me gently to comply with his playful suggestion.

In that moment, amidst the emotions and revelations, a sense of exhilaration surges through me—a shared understanding that despite the unexpected turn of events, our love and passion for each other remain as fiery and unyielding as ever. And as we lose ourselves in the passionate embrace, the uncertainties and worries of impending parenthood momentarily fade into the background, replaced by an intense and intimate connection that binds us together in this newfound chapter of our lives.

Y/N's POV

The Thousand Sunny basks in the warm sunlight as a peaceful day unfolds on the seas. The tranquility is interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Dracule Mihawk, the enigmatic and formidable swordsman. His presence aboard our ship sends a ripple of curiosity among the crew, but for me, it's a moment of both surprise and delight.

I rush to meet him as he steps aboard the ship, his sharp gaze meeting mine with an inscrutable intensity. His usual stoic demeanour remains unchanged, but a subtle warmth flickers in his eyes as he greets me with a restrained nod.

“Mihawk.” I breathe, a mix of excitement and curiosity lacing my voice, “What brings you here?”

He inclines his head slightly, his tone softening imperceptibly, “I wished to see you, nothing more.” As he speaks, I feel a pang of discomfort building within me—a sudden wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me. I try to hide it, but Mihawk's perceptive nature doesn't let it slip by unnoticed. His brow furrows ever so slightly, a minute indication of concern. "Are you feeling unwell?" he inquires, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic gentleness.

I attempt to shrug it off, summoning a weak smile. "Just a passing thing, nothing to worry about.” But Mihawk, with his keen observation skills, remains unconvinced. His scrutiny intensifies as he observes me closely, a silent but unmistakable display of attentiveness. As the discomfort escalates, I find myself rushing to the ship's railing, a sudden urge to empty my stomach. The violent bout of vomiting catches both Mihawk and me off guard.

Concern etches itself onto Mihawk's otherwise impassive features as he moves closer, his hand resting lightly on my back. "This doesn’t seem like 'nothing,'" he observes, his voice tinged with a hint of worry.

I try to downplay it, despite the relentless churning in my stomach. "Just a bug, probably," I manage between strained breaths, attempting to mask the unease bubbling within me.

But Mihawk, with his unyielding intuition, sees through the facade. "It's more than that," he asserts, his gaze penetrating, seeking answers I'm not yet prepared to acknowledge. The silence between us is charged with unspoken questions, an undercurrent of concern that we both struggle to articulate. Despite my attempts to evade the truth, Mihawk's perceptive nature latches onto the possibility that eludes my own awareness. "Have you noticed any other changes?" His inquiry is gentle but direct, his unwavering gaze locking onto mine.

I hesitate, grappling with the enormity of what his question implies. "I... I'm not sure," I falter, the weight of his question sinking in.

Mihawk nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable yet filled with a palpable sense of understanding. "Let's find out," he suggests, guiding me to a quiet corner of the ship where we can speak privately. The rest of the crew disappearing back downstairs to give us privacy as they can gage the seriousness of the conversation Mihawk and I need to have.

He sits on the bench and I go to join him, sitting next to him, but in one smooth move he pulls me onto his lap with a surprising ease. His arms wrap securely around my waist, ensuring I’m steady against the rhythmic movements of the vessel. His touch, though firm, carries a comforting assurance, ground me amidst the uncertainty that hangs in the air.

In the cocoon of his embrace, I feel a rush of emotions—vulnerability, anticipation, and a glimmer of hope intertwined. Mihawk’s presence, his unspoken support, is a reassuring beacon of amidst the tempest feelings swirling within me. He leans in closer, his voice a soft murmur against my ear, “We’ll figure this out.” His words, through simple, carry a weight of determination and a promise of solidarity that resonates deep within me.

With a steadying breath, I meet his gaze, finding an unexpected solace in the depths of his eyes. The unspoken understanding between us weaves an invisible bond, strengthening our resolve to face the unknown together. As the ship rocks gently with the ocean's sway, our private conversation unfolds—a candid exchange filled with a raw honesty that transcends words. Mihawk listens attentively, his silence a canvas for the emotions and uncertainties I pour out.

“I’ve missed my period Mi,” I tell him softly and Mihawk's demeanour remains composed, yet a subtle shift in his expression betrays a momentary pause, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. His touch, tender and deliberate as he brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes, betrays the depth of his emotions, concealed beneath his stoic facade.

The weight of my revelation hangs between us, a pregnant silence punctuated only by the soft sounds of the ship slicing through the gentle waves. Mihawk’s eyes, usually enigmatic and inscrutable, now reflect a spectrum of emotions—concern, contemplation, and a hint of something deeper that I struggle to decipher. He exhales slowly, his gaze never leaving mine, the depths of his eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions. "I see," he responds softly, his voice steady but laced with an underlying current of consideration.

As the words linger in the air, a wave of apprehension washes over me, uncertain of how he'll receive this unforeseen revelation. But Mihawk, with his characteristic composure, offers a calm reassurance, a quiet strength that anchors me amidst the tempest of emotions.

“Mi?” I ask quietly, shakily playing with the tufts of hair at the back of his head, twirling them through my fingers and avoiding his gaze as he’s a warlord of the sea, he’s not going to want a child, let alone a child with me.

Mihawk’s hand, strong yet surprisingly gentle, intercepts mine, halting the nervous twirling of his hair. His touch redirects my attention, guiding my trembling fingers away from their anxious fidgeting. With deliberate intent, he lifts my chin, urging me to meet his gaze, his eyes unwavering as they lock onto mine, "Stop those thoughts," he commands, his voice firm but not harsh, resonating with an unspoken intensity. It's as if he can perceive the tumultuous whirlwind of doubts raging within me, and with his unwavering gaze, he attempts to quell the storm of insecurities that threaten to engulf me.

Before I can offer any protest, any further apprehensive whispers, his lips claim mine in a kiss that silences the racing thoughts in my mind. It's a kiss filled with a passion that defies the uncertainties, a kiss that speaks volumes of his unwavering affection and a desire to shield me from my own fears. As our lips meld in a fervent embrace, Mihawk's kiss becomes a testament to his commitment, a reassurance that transcends spoken words. In that moment, amid the tangle of emotions and swirling doubts, his lips become a lifeline, a beacon of certainty in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties.

The kiss lingers, a bridge between our unspoken fears and the unyielding depth of our connection. Mihawk's touch, his fervent kiss, convey a silent promise—a promise that echoes in the depths of my being, a promise that together, we will weather whatever storms lie ahead. As the kiss concludes, a serene tranquility settles within me, a newfound sense of assurance born from Mihawk's unwavering declaration through that intimate gesture. In the quiet aftermath, his gaze holds an unspoken understanding, a mutual acknowledgment that in each other's embrace, we'll find the strength to face the unforeseen challenges ahead.

After the kiss, a soft yet resolute glint flickers in Mihawk's eyes as he gazes at me. His hand cups my cheek tenderly, his touch conveying a depth of emotion that words struggle to articulate.

"Y/N," he begins, his voice a steady reassurance, "I want this. I want this child with you." His words, though measured, carry a weight of sincerity that resonates deeply within me, "You're not alone in this," he continues, his tone unwavering. "Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it together. I'm here, and I'm staying.”

The earnestness in his declaration pierces through my uncertainties, weaving a tapestry of assurance and commitment. His unwavering support, a promise anchored in his eyes and echoed in his words, becomes a beacon of hope amidst the labyrinth of doubts, "We'll navigate this, step by step," he assures, his voice a steadfast anchor in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties. "I'm with you every step of the way.”

In that poignant moment, Mihawk's unwavering commitment and steadfast reassurance carve a path forward—a path illuminated by the warmth of his unwavering support and our shared determination to embrace the unexpected journey that lies ahead.

One Piece Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

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yenonnoff · 2 months

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h. iwaizumi — my time is important | part 3 (finale)

pairing: iwaizumi x gn!reader

content: mini smau series, university au, swearing, crack, fluff, friends to lovers

synopsis: you've always been a devoted volunteer; the university's bulletin board where all volunteer opportunities are posted, might as well become your second home. however, competition is high. iwaizumi hajime seems to appear out of nowhere and mercilessly fights over the last spot with you every time! why is a busy volleyball player like him spending so much time stealing your spot anyway?

a/n: dates are inaccurate but times are mostly consistent (word count: 6.8k pls forgive me)

...my time is important | part 1, part 2, part 3 (finale)

endless chatter. countless voices spilled onto the walls and tables of the cafeteria.

osamu occupied the seat next to you, his twin brother sitting on the other side. atsumu yawned, his outstretched arms almost knocked over your food.

“hey,” you frowned.

atsumu had annoyed you yesterday with one of his antics and you haven’t fully forgiven him for it. you couldn’t believe what you were reading when you saw his post about you and hajime. it’s safe to say you haven’t forgotten the incident and he hasn’t forgotten his lecture.

atsumu retracted his arms hastily, a playful “oops” escaping his lips. after another lazy yawn he asked, “do you think he saw the post?”

“no, hajime isn’t active on twitter,” you replied. “he only goes to check his messages sometimes.”

your response garnered a whistle from atsumu. “a true hajime expert,” he smiled.

sometimes you wished you could just throw him into an arena of lions and watch as he struggled. many times you thought this, however this time you were just being unfair. you were upset about how ironic the situation was. you know hajime so well and yet you haven’t properly talked to him in weeks.

sure there were fleeting moments: waves in the hallways, brief exchanges of smiles, but never full on conversations. none in person, none in text (at least none that didn’t involve the topic of upcoming volunteer events). rarely you’d stop him and engage in idle chit chat, but like always he was whisked away shortly after.

the universe was playing tricks on you. the desire to talk to him—ask about his day randomly, how his volleyball practice was, or simply talk to him without needing a reason—grew and grew. it would be unusual if you discussed these things with him. after all, you were just friends.

but you wanted to know. you wanted to ask him how he got into volleyball, ask about his high school experiences. you wanted to ask about him. was that so wrong? if you can’t do that as friends then you don’t want it.

you watched blankly as your food slid towards the right, osamu’s lunchbox coming into view.

“you’ve been distracted a lot lately, y’know that?” he said.

you smiled sheepishly. “yeah, i know.”

“here.” osamu opened his lunchbox and revealed pieces of homemade dumplings. you weren’t surprised at the display. he always made his meals from scratch and was working towards developing his own recipes. he even folded the dumplings in various fun styles. his skills truly know no bounds.

you were one of his many taste testers, and as always, there was nothing to complain about his cooking. while there’s always room for improvement, you were cont—

“this needs more salt,” atsumu said mid way through chewing.

you and osamu both looked at him. leave it to atsumu to ruin the mood.

“talk or chew, don’t do both,” you scolded.

“who said you could eat one anyway?” osamu asked, sliding his lunchbox back towards him.

atsumu swallowed the food. he pouted when his brother swatted his grabby hands away from the dumplings. he continued to frown, “oh c’mon. you know i have superior taste buds.”

“what does that even mean?” his twin sent him a look.

as they bantered, you finished packing up the remainder of your food, stuffing the container into your backpack. the two stared at you when you stood up, confusion evident in their eyes.

“you’re leaving already?”

you shrugged. “might as well get to bio early.”

you waved them goodbye and walked away from the table. the twins were going to leave soon anyway. usually you’d join them on their walk around campus or hang out with them and suna in the music room, but not today.

osamu’s words came rushing back to you: “you’ve been distracted a lot lately…”

you couldn’t deny it. this was starting to get out of hand.

in the corner of your eye you saw him. hajime iwaizumi, who you’d met coincidentally in front of your university’s bulletin board. he sat at a table a little further down from yours, his body facing your direction. he was grinning cheerfully—a rare occurrence but a striking one. you swear his gaiety could light up the whole room.

you saw the corners of his eyes crinkle. he was paying close attention to whatever seth was saying or doing—honestly you weren’t too sure. everyone else was blurred out, your focus was set only on hajime.

he laughed again.

your heart thumped chaotically and you found yourself wondering what was so funny. for a moment you’d wished you had made him laugh like that. even tooru who sat next to seth was pouting, upset that seth had said a good joke and not him.

then hajime shifted and glanced your way. first came his softened gaze, then a wave in your direction.

vermillion kissed your cheeks. you waved back hurriedly and beelined for the exit. hajime had caught you staring.

for the entirety of biology you couldn’t concentrate. your heart was still hammering against your chest and hajime stubbornly occupied all your thoughts.

the next day was solely dedicated to preparing for the festival. it’s an annual event that requires the full participation of every department; it’s an annual event that many students dread.

there are mixed feelings when it comes to the festival: the first half—setting up booths and decorations; navigating through the tight storage room; and working hectically in the heat—is a pain in the ass. this part requires the most heavy lifting and students despise the amount of work needed to be done. however, the later half—the festival fully decorated and finished with large crowds of people roaming the campus—is a wonderful sight. since admission is free to all students, they tend to have a field day after all their work.

as for you, you enjoyed every single part of the festival (both the beginning and the finished product). being able to provide assistance to other people brings you joy. the festival is just like volunteering except with the bonus of being surrounded by friends and classmates. what more could you ask for?

others were less optimistic however. all departments at Tokyo University were responsible for setting up food stands or activities. the profit made by each department goes to their respective budget; you’ve witnessed just how intense the competition gets between the different stands. the thought sends a chill down your spine.

certain departments like art, fashion design, and theatre are able to host exhibits and shows. essentially they’re exempt from having to run around in the boiling heat. but the most exciting part of the festival has to be the music concerts. last year, there were symphony orchestra and jazz band performances; this year, it’s opened up to students. your dear friend suna and his band are going to perform, and you can barely contain your excitement.

today is only preparation. the real panicking starts tomorrow, the opening day that lasts from 1 to 6pm.

you could already hear the groans of agony from students as you left your dorm. you couldn’t blame them, honestly you were sure you’ll be complaining later on as well. after all… your department along with a couple others were selected for the afternoon shift. unbelievable. extremely unfortunate.

shifts only last three hours at most and departments take turns setting up the festival. you couldn’t imagine spending the entire day trying to dig up dusty banners in the crammed storage room. still, three hours is a long time. your department just had to be picked for the shift when the sun’s at its highest. even osamu and seth weren’t this unlucky: their time slot was from 9am to 12pm. they bragged about it when they finished, sending you a selfie of them eating somewhere.

you arrived to see clusters of students spread all around campus. you rushed to sign in and meet with a Board of Activities member. the morning shift had already set up booths and stands, assembling games and activities. they had done all the basic ground work. the afternoon shift was responsible for organizing the storage room and preparing boxes of decorations and lights for the evening shift. then all they would have to do is unpack everything, set up banners and posters, and test the lights hung around the festival.

The BoA member gave you your first task: join the others in sweeping and cleaning the storage room. it didn’t take very long. everyone basically half-assed it, the room was going to become disordered and neglected again after the festival anyway. the next task was checking what decorations were available in the storage room. you were given a list of items and were instructed to find the boxes containing them. even with a group of people it took an extensive time to search the massive room. however your shift was quickly coming to a close; there was only one more task but you and the others were already drenched in sweat. hot air was constantly rushing into the storage room and it didn’t help that people were coming in more than they were leaving.

you gave yourself a pat on the back when you finally finished. the urge to take a nap and an hour-long break was strong, but there was only one more task before everyone could go home. at least the board was generous with their snacks and drinks.

when the last task came you weren’t sure if you should feel happy or exhausted. all the boxes that were checked on the list needed to be lugged to the front of the campus where it would be unpacked and assembled. it was the last task and the most laborious one at that. at least you could finally get some fresh air. you would be escaping from the suffocating and humid storage room, but your arms and legs would make you pay later.

students shuffled out of the room with boxes in their hands; many needed a partner, the trip was going to be a long and tiring one. you felt your arms grow weak just by watching your fellow schoolmates. it wasn’t like you could sit by and do nothing; BoA members were present in the room and they take preparations seriously.

you wouldn’t have minded doing the evening shift. putting up some posters and hanging silly banners didn’t sound so bad!

you could only sigh and lament on your terrible luck. you went to inspect the lightest box. someone else can get the heavier ones, it wasn’t like you had a partner to help you carry it anyway.

then voices and laughter distracted you.

it came from outside the storage room but was approaching closer and closer. suddenly you saw atsumu and other familiar faces step into the room. with his signature smug expression, atsumu waved at the BoA members. even from the back you could hear his obnoxious voice.

“yo! we’re finished with everything so we came to help.”

you shook your head in disbelief. usually he would run away from any unnecessary and taxing tasks, but look at him acting all righteous. you wondered who actually brought up the idea of helping the other group in the storage room. you would have to thank them since—

oh.

oh. he was here.

you weren’t sure why you hid, your body automatically reacted when you saw hajime enter the room. was that why atsumu was here? you were sure he had some ulterior motive.

more people were entering the space. they barely looked out of breath or covered in sweat. you turned to check the area that you were in: all the way in the back where the boxes were. there were only two or three people with you there. you needed to leave, exit the room before hajime could see you.

your thumping heart was betraying you. you knew how you felt. you were happy to see that hajime had the same shift as you; truth be told, you were hoping that he did the entire time. but not now. you couldn’t talk to him here, this wasn’t the right time or place. you needed to leave.

grabbing the lightweight box from earlier, you made sure to avoid hajime who was walking on the other side of the industrial shelves. you nearly escaped when you forgot about your annoying blond haired friend. he was still talking to the BoA member by the door, clearly trying to avoid helping out. when he turned and saw you, you regretted not staying put. everything was becoming a mess.

“y/n!” he’d sounded shocked but you weren’t convinced. he beamed, “if it isn’t my favorite person in the whole world.”

“liar. you said seth was your favorite last week.”

he winked. “this is a secret, don’t tell him.”

you rolled your eyes. compared to yours, his hair barely looked tousled. he wasn’t sweating profusely either (which actually might be a good thing). you attempted to sidestep him but he cut you off when you were about to say “goodbye.”

you stared at him. “what are you doing?”

“nothing!”

perhaps you should’ve pushed him out of the way. you should’ve distracted him and left, tell him that a pretty girl was coming and get him to turn away. but you didn’t. you fell right into atsumu’s traps.

footsteps approached you from behind and a familiar voice made you freeze in place. “y/n?” he called you. hajime was right behind you.

you couldn’t pay attention to what atsumu was saying. your eyes widened and your legs felt weak.

then, out of nowhere, atsumu snatched your box and flashed you a cheeky smile. you wanted to chase after him as he left the storage room, but hajime was watching from behind. that sneaky fox used him as a buffer! you weren’t going to forget this.

you peered over your shoulders and there he was. you felt a sense of deja vu standing so close to him in such a familiar place. the two of you were together during last year’s festival preparations as well. this’ll mark the second year.

“hi, hajime.” you hoped he didn’t notice the falter in your voice.

“hi, how have you been?” he asked and your shoulders lost their tension. why were you so nervous in the first place? there was nothing to worry about when you were with hajime.

“i’m fine.” you have no idea what’s happened since the last time we talked. “are you here to help us?”

he nodded. “i came to ask where the boxes were and saw you. i didn’t know you’d be here.”

he didn’t, but someone else did. someone who wasn’t going to get away with trapping you like this.

you weren’t ready to talk to hajime. you didn’t even know what to talk about. however you had to admit, this was the moment you’ve been hoping for. maybe it wasn’t too late to start remembering everything you’d wanted to tell him the past two weeks.

you tilt your head towards the back. “it’s this way, i’ll show you.”

“where were you guys before this?” that was the first question you wanted to ask him.

hajime chuckled, “a lot of places.”

the two of you were crouched in front of the boxes, both procrastinating on doing the task. the world seemed to slow down, the shuffling of feet in and out felt like a distant noise in the background. you both gazed at one another: hajime—who barely seemed fazed by the hot and humid room—and you—who felt time stopping, your stomach doing backflips at the way he looked at you.

“we were inside most of the time,” he elaborated. “we helped move some of suna’s band stuff into the assembly room, hung out for a bit, and then got caught by a BoA member.”

you stifled a laugh and said, “of course that happened.”

“then we were ushered to the black box and instructed to organize the backstage.”

your hand shot up at this. hajime raised a brow and watched you intently. “so while you were going from room to room with proper air conditioning, we were burning alive in this storage room?”

you stared at him with narrowed eyes and an envious frown. it wasn’t hajime’s fault but still; you wanted to visit the band room and black box too, perhaps even relax under the aircon before getting caught.

the corners of hajime’s lips curled upwards. it was subtle but you were close enough to see it. the motion sent an chilling shock through your body. your cheeks burned—either from the stuffy atmosphere or from your dark haired friend.

“it’s not as amazing when you realize how picky the theatre director was. she was basically supervising our every move.”

“oh,” you felt a wave of sympathy. “that sounds terrible.”

“can’t blame her. those props looked expensive.”

this triggered an old memory of yours, when you and the twins snuck backstage and atsumu carelessly grabbed an intricate looking sword. he swung it around like a small child who had just won a trophy. little did the three of you know, the sword was actually excalibur and was needed for a musical. nothing was damaged or broken, but you all learned a valuable lesson that day.

thinking back to that time, you realized how impulsive you were as a first-year. you laughed quietly to yourself, not realizing that hajime was still in front of you. he watched the smile creep onto your face and his features softened.

“that reminds me,” he said suddenly, “our group got to see glimpses of the rehearsal. the skits are cool, you should check them out tomorrow.”

“now you’re just showing off.”

“we also checked out the art departm—“

you nudged hajime with your shoulder. a mistake. you were both still in a crouching position and collapsed onto the floor. a thud reverberated through the room and the two of you erupted into laughter. somewhere along in the conversation you had forgotten about the blazing heat and beads of sweat that tickled down your back.

hajime helped you up to your feet, a slight grin still present on his face. you couldn’t believe you thought he was scary when you first met. standing at that bulletin board in the middle of the hallway, you thought he was intimidating—unapproachable with that surly scowl on his face. but there was more to him than you could ever imagine. you wanted to know him more; that grin of his carved a soft spot in your heart.

when you looked around, the storage room was deserted. there was only the two of you and two remaining boxes that laid on the floor. they’ve been waiting to be picked up. how long was your conversation anyway?

you chuckled hesitantly. “uh oh. looks like we should bring these out quickly.”

the walk to the front of the campus was unbelievably short. hajime listened as you rambled about trivial things: the show you watched before falling asleep last night; how ridiculous your professors were; and the meal that osamu made you last week.

the two of you arrived, passing a couple students on the way that were fanning themselves with their hands.

when hajime responded, you knew the conversation had ended. “i’d like to try that,” was all he said.

you laid the boxes on the ground, careful not to brush your fingers against the hot concrete. you heard a sigh from your left and turned. you shielded your eyes from the sun with your hand. hajime was staring at his phone, thin lines forming in between his furrowed brows.

“what’s wrong?”

he glanced your way, his hard expression easing. “it’s just oikawa.” a pause. “if you see him around, please cover for me or just ignore him.”

you tilted your head in confusion. you were about to comply when a blaring whistle caught the both of you off guard. silence, and then another one.

hajime smiled, “or not.”

once again you heard the groans of students as they scattered across campus. they weren’t groans of agony this time, they were sounds of relief. the whistle signaled the end of the afternoon shift; all tasks were checked and completed.

wait—you thought—not yet. not now.

things were starting to become normal again. there was so much more you wanted to talk to hajime about; you feared you wouldn’t have another chance after this.

you wanted to stay with him just a little longer but your body was betraying you. your legs ache and a throbbing pain was coursing through your brain. you needed a shower and a nap desperately. even if you could stay, you weren’t selfish enough to keep hajime here. while he didn’t show it, you knew he was exhausted.

crowds of students dispersed: some went back to their dorms, some went to eat, and some stayed. those with the evening shift were coming—there was no reason to stay anymore.

“y/n.” hajime called to get your attention. “are you going back to your dorm?”

you nodded.

“do you want me to walk you there?”

you swallowed hard. you never noticed how much affection he poured into his words when he was talking to you. it’s hard to notice but it’s there. your eyes traveled to his shirt where he neatly rolled up his sleeves, revealing his biceps. he was bothered by the heat after all.

you smiled at him. “i’ll be fine. thanks for the offer.”

then with a nod he left. “see you later, y/n.”

a part of you was elated thinking about the next time you’d be able to talk to him. the other part wondered if it’ll actually happen. he’d said the same thing last time and what happened? you were stuck running around in a loop, all your efforts and attempts completely shut down.

you watched hajime leave, the distance between the two of you growing more gradually. the sight left a bitter taste in your mouth. you didn’t want this. you had already come to your conclusion about your feelings towards hajime; you were just too cowardly to act on them.

he makes you feel a certain way: a desire to be close to him, hear him talk, and see him smile and laugh. you’ve never felt this way towards anyone before and that’s why you didn’t tell him. you endured weeks of pretending that everything was normal—that you were both okay with being just friends.

you were a coward, afraid that the feelings blooming in your chest would tarnish the friendship you had with him. if things didn’t work out and you had to go separate ways, you didn’t think you could handle that. not talking for weeks was bad enough; not knowing him at all felt hellish.

so you sealed away your feelings, or at least attempted to. hajime made it difficult for you to do so. everything suddenly reminded you of him and without knowing it, your feelings grew heavy in your heart until you felt it would burst.

you should’ve put an end to this a long time ago but you still had a chance. tomorrow was the festival and the perfect opportunity to confess. you’d swallow your cowardice and tell hajime your feelings. you’d face him and he’d give you his undivided attention as always.

if it’s with hajime, then you want to try.

on the day of the festival you arrived two hours before it opened.

you saw students scrambling from one place to another; it wasn’t as crowded as yesterday since coming today wasn’t mandatory. students in departments that were operating food stands or activities needed to come to organize their stations. it was ultimately their responsibility and no one else’s.

though not everyone needed to come. it only applies to those unfortunate enough to get selected or those with enough compassion to volunteer.

you came early for no particular reason. scratch that—you came hoping you’d see hajime again. you heard from tooru that he’d be here, but what did you expect when the universe’s hobby was to watch you get your hopes up? you haven’t seen him all day and it’s been weighing on your mind.

you worked under a canopy tent with the sides and back covered. kneeling over a plastic bag, you didn’t notice two sets of footsteps approaching.

“y/n!”

your head whipped to the side, your excitement giving you away.

“woah,” atsumu teased. “were you expecting someone else? what’s with the mopey expression?”

in a single moment your eagerness was wiped away and replaced with boredom. you saw atsumu pout; the pure disinterest written all over your face was enough to kill.

you went back to putting pancake mixtures on the foldable tables. “what are you guys doing here anyway?” you wouldn’t be surprised if they were picked to come help—it’s not unlikely that they were both cursed luckless at birth.

“nothing really. we came because everyone else was here,” osamu said.

“so you’re just hanging out?”

atsumu hummed. “what about you?” he was looking at the pancake mixtures on the table, his lips curled up into a smirk.

“helping out,” you said plainly.

“wha—unlucky.”

his sing-song voice received a glare from you. “i’m doing a favor for the art department.”

“and you’re gonna do their job at the festival too?”

you shook your head. when you arrived, some art students came up to you pleading for help. they were short-handed and too busy with the exhibit to set up their food stands. you couldn’t blame their desperation, this was going towards their department budget after all. “they’re coming back and taking over later.”

osamu stepped into the tent, his hands in his shorts’ pockets. curiosity coated his words. “they’re doing something different this year.”

“yeah, they’re making pancakes but you can ask them to draw stuff.”

atsumu came in after his brother, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “woah! like those videos online.”

“you think they’d be down to draw ‘tsumu’s ugly mug?” osamu pondered.

“the hell?! what did i do to you?”

you slide a cardboard box over as the two bantered. you didn’t doubt that they would: money was money and some of them were crushing madly on atsumu. they’d make him look ten times more attractive than he is and it’d unfortunately boost his ego. you shivered at the thought.

atsumu refocused back towards you, having enough of his argument with his brother. “sooo, where’s your lover?”

you stop momentarily. casting your gaze on the ground, silence overtook the tent.

“i don’t know.”

the twins shared a secretive glance at one another. they weren’t sure which was more surprising: you not correcting atsumu or the way you looked so distraught.

then atsumu’s eyes widened and he yelled, “y/n, do you li—”

osamu was quick to nudge atsumu roughly, getting him to shriek and shut up. silence sliced the air again.

“we forgot to mention that we’re looking for him,” osamu said suddenly. he turned to his brother as if trying to communicate a message. atsumu didn’t follow, only raising a puzzled brow and continuing to massage the sore part where he was elbowed.

“who’s we?”

osamu grumbled under his breath. the exchange almost made you crack into a smile.

“seth’s looking for iwaizumi and asked us to help.”

you and atsumu were now staring at osamu. confusion danced in the air.

“oh, okay.” you replied, still unsure where this was going. “oh, that thing!” atsumu bursted into laughter. nervous laughter. you eyed him weirdly as if he were a random stranger that’d just approached you. “i remember now. we seriously couldn’t find him anywhere. am i right?”

“yeah.”

you smiled. osamu didn’t hide his disgust towards his brother.

“y/n, please help find him for us.” atsumu clasped his hands together and peered at you with hopeful eyes. good thing he’s aiming to play volleyball professionally; the acting industry does not need him.

“if you guys can’t find him, what makes you think i can?”

osamu shrugged. “he could be inside. we haven’t checked there yet.”

“but the stand…”

atsumu slapped a hand against his chest. “we can take over,” he cheered eagerly.

with those four words alone you darted to your feet and wiped down your clothes. even if it’s awfully clear that they were lying through their teeth, you weren’t going to say no. this was an excuse to find hajime.

“perfect. just organize the food dye and squeeze bottles. then make sure to check that the pancake makers work properly.” then you were out of there, barely stopping to hear the twins groan with regret.

when you left, atsumu froze in shock at his newfound responsibilities. he didn’t sign up for this.

hajime wasn’t in the art or fashion exhibits. among the paintings and sculptures, mood boards and fashion sketches, you didn’t see anyone that resembled a spiky haired volleyball player. you continued to the theatre department where you didn’t see him either. he wasn’t in the music room; he wasn’t in the cafeteria. at some point you wondered if he had a secret hiding spot on campus somewhere, or if he had the ability to turn invisible.

regardless, you gave up and went back outside. to your surprise, you found seth standing alone by a tent.

“hi, seth. sorry, looks like i can’t find hajime after all.”

he turned around to face you. despite his clear confusion, he still smiled—typical. “what do you mean?”

“nothing,” you laughed tiredly. “this afternoon’s just been very anticlimactic.”

seth crossed his arms in front of his chest. “if you’re looking for hajime, he and tooru went to buy supplies.”

ah. your mouth hung open in realization. that’s why you couldn’t find him anywhere, he wasn’t even on campus. you wished you knew that before walking all over the place.

“is that why tooru wasn’t answering his messages?” you asked.

“oh, that was because some girl asked for his number earlier and the dummy gave it. he’s probably ignoring his phone on purpose.”

you sighed. your friends were hopeless. “that’s good then. at least i know hajime isn’t hiding in a secret spot somewhere.”

“secret spot? oh, no—you’ve got the wrong person. that’d be tooru. he knows a bunch of amazing spots on campus.”

“and he didn’t tell me?” you huffed in disbelief. the two of you shared a laugh before silence washed over the conversation.

“i’ve come to my conclusion, seth. i want to try it, confess how i feel and pray things work out.”

seth didn’t respond at first, only staring up at the sky. today wasn’t as tortuously hot as yesterday; it’s supposed to get cooler later towards the evening. “don’t worry. i know it’ll work out, it’s you and hajime after all.”

“and if things change?”

he smiled. “things are meant to change. even if they’re bad things, just know you tried, y/n.” then you saw mischief swirl in his brown eyes. “so, when did you figure out you like him?”

you blinked at his gleefulness. seth has always been interested in these kinds of topics. you tap a finger against your chin, thinking about an answer to give. truth be told, you're not sure. was there a clear point where you realized it? you thought about hajime’s subtle but warm actions, his honest but comforting words. they’ve always made you feel some sort of way; perhaps your feelings towards him were developing slowly but surely this whole time.

but to answer seth’s question, you could only say, “i’m not sure. my heart’s become weak lately. whenever i see him, it doesn’t know how to act.”

seth’s smile widened when he saw your genuine expression. “yeah, that happens sometimes.”

a sudden notification on his phone disrupted the conversation. one moment he’s all cheery, and the next he’s rushing to type a message. he caught your confused stare and said, “it’s 1pm. rin’s texting me to come to the music room. sorry y/n.”

“music room? suna? for what?”

“oh,” he slipped his phone back into his back pocket. “that’s right, i haven’t told you yet. i’m performing with rin’s band as a guest singer.”

your eyes widened and an excited grin spread across your face. “an aspiring fashion designer who’s popular with everyone, is now performing with suna’s band—what can’t you do?”

“i can’t wait to see you and hajime at the show,” he winked.

you opened your mouth to reply but it never came. you only nodded and waved as he rushed away.

there were still things you wanted to talk about with seth—“what if” questions that still plagued your mind.

but you needed to hurry, the festival was already starting. you could only focus on the thought of getting to see and talk to hajime again.

you hoped at the very least that he’d still smile softly at you.

returning back to the festival was a chaotic nightmare. the campus was drowned in twinkling lights and hoards of people. some were students you recognized, others were random family members and high school students. this is the liveliest you’ve ever seen the festival get. people busied themselves in front of food stands and information booths; they blocked walkways and occupied the limited number of benches around campus.

lively but troublesome. your chances of finding hajime just plummeted to the ground.

you took out your phone and read the time: 3:30pm. before this, you stopped by your dorm to shower and get changed. your notification center was filled with old messages from an hour ago. a majority were from your group chat with the twins.

they had bombarded you with messages and pictures: one was of them with food stuffed in their mouths. you type back an apology and ask them if they’ve seen hajime. atsumu instantly replied: havent seen him

you start making your way down the endless aisle of food stalls. you steered away from large crowds, texting everyone you knew if they’ve seen hajime.

you were desperate. you wanted anything at this point, even a single clue about where he might be.

you stopped to scan your surroundings, a notification catching your eye. it was from osamu and sent to the group chat: i see him hes with oikawa

without skipping a beat you headed towards osamu’s location. you didn’t have a plan, you were going into this head first. you’d have to worry about what to say later, you just wanted to see him right now.

when you stopped again, you saw him standing alone. he was off to the side and away from the crowd.

“hajime,” you said, stepping closer. “you’re a hard person to find.”

he watched as you caught your breath. “were you looking for me?”

yes, you wanted to say. you were looking for him all day.

but you only nodded in response. there was no running away anymore, no more waiting around for something to happen.

“hajime, there’s something i need to tell you.” he nodded and crossed his arms, his unique way of telling you he’s listening. you shook your head. “not here. can we go somewhere else?”

you have no idea where “somewhere else” might be. you saw people every turn that you took. hajime must’ve seen your despaired expression because he pointed you in a different direction: the back of the festival.

it was a grassy field that stretched for miles on end. you’d forgotten about this area, too exhausted and confused to think properly. you saw small groups of people set down picnic blankets and relax in the sun. they were sitting farther down the field and away from the festival. this was the perfect spot to talk to hajime one on one.

when he sat down on the grass, he patted the empty space next to him. you followed him, your heart suddenly heavy in your throat. what are you going to do now?

“is it okay here?”

you hummed in response. no more running away, you reminded yourself. no more waiting either.

“hajime, i’m sorry.” you saw him tilt his head towards you, his gaze intense. “i’m sorry for making you wait so long, sorry for not noticing everything sooner.”

something shifted in his expression then. the small smile that he’d always reserved for you and you only, faltered.

you rushed to clarify but he beat you to it. “so you know.”

yes, you knew. you always wondered what would happen if atsumu hadn’t accidentally told you that day. if he didn't have such a big mouth and if you continued to remain clueless about hajime’s feelings. would he confess? would your relationship never change?

but you were glad to know. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that day.

you confirmed, “i know. i should’ve noticed it sooner; were you going to keep it a secret forever?”

“for as long as i could, yes. but it seems you already found out.”

you shook your head. “i didn’t find out, i was told on accident. i’m sorry. you’ve done so much for me and yet i didn’t even notice how you felt.”

“i did those things because you deserve it, y/n. you deserve that and more. i was fine with just being your friend.”

but what about now? how do you feel about me?

you swallowed the questions in your throat. “thank you for volunteering with me, for everything you’ve done. but—“

the words stopped. you could only look at him.

“but how do you feel now?”

the question barely left as a whisper, you wondered if he could even hear you from where he sat. even now there was distance between the two of you. you were sitting far away from one another.

it was a suffocating question—the answer would be much worse.

it took him a moment to reply. you both sat still but the world around you continued to move. the trees and grass danced in the wind, but your focus was on hajime only.

then he spoke gently. “y/n, do you feel uncomfortable by this? i was scared this would happen so i gave you space.”

space. that explained the distance between you two. everything was for you; he was always thinking about how you felt. god, you felt horrible.

the grass tickled your palm but you could only think about how to end this mess. you wanted to tell him everything: the butterflies he’s given you; the energetic beating of your heart whenever he’s around; and the way you can’t imagine being strangers with him.

distance. you hated it. you wanted to close the gap, reveal everything and hope that he’d accept you still.

you shake your head, hopefully for the last time. “no. i’ve never been uncomfortable by this. i was confused but not anymore.”

you inhaled deeply. “i like you more than you think, hajime. you’re so incredibly kind and patient. i want to try and make this work. if it's with you then there’s nothing to worry about.”

you weren’t sure if that’s what you’re supposed to say, but you hoped he got your message. you poured your feelings out to him. all that’s left to do is wait.

hajime had broken eye contact a long time ago, his focus was elsewhere. your stomach churned at all the poor ways this could end. then, hajime covered his face with his arm. you saw it: the bright smile he tried to conceal and the redness of his cheeks.

“you stole my line, y/n. i was supposed to say that.”

you thought your heart would burst. the sight of him smiling so pleasantly had you frozen in place. your heart really has grown weak.

you grinned at him, a similar reddish hue appearing on your cheeks. the feeling was mutual. everything was okay.

hajime stood from his spot and walked towards you. he lowered his hand and helped you up, just like that time in the storage room. then he interlocked your fingers together, his hand warm and inviting.

when you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his unoccupied arm went up to cover his face again. you both knew this would take time to get used to.

you heard him mutter a small “thank you,” his face still hidden by his arm.

this was worth it. he was worth all the running around and confusion.

“you can tell me ‘thank you’ when we get to suna and seth’s concert. everyone’s waiting.”

hajime’s gaze fell on your smiling face and he nodded. you wondered how you didn’t notice his feelings before. they were so obvious, a single look into his eyes and you would know.

you also wondered how the others will react when they see this: you hand-in-hand with a flustered hajime. the sight would be priceless and the concert was the perfect way to end everything.

a/n: i am so sorry for the written portion. i was too ambitious. i am also very tired so i hope u liked this! @kqbukimono this one is for u <3

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #hq smau #hq x reader #hq x yn #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff

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lemonmelonboy · 7 months

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Head canons for Taylor Potts - Because he's got my head in a fucking vise grip.

18+ Readers ONLY - Minors Do NOT Interact! Minors/Ageless Blogs will be Blocked!!!

I Do NOT give any permission for my work to be Reposted, Translated, or used with AI in ANY Capacity!!!

The image I drew is like- You took his jacket in a play fight and when he was trying to get it back you put it on, and he just could not be upset anymore. You were wearing his jacket and he short circuited. So of course, all he wanted was to see you in it more and so his silly little brain went "yes wear this whenever... please... I'm not asking- I'm begging... you're so pretty."

He has that shirt because it reminded him of Steven Universe and that was the show you introduced him to the first night you stayed at his house- and its possibly your favorite show ever.

If you ever go to the movies with you, he would insist on buying separate popcorns just because he would absolutely have no confidence to take popcorn if the bucket was in your lap. Nor would he be able to handle it if you kept reaching over to get some. Also, just he would not be able to focus if you accidentally brushed his hand while getting some popcorn.

He was more than happy when you willingly joined his little club, he probably went home and squealed like a little schoolgirl because he was so excited to be able to have more time with you.

His little fanfics are probably mostly cuddles because whenever he writes anything more he just gets too into the thought, and gets sidetracked, so he never gets to finishing it.

If you played games with him, he'd probably try his best to not sit near you because you tend to get very touchy when competitive and over excited, so he needs to avoid you touching him or else he'd get too distracted.

Movies at home are a similar situation, which sucks because you both are very much cuddly movie watchers- but Taylor absolutely get excited and he's too afraid of ruining the movie or missing anything. However, once you two start dating, he no longer is allowed to sit away from you, and you get to be as clingy and touchy during movies or games as you want.

You absolutely tease him nonstop for being a "salt is too spicy" type of person. And you try to introduce him to new food, but he has trouble eating most of it.

He would nearly faint is you offered him like a piece of candy or something with your mouth. The pocket challenge used to be all he thought about doing with you when it was super popular but now, he could- he would not be able to do it, no matter how much he'd like it.

Hand holding is the number one thing he wants from you, especially when you started dating. He'd crave it anytime you two were apart.

#the groom of gallagher mansion taylor potts #the groom of gallagher mansion #gogm #gogm taylor potts #taylor potts #taylor potts x reader

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mysteriesmuse · 1 year

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Bribery w/ Beef Wellington

Katsuki’s not sure how he got here. Sitting in your room on the plush pink brocade sofa that’s way too opulent and flowery. And he’s staring down at the decadent silver trays filled with delicious salami and cheese and slices of mandarins. The bowl of salted nuts next to the platter of truffles and chocolates. A huge beef Wellington that you’re slicing rounds off of and plating right under his nose. Oh - and you’re handing it to him. With a couple of the cheese and crackers his likes on the edge. “Not to be rude your majesty, but what am I doing here? Huh, Princess?” He asks, speaking as tentivly as his voice could. You’re already pouring him a glass of whiskey. A glistening silver mug filled with beer on the edge of the table for him as well. You continue in silence fiddling with the beading on the corset of your dress and sit on the pink velvet chair across from him. These mouthwatering table of gifts and goodies set there to distract and placate - or maybe a bargain. Your lips pursue together and disappear until you grab the flask and determinedly pop a swing of whiskey and place the bottle back on the table. A shiny bottom lip print staring back at him from the bottle. He wants to know what that gloss on your lips tastes like, but he takes a sip out of the glass that you poured for him. His questioning tongue darting out and licking the burn off his lips, “Princess?” Katsuki eyes you, looking up between blonde spikes. Your cheeks were flushed before you took a swing and that action only seemed to encourage it. Freckles of pink draped across your cheekbones as you heaved a deep sigh. The corset making the top curvature of your breasts rise Bakugou shakes his head, averting his eyes, and takes another sip, “Wouldn’t have dragged me out of my quarters on my day off if it didn’t matter. Y’er royalty,” he pauses swirling the glass with his wrists before thinking better of himself. He wanted to say and we’re friends, but instead said “- speak your mind.” His stunted sincerity must have spoken to you because you shout, “Bakugo, I need you to escort me this week. I want you to accompany me because I trust you.” Katsuki sees you eye the bottle and pours the rest into his glass to remove the temptation,

“- And I’m fully prepared to pay you extra since I’m aware you weren’t originally posted for my escort. Because I know this isn’t a big affair, mostly an event for lower nobility of the kingdom. The perfect time to train some new blood in the royal guards and the perfect time for you to take your mandatory vacation. However, to speak simply, I hate the lords and the sons of the lords. They’re all perverse men and I want someone whom I feel safe with here with me. I don’t wish to interact with them any longer than necessarily ordained by court niceties.” you pause, twisting a bejeweled ring around your finger.

“So, would this arrangement be acceptable to you? Go ahead and name your price.” Katsuki is stunned at first, not at the offer, but by the way you’ve laid out this whole table with things he likes. Things that you shouldn’t know he likes. You’ve arranged all this food and the new silver polish and wet stone that he’s seen peaking out from underneath the ottoman as a means of getting him to agree. As if you weren’t sure he was going to already. He sets his drink down onto the table and stares into your bold face; tears lining the bottom of your waterline. Your lashes blinking rapidly as if to stow them away, except you maintain eye contact with him. Him, a royal guard and you don’t reach for a napkin or your handkerchief. No, you’ve laid it out raw for him. Katsuki pats the cushion next to him, “Come here and I’ll tell you my decision.” Finally you break eye contact, sniffing as you plop on your couch next to him. Once again eyeing his glass of whiskey on the table. Like you’re itching to get a decline over with and to drink your troubles away for the night. Katsuki pulls his kerchief out of his breast pocket and presses it into his fist, gently pressing his thumb against the folded fabric and padding the light streaks of tears against your face. You stare up at him in tender surprise. A gentle giant as he blots your face without hesitation. His crisp carmine eyes still examining your face as his voice picks up Bakugou’s semblance of a whisper. It comes out in a deep growl, “Of course I accept, princess. Your lovely gifts and effort aside. I’d have done it regardless of how you asked.” A gasp gets caught in your throat as more tears of relief flood down your face. Suddenly his warm calloused hands are all over your face the soaked kerchief forgotten in sake of him trying to keep up with his thumbs. And as your tears start to slow down, the week of preparing and stressing over the outcome of this proposition escaping in a few loose hiccups Katsuki takes it as his turn to speak again, retracting his hands - you grab hold of his wrists, staring at your lap as you weakly beg for him to keep his comforting touch in place. Katsuki sports what’s a dashingly prince-like smile as he continues stroking your face, “I promise to keep you safe and be by your side for their whole visit. Vacation be damned if I’m the only one here who can do the job to your liking then I’ll be there.” You swallow and open your mouth a few times. Only for hoarse noises to come out and instead you let your hands slip into your lap and nod at him in thanks. Katsuki still has that dashing grin on his face when you finally look up at him. And you suddenly feel very hot in this room and in the gown. “Now, do you have signals?” He inquires, watching your face morph as you shake your head. “All well then,” he crosses his arms against his pecs, “if this is a proper mission then we have to have a code or signal. Make it discreet so they don’t catch on and get offended.” You raise a brow, “Ah well I suppose that could be helpful . . . and a bit fun, but Bakugou you’re already so intimidating I think your presence along will ward them off. It’s the most notable thing on your resume.” He chuckles and you can feel it through the cushion, “Suppose I’ll just give them the middle finger if they get too chummy with you then huh?” You laugh, scratching the side of your face, “I suppose that would do just fine. If only that didn’t incite an upset from the lords.” Katsuki laughs at then again, more of a bark than anything. And it makes your own smile appear for the first time this evening. “We’ll work on it, princess.” Katsuki then gestures to the table, “but since you put out all the stops let’s enjoy shall we? I know I’m not the only one who has favorites on this table. Chocolate?” You don’t even answer and he’s already plucked several off the platter and has slid the plate onto your lap.

#mysteriesmusing #katsuki bakugou #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou drabble #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo katsuki #princess reader

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wr-n · 11 months

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Post getting his soul branded by nightmare, Dust becomes a messenger of sorts. It was an ironic role to have for someone who hardly speaks but he's the only one spared normal speech after his transformation. (Killer can speak normally but in short bursts, the rest of the time he speaks in otherworldly languages and music or just telepathy)

Dust gets clear words and feelings from Nightmare, words he relays to the people Nightmare needs to communicate with. The god loves to see his most loyal mortals do little things for him like this.

Killer is mostly Nightmare's personal guard and the one he's most affectionate with purely from Killer's persistence.

Killer is always seen in Nightmare's lap, at his feet, or kissing him at any time. He just loves his god that much, and he is rewarded with ecstasy.

The two soon forget who they were before becoming Branded. It is partially because of Nightmare erasing their memories of it to truly own them. If thy can't remember anything before his influence, then he is their everything.

Horror felt Killer before he saw him enter the room. The concentrated power was hard to miss when Nightmare's power practically announced his ownership over him everywhere he went.

"Came for lunch? I just got done with the soup." Horror called over, not turning from the boiling pot.

"Huh? Oh. No."

The rest of his words were quickly turned to song and Old Tongue.

'I don't eat anymore, remember?'

"Oh, right..." It still felt weird to Horror. Nightmare was depriving them of the need to eat... Did that mean they wouldn't try his food anymore? It sure felt like it.

"Remind me again why Nightmare decided to do that to you?" He says softly, a part of him worried Nightmare could take offense to it. He was always listening.

Killer smiles gently and shrugs, moving over to lean against the counter next to him.

'He doesn't want us to be distracted.'

"By food?"

'By starvation.'

Now that confused Horror - they had plenty of food, why the precaution? Nightmare did do some things he never understood but he chalked it up to him being a god. This... This was something else. He looked over to killer, worry in his eyes. And if he was honest, a bit of anger, too.

"I still don't think that's right of him to do..."

Killer's smile never faltered, stuck in that sickly sweet position on his face.

'That's alright. I understand.'

Now Horror knew something was off about Killer. More than normal, anyway. No snide remarks? No argument defending Nightmare? What happened in that room to do this to him?

"Right... Well... Can you at least taste this and see if it needs anything?" He could normally figure it out himself but he wanted to see a shred of Killer come back. He wanted to see him taste his food and joke about how he seasoned it, make fun of the salt levels, steal a little more to eat... anything to prove he was the same.

Killer's new white eyelights flick to the offered spoon of soup and moved to taste it, ignoring how hot it was still. After a moment of thought, Killer snorted.

'It's good. Kinda spicy, haha.'

Killer raised a brow.

'Did you think I lost my sense of taste? What did you put in there, ghost peppers?'

Thank the stars, there was still a bit of Killer left in there. If only a piece of him.

#wraith notes #eldritch twins #killer #dust #nightmare #horror #wraith suggestive

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cypanache · 1 year

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I need more of your #obidala ship ask game!!! They are tooo cute!!

Lets Try: 1,3,9,18,28 !!! To be honest i want head canon answers for them all!!! 🥰 thank you for doing this!!!

So I held off on answering this one for my happy Trap Obidala headcanons because I'm going to integrate some details from the chapter I just posted. Nothing actually spoilery but if you're a stickler for context go read that first

What’s their love languages?

So I sort of answered this in the last post talking about Obi-Wan's tendency to perform acts of service and Padme's tendency for extravagant gifts as a way to demonstrate their love. So lets flip it and talk about what their partner does that makes them feel loved. Obi-Wan enjoys the gifts Padme gives him very much moreso for the effort and thought behind them than the gift itself. But the thing that he thinks about when he thinks of Padme's love is the way she feels warm against his back when she slips into bed at night and presses a kiss between his shoulder blades when she thinks he's asleep. Padme adores the how in tune Obi-Wan is with her needs, the way he looks after her when she forgets to look after herself, but what makes it special is the time he spends with her while he's doing it. When he accompanies her on the walk to ensure she takes it. Or insists on them sitting down to dinner together so he can make sure she actually eats. Sometimes she pretends to be a little more distracted than she actually is just because she knows that will always activate his 'mother hen' tendencies.

3. Who cooks? Who cleans up? Who’s banned from the kitchen?

They are both banned from the kitchen!! Seriously Obi-Wan has lived most of his life on field rations, commissary food and Dex's. Padme has had a personal chef since the age of thirteen. They are disasters. They are not allowed anywhere near the kitchen. Obi-Wan is only allowed to come in to make tea, and even that isn't really appreciated. He did try to have Dex teach him to make Panna cakes and omelets for Padme as a wedding gift. It went so well, Dex just came to Naboo himself for a few weeks when they got married. (He comes back and cooks for them once a year when the staff are on vacation). Padme can in fact bake, but she always chooses the most complicated and elaborate recipes which requires over half a day to prepare and inevitably gets pulled away for some incredibly important, so the staff always starts to get worried when she gets that 'domestic' gleam in her eye.

9. Baths or showers together? Do they like elaborate ones with bubbles and flower petals?

Baths. Definitely. Padme has an enormous tub at her disposal and they make good use of it. The first time Obi-Wan drew a bath to help her relax, she insisted he join her and it has since very much become a thing they do together. They both lean a little bit into the ritual of it. Obi-Wan turns the whole act of preparing the bath into a bit of a love letter, choosing exactly the bath salts, and oils and candles to set the mood depending on what it feels like she needs (from romantic, to comforting to tranquil, etc.) Sometimes they just sit and talk, sometimes they hold each and say nothing, sometimes they even just read together. Occasionally Padme will let Obi-Wan wash her hair. She's more than a little exacting about it but he's very good at taking instruction. Still the man has feelings about her hair so she can't let him do it all the time or very little actual relaxing would happen.

18. What does a date night out look like for them?

Well when they're on Coruscant they always go to Dex's at least once. Obi-Wan does eventually take her to a bar he frequents with Quinlan but its difficult to hear and they really like talking to each other, so neither of them enjoy it that much. Honestly they're both so busy that when they spend time together they aren't that interested in going anyplace. So they mostly spend their date nights at home playing Dejarik or reading or just holding each other and talking.

28. What’s something that reminds them of their partner(s)? Do they have anything on them daily as a reminder (a photo, phone background, tattoo, clothing/accessory, etc)?

They keep the comm-links they use to communicate with each other. Long after they're old and out of date and they've upgraded to something better, they both keep the comm-links they used to talk to each other while they fell in love. Obi-Wan because Padme gave it to him. Padme because she's saved every message Obi-Wan ever left for her. She used to listen to them when Obi-Wan was off-world on a mission with Anakin and couldn't talk, and even now she'll occasionally take them out and replay them.

#obidala #obi wan x padme #toyom #ship ask game #cy answers things #cy writes things

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potatocorner27 · 1 year

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"Ang BiBiQu" ♨️🔥🍟

"ikaw pa rin ang BiBiQu, ang BiBiqu". Of course, that is my BBQ. The most exciting flavor of french fries that I have ever tasted in these 17 years of existence. It is part of the big 3 of Potato Corners' flavors. Together with cheese and sour cream, bbq is a staple on every stall in the country. You can't deny that it is popular with the masses because of its kick and savory to the people's taste buds. In my first blog about how cheese became such an icon to me, I mostly talk about how it became nostalgic to me and how it affects me in an emotional way. I never truly focus on what it made. For that reason, I would love to include what makes the fries really good, and how barbeque flavor became my favorite. So how do they make Potato Corner fries? According to foodiepileonline.com, Potato Corner fries are made with Idaho potatoes that are cut in a fitting size for people to enjoy. Idaho potatoes are one of the best potatoes out there according to finediningloves.com. These potatoes are Russet potatoes that came from North America where they are produced in an environment that has light soil from volcanic soil that supplies the rich minerals that create high-quality potatoes. The fries are tasty but there's not enough excitement about eating it and that's why all classic barbeque existed. Looking for how Potato Corner's barbeque seasoning was made, I haven't found what are exactly the contents of the seasoning. I only found other ingredients and ways from allrecipes.com which is quoted as "brown sugar, paprika, chili powder, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, black pepper, and cayenne" but not anything related to potato corner. I am not sure if this is correct or flavors and ingredients of the brand are secret recipes. Even though I don't know the ingredients of the barbeque, I know that it has some magic in it. The first time I tasted the barbeque flavor, I immediately fell in love with it because it made my experience of eating French fries better because it is a bit spicy but with a touch of sweetness. Every time I finish a set of it, I don't know if it's weird but I really love eating the extra barbeque that was not eaten that can be found mostly on the side and it still tastes delicious. Eating this flavor also helps me to ease negative feelings in my body because when I eat barbeque French fries, I am distracted by savoring the magic it has to offer than thinking about my problems. It's like a friend that comforts you when you are feeling down. Unlike cheese, it is something that I want to eat over and over because the charm of eating this never gets old to me. Even though I am tasting varieties of new flavors, I always found myself ordering barbeque as my default choice. It is how amazing how much thought was put into this product and how it came from soil from the opposite side of the world to our country, to a local brand, to a local stall, and to my stomach. Additionally, the flavor that I really love that I can taste it by thinking about it. I believe some people can relate to that feeling because everyone cherishes something and food became our comfort.

#potato corner #french fries #Philippine Brands

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gabby-i-guess · 7 days

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how can I tell if I have ADHD?

Hey tumblr friend!

Obligatory disclaimer: I'm not a psychiatrist, so take my thoughts with a pinch of salt. But! I have ADHD, I have learned a lot about neurodiversity, and I (almost) have a degree in health promotion. So my thoughts aren't total bullshit either lol

This is a long one, so if you're going to skip through it I understand, but at least read the last 2 paragraphs. That's the most important bit x

I think the biggest red flag for me was never feeling quite right. It didn't matter my friend group, didn't matter my school, didn't matter how hard I tried or how good my grades were - I always felt like a puzzle piece that fit just well enough to finish the puzzle but just badly enough to feel perpetually uncomfortable. And this didn't go away over time - I got more comfortable in myself, but never felt like the world quite had a place for me.

Although I didn't realise it at the time, another big red flag was that all of my best friends and all 3 of my high school boyfriends had ADHD. If you take a look around you at all of the people you connect with and they mostly have ADHD/autism, you probably do too.

And then of course there are the actual individual symptoms. Here's a rundown of what I experienced:

Mental illness, especially early in life and/or triggered by nothing in particular

Dissociation, which in my case hid lots of my sensory issues

Intense interest in hobbies for a relatively short period of time, between a week and a few months, then completely forgetting about them

Tiredness, ALWAYS, regardless of how much I slept

Trouble sleeping (including poor sleep quality)

Easily distracted from most tasks

Impossible to distract from very specific tasks

Forgetful, except for randomly specific things (e.g. song lyrics were seered into my brain word for word, but I forgot my sports uniform more times than I'd care to admit)

Perpetually disorganised

Or extremely organised for a short period of time, then somehow managed to disorganise myself again

Always late, no matter how hard I tried

Trouble with food (over eating, comfort eating, body image issues)

Easily made superficial friendships, struggled to make deep, long-lasting connections

Always labelled gifted but always told I wasn't reaching my potential

Very creative and imaginative

Very emotional, tending towards big mood swings (in fact, one psych thought I might be bipolar. Nah bro, just the ADHD :) )

Intense but unstable friendships (that is one of the symptoms that can look like BPD)

Weirdly specific habits/rituals/routines, with irritation but not distress if they were disrupted (for example, I always drank a specific bottle full of water with berocca every morning for 6 months. If I didn't have the bottle on hand, it was annoying, but I wouldn't get upset. Having said that, it did mean that I would forget to drink water all day and become very dehydrated)

Becoming bored/depressed every 6-12 months if nothing major in my life changed. This could be fixed by moving my furniture around. Or moving country. Or breaking up with my boyfriend. Or dyeing my hair. These were all pretty much the same to me

Executive dysfunction - as in, wanting to do something really, really bad but your brain just not letting you

Obsessive skin picking that frequently resulted in open, bleeding wounds

Feeling like I never had my shit together, right from age 12

Teachers noticed a lot of these too. My school reports are littered with evidence of my ADHD, starting from literally age 3... and yet no one ever picked up on it. Here are some examples:

"Gabby is a very bright girl, but needs to work on her organisation skills."

"Gabby has lots of friends, but needs to find better times to socialise."

"Gabby has a strong sense of right and wrong, and is frequently correcting her classmates."

"Although Gabby is sitting on a B in my class currently, if she paid a little more attention in class, she could easily be getting an A."

"Gabby's work is always thoughtful and interesting, but would often benefit from a final proofread before submission."

"Gabby often makes careless mistakes in her work, which brings her marks down."

All of this might not help you. After all, every person with ADHD looks a little different. But there is one thing I, a diagnosed ADHDer, can tell you that will help: you are welcome in ADHD spaces. Self-diagnosis is not ideal. But diagnosis is often a privilege, and not accessible to many people. Don't let anyone make you feel excluded because you don't have a diagnosis. If you find it helpful to consider yourself an ADHDer, to look for resources for ADHDers, to use tips and tricks for ADHDers, then it doesn't actually matter whether you're diagnosed or not. You're not faking - you're making do with what you have.

Sending you lots of love and strength Tumblr friend - all the best in your journey, wherever it takes you ❤️

#myposts #adhd #neurodivergent #asks

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misunderstood-muses · 1 year

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Promise (Part 4)

Yeosang showed up at the door in the late morning. He unnervingly watched me as I ate breakfast before standing and ushering me out. When we got to the door that led to the deck I paused. I was trying to think up some excuse but he bumped me enough that I stumbled out the door and onto the deck. I had seen the Promise once, from a ways away back when I had first met Seonghwa. Standing on it now, looking up at its massive black and white sails in the sunlight, I found I couldn’t even think about the water that surrounded me.

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“She’s wonderful.” I finally said.

“Glad to have your approval.” Hongjoong said to my right. I glanced over at him and he was looking at me curiously so I tried to avoid his eyes.

“Let’s start with just a walk around the deck.” Yeosang said and I was suddenly reminded why I was here. My hands instantly felt sweaty and my stomach lurched, limbs tingling. Yeosang seemed to sense this and took my hand, tucking it into his elbow and dragging me along. He didn’t take me too close to the edge and he kept up a conversation, trying to distract me while I refused to even look up from the wooden planks of the deck.

I could feel the sweat dripping down my back underneath the thin dress I wore, and I was already exhausted from trying to fight. I was thankful when after a few minutes Yeosang said it was enough for the day. I was frustrated when instead of going back to my nice, enclosed room he started leading me to the Navigation room.

“Yeosang, stop. That’s too much for one day.” I said, pulling him away.

“You have to talk to him eventually.”

“Eventually, but I…”

I jumped as someone landed right in front of us.

“Leah, it’s nice to see you...out.” Yunho smiled, but I could see his worry behind it.

“I…”

“You are in desperate need of some sun. Some of the crew may think you’re a ghost.” San said, coming over to join us.

“Really, Mingi won’t know what to do if he caught you walking around at night.” Now Yunho was full on grinning at the thought.

San took my arm, “Come sit with me. I’m just checking over some barrels.”

He started to pull me over toward the rail where a few barrels sat. From there, he could easily clean them and dispose of pieces he didn’t need. It also meant his work station was near the water.

I tried to pull away gently but he didn’t let up.

“San, stop.” Yeosang called out, but he didn’t listen.

I yanked my arm back and away from him and his eyebrows furrowed in hurt and confusion.

“I’m sorry.” I said quietly and turned, walking quickly across the deck.

I didn’t notice two pairs of eyes on me as I departed and headed back to my room.

It went on like that for another couple of days before I finally felt like maybe I was getting used to it. I still wouldn’t look out across the water for more than a few seconds and we mostly stayed away from the railing. After the first day, Yeosang had apparently talked to everyone because no one had tried to coax me into doing anything else. I was actually starting to look forward to our normal routine. That’s why I was taken aback when I opened the door one morning and found Seonghwa there.

“Where’s Yeosang?” The words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying and I saw the hurt on his face before he schooled it away. It had been weeks since we’d spoken. I could slap myself for that being the first thing I’d said to him.

“He had some of the crew to take care of. Bad case of food. I told him I would accompany you this morning.”

I nodded and left the room, feeling him following behind me. We walked around the deck silently, what felt like miles between us.

We started to pass the forecastle deck again when Seonghwa tugged on my sleeve, his foot on the first step.

“Seonghwa…”

“Come on.”

I reluctantly let him pull me up the steps and to the railing. I closed my eyes, just letting the wind whip past me, salt water clinging to it and gently caressing my face, hair, eyelids, anything it could touch. I sighed deeply, feeling my body relax instinctually. I knew it may only last a minute before the fear started to work its way back in.

“Aleah, open your eyes.”

I turned towards him and slowly opened my eyes. Behind him, the ocean stretched on for miles, a bright blue green. My eyes burned as unshed tears formed behind them, but I found that I could look at it, after so many years, without wanting to throw myself into it.

“Now look at me.” I had almost forgotten Seonghwa was there at all and my face burned. I did what he asked.

I thought he would ask me questions. Ask me what was going on, why I was acting this way, why I had ignored him and everyone else, but none of that left his mouth.

“I miss you.”

I felt my face crumple, body sagging against the railing.

“Seonghwa…”

“I know what I did wasn’t right, but I couldn’t live in this world without you, and as a result, I’ve had to live in it for weeks without you anyways.”

“Please don’t.”

He reached out to cup my face, “I don’t care what’s going on. I don’t care if you hate me, but I miss you so much, Aleah. Please, please come back to me.”

“Okay.” I managed to get out past the lump in my throat and he smiled.

“I love you.” He said, pulling me against him and I let myself be enveloped by his warmth. I could still feel the salty air on my skin, but the pull felt just a bit less now, here with Seonghwa. Maybe Yeosang’s idea was working, maybe I could get through this.

Things were strange between Seonghwa and I for a few days after. We didn’t immediately fall back into our normal routine of what Mingi used to refer to as “the romance to root our teeth,” but we were spending more time together. I was also spending more time on the navigation deck, or inside the room, reading while sitting beside the window as Seonghwa worked on his maps.

We were supposed to be stopping near some island soon that they kept supplies at before our next stop in a town. I was looking forward to not being surrounded by water on a wooden vessel. Even an island, just some land surrounded by water, seemed better. Just because I was coping better didn’t mean that my hands wouldn’t start shaking every now and then. Even now I could feel how easy it would be to give in. To let myself float away. To take Seonghwa with me. To..

“Lost in thought?” I blinked, pulling my eyes away from the window to find Seonghwa looking down at me.

“Apparently so.”

He smiled and bent down, pressing a kiss against my cheek. I felt my mind snap away from thoughts of the ocean. It had barely taken any coaxing this time and I was so relieved I reached up and grabbed his neck, bringing him back and pressing his lips against mine. Surprised, he almost fell on top of me but quickly caught himself, pressing his hands onto either side of the bench around me to hold himself up. I laughed lightly and felt him smile against my mouth before deepening the kiss. His lips pressed against mine roughly and he kissed me like we’d been apart for years rather than a few weeks. One of his hands moved its way to my hip as his tongue ran over my lips.

Someone cleared their throat and we both pulled away, Seonghwa jumping up and spinning around.

Hongjoong stood there grinning with Yeosang, who was looking anywhere but at the two of us.

“Well, seems like you’re both feeling...better.”

“Oh come on, Captain.” Seonghwa groaned.

“I’m sorry, you chose to kiss your lady in the middle of the day in the Navigation Room on my ship where I roam freely. If you wanted privacy you should have taken her to your own room.”

My cheeks felt redder than the fabric tied into Hongjoong’s hair.

“I just needed this.” Yeosang said, grabbing a book from the shelf by the door before rushing out.

“Actually, I needed to talk to him so I’m just going to go.” I said, standing up quickly and running after Yeosang.

I saw him disappear through another door and followed him in. The infirmary was small but there was enough space for two small cots and a toilet room.

“Hey.” I called out. He didn’t turn, just leafed through the book.

“I wanted to say thank you.” I tried again. He paused then, turning slowly.

“You were right I think. Maybe I can fight this. I still have...urges, but they’re not nearly as crippling and I just wanted to thank you for that.”

His face was unreadable for a moment before he smiled softly, “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do. When we get to the next town I’ll take you out for a meal.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“Too bad I didn’t ask if it was necessary or not. Also, have you seen Wooyoung? I think he’s been avoiding me. In fact, everyone has.” I said.

“Well, after your encounter with San, they all wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Did you scare them off, Yeosang?” I asked, laughing.

He raised an eyebrow, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A sly smile slid onto his face though.

Without thinking I pulled him into a hug quickly.

“Thank you,” I headed for the door but looked back, “You’re definitely getting that meal now.”

I didn’t stick around to hear him protest.

I made sure to find everyone and make a point to talk to them, letting them know I wasn’t going to get spooked again. They all seemed to take the hint and eventually Jongho pulled me with him to the kitchen to help him fix dinner. The only one I couldn’t pin was Wooyoung, so I waited until everyone had gone to bed, knowing where he’d be.

I quietly headed to the main mast, the moon bright enough to see by without any torches being lit. I stood under it, waiting to see if he would come down.

“I’m not going to climb up there, you know.” I finally said.

I only heard a small rustle. Waiting was always awkward when Wooyoung and I were mad at each other. This time I wasn’t sure what the emotion was between us. I was terrified that I had somehow managed to scare him off with what happened last time. I know he’d seen something that he didn’t understand and I knew that he probably didn’t like. The circumstances surrounding him were complicated, and I knew I had a part in it, but was that enough to lose him if he found out? If he remembered?

I swayed softly, music coming from the sea that I knew no one else but me could hear. I took a few steps, twirling gently, dancing with an invisible partner. It had been so long since I’d let this music carry me that it felt like a weight was lifting off my shoulders. I should have felt worried that it might just carry me away, or self conscious to be dancing alone, but I knew the only one out was Wooyoung, and if he were ignoring me then he shouldn’t be watching anyways.

I smiled when I felt a cool hand clasp mine, and another grip my waist, leading me into a small dip. I opened my eyes, meeting Wooyoung’s dark ones.

“I thought you were ignoring me?” I asked, voice light.

“Well, I couldn’t let a pretty lady dance alone I guess.” He said.

He pulled me back up and took a step back, still not letting go of me.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been...strange.” I started.

“It’s alright. Yeosang told us about your fear.”

I frowned, “Yeah.”

He pulled me closer, “Unless that’s not really it.”

“What?”

“I know there’s something going on. I just don’t know what. And you may be able to fool everyone else, Seonghwa and Yeosang, but not me.”

“Can we just...agree that I’m getting better and move on?” I asked.

“Yeah, we can,” He said, “But in exchange I get at least three comments without you hitting me.”

“Comments?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, like how you make the most alluring ‘ghost’ right now, with your nightdress that is frankly not leaving much to the imagination. If you were a ghost, I’d ask for death just to be able to pull it from you.”

“Wooyoung!” I yelped, my face heating up as I tried to smack his arm but he caught my wrist.

“If you hit me it doesn’t count towards the three.”

I slowly lowered my hand.

“Two more then, darling. Goodnight, Leah.” He let me go, kissing my hand before scaling the rigging quickly. I shakily headed back to my room, looking up at the dark Navigation room, oddly thankful that everyone seemed to be asleep.

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illuminatedbyauroras · 2 years

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things ive learned over my ËD journey

-if you can’t run/hate running, walk! Long distance walking is still really good for you and can burn a lot of c@ls.

-if you feel like you’re about to b!nge, watch a mukbang. If you can find one that includes the f00d you were about to eat, even better. This honestly takes your mind off of actually doing it. Instead of feeling bad about yourself with a b!nge, take that time to watch a mukbang instead.

-find a new sport or exercise that you actually enjoy. It is possible!! I really really recommend roller skating!!! It’s super fun and you don’t realize how many calories it burns. Also swimming!! Super fun full body workout that burns more than you think.

-CANNED SOUP esp. chicken noodle. A whole can usually has about 140 c@|or1es and is very filling! Plus it’s tasty :)

-if you’re gonna binge, put LOADS of hot sauce on it or too much salt so you don’t want it anymore

-Splenda in coffee instead of cane sugar! (It’s 0 c@|0ries)

-make a c@|0rie calendar to stay motivated

-browse for clothes in your g0al s1ze! it’ll make you more motivated to get there. Shein let’s you see reviews by size, and i look at the people on there for inspiration

- research the nutrition facts of fast food places just in case you h a v e to go out bc you’re with friends/family etc. and have a meal planned/calculated

-if you have a dog, that’s a great excuse for going out on long walks. Especially if the dog isn’t in shape!

-use some celebs for insp1rati0n, rather than random insta models to seem less suspicious

-i actually love having a sc@|e. it helps motivate you if you got closer to your GW, or pushes you to try if you haven’t

-i use an app for tracking my c@|0ri3 intake. this helps a LOT with b!ng!ng and preventing it from happening (i use Lifesum)

-if you do track your c@|or!es, track 50 calories above what you actually consume. this helps with r3stricting. i do it to trick myself that im over my limit.

-also track what you’re gonna eat before you actually do. it helps you plan out your day and see how much you’re gonna consume for the day

-it sounds corny, but find new hobbies! i took up some video games, and found a new love for going on walks and stuff. it genuinely distracts you from going over your limit.

-try off brand f00ds!! they’re usually cheaper, taste very similar to name brands, and can have lower c@|or!es.

-if you’re afraid of diet sodas, try club soda/sparkling water! some come with flavors and they’re mostly all 0-5 c@l.

-get a job? that sounds easier said than done. but if possible, it helps you with f4sting. that gives you 6+ hours away from home, and for me at least it helps me not to b!nge.

i used these and lost 15 lbs since the last week of March :,) it is possible!!

#🌧.txt #🦋 vent #🦋rant #c 🌧#🦋.txt #eg0sp0 #restrictive ed #anorexjk #🦋 tips #t41nsp0 #th1n$po #notprojustusingthetags #4na thoughts #i hate calories #eating problems #4na vent #not pr0 just for myself

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h0tchner · 3 years

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Any Age, Any Day, Anywhere (Part 1) - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: WRITTEN FOR AN ANON REQUEST: "ok hi so u already wrote a jealous reader and was wondering whats your take on jealous hotch? i mostly see him in fics as possessive and yeah being the leader type i would think he could also be possessive but i also think that he would just be sad like ya know he doubts himself as we saw in some episodes and i think he would need assurance and a lot of convincing that u only love him but if you’ve given that to him then thats the time he would be possessive and god i would love to imagine a possessive and feral aaron hotchner"

word count: 3.5k

includes: kissing, so much freaking adorable fluff, talk of body insecurities, insecure!hotch, protective!hotch, wifey reader, super brief mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, confrontation with a drunk asshole (derek & hotch are all over it tho dw), party at papa rossi's!, smut to come in next chapter...

rating: 18+ (technically there is no smut in this part, but there are adult themes such as drinking, kissing, etc.).

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! This is part one of a two-part fic! The next part will be pure filth, so keep your eyes peeled for some feral hotch content... ALSO! PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Aaron! Can you come here for a sec?” you call out to your husband from the bathroom, muttering curses under your breath as you try (and fail) for the third time to zip up the back of your black cocktail dress.

“Sure, I just need a minute,” he replies from the bedroom closet, securing the last opalescent button on the arm of his white dress shirt. He looks at himself in the closet mirror, zeroing in at the bags under his eyes and the sprinkling of grey in his stubble. He looks… tired. Tired and old. And he hates it.

Even though Aaron is only in his late-40s, he has lived lifetimes; years of working as Unit Chief of the BAU will do that to a man. Every horror he’s seen and every person he’s lost has weighed on his body and mind. In the past few months, amidst work changes and a new baby, he’s been exhausted and in fear that he’s letting himself go. Of course, being the stoic man that he is, he’s done his absolute best to hide these feelings from you. Tonight, however, he doesn’t know if he can. It’ll be your first night out together as a couple since welcoming baby girl Hotchner to the family four months ago. With no pressing family or work distractions, he just knows that you’ll be able to sense his apprehensions. It’s only a matter of when.

Taking in a breath, he turns a little to the side, frowning at his profile. Aaron winces a little at his “dad bod,” but quickly recovers from the discomfort, milliseconds after it flashes across his face.

“Aaron Hotchner get your handsome butt in here and help me zip my dress! We’re gonna be late,” you exclaim, trying one last time to reach the zipper before giving up and crossing your arms in defeat. You lean back lightly against the countertop facing the door, letting the fabric slip off your shoulders, and wait for your husband to rescue you from the hell that is this dress.

At the sound of your voice, Aaron snaps out of his trance. He shakes his head lightly, as if to physically erase the intrusive thoughts, and clears his throat. Grabbing his suit jacket off the hanger, he flicks off the closet light and closes the door behind him.

Languidly, he meanders from the closet toward the bathroom. He drags his feet a little longer than he normally would, still feeling off and a little bit shy about his appearance.

“Aaron,” you sing, “I’m waiting for –,” your jaw drops mid-sentence when Aaron appears in the doorway.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out before you can stop yourself, eyes widening at the sight of the gorgeous man in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, crossing over to you, searching your face for any ounce of reprieve.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you’re quick to reply, standing from your leaning position to meet him, holding out your hands.

He takes them in his own, cocking his head slightly, his soft hazel eyes boring into yours.

You shift forward, moving up on your toes to peck his soft pink lips.

He sighs into the kiss, feeling the warmth of your lips against his own. It feels so good that it almost makes him forget about how he is feeling… almost. But the dark thoughts come back, and he pulls away from you a bit, reluctantly.

Aaron clears his throat.

“You called me?” He questions, but it sounds more like a fact.

“Yeah,” you give his hands a squeeze. “I needed you to zip up my dress, but now,” you lean in again, “I kinda want you to rip it off me.” You offer him a sultry smirk, moving your hands up to rest on his broad chest. He moves his hands to settle on your hips.

You lick your lips and let your eyes rake over his body, taking in every ounce of his sexy frame. The way his crisp, white dress shirt hugs his solid body makes you go weak in the knees. His strong, toned legs in those black dress pants? Yes please. His soft black hair and salt and pepper stubble on his face are practically begging to be touched. He looks good. Damn good.

“You look…” you pause, tapping a finger lightly against his pectoral, searching for the right word, “…delicious.”

Aaron blushes lightly at your ogling, offering you a sad smile as he squeezes his eyes shut out of embarrassment.

You sense the falter in his demeanor, knowing that there’s something else nagging at him far beyond his usual flustering when you vocalize your attraction to him.

“Honey,” you implore, looping your hands around his neck to bring his forehead down to touch yours. “What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, swallowing, rubbing soft circles into your sides.

“It’s something,” you counter, carding a hand through his hair at the nape of his neck. You scratch lightly at his scalp, waiting for him to speak. You’ve learned that the best thing to do when Aaron gets in a mood is to give him some time to gather his thoughts. Keeping him close, physically, is a way to show him some comfort without pressuring him to speak. It encourages him, without words, that your arms are a safe place.

“I don’t…” he starts, and then stops himself. His dark eyebrows furrow and his mouth presses into a thin line.

“Mhm?” you question, fingers still tangled in his thick, black locks.

He pulls his forehead away from yours and locks eyes with you. You let your hands be still now, a silent gesture to show him that you’re listening.

He takes in a breath.

“I don’t look the way I used to,” he says quietly, shifting his eyes away from yours.

“What do you mean,” you urge him to continue.

“I mean, I don’t look like I did five years ago. Two years ago. Four months ago. I mean, I was practically a different man when we first met. I was younger, fitter…” he trails off, visibly upset.

“Yes, Aaron, you were,” you agree, keeping your tone temperate.

His eyes snap to yours, confused. It’s clear that was not what he was expecting you to say.

“You were a different man,” you continue gently, resuming your pacifying touch in his hair, “and I was a different woman.”

Aaron lets out a huff.

“Do you love me any less now than you did five years ago?” You ask him.

“Of course not,” he’s quick to answer.

“Why is that?” You prod.

“You’re gorgeous, inside and out. You’re funny, smart, loving…” he begins, but you interrupt him before he can go on.

“And,” you butt in, “if I were to go completely grey, gain thirty pounds, and only wear a potato sack to work every day would you love me any less?”

Aaron huffs again, but this time he’s fighting a smile. He’s starting to catch on. You watch as a spark of levity returns to his eyes. He holds you a little tighter.

“No. There’s nothing you could do or say to make me love you any less,” he grumbles in annoyance, but his upturned lip and matching eyebrow tell a different story.

“Ditto, baby,” you smile up at him. “I love you at any age, any day, anywhere, and there is nothing in the world that can make me change my mind.”

He dips down then, capturing you in a kiss, grinning against your lips.

You giggle as Aaron works his way down your jawline and neck, gasping as he kisses the soft skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, thick fingers gripping the sides of your hips. He moves his lips back up to your earlobe, nipping at it lightly as you let out another soft gasp.

“You always know the right thing to say,” he whispers into your ear, pressing another kiss right underneath it.

“Aaron, I know I said I wanted you to take this dress off me,” you say breathlessly as Aaron nips at your shoulder again, “but Rossi will kill us if we don’t show up tonight. Plus, I really want the chance to show off my super sexy FBI husband. It’s been far too long.”

He lets out a low groan into your skin and gives your hips a squeeze, nuzzling his head into your neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always,” you snort, eliciting a chuckle from your husband as you turn around in his arms to let him zip you up.

He takes his time, letting his fingers brush lightly over your spine as he draws the zipper over your back. When he’s done and the clasp is latched, he kisses one shoulder lightly, and then the other.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning back against his warm body.

“No, honey,” he kisses the top of your head, “thank you.”

_____________________________________________________________

By the time you and Aaron arrive at Rossi’s mansion, the party is already in full swing. Judging by the number of cars in the makeshift parking lot on his spacious front lawn, there must be at least fifty, maybe even a hundred people here.

Despite the bustle of the evening, it doesn’t take long for you two to find Emily, Penelope, and Derek in the living room, drinks in hand, snacking on some very expensive looking food.

“Hey, look! It’s the Hotchners!” Emily cheers, teetering on the arm of the leather couch, wine glass in hand.

“Hello beautiful BAU power-couple!” Penelope chimes in from the seat next to her, cuddled up into Derek’s side.

You laugh and let go of Aaron’s hand, walking over to greet your friends.

“Hey hot stuff, look at you, look at you!” Derek chimes in, eyeing you up and down before standing to shake Aaron’s hand.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes at him as you give Emily a big hug.

“And you don’t look bad yourself, boss man!” Derek adds.

You shoot your husband an ‘I told you so’ look over your shoulder, before untangling your arms from Emily and giving Penelope an equally enthusiastic squeeze.

“It’s good to see you all,” Aaron smiles lightly, all dimples in the low light. He steps in to give Emily and Penelope soft hugs.

“Let’s go get you a drink,” Derek says to Aaron, clapping him on the back.

“White?” Aaron looks to you, even though he already knows the answer.

“Yes please,” you respond, “thank you.”

“Be back soon,” he smiles easily, kissing your cheek, making your heart ache.

Aaron and Derek turn and exit the room together.

Penelope drunkenly pats the seat next to her, and you plop down on the couch.

“We’ve missed you like this!” Emily exclaims, gesturing between the three of you and around the room. “I can’t believe we’ve had to wait nine whole months plusanother four just to have a drink with our best friend again.”

You laugh at her, tilting your head back lightly. “Well, you guys got a beautiful little niece out of it, doesn’t that make up for all the wild girl’s nights I missed?”

Emily sighs, dramatically, “I guess so,” she jests.

“Oh, for sure.” Penelope adds. “You look freaking gorgeous, by the way. I mean, I would have never guessed you were creating a tiny human in that body only a few months ago!”

You blush lightly at her words, “You flatter me far too much, Pen. I owe this,” you gesture down at your figure, “all to Spanx!”

“Amen!” Emily toasts. You raise an imaginary glass to theirs and pretend to clink, taking a swig of invisible liquid.

“Are J.J. and Will here?” You ask them after they’ve had a few more sips of their wine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily nods, “they’re around somewhere.”

You take a moment and look around the room, taking in all the sights and the sounds of the party. You see some faces you recognize from around the bureau, but others you don’t. Just as you’re about to turn back to your friends, someone catches your eye. One face stands out from the crowd: he’s a young, suave-looking man in a sharp navy suit. Sandy hair perfectly gelled, shiny brown loafers, and bright blue eyes looking right at you. In another life you would have been exhilarated by his attention, apparent charm, and good looks, but now? Now, you’re married to the love of your life with an amazing stepson and a wonderful baby girl. His wolfish gaze means absolutely nothing to you. You simply flash him a curt smile and turn back to Emily and Penelope without a second thought.

You and your friends resume your chatter, waiting for the men to return with more drinks... only they don’t. Perhaps its “new mother anxiety” talking, but the longer your husband is gone, the more you start to grow concerned. A few more minutes pass of antics, laughter, and catching up until the nagging voice in the back of your head turns into an all-out scream. All you know is that you’re suddenly feeling very overwhelmed need to be with Aaron. So, you announce to your friends that you’re going to hunt down Derek and your husband.

You stand from the couch and smooth out the skirt of your dress with the promise to be back in a few minutes.

You walk out of the living room and into the grand foyer, following the same route as Aaron had earlier. Your black kitten heels click on the marble flooring, the skirt of your dress swishing lightly as you walk with purpose towards the kitchen. You’re so concentrated on reaching your destination that you don’t realize the man who had been watching you in the living room was now hot at your heels, following you through the house. It’s only when a hand reaches out and jerks your arm backward that you stop, startled, just past the grand staircase, turning face to face with him.

“You’re not an easy woman to get alone,” he smirks, reeking of alcohol, still gripping your arm, tight. Up close he is decidedly not as handsome as the low light of the living room made him seem. In fact, he seems… creepy. Really, really, really, creepy.

“Can I help you?” You blink at him, pulling your arm out of his vice grip.

“You sure can, baby,” he steps closer to you, voice oozing with sleaze. You gag at the liquor on his breath.

Moving away, you scowl at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

“What’s say you and I head upstairs for a little while? I’m dying to get my hands on your body.” He jerks his head toward the staircase, reaching out to grab your arm again.

You’re fuming at this point, ready give him a piece of your mind when a stern voice beats you to it.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” Aaron articulates, approaching you both with Derek not far behind.

You breathe a sigh of relief as your husband glares at the drunken man vengefully, coming to stand by your side. Aaron pulls you into him, roughly, hand tight around your waist. The anger radiating off your husband is equally terrifying and HOT.

“Take a walk, man,” Derek adds in, coming to stand next to the drunken asshole. The man looks from you, to Aaron, then over to Derek, and finally back at you.

“Whatever,” the man grumbles, putting his hands up, “she’s not worth it anyway. Not pretty enough for the hassle. I just thought she looked like an easy lay.”

“That’s enough,” Aaron snaps, seething. “Leave now, before I make you,” your husband growls. He angles his body forward so you’re slightly behind him. A shiver passes through you at his fierce protectiveness.

“Fine, I’m going to get another drink,” the man utters.

“No,” Aaron interjects, “the party. Leave the party or I’ll have you removed.”

“What’s your problem?” The creepy man retorts, this time, more confrontationally.

“My problem?” Aaron says, angrily. You feel his entire body tense at the accusation.

“Hotch,” Derek warns, “I’ll take care of it. You guys go enjoy yourselves. Forget about him.”

“Come on, Aaron,” you tug on his suit jacket lightly, eyes pleading… but Aaron doesn’t budge from his spot. He only holds you tighter as he continues to stare down the man as Derek ushers him away and towards the front door. He doesn’t falter until they are out of sight.

“Aaron?” You repeat.

He looks down at you, finally, blinking away the fury until all that’s left is an all-consuming love. He releases you from his protective hold, and you face him.

“I’m okay,” you assure him in earnest, letting out a shaky breath.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” he breathes, bringing his hands up to cup your face.

“Aaron, it’s okay, really,” you bite your lip, shifting your eyes away from his.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron kisses your forehead, and then the top of your head. “So, so beautiful, and I’m so sorry.”

“Aaron, can we just go home?” You ask.

“Sure,” he kisses your head one last time before weaving his fingers between yours and guiding you gently toward the back exit.

_____________________________________________________________

The car ride home is quiet. The only sounds are the occasional click of the turn signal, and the hum of the wheels on the road. Aaron is still upset, and so are you, but you’re also… something else. Something you can’t quite put your finger on. You feel guilty for ruining the evening, guilty that you FEEL guilty for something you had no control over, hungry, tired, and… horny? Oh, and guilty for feeling horny.

It isn’t helping that one of Aaron’s hands is planted firmly on your thigh. He lifts it only to adjust the air conditioning or to scratch his nose, but otherwise it remains on you the whole way home. When he pulls into the driveway of your shared house, and shuts the car off, he still doesn’t move it.

“Honey?” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed. You take in the strong features of his profile, noting the prominence of his nose and the way his eyelashes rest on his high cheekbones.

“I almost punched him.” Aaron whispers, opening his eyes to look over at you sheepishly.

“You what,” you exhale, mouth slightly agape.

“That guy,” he continues, bringing his left hand up to pinch his nose. “I almost punched him for saying that about you.”

You snort, amused by his confession.

Your husband lets out a short laugh, squeezing your thigh as he does.

“I would’ve liked to see that.” You’re grinning now and so is he.

He flashes his eyes at you and laughs again, this time less anxiously. You join him, feeling the tension dissipate with every passing moment.

“My big, bad FBI man decking a barely-legal drunk dickhead for making a move on his wife? Where can I get my tickets?” You joke.

As you say the words “his wife,” Aaron’s breath hitches in his throat. His hand on your thigh presses down instinctively. Neither of his reactions go unnoticed.

You lay a hand over his where it rests on your leg.

“You know, Aaron,” you begin.

He looks over at you, jaw tight, but this time it isn’t from anger.

“This is the first time we’ve had the house all to ourselves in months,” you pull his hand off you and bring it up to your lips. You press a kiss to his palm, and then to his wrist.

“This… is true,” he breathes out, studying you, taking you in.

“So, I’m just wondering:” you grin, linking your fingers with his, “are you going to carry your wife into our house, Aaron? Or do I have to walk myself?”

434 notes · View notes

ilikemesometaetaes · 4 years

Text

Set Me Free (M)

Min Yoongi Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: You are just an ordinary woman with a strange aura about you that Yoongi can’t seem to resist- even past the compulsion of his mentor. The question is: why?

•••> Pairing(s): Yoongi/Reader

•••> Requested by @itsgottabeyoo-ngs : “Hi daddy, One shot request with vampire Yoongi x brat reader. Bonus points for adding in choking or spitting idk make it filthy k thanks love you byeeeee xoxoxoxox”

•••> Word Count: 10.95k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, murder, attempted murder, slight choking/strangulation, dirty talk, biting, blood drinking, spitting, violence, horror, vampire/human relationship, cursing, mental attachment, thirsty Yoongi, Yoongi thinks he’s scary, but he’s totally not

Thank you for the request, babe! This one is a bit to unpack, as you can see. I hope you enjoy :)

~#~

Yoongi never claimed to have his thirst under complete control.

He stands before his brothers once every week for the feed, snarling as he consumes his share of blood, while the others bear witness so as to provide him ceremonial protection- a vampire is very vulnerable while he consumes blood. The polydipsia made one lose all form of reason and sense of mind, driven to the brink of animalistic insanity when it was in the process of mildly quenching the eternal hunger.

Polydipsia, used to describe his level of thirst, was the word made just for him in his own little world.

It wasn’t normal thirst, like a human, but the savage-like impulse to drink and drown until he could swim in a river of blood and take deep lungfuls of the crimson fluid. The impossible desire to consume and be completely consumed by blood until he became it himself always loomed over his mind in his early days as a Deadblood- a vampire youngling- causing him to search for a word that could completely describe his affliction.

Then the Greeks begun transforming their language, perfecting the word that he could use to chronicle his need. He had mulled over the thought throughout the few centuries that the word came into existence, truly connecting with it on a level that was deprived of him when his soul was taken from his body.

But the word was not only used to describe normal thirst; it described the abnormal desire to drink as a symptom of disease- and a disease is what Min Yoongi had.

From the days he explored the lands of Goryeo as a young teenage boy, he knew that disease racked every inch of the world. Street beggars, riddled with sicknesses and incurable illnesses, asked him for coin, food, clothing, and any necessities that could potentially carry them through the night into another sunrise. But the one thing that they begged for the most was water.

Liquid life. Yoongi thinks back on the ironic turn of events and how, even as a privileged boy of nobles, he understood just how desperate a person got when they were deprived of the one, singular fluid that supported life as he knew it.

As Yoongi approached adulthood, he was promoted and bestowed larger honors in the name of the Min clan, allowing him to provide more for the beggars and lower-class individuals that he came across on the streets every day- not that his father would find out.

Until he did.

Yoongi recalls the moment he knew that his father figured out that his son was spoiling the family riches on the lower class. They weren’t sitting down for dinner and having a conversation nor taking a stroll along the river like the two of them normally would- it was quite surprising, really. Yoongi had to applaud his father for the creativity of the circumstance.

He knew that his father figured out his whereabouts when he found himself bleeding out in the middle of the woods with three arrows, adorned with the Min clan crest carved into the wood, sticking out of his chest. He was sent to look for his supposedly lost little sister under the direction that she was probably at a watering hole- which Yoongi had never heard about- about forty-five minutes from the edge of Goryeo’s walls.

Many people ventured outside of the city to fend for food and necessities, or to find civilization elsewhere, so it wasn’t surprising to him that his curious baby sister wanted to see for herself what life was like outside of the city’s limits.

As Yoongi lay dying on the soil of the earth, staring up at the greenery of the trees above while they lightly swayed in the breeze, he realized that everyone, regardless of social-class or physical health, was fighting the same, universal disease: death. No one could escape it and no one was safe. At least, that’s the epiphany he had in an effort to comfort himself while he felt his heart painfully struggle to beat with an arrowhead lodged into it. Copious amounts of blood spurt out with each pulse of his damaged organ.

And then the universe decided to set him free from death with a cure worse than the disease itself.

Yoongi doesn’t remember who his creator was. He doesn’t remember how long he spent on the forest floor with the arrows still in his chest. He doesn’t remember waking up.

His memory of his new life started from the moment his consciousness returned, in the exact second that he found a set of vocal cords clutched in the palm of his hand, dripping with crimson, after apparently ripping them out of a young boy who was actively collapsing in front of him. The boy, who Yoongi immediately recognized from the streets of Goryeo, was choking on his own gore as he clutched at his now nonexistent throat, staring up at his killer with a jumbled expression that silently begged for help yet withdrew from terror.

It took Yoongi five years of trekking everywhere and no where while attempting to control his thirst before he found new meaning. He mostly had a hold on the scorch in his throat by staying away from the city and surrounding villages before he met another and figured out what he became.

The woman- no, girl?- appeared young yet spoke as if she had seen countless winters, the wisdom of a million middays glowing behind her carmine eyes. She was the first person he had met who did not end up dead within the first two minutes of scenting them on the wind.

“You are a vampire. You survive purely on the life essence of others. You are still a young Deadblood. Judging by your age, you should become a Redblood soon.” She sat with her back to him, overlooking the valley below the then-unnamed Odaesan mountain that they sat perched upon. “Do you know who created you?”

“Created me?” He asked. “What do you mean? My parents?”

She turned, her vibrant red eyes continuing to shock him. Did his own orbs look like this?

“I mean, who turned you?” She seemed to look at him incredulously, shocked by his lack of knowledge. “Who gave you their venom- their shi?”

“I…” Yoongi tried very hard to remember anything before the burning sensation that scraped like rocks against the insides of his bones and flesh, but all he could see and feel was fire and agony- and then blood. He couldn’t help but think with a grain of salt, disbelieving of the method in which he was born into his new life. “I don’t know. I just remember from my first kill.”

“Strange.” The other vampire muttered, returning her gaze to the valley. “Strange, indeed.”

Yoongi was always the silent type, only interacting when he needed to as a habit formed to avoid the questioning glare of his father when he returned home late on certain occasions.

But he couldn’t help the burning desire of curiosity within him, a welcome distraction from the need to feed within him. He had so many questions.

“You may ask your questions, Min Yoongi.” The woman sighed, not even bothering to spare him a glance whilst she spoke. The man was shocked to find that she knew his name without him telling her.

“How do you know my name?” The new revelation took precedent in his mind, hoping that she was not an enemy of his clan.

“A valid question.” She mused. “Anticipated, but valid. I suppose I’ll answer your question to the best of my ability.”

Yoongi shifted his position in preparation, a new habit that he formed in his new life. He learned from the first time he moved to stretch that his body did not need to be stretched as it usually did. He never ached, never cramped, never tired, and never lost energy. Despite the lack of his emotions in their usual form, he knew that it should have been unsettling to find such a new change within him, so he did the sensible thing of pretending that he needed to.

He pretended he needed to breathe- after two hours at the bottom of a lake he stumbled upon in his aimless journey, he was amazed to find that he required no oxygen to continue existing- and that he didn’t need to sleep nor use the bathroom. He would practice taking breaths, trying to inhale and exhale evenly without becoming allured to the pungent yet undeniably attractive scent of animal blood so that he could finally smell the forest again. He pretended to go to sleep and wake up with the urge to relieve himself of the noneixstent pressure in his bladder despite not having any of the instincts he once had.

The woman spoke, answering his first question.

“I can hear your thoughts. They’re not necessarily specific, but I can hear when you are wistful- like you are now- or when you are curious or sad or angry. I can hear the causes of these emotions.” She paused. “It comes with the gift of my second life. A form of protection, if you will.”

“Why would I need protection when I am invincible? I’ve seen the things I can do and what my body can endure.” He briefly recalled repeatedly jumping from a cliff, automatically landing on his feet no matter how hard he tried not to. Before, he had a will to survive with a choice of dying, but now? There was no comprehensible choice. “There is nothing that can hurt me.”

Yoongi couldn’t help cocking his head to the side like a confused dog when the woman let out a breathless laugh.

“Because, young one,” She looked at him with her eyes again, a look of mock endearment filling them. “You are not invincible.”

For a moment, Yoongi did not believe her. He believed that the liquid running through his veins was pure ichor, an essence of the gods, but when he returned her look of sincere truth, he understood that dying was still very much possible.

Thanking the gods, Yoongi looked to the ground and began toying with his fingers at his revelation. He could stop murdering people, willing to die in order to do so.

The woman shook her head. “No, Min Yoongi. You do not have to die to stop killing humans. In fact, it is the reason I have not killed you yet. You are unaware of the possibilities.”

His head perked up at the comment, suddenly eager to learn.

“How? How can I live without killing?” All he could see was the young boy that he had murdered in cold blood; the boy’s warm brown eyes staring up at him as he watched the life drain from them burned into his memory- he didn’t even know the boy’s name. The boy could not have been older than his own sister.

“I never told you that you could continue to live without killing. Of course, you have to kill. But you do not have to kill people.” The woman nodded her head down the mount. “Do you smell that? Do you smell the life that lives throughout this mountain?”

Yoongi attempted to focus on his senses but could only feel the thirst once again tormenting his throat. As soon as the woman shifted his attention back to the aroma of life, he salivated. Of course, he smelled the animal’s scents, but he could also detect traces of human life upwind that completely took away his desire for anything but humans.

“Push the thirst aside to open your senses. Embrace them. Embrace your power and your abilities. Focus on those.”

Again, he tried to push the scorch in his throat to the side, only to find that it was an impossible feat seeing as he had not fed in several months. He wanted human blood so badly.

“Poor child. I did not realize how weak you were.” She let a grimace morph her features, the first true expression of genuine emotion that Yoongi had seen on her. “Come sit in front of me. I will help you.”

For a moment, Yoongi hesitated. Was she going to kill him? He was not sure, but after a few more thoughts to himself, he realized that he had nothing to lose. Following her direction obediently, he moved to sit with his legs crossed in front of the woman.

“Now, close your eyes and listen to my voice.” She raised her hands to his head, placing her fingertips on his temples, and began whispering while he let his eyes flutter closed.

He felt as if he was mentally hit by a charging bear.

The woman’s words echoed in his mind, seating themselves amongst every corner and crevice that they could touch before Yoongi could understand what was happening. Shocked by the feeling of being intruded upon, he tried to push back against the mind-numbing force of her words, uncomfortable and feeling violated by the sensation. Instead of stopping them, her voice just broke down his amateur attempt at a mental barrier and pushed its way further into his brain. He was helpless to her superior mental awareness and gift.

“You will not focus on the thirst. You will focus on your abilities. Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.”

And Min Yoongi had no option but to obey for he was forced into a dieted life.

But as he stands, thousands of years later, in the middle of your kitchen whilst watching you silently with the inferno of the blazing sun in his esophagus, he couldn’t help the need that overcame him. He could not obey his mentor; miraculously and horrifyingly, the gift of his mentor did not work with you.

He was impelled by his mentor’s gift, effectively removing most of the bloodlust he had for humans. In his lifetime, after the unavoidable command was bestowed upon him, he had only killed a handful of humans when he was consumed by the thirst after living in self-induced exile for so long. But standing before you, he may have needed to add a finger to that handful depending on what you did next.

Yoongi first clocked you on his radar the moment you walked into the small coffee shop he was occupying for the later part of the morning.

Building a friendship with you was quite easy.

You were bright and warm and everything wonderful upon meeting him. Your smile was just shy of naive, yet he couldn’t help the alien tugs on his heart when watching you giggle.

“How old are you, Yoongi?” You asked while circling the straw in your caramel macchiato.

“Old enough.” He chuckled, looking down with what you perceived as shyness.

“Oh?” You laughed with him. “And how old is enough for you?”

“I could ask you the same question. How old do you think I am?” He met your eyes, once again shocking you with their beautifully vibrant shade of brown.

“Well…” You trailed off, studying his facial features closely- the hint of a permanent smile line, fresh haircut, and no wrinkles alluded that he couldn’t be over thirty. “I’m gonna say… twenty-five?”

The man across from you smiled. “Very close. I’m twenty-seven.”

So he wasn’t that much older than you. You could totally do him.

Yoongi noticed the flash of lust that ghosted through your pupils for a split second, recognizing the dilation of them as you glanced at him. He watched you stick your chest out a bit more, begin fiddling with your hair more often, and part your lips while you let the thoughts of sexual satisfaction run across your mind.

“Twenty-seven, huh? That’s not bad at all.” You smiled, letting your tongue lightly swipe along your bottom lip unconsciously.

Yoongi zeroed in on the action with a piercing gaze, watching as the muscle seemed to move in slow motion tauntingly, daring him to dig his fangs into it savagely before tearing it from your mouth to feel the blood pouring from your lips onto his face.

His body reacted sensibly, blood rushing like fake adrenaline to awaken his better instincts- rushing everywhere- and making his jeans become uncomfortably tight as they restrained his filling manhood.

Blood drinking was as exciting as it was satisfying for a vampire. An extremely personal and holy moment, consuming lifeblood was the most raw and sexual moment to experience. A vampire could not experience real sexual desire without it.

He dug his fingers into the faux leather of his side of the booth until they broke through the material to restrain himself from attempting to attack you in the middle of the day.

Quickly, gaining his sense of mind once again, he tore more holes into the leather to round out the punctures so that it could appear as if the holes were from wear and tear.

The scent of your blood transpierced by the hormones and adrenaline beginning to flow through your veins made it just that much more implausibly alluring. Yoongi admitted that you were a beautiful and kind woman from the conversation throughout the morning. He also knew that you had a deviant side due to the surprisingly quick appearance of your lust-filled gaze.

Yet he couldn’t help the urge to murder you on the spot.

He knew that he couldn’t touch you. The supernatural safety of the sun that shone on your body prevented him from laying a finger on your skin without his own lighting aflame. He learned the protection of sun rays on humans the hard way.

His fifth human victim, a monk who travelled the heights of Mount Odaesan- Yoongi’s sanctuary and home- for a religious trial, travelled early in the morning as the sun was rising. Yoongi smelt the sweat dripping from the man’s skin instantly. In the small cove he called home, he tried to resist the urge to kill the man for he hadn’t smelt human blood in several years.

His mentor’s words were ever present. ‘Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.’

Despite having those words affecting his instincts, Yoongi had managed to convince himself that the monk was a dead man standing once he smelled remnants of a virus tainting his scent, effectively bypassing the impulsion of the woman’s mind control.

Yoongi found himself rushing at the man without a second thought, fangs bared and fingers curled in preparation to tear the man’s limbs from his body. However, before he could get within two feet of the vulnerable monk, he was thrown back by an invisible and boiling hot force that left him screaming in agony and flying through the air.

The monk quickly ran back down the mountain in terror, yet Yoongi could pay no mind as he lay on the forest floor, ready to die once again as his skin singed and fell from his flesh like swamp sludge.

As his throat tore itself raw from his wails of misery, his body writhed in and out on itself in complete and utter anguish. The smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed his nostrils, pungent and nauseating in every possible way. How he was able to focus on something other than the pain was beyond him.

Despite the burning, Yoongi could feel his aflame skin beginning to heal itself. Clawing through the dirt, he felt the blood stored in his stomach rushing through his veins to the broken and severed ones, rebuilding them and recreating the network of arteries necessary to begin restoring his expanse of skin.

Before long, the pain subsided and Yoongi was no longer screaming. The entire ordeal lasted approximately twenty minutes- long enough that Yoongi no longer heard the footsteps of the monk and long enough for him to process the events that had just happened.

He was thankful that he became a Redblood with the ability to use consumed blood throughout his body, unsure of what would have happened to him if he had been a Deadblood at the time. Deadbloods burned through consumed blood quicker than a spark from a flint could ignite kindling into a flame.

He definitely needed to ask the woman, Zizi, about it. And he definitely needed to track that monk until sundown so that he could get rid of any loose ends.

Yoongi grimaced slightly, remembering the occurrence like it was yesterday, as he sat across from you.

You were still looking down at your cup in blissful unawareness of his inner turmoil and life that he’s lived thus far. You definitely were not dense enough to not notice his gaze on your skin, but you were definitely ignorant of the fact that he was thinking about what would happen if he could just get you to move a few feet to the right to gain cover from the direct line of the sun. He just needed to get you into the shadows.

“Y/N,” He called your name. You instantly looked up in response. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” You teased him back with his own words. He let a small smile thin his lips before he looked down to hide it. When you followed his gaze and noticed that he didn’t have a drink, you jumped to the opportunity.

“Can I buy you a drink, Min Yoongi?” You asked him.

“Oh, I’m not particularly craving coffee at the moment.” He paused and held his breath, as if trying to find the words to say. “I just like to sit here sometimes and enjoy watching the street.”

“Well,” Ask him! Ask him out! Yes! Do it! Your head screamed at you to be confident. You knew he was the shy type; you would be waiting all day for him to make a move and you just didn’t have the time nor patience for that. “Let me get you a drink at my bar?”

The man looked mildly impressed for a moment. “You own a bar?”

“A small one.” You swiftly added. “It’s not a big popular one or anything but I didn’t want a place too big. I like the smaller things.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile. You were a kind and beautiful woman living a simple life. He dreaded the moment that he was going to have to kill you.

“I take it you’re pretty well off then?” He asks. “And please don’t take this as me digging around. I’m just curious.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yeah, actually.” You laughed and sat back in your chair, looking out the window onto the street as people and cars passed by. “I’ve always been pretty lucky for some reason. The gods always seem to be in my favor and give me what I want.”

Yoongi smirked for a moment. If she wants me, she can have me. Then, I’ll have her.

When Yoongi found himself in the prime position to attack you in your kitchen, several weeks later, he knew. He finally had you where he wanted you.

A handful of dates that he found quite pleasant were all it took.

You turned out to be just what he thought- a strangely attractive and alluring woman, the scent of your blood aside. You exhumed an odd magnetism about you that Yoongi had never felt from a human. He regretted the decision of waiting so long to kill you seeing as he was considering letting you live. But he knew that he couldn’t do that.

With your back turned to him, busying yourself with dinner, he could easily snap your neck so that you wouldn’t scream and struggle- and you would be dead almost instantly. A quick and nearly painless death was what you deserved. He didn’t want you to suffer at all.

However, just as he crouched in preparation to lunge at you, you spoke.

“Are you ready for dinner, babe?” You asked him.

He smiled devilishly, venom filling his mouth as he salivated. “Yes, I am. I’m starving.”

You chuckled. “Okay.”

“Go and sit down at the table.”

It was the most simple of commands. Telling Yoongi to sit down wasn’t an order. You weren’t demanding him to do it. You never demanded anything of him. It was a mere suggestion in your eyes.

Yet Yoongi felt his body moving to the dinner table without a second thought, unable to resist obeying your words.

What in the everliving fuck.

He sat quickly, impotent to move from his spot while he waited for you to bring the food from the counter. His thirst obliterated his throat, causing it to seize up and restrict any air that he could previously breathe, but he sat in wonder as you seemed to hold power over him that he had never felt before.

You turned with both of your dinner plates in hand and he quickly smothered the panic on his face, wondering what in the world had just happened.

“I’m not at all a chef, but you better eat everything.” Yoongi tested your words, seeing if the inclination to finish your food was present, only to find a slight mental nudge- as he expected. You didn’t tell him to do anything; you merely made an ‘or else’ statement.

No longer desperate to kill you for the time being, Yoongi sat still and waited for your next words. Once you sat the plate in front of him, you uttered a joke.

“Dig in.”

And dig in Yoongi did. He picked up his fork and scooped into the pasta you made without any willingness to deny you.

The pasta wasn’t fantastic in any sort of the word- It was plain, although it could be due to the fact that it wasn’t at all what he truly craved and needed. It was like eating a piece of stale bread while he was offered a perfectly cooked and outright juicy steak on a silver platter. The food that he ate wouldn’t be consumed by his body and used for nutrients; the shi in his stomach would burn it to nothingness within the next few hours.

Uncontrollably, Yoongi shoved mouthful after mouthful into his mouth- he couldn’t stop. Once he finished chewing one bite, his hand was immediately bringing him another, and then another. Despite lacking the need to breathe, Yoongi felt himself suffocating with each bite as the realization that he could do nothing except eat his food settled in his mind.

“I see you were hungry.” You laughed, unaware of his predicament. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours and silently hoped you would give him another command so that he could stop the foolishness.

You, however, just sat there feeling sort of proud of yourself- not only for making an edible meal, but for making one Yoongi seemed to enjoy. Even though it was slightly shocking to see him out of his usually cool character, acting like a man suffering from hunger, you couldn’t help but find it undeniably cute.

Eating slowly while watching him, you let your feelings for him come to the surface.

Yoongi was utterly beautiful. His black hair that fell over his face while he was cleaning up the last bits of his plate was just long enough to cover his eyes, yet as he looked at you without reservation, you felt he had a clear line of sight straight into your soul.

His skin was nearly flawless save for the light and narrow scar that cut into his right eye. Others found the scar intimidating and ugly, but you found it rather attractive. Yoongi, with his uncanny physical allure, was undeniably the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Your body was alight with joy and content. In the few weeks that you got to know him, liking him was incredibly easy and having him in your home, in a domestic setting, lit your heart on fire with the possibility of falling in love with him.

He was incredibly easy to love, you discovered. Everything about him begged you to fall for him. As if the universe created him just for you, Min Yoongi was the epitome of perfection- in your eyes, anyway.

Briefly, you had shown a photo of him to your mother. She became unsettled instantly by his appearance.

“He’s so pale. And a little scary-looking.” She squinted at the photo you took of him when he wasn’t looking. You never brought him up again to your mother, disliking the fact that she didn’t like your potential boyfriend and found him scary.

The picture just happened to be your favorite- being because he didn’t like pictures and it was the only one you had of him.

He kindly asked you to not take photos of him. When you prompted him as to why during one of your more intimate moments at your bar, he only answered playfully as he held you close to him, lips begging for you to kiss them.

“Because I don’t want to leave evidence.” He whispered, breath tickling your nose. His body was warm and sturdy, muscles rippling under your touch as you clung to his shoulders.

“Evidence from what?” You asked breathily. The heat in your panties had increased tenfold over the last few minutes as his eyes grew hungrier with want. Yoongi’s fingers dug into your waist painfully, pulling you so close that you barely had room to expand your lungs to breathe, yet you couldn’t help the edgy feeling of how rough he could be with you.

“From when I eat you up.”

Thinking back on the memory, you shivered involuntarily, hoping that tonight might be the night you actually get to have him. He’d made you wait for a little over a month and you had no idea why. You definitely felt him straining through his pants a few times. But no kisses or anything further than the pressing of your bodies was accomplished.

Yoongi finished his plate and sat upright briskly, pulling you from your wishful thinking with a jump.

“Y/N,” He nearly growled, shocking you. “What else do you want me to do?”

The fork you were holding clattered to your plate instantly. Wow. He’s sizzling hot.

“I-“ You stuttered a bit. “I- uh.”

“Spit it out.” He hissed. You jumped again, trying to find the words to say with the heat growing in your panties.

Quickly, you answered him. “I want you to take me to my bedroom.”

“Thank god.” He groaned, getting up slowly with a smirk on his face. “Is that just a request? Because I can walk out now if you don’t actually want this.”

“Take me to my bedroom, Yoongi.” You stood slowly, carefully, as if you were afraid to trigger him.

Yoongi pushed in his chair and moved towards you at a speed that was almost inhuman. You yelped in astonishment as Yoongi attempted to control himself- he couldn’t bring you to your bedroom at his natural speed or else he would have a very motion-sick human to worry about. Instead, he trembled with the effort to resist your command at full force, knowing that the only way it was possible was due to the fact that he was still, in fact, taking you to your bedroom.

Picking you up was easier than breathing. You weighed absolutely nothing in his arms because of his advanced strength, so when he felt you trying to assist him in carrying you by holding your body stiffly, he huffed out a laugh whilst he walked.

“Relax, woman. You are as light as a feather.”

You blushed under his words, leaning into his chest to hide your cheeks.

“Stop that.” He growled, entering your bedroom. You looked up at him and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the blood that rushed to your cheeks. “I can’t resist if you do that.”

“Then don’t.” You whispered. Your heart pounded in your chest, begging him to hear it. “Don’t resist.”

His fangs came forth immediately, for he could not resist your command while he flew to your bed to throw you down. Despite your unknowing of what you were telling him to do, he fostered no opposition to what he was about to do.

The roughness of his throw startled you for a moment as you looked up at his vastly approaching figure, only to grow terrified when you caught sight of his face.

The veins protruding out of his temples and cheeks pumped blood straight into the whites of his eyes, turning them completely bloodshot, as they framed the now-crimson irises. Long incisors protruded from his mouth as he opened it with a hiss, revealing the way his human teeth shifted apart to allow his inhuman ones to break through the gums. Instantly, you parted your lips to scream.

Yoongi was upon you instantly, hand covering your mouth and silencing your cry while he snarled menacingly, yet he couldn’t help but feel remorse for killing you.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered through his animalistic demeanor. “I can’t stop.”

You were screaming below his hand and, instantaneously, he had an idea.

He was leaning forward slowly, able to slow himself in the process of not resisting you. “Y/N,” He strained, changing the frequency of his talent, and waited for you to silence yourself in order to listen to him. He took his hand off of your mouth slowly after he heard your heart calm itself past your weeping. “Tell me to stop.”

“Stop!” You sobbed whilst clawing at his chest and kicking at his legs. “Don’t kill me!”

Not a second passed before Yoongi flew off of you, throwing his back to your wall with a loud thud while he cursed lowly.

You scrambled to the headboard of your bed, pressing your back against it in an attempt to gain some distance between the two of you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving with your breath short, as you looked at the man in front of you.

“I-“ Yoongi stuttered for the first time in decades. “I’m sorry.”

“Your eyes!” Your burst out. You were unable to contain your fear and shock, so you displaced it into your curiosity. “Y-your- Your face! Your teeth!”

Yoongi stood against the wall, breathing just as hard as you, with his eyes cast to the floor in the process of trying to control his facial features. He could no longer kill you. The thought revolted him- every time he considered drinking your blood, the idea was banished from his mind with a sense of nausea following. Good god. She is unaware of her ability yet I am completely at her mercy.

“I apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” He breathed. What Yoongi forgot to take into account was the fact that he began implementing the gift of his second life on you the moment he stepped foot through your threshold, so your mind was completely scrambled by this point.

It was nighttime now; he could not leave your house no matter how hard he tried. He knew of the fallacy that vampires needed to be invited in and he found himself giggling from time to time at how close humans got to the actual lore of his kind.

He could enter your house, uninvited, during the day. He could lurk every corner of your abode without a bother, yet when night fell and the sun finally set, he would be stuck inside until morning. He knew he would be staying the night in your house the moment he agreed to have dinner with you. If he attempted to enter through your door during the night, however, he would have no luck- the night’s protection would convince his brain to walk away from your home without any further reconsideration until he was a good distance from it.

He was in the first position now.

He wished that he could leave you and disappear from your life without a trace so that you could live a peaceful and happy life without him, but he was afraid that it was impossible now with sundown a mere two hours prior. Your powers were no match for the natural protection of the earth. The both of you had a long night ahead of yourselves.

So he used his ability. Yoongi gave you control- rational thought, rather. His gift allowed him to grant organization of the mind and precise focus to others, but he could also take it away.

Upon entering your home, he began the process of slowly but surely ebbing away your barriers and logical thought- he couldn’t do it too fast or else you would panic like you were now. With a presently impossible-to-kill human whose heart was beating out of her chest and a command to not kill you forcing him into submission, he was obligated to prevent you from having a heart attack that was caused by him.

With laser-like focus, he channeled his gift straight into your open mind. Yoongi rebuilt the walls he had previously broken down over the past few hours, restocked your jumbled thoughts into their proper spaces, and flowed his energy through each corridor of judicious conception so that you could continue to develop your focus into that of supernatural proportion. He hoped that you, with a new mind, would tell him to get away from you and to kill himself. Dying by the hands of such a robust ability wouldn’t be too bad of a way to go.

You, however, never had such a decisive mind. Your mind was never clearer and you had never felt such clarity in your thoughts before. It allowed you to feel the magnetism that he radiated.

You knew he was a vampire. You don’t remember how you knew or how you recognized it, but you knew that he was not the first of his kind you had come across. Maybe it was the obvious fangs that gave it away.

“Yoongi,” You whispered. “You’re a vampire.”

His eyes, now back to their normal gorgeously coffee-bean shade, flicked up to yours in surprise.

“You know what I am?” He spluttered, flabbergasted. “You don’t think I’m a demon? Or the devil?”

“I’m not stupid. I know a vampire when I see one.” Your tone did not waver nor shake despite being a potential victim to a vampire. Was it the adrenaline?

“Then you know that I am a danger to you.” He said lowly, shock still evident on his face, while he began gravitating towards your bedroom door to leave.

“No. Stay.” You found yourself pining for his presence while he froze up in his spot. You eyed the action analytically. “If you were a danger to me, I wouldn’t be alive right now. You had plenty opportunity to kill me.”

“That’s the thing,” His hands pressed to the wall and scratched into it with the effort to move further from you. “I don’t have much of a choice anymore.”

“And why is that?” You relaxed your body and slowly slid your way across the bed towards him.

“Because I can’t.” Yoongi actually gasped for air as you stood from your bed to slowly approach him. “Y/N. Don’t come near me.”

“Why don’t you have a choice?” You ignored his warning, fully aware of the risk you were taking yet uncaring of the consequences. You were too focused on the fact that you actually wanted him.

Yoongi could not move from his spot, a side effect of your command to stay, but he refused to meet your eyes. The irresistible scent of your blood clashing with the order to not kill you fucked with his mind in ways he never experienced, creating an excruciatingly splitting headache between his temples. He wanted to drink from you so bad yet he could not move a single muscle.

“You can tell me to do anything. You can tell me to stay away from you. You can tell me to leave you alone. Hell, you can tell me to kill myself and I’d do it.” He ground out, attempting to press his back further into the wall as he felt your body heat against his skin. You came too close. He could smell your hormones lacing through your blood, triggering a wash of his shi over his dry tongue and a yearning to tear you apart overriding his senses.

He wanted to sink his fangs into your flesh so badly that he was beginning to scare himself. Allowing his venom to seep into your system would undoubtedly send you into ecstasy; you would only feel a pinch of pain as his saliva instantly burned through your nerves and set them alight. He could kill you while you were in pleasure; you wouldn’t feel anything but bliss as he drained the life from you.

“And why do you, a powerful creature such as yourself, allow me to have this power over you?” You asked. Was he in love with you? You definitely could love the man with how much you felt drawn to him but, for crying out loud, it had only been a few weeks.

“I don’t allow it. You are a gifted human. You possess this power over me.” Although Yoongi enjoyed having a calm conversation with you, he couldn��t help but feel bad that he used his gift on you. It was almost an unfair playing card- a “get-out-of-jail” card.

Because you should be running, terrified and screaming, even with his ability active in your mind. Maybe he had used it too much? Yoongi recalled the one time he went overboard with his gift, driving a man to suicide as he focused too much on the meaning of life and the regretful things he had done. Immediately concerned, Yoongi reached out a mental tether- a rare talent amongst his kind- to gauge your stability.

What he found, instead, was a dark and curling line attaching to his, pulling it in as quickly as Yoongi offered it. Before he could reel back away from it, it was fully intertwined and pulling his line to attach to you, only to rear back and completely obliterate his senses when it entered his head.

No. No no no. It’s impossible.

Yoongi was moving forward and caging you against the bed at full speed before he could stop himself, nestling his body between your eagerly opening legs as a hiss escaped his lips. Immediately, he realized that he broke through your command unwavered. The thirst came back at full force when you moaned from the friction on your heat.

“You’re-“ He tested the sensation of true, sexual arousal with a slow grind of himself into you, gasping with a jerk of his dick when his action squeezed his member between his body and yours. “You’re my-“

You moaned again, sitting up slightly to try and capture his lips with your own, unable to control the desire that surmounted in your heart. When he resumed his look of shock, backing away from your advance so that he could look at where your bodies touched, you spoke through the heady emotion. “I’m your what?”

“It can’t be.” He whispered. After a single beat, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours with a crushing pressure that split your lip instantly.

The pain seared across your bottom lip and distracted you for a moment, emitting a groan deep in your throat that he matched when the taste of your blood exploded onto his tastebuds. Instead of swallowing it like he wanted to, he brought a hand to your chin and opened your lips to spit your blood, along with his venom, back into your mouth so that it would take your pain away.

For a moment, you held the mix of liquids on your tongue, unsure of what to do as no one had ever spit in your mouth before. You looked up to him with confusion extremely evident in your arched brows.

“Swallow it.” He growled.

The taste of iron and an almost sugary sweet tang of saliva was too strong for you to keep sitting on your tongue, so you did as he told you to before he kissed you again to repeat the same action. Slowly, you got into the rhythm of swallowing what he gave you.

Before long, he simply gave you his tongue, allowing you to suck the saliva from his mouth greedily. You didn’t understand why, but the taste was addicting and adding to the pulsing feeling that radiated between your legs. Were you getting lightheaded? No. This sensation was much more blissful and exciting.

He pulled away after sucking on your wounded lip once more, spitting the mixture into your awaiting mouth for a final time before sitting up to look down at your body.

His venom was already taking effect. He could smell it on your skin as it flowed through your veins and filled your system just like a virus would. It would be simple to turn you at this point. You would be his for eternity, bonded to him in ways only the Fated One of a vampire would. Yoongi shook the thought from his head as he wasn’t even sure that you were, indeed, his.

“What am I to you?” You asked genuinely, swollen lip slightly obstructing your speech.

“Don’t worry about that right now, Y/N. Right now, I am going to fuck you, okay?” He met your gaze with his dark eyes filled with confidence, knowing that you would be unable to deny him if his belief was true.

“Yes. Yes, please Yoongi.” You breathed, begging him almost drunkenly. “Please. I’m yours.”

His mind was nudged forward by a different force this time, warranting unknown instincts to play into action.

He felt his center of gravity shift. His skin grew tight and uncomfortable around his body from the emotion that wished to burst through the surface. He breathed with you. Perfectly aligned were your rhythms; his heart soared alongside your own galloping one, desperate to match you in every aspect. The sensations in his body were difficult to ignore as he felt the ancient and sacred pull of a bond lacing itself through his limbs.

Instead of pondering over the reality of it any further, he slid his hand from your chin to your shirt and pinched the fabric between his fingers. You nodded in reassurance.

Your clothes tore form your body like paper. Wrapping his fingers around your arm to keep your body in place, Yoongi ripped your thin blouse from you easily. Your breasts, made plump by the bra you wore, caught his attention the moment they were revealed. Perfect.

Instead of looking like a moron seeing exquisite breasts for the first time, he moved his hand to your dress pants so that he could rid your body of them. In under ten seconds, Yoongi had you almost bare below him. Perfect.

Not even realizing it until you brought your thumb to his lips to swipe his shi from the corner of his mouth, Yoongi shook his head at the fact that the sight of you wriggling and bare-skinned beneath him made him literally drool, but his instincts went haywire when he watched you place your thumb in your mouth to suck his venom off yourself with a low moan of appreciation at the taste.

Yoongi’s hands couldn’t move faster as he tore the clothes from his body, stripping himself bare to reveal himself to you. He wanted to give you everything. To open his mind and spread everything out for you to see- he hoped you could handle it.

You, on the other hand, were laying below him with the desperate need to have him inside you.

You wanted him everywhere. You wanted him to sink himself into you- it seemed to be the only fathomable option. You wanted him to hold you and kiss you and surround you with everything him.

As you stared up at him with a needy look in your eyes, you couldn’t help but want him in every facet possible.

You saw yourself making love to him, holding him, kissing him- loving him. The new sensation brought on you by the psychic connection- that was all you could call it when you felt the mental attachment- brung passionate emotions through your body in an onslaught that you could barely handle. It was too much to deal with without him inside you to be with you through it yet you didn’t know if you could handle what would follow.

Yoongi could smell you through your panties; a delicious scent of the most raw tease he had ever allowed himself to indulge in. Unable to help himself, he moved down your body quickly, throwing your legs open- rather roughly- to give himself room to press his nose straight into your heat. Your aroma filled his nose as he expanded his lungs, triggering his natural instincts to push out his fangs and load his vision with blood to enhance it despite his eyes being closed. Fuck, he wanted to consume you.

You keened at the contact, closing your thighs around his head to trap him there. You felt his groan vibrate on you, driving you closer to the brink of insanity.

Without any further time wasted, he grabbed onto your panties and ripped them from you to expose your pulsating pussy to his mouth without moving his nose away from your intoxicating scent. Not a beat passed before he dug his tongue into you to scoop up your DNA-laced juices. Fuck.

Yoongi lost himself in you immediately. You whined out a small cry, unable to keep yourself from grabbing onto his hair and yanking when all you felt were his lips and tongue laving over your opening relentlessly. There was no skill nor technique in his movements; he was simply devouring you without a mind to pay attention to your bundle, yet you couldn’t stop the sensitivity from boggling your mind and driving you to an instant orgasm.

His hands squeezed your thighs around his head and, for a brief moment, he opened his eyes to look at you. The color of his eyes staring back at you was unexpected- a solid, snow white color filled his orbs and contrasted starkly with the red hue of his engorged veins and bloodshot scleras.

“Yoongi,” You whimpered from another swipe of his tongue and suck from his lips. “Y-Your eyes.”

He pulled away from you instantly at the comment, eyes widening and wet mouth hanging agape, while you let out a groan of relief- or sadness- at the lack of attention to your incredibly sensitive core.

“What color are they?” He asked.

“White.” You struggled to speak, voice cracking under the post-orgasm glow.

He took a moment to look down at your heaving body and messy pussy, jerking forward slightly at the sight of your delicious juice smeared all over your thighs. Once he had a handle on his thirst again, Yoongi met your eyes as the white faded from his irises. “Then you are her.”

“I’m who?” You reached for him, needing to hold him anywhere you could get your hands on. Yoongi caught this action immediately, the same desire to grasp you evident in his hand rushing to meet yours. It was natural to intertwine your fingers while he leaned over you to press his lips to yours in a short, uncharacteristically loving kiss.

“You are my Fated One- my mate. You hold my soul in the palm of your hand, as I do yours.” He murmured, feathering his lips over yours as he spoke.

Under normal circumstances, you don’t think you’d be able to comprehend his words with your current position with him. You were exposed to him and he was exposed to you, making you feel vulnerable and turned on beyond belief. Yoongi was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra while you took in what he had said. His thumb was brushing over your bare nipple before your bra even hit the floor.

“So-” You had to clear your throat again. “So you’re mine? Like, completely?”

He chuckled warmly at your question and you couldn’t stop yourself from reciprocating the smile.

“Yes, Y/N, I am yours.” He brought his hand down to grip your thigh and move it to the side. “I belong to you.”

Yoongi placed his dick against your folds and you watched him so do. You felt his tip capture onto your clit several times as he lathered it with your arousal languidly, preparing himself so that he could slide into you easier. “However,”

“However?” You looked up at him with a questioning look accentuated by your eyebrows.

“You are also mine.” Yoongi stopped his movement so that the head of his cock finally caught onto your opening, kickstarting your heart into a pace that you were afraid would kill you. “Do you understand that?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

Torturously, he began to push inside you. You widened your legs to accompany his approaching hips. As you warbled out a cry when he decided to drop his control and fill you completely in the next second, Yoongi began speaking again.

“Do you understand that everything about you,” He reared back and pushed inside you again, forcing your legs open to take him while he did so. “-is mine?”

You couldn’t respond. Your emotions were running rampant with your mind overflowing from too much stimuli while he fucked you. He spoke again without your reply and you could only pull him closer to you and take the feeling of his cock caressing your insides.

“Your lips,” Thrust. “your eyes,” Thrust. “your hair, your hands, your skin;” He punctuated each part of your body with a ram of his dick into you. “Everything, Y/N.”

Yoongi took a moment to look down at your joining bodies, smirking softly at the sight of how easily he slid inside. “-Especially this greedy little cunt of yours.”

You watched his smirk drop while he bit his lip and ground himself into you, lips parting again with a low moan whilst keeping his gaze transfixed on the sinful sight. You watched him in awe as his cock plunged so deep that it felt like it was in your throat.

He snapped his eyes to yours quickly, repeating his prior question. “Do you understand?”

Expecting to be interrupted by a thrust, you sucked your bottom lip in your mouth and braced yourself, only to be grabbed by the neck while he leaned down to bring you face-to-face. You could no longer breathe as he pulled his lips back to reveal his fangs. “I asked you if you understood, Y/N.”

With your airway restricted, you could only nod with your lip still stuck between your teeth. Did you taste blood? Promptly, you remembered that Yoongi busted your lip, yet you were confused as to why you hadn’t felt the pain of it since he first kissed you.

“And are you okay with that?” Yoongi began to nose his way down your neck once he turned your head to the side and slowed the rhythm of his hips. Right before you could answer, he released your neck to look at your face, allowing a large rush of air to enter your lungs just as you were attempting to give him an answer.

“Yes!” You released your lip to scream out at the welcome sensation of oxygen and the feel of his dick pushing it right back out of you. “I’m yours! Everything is yours!”

“Good, my love. Good.” He whispered, smiling down at you. His smile was wiped clean off his face in a heartbeat, his thrusts into you completely ceased, as he zeroed in on your lips. You licked them subconsciously, immediately tasting blood and internally cringing at the flavor of iron coating your tongue.

Yoongi attached his lips around your bottom one quickly and you felt him suck it into his mouth. Your walls squeezed tightly around his at the sensation of his tongue swiping over the spli in your engorged lip again and again. You knew that your lip would be swollen yet you couldn’t find yourself to care because it, surprisingly, didn’t hurt at all. The small bits of Yoongi’s saliva that slipped into your mouth were enough to keep you on edge, tasting like raw sugar at that point.

He began moving inside you again, starting a slow and steady pace. You whimpered into his mouth as he began taking his fill of your blood and you mirrored his thirst with the need to taste his mouth again. Your lips pressed closer to his in order to, hopefully, get a bit more of his spit.

You felt your orgasm building laggardly. It was creeping in at a speed that you were able to prepare yourself for your ascent towards ecstasy. You tightened your legs around his waist and dug your heels into the globes of his ass, pulling him in.

It wasn’t until you were bordering on your climax that Yoongi pulled away from your lip with your pop and sat up to focus on fucking you, his peace of mind obviously waning.

You saw it in his face; you saw the way he couldn’t control his veins from darkening his face; you saw the way his eyes burned white and the way he was attempting to hold himself back from attacking you.

So you did him a favor.

“Yoongi.” You mumbled past your swollen lip. “Bite me.”

Min Yoongi had no option but to obey your command.

He surged forward, pressing himself against your clit deliciously and bottoming out as he lunged for your neck with his fangs fully protruded and a warbled hiss scratching its way out of his throat. With barely enough time to prepare, you bared your neck to him once more and clutched onto his arms for dear life, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

What you weren’t expecting was for it to feel unreservedly good.

The sensation took you by surprise, warranting a loud moan to escape from your lips before you could stop it. Why did his fangs feel so good in your flesh? It should definitely be hurting. But all you could do was moan and whine like a madwoman as you felt his lips close over the puncture wounds and begin to drink your blood straight from your flesh. His tongue continuously swiped over the teeth marks in your neck, keeping them clear from your body’s natural ability to scar itself and begin blocking the escaping blood. Every lick he delivered sent a pulse straight to your clit and an automatic instinct to tighten yourself around him.

Your pussy quivered around him uncontrollably. You were so close to cumming that you could practically taste the release on your tongue. In the few moments that Yoongi took his sips from your body, his slow propulsions forward into you had become more rough and insistent- as if he was trying to split you in two. Even as you felt your life essence leave your body, you were being filled time and time again by his cock at a deep and passionate rhythm.

At the first sign of getting lightheaded from blood loss, you came- hard.

Your juices squirted around him every time he reared himself back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you craned your neck back into your very-bloody pillow. With no where to go, unable to still him with his supernatural strength, you were only able scream out his name.

His speed increased through your orgasm and your sweet exclamations of pure bliss drove Yoongi into a lunatic, freeing himself of control and using his uncanny speed to fuck into you. Your extremely drenched pussy, still convulsing around him was battered and raw, yet he could not find it in himself to care as he desperately surged into you over and over again so that he could fill you with the cum of several centuries. Picturing the image of your cunt spewing his release from it had him closing his jaws and pulling on your wounds harder to get more blood from you.

He knew that he couldn’t drain you. Hearing the pulse of your heart weaken slightly was enough to make him detach his teeth and lick over your wound so that his shi could assist it in healing- it would be completely sealed and unblemished in the next few hours. Instead of worrying too much about your neck, he reared back to look down at you again while he grabbed onto your hips with fervor.

You saw the drops of blood running down from Yoongi’s mouth and chin drip onto your breasts and stomach, creating an erotic and utterly unwholesome image of carnage and horror on your body, but you were unable to help yourself in feeling unsettlingly drawn to the wicked image. With a new flash of desire exploding through your body and reawakening your lust, you reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling him back down to trap him in your embrace.

The oversensitivity of your last orgasm was enough to send you hurtling to the edge of another orgasm- You just needed his fangs in you one more time. Silently begging for it, you kept your grip on his nape and softly nudged him back in the direction of your neck.

Yoongi was close. You could tell. But even past his stupor, he spoke.

“Y/N. I can’t. I took too much.” He almost whined with need, struggling to form words past his fangs.

“Just-“ Your body jolted wildly as he desperately tried to cum. “Just do it!”

Yoongi was able to deny your command, which he figured was due to not being a specific one, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave it unanswered as his body built in preparation to release.

“I fucking can’t!” He was close to roaring at this point, gums aching to meet your flesh as he pressed his fangs into you and filled you with his essence. He wanted to so badly.

“Drink from me, dammit!” Your eyes were welling with tears of frustration, needing that small push from him to make you orgasm again- his dick hammering your cervix was too much to handle without that small bit of pain to ground you. And without hesitation nor the choice to deny you, he did.

Your orgasms were perfectly in sync as he placed his fangs back into your wounds, delicious blood spilling across his tongue once again. Liquid life. It was the perfect few words for how you tasted.

Your pussy ached with the force of how tight you squeezed around him and Yoongi groaned lowly against your neck as he pressed himself so tightly to you that you knew his hands would be leaving bruises on your hips and ass.

“Yoongi.” You sobbed as his cum filled you, pulsing spurt after warm spurt of the hot liquid onto your abused cervix. The thought of him taking your blood while he gave you his cum was too sinful for you to bear, an outburst of emotion causing you to chant his name over and over again. Never before in your life had you felt so complete and free.

You could feel your blood levels draining as you slowly came down from your climax, knowing that you would not be awake for much longer if he kept drinking.

“That’s enough.” You whispered tiredly, head becoming truly lightheaded. Yoongi, unable to rescind his teeth from your neck, kept drinking from you as the thirst and aggression of the first mating actuated his movements. “Yoongi.”

He tried to pull away- he really did- but the feeling of your blood coating his tastebuds was like finding a quarry in the middle of the Sahara Desert. He lacked the true thirst for humans for thousands of years- and now he was suffering the polydipsia for blood all over again.

“Yoongi, stop.” You commanded, testing your supposed ‘power.’

Yoongi ceased to drink from you yet his fangs were still embedded in your skin, vibrating with pleasure and need. As he stopped, he couldn’t help but whine and then growl savagely with want. The vibration of of his throaty sound in your flesh did things to your body. Unable to resist the temptation, your body clenched involuntarily around his softening cock.

Yoongi groaned again, retracting his fangs and face from your neck, and sat up once more to look at your body. With a slow hand, he stuck out his index and middle finger to smear the droplets of blood on your stomach in small circles aimlessly, picturing you as a canvas made just for him to ruin. “You’re quite the minx, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” You giggled deliriously, needing sleep as soon as possible.

“I mean,” Yoongi reached down to smear a droplet of blood across your hip before digging his thumb and fingers into the bone and the flesh of your ass harshly. “Your cunt is playing games with me right now.”

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side in mock confusion.

The vampire pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed almost disdainfully. You gasped as you felt his dick jerk within you, filling to stiffness once more and awakening a new cloud of lust despite the exhaustion you felt. “Well, if you want to play clueless, you can play clueless. We have eternity to teach you how to not play games with me, my mate.”

For eternity? You kind of liked the sound of that.

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

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captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

Text

Sick Fic I Didn't Bother To Name

Post canon, Tim comes over to look after Jon while Martin is at work.

cw dizziness, fever, nausea, fainting, mentions of vomit, food mention I guess. Let me know if I should add more warnings, this is just a fluffy little sick fic it might have some light angst I don't really remember.

The thought of moving makes Jon want to cry. All his muscles hurt. The worm scars aching like the day they were made. He’s just going to lie there here until someone makes him move.

Which will probably be soon, because he’s positive Martin has asked Tim to come over and …water him?

No, in all seriousness, he can’t exactly recall what Martin told him this morning as he was leaving for work. Something about not letting him go in to work, no working online, no checking his email, something something Tim? Not that Jon is feeling well enough to get his computer. Let alone let it assault his over-sensitive eyes with the harsh light of the screen. Which is unfortunate, because he thinks Martin probably left him a text about whatever he missed this morning.

He really hopes Martin thought to email his students. He’ll try to remember to ask Tim to check. If Tim’s even coming.

Christ, he’s not thinking straight.

He thinks Tim is coming, but if not, he’s got paracetamol, his inhaler, water, a thermos of tea, some saltines, a little cup of applesauce, excedrin, a thermometer (Jon isn’t sure why Martin left him that, there is no way he’s going to use that he just… really really hates thermometers, they mean he’s ill and that meant no school and staying quiet alone and miserable in his room so ill to open a book if he was ill enough for his grandmother to notice, it was less bad when he got to go to the school nurse. Actually got some medicine sometimes, but they often sent him home too, and then his grandmother was cross that she had to pick him up. In any case, no thermometer if he has a say in it.), bin, tissues (again Jon isn’t sure why, he’s not particularly congested, but Martin is Martin and is taking care of him even when he’s at work which makes Jon feel warm to his core, not from the fever that he knows he’s running.), lucozade, and his cane. Everything in easy reach.

He should probably take some medicine, but even reaching that far feels like too much. He’s just going to lay here, on top of his blanket pile until the fever chills take him back and he has to burrow under them again. It’s been the challenge all night to find a comfortable enough temperature to sleep. A challenge he’s mostly been losing. Leaving him feeling gritty and heavy and with a headache.

He just wants to sleep. Drifting in and out of it with frantic almost laziness. Rolling heat to biting cold. He wishes he could get his laptop, willing to bear the brightness if only to get a distraction from his discomfort.

He’s just managed a trip to and from the loo, when Tim arrives. Jon’s collapsed back on his blanket nest on the couch when Tim calls out before keys jangle in the lock. Jon’s too busy trying not to pass out to make out words. He’s impressed he managed the loo without a surprise nap. But, he can make no promises that he won’t pass out now.

He comes to with the inside of Tim’s wrist pressed to his forehead. With a quiet gasp. And then a frankly embarrassing sound as he fully absorbs how wonderfully cool Tim’s wrist is.

“Hey there, bud. Hate to ask, but did you just pass out from just lying there, because if so, I’m gonna have to be a little worried?”

Jon tries to focus on Tim. “No… no got back from the toilet and surprise nap.”

Tim looks relieved.

Jon is just relieved that he isn’t alone. Where he can too easily spiral. Being alone and miserable leaves it too easy to slip into memories. Especially with the impressive fever that he’s got to be running, if the agonizing walk from couch to loo and loo to couch is any indication. His muscles are shaking from fatigue from that pathetically short walk, and he’d had a death grip on his cane and the wall to keep upright. Christ, he’s really not well.

Tim makes a big show of wiping his brow and breathing a sigh of relief. “Hey think you can give me some of the couch?”

Jon would love to, he nods, but consciousness flutters when he tries to sit up. Losing his vision to the dizziness again. Tim catches him against his chest, and gently holds him steady as he slips onto the couch, positioning Jon as best he can. Jon snuggling against Tim’s hooded jumper.

He still can’t believe he’s allowed to do this. A few years ago, Tim didn’t want to be in the same room with him. But …here he is. Here when it counts. (Although Martin would probably tell him that it counted earlier too, that Tim should have been by his side, a thought that he’s been trying to work through in therapy, and Jon is working through in reverse in his own.) Jon could cry. Might cry. Fever’s high enough that he probably will.

“Got a bit worried when you didn’t answer any texts. Wanted to see if you needed anything.”

“‘m sorry.” Jon really hadn’t thought to check his phone, and even if he had, well not as if he’d been up to reading anything on a tiny bright screen. Even the thought of doing so makes his head hurt more than it already does.

“Don’t worry about it. Have you taken some meds recently?”

Jon has no idea what time it is, or when Martin left. Can’t even keep track of how light it is outside with the blinds drawn and his face shoved into Tim. “Had some before Martin left?”

Tim’s got an arm around Jon. He’s rubbing his back. And there is a tightness in Jon’s chest. It’s been years. It’s been years. It’s been years, and he still can’t believe that Tim is really back and here and cares. Tim could hold him every moment he can stand touch, and it wouldn’t be enough. Jon needs. He needs the attention and care, and just needs his friend in general. And if he didn’t feel so sick, he could happily live in this moment forever. If he wasn’t dizzy and feverish and dreadfully queasy.

Tim’s hand stills, and a shuddery breath escapes Jon with the absence.

Tim’s heart lurches. He goes back to rubbing Jon’s back. He’s pretty sure this is Jon crying and not Jon about to puke. Jon’s decent at letting him know these sorts of things, or at least is consistent in his physical cues. “Hey, bud. Just gonna get you some fever reducers, it’s about time, I think. Marto texted me when he was leaving. Sorry about leaving you alone for a bit. Had to finish up my shift and grab a shower and grab some soup making stuff and some DVDs, in case you wanna watch anything. But, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

Jon huffs a watery laugh. Or maybe it’s a sob. it’s damp, but that’s okay.

“You just gotta sit up a little. Wow, Marto really stocked up the coffee table for you, huh. He loves you a lot. Also, he worries.”

Tim tilts Jon slightly more upright, and wipes away the tears, before handing him some medicine and some lucozade. Martin said Jon had been sick earlier (probably more due to the POTS flaring up, Martin hoped, and Tim also hopes. Not that a POTS flare up is a good thing, but if he can keep Jon full of salt and keep his feet up, he shouldn’t have any trouble keeping fluids in him, which makes things easier), in any case, the electrolytes are probably a good idea.

“You thrown up recently?”

Signs ‘no.’ That’s good.

“Wanna try some crackers?”

Jon shrugs.

“If you’re up to it later, I can make us some soup, ‘kay?”

Jon nods, looking …faded. Probably best to get his legs up and him cozy.

“Mind if I get you in a more comfy position?”

Jon doesn’t answer, just blinks dizzily, so Tim carefully gets up, and props Jon’s feet up with the decorative pillows that he knows Jon thinks are stupid, and tucks a couple of the blankets around Jon. Not too many, not wanting Jon’s temperature to climb any higher, but he can’t just watch Jon shiver. Hurts too much to watch.

Reminds him of all the times he ignored him. All the times he hasn’t been there. And there’ve been many. He should have been there.

So he’ll risk a couple blankets, even though Jon is burning away. Hopefully the fever reducers do their job soon. He does, however get a damp flannel for Jon’s forehead while he’s up.

He thinks Jon might be unconscious again, but he won’t worry about that unless he doesn’t come around in a minute or so.

Jon’s awake again by the time Tim has himself settled back on the couch.

“How about some TV? You up for that?”

Jon just whines.

“We’ll start some, and if it makes it worse, we’ll turn it off, okay?”

Jon wiggles a little, getting comfortable. And Tim chuckles.

“Okay, bud. You get some rest, okay? I’ll make you some soup later, if you’re up for it. I got ingredients for your favorite. Or smoothies, if that sounds better.”

Jon makes a sound of complaint as Tim as started to talk over the intro music.

Tim chuckles. “Alright, alright. Just let me know if you get hungry. Martin will be home tonight, until then, you’re stuck with me.”

Jon falls asleep within an episode with Tim gently carding his fingers through his hair.

#the magnus archives #tma #fic #sickfic #hurt/ comfort #whump #jonathan sims #tim stoker #timothy stoker #my words #my writing #cw fever #cw nausea #cw fainting

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kumqu4t · 3 years

Text

birthday with the company headcanons!

☆ a birthday gift to two wonderful people, @trxblemaker and @rowandor whose birthdays are on the 13th and 14th respectively!

☆ (platonic!company/reader)

☆ takes place after BOTFA, everybody lived!!

☆ kind of angsty at the beginning but dON’T WORRY THERE IS MUCH COMFORT AND FLUFF TO MAKE UP FOR IT!!!!

☆ target audience- teen reader

☆ (y/bday)= your birthday

☆ (y/n/a)= your new age

you were slowly but surely getting settled into erebor, your new home

shortly after the battle, you found yourself adopted by EVERY MEMBER OF THE COMPANY

you now wore braids with handmade beads in your hair, one for each family

you lived in erebor, obviously

and all the other families, lived in rooms in the same hallway

you spent most of your time exploring

and the company weren’t the only ones you spent time with

dís had taken a liking to you quite fast, proving to be a much appreciated maternal figure in your life

tauriel was like a sister to you. someone you could prank kíli with, but also go to for advice and a listening ear

so basically you never had to worry about being lonely

things had been pretty quiet and uneventful for awhile

until, on one ordinary day, you made the mistake of bringing up your birthday

you were walking aimlessly around erebor, simply exploring and enjoying the view

when kíli bounded up to you, a smile lighting up his face

“company supper coming up! you will be in attendance, right (y/n)?”

“it’ll be great fun,” he continued. “we’re planning to head to the library after and tell stories while enjoying a few drinks.”

“no drinks for you though, little sister,” he added as an afterthought, ruffling your hair playfully

kíli now looked at you expectantly, waiting for your response

“oh that sounds great,” you answered after a pause. “what day is it planned for?”

“(y/bday) at 6:00!” kíli answered

you responded without thinking

“oh that’s my birthday! i’ll be turning (y/n/a). huh! with the quest and the battle and everything it must have slipped my mind! anyways, of course i’ll be coming, i can’t wait!”

you looked at kíli to see him frozen in place, a pained expression on his face

“kíli?”

you waved a hand in front of his face “earth to kíli?”

he jerked to life, flashing you a quick smile that looked more like a grimace

“terribly sorry (y/n), but i must be off! i think i heard uncle calling!”

you stared after him for a few more minutes, feeling confused

you definitely did not hear thorin calling

well that was weird

brushing it off, attributing it to kíli just being kíli, you went about the rest of your day as usual

oddly, you didn’t see much of the company that day, or in the rest of the days following

you didn’t see bilbo, dís, or tauriel either

and you usually spent time with at least one member a day

but now they were nowhere in sight

and if you did see them, they would make an excuse and quickly dash away

so by the end of the week you were feeling a little down

you didn’t know what you had done wrong

and you missed spending time with your family

you wondered if maybe dwarves didn’t celebrate birthdays? but even so, they had never avoided you like this before

some unfortunate thoughts came to you

‘maybe now that the quest is over and i can’t be of service in any way, they don’t care about me anymore? maybe i don’t fit in here in erebor?’

your sadness soon mingled with anger, and your anxiety remained

creating an uncomfortable knot in your stomach and a lump in your throat

what did you do to deserve this? they could at least tell you why

you had saved their sorry butts so many times

and when you saw them again, you planned to kick their sorry butts all the way to next tuesday for avoiding you

the day of the company supper (and your birthday) finally came

and despite your anger and confusion, you still decided to go

for multiple reasons

mostly because you wanted to confront them and ask why you had been ignored all week

and you also heard that bombur was making his famous apple tart with raspberry jam

evening came sooner than you realized

you saw that the clock read 5:45 and readied yourself as fast as possible

you quickly dressed yourself in your favorite outfit, pulled a cardigan over it, and ran a brush through your hair

you rushed down the long halls of erebor, keeping your pace quick

you finally turned the corner and came face to face with what had been dubbed as the “company room,” for all the time they spent in it

you felt your hand shake slightly as you grasped the cool metal handle

slowly, you opened the door, preparing to be met with the high, stone walls and rich velvet furniture

but you opened the door to find... nothing?

you squinted your eyes, trying to see into the pitch black room

“hello,” you called out. “thorin? fíli? kíli? is anyone here?”

all of a sudden, the candles and lanterns were lit, and people jumped out from behind furniture and under tables

“SURPRISE,” they yelled. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY (Y/N)!”

you didn’t say anything for a few seconds

you could only stare, dumbfounded, at the people in front of you

everyone was there. the whole company, including bilbo, dís, and tauriel

“w-what?” you tentatively asked. “what is going on?”

kíli piped up, a large smile on his face

“it’s your birthday party!! don’t you like it? we’ve spent all week planning it!”

you took quite a few seconds to look around the room

it was decorated with streamers made of beautiful fabric, and banners hung from the walls

a large pile of wrapped gifts lay in the corner

and in the center of the room was a huge table with a feast fit for a king

as the clocks on the wall continued to tick, you heard dís mutter “kíli if you got the date wrong i swear to mahal...”

you spoke up, “no, no. he’s right. it is my birthday. but... i don’t understand. you guys did all of this... for me?”

bilbo stepped forward, thumbing his suspenders, “why of course! it’s your birthday! we wouldn’t miss a chance to properly celebrate our girl’s birthday.”

“so you guys weren’t avoiding me all week because you think i don’t belong in erebor?” you asked

the room exploded with yells of anger, confusion, and outrage

“why in durin’s name would you think that?” thorin asked after the chaos died down, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“well you guys were avoiding me all week. i didn’t know what to think.”

dori hurried over to you, draping a blanket around your shoulders and steering you towards the couch.

“yes dear, come this way, and we will explain everything. don’t you worry, sweetling,” he soothed.

everyone gathered to find seats around you

kíli shifted uncomfortably on his feet and bit his lip. “i’m so sorry (y/n)! when i found out your birthday was coming up, i felt terrible that we didn’t know sooner, so i hurried to collect everyone and devise a plan.”

ori interjected, a worried frown on his face, “we were all so excited to plan your party, we must have forgotten to keep you distracted.”

“we meant no harm by it,” fíli added.

“aye,” said thorin. “and about that complete and utter nonsense you were spouting earlier: you belong in erebor just as much as any dwarf here. you are our family. and we wanted to celebrate you today.”

of course, you burst into tears

*cue panicked company*

“oh mahal, what did we do now?”

“i bet thorin said something wrong” “shut up dwalin”

“oh no lass, please don’t cry!”

through your sobs, you somehow found your way over to thorin, seeking cuddles

he scooped you up and sat you gently in his lap

you buried your face in his chest, clutching at his tunic with your hands, allowing his scent of smoke and pine trees to wash over you

his large hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he mumbled assurances

bilbo held and stroked your hand gently

and you felt others reaching out with their own soothing touches

you eventually found yourself at the center of a huge group hug, not that you minded at all

group hugs did seem to be inevitable in this family

through tears, you explained that you were relieved, and so very thankful for the party

you apologized for jumping to conclusions and overreacting, but everyone insisted you had nothing to apologize for

after you eventually calmed down enough, bofur spoke up

“well i think you’ve done enough cryin’ this evenin,’ now haven’t ye’ lass? it is your birthday after all. i say we start the party!”

everyone agreed

as you all found seats at the table, you allowed yourself a moment to admire the spread

bombur had truly outdone himself this time

the table was full of food of all sorts. salted pork, mince pies, all kinds of cheeses, potatoes, biscuits, sausages, meats, and stews.

oh and don’t forget the ale- and lots of it!

you sat and ate until your stomach could handle no more

all the while listening to and telling stories, and laughing as bilbo reprimanded the dwarves’ bad manners

then came dessert

the company insisted to do by “your people’s traditions” and sing you happy birthday.

they were completely off key and didn’t know the tune at all

but it was perfect. it was more than perfect.

you dug into a few small slices of your favorite flavor of cake

fili may or may not have smashed kili’s face into his cake, leading to a wrestling match that had to be broken up by dwalin

after cake, came presents

once you saw all of the boxes, you protested vehemently, insisting you didn’t need all of this

which led into many more speeches preaching that you deserve all of this and more

so with a light blush staining your cheeks, you opened the gifts one by one

they were perfect

- forged by thorin: a sword with various gems emblazoned on the hilt (“so you can properly threaten any suitors you find yourself approached by in the coming months”)

- from bilbo: a handmade handkerchief embroidered with your initials and your favorite flowers (“well this would have come in handy earlier, now wouldn’t it?”)

- from fíli: one of his lucky knives (“see here, you can strap it on your thigh for easy access”)

- from kíli: a poorly knitted bear with one eye sewed on haphazardly (he made it himself, and he tried his best) because you had mentioned missing your stuffed animals before

- from tauriel: miruvor that she acquired from rivendell (for emergency’s- just in case)

- from dís: a quilt with the lonely mountain embroidered on it (“to keep you warm and remind you of home”)

- from balin: a collection of classic dwarven stories in a thick, leather-bound book

- from dwalin: a fluffy fur coat and a pair of gloves (“a wee lass like you will freeze in these winters without proper protection”)

- from ori: a beautiful portrait of yourself

- from nori: hair pins that also function as lock picks (“s’no harm in being careful”)

- from dori: your favorite tea (“a warm cup of tea is both the perfect way to start the day and the perfect way to end the day”)

- from bifur: a beautiful bouquet of flowers, hand picked and arranged by him

- from bofur: an intricate wooden carving of your favorite animal

- from bombur: a bountiful basket of honey cakes, carefully wrapped for future snacking

- from oin: fancy haircare and skincare supplies

- and from gloin: a necklace with a beautiful stone pendant

it was entirely too much, but, as you have come to learn, your family doesn’t do simple

especially when it comes to you

you thanked everyone many times, not knowing how to fully express your gratitude

the night, as kili had promised, followed with many stories and much laughter

and lots of ale

you tried to sneak a sip of thorin’s

AS A JOKE

a joke that he did not find very amusing

you spent the rest of the evening listening to tales of old, your head drooping to rest on tauriel’s shoulder

you recall the night getting darker, the fire slowly burning out, and the laughter becoming quieter

the gentle pressure of a coat being placed on you

and strong arms wrapped around your small frame, pulling you to a warm chest

helping you easily drift off into a peaceful sleep

you woke up in the early morning next day, before the sun had even risen

apparently everyone had become so tired and it was so late that they decided to just sleep in the “company room” for the night

no one had any sense of personal space while they slept not that you minded

you felt arms wrapped around you and draped over your stomach, hands brushing yours, feet propped up on you, and more

all were asleep, save yourself

you sat up slowly, careful not to disturb the others, and took a look around

to soak it all in

to enjoy the moment

snoring dwarves

a hobbit, curled up in a cocoon of blankets

an elf, hugging a pillow close to her chest as she slept

and you, right in the middle of it all

you gave a small smile as you eased yourself back onto the couch

this was peace

this was contentment

this was home

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 31

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Warnings: Language, smoking weed, shitty parenting, mentions of death A/N: more of a filler but it helps establish stuff. *unbeta'd

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 31: Drowning on Dry Land

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

The week before her flight back, Matthew’s parents invited her over for dinner.

Waiting to greet them at the door was Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin. Matthew’s father, a Half-Maj, was a Potioneer while his mother, an Old-Maj, was a Court Scribe. They wore large, kind smiles as Mrs. Gaplin pulled her into a tight, crushing hug.

After pleasantries, she and Matthew kicked off their shoes while his parents ushered them to the dining room.

“How are you darling? '' Mrs. Gaplin asked, floating plates in their direction as everyone began helping themselves to food. “Matt wouldn’t stop talking about you since we knew y’were coming.”

She side-eyed Matthew who groaned loudly. “Did not!”

“Sure thing,” she added, which caused Matthew to slump in his chair as his parents laughed at him.

It was a nice, charming evening; filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations. His parents continued to gloat about Mathew’s achievements that he hadn’t told her. It caused him to almost get up and run out of the room from embarrassment before moving to boast about Y/N. Even Mr. Gaplin asked her regarding her OWLs which pleasantly surprised her.

A few times, Mr. Gaplin pressed a few cheeky kisses to his wife’s face as Matthew made loud retching noises.

“Disgusting!”

Mr. Gaplin laughed. “Ya sixteen. Suck it up.”

“But you’re still my baby!” Mrs. Gaplin cooed, getting up to collect the plates.

Matthew tried to look insulted but she could see the small smile that threatened his lips as jealousy nipped at her toes.

The next few days were spent staying at the Gaplin household. Matthew’s parents insisted constantly that she should stay over so they could utilize the little time they had left before leaving. At first, the idea made her feel intrusive. Although, her mother hadn’t returned to the brownstone house, preferring to sleep in the on-call rooms at the Brooklyn Memorial Hospital. It quickly got lonely and boring before Y/N finally agreed. Besides, Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin were only around for breakfast and dinner - working for the day but never failed to return; always wearing larger smiles than the previous night.

They made her feel welcomed and warm - even taking her and Matthew to the local pictures. They included her in everything, even their trivia and board games after dinner.

It was quite the change compared to her family life.

Then an identical routine ensued. She would wake up, get ready for the day; spend hours with Matthew; then twilight fell as they stayed awake into the early hours of the morning.

The day before she was due to leave, she and Matthew ran up to his room after dinner. He went to lean on top of the small coffee table, rolling up a joint as she collected her possessions scattered around his room; not wanting to leave it for the last minute.

“Fancy some grass?” He asked in a poor British accent.

“Nah,” she shook her head, “But thanks love.”

Mathew’s smile turned bashful as he stood, turning on the radio in the background. She moved to open his window which was just above the roof of his shed as she stepped out with steady feet. Perching herself down on the blankets and pillows they hauled outside the night prior, she stared at the glowing city splayed in front. From the window, The Velvet Underground flowed softly.

Matthew proceeded to hop out, sauntering over as he threw a flirtatious wink.

“Brough this,” he said, tossing the camera he’d taken from her bag. She caught it as he nestled beside her and lit the joint; placed in his mouth. Billows of smoke clouded around them while she snapped a few photos of the view.

“Ya sure you gotta leave?” Matthew whined, embers of the end of the joint sparking with another huff. “Maybe you can smuggle me. Shove me into that trunk.”

She pulled the camera away from her face, inhaling the earthy, pungent scent. Her head felt a bit lightheaded from it. “A hardcore criminal at sixteen?”

Matthew was mildly amused until a troublesome look passed through his features. “Um — name something ya miss most about home.”

Home. What a funny word — place — feeling. Home was supposed to be something that made your heart glow, feel warm and happy — by that definition, a year ago home would’ve been her little house back in Toronto with the beautiful maple trees swaying in the backyard. Or home would’ve been Ilvermorny and its tall ivory walls. But now, London, or maybe just Hogwarts, had become her home. The scrolls around the Herbology greenhouse, the library, sneaking around past curfew; the Black Lake, Hogsmeade — Lily, James, Marlene, Dorcas, Remus, Regulus…

Unsure of what to say, she opted for, “You?”

Matthew rolled his eyes, bringing the joint to his lips. “Real charmer.” Then, smoke surrounded them. “But really.”

“Why?”

“C’mon! I need an answer! — I don’t know… say somethin’ like… lobstah.”

She chuckled. “Lobster? Really?”

“Or coffee from ya regular cafe.”

Deliberating it for a second, lips tugged up. “Coffee Crisp.”

He snorted. “A candy bar? Really?”

“Or Ketchup chips. Haven’t seen them in London yet.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

And then the silence returns but it makes Matthew shuffle in his spot. He blurted out, “Go — more brit insight.”

Y/N felt a bit hazy from the secondhand smoke. “More? You’ll get bored.”

“I won’t,” Matthew replied quickly, sounding oddly sincere. “Please, just… go on. Tell me everything.”

“Um… a friend of mine says crikey a lot. I think it just means to be mildly surprised? — They don’t say bloody or blimey as much as you’d think… Oh! Tea — they really drink that much tea. Also —”

Continuing, Matthew shut off again, going completely silent — not once speaking up or adding funny commentary; only staring at her, simply watching.

“Okay,” she turned to take the joint from his hand, “You're freaking me out. Spill, what's up?”

“S’nuthing.”

Whack!

“Jeez! Would ya stop wiv that! Gonna kill me…”

“Spill.”

“Fine! It’s just that…'' Matthew shifted, obscuring his face. Maybe if she didn’t feel so fuzzy, or if there wasn’t the smoke coming from the blunt or her small headache forming, she would’ve picked up on all the little signs. “It’s just —” he sighed, “I wanna hear ya talk — commit it to memory.”

“Obsessed with me? Not new.”

But that seemed to trouble him more. “It’s just… I don’t know if or when I’ll hear it again…” He looks up to the city in front. “Ya my… best friend. Could never forget ‘bout ya, but s’hard — keepin’ in touch.”

She pats him, encouraging and smiling. Her voice was hopeful, so much so that it made Matthew’s lip quirk up. “We’ll find each other. Always.” She said simply. “You and me, we’re like… salt and pepper. Soap and water — Hansel and Gretel!”

“Fuckin’ Dr. Seuss,” he smiled, that worried look fading away.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

The warm summer breeze flowed around them, just as the sun peeked above the airport. Expanse, clear skies with blue mingled with deep purples and pinks shimmered against the metal from the building.

“Gonna miss ya,” Matthew muttered into the crown of her head. Her mother didn’t want him to come, but Y/N simply ignored that request as he came to send her off.

“Don’t get mushy on me now,” she joked but felt her throat become tight.

“Betta get goin’ — Doc’s lookin’ like she’s ‘bout to butcher me if ya don’t.”

She snickered, pushing Matthew’s shoulder as she picked up her bags, walking backwards while waving. “Write me!”

“Course I will! Until next time!”

“Till next time!”

Once the plane took off, awkwardness swelled among the two women. Not once had her mother said anything to her — not to apologize or see how she was doing — although they never really did talk much. Honestly, she half-expected her to leave her in New York with the Gaplins. Easy to dispose of her.

The next few days Y/N, poorly, attempted to fix her sleeping schedule. It was a miracle that she managed to get up before dinner as her head poked into the master bedroom.

She cleared her throat, feeling herself swaying in place. “Um — hi. I’m making dinner tonight.”

Her mother was dressed in a simple, yet sleek dress. She was bent over, putting on high heels as she looked up.

“The hospital is throwing a party for me — the surgery was a success.”

“That’s amazing! Er — will you be back for dinner though? It’s just that I leave soon and... two parties are better than one.”

She considered her for a long time, eyes mostly distracted by her hair slowly changing to a different colour.

“Sure. But I have to go now.”

“Right, sorry, have fun.”

Thudding down the stairs and the door clicking shut, she followed not too long after. Making her way to the kitchen, she picked up a dusty cooking book, blowing off the dust and cracked it open; flicking through the pages.

Deciding on the seemingly easy noodle dish, she rushed out of the house to the local grocery shop for ingredients. It would be the first time they would be spending any time together. It had to be perfect. But she overestimated that no matter how closely she stuck with the dishes’ instructions, the outcome was a disaster.

The noodles somehow were rock hard. The sauce she made looked grey and was chunky, similar to badly mixed concrete and it tasted horrid. At one point, even the stove exploded into flames as she had to grab her wand and use magic to extinguish the fire.

Potions... She could use a cauldron, use multiple ingredients, make some of the most complicated spells and even had tricks of her own to make the process easier but she couldn’t make a simple dish…

Her face screwed together as she glanced up to the clock; she was going to come home soon as the dinner she made was disastrous. She panicked, cleaning up everything in a rush and decided to order food.

Waiting patiently at the dinner table, her eyes fluttered up to the clock in anticipation. She felt giddy, a surge of excitement rattling throughout her bones at the prospect. Her mother wanted to spend time with her! And she should be home any minute.

But then a minute turned to two, then five, ten, twenty, thirty — then an hour ticked by.

And then another.

Y/N got up, her chair squeaking loudly. Losing all her appetite, she went to her room, sleeping in early.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 20th, 1976

Going through the potential NEWT courses she could take was the highlight of her day. The possibilities were endless.

Wanting to take Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfigurations and most of all, Potions, left her excited for the school year.

But the more she thought about the upcoming school year or potential courses, she was left to contemplate what ther5 future entailed.

Was she ready to give up magic? Something that fundamentally altered her life and moulded her into what she was? Magic was her essence, something she developed and nurtured — but to put her life in danger…

Rethinking that word again: home… Was London her home? Was she willing to leave, move again to be safer? But practicing magic around the world these days for New-Majs was dangerous. Or the potential danger she would put her mother in if she continued with it?

But magic… Maybe home wasn’t necessarily a place — but rather something she carried. In all sense, magic made her heart glow, feel warm, safe and happy — it felt like what home was supposed to feel like. And the idea of being ripped away from it, forcing herself to live a normal, Muggle life…

Magic was home.

So die, but have what she cared and loved most was by her side or live a dull life without magic — ensuring her life would be miserable.

There was a clicking of shoes in the hallway that snapped her out of her thoughts. Her mother came walking by.

Lips smushed shut into a tight line, still annoyed from the other night but was determined to spend some time with one another.

“I was planning to go to Diagon Alley for the first time — to get my textbooks... '' She stood awkwardly. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I can’t,” she replied, so quickly that it had Y/N almost scoff in disbelief. “Work. But have fun.”

She sighed but still waved her off and said a small, ‘I love you, stay safe.’ Her mother only gave her a look, something unreadable and left without a word. With a heavy heart, she grabbed her purse filled with gold and left for Diagon Alley.

Passing through the Leaky Cauldron was an adventure in itself. The shabby, tiny pub was jammed with wizards and witches zipping by.

Diagon Alley was bustling with so much magic she could feel it pumping through her blood. Students were hypnotized by the shiny new Firebolt on display; others were giggling, running around with shopping bags while older witches and wizards took a scroll. Her head turned in every direction; walking into the Apothecary, a potions ingredients and book shop.

Emmeline was there. She gave a tight-lipped smile which she returned.

Emmeline by every definition was nice, extremely kind and neither girl ever had a problem with the other. James was the problem and Y/N would gladly stay out of their feud.

Passing clamouring students, she managed to get all her supplies but stopped in front of the potion ingredients. She took a few minutes, flicking through the Advance Potions textbook and grabbed everything listed needed for most of the potions.

She made her way around Diagon Alley, going through many shops. The shelves were stacked high to the ceiling with books and materials. She spent more time than necessary there but it was beautiful.

As she was paying for her Herbology textbook, a large boom! rumbled the ground. Y/N took her bags, ready to sprint to the Leaky Cauldron but the shouts caught everyone’s attention.

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” A crowd of witches and wizards shouted. Their wands were transformed into microphones as a few shot fireballs up in the air.

“What’s happening?” A woman asked an old wizard. He only shook his head, grabbing a copy of the Daily Prophet, handing it to the witch.

On the front page, there were moving photos of people protesting, similar to the wizards and witches currently shouting.

‘Protests Break out in Light of Muggleborns and Halfbloods Burned Alive

Voldemort and his followers have been attacking Muggleborn and ‘blood traitor' families with the usage of fire. By burning them alive, or their houses. They bonded the witch or wizard with magic, making it impossible to apparate or leave their houses. Their broken wands were found at the scene.

Since then, protests all around Britain and Scotland have broken out. The Ministry of Magic —’

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” The crowd chanted.

Rage filled every inch of her body as she stomped out of Diagon Alley.

If she wanted to stay in the magical world, she had to be the greatest at whatever she did, because if she wasn’t, someone of her status was never going to get anywhere.

Magic was home, and she wasn’t going to let them take it from her. She didn’t want to surrender. They weren’t going to take that away from her.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Immediately after Diagonal Alley, she began working; taking in her thoughts from earlier to heart.

Making sure to cover any windows from prying eyes, Y/N fiddle with first with new charms. Still unassured by her abilities in Charms, she considered taking another class before realizing all the different routes it led to. To become a Healer, Auror or Potioneer, she needed Charms.

Multiple charms backfired, causing them to ricochet off the walls, leaving a dent or chipping the wallpaper.

After trying out more than half the Charms in the book, there was one spell in particular that she attempted to cast many times, but without fail, was never able to properly cast it. Frustrated, her hand made a sharp flick and the spell spurted out instantly.

She tried again with the same hand gesture. To her astonishment, the charm produced easily. Quickly, she jotted down the note in her book.

Next, she glossed over her Transfigurations and Defense Against the Dark Arts book until her eyes caught onto the word: werewolf.

She learned briefly about werewolves, but that was in third year. And now that she knew a werewolf, it would be good to rehash it.

A werewolf, also known as a Lycanthrope, is a non-magical or magical being who transforms under the rising of the full moon. However, non-magical beings have a greater risk of dying rather than turning.

As the name suggests, werewolves are closely related to the non-magical animal, wolves. However, they have distinct characteristics that make them easily identifiable from wolves.

She flipped the page.

Wolfsbane flowers are poisonous to the non-magical world but it has been proven to have no effects on werewolves like they do on wolves. Werewolves are immune from the poison they emit and there are reports that Wolfsbane flowers help alleviate symptoms.

She underlined that section.

It’s a uniquely magical illness known to spread by saliva and blood. Werewolves are dangerous, blood-thirsty beasts — she flipped the page.

They cannot choose to transform and will no longer retain their human mind. Given the opportunity, they would slaughter their loved ones — flipped the page.

A mixture of powdered silver and dittany applied to bites help seal bite wounds. It’s also commonly put in liquid and digested in anticipation of full moons to help with the symptoms of transforming.

Y/N’s face scrunched as she continued to read.

There is no known cure Potion used to help treat lycanthropy.

She felt oddly intrusive knowing parts about Remus’ condition. But then questions arose. How were there no Potions of any kind there to help werewolves during their transformation?

Pushing the thought away, she turned to the cauldron, picking a potion to brew. They all were fairly easy, some she’d even done before just by playing around. But one potion that grabbed her attention was Draught of Living Death. Even at Ilvermorny, that potion was notoriously difficult.

Starting up the cauldron, she grabbed hold of the sopophorous bean. However, it kept jumping when she tried to cut it. She quickly resorted to another method, running down to her kitchen and grabbing the handheld garlic press, placing the bean inside, squishing it down as so much juice spurted out, even going all over her clothing.

The potion turned into the light lilac like suggested. But then as she stirred, her potion quickly became ruined as she restarted immediately.

Hours ticked by; several items in her room were Transfigured into cauldrons, as she poured the existing solution into the nine other cauldrons as she conducted her experiment.

Stirring counterclockwise was a sham, so she stirred clockwise. Nothing, the potion went bad. The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise and then clockwise, alternating between every stir. It showed promising progress before it turned a bright red after the seventh stir, bubbling over.

The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise, then clockwise after the seventh stir as the potion turned a pink pale. That’s what the book said would happen. She quickly cleared the rest of the cauldrons, pouring in the pink liquid just in case.

She continued to stir until it became a clear liquid. Surely, that was good enough but she could never be sure. After all, she didn’t know if this was what it was supposed to look like.

Deeply immersed, she hadn’t realized how late it got.

She laid on her bed, her light on as she read the scribbles on the margins of the books she'd penned. The textbook was outdated and everything she’s written down, there were easier ways to perform spells, create Potions and more. The other books must’ve been outdated too.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 22nd, 1976

Today, her attention was drawn to her Herbology textbook as she flipped right to the medicine section. Y/N had sneakily stolen a few of her mother’s medical journals as she scribbled down notes.

She flicked through the diagrams. Wizards and No-Majs were different when it came to their bodies and sickness, she knew that, but their anatomy was still the same.

An opera played in the background as she sat in front of the television. It filled the silence as her mother came from behind her, creeping her way closer to the door.

Y/N called out from where she sat. “Care to join me?”

“Can't, work.” She grunted out.

She placed the pen down, full attention drawn to her. “I only have a few days until school starts… you can’t spend some time?”

Her mom wasn’t looking at her, ostensibly staring at the floor, anywhere other than her face.

“It’s not that interesting, but um - I need help with medical terms and illnesses. You’re the best at that!”

“I can’t,” she said roughly. “Can't you see? You have to stop bothering me when I’m busy.” And then she left again, leaving her alone. Y/N would’ve been more bothered had she not been so focused on her studies.

There was a pattern.

In the Herbology textbook, in the werewolf section, there were a few ingredients used to help alleviate symptoms of Lycanthropy.

Dittany, Powered silver, Powdered Moonstone, Aconite…

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 26th, 1976

“Do you want to —” “Work.”

“But you always have work… can’t you take some time off?”

“You know it’s important to me. Why do you keep trying to limit that?”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 29th, 1976

She was partially through her Potions and Charms textbook. It was all she could fixate on.

Deciding to take a break, Y/N went to stretch, getting up to talk to her mom who again, was getting ready to leave. She opened the honey-coloured wood draw close to the door. She pulled out a set of keys, fixing her appearance in a nearby mirror.

She had already opened the door.

“Hey mom, I was thinking of getting lunch… Will you be back soon?”

But, there was faint muffling outside the door.

“Ready for our date?”

Y/N, desperate, seized hold of her wrist, pleading. “Please, I leave in a day.”

“I'll make it up to you,” mom replied, “I promise.” And then, the door clicked shut.

Again.

She stared at the door, trying to regulate what she was thinking.

What made them worthy of her time when their’s were limited.

Robotically, Y/N turned to walk to her room, her hip bumped into the drawer which hadn’t been fully closed. Her eyes flew to it, about to push it in as she caught a flash of white.

Yanking it open, she swore her heart could’ve shattered. White envelopes filled the draw; her familiar handwriting scribbled on top of each letter. She picked one up, twisting it over to the flap.

It was unopened.

She picked up another. Unopened.

Then another. Unopened.

Unopened.

All of them were unopened, sealed. Hardly tampered with and there was hardly a wrinkle.

Was there something wrong with her? Something so disgraceful that made her so disgusting that people kept forgetting - pushing her away? Like an insidious disease.

Was she truly that unloveable? That much of a nuisance? What made someone else so much more important than her?

It was too much to process but if she had to describe the feeling, it was like drowning on dry land.

Whatever home was, it shouldn’t feel like this: cold, lonely, sad.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Slang dictionary (+ a bit of history bc i didn’t realize how many ppl didn’t actually understand what I was talking about in other chaps):

Coffee Crisp = a very popular chocolate bar sold in Canada. It was a variation of a treat made by a company from the UK. It was briefly introduced to the UK in the 60s but was pulled back because people thought it was too similar to Kit Kat. From what I know, Coffee Crisp is not commonly found in England (I've never seen it in stores) but it’s sold in Scotland.

Candy bar = US term for chocolate bar / chocolate

Grass = during the 60s - 70s, the term 'grass' was very popular slang for weed in New York bc it featured in vogue.

And yes, the British do drink that much tea.

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