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shachaai · 6 months

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WIP Wednesday with a twist!

Tell me your 5 favorite lines that you have written

I. Couldn't pick lines. So chunks? And more than five... orz

The Lindworm's Lullaby

“Tell me about your little one,” says Lecter anyway, and Will sighs. If the good doctor is so determined… “Lenore,” says Will. She whom the angels call - as she fusses back. “Lenore Graham. She’s six months old, and looks like the cross between a princess, a pixie, and a dumpling. I had her in March.”

Commencer par La Faim

Beverly falls in step with him, leaving the rest of the food in her bag. “I know, right? Good thing too - the morgue’s all corpses and fungi at the moment, which has pretty much put us all off everything Italian until at least next week, so we’re all temporarily embracing anti-mushroom pescetarianism.” Swallowing, Will squints at his burrito. Black beans. Seasoned rice. Cheese. Onions. Shredded lettuce. Sauce. “This doesn’t contain any fish though?” “Yeah, Jimmy’s been squeamish about the cafeteria seafood ever since a tuna sandwich from there gave him the runs.” Fair enough: Will usually doesn’t touch the fish options in the cafeteria either, although his avoidance is based on the fact he has plenty of - fresher - fish at home that he had caught himself. But if the cafeteria food made Jimmy ill… “You’re really not convincing me I shouldn’t’ve bought my own lunch.” “Too late, you started eating the bribe,” Beverly says ruthlessly, and snorts when Will only sighs pointedly down at his burrito. It’s ruined now. Sort of. Food is food, but now it’s food associated with Jimmy Price’s diarrhoea. “Oh, shut up and eat your fibre.”

---

“There are more species of fungi, bacteria and protozoa in a single scoop of soil than there are species of plants and vertebrate animals in the whole of North America. And yet, animals are more closely related to fungi than any other kingdom - more than 600 million years ago we shared a common ancestry. The branch of fungi that eventually led to animals evolved to capture nutrients by surrounding their food with cellular sacs: essentially primitive stomachs.” “We had stomachs before we had souls.” Abigail’s gentians have been shifted to the windowsill, the older bouquet moved to give way to the new. Will reaches out thoughtlessly, brushing light fingertips over bruised, tired petals. “Says something.” “Hunger is and always has been a primary drive throughout nature.” “And maybe fungi developed a more... efficient means of dealing with it than we have as a species.” Will catches a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and glances over - Lecter, coming over to join Will at the window, step by openly curious step. “You said it yourself: fungi predates us, and it’ll probably survive us as well, devouring that which kills us and feeding that which forgets us.” “Rising from the rot,” Lecter muses, “consumed by that which will also one day rot.” “An ancient cycle of growth and decay,” Will says, and drops his eyes to the other man’s collar when Lecter looks at him directly. [...] “Fungi are the grand recyclers of our planet,” Lecter says, hands tucked almost casually into his trouser pockets like he’d pry open Will’s skull with his nails if his hands aren’t otherwise occupied, “the interface organisms between life and death.” Transgressive in Will’s mind’s eye, three bodies intertwined in the greater body of the woods, neither fully flesh nor fungi. He frowns, and Lecter takes it as prompt to go on. “Mushrooms, as you asked about them, are merely the visible above-ground protrusions of sometimes vast underground networks of mycelium. They’re quite remarkable: mycelial nets have been shown to share the same architecture as that of astrocytic brain cells, both networks creating neurological pathways for distributing information as efficiently as possible.” Will parses that. And then drops his hand from the gentians. “...Mushrooms are sentient.” “Mycelial networks are arguably sentient. Of which mushrooms are a minuscule but visible part.” Lecter’s voice turns thoughtful. “An intricate web of connections.”

---

Lecter manages to condense so much judgemental distaste for the peanut butter cup melting onto Will’s lips in one look, he might as well package up the solid product and sell it as a flavour of its own. Will very pointedly shoves the rest of the candy into the hollow of his cheek before acknowledging the other man. “Dr. Lecter.” “Is that your lunch?” asks Lecter, continuing to radiate the disapproval of genteel schoolmarms everywhere: don't talk with your mouth full. “I have three more in my bag,” says Will, who had been planning to supplement the peanut butter cups with a hot sandwich from the cafeteria but now feels almost committed to seeing if he can survive the rest of the working day fuelled only with coffee, filched Halloween candy, and spite. “Along with two giant sour gummy worms and a packet of candy corn.” “Truly,” Lecter says dryly, “a balanced meal.”

---

Price sets down his fork to carefully unwrap the poor thing. The doughnut isn’t terrible appetising after the many hands it has passed through to arrive in Price’s; it’s been battered and half-flattened by careless fingers and thumbs, and a great deal of the neon orange frosting that had been decorating the top of it has now stuck to the purple tissue that should have protected it. “You don’t want it?” Price asks - somehow without the slightest trace of sarcasm. Will grimaces. “Alpha-gift,” he explains. “Ahhh,” says Price with all the sympathetic understanding of a fellow omega, and then immediately tears off a chunk of the doughnut to pop into his mouth. Guilt-free. “Who’s the unlucky suitor?” “Professor Ericson -” “And you’ve given it away?” Beverly announces herself by slamming her lunch tray down beside Will’s mostly-forgotten baked potato, looking down at Will semi-reproachfully. Of course she knows Will’s feelings about Ericson, but she can’t help the little instinctive flash of hurt she must feel as an alpha watching an omega discard their gift. “He’ll’ve put his feelings in that.” “I wasn’t encouraging him by eating it,” Will tells her, and Beverly huffs at him as she sits down. “You hear that?” Zeller asks Price, hot on Beverly’s heels. (Will idly wonders what must’ve held them up in the lunch queue.) “You’re eating a man’s feelings.” Price, already halfway through the doughnut, doesn’t look at all bothered. “You want some?” Zeller puts his tray down beside Price’s and tears off a piece of the doughnut to chew himself. “...His feelings taste like artificial colours and preservatives.”

---

“You look put-out, doctor,” Will teases him, touching his fingers to the crease of Hannibal’s elbow for a moment to guide Hannibal around a fallen log as they turn back towards the house. “Did you get something nasty on your shiny boots?” “Strangely enough, I do not recall a warning about there being something nasty out here to step in,” Hannibal sallies back, taking the opportunity to step closer to Will and push Winston out just in front of the two of them. The dog gives him a dirty look, but Hannibal ignores him and turns his next question to a murmur close by the shell of Will’s ear. “Was I led out here under false pretences?” Will, delightfully, shivers, and tries to mask it by lifting his hand to that same ear, leaning away from Hannibal to tuck his hair back behind it. “I would think someone who is at least reasonably intelligent should already know that woods, in general, tend to contain many nasty things, and so, when planning to go for a trek in them, should be prepared accordingly.” “Putting aside the implicit remark about my reasonable intelligence -” Hannibal says, smiling when Will begins to laugh beside him, “I would remind you that physical, mental, and emotional preparedness are all separate considerations. An individual may be fully prepared in advance for anything the elements may physically throw at him, but only understand the full mental and emotional ramifications after the fact.” The white fangs of Will’s grin flash in the dark. “You need to be prepared emotionally to get coyote shit on your boots?” “If I were actually attached to this pair, I might never recover.”

---

Cold, creamy blue sludge slides against Hannibal’s tongue, heavy with cheap syrup, processed sprinkles and cream. Lemon-raspberry-marshmallow sweet and tart. “...It tastes like the Lucky Charms leprechaun just died in my mouth.” Abigail chokes whilst swallowing her milkshake.

---

“No rest for the wicked,” Price sighs as yet another grim-faced technician trundles down the Pagoda stairs and past them to convene outside, and God, if that isn’t the motto of the day. “But better this weekend than next, I suppose. I’ve got a two-day meet-up with the family.” Zeller eyes him dubiously. “You think the Chesapeake Ripper wants to keep his schedule free for the Black Friday sales?” “If it’s the Ripper,” says Will. [...] “It’s the Ripper,” Zeller insists, just as Price chimes in with: “What, you don’t think serial killers like discounts? Who doesn’t like a bargain?”

---

“Speechless as well as breathless,” Will says with a frown. His mouth still tastes sour from vomit, even after sipping some water and grabbing some mints from the nearest vending machine. “But the heart is unaffected?” “Wholly intact and in place,” says Zeller. “Seems like the Ripper doesn’t go for love.” “Struck, but not in the heart. Huh.” Price ponders for a moment. “Maybe it’s just a puppy crush?” Will’s frown deepens. “If the Ripper wanted to show us he had a crush, he’d’ve literally filled this man’s stomach with butterflies. No, this is a more ardent declaration than that.” “You’re a picky date, Graham,” Beverly says with a sigh. “Psychopaths aren’t renowned for their emotional intelligence. Maybe this is a case of delayed realisation.” “Maybe the Ripper’s aromantic,” Price says, and shrugs when the rest of them turn to look at him. “I’m just putting it out there.” [...] Beverly tilts her head. “Really don’t think the general ace community would appreciate adding the Chesapeake Ripper to their ranks, but I’m not sure if that idea is better or worse than picturing the Ripper as a lovelorn dumbass with issues of romantic self-understanding.” “I, for one, am deeply comforted by the thought that the Chesapeake Ripper’s love-life sucks more than mine,” says Zeller. “Not trying to woo people with corpses probably helps,” Price chips in. Will moves away from the body. “In some cultures and during some periods of history, it was a perfectly valid - and encouraged - courting technique. What’s a better trophy than the body of your vanquished opponent?” “Can’t say a corpse would win my approval,” Price sniffs. “What’s wrong with a bottle of tequila and a few tubs of Ben & Jerrys?” “Half Baked?” Zeller asks. “Phish Food, please.”

---

Hannibal - surprisingly - helps, sitting in a chair at Will’s side and folding Will’s hand closest to him between both of his own. His thumb running soothingly back and forth over the slight swell of Will’s scent gland. “You’d be surprised at the sheer range of items I was called upon to remove from the rectal passages of patients in my days as a surgeon.” Will’s head thumps back hard onto the bed behind him, and he turns his incredulous eyes on Hannibal. “Cucumbers were quite a popular choice,” Hannibal blithely continues, completely ignoring Will’s nails digging pointedly into the back of his hand, “but the top 10 list of rectal foreign bodies I was called upon to remove, outside of broken sexual aids, also included shampoo bottles, bottles of alcohol, carved root vegetables, beaded necklaces and barbie dolls.” “We had a gentleman in here not too long back who’d shoved three baseballs up there,” Dominic says, casual as he pleases. (This is what Will gets for actually introducing Hannibal as ‘the father’ for this ultrasound rather than just ‘the support’.) “It was worse than the one time my eldest shoved his favourite Batman lego figure up his nose. I don’t envy his surgeon.” “The worst I had of the kind on my table was a young artist who had poured Plaster of Paris up her rectum,” Hannibal says, simply squeezing back on Will’s grip on his hand at Will’s muttered oh my God. “She wanted a mould of her colon, but only succeeded in glueing her sphincter - and the rest of her lower passage - shut.” “This is supposed to be a touching moment,” Will says - perhaps a little bit louder than necessary - when it looks like Dominic is about to continue the disturbingly focused surgical conversation. The technologist clicking away on the computer beside them barely manages to mask his laugh with a cough, smile hid against his raised arm. Hannibal lowers his face to Will’s shoulder - where Will can feel the nuisance grinning against his arm. “My apologies, Will. It seemed as though you would appreciate a distraction.”

---

“In my defence,” Beverly says, looking up from where she is blatantly googling encephalitis on her phone so she can frown melodramatically at, first, the dog plushie with a bandaged head that she had brought Will as a get well soon gift and, second, Will’s own head - which is very much bandage-free -, “you just said ‘head injury’ on the phone.” “Pretty sure I said that I had a problem in my brain,” says Will, absently rubbing one of the plushie’s (extremely) soft floppy ears between forefinger and thumb as he watches Beverly tap through to wikipedia, her chair pulled up beside his hospital bed. God, Will misses his dogs. “Yeah, but you’re known for being self-deprecating and shitheads are always saying you have a problem in the brain due to Lounds and her readers,” Beverly points out - reasonably, annoyingly enough. “When have I ever taken that seriously?” “I’m touched by your support,” Will says - mostly - without sarcasm. It feels good to have someone in his corner. It feels good to see a familiar friendly face when he’s stuck in hospital, the long hours stretching out before him otherwise fairly bleak. “And the dog.” “He has your eyes,” Beverly says, cheerfully ignoring the burst capillaries in Will’s own whites from excess vomiting to nod at the machine-embroidered big blue eyes get well soon puppy is sporting. “Definitely no chance of your skull getting sawn open for a matching bandage?” “Don’t think that’s in the official autoimmune encephalitis treatment plan, sorry.” Beverly just snorts, still shamelessly browsing wikipedia for information on Will’s condition. In front of him. “...Only you could develop encephalitis just to wriggle out of a social invite. Good ol’ migraines too plebeian for you, Graham? Even your encephalopathies are rarefied. They only described your version of the disease in 2007.” “As you can see,” Will says dryly, with a gesture down the length of himself, cannula, hospital bed and machines around him all, “I am deeply committed to being on-trend.”

---

“Basics first then,” says Abigail, resigning herself to her fate. “Got it. Slicing, dicing…” “Washing up,” adds Hannibal - solely to see the expression that immediately slides across his companion’s face: disgusted teenager. “You will, I’m sure, be glad to know that I have a dishwasher to assist with most of that task.” “‘Most of that task’?” Abigail inquires - and then answers herself before Hannibal can. “Of course you’ve got a bunch of stuff that’s super old or delicate or isn’t dishwasher-safe. Who needs fancy flourishes when you can plate dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets on Count Dracula’s own dishware?” About to pick up a potato of his own to join Abigail in peeling, Hannibal pauses. “...I’m sorry to disappoint you, but none of my china is Translyvanian.” “He probably imported.” “...A valid supposition,” Hannibal concedes, bending his head to his own task with a knife. “I shall be sure to examine my dishware for any vampiric provenance. The dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, however, are still out of the question.”

[REDACTED - if you recognise the fic, shhh]

"Do you take your coffee with arsenic or without?"

[Vampire/Werewolf Universe]

"You just... slept through the British Empire? Two World Wars? The atomic bomb?" "You seem to believe these are things a person would wish to be awake for?"

---

"Please put the clothes on that I brought you." "I see no reason." "Common courtesy?" When the plea seemed to fall on deaf ears - "I will sit here and make unflattering comments about your mummified dick until you oblige me."

---

"I have loved others, I think. But, for so long, did not allow myself to be in love. Love brings pain." --- "Love always means loss eventually, and I had had too much of that already."

"And Arthur changed your mind?""

"My mind. My heart. --- "You think I was happy about it either? I told you I love him, but, ai… you have met him."

"Now I believe you."

#needcake

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edgyandoverzealous · 1 year

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When I say I'm thinking about Steve Harrington I mean... (Pt 2)

• Soft Steve hours in his yellow sweater and blue jeans.

• Steve biting the head off a demobat no comment/explanation

• Steve Harrington who despite being afraid ran back to defend those he cares about and has grown into someone who stands his ground and protects those he loves

• Steve Harrington's favorite food being shitty homemade sandwiches. Ones that were made specifically for him when he was sick because it was the first time anyone has loved him enough to take care of him. The ham is questionable at best and the lettuce had already started to wilt but they were made with love for him because he's loved and cared for.

• Steve Harrington who is so busy taking care of others he rarely takes care of himself. The co-babysitters realizing this and slowly incorporate ways to make him take care of himself. IE: eating the crusts cut off of sandwiches for the kids, grabbing him a slice or two of pizza as they grab their own, bringing extra water bottles for Steve when they go on adventures, laying on top of him during movie night so he'll stay still and rest a bit, casual displays of affection a hug or brushing of hands or holding hands, a bonk into his shoulder with their head, poking his cheek, chest, or side things like that to show he's cared for

• Steve Harrington after fight aftercare. I don't care if he was in a fight or someone else was. Steve Harrington getting his wounds patched up or patching up someone else's wounds lives rent free iny head.

• Steve Harrington and his insecurities about his "loss" of good looks. Something that defined him and nearly all compliments around him. Bonus points if Eddie kisses and traces the scars and callouses to let Steve know he's still the prettiest boy in Eddie's eyes.

• Steve Harrington the best damn house husband.

•Steve Harrington being the best damn Math Teacher. Bonus points if he's famous rockstar Eddie's husband and Steve is a little shit. IE: "hey babe who's your celebrity crush" "hmm... [Insert celebrity that is decidedly not Eddie]"

• Steve Harrington who actually cooks really fucking well despite what one might think because his parents are never home so he learned pretty fast how to make good some would even say great food.

• Steve Harrington gets migraines, sometimes so bad he can't even call into work on his own and someone else has to for him. Medicine, water, ice pack, nor a nap fixed it and he suffered for hours in a dark silent room until he was told to take an alternating hot/cold shower which reduced it to a manageable throbbing. (nope absolutely not based off of my own migraines why would you ever suspect that? /s)

• Steve Harrington who is hard of hearing, he doesn't know what caused it but it started happening shortly after the upside down's first incident and is paired with loud periodic ringing. Bonus points if he learns how to read lips and sign. Bonus bonus points if the people who care about Steve learn with him

• Steve Harrington who gets dizzy spells, often before/during the ringing or before/after a migraine. Bonus points if he doesn't tell anyone.

• Steve Harrington who has horrible general anxiety disorder. Bonus points to him being comforted or it being actively acknowledged and accommodated for. IE: a quiet room for Steve designed and designated to Steve by his friends and chosen Family.

#steve harrington my beloved #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #steve harrington headcanon #hoh steve harrington #projecting my chronic pains and unexplainable health issues onto steve harrington

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dustedmagazine · 1 year

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Sleaford Mods — UK Grim (Rough Trade)

Photo by Ewen Corker

youtube

Grim indeed, this post-COVID, post-Brexit, pre-apocalypse Britain, where prime ministers strive — and fail — to outlast heads of lettuce, inflation rages and strikes cripple the healthcare system. And honestly, who better to chronicle these distressing times than Jason Williamson, the speaking half of Sleaford Mods and our century’s reigning poet of irascible contempt? Like its title track, UK Grim waxes artfully dyspeptic, its words a palimpsest of layered, complicated reference to current events and contemporary culture.

“U.K. Grim” pounds and swaggers, blotty electronic beats framing a barrage of furious cameos. Nigel Farage, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak, Vladimir Putin and make brief appearances, framed by sudden admonitions to “Keep that desk area tidy” and disgusted cries of “Put it in the bin.” Williamson talks fast because he has to. There’s so much to disparage.

As always, Williamson rails to the accompaniment of Andrew Fearn, the silent, head-bobbing, deck-jockey half of the band, whose beats create worlds for these songs to inhabit. Fearn’s music is often ominous, as on the sparse, cavernous “D.I.Why,” occasionally giddy (see the carnival-esque blare of “On the Ground”), and sometimes skeletally bare (“Right Wing Beasts”), but never less than interesting. Indeed, my sense is that Fearn has gotten better at his job with experience. Where rickety, bull-headed repetition was the hallmark of the brilliant Divide and Exit, here tracks branch off from each other in striking, idiosyncratic ways. There are shades of vintage video games, aughts experimental hip hop and synthy post punk woven in, every track its own thing.

There are also guest artists, with Florence Shaw from Dry Cleaning murmuring dangerously in “Force 10 from Navarone,” and Perry Farrell of Jane’s Addiction cavorting across the bruised peppiness of “So Trendy.” There’s an award to hand out, I’d give Shaw the edge for impact. Her clean, cultured tone cuts through the sweat and lather of the Sleaford Mods like a laser, sounding all the more threatening at low volume. (This is also the cut with the cryptic line, “Jason, why does the darkness elope?” which produces chills even if you have no idea what it means.)

And yet, when you come to the Sleaford Mods, you are mostly here for Jason Williamson, who is in exceptionally fine form. Here is Williamson’s spit-flecked, ornately structured poetry, his burnt-black humor and his surprising intervals of vulnerability (catch him in “I, Claudius,” a young lad spotting a Santa eating chips and asking his father, “Does he eat, dad?” Innocence lost, right there.) In “D.I.Why” faced with tattoo-copying posers who are “like the edgy version of something shit“ Williamson seeks guidance. “I saw a doctor, I said, why do I feel like slapping these BnM goths, all this post punk dross?” he asks a therapist. The answer is solid gold Sleaford Mods. “He said, because they’re fucking cunts, Jason. Fucking hit them.”

Still at it, still hitting hard, all hail the Sleaford Mods.

Jennifer Kelly

#sleaford mods #uk grim #rough trade #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #post-punk #hip hop #political punk #dry cleaning #perry farrell

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denieatsart · 7 months

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Don't you love it when your parents get onto you for something but not your sibling ?

Ex from today :

[ Context : I remind my brother to eat his food sometimes . I get told I'm 'not the parent' . Also , we were having burritos / tacos . I don't like the texture of ground beef ]

Me : *Making my burrito thing with cheese and lettuce*

Brother : " Don't forget to get meaaaat . " *In the most CONDESCENDING voice I could never imagine a 7 year old having *

Me : " I'm sorry but is it your busi - "

Step dad : Basically cuts me off - " before you say anything else remember that you do the same thing . "

I . Love my family but UGHHH they piss me off sometimes and my day has already went shit , have almost cried 2-3 times . wonderful

#Light vent #Ish #vent post #I'm in a pissy mood bc I got home and was immediately told to do like 3 things which worsened my mood #Then the dinner thing #Then my mom took my phone away till I finished my laundry #I'm tired sorry lol

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redeyeflyguy · 11 months

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Wonderful Top 7's!!!

Top 7 Sandwiches (Only things that you would recognize and accept as sandwiches apply so no quesadillas, burgers, or pizzas cause they don't count even though they do. Also, this is my opinion so you don't have to agree with it. In fact, all sandwiches are #wonderful. I just wanted to highlight a few)

#7: Pulled Pork Sandwich: Barbeque deserves its own post but as a taster, here's some pork smoked for long hours, ripped apart, thrown on a bun, and sometimes drenched in sauce and slaw. Gooooood stuff!

#6: Lobster Grilled Cheese: I have had many a grilled cheese in my day and many of them could have been featured on this list but the one I'm going to call attention to is the kind with sea bugs on it. Particularly the ones I got in Freeport, Maine with tomato and "secret herb dressing" tacked on as well. I'm serious. I wish I had one right now but I can't have one because lobster is expensive. If only we were back in the days when it was cruel and unusual punishment. Then I could get it on the cheap.

#5: The Ham, Egg, and Cheese Sandwich: In my opinion, this is the quintessential breakfast. It's really a plate of ham, eggs, and toast but fused together into something more compact and with cheese. It has everything one could ever want in the morning and it gets better when you add some veggies on it. When I can't figure out what I want to eat, this is generally what is getting devoured.

#4: The Sweet & Spicy Chicken Waffle Sandwich: It doesn't feel like too long ago when I re-decreed the virtues of fried chicken and waffles. But what if we could make it better? Like you put the chicken on the waffle and covered the chicken in a sweet and spicy glaze along with some slaw and served it with freshly fried potato chips. Then you'd have something truly special. Unfortunately, I only know of one place to get such an entrancing meal and that's in Walt Disney World. Still, a worthy meal if you ever find yourself in Walt Disney's Magic Kingdom.

#3: The New Yorker: I've already done a post on this mouthwatering morsel just last month so I won't repeat myself too much. In any case, here's the equation: Toasted Everything Bagel + Cream Cheese + Tomato + Onion + Capers + Lox/Smoked Salmon = Deliciousness.

#2: The Cuban: Roast pork, ham, swiss cheese, mustard, pickles, all combined and pressed onto a hearty loaf. This is the sumptuous fusion known as the Cuban Sandwich or just the Cuban, a sandwich that may have originated in Cuba but was definitely popularized in Southern Florida. Fun fact: People in Tampa Bay put Salami on their Cubans. I wouldn't do that but I'd still eat it. Like right now. Can I have one now cause I would eat it!?

#1: The Gyro: If the Cuban is the king of sandwiches, the Gyro (usually pronounced j-eye-roh, actually pronounced yee-roh, really doesn't matter) is the Olympian...even though it was invented in New York City (cue Pace commercial). A mix of meats (mainly lamb) is ground up and combined with spices and put on a rotisserie. The meat is then shaved off and put in a pita with tomatoes, onions, lettuce, and an actually Greek cucumber feta yogurt sauce called Tzatziki. If that does not make your mouth water, then you are completely entitled to your factually wrong opinion.

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balkanradfem · 3 years

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The basics of growing food

So, growing food sounds very intimidating, and in reality, it's something people knew how to do thru all history, and it's made even easier by new methods of 'no till' and 'no dig' garden. I didn't know almost anything about it until 3 years ago, when I got a plot in a community garden and started growing food with no experience. Still it went good! Here's what I learned:

The basics are as simple as 'if you put a seed underground and keep it wet, it's going to come out.' If you start off from that, even if you know nothing else, eventually you will succeed. The additional stuff is done to ensure success. The biggest actual issue of gardening isn't how, but when. When are you supposed to put all the seeds underground to get good harvest? For most of the plants, it can be as simple as 'Spring'. For others, it's very important just when in the spring you plant it.

Let's say you want to start your first garden, you want to plant some onions, lettuce, peas, green beans, tomatoes, peppers and zucchini. All of these can be planted in the spring! But these plants are sorted in 2 categories: Those who can survive a frost, and those who cannot. We call these 'frost hardy' (those who survive the frost) and frost-tender (those plants will die if they're exposed to lower than 0 temperatures). From the ones I listed, onions, lettuce and peas are frost hardy! It means you can plant them very early in spring, such as February and March, and they can be hit with snow and ice and be just fine. They can also be planted in autumn, and they only really start growing in the spring.

Green beans, tomatoes, peppers, and zucchini are frost-tender, meaning you absolutely can't grow them before the chance of freezing temperatures is gone. This is known in gardening as 'the last frost date'. Every area has a different last-frost date, so it's good to google yours to be sure you're planting these when it's safe to do so. For me it's mid-April.

Now, since it's a long time to wait for your plants to grow if you've only planted the seeds in mid April, people have found a way around it by planting the seeds in little containers inside of their house, or in a greenhouse, so they grow in a nice warm place on a windowsill, and are moved out in the ground when it's warm and safe. This is a very fun thing to do as you will have bunch of little plants growing in your home. Important thing to know about it is to use really light and airy soil, not garden soil, (you can use forest soil!) and to make sure you're not over-watering them and you give them as much light as possible.

Soil is another big thing in gardening, the grass grows so easily from it, but you can't exactly plant your seeds into the grass; they will get suffocated. For a long time people have tilled the ground to make it empty of all the weeds and easy to handle; however this isn't healthy for the soil, because it ruins the quality of top-soil, exposes it to sun and wind erosion, and it dries up very easily. Here are some beneficial methods of gardening: mulching and no-dig. Mulching means adding stuff like hay, straw, tree leaves, woodchips, pine needles on top of the soil. You're protecting your soil from sun, wind, erosion, drying out, and if your mulch is thick and dark enough, no weeds will grow in your garden. You are gardening by science.

So what does this mean for you, when you're standing before a patch of grass, thinking of turning it into a garden? You need to do this months before the actual planting, using time to your benefit is the smartest thing a gardener can do. You pick a patch of land and bring in everything you can on top: cut grass, hay, tree leaves you raked or found, straw if you have any, woodchips, anything that will stop the grass from growing. If you really want to build up your soil you can bring in compost too! All that organic material will eventually turn into compost and fertilize your garden as it degrades to soil. It's important to not mix it with the soil, and to only keep it on top of the plants. Mixing it will deplete the soil of nitrogen, and you need nitrogen to grow anything green. If you keep bringing in organic material for years of gardening, and on top of that put some compost as well, in 3-5 years your soil will become so rich and soft you will no longer have to use tools to plant in it.

But, hey, if it's your first time, you don't need to aim for perfection. If you didn't prepare your soil in the fall, whatever! You can still pull the weeds, dig around a little to make some clear soil, and plant your stuff! I've done this last-minute planting and it works just fine. Mulching and adding organic material is only the easiest, most scienc-y way to garden.

The next big thing in gardening is spacing and depth: how far apart should your plants be? And how deep to plant them? For depth, the rule of the thumb is 'twice as deep as the seed is tall'. But I've seen people pull various shit in this area and succeed so do what you want. As of spacing, I would also say, try out what fits for you. It takes a year of gardening to get a sense of just how big the plants get, and what would be ideal spacing for each of them. I decided only on my third year to plant tomatoes VERY far apart, because I realized in this case, one plant will give me more than 8kg tomatoes and it's much less work than planting 3 times as many plants that are close together. Peas seem to like to grow close tho, for some reason. Sometimes you can decide you want a bunch of tiny plants because you'll eat them young, so you don't space them on purpose, people do that with lettuce, leeks, spinach. If you want your plants as big as possible with as much yield as possible, give them half a meter and see what happens.

Fertilization is another big thing in gardening; if you add a lot of compost and mulch your garden consistently, you won't need a lot more; however there's a cool free trick you can do (if you're not currently sick): you can mix your urine with 10x water, and water your plants with that. And I really mean mix it with 10x water! Plants can get very fried by it and start to wilt if they're bombed with too much fertilizer at once! There are rules for this: use it when you want your plants to grow a lot of greenery, not if you want them to flower or produce fruit. This fertilizer is rich in nitrogen, and nitrogen inspires plants to grow more leaves! If you wanna fertilize them later in their growth, put a lot of nettle plants in a big container with water, leave it in the sun for 10 days; when it starts to smell real bad, it's ready. (you can also do this with comfrey). Also dilute it with 10x water! Don't use these fertilizers on bean or pea plants, or any legume, they don't like it.

Now I've given you so much info at once, you're probably struggling to take it all in, so here's a good youtube channel where I learned all I know: Roots and Refuge. If you watch this lady garden for long enough, she will tell you all of the secrets.

I remember being a first time gardener overwhelmed with worry; what if I fail, what if nothing grows, what if I kill all the plants, what if I have a black thumb, what if the plants die because I am stupid, what if I put all of this work in and get nothing, what if people make fun of me, what if I run into problems I won't be able to solve. Here are some of the answers to these!

A part of what you grow will DEFINITELY DIE. I can guarantee it, it happens to everyone, every single garden in the world has had plants die, sometimes for no reason at all, but in no case will EVERYTHING die. We all count on a part of our plants dying, becoming slug food, not doing well in general, and we always plant 30% more than we absolutely need. Even if you are personally responsible for killing the plants, the plants will not hold it against you! Plants appreciate you spreading their seed regardless of success, they understand that by trying multiple times you will eventually succeed and they absolutely want you to learn thru occasional failure. The answer is again to plant a lot, and it never ever happened that nothing came out of it. Most often, it's not going to be your fault at all. Sometimes the year will be good for tomatoes and carrots, and bad for peas. It's all okay! Because you just planted extra peas, and you'll get more tomatoes than you expected to have.

If you have the desire to plant food, you do not have a black thumb; the green thumb is in the heart that yearns to grow. You're not stupid if your plants die, plants die for everyone. And people are likely to come at you with million advice; listen to no one, try everything yourself. If they make fun of you, they're gonna look real stupid when you have home-grown food. Any problem you might run into while gardening is google-able! Or you can join a page of gardeners and they'll be happy to identify the issue.

The real main issue with gardening are slugs and bug-type pests, and that is a problem for another day because all I know to do is to yeet those away by hand and shake my finger very sternly at them. Hope this helps!

#growing food #food growing basics #gardening #diy #planting food #plants #home grown food #garden

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onceuponawildflower · 2 years

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Hiiii question about growing veggies & stuff. Can you do it in pots or is it better in a proper garden bed in the ground? And what do you rec for someone who dies t really know much about it? I don’t do house plants — like I’m new to the whole thing basically

There are actually a lot of options for smaller spaces, and depending on the soil chemistry, it can be better to grow things out of the ground and in pots or raised beds, so don't let lack of square footage dissuade you from growing food if you want to give it a try!

I would recommend something easy to start off with. Try determinate tomatoes (this is important, because indeterminate ones will grow like vines and keep on growing larger and larger, whereas determinate tomatoes will stop growing bigger once they reach a small bush size, and produce fruiting bodies from that -- aka, you want compact bushes for pots). To make your search easier, check out these varieties. I get 90% of my seeds from Baker Creek because they offer heirloom varieties and you can grow a lot of beautiful and delicious varieties they for sure won't sell in grocery stores (and they're always way more tasty than store-bought too!) You can also try for peppers. In general, peppers will grow in bushes and not vine out. The opportunities are endless here, sweet, spicy, sometimes a mix, there are so many beautiful and wonderful peppers out there. See what I mean here.

Greens are another good option. Actually most greens you eat are grown hydroponically or aquaponically (aka inside). They don't need much, and growing them inside will actually protect them from a lot of the buggers that like to feast on them outside. Here's a guide on how to grow lettuce inside. You can also grow things like spinach and arugula just like lettuce.

On that note, if you want sprouts of any kind, these can be easily grown with just a mason jar, lid, and a cheese cloth. What's better than sprouts in a salad or a sandwich in spring or summer? I do not know (other than your own homegrown lettuce and tomato, of course!) The Spruce has a great resource for growing them.

Fruits are pretty hard to grow in containers, from experience, and they are usually more picky on what they need to grow properly. They also need a lot of space to grow, and usually come from trees, crawlers (ground covers that keep expanding and rooting), big bushes (that are often thorny), or wonderous vining behemoths. I would dissuade you from trying to grow these in confined spaces, unless you have some sort of hydroponic system set up (but those can be expensive and not always beginner-level).

I'd say start here and see what you think of it! I've been growing food/working on farms/creating my own test garden spaces and scenarios for about 10 years now and I'm still learning. That's the great thing about growing your own food, there's always more to learn and explore. It's also such a proud moment when something you took care creates something you can consume and enjoy; the plant then takes care of you.

I know this was a lot, but if you have any other questions or you want to know more details about planting or caring for your plants, send me a message! I could talk about plants and food all day long.

Happy gardening!

#personal #ask me #gardening advice #gardening #indoor gardening #gardening for beginners #heirloom seeds #baker creek

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lunaastoir · 3 years

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childe or zhongli with a s/o who can cook very well who’s friends with xiangling ? since they’re very good friends with her they often invite their s/o to try out their new food combinations. thank you if you do write this ! ♡

hi anon!!! this is such a sweet idea i smiled while reading it,,, domestic things make my heart go brrr

you had me as soon as you mentioned xiangling

i wanted to do zhongli too but unfortunately i didn’t have enough time tonight so expect a part 2 sometime soon 😩

reqs: open!

childe x gn! reader

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childe

a soft smile adorned his face as he swiftly navigated the streets of liyue with his tell tale swagger. stall owners all turned to watch the harbinger as he paid them no mind, determined to get to his destination. usually, he would stop by certain stalls and make small talk while relishing in the slight fear and upright posture his presence conjured up in the owners. today however, he had places to be.

the place in question? he needed to see you. your friendship with xiangling had to be one of his favorite friendships of yours, aside from the trio you formed with zhongli. the sweet natured girl always seemed to drag you off on some culinary adventure which left your heart happy and his stomach full. today was no exception; before leaving this morning, you had pecked childe on the lips and asked him to stop by wanmin restaurant later. he had teased back with a “of course, looks like someone misses me after a few hours ~” to which you promptly smacked him on the back of his head. you had been planning this trip with xiangling for a while now so he was excited to see what new dish you would have him taste this time.

when he got to the entrance, he sent a quick “hi” to chef mao before venturing inside. the kitchen was bustling with activity - xiangling on the stove while you chopped up various ingredients to add into the bubbling concoction. taking a quick survey of your appearances, childe noticed that your clothes were dusted with dirt and slime condensate, indicating that you had just recently gotten back from your ingredient hunting. a sweet hum left his lips as he lightly let out,

“wow, what’s all this?”

xiangling jumped at the sound of his voice, squeaking while whipping around and subsequently crashing into you. childe’s rich peals of laughter could be heard echoing off the walls as the both of you laid on the floor comically, your apron folded over your face while xiangling had lettuce in her hair.

“when you’re done laughing, care to help us up?” your annoyed voice spiraled up from the ground. still giggling he reached his hands out for both of you, easily pulling you to your feet. his fingers interlaced themselves into yours after fixing your apron.

“hello childe! sorry, you scared us! we were so lost in cooking we didn’t even notice you come in!” xiangling chirped while stirring the pot.

“oh don’t worry, it was very entertaining to see you two fall” he smirked while bringing his hands to come around you in a back hug. you scoffed at him but leaned into the warmth he provided. “besides, i can’t wait to try whatever crazy combo you’ve come up with today.”

“definitely the craziest! but i can promise it’s finger lickin’ good!” xiangling responded before moving to plate the food.

“it’s hoarfrost core kebabs today” you informed him while absentmindedly tracing the cut from the fight. noticing, he replaced your fingers with his own before chuckling and moving to stand next to you in order to peak into the plate. you could practically hear him salivating as his eyes sharpened with a focus he got on the battlefield.

“enjoy!” xiangling smiled before handing the plate to him and moving to stand next to you. childe was always the number one person you went to if you needed a taste tester. your boyfriend was always so keen to get involved in whatever you loved to do and crazy food combinations with xiangling was no exception. surprisingly, he had a good palate as well. instead of just eating the food, he gave you good feedback, acutely pinpointing on certain flavors and textures that melded together. you had accumulated this newly discovered trait under the category of “fatui things.”

as childe bit into the dish, both you and xiangling watched him wide eyed, eager for a response. you noticed his cheeks puff out as he chewed with a quizzical expression. his eyes lit up before he swallowed, conveying all you needed to know.

“this has to be one of your best dishes yet, who thought hoarfrost core and boar would go so well together?”

the awe in his voice was apparent as he eagerly bit down on the kebab once more, sweet hums of delight filling the air as he closed his eyes while chewing.

as you and xiangling watched the harbinger scarf down the food like a starved man with glowing cheeks, you felt your heart swell.

the unlikeliest of friendships, however for you, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin childe x reader #Childe #Tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #childe imagines #childe genshin impact #genshin impact tartaglia #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact childe

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years

Text

Stray Kids Reaction: S/o Falls Back Into Old Habits

A/n: so this is a more serious request! if any of my readers feel like they need to talk to someone (whether about this or not) my messages are always open to anyone and everyone. Also this did get a little personal for me, (Jisung’s is based on my personal experience)

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING)Mentions of eating disorders, cursing

Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoe @poeticallyspaghetti @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @yangomangos

Bangchan:

You had a history of not making the healthiest choices when it came to weight loss. It was a secret you kept to yourself. A secret you thought you wouldn’t have to deal with again. But, life sometimes throws stuff at you, and you can't help but fall back into old habits.

You knew Chan adored you. That didn’t mean hate comments got any easier to read. It was almost impossible to avoid them. Chan was always in the public eye, so it wasn’t long before your relationship was outed. At first, it was fine. Most of the Stray Kids fans accepted you; they wanted Chan happy.

Eventually, after all the commotion died down, anti-fans started to surface. They had found old pictures of you from high school and posted them with cruel comments. It was difficult with Chan away from home so much. You felt like you were alone, with no one to help guide you away from the dark places the comments were leading you towards.

The old pictures resurfacing reminded you of how you used to look when you were younger. It was easy to see the change in your body weight. You had started working through lunch. It was a simple excuse. It wasn’t a lie that your workload had doubled over the past week, though Chan was upset you skipped a meal, he understood.

But your old mentality started to creep back in. The next meal to go was breakfast. Chan was usually gone before you got up so he didn’t notice. What he did notice was you slowly losing your appetite at dinner. At first, he thought you were just a little sick. He made sure to stock up on medicine next time he picked up groceries. However, in your mind, you still weren’t losing the weight you wanted fast enough. Knowing Chan would freak if you stopped eating dinner you decided to hide a bottle of diet pills behind a couple shoeboxes at the top of your closet.

“Hey, Y/n? You wanna order a pizza?” Chan called from your bedroom. A pizza sounded divine. The sound of your stomach rumbling made you feel guilty. There was no way you would ruin this streak just for a pizza.

“Umm...you can! I ate a little earlier.” You called back. There was a moment of silence. You figured he was just picking up some dirty laundry or something.

“Baby, when did you eat? You didn’t have lunch with me and-”

Chan’s voice stopped all of a sudden. “I didn’t what?” You asked flipping through your phone. You frowned yet again coming across some hate comments. Sighing you tossed your phone onto the other side of the couch. “Babe?” You called still not hearing back from your boyfriend. Looking up you found Chan standing in the hallway holding a familiar white bottle in his hands.

“What the hell is this?”

Chan was angry. He was more than angry. He was pissed. He looked hurt when he tossed the bottle to you. “They are just diet pills, Chan.” His teeth dragged across his lip and his hands came to rest on his hips.

“No. Only half the bottle is left! Y/n this is dangerous. I know you’ve been skipping meals!” You flinched as Chan raised his voice. He noticed and came over to you. His hands wrapped around yours, shaking a little bit. “Y/n....I’m scared for you....I’ve been scared for you. You won’t talk to me. I know about the hate and the meals, but this? Baby. You’ve gotta talk to me.”

You looked at your boyfriend crouched in front of you, holding back tears. “Chan...it was just hard not to go back to bad habits. I’m so sorry.” Tears fell from his eyes hearing you speak. He dropped his head into your lap, still holding your hands tightly. He looked up, eyes puffy and red. His lips pressed against the back of my hand.

“I’m with you, yeah? I love you. I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

Minho:

Being a model was one of the best jobs you had ever had. It wasn’t as easy as everyone thought. You had great expectations put on you. At any given moment your agency could call you and say that you needed to drop fifteen pounds and chop off half your hair and you would have to do it to keep your contract.

Minho was used to your crazy weight-loss diets and coming home to you running on the treadmill with six coats on. He trusted you to be safe with whatever you were doing. He always checked in on you, even when he was away on tour.

Little texts making sure you were alright. Facetimes before he went to sleep. But, it was better having Mino home with you. Thankfully he would be home for the next six months.

The blare of your ringtone woke you up from a deep sleep. Minho was still sound asleep next to you and two of the cats were snuggled up at the foot of the bed. Seeing the agency as the caller id, you picked it up. They gave you the requirements for the job as well as the deadline. “Next week!” You exclaimed trying to keep Minho from waking up.

After a few more exchanged words you hung up the phone and lay in bed. “Twenty pounds?” You whispered to yourself. There was absolutely no way you could do this in time without not being healthy. But, the pay day was huge. There was no way you could pass up this gig if you wanted to make rent this month. The only problem would be Minho. He would totally scream at you if he found out you weren’t being healthy losing the weight.

Hell, the weight they wanted you to be wasn’t exactly healthy either. Your boyfriend stirred next to you, wrapping an arm around your middle. The next week you did everything possible to lose the weight. You skipped meals and you practically lived at the gym.

“Babe, have you eaten yet?” Minho said over the phone. He spoke to you on speakerphone as you ran with a hoodie on the treadmill in your apartment. You were three days away from your deadline with still five pounds left to lose.

“Yeah,” You said out of breath. Lie. “I ate a big salad a couple hours ago.” Another lie. You hadn’t eaten anything in the last seventy-four hours. He sighed over the phone. “What’s wrong, Minho?”

“Y/n we ran out of lettuce like two days ago, babe.”

Letting out a nervous laugh, you turned off the treadmill. “Minho.... I-uh...I ordered one-” You heard the line click. He hung up. “Oh fuck.” You said head in your hands. You shed the jacket and raced to your closet. You grabbed one of Minho’s big sweaters and threw it over your head. About ten minutes later the front door opened, Minho storming in throwing his stuff on the counter. “Hey! Did management let you off early-”

Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the apartment. The next thing you knew you were walking up the stairs of your agency. The two of you blew past your boss’s secretary. “What the fuck, man!?” Minho screamed bursting into my boss’s office. “Do realize you are driving my girlfriend slowly off a cliff? She could kill herself just trying to meet your expectations! LITERALLY.”

Your boss was completely shocked. He was at a loss for words. “This is not on Y/n. This is on you for making her feel like she ever had to feel like she had to use such drastic measure simply to please your patriarchal sexist ass.” You felt like crying seeing Minho defend you. It was true. It was your choice to skip meals, but mostly out of fear of the termination of your contract.

“Sir-”

“No. I don’t think you know who I am. One word from me to the press could ruin you in this industry for the rest of your life.” Your boss stayed silent. Clearly fearing for his reputation. “Now, you are going to let Y/n end her contract, with full compensation, on the grounds of employee abuse.” Minho narrowed his eyes, completely furious. “Got it?”

He nodded and Minho took your hand in his and led you out of the office. “Thank you, Min.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder.

“You’ve got to tell me, babe. I’m not gonna stand by while you are forcing yourself through this.”

Changbin:

Changbin wasn’t the most observant man on the planet. But, it was very hard to slip anything past him when it came to you. His job was demanding and took up far more of his time than either of you would like, but the man was clingy even from a distance.

You just dropped him off at the airport not four hours ago and he was already facetiming you. With Changbin gone, your apartment felt empty. The days seemed to blur together. Days flooded into nights and nights blended into early mornings. You were sad and missed him a lot. So you did the best thing you could think of to distract yourself was throw yourself into your work.

The tour was nowhere near its end and you were bringing more and more work home. You got into the bad habit of skipping meals and you barely ate anything for dinner, choosing instead to work. Most nights you fell asleep at your desk, having not eaten anything all day.

Changbin would call at all hours of the night, so caught up in tour life he had forgotten that it was three am where you were. You didn’t mind, however, the calls always ended with you missing him even more. If things were really bad you would go down to the bakery and eat an entire cake by yourself only to refuse food for the rest of the week.

“I’m so lonely here without you,” You said to the glow of your laptop screen. Changbin’s face filled the screen. He was barefaced and had a hoodie covering his messy hair. Seeing your boyfriend even just through a facetime call was a godsend. “It’s been really hard keeping it together. When are you coming home?”

He sighed. Clearly, he wasn’t handling the distance well either. “Four days.” Your head dropped into your hands. Four days. You could handle four more days. The question was could your body handle four more days? “Sweetie, you don’t look too good. Are you sure you are taking care of yourself?” Changbin looked seriously worried.

The internal struggle of whether to tell him or not was evident.

“Y/n, you can tell me anything. I’m worried about you.”

Your fingers raked through your hair. Changbin let out an anxious sigh. He knew silence from you was a bad sign. “I haven’t exactly been eating well lately.” His face grew somber.

“How not exactly?”

“Like....at all.”

“Y/n!” Changbin exclaimed. You were sure that he had woken up whatever boy he was sharing a room with. He broke seeing the shame on your face. How he had not noticed sooner was shameful to him. Your face was starting to sink in and dark circles lay under your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bring up past problems I had and worry you with them. They are mine to deal with.”

Changbin shook his head. “I want to share your problems, sweetie. Your problems are mine and I’m glad to take them.” He paused simply looking at you with care. “Do you want me to come home? I’ll be on the first flight out?”

“I can’t make you do that. The boys and STAY need you.”

“You need me more right now.”

Hyunjin:

Your mother was lapping you. She was getting married twice. You weren’t even married once! It didn’t help at all that your mother was one of the most judgemental living on the planet. All her friends were a close second. She had been hounding you for years to get a boyfriend. She was always nagging on you to settle down and give her grandchildren.

Hyunjin coming into your life was the best thing that had ever happened to you. He made you feel fully yourself and even helped you out of some really bad habits that your mother had gotten you into. Hyunjin slowly helped you rebuild your self-esteem and you loved him more every day for it.

“Y/n, last time I saw you it looked like you had been putting on quite a bit of weight. I’ve already sent you the dress I want you wearing and you need to fit in it by the wedding. Am I clear?” The shrill voice of your mother filled the room. Why did you put her on speakerphone again? You looked at the lilac colored dress you were holding in the mirror. “Y/n?”

“Yes, mother. I understand.” There was no way you were fitting into this. She sent it to you this morning and the wedding was nine days away. It wasn’t surprising she pulled something like this. She always had impossible standards to hold you too. Having enough of your mother, you hung up the phone.

With a sigh, you grabbed the dress and tried to put it on. It was by far the most unflattering garment you had ever worn. You couldn’t close the zipper and it emphasized all the wrong places on your body. You could barely breathe in the tight fabric. Wiping stressed tears from your face, you shedded the frock. The choice of never giving down your mother's complaints or simply wearing a different dress were pounding against your skull.

If only Hyunjin wasn’t still on a dating ban. Then you could tell your mother how happy you were with him and she would stop hounding about your weight and appearance. But, that wasn’t the case. Only eight more months. Eight more months and you could shout about Hyunjin from the rooftops without a care. Until then, you had to lose a lot of weight as soon as possible.

As much as it hurt you to go behind Hyunjin’s back, you returned to your old habits, skipping most of your meals. It was easy to hide at first. Hyunjin would come home late from practice, so he didn’t find it unusual for you to have ‘eaten’ before him.

However, what wasn’t normal, was you getting dizzy spells. But you were so close to fitting in that dress you couldn't stop. Hyunjin was lounging on the couch, flipping through random channels. The edge of your vision started to blur out, making you clutch the counter for balance. Taking some deep breaths you focused on centering yourself. “Baby, you okay?” Hyunjin said, his voice laced with concern. He was already making his way over to you, hand finding the small of your back.

You pushed away from the counter to respond to your boyfriend, but your knees buckled under you. Hyunjin caught you, pulling you into his chest. “Oh shit- Y/n, baby. Look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?” Hyunjin held up three long fingers that looked more like five or six. You groaned, leaning into him.

Hyunjin, slightly panicking, pulled you over to the couch and laid you down. You watched him pick up his phone ready to dial emergency services. “Jinnie! No! Don’t. Really, I’m fine. It was just a dizzy spell.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“You haven't had a dizzy spell since-” His words caught in his throat and he turned to you in shock. “Y/n...when was the last time you ate.” Your hands covered your face, rubbing your temples.

“I had a ramen cup. Don’t worry.”

Hyunjin involuntarily rolled his eyes letting out a frustrated huff. “I didn’t say what. I said ‘when’. ‘When’, Y/n!” He sighed seeing you struggle to think back on the past few days.

“I think....like two and a half days ago?” Hyunjin sighed, picking up his phone again. He walked into another room and returned about ten minutes later. You watched him walk to the kitchen and grab a Gatorade from the fridge. He placed it in front of you just as the doorbell rang. He ran a hand through his blonde hair as he took a huge bag from a man at the door.

“Eat. Drink.” He said placing the bag of takeout in front of you. He unwrapped the food and twisted the cap off the drink, placing it in your hand and lap. He had a worried look on his face as he watched you begin to eat. “I called your mom.”

You immediately started choking on the food, giving Hyunjin yet another panic attack. “You WHAT?”

“I told her about us. I know the wedding and all her expectation is what is causing you stress. I told her to add me to the guest list and that you’re showing up in whatever you want to wear and that she better not say one word about it or else she’ll hear some choice words from me.”

Your eyes softened and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He nuzzled his face in your hair letting out a staggered sigh. “Anytime you feel like that, you’ve got to come tell me. I hurt when you hurt. I hurt even more when you try to keep me from helping you.”

Jisung:

Your stomach growled. In the past three days, you had eaten nothing but a couple crackers and a few pieces of cheese. College had been really rough on you lately. Classes were tough and you had resorted to stress eating while Jisung was away and working. It was even worse when he went off on tour.

Without him around your self-esteem was at an all time low. In your mind, it was only a matter of time before Jisung came back with a girl who was much prettier, much skinnier, and just....better...than you. It wasn’t easy to tell Jisung this. You had never really been great at talking about your feelings.

The sound of your cell phone buzzed against the kitchen counter. It was almost midnight so only one person could be texting you. Your hands swiped through the notifications until you could read the message. Jisung.

Hey bb! <3 Gonna be home late. So sorry :( don't wait up for me

You sighed and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. Your boyfriend was right, as much as you hated to admit it. There was no point in waiting up for him. The edge of your vision started to blur out so you shook your head and blinked a few times. “A hot shower would probably do me some good.” You said to the empty apartment.

Tossing your clothes in the hamper, you walked in your underwear into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Suddenly you felt dizzy, heat flooding the small room, fogging up the mirror. Your head started to spin. The orientation of the room seemed to flip upside down. You grabbed at anything knowing you were going to fall any second. The shower curtain came down with you, your head banging against the shower wall and then against the bathtub.

Black clouded your vision as hot water pelted down on you from the showerhead.

Jisung turned the lock of your shared apartment at about two in the morning. The first thing he noticed was the lights in the kitchen and bedroom were still on. He tossed his bag on the counter and set his phone down beside it. “Baby? You still up?” He called into the apartment. “Y/n?” He asked hearing the shower running.

He gently wrapped his knuckles on the door. After a few minutes of not hearing a reply, he started to get a little worried. “Y/n? Babe.” Slowly he pushed open the door and peeked his head into the bathroom. His eyes widened seeing you passed out shower curtain falling on top of you. “OH SHIT!”

Jisung burst into the bathroom and threw the shower curtain away from your unconscious body. He shut off the water and cradled your head away from the shower wall. As gently as he could he picked you up and set you on the bed the both of you shared. “Fuck. My phone. Where’s my phone?” Jisung scrambled, running out of the bedroom. He was frantic.

“911. What is your emergency?” The calm voice of the operator spoke to him.

“My girlfriend. She uh--....fuck. She fell in the shower. I don’t know. I just came home. I think she hit her head.” Jisung ran a stressed hand through his hair, his feet carrying him back to the bedroom. He nodded at the operator's instructions and kept them on the phone as he grabbed one of his shirts from your closet to cover you up.

The paramedics arrived and loaded you up in an ambulance. Your heavy eyes opened slowly and you looked around the back of the emergency vehicle. It hurt to turn your head, which was still making you feel dizzy. Jisung sat beside you, holding your hand tightly, head down, and tears falling down his cheeks. “Jisung...” You croaked out.

His head shot up and he didn’t even bother trying to hide his tears. “Baby! Oh, thank god! Y/n you scared me half to death! What the hell happened?” He held your hand tightly, kissing along your knuckles.

“I’m so sorry, Ji....I only meant to skip a couple meals. I thought...I thought I had it under control.” You continued to ramble trying to make sure the words were coming out the way you wanted. Jisung looked heartbroken next to you.

“Y/n....you can’t...fuck...I love you so much. You’ve gotta tell me this stuff, okay?” He said choking up. You had never seen him so upset, so broken. “I can’t lose you. You’re perfect to me always.” You nodded, tears falling down your own cheeks.

“I’m so sorry-...I’m so sorry. I should have told you...”

Felix:

After being a trainee since you were fourteen, you had picked up an unhealthy mindset about your body image. The weekly weigh-ins your company put you through always had you watching your weight down to the ounce. There had been several incidents regarding your health and some unhealthy weight choices, thankfully they hadn’t been leaked to the press and your company covered it up. Felix had been your friend since you debuted and you had been dating for almost a year and a half. The two of you kept it a secret since both of you were still under a dating ban. Felix was always there for you when you needed him. Even if that meant him coming to find you in a broom closet because you were having a rough time and needed a hug.

Comeback season was always a rough time for the both of you. His group was busy, your group was busy. There was hardly any time to see each other. Promotions were even worse, especially for you. You felt like you had to constantly watch what you were eating since there were cameras all around you. You limited you food intake to one small meal a day, choosing to drink lots of weight loss shakes and water instead. Your secret diet plan had been working for years. You hadn’t had an incident since debut.

Your stomach growled as you looked in the mirror. “Y/n, did you eat?” Your leader asked brushing extra blush across her cheeks. You shook your head, knowing your voice would waver if you tried to lie.

“I’ll get something after the performance.”

The sound of other performances were playing on the music shows backstage TV. The skirt you were wearing was squeezing your stomach the fabric unbearably tight. “Girls, you’re up next! Stray Kids is after you. Backstage in two.” A stagehand said popping into the room then quickly exited. The members of your group started filing out of the room, heading backstage.

Stray Kids were waiting backstage already. You waved at Felix in the dark as you all came to stand next to them. You felt yourself get hot all of sudden and the room was beginning to tilt. The heels you were wearing made it a little more difficult for you to catch your balance.

You felt a hand on your back, steadying you. Felix appeared behind you, a concerned expression on his handsome face. “You okay, darling?” You nodded and brushed a bead of sweat from your forehead.

“Yeah. Just got a little dizzy for a second.”

Felix still looked concerned but gave you a quick kiss on the cheek after making sure no one was looking. “I’ll see you after your performance, darling.” He whispered in your ear before sending you onstage. Your group got in position and started performing your new song. Your head was spinning and you felt like you were going to pass out under the white hot stage lights.

The lyrics to your part of the song came out breathy as you danced in the center. It was evident you weren’t giving your one hundred percent, but you smiled through the pain you were feeling. You let your face fall as you transitioned to the back. If you could just hold on until the song was over.

In the middle of the dance break, your body couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you crumpled onto the floor, your body had been running on zero fuel for too long and gave out. The gasps of the audience stopped the performance and your group members froze in place. You felt someone run next to you and turn you over. You dazed eyes looked up to see Felix, fear plastered all over his face.

“We need to get her to the hospital.” Your leader said ushering the two of you off stage. Felix carried you in his arms until you were resting on the hospital bed, still in your stage clothes. Felix and your leader sat in the room with you while the doctors ran several tests. They hooked an IV up to your arm and waited for the doctor to return.

“So, who are you again?” The doctor asked pointing to Felix and your leader. She introduced herself, but before she could say anything else Felix interrupted her.

“I’m Felix, Y/n’s boyfriend. What going on, doctor?” She turned to you with wide eyes pointing at Felix. You motioned to her and an unspoken promise was made that you would talk about it later. She gave you a stern motherly look before turning back to what the doctor was saying.

“Well. She is severely malnourished. Her blood sugar and iron are dangerously low.” Felix put his head in his hands, clearly upset. “I’m seeing in her records this has occurred before?” Felix nodded reached for your hand. “Well, I want her to stay here until the IV is drained and someone should make sure she is eating and resting well.” The doctor wrote out a copy of meds and instructions for both Felix and your leader.

You watched Felix listen intensely on everything the doctor said about your health, taking notes of his own. Eventually, the doctor and your leader left the room. “Darling...I should have figured it out when you said you were dizzy. I’m so sorry. I should have- Fuck, I saw the sign and I didn’t do anything.” He rested his head in his hands clearly upset. You pulled him over to you and wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you, for being here for me. That’s all I need.” You kissed the top of his head and buried your face in his neck.

Seungmin:

You could tell Seungmin anything. You had been best friends before you started dating and were basically inseparable. There was only one thing Seungmin didn’t know about you, your history with not so healthy weight loss methods. In highschool like most students, your self esteem was a soul sucking bottomless pit.

Every insecurity was brought to light by your cruel peers. Feeling broken you sought comfort looking magazines filled with beautiful women. Beautiful skinny women. Your desire to be like them grew stronger as you grew older. At first, you only skipped meals when extra work needed to be done. To you, there was no bad consequence at the time. Not only would you lose a little weight but you would get more accomplished.

Then skipping meals became a regular thing. You would usually get dinner with Seungmin most nights but still ate light. Seungmin paid no mind to it, assuming you were eating healthy during the day.

After a few months, he noticed you were extremely thin to an unhealthy degree. Seungmin was hesitant to ask you about it at first. You were an adult and could take care of yourself. He also didn’t want to come off as clingy and intrusive, but he was really worried about you to the point where he would lose sleep wondering if you had actually eaten that day and lied to him over a phone call.

Soon, he had enough. “Y/n, be honest with me.” He exclaimed one day while he was over at your apartment. You stopped mid-sip of water and turned to your boyfriend. “You’re skipping meals aren’t you?”

Silence filled the apartment. Every sound seemed to have been amplified. The dripping water of the bathroom faucet, the clock in the kitchen, the fabric of Seungmin’s sweater brushing against the couch. He watched you with determined eyes.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked hesitantly. He let out a heavy sigh taking your hands in his. He looked hurt.

Your boyfriend looked back up at you. He seemed to be studying every detail of your face. The bags under your eyes. The way your cheeks had begun to sink in. “I’m not mad.” He whispered. Seungmin took his time choosing his next words with care. “I’m worried, Y/n. Look at you. You are clearly not healthy. This has gotten out of hand.”

You felt exposed. Raw. Vulnerable. You felt small. Seungmin was right. What you were doing wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t safe, but you couldn’t just stop. It had gotten to the point that you barely had an appetite during normal meal times.

“Min...I can’t just stop. I’m really messed up aren’t I?”

Seungmin pulled you into his chest, resting his head on yours. “No more than anyone else.” He whispered. It felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders knowing that Seungmin knew your secret. You didn’t feel alone anymore. “We can get you the help you need. All I want is for you to be healthy and happy.”

There were a million things you wanted to say to him, but actions seemed to work better. You nodded against his chest, letting your arms fall from around his neck to rest gently over his heart. “I should have told you sooner.” You said softly, listening to his heartbeat.

His fingers softly ran through your hair. “What matters is you told me. I’m not going to let you go through this alone anymore. I’m always here for you, Y/n.”

Jeongin:

You had recently got a new roommate. A roommate who looked like she walked straight out of a Victoria’s Secret magazine. It didn’t help that she often walked around in her body hugging workout gear. You felt pudgy next to her. She was of course the nicest person on the planet which didn’t make your jealousy decrease any more than it should. In reality, it only grew more.

You wanted what she had. At first, you just started with a diet and exercise. Jeongin was happy to work out with you in the gym. He loved going on night runs with you near the Han river. But, you just weren’t getting the results you wanted. You still looked like a blobfish next to your roommate and were seeing no near progress anytime soon.

The first thing that Jeongin noticed was you stopped letting him come around to your apartment. In your mind the less he saw your roommate the less likely he was to compare you too. Not that he would, but there was always this doubt in the back of your mind.

The second was your dramatic change in demeanor. A cloud of depression seemed to hang over you wherever you went. You were tired and not acting like yourself. Lastly, he noticed you getting thinner and thinner.

You had cut out so many things from your diet that you were basically only eating a few crackers and slices of cheese a couple times a day. You stopped going out to dinner with Jeongin, choosing to go out when you knew you wouldn’t be eating.

He had no idea how to approach you, but he was worried sick. So, he went to the one person he knew he could trust with anything. Chan. He sat done with Chan and told him about everything he was thinking and feeling. After getting advice from his hyung he felt much better about asking you what was going on.

The two of you were on one of your Han river night runs. The pace you were running at was slower than usual. Jeongin made sure to go your speed, picking up on little things he noticed. “Y/n, are you sure you are alright?” He asked, stopping.

You nodded hands resting on your knee. Your chest was tight and your stomach hurt. It felt like hot volcanic air was pressing down on you like an anvil. “I’m fine. I just need a break.” He nodded and crouched down next to you. Not many people were out since it was later in the evening, but Jeongin still kept an eye out for pedestrians who might come by.

“Angel, you don’t look good at all.” He said rubbing your back. “Come sit for a minute.” Not letting you say anything against the notion he dragged you over to a bench and handed you his water bottle. You flinched tasting what was in it. Definitely not water.

“What is this?”

“Don’t worry. It’s got plenty of electrolytes in it. Just drink, angel. You need it.”

Jeongin rubbed your back as you drank from the bottle. “How did you know I needed that?” You questioned still out of breath. You attempted to hand him back the water bottle but he put it back in your hands.

“I know you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

You sighed head in your hands. “How long have you known?”

He shrugged playing with a bracelet on his wrist. “Maybe a week,” He had known for that long and he hadn’t said anything? Why? He gave you a tight-lipped smile as if reading your thoughts. “I was hoping you would tell me. But, you come first before anything.” He laced his fingers with yours. “Why are you skipping meals, angel?”

You sighed, looking out at the water, feeling much better now. “I was jealous of my roommate. She just is so fit and gorgeous. I feel so inferior next to her.” You hand carded through your messy hair as you looked up at your boyfriend. “Maybe I was...the teensiest bit worried that she might turn your head because of how slender she was.”

“Angel, you are perfect to me. I never want you to change.” He said pressing a kiss to your temple.

Requests are open my lovelies! Just send an ask!

Masterlist

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i8jisoo · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 ⇉ skz with pregnant!reader

changbin x reader | part three of dad!skz

↬ genre; fluff & angst for a lil bit woo

↬ warnings; talk of perinatal depression, cursing, n labor

↬ notes; changbin babi 🥺 ALSO ITS CHANGBIN DAY WOOO ITS MY BABYS BDAYYYYY SO I HAD TO POST THIS |

u two had just freshly started an official, public relationship

ofc changbin was freaking out while he was chilling in the bathtub behind the curtain so u could pee on the test already

u two were looking at the line coming in, praying that there would be only o n e 😳

slowly the other line comes in, dark blue n clear alongside the other one

“holy fuck—“

“what do we do?” you asked, your voice wavering while setting the test back down

his hands cupped your face, giving u a soft kiss n hugging you

“we got this, we’re having a baby, baby!” he started to joke and yall burst out laughing while crying in the bathroom

the first few months were amazing

ur lil bump sprouted out n u two were so happy about it

changbin is just so attentive and excited about this pregnancy and his first born

u really couldn’t have been better with ur lil family that was starting to become realer with each day

u two r such bullies yall r like

“what happened? ur a softie now binnie!!”

n he’d say shit like, “well at least i don’t pee every hour on the clock!!”

he makes u cry one time n u use that against him everytime u want something bc he feels guilty >:)

cute lil things like asking the baby what they want to eat or talking to it before the bed

(changbin reads the baby goodnight moon one time and ur just so in love like wow 🥺)

he secretly talks to the baby when you sleep every night because hes waiting for when ur little bean will reply back with a kick or a hand

he is W H I P P E D for u n ur baby bump

nursery is already done at five months

he needs all of the boys to come over though to help him figure out the instructions 😳 these are co nfusi ngg

they notice how smiley n giggly he is when he talks about u two and looking at the finished crib hes just so proud

yall r so happy and content with ur baby that was an accident, but u guys are so happy this happened

but something changes within u

changbin notices your lack of interest in the pregnancy during ur sixth month

ur sleeping pattern was off n u would sleep for hours during the day and night

u were very irritable, not wanting changbin to cuddle with u or kiss u like he did everytime he came back from practice :(

u were always unhappy and always so moody, he just wanted u to be happy 🥺

he is so confused and worried ab u, some days ur not eating or some days u don’t even wake up in the mornings like u used to

sometimes— just sometimes he’d come back home to find u in the same spot, asleep

he’s so fucking scared when ur around seven months that he can’t hold it in anymore

“are—are you okay?” he questions u from the doorway, making u stop to look at him in the mirror

ur eyes were cold, setting down the towel u were drying ur hair with and leaving him by himself while heading into ur bedroom

“don’t you dare fucking walk away from me.”

ur s h oo k

he was really nice during the pregnancy everyday, super bubbly and kind so u were shocked to hear his upset tone

“i can and i will, i’ll just go sleep in another fuckin room.” u mumbled, changbin grabbing ur hands and turning u around to face him

u struggle for a bit while ur arguing with him and telling him to let go so u could go to sleep

“stop! i am your boyfriend, i am the only one who is going to care for you like this. i am the only one who is dying, seeing you like this. do you understand? we’ve been through seven months of this together, it was fine for awhile and now you’re fucking turning me away?”

hes shouting at this point, hes just so pissed after three months of not having answers and your attitudes and arguments, he cannot handle it

u start crying

hes quick to hold you, pulling u down to the bed so u don’t have to stand on ur tired feet anymore

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 🥺🥺🥺

he insists u two will find out n u both will get thru this rough patch together

perinatal depression, they diagnosed u

changbin is so upset when he hears the doctors tell u

everything is making sense to him and he’s just so heartbroken he didn’t put two and two together earlier

he takes time off for the time being to make sure ur taking care of urself

hes watching u like a hawk but trying not to make it evident

the first time u ask him for a kiss, he gives u dozens

he hadn't been asked for kisses in so long he was so relieved 🥺

he’s constantly telling u how beautiful u r and talking to ur bump about how they have the best genes and their uncles

this man is a father already it seems

he is ur #1 face mask partner cause he buys the cute ones only because u deserve the cute ones that r ur favorite ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

cooking together is something that happens, not often but every once in awhile he will let u do small things

cut up some lettuce? sure! pour in the soup broth? of course u can! taste test his food? always.

he wants to make sure ur comfortable with him touching u or kissing u or what hes saying

“i love you.” he’s mumbling, quickly placing a kiss against the fabric of one of his own shirts that was worn by u and fit u like a dress still

he then goes up to ur cheek n presses a kiss to it, ur hand cupping his jaw and letting him kiss ur lips >.<

also u guys let out a quiet talk of pregnancy to the public, letting jyp release a notice on changbin’s absence from live-streams and posts with the boys

u two received a lot of positive feedback which changbin let u read the positive ones n loved when u smiled at each one

u were overdue by a week which was the worst, ur back hurt and u had migraines

u also were put on bed-rest for the next week before u could be inducted

u guys waited out the week and u got scheduled for an induction

the labor was really slow which sucked because u just wanted to hold ur baby already :(

rly intimate moments like chan just holding u n rocking u like a baby

u guys are given this position to move the baby down, your knees on the ground so u could kneel against the bed and changbin would hold ur hips n rock them

he just feels so bad he can’t do anything to help u with the pain 🥺

yall kinda vibing with the hospital food (idk bout yall but some food from hospitals smack chile)

“i just want to go home.” :(

u bet ur ass he scoots into ur hospital bed, holding ur hands n u just cry into his shoulder

he feels like his heart is being torn to pieces when he listens to u cry out of pain

his free hands holds your jaw, making u look up at him

“we’re almost done baby, okay? i know it hurts, if i could i would take your pain in a heartbeat. you are incredibly strong and i’m so proud of you. you just need to hang in here for a few more hours, yeah? you think you can do that?”

u give him the weakest smile ever but its better than nothing

u reach 10cm!!!

now the part that wasn’t fun was the pushing :/

u were hurting, u were tired, and u had been promised almost seven times that all u need was one more push but no matter what, it seemed like the baby wasnt budging

“the cord is wrapped around the neck, we need you to stop pushing. okay?”

ur too tired and stopping the pushing sounded good so u did as they said but when they told u they needed to actually reach in and unwrap it ur blood ran cold

u both were worried about how much u could take

u screamed, god it hurt and it felt like hours of them twisting but it was a mere minute

the labor progressed n there it was

“a girl!”

u two are like faucets or waterfalls

shes literally the perfect mixture of u both 🥺

he washed her hair n helped wrap her up in a blanket, giving her over to u for the first time

u both were just in love with her, she was absolutely perfect

he’s obsessed with her, taking in that baby scent, the scent of the light baby shampoo and the bit of baby powder that lingered throughout her onesie

her hair wooooww its so soft n fluffy

her little baby pout and her puffy cheeks

i can see him calling her bunny for awhile as a childhood nickname

he’ll just be like

“oh that’s my bunny!!”

weird look from u but ur heart melts while he bounces her in his arms n gives her some kissies and running his fingers thru her hair

he’s also rly soft, i don’t see him singing but i see him definitely whispering to her about how she’s gonna grow up and have the best life because thats his little girl

“ur gonna have eight uncles, they are crazy but it’s okay. u definitely lucked out on fathers though, i’m pretty good at lullaby's. u did get great genes too, u have a handsome daddy and a gorgeous mommy. we worked really hard on making u, please don’t hurt ur cute little face. u also have a storm coming, there’s a thing called stays, they are gonna adore you, i promise.”

omgomgomgomg jejejejeje im blushing at the thought of this i just adore dad changbin

u guys may or may not be planning for another but it definitely would happen in a few years

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echo-of-sounds · 4 years

Text

hypersensitivities

How Aizawa, Toshinori, and Hizashi would help and support their s/o with hypersensitivities.

While hypersensitivities can be caused by many things (both mental and physical), mine are from ADHD and anxiety. I believe I kept these as general as possible so others can relate even if their issues aren’t caused by the same things as mine.

Aizawa Shouta

Aizawa’s the least picky person out there. Come home with a different smelling shampoo for him or a new comforter made out of your preferred material and he won’t bat an eye. If it works, he’s fine with it.

Rubbing. Digging. Scruffing. Itching. Constricting. You just can’t get away from it. There’s always something touching you. It makes your entire being uncomfortable and agitated. He’ll ask if there’s anything he can do. He knows you sometimes need space to breathe and calm yourself. Those times when you want someone to help, he’s there. If you need your weighted blanket, he can find it. If you need shea butter lotion, he can apply it. If you just need some skin-to-skin contact, he can provide it. Anything to get you to stop scratching and pulling at yourself, he’ll do because he hates seeing you so visibly distraught.

Having a strong sense of taste and an aversion to textiles can lead to a difficult food life. Onions are fine if they’re in this dish, prepared this way. Tomatoes, mushrooms, and bananas? Gooey and slimy. Seafood? Beans? Never. It’s frustrating to just eat. While Aizawa’s no connoisseur or nutritionist, he can (surprisingly) cook pretty well. And he sticks to plain, easy dishes. It’s great when you’re essentially limited to bread, some kinds of pasta, and some fruits and meats. He can help with any simple soups and basic meat dishes.

If a truck’s horn or that ridiculously high pitch buzzing finally breaks your ears down to the point you’re crying, find Shouta. He’s always willing to cuddle. Even more so when you need comforting. He’s so safe and secure. Hands will stroke circles while lips kiss your temple. If you have to play rain or ocean sounds in your earbuds or from your phone, he’ll lay in bed with you, keeping you locked to him, and press kisses all over.

Whenever you leave the house, he reminds you to bring any glasses that you need: FL-41 for light sensitivity, blue blockers for computer screens, even category 4 sunglasses if your eyes need that amount of protection. He always remembers. You’ll be at the mall, squinting from the horrible fluorescents, and he’ll pull them out of his pocket for you.

His hair is perfect for hiding in when you’re out in public. It’s thick and smells like him. And while he dislikes PDA, he does make exceptions. Whenever you need a break from the lights, just turn into him, rest against his chest, and his hair will fall over your eyes. He’ll hold you close, patiently waiting for you to be ready to continue.

Please, never feel high-maintenance. If anything, having you in his life makes him more attentive to himself. He’ll eat better from any meal plans. He’ll clean his place more often so it’s enjoyable for you. He is especially aware of what cleaning supplies and detergent he uses. He just becomes considerate of how you’re in his life and what he does because he loves you.

Yagi Toshinori

Toshi developed a love for cooking. With his injury, his nutritional needs changed, so he’s learned to cook well to avoid constantly buying expensive foods. Any aversions you have, whether it be texture, smell, or taste, he’ll avoid. Can the slightest change in the sauce throw the whole dish off? His measurements are as precise as can be. Lettuce is fine, but spinach, cabbage, and parsley? It’s basically paper in your mouth. He’ll find recipes that include just lettuce and your preferred vegetables. You’ll come home to another new dish he made to surprise you.

Textile sensitivities are difficult to deal with. And clothes shopping becomes the worst task of them all. You have to test the fabric, the seams, where the tag is, how the shoulders and neck sit, the sleeve tightness, everything. Toshi will keep a list of the exact materials you like for blankets, pillows, towels, carpets, and clothing. And it doesn’t stop there. Is stoneware and glass dinnerware too irritating on your fingers? His next investment his wooden or metal dinnerware. Is cold press and rough drawing paper uncomfortable? He’ll be on the lookout for specific hot press paper.

The only thing he uses that smells is his cologne. It’s simple and never overwhelming. But if you need a different scent, he’s more than willing to go to the store with you so you can pick out something you like.

Any scents that calm you, candles, incense, and those air freshener crystal beads, will be that scent. Vanilla or lavender. Maybe there’s some obscure scent you can only dig up online? Oh, he’ll find it. It’s incomprehensible how much he loves you. And your comfort is vital. Because if you can’t feel comfortable in your own home, then something’s seriously wrong.

The lightbulbs in your place are always free for you to change. If incandescent bulbs are what you need in the living room, buy them and change them out. If green LED lights help with migraines and pain, put them in the lamp near your bed while you rest. Install smart lighting so you can dim and change the lights whenever you need to. Toshi doesn’t care about the expenses. If it helps and protects your eyes, then money means nothing to him.

It doesn’t help that his smile is just so darn bright.

Overstimulation takes over so suddenly. You’re sitting in the living room, reading, when all of a sudden, the TV and microwave throws your hearing off, your bra becomes a boa constrictor and it’s only tightening, the flowers, food, and candles engulfs your entire being. It’s throttling, smothering, and you can’t escape. You’re left to drown.

The minute you’re scratching, rocking, or crying, he’s prepared. Is your dog fluffy and grounding? Toshi brings her over. Do you need a hot or cold shower? It’s already running. Is fresh air the best for you? He’s walking you to the balcony or roof for a break. He can stay with you or leave you alone.

Yamada Hizashi

Hizashi is a little bit of a picky eater too. Certain vegetables and sauces like tartar, guacamole, and harissa bother him, especially if the sauces are chunky. He prefers smoother dressings/sauces. So he completely understands any food aversions you have and never makes you feel guilty for being picky. He spends extra care when choosing what restaurants to go to and what he picks up for takeout.

He loves jewelry, not just wearing it, but on his partner too: necklaces that highlight your collarbones and rings that emphasize your fingers. He wants to buy you jewelry and hates that you don’t like it. He isn’t mad at you or your preferences but at how uncomfortable you get in your own skin. He wants you to feel great. And those mornings where you change outfits nine times until you finally find something that isn’t suffocating, his heart breaks.

You can bet he’ll come home with five bras and ten shirts he found that he knows you’ll like. The shirts are soft and the exact size and shape you want with no annoying frills, buttons, or ties. The bras are cute and never have tight, prodding wires or scratchy lace. He’s like a bloodhound when he’s at the store. One whiff of a good pair of pants and he’s ransacking the isles for more like it. He wants you feeling cozy, comfortable, and sexy!

A lot of gum goes in his mouth. His breath and taste is always something. But mint is powerful. There are too many kinds- spearmint, peppermint, winter-something, sweet-whatever, polar-anything. They’re overwhelming, upset your stomach, soak into your tongue, and cling to your clothes. You’ll smell it long after he gives you a kiss. To help, Hizashi will buy literally every flavor of gum there is and let you pick the ones you like. Bubblegum? Classic. Berry Blast? He loves fruit! Apple Pie or Confetti Cake Pop? Odd choice but he can dig it!

Noise sensitivities will be a little tough to manage when living with him. And it’s not his quirk that’s the problem. He’s just a noisy guy. He’s bumping things, knocking them over. He hums, pops, and sings all the time. Music or instruments are often playing somewhere in the apartment. Sound canceling headphones would be a good investment because it’s near impossible for him to just stop making noise. It's ingrained in him. Though there will be days when he’s almost completely quiet so he can spend time with you… and press kisses all over your face.

If you need sunglasses, Hizashi is your guy. Styles, tints, frames, colors, he’ll make sure your eyes are protected and you look perfect. In your home, he’ll cover up any reflective or bright surfaces that bother you: throwing a blanket over the refrigerator and getting blackout curtains. And if you need the often dreaded eyedrops, he’ll apply them for you. He’ll reward you with chocolate and kisses.

Since he’s so in tune with his partner’s emotions, he can notice when you’re starting to get overstimulated. Your voice may get sharper. You're itching your arm till it’s red. Your squinting and tilting away from certain sounds. He’ll recommend you take a break. Go lay down with the cat. Read a book under your weighted blanket. Burn some candles while in the bath. He’ll massage lotion into your back after for extra comfort.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #all might #all might x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi #hizashi x reader #aizawa headcanons #all might headcanons #present mic headcanons #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha

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mlqctranslations · 3 years

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Victor 偏爱 SP Date

Reposted from my instagram account, @mlqc_translations!

Chapter 1

The car stopped in front of the familiar white mansion. Victor and I took the gifts out of the trunk, and then rang the doorbell. The door was soon thrown open, and Victor's aunt appeared.

Aunt: Ah, you're finally here!

Victor: ...Aunt. MC: Hi aunt! I'm here to disturb again! Aunt: Don't be silly, of course not! Come in, come in! We walked into the living room. The faint smell of tea was in the air, the TV was playing quietly, and everything was the same as I remembered. Aunt: Brother, Victor and MC are here! MC: Hello! Happy New Year! Setting down the teapot, Mr. Li nodded and smiled at us. On the night before spring festival, Victor's aunt had called and invited us to spend the new year at the mansion. The memory of coincidentally spending New Year's at Mr. Li's home was still fresh in my head. Thinking of this warm memory, I had carefully selected appropriate gifts. We chatted for a little while, and then Victor's aunt got up to add more water to the teapot. Mr. Li stood up and called out. Mr.Li: Victor, help me get something from the balcony, will you? Victor: Sure. He agreed, and then looked at me. Before he said anything, Aunt grabbed my hand. Aunt: You can go, I'll chat with her a bit! She moved closer to me, and finally started speaking when the men were out of sight, smiling at me warmly. Aunt: Let me take a look at you. I think your complexion has gotten better. Have you been taking care of yourself? MC: Thanks, but I don't think I did anything special. I think I just ate pretty good these days. I laughed awkwardly when I saw her confused look. MC: Victor is really good at cooking, I always eat a lot...... Victor's aunt patted the back of my hand and started laughing. Aunt: No need to be polite with him, if you like it, tell him to make more! Aunt: Hm...if it's like this...I guess Victor doesn't bully you anymore? MC: Thanks to him always bullying me before, I'm not scared of any kind of work now. Aunt: He was like this since he was a child. His actions always different from what he says and feels. Once you get used to it, though, it's kind of cute! MC: Yeah. Even though sometimes his tone isn't very good, he's never really hated me or disliked me in any way. Actually, a lot of the time, he's helping me tirelessly. The big and small events of daily life, he would always worry for me...... MC: I always feel very safe around him. It was quiet for a few seconds, and I looked up to Victor's aunt instinctively. She was staring at me with a mix of surprise and joy. I realized what I had said, and instantly felt my face heat up and turn red. MC: I'm sorry... I said too much, didn't I...... She was about to say something when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, and locked eyes with Victor. Victor: It looks like I've interrupted you. Aunt: No, no, you came at just the right time! Brother, stop occupying Victor, let the young people speak to each other! Victor's aunt winked at me and stood up, bringing Mr. Li away. Victor walked towards the kitchen, and I followed. Victor: Then I'll take care of supper. MC: I'll help! Once we were in the kitchen, Victor handed me some vegetables. Victor: Did you have fun talking with my aunt? MC: Yeah. We talked about you! Victor: Hm. A certain snappy and grouchy person suddenly starts giving out compliments? I gave a small start, and looked up at him nervously while I was washing the vegetables. MC: Y-You heard? Victor: Just a bit. MC: Then what are your thoughts after hearing such sincere compliments? Victor: Definitely the kind that only you would give. Most of it is just facts, though, so it doesn't really count as a compliment. I looked at the faint smile in his eyes and pouted, unsatisfied. MC: It looks like I've said too many good things about you. You're already used to it. Before, you would be surprised for a bit and ask me if I really mean it. Victor: All your thoughts are written all over your face. Of course I can tell if you mean it or not. He glanced at me, and I knew how red my face must be right now. Still, however, Victor was calm, and didn't seem flustered at all. Perhaps it's because he can tell what I'm thinking. Whenever I prepare some sort of surprise, he can always expect it. ...If I think about it, I haven't seen Victor embarrassed or flustered because of me in a long time. I gave a huff and shook the water droplets off of the vegetables. It's so unfair to have only me blush and my heartbeat to go wild.

A new year, a new start, I want to see a new side of Victor!

Chapter 2

After a while, Victor's aunt walked in and set a bottle of red wine and a decanter on the countertop. Since Victor was cutting up the vegetables. I took the wine and tried to start decanting it. Victor's aunt watched me, her eyes following my movements, and then moved closer to whisper in my ear, "You're very familiar with this!" MC: It was all learned from Victor. Aunt: You like drinking wine? I instinctively turned to look at Victor, but he didn't seem to be listening. MC: Well...actually, I'm not that good with alcohol. I can't drink much. Aunt: That's okay, we'll drink a little less later, then. It's a holiday, you gotta live a little! MC: But... Aunt: Don't worry about him stopping you. This time, I'll cover you! She patted me on the back and left the kitchen. Now, all I could hear was the faint bubbling of the soup on the stove. I leaned against the counter, facing Victor, bringing up what his aunt had said on purpose. MC: She said I can drink wine with you today. Victor: Yeah. MC: I promise I'll just drink a little bit. I won't embarrass you today. Victor: Didn't she say she'll cover you? No need to report to me. MC: ...... Nothing escapes his ears! I furrowed my brows and watched out of the corner of my eye as Victor took out a few pieces of rock sugar from a glass jar and added it to the pot. There were also a few wine glasses nearby. I looked around, ready to seize the chance to get him back. I picked up a wine glass and poured wine from the decanter into it, handing it to Victor. MC: Want to see if it tastes good? Victor: ...You've only decanted it for five minutes. MC: Is CEO Victor afraid of the wine tasting sour? Victor looked at my smirking face and took the wine, swirling it in the glass a few times. Victor: What, are you trying to make me drunk first so you won't be laughed at later when you're drunk? MC: It's just a little. You won't be drunk. Victor studied me for a while but still drank the wine. When I saw him wrinkle his nose, I took a piece of rock sugar from the jar he was using, held onto it with my mouth, and stood on my tip-toes to be able to reach his lips. Victor: ...! He froze, and I pushed away his hand holding the wine glass and moved even closer. My feet began to feel sore, but the man in front of me still didn't bend down and do what I wanted. I tried to maintain my balance with difficulty, and then blinked at Victor aggressively. He raised an eyebrow and finally lowered his head and bent down. I raised my head to meet him, but accidentally bumped into the corner of his mouth instead. I tried to bite down on the piece of sugar, but all that was left in my mouth was a few tiny sugar crumbs. The rock sugar fell and landed on the ground with a small thud. MC: ...... Victor: ...... We stared at each other for a while. I tried to ignore my reddening cheeks, and stepped backwards with an air of forced calmness. I picked up the sugar on the ground and tossed it into the trash, then turned around and returned to the sink, my back turned towards Victor, and started to prepare the lettuce for supper. Victor: MC. Before he could say anything, I instantly raised a hand to stop him. MC: F-First let me calm down, right now I...! Before I even finished my sentence, someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me backwards. My eyes widened, and I stared at the man in front of me. His warm lips stopped me from crying out in surprise, and I was suddenly enveloped in his scent. My mind suddenly went blank and I instinctively tried to push him away, but Victor held onto me tightly, one hand at my waist. I couldn't move at all. Victor: The wine wasn't good, I didn't get to eat the sugar, and you want to run away just like that? MC: Wait! Mr. Li and your aunt...they're still in the living room! Victor: I'd have thought you remembered this when you got the sugar. His lips were basically against mine when he said this, and then I felt them over my mouth again. I could smell the faint fragrance of red wine. The sounds in my ears all disappeared, only leaving the sound of my own frantic heartbeats. It was as if the world would no longer moved. No one would know what was happening in this quiet corner. The crumbs of sugar on my lips and the sweetness on my tongue were taken from me by Victor, and I was reminded by the meaning of this sudden kiss. His actions were gentle and slow, but I could taste a hint of greed and possessiveness. I was finally able to breathe in the cool air when my tongue started to feel numb. Victor's hand caressed my cheek tenderly and then he gave a soft laugh. Victor: Looks like your ability with wine and intelligence both didn't improve. You've only tasted a little...but you're already blushing? His voice made me conscious of what was happening, and I quickly stepped back. MC: T-This isn't related to anything like that! You... This is against the rules!! Victor: You were the one who started it, how could you push the blame onto me? Did you forget the things you did so quickly? MC: I- I was going to protest, but then I started to hear the background noise that had once faded away when Victor had kissed me. Victor, however, still held me in his arms, smiling and waiting for me to finish my sentence. Meeting his teasing gaze, I opened my mouth to speak but found I couldn't say anything. The awkward silence was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Aunt: MC, come over here and take a break! MC: Oh, okay! I jumped, surprised, and instantly ducked under Victor's arm, heading towards her. Everything happened so suddenly. Why is it only me who gets flustered? Victor was still calm and collected. I felt a little dejected and told myself not to try something so daring next time. Operation Rock Sugar had failed. When the housekeeper walked into the kitchen, Victor was carefully preparing the shrimp. When he heard the footsteps behind him, he turned around and greeted her. Victor: ...Mrs. Wang. Mrs.Wang: I've come to lend a hand, since the young lady was called away. Victor: Thank you. I appreciate you staying here to help out, even though it's the spring festival. Mrs.Wang: Oh, it's nothing! I'm by myself on New Year's anyways, so I'm quite content with staying here, where everything is so much more lively. I barely help anyways--you cook so much better. Victor: I'm honoured to hear that you like my cooking, but the food you make is loved by the whole family, no matter how you make it. Victor: You know, I don't come home very often, so it's quite natural that I should prepare a meal for them.

The housekeeper motioned in the direction of the living room. Mrs.Wang: When they heard that you were coming with her, your dad and your aunt were overjoyed! Your dad even bought new plants for the living room! Victor: He probably just wants to garden more. Mrs.Wang: Ah, but I've heard that if you keep plants at home, it's good for developing feelings! Victor smiled but didn't answer. Mrs.Wang: You have to believe it! See, didn't something good happen? She laughed and pointed to the corner of Victor's mouth. Victor looked startled and brushed the back of his hand over his mouth. There was a faint red streak on his skin. .....it's the lipstick that hasn't been wiped clean. Victor coughed, looking awkward and self-conscious as he thought back to what had happened before. Victor: ...Mrs. Wang, please don't inform my father of this. Mrs.Wang: Ah, but it's perfectly normal with young people! She smiled and then lowered her voice. Mrs.Wang: Victor, do you usually cook for that young lady? Victor: .....Yeah. She's often busy with work, and she doesn't cook very well, either. She always tries to get her meals from me. Mrs.Wang: Then she must love your cooking! Victor gave a soft laugh. Victor: She isn't very picky. She tells me that everything I make is delicious. When she's hungry, she may complain about this, about that, but she forgets all that when she's full. She really is very easily satisfied... The soup on the stove had started boiling, making loud sounds, and Victor's words were interrupted. He seemed to realize what he had been saying, and instinctively turned to look at the housekeeper.

She was smiling at him, staring at him wordlessly. Victor: Mrs. Wang, I... Mrs.Wang: It's totally fine, totally okay, no need to be embarrassed! You always put a lot of effort into everything. She can notice that, you know! That's why she's satisfied!

Mrs.Wang: I don't understand any big laws of life, but even I can still tell that making food for someone you love gives great happiness. If that certain someone also enjoys your food, it's double the happiness. Don't you think so? Victor avoided her gaze but nodded his head in agreement. Victor: Yes, you're right. He didn't say anything else, and finished preparing the shrimp. Then, he smiled to himself.

He turned his head to look in the direction of the living room. A porcelain flower pot was faced towards the balcony, a couple of small flowers sprinkled among the green leaves.

Many people want important incidents to have beautiful meaning. Victor, however, knew that, even without that radiant significance, he would hold her hand tightly and never let go. Victor: Mrs. Wang, what kind of flowers did my father buy? Mrs.Wang: Orchids, why? Victor: Nothing. Victor: If he likes it, he can keep it.

Chapter 3

After supper, the four of us started playing mahjong. We played a few rounds, and then the two older people began to feel tired. Before going upstairs, Mr. Li turned to me. Mr.Li: MC, the spare room is ready for you. You can go right over once you feel sleepy. MC: Okay, thank you!

Victor and I were afraid to disturb them by staying up too late, so we both got ready for bed. After washing up, I passed Victor's bedroom. Faint light was shining through the space between the door and the door frame. He didn't seem to be asleep yet. I knocked on the door, and then pushed it open, sticking my head in to see what he was doing. Victor was sitting on the couch, looking at his laptop. When he saw me peek into his room, he shut the laptop and got up. Victor: Come in. You drank wine today. Are you feeling sick or uncomfortable at all? MC: No, I'm fine. Today's wine was great. You were right in deciding how long it should be decanted. I shut the door and looked around his room curiously. The bedroom was neat and tidy, but I couldn't see many traces of anyone living here. The bookshelves and desk contained many books from student times, and there was a jump rope nearby. All of this didn't seem like it would fit with the Victor in front of me, yet it also seemed to somehow make sense. MC: Victor, you used to live here? Victor: I've always lived in Loveland city. When my father moved here, he brought my belongings here as well. MC: So, that means this room is some kind of "storage area" for you? Victor: Basically. I walked over to the desk, looking at the neatly organized books, and carefully touched the supplies on his desk. MC: Who would have thought. The CEO used to have the same life as me when he was a student. Victor: Would it be anything different? MC: We both took the same classes. Why is that you're so much better than me when we're all grown up? I looked away, pouting, and then caught sight of a few thick dictionaries on the shelf. The red cover of an idioms book caught my attention. I felt instantly excited, and turned back towards Victor, clearing my throat. MC: Victor, I'm going to test you. What's the fourth idiom of the sixteenth page of this book? Victor: What are you talking about? MC: You always love to use idioms when you speak, so I've always thought that you memorized this idioms textbook. Victor: ...... Victor sighed, sounding exasperated. He didn't answer me, but forced me to sit down on the couch. MC: ?? Victor: I knew you were drunk. MC: I'm not drunk! Victor: That's what all drunk people say. I looked at him defiantly. MC: You drank a lot with your dad. Are you drunk? Victor: No. MC: That's what all drunk people say. I copied his tone and repeated his words back to him. Victor looked at me in resignation. Victor: If I were drunk, who would take care of the tipsy idiot? MC: ...Wait, you were awake all this time because you were waiting for... me? Victor: You only realized now? I knew you wouldn't go back to your room that easily so I left the door open. My heart felt warm and happy when he said that. I took Victor's hand, laughing softly. MC: Then are you planning to have me stay here? Victor: As long as you don't wreak havoc, sure, I'm fine with that. MC: I'm not drunk, I wouldn't wreak havoc! Plus, this room is filled with your past. I want to get to know it better. He stared at me for a while, and then finally gave in. Victor crouched down and wrapped his fingers around my hand. Victor: Go on, what do you want to know better? I raised my head, looking around the room, and my gaze landed on a medal standing on the desk. MC: What's this? What award did you get? Victor: The allied nations meeting simulation award. MC: Wow, impressive! I've heard of this contest before. Apparently it's already difficult to get in, but you even won! Victor: If I think about it now, I suggested quite a naive plan. It probably helped with training my critical thinking, though. I made a face at his know-it-all comment, but then turned my attention to another object. MC: What's that dark blue folder for? Victor: The school gave it to me. I think it's some sort of student committee note taking folder. MC: As expected of CEO Victor. You were a leader ever since birth...

I continued looking around the room, and I suddenly saw an object in the corner that was out of my expectation. A memory in my mind was suddenly brought to the surface, and I widened my eyes in surprise and joy. I walked over to the box in the corner and fished out a ball, nearly empty of air. I held it up triumphantly to Victor's face. MC: It looks like you really love soccer! You've still kept it until now... Victor: I only liked it when I was really young. MC: But still, it's thanks to this soccer ball that I could eat the pudding you made. Victor: You only remember the pudding? MC: Of course not, I remember many details! For example, the shape of that sandcastle you destroyed...the weather of that day...the colours of the water bottles sitting in a row, under the tree...... I suddenly thought of something, and stuffed the soccer ball into Victor's hands. I brought my hands up to his face, cupping it in my palms. MC: But still, what I remember most clearly is the nervous you, at a loss for what to do. You weren't such a serious Victor back then. Your height was...maybe about up to your chest? Your hair was a little curlier back then, and you were kind of chubby...... MC: You were the adorable big brother Victor! I drew patterns on his face with my fingertips as I spoke, laughing in a silly sort of way. Victor watched me silently, not reacting at all to my words. I felt the temperature under my palms rise, and I moved in closer to stare at him, slightly bewildered. His pupils dilated for a second. MC: Victor? What happened? Victor seemed to realize that he was rooted to the spot and instantly stepped back, tossing the soccer ball back in the box. Victor: ...It's nothing. It's late, you should go sleep. We're returning to Loveland city tomorrow. MC: Then can I sleep on your couch? Victor: No. Go back to your room. MC: But you just said I could stay for the night... Victor: I changed my mind. He was avoiding my gaze. I seemed to understand something, so I turned and faced my back towards him. MC: You're misleading me. You've always said "If you want to convince someone, you need to bring out an appropriate reason." Victor: ...... MC: But if you're feeling too embarrassed, I can understand. Victor: Why would I be embarrassed? When I heard his awkward tone, I smirked sightly and then turned around and grabbed him. MC: If so, then I'll take it that you agreed! I could hear his heavy breathing, and it was as if he were suppressing something and trying to control himself. I turned my head, but then caught sight of the roaring, complicated emotions in his eyes. A second later, I was enveloped in his arms and trapped against the bed. The emotions in his eyes were mixed into the embrace. Victor: You said you wanted to stay. MC: I- Victor: You really talk a lot today. He lowered his head, biting my lip as if it were a punishment for rambling on and on. His teeth glided over my lip and I let out a small noise of pain. He loosened his hold on me and touched my lips with his finger. Victor: Shh. My dad's a light sleeper. Don't wake him up. I stared at him, realizing that the bedrooms weren't far away from each other, and instantly turned red, covering my mouth. MC: W-Why didn't you say that earlier? Victor: Well, now you know. I glared at Victor, but this didn't stop him from doing what he originally had wanted to do. He moved my nervous hands away from my mouth, grasped the back of my neck with one hand, and slightly tilted my head upwards. He leaned down towards me again. This time, his movements were gentle, brushing his tongue over my lips and causing a hot, tingling, irresistible sensation. The feeling seemed to unfurl into every corner of my body. My mouth was slightly aching from his actions. The air seemed to thin around us as our breaths mingled and we breathed in each other's warmth. I felt slightly dizzy, and my hands clutched at his shirt as I subconsciously reached for something to hold onto. My body was trapped, and I was forced to go along with his actions. With every second, however, I sank more into the kiss and followed his lead willingly. I could hear the ticking of the clock. Victor didn't stop time like he had done in the daytime. I didn't have the energy to worry or think about the world around us, anyways. Our movements left our clothes a creased and wrinkled mess, and the necklace at my throat slid to the side, landing on the bed with an almost unnoticeable sound. The small sound seemed to snap him back to reality, and he ended the kiss, nuzzling his nose against my cheek. The sound of our breathing filled the quiet room. We stared at each other for a second, and then suddenly Victor turned his face away, getting off the bed. I was still holding on to the fabric of his shirt. He paused, and then gently pulled my hand off his clothes. MC: Victor...... Victor: ...Go to sleep. MC: What? Victor: You can sleep here. I'll go to the guest room. He didn't give me any time to react, and hurried out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. I froze for a while, and then moved myself into a sitting position, staring at the door. I opened my hand and stared at my palm, thinking back to the warmth I felt when I touched his face. Was he...blushing? Was it because of this kiss? But...he was totally fine with the one we shared in the daytime. Even though I didn't know the exact reason for his embarrassment, I felt a bit triumphant. MC: So. You could be flustered as well.

Chapter 4

The morning sun shone through the car window and I instinctively raised an arm to block the light from my face. I couldn't stop thinking about the embarrassed Victor last night, so I didn't get much sleep. The tiredness and fatigue still remained until today, so I decided to rest on the car ride back home. Oddly enough, Victor didn't say anything about my decision to sleep on the car, and played soft, relaxing music for the ride home. After a period of time, the car finally stopped. The bright sunlight falling over my eyelids was partially covered, and I could smell a familiar scent around me. Victor: MC, wake up. We're here. I lifted my heavy eyelids, still exhausted, and discovered that the surroundings weren't familiar. A cottage was sitting beside the quiet road. A fence ran along the front of the house, tracing out the edge of a garden bursting with life. If you looked carefully, there weren't many weeds or fallen leaves in the garden. It seemed that someone has tended to it recently. MC: Where are we? Aren't we going home? Victor: This is my house on the outskirts of the city. My family stays here when they occasionally visit.

Victor: My dad had someone come over to fix the plumbing before spring festival. He cleaned this place up a bit while the pipes were being repaired, and told me to bring you over so you could rest here for a few days. Victor opened the front door, and I looked around at the space in wonder. It was in the same neat, minimalist design of Victor's house, but the colours were warmer and the house felt cozier. Sunlight was pouring out of a floor-to-ceiling window, filling every corner with a soft glow. The view beyond the window was filled with lush green colours, a few clusters of multiflora roses appeared occasionally among the plants. MC: It's so beautiful...thanks, Mr. Li and CEO Victor. I yawned again. Victor took my suitcase and led me to the bedroom. Victor: I'll give you the full tour once you're not half asleep. Go rest. Call me if there's anything you need. MC: Okay. I cleaned up the room a little bit, and then opened my suitcase to get my pyjamas, but they were nowhere to be found. I tried to think back to the morning, when I packed my suitcase, but couldn't remember anything, as I was too sleepy to care at that time. MC: I slept in Victor's room last night...did I put my pyjamas in the wrong suitcase? I decided to go and ask him. MC: Victor, where are you? Victor: Over here. His voice came from behind a door close by. I walked over, pushing it open, and then stood there, momentarily stunned. There was a huge walk-in closet with clothes and accessories neatly sorted in the surrounding drawers and wardrobes. Victor was standing in front of one of the closets, the light illuminating the side of his face. He had changed into a loose-fitting robe, the belt tied casually at his waist. The soft fabric was draped over his skin, showing the clear and defined lines of his figure. He hadn't been able to fix his robe yet, and his chest was bare. His strong muscles contrasted to the dark coloured fabric. My heartbeat sped up uncontrollably, and I stood there, not knowing what to do. My eyes were glued to his body. Victor: What's wrong? I realized what I was doing, and swallowed before starting to speak. MC: Um...I can't find my pyjamas. I think it's in the wrong suitcase. Victor: Oh, then I'll go check mine. He turned to walk out, and I caught sight of a stack of neatly folded shirts. An idea popped into my head, and I quickly stopped Victor. MC: Wait! I...I think I remember getting it dirty. Can I borrow something from here? Victor: ...You don't even behave when it's time to sleep. He still searched around in the wardrobe and passed me a white shirt. Victor: This one's soft. Try it on to see if it's comfortable. I took the shirt and compared it to my body. The fabric was slightly see-through, and it stopped at my thighs. ......maybe it's a little too short? I could feel my ears redden, and I stared at the mirror, hesitating. But when I thought of the shy Victor I saw last night, I felt determined and decided to try making him embarrassed again. I walked in the direction of the door, holding the shirt in my arms and turning my head to thank him. MC: Then I'll go try it on, thanks! Victor was rummaging though the closet, bringing out a pair of shorts and wanting to hand it to the person behind him, but then discovered that she had run away. He stared in the direction that the girl had disappeared, and gave a soft sigh. Victor: You never finish listening to what other people have to say.

He cleaned up the mess in the walk-in closet, and then remembered that the girl hadn't had breakfast yet. He went to her room and knocked on the door, waiting to ask her if she was hungry. There was no answer, and he pushed open the door, feeling puzzled. Victor: ...MC? It hadn't been long since she ran out of the walk-in closet, but the girl had already fallen fast asleep, hugging her pillows. The borrowed shirt was draped loosely over her body. She didn't cover herself with a blanket, nor did she shut the curtains. Sunlight shone over her, faintly illuminating her figure hidden under the fabric of the white shirt. He stood by the door awkwardly, not knowing if he should go in or head out. She didn't seem to be in a very deep sleep, mumbling softly, and then buried her head into the pillow. Victor sighed, walking quietly over to the curtains and shutting them. He then gently covered the girl with a blanket. Victor gave her forehead a soft push, lowering his voice and reminding her gently. Victor: Don't bury your face into the pillow. MC: Nnngh......Victor...... Victor: Hmm? MC: ...Cute...... She smiled in her sleep, and he was reminded of the night before, when she had called him "adorable" while smiling sillily. Inexpressible emotion crept up upon him again, and he instantly left the room. Victor leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Victor: What an idiot...

When I opened my eyes again, it was nearly night time. I looked down at the blanket covering my body and rubbed my head.

I was planning to wait for him after changing into the shirt, but the bed was too comfortable and I fell asleep...

I raised my hand, looking at the long sleeve hanging over my arm. I probably only slept well because I was surround by his scent, right? Even though I was a little disappointed, I knew this was Victor's way of expressing his feelings. MC: Victor, I think you're the dummy here. I muttered, but my chest still felt warm and happy. Sounds came from the kitchen downstairs. I changed back into my own clothes and ran down the stairs, my stomach growling with hunger.

Victor turned his head around when he heard me coming, and he frowned at me, sighing. Victor: You're finally awake. I thought that you would sleep all the way until next morning. MC: How could I miss the meal you prepared? MC: But, speaking of sleep, I express my gratitude to Mr. CEO for covering me with a blanket. Victor: You're welcome. I just didn't want to spend my holiday taking care of an sick idiot. I made a face at him and walked closer to him, curiously examining the food he was making. Seeing that I was hovering near him, he stuffed the soup ladle into my hand. Victor: You need to help if you want to eat sooner. The warm yellow light lit up the kitchen. Victor and I worked side by side at the stove. Even though Operation Pyjamas had failed as well, I felt content to have a holiday where I could always be near Victor.

I made up my mind, choosing to ignore all my plans about making him embarrassed and decided to just enjoy the peaceful times with Victor.

After supper, I began to wander around the house curiously.

The darkness seemed much quieter and more serene than the nights in the city.

I was going to go and find Victor, but there was a sudden snap and the lights went out. MC: What happened? Victor: MC! His voice rang out from not too far away, and a streak of light appeared in the darkness. Victor: Stand there and don't move. I'm coming. I watched the light come closer, and a warm hand grasped my arm. Victor: They just fixed the electricity channels a while ago, so the power is a bit unstable. MC: I'm glad I came with you. Being alone in such a big house would be sort of scary. Victor: What is there to be scared of? MC: It's too quiet here, and it's also really dark...all those horror movies all start with the power going out... I said that as a joke at first, but started getting nervous and held on tightly to Victor's arm. MC: Um...we've closed all the windows, right? Victor: I already checked that when you were sleeping. Victor: A certain someone was sleeping from the morning to the evening with no worries at all. Of course I had to check it myself. I laughed awkwardly, thinking back to how I fell asleep. MC: I was...way too tired. Mr. CEO is always so thorough in his plans! Victor: Leave your strange thoughts behind and follow me. Let's go check on the power switch. I walked over to the front door with Victor. He pointed the flashlight at the main switch, and we could both see that it was pointed to "off." He flicked it on, and the lights in the house lit up one by one. I blinked, adjusting to the brightness. Victor: There. Now there's no need to be scared. Victor: I'll go check on all the electrical appliances. MC: Okay. Victor: ...When are you going to let go? I gave a slight start, realizing that I was still hugging his arm tightly. Victor looked at me, trying not to laugh. I tried to ignore the heat on my face, and held on to his arm even tighter. MC: ...I mean...this means...I want to go along with you. Victor: Huh. Sticking to me even though you aren't drunk? MC: This isn't related to being drunk! MC: It just means... if the power goes out again, I can help you hold the flashlight. I made a random excuse up on the spot, and Victor glanced at me. Still, he put the flashlight into my hand. Victor: That was a dumb excuse. Try a different one next time. MC: But you already agreed... Victor: That was to prevent someone from lying awake at night, thinking of strange thoughts and being too scared to sleep. MC: But that's not something I can control. MC: You're right, though. I have no time to think about those things if I'm around you. Victor seemed to stop moving for a second. I didn't raise my head to look at him, but I heard a low laugh by my ear. Victor: This isn't a bad excuse. I'll accept it. Our entwined arms caused us to be pressed to each other, and the familiar warmth took all my fears and worries away. It was a special kind of privilege to be able to hold on to his arm so tightly.

When it's just the two of us, I always want to take full advantage of this privilege.

Chapter 5

I finally felt refreshed and awake this morning. When I got up, the door to Victor's room was still closed. It was kind of rare to wake up before him. I snuck into the kitchen and took out a few simple ingredients out of the refrigerator, planning to surprise him with breakfast. The second I set the sandwiches on the table, I saw Victor walking over, buttoning his shirt. MC: Good morning, Victor! He paused when he saw me, and then nodded his head. Victor: Good morning. MC: Thanks for taking care of me yesterday. In exchange, I'm going to make breakfast for you! Take a seat. It'll be ready soon. I pulled out a chair, but he didn't sit down. Instead, Victor just leaned by the table, watching me work. I finished preparing the iced coffee and walked back to the table, handing one cup to him. MC: This is a new recipe I've discovered a few days ago. Let's start off the new year with a new flavour! Victor looked at me, and then glanced at the messy countertop, sighing exasperatedly. Victor: ...You really tend to make yourself at home. MC: Hehe, that's because this is your house. MC: Plus, I'm always very interested in things related to you. I met the "Student Victor" a few days ago. Maybe I can meet another you today as well. Victor: You're going to be disappointed, then. Victor: I don't come to this house very often. There's nothing interesting to learn about here. MC: Then...we can make some new memories here together! ...But if it's like that... MC: Student Victor, CEO Victor, and the normal loveland citizen Victor...can I have them all? Victor was still for a second, and then he walked over to stand in front of me. Victor: Didn't you say you want them all? You're missing one. MC: Huh? I paused, not expecting him to act serious like this, and then carefully thought back to all his other identities. MC: ...and...Chef Victor? Victor: That's not right. MC: Professor Li? Victor: No. MC: ...It's not YanYan, is it? I said cautiously, and received an annoyed glance from him. He leaned towards me, trapping me by the table, his eyes watching me carefully. Victor: Are you really an idiot or just pretending to be? You mentioned it just the day before yesterday. Did you already forget? I blinked, trying to remember the conversations we shared on that day. Other than looking at his belongings from student times, there seemed to be some important detail that I missed... I stared at the face in front of me, and the images of a faintly blushing Victor holding the soccer ball emerged from my memories. It was like some corner of my heart was instantly lit up, and I suddenly realized what he was referring to. My pulse began to speed up. I knew what the answer was, but I decided to first tease him for a bit. MC: I was drunk on that day. Victor: Who was it that insisted they weren't drunk back them? MC: Isn't that what all drunk people say? Victor: ...... Victor let out a long breath. His hand wound around my middle and pinched my waist. Victor: Okay then. Since you have selective memory, I guess I'll help you remember.

The next second, I was lifted into the air. I wasn't able to respond in time, and both my slippers slid off of my feet. He carried me over to the table behind us. My skin touched the marble surface and I cried out. MC: Ah, cold! I instantly tried to move my legs in order to avoid the cold marble table. Victor took advantage of the situation, grabbing my ankle and pulling me forwards suddenly. I instantly toppled into his arms, hastily wrapping my legs around him in order to keep my balance. I held the cup of iced coffee in my hand carefully, trying to check if I had soiled his clothes.

A shadow suddenly loomed over me, Victor leaned closer to me, blocking the sunshine spilling down from the skylight. Victor: I remember someone saying that they're only going to drink a little bit. They also promised not to embarrass me. MC: ...I really didn't drink much! It was just that...I felt fine while drinking, but I didn't expect to feel the effects so strongly afterwards... Victor: Mm. It seems that you still remember this part. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead like a reward for answering correctly. Victor: Thanks to those after effects, you didn't go to bed, but instead, headed over to my room. MC: I just wanted to know if you were sleeping or not... Victor: And you examined every corner of the room, claiming that you wanted to get to know my past. I gave a nervous laugh and tried to scoot backwards. Victor stopped me by holding on tightly to my waist. Victor: Don't remember this part? MC: I do! You have lots of books, won lots of prizes, and you would diligently take notes in your student committee folder. Victor: And? MC: And... I let my gaze slide away from his face on purpose, avoiding his stare. Victor pinched my waist again, and I instantly straightened up, meeting his eyes. Victor: Answer the question. MC: I, I can't remember anymore! Victor: Oh? Then I can give you a reminder. Victor leaned closer and closer. The glass in my hand slipped, and I instantly raised a hand, pressing against his chest in order to stop him from getting any nearer. MC: Wait, the coffee's gonna spill! Victor: Then hold on to it tightly. He grasped the hand I was using to hold the coffee. I wasn't able to let go of the cup, nor was I able to avoid him. I raised my head in surprise, and I could feel his warm breathing on my face. Victor: There was a soccer ball in the corner of the room. You were especially interested in it. His lips brushed against the skin of my face, and I gave a little gasp of surprise. MC: Soccer ball? Isn't that what you loved to play with when you were young? Victor: Mm hmm. This soccer ball destroyed an idiot's sand castle. She cried for a long time. Victor: She wouldn't be comforted no matter what, but when the topic of food came up, she completely forgot about the castle. Victor: But still, it was understandable, since she was only five years old at the time. He didn't seem to want to say any more. He just looked at me silently, his fingers subconsciously stroking the back of my hand. I didn't know if it was because of the sunlight warming me on one side, or because I realized I was walking slowly into his trap...... ......I felt that every inch of my untouched skin was sweating slightly, overheating my brain. I had originally thought I had caught on to a special detail that would make him blush, but instead, I found myself ensnared in his traps. The name that I tried to avoid saying on purpose was becoming more and more embarrassing to say... My hand tightened around his shirt, and I forced myself to speak. MC: ...And then...? Victor raised an eyebrow, but he didn't seem annoyed. He moved his gentle kisses from my forehead over to my lips. His eyelashes brushed against my face, and all the details of that night instantly reappeared in my head. Victor: And then, this is what happened after.

The sunlight outlined his silhouette in brightness, but his eyes lay obscured in the shadows cast by his hair. Victor's eyes were filled with desire. He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him. I wobbled, losing my balance, and had to tighten my knees around his waist in order not to fall over. Victor: Do you still need more reminders? Before I could even answer, his lips were already pressed up against mine. I let out a muffled sound of protest, and he glanced at me but didn't stop his actions. How am I even supposed to answer like this?! I raised my head and bit his bottom lip, irritated. Victor finally stopped and looked down at me with a smile, his eyes gleaming teasingly. Victor: You've learned to bite. MC: You did that on purpose! Victor: You clearly knew the answer but you still hid it. Didn't you do that on purpose as well? Victor: The best way to deal with an idiot is to do the same exact thing back. MC: ...Victor, you've become sly! Victor gave a soft laugh, not seeming to mind my accusations. I looked at his calm expression and muttered under my breath dejectedly. MC: I still can't make you blush, huh... Victor: Who do you think made me act like this? I paused, startled at his sudden question. Victor was no longer smiling, but instead, staring at me seriously and waiting for me to answer. Victor: ...So that's why you've been doing such odd things these days. Victor: Trying to trick me into drinking, pretending to be drunk, insisting on wearing my clothes......you had planned this from the beginning? My mind was a mess, and I blurted out all my thoughts. MC: It's because you're always so calm and collected...I wanted to see if I could make you flustered and embarrassed. MC: I know I do silly things sometimes, but I don't want you to see me as a child. I'm no longer that naive five year old girl. I want to see you blush and turn red because of me. I glanced at Victor, and then buried my head into his shoulder, feeling slightly embarrassed. MC: You don't know how cute you are when you're flustered... MC: And that's a side no one will ever see, except for me. He was silent for a moment, and then let out a sigh. Victor: Have you ever seen anyone invest five billion in a child's company? MC: ...... Victor: Starting from the first time I've met you, I've never once thought of you as a child. I call you an idiot, only because the silly things that you always do...they really don't fit with your age. I lowered my head, giving a small huff of annoyance. This person really never stops insulting me...... Victor: And also, I'll repeat the same thing back to you. MC: Huh? Victor: You're really cute when you do those silly things. Victor: The same goes for when you're not doing anything silly. I stared at Victor, feeling the heat on my face rise. My quickening heart beat gave me away, clearly showing Victor my surprise and happiness at his confession. The corners of my mouth lifted in an uncontrollable smile, and I straightened up. MC: Victo- Victor: Wrong. The man in front of me furrowed his brow, and I swallowed nervously. This topic still wasn't over yet... MC: You've heard me say it so many times when I was young. Still haven't gotten tired of it? Victor: This is different. I want the "you" now to answer. Last chance. I took a deep breath, getting ready to answer, but then felt a sudden chill on my leg. Water droplets had formed on the glass of the iced coffee. The cold drops of water had landed on my thigh. I instinctively tried to look down and wipe it away, but Victor grabbed my chin. Victor: Stop getting distracted. MC: But I'm just- Victor: Answer me. Which Victor did you forget about? A drop of water slipped down my leg, leaving behind a trail of faintly itching skin. The voice of the man in front of me was low. Every word brushed softly against my heart like the gentle touch of raindrops in spring. I opened my mouth, almost unable to control my trembling voice. MC: Brother Victor......

The air was quiet for a second, and then the glass in my hand was whisked away, clinking against the plates behind me. Victor pushed them away, hard. I stared unwaveringly at the man in front of me. He avoided my gaze, opening his mouth and starting to speak in a low voice. Victor: Close your eyes. MC: Why? Victor: No reason. He leaned over to gently kiss my eyelids, and I was forced to close my eyes. His hand supported the back of my head, and then a warm, strong kiss to my lips cleared all the thoughts from my head. Even if I couldn't see his face, I could clearly feel his unspoken feelings. The puzzle piece from long ago had finally been placed into the last empty spot. I reached out, feeling for his shoulders, and then wrapped my arms around his neck. My crossed arms made him lean in closer, and the feeling of our mouths together burned towards every corner of my body. Our hot breaths mixed together, and my skin felt both warm and cold at the same time. His warm palms held on to me, keeping me from falling but also making me shiver from the sensation. I repressed a small cry of surprise, and secretly opened my eyes, looking up at him.

The sunlight shone on his face, revealing his blush, and I could see a kind of simple pleasure in his usually unfathomable eyes. I lifted my arm to cup his face in one hand, and he looked at me, meeting my gaze. For a second, he looked at a loss for what to do. It was probably that he didn't expect me to look at him. Even his ears turned bright red. MC: Pffft... Victor: Why are you laughing? MC: Nothing. I just think you look really cute when you're blushing. Victor: ...... Victor: Your wish was granted. Happy now? MC: Very happy! I ignored his slightly annoyed expression, and gently pinched his cheek, smiling happily. I pressed down his head and gave his lips a small peck. The man in front of me was poker-faced since childhood, but he was also warm and soft to the touch. My heart was filled with an indescribable warmth, and I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him again. Victor: You... The voice in my ears trembled slightly. I let go of Victor, laughing. MC: Thank you for letting me get to know you better. MC: It doesn't matter which side of you I see. You'll always be my favourite. Victor looked at me for a second, and then let out a chuckle. Victor: Are these your true feelings? MC: I thought you always know what I'm thinking. Victor: That's true. Victor: Then, let me hear more of your true feelings. The sun shining through the skylight overhead cast Victor's shadow over me, overlapping with my own behind us. Time seemed to stretch on... And mixed into the passage of time, was his long and affectionate answer.

- End -

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc vic #mrlove #mr love victor #mrlovequeenschoicevictor #mr love queens choice #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #mlqc translation #mlqc translations

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sunflowersteves · 4 years

Note

i dont know how i missed that you write for some star wars characters, but can i pleeease request some headcanons for the mandalorian?? maybe something soft, like the reader and din taking care of baby yoda? other than that you have creative control 💕 congratulations again!!!!! love you 😘

Mandalorian x Fem!reader

Author’s Note: i love star wars!! pls feel free to request as many star wars fics as u want adsksjs ;) thank youuuu !! i love you!!!!!!!

Warnings: none :), just fluffy stuff

send in a headcanon!

you had vowed to protect the child with your life when you saved din’s ass on Nevarro

there had been a couple of bandits following him when he was stocking up on food for his next trip

the child had sat in his floating crib, making grabby hands at anything food

the bandits were closing in on the mandalorian because the child was up for a pretty hefty profit

just as they were about to attack, you quickly apprehended them and all three of them were knocked out cold

din was very skeptical of you, not letting you get a step closer to them until the child waddled over to you

din had protested a lot but once his little hands wrapped around your fingers, he just wouldn’t let go

you and din tried to get him off of you for like 5 minutes but that just ended up with mando on the ground being force choked

the child seriously was not gonna let you go

“okay, okay she can come with us, alright?”

since then, you, din, and the child had been attached to the hip

you sat in the cockpit carving out an apple with a pocket knife

you cut out a piece for the child and watched happily as he giggled from the sweet taste of the fruit

mando would watch from the captains seat and even though you couldn’t see it, there would always be a large smile on his face

you and the child just had a really special place in his heart and to see you feeding him fruit was just so precious

however, sometimes parenting was absolutely exhausting

“spit that out!”

the child would just look at you with puppy dog eyes, hoping that you wouldn’t get mad for eating a foreign creature

“honey, i won’t say it again”

he’d chew on it slightly which would make you groan in annoyance and he just wouldn’t spit the four eyed creature out

din walked over to the child and wrestled with him to take the creature out of his mouth

“let go of it”

“let go-” and finally din was able to get the creature out of his mouth while cursing profanities

another habit that was really hard was getting the child to eat somewhat healthy

“baby, eat your greens.”

the child would shake his head and shove the spoon towards you, he sat in a makeshift high chair while you tried to get him to eat something green and not just meat

“honey, they’re good for you!”

he’d shake his head and you’d huff in annoyance

he’d make grabby hands at the desert you had next to his plate of food

“not until you eat your greens”

you’d just sigh and look at the desert and then back at the child

not even five minutes later mando came back to the ship’s kitchen to see the child with chocolate all over his face

“did you spoil him again, y/n?”

“you feed him greens then”

and of course din is able to feed him handfuls of lettuce and you’re just flabbergasted (and a little jealous)

coming back to the ship after a particularly difficult bounty was din’s favorite

he’d press open the latch, would walk inside, and close the ramp behind him

he’d start to undress a little bit, taking off his boots and gloves and armor (leaving his helmet on of course)

and he walks upstairs where the beds are and he practically melts right there

you’re laying on the cot, snuggled up in the covers with the child right on top of your chest

his heart is beating so rapidly because this is legit the cutest thing he has ever scene and he never wants to leave this moment

he carefully scoots you over slightly and gets under the covers next to you

he lets his back rest on the wall and he pulls your body so you’re resting on his chest and

and that’s how you all sleep 90% of the time because you know din would just constantly insist it

but it would never be because he admits it, it would always be some kind of an excuse

“you look cold”

“he’s tired, look”

“it’s been a long day for you”

and he’d just sit on the cot with the child all cuddling up, ready for you to join them

im so soft rn i-

headcanon masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan @teenagereadersciencenerd @hailmary-yramliah @buckybarnesplumwhore

#the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #din djaren x reader #din djaren #mando #mando headcanon #din djaren headcanon #baby yoda #the mandalorian fluff #din djaren fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

Traffic Lights Are Burnin’

[Read on AO3]

Written in honor of @nebluus‘s birthday! She asked for some WFB, and of the options I gave she chose the next part of our Six Flags saga...only the beginning scene of that chapter ended up ballooning out into this so...it ended up being less Amusement Park Shenanigans and more Wholesome Boys Will Be Boys Content. I’M SURE MADI WILL BE JUST FINE WITH THAT TOO 😂

“Are you making an omelette?”

English is not, functionally, Mitsuhide’s first language. Not that he thinks of it like that-- first or second, third or fourth; there’s no ranking in his life, no moment in which one language followed another. There was English with Mama and quebecois with Papa; a plan quickly scuttled by Mitsuhide being the fifth Lowen sibling. Refusing to be pigeonholed into a single language no matter how many times Mama repeated consistency is key, his brothers mostly spoke a tossed salad of both and assumed he’d understand the lettuce.

Coupled with the fact that all his cousins lived in Toronto anyway, Mitsuhide had hardly begun talking himself before it became outside quebecois and inside English. Unless they left the province, in which case it was a free-for-all that left his few monolingual aunts and uncles dizzy.

Which is to say, Mitsuhide only becomes aware of the precise inner ranking of his languages in moments like this, where gut immediately kicks out a dry ‘j’essaie.’ The translation is vetoed on the grounds that although in quebecois he’s never met a word he couldn’t steep in sarcasm and smuggle in a sacre, he prefers to keep his English so clean it squeaks.

You’ve got it all backwards, Kihal had told him as he sweltered under the San Juan sun, English is fake, you can be as much of an asshole as you want it in, it doesn’t count.

It’s true, there’s something that’s more real to him in French, that’s more real about him, but, well-- there were far fewer cousins to tattle on his potty mouth this way. And now that he knows Obi...

Well, if Kiki ever made good on her threats to teach him any of his “church swears,” he’d probably never sleep easy again. So instead, he scrolls through his mental rolodex of possible appropriate replies before settling on, “Would you like one?”

Zen glances up from his array of pamphlets, glossy paper glaring beneath the overhead lamp. It matches the way Zen is looking at him. “We don’t have time for that.”

Mitsuhide frowns, giving his eggs one last vigorous whisk before pouring them into the pan. “There’s always time for breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

He glances over just in time to see Zen’s grimace. “Shirayuki really could be your sister.”

There’s really no reason he has to look so horrified by the idea. His brothers may all be broad shouldered, barrel-chested giants, but plenty of his cousins made pocket money in high school through catalogue modeling. And they’re all very nice girls.

He doesn’t mention it. A conversation never ends well if you have to whip out photos of female relatives to prove your point. “Would you like one?” he repeats instead, a safer tactic overall.

Zen’s nose wrinkles beneath some dubiously drawn eyebrows. “Are you putting spinach in there?”

“Kale,” he agrees. “And chicken.”

“In a breakfast omelette?” He clucks his tongue, just the way the Wisteria’s chef would when he attempted to cook at the estate. Quel dommage, he would say, sighing over the cutting board, why would you do that to perfectly good eggs? “Why would you do that?”

Because these muscles don’t come cheap; Mitsuhide chokes down a truly staggering amount of chicken in order to keep them. Roasted, of course-- boiled is technically better for protein, but even he has to draw the line somewhere. The eggs have less, but they are calorie efficient; he’d eat more of them if he could stomach the slimy, snake-like sensation of swallowing them down hard boiled.

But explaining his diet regime usually ended with glazed eyes, so he settles for, “I could always put something different in yours. There’s ham.”

Fancy ham, Obi calls it. It’s just from the deli counter, fresh sliced from whatever quality cut’s on sale, but considering how the first time Obi saw a charcuterie board, he shouted, Oh, Lunchables!--

Well, Mitsuhide can accept that maybe they have different benchmarks for fancy. And somehow just the simple act of calling it that does make it taste better. Or at least more satisfying when it’s shoved between a Hawaiian roll and deli cheese.

There’s a soft shuffle by the kitchen door, and a wild thatch of bristle peeps around the frame. Mitsuhide shakes his head with huff. That’s a new one-- just think the devil’s name and he appears.

Obi lopes into the kitchen, all long limbs and smooth movements, blurring right into the background without any effort at all. He’d gotten Mitsuhide a few times when he’d first moved in, popping up wherever it was sure to be the most inconvenient, grinning like a cat with feathers in its teeth. But once you knew the trick of it, well-- it’s no effort to keep the kid in his sights.

Which is why he has a full, uninterrupted view when Obi slips right up to Zen’s elbow, and asks, “Whatcha doing, chief?”

“Wah!” Pamphlets fly up, a glittering flock of wings swooping beneath the lamp. Zen slaps them down before they can skitter off the table’s edge. “Obi! Make noise for fuck’s sake!”

“Sorry,” he sing-songs, not a sincere note in it. Two long fingers pluck a pamphlet off the wood, twisting it between them. “What’s all this? They starting to put theme parks on exams now?”

“No.” Zen scowls, snatching it out of his hands. “I’m just making today’s itinerary.”

Mitsuhide slides his omelette onto a plate, turning just in time to catch the glance Obi sends him. It somehow says is he fucking with me while also implying I’ll hold him down if we gotta send him to the doctor. “An itinerary?”

He leans a hip against the island, fishing out a fork. What was it Obi always said? Dinner tastes better with a show. Time to find out whether it extends to breakfast too.

Zen fixes Obi with a look that could have had trenches with all its affront. “You can’t go to an amusement park without a plan. How else do you get on all the coasters?”

“It’s only Six Flags New England.” A week ago, the name alone made Obi flee like a cat from a bath, but now every syllable drips with derision, like a sommelier reviewing boxed wine. “They’ve got what? Superman?”

Mitsuhide shoves a corner of his omelette in his mouth. It’s not as good as a sausage, mushroom, and cheese, but, well, it’ll do. “Bizarro.”

“Bizarro.” Obi scoffs. “See? Nothing. Besides, I thought you were the kind of guy to spring for fast passes, boss.”

Zen’s always been sensitive; the sort of kid who tended to pop off when a situation came to a simmer instead of trying to turn down the heat. When Izana had been sitting president, he’s spent half his tenure fielding tense calls, sometimes even climbing into a towncar at a moment’s notice to be taken back east. The school, he’s always say, lifting a shoulder, my brother is proving to be a challenge, and my mother is...unreachable.

He’d thought this Zen kid must be like the ones he knew on the ice, punching first and asking questions later, complaining about being put in the box. All temper and no temperance, Mama used to say when she drove him home, can’t talk when you got plastic between your teeth.

But then he’d met him, undersized and stick-limbed, living in that house with people paid to be invisible. A kid with too much on his shoulders and too many eyes to watch him stumble under it. He’s come a long way from there.

So when Zen squirms in his chair, red already starting to lick up his neck, Mitsuhide doesn’t enjoy it. On the contrary, Zen’s discomfort is his discomfort, a failure of him to keep the watchful eye on him that Izana asked him to.

But it also doesn’t stop him from adding, “Shirayuki believes that waiting in line is part of the amusement park experience.”

Obi looks as though he’s just been told it’s his birthday and Christmas, all rolled into one. “Of course she does.” His mouth sharpens to a wicked grin. “So you’ll be lowering yourself to the peasant’s lines today, huh, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, swatting him away. “No one’s being lowered anywhere. We won’t be running into any of them so long as we get there early and hit the coasters in the right order.”

Obi coughs. Or at least, makes it sound like he is. “Uh-huh.”

“Where is Shirayuki anyway?” Zen glares at the empty doorway, brows heaving like thunderclouds over the bridge of his nose. “I thought you said you’d get her.”

“I did.” Obi twitches his shoulders; as good as a shrug, from him. “She’s getting ready.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes.” Zen’s glare changes target to him, thunder rolling in the tone of his voice. “Shirayuki doesn’t take this long to get ready.”

When Mitsuhide glances up, chewing around another stab of egg, kale, and chicken, Obi’s eyebrows are already there to meet him. His head tilts, just the barest degree; this is your show, big guy.

Mitsuhide coughs, trying to clear his throat of leaf bits. “Girls,” he starts, the ground sinking beneath him with each word, “like to look nice. Especially when they are on, uh, dates.”

“This isn’t a date,” Zen informs him, more than a little put out. “Obi’s going.”

The sound Obi makes can only be termed as distressed. “I didn’t want to.”

For exactly this reason, is what he doesn’t say. Doesn’t even show it on his face, though it has to be lurking beneath it, considering how he--

Well, considering nothing Mitsuhide knows for sure. But certainly a few things he reasonably suspects.

“Chief.” Obi flips the chair next to him, straddling it. “You know, I really thought it couldn’t be true. I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But to hear you now--” he leans in, one narrow brow raising the same time his voice drops-- “you really do chicken out when it comes to getting chummy with Doc.”

Mitsuhide nearly chokes on his chicken.

Zen’s red all over, like someone pulled him from a boiling pot and put him on a plate. “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do,” he says, so easy. “Doc told me.”

“She said that?” His skin’s so flushed Mitsuhide’s half afraid he’ll pass out, but instead he just collapses against the ladderback, head buried in his arms. “Shirayuki?”

“Pretty much.” Obi sighs, hands braced on the table. “I mean, is it so hard to say she looks nice when she dresses up? Or that you like her hair, or--” he stumbles, shaking his head-- “no, not the hair. Too loaded. But you know, one of her floaty little numbers. Her freckles. Something.”

“I have!”

Obi lifts a dubiously narrow eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Ah...” Whatever the answer is, it’s not helping his blood flow problem. Mitsuhide nearly opens his mouth, searching for a good way to make himself a target-- “The Big E.”

Well, there goes that plan.

Obi’s inquisition crumples into confusion. “What? When did you--”

Every word ekes into the air with the utmost resistance. “When she was wearing your hoodie.”

“When she was wearing my--?” Gold eyes round to coins. “Chief.”

For a solid minute, that’s the only reaction-- wide-eyed disbelief, earned from two sides. But Obi coughs, mouth twitching, and it’s a snort, a smirk, and--

And then Obi launches himself away from the table, both hands still gripping the edge as he falls apart utterly. The chair’s back keeps him from putting his head between his knees, but spiritually he’s there, tears tracking down his cheeks as his laughs wheeze out of him

One hand finally slaps the table, like he’s asking for a time out. Zen frowns down at him, red finally fading to a painful pink. “It’s not that funny.”

“It is,” Obi squeaks, and Mitsuhide has to shove his last bite of omelette into his mouth to stifle his own noises. It’s no good-- Zen whips around and gives him the same glare he’s been saving for Obi.

“If you don’t cut it out,” he says loftily, “I’m going to let a freshman stay in your room.”

Well, that brings Obi up. “Fine,” he coughs, voice still ragged from laughing. “But still. My hoodie.”

“The sleeves hung over her hands! It was cute.” Zen huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine, if I’m so bad, why don’t you two show me how it’s done?”

There’s a pause, long and loaded; enough that Mitsuhide glances up from his plate to see just what tomfoolery he should brace himself to break up--

Only to find Zen staring at him.

Intellectually, Mitsuhide is aware that Zen is a Wisteria. He met him through Izana, after all; he’s been over to the manor, he’s even met their prodigal mother on one of her rare stopovers between vacations. But when he thinks of the name, it’s Izana who springs to mind, the gears churning behind his eyes.

It’s not often that Zen reminds him of his brother; Cookie’s always said that Izana takes after their mother with that long and lean model build, while Zen has always been Kain’s child. But now, now--

He sees it, and it sends a shiver right through him.

With a quirk of his lips, Zen says, so like Izana that if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t know any different, “You first, Mitsuhide.”

Obi’s mouth curves into a leer. “Yeah, Big Guy. Show us the skills that got you Ms Kiki.”

This probably isn’t the time to tell them that it wasn’t him who got her; Mitsuhide hadn’t been trying to do anything more than be the friend she needed, to be a person she could confide in, could trust. People like that were thin on the ground for girls like her; heiress tended to make men see dollar signs instead of personality. But Kiki--

Well, she had other ideas. Ones he’d only cottoned onto when she climbed on top of him and shoved him against the couch cushions with her mouth.

“D-Don’t look at me!” he manages, trying to busy himself with anything. But there’s only a plate to be put in the sink, and a pan to be wiped. Not enough to fake a decent amount of responsibility. “I’m not--”

“Aw, c’mon, Big Man. Don’t leave us hanging.” Obi leans back, grin so wide it practically splits his face. “Lemme paint the scene. You’re single, Doc is adorable, and she’s waiting there--” he gestures to Zen, who flutters his eyelashes in precisely the way Shirayuki doesn’t-- “for you to make your move. Go!”

He could point out he’s not single, and that he doesn’t have any plans to change that anytime soon-- but that only ends in one way: a two-pronged mockery with additional ridicule provided by the impending arrival of his better half. He could also point out that of all the people in this room, he’s the only one who hasn’t wanted to date Shirayuki, but-- well, the problems with that one were obvious.

Instead, Mitsuhide takes in a deep breath, learns on the counter, and says, “Why, Shirayuki! You’re looking beautiful this morning. Those shorts really flatter your legs.”

There is a long silence, and then to everlasting embarrassment, they burst out laughing.

“Her shorts?” Zen’s hand is pressed to his chest, like he needs support to keep upright. “That’s all you can think of? Her shorts?”

“Well, Obi said not to do her hair,” he protests. “Complimenting her dress seemed like low hanging fruit. I was trying to be unique.”

Obi doesn’t even bother to remain horizontal, sprawling himself over the long forgotten maps. “So you went for her legs?”

“There’s nothing wrong with legs!”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Zen sputters out in an effort to keep his mouth straight. “Definitely a very neutral place to comment on.”

“Definitely not known for being attached to things like asses.” Obi’s mouth twitches, as much a sign for danger as thunder rolling in the distance. “Or puss--”

“I was not trying to comment on that.” He’d felt bad for Zen earlier, but the sentiment doesn’t seem mutual. “It’s not typical, sure, but Kiki never seems to mind when I compliment--”

“Kiki?” Zen squawks. “Kiki?”

“Well, I think we’re all learning a little too much about Big Guy today,” Obi wheezes. “Mainly that it’s Ms Kiki that chased him, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah.” Zen shakes his head, long and slow and solemn, like a doctor about to give a terminal diagnosis. “No game at all.”

Mitsuhide’s not a competitive man. Sure, he was forward on the ice, the kind of player that got sent to the box before the end of the first half and slid right into the captain spot when it was vacant. Aggression is part of the game, competition laced in every turn of his skate and lift of his stick, but that’s a different situation, a different language--

But it’s that part of him that surges beneath his skin right now, that makes him want to saunter over and put both hands on that rickety, painted wood until it creaks. That makes him want to take a full minute to bend down, showing off every centimeter of his one-ninety plus, and ask real low if either of them has made a girl beg on their cock lately, but--

He puts it in its place. That sort of talk always sounded better en français anyway.

Zen waves his hand, slipping his pamphlets out from under Obi. “Anyway, enough messing around. Are you still making omelettes, Mitsuhide?”

“Ohh, omelettes?” Obi spins to him with wide eyes. “Can I get mine with fancy ham?”

Mitsuhide blinks. “Wait, aren’t you going to do your take?”

“Nah.”

Zen shrugs. “Joke’s over.”

“So I just did that for no reason--?”

“I wouldn’t say no reason,” Zen wheedles. “It was very educational.”

Obi grins. “Mainly about how Big Guy likes legs--”

“Oh,” drawls a voice that makes his body go cold and hot at the same time. When he turns, it’s Kiki leaning against the jamb, a single elegant brow raised, excusing amusement and menace in equal measure. “Am I to take it that the show is over?”

“K-kiki,” he stammers. “How long--?”

“Hm.” She saunters over to the counter, slipping onto a stool with a casual grace that still leaves his mouth dry. “Long enough. I have to admit, I was looking forward to seeing a display of Obi’s fabled moves.”

“Ms Kiki,” Obi simpers, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’d be happy to give you a personal demonstration anytime.”

Both her brows raise. “Did I say I was desperate?”

He’s saved from Obi’s answer by Shirayuki padding into the kitchen, flushed and breathless. “Oh, you were right Kiki! Everyone is already ready. Sorry to make you wait.”

There’s a hesitation in the air, and Mitsuhide can’t figure it out, not until he sees-- she’s wearing shorts.

Shirayuki blinks. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kiki hums, sending him a gaze so wicked it should be illegal outside the bedroom. “Do you have anything to say to her, Mitsuhide?”

“No!” It comes out a little too harsh, a little too loud. “I mean, I, uh...like your sandals!”

“Sandals,” Obi snickers, a sound that’s only covered by Zen’s hushed, “Shut up.”

“Oh!” She blinks down. “Thank you. I got them at Payless. I, um, don’t think they make them in your size.”

“No,” he manages mildly. “I don’t imagine they would.”

“You do look real cute, Doc,” Obi chimes in, slinking out of his seat to circle around her. “Did you dress up for today?”

Zen makes a noise, somewhere between a choke and a gasp, but even with the pink brushing her cheeks, Shirayuki’s too used to his antics to do much more than sigh.

“Of course I did, Obi.” Her fists perch high on her hips, cocked as she talks to him. “It’s the last time we’re all going to be going out together, isn’t it? What could be more special than that?”

Mitsuhide may not be a competitive man, and especially isn’t a malicious one, but when Obi’s jaw goes slack, the tips of his ears darkening just the slightest bit, well-- he does indulge in the slightest bit of schadenfreude.

“Well,” Zen says, a little sharp. “Let’s get going.”

“Aw!” Obi whips around. “What about fancy ham?”

“I don’t think you need--”

“Oh, I haven’t had breakfast either!” Shirayuki adds, eyes wide. “Do we have time?”

Zen hesitates, and then with a sigh, relents. “We’ll stop at Dunkies.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #The Wide Florida Bay #modern au #my fic #ans #mitsuhide gets so few POVs in the fic I can't help but let them get away from me okay #he's a gift #the actual six flags chapters are gonna have rotating POV #and it was just supposed to START with him #but then i was like WHAT IF I INCLUDED THE SCENE FROM BEFORE THE CANON DATE #and now we are here

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doctorthreephds · 3 years

Text

Synapses: Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 4.8k

TW: Mentions of death and drugs--specifically from the episode Demonology

A/N: Hey! Just a forewarning, the forensic techniques in this are complete speculation from what I know and they are probably not accurate at all.

Summary: After starting your new job and getting closer to Spencer, you find yourself having your first fight with your new friend when the anniversary of your mother’s death approaches.

Masterlist

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @green-intervention @eevee0722

Starting your new job was hard, like all things, but enjoyable. The first few days were learning the ropes and the area and you often came home exhausted, tired from a long day’s work in a lab you were unfamiliar with. The little things were what kept you going. Every day, you made an effort to eat lunch with your father--leftovers or food to go from a nearby restaurant or deli. When your father went away on his case, you spent time with Penelope in her bat cave. It was fun to hang out with her, spouting comedic rhetoric whenever someone called her for advice.

“Please don’t eat near the merchandise, baby, it’s my money maker,” she states, typing away at the speed of light as someone rings in. “Information highway speaking, you’re on speaker with me and the good doctor.”

You snort and let out a small laugh as you silently dig into your takeout box of chow mein.

“The good doctor? I thought that was me,” you hear Spencer speak up from the phone and smile, lifting your chopsticks to your mouth.

“You’ve been replaced, Dr. Reid. Sorry!” you say before taking another bite of the noodles.

“What are you doing--”

“Stay on track, boy genius. What do you need from me?” Penelope asks and you zone out, not wanting to listen into the details of the gruesome murders they were investigating. While your job sometimes involved dead bodies, you were in fact eating lunch and wanted to keep your lunch down for the rest of the day. After they were finished, you could hear them wrapping up and you inserted a final goodbye.

“Bye Spencer! I’ll see you soon,” you state as the phone beeps to signal that the call has ended.

“See him soon?” Penelope spins around as she fiddles with a pink pen with a puffball on the end that almost matches the pink blush on your face.

“I mean I’ll see him when the case ends,” you mumble and toss your takeout box into her trash, taking a sip from your water bottle.

“Hm, I’m sure that’s what you meant,” she smiles and turns back to her computer, typing something up. “If you need any info on him, I can tell you anything you want to know, sweets.”

“I’m not gonna do that, it’s an invasion of privacy,” you stand and check your watch, it’s about time for you to get back to work. “But if anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

Other times, when your father was too busy to entertain you, you would eat with the others--or more specifically, Spencer. Travelling up to the sixth floor, you check to see if Spencer is anywhere nearby. When you deduce that he is nowhere near, his plush office chair becomes your new home as you open up your bag and grab the tupperware full of salad while you wait for his arrival. Opening the small container, you poke at the leaves with your fork and make a face when you see that they’re soggy and limp.

“Have a salad today?” he asks as you look at the sad lettuce in your small tupperware container.

“Yeah. Although, it doesn’t look very appetizing,” you state and put it down on his desk, looking up at the cup of coffee in his hand that looked far more delicious than the monstrosity that was sad salad.

“Did you know that salad comes from the latin word ‘herba salta’ which means ‘salted herbs,’ so perhaps you don’t have enough salt on your herbs,” he states and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you close the container and put it away.

“Any more salt and my blood pressure’s gonna be at risk. Wanna grab lunch at the deli?” you ask and stand. He nods as the two of you exit the bullpen, taking the elevator down.

This was your schedule, and you loved it. It didn’t take that long for you to build a good relationship with everyone, constantly checking in on their lives outside of Quantico. Emily was doing well with Sergio, Henry was growing at a rate that JJ couldn’t comprehend, Penelope was still going out with Kevin, and you and Spencer were often found hanging out on the weekends when he wasn’t called away for a case.

You found it odd how easily you took to Spencer, how his fun facts were always there to brighten up every conversation and his constant pursuit of knowledge was admirable. He took you to his favorite bookstore as well as his favorite used bookstore that he frequented in hopes of finding first editions and original copies. He also would take you to his favorite park, the one that he went to so that he could play chess and he would always win. It wasn’t always about him, though, you loved taking him to go see new movies as opposed to the older and foreign ones that he enjoyed. The two of you also committed to trying new foods together. With his sensory issues and your picky nature, you both embarked on a journey to eat new foods in hopes of finding something new and delicious.

While your new found friendship was almost perfect in the way that you committed yourselves, it too could not come without ups and downs. The first bump came when you helped consult on an unofficial case, something that had happened with Emily’s close friends. It was only a few days before the anniversary for your mother’s death and you were running on fumes.

“Hello?” you ask sharply, pouring over several reports that were due soon. Your temper was short today and you just wanted to go home.

“Hey it’s Spencer. Are you okay?” he asks and you sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What do you need?” you sit back in your chair and take a sip of your coffee, attempting to quell your anxieties while he speaks.

“I’m not at Quantico right now, I’m at a victim’s house. His name is Thomas Valentine and he died of dehydration but Emily believes there’s foul play. I’ll have Garcia send over his tox reports along with Matthew Benton’s to see if the pathologist missed anything. We’re on our way back so feel free to meet us upstairs when we debrief,” he says and you nod, writing down the information on a stray post-it note so that you don’t forget. “By the way, your dad says ‘hi.’”

“Tell him I say ‘hi’ back. I’ll meet you upstairs,” you state and hang up the phone, sighing as you run your hands through your hair to release some nervous energy. It was only a few more days and you would be on your day off, it was only a few days until you would be able to visit your mom again.

Just as if she heard it from five floors up, you receive an email from Penelope with the toxicology reports from both victims. A quick skim shows that there is a lack of intense scrutiny due to the simple cause of death. But, if Emily and Spencer believe otherwise then it was in your best interest to assume so as well. Looking into Matthew Benton’s report, there was evidence of long-term methamphetamine abuse which could contribute to the death but nothing out of the ordinary. It was only midday and you were running out of steam but your friends needed you so you had to pull it together.

After printing out all the information you have and stashing it in a folder, you make your way up to the bullpen and watch people rushing around. The busyness and chatter made you a bit woozy but the sight of Spencer helped to ground out a bit.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to be here,” he frowns as he sees you approach and you shake your head.

“I’m fine, I just want to help out in any way I can,” you mumble and move past him toward the conference room where almost everyone was gathered. Once Hotch arrived, they began to pour over details and possibilities within this pseudo-case.

Listening intently, you take note of the evidence as it is laid out for you, the scuff marks under the bed, the missionary church in Spain that the two victims had visited, the idea that each family had been highly religious. Years of going to church in France and D.C. were being brought back in an instant.

“That sounds like an exorcism,” you blurt out and look up to see everyone staring at you. It was odd to hold their attention but you nestled down in your chair and continued to listen.

“Look, I know the Bible just as well as anyone, but I also know there’s nothing more open to behavioral interpretation than religion,” Derek comments.

“Meaning what?” Emily asks, shaking her head.

“I think it’s dangerous for us to wanna find a connection between these deaths,” he states.

“Wait, was Thomas’ wife religious?” Emily frowns and looks around at your father.

“She was concerned that he had been cursing God,” your father recalls as Spencer dives into an inference.

“Exorcism ritual can take days to complete. It’s possible the stress induced could cause a heart attack, especially in someone with a history of drug abuse,” he explains and looks at you.

“Definitely, drugs leave marks on your body that are irreversible unless you completely stop. It makes an impact on your hair growth, your skin, your heart, so it’s completely plausible. And it could explain how someone died of dehydration,” the facts fly so fast through your head as you try to connect the dots while you speak, your head spinning. Even a couple minutes in the conference room was overwhelming, you couldn’t imagine doing this all the time.

“Guys, look, I’m willing to say that we might have an unsub who ritualizes killings as if they were exorcisms, maybe. But, right now, we don’t even know if we have a crime yet,” Derek voices his concerns and you slowly nod, thinking about how you could help to clear up any room for error. It was possible if you were able to look at the bodies and examine them that you may have the ability to try and see if there were any other traces of possible deadly substances.

“Morgan’s right. We need to step back. Let me talk to someone before I have us all telling ghost stories,” your father suggests and everyone appears to take this as time to cool off and rethink any possibilities, standing and leaving the room to follow their own leads. Dread settles in your chest as you sit in the chair, looking down at the folder to find any piece of information that could help you come to a conclusion but the words were flying around in your head and you felt too sluggish to do anything.

“Do you think that you can get me the victim’s clothing? Perhaps something was done to them topically that would explain their deaths further,” you stand and sigh, already dreading going back to your reports.

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be our lunch break,” he says and smiles. While his smiles usually have the power to brighten your entire day, your sour mood only extinguished any fire of joy inside your body.

“I have too much to do, just go on without me,” you respond and begin walking out of the conference room. You can already feel Spencer’s pestering bubbling up and wanting to know what’s wrong but you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Are you sure? Studies have shown that taking breaks help boost blood flow and information retention--”

“I’m sure, Spencer,” you snap and continue walking toward the elevators before he reaches out and grabs your arm to stop you.

“What’s going on? Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“God, I’m fine Spencer! Stop babying me, you’re not my dad,” all the emotion that had been building up in the morning spilled out in anger and your heart shattered to see Spencer so confused and sad. “I’m sorry.”

Stepping into the elevator, you press the button to go down and watch the doors close in front of you, not looking anywhere in the direction of Spencer. The fluorescent lights above you suddenly look far too bright and tears well in your eyes. What would your mother say if she could see you now? Would she be disappointed? Would she be angry? A vibration in your pocket breaks you out of the self-loathing spiral.

From Dad (12:24PM):

I think you just about broke this kid’s heart.

To Dad (12:25PM):

I didn’t mean to. It’s just so close.

From Dad: (12:25PM):

Just tell him. He’ll understand.

To Dad (12:26PM):

I know. I love you.

As you sit at your desk and stare at the papers, your mind moves on autopilot to complete the rest of your tasks. With only two cups of coffee in your system, your head was starting to hurt and your focus was fizzing but when Spencer came back with a couple bags full of clothing to be processed, the guilt overpowered any feeling of fatigue.

“I brought the evidence. Just send the report to Garcia,” he states and drops the bag off at your desk before turning to leave.

“Hey, Spencer?” he turns to look at you, his eyes narrowed as you speak. “I’m really sorry. I’m not feeling well.”

“I could have told you that, and I’m not even a medical doctor,” he mutters and sighs. The air between you is stale and you want to speak, but don’t know what to say.

“Do you want to stay and help me process the evidence? It’ll only take a little bit,” you ask, your voice small. He appears to ponder the thought before nodding and you smile, standing and taking the evidence over to one of your machines. This was where you thrived. While you worked in silence, it was comforting to have Spencer around, even if the two of you were still on rocky ground.

You first started with isolating the fabric and the substances on the clothing. From there, you take them and test what they are to see if there are foreign substances that may have contributed to the deaths of Matthew Benton and Thomas Valentine. Processing goes quickly and you print out the report, frowning at the traces of nerve agent on the clothing.

“There’s sarin on their clothing,” you tell him and hand over the papers for him to read through.

“Thanks,” he mutters and stands to leave.

“Are we okay?” you ask him, watching him turn as you wrap your arms around your torso in a comforting way, warming your hands from the cold lab.

“Obviously not, if you’re not telling me something,” he puts down the folder and comes up to you, reaching out to take your hands. It was a bit of a shock, considering the fact that you knew he hated touching hands, but it was progress and it made your heart melt to think that he would feel safe enough to do so. “I know something’s wrong and I want to help you, but you’re not being honest with me.”

“I just haven’t eaten, Spence. And I’m under the weather, which doesn’t help. I promise that I’ll be okay,” you tell him, staring up into his eyes and speaking with as much truth as you can. But it wasn’t convincing enough and he pulls away as if you just burned him.

“I guess you don’t trust me, then,” he mumbles and turns around, picking up the folder and getting into the elevator. As the doors close, he stares back at you like he was disappointed and it completely broke you. Fat tears roll down your cheeks as your chest bubbles with anxiety and sorrow. You find a seat at your desk and desperately try to wipe the tears away, breathing in deeply to calm yourself down. You were still at work and you still had work to do.

Quickly, you dive back into your reports, writing them up as quickly as possible and pushing Spencer to the back of your mind. Before you know it, the end of the day comes and you’re out of the building and on the metro at record speed. The vibration of the wheels rolling over the tracks lulls you into a sense of security, distracting you from the pangs in your stomach. Without the distraction of work, your mind was able to wander.

Was it fair for you to hide this from Spencer? Why did you? Why did you need to keep this secret so badly?

Perhaps it was the years of being on your own after her death or the fact that showing sadness was opening yourself up to vulnerability and connection that you feared. Perhaps it was both, you didn’t have many friends in grad school and only talked to your dad once every blue moon. The thought of being a burden was unbearable, but losing Spencer was unfathomable. You could deal with a little bit of vulnerability if it meant getting your friend back.

Your legs guide you home once you reach your stop and you reheat some rice and add some soy sauce to make something that is edible and that you can keep down without issue. After eating, you shower and head to bed, falling asleep the second that you hit the pillow.

The next day, your alarm jars you out of a dreamless sleep, shaking you from a night that felt far too short. Your entire body was fatigued and your brain was a mess, but it was your last day at work before you got the day off. As you got ready and out the door, your phone was blowing up with information sent by Penelope and Emily. There was another death and they needed you to analyze the clothing of the third victim to confirm that nerve agent was being used to kill these men.

One you reach the office, you sit down and begin writing as you await the evidence. If you worked quick enough and finished the reports, you would be able to go home early. The fog in your brain makes it hard to focus as you work on more write ups, the words barely forming sentences, but you force yourself to persevere through lunch. Late in the afternoon, Spencer appears again with the evidence bag you need to process.

“Just send the report to Penelope when you’re done,” he states and turns back around to get into the elevator but you stand and pipe up.

“Can we talk?” you ask, hoping and praying that he would let you speak.

“I don’t know, can we? Because you seemed pretty adamant about keeping secrets from me last time we tried to talk,” he mumbles as he turns to look at you, his eyes dark and full of storm clouds.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, trying to find the right words so that your thoughts form coherent sentences. “I’m bad at talking about what’s plaguing me. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse, I know, but it’s a start.”

You want to say ‘I’m sorry’ over and over, but it wasn’t an explanation and he deserved at least that.

“Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother’s death,” his frown almost vanishes from his face as you speak which makes you feel a hint of encouragement to keep talking. “And I’ve always dealt with it alone. Maybe because I don’t let myself handle it any other way, but I hope that you’re able to understand. I’m sorry, Spencer.”

Staring down at the ground, you will the tears to stay in your eyes so that you can keep up some image of togetherness, but they fall as quickly as they form. Suddenly his arms are wrapped around you and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. This was him accepting your apology and you suddenly felt like you could breathe. You worm your arms around his torso and pull him close, allowing yourself to take in all of him. The smell of his cologne, the feeling of muscles as they squeeze you tight, the fact that his hands were intertwined behind your back and his head was settled on top of yours.

“I’m sorry too,” he mumbles and you pull away slightly to look up at him. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

He pauses as he also stumbles over his words.

“But, I’m glad you did.”

You let out a sigh and hug him tight again, wanting to memorize the way his arms felt around you. After another long hug, you pull away and wipe your nose, shaking your head as you look over at the evidence bag.

“I’m sorry, Patrick. I’ll get to processing your clothes now,” you mumble and let out a light laugh as you wash your hands and ready the evidence, processing the substances on his clothing. Beside you, Spencer leans against the wall and watches silently. It’s a bit nerve wracking to have someone watching you the way that he does, with bright eyes and attentive body language, but you do your best to explain it to him as the machine brings up the results.

“Nerve agent, it’s sarin,” you turn to him. “Go tell them.”

He nods and picks up the newly printed report.

“I’ll come get you afterward,” he promises. “We can ride the train together.”

“There’s no need, I’m going home now. Just text me,” you smile up at him as he nods and takes your hand, squeezing it one last time before leaving.

You feel lighter now, like you lifted a rock off your chest. It was a burden, keeping secrets, but now you could feel a little bit better. After writing up all the procedural stuff on how you processed the evidence, you pack your bag and head to the metro. When you’re on the train, you get a text from Spencer telling him that they caught the priest and he was being deported back to Italy.

To Spencer (7:45PM):

I’m glad.

From Spencer (8:01PM):

Do you want me to come over?

To Spencer (8:02PM):

No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay.

When you finally arrive at your stop, you easily find your way home. There was still sadness lingering, it was getting to be that time, but you had Spencer and that was enough. Getting home and getting to bed is a quick ordeal after you eat something and drink way too much wine to try and drown your sorrows and quiet your mind. The same days every year, you take a couple off so that you can mourn the loss of your mother and visit her grave. It was almost like a way to pretend that she was alive, even if just for a day. You had a lot to tell her after everything that’s happened, but it still didn’t help the fact that she was gone forever.

Waking up the next morning is rough, it feels like a train plowed into you after a night of tears shed and one too many glasses of wine as you reminisced. Looking at your phone on this bright Friday morning, you see that you’ve managed to sleep in pretty significantly, but at least it was still technically morning. Waiting for you are a text from your father and a text from Spencer.

From Dad (6:00AM):

Chin up, tesoro. Your mother loved you very much, she would be proud of everything you accomplished.

From Spencer (7:02AM):

Do you want to get dinner after work?

From Spencer (7:34AM):

Where are you?

From Spencer (8:01AM):

Let me know what I can do.

The blanket of isolation took over you as you slowly began your morning routine, slowly being the key word. While Spencer knew, you didn’t know what to do now. This was uncharted territory for you and while you knew you weren’t alone, you had also never mourned with another person besides time spent at your mother’s funeral. Perhaps another year, another time. He was only just your friend.

After you throw on comfy clothes and brush your teeth, you put your hair up so that it’s out of your face and eat some cereal--something easy and virtually effortless. Once you finish, you make a mental note of what you’re going to pick up at the store before heading to the cemetery to spend time with your mom. Throwing on a coat and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you punch in the security code and open the door to see Spencer there.

“Spencer? What are you doing here, it’s only like two,” you frown and close your apartment door behind you, locking it with your keys.

“I finished up all my paperwork so I took a half day and I wanted to cheer you up,” he states as you look up at him. “Maybe we can watch some Star Wars or that vampire movie you always talk about.”

“I’m going to visit my mom,” you tell him.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll go then,” he says and begins to turn and walk away but you pipe up before he can get too far.

“Why don’t you come with me?” you ask. He was already here and he wanted to help you feel better. His presence alone was grounding, reminding you of what you had and not of what you lost.

“Are you sure?” he asks and you nod, walking up next to him.

“She would have loved you,” you almost reach out and take his hand before you realize what you’re about to do. “Can--Can I hold your hand?”

You’re almost positive he’s going to say no. After all, you know he has issues with germs and sensory issues, the day before being a special occasion because you had broken down crying in front of him. But, when he nods and holds out his hand, you feel your heart flutter. The two of you make your way downstairs in a comfortable silence and the warmth of Spencer’s hand in yours is comforting. As you exit the elevator and make your way out onto the street, the cold D.C. air is refreshing.

Together you walk to the local grocery store to grab some food and flowers, daffodils, which were your mother’s favorite. After, you ride the metro down near the cemetery. This whole time, the presence of Spencer is enough to distract you from the ever present cloud looming over your head, but when you finally walk through the cemetery’s gate, all hell breaks loose.

When Spencer hears you sob, he instantly wraps his arms around you. The floodgates open and you softly sob into his chest, your arms wrapped around him in a vice. Your heart hurts, you miss your mother. She should have been alive to see all the accomplishments, to see your wedding and your second graduation. It’s times like these where you wonder if anything could have been done, if you could have seen the symptoms sooner or if you could have found another doctor, but your father always reminds you that you did everything in your power to help her and that she would have been proud of the person you were today.

Once your sobs subside, you sniffle and pull away to wipe your nose.

“Sorry for crying on you,” you huff out a small laugh and try to wipe away some of the snot that got on him while you cried.

“It’s okay, I understand,” he says and you sit down on the blanket, Spencer sitting next to you and helping to lay out the food.

“Hey mom,” your voice breaks a little and you clear your throat before turning to Spencer. “This is Spencer and he works with dad. He’s my best friend.”

You smile at him as he turns and waves at her headstone. The notion is so heartwarming that you feel the tears rise up again.

“Hi Ms. Montgomery, your daughter is one of the best people I know,” he says as you begin to eat cheese and crackers from the charcuterie board.

“He works in the same building I do, I got the job at Quantico. I know that FBI agents and you don’t mix very well but I enjoy my job and they have all these new machines for me to play with,” you lay your head on Spencer’s shoulder and continue talking as he wraps an arm around you instinctively. As the two of you sit there and pick at the food, continuing to talk about your mom and your fondest memories, there’s a part of you that wishes it could be like this always. Maybe you didn’t have to always hide your sadness and spend it in isolation. And just maybe, there was always a rainbow after a storm.

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