#slight angst
Text
A Dance in Death
Title: A Dance in Death
Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader
Word Count: ~3,927
In which Alastor takes the reader out to Mimzy’s club. Things go sideways much too soon, but the Radio Demon is quick to make amends.
A/N: This is a part 2 of sorts to my previous Alastor x reader fic, Doubt, but it can also be read as its own individual fic! Hope you enjoy :)
Mimzy’s speakeasy was most known for three things.
One, it was known for its captivating acts and performances. Demons and sinners from all around Pentagram City had heard stories and whispers about what could be experienced there. Two, it was known for being one of the most lively and entertaining places on this side of Hell. And three, it was known for being on the wrong side of town, making it the perfect place for no-good demons to spend their time and even do discrete business, so long as they paid their dues to Mimzy, of course.
That last point probably should have kept you away from this place. But you couldn’t help but feel safe knowing that you had come on the arm of the Radio Demon himself. After all, who would dare approach you with Alastor around?
Nobody, as it turned out. You and Alastor had been sitting in a corner booth for almost an hour now, and nobody had dared to come within ten feet of you, save for one unfortunate server who had graciously provided you both with your drinks before scurrying off and hiding, not coming back even once.
And although you enjoyed any time that you got to spend alone with Alastor, you couldn’t help but notice that the two of you were both on edge that night.
You, on one hand, simply wanted to dance. It wasn’t often that you were able to go to bars or speakeasies, and you would have loved nothing more than to lead the demon across from you on to the dancefloor. But you knew better than that. Alastor’s interest in you came with limits that you hadn’t yet discovered, but you’d be double-damned if you were going to find them out tonight.
Although you had to admit, as you gazed out longingly at the dancing demons on the floor, that you wouldn’t mind at least trying to share a drink and a conversation with your partner. But that wouldn’t happen until Mimzy finally decided to saunter over to your table.
Which led you to the reason for Alastor’s impatience.
The whole reason that he had invited you out tonight was because Mimzy had requested an audience with him at her place of business. To discuss what, you weren’t sure, but you knew that the Radio Demon hated to be kept waiting.
His impatience was starting to become evident, though it was likely that nobody around you noticed anything amiss. You, however, had become well versed in reading Alastor’s silent cues.
He had yet to touch his drink, though his clawed hand was firmly wrapped around the glass. He was surveying the building with apparent disinterest, but you could see the way that his sharp gaze roamed over each and every other demon and sinner present. You could see tension in the corners of his ever present smile, even though his eyes were hooded in an expression of mild boredom.
As you downed the last drops of your drink, you risked a glance over to Alastor once again. You had wanted to strike up a conversation since you had stepped foot through the door, but hadn’t wanted to distract him from his thoughts. But when his grip around the glass tightened once again, your internal war finally ended. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to have him suddenly lose his composure and bring the whole place to the ground.
You cleared your throat lightly as you placed your glass back down on the table. You received Alastor’s attention immediately, his eyes darting over to yours. “Yes, my dear?”
You smiled back at him. “Mimzy has a lot of nerve hyping this place up when it has such terrible customer service, doesn’t she?”
With no small amount of satisfaction, you noticed Alastor’s smile ease into something that almost resembled kind amusement. “Indeed,” Alastor hummed. “Though I must say, her choice in song is quite enjoyable.”
You shrugged, looking back at the dance floor. “It’s fine to dance to, I suppose. Not so much fun when you’re stuck sitting and waiting for someone to show up.”
There was no response. You returned your gaze to Alastor to see him looking at you almost curiously. “I wasn’t aware that you were one for dancing, my dear.”
A laugh bubbled up and pushed its way through your lips before you could stop it. You pressed your fingers to your lips to try and conceal it as Alastor tilted his head at you in confused interest.
At the sound of your laughter, his shadow suddenly perked up, quickly making its way over and sitting beside you.
When your giggle had finally subsided, you opened your mouth to respond to Alastor’s comment. It wasn’t completely his fault that he knew so little about your past life, after all, but you hadn’t expected that he, of all people, would make such blatant assumptions.
Before you could get a word out, though, the shadow placed a clawed hand under your chin, tilting your head to face it. Its fingers wandered until they reached the base of your throat before gently clawing their way back up, almost as if trying to coax another laugh out of you through touch alone.
It was so much more intimate than you had thought Alastor was capable of.
But then Alastor waved a hand in the air, summoning his shadow back to his side. It obeyed almost immediately, caressing your throat once more before melting back into the floor and returning to its rightful place.
You cleared your throat again, this time in an attempt to fight the red spots on your cheeks. Not that their presence had escaped Alastor’s notice. His smile had widened dramatically, though thankfully, he chose not to comment on the interaction, instead waiting for a response to his earlier comment.
“I do dance,” you finally replied, looking back up at the Overlord. “I used to dance plenty before…well, you know,” you said with a small grin. “I died.”
Alastor waved away your comment with a flourish. “Ah, yes, I do see how such a thing could impede on your abilities for a moment. Though, if I’m not mistaken, you now have two perfectly functioning legs.”
“But I haven’t been to a club since before I died. And there’s not much opportunity to show off my moves at the hotel,” you replied with a shrug. You tilted your head at the demon. “And you? Do you dance?”
The Overlord smiled wistfully. “Oh yes, I was quite known for my dancing abilities back in the land of the living.”
“I thought you were known for being a mass murdering radio host.”
Alastor shrugged, giving you a devious grin. “I’ve always been multitalented, my dear.”
You laughed again, this time trying to ignore the eager look you received from both Alastor and his shadow.
“You know,” you said slyly once you had calmed yourself, looking down at your empty glass. “I wouldn’t mind brushing up on my skills tonight after your meeting.” You looked up innocently, meeting Alastor’s eyes. “If you haven’t lost your impeccable skills, that is.”
The demon’s eyes flashed. “Careful, mon chere. I-”
“Alastor! How’re you doing, doll?”
You whipped your head around at the sound of the new voice. You stared as a short, blonde woman made her way across the floor, arms raised in welcome and a broad smile on her face.
Alastor, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all bothered as he greeted the woman. “Mimzy, dear,” he drawled, turning away from you. His smile stretched unnaturally. “You are extraordinarily late.”
The woman- Mimzy- waved her hand in indifference. “I’m busy running a business, Al, you know how it is. Can’t eva get anyone to do what you want without a bit of prodding.”
Her gaze slid over to you, eyes widening as her smile grew. “Say, Alastor, did you bring me a new toy?” Her eyes roamed over you slowly. “She’s a little dull, but I can spruce her right up.”
You suddenly felt very exposed.
You recoiled slightly, attempting to keep your movements unnoticeable as you pressed yourself further into the booth to get away from the Mimzy’s prying eyes.
You tried not to notice the way that other demons and sinners had begun to glance over at the sudden appearance of the bar’s owner. They aren’t looking at you, you told yourself. But you couldn’t help but take in Mimzy’s confident appearance and attitude, coupled with Alastor’s calm poise. You could see how the Mimzy could have mistaken you for one of Alastor’s wayward souls.
Almost as if it could sense your discomfort, Alastor’s shadow suddenly reared up and placed itself directly in front of you, blocking you from Mimzy’s line of sight.
“Unfortunately, Mimzy dear,” Alastor said from opposite you, though he avoided looking in your direction. “Charlie has grown quite attached to her little friend, and I doubt she would be thrilled to discover that I had allowed her to become a part of your…”
“Productions,” you piped up. Alastor’s shadow looked back at you in delight before shifting through the air to sit beside you once again.
“Precisely,” Alastor said.
Mimzy only shrugged, giving you a wink. “Well, I’m here if you change your mind, hun.”
She turned back to Alastor. “Let’s you and me talk for a bit, huh? I know this sorta thing ain’t really your cup of tea. I’ve got a room in the back that we can use. Your little doll will be alright on her own for a while, won’t she?”
At her words, Alastor finally turned to face you once again, his eyes roaming over your face for only a moment before he stood. “Of course. I never would have brought her otherwise.”
With that, he made to follow Mimzy without so much as a glance back in your direction. A move that he had made on purpose, you were sure. After all, it simply wouldn’t do to have others believe that the Radio Demon actually cared for someone.
Even so, you couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment as the two sinners walked away. From beside you, in the dim light that the club so generously provided, Alastor’s shadow placed its hand on yours comfortingly. You turned to face it with a smile. “At least I still have you.”
The shadow grinned, using its other hand to gently cradle your cheek, pulling you closer until your foreheads met. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling as your heart grew light. The shadow might not have been Alastor himself, but you had learned enough to know that it was heavily influenced by Alastor’s own thoughts, feelings, and commands. This was as close to affectionate that he would ever be with you.
Suddenly, the shadow’s touch left you.
You opened your eyes to see that it was nowhere to be seen.
“My, my,” a voice said from behind you. You jerked forward in surprise, spinning around to see a tall, winged imp casually leaning against the booth. He definitely hadn’t been in the building a few minutes ago, you noted.
The imp leaned forward. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?”
You flushed, glancing around to see if you could catch a glimpse of Alastor’s shadow. But it was as if it had never been beside you in the first place. Which would explain why the imp had decided to approach you at all. Nobody would have dared spoken to you if they knew that you were here with an Overlord.
You opened your mouth to tell him as much before you caught yourself, clamping your mouth shut. No matter how well Alastor’s conversation went with Mimzy, it was likely that he never would have danced with you anyway. There were too many eyes and ears here for him to let his guard down.
“You here alone?” the imp asked, trying his luck once more.
You fixed a smile on your face. If this was your only chance to dance, you were sure as Hell going to take it.
You stood, extending your hand in greeting. “Would you like to dance?”
The imp’s flirtatious smile changed to one of intrigue. “Straight to the point. I like it.”
You wiggled your fingers. “Are we going to dance, or what?”
The imp grinned, taking your hand and leading you on to the dance floor.
Sure, it wasn’t exactly what you were hoping for when you and Alastor had come to Mimzy’s club, but you figured that it would at least be a decent substitute for something that you would never be able to have.
You felt your smile slipping as the pair of you began to move to the music.
You hated moments like these, when you realized that no matter what you did or how you felt, you would never be able to show your feelings for Alastor in public. It wasn’t just the fact that he disliked physical touch, which you had never faulted him for. It was the fact that as one of Hell’s most powerful Overlords, he felt the overwhelming need to keep up an appearance. One that did not, unfortunately, include you.
A gentle touch snapped you back to reality. “You alright?” the imp asked.
No, you weren’t. But you weren’t going to let that stop you from dancing.
You nodded, taking the imp’s hand in yours as you began to move to the music once again. “I’m fine.” You smirked. “Now, show me what you’ve got.”
~~~
If you were to later ask anyone at Mimzy’s speakeasy what had happened that night, you would probably receive a whole mix of stories.
Some would say that the Radio Demon had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his antlers growing and his bones cracking as he laid waste to the bar, presumably for fun or out of an unjust anger.
Others would say that he had come to seek some sort of revenge on a winged imp that had been spotted dancing before he suddenly disappeared, not to be seen again.
One specific witness, who shall remain nameless, would say that she had been speaking to an old friend about a business opportunity that he had foolishly taken no interest in. As she was speaking, a shadow had entered the room, whispering in its owner's ear. Her old friend had walked away from her, re-entering her bar, where he was met with the view of an imp dancing with the very woman that he had brought here in the first place.
The witness hadn’t even had time to blink before her friend had taken on his true demon form, batting people aside as if they were only flies before promptly picking up the imp dancing with the woman and melting into the shadows with him.
When her friend returned, he refused to say what he had done with the poor imp, though the witness had no trouble making a few assumptions. He had walked over to the women, gently taken her hand, and gave the witness a clipped farewell before vanishing with the women into the shadows.
It was a brutal display, even for the Radio Demon. If the witness had to guess, she would assume that perhaps the woman had something to do with the whole debacle.
Not that she would ever say so to anyone else, of course. She knew better.
You, however, had no trouble saying straight to Alastor’s face what you believed had happened.
“We were dancing, Al. It was harmless. If I’d needed your help, you would have known.”
“You would never have summoned me if he was threatening you, my dear.”
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. The two of you had been going back and forth like this ever since he had so graciously brought you back to the hotel from Mimzy’s bar.
You lifted your head and took a breath before continuing. “If he was threatening me, we probably wouldn’t have been just dancing.”
Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously, his shadow rearing up and scowling in disgust.
You whirled around and pointed at the shadow. “And you. You went and told him that something bad was happening, didn’t you? You are a liar and a rat, my friend.”
At your words, the shadow suddenly shrank down in size and hid behind its owner, almost as if trying to avoid your accusatory glare.
Alastor, on the other hand, didn’t break eye contact. “He only meant to protect you, my dear, the way he was instructed to.”
“What did you think I would need protecting from, exactly? I can’t exactly die again, can I?”
“There are things far worse than a second death, my dear,” Alastor said with false sweetness.
He was right, you knew. You had almost been subjected to such a thing after your death, when you had sold your soul to the Vees. You still weren’t sure exactly how it had happened, but Alastor himself had found out about you and somehow saved you from a life of imprisonment and torture.
Not everyone was as lucky as you were.
But that wasn’t why you were upset.
As soon as Alastor had saved you from the Vees, you had been determined to help him even a fraction of the way that he had helped you. You owed him so much more than that, you knew, but it was the only thing that you could give. And so, from that moment forward, you had tried your very best to become a solid and stable presence for Alastor, unmoving in your trust in him and, hopefully, eventually something like a friend.
But tonight, you had done the exact opposite. To see the Radio Demon defend you was to know that he felt things like affection, or even something more than indifference. That wouldn’t do for his reputation at all, you knew, and you hated yourself for being the cause of it.
You sighed in defeat, crossing your arms over your chest in defense. “I know that,” you said, holding your position and glaring daggers at the Overlord. “But I also know that you risked a lot today by protecting me. I’m not worth losing your power over-”
You gasped as Alastor appeared directly in front of you, glaring intensely. He didn’t lift a finger, but you swore you could feel the heat of his gaze.
“I do hope you haven’t finally started to doubt me, my dear.”
“Never,” you promised, searching his gaze.
The Overlord stepped back, his stretched out smile immediately concealing his true feelings. “Wonderful,” he said. “Then we both understand that my power and status will forever remain.”
You nodded once before finally breaking eye contact, choosing to look down at the floor.
You could feel the anger seeping out of you slowly, replaced by embarrassment. Of course Alastor would never give up his power for you. Even if someone had truly seen the incident, it was unlikely that anyone would ever be able to use it to their advantage. You were talking about the Radio Demon himself, after all.
“You’re right,” you muttered, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “I made a foolish assumption.” You smiled to yourself. “I seem to be full of those today. I’m sorry.”
You were met with silence.
But before you could look up, you suddenly felt the cool touch of a shadow. It rested its hands against your cheeks, tilting your head up to make eye contact. It moved its thumbs in slow circles, leaning down until your foreheads were touching. It didn’t move any closer than that, but you knew that this was more than anyone else had ever received.
It was lovely.
But oh, how you wished it were really him.
The shadow stepped back, returning to its place beside its owner.
Alastor himself acted as though he hadn’t noticed the interaction at all, instead looking around your room as if seeing it for the first time.
“I do plan to maintain my powers, my dear,” Alastor repeated.
Before you could even open your mouth to reply, he pushed forward. “Although,” he said, almost thoughtfully. “I certainly wouldn’t mind losing a few souls to keep what is most certainly mine.”
He looked towards you then, his gaze hard, as if daring you to argue.
And you should have. You should have told him that you weren’t worth losing souls for. You should have told him that you only wanted to help him, never hinder him.
You should have done lots of things.
What you did do, however, was smile and duck your head to hide your rising blush.
You looked back up and extended your hand wordlessly.
Alastor looked down at it before glancing back up at you, his eyebrow raised in a silent question as his shadow looked on eagerly from behind him.
Your smile only widened. “I believe, good sir, that you owe me a dance.”
The shadow nearly leapt with excitement, rushing forward and taking your hand.
You laughed at its enthusiasm before Alastor stepped forward and waved his hand, whisking the shadow away and taking its place.
He placed his hand under yours, bringing your hand up to place a soft kiss on the back of your knuckles before releasing you and straightening. Slowly, he brought his claws to the base of your throat before gently dragging them back up until he reached your chin. He tilted your face up further to meet his gaze before dropping his hand down to yours once more.
With his other hand, he waved his staff, summoning a slow dance tune that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.
You tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks and looked up curiously. “Didn’t you used to dance to songs that were a bit more lively?”
Alastor smiled gently down at you before summoning his shadow and surrendering his staff to it. “I did indeed, mon chere. But we aren’t exactly alive now, are we?”
You smiled back in agreement. “No, I suppose we’re not.”
You placed your hand on his shoulder as he placed his hand on your waist. He lowered his head down until your foreheads were touching and began swaying, taking you with him on his slow trek around your bedroom floor.
You couldn’t have asked for anything more.
~~~
If you asked anyone at the hotel what had happened in your room that night, you would receive a few different stories.
Angel Dust would have told you that the Radio Demon had suckered a poor woman into going out with him that night, and you were most likely getting it on.
Charlie would have told you that she hadn’t seen either Alastor or the hotel’s newest resident all evening, though she doubted that the two of you had gone off somewhere together. Right?
Husk would have told you that he felt sorry for the woman who had gotten caught in the Radio Demon’s line of sight. You were such a sweet thing, and you deserved so much better.
You would have simply smiled and shrugged, giving nothing away.
Nobody would have dared ask the Radio Demon, of course.
But if anyone had bothered to ask the shadows, they would have received a rather lovely story about two sinners who had found their peace, only for a moment, dancing in each other’s arms that night.
An Overlord and a sinner.
A woman and a man.
Two damned souls, finding home at last.
A/N 2: I didn’t get to proofread, but I hope you guys still enjoyed it! If you read the first fic (or even if you haven’t), I’m thinking of making another part where it’s platonic Angel Dust x reader and he finally gets to give her a makeover. Let me know if you want to be tagged!
Also, I want to write more Alastor x reader (maybe a continuation of sorts, maybe not) so let me know if you guys want to be tagged in those!
Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx-blog @maybememoriesx
#incorrect#incorrect quotes#fanfic#fanfiction#my fanfiction#hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#angel dust#hazbin husk#husker#alastor#the radio demon#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor x y/n#radio demon x reader#radio demon x you#the radio demon x reader#fluff#slight angst#x reader#angst#happy ending#angst with a happy ending#comfort#little things#alastor x female reader
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Starving.
Thank you so much to everyone that was so nice to like and reblog my previous post <3 I really appreciate it and it gave me inspiration to write more! Fair warning that I wrote this while being a little tipsy so some typos may have occured.
Bucky Barnes x reader
Bucky completely forgot what it was like to be touched in a way that wasn't punishing. Well, until he met you.
.
.
.
Bucky Barnes was a conundrum. He was strong, stoic and had a head through the wall attitude. On the inside though…he was like a frail house of cards on a windy day. It was about a fifty-fifty chance if he turned cold or broke down. Well, actually, when he was out and about he would derealize and turn passive a hundred percent of the time. With you on the other hand, in the confinement of your own home, this massive, build man would turn into a weeping little boy. At first he didn’t know what to do with himself when his walls broke down in front of you. It was a feeling he wasn’t familiar with and the vulnerability made him feel small and weak, something he experienced regularly while he was still with hydra, something that he wasn’t allowed to show back then.
The same night he broke down in front of you for the first time you had your arms wrapped around him before his tears could even start to fall. Bucky’s mind went haywire the second your body touched his.
It was like he couldn’t comprehend how a touch could be this soft and warm, so void of anger or malicious intent.
It felt like it made him almost feel worse but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to rip himself away from you.
And then he got hooked.
He was always flirty with you and heavy on the PDA, constantly having his hand on your waist or leg or hell, even on your ass while his face was buried in your hair. He could touch you easily, shower you in physical affection in front of anyone who was unfortunate enough to hang out with you two at the same time.
When you touched him, you had to be alone because that was the time his guard went down. Only you were allowed to hear him sniffle and whimper and see him curl into a ball on your bed while he let you run your fingers through his hair. Bucky never talked about why he cried so you could only speculate if someone said something triggering or if last night’s nightmares tortured him throughout the day but you didn’t ask him about it. All you knew was that he needed your touch and you were not only happy to give him that, you took this job very seriously.
You’d tenderly catch his tear drops with your thumb while he leaned into your touch like it was his oxygen and held him in your arms when he basically folded himself in half to fit into them. But it wasn’t only when he was sad or overwhelmed that he needed your touch, actually it was allowed any time of the day as long as you two were alone. He appreciated every small brush of your hand when you gestured too much with your hands or tried to push past him in the narrow hallway and almost every time a small sound would escape him. He was just…addicted as he’d call it. Addicted to your soft hands that fit the equally soft touch.
He'd say he’s addicted while you knew the truth. The poor man was touch starved and hell, if you weren’t gonna be the one who’d give him what he so terribly needed.
#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel cinematic universe#marvel mcu#marvel#fluff#slight angst#bucky barnes
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Training Techniques
Winter Soldier x Reader
He is not allowed to move an inch—he can only watch you pleasure yourself—but why is there a ring on your finger?
Warnings - smut, light angst, mastrubation(f), rough sex, choking, breeding kink
Words - 2600
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You have absolutely no pleasure in the work in which you sometimes so madly indulge—training the assets with delicacy of words with which their handlers don’t approve of—Soldat is your favorite, with his expression of endless and unconditional gratitude and a silent promise of complicity unto death—he may not remember your face, but he always remembers your voice, its' gentleness.
The soporific air of your room, in the soft breath of bread and sweets—he was sent there, because he was misbehaving again.
It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that you have periled this life and reputation—but here you are—on your bed trying to sleep when you see him sitting on the chair, waiting.
And this isn't a romance. You're not a damsel in distress and he is not the handsome prince who comes to save you—this is his desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of the impending doom, but they didn’t know that.
You know.
He can't stop looking at you—Soldat is gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago, because he is not allowed to move until you instruct him to.
Subconsciously, he licks his lips at the sight at your body in a night dress and wonder if he will ever just cum in your mouth as you suck him off to your knees…or if he’ll take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load.
It doesn’t seem worth the risk
—but he wanted this for so long now, he needs to voice it.
“Please-”
—an irrational and indulgent mistake.
you stand up on your elbows in shock at the word he utters—his eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and his lips twitch. Soldat has fallen into a state of feverish lust, but that is not a justification for his disobedience.
His heart goes into a shameless delirium when your eyes meet.
“Desperate?” you mock, but underneath the mockery Soldat finds a reservoir of understanding.
You lay back on the bed as nothing has happened, and your voice takes on a restful strength
“I still need to punish you for that, Winter”
He behaves as naturally, with such discretion, that he does not lose his composure, not even when you remove your wedding ring—who committed the impertinence of marrying you? He goes through a crisis of disappointment, fury, jealousy, but this is your way of giving Soldat a layer of respect—he wants to call it loyalty.
And maybe you can be his or maybe you will be entwined in this sexless foreplay tonight.
He wants to ask so many questions, but he can’t.
Not now.
There is a pent-up curiosity, hysteria of his unsatisfied needs, unnaturally suppressed communion and also a kind of tense respect, because if he is obedient enough—he will be rewarded.
“You will watch me, that's all you will do for now” you say, your voice has sunk to a whisper.
Your words stoke a warmness in his stomach, a fire in his crotch.
And he doesn’t care what you will do with him—even if you want to cut him, sharpen him however you please—that's all he knows anyways. He wants this memory to stay what it is, one intense moment, something that is strong and sweet enough to stand on its own.
Your room has turned into an idyllic paradise for a good many years, your skin glistening in the light coming from the slits in the blinds as your hands play with your breast through the nightgown.
He has lost his voice and a thread of cold sweat runs down the path of his spine, suffocating with heat, because of the black leather clothes—the stiff collar and the tight harness that is restricting his breathing, is becoming increasingly annoying.
His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, and for the first time, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning—he needs to be patient, but it’s hard—not harder than his cock—It's more erotic, more intense to watch you touch yourself.
He is master of what he does, but never of what he desires.
You are greatly overestimating his self-control. But this is what you are testing tonight—his ability to subordinate the impulse to fuck you.
Self-control might be as passionate and as active as the surrender to passion, but you need to show him who is in charge while your panties are becoming steadily slicker.
All you need to do is to tell him to come, but you refrain from doing the thing you want so badly—to be consumed by Winter.
You glance up to find his eyes blazing with raw need—blue orbits pleading for you to command him.
You spread your legs open, positioning yourself in front of him—one hand still toying with your nipple while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drag them down your legs slowly before throwing them in his direction.
His breath stutters as they land on his left boot and Soldat eyes them wickedly, knowing that all he can do is watch.
"Good, very good, Soldat '' you coo, sliding two fingers into your core, scissoring and stretching, curling over the one sweet spot—imagining his metal digits. You remove them as your index finger takes their place, rubbing slow, torturous circles on your clit, sliding down to tease your opening, then back up. Over and over again.
He slides his tongue across his teeth, remembering the taste of your nectar, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft.
“I want you so much, gosh” he is stirred by the lust in your smooth voice.
You are breathing deep with your mouth wide open—he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t dare blink. Soldat can swear he feels the pressure of your palms on his cheeks—or is it a memory?
Everything is a memory to him.
“I want you here, fucking me”
There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.
With the auspicious attention of a strained killing machine, he examines your fingers, your shivering body and listens to your muffled moans meticulously. It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion to his mind—your scandalous behavior is pulling at every string of his nerves and self-control.
It is such a prolonged act, so meticulous, so rich in all aspects as you are giving yourself over to the deserved adoration of your own body and pleasure. It leaves Soldat breathless at the tremendous spectacle of your nudity and lack of shame as you bring yourself closer to the edge.
“Jesus-I am so close”
You confess, surprised at how fast the arousal is budding. You arch your back and hips buckle like an electric current runs through your body, moaning, rubbing your clit faster, forcing yourself to let out a louder moan. The orgasm wrecks your body from head to toe and being watched by a ferocious male is exciting—all he needs is a feeling as primitive and as simple as that of love.
You see his eyes, still unblinking and you feel menaced by some invisible danger—you are keenly aware of every movement, every breath you take. Lust is a weed that grows in the vacant lots of an abandoned mind and the stacks of bad words that you have been forced to swallow, spills
“Soldat, come here” you command, languid and serious.
You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs, getting up and slowly coming towards the bed as his thick, black pants fall to the floor around his feet, the belt clattering noisily.
Winter craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten.
He breathes, his chest rising and falling so close to yours.
“Kiss m-” you whisper the words, and before you even finish saying them, his mouth is on yours and you are melting under his lips, eyes flutter shut—and it is blissful oblivion—giving you the most intense and explosive kiss you two have ever shared. With the coldness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue beneath yours, you vow an endless bliss.
He pulls back with a groan—Winter’s sky-blue eyes stare back into yours, and in his eyes you can see no parting from you.
You put your hands on either side of his face, and the room falls away. You have never gotten so lost in a kiss before. And the kiss is not gentle. It is a wrestle of who would lead the excursion into the territory of passion and ecstasy, heat and unending craving for one another. You suck on his lower lip between your teeth and he lets out a low groan. It sounds almost aggravated and definitely impatient.
Fire looks into his quiet eyes, touches his dear, familiar face—you lean upwards for a moment and dip your head towards his ear, grazing his soft skin with your teeth, while your hand slides to the harness. Soldat stills, angling his mouth towards your bare, perfect neck. You feel a warm slickness on your skin, his tongue trailing a path towards your shoulder.
It is a wild, animalistic compulsion, an urgent need as he suddenly slots himself between your legs and you turn your head away. Your fear is returning, crawling through your limbs and leaving you numb to everything. You shut your eyes, gripping the sheets, and whimper when he pushes himself inside you. He releases a ragged breath before moving, slow but with purpose, and you simply take it with soft whimpers and gasps as he pumps in and out of you, now starting to set a steady pace.
His eyes, the blue completely gone from his them, soften for a moment and he kisses you tenderly before he whispers in your ear, his breath puffs against your skin. He spends a good amount of time on your neck, a brief stop at the base of your throat—he wants to bite you, but he can’t—something melts inside Soldat that hurts in an exquisite way—you are not his.
“Who did you marry, Snow White?”
He asks, voice throbbing with menace—before slipping inside you again and burying himself to the hilt. Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming. He is so far in that his balls are right against your lips.
You arch your back and moan “It doesn’t matter” as he slides back out nearly all the way before slamming into you hard and fast. You wrap your legs around his waist as he slams into you over and over, the only sound in the room is the skin slapping.
You close your eyes and swallow. Your mouth parts and stills—your voice is barely a whisper as his tip touches your cervix.
“Pierce…I am closer to ruining his plans, closer to freeing you”
Despite your eyelids being tightly shut, a single, hot tear runs out of your eye. You are so angry that it has escaped—so angry—he stops his trusts completely. You moan as you feel his movement out of you. Then, as he almost has the tip fully out, he slaps it back in.
When your eyes meet his gaze as you are sitting here staring at each other, time stops.
Your fingertips reach to trace the metal shoulder, but he grasps your hand with his own. He leans down, far enough that the ends of his hair brush feather-light against your face, catching in your lashes and tears.
His breath, warm and measured, hits your cheek. Two breaths. Three. Then you stop breathing, and a second later, you feel his lips on your mouth. It is hungry, desperate.
His metal hand wraps around your neck, thumb presses into the skin—you moan, it ripples over your nerve endings. His breath caresses your ear again—his grip on your neck tightens. And this makes you always still and submit…the act of Winter taking shameful, contemptuous possession of you is the kind of rapture you want.
“Next time-” you try, but with your restricted of oxygen brain, you are not able to.
He tastes passion. He tastes lust. He tastes his power over you. He tastes a world of stimulants he’d never imagined. You are right there in front of him, he can do whatever he wants.
Winter loosens his hold—only to observe you as you breathe raggedly, sliding down slowly, a moan ripping from your throat.
“Next time he calls you in his house, I will be there, too”
I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.
“I need to kill them one by one, Winter”
His mouth curves into a smile—his eyes are light blue and dancing with life. He pauses for only a fraction of a second. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to yours
"Okay, yeah, yeah" a devil-soft whisper.
He blinks several times like he is trying to comprehend your plan word by word. His trusts become so hormonal—you want his roughness. His other hand slips to your waist, pushing you into the mattress as he fucks you. For him, sex intimately relates to the most primitive kind of human contact, which can satisfy all of his needs he has been deprived from.
"Winter " you gaspe breathlessly "Slow down"
You try to let out a choked squeal, but his metal hand tightens around your neck again, muffling any sounds, your toes curling as he brings you steadily closer and closer to orgasm, reeling from the thrill and the fear from both his forceful thrusts of his powerful hips and the choking.
Soldat is unrelenting in his domination of your body. But you are his at this moment, your cunt clenching around him while you mewls and grunts fill his ears, he can’t slow down even one bit. Logic would say that this is insane, every other fibre of his being says it's right—he has to fill you up.
You can't move. You can't breathe.
And his pace. And the adrenaline.
“I will cum inside—dear Snow White”
This is his demarcation line, all of a sudden it seems unfair to withhold it from you.
Your inner muscles tighten as waves of pleasure start to build and ripple out. You don’t normally get off this fast, but you are lost in the exquisite sensations—you put your hands on his metal arm as your body bursts into flames, your fingers curling into the metal.
You can’t make a sound and it is a shame, because it is the best orgasm you ever had. It is unbearable, unreal, unimaginable—it is too much as your eyes can only see darkness due to the choking. You can only hear a broken and hoarse cry escaping his lips, his warm come filling you up completely.
You can hear his breath, as your vision slowly becomes solid—a stray lock of dark hair falls into his eyes as he is looking down—he moves his hips back and then into you again, enjoying his cock being in a tub of cum, swimming in your honey.
#I WAS POSSESSED#but this is real#metal arm kink fr#winter soldier x you#winter soldier smut#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier fic#winter soldier fanfiction#smut#slight angst#bucky smut#bucky barnes smut#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#marvel x reader#bucky barnes imagine
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I feel like adam would be the type to pull pranks, so may I request an adam x sensitive!reader, where Adam pulls a prank a little too far?
Too Far
A/N: The song is Work Song by Hozier, I am a slut for Hozier.
The thing about Adam is that he was a damn good actor. That mixed with his love for pranks was a lethal combination.
Poor (Name) was often the victim of his pranks, but today he went a little too far. He hid his guitar and then accused (Name) of misplacing it.
Watching her flounder and stutter and insist she hadn’t taken it was funny at first. “I know it wasn’t me, so where the fuck did you put it?” Adam raised his voice and suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore. Tears welled up in (Name)’s eyes.
She burst out crying. “I didn’t take it,” she sobbed. “Please, why don’t you believe me, I wouldn’t do anything to your guitar.”
Well shit. Adam hadn’t meant to make her genuinely upset. He just wanted to make her a little frustrated.
“Fuck, baby, don’t cry. Shit. It was a joke, I know where my guitar is.”
(Name) gasped for air. “Why would you do that?” She sounded so hurt and betrayed that Adam swore she’d never be the subject of one of his pranks ever again.
“I’m so sorry…”
He went to approach her but she shrunk back. “Leave me alone,” she whimpered, turning around and running off to her room.
Adam felt like a piece of shit.
He gave (Name) space for a while, but when he checked back twenty minutes later and could still hear sniffling through the door, he knocked lightly. “(Name)? Honey?” The sniffling stopped and he was answered with silence.
Ten minutes later, he came back with his guitar. He sat outside her door, his back against it and began gently strumming his guitar. The crying stopped and he could tell she was listening.
“Boys workin’ on empty
Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?
I just think about my baby
I’m so full of love I could barely eat.”
He felt the light thump of (Name) leaning against the other side of the door.
“There’s nothing sweeter than my baby
I’d never want once from the cherry tree
‘Cause my baby’s sweet as can be
She give me toothaches just from kissin’ me.”
There’s still silence on the other side of the door, but Adam can tell she’s listening and can feel her anger and sadness waning.
“When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I’ll crawl home to her.”
Finally, the door opened a crack and (Name) peered out. “I love that song,” she mumbled.
“I know.”
(Name) opened the door wider and Adam stood, putting his guitar down. “I’m sorry babe, that was a mean joke.” “No shit,” (Name) grumbled. Adam opened his arms questioningly. (Name) seemed to consider it for a moment before fully opening the door and stepping into Adam’s arms.
Adam sighed in relief, holding (Name) tightly. “No more pranks,” (Name) said, muffled in his chest. “No more pranks,” Adam agreed.
“I am actually sorry, sugar tits.”
(Name) rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, I know.”
#hazbin adam#adam x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin angel dust#hazbin charlie#hazbin husk#hazbin vaggie#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel#hazbin lute#x reader#hazbin valentino#hazbin lucifer#hazbin sir pentious#hazbin niffty#oneshot#light angst#slight angst
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Wrapping Paper - Mike Schmidt X Female Reader
Title: Wrapping Paper
Mike Schmidt X Female Reader
Additional Characters: Abby
WC: 2,449
Warnings: The incident at Freddy's mentioned, post FNAF movie, pining, Mike's nervous, sort of idiots in love, teasing, flirting?, ~hand holding~, mini angst, and fluff
It was Abby's birthday, and Mike still didn't have a present for her. For weeks he had been looking around craft stores when he could before heading to work or after - having found a well-paying job that he hadn't been fired from yet. But even after weeks of searching, he still had nothing to give her. Mike had probably been to the craft stores more than a dozen times at this point, checking the clearance items for anything that he thought Abby would like. But, the clearance section was a small rack at the back of the shop that had half-empty boxes of crayons from unruly children taking them in the store, scribbled on notebooks, and so on. This was all he was able to afford too, he'd go to great lengths for Abby, but it saddened him that he couldn't even afford brand-new supplies like the sixty-four pack of crayons or a nice big notebook for drawing.
Tapping absentmindedly on the wheel of his car, Mike drove home yet again empty-handed. Pulling up to his house, Mike let out a sigh as he leaned back against the seat of his car, shutting his eyes briefly before raising his arm and reading his watch. Getting out of the car, he grabbed his backpack and headed inside. Dropping his back off into his room, Mike went to the kitchen to start making dinner before Abby came home from school. But just as he was putting the spaghetti noodles in the pot of water, there was a knock at the door.
Shutting off the stove, Mike brushed his hands on his jeans before making his way to the front door. Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see you standing before him. You had a smile on your face, and you were holding a large box wrapped in colorful paper.
"Hello, Mike," You greeted him, tilting your head to the side slightly as your grin became more of a nervous one, "I hope I'm not too early," Shuffling the present under your arm, you pulled out the folded invitation from the front pocket of your jeans. The plain piece of printer paper doodled with little pictures of what you had assumed were you, Mike, and Abby, along with the date and time of Abby’s little birthday celebration. "It says three, but I thought that maybe you might need help setting things up?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure," Mike stumbled out, moving to the side to let you in. Mike watched as you placed the present on the table, dropping your bag beside it.
You had been Mike's neighbor for the past year, recently moving in only a couple of weeks after the incident over at Freddy's. He remembered the day he met you vividly, watching Abby ride her bike up and down the sidewalk as your car pulled into the previous vacant house beside his. Stepping out of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, he watched as you opened the back of the car to begin carrying boxes into your new home. Gaining the courage after watching you struggle to unlock the front door with two cardboard boxes in your arms, Mike rushed over.
Fumbling with your keys as you tried to unlock the door, shuffling the boxes to rest on your arm and propped-up knee as strands of your hair fell in front of your face. The way you smiled at him, grateful as he took the two boxes out of your straining arms, helping you move the rest of your boxes and furniture in. Breathily, you thanked him, offering to bake him cookies or something for him and his sister, and from then on, you, Mike, and Abby would spend a lot of time together.
You'd come over for dinner sometimes, Abby adored you, always asking about you and drawing pictures of you with her and her brother. You do the very same, inviting the two to come over for lunch or dinner, or to play board games, or to watch movies.
Mike couldn't help but be attracted to you, ever since he watched you pull into your driveway. He didn't say anything though, pushing those rapidly growing feelings to the back of his mind, in fear of ruining the amazing friendship that you and him shared. Sometimes Mike would have to stop himself from staring at you across the table during dinners. His heart would race when he saw you spending time with Abby - seeing both of your smiling faces always brought warmth to his chest, and his breath would hitch slightly at the sound of your laugh. But he deeply cared about the friendship between you two, and wouldn't ruin the good relationship by doing anything stupid. So he held his tongue. And for the most part, you did the same thing.
Turning around to face Mike, he swiftly snapped out of the daze he had been in, meeting your eyes as you smiled at him, "So, what can I help you with? Do you need help with decorations or maybe a cake?"
Scratching his cheek, Mike shrugged a shoulder, looking around the room, "Uh, I don't have any decorations. I was about to start making the spaghetti when you arrived." He spoke, watching as you simply nodded, making your way into his kitchen. "I- I totally forgot about the cake… I’ve been so busy…" He finished, a bit embarrassed at his realization.
Noticing the pot of lukewarm water and the opened box of spaghetti noodles, you hummed to yourself before looking through the cupboards. Mike followed, leaning against the entrance of the kitchen, watching as you pulled out a small bag of flour, sugar, and a small circular pan. "Well," You huffed, a bit out of breath as you pulled out a large plastic bowl from the lower cupboards. "At least you still have some of the ingredients from our last bake day." As you began to start making the homemade cake, you glanced over at Mike, whose gaze was staring down at the floor at his feet. "You alright, Mikey?" You asked, gaining his attention.
Looking up, he let out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall, "I haven't been able to find Abby a present. I've been looking for weeks but I still can't find anything for her."
You paused, pouring some flour into the bowl, looking over at the man as he began to pace the room slightly, "You couldn't find anything?" You asked, raising your eyebrows as Mike nodded his head.
"Nothing! I checked two craft stores every day after work for like three weeks." He explained, rubbing his hand over his forehead, "But I can't seem to find anything that isn't damaged or just something I think she'll like." Stopping his pacing, Mike's shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh, "I really am trying my best, y'know. It's frustrating." He admitted, glancing over at you as you turned around to look at him.
"You are doing your best, Mike," You spoke softly, slowly stirring the flour and other dry ingredients together, "And you know that Abby knows that and that she loves you." Pausing you glanced at him with a small reassuring smile, "I don't think Abby will care if you gave her a present or not, just you spending time with her, celebrating her birthday, is enough for her."
Mike nodded and walked over to stand next to you, watching you as you began to crack the eggs into a separate bowl, "You're right..."
"As always," You sang, unable to stop the grin on your face. Mike looked down at you, softly smiling to himself as you began to hum some song you liked or probably had stuck in your head. Looking up at him, your grin softened as you noticed Mike already looking at you, making your cheeks burn as you quickly looked back down at the dismantled cake ingredients in front of you. "Want to help me maybe, Mr. Schmidt?" You asked, using the remaining courage you had left to give him one last glance.
Nodding, Mike smiled lightly and picked up a whisk, beginning to help you with the mixing. He felt his heart flutter, and his mind wondered, but it faded as he began to focus on the task at hand.
It didn't take long though before the cake was finished, baked, and topped with vanilla icing and colorful candles; unlit and ready for the birthday girl. You and Mike were finishing up the spaghetti, you were working on the sauce while Mike made the meatballs. You bit your lip as you chuckled, watching as Mike almost lost his grip on the spatula he was using to roll the cooking meatballs around in the pan. Looking over at you, Mike felt his stomach twist, seeing the amused smile on your face, "What?" He questioned, glancing from you to the pan and back.
Smiling to yourself, you shook your head, "Nothing. Just enjoying my time with you, is all," Pouring the pasta sauce into a pot and putting on the lid, you leaned against the countertop to look at Mike.
Biting the skin on the inside of his cheek, Mike turned off the stove, meeting your gaze, "Look, Y/N..." He hesitated, swallowing hard as he looked away. He was quiet for a moment before sighing and taking a step closer to you. "Thank you... For coming here today." He mumbled, his voice soft and gentle. That's not what he was meaning to say, though he did really appreciate you helping him.
"Mikey, you don't have to thank me," You reached over to place your hand on top of his, "I'd do anything for you and Abby." You replied quietly, giving his hands a soft squeeze.
Slowly, Mike flipped over his hand, now palm to palm, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your hands to his lips so he could place a light kiss on top of yours before returning your hand to the counter as the front door opened and slammed shut.
"Mike! I'm home!" Abby called out, dropping her backpack on the ground near the door, immediately spying the brightly-colored wrapped present on the table; a smile lit up on her face. Exiting the kitchen, a warm sensation flowed throughout Mike's body as you pulled your hand away from his, greeting the young girl whose smile widened at the sight of you, "Y/N!" She cheered, rushing into your arms.
Chuckling softly, you returned the hug, pulling away after a few seconds, "Hey, Abs," Pulling away from each other, crouched down as you held her by her upper arms, "Look at you... How old are you now? Twenty-Five?" You joked, making the girl laugh as she shook her head.
"No! I'm eleven!" She told you while laughing, making you nod your head and stand back up.
"Of course, how silly of me." Turning back around to Mike, you paused, seeing that he was still standing there, watching you interact with Abby; a fondness evident in his eyes. Looking back down at the girl, you smiled at her, "So, are you hungry? We made spaghetti." She nodded her head eagerly, sitting down at the table, her eyes staring at the present in the middle of the table; her eyes sparkling. You smiled, walking back into the kitchen where Mike was already plating Abby's food. Pulling out two extra plates, you began plating yours and Mike's, peeking over at Mike who seemed to be becoming more and more nervous as he spooned spaghetti on the plate. Bumping your hip with his, you caught his eye, "You'll be fine. I have a plan." You whispered with a small grin, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his stubbly cheek before bringing yours and Mike's plate to the table. Mike blinked, slowly walking over to the table, his cheeks tinged pink as he sat beside you.
Soon enough, the both of you were singing 'Happy Birthday' to Abby as Mike sat the cake down on the table in front of her. The candles, lit and aflame, flickered before being blown out, applause erupting from you and Mike as Abby made her wish after her birthday song. Chuckling softly to himself, Mike leaned forward on his forearms, "What did you wish for, Abs?"
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, "I can't tell you, silly."
Shaking his head in amusement, "Alright then. Cake or presents?" He then asked as you readied the cake knife and three small plates for the cake.
"Presents!" Abby declared, beaming as Mike let out a small huff, smiling as he turned to you; you could see the nervousness in his eyes as he looked over at you.
Picking up the present, Mike moved the cake out of the way as you placed the present in its place, "Here you go, Abs," You spoke, gesturing for her to go ahead and open her gift. Mike watched beside you as Abby ripped the colorful wrapping paper off the cardboard box, pulling off the tape with amazing speed. He felt tense, hoping that she wouldn't hate him for not getting her a gift. Before his mind could run off anymore, he felt your hand cover his and he lifted his gaze to meet yours. Smiling at him, you squeezed his hand which made Mike's breath hitch as he felt an odd feeling well up inside his chest. Taking a deep breath, he gave you a small smile before turning back to Abby who gasped in shock.
"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, peering inside the box at the many goodies that were found within, looking up at you, she gave you a huge smile, "Thank you, Y/N!"
Mirroring her smile, you waved a hand, "Don't forget your brother, he helped pick out a couple of the items," Mike turned to look at you in surprise, causing you to chuckle under your breath.
Abby got out of her seat, rushing around to hug her brother tightly, "Thank you, Mike!" She thanked him, grinning widely at him.
"Anything for you, Abs," He said, patting her on the back. He turned to you as Abby went back to sit back down, digging around in the box; pulling out craft supplies, stuffed animals, and candy. Mike couldn't help but look at you with an awestruck expression on his face; this girl was too good to be true. "Thank you, Y/N."
Resting your cheek in your hand, you gave him your stunning smile, "Don't mention it."
Shaking his head slightly, Mike looked back at Abby who was already drawing with her new multi-colored markers in her brand-new notebook.
#cute#fluff#slight angst#x reader#x female reader#fanfiction#fanfic#x you#x y/n#fnaf#five nights at freddys#fnaf fandom#five nights at freddy's#five nights at freddy's movie#mike schmidt#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt x female reader#mike schmidt x you#mike schmidt x y/n#josh hutcherson#fnaf movie
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I have a slightly angsty headcannon about Sonic.
I know he's not normally big on touch or physical affection, but based on two scenes, there seems to be an implication that he gets more clingy/keen on touch when he's in pain. 🥲
The first example is in Sonic Frontiers. Tails knows Sonic better than anyone. When Sonic freed Tails from his cyber cage, and Tails saw him on his knees and coughing, what did he IMMEDIATELY try to do?
Run and hug him. 🥹💔
As if there were previous times when Sonic was suffering with one thing or another, and Tails's hugging him helped him feel a little better. 🥹 Of course, Sonic then tried to brush it off and hide it from Tails, but Tails's initial reaction still says something to me.
The second example is in the last episode of Sonic Prime. The set of scenes between the energy extraction and returning home is probably the most vulnerable I've ever seen Sonic act around his friends, and the most he's had to rely on them (which really says something about how bad he must've been feeling 💔). Besides a couple scenes when he was more or less standing on his own, he spent almost the whole time leaning on one of his friends. He was practically clinging to Knux at the start of it.
There were low-key moments like this later on with Thorn holding his hand and Shadow carrying him, but this moment stuck out the most to me in context of this headcannon.
It's ... both sad and sweet. I'm just glad Sonic's friends are there for him when he needs them. 💙
#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#sth#miles tails prower#sonic frontiers#sonic prime#sonic prime spoilers#sonic headcanon#headcanons#renegade knux#sonic and tails#sonic and knuckles#slight angst#slight fluff#little of both lol
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We role-played Emmet’s and Aiden’s first meeting and I wanted to draw Emmet‘s rollercoaster of displayed emotions.
The dialog is missing Aiden‘s part. Sorry about that @toriblayde, i promise we‘ll get more Aiden representation in here.
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to request • Eddie’s masterlist • main masterlist
Lingering Discomfort
Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Summary; usually you and your boyfriend Eddie are all over eachother, but after an awful experience with a stranger, you can’t handle anyone’s hands on you
wordcount: 1.7k
Warnings: descriptions of sexual assault and lingering affects of it, light angst, Eddie’s so sweet and lovely
another request from the lovely @tracymbcm, thank you so much for requesting <3
It was yesterday, when you were at the bookstore, standing in between the fantasy and horror isles at the bookstore when someone tapped on your back, between your shoulder blades. It was a man, significantly older than you but not elderly by any means, he was incredibly average looking man, apart from the scary grin he wore on his face, and his beady eyes that stared at your chest rather than your face.
"Don't see many pretty young girls listening to Metallica." He smirked at the band tee you wore and your heart raced with anxiety. You wondered if he could tell the shirt was too big for you, if he could tell it was a man's shirt- Eddie's. "What's your favourite song by them honey?" He asked and the petname made you feel sick.
"Um-" "Um!" He cut you off mocking you and you pouted, backing up, wiping your sweaty palms on the sides of your skirt.
"I don't- I don't listen to them. My boyfriend, he loves 'em." You didn't talk more than that and you almost flinched at the very unsubtle way the corner of his lip rose in irritation.
"That right? How old is he?" He asked, a step closer to you as you took one back. Your eyes watered as you realized any further back and you'd just be trapped against the bookcase.
"He's twenty." You hoped he didn't see your lip tremble, you hoped he couldn't hear your heart beating so fast.
"Twenty? See young guys- little boys like that don't know how to treat their girls." That's all that was said before the situation escalated and ended with you running out of the store crying. He didn't do anything more than grab your ass, but it was revolting.
You took deep breaths before you pulled out of the parking lot. Your first instinct was to drive to Eddie's house, cry into his chest and complain about the creep in the bookstore. You could see him in your head, hugging you, rocking you as he kissed the crown of your head. You didn't understand why the thought of that made you uncomfortable, you just didn't want to be touched again. What you needed was a shower, and then bed.
✽-
The next morning, Eddie picked you up as usual, he did every morning. Usually you loved it, getting to spend time with him before you started your day, and it got him to school on time, not wanting to make you late. Today you'd rather walk, every car ride Eddie would stroke your thigh, kiss you at every stop sign, squeeze in a quick make out session before you left the car.
You avoided all that. Grabbing his freehand and holding it so it wouldn't venture to your legs, fake yawning and leaning your head against the window with your eyes closed, too tired to kiss. You left his van before he got the chance to try and make out with you.
He did call you pretty, and cute in the span of three minutes, which brought a smile to your face, especially since you didn't feel pretty or cute, wearing a loose fitting t-shirt and grey sweatpants instead of the skirt and tighter top you normally would've worn, too uncomfortable to wear anything very revealing.
He walked with you into the school, slightly behind you like he usually did and you distanced yourself just slightly, so his hand wouldn't find the small of your back.
You chewed your lip as you turned around to face him. "'M gonna go talk to Robin before class." You smile softly, albeit anxiously at him, but he didn't read into it too much thankfully.
"Alright baby, tell her I said hey." He grinned and you nodded, guilty you hadn't been giving him the same attention and intimacy you normally would. He leaned forward to kiss you and you turned your head, he was fine with just kissing your cheek. "You okay baby?" He asked, glassy brown eyes searching your own. You told him you were, and you both knew you were lying, but he didn't press it.
You swallowed thickly as you turned from him, wiping the invisible kiss off of your face when you knew he couldn't see you, walking on shaky legs until you found Robin.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked, and you sighed, shrugging even though you knew. Her eyes burned into yours until you leaned against the lockers with a pout. Finally you told her what happened.
She scoffed. "Men. So many of them are fucking creeps, I thank the gods every day for the fact that I swing the other way." She rolled her eyes with a grimace on her face that matched the one that was starting to grow on your own. "Was Eddie with you?" She asked and you shook your head. "That's- well maybe that's a good thing. He would've totally lost his shit." She laughed.
That last sentence stuck with you. Why would Eddie be mad? It wasn't your fault. But then maybe it was, you could've moved away sooner, told him to stop, you could have just not interacted with him in the first place and moved on. And now Eddie would be mad at you.
✽-
It stuck in your head until lunch. And when it was lunch, you felt anxious again. You felt so guilty, especially seeing Eddie smile so big the second he saw you. When you reached the hellfire table, you pulled your usual seat a few inches away from him, so you wouldn't be pressed flush against him like usual.
You sat and he wrapped his arm around you like usual, so you leaned forward letting his arm rest on the back of your chair, that was fine.
Things were okay for the next ten minutes. You got less anxious, joining in on the conversation, things seemed normal again, despite the lack of Eddie's tongue down your throat which was common for every other lunch period.
Suddenly that normalcy ended. "You're too far baby." Eddie tsked, easily picking you up and putting you in his lap, arm over your lap and gripping the underside of your thigh, the same place that old man's hand was less than a day ago.
You leaped up without thinking, heart racing, all the eyes of hellfire on you. "Stop! Stop- just don't- don't want you touching me." Your voice shook, and tears welled in your eyes when Eddie's smile fell completely. You mistook the concern on his face for anger and you bolted, you didn't go far, only to the library, you'd favourite place in Hawkin's High, save for Eddie's arms.
You sat in the back on a soft chair, you weren't there long before Eddie found you. He kneeled in front of you, making himself look small as he peered up at your teary eyes. He placed his hand on the arm of the chair, not on your skin.
"I talked to Robin baby, do y'wanna talk about what's bothering you?" His eyes didn't look angry like you thought they would, only sweet and inviting. His lips turned to match the pout on your face, he always did it and it made you giggle, you felt your lips twitch with the beginning of a smile. It was hard to stay upset around Eddie.
"Are you mad?" You asked and his eyes immediately widened, curls swaying with his head as he shook it.
"Of course not sweet girl, I could never be mad at you baby. Especially not for something that wasn't your fault." He assured you. Immediately the guilt in your chest floated away. "Do you wanna talk to me about it baby?" He tilted his head and you nodded.
"Yesterday, at the bookstore there was this older guy." Your lip trembled. "He was askin' about my shirt 'n he called me pretty. Then he started asking about you when I told him I have a boyfriend. He said twenty year olds dunno how to please girls, and he- and he touched me." You brought your knees to your chest as the tears on your waterline started to drip over your cheeks.
Eddie's jaw tensed. "Where did he touch you?" It was tearing him apart to not be able to hold you right now, wipe away your tears. But he understood there was a new boundary as a result of what happened, and he'd respect that, keep his hands to himself until he knew it was okay to touch you again.
"He rubbed my leg- 'n he grabbed my butt." You whispered, he didn't look angry, upset yes, worried, absolutely, but he wasn't mad. "I told Robin about it 'n she said if you were there you would've lost your shit." You kept your voice down and he shook his head quickly again.
"No- no baby, well, yes. But I wouldn't have been mad at you at all, just at that guy. It's not okay for him to go around touching girls, 'specially my girl. But that's not your fault baby, you didn't do anything wrong. I promise you did good, and I'm not mad at you at all." He promised and you sniffled.
There was a beat of silence before you threw yourself from the chair onto your knees, burying your face in his chest. His arms immediately squeezed you close to him, brushing your tears away gently.
"How about we skip the rest of our classes today, head to that bookstore, 'n I'll buy you whatever book you didn't get to buy yesterday. And if that guy's there, you point him out and he and I can have a little talk, I'll make sure he doesn't touch you, or anyone else like that again, hm?" His voice was soft, calm as he pet your hair and you nodded.
"I love you." "I love you"
You didn't see that guy again when you went to the bookstore later on, Eddie's arm protectively hooked around you through each isle. He got you your book, and you even got to read the first couple of chapters to him in his arms that night.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#petalwrites#slight angst#hurt/comfort#sa warning#fluff#eddie x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst
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No Ordinary Life
[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)
WC: 1,179
Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst
We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.
Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here
『••✎••』
As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.
All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.
His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.
Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.
It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.
If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.
He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.
His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.
Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.
“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.
But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.
Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.
“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”
“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”
Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.
Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.
After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.
Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.
The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.
“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.
Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.
Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.
You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.
Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.
Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.
“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”
You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.
The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.
You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.
You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.
Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.
Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.
Then it was just him that was left.
He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.
His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.
But he couldn’t.
So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.
You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.
He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.
The damage had been done.
Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.
But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.
No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.
Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.
The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.
Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.
Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.
It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.
Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.
The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.
You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.
"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"
Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.
Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.
Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.
Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.
Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.
Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.
Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.
It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.
Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.
The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.
Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.
They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.
Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.
Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.
Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.
"What the hell was that?"
#gen v spoilers#gen v#sam riordan#the boys universe#the boys#amazon prime#sam riordan x reader#x reader#fanfic#fluff#slight fluff#slight angst#sam pov#cate dunlap#luke riordan#mentions of luke riordan#marie moreau#emma meyer#andre anderson#jordan li#gen v x reader#gen v fanfic#the boys fanfic#the boys frenchie#the boys hughie#hughie campbell#billy butcher#starlight#homelander#golden boy
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Winter 1998
#implied manga spoilers#akiangel#aki x angel#aki hayakawa#angel#angel devil#slight angst#but they still kiss#csm#chainsaw man#comics
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The First Step
carmen berzatto x fem!reader
summary - The first thing you do when you get back to your hometown of Chicago is pay Carmen, your oldest friend and maybe more than that, a visit at The Beef. When you land yourself a job there, the more he sees of you, the more he seems to push you away for reasons he isn't yet brave enough to tell you, even if all he wants is to be with you. But if he'd ever known you, he'd know that you weren't going to back down without a fight.
type - one shot (its a long one)
word count [16.6k]
tags: Carmy Berzatto x f!reader, friends to lovers, pining, slight miscommunication, a little angst, "stop pushing me away", hurt/comfort, and new promises.
warnings: swearing, mentions of grief/death, panic attack
a/n: check this out also on my ao3! <33
Carmen was tired, to say the least. He'd been working himself to the bone every damn day for the past few months, trying to get The Beef to a good, stable place. Somehow, as time went by, he'd only managed to dig himself a deeper grave. With the money they owed to Cicero, he knew, deep down, that the restaurant was, for lack of a better word, fucked.
But he kept holding on. He couldn't let go of it. He'd wonder, in the depths of night, why he was fighting so hard for this place when he could easily sell it to Cicero. If, maybe, he was holding onto someone. He didn't amuse the thought. He physically couldn't.
So he threw himself deeper into his work. Deeper into making The Beef a reputable place, with a professional working staff and high-quality food. It didn't matter that the others looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He didn't have the time to worry about that. He didn't have time for much of anything, which is why Sydney had been pushing for new hires. She'd said that they needed more hands in the kitchen, more workers up front, more of everything. They should be desperate.
That's why she'd spent hours putting up posters for new hires on what felt like practically every block of Chicago within a mile radius from the restaurant. And that's why you'd happened to stumble upon one of them while walking to a favorite pizza place of yours that you'd loved as a kid. It was one of the first things you'd planned on doing ever since you'd gotten back into the city. That and meeting up with some old friends who you'd missed with an ache in your chest. So, seeing the poster clinging to the utility pole saying that The Beef was hiring had your heart skip a little beat at the prospect of not only getting a job but seeing the people who had basically been your family growing up again.
It was a Friday morning when you'd stopped by The Beef, the rusted white sign sticking out like a sore thumb. A rush of aromas wafted against your nose when you walked in, and the front door made a jingling sound that was almost nostalgic.
No one was at the front register. In fact, you couldn't see anyone at all, only hear some muffled voices coming from the kitchen in the back. The voices grew louder as seconds went by, and you could tell they were shouts. The kitchen door then flew open, finally revealing the argument going on between two people, one being an unfamiliar woman in an apron, and the other being none other than Richie Jerimovich.
"Richie, I swear to God-"
"I already told you," came the booming voice of Richie, neither of them noticing your presence at the door. "Your foo foo plans for this place are not gonna fly, Sweetheart!"
With the way Richie was talking to her, you could see the woman's patience wearing thin as she rested a hand on her temple with shut eyes as he carried on. It was only when she reopened her eyes a few moments later that she noticed your presence.
"Hi," you said, making your way over to her. "I saw your poster, the one about looking for new hires-"
"Right, right." She offered a strained smile, stress seeming to stay with her. "I'm Sydney, you must be one of the job applicants?"
"Yeah, I'm-"
"A job applicant?" Richie's voice boomed through the room, his voice always projecting ten times louder than need be. You had to admit, you missed it. "F that bullshit, that's fucking Mars Bar!"
Sydney's eyebrows lowered at the shouted nickname, the one that the Berzattos had gifted you years ago after your favorite candy as a kid. You granted Richie a smile, him finally noticing you. "Nice to see you too, Richie."
He marched around the counter to engulf you in a bear-like hug that had you letting out a chuckled gasp from the impact, arms wrapping tightly around your back. He let go in a beat and slammed his hands down on the counter in excitement, always loud.
"Just wait till Carmy hears about his favorite girl being back, I swear to God."
Something fluttered through you at the mention of that name. Carmen's name. With a whirlwind of thoughts sifting through your mind, you almost missed the other name that Richie had called you, aside from Mars Bar. Carmy's favorite girl.
-----
Richie had barged into the kitchen with full vigor, slamming open the swinging door dangerously close to a nearby Tina.
"Cousin!" He moved through the different chefs' stations until he got to Carmen's, who was wrapped up in prepping and quite frankly had learned to tune out the sound of Richie's yelling for his own health. "Yo, Cousin!"
Richie boisterously grabbed a hold of Carmen's shoulders, rocking him a little and moving his hand that wielded a knife, cutting diagonally into beef he'd been pre-slicing.
"Shit," Carmen cursed, irritation forming. "What the hell is it, Cousin?"
Richie just laughed, a mind never paid to Carmen's annoyance. "Yea, you're pissed at me now, Carmy, but you're gonna think I'm pulling your dick when I tell you who's at the fucking register right now."
With a forever-present dull headache, Carmen sighed and shifted his focus to him, putting down his knife on the counter. He gestured a hand out to him. "Who's at the register, Rich-"
"The fucking love of your life, that's who!"
Richie gave Carmen a playful punch in the arm, but he remained unphased, a frown etched on his features. "See, what the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a love of my-"
"Two words, Cousin. Mars Bar."
Richie was right. Those two words really did do something to him.
"She- ... she's here?"
He rubbed his jaw, brain short-circuiting for a second as he tried to make sense of Richie's words. His eyes bore into Richie's never-serious ones, trying to grasp onto whether or not he was, just this one time. If he was messing with him, he didn't think he'd be able to take it.
"Yes, bro!" Yelled Richie, patting him on the back. "I swear to you. She's here, and hot as balls, too."
He squinted his eyes at him with a twinge of disgust, slightly shoving him to the side to get towards the door. He still didn't know if he believed it. You'd been traveling abroad on some grant that he, to be honest, didn't know much about. But you were doing great things. He couldn't guess why you'd come back to The Beef, of all places.
When he saw you through the window, he was lucky he was hidden behind the safety of the kitchen door because he couldn't control the way his body and mind froze at the sight of you. He took in the way your smile beamed out into the room as you spoke with Sydney, warm and unignorable, and he could've sworn something changed in the chemical makeup of his brain. Something that had his eyes widening and his feet planted in their place.
"What'd I tell you?" Richie's voice from behind him knocked him out of his trance. There was a smug, amused edge to his voice. "Now go and talk to her."
Carmen put a hand out, shooing him away. "I will. I just," he stopped, trailing off as he took in the way you truly seemed to glow after all the time spent away. He liked how it looked on you.
"Aww, don't tell me you're nervous now, Carm." Richie put his arms on Carmen's shoulders.
"Shut the fuck up." He shoved Richie off of him with a grimace, but his eyes never left you, jaw clenching as he followed your movements. "I'm not."
The pit in his stomach told him otherwise. He ignored the feeling, determined, and took in a breath before opening the kitchen door to the front of the restaurant, to where you stood.
At the sound of the door swinging open you finally turned your attention to him, lips coming to part with a subtle inhale that somehow left you feeling breathless.
"Carmen." You said his name with a grin, eyes lighting up, heart picking up its pace in your chest. You ran over for a quick, thoughtless hug that left his body partly on fire when you pulled away just as fast.
"Mars Bar." He uttered the old nickname endearingly, his voice cracking at the end of his words for some reason. He cleared his throat. "You're uh- you're here. In Chicago."
"Woah," Richie interrupted, coming in from behind, boisterous. "We've got a genius in The Beef, everybody!"
Sydney snorted from somewhere in the distance, but you couldn't even laugh because you'd been too busy staring at the way Carmen ran his hand through his golden hair that had been unruly since you were practically kids and still was.
"Yeah," you breathed, cringing at how awkward your voice sounded to your own ears. "I'm here."
The two of you held onto each other's gazes for a beat too long, scanning over the other wordlessly, taking in the changes that the years apart had brought.
"Well, uh," Carmen started, licking his lip to find strings of coherent words. "Do you wanna come into the office? Catch up?"
You nodded with a pleased tug of your lips. "Yeah, sure Carmen."
He nodded too and led the way, arm delicately resting on your upper back for a second in a way that left his fingertips buzzing, alive.
You entered the room after he did, the desk and walls littered with papers and sticky notes of different colors, an overload to the senses. It was stuffy, even with the door left open.
Before he turned to face you, he clumsily sorted some papers that'd been sitting on a wooden chair into stacks and pushed them onto the highest shelf above his desk so you could sit down, his white t-shirt slightly tugging upwards as he reached. Your eyes subtly followed the movement, eyes glancing steadily over a part of his lower abdomen that you felt alarmed at even sneaking a peak. That and the muscles that showed clearly from the short sleeves of his shirt.
God, you'd only been back in Chicago for a few days and your mind was already doing that thing it always did when you were around Carmen, like it didn't have the ability to think straight or act rationally when he was around.
"So, uh," Carmen started, turning his focus back to being one hundred percent on you. It became hard to concentrate when he did that, because he had the most piercing blue eyes you'd ever seen and you found over the years that they'd always had more than just one emotion swimming around in them. As you looked into them now, you still came up short in identifying them.
"What are you doing back in Chicago?" He looked at you like you were a puzzle, one he couldn't give up on solving. "Did the studies abroad finally start to bore you?"
"Yeah, they did," you joked, looking down at your lap. "Not really much to do in Europe compared to this place, you know?"
Carmen let out a wisp of a laugh, nodding, while also noting somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he'd laughed in at least a few days. Your presence could always do that to him; Put him at ease when nothing else truly could.
"And, of course, I could only go so long being separated from the Berzattos."
He laughed again. That made twice. "Oh yeah?"
You nodded, playful in your words.
"I mean it." You did.
You let a comfortable silence nestle between the two of you, feeling the upward tug of your lips that you could only blame on Carmen. The thought left something alighted in your chest
"Seriously though." You say up a little straighter in your seat. "I guess the real reason I stopped by was because I was wondering if I could help out around here for a little while, now that I'm back home."
At this, the smile that had been resting on Carmen's face began to weaken.
"What?" His forehead creased, eyes dancing across your face with curiosity and disguised panic of his own.
Sensing his change in mood, you hurriedly continued. "I'll be home for a while and, you know, I just figured me getting a job here would be convenient and-"
"No."
You stopped mid-sentence, zeroing in on the man before you. "No?"
He had one hand leaning against the desk, the other's fingertips pressed to his forehead, head cast down, eyes evading yours.
"No, I- I'm sorry, Mars. We're ... we're not hiring right now. We don't need any new workers." At that, you frowned, taking in the tension in Carmen's stance and the tightness in his voice.
"I know The Beef is hiring right now, Carm." You gave him a disbelieving look. "In fact, I got the idea to work here from the flyers Sydney put up everywhere, so don't try and tell me you're not looking for new job applicants." You took a step closer to him, sensing something wrong and confused as to why he would lie, but he only seemed to be growing more agitated, shifting his posture upwards and no longer leaning on the table.
"That was a mistake, alright? I didn't ask her to do that. The Beef is doing perfectly fine, we don't need any extra help." Something sour was rotting in the undertones of his voice, the way he said the word help as if the thought of it was repellent.
"I didn't mean anything by asking. I ... I know you guys are doing fine, probably great even, I was just thinking that maybe I could-"
"We don't need any new fucking hires, Mars." He slammed his hand down on the desk, his tone raising so abruptly that it had you taking a step back in surprise.
When you looked up at him with alarm in your eyes, immediately his eyes began to soften, regret flooding through them. You held his gaze until those same eyes became taken over with this sudden guilt, almost sadness, flickering downwards towards his hands that moved to rest on his office desk, away from you.
You took a second to scan over the desk that was littered with papers and unsigned documents. It wasn't like Carmen to be unorganized, you knew that much. He had to be in a bad place to have his office look like this. Or, rather, Mikey's old office.
The room was a sensory overload, every inch of it a reminder of Mikey. Anyone would go crazy spending their days in here. Especially if that someone had been his little brother.
Carmen rubbed his hands over his face. You took a step next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder that lit aflame from the heat he gave off.
"For what it's worth," you started softly, and Carmen had to fight a shiver at how close your voice was to him. "I miss Mikey too."
He didn't make any movement to turn towards you, his jaw clenched and eyes still staring downwards. He didn't know what made you feel like you had to say that to him. He didn't need to look at you, though, to know you truly meant it.
"You can't work here," he said, his voice sounding defeated and a little far away. "I'm sorry."
Something restless in your heart was determined to make you fight back, figure out why Carmen was refusing you without a good reason. But something else inside of you softened at the way Carmen wouldn't meet your eyes, seeming guilt-stricken, and decided to back down. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder gave him a final squeeze.
You took your leave for the office door without Carmen moving an inch.
"Bye, Carm." Your voice was unfairly soft towards him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve the kindness that thrummed from your heart. "It was nice seeing you." You paused. "I've missed you."
Before he could turn to say goodbye, somehow communicate the 'I've missed you too' that he'd been meaning to express since he'd seen you, you had already turned down the hallway, out of sight. He knew for sure, then, that you didn't deserve that response from him. But he just didn't know how to tell you. How to explain without sounding ridiculous why alarms sounded in his brain at the thought of you working at The Beef.
He'd always known that you were destined for more than just the life you'd shared with him as kids, where you scored straight A's and were one of the top in your class. When you'd left for college while he stayed put, he didn't even let himself miss you, because he'd just wanted what was best for you. And when you furthered your studies even after college, traveling abroad, he knew that was the life you were meant for. To see you stopping all of that to work at The Beef, the place where his brother's dreams had become nothing but dead ends as time went on, wouldn't settle right inside of him.
Worst of all, he had visions of you working in the kitchen, behind the scenes where tensions were constantly overwhelming, of him losing his cool in front of you and you seeing a side of him he tried to keep you far away from. You'd always known the youngest brother Carmy, the world-class chef Carmy, the one who was at his best around you. He couldn't imagine what he would do if suddenly he revealed the Carmy he tried to hide; the Carmy who worked at The Beef, a bundle of unstable frustration who was barely hanging on, the Carmy who still didn't know how to live life without Mikey but who melted from your touch, who wanted more from the girl who'd been at his side for so many years as nothing but a friend, and a great one. He couldn't risk losing that.
Especially not with the condition of The Beef at the moment, which needed his full focus. Having you around would definitely not allow for that. So he convinced himself that this was for your own good. For his own good.
When you rounded the corner back out into the front of the restaurant, Richie was still there behind the counter, holding a phone to his ear.
You smiled at him a little tiredly and silently waved goodbye, walking towards the door.
Richie frowned, removing his focus from the phone call. "Where the hell are you leaving to so fast?" You spun around. "Don't tell me Carmy scared you off already."
You laughed awkwardly and thought of what to say, but must have taken too long to answer because Richie's face was already contorting with an over-the-top grimace.
"What'd that moron say to you, huh?"
You put a hand out, trying to calm him. "Richie, it's nothing, really-"
He was already stalking off towards the office, muttering something about 'killing Carmen'. You shook your head to yourself, because you knew how headstrong both of them were, and turned towards the exit. And, as you finally opened the glass door to leave, you could hear yelling and shouted vulgar words coming from the office. You didn't stay long enough to listen.
You didn't know what to think when it happened. You'd been sitting at home all weekend, alone, and honestly truly bored and wondering if coming back home was the right choice when your phone started ringing. You checked the screen and it was an unknown caller, but boredom had you picking it up anyway.
Mars Bar!
"Hello? Who is this?"
It's me.
"..."
Richie.
"Ohh ... right. How did you get my number again?"
I asked around. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be telling you that you're gonna start work tomorrow.
"What? Start work? Where?"
At The Beef. C'mon Mars catch up with me here.
"Sorry, I'm just ... confused. Carmen told me you guys weren't hiring and that he couldn't give me a job?"
Oh, that. Don't worry about Carmy. I set that moron straight.
"What are you saying?"
I'm saying, you got the job kid!
"Richie, are you fucking with me right now?"
No! Why does everyone always think I'm fucking with them? I'm fucking serious hon.
"Okay, okay! I ... I believe you. I think."
You better! Carmy is really fucking stoked to have you work here, I mean it.
"He ... he is?"
Sure! So I better see your ass Monday morning, capeesh?
"Y-yea I guess so."
Your heart really should not have fluttered the way it did when Richie told you that Carmen was supposedly excited to see you. He hadn't sounded like it when you'd brought it up to him. In fact, he seemed strangely opposed to the idea, like you'd hit a sensitive area.
You weren't sure if you could really believe Richie. Like you'd always known, Carmen was stubborn as hell. The change of heart was unexpected, to say the least. You didn't know what to think. You still didn't know, as you walked through the front entrance of The Beef the next day, ready to start work. The only person to greet you at the front was Richie, standing behind the counter, per usual.
"Cousin!" He gestured you over. You greeted him back and rounded the corner to stand behind the counter next to him, unused to the feeling after spending years on the other side of it.
Richie spent at most two minutes giving you a rundown of what you'd be doing at The Beef, merely distracted by some yelling in the kitchen. The brief directions consisted mostly of taking orders and ringing a bell. A real challenge.
"Yeah, so that's basically it." He gave you a pat on the back and your front almost hit the counter at the impact.
"No paperwork or formalities or anything?" You were almost suspicious of the fast speed at which this had all happened. Richie whipped his head around like you'd stated something crazy.
"Formalities? C'mon, what are we, the fucking White House? This is a family business, Cousin."
He patted you on the shoulder roughly. "Thanks, Richie," you said, both slightly amused and slightly unnerved. You tapped your fingers on the marble countertop, trying to seem casual. "Where's um ... where's Carmy?"
Richie scratched his head. "He's, uh, he's busy. He'll be out soon. Don't you worry, shortcake." He gave you a wink that you didn't know what to do with and turned back towards the kitchen. You were gonna have to talk to him about those nicknames in the workplace sooner or later.
You called out to him before he left into the kitchen, hesitant. "You're sure Carmen said he wants me to work here, right?"
Your eyes bore into Richie's for a moment, and it was almost like you could see the thoughts in his head visibly swarming about. His shoulder raised. "Well, he didn't exactly say he wanted you to, but anyone with fucking eyes can see that he wants you-"
"Richie!" Your jaw hung open in utter annoyance and bafflement. He frowned at you.
"What?"
You almost scoffed. "Did Carmen really not say it was okay for me to work here?" You looked around, bewildered. "Does he even know I'm here?"
Richie gestured his hands out to you. "Sure he does!"
You could tell just from his tone what your answer was. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head to yourself. "I'm going in there to talk to him."
"No!" Richie's eyes widened. "No. Just calm down, and I'll talk to him."
You stared at him disbelievingly. He stared back at you challengingly with the confidence only Richie could have. "I'll be back in no time. I know what I'm doing, trust me."
Richie didn't know what he was planning on doing when he opened the door to the kitchen in search of Carmen. He just hoped he wasn't using a knife when he found him.
He turned a few corners before Carmen was in his line of view, hunched over the counter as he worked busily on something Richie couldn't see. He leaned against the counter next to him, watching Carmen as his focus didn't even falter.
"Carm."
He didn't get a reply, just the back of Carmen's head as he focused on reading the piece of paper in front of him, hand braced against the shining surface it lay on.
"Carmy."
The man in question slowly shifted his focus to the man next to him, whose distracting presence had become impossible to ignore. "What? What is it?"
Richie peered down at him. "Promise that you won't get mad."
Carmen's eyes narrowed. "What the hell did you do?"
"Just promise me you won't fucking blow up at me like you always do."
"Why would I promise that if I don't even know what the hell you did?"
Richie tipped his head back exasperatedly. "Just say you promise!"
"I fucking promise! Okay?" Carmen ran a hand through his hair, moving it again to cross his arms. "Now, what is it?"
Richie paused, kicking out his foot and casually peering down at it with feigned interest. "Mars Bar is outside right now. Again."
Carmen's forehead creased and he looked over at Richie with sudden alarm. "What? Why? Is she okay?"
Richie gave him a knowing look, smug for a moment. "Yeah, she's fine." He shrugged. "I just, um, might have given her a job here up at the register."
Carmen's face was unmoving, his tone raising with poorly hidden anger. "You what?"
"And I might've also told her you really wanted her to work here."
Carmen's eyes scanned Richie's sporadically like he couldn't process his words fast enough. "Wh- Why the fuck would you do that? I already told her no-"
"Yeah, and I told her yes. Because you're an idiot and I'm saving your ass. You're welcome!"
Carmen ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "For what? Fucking me over?"
"I did not fuck you over, Carm, I'm doing this for you!"
Carmen shook his head, anger bleeding its way through his mind. "What the hell are you talking about? I told you, Richie, I don't want her anywhere near this place. I- I thought that was understood."
"No, it was not fucking understood because it was a stupid idea." Carmen let out a scoff as Richie put his hands out to Carmen in a calming gesture. "This is a good thing, trust me."
Carmen sputtered. "How the fuck is it-"
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, Carm!" Richie shouted, bravely putting a hand up in front of Carmen's face. He pointed his finger at him which Carmen regarded with annoyance. "You need to stop being a moron and pushing away every single fucking female that tries to come within ten feet of you, alright?"
Carmen's brows furrowed even further, confusion building alongside anger. "I really have no goddamn idea what your point is here, Richie, but this has nothing to do with-"
"Oh spare me, Cousin!" He shouted. "We all know you've had the hots for Mars Bar over there since you were kids, alright?"
Carmen's mouth clamped shut immediately at this, his breathing coming out in fumes. He shook his head back and forth.
"Is this what this whole fucking thing is about, you jagoff?"
"Woah woah woah!" Richie cut in. "I am not the jagoff here, Cousin. I'm helping you out!"
"Richie's right, Carm," cut in Fak from behind, appearing suddenly out of nowhere like he always seemed to.
"Shut the fuck up, Fak!" Carmen held his head in his hand, trying to grab hold of his temper that he could feel slipping out of control. He needed to breathe.
"She can't work here."
Richie raised his arms in a shrug. "Well, you're gonna have to go tell her that yourself."
"I fucking will."
Carmen stormed off towards the kitchen door, ready to tell you yet again that you had to leave, a daunting thought overlooked thanks to adrenaline. Richie chuckled from behind him. "Yeah right, like you're gonna fire her."
Carmen didn't let himself listen to Richie any longer. Fists clenched at his sides, he opened the door and there you were, standing there, looking confused and a little surprised with parted lips.
Richie came up from behind and patted him on the back. "Go on, Carm. Tell her." You watched as Carmen's jaw clenched.
Carmen really wanted to tell you that you couldn't work here. That you had to go home. That you had to run far away from this place and go back to studying abroad and being more successful than any of them and all of that bullshit. Maybe it was because your eyes were shining a little too bright in the restaurant lighting, or that they looked a little too hopeful as they stared back at him with raised brows, waiting. But he didn't say anything of those things.
"You..." he started. Your eyebrows raised further. His palms suddenly became sweatier. He took a breath in.
"You, um," a beat passed. He licked his lip. "You're gonna need an apron."
Your eyes lit up even more if possible, and he thought his heart would give out. Then, you ran up and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he genuinely questioned if his brain had short-circuited because, by the time he came back to reality, you'd already pulled away and were practically jittering with excitement from in front of him.
"Thank you so much, Carm." Every time you smiled at him in that way he felt himself lose a bit of control. He didn't like the feeling. "You won't regret it."
He smiled back at you because he couldn't not. He wasn't so sure.
Carmen had given you your apron. When he'd handed it to you, you'd brushed fingers and your heart skipped a little beat at the contact. That had been the most eventful thing to occur within the next four days.
You'd done practically nothing at The Beef all week. There'd been a noticeable lack of customers coming into the restaurant to take orders, and those who did oftentimes came in just to see Richie, which had you leaning against the counter waiting and listening to their loud conversations with the man.
It felt like there was some sort of prank being played on you. Surely they wouldn't pay you money for doing absolutely nothing. All the waiting around doing close to nothing made you antsy, frustrated, and confused.
You'd been meaning to address this to Carmen, to ask what you were doing wrong, but getting a hold of him was near impossible. You'd seen so little of Carmen that you couldn't even be sure he came into work most days, the only confirmation being his shouts coming from the kitchen at the others. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you became jealous of them. You'd take Carmen shouting orders at you in the kitchen any day over him saying nothing to you at all. It almost felt like he was avoiding you.
It was a Thursday night, and the antsy feeling inside of you had you staying late at work that night, wiping down tables with an intense amount of fervor.
You'd thought you were the last one in The Beef. It'd been dark for hours, but you had nobody and nothing exciting waiting for you at home, so working a little extra couldn't hurt. And, if it made Carmen notice your position at The Beef at least a little bit, it would be worth it.
As your thoughts drifted to the man, something made a noise from the kitchen, and it became apparent to you that maybe you weren't the only one working late that night.
"Hello?" You'd said aloud, your voice slightly echoing in the vacant restaurant. No response was returned. You slowly went back to scrubbing down a table against the far wall from the kitchen door when it swung open, and there stood Carmen Berzatto in his patchwork wool jacket, looking like seeing you was the last thing he'd expected.
The sight was jarring to you for a number of reasons. You jumped up speedily and tucked the rag you'd been using to clean tables slightly behind you as if he hadn't already seen you using it.
"Mars Bar?" He said, the nickname falling easily from his lips like it was the only one he'd ever known you by. He eyed your tense stance.
"Hey, Carmen." Your smile was just as unnatural. His eyebrows pulled downward at you, eyes squinting and blinking confusedly in the dim lighting like he was fighting sleep.
"What are you doing here so late?" You nibbled at your own lip. Carmen, even from across the room, made sure to follow the movement. You noticed him eye the rag in your hands.
"I was just cleaning off some of the umm ... some of the tables." You didn't know why you sounded so embarrassed. You also didn't know what was going through Carmen's mind as he looked over you, and then over the spotless tables behind you.
"Wow," he began, running a hand through his hair. "You really didn't have to do all this. It's not ... it's not part of your job, you know?" A feeling bitter and stale simmered inside of you.
"I know." You stood up straighter. "Maybe I just wanted to.
You wanted to say more in the moment, tell him all of your frustrations, but you didn't. You just stared back at him and watched as he walked towards where you stood by the tables. You didn't move an inch.
His eyes surveyed the tops of the tables and he marveled at how clean they were. Not just clean, but almost sparkling, even in the low lighting that came from a single overhead lamp and the streetlights from outside.
"You did a great job, Chef."
Your eyebrows raised unintentionally. He'd never called you that before, though you'd heard the name from his lips aimed at others countless times. He noticed your reaction.
"What?" He asked, eyeing you curiously. He leaned back against the table next to you, his beautiful stare almost becoming a little too much for you after a long day. You shrugged.
"Nothing. It's just," you paused, "you've never called me that before."
His expression was slightly confused, slightly amused. "Well," he began, gaze shifting from the ground to you. "Now I do. You work here, don't you?"
The question settled uncomfortably in your chest, and you let out a laugh that sounded just as strained. "Hardly."
Carmen's eyebrows flashed downwards in a quick frown. "What do you mean 'hardly'?" You felt his eyes scanning your face, scanning you. "What's up?"
You went back to rubbing at the corner of a nearby table with your rag if only to distract yourself from Carmen's gaze and the petty way your words sounded coming from your lips.
"I mean," you began. "It feels like I haven't really done much of anything around here, you know?" When he didn't say anything back, you continued. "I've only taken a handful of customer's orders in the past couple of days. And, I know I'm not the best cook in the world but I could definitely help out in the kitchen with something. Maybe I could cut up some stuff, or prep it, or whatever you guys call it. Anything, really."
He didn't say anything right away, and you became horrified that you'd pushed his buttons too many times in the last week with your rants and that he'd finally send you on your way once and for all. Then, you heard something like a laugh come from him. You reeled back.
"Is something funny?" You asked, your tone uncharacteristically sour. He silenced his amusement and looked at you intently.
"You've always been such an overachiever, Mars."
You paused, then shook your head. "Oh please, we all know you're the ambitious one."
"No, not when we were kids," Carmen argued. "I was never great in school. You, on the other hand," he chuckled under his breath. "My mom would have me go check in on you whenever we hadn't heard from you on a night before a test. Make sure you weren't overdosing on coffee and pop."
You swore you could feel your heart beating in your chest at Carmen's revelation and the fondness in his voice.
"You know," Carmen began again, getting lost in memories. "I think my mom used to have this theory I'd marry you one day or something. Said you were the only girl who'd put up with my stubbornness."
Oh my God. Your head was spinning. Why was he saying this? He didn't know what the hell he was doing to you. Or your heartbeat, which was concerningly gaining speed. He never did.
All you could say was, "Oh?"
He laughed some more like this was something casual, something funny. You couldn't help but notice that forever present weight present in his eyes, though. Something he could never seem to shed.
"Yeah, well," Carmen began again, "my mother has also been mentally unstable for years, so." He jokingly trailed off, his voice dying in the silence, along with any butterflies you'd felt. You laughed quietly, even if laughing was the last thing you wanted to do when hearing that.
You felt like you were being suffocated. By him and his blue eyes and his dry, self-deprecating jokes and the small quirk of his lips. You were also getting restless because you'd started off trying to talk with Carmen about your job, and now were getting lost in the haze of your feelings for him which you decided were useless and would get you nowhere. You cast them aside the best you could and looked him directly in the eyes.
"Carmen," you said. His attention focused directly on you. "Did you listen to any of the things I said about working here?"
He nodded. "Yeah," he assured you. "Of course."
"So, will you take them into consideration? Let me do more, Carmen. I can do more."
There was a beat of silence. He fidgeted, like he did when he was a boy and couldn't focus in class, or when he was nervous around a girl he'd liked. Nervous around you.
He wanted to say yes. Hell, he would've given you anything you'd asked for just to see you happy. But he didn't know what the consequences of giving you a more important role at The Beef would achieve. What it might stop you from achieving. What it might do to him. So, he didn't say anything. Not anything direct.
"I know you can, Mars." He exhaled and then put his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight. We can talk about this more in the morning. Okay?"
His response was like a smack in the face. A sharp pain that left a dull ache. You let a breath out and tried to keep your face from revealing your stubborn frustration. You slowly nodded. "Okay."
Even if you tried to contain your emotions, Carmen could see it. He noticed it in the quick flare of your nostrils as you breathed, in the slight clench of your jaw. Stupidly, he asked, "Is that okay?"
You weren't looking at him. You were looking at your feet. You tapped your foot once. "Yes."
Even more stupidly, he asked, "Are you sure?"
You finally shifted your focus to him and he felt his own jaw clench at the way it sent a rush down his spine.
"Yeah, Carmen." That was the first time he didn't like the way you said his name.
"Alright," he said, nodding slowly, lifting his bag higher on his shoulder.
"Alright."
You lifted the rag from the table, stood there for a second, and walked towards the counter, where you wrung it out and slapped it down into a bucket full of other dirty rags, and left it there. You didn't feel much like putting it away.
Carmen hadn't moved and just stood there by the tables, watching as you collected your coat from behind the counter and turned off the lights as you walked past.
When he saw you walking towards the door, he rushed to get there first, to open it for you. You beat him to it, opening it yourself. He closed it and locked the door behind him. You both were engulfed by the dull chill of the air right away, and you couldn't help but shiver.
Carmen turned to you. "Let me drive you home." He didn't dare offer you a lighthearted smile or anything of that sort. He didn't think he had it in himself to be lighthearted, anyways.
You gifted him a polite one with a short tug of your lips. "I have a car. Thanks."
Carmen could've smacked himself right there. "Right." He didn't know what was wrong with him. "Sorry." The apology was for more than just his assumption, but he couldn't bring himself to clarify.
"I'll walk you to your car then?" He asked, though you knew no matter what you said he'd make sure you'd get to your car safely either way.
"Okay, yeah."
You both turned to walk to your car, Carmen letting you take the lead for a moment before catching up to walk side by side with you. You were hit with the reality that Carmen Berzatto was walking you to your car, alone with you, at midnight. A small gesture that had your mind buzzing from the contrast between your love for him and your frustration with him. Nobody had come close to making you feel the emotions Carmen made you feel, even if no words were shared between both of you on that short walk. It felt completely silent. Somehow, even if the streets of Chicago were anything but, it felt silent.
Carmen thought about how his life was full of silent moments, never saying what he truly wanted to, to the people he wanted to speak to the most. When he noticed you were cold, even through your jacket, he walked a little closer to you. Whether you noticed it or not, he didn't know, but at least it soothed a small part of his mind that was blaring that night, telling him that he'd fucked up with you. That you deserved better. He couldn't help but think that same thing when he was around you, all the time.
You'd both crossed the street to reach your car in not even a full minute, but the walk had felt eternal to you. When you turned to Carmen to tell him goodnight, he was already looking at you intently. You wanted to ask what he was thinking, but you didn't, and unlocked your car.
"See you in the morning, Carmen," you said, tone unrevealing. He gave you his best neutral smile.
"Yeah. See you, Mars."
You went to open your car door, but this time he beat you to it. Even if he made you angry, he was still Carmen.
You watched as he rounded the front of your car back to the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, soft breathing visible in the cold from the white puffs it made in the air as he breathed.
You gave him one last wave as a goodbye, but by that time he was pretty much out of vision, and then drove away.
He watched your car drive down the street, stop at the light, turn the corner, and then glide out of view.
Immediately, he knew he should've said more on the walk to your car. He should've at least apologized. He didn't tell you that he was sorry for being so shitty. He didn't tell you he appreciated everything you did. He also didn't tell you his car was parked on the opposite end of the street.
And as he walked back to it, crossing The Beef again with its spotless tables, he thought about nothing except you.
The next morning had you waking up with a headache that only worsened when you stepped foot into The Beef. Your coworkers were shouting and blurting out orders in typical kitchen lingo that you honestly didn't fully understand.
There seemed to be an underlying tension simmering in the air that morning that had everyone's voices raised just a little bit more than usual, echoing through to you from your designated spot behind the front counter.
You figured out soon that that tension came from the review of The Beef that had been put in the paper the night before. It was the same topic that had Sydney and Richie arguing back and forth for minutes on end next to you.
"So this is a war on poor people?" You heard Richie ask as you finally tuned back into their yelling. "I see you."
"No," Sydney yelled back. "This is a war on you shutting the fuck up and learning how to use the tablet! The end dude."
"What is the end?"
You turned to your left to see Carmen stride out of the kitchen, looking every bit intense, shoulders hunched and rigid. He glanced at you in some form of a greeting for only a second before putting himself between Richie and Sydney and somewhat settling their argument.
"Are we ready?" He asked them with a rushed tone.
"No!" Sydney snapped, but headed back into the kitchen with Richie, even if you could see she wanted to punch the man in the face.
You turned back around to watch Carmen as he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and started to rush back into the kitchen. You tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't meet your gaze.
"Um, Chef?" You tried to call, reaching out an arm to get his attention just a hair too late, him brushing past you without taking notice of you.
"Carmen?" This time he turned around, head flipping around to focus on you with eyes shot wide in the rush.
"What's up?" He asked, eyes quickly assessing your face. For a second you forgot what you were supposed to be asking.
"Did you, um, think about what I said last night?" He blinked back at you. "You said we'd talk about it in the morning, so, could we maybe talk about it?"
With the way he stared back at you, for a second you could've sworn he'd forgotten what you were talking about. Then, it had clearly dawned on him and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, holding out a hand to his head.
"No, yeah, right." He thought for a second, and then looked around, peeking into the kitchen, attention clearly spread elsewhere.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "Can we just ... talk about this another time?"
You tried not to show your frustration. "Like when?"
"Uh," Carmen started, but he was already backing into the kitchen. A loud clanging noise of pots and pans rang through to the front, and his focus was completely lost. "Who the fuck keeps denting my pans, Chefs?!" He shouted. He threw the kitchen door open and moved to go inside, but not before calling out "We'll talk later, Chef!" and disappearing into the kitchen.
You groaned. "Later," could mean any time between that day and Easter. You didn't want to blame Carmen. You knew he was extremely busy and tended to overwork himself. But something in the back of your mind told you he was avoiding you. You didn't like the feeling.
It'd only been maybe an hour into the day when all hell started to break loose in the kitchen. At least from what you could hear. There was three times as much yelling as usual and people were weaving through the station by the front counter and the kitchen, shouting sandwich orders. Meanwhile, you felt lost and unhelpful, with no direct answer as to what was going on.
You'd spent your time filling up the napkin dispenser and cutting green tape, feeling your uselessness in your bones. Maybe Carmen was right. Maybe you were overly ambitious. That didn't change the fact that now it seemed like not just Carmen, but everyone else had gone out of their way to keep you away from the kitchen.
You'd thought about going in there anyway, but thought better of it when listening to the commotion. That was, until you saw Marcus with his bags taking his leave towards the exit, a look of both anger and defeat on his face.
"Woah, Marcus," you called out with furrowed brows. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"
He let out a quick breath from his nose that sounded like it was supposed to be a wry laugh. He pointed towards the back. "Anywhere but in that kitchen." You frowned and he shook his head. "He's losing his shit, man."
You were confused and looked to him for more of an explanation, but he was already walking out the door and it didn't seem like he had any plans of coming back. You wanted to ask him "who?", but you had a sinking feeling in your gut telling you that you already knew just who he meant.
That and the loud "Fuck!" that came from the other side of the wall was the last push you needed to finally storm into the litchen. As soon as you walked in, it was a complete overload to your senses. The sounds and smells of sizzling food, the clunky buzzing of timers, and an argument at practically every corner. What had you reeling to a stop, though, was the sight of Carmen shouting truly throat-tearing orders, face turning red with exertion, hair damp from sweat, skin gleaming in the sight.
"Can somebody get me a Sharpie that fucking works?!" he screamed while whipping a Sharpie out of his hand and onto the ground. Your eyes widened at the sight.
"Woah," you said aloud, not even meaning to say the word but being unable to stop yourself. When you did, Carmen's focus switched onto you in a second and you could see the pure chaos held behind his eyes.
"Wh- what the fuck are you doing in here?"
You frowned at his abruptness. "I just wanted to know what the hell is going on in here-"
"Nothing is going on in here."
Someone laughed from around the corner and about three more timers began to buzz and beep.
"Oh please, I've been hearing screaming for hours and then I see Marcus storming out of here with his things saying you've lost it."
At that, Carmen paused, eyes searching yours intently. "Marcus left?"
"Yeah," you answered steadily, unsure of how exactly he'd react. "It looked like he was quitting."
For a second, it looked like Carmen felt guilty, sad, but then he was fuming and slamming his hands down on the counter.
"Fuck!" He shook his head back and forth like he was rummaging through a thousand thoughts swirling around his head. He shouted again. "Fuck!"
You didn't like the sight before you, or the way Carmen seemed to be losing control of himself, and quickly. "Now can you tell me what the problem is?" You almost pleaded. "I could help."
Carmen hardly bothered to look you in the eyes and strode past you to reach the oven you'd been standing by, lifting the lid of a pot and adjusting the heat at lightning speed.
"You're not seriously ignoring me right now when I'm offering to help-"
He put up a hand. "I told you I'd talk with you later, Mars. Go back to the register."
You scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? That's-" you shook your head. "I'm not leaving until I at least know what the fuck is going on."
"You wanna know what the fuck is going on?" Richie shouted out, laughing to himself loudly as he appeared from behind the corner. "Some moron left the pre-order option open on her beloved tablet overnight and now we're 250-something beefs behind schedule!"
Your head was spinning from the news and from the lack of air in the kitchen, but the yelling kept coming.
"Okay, well, the 'moron' is right here and she has a name, thank you," cut in Sydney, livid. "And there is no fucking way you are putting all the blame on me right now, Richie-"
"Who else's fucking fault is it sweetheart?"
"Richie, I swear to God if you call me that one more time-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Carmen's booming voice split the two of them apart. "Shut the fuck up and get back to work!"
They listened and went back to their stations angrily mumbling to themselves. That didn't change the fact that you knew the kitchen was in deep shit and Carmen was one wrong move away from losing his mind. You watched as he stormed around the kitchen to different stations. You'd be an idiot if you just stood at the register waiting for more nonexistent orders.
"Sydney," you called out as she passed by. "What can I do to help?"
She raised the corners of her lips in a slightly surprised smile and thought for a second.
"You can probably start by helping me with peeling these potatoes for now." She handed you a basket filled with potatoes and pointed towards a metal peeler on the counter. You quickly nodded.
"Okay, on it, Chef."
"Great. Oh, and-"
"Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?" yelled Carmen as he rounded the corner behind Sydney. He glanced angrily back and forth between you and the potatoes in your hands.
Sydney rolled her eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing, Chef? I'm getting us some very much necessary extra help."
"We don't need any fucking extra help right now!"
Sydney turned fully to face him. "Carmy what the fuck is your problem right now? Just let her fucking peel some potatoes!"
Carmen was breathing heavily, a vein in his neck visibly contracting."I told you guys she stays out front. I told everyone she's not supposed to-"
"Excuse me?" You asked, cutting in. He was talking about you like you weren't standing right behind Sydney, hearing his every shouted word. "Sydney's right. You need to stop getting so worked up about this!"
Carmen looked like he wanted to scream. To break out into shouts even louder than even those from this morning. You'd only seen Carmen worked up like this a few times before and even then he knew when he was taking things too far.
He didn't say anything back to you and just turned away.
"Someone just get her out of here!" He hollered, to anyone who'd listen. Anyone but you. Somehow, that was even more angering than his yelling.
"Hey!" You yelled, shoving his shoulder back to turn him to face you. He glanced down towards the same shoulder before looking back towards you. You saw something haughty flash behind his eyes as they stared back at you. "Whatever you need to say about me, you can say it to me, Carmen."
He was definitely speaking to you now.
"I need you to stay the fuck out!" He pointed a finger down at you. "You never fucking listen to me! I gave you this job because you fucking asked me to, because Richie fucking asked me to. So how about you finally listen to me and stay the fuck out?!"
You knew everyone had stopped to watch. It was quieter in the kitchen than it had been all morning.
You both stood standing there with heavy breathing. Your mind couldn't think of what to say back in that moment, but a thousand different responses played through your mind. Things you wanted to ask, to shout, to make sure he understood.
Your stare bore into Carmen's own for a few seconds, noticing the anger in them, but also something fragile threatening to shatter and reveal itself. He looked away from you quickly, bracing a hand on the counter.
"Leave, Chef." He said. You didn't need to be asked twice. Not that he was asking.
"Yeah," you laughed under your breath. You untied your apron and left it on the counter. "I definitely will."
He could call you Chef, but he wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen. He could yell at you, but he couldn't even look you in the eyes as you finally left the kitchen.
Another timer went off in the background as Carmen stood there, mulling over what he'd just done in his head; the one thing, most of all, he didn't want to happen.
Sydney shook her head, brushing past him. "Carmen Berzatto, you are a fucking idiot."
He didn't have anything to say, nothing to argue back with. He knew she was right. And as he heard the front door jingle as a sign of you leaving, he also knew just how badly he'd fucked up.
You didn't come to work the next day, or the day after that. Carmen never got to listen for the jingle of the doorbell as you came into work. He didn't get a single glimpse of you, those glimpses that were like caffeine shots, keeping him going every day. He didn't see your warm, familiar eyes that reminded him why he kept going in the first place. This was what he got for trying to keep you at arm's length. For being an asshole. The regret knawed at him painstakingly.
When the first hour went by and you didn't show up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that you wouldn't come into work that day. He had Richie cover the register in your place, an order shouted quickly as he was forced to think about things other than you. And as the day went on, the fact that he didn't know when he'd see you again was a heavy weight that lay in his chest, waiting to be addressed.
You awoke that morning in your apartment, phone lighting up beside you on your bedside table to four missed calls all from the same person. A person you didn't really feel like talking to much.
You checked the time and saw it was almost noon. It wasn't like you to sleep in. And, you hadn't called in sick to work. Not that it mattered.
The next day went the same. You hadn't called in sick that morning either, but you didn't have it in you to care. You didn't even know if you wanted to come back, but there was a twisting feeling inside of you that you knew wouldn't feel release until you settled things with Carmen. The hard part would lay in being upfront with him, not letting him make any excuses, and not letting yourself soften all because he was Carmen Berzatto. A battle between your pride and whatever you felt for him.
Carmen had called you two more times, but soon, the calls stopped coming. Carmen may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was extremely smart. And definitely smart enough to know that calling you repeatedly would get him nowhere, not when he'd been as awful as he had.
You'd spent the day driving around running errands that left you tired with boredom. The sun was setting as you walked back to your own front door, the air crisp and clear from the cold while your mind felt anything but. You reached your front doorstep and unlocked the entrance to your apartment, only to step forward and feel something crunch and mash underneath the heel of your shoe. You lifted your foot and glanced downward.
A candy bar. You peered down further. A Mars Bar.
Something inside of you paused. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe your thoughts. You weren't sure but you could feel it. The now half-smushed candy bar lay on the floor like a bittersweet memory.
You blinked. There was a note. It looked like it had been torn from the corner of something messily. More importantly, there was writing on it, in pencil, words pressed hard into paper.
I'm an asshole. You don't deserve that.
No name, but you knew who it was from. Not a "sorry" in sight, but you knew he was trying. You could almost feel the intent behind the words etched into the paper as you held it. You wanted to be furious still. And you definitely were mad. But maybe not as much. Because you knew Carmen.
You knew he had the temper of someone who'd just lost a brother, of someone who'd grown up in a screaming Berzatto household in the heart of Chicago. You'd never taken his outbursts to heart and you didn't want to now. Besides. You knew, eventually, you'd miss him too much to ignore him.
So much for not giving in to Carmen Berzatto.
You didn't really know what plan you had when you walked back towards your car, sat down, placed the chocolate bar and note in your bag, and drove. You didn't think you had one. You just were aware that your days away from The Beef had been extremely boring and that you wanted to see Carmen. To hear what he had to say to you. Even if it didn't end the way you wanted.
The familiar path to The Beef stretched before you now as an uncertain one. When you got there, you tossed your bag over your shoulder and got out of your car to the sight of the lights off in the front of the restaurant. But, if you knew anything about Carmen, you knew he'd stay late. Your assumption was proven right when you entered through the unlocked door—a slightly concerning fact—and saw the harsh white light of the kitchen flooding through to the rest of the place.
You hesitated to enter, not sure if you really knew what you were doing, but ignored the thoughts plaguing you and walked carefully into the kitchen, waiting at the door when you saw him.
He faced mostly away from the door, from you, hunched over the counter doing something that had his full focus, enough of it that he didn't notice you at first. You saw he had a toothbrush in hand and that he was determinedly scrubbing at the silver countertop surface that already sparkled spotlessly. Clearly, he didn't notice or care.
It felt like you were holding your breath as you watched him, saw how focused he was, how the muscles in his back flexed and churned with each precise movement he made as he scrubbed at a nonexistent stain. Like he held a desire to erase more than just grime.
He did that for what felt like another minute without pause, and you watched the whole time wordlessly, not wanting to break the focus he had and not knowing what to say regardless. Part of you just wanted to watch him, to see how long he could keep at it without noticing you. It wasn't for too long.
He lifted his posture upright and ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply with little exhale as if something weighty was plaguing him. Then, he finally sensed your presence at the doorway, eyes flicking towards you as his moments came to a halt. You watched him part his lips as he thought about what to say.
He shakenly said your name, a fragile plea. The word was soft coming from his lips like he knew it well, but nestled in your brain with surprise as he called you by your real name, not just a nickname. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything at all.
As he looked at you standing in the doorway, he felt exposed, like you could see through any walls he'd tried to build around himself. Words faltered from his brain. His lips parted again as if he was going to say something more, but they shut just as quickly and he ran a hand over his chin. He gestured that hand out to you.
"You uhm- did you get my note?"
You stared back at him for a beat before nodding and reaching into your bag. You held the note out in front of you, the side of your mouth quirking upwards. "Was this Carmen language for 'I'm sorry' ?"
You were half kidding and half serious, a test hidden in your words. The fact weighed on Carmen's brain, his demeanor more nervous than usual, more anxious.
"Yeah, uhm," he scrunched his eyes closed for a half second before walking towards you, taking the note from your hand and reading it to himself again, feeling the warm haze of shame creeping up on him. "Let me translate."
He read it once more. "Well, the 'I'm an asshole,' is pretty verbatim. I'm an asshole, and an idiot, and a bunch of other bad things." He glanced up at you from the paper and was relieved to see that you seemed at least a little amused. He continued. "And the 'You don't deserve that', you see, that's the good part, it translates directly to 'I'm sorry for yelling at you ' and 'it doesn't matter how stressed I was, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. That was wrong of me. And ... you're great.' "
Your eyebrows raised. "That's quite the translation."
Carmen laughed to himself breathily, but it held little amusement. "Yeah, I've been told communicating with me is like trying to tame a wild animal."
You smiled. "Who told you that?"
"Sugar."
Your laugh was warm and sounded like home. It was a feeling that left as fast as it came because soon the air between the two of you seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The heavy silence lay bare and neither of you decided to fill it right away.
"Carmen."
The way you said his name sent shivers down his spine, a sensation that never ceased to affect him. He nodded at you, eyes studying your face showing that you had his sole attention.
"I know you don't like the idea of me being here. You don't have to try and hide it." His eyes widened as you spoke."But, could you at least tell me why?"
He stared back at you, brows furrowed like he was confused. It was like you could see the gears turning in his brain as he fought to find the right wording, revealed by the stiffening mass of his shoulders that never seemed to relax.
"I don't not like you being here, Mars Bar." He spoke slowly. "I think it's great that you're back in Chicago. I ... We've missed you."
A subtle warmth lay in his gaze, but you couldn't help but feel it was dimmed by whatever emotion he'd been suppressing, the battle evident in flickers in the blue of his eyes.
"I want to believe that, but with the way you've been avoiding me, how can I?"
"Avoiding you- that's," he shook his head, almost seeming incredulous, and you watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "I haven't been trying to avoid you."
You didn't know how he could sound surprised, how you could've interpreted the way he's acted all week as anything else. "Well that's definitely what it's felt like when I tried talking to you all week, and you're just ... I don't know, dismissive."
He rubbed a hand at the nape of his neck, focus pitched somewhere that wasn't at you, jaw tightening slightly. "I just ... it's busy around here trying to bring in enough money, and there have been a lot of different things that have my focus right now," he started, as if he hadn't, time and time again, had to remind himself to stop thinking about you.
"Carmen, I know you're busy but that-," you tried to keep your emotions from showing through your voice, but you were aware of the tinge of frustration that was slipping through. "I know that's only part of it. I just need you to be more transparent with me. I can't read your mind."
He nodded, silently thanking God that you couldn't. He swallowed again and you noticed a tremor in the way he held the note he'd written, a sign of unease that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.
"I'll tell you anything you want to know." His blue eyes stared into yours, though you could sense the reluctance in his voice. "But I'm not gonna lie and say that I think it's a good idea for you to stay here."
You felt yourself frown, brows tugging downwards in frustration and confusion. "Why?"
His gaze faltered for just a moment, seeming torn, but he was quick to regain his momentum. "This place is ... it's not meant for someone like you."
You squinted at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Someone like me?"
"Yeah, I just mean," he hesitated, hearing the way you repeated his words, like they were meant to insult. "You were supposed to leave here and finish your studies abroad and achieve great things. Things bigger and better than this shit hole. You were gonna-"
"Carmen, stop." You almost scoffed to yourself. "My plans were always to stay close to home. A few months abroad weren't gonna change that." The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of the words you both shared, the thoughts never said allowed before. You noticed your breathing was becoming labored as you failed to understand the way Carmen's mind worked, the way he tried to communicate so much by doing so little.
"This whole time you were worried about me supposedly being meant to achieve great things, but what about you?" You let out a stunned laugh. "You're the one who studied with the best of the best, traveled all over, became a world-class chef and everything else, and now you're overworking yourself at this place and refusing help."
"Yeah, well, that part of my life stopped when Mikey gave this place to me as a final fuck you, so."
Your heart twinged not only at the name, but at the way Carmen's eyes flashed with hurt while his words could've cut stone.
"Mikey gave this place to you because he trusted you," you reasoned. You tried to make him come down from wherever he was, to detach himself from the hurt and open up. The hard plane of his shoulders lifted once in a shrug, with a small shake of his head as he stared at the ground.
"Yeah well, he just ended up fucking screwing me over."
Carmen's frustration seeped into his voice, the way he emphasized each word like he wanted to release whatever was simmering under the surface. You wanted to reach out, tell him that he could, but you held yourself back and stood up taller.
"That doesn't mean you should push people away from this place. Push me away. I could help out here. I saw how hectic it was the last time I was here and-"
"That day was a fluke," Carmen cut you off. "It's not usually like that..." his jaw worked. "I'm not usually like that." His words were laced with exasperation and a little bit of shame. You could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.
"Carmen, I understand. But-"
"I already blew up at you." His voice cut into the air harshly. He looked away, his chest rising as he tried to control rising frustration. "I didn't mean to do that, I don't... I'm not gonna let that happen again." His words were starting to come out in a rush, escaping his control, something you knew never sat well with him.
"Well, that's my choice to make, Carmen, not one that you can make for me."
"Mars, The Beef isn't- you don't want to settle for this place, just trust me."
"How can I trust you when you've done nothing but push me away since I got here?" You heard the tremble that was growing in your own voice, a mix of hurt and anger. "You've told me a million times what I want and don't want. Have you ever stopped to ask me what I wanted? Seen my point of view?"
Carmen's breathing was picking up too, the crystals that were his eyes looking at you with a mixture of defiance and desperation. He ran a hand over his face.
"I've tried to see your point of view."
"Have you?" you snapped back.
"I gave you the job even though I knew it was a bad idea, I went against what I knew just because it was you and I let Richie convince me it was a good idea, and I am fucking done listening to Richie's ideas-" his breathing was becoming uneven as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
"Hey, Richie's done a lot more to help me since I've gotten back than you have, and a lot more listening!" Now you were yelling, and he was yelling and you didn't like the direction this was going.
"Yeah, well did Richie tell you this place was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt when Mikey gave it to me? Did he tell you we probably couldn't even afford to pay you a decent fucking salary?"
You opened your mouth, expecting to be equipped with a response as fast as the ones that came before, but that didn't happen and you didn't say anything. You let your eyes scan Carmen, searching for a hint that he wasn't serious, but he looked wholeheartedly sincere and angered. In fact, he looked like he was fighting to even breathe steadily.
You looked at him concernedly, taking a step closer, but he just continued, laughing to himself without joy. "He didn't fucking tell you. Of course not."
His breaths were harsh, coming from his nose and lifting his chest repeatedly. His arms slapped down at his sides, hands trembling. "See, that's why I fucking told him I didn't want you anywhere near this crap hole, I fucking told him-"
His yelling stopped. He recoiled, backing up into the counter recklessly, a pot falling behind him with a clang that had you flinching. His vision was pointed downwards towards the ground, but he was frowning so hard you were sure he couldn't see anything at all, hand to his chest, gripping.
"Carmen?" You asked, alarm suddenly overtaking you and washing away whatever anger had been bubbling inside of you. "Wh- are you okay?"
It took him a second to even process what you'd said, another to respond. "I'm fine, I-" you put a hand on his shoulder to brace him, feeling how tense it was, feeling it trying to move with the effort of his shallow breaths. Panic, shame, embarrassment, everything, seemed to claw at his chest, constricting his breathing even more. "I just- fuck, I can't- I can't-"
"You can't breathe," you said, understanding what was going on now with another flash of alarm that you hid, trying to stay calm. He nodded shakily.
"Carmen," you said steadily. To him, the sound of your voice was distant, overshadowed by the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears, muffled the way voices sounded when from underwater. Carmen knew he wasn't underwater. You called his name again, and he did his best to hear it. "You're having a panic attack."
He managed to shake his head again. "I'm fine. I just- shit." His legs practically gave out from underneath him and he braced one hand on the table behind him, one on your shoulder.
The sight of Carmen collapsing to the ground had you wanting to release a sob, but instead, you threw Carmen's arm around you and somehow managed to take two steps towards a bucket that was on the floor against a near wall and got him to sit down on it unsteadily.
You took both of his hands in yours, noticing how his shoulders shook, how the bottom of his neck tinted red from the straining effort to breathe.
"Carmen," you called, kneeling down to his level and giving his hands a squeeze. His vision was blurred, staring downwards, but the hazy sight of his hands wrapped up in yours gave his mind a moment's peace before he was struggling to focus again.
You took a deep breath in, feeling selfish that you even could. "Carm, do your best to look at me." You purposefully slowed your words, spoke softly and clearly, and Carmen heard. You took one hand and rested it by his cheek, hair pooling into your fingers. You brushed it back, and ran your thumb across the rise of his cheekbone, lifting his face to look upwards at you. Even when his mind could hardly form coherent thoughts, your touch still affected him like no one else's.
Once his eyes were on you, you took the hand that was still holding his and placed both on your own chest, covering the area of warm skin close enough to feel your heartbeat. A tremor rolled through him, at your hand, at the way you felt, at your touch.
You. You were here, he thought, and that was a comfort to him in itself.
"Here," you said, pressing down gently but firmly on his hand. "Can you feel my heartbeat?"
Carmen tried, really tried, but his head wasn't focusing no matter what he did. You noticed his struggle right away, like he didn't even have to form words for you to know.
Hurriedly, you took off your jacket and threw it to the ground beside you. Carmen heard the sound of a zipper before his hand was taken in yours again and placed on your chest. This time, the underside of his hand felt warmer, closer to you, to skin.
"How about now?" you asked. His eyes were shut, and he really did his best to focus this time, tune into you, into the way your chest moved up and down beneath his hand, and with it, he heard the soft and steadying rhythm of your heartbeat.
"Yeah, I- I feel it."
You let yourself smile slightly, trying to take slow and deliberate breaths. "Carmen, I need you to do your best to match your breathing with mine." You looked at him and the way his features were scrunching with the effort of trying to listen to you. "Can you do that for me?"
He nodded. He'd do anything for you.
He focused on only his hand, yours, and you. Your chest underneath his palm, warm, and steadying, and alive. He felt it rise once, and fall, all in the time that he let out multiple staggering breaths.
The next time yours rose, he didn't let himself exhale until you did, taking in air from his parted lips and releasing it through his nose, feeling how the air spread thin throughout his body, a good feeling. He did that again, focused on the way his fingertips grazed bare skin, on the sound of your heart beating, in time with his now.
Behind the blank nothingness of his eyelids, scenes played out before him. Visions of his past, echos of familiar voices, spurts of color and light overtaking him.
Then, he thought of you, of the warmth of your gaze, even if he didn't deserve it. The shine of your skin, the way it looked soft even in the harsh light of the kitchen. Thoughts of you, you with him, years ago, months ago, and days, how he'd seen you for the first time in months, standing behind the counter with a smile sweet like the chocolate bars you'd always liked, the one he'd left at your doorstep, a weak attempt at salvaging one of the best relationships he'd ever known. He'd buy a million more if it meant you'd stay with him, by his side, like you'd been for years. Like you were now.
He didn't know how much time had gone by, but he opened his eyes and you were still there, still holding onto him, face looking calm but eyes swirling with emotion. With concern.
He felt fine now, his body having enough strength to support him, but he leaned into you regardless, head sunk down, resting in the place beneath your chin, on your chest. He wanted to get as close to your heartbeat as possible, not just feel it with his hand but surround himself with it.
You brought your hands up to envelop him, one resting on the white cotton covering the hard muscles of his back, rubbing it soothingly, the other coming up to rest in his hair again, gently brushing through the strands closest to the root as if to say I'm here, I have you.
You leaned your own head down to slightly rest on the back of his, mouth brushing against the crown of his head in a way so delicate he wasn't even sure he felt it. But you saw the way he melted into your touch, felt the way the muscles in his back slowly seemed to release tension at each caress. He needed to be held. But he was him, he'd never ask for it. But, you were you, and you'd always know.
You stayed like that for minutes more, though you would've held him all night if he needed it. When he sat back up, the whites of his eyes were tinted pink, and one of his cheeks was gleaming in the light, damp. You didn't comment on it. You didn't say anything at all but stood up from where you knelt and walked towards the counters, peeking underneath them until you found what you needed. You stopped at the sink and returned to your spot in front of Carmen with a plastic deli container filled with water in hand. You offered it to him wordlessly.
"Thank you," he said, taking it from you gingerly, but his voice was hoarse and he felt the red heat of embarrassment as he took large sips of the water, draining it halfway at once. A water droplet escaped from the side of the cup, dripping down his chin, and your eyes followed the movement until you felt guilty about it and stared down at your own hands. The two of you let the silence rest as it was, peaceful and healing, until you felt ready to break it.
"I'm sorry," you said, slightly a surprise for yourself to hear the words from your mouth, but you meant them. Carmen sat back up. "For pushing you to this point. I didn't mean to-"
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Carmen spoke quietly, voice somehow steady. "It- ... that wasn't your fault. It's happened before, when you weren't here."
You let your eyes scan over his face concernedly because he wasn't looking straight at you and you always felt the need to look after him, even if he wouldn't let you.
"This has happened before?" Carmen gave a weak shrug, like this wasn't something he thought about on his own, something he ever let occupy his focus.
"Something like it."
You made a breathy sound of disbelief. "Shit, Carmen."
So many thoughts were demanding your attention, too many. You wanted to tell him how this wasn't supposed to be a normal occurrence, how not okay it was to ignore his mental well-being. Shake him silly for never caring about the right things, for never caring about himself enough. To give him yet another lecture on letting you help him, on letting anyone help him.
"It wasn't as bad this time." His voice paused all your thoughts. "I think it was because you were here."
You didn't know how to respond, but he finally looked into your eyes and saw how much they spoke for you, how they widened, and then blinked once or twice, shying away. Almost like you were guilty, like you were sad. Something inside of him reminded him that he was probably part of the reason for that, and that ate away at him more deeply than any of his, like you said, panic attacks, ever had.
"I'm sorry, Mars."
Your eyes flicked up to his immediately, intention behind them. "You never need to apologize for having a panic attack, Carmen."
"No, for- for not just that." He paused. "For being an ass. For yelling at you. For not listening to you."
You looked at him wordlessly. You didn't want to say it was okay, because you'd be lying if you said that, if you didn't acknowledge how his words still rang sharply in your head. But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that Carmen certainly made things feel okay when he was calm like this, understanding. Peaceful.
"And I'm sorry for all the shit I gave you about not listening to me."
You let out a quick breath, almost a laugh. "To be fair, I ... didn't."
His heart seemed to swell at even just the hint of laughter that coated your voice.
"Yeah. You don't listen to me." He let the side of his mouth quirk up to match yours. "That's the thing I love about you." Internally he thought, just one of many.
You stared up at him. At the way his eyes seemed to look over your face in adoration. It did something to your heart, pulled on the strings of it, and left it panging in your chest. He noticed right away.
"You alright?" His concern and furrowed brows almost made you want to laugh.
"Yes I'm-," you exhaled. "I'm fine. The real question is, are you alright?" He watched as your eyes flitted all around his face. "To be honest, you don't seem it."
He self-deprecatingly chuckled. "Wow, thanks, Mars."
You shook his arm a little bit, expression disbelieving. "I'm serious."
You thought about how tense he'd been underneath your touch, how tense he'd seemed for the many days that you'd been back home. How that couldn't be healthy for anyone.
"You need to start taking better care of yourself, Carmen." You made sure he was hearing your every word. "Your mental health is important. More important than any job. You have to stop worrying so much about The Beef and start worrying more about you."
He ran a tired hand over his eyes, immediately feeling the urge to look away. "If I didn't put as much as I did into this place, I don't even think it'd still be up and running."
You let the words hang between the both of you for a moment, knowing how important this was to him. It was important to you too.
"I know how much you've done for this place, Carm." You took his hand in yours again. "You care about it a lot, always have. I have too. But you know the toll it's taking on you. That's not good for anyone, and it'll only last so long. And ... that's why I think you should take any help you can get, for now."
As soon as the topic left your lips again, you felt his hand stiffen in your hand, mouth opening to argue, but you held up a hand.
"And before you say anything, I don't care about the full salary, I don't I care about traveling, or 'wasting my potential' or any of that. I care about helping this place, making sure it lasts, for Mikey." You breathed. "And for you. I care about you."
He could feel his own heart start to race in his chest, flustered like he hadn't known you for years, like you weren't one of his oldest friends.
"I care about you too," he said, and the words felt shamefully foreign on his tongue, thinking about how little he'd ever actually said the words. "That's part of why it's hard for me to think about you working here. You mean a shit ton to me. More than anyone else in this damn place."
"You don't mean that." You couldn't stop the way your brows pushed together, looking down at your hand that was holding Carmen's rough and callused ones. "What about Richie, or Fak, or Sydney-"
"They mean a shit ton to me too, but it's ... not the same. You're you."
He looked into your eyes, trying to see if you'd recognized his hints, but he picked up emotions other than the realization. On a frown, on reluctance, on a guarded, shy look.
"I'll always be me, Carmen." You bit at the inside of your cheek, putting off the topic like you weren't important. That was a foreign idea to him. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you not accepting help."
You saw the way his demeanor shifted at your words, a sense of uncomfortableness settling in his bones, revealing itself in the way he sat up straighter. Your grip on his hands was still firm, unwavering, like all you wanted was to make him understand.
"Carmen," you called, but he was already staring at you. "Promise me that you'll let other people take care of you, help you get by. Let me help you."
He was grateful for the way he was positioned, elbows leaning on knees, hands held by yours, because it was stabilizing him, grounding him when he felt like running. He knew that if he wanted to keep you around, keep you by him, he couldn't do that. That didn't change the fact that this was new to him.
"I, um,"
"It doesn't have to all at once." You gave him a smile, a real one, because you knew he was trying. Breaking out of old habits, for you. "One step at a time."
You were back home. Him pushing you away in his head, running, but only in his mind, didn't change that. He didn't want it to. Despite the pull of his mind telling him to hold you at a distance, the push of his heart wanted you. It was drawn to the cradle of your hands, the warmth of your smile.
"I promise."
Your smile grew to a grin that tugged at the sides of your glowing eyes, eyes that sparkled with affection like they held a hidden invitation, a plea for him to let you in. He finally did, and he knew so fully that he would've made that promise to you time and time again if it meant he could have you and see that smile as much as he wanted.
Your fingers brushed the back of his hands as you stood up from where you were kneeling, letting out an exhale that he noticed sounded almost weightless, a change from the burdened way it sounded to him before. The thought put him at ease.
He stood up too, watching you as you retrieved your jacket and put it on, him feeling the urge to help you with even just that. When you focused back on him, the etches of a smile still lingering on your face, it was magnetic. He couldn't look away. You couldn't either.
You stared at the way a hundred different colors danced in the blue of his eyes, a miraculous feat that you'd loved from the start. As you looked at each other, eyes saying more than your mouths had the courage to, your smile grew slowly, heartbeat picking up in your chest.
"Let me walk you to your car," you coaxed, gesturing towards the door. He laughed at the random idea, breaths escaping through his nose.
"What? Why?"
You shrugged, smile and features and everything, warm. "Call it the first step to you fulfilling your promise to me."
Knowing how he'd iced you out, he embraced that warmth. Made it his new home. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."
You gestured for him to follow you, he did, and that was all he had to do. You turned off the lights behind the both of you, locked the door, and didn't ask him to do a thing, just to see the amused look on his face when you smiled at him, his eyes staring back at yours like you were a wonder, something rare to be loved and kept safe.
As you walked back to his car, that was all he could think about. How he'd come across this ray of light in his life that was you, and how you'd stayed by his side, a miraculous idea but he didn't even want to dwell on that too much because it took him away from this moment being shared between the two of you, alone, the cold nipping at your skin but it not mattering because too much had happened that night to care.
The moment seemed to come to an end all too quickly. Carmen had stopped once you'd both reached his car, and you did too. He became aware of the feeling of you next to him, savoring it because he knew it'd end the moment he got into his car.
"Carmy," you said, extending the moment just a little longer. He hummed in response, watching as you stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.
"Can you promise me one more thing?"
He nodded, not missing a beat. " Yeah, anything." Something inside of you fluttered. You cast it aside to hold his gaze.
"Promise me you'll always try and tell me what's going on in your head. No more hiding."
His eyes bore into yours like he was contemplating something, a flicker of conflict in them, a vulnerability that you didn't know what to think of. Then, it was gone and you weren't even sure you'd seen it.
"Yeah, I- um," his jaw tightened for a second. "I promise, Mars."
You patted him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that felt phony even to you. "Great ... that's great."
He flashed a closed-mouthed smile and you both stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, not saying a word.
"Goodnight," you told him, because it was what you would've said to anyone else at that moment, ignoring the whispers in your mind telling you something was missing, that Carmen wasn't just anyone else.
Something tugged at him too, nagging him, insisting that he had more to tell you, more to say before the night was really over, before he had to go to work the next day and somehow navigate his day with the new promises he'd made you. But all he said was "Goodnight, Mars," before getting in his car with just a wave goodbye that felt bare and wrong.
You left him one more of your smiles through the passenger window of his car before walking off to wherever you'd parked your own. He was sure he'd felt butterflies. Butterflies.
Only you could do this to him. He'd felt numb, overwhelmed and unsatisfied all the same time for however long, and then you come back to Chicago and suddenly he felt everything, all the time. It was getting to him, clearly, because he found himself opening his car door and stepping out of it, losing control of his body, loosening his grip of rationality all because of you. Because he wanted to see you, needed to. He needed you.
You were a good distance away from his car by the time he'd gotten out of his, but you turned around at the sound of the car door practically slamming. You frowned, noticing Carmen walking towards you.
"Carmen?" you called into the night, confused. He caught up with you, something behind his gaze that had his eyes shimmering. You swore you could feel the delicate movement of his eyes across your face as soon as he was near enough to truly take it in.
He took hold of your hand, fingers interlocking with yours delicately, an electrifying feeling buzzing through you. You let out a small gasp at the contact, vision shooting down at the point at which you both touched, just a hand hold but the contact took your full focus.
"Hey," he said, something like a smile creeping onto his features and you'd never seen him like this, so exhilarated and full of delicate determination. You looked back up into his eyes, and he took a step closer, finally letting himself be pulled by that magnetic force calling him to you that he couldn't resist. He wouldn't, anyway.
"Wh-," you started, meaning to question him but the thought was brushed aside when he leaned inwards, his forehead falling against yours. His curls brushed against the top of your head, and you secretly loved the feeling, becoming breathless.
"You can tell me to stop, Mars." He murmured it so close to you, breath fanning onto your cheek in a distracting but addictive way, and suddenly you were forgetting how to talk. It didn't matter, because you didn't want him to stop. You looked back up at him, and he saw that in your eyes, so he didn't.
His lips brushed against yours, a taste of what he'd been wanting for longer than he could even remember. The feeling it sent throughout him was immobilizing, and he stayed like that, eyes shut, reveling in it.
It was you who closed the distance, pressing your lips to his and letting the dizzying wave from it spread all over you, to the tips of your fingers that immediately reached up to hold his firm shoulders, and to your brain that buzzed in joy and excitement and a bit of something else.
He froze up for a second when he felt your lips crashing into his. Your lips on his felt like the answers to all his problems, and he needed them in a burning, unignorable way. His brows furrowed and his hands reached up to cradle your neck delicately, holding you like you were more valuable than anything he could've bought, anything he could've wished for, could've imagined he could possibly have.
His lips tugged on yours and yours tugged back, a rhythm that felt easy to follow, like the deep thrum of a heartbeat. And when you both finally pulled apart for air, it was like you could still feel that rhythm, because your heartbeats were beating so loudly and in time with each other's that it felt like the moment was never meant to come to an end.
Your foreheads were still connected, and you knew neither of you had it in you to pull away. You felt somehow even more breathless.
"What was that for?" Your voice was soft, hoarse. You swore you saw Carmen's lip quirk upwards.
"I promised to not hide what was going on in my head." Your hands came up to delicately wrap around his biceps, impossibly solid underneath your fingertips. He didn't suppress the shudder that traveled through him. "Call that the first step."
You smiled, this time against his lips, and somehow that beat every single smile you'd ever given him before. It felt like a promise of your own, to share your warmth with him from now on. He liked the idea, a lot. He'd let you do it whenever you wanted, he liked it that much.
He'd let you take care of him whenever you wanted, too. Again and again, until you got sick of him. But he was Carmen Berzatto. You knew you never would.
#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#the bear#friends to lovers#love confessions#one shot#fiction#romance#carmy needs a hug#mental health#carmy needs therapy#slight angst#x reader#childhood best friends to lovers#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy x reader#jeremy allen white
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The Polyjuice Ploy - Ominis x FemReader
Well... this got out of hand. This was a request made by this lovely person -> @mentosanu and here is the original post/request
Hopefully I have not gone too crazy and this is somewhat what you wanted lol. if not... my b.
Shoutout again to @isolight for reading this over <3 you da best
Music to enjoy -> Flight of Dragons
Summary: Sebastian and Ominis, after reading through an old textbook, get the idea of Ominis drinking a Polyjuice Potion to enjoy a day of sight and surprise a certain special someone ;)
Word Count: ~7,8-, (checks word count again... omfg) ~7,800 words
Warnings: angst/hurt, slightly heated kissing, comfort/fluff
Credit to the Harry Potter website and JK where I basically stole *cough* rewrote the description of what a polyjuice potion does and the affects of the polyjuice when ominis transforms
Read my other Ominis Fics Here
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Ominis rests his head into his palm with a sigh. His quill writes out the last sentences he needs for his essay and he couldn’t be happier to be nearly done. Footsteps echoing on stone catch his attention, followed by the gate of the Undercroft rattling open.
“Ah, was hoping to find you here.” Sebastian greets.
“Looking for me, were you?” Ominis spares Sebastian a grin in greeting. “I’m busy at the moment, but if you don’t mind waiting-,”
Something heavy drops onto the table Ominis is using, sloshing his pot of ink. Ominis frowns as he feels over the object in front of him.
“Why… what is this?” Ominis questions, tracing over the worn cover of a leather tome. He runs his other hand along the spine. The bindings of the book are exposed and he can feel the bumps of worn cords holding the loose pages together. Even the leather is peeling on the corners and edges. Whatever the title of the tome was, it’s long since faded as his wand can’t find a legible letter to decipher.
“Some light reading I need help with.” Sebastian states while he takes a seat next to Ominis.
Ominis sighs, “I don’t have time for this, Sebastian. I must finish this report for Profess-,”
“That can wait. This is far more pressing.” Sebastian shoves away all of Ominis’ writing utensils.
“Sebastian!”
“Ominis, you were the one saying I needed to find other ways to cure Anne. Well, this could be it. Now, are you going to help me, or sit there and complain?”
Ominis lets out a deep breath while he flips the book open, “Fine. But only for a little bit. Then I must finish my report.” Ominis stresses with a glare aimed towards Sebastian.
“Thank you, my friend. I won’t soon forget this.”
Ominis skims through the pages. Seems Sebastian procured an archaic textbook dated back to the first few years of Hogwarts - detailing the more illicit potions you could make. Elixirs ranging from the mundane boil remover to the far more deadly Eternal Sleep Draughts. Ominis doesn’t find much in the book to help Anne, not even a remedy to help with the pain. He flips to another page when he pauses.
It enables the consumer to assume the physical appearance of another person, as long as they have first procured part of that individual’s body to add to the brew. The effects of the potion are only temporary, and, depending on how well it has been brewed, may last anywhere from ten minutes to twelve hours. You are able to change age, sex, and race by taking the Polyjuice Potion, but not species.
The more he reads, the more his thoughts stray from searching for a cure for Anne. To take on the physical appearance of someone else and to change…
“Find something?” Sebastian questions, glancing over Ominis’ still wand digging into the page.
“No.” Ominis states and tries to turn to another section of the book, but Sebastian snatches the tome from Ominis’ grasp. He examines what has caught Ominis’ attention and Sebastian’s brows furrow at what he finds.
“Polyjuice Potion?” Sebastian looks over to Ominis.
“I’m sorry. I got distracted. Can we please move on and go back to the task at hand?” Ominis reaches for the book, but Sebastian keeps it just out of his reach and chuckles.
“Why’re you so interested in a Polyjuice Potion, Ominis?”
Ominis huffs with a shake of his head, “I’m not.”
Sebastian rolls his eyes, “You most definitely are.”
Ominis crosses his arms with a snarl, “And if I am? What of it?”
Sebastian reads over the passage again, a smile forming on his lips, “I can see why you would be. If I’m thinking the same thing you are.”
“It’s silly. I shouldn’t even entertain the thought.” Ominis dismisses.
“Why not? Wouldn’t you want to spend the day being able to see?”
Ominis frowns, “But, it wouldn’t be through my own eyes. It would have to be through someone else's. And I doubt anybody would be willing to give me a lock of hair for such a thing.”
Sebastian puts his hand on Ominis’ shoulder with a slight grin, “It’s a good thing I am that somebody.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I think we should make this potion and once it’s done, you can use my hair. It’ll be perfect!” Sebastian shakes Ominis in his excitement.
“Brewing a Polyjuice Potion takes time. And, far more importantly, skill. A skill I doubt either of us possesses.”
Sebastian leans back in his chair with a hum, “That could pose a problem. Unless, we found someone to make us the potion.”
Ominis cranes his head, “Who would be willing to-,” the words die in his mouth. His lips thin as he nods, “I know of someone. I’ll have to reach out to them though.”
Sebastian claps his hands together with a grin, “Excellent. This may be one of your better ideas, Ominis.”
Ominis snatches the book from Sebastain and goes back to researching, “We shall see, won’t we?”
===========================
Two weeks pass before Ominis receives word back from his contact. The letter is brief and Ominis is filled with excited trepidation as he heads to the Hog’s Head for the meeting. Ominis is relieved the transaction is quick, with few words exchanged. Ominis keeps the potion close to his chest as he heads to the Undercroft to stash it away until the right moment.
Three days later, Sebastian finds Ominis pacing in the Undercroft.
“Sorry I’m late.” Sebastian greets. “Ready for this?”
Ominis shakes his head, “I don’t know. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“What’s the problem? You seemed sure yesterday.”
Ominis stops, letting out a sigh, “Are you sure you’re okay with this? If you’re have any doubts, I-,”
“I want to do this, Ominis.” Sebastian interjects. “Now, where is that potion before you change your mind.”
Ominis reaches into his pocket and hands the potion over to Sebastian. Sebastain holds the palm-sized phial up to the fire’s light. He plucks out a few strands of his hair then he places them into the potion. A faint sizzling sound can be heard as Sebastian swirls the muddy liquid. Sebastian hands the potion back to Ominis.
“Drink up.” Sebastian grins.
Ominis holds the potion in his hand - willing away his nerves. He raises the potion up with a slight smile, “Cheers.”
He downs the thick liquid, refusing to allow himself to gag at the taste and consistency.
Immediately, his insides start writhing and twisting. He doubles over, wondering if he’s going to throw up the concoction. A burning sensation spreads rapidly from his stomach to the tips of his fingers and toes. It’s enough to bring him gasping to all fours, whimpering and moaning as a horrible melting feeling begins to overtake him. His skin feels like it’s bubbling. His fingers stretch out, growing larger and longer. He hears the popping of his joints as they shift into their new positions over the rushing of blood in his ears. His shoulders stretch and he’s constricted in his own clothes. He rips off his robe, flinging it away, and his legs and feet are in agony. His shoes are now two sizes too small and he could feel his hair resting along his forehead instead of being neatly styled back.
“Ominis! Ominis, are you alright? Answer me!” Sebastian demands, flipping Ominis over to his back.
Ominis spares him a nod, finding his tongue to be too heavy and thick in his mouth to speak. He no longer feels like he’s ripping apart and the nausea he felt has all but evaporated.
Sebastian chuckles, “Wow. I… this is absolutely dotty.”
Ominis’ brows pinch and Sebastian’s hands assist him into a sitting position.
“Ominis. Open your eyes.” Sebastian urges.
Ominis sucks in a sharp breath then slowly opens his eyes. A bright face grinning back at him is the first thing he sees. Ominis stares at the boy, taking in the sight.
“Sebastian?” His voice is not his own and Sebastian’s eyes widen.
“Whoa! Oh, wow, Ominis. You can see.” Sebastian’s grin is contagious and Ominis matches his excitement.
“I can see. I see you.” Ominis reaches up and touches Sebastian’s face, his eyes blurring with sharp tears burning his eyes and throat. Sebastian lets Ominis trace over his smiling face. It’s all so familiar. The bridge of Sebastian’s nose all the way down to the curve of his brows. Ominis didn’t expect his friend to have such dark eyes and dots all over his face. Sebastian’s hair is about how he pictured though - a thick mess on top of his head.
“Well? Am I what you envisioned, or have I disappointed?” Sebastian teases.
Ominis shakes his head, “You’re nothing like I envisioned. Yet, it makes sense. I-,” he turns his attention to around them. He gets to his shaky legs and laughs as he looks around.
The room is far less inviting than he imagined with the stone being a dull, dreary hue. The lights of the brazers and candles lures him closer. The warmth of their light takes his breath away and his hand reaches out to hover just over the flames. He turns his gaze to all the crates, boxes, and other items stored away down here. Some are covered in a fine layer of dust, while others are draped over with light colored sheets.
“This is the Undercroft.” Ominis mumbles to himself.
“Indeed it is.” Sebastian grabs each of Ominis’ shoulders and drags him over to a cracked mirror. “And here you are.”
Ominis stares at the two identical boys in the mirror. Ominis’ eyes widen and the boy across from him does the same. He tilts his head and so does the reflection. He touches over his cheek and drags his fingers down over the tanned, freckled skin.
He looks over to Sebastian, “How odd indeed.”
“I must say, this is probably the best you’ve ever looked, Ominis.” Sebastian smirks.
Ominis laughs, “I’m sure.”
Ominis stares at Sebastian, finding it unbelievable he can actually see his friend looking back at him with a devilish smile. He could always hear Sebastian’s smirks when he spoke, but to see how it affects his face, especially his eyes - illuminating them in a way Ominis doesn’t quite understand - makes him wonder if all people are this animated.
“Well, as exciting as being here is, there’s a whole bunch of things you ought to see before that potion wears off.” Sebastian states.
Ominis nods, “Yes. Of course. Where should we begin?”
Sebastian smirks while guiding Ominis towards the exit gate, “Sorry, my friend, but I’m afraid I can’t go with you.”
“What?! Why not? This was practically your idea.” Ominis scowls.
Sebastian raises a brow, “Oh? And tell me how good of an idea will it be for the both of us to be seen together right now? They know I’m a twin, but I doubt they’ll believe this.” He gestures over Ominis.
“Besides,” Sebastian slips off his robe and tosses it to Ominis, “you already have plans today.”
“I do?” Ominis shrugs on the robe, adjusting the sleeves and rolling his shoulders.
“Yep! You’re supposed to be meeting up with a certain special someone right about now.” Sebastian grins.
“What? You made plans with her?” Ominis crosses his arms with a frown.
Sebastian rolls his eyes, “By I, I mean, you, Ominis.”
Ominis’ brows furrow, “You mean to say you didn’t tell her what we’re doing.”
“No. It’s better this way - trust me.” Sebastian opens the gate and motions for Ominis to go through, “Now, go to the North Exit. And have fun today. I’ll be here waiting until you come back.”
Ominis wants to protest, but Sebastian slams the gate closed in his face and starts walking away. Ominis sighs, making his way out of the Undercroft.
He’s met with a near blinding light once he emerges from the clock. His eyes roam all over, taking in the sights of students passing by. He grips his wand and follows the familiar vibrations towards the North Exit, but his stride is slow. The sounds he’s heard all start to merge together. The paintings, the statues, the students, the smells of certain plants - all of it forms the full picture before him. He stops several times in front of vibrant paintings of faraway places, suits of armor shining in the light, and when he takes a bridge outside, he’s completely entranced.
The sky above is a color he finds the most pleasing. Blue. That must be the color blue, he realizes. With gentle clouds rolling by, he’s starting to understand how people can gaze up at the heavens for hours on end. Students zip by on their brooms and he laughs at how wonderful the sight is. The sun peeks out over the towering castle. He can’t believe how small the sun is - he always imagined it taking up half the sky considering how much the light reaches. He has to look away when his eyes begin to burn and dark spots blot his vision. He continues his journey to the North Exit, but as he gets closer and closer the more his nerves start to show themselves.
Seeing Sebastian for the first time was surprising, so he can only imagine how he’ll react to seeing her. His heart won’t slow down - it keeps getting faster and faster with every step closer he gets. His hands clench and unclench themselves and he’s practically grinding his teeth into dust. He’s tempted to turn around, hide in the Undercroft until the potion wears off, just to cease this torture. He’s at the stairway gripping the cool railing as he descends. Just before he reaches the last step, the vibrations of his wand pick up a familiar aura of someone. His stomach twists. He looks over to find a girl standing by the door.
She cranes her head and smiles with a light wave, “Sebastian! What’re you doing here?”
Ominis freezes in place - his mind barely able to shove his wand into his robe’s pockets. His heart hammers in his chest and he can’t breathe. She walks towards him with confusion lacing her eyes. Her eyes. He can’t stop staring at them. They’re a beautiful color he’s not familiar with. They almost seem to sparkle. And how she moves is enchanting. It’s like she’s floating right over to him. Her perfume reaches his nose and a smile stretches across his face at the familiarity.
“Sebastian? Everything alright? Do I have something on my face?” She laughs, but her brows pinch together with slight worry at the thought.
“What? Um, no. I-, You look great. I-I mean, you’re-, It’s fine.” Ominis curses himself and decides shutting his mouth would be best for now until he regains control of his rattled mind.
She nods with her eyes slightly narrowed, “Well, um, have you seen Ominis?”
“Ominis?”
She laughs, “Yes, Ominis. You know, our friend? You said he’d be meeting me here to go to Hogsmeade. But, it looks like he’s running late.”
Damn Sebastian for telling her that. He probably thinks he’s so clever, Ominis seethes to himself.
“Well, actually…,” Ominis takes in her awaiting features, noting how much her face speaks for her - much like Sebastian’s. If only he could recognize what emotion she’s currently conveying with her pinched brows and slight frown. Perhaps Sebastian had a point about not telling her. He turns his gaze to the ground, “He said he wouldn’t be able to make it.”
“Oh.” Her frown fully forms and she looks away, “D-Did he say why?”
He curses himself at lying, but he can’t back down now, “He said he wasn’t feeling like himself.”
She nods, slow and disappointed, “I see. I should probably go check on him if he’s not feeling well.”
“No!” Ominis exclaims, making her eyes widen. “I mean, we could go to Hogsmeade together instead.”
She cranes her head, her eyes scanning over him as her mouth parts and closes several times.
“Ominis said I should take you.” He blurts out. “You know, as to not disappoint. He feels terrible about all of this.”
She spares him a small smile, “Ever the gentleman. Alright, if you don’t mind, I suppose it’d be nice to get away from the castle for the afternoon.”
He can’t stop his grin from forming and he holds out his arm for her, “Shall we?”
She raises a brow at him and he realizes all too late how odd this gesture is for ‘Sebastian’ to be making. He quickly lowers his arm and takes the lead with a hurried gait. She doesn’t follow immediately and it takes her a few long strides to catch back up. He opens the door and he’s taken back by the sight which greets him.
The lawn is a vivid pigment in contrast to the stone which cuts through it. The grass is lush and inviting. He kneels down and rests his hand on it. The grass ripples from the wind and he’s beguiled by how peaceful the motion is. He’s felt it a hundred times, but to see it actually happen as it moves in waves across the field makes his smile widen. He remembers Sebastian saying that grass is normally green. He takes in the color of green and how it paints the trees as well in a different shade - a more richer, green.
“Everything alright?”
He whips his head over to her, who watches him with a worrying gaze. He quickly stands back up.
“Fine. I apologize - I thought I saw something.” He walks ahead and she keeps up with him.
Ominis tries to keep himself from staring too long at the fountain as they pass. The water trickles and rings in his ears in a pleasant way, and he wouldn’t mind staring at the rippling water, but he forces himself to keep walking. They continue along the path and when they reach the bridge, he practically slams his chest against the railing to look at the river below.
The water rushes over the different colored rocks, taking various debris of leaves and twigs down stream. He follows the river until he sees the lake shimmering in the distance. He’s aware of her standing by him and her eyes are trained at where he was staring.
“Something caught your eye again?” She wonders.
“Yes, but it was nothing.” He dismisses.
She nods with a slight grin, “Are you sure you haven’t caught what currently plagues Ominis? You’re being quite odd today.”
“I’m fine.” Ominis smiles at her and she nods, but the way her gaze seems to be piercing right through him makes him feel exposed.
Despite doing his best to keep his eyes straight ahead instead of looking around, he can’t help himself. He can’t believe how beautiful the world is. He looks above them at the tree limbs overhanging the path. The sunlight filters through the canopy and he’s in awe at how such a simple thing could be so magnificent. He could actually see the rays of sunlight - he even reaches out to grab it. Little flying creatures flutter past them towards the bright flowers growing beside the path and he can’t quell his smile as he watches. The sound of the trumpet flowers makes him pause. While the flowers themselves were dazzling, their obnoxious noise masks any notes of admiration within him.
“You’re quiet today.” She says, bringing his attention to her. The sun illuminates her skin and hair, making her glow. He’s taken back by how captivating she is. His heart picks back up again and his stomach flutters and twists. He likes watching how her voice and lips work in tandem to speak. Then he realizes she’s said something else.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” He mumbles.
She stops walking, making him do the same, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine, I assure you.”
She opens her mouth, but promptly shuts it. She scans over him again then resumes walking. There’s an emotion written upon her face, but he’s not sure what it is. He’s finding great difficulty in discerning anything she says, too. A task he had no trouble with before, but now his mind can’t piece together her face with what’s being said.
The path winds up the hill and as they reach the top, his breath escapes him at the sight of Hogwarts in the distance. He all but sprints towards the overlook and he lets out a slight laugh at the castle. It was grand. Truly, and utterly, grand. The lake surrounds the school - which seemingly emerged with the jagged rocks which encompasses it. The towering trees seem almost insignificant compared to the striking, massive castle.
“Quite a sight.” She says with a sigh while she joins him at the railing. “It never fails to give me goosebumps.”
A flock of birds fly in front of Hogwarts and Ominis nods, “Magnificent.”
She watches him and her lips try tugging into a smile, but she refuses to let it form. She pats the railing then turns towards the path.
“Come along. We’re nearly there.”
Ominis takes in Hogwarts for a moment longer before following after her.
He’s looking up at a tree with leaves that were not green, but a light, almost soft color. He’s perplexed by the idea of trees being more than just green when his eyes widen at the entrance to the town. Hogsmeade is bustling with students and patrons alike - some rushing to get to where they need to be while others stroll about with not a care in the world.
She turns to him with a slight grin, “How about checking out Gladrags first? I’m in need of a new pair of gloves.”
He nods, his eyes darting everywhere. So much is happening, it’s enough to spin his head. Hogsmeade has always been a bit overwhelming to his senses - so many smells, sounds, and people. It makes it hard for him to know what’s happening, or where he was at times. Now, he sees the chaos before him is just as he imagined. Cauldrons bubble over crackling fires, lively music plays in the distance, several conversations all happening at once - it makes him grin with how mad this whole place is.
A hand takes his and he doesn’t think twice about grasping it back, letting it tug him along as he looks around. His mind catches up to him after a few steps and he looks down to find her leading him. He’s about to take his hand back and come up with some excuse to his bewilderment, but she glances towards him with a soft smile. This smile is far different from the others she’s had. It reaches all the way to her eyes. For some reason, it makes his chest warm and his breathing choppy - he can’t possibly remove his hand now. Not if it means extinguishing this feeling.
Her pace is far easier than it was on the way here. It gives him plenty of time to take in the sights of the different shops as they pass by. He recognizes the scents of some, like Honeydukes and The Three Broomsticks, and others surprise him by their appearance, like Spintwitches. Birds fly overhead - which he figures out are owls due to the parcels they carry - and watering cans zip past to the different rows of blooming flowers. He notices the hanging lights overhead and he wonders what nighttime must look like.
Honeydukes’ display of assorted, bright candy is what brings him to a full stop. The candy is vibrant and comes in so many designs and shapes.
“Do you want to go inside?” She questions.
He slowly nods and she giggles - leading him into the candy shop.
He can’t contain his smile at the vast array of colors before him. There’s more than he could ever imagine and he feels somewhat annoyed by how little everyone has told him - giving him only basic colors and denying him the plethora of shades they come in. It makes what he saw at Hogwarts seem almost muted in tone by comparison.
They browse the vast selection of succulent candies, chocolates, and cakes until he finds his favorite - Peppermint Toad. He picks up the box with a grin. He’s always enjoyed the sharp mint taste and how the toad hops around in his stomach after. He finds the whole experience amusing - much to Anne and Sebastian’s confusion.
“Is there anything you would like?” He asks, glancing towards her.
She laughs, “You want to get me something?”
He nods, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
She bites her lip with a slight shake of her head, “I wouldn’t mind a Chocolate Frog then. Since you’re offering.”
He pays for their sweets and they head back out - making their way towards Gladrags. He stares at the toad-shaped treat, noting how the pattern swirls with two different colors which possess a slight shine, before he pops it into his mouth. He frowns for a moment at the peppermint taste not being nearly as predominant as he remembers. While the toad hops in his stomach, she’s already eaten her chocolate and is examining her card.
“Merlin’s Beard. I got Almeric Sawbridge. Again.” She huffs.
He laughs at her sour expression. Her frown melts away into a warm grin and she looks away.
“I didn’t know you liked Peppermint Toads.” She comments. “Thought only Ominis did.”
Ominis curses himself for not thinking about such an oversight.
“I… normally don’t. I only wanted to see why Ominis enjoys them so.” He says.
“And?” She smiles. “What’s your verdict?”
“They’re adequate.”
She giggles with a slight shake of her head.
They arrive at Gladrags and the smell of pigment and fabric greet them as they walk in. She wanders over to a dress on display. She skims over the fabric with a slight smile then looks over to him.
“What do you think of this orange?” She wonders.
The dark, rich color is almost regal in appearance. He touches the dress, following the seam down the bodice and enjoying the stiff material.
“It looks beautiful.” He says.
Her eyes are aflame and a wide smile comes over her. She bites her lip then turns away towards the scarves. She looks over them until she finds one. She holds it out to inspect it before turning back to him.
“Do you think Ominis would like this?” She asks.
The monotonous tone of the scarf doesn’t evoke anything in him until he feels the article of clothing. It’s soft and brings a smile to his face.
“I like it.” He comments then shakes his head. “So, I’m sure Ominis would as well.”
She laughs, wrapping the scarf around his neck, “I’m glad you think so. Mind holding on to it for me then?”
“I-, of course.” He can feel his cheeks heating up as she smooths down the scarf on his chest. When her eyes meet his, a gasp escapes him. He feels encapsulated in a warmth he’s never experienced before. All from one single look. He’s slightly thankful he can’t see her all the time for he’s sure he would never be able to speak a coherent sentence to her otherwise.
She pays for the scarf then grabs his hand again, leading him outside. She turns to him with a grin.
“What would you like to do today?”
The question takes him by surprise and he can’t form a single thought to reply back to her.
“Well, if you have nothing in mind, then I may have something we can do.”
He smiles, “Lead the way.”
She squeezes his hand and his heart soars at the twinkle in her eyes. She’s up to something, but he can’t find it in himself to care. She leads him through Hogsmeade until they’re at the park. He’s heard the dragon’s rumbles from the topiary before, but he finds great amusement in seeing it. It’s far more animated than he imagined. And the dragon itself, while somewhat cute, gives him a slight shiver at how powerful of a beast they are. The colorful, flowered trees rain down their petals and he reaches out to grab one, but it slips right through his fingers. She takes them to the overlook and he can see the train station below them. Over in the distance, Hogwarts stands noblely.
“Well,” he faces her, “what did you have in mind?”
She has a sly smile as she gazes out over the scenery before them. The wind ruffles through her hair and he’s momentarily dizzy due to his lack of breathing. He needs to cease his staring, lest he die from self-induced asphyxiation, yet he's drawn to her and he’s unable to break away.
“It’s a fine day for some sightseeing.” She reaches into her robes and pulls out a worn, leather duffle bag. She glances around to ensure they’re still alone before she opens the bag.
A whooshing noise, followed by a light, emits from the bag. Before his eyes, a giant beast emerges, followed by another similar beast with different colorings. The creatures chirp and scratch their sharp claws on the stone ground. His eyes widen and he’s quick to step away from them and be closer to her.
“Hippogriffs.” She states.
“What do we need them for?” He questions - not bothering to mask his apprehension.
She grins as she goes to one of the Hippogriffs that’s similar in coloring as the scarf she gave him.
“This is Highwing. She’s quite spectacular, isn’t she?” She holds out her hand and Highwing bumps her beak against her palm. “And the other one is her mate. Dashmane.”
“Dashmane?”
She giggles, “Yes, because he’s so dashing.”
The darker shade of the beast’s plumage shimmers in the sunlight. Ominis appreciates how stunning both of the creatures are.
“First things first, you must introduce yourself to him - by giving a low bow.” She informs him.
Ominis glances between her and Dashmane before he does as she instructed. He bows, his back low and his head even lower. His eyes dart up to the creature as Dashmane bows back to him.
“Excellent.” She grins as she goes to Highwing’s side then mounts the awaiting beast. She looks over to him expectantly.
“But, I-I don’t know how to fly.” He protests.
“You’ll be fine O-,” She pauses with a slight cough, “Sebastian. You’ll pick it right up.”
He gulps as he follows her movements and manages to jump then swing his leg over Dashmane. Ominis situates himself on the beast’s back. He looks over to her and she has a pleased smile. She appears relaxed - like this is natural for her to be on the back of a Hippogriff.
“Ready?” She wonders.
He examines Dashmane, “Where do I hold on to?”
She shrugs, “Anywhere you can.”
He frowns, settling on grabbing a hold of a few tufts of feathers near the nape of Dashmane’s neck. Dashmane lets out a startled squawk, rearing up and nearly sending Ominis sliding off. Dashmane gallops forward and his wings unfurl as he vaults over the stone banister. With a few mighty flaps of his wings, Dashmane is soaring over the train tracks and towards the train station. Ominis’ heart is pounding in his chest and his eyes are blurring through the tears streaming past his temple. He feels like he’s close to falling off Dashmane’s back at any moment - or at the slightest movement.
A screech gets his attention as she flies in front of him. She looks over at Ominis with a wide smile. She’s truly a natural flier with how at ease she appears to be. Her and Highwing take the lead. Dashmane lets out a chirp of his own as he tries to catch up. Bystanders below, waiting for the Hogwarts Express, all stare up as they pass overhead. She curves off to the left towards a waterfall before banking back towards the arched bridge, diving below. Ominis clutches onto Dashmane as he follows, his stomach flipping and his breathing erratic.
She turns Highwing away from the lake and over the tree line - following the lake’s shore. She spares him glances to ensure he’s still following as she takes them over the treetops. The tips shudder and move as they fly by they’re so close. She dives below the trees, with Dashmane doing the same, and they zip along the path until she takes them high above once more. His head turns every which way as he takes in the sight of the valley from above. The rivers cut through the growth of trees similar to the veins on his hands. He spots clusters of homes tucked away in the forest.
They head towards an old castle or keep of some kind, with a blooming tree of the same vibrant, soft color from Hogsmeade, where they fly over as they turn back towards Hogwarts. He stares at the ruined estate in wonder at what it could’ve been. He turns his attention back to her and he adjusts himself on Dashmane. He lowers himself and, as if reading his thoughts, Dashmane flaps his wings harder than before.
Dashmane finally catches up to her and Highwing. She looks over to them and she laughs.
“You’re getting the hang of it!” She shouts. “Now, try to keep up!”
Ominis’ eyes widen as she careens towards the river below. He tightens his grip then does the same. They soar across a river until they’re back over the Black Lake. He can’t stop his heart from beating wildly, but he’s finding the rush to be too thrilling to suppress. He leans himself over enough to catch his rippled reflection in the lake. He frowns at Sebastian being the face looking back at him. He focuses back on their flight.
She’s taking them towards Hogwarts, flying higher and higher as they near. Ominis can place what some of these areas are - like the boathouse where he arrived his very first year. Feels like only yesterday when he made the climb up all those steps and entered the Great Hall for the first time.
She takes them over the ramp and heads straight for the courtyard leading to the Great Hall. Ominis can make out the students below with some of them pointing up at them as they near. Highwing angles upwards before taking a dive right past the courtyard. Ominis’ eyes widen as Dashmane follows the route and dives after them. His heart is in his throat and his stomach drops. They’re heading right into a stone bridge and his whole body tenses up. Dashmane closes up his wings and zips through the archway.
Ominis lets out a breath as Dashmane follows along the river, keeping his wingspan small enough to navigate the narrow crevice. Highwing zips through then banks sharply to the left at the divide. He emerges from the river just as she turns back towards a waterfall underneath the castle. As they turn out to trail along the embankment of the lake, she leads them towards another cascading river towards the old wooden long bridge.
She flies them underneath and leads them up the waterfall, flying higher and higher over a stone bridge, until she turns to the left towards a plateau. She lands at a clearing with various rocks set up in a large circle around the area. He manages to bring Dashmane into a gentle landing, prancing up to be next to Highwing.
“See. I knew you could fly.” She grins at him, her hair windblown and her face radiating.
“I think you were trying to get us killed.” He retorts with a smile.
She laughs, dismounting from Highwing then him dismounting as well. She brings out the strange leather bag again and opens it. The bag sucks both Highwing and Dashmane inside. She puts the bag away then motions with her head towards the edge of the plateau. She takes a seat on the rock, her legs draping over the edge. He sits next to her and he takes in the sight before them.
The sun is beginning to set behind them, casting a pale, but brilliant, glow upon Hogwarts. Birds fly around a tower, which he realizes is the Owlery.
“I’m glad we got here in time.” She whispers, her eyes set towards the sunset. “I wanted your first sunset to be special.”
“It already is-,” the words die in his mouth as he pieces together what she just said.
“I-I mean-, what do you mean my first sunset?” He tries to play off.
Her eyes roll over to him with an amused grin playing on her lips.
“Do not play coy with me now, Ominis. I know it’s you.”
His eyes widen and he can feel a burning heat overtake his face. She giggles, placing a warm hand on his.
“While I was irritated you did not tell me of your ploy at first, I figured you must have your reasons to keep me in the dark on this.”
His head falls with a sigh, “No. Not a good reason by any sort of means.”
She laughs again, “I assume Sebastian must be involved.”
“This was his idea, if that’s what you’re implying.” He looks over to her, “When did you figure it out?”
She hums, “I had a feeling something was wrong when you looked at the grass like you’ve never seen it before. Then again, when we got to Hogsmeade, you were completely taken away. And Sebastian most certainly doesn’t look at me the way you did today. But, what finally confirmed my suspicions, was when I asked what you thought of that orange dress. Which was very clearly purple, by the by.”
He closes his eyes with a soft groan, “You are far too clever of a witch at times.” He looks over to her with raised brows. “Does that mean that harrowing flight was to get back at me?”
She bites her bottom lip, “A bit. But, to also show you as much as possible before that Polyjuice Potion wears off.” She sighs, “I wish you would’ve told me. I could’ve made today special for you.”
“It has been special.” He takes her hand in his with a smile.
The look upon her face sends him spiraling once more. He’s not sure what it is, but he knows how it makes him feel. She’s the first to look away and she’s back to gazing at the sunset.
“You don’t want to miss this.” She says in a quiet voice.
He looks off towards where the sun is setting behind the rolling mountains. The hills in the distance are draped in a fog and the colors begin to bloom across the landscape.
“What colors are these?” He wonders.
“Well, do you see there?” She points towards a large patch of a bright pigment which echoes across the sky. “That’s actually orange.”
“Orange.” He laughs. “I see my mistake now.”
She smiles as she points to another section of a softer color similar to some of the vibrant trees he saw, “That there, is pink.”
His lips stretch into a smile, “Pink. I think I do like pink.”
“And over there,” she points toward a darker color, far richer than the rest, “is purple. And there, where the sun is, is yellow, or actually, more accurately, gold.”
He sucks in a deep breath, taking in this new knowledge. He wants to engrain this picture before him into his mind. The clouds hold a vast array of pigments like a field of flowers. And he can see so far - miles upon miles with no end in sight. It all evokes a well of emotion within him. And when he looks down at her, the sunset reflecting upon her soft features and in her eyes, he all but breaks.
“I wish I could see this everyday.” His voice wavers.
She looks over to him - her lips parted in concern and her smile fading. She wants to say something, the anguish is clear. His hand cups her cheek and her eyes close at the contact.
“I don’t mean to cause you distress, love. I only mean to say - I envy Sebastian, and everyone else, that’s able to gaze upon you. I would love to do nothing more than to sing you ballads about your beauty.” He strokes her cheek, her eyes remaining close as she places her hand over his to press him closer to her face.
“You don’t need to serenade me, Ominis.”
“I know.” He smiles. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to.”
His other hand joins in and he feels over her face - an action he has done several times. But, to see what he’s felt, elates him. It’s almost terrifying how strong the notion is. Her eyes remain close as he traces over her cheeks and down her nose then all the way to her jawline and lips.
“I hope I’m what you were expecting.” She whispers, her brows knitting together as she slowly opens her eyes.
He smiles as he tucks away the wild hairs framing her face, “More than I could’ve ever imagined.”
The light begins to fade away and they’re soon swathed in a darkness he’s all too familiar with. He’s amazed he’s still able to somewhat see. Hogwarts illuminates in a soft glow and a sense of coziness strikes him. She leans closer to him, resting her hand on his chest.
“Lay with me.” She whispers while she pushes him back towards the ground.
He lets her push him, falling back onto the cold stone beneath them. He watches her as she tucks herself next to him and she faces up towards the sky. Her eyes shift towards him and she laughs.
“Look up.”
She stares at him as he obeys her command. The sky is no longer a bright blue, but a darker, far richer shade. But what catches his eyes are the shimmering dots which twinkle in various prismatic colors. A gasp leaves him and she giggles.
“Those are the stars. And over there is the moon.” She points in front of them and he follows her finger towards the most breathtaking thing. The moon, once described to him as silver, seems almost unreal as it hovers in the night sky. Its light is cold compared to the sun and he finds himself in awe at its majesty.
“It’s all so beautiful.” He whispers while he hugs her closer to him.
Something shifts within him. He lets out a gasp then looks at his hand. His fingers and knuckles are shifting before his very eyes.
“No. No, not yet.” He curses.
She’s about to question what’s wrong when her eyes widen, “Ominis. Your hair. It’s… the potion.”
He sits up - her doing the same- and he looks around. He doesn’t want this to end, but already the darkness is beginning to cloud his vision. He looks to her, pulling her close to him. He cups both sides of her cheeks and she holds him closer.
She smiles as she says, “I love you, Ominis.”
Seeing her lips move, the genuineness in her expression, and the softness in her gaze sends him careening. He stares at her, taking in every little piece of her, while the darkness consumes more and more.
Then, she’s gone.
He lets out a shaky breath and a coldness seeps into him. He’s still - unable to move.
When she presses her forehead to his, he can no longer contain himself. Tears stream down his cheeks and she’s quick to embrace him, holding his head into the crook of her neck as he sobs. She strokes down his back while her other hand soothes his hair. There’s a whirlwind of emotion raging through him and he doesn’t know how to calm himself down. He’s thankful she’s not chastising him for acting this way - so pathetic and broken. Her gentle movements ground him from fully sinking into the numbing coldness which threatens to drag him deeper into an endless abyss.
She whispers soft words, but he’s so lost he doesn’t understand what she’s saying. All he can notice is how warm she is and how tightly she holds him. Never once letting him go.
The chaos slowly quells and he’s exhausted himself.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse and quiet. “I-I should have better control over myself. I-I didn’t anticipate how-, how much I-,”
“It’s okay, Ominis.” She kisses his temple. “It’s okay.”
She kisses his tear-stained cheek then the corner of his lips. He’s practically ravenous as he hooks his fingers into her hair to guide her into a searing kiss. A whimper escapes him at the rawness of her lips against his. When she parts, he opens his eyes in hopes he would catch just a faint glimpse of her.
But no… all he has left is the memory of today. The vibrancy of the world and the breathtaking beauty she possesses.
He sighs, “There’s a part of me that wishes I could do this everyday.” He pauses, brushing the tip of his nose against hers and tangling his fingers further into her hair. “But, another part is glad to be back in my own skin.”
She lets out a soft hum of agreement, “I very much like you being back. It was quite odd having to hold Sebastian’s hand today.”
He laughs, “I can imagine.”
“I do love you, Ominis. All parts of you.” She says.
His throat tightens, but he’s done shedding tears. He brings her into a much softer kiss this time then he whispers, “I love you, too.”
The words feel lacking. They aren’t enough to convey the strong feelings he has for her. But, how else could he describe the way she makes him feel. How else could he even come close to explaining that she is so very precious and dear to him. So, he settles with what he can for now.
“We should head back. We’ll have to sneak into the kitchens if we’re to get any sort of dinner tonight.”
“We should get Sebastian as well. I’m sure he’s dying to leave the confines of the Undercroft by now. Although, maybe it’s good for him to be locked away for a while.” Ominis muses with a slight smirk.
She giggles, “Certainly keeps him out of trouble.”
They head back to the castle with her practically glued to his side as she explains all the questions he has about the things he saw today. His fingers occasionally twisting the soft fabric of the scarf draped across his neck. He smiles as he knows exactly what color it is.
==================================
It’s not until the next day when the rumors around the school finally reach Sebastian that he corners Ominis just before Charms class.
“What’s this about ‘me’ flying a bloody Hippogriff over the school yesterday?”
Ominis can only smirk in response.
----------------------------------------
AN: Bruh i just can't help myself but add some flying INTO EVERYTHING!! I HAVE A PROBLEM! Like, when I saw the scene of Dany and Jon in GoT doing their dragon flight when i was searching for music, i just knew i had to do it here. LOL i even went flying around the world in game trying to find the best route as well.
You can find the plateau where this takes place below by the Merlin Trail:
and here's my horrible, low quality, sunset pic via the pic i took of my tv from my phone lollll.
Anyways, I really wanted to capture the thought of Ominis not having a clue what the heck colors are and most def not being able to understand certain more obscure facial expressions (like suspicion). And I really liked the idea of leaving the Fifth Year in the dark about the Polyjuice Potion... idk why. i just thought it was fun LOL.
Hopefully it wasn't too weird about her holding his hand as 'Sebastian' but I was going for the 'yeah she's figured out it's ominis' type vibe. idk hopefully that's conveyed
Thanks again for reading! Feedback always appreciated <3
#ominis gaunt#ominis x reader#hogwarts legacy#fanfic#fanfiction#hogwarts legacy fanfic#fluff#ominis gaunt x mc#ominis gaunt x reader#creative writing#ominis x mc#ominis x you#ominis x oc#comfort#ominis gaunt x you#drama#slight angst#sebastian sallow#hippogriff#highwing#highwing is best girl#polyjuice potion#sebastian is best wingman#sebastian is a good friend#nay... a great friend
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Patterns
Pairing: Tighnari x gn!reader
Warnings: None
It stretched from the tip of your right middle finger to your left ear. Across your arm and chest and neck, a dark swirling tattoo of intricate patterns that indicated you your fated one was to be. When you were little, you’d like to imagine them, the person attached to the matching pattern. You’d think of the hair they’d have or how they dressed. You’d think of how they smiled or how they fidget.
Truly, you were a romantic child. Imagining eyes and nose and wispy bangs, staring off into space with what your parents had told was the most intense look they’d ever seen.
Soon though, you had to grow out of your fantasies and accept your patterns as simply part of your body. Rigorous studying did not leave time for daydreaming, working did not give you enough of a break to sleep let alone dream (it was a luxury at this point). You figured the time would come.
Soulmates always meet. If they didn’t, what was the point of two people being perfect matches if they never collided? It’s never confirmed when you and your soulmate would meet. Some meet when they’re children and others have met on their last day alive. It was a worrying prospect, but the fact that you’d get to meet them at all comforted you as you put your mark out of sight and out of mind.
And after hours and hours of hard work over the years, you finally made it to the Akademiya in Sumeru.
It was a struggle to get in, with your family not being particularly wealthy, well known, or even from Sumeru, so you had to overcompensate greatly purely through your academic prowess. You spent days writing till your hand felt like it would fall off, detailing your research and studies of the fauna of your country. Not simply limiting yourself to the animals, you studied the monsters as well. It was those studies that pushed you through, that willingness to put yourself on the line for important research.
Perhaps it wasn’t the healthiest mindset to have, forcing yourself into such dangerous situations, but you did genuinely love your studies, loved the creatures you followed and learned about, and now you could learn more, have access to more. It was a shining opportunity that had you burying your face in your hands to cover the blinding grin.
-
The years at the Akademiya were hard, harder than you were expecting. The classes on top of your personal studies were ruthless and oftentimes you went without sleeping for a couple nights in a row.
But you made it. You passed your classes, your work was recognized, you were a contender for funding. It was that funding that brought you to the Avidiya Forest.
Lush and green and beautiful, the forest surrounded you. The towering trees protected you from the sun, their branches and vibrant leaves stretching so far and so long shadows danced across the ground, only slivers of light shining through. The air was thick with heat, dirt, and a light, sweet ting of Sumeru’s natural flora.
You were crouched behind a bush, dirt staining your clothes and face. Tracking this particular monster was not the easiest. It liked to move, and prowl close to the ground, climb to the highest tree and soak in the sun.
You hand darted across the page, writing down every molecule of information about the beast in front of you. Its body was covered in shimmering, silver scales, giving in the appearance of an automaton. Its claw scratched deeply into the soft dirt of the forest.
You were so entranced by the being you didn’t hear the loud ‘move!’ before you were being pushed to the dirt. Your head was held down, and from the corner of your eye you could only just see the skittish creature skitter away.
With all your strength, you pushed the person off of you, hearing a faint ‘oomph’ as you sat up, glaring. “What the hell?!”
Anything else you had to say died immediately in your throat. Sitting in front of you, with hard, not cold, eyes and an almost pout to his lips, was a man your age. Choppy black and green hair framed his sharp face, a complicated outfit littered with bottles and what looked like first aid. Ears like that of a fennec fox stood straight up on his head, only slightly tilted back to signal growing aggression. But the thing that drew your eye the most, was the twirling, complicated tattoo that peaked out just by his neck.
The man couldn’t see the shock that captured your mind. “I’m sorry, did you just want me to let you get yourself decapitated by a carnivorous plant?”
“A what?” You murmured absentmindedly. Turning your head up you saw a wiggling vine connected to a head similar to that of a venus fly trap, a head whose teeth were now buried into the bark of the tree it rammed into when you had been moved out of the way. “Woah.”
“Woah.” The man mocked, his face set in an unimpressed frown. “Have you no awareness?”
“I was focused.” You defend hotly, an embarrassed heat on your cheeks.
He rolls his eyes and you feel your own twitch. “Really, you couldn't have been more unprepared.”
“I’m sorry.” You ground out. “I was unaware that this area was infested by people eating plants.”
“Perhaps you should look into that.”
You shot up, brushing the dirt from your clothes. “I’ll be on my way then, I have research to conduct and if I have to deal with your insufferable attitude, I might just pop a blood vessel.”
“My insufferable attitude? At least I’m not so ignorant as to not notice a giant plant about to strike!”
You were about to yell at him some more when your eyes once again caught the patterns peeking from his shirt. You knew it was your pattern. With the days you spent sitting in front of the mirror, gliding your fingers over the swirls and tangles and dots, how could you not recognize that which you knew so intimately?
You stepped closer to him and caught his suspicious gaze. You noticed his ears flick, for irritation, anxiety, you didn’t know, and chuckled, which only made his eyes narrow.
“Hey, I didn’t think to mention it because you were so irritating-” a scoff, “-but we have matching patterns.”
“What?” His ears when stock still, pointed straight up, and the tail you just saw froze, the fur bristling.
“Your pattern.” You repeat. “I know it like the back of my hand. We match.” You moved your hair and the scarf tucked tightly around your neck to reveal your own whorls over your skin.
Emotions you couldn’t name flashed through his eyes like bolts, his ears twitching only slightly.
You waved your hand in front of his face. “Hey, you in there? I know this isn’t how soulmate meetings typically go but you could try and look like this isn’t the end of the world.”
His blank face had snapped back to awareness, lips turning down. “I hope you don’t expect this to develop into some kind of romantic-”
“Excuse me?” You raised your eyebrow. “When did I ever imply-”
“It has been said that on multiple occasions that soulmates are expected to be romantic-”
“How long have you been in this forest?”
His ears bristled and puffed. He frowned further. “I don’t think my assumption is wrong, and the forest is much more welcome company than any ‘intelligence’ back in the academy.”
“Hey, at least we agree on one thing. Though I prefer the creatures of the forest to the forest itself.”
He scoffs again but this time it sounds more like a laugh, something that brings a bit of a smile to your face.
“Hey,” you stuck your hand out. “Acquaintances? Tenuous colleagues? Hate to break it to you, but I’m staying in Avidiya Forest for a while for research purposes.”
The man sighed but stuck his hand out, grasping yours. “Tenuous colleagues it is then. I’m Tighnari.”
“[Y/n].” You responded.
-
The months passed by quickly.
Soon after that conversation with Tighnari, you had bought a small little hut in Gandharva Ville. It became an immediate mess, covered from floor to ceiling in pages, diagrams of creature anatomy from all across Teyvat, paragraphs upon paragraphs of analysis and theorizing. The only place that was safe was your bed, but even with that the blankets were crumpled, the pillow nearly falling off the side.
Despite your mess, your research was going along perfectly. The opportunity to stalk so many gorgeous creatures, to communicate with them and study them was like a dream come true to you. Long days were spent out in the wild, more often than not, you came home covered in dirt.
During these months, you and Tighnari had grown closer. You ran into each other on multiple occasions, him sometimes following you out on your excursions when he had the time to make sure you didn’t get your head bit off by another carnivorous plant (you didn’t want to count how many close calls there had been already), and you sometimes crashing into him while running from a particularly aggressive creature you accidently startled.
Sometimes those encounters ended with you getting scratched and Tighnari pulling you back to your home, where he would then berate you for your horrible living state, and sit you down on the edge of your bed. He’d manhandle you, though you noticed he was never violent. His ears would go down with worry, pupils contracting every time he caught sight of a cut.
-
It was a bad cut. A truly terrible cut that went from the left side of your hip to your right shoulder. It was deep, flowing red so quickly your white shirt couldn’t even be called white any more. It came from an animal you weren’t expecting, one that had been stalking you as you quietly followed another.
The slash had left you disoriented, stumbling as you ran. You were lucky to find that the creature didn’t care to follow you, seeming to like the idea of playing with you. The blood gushed, sticking uncomfortable to your skin as you trudged back to Gandharva Ville, doing your best not to pass out.
In your delirium, you could only be glad that the slash missed the majority of your pattern, only getting the part on your chest. You held a worthless hand to the wound, pressing down with the fleeting thoughts of ‘pressure, pressure’.
You didn’t even notice when the sun caught your eye as you finally broke through the dense foliage of the forest. Screams went in one ear and out the other, sweat pouring from your forehead and into your eyes, the heat making your shirt stick horribly to your aching body.
Hands gripped your shoulders. Hands were the only thing you could think of, them wrapping around your waist and legs, pulling you into a bridal carry. Your head resting against a shoulder, the scent of earth and berries and blood invading your nostrils. Your head felt fuzzy and your breathing shallow.
It wasn’t long before you passed out.
-
You woke up in bed, aching, torso tightly wound with itchy gauze turning pink. A groan was caught in the back of your dry throat and your limbs flopped uselessly when you tried to sit up.
A door slammed open. “Honestly, this is why I track them. Can’t keep themselves safe and want to prance around a deadly forest. All this gauze…” You hear the muttering and couldn't stop a fond sigh.
“You complain,” your voice is rough, ugly in every sense of the word. “But I’m still alive now.”
“Yes, because of my expertise.” There was no ‘you’re awake’ no ‘thank goodness you’re alright’ no ‘don’t sass me while you’re at my mercy’. There was just a quiet relief in his sigh, the fond quirk of his lips, the with which he shot back at your words. It was comfortable and comfortable must’ve felt good after such a scare.
He sat on the edge of the bed, gently pulling you up so you’re sitting straight. “Come on, let me change your bandages.”
“Can I have some water afterwards?”
“So high maintenance,” he grumbled, and with the serious look on his face, it took you a moment to realize he was teasing. “First I use all this gauze, then I have to spare my water?”
“Oh please ‘humble one’. Let me have just a sip?” The back of your hand delicately touched your forehead in a dramatic swoon and you would’ve fallen back onto the bed for a little extra if Tighnari’s hands weren’t keeping you upright.
He huffed. “Alright, alright. I’ll get you some water, just be still.”
The rest of his care was spent in silence. Sometimes his hands would brush your skin and you would shiver, or his eyes would linger on your shared pattern and you felt this primal instinct to puff out your chest, to show it off with pride.
When he made to leave, probably to get the water you were oh so desperate for, you caught his risk. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you smiled nervously at his inquisitive gaze. “After all these months, can we finally upgrade from tenuous colleagues to friendly acquaintances?”
His hand grasped your own wrist, squeezing gently. He rolled his eyes. “Friendly acquaintances then.”
-
Two years had passed from the time you and Tighnari first laid eyes on each other, a year and a half from when you became acquaintances, and now it had been two days since you’d upgraded to friends.
Just thinking about it, as you lie in the crumpled sheets of your messy bed, makes your heart thump wildly.
Two days ago, you and Tighnari had run into a researcher from the Akademiya. Haughty and aggravating, the two of you listened as he leveled thinly veiled insults at Gandharva Ville’s less than elite beauty, at Tighnari’s work ethic (because how can the forest still be so over run with withering zones if he was doing his job correctly?), and sneered at your choice of research, not so subtly referring to you as ‘one who likes to walk among their own kind’.
It was a hit to the heart, one you hadn’t heard in a while, but nothing new. Insults towards you have always followed a certain path. You were beastly as you like to roll in the mud just like the very beasts you followed. You were just so disoriented with the world of the elite Akademiya because you couldn’t possibly fathom such glamor from the hick town you grew up in. You didn’t belong in Sumeru itself, not even among the common folk, because did you really know how things worked over here? After all, you were from so far away.
But Tighnari had never treated you as anyone lesser. Not less knowledgeable or intelligent. Not less adaptable or sincere. Through working with him, you grew to respect him, not only his work ethics, but his aloof compassion and charm, something that made your heart sting every day, and you knew he felt that same respect for you.
Now, you couldn’t be more happy. The scowl that pulled back Tighnari’s lips was so fierce, the researcher had taken a step back, a thin sheen of sweat lining his forehead. “Are you always so obvious with your insinuations?”
“Mr. Tighnari-”
“Actually, with how obvious they are, I’d say they’re blatant insults.”
“Mr. Tighnari, please!” The researcher chuckled nervously. “It's not like it's personal, only jokes. Everyone made them back in our Akademiya days.”
The ease with which these statements against you were brushed off had Tighnari bristling. “Everyone? Who is everyone?”
“Sir,” you say, finally deciding to step in. “While I don't appreciate the familiar words, I do enjoy the fact that because you're so disgustingly arrogant and rude, you will never find yourself free to stay in Gandharva Ville.”
The researcher's face had gone from blanched to colored an angry, splotchy red that was particularly unattractive if you said so yourself. “What?! That can't be! I've got permission from the Akademiya to conduct my research here!”
“But I have final say if you stay here.” Tighnari’s smile was sharp and uncomfortable to look at. “So please, find your way back out of the Avidiya Forest. Your stench is creating more withering zones than I can handle.”
The researcher had run, tail between his legs and face that ugly crimson. You couldn't stop yourself from laughing and in all honesty, you didn't try to. From the corner of your eye, you saw the self-satisfied smirk on Tighnari’s face.
“What a minx you are. Did you have fun watching the blood drain from his face?” You teased.
He scoffed, ears twitching. “Of course I did.”
You hummed, smiling softly. After a moment’s hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him close and resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for being such a good friend.”
Tighnari was stiff in your hold, at first, but he soon relaxed, returning your embrace with a little smile you could see as he buried his face in your hair. “We’re friends now?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m not asking for this upgrade. We’re friends.”
With those words it seemed Tighnari hugged you tighter. “Alright.”
-
When you and Tighnari became lovers, it was a year later.
There was nothing special about the morning it happened. The sun rose the way it did everyday, shimmering through your too thin curtains to shine directly on your face, you groaning in defeat as you failed to fall back asleep, and the not so quiet slam of the door as Tighnari let himself in, as you told him he could.
While you loved your job and did the work you had to, needed to, you also enjoyed being horrifically lazy. Laying in bed and sleeping the day away every once in a while sounded like a dream (no pun intended), and like every morning before, you lounged for far longer than you should’ve just to think if today could be one of those days. But alas, it was not, and Tighnari entered your bedroom unceremoniously, his lips pressed into a fine line.
“Get up. I let you sleep longer today because you stayed up late last night, but you have work to do today.” He pulled the covers from your sleepy form and you let out a petulant whine.
“Tighnariiiiiii nooooo,” you groaned into your pillow, not moving from your spot.
He grabbed your hands and tried to pull you out, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness while you rag-dolled. “Come on.”
He yelped when your hands shot out to catch his own. “Tighnari, cuddle with me.”
“No.” He deadpanned.
“Tighnari-”
“No.”
“Please-”
“You have to get out of bed.”
“Pleeeease-”
“No.”
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease-”
“Fine!” He ground out, much to your delight. “Five minutes.”
He moved a blanket so he wasn’t directly on the covers and laid down, letting out a small grunt when you flopped on top of him.
“You're always so warm. It's very nice.” You mumbled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
Tighnari’s breath hitched and you pulled back, confused. “Tighnari?” His eyes were wide, lips pressed tight. The one arm that had been around your shoulder, holding you close now laid limp on the bed, his other hand clenched over his stomach. “Hey, Tighnari, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm fine.” But some part of him looked far away, eyes glazed. His limp hand went to cup the side of his neck and it was then you realized you had nuzzled into your shared pattern.
“Oh, Tighnari, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I know you don't… really… we’ve never brought up the whole soulmates thing… I shouldn't have done that… I know touching your soulmate's pattern is really intimate… I'm sorry.” The more you spoke the quieter you got, overcome with embarrassment. You sat up and turned away from him, pulling your knees close to your chest and hiding your face.
The truth was that the past three years had hit your romanticism hard. Tighnari was wonderful. A strong and caring person, passionate in everything he does, snarky is just the way that made you laugh. Every little thing he did endeared you, from the way the fur of his ears stood up when he was annoyed to the way his nose scrunched when he tried not to laugh at something you did that truly amused him (he never wanted to give you the satisfaction).
You fell fast and hard. Really, how could anyone blame you? Your heart burned every time you thought about the day the two of you met, remembering the words he spoke.
“I hope you don't expect this to develop into some kind of romantic-”
He never wanted romance. It was just your traitorous heart that couldn't help loving him. So you didn't mention it. Your friendship was wonderful enough for you. And sometimes soulmates stayed friends! You reasoned. You were lucky enough to see him so young, now your friendship can last the rest of your life!
But now you messed it all up.
While it wasn't taboo to show off your pattern, it was taboo to touch other's patterns or let people who are not family or your soulmate touch yours. Some of the most conservative families don't even allow family members to touch the pattern after the child is a certain age.
Now, it wasn't uncommon or anything for soulmates who remained platonic to touch each other's patterns, as really the idea was more to show the depth of the bond, how much the other means to you. It wasn't inherently romantic or platonic or familial, though some could definitely make it that way, but you had always known of Tighnari’s prickly nature so you avoided doing anything too much. Occasionally your arms would brush the pattern with hugs and whatnot, but nothing ever so intimate as cuddling and nuzzling, laying in your bed like you were more than what you were.
A large part of you wanted this, this casual domesticity with him. Tender brushes of his fingers against your skin, tracing the loops and swirls, little kisses from your ear to your neck to your chest, down your arm until he reached your right middle finger. The whole thought brought tears to your eyes, and now your knees were pressed into your sockets, trying desperately to stop any of those tears from falling.
Skin, bare skin, shocked you from your sadness. The back of Tighnari’s right hand was brushing against the left side of your neck. Ever so gently, his hand twisted and cold fingertips were gliding across your skin. The fingers followed the pattern down your arm till they intertwined with your own.
A little tug had you looking into Tighnari’s eyes, wide and hazel and worried. “[Y/n]... I know we have not discussed the soulmate… thing, but I was not unaccepting of your affection. Just surprised.”
You sniffle. “Really?”
He nods, a small smile on his thin lips. “Would you like to touch patterns again?”
You were about to say yes before biting your lip and shaking your head. It was different for you and you didn’t want to indulge your little romantic fantasies or take advantage of the intimacy Tighnari was granting you.
He tried to brush his hand along your neck once again but you leaned back. The hurt in his eyes stabbed into your heart.
“It’s different for me ‘Nari. I just don’t feel the same way about this as you do.” You mutter.
Tighnari’s eyebrow raised in question, a challenging look in his eyes. “How do I feel then?”
“What?”
“Tell me how I feel, that's so different from you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous ‘Nari! We’re friends and that’s all we are!” Your voice breaks as you cry and a heat crawls over your cheeks. “This is too much, it’s…” You took a deep breath. “You said when we first met, you did want me to think of this relationship ever turning romantic, but I just can’t help it! I love you, I love you so much and the thought of doing this with you with us thinking different things… it hurts.”
“I said that three years ago.” He deadpanned.
You only shrugged.
“Don’t you think, in the past few years we’ve known one another, my feelings could have changed?”
You stared at him till he sighed with annoyance.
“Stupid…” He rolled his eyes and practically fell on top of you in a hug, his face pressed directly into the junction of your neck where he nuzzled a beautiful little loop in your pattern.
Your whole body shuddered at such a display of affection, but as much as you wanted to lean into it, you stayed stiff in his arms. “What is this?” You whispered tearfully.
“Reciprocation of romantic affection.”
Was it really so simple?
“You love me… the way I love you?” You were almost scared to ask, terrified that this was some kind of joke, his sarcasm taken too far.
Tighnari pulled back and cupped your face within his chilly hands. His eyes were the most intense you’ve ever seen them, wide and dilated, bright and covered in a soft sheen of tears that made them shine. “Yes.”
You finally smiled, leaning into his hands. “Then, can we upgrade again?”
“To?”
You hummed in thought. “Soulmates?”
“We’ve been soulmates since we were born.” He denied.
“Lovers?”
“Too cliche.”
“Partners?”
“Clinical.”
“Bedfellows?”
“Are we four hundred?”
“I don’t know then.”
Tighnari was quiet for a moment. “Life companions.”
You perked up. “Life and death companions!”
“Why death?”
You leaned over so you were draped over his body. “Do you really think when we die, I’m going to let you go? We’ll reincarnate together and be soulmates all over again!”
“Oh great, I can have you for multiple lifetimes. Yayyyyy…” His voice petered out slowly as he looked at you with dead eyes.
“Don’t sound so enthused ‘Nari, maybe we’ll be reincarnated as flowers right next to each other, or maybe as lovebirds, or or we could be giant trees that reach the sun, but below the dirt our roots are intertwined so we’re forever holding hands!” You giggled.
“I cannot believe we are still so young and you are already thinking about our deaths.” He chuckles fondly. “Besides that fact, why do you think we’ll die with so little good karma that we won’t become human again?”
“It’s not that, but don’t you think being a big tree, basking in the sunlight, entangled with me and me with you is such a more romantic concept?”
“Your mind runs away from you sometimes.”
“Then I hope you’ll always be there to ground me, hm?” You meant it to be only teasing but you noticed Tighnari’s eyes darken, the way his sight flickered down to your lips. “Tighnari?”
His hands led you to lay back on the bed and he hovered over you. His gaze was heavy, never drifting from your eyes, you were locked into his heated stare. “May I kiss you?”
“If you kiss me, I won’t be able to stay on the ground.” Your voice was breathy, you felt like you couldn’t breathe, stifled by his earthy scent. “My head will go up to the clouds.”
“I’ll pull you back down, just as I always have.” He was resolute, his tone rough and husky. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours in the slightest touch. “May I kiss you?”
How could you say anything but- “Yes.”
His smile was tender as he finally caught your lips in a gentle dance. He was warm, warmth that you felt creeped from your head to your toes. A hand to the back of your neck, a thumb brushing your shared pattern as his insistent lips kissed fervently.
The love you never thought you’d get was here, in your arms, sucking your soul out and pressing you to your mattress. It couldn’t have been any better.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#tighnari x you#tighnari x reader#tighnari#x reader#reader insert#light angst#angst with a happy ending#slight angst#genshin angst#angst#soulmates#fanfic
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Hey! I was wondering if you could do Adam/Reader where its post-one night stand with a girl who comes to his shows? Like he hooked up with her a couple times and it meant nothing but its starting to mean something to him and he asks to hookup more just so they can hang out? Like he'll ask, she'll come over and he just wants to watch a movie lol. Tysmm
(Repost of my request from a couple days ago)
Hangout or Hookup?
“And what’s your name, babe?” Adam asked, leaning over the smaller angel in front of him. She was pretty, exactly Adam’s type, and didn’t give off the desperate energy that his groupies gave off.
“(Name).” Adam took (Name)’s hand and mockingly kissed it. “Beautiful name for a beautiful bitch.” (Name) raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Adam liked that.
She played hard to get but Adam knew he would take her home that night. She was dedicated, coming to all his shows. He always spotted her in the crowd.
Sure enough, his flirting and charisma had (Name) agreeing when Adam finally suggested they go back to his place.
Adam was pretty sure it was the best sex he’d had in his life. Shit was so good it made him want to cuddle after. But (Name) was already redressing, ready to head out the door. “You don’t have to rush out,” Adam told her. “It’s okay,” she replied. “I know how this works.”
And she was gone.
(Name) was supposed to be a one time treat for Adam. But she kept coming to all of his shows and Adam found himself seeking her out after each one, and inevitably, she was who he would take home every night.
They were just supposed to be fuck buddies, at least that’s what Adam told himself. But he soon found himself enjoying her company even more than he enjoyed the sex.
He could never get her to stay the night, she seemed convinced that the sex was purely physical and nothing else. It kind of bothered Adam, but he supposed he dug his own grave there with his reputation.
One night, after a show, Adam invited (Name) to his place as usual. Usually, as soon as they were in the door, Adam was on top of (Name), but tonight he just walked past her. Confused, (Name) followed him into his bedroom. Maybe he was mad at her?
“I was thinking,” Adam said as he began to shed his concert clothes. “We should watch a movie tonight.”
“Like, put a movie on while we fuck?” (Name) asked.
Adam rolled his eyes. “Shit, (Name), I just want to watch a fucking movie with you. Is that so crazy?”
(Name) shrugged. “Kind of.”
“Why?”
This was certainly not the direction (Name) had thought this night was going.
“Because… we’re fuck buddies? Fuck buddies don’t just hang out and watch movies.”
“Well maybe I don’t want to be just fuck buddies,” Adam said, throwing one of his t-shirts at her. “Get comfortable.”
Slightly apprehensive, (Name) stripped her concert attire and put on Adam’s shirt. She didn’t have pants, but his shirt was large enough that it didn’t matter. It fell down right above her knees. She climbed onto Adam’s bed where Adam was already sitting with the TV remote.
She’d never been in his bed doing anything but fucking before. It was kind of nice. But she wouldn’t allow herself to get too comfortable. She couldn’t. Adam wasn’t the kind of guy she trusted with her heart.
Adam picked a movie and got up to turn off the lights. He discarded the remote on the bedside table and climbed back onto his bed, leaning back against his pillows.
(Name) sat stiffly on the other side.
“Come here.”
(Name) turned to look at Adam, who had his arms open.
“What are you so scared of? Come here.”
(Name) was scared that the feelings for him she had bottled up would be let loose if they fucking cuddled. Still, she found she could never say no to Adam, and reluctantly scooted up the bed and into his arms.
She wanted nothing more than to cuddle into his side, but she remained frigid. Adam noticed.
“Would you relax?”
(Name) couldn’t, not internally at least. But she relaxed her body, letting herself melt into Adam’s side. Adam smiled, content. He wrapped a wing around her like a blanket and (Name)’s heart skipped a beat.
The movie played on, and as it did, (Name) grew more and more restless. About halfway through the movie, she snapped.
She pushed away from Adam like he’d burned her. “Okay, what the fuck?”
Adam blinked in surprise. “Sorry?”
“What’s your fucking game?” (Name) was fuming. “I understand inviting me back again after the first time we fucked, I understand being fuck buddies, but I don’t understand your motives behind…” she made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “This.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want to do more than fuck because I genuinely fucking like you?”
Tears welled in (Name)’s eyes. “Don’t. Don’t say things like that. It’s not like you’re going to get into a relationship with me. The great Adam could never settle with just one girl. What about your groupies?”
Adam was getting frustrated. “Did you know that I haven’t fucked another bitch since the very first time we fucked?”
The question hung heavy in the air.
Adam continued. “Because after we fucked that first time, the best sex I’ve ever had by the way, I kept coming back to you. Night after night. And the more we hooked up, the more I realised I didn’t want anyone else. I wanted more with you.”
The confession left (Name) stunned.
“But you’d always leave after we’d fuck, I could never get you to stay and cuddle or talk. I tried, damnit, I fucking did. You’re an impossible bitch, you know that?”
(Name) should be offended, but she was still hung up on the confession. “So what, you’re telling me that you want me to be your girlfriend or some shit?”
“I didn’t plan on asking you like this, but yes, fuck, I’d love to have you as my girl.”
“You’re not joking?”
Adam sighed. “Babe, I know what my reputation is, okay? But everyone seems to forget that I’ve been married twice and I was not the one to end either marriage. I might sleep around when I’m unattached but I’m perfectly capable of committing to the right person.”
(Name) sniffed, a tear running down her cheek.
“Oh don’t start crying, you pussy.”
(Name) laughed through her tears.
“So?” Adam asked.
“So?”
“Will you be my fucking girl?”
(Name) nodded and Adam grinned. “Great, now get your ass over here.” He opened his arms again and (Name) practically dove into them. Adam held her, wrapping his wings around her like extra security. “Girls are so dramatic,” he muttered into her hair.
“Shut up, fuck boy.”
“Slut.”
“Whore.”
Adam kissed her forehead.
“Your whore.”
#hazbin adam#adam x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin angel dust#hazbin charlie#hazbin husk#hazbin vaggie#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel#hazbin lute#x reader#oneshot#oneshots#fluff#slight angst#hazbin valentino#hazbin lucifer#hazbin sir pentious#hazbin niffty
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Man's Best Friend - Daryl Dixon X Fem Reader
Title: Man's Best Friend
Daryl Dixon X Fem Reader
Additional Characters: Dog
Requested By: Anon!
WC: 1,700
Warnings: Mentions of walkers/zombies, Reader is afraid of dogs, teasing, banter, flirting, nicknames, soft Daryl, soft Dog lol, very brief mentions of anxiety attacks, mini angst, and fluff
Ever since you were a young child, way before the apocalypse broke out, you had always been afraid of dogs. Big or small, they all scared you. You didn't know exactly why you were afraid of them, maybe because you weren't really used to being near them as a kid, or even as an adult. Or maybe it was because a large Golden Retriever had once jumped up into your stroller when you were little, or at least, that was what your mother had told you had happened. You had no memory of it, nor when you started actually fearing man's best friend.
Now, being afraid of them didn't technically mean that you hated them. Quite the contrary, you adored all animals, dogs included. You liked looking at them, petting them if you dared to do so and trusted or knew the owner. It all depended on the situation and, or course, the dog.
But it was difficult growing up. All around your neighborhood, a lot of people owned dogs. And though they were behind large fences most of the time, that didn't stop you from flinching every time they ran up to the fence, jumped, or barked - anything they did really, scared and stressed you out.
You wished that you could not be afraid of them. You wished that you could be like others and see a dog without feeling the overwhelming and searing anxiety that coursed through your viens; chilling you to the bone as your eyes widened and your throat tightened - your whole body becoming frozen in fear.
Now, in the apocalypse, there weren't many animals, but you knew you'd eventually have a run-in with a dog at some point. They were smart and resilient creatures, that could easily outrun a walker or two. And you did. After traveling with Daryl for years, switching from group to group, losing loved ones and friends… You met Dog. Such a fitting name...
Dog was very cute, you'd give him that. He was a big, fluffy, soft-looking dog. He was seemingly friendly around the people he liked and was pretty vicious when attacking those trying to hurt the group or Daryl for that matter.
For the months that Daryl had Dog, you had never pet him, or much if anything. You tried to stay as far away from him as possible when you could. But it was kind of hard when he was so close to Daryl. Thankfully, Daryl being the sweetest boyfriend in the world - and not wanting dog hair in the bed - wouldn't let Dog sleep in your shared bed. So that was nice.
You did care for the dog though. You thought he was cute when he stared up at Daryl with those puppy eyes, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, panting slightly. He was cute.
You'd even talk to him sometimes, using a baby-like voice when doing so if you pleased. You loved how happy he seemed to get, wagging his tail.
Daryl on the other hand, noticed your apparent discomfort around Dog a long while ago - though it had lessened a bit over the years. It was still a bit obvious. He'd see you flinch if Dog came running up to see you to greet you or when you heard Dog bark.
So he did his best to help you, often going on supply runs with you on one side of him and Dog on the other; blocking you from each other. He'd distract Dog with food or a random toy - stick, rag, rope, etcetera - so he could spend a bit more time with you. And he'd lock Dog out of the bedroom, making sure to set up a bed for him somewhere else in the home, so that you could have a worry-free sleep.
Though he knew of your fear of dogs, he wanted to make sure you knew that Dog would never harm you.
Laying on the couch, Dog laid on top of Daryl as the man brushed his hand through his thick fur. Dog laid happily, content at the affection and attention, and so was Daryl, but he was missing you.
And you were only a couple of feet away.
Sitting on a chair, you quietly read a book, legs up on the red, plush cushion as you usually did in the presence of Dog. Subconsciously, you always pulled your legs up in front of the animal, your brain worried that, even though you knew Dog wouldn't do such a thing, that Dog wouldn't attack or jump up on you.
Daryl watched as you read, unable to break his gaze away from you. Your face looked peaceful as your fingers lightly traced the pages of the book as you read, a content smile playing on your lips as you did so. He felt something tug at his heart as he admired you, the light from the window behind you illuminating your face softly. His eyes followed your form as you shuffled in your seat in the armchair, gently pushing your hair back behind your ears with the movement.
You were still reading, oblivious to Daryl's gaze. As said before, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You looked stunning in your simple band t-shirt and pj bottoms, your face clean of dirt and grime, freckles dusting your cheekbones as you licked your lips with the tip of your tongue. Your eyes were soft as they moved across the page, narrowing slightly when you turned to the next, brows furrowing as you continued. Must have been a good book, Daryl had thought.
"You're staring, D," Your voice interrupted his thoughts as you put your book down on your lap and shifted your position, stretching your arms above your head. Daryl averted his gaze, cheeks flushing a bit as you looked over at him. "What is it?"
Daryl grumbled slightly, turning his gaze to Dog, rubbing the dog's head, "Nothin', jus'... Ya look nice today." He answered softly, albeit a bit gruffly.
Your smile grew, your cheeks warming, "Daryl..." You trailed off with a sigh, "You're too sweet." The hunter flushed again, ducking his head to hide his face with his hair. "You look handsome today too." You added, making Daryl huff, shaking his head. Biting your lip briefly, you moved your thumb in your book to mark your page as you closed it; giving the man all of your attention. "I mean it. You are."
Looking up, Daryl was surprised to find you gazing at him. You flushed lightly under his gaze and his breath caught in his throat as your eyes locked with his brown ones. You were gorgeous. He realized he was just staring, and quickly cleared his throat, "Uh… Thanks, Y/N." You smiled and nodded in response, though it faltered when your eyes glanced over at Dog. Daryl noticed this, seeing how your eyes softened, a certain longing in them as you watched him continue to pet Dog. “Do ya… Wanna pet him?” He then asked, making you blink rapidly.
You cleared your throat, looking back down at your book, “You know I do… I’m just-”
“Scared?” Daryl finished for you, watching as you shifted in your seat again, “He ain’t gonna hurt ya. Ya know that.”
You nodded, biting your bottom lip, “I know. Just nervous, cause well, he’s a big dog…”
Standing up, Daryl grunted slightly as he did so. Dog stayed put on the couch, watching as Daryl walked over to your chair. You looked up at him as he offered you his hand, which you glanced at briefly. “C’mon,” He said softly, a very, very small smile on his face. You gulped, taking his hand, your legs feeling a bit numb as he helped you stand. You felt your heart begin to race as he led you to the couch, your eyes unable to stray from Dog’s. “Yer fine,” You heard Daryl say, voice gruff at how low he was speaking, “Ya know him, he’s a good boy.”
At that, you scoffed out a laugh, seeing Dog’s tail wagging with great speed as he looked up at you. “That’s gotta be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
Darly’s small grin widened slightly as he saw your shoulders drop, and your breathing normalized. Daryl stopped before Dog, an arm’s reach away, the dog in question staring up at you with those large puppy dog eyes.
“Alrigh’, reach yer hand out, let him sniff ya.” Daryl spoke, squeezing your hand as you hesitantly raised your free one. “That’s it, sweetheart.”
You held your breath, watching as Dog leaned forward and sniffed your hand, the warmth of his breath fanning over your hand. You quickly shut your eyes at the feeling, turning to nudge your face into Daryl’s shoulder. Your mind began to race with all sorts of different, terrible scenarios, your heart hammering in your chest; breath shallow.
Until, you felt soft fur.
You opened your eyes slowly, turning your head to watch as Dog rubbed his head under your hand, his tail wagging at high speeds. You blinked, pushing your head off of Daryl’s shoulder as you watched Dog. You felt a huge wave of relief flow over you, making you smile. With your own volition, you moved your hand, petting Dog’s head softly. He turned into your touch almost instantly, letting out a tiny sound as he pressed against your hand. He licked your fingers gently before licking your palm.
Your heart ached at how happy this dog made you feel. You didn’t understand it yourself; it wasn’t something you experienced often. It was as if, in that moment, all the stress you were carrying disappeared. The fear and anxiety that had been plaguing you disappeared with him. You could barely breathe as your stomach fluttered.
Leaning your head back on Daryl's shoulder, you sighed as you continued to pet Dog. "Thank you, D." You muttered happily.
He nodded his head, lightly squeezing your hand in his, "Knew ya could do it, sweetheart."
You smiled again. You could feel your cheeks growing warm, Dog whined softly from where he was now snuggled up against your hand; wanting more attention.
#cute#fluff#x reader#slight angst#fanfiction#fanfic#x female reader#x you#x y/n#request#requested#requested by anon#the walking dead#twd#daryl#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon fanfiction#twd daryl#daryl x you
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The sick assassin
Pairings: Natasha x you
Words: 1346
Warnings: none
Summary: after returning from a three day mission, you expect to see your girlfriend happy to see you. But that wasn’t the case, and it only takes a simple sneeze to figure out why.
Notes: Thank you bestie for the idea. @goldenempyrean
If there was something you hated more than anything else in this world, it was debriefing. Above all else, debriefing with Tony Stark. It wasn't that you disliked the man. In fact, you were actually quite fond of him. But he talked. Oh man could he freaking talk. It was like his mouth moves before his brain gives him permission to do so.
No matter what cues you gave; how many times you'd try to politely interrupt him, he would pay you absolutely no mind. Often times, you'd tolerate it. He meant no harm after all. But due to the fact you were running on just two hours of sleep, your patience was wearing a little thin.
You were exhausted, and all you wanted to do was find your girlfriend so you could shower together before succumbing to dreamland.
With the knowledge that you'd be here for hours if you let him continue, you simply slide the completed mission report over to him before quietly slipping out of room. With the intention of going to find Natasha, your feet take you towards the common room where she'd typically wait for you after missions.
But much to your chagrin, she wasn't there. No one was. The room was completely empty.
"Great." You sigh heavily, deciding to head through to the kitchen to grab a drink before making any further attempts to figure out just where she'd disappeared off to.
Turns out, that wasn't necessary, because sat at the table was the woman herself. You feel whatever stress that had continue to linger leave at the sight of her. You knew she knew you were there, and because of that you expect her to beam at the sight of you before throwing herself into your arms.
But that doesn't happen. She barely even sends a glance your way. Weird.
"Nat? I'm home." You murmur like she didn't already know, setting down your bag before making your way over to her. You were tired, and you just wanted her to hold you.
Before you could even make it two steps however, she was already up and on her feet and setting her empty coffee cup into the sink. You go to smile and hold out your arms, under the assumption she'd walk into them, but she simply sends you a half hearted smile before grabbing her phone and leaving the room.
What on earth...?
Feeling a little hurt and very much confused, you follow her knowing she was heading back to your shared room. You push open the door and see her rifling through her dresser seemingly searching for something.
"Nat? What's going on? What are you doing?"
She glances back at you, "Getting clothes?" She retorts like you were dumb, and if you weren't so focused on why she was acting so weird, you'd hear the unfamiliar hoarseness in her voice. But you take absolutely no notice, feeling a little hurt that she was speaking to you in such a way.
"I see that. Let me grab some too so we can-"
"No y/n," she cuts you off, and you freeze midway to your own dresser. "I want to shower by myself."
You could only bring yourself to murmur a small, "Oh." in response, feeling your eyes burning with the familiar onslaught of tears. This never happens. No matter what, you always showered together after missions, no matter who's they were or how long they'd taken. It was a way to reconnect, to be close after being apart for so long. Tears would be wiped, bruises would be tenderly kissed and you'd spend over an hour simply holding one another.
It had become routine, something you both cherished and looked forward to so to be rejected so harshly made your chest physically ache. Knowing you needed to respect her boundaries, no matter how badly they hurt, you acquiesce her with only a nod and take a few steps away from her.
"Okay. That's okay. I'll-um-I'll wait." You ignore the single tear that had managed to escape as you sit down at your desk chair, completely missing the look of regret that appears briefly on Natasha's face before she reluctantly disappears into the bathroom, too busy trying to hold yourself together so you didn't fall apart in front of her.
You didn't want to cry. Not really. But you were tired, and overwhelmed, and all you had wanted was for Natasha to hold you just as she always does. You couldn't be mad at her for wanting space though, and you'd always respect her choices and boundaries.
You sniffle softly as you wipe off your cheeks with your sleeve, intending to get some more work done so there would be less to do tomorrow. Perhaps Natasha would be in a better mood then, and maybe she'd hold you. With a light sigh, you reach for your laptop.
"Huh'tsschoo!"
You startle slightly at the sound, head whipping up to face the bathroom door your girlfriend was currently behind. You wanted to call out and bless her, but something inside stops you in your tracks.
Give her some space, you remind yourself.
You bring your focus back to your laptop, interrupted again only moments later by yet more sneezes.
"H'htschoo! Huh'tsschoo! H'htschoo!"
Okay. That was concerning. Natasha never sneezes more than once. In fact, now that you think about it, you don't think you had ever heard her sneeze before. Was she...was she sick? Was that why she didn't want you near her?
Biting your bottom lip in consideration for just a moment, you close your laptop, rise to your feet and make quick work of kicking off your shoes before tentatively knocking on the bathroom door and inviting yourself in. You were immediately met with a heat that takes your breath away, and you frown in concern as you leave the door open intending to let some air inside.
"Nat?" You call in concern over the sound of the water hitting the tiled floor, reaching forward to pull the glass door of the shower open slightly. The sight that greets you all but breaks your heart. Natasha was flush in the face, eyes wet and bloodshot from what you could only assume were tears and that and even mentioning her dripping nose that she seemingly no longer cared about wiping.
She looked completely and utterly defeated.
"You're sick? Baby, why didn't you tell me?" You reach into the shower to turn down the temperature of the water before stripping off yourself and stepping inside. You hold out your hand, waiting for her to nod in consent before tenderly cupping her cheek.
Your other hand soon follows, and you can't help but pull her forward just slightly so you could press your lips against her forehead.
"I'm sorry." She chokes out, her own arms taking their rightful place around your waist, and you shake your head dismissively as you pull her properly into your arms, her bare frame flush against your own.
"It's okay. You don't have to be sorry." You cup the back of her head, combing your fingers through the wet strands.
"I do," she insists. "I was mean and ignored you and I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to see me like this. So gross and-"
You coax her head away from your chest and once again reach up to cup her cheeks, "Nuh uh. None of that. You're sick. You're allowed to be sick. It doesn't make you gross or whatever else you were going to say. And I forgive you. Yes it hurt-" you don't miss the way her eyes grow suddenly shiny at those last few words, and you pull her back to your chest and hold her as close as you possibly could.
"but I understand." You continue, "I'm not mad at you, or upset. I just want you to get better. Will you let he help you get better?"
Natasha sniffles, and nods, bringing a smile to your face for the first time in hours.
"Thank you pumpkin."
**
I’d love to hear your thoughts ♥️
#natasha romanoff#natasha x y/n#soft natasha romanoff#sickfic#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x you#black widow#sick!natasha romanoff x reader#fluff#slight angst#use of y/n#marvel
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