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lostfracturess · 5 months ago

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remedies and reasons | ch. 02

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

word count — 12.3 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, smoking, alcohol use, mature themes, and depictions of illness. reader discretion is advised.

author's note — yeeaaaah, guess who's back with a fresh new chapter !! i know, i know, it's been forever since i last posted, but here we go, be prepared to die from second-hand embarrassment. massive thank you to @nanamis-baker for beta reading and calling me out on my plot holes. & as always, this story is a spin-off of symptoms and causes, starting after ch 12. but you can read it as a standalone.

masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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You never thought you'd find yourself in the chemistry lab on a Saturday morning, but there you were, helping your best friend Megumi set up his experiment for his thesis presentation.

You were a law student, not a scientist.

The closest you'd come to a lab was binge-watching "Breaking Bad" on Netflix.

But Megumi was your ride-or-die since kindergarten, so when he called you at the crack of dawn, frantically rambling about his professor, his thesis, and some chemical you couldn't even pronounce, you threw on your favorite hoodie and raced over to campus.

"Okay, so where do we start?" you asked, eyeing the array of beakers, test tubes, and Bunsen burners that looked like they belonged in a mad scientist's lair.

Megumi ran his fingers through his messy black hair, a habit he'd had since childhood whenever he was stressed. "Well, first we need to mix these two solutions." He handed you a beaker filled with a clear liquid.

You took the beaker gingerly, as if it might explode at any moment. "You sure you trust me with this? I mean, I don't even remember the last time I was in a lab."

"I have faith in your ability to follow instructions," he said.

You eyed him wearily.

What have you gotten yourself into?

You spent the next hour mixing, measuring, and occasionally cursing under your breath when something didn't go quite right. As you worked, your mind drifted to your internship at the most prestigious (and pretentious) law firm in the city that had started a few weeks ago. It already felt like the most stupid thing on earth happening to you.

Okay, okay, you had applied there yourself. But you didn't think they would actually accept you.

Unlucky luck or so.

The first week at Nishimura and Asahi had been a total nightmare. The law world was nothing but cutthroat competition, where even the coffee machine seemed to be judging you. That must have been the reason why you spilled coffee on your shirt on the second day of your internship. And you had nothing to change into.

And yes, you had a meeting that day too.

But the worst part was that mortifying incident in your first week. You accidentally barged into the wrong office and caught two senior partners in a, uh, very compromising position. Let's just say the image of their shocked faces and scrambled clothes was forever burned into your brain. You swore you'd never enter another office again unless you absolutely had to.

Thank goodness for Mr. Higurama, your advisor. He was the only sane person in this whole place. If it weren't for his calm attitude and genuine support, you'd probably have been back at law school by now, rocking back and forth in a corner.

The third week? Bearable. But worse in its own way. Endless boring tasks and emails that were basically passive-aggressive warfare. And then, just when you thought it couldn't get any more uncomfortable, HR reminded you in week three that you still hadn't turned in your health certificate.

At least you managed to do that.

It reminded you of a certain—date, or no, meeting? appointment? Or what was it?—You had with your doctor.

Oh god, what were you thinking?

"Okay, so now I need you to hold this," Megumi said, handing you a graduated cylinder filled with a bright blue liquid that looked suspiciously like something toxic.

"What is this stuff?" you asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Just a harmless indicator solution," he assured you. "It'll change color when the reaction is complete."

"Great," you said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "So, basically, I'm holding a ticking time bomb that's going to turn purple and explode all over me if we mess this up?"

"Not quite. But try not to spill it, okay?"

You tried not to look at the potentially toxic thing in your hand while you rambled to yourself again in your mind. Where were you? Oh right, what the hell were you thinking about going out with the very person who saw your health history? In what world was that appropriate?

"What is it?" Megumi asked, ripping you out of your thoughts.

Just now, you realized that you must have had some weird facial expression, and you quickly straightened it. "Nothing."

He looked at you with a deadpan face. "I think I've known you long enough to know when something is going on.”

You sighed and then started. "I swear, these people at the law firm are the worst. All sharks in tailored suits and ties. Everyone's constantly trying to one-up each other, backstabbing, and throwing people under the bus left and right."

"Sounds delightful," Megumi said dryly.

"Oh, it gets better," you continued, warming to your subject. "There's this one guy, Chad—I don't even know his real name, but I call him that 'cause he's got one of those typical douchebag faces—and he's like the walking stereotype of every jerk law student you can imagine. He's so full of himself, talks down to everyone, and thinks he's God's gift to law or whatever."

"And he's at your internship?"

"Unfortunately, yes," you said, making a face. "He's always trying to make me look bad, steal my ideas, and just generally ruin my day. It's like having an annoying mosquito buzzing in your ear 24/7."

"Sounds like a real charmer.”

"You have no idea," you said with a sigh. "And the worst part is, he's not even the only one. There's this whole group of them—like a 'Chad Pack'—and they seem to enjoy making the rest of us feel incompetent. He's just a spoiled rich kid, and his dad is a big shot at the firm, so he gets away with everything. I can't even call him out on his bullshit without risking my internship. It's like being back in high school with the bullies."

"See the positive, at least you haven't caught any more senior partners in compromising positions again, right?"

"Oh god, don't remind me!" You covered your face with your hands. "I swear, the senior partners can't even look me in the eye anymore—"

You got cut off by a loud pop and a cloud of smoke billowing from one of the test tubes. You both jumped back, coughing and waving your hands to clear the air.

"What the hell was that?" you sputtered, your eyes watering from the acrid smell.

Megumi peered at the smoking test tube, his brow furrowed. "I think we may have added too much of the catalyst," he said, scribbling furiously in his lab notebook.

"You think? Oh god, I'm going to die here."

"At least that would save you from your internship?" he said.

You eyed him, deadpan.

Just as Megumi glanced up, likely ready with another witty comment, the lab door swung open with a bang, startling you both. "Hey, losers!" Nobara's cheerful voice echoed through the lab, her laughter filling the room.

Losers.

That's what Nobara affectionately calls your little mismatched group. And maybe she's right. You're an unlikely quartet, brought together by chance during your first year of university. Megumi, the chemistry nerd. Nobara, the wild-child pharmacy student. Yuji, the sports freak. And you, the aspiring lawyer who's beginning to question her life choices.

You don't quite fit in with the typical crowds in your respective fields. You guess you could say you were the outsiders, the misfits, the ones who gravitated towards each other because you didn't quite belong anywhere else.

You'd known Megumi since childhood, but you met Nobara and Yuji during the first few weeks of university at a rather uneventful mixer where you were essentially the only people not already in groups.

Yeah, you were losers, but at least you were in it together.

Without waiting for an invitation, Nobara plopped herself down on the lab bench, right next to Megumi's carefully arranged experiment. "So, how's the science project going?" she asked, curiously examining the colorful liquids bubbling in the beakers.

"Just trying to survive Megumi's thesis experiment," you replied.

Megumi raised an eyebrow. "Actually, it's going pretty well. We're nearly finished preparing."

Undeterred, Nobara hopped off the bench and slung an arm around your shoulders. "Blink three times if I should get you out of here."

"Please," you said.

"So, what are you two up to today? Any exciting plans?" Nobara asked, glancing over at Megumi. "We should grab some lunch. Yuji is finishing up his training soon, too."

You glanced at the clock on the lab wall, expecting it to be around 10 a.m. Your jaw dropped. "It's already noon?! How did that happen?"

Nobara grinned. "Time flies when you're having fun, right?"

"Or when you're stressing over a chemistry experiment," Megumi said, scribbling more notes.

You turned to Nobara. "How's that thesis treating you?" you asked, knowing the final thesis was looming over all of your heads. That's why you were all at the university, even on the weekends.

She shrugged. "It's fine, I guess. Boring, but whatever. It's gotta get done." Then, her face brightened. "But hey, guess what? There's this huge party coming up next weekend! It's hosted by some med students from another university."

Megumi and you exchanged puzzled glances. "Why would we go to a party with a bunch of med students we don't even know?" you asked.

Nobara's eyes sparkled. "Apparently, the guy hosting it is loaded, and rumor has it, this party is going to be wild."

"Wild how?" Megumi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Think open bar, live DJ, even a pool," Nobara said dramatically. "Plus, it's a chance to meet new people, expand our social circles."

"You mean meeting future doctors?" you said, knowing that Nobara always dreamed of dating one. She watched way too much Grey's Anatomy. Dating a doctor is probably not as much fun as it seems.

"Hmm, maybe," she said with a sly grin.

You hesitated. Parties weren't really your scene, and the idea of mingling with a bunch of strangers, especially med students with a reputation for being wild, arrogant, and having god complexes didn't exactly appeal to you.

They probably strut around like they've discovered the cure for brain tumors while the rest of us mere mortals are just trying to figure out how to parallel park. Yeah. No, thank you.

Nobara sensed your hesitation. "Please, do it for me," she said, batting her eyelashes at you.

"Okay," you said, surprising even yourself. Damn, you were really easy to convince. "Count me in."

Nobara squealed and threw her arms around you. "Yes! This is going to be awesome!"

Megumi simply shook his head. "I guess I'm going too, then."

"Now that that is settled," Nobara said, playfully clapping her hands together. "Wrap up your little experiment, science boy, so we can go get some food. I'm starving, and I'm pretty sure she's about to pass out from low blood sugar." She pointed at you.

"Almost done," Megumi assured her, carefully transferring a final solution into a test tube. "Just need to record a few more readings."

Nobara bounced on her heels. "Come on, hurry up! The world is waiting for us!"

Megumi rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. I'm done. Let's go."

He quickly tidied up his workstation, meticulously storing his precious samples and equipment. Meanwhile, Nobara was already halfway out the door, her excited chatter echoing down the hallway.

You grabbed your bag and followed them out of the lab, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. The experiment was done, lunch was just around the corner, and a wild party awaited you all next weekend. Maybe university wasn't so bad after all.

Or maybe it was just the promise of mediocre cafeteria food and great friends that made everything seem a little bit brighter.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

After lunch with your friends, you found yourself back in the comfort of your small apartment. You pulled out your paints and a fresh canvas, and before you knew it, hours had passed without you even realizing it. The daylight faded into a soft golden glow as the sun began to set.

You were just adding the finishing touches to your painting when your eyes happened to glance at the clock on the wall. "Oh shit," you said, slapping your forehead with your paint-covered hand, leaving a vibrant streak of blue across your skin.

You had a... date? No, wait, a meeting... or was it an appointment? Because he was a doctor technically, right?

Quickly setting your paints and brushes aside, you rushed to the bathroom to clean up, silently cursing yourself for getting so caught up in your painting that you nearly missed the time.

You arrived at the sports bar with a nervous flutter in your stomach.

This wasn't a date, you reminded yourself for the umpteenth time. It was just a casual meeting with someone you'd recently met. Nothing more. Definitely nothing romantic. No hidden agendas, no expectations. But even though your intentions were purely platonic, you couldn't deny the flicker of nervousness.

Maybe it was just the excitement of meeting someone new.

Dr. Suguru Geto.

He was your doctor, yes, but he was also intriguing, with his kind eyes and gentle smile. Your conversation seemed to go beyond the usual small talk from the beginning, maybe it was the unusual way you met.

You shouldn't have asked him to meet, a voice in your head nagged. Why did you do this again? Because of his sad puppy eyes? You groaned inwardly. You couldn't even explain it to yourself. It had slipped out before you could stop yourself.

But to your surprise, he had agreed.

And now, here you were.

The atmosphere in the sports bar was electric. The roar of the crowd, punctuated by cheers and groans, echoed through the dimly lit space. The smell of stale beer and greasy food hung in the air. You didn't expect it to be so crowded. It was a rather niche bar.

A basketball game blared on the numerous screens, and the air crackled with the excited chatter of sports fans. You weaved your way through the crowd, your heart pounding a little faster with each step.

The walls were plastered with sports memorabilia, jerseys of local heroes and faded photographs of past games. The flickering lights of the numerous screens cast dancing shadows on the faces of the people.

Waitresses weaved their way through the throng, balancing trays laden with overflowing pitchers of beer and plates piled high with nachos and chicken wings. Every eye glued to the screens showcasing the nail-biting basketball game.

You spotted Suguru at the bar, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he focused on the game. His back was to you. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, standing beside him and mirroring his gaze towards the screen.

"Think they'll try a full-court press now?" you said.

"I doubt it," he replied, not looking away from the screen. "They're already down by ten with only two minutes left. It's too risky."

"True," you agreed. "But they need to create some turnovers fast if they want any chance of a comeback."

"You know your basketball." He finally turned his head, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Hi," you said, raising your hand in a half-hearted wave and immediately regretting it when you realized how awkward it felt and let your hand fall to your side. You slid onto the stool next to him, the vinyl squeaking slightly.

"Oh hi," Suguru said. "Sorry, I didn't even realize it was you. Didn't expect you to be into basketball."

"My dad played in university. Some of it rubbed off on me, I guess."

Suguru then waved at the bartender. "What do you want?" he asked you, smiling.

You watched him take a sip of the beer in front of him. "I'll have the same," you replied, returning his smile.

The bartender, a burly man with a handlebar mustache, nodded and swiftly retrieved a chilled bottle from the cooler. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he popped the cap and set it before you, the condensation already forming tiny droplets on the smooth glass. You took a sip.

You couldn't help but notice how good Suguru looked outside the clinical setting. His usual white coat and scrubs were replaced by a casual outfit that somehow amplified his attractiveness.

His long, black hair was pulled back into a half bun, a few stray strands framing his face. He wore a simple shirt with an overshirt layered on top, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing surprisingly muscular arms.

Damn, you thought to yourself, trying to subtly avert your gaze. He's definitely not your average doctor. But you're definitely not your average patient too, to be fair.

"It's great to see you outside the clinic," Suguru said. "How have you been? Is your medication working well?"

You rolled your eyes. "I thought we agreed not to talk about medication and stuff outside of the hospital?"

"You're right, sorry. I guess I don't talk about much else often...might be getting a bit rusty," he said, sounding like a grandfather.

"So, no hobbies or interests besides medicine, huh?"

"Not much, to be honest."

"Besides a certain woman, that is," you teased.

His eyes met yours with a deadpan face. "Didn't we agree not to talk about such things outside of the hospital?"

You took another sip of your beer, feigning innocence. "Did we?"

"Now we did."

"Hmm," you hummed, eyeing him curiously.

Suguru looked at his beer briefly, then nearly whispered, "Did Satoru often talk about her?"

You bit your lip, suppressing the urge to tell him just how much he actually talked about her. Memories of countless appointments with Dr. Gojo flooded back. He'd often ramble on about her, their shared studies, the things he loved about her—

You even found yourself dreaming about the color of her eyes once, just because he'd mentioned them so often. The image of Gojo's lovestruck face whenever he mentioned his girlfriend flashed before your eyes.

No, you decided. Some things are better left unsaid.

"No, not really," you lied smoothly, taking another sip of your beer. Time for a subject change, you thought, maybe something to distract him from his lovesickness. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a seriously intense stare?"

Smooth, real smooth, subject change.

"A few people have mentioned it," he said, caught off guard. "But it didn't seem to bother you."

"Yeah, because underneath, you looked sad. Like a sad little puppy."

"Haha," he said ironically.

"So, really no hobbies? Besides basketball, it seems."

"Not a die-hard fan, but I enjoy it.” His eyes briefly darted back to the game on the screen. "I used to play a bit myself. Back in high school and university." He paused, a fond smile playing on his lips. "Satoru and I were on the same team."

"But you don't play anymore?"

"No." His smile vanished. "We started together but Satoru eventually quit in the second year of university to focus on his studies. It wasn't much fun after he left the team, and I quit some time after."

"Hm," you mused, taking another sip of your beer. "Who was the better player? You or Gojo?"

His smile returned. "Oh, I was definitely better. But if you ask him, he'll say he's the better player. But don't tell him I said that. I wouldn't want to bruise his ego."

You laughed. "I'll keep your secret."

"So, who's your team?" he asked.

"Lakers, all the way. Been a fan since I was a kid."

"Good choice. They're looking strong this year."

"Totally. Though their defense has me a bit worried."

"Fair point," Suguru said. "But with LeBron and Davis, they're still very strong."

"No doubt. I'm hoping they can make a deep playoff run this season."

Just then, someone knocked over a glass a few tables away, drawing both your attention to the commotion. Once it settled down, Suguru turned back to you, taking a sip of his beer. "Now, how about you, why do you want to become an attorney?"

You hesitated, thinking. "Because it pays well."

He raised an eyebrow. "Can you give me another reason?"

You hesitated, thinking harder.

You bit your lip. Okay, you got his, think. Why law school? It's not like you're passionate about legal shit or courtroom drama. You hated the stuffy suits, the endless paperwork, and the cutthroat competition. So, what was it?

Maybe it's the power? The ability to fight for justice, to make a difference in the world? You scoffed inwardly. Yeah, right. More like the ability to argue with anyone and everyone, even if you're wrong.

Perhaps it's the prestige? The fancy title, the corner office, the envious glances from your childhood school friends? You rolled your eyes at yourself. Please. Who are you kidding?

So, what's left? you wondered, a hint of frustration creeping into your thoughts.

Why are you doing this to yourself?

You sighed, defeated. The truth was, you didn't have a good answer. You'd stumbled into law school on a whim, following some vague idea of success and stability. But now, as you neared graduation, you were beginning to realize that maybe this wasn't the path for you.

That you didn't even like it.

"I... I don't know, exactly," you finally admitted. "I guess I come from a working-class family. My parents always emphasized the importance of a stable career, something safe and secure. Law seemed like a good option."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of judgment. "Is that a bad reason?"

He paused. "Not necessarily," he said slowly. "Stability and security are important. It's valid to go for that. But they shouldn't be the only reason."

"Yeah," you agreed, taking a sip from your beer. As he watched you, you suddenly felt exposed under the gaze of this man you barely knew. "How did you know you wanted to do medicine?" you asked, hoping to shift the focus away from your own uncertainties.

"It wasn't a sudden realization," he began. "It was more of a gradual understanding. I've always been fascinated by the human body, the way it works, the way it heals. And I wanted to be a part of that process, to help people in some way."

He paused, his expression turning somber for a moment. "It's not always easy," he admitted. "There are long hours, difficult cases, and fucked-up moments. But at the end of the day, when I see a patient getting better, smile again… It makes it all worthwhile."

"Sounds like you found your calling," you said, a touch of envy in your voice.

"I did," he agreed. "But there were times, especially during my residency, when I thought about quitting. The stress was insane, the workload never-ending. But I had a few close friends who kept me going. They reminded me why I'd chosen this path in the first place. It's important to have people who believe in you, even when you doubt yourself."

A light smile spread across your face as you thought of Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji, your mismatched but fiercely loyal friends. They were the ones who made you laugh until your sides ached, who listened to your endless rants about law school, and who always had your back, no matter what. You were so grateful to have them in your life.

Then, curiosity got the better of you. "So, Dr. Gojo was that person for you? Helped you through the tough times?"

"Satoru? Help me? More like he's the reason why I almost went insane." Suguru huffed and shook his head. "He was always getting into trouble, always pushing the limits. I was the one constantly having to chase after him, keeping him in check."

"Sounds like you two have quite the history."

"Yeah, we do." His smile faded slightly as he looked down at his beer, gripping it a little tighter.

Right, touchy subject, you remembered. Back in the MRI room, he'd mentioned they'd drifted apart. You quickly decided to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

"Hey, let's get some shots!" you exclaimed, waving over a bartender. "My treat."

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted me to show you the city?"

"Yeah, well, it's kinda chilly out there," you said, waving a hand dismissively.

You'd almost forgotten the little white lie you'd told him to get him to go out with you. You've lived in Tokyo your whole life. You could probably offer to show him around. It's not like he seems to ever leave the clinic.

"Besides, who needs sightseeing when you can have shots?" you added.

The bartender arrived, and you ordered a round, telling him to surprise you.

"What are you planning with those?" Suguru asked as the bartender lined up the glasses, each filled with a different vibrant liquid.

"How about a game? We each make assumptions about the other, and if we're right, the other person has to take a shot."

"The doctor in me should probably stop us from drinking mindlessly," Suguru said, eyeing the glasses before him. "I'm game."

"Great." You took a deep breath, trying to gauge his personality beyond the white coat. "Assumption number one, you were a total nerd in high school."

"Wow, your assumption about the doctor is that he was a nerd in school? Isn't that like, a given for anyone who studies medicine?"

"But is it true?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

He hesitated for a second. "Guilty as charged." He raised his first shot glass in surrender, beige liquid disappearing between his lips. "Math club, science fairs, the whole deal."

"Ugh, really? Math club?"

"Don't judge me," he said. "It wasn't that lame."

You eyed him skeptically.

He sighed. "Okay, okay, it was lame. One point for you. My turn." Suguru narrowed his eyes playfully. "Hmm, let's see... Assumption number one, you have a secret passion for something completely unexpected."

"Wow. You've gotta be a little more specific than that. That's lame."

He leaned in a bit closer, his gaze sweeping over your face. A sudden warmth spread through your cheeks. "You're into art."

Your breath hitched. For a split second, you wondered if he was some kind of mind reader or a magician with a hidden crystal ball. Or probably stalked your Instagram. "How did you—"

He pointed to your forehead. You quickly reached up and found a tiny blue dot near your hairline that you must have forgotten to wash off. "You really pay close attention to details," you said as you wiped it off.

"Occupational hazard," he replied with a shrug and a hint of a smile. "I'm a doctor, it's my job to spot even the smallest clues."

"Well, you got me."

"What kind of art do you do?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment, a wave of self-consciousness washing over you. You'd never really shared your love for painting with anyone, not even your closest friends.

"I... I paint," you finally said. "It's just a hobby, really."

"But it's more than a hobby, isn't it?"

You looked away, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. He was right. Painting was more than just a hobby. It was a passion, a dream. But nothing worth pursuing.

"Enough about me," you said, drawing the purple shot, blueberry you assumed, in front of you in one go. You wanted to steer the conversation away from yourself, at least for now. It felt too raw, too exposed. "Let's get back to the game. My turn for an assumption."

You paused dramatically, tapping your finger on the bar counter as if deep in thought. "Okay, here it is, You always dreamed of being a neurosurgeon, like you were obsessed with it."

"Wrong," he said. "Not even close."

"You wanted to do something else?"

"Well, there was a brief period in my residency when I considered gynecology."

You leaned forward, your eyebrows shooting up. "Gynecology? Seriously?"

He shrugged. "Can't a guy like gynecology too?"

"No, I mean... I just didn't expect it, that's all. But you ended up with neurosurgery. How'd that happen?"

"Neurology has always fascinated me. The brain, the nervous system—It's all so complex, so intricate. And Satoru was into it too. He was always the one drawn to surgery, the adrenaline rush of the operating room. I guess I just followed his lead." He paused. "I don't even know why, really."

"But you enjoy surgery, right?" you asked.

"I do. It's challenging, rewarding, and sometimes even a bit thrilling. But if I'm being completely honest, I think I'm more suited to research and teaching. You know, figuring out the mysteries of the brain, sharing what I know."

"And that's how we met, isn't it?" you said, smiling. "Me, the patient with the mysterious brain thing, and you, the doctor trying to crack the case."

"I guess you could say that. But epilepsy isn't that uncommon. About 50 million people worldwide have it."

"Come on, let me feel special for a second, doc."

A warm smile spread across his face. "Okay, okay. But I must admit, you're more captivating than I first realized, attorney."

His words sent a flutter through your stomach. Was that a compliment or an insult? you wondered, but the warmth in his eyes made you lean towards the former.

The bar's noise faded into the background as you became lost in your own little world. It was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you.

"And what did you think of me, then?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. "I thought you were... intriguing," he finally said, his voice husky. "Intelligent, witty, and surprisingly resilient. But also a bit stubborn and stupid."

"Ouch," you said.

For a heartbeat, your eyes locked with his, and your stomach fluttered, a sensation you hadn't experienced in a long time. The bar's dim lights cast a soft glow on Suguru's face, highlighting his ridiculously attractive features in a way that made it impossible to look away.

Heat crawled up your neck and you tore your eyes away. "It's kind of stuffy in here, or not?" you said, fanning yourself with your hand.

"Wanna grab some air?" he suggested.

The cool night air was a welcome balm against your flushed skin. Suguru reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You watched him, surprised.

"You smoke? A doctor, no less."

He lit his cigarette with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Don't get on my case, attorney," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke into the night sky. "Everyone has their vices."

"I suppose," you said, leaning against the brick wall of the bar. "But I thought doctors were supposed to be, like, paragons of health and virtue."

He shrugged, taking another drag. "We're only human. We have our flaws, just like everyone else."

"Is it true what they say, that doctors are always self-medicating?"

"Are you asking me if I do drugs?" he asked.

"That's what you're implying now."

He took another drag. "I don't. But I've seen it, yeah. More than you would think."

"Should I be scared?"

He laughed, warm and full. A sound you could definitely get used to. "I'd probably stick with me, yeah."

"Just the nicotine addict then," you said. "Seems manageable."

And seeing him smile like that—

"It's good to see you smile," you added softly, almost without thinking.

He met your gaze, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. You could almost see him noticing the lightness in his own demeanor, so different to the usual somberness that clung to him back in the clinic. Maybe it was the casual setting, the relaxed atmosphere, or perhaps it was simply your company.

Whatever it was, you were glad to see this side of him.

A slow breeze swept through the alley, carrying a hint of autumn's chill. You shivered, realizing you'd left your jacket inside the bar in your haste to escape the heat. Suguru noticed. "You cold?"

"A little," you admitted.

Without a word, he shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The warmth of the fabric, still carrying his scent, enveloped you, chasing away the chill. And without the jacket, his physique was on full display.

The simple shirt clung to his broad shoulders and sculpted chest. His forearms, exposed by the short sleeves, were corded with muscle. You tried your best to focus on the conversation, but let's be real, it was a struggle not to stare.

"Thanks." You pulled his jacket closer, trying to play it cool. "I didn't realize it would get so cool out here."

"No problem. Better than catching a cold, right?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the jacket. This is not a date, you reminded yourself. Not a date. He's technically your doctor. But then again, what doctor goes to a sports bar with their patient?

Something must be wrong with him.

The math club thing was already a red flag.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "who's your favorite artist?"

You blinked, surprised by the question. "My favorite artist? Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "Just curious."

You hesitated, then the words started tumbling out. You rambled on about William Turner's dramatic seascapes, how his brushstrokes captured the rawness of nature. You gushed about the hidden symbolism in Botticelli's "Primavera" and the emotional intensity of Munch's "The Scream."

You even shared your newfound fascination with contemporary artists like Yayoi Kusama and her mesmerizing infinity rooms. Suguru listened patiently, his eyes never leaving yours as you went on and on.

Oh shit.

You're doing it again, aren't you? A wave of self-consciousness washing over you. Rambling on and on about art. He's probably bored out of his mind. You bit your lip, wishing you could reel back the words, but it was too late. The art gusher had been unleashed.

Why do you always do this?

"Sorry," you finally said, breathless and embarrassed. "I tend to get carried away when I talk about art."

He laughed again, warm, comforting. "Don't apologize. It's good to see someone so passionate about something. It's contagious."

You smiled, surprised that you hadn't completely embarrassed yourself. Somehow, the conversation with Suguru flowed so easily. You found yourself enjoying his company, his wit, and his genuine interest. You enjoyed being with him.

"So," Suguru said, "if you had to pick just one favorite artist, who would it be?"

"Hard to choose. But if I had to pick just one, it would probably be William Turner."

"Turner?" he echoed. "I'll have to look him up."

"What about you? Do you have a favorite painter?"

"Not really. But I haven't seen your paintings yet," he said. "I guess I know who my favorite painter will be then."

You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, his words sending a shiver down your spine. Did he just...? Was he flirting with you?

Before you could gather your thoughts and formulate a response, Suguru cleared his throat, breaking the spell. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Shall we go back inside?"

You nodded.

The warmth and stale air of the bar hit you like a wall as you stepped back inside. And you might have had a bit too much to drink at this point, you realized. As you made your way back to your seats, a group of men at the bar caught Suguru's eye.

"Hey, Suguru!" one of them called out, waving him over. "Didn't expect to see you here tonight. Care to join us for a game of darts?"

Suguru hesitated, glancing at you. "I'm actually with—"

"Sure, we'd love to!" you interjected, meeting his gaze. "I love darts."

Suguru's eyebrows shot up. "You do?"

"Sure, I mean, it can't be that hard, right?"

"You sure you wanna join them? We usually bet too," he said.

"Oh, even better."

Suguru eyed you weary. He was probably already calculating the damage to his wallet if your dart-throwing skills were anything like your general clumsiness.

You made your way over to the group, and Suguru quickly introduced you. He rattled off a series of names, but honestly, they all blurred together. Tall men, some handsome, some not. All very confident. Some with questionable facial hair choices.

One of them, a tall guy with a mop of curly hair, handed you a beer, uncapped it, and raised his own in a toast. "Welcome to the crew. Suguru here doesn't usually bring company, so you must be special."

You looked over your shoulder to meet Suguru's eyes with a look that said, Oh, you really are a loner, huh? He just sighed at you in response.

"So," the curly-haired guy continued, "did you play before, or are we gonna have to go easy on you?"

You shrugged. "I'm not completely hopeless." You could practically hear Suguru's internal groan beside you.

"Alright, everyone," the curly-haired guy announced, grabbing a notepad and pen. "Let's get the bets in. We doing teams of two again?"

A chorus of eager voices responded, each man vying for the chance to challenge the new couple in the group. You and Suguru, to be exact.

You stepped up to the dartboard. "So," you said, picking up a dart and examining it, "how exactly do you hold this thing?" A collective groan erupted from the group. Suguru's smile vanished.

Oh boy, you could practically hear him thinking, this is going to be a disaster.

One of the men, blonde hair, eager to show off, stepped forward. "Here, let me show you—"

But before he could reach you, Suguru smoothly interjected. "Allow me," he said, gently taking the dart from your hand.

He positioned himself behind you. His hand enveloped yours, his fingers warm and strong against your own. He adjusted your grip, his touch lingering on your skin. His other hand rested lightly on your lower back, a subtle yet electrifying touch that made your stomach flutter.

"Like this," he said, his voice close to your ear. "Relax your grip, focus on your target, and let it fly."

You could feel his breath on your neck, his chest rising and falling against your back with each inhale and exhale. Your senses were overwhelmed — the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his body, the soft rumble of his voice in your ear.

You struggled to focus on the dartboard, your mind reeling from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. You hadn't quite anticipated this, but you didn't hate it.

Maybe you even... liked it.

For a moment, you forgot all about the game, the bets, the curious onlookers.

"Got it?" Suguru's voice.

You nodded, your cheeks flushed.

"Alright then," one of the guys called out, short black hair, freckles, clapping his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road!"

The men took their turns, each showcasing their varying levels of skill. Some landed their darts with precision, while others elicited groans and playful jeers from the group.

Throughout it all, Suguru remained close, his arms crossed over his broad chest, occasionally brushing against your shoulder as you observed the others' attempts. You could practically feel his tension mounting with every throw.

Finally, it was your turn. You stepped up to the throwing line, all eyes on you, amusement and skepticism painted on their faces.

"Wait, where do I stand again?" you asked.

A few chuckles rippled through the group. You could practically hear Suguru's wallet crying in his pocket.

One of the guys, brown shoulder-length hair, stepped forward. "Bit closer here—"

But before he could reach you, you smoothly turned, your arm extending in a perfect arc. The dart flew through the air, landing with a satisfying thunk right in the bullseye.

Dead silence.

Then, a collective gasp, followed by a chorus of disbelieving exclamations. "Bullseye!" someone shouted. "No way!" another one exclaimed.

Suguru's jaw practically hit the floor. He stared at the dartboard, then at you, like he'd never seen you before. "You—" he stammered, clearly at a loss for words. "You're good?"

You turned to face him, a grin spreading across your face. "Told you I wasn't completely hopeless." You sauntered back to Suguru, leaving the men in stunned silence. You reached for the beer he'd been holding for you, taking a long sip. "So, we're splitting the winnings 50/50, right, Doc?"

Suguru, still a bit dazed, blinked a few times before a slow grin spread across his face. "Deal."

The rest of the game was a blur of laughter, trash talk, and cheers.

Freckles-guy gave your shoulders a quick massage before your next turn. Long brown hair got you another beer. Suguru was frantically trying to keep up with your score on the notepad, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

The bar erupted when you landed another bullseye. Strangers high-fived you, and suddenly the whole place seemed to be watching. The bartender even announced a round of free shots on the house.

At one point, you ended up on Suguru's shoulders. Bullseye. You even tried throwing blindfolded, spinning around, and then letting one fly. Bullseye again. Okay, not every shot was a bullseye, but they were damn close.

Then there was that one time Suguru pulled you close, his lips brushing the top of your head in a playful kiss. You barely knew him, but even you knew that was surprising. He was so unlike the composed surgeon you'd met in his office. It threw you off so much you almost missed your next shot, but you still nailed it.

Another bullseye. Seriously.

You were about to hand off your beer to Suguru so you could take your next turn, when some large figure bumped into you, sending a wave of cold beer cascading down your front.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" a male voice exclaimed, red hair.

You looked down at your shirt, now soaked in a sticky, amber-colored mess.

"Are you okay?" Suguru's voice.

You looked up to see him standing protectively in front of you, his eyes narrowed at the clumsy culprit.

"I'm fine," you said, trying to brush off the sticky residue. "I'll be right back." You quickly made your way to the women's restroom, leaving him standing amidst the lingering stares of curious onlookers.

Once inside the dimly lit bathroom, you assessed the damage. The sticky liquid had soaked through your shirt, leaving a large, unsightly stain right across your chest. You groaned inwardly. Of all the nights to spill a drink on yourself, you thought, it had to be tonight.

You turned on the faucet, hoping to at least rinse off some of the sticky residue. But as you dabbed at the stain with a damp paper towel, it only seemed to spread further, creating a chaotic blend of colors that resembled a modern art masterpiece gone wrong.

"Great," you muttered to yourself, throwing the soggy paper towel in the trash. "This is just perfect."

You tried blotting the stain with another paper towel, then with hand soap, then with a random assortment of toiletries you found under the sink. But nothing seemed to work. In fact, it seemed like you were only making it worse.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips. Your once-put-together appearance was now a disheveled mess. Your hair was slightly damp from the frantic cleaning attempts, and your shirt looked like it had been attacked by a bear or so.

Just my luck, you thought, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

In a final act of desperation, you grabbed a wad of toilet paper and scrubbed at the stain like a madman. The flimsy fabric of your shirt, already weakened by the moisture, couldn't withstand the onslaught. With a sickening ripping sound, a small tear appeared near the neckline, rapidly expanding into a gaping hole.

You stared at the damage in disbelief. "Seriously?" you groaned, throwing your hands up in defeat. This night just keeps getting better and better.

You glanced at your watch, your eyes widening in horror. You'd been holed up in the bathroom for almost fifteen minutes. Suguru must be wondering what on earth was taking you so long.

Panic set in.

You couldn't go back out there looking like this. Your shirt was beyond repair, and you certainly couldn't walk around half-naked in a crowded bar.

Your eyes darted around the bathroom, searching for anything that could salvage the situation. A roll of duct tape? A strategically placed safety pin? A magical fairy godmother with a sewing kit? No such luck.

Just as you were contemplating your options — which seemed to range from hiding in the bathroom forever to fashioning a makeshift bandage out of toilet paper — a gentle knock sounded on the door.

"Attorney?" Suguru's voice filtered through the thin wood. "Everything alright in there?"

"Just a minute!" you called back, your voice slightly muffled as you frantically rummaged under the bathroom sink cabinet for something, anything, to help you out. In your haste, you stood up too quickly, forgetting about the low-hanging sink. Your head collided with the porcelain with a resounding thwack.

"Ow!" you yelped, clutching your head.

"Attorney?" Suguru's voice was laced with concern now. "What was that? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Nothing!" you lied, wincing at the throbbing pain. "Just... dropped something."

You heard the doorknob rattle, then Suguru's voice again, more insistent this time. "I'm coming in."

Before you could protest, the door swung open, revealing a worried Suguru. His eyes scanned the bathroom, taking in the scene — the ruined shirt in the sink, the damp paper towels scattered on the counter, and you, clutching your forehead with a grimace, wearing nothing but your bra and jeans.

He quickly averted his gaze. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

You groaned, still clutching your head. "I hit my head on the sink. It's nothing serious, just a bump."

"Let me see," he said, cautiously turning his gaze back to you. He walked over, careful to keep his eyes focused on your face. He gently tilted your chin up, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes were filled with concern as he examined the growing bump on your forehead.

"It's not too bad." A relieved sigh escaped his lips. "But we should probably head home and put some ice on it."

"I'm sorry, I'm such a mess," you said.

"A mess? You're a dart champion, as far as I'm concerned."

"Told you I like sports bars," you quipped, attempting a weak smile.

An awkward silence hung in the air, broken only by the muffled sounds of the bar's revelry filtering through the door. You fidgeted, acutely aware of your exposed skin and the warmth radiating from Suguru's close proximity.

"Here," he said suddenly. "Take this."

You looked up to see him pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a sculpted torso that could rival any Greek god statue. Your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes widening involuntarily. He handed you the soft cotton shirt.

You took the shirt, your fingers brushing against his as you did so. A jolt of electricity shot through you, and you quickly pulled your hand back.

"Thanks." You pulled the shirt over your head. It was warm from his body, and the scent of his cologne clung to the fabric, sandalwood and something else you couldn't quite place.

Suguru quickly slipped back into his overshirt, buttoning it up. "Better?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

"Much better. Thank you."

"You know, for a future lawyer, you seem to attract a fair bit of chaos."

"It's a blessing. Or maybe a curse. I haven't quite decided yet."

"Well," he said. "It certainly makes life interesting."

You couldn't help but laugh, but the sound caught in your throat as a sharp pain throbbed through your forehead. You winced, bringing a hand to your head.

"Whoa, you okay?" Suguru asked.

"My head," you mumbled, the pain intensifying. "Think I hit it harder than I thought."

In an instant, he was all doctor again. He gently tilted your chin up, his fingers cool against your flushed skin. His eyes, now serious and focused, scanned your face, searching for any signs of a concussion.

"Does it hurt anywhere else?"

You shook your head slightly, your gaze locked with his. You were so close, you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was intoxicating. No, that can't be—It must be the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol.

"Just a bump," you assured him, your voice barely a whisper. "It'll be fine."

He continued his examination, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw, the curve of your cheek. His touch was gentle, yet electrifying, making your knees weak.

"You're sure?" he asked again, his voice husky.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his. The air between you crackled, the boundaries between doctor and patient blurring once again.

"Yeah, I'm sure," you repeated.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned in closer. His face was inches from yours now, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

"So," he began, “what exactly did you do to your shirt to end up like this?"

You burst into laughter, the sound slightly breathless. "Oh, it's a long story."

"You really are chaotic, aren't you?" He reached out then, his fingers lightly brushing over your cheek. You took a sharp inhale.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little bit drunk, I think," he said, his gaze fixed on your lips. Oh god, why did he have to look at your lips with those perfect eyes?

You nodded, your lips parting slightly. "It's okay, I think I'm a little tipsy too." The words caught in your throat, replaced by a silent plea for him to close the remaining distance between you.

"We should probably head back inside," he said.

"Is that a question?"

"I mean... we should go back," he stammered, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes.

"Do you want to go back?"

"Don't ask me that."

"Why?" you whispered, leaning closer.

"You know why, attorney."

"But it's my job to get clear answers," you countered. "I can't make decisions based on mere assumptions."

He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body against yours sent a wave of heat through you, and you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze.

"I could get in serious trouble for this," he said. "A doctor and his patient..."

"Only if someone sues you," you teased. "And I'm not gonna sue you."

"How old are you again?"

"You know how old I am."

The possibilities hung in the air, heavy, unexpected, irresistible. You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the smooth skin beneath your fingertips.

Suguru's breath hitched at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze stole your breath away. It was as if he'd finally surrendered to the pull between you, the last of his reservations crumbling away.

"Ah, fuck it," he said.

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours. You gasped at the sudden contact, your lips parting in surprise, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to tangle with yours.

The kiss lit a fire in you, a heat that spread from your lips to the tips of your toes. His hands roamed your body, one tangling in your hair to tilt your head for better access, the other spreading across the small of your back to press you tightly against him.

You melted into him, your hands fisting in his shirt. He kissed you like he was starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. The room was spinning, the world tilting on its axis, and all you could focus on was the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, the way he made you feel like nothing else existed but this moment.

His hands were everywhere, skimming over your sides, teasing the swell of your breasts through your, sorry, his shirt, leaving you gasping for more. You arched into his touch, craving more, needing to feel skin against skin.

In that moment, you didn't care about the consequences.

Suguru's hands drifted lower, squeezing your ass, pulling you harder against him. You couldn't resist grinding against him, chasing that maddening friction, that perfect pressure right where you needed it most. He groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating through you.

Desperate for more, you slid your hands under his shirt, exploring the hard planes of his chest, feeling the muscles twitch and flex beneath your touch. He shuddered, his abs contracting as your fingers danced over his heated skin.

Breaking the kiss, Suguru trailed his lips down your jaw, nipping and sucking as he made his way to your throat. You let your head fall back, giving him better access, a breathy moan escaping you.

"Keep making sounds like that and I won't be able to stop myself from fucking you right here," he warned.

His words made your head spin. The idea of him bending you over the sink and claiming you, right here in this dingy bathroom with a bar full of people just outside — it was reckless, stupid, the most brilliantly terrible idea you'd ever had.

"Maybe that's what I want," you dared, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging, urging him on. "Maybe I want you to take me right here.”

Let's be real, you were beyond caring about propriety or the risk of getting caught. All you cared about was the man in front of you and the heat he ignited within you.

You could feel him smile against your skin. “Oh really?”

As Suguru's lips moved against yours, his hands began to explore your body, tracing the curves of your hips and thighs. He pulled you closer, his fingers digging into skin as he ground against you, letting you feel exactly what you were doing to him.

The hard, heavy press of his erection against you made you moan into his mouth, your body arching into his. Holy shit, he was huge, you could already tell. Your knees nearly buckled at the thought of him inside you, stretching you, filling you so full you could barely breathe.

God, you needed him.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark as he reached down to fumble with the button of your jeans. You couldn't help but gasp as he finally got them open, his fingers slipping inside, seeking the warmth between your legs.

He traced the outline of your underwear, lingering on the damp patch where your arousal had already begun to soak through the material.

"Fuck, you're so wet." He groaned, his eyes closing. "Can I?"

Your eyes snapped open. "Did you seriously just ask permission to finger me?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers under the edge of your underwear and tugged it aside. The first touch of his fingers against your core made you moan. He was so warm, his skin rough and calloused in the best way as he slid two thick digits deep inside you.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, your head falling back against the wall.

He pumped his fingers in and out, setting a deep, slow rhythm. The wet sounds of him finger-fucking you echoed off the bathroom tiles, along with your desperate pants and bitten-off curses. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, coating his fingers and dripping down your thighs.

Suguru captured your lips in another kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to dance with yours. It was messy and frantic, more panting into each other's mouths than any real skill, but fuck if it wasn't the hottest thing you'd ever felt.

With his free hand, he grabbed hold of yours and pinned it above your head, his fingers lacing with yours. The cold press of the wall against your heated skin made you shiver, making every touch and sensation feel even more intense.

His fingers worked you mercilessly, curling and scissoring and rubbing in all the right ways. You could feel your orgasm building embarrassingly fast, your inner walls starting to clench around him.

Fuck, you'd never gotten this close this quickly with anyone else, never felt so utterly fucking wrecked with just a few touches.

Just as you were teetering on the very edge, your thighs shaking and your moans picking up in pitch, the bathroom door suddenly flew open with a bang.

"Oh my god!" a startled voice yelped. "Sorry!"

Suguru immediately slipped his fingers out of you, and you scrambled to pull your jeans back up, your face on fire. The woman booked it out of there, slamming the door behind her and leaving you both in the most awkward silence of your life.

Suguru cleared his throat, taking a step back and rubbing the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eyes. "Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have... that was way out of line."

You stared at the floor, your cheeks burning hotter than the surface of the sun. "It's fine," you said. "We're both drunk. Alcohol makes people do dumb shit."

The silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy and so fucking uncomfortable you wanted to scream. You kept replaying the kiss, the way he touched you, the feel of his fingers inside you — it sent shivers down your spine, even as shame turned your stomach to lead.

You'd never done anything like this before — making out with someone you barely knew, letting him finger-fuck you in a gross sports bar bathroom after knowing him for like, five hours. What were you thinking?

Part of you wanted to die of embarrassment, to sink through the floor and disappear forever. But another part of you didn't want this night to end.

Suguru was exciting, different. And somehow it felt so easy. Easy to talk, easy to laugh, easy to — be yourself. And that was something you hadn't felt in a long time.

Finally, Suguru broke the silence. "We should probably get you home," he said. "We had a lot to drink, and you hit your head. I want to make sure you're okay."

"Yeah," you agreed. "Home sounds good."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

You wanted to forget that night.

Bury the memory of Dr. Suguru Geto's hands between your legs six feet under and never dig it up again. But no, your brain had other plans. It was like trying to unsee a particularly embarrassing video of yourself — technically possible, but your brain seemed determined to keep replaying it on loop.

Back at the law firm, you navigated the busy corridors, two steaming cups of coffee clutched in your hands. One was for Mr. Higurama, your mentor, and the other was for your own sanity.

Higurama was one of the best. Without him, you'd have bailed on this stupid internship within the first week. He was meticulous, dedicated, and knew the law like the back of his hand. But he was also, let's be honest, a bit strange.

He'd rather spend his weekends reading dusty old legal texts than having a life. And his obsession with obscure legal trivia was — something else. He'd drop those obscure historical law facts that left everyone scratching their heads.

Maybe that's why you two clicked. You were both the oddballs in a sea of perfectly polished lawyers.

As you rounded the corner, you spotted him — the intern whose name you could never remember, but who you'd mentally dubbed "Chad" for his obnoxious attitude and perfectly-gelled hair. He was strutting towards you, his tailored suit and smug grin practically screaming "I'm better than you."

"Well, well, well," he drawled. "Look who's playing coffee delivery girl."

He reached out a hand, expecting you to hand over one of the cups. You sidestepped him. "Nice try, Chad," you retorted, continuing your walk towards Mr. Higurama's office.

You could hear his indignant huff behind you. "That's not my name!"

You just rolled your eyes and kept walking, a smile tugging at your lips. Whatever, Chad, you thought to yourself. His name is the least of your problems right now.

You knocked lightly on Mr. Higurama's door, a nervous flutter returning to your stomach. Even after weeks, you still couldn't shake the feeling of being a fish out of water in this fancy law firm.

"Come in!" Mr. Higurama's voice called out.

You pushed open the door, a smile spreading across your face at the sight of your mentor. He was buried under a mountain of paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up with a start as you entered.

"Oh, hey," he said, blinking in surprise. "You're a lifesaver. I was just about to send someone out for a caffeine fix."

He glanced at his watch, his expression suddenly turning serious. "Oh shit, we're running late," he said, scrambling to gather the scattered papers on his desk. "We need to leave for that client meeting in five minutes."

"No problem," you said, trying to sound calm despite the sudden rush. "I'm ready."

You walked over to his desk, carefully balancing the coffee cups in one hand. As you reached for a stack of files, your foot caught on the corner of the rug, sending you stumbling forward. The coffee cup lurched in your hand, its contents splashing onto the neatly organized papers on Mr. Higurama's desk.

You froze, the coffee dripping from the once-pristine documents.

Higurama looked up at you, his face a mask of — well, you weren't sure what. This wasn't the first time you'd pulled a stunt like this.

"I'm so sorry. I swear I'm not doing this on purpose,” you said.

But before you knew it, you were in the car. No time to reprint the papers, apparently. With a resigned sigh, Higurama quickly gathered the damp forms, and you both rushed out to his car.

The drive was filled with a tense silence. You wanted to disappear into the car seat, your embarrassment a heavy weight on your chest. Finally, you couldn't take it anymore.

"So," you ventured cautiously, "what's this client meeting about?"

"We're going to the hospital," he said. "A group of doctors is in a bit of a... difficult situation."

"Oh, is it related to a patient?"

Higurama let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Don't ask," he said, his tone more tired than annoyed.

You shrank back into your seat, deciding to keep your mouth shut for the rest of the ride.

Higurama led you through a maze of corridors, his footsteps echoing on the polished linoleum floor of the hospital. Though you were somewhat familiar with the building from your visits to Dr. Gojo, this particular wing was kind of new to you.

As you approached the meeting room, you could hear the muffled sounds of a heated discussion. Higurama paused, straightening his tie and composing his features into his usual stoic mask.

You were kind of freaking out. A case involving doctors? That was new. Seemed unusual for Higurama too, since you both usually dealt with international affairs. Must be a special case. Higurama pushed open the door, and you stepped into the conference room.

And then you saw him.

No, them — both of them.

Dr. Gojo.

And Suguru.

They were sitting at the far end of the table, Suguru's arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Your heart lurched in my chest, surprise and mortification flooding through you.

Oh my god, you thought. He's one of the doctors.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. The man you'd nearly fucked in that filthy bathroom just a few nights ago, the man whose lips you could still feel on yours — was now your client. The embarrassment of the situation threatened to swallow you whole, and you desperately wished you could disappear into thin air.

Suguru and Dr. Gojo were locked in a heated debate. Their voices rose and fell, words a flurry of medical words and frustrated exclamations.

"That's why we should do biomarkers that could help identify patients at higher risk," Gojo said.

"We can't ignore the data," Suguru countered. "The preliminary results show a significant increase in CAR-T cell persistence with the modified construct. We need to investigate this further."

"But the neurotoxicity risk," Gojo argued, his tone equally firm. "We can't overlook the potential complications. We need to refine the targeting strategy, minimize off-target effects."

"We can address those concerns in subsequent phases," Suguru argued back. "We can't afford to stall progress."

The argument escalated, their voices echoing through the room. Dr. Gojo stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He strode to the whiteboard, scribbling something furiously with a marker. They still hadn't noticed you.

You wanted to flee, to crawl into a hole and die. You took a step back, then another, ready to make a run for it, but Higurama's hand shot out, gripping your blazer and holding you in place. He gave you a look that said he wanted to flee just as much as you did.

Oh god, please let this be over soon.

Suddenly, Higurama cleared his throat.

Both doctors turned around, surprise plastered on their faces as they noticed you and Higurama standing there. Suguru's eyes met yours for a split second, and you could practically feel the awkwardness radiating off of him before you quickly looked away. The knot in your stomach tightened.

Dr. Gojo, however, recovered quickly, a charming smile spreading across his face as he saw you. "Oh, hey. Didn't expect to see you here too."

You managed a weak smile. "Hello, Dr. Gojo."

"How have you been feeling?" Gojo asked you. "Any side effects from the medication?"

"Fine," you replied curtly. "No problems."

Gojo's gaze lingered on you for a moment. "And how's Suguru treating you? Is he taking good care of you?"

God, please have mercy on me, you thought, your cheeks burning even hotter. But before you could answer, Suguru quickly interjected, his voice firm. "Perhaps we should get started with the meeting."

Higurama gestured towards the empty chairs around the table. "Shall we sit down?"

You all took your seats, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a scalpel. Higurama cleared his throat again, his gaze sweeping across the room. "I believe we all know why we're here today," he began, his tone professional and matter-of-fact.

"Actually, we don't," Gojo deadpanned. "Yaga didn't tell us anything."

Higurama looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and die. Same, you thought.

"There have been some... concerns raised regarding professional conduct within the university," Higurama finally managed to say.

Suguru and Gojo made a face in unison.

You reached into Mr. Higurama's briefcase, pulling out the stack of papers he'd entrusted you with. As you pulled them out, you couldn't help but notice the faint coffee stains marrying the edges. Your cheeks flushed even deeper.

But then your eyes landed on the content of the paper.

It wasn't a complex legal case or a malpractice lawsuit, as you had initially feared. Instead, you were faced with a series of brightly colored pamphlets titled “Maintaining Professional Boundaries”.

The pages were filled with cartoon illustrations and bullet points detailing appropriate conduct with students, patients and colleagues. There were even sections on how to avoid gossip in the workplace, with a handwritten note scrawled in the margin that basically said, "Don’t fuck with students, Gojo" in a slightly more professional way. Higurama's handwriting, for sure.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

The girl Gojo always talked about, the one he was always going on and on about marrying—she was a student. He'd been sleeping with a student this whole time. Oh my god. How inappropriate. You could never imagine hooking up with one of your professors.

But now that you think about it — someone in the glass house shouldn't throw stones, as they say.

Anyway, a wave of secondhand embarrassment washed over you as you placed the papers in front of the doctors. Even Higurama seemed to shrink in his seat. The silence in the room was deafening as Suguru and Gojo scanned the documents. You could practically hear crickets chirping.

Finally, Higurama cleared his throat, attempting to regain control of the situation. “As I was saying,” he began, his voice strained, “we all know why we’re here today.”

All eyes immediately snapped to Gojo. “Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that,” he said. Suguru let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his temples. Then, Gojo's gaze fell upon the stack of papers in front of him. "Besides, why is there coffee on those documents?"

Every head in the room swiveled towards you.

You quickly looked away.

The rest of the meeting was, to put it mildly, awkward as hell. Higurama tried his best to maintain a professional facade as he soldiered on with the presentation, highlighting the importance of maintaining professional boundaries.

You couldn't help but squirm in your seat as he droned on about appropriate conduct and the dangers of crossing the line. With every mention of "patient confidentiality" and "avoiding dual relationships," your mind flashed back to that night at the bar.

Suguru's hands on your waist, his lips on yours. You were sure your face was burning a bright shade of crimson. You risked a glance at Suguru, but he was staring intently at the table, his expression carefully blank.

Gojo tried to lighten the mood with a few well-timed jokes, but you guessed he was uneasy, too. You noticed him scratching his arm from time to time, a nervous tic you'd never seen before. Suguru, on the other hand, remained stoic, his gaze fixed on the presentation materials, though you could sense his discomfort.

You couldn't help but wonder what Suguru was thinking. Was he regretting that night at the bar as much as you were starting to? Did he see you differently now?

Finally, the meeting mercifully ended.

Gojo stood up. "Higurama, can we talk for a second?" Higurama sighed, but reluctantly followed him out of the room, leaving you alone with Suguru.

A tense silence descended upon the room. You avoided Suguru's gaze, focusing instead on the white walls. But you could feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Did you ice it?” he pressed.

“Yes.”

Silence returned.

It felt like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Unable to bear the stillness any longer, you stood up, clutching your bag tightly. "Well, I should probably get going."

"Wait," Suguru's voice stopped you mid-escape. "About the other night. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken things so far."

You turned back to face him. "No, it's okay. It was... nice." Nice? Did you really just describe the hottest makeout session of your life as 'nice'? What were you, a Victorian maiden?

"Nice?" he echoed, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly attractive way of his.

"I mean... It was good. Really good," you clarified, somehow making it even worse. "You're a great kisser and..." you trailed off, wanting to crawl under the table and die.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, you tried to make another break for it, only to be halted by Suguru's hand wrapping around your wrist. His grip was gentle but firm, sending sparks shooting up your arm.

You spun back around to find him towering over you. Damn him for being so tall. And for looking so good in his dress shirt and vest and tie under that crisp white doctor's coat. It wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make you come before we were interrupted," he said, sounding so genuinely apologetic you almost laughed. Almost. If this whole situation wasn't so mortifyingly awkward.

"Oh my god, please don't say that."

"I just want you to know, I don't usually do things like that."

"Like what? Not make women come? Wow, what a gentleman."

"No, I meant—" He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I'm not really one for hookups in general."

Oh god, why are you having this conversation now, here, with Higurama and Dr. Gojo just outside? "Okay, cool. Thanks for letting me know." You tried once again to subtly tug your wrist from his grip.

But Suguru held fast, his thumb rubbing absently over your racing pulse. "I don't regret it, if that's what you're worried about. I liked it. Spending time with you. A lot.”

You stared at him, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. He likes spending time with you? What did that even mean?

"Uh," you began. "You don't?"

"No, I don't." His grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but he didn't let go. "I was just surprised. It felt... good."

Good? You blinked. Good? What did ‘good’ in this context even mean? But then again, it had felt pretty damn good.

"And you're a great kisser too," he mirrored your words.

"Thanks." Thanks? Did you really just say thanks? And then, because your brain apparently decided to abandon all sense of self-preservation, you blurted out, "And you have great fingers."

Your face erupted in a fiery blush, and you wished you could disappear into the floor. My God, why couldn't you just shut up for once in your life?

Suguru's lips twitched into a smirk. "Thanks," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "We should do it again sometime."

"Yeah, totally." The words tumbled out before you could stop them. You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry as the desert. Play it cool, play it cool. "I think we would be quite good together. At sex, I mean. Wait, no—" You stumbled over your words, your hands flailing helplessly as you tried to backpedal.

"I meant the sports bar," Suguru clarified, barely containing his amusement.

"Oh yeah, me too," you said quickly, too quickly. "The sports bar. Where we... watch sports. And drink beer—"

Then the door creaked open and Higurama stepped back into the room. You both immediately moved apart. Higurama glanced at you. "Are you ready to go back to the office?"

You nodded.

Thank god it was over.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: hello again !! hope you didn't die bc of cringe this chapter, as our dear reader certainly brings a touch of chaotic energy to the story. and i want to express my gratitude for all the wonderful comments and messages you've been leaving. they never fail to brighten my day. & thank you again tasha for helping me out with this chapter. check out her work here. <3

don't have much else to add at this point, so whether you're reading this in the middle of the day or late at night, i wish you all the best. thank you for your continued support and love :)

pls comment on the masterlist for the taglist. or consider subscribing to the story on AO3, if you'd like to stay updated on future chapters.

🏷️ @ri-sa20 @biancaness @roseified @rixo-19 @madaqueue

@starmapz @alwaysfreakingout @totallytatum @shervinss @elliesndg

@lulureblogstuff @mylovelessnightmare @myahfig4 @shesplendl @mua-for-now

@yoghurtbrand @midnightsaugust @nanasukii28 @drakenswifeyy @maeveontherun

@4k0taro @ineednanamikento

#remedies and reasons #suguru geto #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #geto fanfic #geto fanficiton #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jjk #suguru geto x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #geto smut #suguru geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen

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ivysprophecy · 21 days ago

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sharpest tools

warnings: dual POV HAHA so im not saying i know jj or that this is how he thinks or whatever im simply doing it for a change of pace and writing style, wanted to experiment a little so by all means if this isnt your thing pls keep scrolling. mentions of extreme anxiety, mentions of chronic pain meds, over the counter meds

word count: 2299

prev. | next

masterlist

summary: after your fight blows out of proportion both you and jj are left wondering what just happened? and the poor pogues are caught in the crossfires trying to delegate and reunite the two idiots. because neither of them are the sharpest tools in the shed.

jj's pov

"jj... jj wake up," my eyes open enough to see someone crouching in front of me.

why the hell is sarah waking me up?

i move to sit up forgetting i slept in the hammock last night so i swing and struggle for a second before gaining my balance back.

"whats up?"

she hands me a water and some aspirin she snagged from the kitchen, from the looks of it no one else is awake. "just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"i appreciate it sar but im good. i swear," i take a swig of the water before swallowing the pain killers, "theres absolutely nothing wrong," because really i dont know that the fuck is wrong.

"im guessing you dont wanna talk about what happened last night?"

"honest to god sarah im not even sure what happened- that girl kissed me and before i could get her off me y/n swooped in and exploded."

sarah sits criss cross on the grass next to the hammock looking over at me with an odd look on her face.

"so you didnt mean to kiss her?"

"no- sarah i didnt kiss that girl i swear on my life. she was asking me a question about directions and all of a sudden shes got me pinned against the rocks. honest," i hold my hands up in surrender feeling interrogated, "i'd never do that to y/n"

"im not saying you would- its just that we didnt know until last night so... speaking of that. what the fuck was that about?"

everyone has so many questions and honestly i do too, i dont know half of the answers. feels like i wiped out and i cant find the shore.

i just wish she'd talk to me. like im sure if shed just let me get two words in i could reassure her but i dont know what shes thinking right now and its killing me.

i hate it. i hate that i caused this.

but in my defense it kinda feels like she blew it way out of proportion if she had just let me explain this whole thing would be okay.

"i just... i dont know sar- she had all this anxiety about relationships and whatever- i dont really get it but she said she wanted to keep it between the two of us. who was i to tell her no ya know? i just wanna be with her."

sarah just kinda looks at me with wide eyes.

"what?"

"youre like- down bad arent you? youre totally whipped."

"i wouldnt say that-" she interrupts me.

"jj maybanks got a girlfriend... this is headline news," she chuckles making me roll my eyes. i thought we were having a serious conversation, not that i try to have those often but i could use her advice on the subject.

"sarah seriously- what the hell do i do? i barely know what happened last night how am i supposed to fix what i dont know is fucked up?"

"well from the tid bit you told me? sounds like shes massively overthinking and just saw the wrong thing at the wrong time, and it just so happened to fit into her warped little nightmare."

what the fuck did she just say?

"so youre saying this is just all in her head?"

"no- well- kind of... from the sounds of it shes got a lot of anxiety and trust issues. shes probably trying to self sabotage the relationship."

i let out a frustrated sigh, "can you not talk like a therapist for a minute?"

"jj what im saying is you both dont know how to handle the situation. you need to talk to each other, have a real discussion not just scream in each others faces like last night."

"i tried to talk to her! she wouldnt listen!"

sarah lets out a laugh letting her head hang as her body shook from the laughter. pushing some hair out of her face she turns her body to face me more head on.

"jj- it was the heat of the moment and she was scared and upset. of course she wasnt going to listen... now that shes had time to cool off? you might have a better shot."

"but what if she doesnt believe me?" look i dont like admitting that i get a little insecure sometimes, but id rather do that than fuck my relationship with y/n.

because god ive been trying for so long i dont know what im gonna do if i lose her.

i really need to see her. "is she awake?"

"not yet i dont think... why? what are you gonna do?" i stand up running my hands through my untamed hair trying to wake up a little bit.

"im gonna try to make it up to her- make sure shes up by the time i get home. 'kay?"

"home? what the fuck are you talking about jj? where are you going?" sarah stands up as she sees me walking towards my bike. her voice raising so it will carry enough for me to hear.

"dont worry bout it!"

with those final words i take off down the dirt road...

readers pov

ugh. my head is pounding. i need excedrin.

god last night was a horrible combination for my chronic migraines.

i walk into the kitchen and see john b and pope huddled in the corner making shushing noises before turning around to face me.

"there she is!" i shove my hand in john bs face to shut him up.

"its nine am. wheres the medicine cabinet my head is throbbing." poor sweet pope hands me the bottle of pills and a cold water. god bless him. "thank you," i let out a whine as i tilt my head back to take the medicine. "sorry ive got a killer migraine."

"oh-" they exchange glances with one another before pope speaks up in a hushed tone, "go lay down- let the meds work. and drink your water."

i squint at him, seeing how nervous he is. he wants to say something. they both do.

is this headache bearable enough to get this conversation over with? technically yes. should i use it as an excuse to ignore everything? probably not...

"its okay. we can talk. i can tell you want to."

"thank god" jb expresses before pope hits him in the chest, which leads to john b throwing his arms up in defense "what? you said we needed to talk to her!"

"yea but not force her to!"

"guys- cmon its fine. really. i know its a lot so lets just get this over with. yes jj and i had been dating for a month. yes we didnt tell anyone on purpose, i didnt want the pressure. i dont know if he kissed that girl or not but i freaked out and just wanted to be alone. i didnt mean to hurt his feelings but i was obviously upset so i said things i didnt mean. there. happy?"

both the boys look at me with bug eyes, "a month?!" they exclaim together.

"my god- yes. a month. its really not a big deal-"

"yes it is y/n- thats a huge step for you and jj. i thought the whole casual thing would flame out. this is a huge commitment for the both of you," pope reminds me, as if i wasnt aware. i

i was simply trying to down play it to give myself a reason to care less, seems like thats not happening any time soon.

"what are you my doctor?"

"i think what pope is trying to say is... were a little worried about you y/n/n... what happened last night- you kinda flew off the handle."

i whip my head around so fast i get dizzy, grabbing the counter for stability.

"excuse me? i flew off the handle? jj was the one kissing other girls-"

"y/n i think deep down you know thats not true-"

"no- no you dont get to tell me im crazy and then tell me what im thinking- this is my relationship. this is exactly why i didnt wanna tell everyone because i knew youd all stick your noses in it. what happened is between me and jj. no one else."

pope reaches out to steady me seeing me sway a little, "woah- okay maybe we should put a pause in this convo-"

"im fine pope. i just dont see how this is anyones business."

"we're not saying its our business y/n/n, were just worried about you. youre not acting like yourself. you seem anxious, paranoid, you know- just not normal," pope pleaded with me, making me sit on one of the dining chairs.

"right-" john be interjected, "all were trying to point out is we all know jj would never ever put his whatever you wanna call it with you in jeopardy. hes whipped. theres no way he went and kissed another girl."

i see where theyre coming from. i really do. i want to believe it but there are too many things playing in my head that tell me otherwise.

on one hand, i know jj would never hurt me. not on purpose, and to cheat is definitely with a purpose. hes always reassured me that its just me and since we got serious he hasnt given me a reason to doubt him.

but on the other... just seeing her all over him is so hard to forget. it all happened so fast, i dont know how long theyd been kissing for, maybe i got there just as it happened or maybe itd been going on for a while i have no idea. too many factors.

"y/n if you listen to literally anything we say let it be that we know jj loves you," i look up at the curly haired boy whos basically grown to be my brother.

"thats a big word for elmo-"

pope runs a hand over his face with a sigh, "for the love of god be serious for a minute," 'theyre made for each other' he thinks to himself. "just hear him out. please. for some reason he loves you a lot-"

"hey!"

"-and if were speaking freely youre the one whos put all of this at stake because all the rest of know jj didnt kiss that girl. youre the only one who has doubts. so talk to him. please. were begging you."

"... 'we're?' youve all talked about this?"

"of course we have- it all unraveled in front of us what else did you expect? by the way i was supposed to tell you sarah is siked for you- maybe nows not the time," john be stops himself scratching the back of his head.

honestly it gets a giggle out of me.

"okay.. yea. ill talk to him. where is he? is he here?"

pope looks out the window in the front yard, where he can see sarah peeking in before moving out os sight to pretend she wasnt listening in.

"he was here- he slept outside last night. wanted to give you space since you both normally share the couch."

oh... thats- sweet.

fuck. maybe i am screwing all of this up.

"can i come in now??" i hear sarah yell from the other side of the door.

"get in here!" i raise my voice a little testing my headache, which ironically has somehow gotten a little better.

sarah walks through the door. letting out a rather dramatic sigh, "finally. sorry- jj got some big idea and left on his bike a few minutes ago. said to have y'n awake by the time he gets back so... i dont really know what to do now."

john b looks at his wife and i notice... its like how jj looks at me.

fuck.

fuck fuck fuck.

"do you know where he went??" i look at sarah with a begging tone and pleading tone.

she shakes her head "sorry honey bun," she teases with a smile. "but since weve got time... john b, pope, and i will go get some breakfast while we wait for jj to get back. you stay here- give you two some space to work it all out."

"what? no its fine- really you dont have to go..."

sarah walks up to me grabbing me by the shoulder with some stupid fucking grin like shes all knowing, "girl. youre gonna be fine. youll talk, kiss, and make up and be the happiest couple ever. it will be sickening, trust me id know. relax. it will be fine. you and jj will be able to work this out, im sure."

and with that john b grabs the keys to the twinkie heading out the door following wifes orders, with pope following in suit with an apologetic shrug.

sarah gives me a teasing kiss on the forehead, "well be back soon sweetie be safe."

"oh fuck off- bring back bacon and coffee please," she salutes me before walking outside with the boys.

"no one ever said she was the sharpest tool in the shed," john b quips as he steps into the twinkie with a sigh before turning the ignition.

pope hops in the back letting out a small laugh "yea thats for sure."

"neither of them are," sarah rebuts looking over at john b as they all laugh. "theyre both as sharp as a dull spoon"

"what the fuck did you just say?" jb looks over at her with a quizzical look on his face.

"just drive routledge."

#jj maybank fics #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank one shot #fic recs <3 #jj maybank need you by my side #mama needs her jj #my writing <3 #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx

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suzukiblu · 2 months ago

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Day twenty-one of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” ( no cut today, we die like Steph's tolerance for her dad's bullshit ). prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He should be taking notes, Tim realizes. This is a new and unprecedented level of supervillain behavior that his fifteen-year plan can only aspire to reach.

“Asdfghjk,” he says, which is apparently actually an actual sound that an actual person can actually make, go figure. Learn something new every day.

Kon laughs at him, the fucking bastard. Tim would probably swear vengeance but unfortunately Kon looks way too damn pretty and way too damn happy doing it and is not wearing a single thing he didn't buy him and bought him a camera with his first allowance and wants to see him skateboard and has also laughed so many times tonight that Tim is starting to develop the opposite of a tolerance for it. Like, he's getting weaker and weaker to it the more exposure he gets, which is in his opinion total bullshit and totally unfair but is unfortunately still happening.

. . . well, not necessarily unfortunately, since it’s specifically happening because Kon keeps laughing and looking happy about it, but that’s besides the point. Somehow. In some way. Just–somehow.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute, babe,” Kon says, grinning at him again. He keeps doing that too. He keeps laughing, and grinning, and just–just all these things that Tim is not prepared for and honestly doesn’t even know how he could’ve been? There’s having five minutes of prep time and there’s situations that are just impossible to prepare for because how could he have fucking KNOWN. How?! How could he ever have?!?!

Literally not possible, Tim is certain.

“You’re actually incorrigible,” he says, quickly flipping his dropped board onto its wheels with a foot and then giving it a quick pop to the tail and hooking a foot underneath it to kick it up into his hand. Kon looks delighted, his eyes immediately lighting up.

“Sick!” he says. Tim felt like maybe he was getting in a win for a second there, except Kon being genuinely delighted is actually even worse and he thinks he’s just, like, kind of screwed in general now? Kon’s not supposed to be genuinely delighted by things, he’s supposed to pretend to be too cool to be impressed or just jealous that someone else is getting attention!

Tim really, really could not have ever been prepared for this.

“So like, do you know any cool tricks?” Kon asks with a wider grin, still looking way too genuine about his excitement. Tim is resigned to ruining his best non-funerary/non-gala slacks and possibly also his shirt and definitely also his dignity. His dignity is as scuffed as the shoe he just dropped his board on, and frankly that’s being optimistic.

Extremely optimistic.

“I know a couple okay ones,” Tim says, since Robin-level parkour doesn’t count as either “tricks” or anything he could show Kon, and also he’s screamingly out of practice, and also he was never really that good a skateboarder even when he had the time to do it regularly, plus skill decay is a thing and–

“That mean you’re gonna show me a trick or two, daddy?” Kon asks, grinning slyly at him.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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glass-clown · 1 year ago

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[FIRST ID: A screenshot of a Facebook post by Jane Friedman that says, "As of today, there are about half a dozen books being sold on Amazon, with my name on them, that I did not write or publish. Some huckster generated them using AI, hoping to make a quick buck from people who don't realize I'm not the author. Unforuntately, these scam books were also added to my official Goodreads profile. I don't think the larger public understands that author don't directly control what books appear on their profile. They are automatically added via Amazon and/or submitted by users. To get them removed is not an easy process. [in all caps] A brief update [end caps]: After going back and forth a few times with Amazon on this issue, I was notified these junk books would not be removed based on the information I provided. Since I do not own copyright in these AI works and since my name is not trademarked, I'm not sure what can be done." Attached is an image of a rusty dumpster with fire and smoke coming out of it. Above the screenshot is a Tweet by Gabe Hudson @ gabehudson.bsky.social that says, "Dear god what fresh hell is this for writers?" /END OF FIRST ID]

[SECOND ID: A screenshot of a message conversation between @jenovacomplete and an Amazon customer service member whose name has been blocked out. The first message is by jenovacomplete, set at 10:49 pm, that says, "Ah, I haven't ordered from them. I just wanted to see if there was any way to report their fraudulent reproduction. If there isn't, that's fine! Thank you for your time!" At 10:54 pm the customer service member replies, "Okay. Thank you for been on online, The product from Amazon are genuine and correct . You can order from Amazon. No worries from shopping amazon." /END OF ALL IDS]

I found an interesting excerpt in an article about this case:

""All this time, public outcry over the case from other authors and observers mounted on Twitter. Finally, on Tuesday morning, Amazon reversed its decision and removed the titles from its platform. A company spokesperson sent Gizmodo a statement explaining its decision.

"We have clear content guidelines governing which books can be listed for sale and promptly investigate any book when a concern is raised," Amazon spokesperson Ashley Vanicek told Gizmodo. "We welcome author feedback and work directly with authors to address any issues they raise and where we have made an error, we correct it. We invest heavily to provide a trustworthy shopping experience and protect customers and authors from misuse of our service."

Amazon declined to comment further when asked to elaborate on what particular rule or policy was violated that led to the AI-generated content being removed. Friedman said she's confident the growing backlash on social media contributed to the ecommerce's reversal. That's good news for her, but will come as little solace to other, smaller writers who lack her same level of prominence.

"I do think it was the public outcry," the author said. "Obviously you shouldn’t have to raise a shitstorm in order to get them to do the right thing."" — "Amazon Removes AI-Generated Books That Spoofed an Author's Byline" by Mark DeGeurin on Gizmodo

#long post #sorry if i formated the article credit wrong i completely forgot how to do that and trying to search it up made my brain blank out lmao #so this explains why i got an email from amazon warning me about scams on their website.#their website that refuses to do anything about scams. warning me about scams. on their website. makes sense.#(i dont choose to use amazon btw my mom uses it and doesnt care about the shady awful shit they do and have done)#im so confused #this is impersonation. is legal action really not viable here? this is straight up fraudulent bc the buyer isnt getting what is advertised #i know amazon is scummy (and thats a polite way to put it) but surely this cant be legally allowed right???#also its wild to me that authors cant choose whats listed as THEIR OWN BOOKS on BOOK WEBSITES #especially if people are buying books from those websites #thats crazy #anyway if u absolutely have to use amazon for whatever reason see if the seller of what u want to buy has a different website they sell on #for example jellycat is on there but they have a website that u can buy from yknow (if they ship to u ofc)#look up if they have a website in case u can buy from there instead 👍#some companies dont list their website(s) on amazon for some reason so u have to google it #that statement from the spokesperson pisses me off so bad lmao fuck off dude #shes literally lying. her entire statement is a complete and total lie.#''we welcome author feedback and work directly with authors to address any issues'' no u dont????#this ENTIRE situation (and even more) proves u dont what the fuck are u talking about holy shit #''where we have made an error‚ we correct it.'' is she okay???#ANYWAY PREV AND OP SORRY FOR THE LONG REBLOG AND TAGS IN UR NOTIFS IM SO SORRY LMAO 🙇🙇🙇

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jadeoru · 6 months ago

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SMUDGED LIPSTICK

07: silent treatment -> prev / mlist / next

now playing: tightrope - movements 🎶

Awkward. Everything about this was awkward. You were sitting on the floor beside the bed, your back pressed against the bed frame. You haven’t looked at him once. He sat on the bed beside you, sitting cross-legged on the edge of it. He was shamelessly staring at you; yet you refused to even acknowledge his existence. He silently admired your features, watching as you typed away on your phone. After taking a quick peek at your screen, he deducted that you were writing song lyrics. His eyebrows raised up briefly, face filled with amusement. Selfishly, he was glad to be here during your writing process. He thought to himself that maybe if this song gets finished, you might decide to release it to the world. And maybe, if that were to happen, you might add this song to future setlists; perform it for thousands to see. Then, maybe, just maybe, as the words you typed out right here beside him left your lips, maybe you would think of him; you would remember this moment. He shoved his ‘maybe’s’ aside, and watched your face scrunch up in concentration. As he watched you structure each verse carefully, only one thought crossed his mind:

Holy shit, you’re beautiful.

He’s glad you haven’t told him off for staring yet because god, he missed your face. He missed hearing your voice, even if your words were fueled by hatred; disgust. You made even the most incoherent of ramblings sound like poetry. His eyes scanned your face, putting every inch of your skin to memory, almost in fear that he would never get the chance to see it again. His heart panged at the thought of never seeing these expressions of yours again - how your tongue darted across your bottom lip. You shifted around on the floor. He knew you were incredibly uncomfortable down there, but your spite and pettiness outweighed any discomfort you felt. He fidgeted with his phone, trying to look like he was doing something, anything. He tried to act as if he wasn’t as desperate as he really was.

He failed.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up. “So are y-” “no.” ouch. You shut him down immediately, not even bothering to hear him out. He deserved it, he thought to himself. He would try again regardless. He would keep trying to get a word that wasn’t ‘no’ or ‘shut up’ out of you, no matter how annoying he got. But after the sixth time, it was evident to him that this would be a lot harder than it seemed. He was ashamed of how pathetic he was towards you, but the thought of giving up hasn’t crossed his mind once. If you didn’t want to speak physically, maybe there were other ways to get a conversation out of you.

He turned his phone on, and quickly added you to his contacts, before beginning to type.

extra:

BOKUAKA IS REAL!!!

sakusa feels SO pathetic but he always feels that way when it comes to you

you somehow always leave him speechless

but that doesn't mean anything!!!! he just misses your friendship!! thats all!!! totally!!

i wonder what the song yn was writing is about 🤔🤔

noya and hinata are having the equivalent of a 6 year old girls sleepover

like theyre giggling and talking about boys n shit

7 chapters in and they still hate each other.... oops...

its okay guys we're getting to the good part i promise

good things are coming!!!

kinda!

TAGLIST: @gojoed @itsdragonius @sleepy-writer84 @anianurst @yuminako @wolffmaiden @tenjikusstuff4 @juie13 @ilyless @arachnoia @choizzn @3lectraheart @diorzs @le000xxgrd @aboveasphodel @petrus1989 @aria-in-wonderland @sugarrhiccupp @bbybibi @walllflowerrrsss @wave2mia @loveelylacey @marimisses @alpha-mommy69

reply to this or send me an ask to be added to the taglist ! ^__^

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soombee · 2 months ago

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ଳ⋆｡˚𖦹 caught in the current of you — 01 , fish facts & a lil chemistry

warnings ! none

wordcount ; 573 / 0.5k words

‘thoughts’ -> “out loud”

7:30 am — chemistry

you didn’t expect to be particularly THIS nervous to present in today’s class, but then, your fine shyt, leehan, steps up to the front of the room and, all of a sudden, all your worries faded away just from the sight of his face

your heart beats raises, beating out of your chest as you remember last night’s venture through his twitter feed. he’s looking as fine as ever — in front of you, wearing a grey sweater with his tousled hair. he’s so effortlessly handsome.

‘thank god i decided to sit infront.’ you think to yourself, feeling blood flush your face

i mean, sure he’s in your chem lab, but you’re pretty sure he’s never really noticed you beyond the few shared glances when you’re stationed nearby each other and it’s killing you. but right now, standing at the front of the classroom, leehan looks so different — focused frown and tired eyes, presumably from the night before, trying to memorize the material he researched. he chose to present on the chemistry of ocean ecosystems and, judging by the look in his eyes, you can just tell that this isn’t just a topic to him

leehan starts to babble, giving the class a basic breakdown of marine life chemistry, but within seconds, he’s diving deeper, animatedly describing the ocean’s ecosystem as if it’s a living, breathing puzzle he’s trying to solve. his hands gestures excitedly when he talks about the bonds between organisms and how they rely on each other to thrive in the depths of the ocean. there’s something captivating in the way he speaks — like he’s not just presenting but inviting the whole class into his world. and slowly, you find yourself leaning forward, totally hooked, oh, on the presentation too i guess!

“and then there’s the corydoras catfish,” he says, smiling a little as he describes its contribution to the ocean system, “they’re very social fish so they’re barely alone!” the whole class might just hear a random fact, but you catch something else; a glimpse of leehan’s dedication to understanding even the smallest details about marine life, making your attraction towards him grow deeper

“i’m such a fool for u..” you confess under your breath, perchance wanting him to know how you felt about him

he dives into a ramble about coral reefs, the chemistry of their growth, and how they’re as fragile as they are beautiful. his face lights up with every word, not even glancing at his notes. it’s clear his passion isn’t just shallow—his dedication being your newfound obsession

by the time he wraps up, you’re practically just staring at him; not even in a “focused” way, you were ogling at him. this wasn’t just a class presentation; it was like getting to peek into a hidden part of his mind, one filled with excitement for something he loves. you can’t help but smile a little bigger, heart pounding in a way you didn’t see coming—even if he was fine shyt

for a brief second, leehan glances your way, as if noticing you’re there—you quickly drop your gaze, hoping he doesn’t catch the blush creeping onto your face

‘this is crazy,’ you think, ‘who tf falls for someone because of a lecture on fish!?’ but as soon as he sits down, you steal another glance, you’re definitely in too deep

“okay next up!” stupid chem professor distracting you from admiring fine shyt. 🫤

if u dont get the pineapple reference click here 🍍🍍🍍

prev | m.list | next

taglist (open) ! @saintriots @yourmyst4r @sftsohee @httpenhoon @alisonyus

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llannasvsp · 1 year ago

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then there's my sister, who hates him and calls him selfish...

hmmm is there even a single ninjago fan that doesn't like lloyd? i actually dont think there is. congrats buddy . the people love u

imagine lloyd logging onto tumblr dot com after a long day of despairing about his miserable life and finding out people on the internet are showering him with love. i think he would be happy

#it totally doesn't hurt me at all #*eye twitches*#its fine its fine #(it's not)#if you have reasons to call him selfish that's fine but like i said in a prev post #dont you dare use true potential #because that was just #oh idk... trauma??#anyway #also everyone has selfish moments but that doesn't make them a selfish person #okay i'll shut up now #i just have a lot of feelings esp about lloyd and it hurts me when ppl say mean things abt him #im emotionally dependent on a lego man...

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gremlin-girly · 16 days ago

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Day 15: Naughtylist

Pairing: Dean x gn!reader

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean, You/Reader, Jack Kline

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, suggestive themes, elf on a shelf, Jack being a sweetie, established relationship

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied or reposted or put through an AI machine.

Summary: You walk in the kitchen to find Dean and Jack pondering over what to do to over an elf on the shelf.

Word count: tba

Prev | Next | Fluffcember | Flufftober | Navigation

"What are you two doing?"

It wasn't often you got to watch your Batman and the Boy Wonder team up, but when they did, nothing good ever happened. From misplaced good intentions from Jack and mischevious pranks from Dean, the two together were a waking nightmare.

"Oh, hello Y/N." Jack beams at you, and you find your resolve softening. His big hazel eyes are alight with childish innocence, his cherub face looking excitedly between you and Dean. "Dean and I are investigating this mysterious creature."

He points to the top of the cupboard, brilliantly the one Dean can't reach, to an elf toy with a smug looking smile. You resist the urge to laugh.

"Ah. Ok." You nod as if it's totally normal.

"He appeared over night. He doesn't speak or at least he won't speak." Jack continues, unperturbed. "Sam says if we touch him he dies along with Christmas magic but he has the key to Dean's secret fridge."

"Jack!" Dean snaps gruffly, throwing up his hands. "Don't tell them I have a second fridge, come on man."

"Everyone knows about your second fridge sweetheart." You chuckle, joining them to look up at the elf. Sam most definitely did this as an act of revenge. And Dean doesn't want to destroy Jack's Christmas spirit.

"Right okay, I think I can convince him to get the key back." You say after a few moments. "Jack, I need you to get some black tape. Specifically black. And a Christmas ornament. But it has to have green, red and white in it."

Then you turn to Dean, continuing the serious theatrics.

"You need to get me your egg nog and some cookies."

Dean smirks and nods, pretending to walk in the direction of his "man cave" and Jack eagerly sprints to the living area. Once he's out of sight, you grin over at Dean.

"Gimme a boost ya lug."

Dean wastes no time in lifting you up half balanced on his shoulder and you reach for the elf, tugging Dean's key from around its neck and placing it back to where Sam had placed him. Dean drops you back to your feet, giving your butt a small pat before you turn around to hand him the key.

"You're going on the naughty list for that." You shake your head at him as he snatches the key from you.

"Bold of you to assume I wasn't on it already." He smirks, winking at you. "But thank you." He says gleefully. "I can finally break into the egg nog."

"Hey, I want in." You pout at him. "I helped."

"Fine. It's a date." Dean smiles at you and before you could commend his cheesiness, Jack bursts back into the kitchen.

"I couldn't find the ornament!" He says half-panicked. "I think we're going to have to kill him."

"Don't worry kiddo." Dean chuckles, dangling the key at Jack. "Y/N got it with their powers of persuasion."

#gremlin girly #gremlin girly writes #fluff #dean fanfiction #dean supernatural #dean fluff #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x gn!reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #fluffcember2024 #fluffcember #fluffcember 2024

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arthur-lesters-tits · 5 months ago

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to the bazaar! Good luck Franny and I'll attack anyone who hurts her 🤺🤺

we'll see what we can trade those items for, thank you! I found some coins and a weird looking dagger..maybe we should keep that to ourselves. We need a new bag, this one won't be able to carry forever so we'll see how much we can trade down there.

though as we near the bazaar i can't help but feel a little worried, the closer we get the more people seem to stare. I'm worried they'll know we're not from here and refuse to trade but then again, there are all kinds of people so maybe I'm over thinking

day 41 in the dreamlands

as i mentioned, @arthur-lesters-ribcage , last night francessca and i set out to rob the house of some kid that bullied her.

when we got to the house (just an average bungalow) it was covered in a big tent, we crawled under it and lucky for us all the windows were open! we scared off the pest control with the duck tape, the way they screamed... it was like the sound fried all the nerves in their body.

once inside though, we found every room was drenched in fog, making it difficult to see or even think. as we walked around, there was no sign of the goat and their thousand young. we could hear them moving in every direction, upstairs, under the floorboards, in the walls. the rooms were dark, who knows if they were watching us from the corners?

i don't know if it was just the fog or the fumes playing tricks but the house's layout was... weird. winding hallways with no doors, stairs that led up to walls, and the whole structure seemed to form a spiral.

we picked up a few things as we went: a nintendo ds, condiments, a lamp, an Alexa, and a soda stream. that should be enough to get us supplies @arthur-lesters-tits ! if franny hadn't been there i wouldn't have found anything valuable, i'd have just raided the fridge and cupboards.

i'd hoped to find drugs in the bathroom, they can be worth a lot, and we did find some - in the bedroom, in an ornate wooden box with some funky symbols. might be some kind of spiritual thing? perhaps the secret to getting out of the dreamlands is to first be in a higher state of mind!

when we reached the centre of the spiral, we weren't dumb enough to go down the staircase to the basement - i've gone down enough holes in my lifetime, thank you arthur.

the basement doorknob turned. two guys came out. thought they might be pest control but seeing their empty bags, and black bandanas, they must've been thieves like us... they were very pissed off that we'd gotten the goods first so they chased us all through the house. they evaded the pocket sand attack by use of their second pair of eyelids...

franny and i got out another window, and it was there in the space between the tent and the house: the goat's thousand young, all of their eyes glowing red, swarming in on us. the kids weren't cute and fuzzy, but fleshy and veiny like newborn birds, and brought a stench of urine to the stuffy tent. their teeth were square and ground down on our skin as if it were grass. the two men chasing us had closed the window behind us so we couldn't get back in.

franny didn't make it out alive.

but!

after i got out of the tent, she appeared before me as a ghost. she's surprisingly happy about it, now she can haunt the kids that bullied her. she's going to see if the haunted house they dared her to go to is actually haunted. hope if there's other spirits there that they're nice to her.

so all in all, i'm calling this a major W. if i see those other thieves again though they're gonna get the Wrath of the Gut!

anyway, to the bazaar!

#hope its okay for me to start this day i was excited to share my lil fic #< prev #DUDE #TOTALLY OKAY #sometimes i won't get my update out on time so i never mind if one of you posts instead #and it's fun seeing the others perspectives not just off of my posts!#your little fic was amazing #thank you for doing yesterday 🙏#sorry I'm a day late lol #i don't have a regular schedule for posting #if you guys ever have ideas for one of the days PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE go ahead and post it whether it's a sorta -#- reblog after someone else got to the post already or if it's your own post because no ones done it yet #i generally post whenever i find time to sit down and think of something to post #so for the past couple of days i haven't been able to get to it until almost midnight #😭😭#limb posting #days of dreamland adventures #dreamlands gang does crimes #arthur lesters body parts

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passionmaterial · 4 months ago

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Its the one you've all probably been waiting For..

If Timmy Turner was in A New Wish!

More info Under the cut

Edit: forgot to link prev ones

First | Prev | Next | VER 2

Name:Timothy Tiberius Turner (or Timmy Turner)

Age:30

Important note: I do not account for the Secret Wish, that's why a lot of them are in their 20's and 30's

I've thought about his character a lot, so this is gonna be a long story here.

Short Summary:

Timmy remembers his Fairies, he married Tootie and had two kids, he lives in the apartment to the left of Cosmo and Wanda, and he's friends with the wells family, and does tell Hazel he remembers his Fairies. Also, he got his Overbite aligned as well, but he had to wear braces in high school.

Long Version:

So obviously, once timmy turned 18, he could no longer remember Cosmo, Wanda, or Poof, or at least he was supposed to not remember. Something somewhere along the Memory Wipe Process failed, and he was able to retain his memories of them.

Look at V2 for how he remembers.

Anyway, he still loses Cosmo, Wanda, and Poof, and naturally they think the memory wipe worked.

Now, to answer the question, everyone's probably been thinking since I said he didn't get with Trixie, Is "who did timmy end up with?." And the answer is Tootie. He ends up marrying tootie after high school, unfortunately making Vicky his Sister in Law. The good thing is that both of them are no-contact with her, making it not really a problem. He has two kids:Tammy and Tommy(his kids from channel chasers)

Anyway, after tootie gets a job in dimmadelphia, they have to move there, and just so happen to move in to the apartment on the left side of Cosmo and Wanda's, making it quite awkward when the two of them introduce themselves to the neighbors.

Aj offers timmy a job at the Galax Institute, which basically consists of just visiting and chatting with AJ Every day, which he doesn't mind. To him, the pay is a bonus.its a rather rewarding "job" for him. AJ just knew he was in need of a job but knew he didn't have the intellectual prowess for the actual work.

He becomes good friends with Marcus Wells, which is how he met Hazel. Him and Hazel have a good friendship. He likes that she is so optimistic about everything. Eventually, being grown, he does tell her that he was Cosmo and Wanda's last godkid, which doesn't surprise her, but does shock her that he remembered cosmo and wanda.

So naturally, after that, Timmy reunites with Comso and Wanda genuinely. Also, he totally cried at how his baby God brother is now an adult.

Edit:

Okay, I forgot to do this, but I was gonna talk about his Overbite/Buck teeth. Like the summary said, he does get them fixed, which I did look up, and you can get an overbite aligned, and also had he kept the overbite like shown in channel chasers, he probably had P A I N in his teeth, because according to the websites I looked at, Overbites can start to hurt if not fixed. (I myself have a slight overbite and I can actually kind of verify this, because sometimes my bottom teeth will just feel weird..like not in pain but not normal.)

So yeah, Timmy gets his Overbite aligned and doesn't have pains.

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galaxiasgreen · 2 months ago

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🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 10.3k words]

You made him smile that day, and you made him laugh. Though you were strange and he didn't always understand you, he did trust you, and care for you, even when you tried to hide your pain from the world. Just as he knew you'd do the same for him.

In which, after his best friend steals away a Dark relic, Ominis and you try to stop him one last time.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant, He Comforts You when You're Sad, Valentine’s, the Feldcroft goblin invasion quest, Solomon's Murder.

[MASTERLIST][FIRST][PREV][NEXT] [read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

4. Cursed

In the depths of the Feldcroft Catacombs, you held him for a long time.

He didn't realise how deeply he had been scarred by the experience, of his friend slowly and surely falling prey to the Dark Arts. Day by day, a petal would fall, plucked from Sebastian's stem until there was nothing left but the withered head.

And Ominis had let it happen, helpless.

Your touch was making it more bearable though, and now that his dam had broken, he felt freer, lighter than he had in weeks. There was something about the way you held him that offered the gift of peace – now, so long into your friendship, your hugs were legendary, known to bring comfort and serenity to any lucky enough to find themselves in your arms.

Your love language was always touch. He, by way of nature, or perhaps upbringing, was not the same – ironic, for someone who interacted frequently with the world by its physical feel.

Yet here he was, moored in the closeness of you.

The first time you hugged him properly, he wasn't expecting it. In third year, when spring was lolling across the Highlands and the sun was hinting at a warmer reprieve, he'd made it to Charms class early only to find you standing at the window opposite the door, sniffling.

"What's the matter?" he asked, heading over to you, combing through all that he'd done the day before.

"I've been really stupid," you said in an injured voice.

"What else is new?"

That got a sad laugh from you.

"I broke my wand."

He sighed. "How in Merlin's name did you manage that?"

"I must've whacked it off my bedside table when I was asleep. Then this morning I stepped on it..."

You pressed the two halves to his palms. Your strange wand, as strange as you were, bisected into two wooden pieces. No magic hummed beneath his fingers anymore – in typical you way, you'd well and truly destroyed it by total accident.

"Am I going to get expelled?" you asked timidly.

"Wizards break wands all the time," he said gently, handing the pieces back to you. "Remember Anne disarmed Sebastian last year, and his wand snapped when it hit the wall?"

"I remember. But..."

"But?"

You hesitated. "It's nothing. I guess I am being stupid."

And though Professor Ronen gave you a pass in Charms, you were melancholic for the rest of the day.

When the weekend came, Ominis, you, Sebastian, Anne, and your Hufflepuff best friend Adelaide Oakes piled into one carriage together bound for Hogsmeade. Sebastian and Anne did most of the talking, arguing about something menial, the properties of bat spleen, with Adelaide's occasional input, who was joining to buy new parchment.

You, on the other hand, were strangely quiet, disconcerting him for the entire ride over. Quiet contemplation was his job. On you, it was a cloak that did not fit.

When they alighted at the Hogsmeade entrance, Adelaide squeezed your arm. "Remember, I have the teashop booked for midday! I'll go get my parchment and quills and meet you in the square in an hour. Don't be late, okay?"

"Okay," you said, wooden.

"That... will give you plenty of time to peruse Honeydukes, won't it?" she said, frowning.

"Yes," you said, brighter now, but Ominis detected a whiff of a lie. "Yes, you're right."

"I have to get more Flobberworm mucus and Dittany stem," said Sebastian, when Adelaide left. "Which one of you will join me?"

"And miss Gibby getting a new wand?" said Anne. "As if."

"Come on, please?" he begged. "I hate the Magic Neep. It's so far away, and the bloke who runs it will blow my ears off when he discovers I donated my Mallowsweet stash to Garreth's latest experiments."

Anne shoved her brother. "Better work on your apologies now."

"Ominis? Best friend?"

"Nice try," said Ominis coolly.

Sebastian blew a raspberry. "Capeflappers, you lot are. I hope all your pillows are warm on both sides tonight."

He must've made a rude gesture as Anne swore when he hightailed away, and you headed to Ollivanders.

He liked the cute ring of the bell when the door opened, and the floorboards creaked when they stepped inside. It reminded him of the first time he'd stepped into the shop in Diagon Alley, frightened but fascinated. The place was strongly scented of wood and polish, and he loved it instantly.

Gerbold came around to the front. "Ah, good morning, you three. It's nice to see familiar faces. How can I help you?"

Ominis and Anne waited for you to say the words: I need a new wand. Instead, you opened your bag.

"Can you fix wands?"

Ominis' brow knitted together. Why would you want it fixed, when a new one was better? You knew wands could not be mended once broken.

"Ah." Gerbold's voice was sad, but he inspected the parts nonetheless. "Cosmetic issues and little damages, yes, but I'm afraid a repair of this scale would require most powerful magic, magic that I'm unfortunately not capable of." The halves clacked together as he returned them to you. "I can, however, get you a new wand."

"How..." you shuffled, "how much is it?"

"Seven Galleons, as always."

"Right."

But you seemed unsteady, reserved.

Strange.

"She'll have a new wand," said Anne, nudging your arm. "You're going to need one for class."

"Yes," you said, but disappointment ribboned through you. "Yes, please."

"Very well. Your old wand was a fun, quirky design," he noted. "Eight inches, unicorn hair core, dogwood. Your new wand will be different. It will see you have matured, and your needs matured with it. Bear with me. I will find you some wands I think might fit you."

When he went around the back, Anne stepped closer to whisper. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter."

"I'm blind, Gibby," said Ominis, "and even I can see something is the matter."

"Everything's fine," you insisted.

He didn't believe you, and had a feeling Anne didn't either. Gerbold returned with boxes rattling, opening them each, letting you swing them. The first erupted in sparks, crackling like fireworks above – he ducked under the counter with you until Gerbold dispersed them. The second turned Anne's robes into feathers, and the third caused a dust cloud to smack his face.

"Sorry!" you squeaked when he choked.

Nothing a spell from Gerbold couldn't clean. It wasn't until your sixth wand that the pairing happened, causing a warmth on Ominis' skin, and a delighted clap from Anne.

"An excellent choice," said Gerbold graciously. "Rowan wood, dragon heartstring, ten inches. This wand, I sense, will protect you when you need it most."

"Dragon heartstring?"

"A powerful core. I'm sure both Miss Sallow and Mr Gaunt could tell you about it."

His entire family had dragon heartstring core wands – all from the same dragon. He didn't know what to think now that you were the same.

"Is it... bad? That I don't have a unicorn hair core anymore?"

"Not at all. The wand chooses the witch. It will match you, body and spirit. I think you'll find much to enjoy of your new wand."

Still, you didn't seem particularly thrilled. As Gerbold tidied the other wands away, Ominis sensed your gloom like bad weather, preparing to downpour.

"It's a lovely wand," said Anne, and it was clear by her high inflection that she was troubled by your mood as well. "Take care of it, will you?"

"I— I'll be less much less clumsy with it. I will."

There was a strange sort of determination in you.

"May I feel it?" Ominis asked.

You gave it to him, and he smiled once he curled his fingers around it. It wasn't unlike your old one – longer, of course, but also engraved with swirling designs, the shaft a unique undulation, albeit not as crooked as before.

"It... has a handle," he said at last. "I trust you know which way to hold this one?"

But you said nothing when he gave it back. Instead, you packed the box away and tucked your new wand into your pocket, then went to the counter to pay.

"Seven Galleons..." you mumbled.

He presumed you were simply counting – three years and your grasp on wizard currency wasn't great. Perhaps you were mixing them up with shillings. Anne inhaled a shaky gasp as you paid, but said nothing even when they were outside.

"So, to Honeydukes?" he asked.

"I— I think it's too late," you said. "I have to meet Adelaide at the teashop, remember?"

His brow furrowed. "It's not yet midday. You have half an hour—"

"No," you said. "I'm not going today. I'll see you both back at school, all right?"

And you hurried away without another word.

"Not going?" Ominis turned to Anne. "All right, what's wrong with her?"

"You couldn't tell?" She blew from her nose. "Sorry, I guess you couldn't see her facial expressions. It was pretty obvious to me once she paid. I think she had to choose between the wand and sweets. She doesn't have enough money for both."

It stunned him to silence, and he turned to your direction, as if he could still sense the ghost of you there. Though his mother was a notorious spendthrift, pouring Galleons into expensive clothes and jewellery and holidays around the globe, and his father sank his shares into business ventures, political campaigns and land, money had been no object to him, ever. It was a wonder how the Gaunts had anything to their name at all, since Ominis was certain his brothers and sisters, buoyed by their lofty status as Slytherin's descendants, had no well-paying jobs and were about as frugal as a pack of drunken Leprechauns.

He'd never been left wanting for food and clothing, and often had enough to spend on the odd luxury. But Anne – she understood poverty. It was the reason the other pure-bloods disdained her. She'd known your troubles implicitly; Ominis had not, and shame washed over him. He hadn't comprehended such a problem existed until it was happening before him. Until it was happening to you.

He stuck his hands in his pockets. Galleons tinkled within – not much, but enough. He flurried his wand to grasp his bearings.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Honeydukes."

They didn't spend long in there – Ominis knew exactly what you liked. He bought Fizzing Whizzbees and toffee nougat and as many Chocolate Frogs as he could stuff into the paper bag, making Anne peek inside to see whether the cards could be added to your collection. Red liquorice he bought too, though the strands were thicker than the ones you got from home. He paid for it all with the Galleons in his pocket and didn't think twice about how frivolous it felt to spend all this money on sweets.

For him, it was wasteful. For you, however, it was a pleasure.

There were five minutes to go before you were to meet Adelaide. Anne spotted you loitering by the teashop, hands wringing.

"What's this?" you asked, when he offered you the bag.

"It's for you."

You took it gingerly.

"It— my favourites! Ominis, Anne, did you...?"

"His idea," said Anne.

You whispered to him, "These... are all for me?"

Heat crept to his cheeks then. It was quite flustering to hear the awe in your voice.

"Just... don't eat them all at once. You'll get toothache."

That's when it happened. When he almost stumbled off his feet as your arms wrapped around him and your face buried into his shoulder and your knees bumped his thighs.

"Thank you."

Muffled against his clothes, you said it so earnestly, so full of joy... he wasn't a hugger, anyone could attest, but this... he enjoyed the fierceness with which you held him, embraced him. How nice it was to feel you in return, your happiness made physical.

"I promise I'll pay you back," you mumbled into him.

"You won't. It's a gift."

You squeezed him tighter. A smile overrode his surprise, and he was grinning suddenly, his own mood triumphing. He couldn't tell if it was for the good deed itself, or for its reward.

You extracted yourself as a great drumbeat sounded across the square. The timbre was shortly followed by the energetic string of a lute.

"Is that— it is! Ernie Lark!"

You took his hand in his and dragged him across the square.

"Hey, what—?"

"Let's dance!"

"What?"

Anne was laughing as she ran to catch up. "Yes!"

The violin thrilled the bass notes as you and Ominis neared. "Don't you have to be at the teashop—?"

"I have time for one song." You stopped him next to the band, and took his hands. "Come on!"

He flustered again. "I-I don't dance!"

"Everyone dances!"

It was so absurd that he let himself get swung around with you, your shoes a symphony, your laughter high and wild, your upbeat mood replenished. A small act of kindness from him, and it was like he'd moved the clouds from the sun. His own mood was luminous too – your hug had that effect on him. Soon Anne was laughing, and when she couldn't stop, neither could he – then you were all a giggling mess.

"What are you lot doing?"

Sebastian and Adelaide had come over, paper bags crinkling.

"Dancing!" said Anne.

"You look ridiculous!" Sebastian said, but he was laughing too.

"Join us!" you said.

All of you danced together, a batty group of students, linking arms, amused for no reason at all. Ernie Lark finished the song, rasping for tips, and you dropped two coins into his hat – later he would find out they were Knuts, the last of your pocket change – and hurried off with Adelaide to the teashop.

Just as he knew you'd do the same for him.

He didn't feel much better about Sebastian stealing away a Dark Magic relic when he finally stopped crying on your shoulder. You held him, your fingers digging into his arms for support. Though shorter than him now, by quite a lot, you were his support, a column of impenetrable stone in the raging storm – the eye, its calming centre. You smelt of death and decay and blood and dust.

And, peeking through it all, strawberry laces.

"We'll figure this out," you mumbled to him.

"Will we?"

"Be optimistic, Ominis."

"You know that's not who I am. Positivity cannot save everything."

"Neither will relentless cynicism. We have to believe we can help Sebastian, otherwise we'll never be able to." Your grip shuddered. "And we have to trust that Missy will help him too."

He scoffed, though it came out wet and watery. "I trust Missy about as far as I can throw her."

"That's not right." There was teasing in your voice. "Your Depulso could chuck her quite far away."

It was so absurd a mental image he guffawed.

"Come on," you said, snaking your arm around his. "Let's get out of here. Assuming Sebastian doesn't know how to work the relic, we have some time to figure out a game plan."

That was a large assumption, though he didn't think such artefacts often came with an instruction manual.

It took some time to navigate out of the catacombs. As natural light stole the need for Lighting charms, something wrinkled Ominis' nose – the smell of burning that he'd detected when they landed by the entrance. It was stronger now, and strengthened still as you finally broke to the surface world. Night was coming through a swathe of evening breeze and a flutter of nocturnal wildlife, coming awake.

"What is that?" he asked, turning his nose to the air. "Can you smell that too?"

"Like burnt toast, yes," you confirmed. "I don't— oh."

"What?"

"There smoke on the horizon. Coming up north-west..."

You seemed to realise at the same time he did. Suddenly you were both running, eating the ground in great strides until the hillock was beneath you, and the air was stale with smoke.

"Feldcroft," you said, stunned. "I-It's— burning."

But— Sebastian. Solomon. Anne.

"We have to go. Now."

You didn't hesitate. You grabbed the broom and yanked him on. Lust be damned, he held onto you like nothing else mattered, a small comfort in the fear that ran circles in his head. Was it simply arson, Ashwinders that had grown too bold? Or worse? Was it Ranrok's grunts, coming down from Rookwood Castle for a second taste of wrath? What if Sebastian and Anne were hurt?

Or killed?

"Oh, gosh, Ominis—" you called.

"What is it?"

"There's— so many dead bodies." A short pause. "Goblin! Mostly goblin!"

The goblins attacked?

Though you steadied the momentum quicker, you landed the broom hard again, but he was more prepared for it, bending his knees on impact. He'd broken into a run in seconds.

"Sebastian?" he called into the chaotic din. "Anne?"

No answer.

"This way," you said, pulling him.

He was disorientated when you led him to the Sallow house. The smell was all wrong, the feel. Feldcroft was his true home, and yet all he could taste was Dark Magic and bloodied steel and the bitter stench of death. You summoned water as you went, quenching the worst of the flames.

"Sebastian!" you yelled as you banged on the front door. "Anne! Mr Sallow—"

The door swung open – relief filled Ominis at Solomon's voice.

"You two!"

But it wasn't friendly. It was gruff and growling, like a wolf over newly-whelped pups.

"Stay outside!" he commanded. "Don't you dare set a foot—"

"Is Anne all right?" Ominis asked desperately.

"She's fine—"

"And Sebastian?" you asked.

But up reared that disgust. Ominis had never heard anything like it, even when they'd argued during the summer holidays.

"Sebastian and that girl have been barred from coming into this house, into this village! You two better not have been encouraging him and his Dark Magic!"

Dark Magic? Had he showed Solomon the relic? He had confessed to using the Cruciatus Curse on you?

You were confused too. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"We don't know where he is, or Missy," Ominis said. "Please, may we see Anne?"

Solomon seemed to consider this.

"You can see Anne, Ominis. You," he said to you, "stay outside."

Hurt crossed you. "But, Mr Sallow—"

"That's final."

Ominis faced Solomon. "Please, I implore you—"

"No," you said, letting him go. "No, it's... it's okay. Give Anne my love. I'll— see if there's anything I can do for the villagers."

So Ominis stepped into the Sallow residence. Alone.

It was warm – unbearably so. The hearth burnt, the wood cracking and breaking, but it could not disguise the smell of Dark Magic that rippled like flies over the dead. The house was once familiar, but though the furniture had not moved and the place seemed unharmed in the attack, the alien, hostile aura was unsettling. Solomon shut the door and sank into the chair.

"It's a mess, Ominis."

"How, sir?"

"Sebastian," was all he said. "Anne is in the other room. I'll ask if she's up to seeing you."

He stepped out. Ominis paced, as he was wont to do when he was nervous – a terrible habit he'd never been able to break. The memories of the Feldcroft Catacombs lay fresh in his mind like new bedsheets – what more could Sebastian have possibly done in such a short amount of time?

Solomon returned. "She'll see you."

"Thank you."

"You have a good head on your shoulders." Displeasure curled through his tone. "I hope my nephew hasn't led you astray."

He let him pass.

For years, Anne had shared this space with Sebastian, two beds shunted to opposite sides of the wall, with Ominis on a makeshift one on the floor. They'd eaten sweets and played Gobstones and gossiped until the early hours of morning, sometimes about things that mattered, what they wanted to do in future, or the difficulties of family, and sometimes about the silly things, what they could eat every day forever, or which teacher they fancied the most. Every time, they enjoyed each other's company. In more recent years, Anne had taken to freshening the place with incense and flowers – to scrub away 'eau de Teenage Boy', as she'd snarkily put it.

Today, however, it reeked of mud and dirt, and tears drying on leather. It was heated, but not warm. He didn't feel welcome here. He didn't feel like this was his home.

She shifted in her bed, and Ominis closed the door. "Anne—"

"Ominis," she said, breathless. "I— I can't... Sebastian..."

His pulse quickened. "What happened? I know goblins attacked. Sebastian—"

"Came to stop them, him and Missy both. Ranrok's loyalists were ransacking the place out of retaliation."

"Against him?"

"Against her."

Missy? "But... but why—?"

"It doesn't matter!" A new sob wormed its way up her throat, and Ominis came to her bedside, held her trembling hand. Her wrists were so thin and delicate, atrophying from the curse. "Sebastian— he and Missy got here when the goblins were destroying the marketplace. We— Uncle Solomon and I— we were doing our best to fend them off. Missy helped clear out the majority of them, but when they surrounded me, Sebastian—" She choked. "He used the Imperius Curse."

The wind left his lungs.

"On a goblin?"

Anne let out a tremulous breath.

"On all the goblins, Ominis. It... it was a massacre."

He couldn't even fathom something so awful.

"He killed them all?"

"Every last one. Like puppets." She gripped his arm then, buried her face into his neck, tears streaming. "Some of them— they screamed when he made them kill themselves. They begged for mercy."

How did he know the Imperius Curse? How was he proficient enough to use it on so many, all at once? Far be it from him to feel pity for Ranrok's stooges, but even this garnered a strong surge of sympathy, and a stronger surge of disturbance. They killed themselves because of him.

How, how, how?

Is it my fault? The thought crossed him at once, even though he had been vehemently against the Dark Arts for so long, fighting Sebastian in naught but this. Did he see the successes of my family name, of my ancestor, and think he could do the same?

"What am I to do?" she whispered into his shoulder. "Why, when I beg him to stop, does he not listen?"

"I— I don't know."

She leant back. "I forgive and forgive and forgive his search for a cure— but where do I draw the line? At what point is it madness, to let him continue? What happens next, when he thinks it's okay to use the Killing Curse?"

"It won't come to that," Ominis said, stronger now. "I will make sure."

"Swear to me, Ominis."

It was a faint echo of a broken promise.

But unlike Sebastian, he intended to keep his word.

"I swear."

It didn't seem to reassure her much. At all, actually. It was beyond the point of comfort, when evidence to the contrary was just past the wall.

"Gibby is outside," he pivoted quietly, hoping to raise her spirits. "She's hoping to see you."

She sniffled. "Solomon doesn't trust her, not like he does you."

"I know, but I can talk him down."

"I... I'm sorry." She swallowed. "I want to be alone."

He nodded, going to leave, but her grip strengthened suddenly – a moment of the old Anne flaming back to life.

"And I want you to hold tightly to her goodness," she said, "and never let her go."

Outside, decay festered. The villagers were slower returning from their hiding places, taking stock of the bodies, the hamlet besmirched once more by the terrible coming of a war no one wanted any part of. All the fires had been put out, and he heard you by the fountain, helping to shovel debris away – almost comical in the moment, that you'd forgotten you had a wand to help you with physical labour.

You panted and set the shovel down when he reached you. "How is she?"

"Terrible," he admitted.

"It— I don't blame her. The villagers mostly hid during the attack. I think they were relying on Mr Sallow to keep them safe, retired Auror and all. Of course Anne felt compelled to help... Ominis, every single one of these bodies has been stabbed with their own swords."

He didn't need to explain. You seemed to have figured out the truth already. Solomon's accusations and the evidence before you were enough to piece together the truth.

"Any news on Sebastian?" he asked.

"None."

He was no doubt somewhere licking his wounds after being banished. "And Missy?"

"Someone saw her running east. I can try to track her again like at the catacombs?"

It was an idea, though you were aware it might not work. Missy, after all, could've flown straight out of here. Still, you cast Revelio, and set off after a set of footprints going east out of the hamlet and up the incline.

It was him that caught a thread of something that didn't belong to nature. A voice on the wind. As he quietened you and headed closer, the voice clarified into great, wracking sobs, enough to lurch his chest. A strange noise, coming from someone so used to conquering, to firmness and strength.

You headed up the hill, determined to find her, and he followed, less certain.

Missy was sitting on the crest of the hill, heaving with sorrow. You went up to her at once, causing her to startle and draw coarse sleeves across her face.

"Gibby, Ominis—"

"Oh, Missy."

You gave her a mythic hug. You didn't ask. You didn't need to. Missy seemed to calm, and when you withdrew, she inhaled sharply again.

"Please excuse me, I—"

"Don't be daft. There's nothing to excuse."

"You know, then? You know what—" Another sharp intake of breath. "You know what happened."

"We know."

Missy settled. You sat down. He sat next to you, chilled as the wind cut through them. Strange that, though smoke lay waste to his senses, he could smell your soap and the dye in Missy's hair, an unruly concoction.

"Stupid, imprudent Sebastian," she said. "I'm not afraid of the Dark Arts, but I know the boundaries of its use. Sebastian— doesn't."

"I could've told you that," said Ominis. Probably not helpful, but it was truth. "You saw him, then? He used the Imperius Curse?"

"On all of the goblins, yes."

It was still unthinkable.

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. No doubt gone to figure out how to work the thing."

And the sacrifice it would feed upon, too.

You all lapsed into silence. You and Missy were watching the hamlet in the distance, he assumed. Watching the sun set on a tainted day. He bowed his head, shut his eyes. Fatigue had overcome him suddenly, from battling spiders to arguing with his best friend to this – and he wondered how this was all going to end, how Sebastian's obsession would ultimately come to head.

Expulsion?

Death?

The loss of his best friend, either way?

"Anne told me the goblins attacked in retaliation," he said, changing the subject before his emotions wrangled him. "They were retaliating against you."

Missy didn't answer immediately. "It's true."

"What did you do?"

"I stormed Rookwood Castle with Professor Fig not so long ago."

"What?" you bellowed. "Missy, are you off your rocker? They're the ones that cursed Anne!"

"I know. It's not what you think. I didn't do it for fun."

"Then why?"

But she didn't answer. Always cryptic.

"Am I to presume," said Ominis, "that you killed many of them?"

Another long pause. "Yes, I did."

"Missy..." you mumbled.

"I will not have your judgement," she snapped. "If I could've walked in there without bloodshed, I would've. I had a very good reason."

"Let me guess," Ominis muttered. "Redemption?"

He thought that would dig under her skin, like it had done in the catacombs, but she was simply silent. Infuriating. There were many things about Missy he didn't understand – the aura surrounding her, her tendency to keep dangerous secrets. Even the way she wielded magic was baffling, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He'd never sympathise with the creatures that cursed Anne and murdered countless others, but Missy made it very difficult to feel anything other than animosity either.

"You don't agree with Sebastian taking the relic," he said. "So why help him at all? And don't lie, it's more than helping Anne at this point."

You were soft and sweet. "It's because you like like him, isn't it?"

She spluttered. "I-I don't know what you—"

"Come off it. If Ominis figured it out—"

"I resent that."

"— then it must be really obvious."

Grass rustled.

"His intentions are noble," she said, voice garbled in a way that meant she'd buried her head between her knees. "And he's— charming."

That he could agree with. Sebastian could talk his way through most situations, even those where he was in trouble, a skill he never learnt but had a unique penchant for, in a way Ominis would never understand.

All throughout their school years their peers had thrown themselves at his feet – near Valentine's Day in fourth year, Ominis caught him with Penelope Prendleghast, a then fifth-year, in the greenhouses.

He heard that soggy peeling as their lips parted. "O-Ominis—" spluttered Sebastian.

With as much grace as a troll, Ominis swung around. "No! No. I'm leaving now."

It was moments like those that he was grateful he didn't have sight.

"You two seemed... rather intertwined," Ominis said to him later that day, when they were back in the greenhouse doing what they were supposed to be doing – potting Venomous Tentacular. "A fifth-year too? Did you pay her?"

Sebastian laughed. "Only in charm and good looks."

"Then perhaps she was desperate? Or blind? Though as a blind person I can tell you which one I think."

"You're a true comedian, Ominis." He let out a sheepish noise then. "Actually, I'm glad you interrupted. It was really gross."

"Oh?"

"I didn't expect it to be so... wet."

Ominis choked up a laugh. "You're doing something wrong if it's wet."

"How many girls have you snogged to reach that conclusion?"

"A gentleman never tells."

"So none."

It was none, but Ominis wasn't too fussed.

"If you had to snog someone," said Sebastian, egging him on, "who would you choose?"

You popped into his head then. He fought to push you down.

"I don't know, Professor Garlick?"

"You devil! You're lucky she's in the other greenhouse right now." Then a sly laugh – Sebastian had seen right through his faux answer. "It's Gibby though, right?"

Ominis rammed soil into the pot. This was long after your argument in the Undercroft.

"Don't be crass, Sebastian. We're no longer friends."

"That wasn't a no."

It wasn't, but he didn't need to know that. "And what if I said Anne?"

"Contrary to the laws of older brothers, I would support you, but I don't have to think about my sister and my best friend kissing, because I know she's not the one you dream about at night. Gibby has nice lips, you know."

Ominis decided not to grace that with a response. But it was true – you did have nice lips. All the times he felt your face told him so. He just couldn't imagine them on his.

Smiling, sweet, addictive...

"You're blushing," Sebastian noted. "Thinking about taking her pretty face in your hands, are you? Pulling her close and smooching her, tasting all those sweets on her tongue—"

Ominis chucked soil at him.

Valentine's was one of your favourite times of year though. No one celebrated it much – not like you did. You made cards and gifts, insisting on sharing the love with everyone you knew. Very often you stole into the kitchens to make truffles and share them out with your friends. Ominis got a whole box of them, along with Sebastian and Anne.

Not this year though. This year, he would get none.

Sebastian was tossing candied pineapple into his mouth before Transfiguration on the day itself. Ominis was practicing his wandwork when the owl shot through the window, tumbled around in air, squawking, and dropped something on Sebastian's desk with a clatter.

"It's... a hair-crimping potion? And a love letter. From Sacharissa Tugwood... Says that I'm fetching and if I'd like to go to Hogsmeade."

"I suppose I'll have to take your word on that," Ominis mused. "So? Will you accept?"

"No." He crumpled the letter. "She's obsessed with her looks. Bit of a turn-off."

"Pot calling the kettle black?"

Sebastian shoved him. "Where's all your love letters then?"

Ominis never got any. He suspected, because he hung around with Sebastian, his much more amiable, and supposedly handsome, companion, all considerations went to him. It was fine, really, and Ominis didn't want the hassle. That is, until a much more concerning thought crossed him – he was the blind, runt son of the austere House of Gaunt. And inbred, at that. It was no secret his grandparents had been related, and his parents cousins once-removed. Why him and his siblings were... different.

What would he do, if it were true? If his very nature was... off-putting? He couldn't change it. He was himself, forever more.

Still, he gave off an air of nonchalance. "My love letters are all lost in the post, I imagine."

"All none of them," said Sebastian, putting on that ridiculous air again. "You know, if you made up with Gibby—"

"Not happening."

"— then you'd be getting a swell box of truffles today—"

"Unless you plan to Transfigure your pineapple into a goblet, Mr Sallow," Professor Weasley's office door shut behind her, "I suggest you put those away before I confiscate them."

Sebastian swerved so easily, laughed so genially. Charm. It was natural. "Sorry, Professor. Would you like one? It's Valentine's Day, and even teachers deserve some appreciation once in a while."

She barked a laugh. "Nice try, young man, but no. Away."

He tucked them into his bag as you burst into the classroom.

"Sorry! Sorry, Professor. I know I'm a little late."

"That you are. Care to explain why?"

Your brilliance was like a dawn chorus. "Making Valentine's gifts."

Weasley seemed endeared by this, despite her admonishment. "You can make as many gifts as you like... after class. Quickly now, to your seat."

You hurried to your place, and over the course of the lesson, whilst they were turning butterflies into bells, you were sneakily handing out cards and truffles to all your friends. Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur, and Natsai and Cressida and Garreth.

And Leander.

"Wow, thank you, Gibs," he said to you, probably grinning a fool. "I-I didn't get you anything."

"You don't have to. It's for fun!"

Leander Prewett. How that annoying simpleton had earnt your attention, Ominis would never know. The boy was singing your praises, thick as marzipan. Best truffles he'd ever tasted, he claimed to all who could hear. Which earnt you both reprimand for eating during class.

When the lesson finished and Weasley dismissed everyone, you approached Sebastian as Ominis was packing away his satchel.

"For you!" you said cheerfully.

"Why, thank you, Gibby," he said airily. "I'll add them to my hoard of Valentine's chocolates I've got from all my admirers. I'll get back to you in – two weeks? Rough estimate, might be longer."

"Don't be a hornswoggler," you said, whatever that meant. "You know mine will be the best."

"If this is your way of confessing your undying love for me, you'll have to get in line."

You scoffed. "Your own reflection wouldn't have you, Sebastian Sallow."

Then you passed Ominis' desk, and didn't say a word.

The rejection stung.

It still did, a year later, even after he'd made up with you and Valentine's Day was coming in a few months' time. Secretly he looked forward to your truffles again.

But Christmas was before. Your second favourite holiday. And it was a rare one indeed, when you, he, Sebastian and Missy all agreed to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. Ominis to avoid his family, like every year, Sebastian because he was banished from his home, and you and Missy to keep watch on him. Sheer luck had sent all the other pure-blood families home – not a single Malfoy, Fawley, Black or Ellingboe, which meant less pressure to hide your friendship. You wore long tweed skirts and woollen jumpers, and he shirts with the top buttons undone, and loose trousers meant for riding. With Missy you played Exploding Snap and ate food and tried to search for Sebastian, often in vain. Even on the day itself, he wasn't there. The castle was too large to find him, and he never stayed in the Slytherin dungeons anymore.

The owl, however, appeared when you were with him, in the Quad Courtyard.

Please can we talk? Usual place, 9pm. Come alone.

It had been some weeks after the Feldcroft debacle. Anne had told Ominis she was receiving letters from her brother daily, trying every moment to convince him to meet. Term was restarting in two days and he didn't know how long Anne could put him off – he knew Sebastian to be stubborn, and Anne to be forgiving of even the most fatal flaws where her brother was concerned.

His face must've shown his displeasure, as you took the letter from his hands and rubbed your thumb across a few times.

"He's— asking to talk? Tonight, I think?"

"Yes." You gave the letter back, but he simply tore it. "I shouldn't go."

"He might be remorseful."

"When have you ever known Sebastian to show remorse?"

"Fair point." You hesitated. "I can come if you want? I know it says alone, but..."

"No." He rubbed his temple. "I'll go alone. I'll see what he wants."

So at nine o'clock on the dot, you watched Ominis climb into the lift shaft by himself, promising to wait for him on the stairs. On his descent, back erupting with gooseflesh, Ominis resolved not to argue with his friend anymore. He was tired of it, drinking more and more hatred from the well that remained permanently full within him.

When the grille lifted, Sebastian was there, pacing. Each boot step stoked Ominis' nerves.

"Hello," he greeted stiffly.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Hello. Thank you for coming."

"What do you want then?"

"Don't start like that. Please. I... don't like to fight with you, Ominis."

"You do make it spectacularly easy."

No response to that.

Instead, Ominis came further inside, until Sebastian was before him.

"You summoned me, and here I am. So I'll ask again," softer now, "what do you want?"

"I've figured out how to use the relic."

He might as well have drawn the rug from beneath his feet.

"You're really going to risk it, aren't you?"

"I am. Anne and I— we've come to an agreement."

There was too much to unpack in that statement.

"You saw Anne? When?"

"A few days ago. She— Solomon wants to leave Feldcroft, move somewhere else." His breathing became aggravated. "It's our home. The goblins can't chase us out of there."

"I think it has more to do with you than them, Sebastian."

"I asked her to stall, and then I— told her about the relic. She's agreed to try it on two conditions. The first, that this be the last thing I try. If this doesn't work, then... then I give up." He seemed to push the words through clenched teeth. "The second is that you're there."

Ominis was surprised at that, and a little touched.

"She trusts you, is why," Sebastian said. "So... will you come?"

"And what did you find out about the relic?" Ominis asked, because he'd be damned to get into more of this mess without a thorough explanation. "What is the Dark sacrifice required to make it work?"

"It summons Inferi. It controls them."

"That's all?" Ominis scoffed. "It's an artefact of Salazar Slytherin, and you think prodding around some Inferi will be the only price? Remember the Scriptorium, when Gibby ended up getting badly hurt?"

"It predates Slytherin, actually. I've researched it."

"Perhaps not hard enough."

"Hate your ancestor however much you want, fine. But what about me?" His voice became a whisper. "Do you trust me?"

That was a long, complicated answer, and he knew, when he didn't answer right away, he'd hurt Sebastian where it mattered.

"I... I know I'm rash, and I'm single-minded when it comes to Anne. But this matters to me. I need you to understand that, Ominis. This matters more than anything else – more than my own life. I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you, or her, or Gibby and Missy, or anyone. I just— I just want my sister to live the life she deserves."

Missy had said it, Ominis knew it, yet here it was on full display – Sebastian and his silver tongue, his perfectly timed inflections and vigour. He did believe what he was saying, and for many years that was enough for Ominis – he would immediately cave. But now it came with doses of scepticism large enough to paralyse a man.

"I cried, you know. After you left the catacombs."

"Ominis—"

"You left with a trail of broken promises behind you. Time and time again, I've been taken for a fool. I struggle to trust you, Sebastian, that's the reality of this. How do I know you're telling the truth? How do I know this is the last thing you'll do?"

"Because there will be nothing left for me to do. If this doesn't work, then— then I have nothing. Anne will have closure, and that will be peace enough for me. Please." A faint grip on his shoulders. "You're my best friend. You're the last person I want to argue with. If anything goes wrong, I— I want you there."

His hands promptly dropped at Ominis' expression. Everything coursed through him then – frustration, anger, a sorrow so deeply sown it was impossible to dig up. He thought of Sebastian, all those years ago at Malfoy Manor, unseated by his parents' death, but still noble, defending his honour, defending Ominis' honour. He thought of the first day of school, whispering to one another in the dorms when Anne had gone to bed, their friendship new and budding, and he thought of the mischief they'd got up to since. Sebastian had comforted him after the Cruciatus Curse, and all his family woes since. There was you, too, and your shenanigans. Could he let it all disappear, dissolve like ash on the wind?

I will not stop fighting for him. He'd said that, in the catacombs. It would be easy to let go, to turn away. The harder choice was to stay and fight, as he promised he would. Sebastian was action, Ominis was reason – a balance perfectly maintained.

But how far would he chase after his friend for the sake of nostalgia? To the ends of the earth? Off a steep cliff?

Into the loving embrace of Dark Magic?

"All right," he said at last. "I will be there."

Relief spilt from Sebastian. "Thank you."

"But this is the last chance I give you. There will be no more begging after this, Sebastian, and I swear," Ominis flashed his teeth, "if you do anything that could put anyone in harm's way, including yourself, I will stop you. I don't care how, and I don't care if it makes you angry. I don't care. Do you understand?"

"I understand. For real, this time." Sebastian took a step back. "I have some things to prepare, but with Solomon threatening to leave we'll have to do it soon. Tomorrow, maybe. I'll let you know."

"And Gibby?" he asked, only because there was no way you wouldn't get involved. "She's waiting upstairs."

But Sebastian was forthright. "No. She can't come. Nor Missy."

"Why not?"

"They just— can't. I don't want to involve more people than I have to. Missy's going through her own... stuff... and I think it's best if Gibby stays away. You... care about her, I think you'll agree."

But you were part of this now, as much as he was. "They care about you. After everything, you'd cast them out? Missy has fought at your side every step of the way!"

"She has enough on her plate. Gibby, you said it yourself: anything Slytherin-related is risky around a Muggle-born. And, well," a tired amusement, "if something happened to her, you'd kill me."

"I would, but you said something yourself too, long ago. She's tenacious, and too loyal to us." And you could take care of yourself.

He wasn't entirely won over, but did agree that, if kept at a safe distance, you and Missy could be backup in case of dire need. So when they both left the Undercroft, and Sebastian fielded your questions, hurrying back to the common room, you waited as he told you everything.

"This is madness," you spluttered. "I can't believe you agreed!"

"Anne agreed," he said, "and if she agreed—"

"If she told you to slap your thighs and do the Polka, would you?"

"That's not fair, Gibby."

"What's not fair," you insisted, "is Sebastian getting second, third, a billion chances. It's not fair on you, nor Anne, nor me nor Missy. That thing will control the Inferi, right? How many? Does it summon them, too? How big is its range? There's too many questions—"

"What do you expect me to do?" You flinched – he heard you. "I agree, Sebastian uses the relic. I say no, Sebastian uses the relic without me there anyway."

You chafed, because you knew it was true. It was better to keep watch than to let him play by himself.

"Then— this is a stupid idea."

"I know."

"And something's very wrong when I'm the one saying that."

"Oh, how the tables turn." His smile was tired, wan. "You will come, won't you? It would... comfort me, to know you're there."

You squeezed his hand, touch brief. "Of course I'll be there."

Sebastian's plea came through later that evening, his prediction correct. They'd do it the next night.

Ominis struggled to sleep.

By the following evening, his nerves had been shot, his wand hand restless enough to drum it against his thighs. Sebastian claimed to have prepared everything. Missy didn't like the idea, but she was more willing to try it than you. She wasn't afraid of the darkness like you were.

Sebastian picked a spot outside the Feldcroft Catacombs, the night sky their witness, the trees their guard. It was cold, even beneath layers of robes and a scarf. You were shivering the entire flight over, no matter how tightly he held you – Sebastian's choice of area was empty and relatively flat, the ideal spot to test the artefact for the first time.

So it went. Ominis, Sebastian and Anne, and you and Missy, waiting a polite distance away.

The five of you, together at last.

Anne, however, was having second thoughts.

"I— I really don't think we should do this."

"We've come this far," Sebastian was saying, working that inexplicable verbal magic as he prepared Slytherin's spellbook, open at his feet. "You said you would. One last shot."

"I— I know what I said, but—"

"Your curse can be reversed, Anne. You can walk around outside without having to think about the nearest resting place. You can stay up all night and eat bad food and run around. You can come back to school with me – with Ominis and Gibby, and you can get to know Missy better. You won't have to feel helpless every time the pain comes, and worry about the next when it doesn't." His voice was parched. "You can be normal again."

Anne hesitated – and perhaps, all this time, Ominis had underestimated how much she wanted it, how much she craved that sense of normalcy she'd been forced to abandon. Maybe that was why she forgave so much, why she bequeathed Sebastian chance after chance. Because it was never about Sebastian saving his sister – sometimes it was Anne saving herself.

Once, she had been just a girl, with her boisterous brother and silly friends. Now the future she dreamt of had been stolen.

"I promised, didn't I?" he said quietly. "This was my last chance."

"It is," she whispered. "I swear it, Sebastian—"

"I know."

They hugged. Ominis waited. Someone sniffled – and they sounded too alike for him to decipher who.

"Let's start."

Ominis took several steps back, clenching his wand, as Anne did the same, leaving Sebastian in the middle. It reassured him to know you were behind him, vigilant. Sebastian began to mutter, and the change was subtle at first, like lake water to river, or a slight dip in temperature. Ominis detected it, raising the hairs on his neck, shortly following the smell – thick, not necessarily bad, but tangy. He wet his lips with it, uncertain.

That's when he heard the first cry. Far, far in the distance.

He swung around. It wasn't a human scream – more the first rasping from a long slumber. Something dashed by his feet. A sharp fork of lightning.

"Watch out!" Sebastian cried, but he sounded confident. "This thing— it's volatile!"

Ominis raised his wand, honing his senses. He'd have to be careful.

That noise again in the distance. Then again. Only until he heard it a fourth time, closer now, did he realise, this was it.

The Inferi were rising.

"Don't worry, they're under my command!" Sebastian still oozed confidence. "Hang tight, Anne! We can do this!"

"Wait—" Missy cried, and Ominis inclined his ear towards her, far back. "Wait, something— something's not right."

He heard footsteps then, sprinting away. Yours.

Where the hell were you running off to?

The relic droned, and the ground shook suddenly – Ominis almost lost his footing. It seemed to happen at once. The fields of rolling green and patchwork dirt quaked suddenly, disturbed by a great upheaval of charged magic – Dark Magic. It ricocheted in Ominis' bones. Another branch of lightning struck by his feet.

Then there you were – at his side.

"Sebastian!" you screamed. "Stop!"

"What?" Ominis asked, at the same time Sebastian said, "Why? We've only just—"

"You must stop!" you cried. "The Inferi— they're going to Feldcroft!"

All too late did Ominis sense it. Those cries in the distance. They were near the settlement.

"No—" Sebastian gave a laugh. "No, the Inferi are being controlled by me. They're coming here—"

"They're not. I can see the hamlet from the perch!"

"Sebastian—" said Anne, unsure.

"We've only just started! The relic hasn't even reached its full—"

Boom. Ominis was knocked off his feet – wand flying clean from his grasp. He sucked in a breath, but the air was a gale around him. Sebastian was yelping, struggling to stay upright.

"It— it's working!"

Ominis braced his hands and knees. Somehow the relic was broadcasting a heartbeat, Anne's heartbeat. Like a drumbeat on his skin, weak but steady and getting stronger by the moment. It was impossible. He wouldn't have believed it if all his senses weren't offering this truth.

Something punched through the ground in front of him – an Inferi, escaping the tombs far below. My wand. Without it he was helpless to defend himself.

You were screaming. "Sebastian, please!"

"It's working, Gibby! Anne is being—"

"They're going to attack the hamlet! They're going to kill defenceless people!"

This time Anne's voice was a keening croak. "I-I feel— strange."

You were okay – a small victory in the panic slowly overcoming Ominis' anticipation. If Sebastian was controlling the Inferi, why were they going to Feldcroft? He wobbled towards Anne through the chaos, making to avoid an Inferi until it swung a clean blow to his jaw. Pain smacked him at once, and he staggered backwards, tasting blood.

"Hey!" Sebastian was shouting at them. "Don't attack them!"

But the Inferi were screeching now, their taste for death unquenchable. Someone blasted his attacker to pieces.

"Ominis!" yelled Missy. "Your wand!"

He scrabbled for it in the grass, wasting precious seconds, before struggling towards Anne, taking her by the arm.

"Anne—!"

"No—" Her voice was slippery and strange. "No— the hamlet—" She gripped him back, stronger than he'd ever felt her. "You must stop him."

"But— your health—"

"Is not worth our home!" she said. "You swore to me, Ominis. Remember?"

And she was right. This wasn't what he agreed to. The realisation sank through him like cold mud. The Inferi weren't under control. They'd endangered all their lives.

"Sebastian!" he cried, turning towards his friend. "You cannot condemn Feldcroft like this!"

"They have Solomon!" Sebastian grunted. "They have—"

"One Auror against hundreds!" Missy shrilled too. "You have to stop!"

Droves of Inferi tore through the grass now, desperate for breath and night sky. Missy summoned his wand and battled towards him, blasting and blasting, felling them one by one until they were ash. Was this the sacrifice, then? Hordes of the uncontrollable undead, for Anne? Was this satisfactory payment for her health?

"Then go!" Sebastian cried. "You and Gibby— protect them!"

"I've lost my wand!" you cried. Then, "I'm coming to you!"

"No, don't!"

But you struggled towards him nonetheless. Because of your Muggle heritage, you were always practical. You wanted to give your support, or snatch the thing away – Ominis never found out which.

"Gibby, wait!" This wasn't supposed to happen; you were meant to stay away. "Accio wand!"

Your quirky wand flew into his hands, the designs swirling, the shaft a unique undulation. Besides him, Anne gave a great lurch, and her heartbeat throbbed. Painfully.

"No— it's stopped working!" Sebastian yelled over the maelstrom – finally, a note of confusion. "Why isn't it—?"

Your voice was nearly next to his. "Let me help you!"

"No, don't touch—!"

The relic gave another thundering roar, this time deafening, loud enough that it forced Ominis to clap hands over ears. You screamed suddenly, blown back by the force.

"No!" Missy cried.

Wind sheared around him, and he had to crouch, claw a hand into the grass to support himself, make sense of his surroundings. Anne gasped; her heartbeat strengthened.

"It— it's working again!" Sebastian was dizzy with elation. "Anne, you're being cured!"

But something wasn't right. The relic seethed like a thousand insect wings, and the Inferi were still coming up en masse. As Missy reached him, supporting Anne's weight, Ominis cracked bolt after bolt, causing the grass to singe and crisp.

Nothing about this made sense. The Inferi at Feldcroft, the Inferi attacking when they were supposed to be under control... He pointed his wand skywards, about to summon the relic from Sebastian's hands.

Then you choked.

Panic seized Ominis in a vice grip as he turned back towards you. You keened again, making a noise that would haunt his nightmares, and your knees hit the ground with a squelch, your gasp watery with blood.

He pivoted despite the hell around him. "No, no!"

"Stay with Anne!" Missy commanded. Only, when she reached you, all but panic remained. "Gibby, come on— stay with us—"

"The relic!" Anne shrieked. "Sebastian, it's killing her! Stop!"

It hit Ominis then. The relic was no longer content with the Inferi.

It sought to have you as well.

Sebastian hacked out in realisation. "Get her out of here, Ominis! It's nearly done! Anne is nearly—"

"Accio relic!"

The relic zoomed over his head... right into Solomon's hand.

"What have you done, boy?"

The storming chaos ceased, letting Ominis scramble towards you. With no master, not even a poor one, an Inferi shambled into his path, lifting its arm to swing, shrieking. Ominis reduced it to dust in one go. Terror had amplified his senses, his affinity for magic, and when the Inferi surrounded you, lying defenceless, he spewed the flames in a continuous, angry stream.

"Give that back!" Sebastian was screaming at his uncle. "I had it! I nearly had it! I—"

"You nearly killed the girl!" Solomon snarled. "You nearly killed yourselves!"

"It was curing Anne! It was working!"

Ominis landed at your side. You were shaking, struggling to breathe, your hands clenching and unclenching, your teeth chattering, heartbeat erratic.

"Gibby— listen to me, wake up—"

"There's some dark energy around her," Missy said, frantic. "It— she doesn't look good—"

"Don't say that!" He couldn't bear the thought. "Help her!"

"I-I don't know how!"

"Leave— leave me alone," you were mumbling, gasping, clammy and cold yet feverish as he palmed your sweat-ridden hair away. "N-No, please! D-Don't!"

"Gibby—" Anne was gasping, heaving between cries of pain. "Wait, please, Uncle Solomon—"

Solomon muttered something then. A hiss sounded – the relic, dissolving into nothing.

"No!" Sebastian's cry was like a fatal blow.

"You summoned the Inferi to the hamlet, Sebastian! You put innocent lives in danger!"

"It was working! If you hadn't— she might've— Anne could've—"

"Stop!" Anne begged. "Stop, both of you, please!"

Neither listened.

"You are foolish, boy! You know nothing!"

"You would let her die!"

"She cannot be healed. You. Must. Stop!"

Sebastian's throat screamed raw.

"You never cared! You never wanted us! I—I won't let her suffer like you have!"

And he let out a great, anguished cry.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Ominis swung around, but it was too late. The spell connected.

There was a slump as a body hit the ground.

"No—" Missy murmured.

The air seemed to thin as the horror of what had happened dawned on Ominis. Something splattered into the mud. Sebastian's wand.

"N-No, what... what have I—"

But nothing pierced so deeply as the howl of agony from Anne.

Ominis could no longer feel her heartbeat, but by her uneven footsteps, her heavy breathing, the curse was still in full effect. She expelled a long breath and screamed.

"Incendio!"

Inferi burnt beneath her wrath. Paper crackled – the spellbook, too.

"No!" Sebastian said. "Anne—"

"Depulso!"

He was flung to the ground. It was happening too fast – Ominis didn't know what to do.

A sob worked its way from her. She stumbled to Solomon's body as Sebastian braced himself on his elbows, grunting in pain.

"Wait, Anne, please—"

"I gave you a chance!" she screamed. "Again and again, I offered you grace! I forgave you and forgave you and forgave you, convinced you would prove you cared more about me than my condition! You would prove to me that before all else, I was your sister, your best friend, that you wouldn't choose the darkness over me! But you never listened. You never cared about what I wanted! And now?" She fell upon Solomon's body, wrung clean. "Now... you've made your choice."

Crack. She Disapparated, her uncle leaden in her arms.

"No! Anne!"

You mumbled again. Ominis turned back to you, tears sliding down his cheeks. He couldn't fathom what was happening. Anne, gone. Solomon – dead. You... suffering.

After he'd promised long ago to keep you safe from it.

"Sebastian, please... Anne..." Your gasp impaled him. "Ominis, I'm begging you..."

"She— she's been cursed." Missy trembled with despair. "Ominis, I—"

One truth lay louder than the rest. Sebastian's stupidity and reckless abandon may have landed you in this situation, but he'd warned Ominis not to bring you. Ominis had, in fact, argued in your favour, convinced you were necessary. Solomon was dead, the Inferi were running rampant... you were straddling between life and death...

All because he let Sebastian manipulate him. Again and again and again.

"Oh, please, please let her be all right."

Sebastian was on his feet, coming closer.

Ominis clenched his wand. He didn't even feel rage. This was something more acute.

"Stay away."

There was true pain and remorse rolling from Sebastian in waves. He stalled about five paces away.

"Ominis, please— I-I'm sorry—"

His wand shot out. The basic cast connected against Sebastian, causing him to stumble back in surprise.

"Stay. Away!" he bellowed, shaking. "I told you! I told you that there would be a cost for your obsession!"

"I'm sorry," Sebastian said – pleaded. "I-I didn't think she'd try to stop me—"

"For your sake! For Feldcroft's sake!"

"I know. Please, please... I... I need you."

"Need me? Look at what you've done! Gibby is cursed! Your uncle is dead!"

It seemed to be the word that unravelled him. "I— I made a mistake! I didn't mean to— for him to die—"

"You killed him!" He flung the accusation like barbs. "You murdered him!"

A step back. "I— I didn't— mean—" Another step. "He would've— he didn't—" He was gasping then, choking on his own tears. "Please—"

Ominis stood then, kept his wand trained on his friend.

Enemy, now.

"Come closer," he snarled. "This time I won't step aside."

Squelch. Another step back. Squelch. Another. Suddenly he was stumbling into a run, away from Ominis, away from you.

"No, wait—" Missy said. She didn't wait for Ominis' permission. She snatched up Sebastian's wand and sprinted after him, screaming his name.

Ominis sank back to the ground. His anger fled him at once, and when he dropped his wand, and yours, he took you in his arms and cradled you close.

A hug with no warmth.

He might as well have been the loneliest boy in the world.

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piss-pumpkin · 8 months ago

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🫧We’ve got nothing but time.🌤️

Douce amere chapter 18, older!dipper pines x reader, ~6.7k words masterlist Prev

What had Dipper learnt? It was July twenty-first, and it had been for nearly a week, stuck on the day after Bill possessed you and attacked him. You were in the kitchen in the morning, and hung out with Stan in the evening for an unknown amount of time. Mabel stayed in the shack all day, and Ford worked downstairs, probably. Dipper hadn’t seen him. And nobody else seemed to notice the repetitions.

This was stupid. Downright stupid. That was about all Dipper was certain of, but he had his other suspicions. The first time he did today was when he found that weird cave, that seemed most logical. And it if wasn’t that, he was totally fucked with no other leads or clues.

So off he went. Dipper quietly sidestepped Mabel’s questions as he grabbed for his bag. At least she was confused, which meant she was distracted from what happened… yesterday. The last thing Dipper wanted was a repeat of the conversation they had… however many days ago. Iterations of today. It was all he could do to trudge out the door on heavy feet and keep his eyes forward.

Okay. This is fine. He would go to that weird supernatural cave pond, and this would end. Tomorrow would happen.

Oh god. How did time loops even work? If weirdness was just in Gravity Falls, was time passing outside of it? Dipper shook his head as he stumbled into the brush of the forest. Maybe time was passing and he was just insane. Dipper couldn’t tell if that would be better, or worse.

As he ambled through the woods, he came to an unfortunate, unrelated realization. He had no idea where to go. The sun was coming up, just light enough to see clearly. He’d come to the fairytale part of the woods, that was a good sign. A few flickering fireflies left over from the night were still idly buzzing around close to the ground around colourful mushrooms. He’d definitely come through here last time, but he was mindlessly running away, then. He wasn’t trying to remember the path. Hell, even if he was, he probably wouldn’t.

Dipper furrowed his brow as he came to a fork in the path, squinting as he tried to remember which way. Fuck, this sucked. He took a gamble for left.

The sun was high overhead when he got there. The same grove, just as it had been days ago. Dipper sighed when he came to it, the slightclearing at the face of the cliff, hands on his knees to brace himself. God, how little had he slept this whole time? It was starting to weigh on him. Even just an afternoon of walking was enough to leave him stumbling.

At least he knew his body was experiencing time. Dipper thought about it as he approached the cave entrance, without the hesitation of curiosity this time. He definitely felt like it had been a few days without proper sleep, that much was certain as he tripped through the tunnel with all the grace of Grunkle Stan on a Friday night.

The water was still running down the floors and the walls towards the puddle chamber. Dipper didn’t bother trying to step on his tip toes or around the streams. With wet shoes, and without a flashlight, he groaned his way to the dim light.

It still shone like a full moon, with ripples of the water reflecting all around the wide cave walls, sparking on the specks of minerals encrusted inside. Dipper stood miserably before it, staring in. His reflection stared back.

Hmmm. Last time the reflection was off, bad angle and extra people. This time though, it was just plain old him, exactly how he should look. The picture flickered with its drips like a puddle, and less like a mirror, or a gateway between worlds. That’s weird. Or there was always the off chance he was hallucinating last time. Or this time. Sighing, he pulled the journal out of his bag, and flipped to the last few pages he wrote.

He was already reading by the time he noticed. He was reading. There were words written about the cave. Dipper squinted as he eyed the journal. He wrote those in the timeloop. Were objects immune? If it only affected people that would confirm time was passing.

Dipper grimaced as he made note of it all. Any other time, this would be a fun mystery to unravel, an interesting thread to pull. If time was looping on any other day…

Scratch that. It could be worse, he realized. It could have been yesterday. Oh god. His eyes widened as it dawned on him; he could’ve been stuck reliving the moment that you- Bill towered over him trying to kill him. His hands flew to his mouth to cover it instinctively as a shiver travelled up his spine. Deep breaths.

Dipper knelt down slowly, balancing on the balls of his feet as he stared down into the glowing puddle. Ugh. His reflection looked worn down. Far worse then last time. Well, what it showed last time wasn’t real. Unfortunately. The bangs under his eyes seemed to be pulling down his face, far deeper than usual, and outlined with dark circles.

Sighing, he touched the pond. That’s all he did last time, right? He just splashed it and the reflections vanished, and that was kinda weird.

Nothing happened. Maybe because nothing was happening. No mystery in the water this time, and nothing to disturb with his heavy hands. Dipper pursed his lips. Did it… work? Was he out? He glanced around. Nothing looked or felt different. He splashed around again, waving his hand in the puddle as of to tread water. He could feel his lips turning into a scowl. This was stupid.

Against all odds, he managed to stand up, pushing himself off his legs and staring down at the puddle. Same old reflection. Dipper sighed. Was there anything else he could do here?

He couldn’t think of anything logical. He spared the pool one more glance, and turned back. He swallowed hard as he stepped back into the sunlight, a growing anxiety building in his chest. Dipper looked back at the cave entrance, it’s maw staring at him from the cliff face, and he shivered despite the summer heat.

Fuck this. He went back to the shack, trekking through the woods, following the path he blazed in his tired trudge this morning. Still, it was evening when he got back. Dipper squinted at the shack from a distance. What happened in the evening? The first time, Mabel greeted him at the door, and told him you and Stan were together… somewhere. He couldn’t remember.

So… no front door. Mabel could survive one today without seeing him. Dipper winced. If this is her first time, that would hurt. He thought back to the way she cried during their first morning conversation, or her tired face in the evening. He stared at the front door from the tree line. If he fixed the timeloop, then this would be the permanent version. The version she remembered. Is that what he wanted? For her to think he’d run away, abandoned her completely? He glanced at his wrist, the slowly healing bruise your foot had left when Bill attacked him. No. He could do better.

Sighing, he walked to the front door, and Mabel opened it before he even reached the handle. He might have been growing desensitized to the raw emotion in the shack, but Mabel’s tired eyes still struck a dull pain in his chest. Yeah. This was the right choice.

He hugged her, spoke to her, and sat with her until he passed out, brain melting and numbing to the sound of vaguely familiar Gravity Falls tv.

…

He dreamt of burning. A burning pain in his wrist and arm, a burning feeling in his chest, and the burning light in your eyes that flickered and sparked with hate when you looked over him. That image was so clear. Your- Bills sadistic grin while he was pinned. Like it was seared into his brain like a brand. Felt like burning.

And he woke in his bed, his body holding into that burning feeling with a vice grip. With sweaty hands he wiped his sweaty forehead. Bed. And then it all went cold. Somebody could have brought him there. There was a non zero chance he wasn’t in the loop.

It was dark outside. Mabel slept, with all her stuffed animals bundled near her head. He didn’t want to wake her to ask, at least one twin deserved sleep. There was one good litmus test though. Quietly, he stood, creaked open the door, and descended the stairs.

There were lights on, but that wasn’t something exclusive to today. That could mean anything. Non zero chance.

Light was on in the kitchen. Dipper winced, stopping short. Maybe you weren’t in there. Ugh. The sinking feeling in his chest only grew when he approached, and he head a few familiar sniffles and shuffles. God fucking dammit. There you were. On the floor. With a coffee pot in your lap and a half empty mug beside you. Dipper gritted his teeth, staring at you a moment.

Dipper could barely hear you ask your familiar question; “do you…” you started. “Do you want some?”

He blinked, and waited a moment. Well shit. It was still today. He was so fucked. Wordlessly, he walked out, leaving you to your usual activities… whatever those were. He didn’t care to find out. Aimlessly, he walked through the house. So completely fucked.

Or… maybe not. His eyes caught on the vending machine in the gift shop, and he grimaced. If anyone knew anything about this, it was probably Ford. He probably could’ve thought of that yesterday. Ugh. Another today wasted on a bad hunch.

He sluggishly typed in the code, and the vending machine popped open to reveal the stairs behind it. Ford might be awake. Hell, he totally was, Dipper thought as he went down. No shot Ford could rest more then he could while Bill was out there.

He stopped at the study. The room that once terrified him, lined with alters and shrines to Bill. With a sigh, he knocked gently on the door. He hasn’t seen Ford today. His schedule was the only complete mystery.

He heard a few paper shuffle on the other side, before hasty steps came toward the door. It slowly opened to an only slightly dishevelled Ford. “Dipper,” he said, opening the door all the way. “Are you alright?”

Dipper smiled as he came in, “Yeah I’m… fine.” He glanced around. There was writing on the whiteboard, scribbles he wasn’t even sure Ford could read. The desk was covered in papers, some looked old and yellowed, some white and new, with pen ink drips staining most of them. “Grunkle Ford, uh-“ Dipper started, turning back to his great uncle. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. How to word this? “Have you noticed anything… weird, lately?”

Fords expression hardened, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “Well, Bill,” he said simply. “Is that what you mean?”

Dipper shook his head, lips pursed.

“I thought so,” Ford said, sounding disappointed. He gestured at the white board, “I have no idea who wrote most of that.”

Dippers eyes widened. Right. Objects weren’t affected. That meant… anyone could learn about it if they left themself something in writing.

“My best guess is I’m being possessed,” Ford said sadly. “The writing is clearly mine, but I don’t recall doing it. I’m not certain what Bills return means, but if he can possess my body even with my metal plate,” he tapped his head for emphasis, “then we’ve got big problems.”

Dipper looked at the floor. “I, uh, don’t think that’s it,” he started, scratching at his wrist. “What if there’s some sort of a time-loop, and you wrote that yesterday, and you just…” he met his mentors eyes, “don’t remember.”

Ford raised his brow. “You… know something about this? He asked.

Dipper nodded, eyes glued to the floor. “So far I’m the only one who’s noticed,” he muttered.

Ford seemed sceptical, all six fingers tapping against his chin as he looked over Dipper intently. He hummed, “are you certain?” And sighed when Dipper nodded again. Ford grimaced, and kicked over a stool on wheels and a swivel, gesturing for Dipper to sit.

Sighing, he did, his feet idly pushing him back and forth in small motions. Ford pulled another chair out from behind the whiteboard, and sat down in front of him, hands laced together and held against his lips, as if to hold back words. Dipper shuddered thinking about what he might say. At least he believed him.

“How long?” Ford ask simply, unreadable tone or expression.

He swallowed. How long had it been? He wasn’t keeping track at first, and the days seemed to blend together in the pile of mush that was his brain. God. “A few days… maybe a week?” Dipper sighed. “I don’t know for sure.”

Ford pursed his lips, brow furrowed. “Okay, can you start from the beginning?”

Ugh. How many beginnings had there been? And the one he thought was the key turned out to be a dud, and wasted another day. Dipper grumbled, went through it from the top. As much as he could remember. He thought about leaving out what he saw in the puddle, since admitting to hallucinating didn’t seem like a great idea, but if anyone would understand, it would be Ford. So he told him.

Ford listened intently, and groaned when he was done. Ford adjusted his glasses a few times as he grimaced, “Well, this isn’t ideal,” he managed.

Dipper sighed.

”-But there’s… probably a way out,” he finished. He tapped his fingers against his chin. “You said you saw… us, in the pool, correct?”

Dipper nodded, grumbling. Suddenly that part seemed really dumb. He got lured into a weird puddle by hallucinating something that probably happened, like, a few days ago. Longer than that, now.

“That’s… interesting,” Ford said, transfixed on Dippers face. Or maybe he was looking through him. “I might be familiar with the concept.”

Dipper waited for him to say more on the subject. It took a few moments of silence for him to speak again.

“I encountered a similar issue in another dimension,” Ford started, swivelling his chair over to his desk to flip through the papers. “I doubt I have the written record anymore,” he said, shuffling them around. “Actually, I don’t even think I wrote it down… it wasn’t something I particularly wanted to study.”

Dipper swallowed. Alright. So he was stuck in a situation that even Ford wasn’t comfortable with. Just great.

“It was just after I left the alternate dimension where I never fell into the portal,” Ford sighed, putting his papers down. He grabbed around his desk until his hand landed on a pen, and he started to write while he spoke. “There was a fountain, and I guess I was feeling,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “homesick.”

”What… did you see?” Dipper asked, fearing where this was going. What it meant for him.

“Oh lots of things,” Ford sighed wistfully, not looking up from the paper that was now splattered with ink. “Stanley,” Ford said. “And Fiddleford, firstly. I never imagined they could be friends, but they were in the vision.”

Dipper shivered as he spoke. Homesick, huh? The image of himself with you, Mabel, Stan and Ford knocked around his head. And Grunkle Ford wasn’t done. “And my lab was there, from the alternate world. I had it all, so to speak.”

”Did you touch the water?” Dipper asked, wincing.

Ford nodded, and Dipper could see him start to sketch a drawing. “I did, and that’s how it started. I’d left that dimension by nightfall, but by morning I was waking up right back where I started.”

”Well, how’d you make it stop?” Dipper sighed, this time with relief. If Ford could get out, so could he, right?

Ford spun in the chair to face him, looking grave. “To this day, I’m still not sure.”

Well shit. Statement rescinded.

“I was stuck for a long time,” Ford paused, and eyed Dipper intensely. Dipper couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “I’m not sure how it happened, but one day it just… ended.”

Dipper blinked. “And you have no idea how?” He blurted out.

Ford shook his head. “I don’t,” he sighed, resting his head on his palm. “I’ll do some thinking on it, or try to find anything written about it, and see if I can find something to help you,” he said sadly.

Well, fuck. Dippers foot bounced on the floor anxiously, and he wiped some sweat off his palms onto his pants. So he was on his own. Sort of. Maybe Ford would find something. But how long could that take? How long was he stuck? Dipper guessed… too long, if even Ford didn’t want to write this one down. Something better left forgotten. Dipper swallowed, and stood up, “Okay, well,” he started. “I’ll try to figure something out, then.”

Without another word, he left. Okay, so. What did he learn? He might be so fucked. He glanced around the gift shop. Completely empty. The sun was up outside… so the shacks probably closed. Dipper sighed. Wendy wasn’t here either. Guess she had the day off.

Dipper walked to the counter with the register, and rested his elbows on it. He had to figure this out. Time was still passing. He had to get out of this. Mabel might kill him for cutting her summer over a week short.

He needed a plan.

…

He did not come up with a plan. That marked two days since finding out that that were compete busts. He groaned, waking up from another nightmare. Those were some of the only things that changed from day to day. At least there was a little variety. At least he had Fords help now. Hopefully he left himself a note to remember.

Ugh. Today might have been the groggiest yet.

Dipper ambled down the stairs. He was getting that coffee. This one doesn’t matter. He was still stuck in today, and unless something crazy happened, he would be tomorrow too. He deserved a break, a cheat day, if you will. It had been over a week of this shit. Today was becoming a full time job. Dipper took a deep breath, and gripped the kitchen doorway. “Out,” he said decisively, really more of a demand, pointing his thumb at the door as he pushed through.

You were slow, looking up at him with confused eyes for a moment before you tried to come to your feet. Your legs were shaky, and seemed stiff. God, how long do you sit there each day? Dipper looked down at you a moment before turning his head back to the cupboard.

He scowled when he saw it, his fingers curling around the cupboard panels until the tips turned white. There was none left. “Y/n,” he said, whipping his head around. You were nearly out the door, but stopped like a deer in headlights. “Did you finish-“ he glanced down at the mug in your hand.

You followed his eyes to the half empty cup, then drifted back up to him.

Dipper sucked a sigh in through his teeth, approaching you for the first time in… a while. “I need that more than you do,” he said tiredly.

Timidly, you handed him the cup. His tired reflection swirled in the dark, tepid liquid. Nothing about it looked completely appealing, truth be told.

“Um, Dipper,” you started, looking at the floor. It was only once you spoke that he realized you were still there in front of him, and hadn’t scurried away. You were tired as always, but your clothes seemed far worse for wear than they did before: decorated with stains, a little dirt and dust. Guess that checks out. If you just slept in whatever you were wearing, you’d never change clothes. Had you not changed clothes all loop? “-and I’m just- just sorry, I guess.”

Oh shit. Dipper blinked a few times, tuning back in. He hadn’t registered much of what you said. You were looking at him expectantly, wide eyes like glass. If there was one thing to note about you, it was how little you looked like Bill. Your mouth was held in a restful frown, and brow raised as you waited. And you body language wasn’t anywhere near the way Bill carried you. Your hands fidgeted at your chest, and the cruel and smug confidence was gone. Dipper couldn’t see Bill at all. Just you. Just you. And you looked rough.

He sighed. Just you. “Not now, alright?” Dipper said. At least he could look you in the eyes. That was… maybe a first. He couldn’t remember. But he wasn’t started by the movement of your hands, or the flicker of your eyes today.

And he must not have sounded too harsh, because you didn’t seem too bad after. You nodded, slow at first and then quickly, and turned and shuffled away, and Dipper was alone again.

He looked into the coffee again, thinking back to the same way the cave puddle swirled when it lured him in. He sighed, slinking back to the counter to lean on as he sipped the, admittedly terrible, coffee. He couldn’t take a cheat day. He had to figure this out. You looked terrible. At least he wasn’t stuck in the same way you or Mabel were. You’d spent the last week sad and on the floor. Dipper frowned, sighing. You didn’t deserve that. As much as he might’ve said otherwise a few todays ago.

Okay. He had to think through this. What does he know? The water lures people in by showing them stuff. Stuff they want. And it’s escapable, Ford was able to do it. But he said it took him a while, and he had no idea how it happened.

The water seemed to think the thing Dipper wanted was for thing to go back to normal, with you, Mabel, His Grunkles. The stupid puddle might’ve been right.

The question seemed to be: was there something there? Something to do with that? Or was that just the predatory strategy it used to draw people in? If that was the case, then he was even more fucked, because that was his only lead. The only thing in common between him and Fords experience was the water, and that.

Dipper paced around the shack. He walked a few circles through the house part, the tourist part, the parlour. He needed a plan. Something with the water… or something with the things in the water… Dipper scratched at his chin. Ugh. There had to be something. Maybe his brain was too tired to think straight.

He walked through the tourist trapped hallways as he thought, and Dipper stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Stan’s voice a room over. He hadn’t seen Stan a single time in the loop. Mabel said that he was with you in the evening, but it was barely noon. Carefully, he stayed still and quiet enough to listen. “Hey kid,” Stan said.

He heard vague shuffling noises, and decided he needed to get closer. He edged his way to the wall, careful to keep his steps quiet.

“Hello,” you said softly.

Dipper pressed his ear to the wall despite himself. This probably wasn’t his conversation to hear.

Stan’s voice was soft, but confident. “Listen kid, it happens to the best of us. I’m proof of that,” he laughed. Dipper felt his lips curl in into the smallest of smiles.

You must not have been convinced, because you stayed quiet.

“You’ll be fine, Y/n,” Stan said. “They’ve all done this before, they know how to bounce back.”

”I don’t want to be in their nightmares,” you said, and Dipper winced. You knew all too well about his. And you weren’t far off. You’d been a feature in most of them lately. He carefully and quietly slumped against the wall to support, and sunk to the floor. It sucked that you were right.

Stan sighed. “Yeah, that sucks,” he said. Tactful, as always, Dipper thought, rolling his eyes. But Stan wasn’t done, “but you’ll be there to help with those.” Oh. Dipper curled his knees close to his chest. Yeah, normally you would be.

“I don’t think they want that,” you said. Also right. God, it sucked when you were right. Each word tightened a knot in his chest.

“They’ll come around. I think Dipshit will just take a bit,” Stan said.

Dipper decided he should probably stop listening. You weren’t wrong often, and he didn’t want to hear what you had to say about… him. If you were right again, and you didn’t… you weren’t.. if you didn’t think he could come around.

He stood up, slowly and carefully, and kept pacing around. He could get you guys out of this. He had to. Relieving those emotions everyday sounded like hell on earth.

…

At least the nightmares were getting better. Not great, but less intense, more of a dull ache than a stabbing pain. That was something, right? Dipper went to the kitchen. Guess there was no avoiding you if he wanted to eat. But he might be okay seeing you today.

Well, there you were. As always. On the floor, this time with a can of peaches, since you’d used up the coffee yesterday. Your face was still blotchy from… probably crying. Guess Dipper couldn’t judge. You were looking up at him with wide eyes full of guilt, and he cringed.

Sighing, he walked over, and slumped down beside you, back to the cupboards. “Hey, Y/n,” he said tiredly.

You swallowed, clutching the peach can in your lap. “Um, hey, Dip,” you said timidly, throat sounding ragged and rough. You gestured at the can, “Do you… want some?”

Dipper smiled weakly, shaking his head. You always offer him whatever you have. “I’m good,” he said.

He looked you over again. Nothing new, really. At least he wasn’t seeing Bill. The worst part was that he didn’t know what to say to you. It had been a while since you’d both spoken, at least for him. And worse for you; you were probably still recovering from being possessed.

And he didn’t normally get this close to you. It was only at this angle that he saw the fading bruise on your jaw just past your chin. The spot he hit you with the journal. “Sorry about, uh-“ Dipper started, and gestured at the same place on himself. “Getting you, the other day.”

You shot him a weak smile. “Ah, don’t be,” you said, voice light. “Glad you did. And it… doesn’t hurt much, actually.”

Yeah, it’s practically healed by now, he thought. Dipper winced thinking about earlier loops. Drinking all that coffee must have hurt. Even now, the bruise was a slight yellow.

“I’m sorry about getting you, too,” you said, looking at the floor and holding up and tapping your wrist. “Must suck.”

Oh right. Dipper had practically forgotten. He turned over his hand to look at his wrist where your foot had been pressed. It was practically gone. He might’ve been happy it healed if it didn’t mean he’d been in this loop for longer than he’d like.

“Oh,” you said, eyes catching the same way his did. “It’s-“ you stopped for a moment, and looked back to his face. “I’m glad that didn’t leave much of a mark,” you murmured.

“It did,” he said, and immediately regretted it. That wouldn’t make any sense to you. Well. You probably wouldn’t remember tomorrow, anyway. “It, uh, really hurt for a while. I think the bruise is just… healed.”

You smiled, almost laughing. It looked a little unnatural, given your somewhat puffy eyes and dirty clothes. “Well, that’s good,” you said softly.

Dipper couldn’t help but smile a little. He hadn’t realized how much he missed you these past days. Even if you kind of sucked. “Actually,” he said, pointing at your peach can. “I do want one.” He aimlessly reached up, and pulled open a drawer above him, scrounging around until he found a fork. “May I?” He asked.

Wordlessly, you held the can out to him, and he stabbed a peach slice through. He cupped one hand under it to catch any dripping juice. It was sweet.

“Hey, Dipper,” you said hesitantly. “I’m- uh, sorry that I got us into this.”

He sighed, wiping a little peach juice from the corner of his mouth. He pursed his lips. “It’s… fine,” he managed. It mostly wasn’t, but whatever. It was fine enough. Nobody died.

You stared at the floor, putting your can of peaches down so you could fidget with your hands. “Not really though, right?” You said. “I mean, this sucks. I know you and Mabel gotta hate this… and Ford and Stan.” You tapped your fingers against the tile floor, your leg bouncing a little with each word. “I mean, I thought for a second that he was gonna kill you,” you said, finally tuning your eyes back to him.

“I-“ Dipper faltered. You weren’t wrong. It might’ve been your voice bouncing around his head saying: when are you ever? “I couldn’t’ve let him kill me,” Dipper said, completely lacking confidence. And you had to know that. Dipper wasn’t sure who he was lying for: you or him. Bill did almost kill him, and he almost let it happen.

You looked over at him, eyes wide with worry. “If you say so…” you trailed off. Your eyes held on his a moment longer before you sighed, grabbing your peaches again. “I’m just sorry that this happened. I should have…” you pursed your lips. “I don’t know,” you said.

“It’s…” Dipper swallowed. “It’s not all your fault,” he said, surprising himself. He mostly knew that. “I mean, it is party, but-“ he started, looking at the wall. The kitchens faded wallpaper looked right back, staring through him with its faded stain eyes. “Bill tricks people, it’s what he does. And this wouldn’t never have happened if I just mentioned what he looks like,” Dipper admitted, the weight of the words nearly crushing him.

You stared at the wall with him, silent for a few beats. The fridge dully hummed in the background. “It’d been a really good summer before all this,” you said wistfully.

Dipper smiled tiredly at you. “Yeah,” he said, “It was.” Maybe even the best. No, definitely. He thought back on things… he’d really waited years to kiss you, didn’t he? And Mabel was doing shockingly well at flirting this summer, too. And he didn’t realize you and Stan were as close as you were, before yesterday. And at least he had Ford to help him through this.

Oh god. Everything he wanted. You, Mabel, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, that’s all that stupid puddle showed him. All he wanted. For things to go back to normal.

It was like you could read minds. “Do you think things can go back to normal?” You asked, still staring blankly in front of you, the weight of your eye bags bringing down your face.

Dippers palms were sweaty. Could they? “I- I don’t know,” he stuttered. He licked his lips, suddenly realizing how dry they were. “I want them too.”

You smiled sadly, “well, that’s not the question, is it?” His chest tightened as you curled your legs up closer to you, and stared at the floor by your feet. “I do too,” you sighed, “But I’m not sure they will.”

Well that was the truth, wasn’t it? That he might not get… the only thing he wants. Things might not go back to normal. His face fell, and he stared at you. A wave of grief hit him all at once. He got to study your side profile for a moment before you finally turned to face him, that same sad smile still on your lips. You looked like you’d aged a year in a week. He couldn’t have been doing great, either. It was only, well, yesterday that you’d looked like yourself.

But that wasn’t you, it was Bill. This is what you looked like now. The same, but different. A little tired. At least you were you, even if you might not be the person from before, anymore.

You cut through the silence like a butcher, “if things are different,” you started, glancing over at him. He could see you chewing the inside of your cheek. You swallowed, eyes drifting back to the floor. A pained look crossed your face as you took a deep breath, “I think I could live with that, if I still had you guys with me.”

Dippers mouth hung just slightly open as he stared at you. Oh god. He felt like he’d been hit by a train. If you still had them with you. The words bounced around his… seemingly empty head. He felt a sinkhole in his chest where his heart usually was. If you had them with you. And here he was avoiding you like the plague the last few days, he could almost laugh. If you still had them with you, you could live with it.

Dipper didn’t realize he was crying until he tasted a tear. Shit. He hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve. If you had them with you. What did the time puddle show him? You, Mabel, his family? “I think,” he said. It came out weak. He cleared his throat to steady his voice, “I think I could live with that too.”

You looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your eyes flickered back to the floor, “Well, that’s good.”

Dipper blinked, his eyes were still watery. You were just a little blurry, as his eyes fixed on your face. Man, you’d barely smiled this whole loop. It almost looked foreign. If I had you with me, huh? Yeah. He’d survive as long as he had them all with him. He smiled, wiping his eyes again. “Hey, I’m sorry for avoiding you these past… last night,” he said, sniffling. “I probably should’ve made sure you were okay.”

You shook your head, “It’s… fine,” you smiled. You crossed your legs, skewering another peach slice on a fork, and offering him the can. He poked another onto his fork, too. “I get it, Dip,” you assured. “Nothing to apologize for.”

Well, you didn’t know the whole story, did you? Dipper sighed, “still, I am. Cheers?” He asked, holding his peach fork out to you.

You smiled, and clinked your slice against his, “Cheers.”

The kitchen tile floor had a few drops of peach juice on it, and a couple coffee stains from the previous days, but it was still comfortable. Maybe you were into something, sitting here this whole time. Dipper leaned back, his back sliding further down the cabinet. If I have you all with me, I can live with it, he thought. Unfortunately, you had some pretty good words sometimes. Things might not be how he saw them in that dumbass puddle, but… that’s fine. Things had changed before, and he survived. As long as he had his people. He could feel the tears fighting to get out again.

“I’m going to get you out of this,” Dipper sighed.

You half smiled, nodding at him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said again. All of this. First the loop, then… the rest. Dipper stood up, brushed himself off, and looked down at you. “I’m going to figure something out,” he promised.

You smiled, “Go get em‘.”

…

Dipper tried to. He paced, he thought, he talked to Ford, who wrote himself a note to remember. And they came up with some ideas, some stupider then others. Some plans: what if he drank the water? What if he just told everyone? What if he left Gravity Falls? He talked to Mabel a little. He saw Stan, since this time he didn’t end up comforting you. Guess Dipper did that, himself. Or… more the other way around. He ended the day feeling better then he started.

He still woke up early, though, still felt sluggish as he went down the stairs. Later then before, though. At least it was light out. Food, and then Ford. And he’d quickly tell you everything was fine while he was there. He smiled when he saw the lights on under the kitchen door.

What. The hell. The kitchen was in fact, empty. Dipper blinked, caught in the doorframe. Where… or, shit. What the fuck happened? He looked around for traces of you. There were still coffee stains on the floor, and an empty can of peaches on the counter… but nothing new. Was he out?

He thought he would be thrilled to see something change, but instead his heart was stuck in his throat. Where’d you go?

It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be out, he didn’t do anything. His legs only started to work when he got the idea to find Ford. He stumbled to the vending machine, punched the code, and sped down the stairs.

Dipper didn’t bother to knock on the study door. “Grunkle Ford,” he said, swinging the door open. “What was yesterday?”

Ford whipped his head around, practically jumping out of his skin. He was standing at the white board, seemingly reading the notes they’d scribbled last time. “We came up with ideas to get you out of a time loop,” Ford said. “But I was thinking-“

“-you remember it?” Dipper asked, cutting him off.

Ford nodded, “I do. Can I assume this means something worked?”

Dipper shook his head. “That wouldn’t make any sense,” he said, pacing closer and around the room. “We had ideas, but… I didn’t do anything.”

Ford sat down as Dipper walked in circles. “You know, I wasn’t sure how I got out, either,” he said. He tapped his fingers along his chin. “Maybe it… ran its course,” he suggested.

“Only, like, a week…ish?”

Fords mouth hung open, “you’re lucky, mine was months…” he mumbled, fingers still tapping. His eyes were fixed on the floor as he hummed.

As Dipper paced, he caught Fords face fallen with lament, eyes softening on the floor. “You know, the fountain showed me my brother, and Fiddleford… that’s what it thought I wanted,” he started hesitantly. “By the time I was out, I resented them both, and wanted nothing to do with either.”

Dipper stopped pacing. “I saw… normal stuff,” he said. Things going back to the way they were. Things he’s okay with not having, as long as his family is with him.

Ford shook his head, “I’m not sure.” He stood up, and wiped off the whiteboard of plans. “Well, no matter,” he said, eraser in hand. “That’s one problem out of the way.”

Dipper nodded idly, still puzzled. He went back upstairs. What day was it? Things looked different outside. When he ascended to the gift shop, it was bright out. Yeah, that was new. He walked the shack aimlessly. Well, he did it. He checked his phone. July twenty-eighth.

He ambled around, and stopped in front of Soos’ break room. Quietly, he knocked on the door. He felt a little dumb standing alone in the hall when nothing happened. Maybe you weren’t staying in there.

But then he heard the shuffles. And the door creaked open, you on the other side. “Uh, hey,” you said softly.

Oh wow. It was a trip to see your face this way. You hadn’t been crying, your eyes weren’t red, you looked… better. Dipper sighed, a weight coming off his chest, “Hey.”

Fellas I just couldn’t resist. I thought this chapter might kill me when I was writing it. Like I thought “hey what if I explored dippers trauma response and the lasting effects of bill” and then it turned into like 13k words between both parts 😭

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque (lmk if you want to be added)

#x reader #my writing #dipper pines #dipper pines x reader #douce amere #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #dipper x reader

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