#as my stomach churn and twist cause I always gets sick when thinking of him /pos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orions-choker · 6 months ago

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+:★:+*Chapter Nine: Last Caress+:★:+*

A/N: Holy crap sorry for the delay in posting this. I paused writing for a bit because I got to see Metallica live for the first time!!! and then immediately got sick after so this had been sittinf half finished for awhile Im sorry ;-;. Anyways we are getting somewhereeeeee, a small Kirky POV chapter. <3 I just wanted some sweet domestic fluff.

“I think Y/N and Newkid are fucking.” Lars smacked his lips around the words, mouth shoved full with food. He sat at the kitchen table with Kirk and James. Looking into the living room across from them sat Y/N and Jason.

She sat on the floor in front of the couch, her nose buried between the pages of her sketchbook as she worked furiously. Above her sat Jason on the couch, legs sprawled out as he lazily flipped through channels on the television. She had been planted between his legs, occasionally tossing her head back and resting it against Jason’s thigh as she took small breaks.

There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about it. Everyone was accustomed to how close she was with all the boys, Kirk and Jason especially. “Fuck off dude, there’s no way, I know my sister.” James grunted roughly, kicking at Lars beneath the table.

“Why would you even say that man?” Kirk frowned, his voice coming out a little whinier than expected. “She's always like that.” Kirk scoffed. He looked over to his two best friends, watching curiously as Jason threaded his hand through her hair. The bright smile that crossed her face had Kirk’s stomach churning. She had always been like that, right?

Lars’s laugh was outrageously loud, causing the two in the living room to look over curiously. “Jesus don’t get your fucking panties in a twist.” Lars swallowed the bite he had taken. “You guy’s can't tell me you haven't noticed how touchy they are lately, and how everytime Y/N can't hang out neither can Jason.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Kirk dropped his gaze down to the table. James scoffed once more, moving from the table into the living room before he seriously hurt the Danish man. Kirk was pretty sure he was going to burn holes into the wood of the table as he stared down. “Someones pissy they didn’t hit it first, maybe you shouldn't have waited three fucking years.” That final taunt from Lars had him standing from the table, the chair screeching loudly as it skidded across the kitchen floor.

Y/N’s eyes caught his, concern on her face as she saw the anger in his eyes. He joined the growing group in the living room, opting to sit beside Y/N on the floor rather than the couch. “You okay Kirky?” She asked softly, placing her hand on his knee and rubbing soothingly.

His shoulders dropped, there that was normal. He smiled at her, “I'm fine, Lars is just being a dick.” He grabbed her hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back lightly before pulling away. She picked up her pencil once more. She knocked her knee into his own as she settled back into her activity.

“When isn’t Lars being an ass.” Jason chuckled. He leaned forward, resting his arms on Y/N’s shoulders. An ugly feeling swarmed under Kirk’s skin, it was an innocuous move yet the seed had been planted in his mind. “Hey Kirk, want to help me practice that riff for the album I’ve been struggling with?”

Every fiber of Kirk’s being wanted to say no, it felt unfair, the sudden anger he had towards his best friend. “Yeah sure dude.” His voice came out sounding more clipped than intended. The two stood up, looking down at Y/N expectantly. She waved them away dismissively. Her tongue peaked out the corner of her lips, her face screwed up in concentration as she smudged the shading of her drawing.

With a shrug Jason stepped away, Kirk following after him towards the home studio in James and Y/N’s house. “You sure you okay man, you seem tense.” Jason asked, settling into a chair, grabbing his bass off a stand. Kirk’s stomach twisted, since when did Jase leave any of his instruments here. Kirk grabbed one of the spare guitars James had as he sat across from the other boy.

His fingers twiddled with the knobs as the two of them tuned the instruments to the same key. “Yeah I’m fine Jase’” He sighed, running a hand through his hair and pushing his bangs out of the way. Jason’s eyes followed the movement, a soft blush on his cheeks. Jason smiled at him and he felt the anger melt away slowly.

“Alright, you can always talk to us.” The emphasis on ‘us’ hung in the air, when had those two become an ‘us’? Kirk nodded wordlessly, fingers plucking at the strings as they began hammering through the issues Jason was having.

Some time had passed before the two of them had it figured out. Only stopping due to the interruption of Y/N’s head peeking into the room. In sync the two of them dropped their instruments, attention turning towards the grinning girl. “Hey you two, how’s it going?” She slid into the room, her hand’s clasped behind her back and head tilted curiously.

There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she nearly skipped towards them. “Figured out the problem I was having.” Jason said, leaning back in his chair. He pulled his thick curls back away from his face, tying them up into a low ponytail. Kirk couldn't help the way his eyes traced the strong outlines of his exposed jawline.

Kirk found his attention drawn between the two of them frequently, one moment his eyes unable to leave the subtle rippling of Jason’s muscles, the next completely infatuated with the softness of Y/N’s lips. It was terribly confusing, leaving his insides feeling like T.V static. Now the sight of Jason relaxed back in the chair, legs spread pulling the fabric of his tight denim over his thighs, head tilted back exposing the expanse of his neck. It had Kirk gulping and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“That’s good.” The words dripped from Y/N’s tongue. Slowly her gaze settled on Kirk. “Everyone else left, I don’t think James is coming home tonight.” The statement was completely innocent, but it sent Kirk’s mind somewhere darker than it should be. “I was thinking, sleepover?”

The two boys shared a look, the easy smile on Jason’s face only proved to make Kirk’s face a little warmer. “Why not, it's been awhile.” He shrugged, standing up with a stretch that had his shirt rising a little higher, there was a flex of tension in his abs that left Kirk’s mouth dry before it disappeared.

Unable to form a coherent thought at the moment Kirk nodded in agreement.”Good because I already ordered pizza.” Y/N said cheekily. She grabbed Kirk’s hands tugging him up and pulling him out of the studio, Jason trailing behind them with a soft chuckle.

True to her word the food was sitting on the coffee table, beer’s cracked open and waiting for them. “If I said no you wouldn’t have let me leave anyways huh?” Kirk said. He smiled down at the excited girl as she opted to sit on the floor rather than the couch once more. It was now that he noticed the shirt she was wearing, one that he had seen on his bandmate before, one that he was pretty sure he himself had stolen. “Is that Jason’s?” He asked, gesturing to the fabric.

Y/N frowned looking down at her shirt. Her hands gripped the edge as she stretched it out, the design distorting slightly. “Huh, probably.” She mused. Kirk’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at the implications. “I stole it from your house last time I was there though.” She shrugged casually.

“Oh.” The feeling settled quickly. Of course she did, she was no stranger to stealing all of their clothes when she wanted something comfortable. “Yeah that sounds about right.” Kirk nodded with a grin, reveling in the way Jason glared at him annoyed.

“Since when did my clothes become the communal clothes?” Jason huffed, leaning forward to grab a slice of pizza. “I don’t remember giving either of you that.” He swallowed around his food. Still there was a pleased tug at the corner of his lips.

Y/N shook with a laugh that had Kirk joining in, the two of them reveling in the torment they put their best friend through. “Sorry Jase’ clearly you have the superior closet.” Y/N squeezed Jason’s hand gently as she rested her head on Kirk’s shoulder.

He liked this. The simplicity of the three of them being together like this. It was easy, like they were an extension of himself he felt at ease. Y/N shuttered out a yawn as she stretched out. “Tired already?” Kirk asked, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back, rubbing soft circles. “How are we supposed to stay up all night watching horror movies?”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “You know since meeting you two I don’t think I’ve watched anything that wasn't filled with gore or monsters.” His legs stretched out, kicking Kirk gently. “Should we sleep out here?” He asked.

“I have a tape player in my room.” Y/N yawned once more, she shuffled to her feet and grabbed a few movies off the shelf, tossing them into Kirk’s lap. “I’ll stay up I promise.” The boys shared a knowing look as they watched her shuffle up the stairs.

The two quickly tidied the coffee table off, knowing how much it would bother her in the morning if it was still a mess. “Ask us to sleepover and then immediately pass out. What kind of bullshit is that?” Kirk joked, knocking his shoulder into Jason’s as they made their way to Y/N’s room.

Y/N’s room oozed the same comfort she herself did. It was like coming home after a long day as he saw the familiar posters lining her walls, the plushies he had come to learn all the names of, her bed a tangled nest of pillows and sheets. She was sprawled out across the bed lazily.

Kirk smiled at the sight as he moved to the vhs player. He couldn’t be bothered to care what movie he put on. The thought of laying down with Y/N and Jason growing more enticing. “I think you guys have pajamas left here.” She mumbled half awake, waving towards her dresser.

It wouldn’t be the first time Kirk had slept in his jeans but he was grateful he could avoid it. There was a gnawing at his brain, telling him how unusual it was for the both of them to stay so frequently to have clothes left here. They had lived together so long that it just came naturally.

If the pants he grabbed were his or Jason’s he didn’t know. The room went dark aside from the dim fuzzy lighting radiating from the T.V. The two of them settled in on either side of her. The bed was big enough for the three of them as long as they pressed into each other.

It wasn’t unusual Kirk and Jason tossed their arms around the smaller girl, caging her in. She smiled fondly, turning to her side so that her back was pressed to Jason’s chest, her face against Kirk’s chest. What was out of the normal was the way Kirk’s hand searched for the other boys, finding it and intertwining their fingers.

Jason’s hand was larger than his own, engulfing him. He didn’t pull away, squeezing Kirk's hand softly. It sent a warm tingle up Kirk's arm. It seemed…right. The three of them completely entangled with each other. Any of the worries Kirk had earlier that day were washed away by the gentle breathing of his two best friends.

He was drowning in the two of them, with seemingly no savior in sight. If he were to go out like this, with both of them? He decided a while ago he would be okay with that. Jason’s warm hand on his own, Y/N’s soft breath fanning over his chest, their legs crossed over each other in knots. This death would be the closest thing to heaven he could get.

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica/reader #kirk hammett #kirk hammett x reader #jason newsted #jason newsted x reader #jason newsted/reader #kirk hammett x jason newsted #kirk hammett/reader #kirk hammett/jason newsted

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junisfics · 4 years ago

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All This Time — Armin Arlert (2)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: The morning after isn’t what either of them would expect, but after Reader pushes Armin away… she asks him to come right back

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Implied Smut

Armin couldn’t sleep, he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to lay conscious in your presence forever. So, for a while, he laid there, savoring the feeling of your warm body cuddled up next to him. He would smile to himself whenever you shifted around a little in your sleep just to nuzzle up closer to him, to toss and turn to lay your head on his chest.

He never wanted the morning to come.

He knew the moment that you wake you’d be asking questions. You’d be asking questions or you’d know exactly what happened and you’d kick him out of your bed. You’d be startled and confused and he’d have to explain to you that you were drunk and asked him to stay with you. But then you’d ask why you asked him to stay, and he’d need to explain to you that, while you were drunk, you went on a series of confessions and admissions.

When the sun had just begun to rise over the horizon, and your head was nestled into his shoulder, Armin finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

He didn’t dream. He didn’t get the chance to sleep long enough so his brain could enter that deep state of rest that would even allow him to. He only had feelings. Feelings of contentment, euphoria, nostalgia all washed over him after he closed his eyes.

He’s so in love. He’s in love with you. His heart aches every minute of the day for you, and for this brief passing moment that he has you in his arms, he’s going to pretend that you’re his. He’s going to wish on the morning sun that after this mess passes over that he’ll still have you, and he doesn’t even care if it’s as a friend. Because if Armin can still be the one you cry to at night, he would gladly be your friend over your lover.

He was so grateful as he slept, grateful that whenever he would get that glimpse of consciousness as he turned in the bed that he could still feel your body up against him. He would smile at the little sighs that would leave your lips as you stretched a little in your sleep or when you grabbed ahold of his shirt to anchor you closer.

But Armin wasn’t grateful when you woke.

You had found yourself with your right leg swung over his waist as he lays on his back, your right arm wrapping itself around his neck, and your face nestled into the crook under his jaw. You were laying on top of a chest you didn’t know who it belonged to.

You laid there for a moment, with your eyes wide and staring into the pale flushed skin of his neck as you so desperately try and recall who is in your bed and why they’re there. You were frozen… like you were scared to see who it was.

Finally, you grew the courage to lift your head slightly to peek at their face.

It was Armin. Armin.

Your best friend Armin, that you’ve been in love with for years on end was beneath you in your bed in a position that was far too intimate for you to consider that he had just stayed the night as a friend.

His lips were slightly parted as he breathed, his pretty eyelashes resting against his cheeks that were flushed a cute little shade of pink. His hair was all ruffled and messed, pushed out of his eyes so you could see his entire face.

You weren’t disgusted by him being in your bed… my goodness, it was far from that. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest at the revelation and all of a sudden your body was growing hot and the sheets that remained draped over you were suffocating.

At a second realization of ‘Oh my god, Armin’s in my bed’, you jerk your entire body away from him, scramble out of the bed and stumble to the floor just as he shoots upright in his wake. Your eyes were completely blown wide, your lips were pressed into a tight line and Armin could see your arms shaking at your sides. You looked mortified.

Armin lays with his arms behind him, resting on the heels of his hand as he looks to you with an equally incredulous expression.

“What — what are you doing in my bed?” You ask, voice just above a whisper. You’re too startled to speak any louder.

“You asked me to stay,” Armin says quickly, remaining still like he’s afraid you’ll be startled by any movement.

You take your eyes off him for a moment to scan them across the ground as you think over what could have possibly happened. They flit from side to side, jerking in their sockets as you look over the hardwood floor.

“Did — did we…?” You begin, your chest beginning to visibly heave as you suck in deep breaths.

You don’t know whether you want him to answer that question with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. But some sick twisted part of you was aroused by the possibility that the answer could be ‘yes’.

“No! No — you — you were drunk, I didn’t — we didn’t.” He stammers, pulling the sheets off of him and cautiously getting off the bed.

As horrible as it sounds, Armin was relieved to see that you’d forgotten everything that happened. Although he would have to work to pull that confession out of you again, it was much better than you avoiding him out of embarrassment and regret.

But as you think over what he’s said to you in regards to the night’s events, it slowly comes back to you. It’s all blurry, and for a moment you think you could be mistaking it for a dream, but you can make out the brief image of him in your doorway, then between your legs as you sit on the kitchen counter, and then on top of you on your bed.

And then you remember the conversation that had gone along with it.

“I… I asked you to stay…” You murmur to yourself, bringing your head back up to him as he finally stands on the other side of the bed, “Oh my god.”

You bring one arm around your waist and one clasps over your mouth, and for a moment, Armin’s scared you’re going to be sick. But between your fingers, he can hear you whisper a series of expletives over and over.

“Fuck, fuck — you need to go. Fuck! Armin, I’m sorry.” You exclaim, voice wavering as you take your hand from your mouth to point at your bedroom door.

Armin’s heart sinks into his stomach as he realizes that you have remembered every last thing you’d said to him. Maybe he’s the one who’s going to be sick because the terrified and regretful look on your face as his stomach churning in all the wrong ways.

“Out! Now! Oh my God!” You shout, enunciating with another point to the door. Your voice begins to tremble and…

God, please don’t cry. Please don’t cry.

Armin shuts his mouth and clenches his jaw, keeping his eyes on you as he blindly crosses your room to get to your door. He swallows hard before pausing once he gets to the door.

“y/n —”

“Get out!” You cover your eyes with your spare hand as you feel tears beginning to prick your vision.

You’ve cried in front of Armin before, both happy and sad cries. But you’ve never cried because of him, or something you’ve done to him; and never out of frustration in front of him. And you didn’t want to start now.

Armin flinches at your volume and sheepishly exits your room. You follow him, but only to close the door behind him. You swear you could hear him gasp as it slams.

It hurts your heart to see him cowering away from you, and you add that to the things that cause the tears to finally flow over. Not only did you completely humiliate yourself in front of him last night, but you admit something to him you promised yourself you’d never admit… and on top of that, you had just yelled at him.

Fuck, you yelled at him. He didn’t deserve that.

He came over to your house in the middle of the night, worried about your wellbeing because you didn’t have the nerve to tell him you were just drunk. He babied you and cared for you while you were in his way the whole time, and even though it’s the bare minimum, he didn’t have sex with you even though you begged him to.

He was too good, he didn’t deserve that.

You rest your back to the door, sliding down it until your butt hits the floor as your breathing gets choked up and you threaten to audibly sob. You let out a noise of frustration as you cross your arms over your knees and shove your face into the crook of your right elbow.

You can hear your front door shut as he leaves and it only causes you to let out another shaky groan.

The energy towards crying and groaning does no help to the painful pressure that’s already building in your head. You can feel it ache behind your eyes, throbbing along with your heartbeat and sending jolts of sharp pain through your skull when you blink.

You felt disgusting. You were covered in sweat and tears and your fingers and lips were still sticky with remnants of alcohol. You could still taste it on your tongue; the food and the alcohol. But the medicinal taste of the vodka strongly outweighs the warming remains of the melted butter.

It’s like it was telling you that your mistakes outweighed Armin’s kindness.

You didn’t exactly know why you were crying, you only knew that it came from frustration. It was all just churning around in a pot of distress. It was a vile potion of embarrassment, regret, shame, and humiliation that was being force-fed to you as you sat there on the floor.

Even though you heard Armin’s own confession, you still were overwhelmed with regret. His words were still a little blurry, you were still trying to get a grasp on the weight of them.

I’ve always wanted you too.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of it. You were satisfied with the friendship between the two of you, you never wanted it to change. It was platonic, emotionally intimate at times, but it was platonic. You were twin flames, and you didn’t want your internal desire to rip that away from you.

Being friends, best friends, with Armin was a healthy relationship. You could handle the occasional jealousy and lack of physical intimacy if it saved your friendship. You liked it that way. And now that the barriers were broken, and you had forced Armin to leave, you were terrified of losing him at the cost.

Keeping quiet about your romantic love for him was so easy when you had him in the palm of your hand and knew that he would never leave you, especially since you now know that he shared that feeling back. You both were content with the relationship you had. You both knew that neither of you was going anywhere.

It’s not that you planned to never tell him, you knew that you would eventually. But you were planning for years in the future, or maybe you were hoping to grow out of it. You would be able to sit down with him and bring it on easy, give yourself a choice in how you tell him.

But the premature and impulsive reveal of your truth had startled you and you pushed him away in the process.

So, in a way, you didn’t necessarily regret telling him… it was the way you did it.

And you weren’t the only one freaking out about the ways of your confession. Armin was an absolute mess.

In your mind, you were worried that he was taking your words as the truth, but Armin was doing the exact opposite. His thoughts were flying around like hummingbirds, wings flapping at hundreds of beats a minute. He was stuck between hitting the steering wheel out of frustration or just breaking down crying in his car.

Because in Armin’s head, you remembered exactly what you said and you had caught yourself in a lie. You had recognized that it was the alcohol talking and you didn’t mean a single thing you said; you only said it because you were lonely and needy.

And then, you had also recalled the exact words he had said to you in response. The words that were full of honesty. You had remembered the way he said it and the way he had looked at you, and you had been disgusted by it.

In your drunken lies, he had revealed his truth.

And you were regretful of your alcohol-fueled words because they led him to speak on his true desire.

Now, in his head, you were repulsed by him.

He hits the steering wheel hard, hard enough so that he’s gripping his fist with his other hand and gritting his teeth at the pain that shoots through his arm afterward. And then those tears swell in his eyes, stinging them and blurring his vision as he tries to blink them away.

He’s sucking in breaths through his teeth as he finally pulls out of your complex lot. He wipes at his eyes as he drives home as if he believes he’s not actually crying if the tears don’t fall down his cheeks.

You both were embarrassed; at what you did and what you’re doing. Both of you sniffling pathetically as you keep replaying this morning in your heads. Both of you hating yourselves; you for yelling at Armin, and Armin for what he thinks your yelling was for.

You sat on the floor for a while, eventually bringing your legs away from your chest to cross them under each other. You still sat with your head in your hands and your elbows resting on your knees as you steady your breathing before trying to continue with your day.

You wipe at your face in hopes to push the tears away, but you only spread your flaking mascara around and mix it with the sweat and oil that’s accumulated on your face. It was a gross feeling, and it was the thing that finally convinced you to get up.

Water joined your tears in wetting your face as you splash it on from the tap of your bathroom sink. You scrub a little too hard after you rub your face wash in, almost scratching at your skin to get last night’s both physical and mental remnants off your face and out of your head. The water refreshes your skin as you do a final splash to get the suds off, but it does no help to your headache. It only throbs in your head harder from leaning over the sink.

As you lift your head from spitting toothpaste into the drain, another wave of throbbing pain pulses behind your eyes. And as you stare into the mirror, you decide to prioritize getting pain medicine before continuing to refresh yourself. The cup Armin had got for you last night was still sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, and as you pick it up you let out an audible, melancholic sigh. You watch the remainder of the water swish around at the bottom of the cup as you make your way to the kitchen.

You find the pain medicine already sitting on the counter. You bite at the inside of your cheek upon the realization that he most likely placed it there last night insight of the morning.

You hate him, hate him for the way he cares for you and the way he’s so goddamn selfless. Everything about him had your heart twisting in on itself and chest tightening to where you couldn’t breathe.

That only started a few years ago, junior year of high school. You still vividly remember looking into his deep blue eyes, getting lost in their ocean as you hold his sweet face in your hands. It was after your high school had sent out emails regarding the college admission process. Both of you were unsettled with the idea of leaving.

Armin promised you, over and over, that he’d call and visit and drive to however far you go whenever you need it. And then you had grabbed his face in your hands and said to him, ‘now, don’t go replacing me’. That made him giggle a little, his cheeks heating up under your palms before he said

‘I wouldn’t dare’

That was it for you. And after he had gone home you had sat on your bed… just sitting there, wondering why your heart was feeling the way it did.

It’s been like that since. Every last time you saw him it made your whole soul ache. You fell in love with him; his voice, his touch, his mind. You were absolutely drowning in his ocean and he was holding your head underwater, but all this time you were doing the same to him.

You didn’t make breakfast. The state of the kitchen from your drunken antics was a turn-off, and the alcohol that was still swimming around in your stomach had you feeling a little too nauseous for food just yet.

Deciding to clean up the kitchen was probably the safest option for you right now. You were debating between doing as so, or returning to bed and sleeping the day away. But since Armin still lingered within your sheets, kitchen chores were decided on as you already began to shuffle away measuring spoons to their respective drawers.

As you cleaned, you allowed yourself to think forward, accepting the situation and moving on to figuring out how to deal with it. You haven’t checked your phone to see if Armin had messaged you, but you bet your chances that he hasn’t. You probably scared him, for God’s sake.

The guilt and denial were still simmering as the acceptance was poured into the pot. You knew you needed to apologize for a multitude of things that have occurred within the past twelve-ish hours, starting with the fact that you called him in the middle of the night in the first place. Armin already knows you’re sorry, he can read you like a book, but you need to say it to him. You need to call him or something.

You were at a crossroads once more; did you allow the tension to settle a little while longer, or do you apologize as soon as possible? You had to apologize before he did, because you know damn well he will eventually, even though this situation that wasn’t his fault.

When the bowl with the dry baking goods clashes with the counter and clatters to the floor, spilling its contents all around your feet, you get your answer for you. In an overflow of emotions and frustrated curses, you leave the mess on the floor and blindly search through the house for your phone. When it’s found, you call him again, sniffling and letting yourself cry in defeat.

Armin got your call not even an hour after he had arrived home. He’d ignored his grandparents as they welcomed him home, even though he knew he would regret it later, and dragged himself straight up the stairs to his bedroom to just take a seat on the edge of his bed. He had his head in his hands, heels of his palms pressing into his temples.

And he just sat. Armin sat with his teeth piercing his bottom lip and his mind telling him that he’s never going to be able to be with you the way he was before.

He looked at his phone for a few moments, watching it buzz, face-up on his nightstand. It took him a few moments to register that it was you calling him and not a spam number.

He couldn’t stop himself from picking up.

‘Armin? Armin, I’m sorry — I’m sorry for yelling, just please — please come back,’

It was safe to assume that you were crying. He could hear your hiccuping and sniffling through the phone. All sort of self-respect he had gone out the door once he heard your distress. As much as you hated him for being so kind, he hated you for having him wrapped around your finger.

“What happened?” He asks.

‘I — I need to talk to you and I spilled — spilled shit all over the kitchen. I’m just so fucking — God, Armin I’m sorry!’

The lack of communication was truly hindering both of you severely. Both of your executions were fucked and both of your receptions were equally so because of poor wording. Now, Armin didn’t know what you were mad at and you didn’t know if he was upset in return.

“Can I come help?” He says, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible.

‘Please,’ You beg, and he can still you rustling around on the other end.

Armin relaxes, but only a little, because at least he knew you weren’t mad at him. Or maybe you were, but your own guilt was outweighing it. He had a feeling you were reflecting your self-frustration onto him, he always has a feeling. He knows you too well not to.

It was almost funny how you greet him at the door you had just recently slammed in his face. You had tears running down your cheeks and you were sniffling and coughing as you tried to sputter out a string of explanations. For a moment, Armin could only stand there and watch; watch you speak nonsense while gesturing with your hands.

After a minute or so, Armin realizes that you’ve stopped. He couldn’t make out a single thing you had said, only getting an ear of something that sounded like an apology. But no matter what you had said to him, he outstretches his arms to pull your shaking body against him. And as he holds you close, as your arms wrap around his torso, you can’t stop another wave of tears that drip down your cheeks.

Armin just holds you, like he did last night when he was in your bed. Your head on his shoulder, nose nuzzling into the crook of his jaw, and hands grabbing at the fabric at the back of his tee-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, “I didn’t mean to — mean to scare you or — or anything,”

His attempt to comfort you only crumbles you down more because he didn’t need to apologize, he doesn’t have to apologize.

“No, no, no Armin,” You stutter, pushing at his chest to distance yourself enough to look at his face. He lets his hands fall to your waist, keeping a tight enough grip on you to not let you escape. You look up to him for a moment before looking down to his chest, hitting against it softly out of frustration, “Don't — don’t apologize. You don’t need to apologize,”

“I want to,” He tilts his head down slightly.

“Don’t! Please. This — this is my fault. I never — I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted to see you last night. I wanted to see you because I love you. I love you, like, more than I should, and I didn’t mean to tell you last night. I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry,” You grab at his shirt again, tugging on it and stretching it out.

“y/n —” He begins.

“And I scared myself because — because I didn’t mean to say it then and — and I didn’t think you were going to say it back. I just — I don’t know,” You take in a shaky exhale before letting it out.

Armin feels like he can breathe again. You were sincere last night, you were telling the truth, and you weren’t disgusted with him. Armin could breathe again because he knew the feeling was mutual.

You let yourself bring your cheek back to his chest, bending your elbows to bring yourself close to him. Armin lets his arms slide around your waist, pulling you against him again to hopefully convey that ‘this is okay’

“I embarrassed myself… and I yelled at you because of it and — and you don’t deserve that.” You mumble a little softer, into the soft skin of his neck.

You can feel his chest shift around beneath your cheek as he breathes, and you can hear his heart beating quickly but steadily under your ear. You don’t want to leave him this time, you don’t want to jerk away from his touch. But you’re also scared of what will happen when you do have to pull away from him.

So you let yourself stay like this for a while, and Armin doesn’t protest. He continues to caress the skin of your back through that skimpy tanktop you’re still wearing and rests his cheek against the top of your head. He could stay like this forever, the same way he could have when he was in your bed last night.

“I meant what I said,” Armin says, stilling his hands until only his thumb gently circles over your shirt, “That I’ve always… wanted you — and loved you,”

With your body still pressed against him you say, “All this time… it — it was always you. I just didn’t know how to say it and I didn’t want to scare you away,”

“You could never,”

“And I was worried about what would happen after I told you. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t feel the same way. I couldn’t lose this.” Your voice has shrunk down to an almost whisper, and you’ve shut your eye and let yourself sink deeper into his skin.

“God, y/n,” Armin can’t stop the breathy laugh that leaves his lips, “You — you have no idea,” He pushes on your shoulders gently to look at your face.

“Why are you laughing?” You look up to him, a little confused and concerned look on your face.

“I’m not. I just — you have no fucking idea how — how crazy I am for you,” Armin grabs ahold of your face hard enough so your cheeks get smushed slightly beneath his palms. Your own hands come up to his forearms, just grazing them.

“I don’t know how you didn’t see it,” He whispers, looking into your wide eyes with admiration.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and you hope that Armin can feel your cheeks heat up beneath his hands. He was so close, he was right there, he was looking down to you with his nose an inch away from yours.

“Do you — do you remember what I said last night?” You breathe, leaning forward ever so slightly.

God, how could he forget?

“Which… which part?” Armin could barely think. You were rising on your toes, your breath fanning over his lips. He could feel your body trembling as you brought yourself closer to him.

“When I said that I want you,” You mumble, looking to his lips for a brief moment. Armin catches the flit of your eyes and he can feel his stomach twist, “that I need you,”

“Yeah,” Armin can’t stop his voice from shaking, “What — what do you need from me?”

And he knows the answer, he knows the answer, he just needs to hear you say it. He needs to hear your sweet voice speak words so lewd that he’ll feel like his knees have turned to jelly.

“I want you to fuck me, just like you promised. I’m sober this time, I slept it off.” Your breathing is so shaky, your voice is all strained to the point where it could pass for a whimper.

Armin can feel your words flow straight south, swimming below his navel and hardening his cock. He looks over you, over your face and your body that’s still exposed by your revealing clothes. He wants to tear them off.

“We can talk more later. I need you, so bad.” You bring your hands to his chest again, taking the stretched fabric in your fingers and tugging him closer.

“Yeah?” Armin nods in confirmation, he would tease you if he had the courage to.

“Yeah,” You nod, biting down on your bottom lip. You rise on your toes again, bringing your body flush against his. You can feel his cock hard in his sweats against your stomach, can feel his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Can — can I have you, please.” You slide one hand down his chest, shivering at the way the lean muscles in his abdomen divet under your fingertips. When you reach his waistband, you stop, toying with the strings with your right hand.

Armin answers you by grabbing ahold of the back of your neck and bringing your lips to his. They’re soft and warm, and they make your insides go all fuzzy and you practically whimper at the sensation. Your legs were already shaking due to the close proximity but now you’re deathly afraid of your knees buckling.

He felt so right up against you, with his hands holding you close and his tongue licking at the seam of your lips. He had you melting so quickly that you cannot believe you forced yourself to wait this long to tell him.

Even though your body was all tense, something inside you relaxed. Armin was here with you, he wasn’t leaving.

#armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #armin smut #armin x reader #armin x reader smut #all this time #1k

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belliesandburps · 4 years ago

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Our Favorites Handling Bellyaches - Part 2

I received plenty of asks about other characters responding to bellyaches, and so, here are another eight based off the characters requested!

Shoto Todoroki (My Hero Academia): Todoroki is canonically pretty gluttonous, just not ravenous. So he won’t rapidly stuff his face like Bakugou or Kirishima, but he’ll steadily eat a lot and keep going with that neutral look on his soft face. I imagine, for the most part, he doesn’t get stomach aches because he doesn’t overdo it often nor does he really change up his eating habits too much. But from time to time, he’ll try new things which won’t always agree with him or eat just a wee bit too much. If something he ate isn’t agreeing with him, he’ll be very subtle but blunt about it. He’ll have this mild yet notable look of strain on his face while using his cold hand to rub his belly. The cold side always helps to ease his stomach, which was what his mom used to do whenever lil Shoto got a tummyache as a kid. This might cause a few gas bubbles to gurgle up his throat, but he tends to muffle those in his mouth. Now, if he overate, he’s kind of winded. Todoroki will head to his room and huff breathlessly as he tugs his shirt up and exposes his taut, rounded belly, feeling up just how drum-tight it is beneath his hands. He’ll use both hands to massage his stomach in that instance; hot and cold, and try to use those abilities to ease his gut while he massages the overstuffed cramps away. When he’s especially full, his burps get much deeper and louder. If he muffles them, they rumble quite loudly in his cheeks, or if he really needs to get it out, he’ll throw his head back and expel a DEEP belch, which always leaves him huffing with relief after and muttering a small ‘excuse me.’ He tries not to bother Midoriya, but he absolutely loves it when Midoriya rubs his belly. Midoriya’s touch is always deeply comforting for him and not only eases his stuffed stomach but also makes him feel safe and secure. Plus, he finds a little amusement in how flustered Midoriya always gets rubbing his tum.

Tamaki Amajiki (My Hero Academia): Given the way his ability works and the sheer anxiety he feels, Tamaki is incredibly prone to tummyaches. Canonically, just thinking about something will make his stomach hurt. Anxiety-induced tummyaches leave Tamaki whimpering and shivering fearfully as he crumbles to the ground cradling his gurgling gut, and whining that he wants to go home. It’s...kind of the cutest freakin’ thing ever. But given how his quirk relies on food, Tamaki will very often try new and exotic meals or eat things that don’t agree with one another, which gives him a really gnarly stomachache. When that happens, Tamaki’s stomach is pressing out noticeably and rock-hard to the touch. He’ll groan with a notably nauseous look on his face and find himself stifling a series of wet, gurgling belches, some of which he can’t hold in. He gets very embarrassed about burping in public, but in these circumstances, he’s too nauseous to get anxious and nervous. Instead, he’s resisting the urge to throw up, and desperately rubbing his belly to settle it down. Fatgum or Mirio always suggest he drink some ginger ale to settle his tum down. Problem is, ginger ale makes Tamaki burp REALLY loudly, and even if he’s nauseous, if he ends up letting out a HUGE burp out in public? He may literally die from embarrassment. Tamaki’s also a really hungry lad too, so he tends to overstuff himself from time to time. If he does, he can sport a pretty sizable belly which he won’t admit feels REALLY satisfying, but less so if he overdid it and is suffering some seriously painful grumbles. When Tamaki is full to the brim, he’ll whimper at the realization that his belly is very visibly bloated and everyone can see it. He gets even more embarrassed when anyone wants to touch it or even rub it, making him whimper about wanting to crawl in his room and never leave. But when he’s packed to the brim, he’ll use the powers he gained from whatever meat he consumed to more rigorously rub his belly, especially octopus tentacles. Doing so works wonders for settling his stomach, but also makes him incredibly burpy. He’ll try his best to stifle them but many will roll out of his mouth and be both throaty and surprisingly big. Tamaki generally is a pretty burpy lad, simply because of how his stomach works to intensely process everything he eats for power. And it’s part of why he dreads eating out with anyone. But Kirishima and Fatgum are always amused or trying to top him, while Mirio just laughs and tells him he’s got skills.

Dabi (My Hero Academia): Dabi’s canonically got a weak stomach. He actually felt sick dealing with Spinner’s driving and complained about having a pretty bad stomachache. Like Natsu, I think Dabi gets motion sick very easily. He admits he doesn’t do well in cars, so I think the bumpier the ride the worse off he gets. If the league is in a van together, Dabi will be in the corner, doing his best not to groan miserably while his stomach churns deeply and unpleasantly from how turbulent it’s getting. He’ll be muffling really wet belches behind his fist, groaning after each one and mumbling that he feels like shit. Sometimes, he’ll burp so hard that his stomach lurches and he has to clamp his mouth shut to keep from throwing up on the spot. A good few times, the league has had to pull over so Dabi could rush out and puke off to the side of the road. If he throws up, Dabi gets really pissed out and starts shouting at Spinner for being such an awful driver or getting mad at Shigaraki for not having Kurogiri transport them to where they need to be. He hates showing weakness around the other villains, which is why he shows a lot of anger instead if he feels queasy. As such, if Dabi overeats or drinks too much and gets full to the point where he feels sick, he’s less annoyed and just groggy. He’ll slump back on his couch and unbutton his pants to give his belly some breathing room and really knead into his tight, bloated gut with both hands to try and settle it down. When he’s full, he tends to have really deep burps, which he freely and shamelessly lets out. Sometimes, he’ll slap the side of his bulging belly as hard as he can to let out the biggest burp he possibly can in an effort to bring whatever relief he can manage. Dabi knows how to burp on cue, so he’ll often gulp down air and belch it back up to try and ease a lot of the pressure festering in his gut. He also loves having his belly rubbed for any reason, so running your hands across his taut, distended middle will always help settle it down and leave him humming softly to your touch. If he’s relaxed enough though, that can also get him ‘riled up’ for NSFW shenanigans.

Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland): Idia is both canonically gluttonous and canonically works himself into getting some pretty gnarly tummyaches all the time. The mere thought of having to be around people twists his poor tummy into knots that can make him sick. When he works himself up, poor Idia will whimper and cradle his stomach while it gurgles in discomfort. He’ll actually tear up a little bit and whine about needing to hide out back in his room, unless Ortho drags him back into place. The little robot will offer to rub his big brother’s tummy to make it feel better or suggest they get something from Sam’s shop to help settle Idia’s stomach. Idia will be a whimpering, whining mess either way. He also tends to give himself really bad hiccups when he’s anxious and nauseous. He gives these loud, adorably high-pitched hiccups that leave him whimpering and covering his mouth, tearfully worried that someone’s gonna get really annoyed with him for being so loud. When he’s overstuffed because he ate way too much without even realizing it (as he tends to), Idia will groan and sit down on his bed, massaging his bulging belly and feeling it gurgle and churn heavily beneath his hand. Idia’s natural warmth processes what he eats faster than most people, which gives his tummy a much softer, sloshier feel to it when he’s stuffed to the brim. So when he rubs, he’ll actually knead into his temporary belly fat, crooning at how good it feels. But being stuffed also makes him pretty burpy, especially when he’s just binged on a bunch of sweets, junk food or soda. Any time he ever eats, he’s in his room. So, if he’s alone and he ends up letting out a huge burp, Idia will cover his mouth but actually giggle with amusement. But if the Prefect is in there with him rubbing his belly when Idia burps, he’ll whimper and apologize profusely. If he knows the Prefect likes ‘em, he’ll still whimper because he’s embarrassed about the way the surface of his soft, plush belly ripples when he burps really loudly. The Prefect will insist that they like that too, and Idia be flustered because he’s not used to people being attracted to him, so he’ll try and hide behind his sleeves adorably or bite on his oversized sleeve anxiously.

Venom (Spider-Man): Venom is a ravenous eating machine, so there’s very, very, VERY little that can upset that perpetually hungry belly of his. But one thing we canonically know doesn’t sit well in Venom’s stomach is other symbiotes OR extra spicy stuff. So if Venom gobbles up another symbiote, he’ll store it in his belly trying to absorb it, but the thing will savagely thrash around inside of his belly, seeping out to the surface. Doing so will make Venom very gassy, and he’ll end up burping uncontrollably while fighting to keep the rogue symbiote back down. Sometimes, Venom will burp so hard that the symbiote will partially spew out of his slimy maw, only for Venom to grossly slurp it back up before it can escape. If he has to hold it in long enough, it will make him very nauseous, to the point where his burps grow wetter and he ends up looking miserable and whining at Eddie to do something, which Eddie will just exasperatedly tell him this is entirely his fault. When it comes to overeating, Venom literally can’t eat too much food to make himself sick. Sooooo, the only overeating he does is if he ever tries to eat more than one person at once, or tries to eat a REALLY big enforcer. So, if Venom has two dirtbags squirming and thrashing in his belly or just a really really REALLY big guy, Venom will be immobilized. He’ll be sitting on his thick rump, groaning with his slimy tongue hanging out of his maw while his massive boulder of a belly thrashes around violently. And the end result will leave Venom groaning and belching hard enough to shake the ground itself. And if you think Venom has it bad now? Wait til Eddie has to sleeve it off and wakes up to the mother of all bellyaches in the morning. Venom is usually good about burping up the bones of his digested prey before letting Eddie take over, but Eddie will still be unbearably bloated and feel utterly nauseous when he awakes to this huge, taut belly that almost makes him look pregnant. When that happens, Venom’s tendrils will slither out and rub Eddie’s aching belly all over to try and settle it down with Venom assuring him that they’re okay. Eddie’s only response will be a record-shattering belch and a miserably groggy groan while Venom cackles and says he’s not too shabby for a human.

Rin Matsuoka (Free!): This shark-toothed lad has an appetite to spare, and also gets stomachaches a lot from not being careful about when he swims after eating. The latter has seen him throwing up from time to time. But when he gets cramps from swimming too fast, his stomach feels harder and gurgles a very thick, acidic-sounding gurgle. When that happens, Rin becomes a nauseous mess, groaning and muffling really wet-sounding burps, some of which he’ll just let out carelessly, too sick to care. Haruka and or Makoto (dealers choice) usually try to help by rubbing his aching stomach sensually. Sometimes, this helps quell the ache in his gut, sometimes, it’s too great to prevent him from spewing. But he’ll always moan and lean into their touch, desperate to have his belly rubbed, even if it’s in vein, because it still feels amazing. If Rin ate too much, his belly will be surging out and resting heavily against his pelvis, churning intensely and leaving Rin practically weighed down by his own gut. Rin has a serious stomach capacity and he can be pretty shameless. So when he’s overstuffed, Rin tends to burp a lot. He’ll knead his bulging belly and push out some huge, rumbling belches that force their way up his throats for a good few seconds straight and end with him moaning with relief. He’ll actually have a lot of pressure stored up from overeating. So after one really good burp, a good few throaty ones will follow back to back after the biggest one, and usually end with a really long one to punctuate his fullness. When that happens, Rin just smacks his lips and gives his belly a resounding slap of satisfaction, just feeling relieved at getting the pressure out, and no shame whatsoever. He’s also a giant tease, so if he sees his partner blushing, he’ll flash them a wink and ask them if they enjoyed the show.

Shiki Granbell (Edens Zero): The precious friend-loving boi is wild to his core and extremely excitable. And since he’s a gravity-defying powerhouse, he doesn’t get motion sick at all. He DOES, however, make the mistake of eating too much and flipping upside down. When that happens, poor Shiki’s tummy will be giving him all manner of grief. It will feel rock hard and visibly bloated, and Shiki will be a mess, whimpering and burping in his fist while whining about how much his belly hurts. When he does, he’s practically begging Rebecca to rub his tummy. Soon as she does, he’ll turn into a freakin’ puppy, the way he smiles and rests against Rebecca’s sides. That look of happy contentment on his face is all the reason Rebecca needs to gently massage his aching belly, no matter how many times she warns Shiki to stop and think before using his powers after eating. He’s also a very hungry lad, and as such, has overstuffed himself time and time again. This usually leaves his belly big and rounded, sitting heavily on his lap and sloshing heartily from how hyperactive his digestive system is. When he’s stuffed, he tends to get really big, rumbling burps that leave him huffing after they end, but he’ll still whine about his belly hurting. Rebecca will remind him that it’s his own fault for eating so much, but all he has to do is whimper pitifully to unwittingly win her over to start rubbing his belly. Like before, he’s very docile and contented when her hands are on his stomach. But if he’s stuffed, Shiki tends to burp really loudly to relieve the pressure in his rounded stomach, which always leaves Rebecca staring blankly and asking Shiki to excuse himself. He’ll just shrug and complain that he can’t help it. And then he’ll usually punctuate it by thumping his chest and letting out a HUGE burp that leaves him sighing with relief. But when he sees Rebecca’s eye start to twitch, theeeen he’ll sheepishly mutter a small “s’cuse me... ^^;”

Inuyasha (Inuyasha): Inuyasha’s a bit of a shameless, greedy pig. So he tends to overeat often or eat things he shouldn’t. In the latter’s case, Inuyasha’s stomach will be very noisy, churning up a storm and leaving him grimacing with discomfort. He’ll complain about his gut hurting, really kneading into his stomach, then telling Kagome to rub his belly...before faceplanting when she barks at him to “SIT!” for making demands. After that, he’ll growl but groan at how much worse his stomach feels from the sudden smash he was forced to do because of his beads. Then he’ll groggily yet begrudgingly ask “very nicely” if Kagome can rub his belly. When she does, despite his crass attitude, he’ll pant happily, letting his tongue hang out at how good it feels having his hard, churning stomach tended to by Kagome. If he overeats to the point where he gives himself a gnarly bellyache, he’ll be stuffed with a huge, medicine ball of a belly, one that’s forced his robes open while it weighs heavily on his lap. In cases like that where Inuyasha is full to the brim, he’ll knead his giant belly with his palms and claws and work up some of the largest belches he can manage. Kagome will get annoyed and tell him to stop being so gross, but Inuyasha will complain he can’t help it, he’s too full and needs to ease the pressure somehow. He’ll really knead and press into his belly too, making his fingers sink into his soft, currently sloshy gut to force up some huge, throaty belches. In fact, if Kagome complains that Inuyasha’s being gross, he’ll make it a point to make himself burp louder and more frequently just to troll her, especially since he knows if she uses the curse against him when he’s that bloated, he may be sick and even she doesn’t want that.......she’ll totally get back at him after he finishes digesting his heavy meal though...

And that’s your lot! If you guys have any more characters you wanna see write ups for, hit up my ask box! :)

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angstyaches · 3 years ago

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From 🍄 anon after I basically begged for angsty requests:

hello flick, if you want to write hunger with little to no comfort,,,,, consider this,,,, shayne,,,, not letting himself eat back when he still lived with madeline and watson,,, and not telling charlie,,, because he doesn’t want to worry him,,,,

This is closer to a whump fic than a hurt/comfort fic, so be warned. Also, just a reminder, these OCs are 19-20ish at the time. Shayne gets a little comfort, just not the right kind.

CW: emotional whump, disordered eating, low self-esteem, hunger with pain and affecting cognitive function, little/no comfort, psychological abuse.

___

He woke for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night, groaning as he took in the appearance of his room. He sluggishly rolled over, frowning in the direction of the little clock that sat on top of his set of drawers.

5:35am. An acceptable time to give up on sleep.

He sat up slowly, trying to gauge how much he could move without making himself dizzy. He rubbed his eyes, the stray ends of sleep disappearing and leaving a stabbing pain in the pit of his stomach. He pressed a hand over the pain, frowning when he felt his stomach rumble under his palm.

Maybe that’s what had been keeping him from sleeping.

Are you hungry, Shayne?

A shiver ripped up his spine. He stood up, shaking his head to chase out the phantom voice; he couldn’t deal with the Madelyn in his head, especially not while she was also in the house with him.

He tried to remember what he’d eaten recently. He’d been shaky after school yesterday, and he’d tried to eat a cup of instant noodles, but he’d only managed a few mouthfuls before starting to feel nauseous, and the cup had ended up in the bin along with most of its contents. Before that, he’d had a granola bar for breakfast, and before that –

No, wait, the granola bar hadn’t been yesterday. It’d been the day before that. It was definitely that week, for sure…

He swallowed, wondering if he should have breakfast today. It was always a gamble; he never knew when Watson or Madelyn would expect him to work, and it was always much messier and more painful when he had food in his system.

Not to mention that food always came with a side helping of judgment in this house.

He took his time getting ready, though there was little to relish about the morning. He crossed the dark hallway to the bathroom, took his usual lukewarm shower and brushed his teeth, towel-dried his hair, put on the grey-and-navy uniform that would keep him relatively invisible for most of the day.

In this house, though, it was impossible to stay invisible.

Madelyn was in the hallway as he made his way downstairs with his backpack. His stomach dropped, her gaze making the hairs on his forearms prickle. He quickly tugged his sleeves down from his elbows to hide the goosebumps that sprung up.

“Morning, Mads.”

“Good morning,” she snapped, eyeing him up and down as he stood, silent, on the last step, gripping the handrail. She had piercing amber eyes and dark, silky hair that fell to her waist when loose. That morning, she’d twisted it into an elaborate structure at the nape of her neck.

Shayne shrugged his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. “Do… Do you need me for anything?”

She scoffed at that, eyes turning away from him. “If it were possible to prove yourself useful this morning, don’t you think I would have already informed you?”

He nodded. “Sure. Sorry.”

“Could you tell me what time you’ll be home after school today?”

Shayne swallowed, only hesitating for a second. “Five o’clock. As soon as the bus gets in…”

“You have no… plans?”

He shook his head. There was no way he’d let Charlie rope him into hanging out at the Mulberry house, not while he was feeling so weak and drained. Even worse, he’d probably be offered dinner if he showed up there.

At just the vague thought of food, his stomach shifted and let off a low growl. He quickly crossed his arms, shuffling his feet and clearing his throat at the same time. With her heightened senses, Madelyn surely heard it, but she didn’t react beyond narrowing her glare.

“Nothing?” she asked. “We’ve seen so little of you recently.”

Shayne shook his head and cleared his throat again. “Do you need me for something then?”

“Full of questions this morning, hmm?” Madelyn shook her head and took a step towards the kitchen. “Just be home when you say you’re going to be home. Otherwise, you know… I’ll have to send Watson out to find you again.”

A chill rolled down Shayne’s back as he watched her step out of his way. It was vague, but it was a threat, not just to him, but to Charlie and his parents. He bit into his cheek, hot streaks of anger flashing through his head and tightening the muscles in his chest.

Madelyn raised her eyebrows. She didn’t quite gesture towards the front door, but it felt like an instruction to leave. He stormed past her and out the front door, letting it slam behind himself in what instantly felt like the pettiest form of rebellion ever.

He spun around and lifted both his middle fingers towards the door; Madelyn had several supernatural abilities, but seeing through doors wasn’t one of them.

“Fuck you,” he mouthed silently, with enough force that he might as well have screamed it. He took several steps backwards before he turned to face the road, proceeding like a zombie beneath the rain-dampened trees.

His hands felt funny. He lifted them slightly and frowned when he found he couldn’t hold them steady. He crossed his arms over his chest and held himself, taking gulps of air into his lungs to try to calm himself.

But even when he managed to tame the fiery, hateful anger, he was still shaking. The centre of his stomach ached as waves of hunger weaved back and forth inside of him. As the rusted sign for the bus stop came into view, its edges seemed to blur, and the road tipped to the side.

Shayne freed one hand from under his own arm and pressed it to his mouth, wondering for a second if he was going to be sick. Instead, it was just a shallow burp that rolled up, churning his stomach and making it growl violently.

“Mm. Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He glanced down the empty road, checking that the bus wasn’t arriving just yet. He held a hand over his stomach, pushing against it and rubbing harshly, hoping to coax the growls out before he was surrounded by other students. He realised he’d forgotten to fill his water bottle before leaving the house, so he couldn’t even get some liquid into his stomach to shut it up. He’d need to remember to go to the water fountain before his first class.

As the bus crested the hill, he shoved his hands in his pockets, staring down at the ground. He always wondered what he looked like to the students looking out the bus windows. He’d never figured out how to hold himself in a way that seemed natural.

The bus driver didn’t even bother to look at him, which was normal. Shayne glared at a first-year student who was staring at him while whispering something to his friend. He was used to hearing himself being talked about, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. He already hated that he took up physical space; he could barely stand the idea that he also took up residence in people’s minds.

He walked until he reached the seat where Charlie was sitting, staring down at some loose sheets covered in notes while wearing in-ear headphones. He looked up after a few seconds, breaking into an easy smile.

Fuck. That smile. It usually pissed him off so much that he would just look away whenever it popped up on Charlie’s face, but for some reason, Shayne found it hard not to stare this morning.

“You want to sit?” Charlie asked, pulling out his headphones.

Shayne swallowed, unable to bring himself to nod. Charlie’s backpack was in the seat next to him. It would need to be moved if he was going to sit down.

You take up so much fucking space –

Without even waiting for an answer, Charlie pulled the backpack towards himself, propping it on his lap.

The hollow space inside of Shayne throbbed, ached.

You're like a black hole.

"Go ahead," Charlie urged him, nodding to the free seat.

Shayne swayed a bit, though he could pass it off as though the motion of the bus had caused it. He held in a groan and sat down next to Charlie. He shoved his backpack down between his feet. He was tempted to just let his head rest against the back of the seat in front of him. The bus had only been in motion for a few minutes, but he was already light-headed again.

A flutter of panic hit his chest as he realised Charlie had said something else, and he’d missed it.

“What?” he asked, slumping back in his seat.

“I said, ‘how are you?’” Charlie shrugged, still wearing that smile. “You okay?”

Shayne nodded briskly, glad that Charlie provided him with an adjective that he could lie and agree to. It saved him having to fabricate a lie himself.

“You?” he asked, feeling secure in the knowledge that anyone – including Charlie – could easily be distracted if they were coaxed into talking about themselves.

“Yeah, I’m…” Charlie sighed, glancing at his notes. “I’m half-dead this morning. Just hoping my coffee kicks in before second class, for the history test.”

As a fun kick to the ribs when he was already down, Shayne had forgotten about the test. He’d also likely forgotten every word of their history textbook. His found it hard to concentrate these days, and everything that passed in front of his face seemed to dissolve somewhere between his eyeballs and his brain.

“Hey, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Fuck. Charlie had wasted no time in swinging the focus back towards Shayne.

Shayne felt his heart start to pound, cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He hated this. He wished he’d found somewhere else to sit. He missed the days when nobody gave a shit, nobody asked him questions like how he was or if he was feeling okay. He’d blacked out in art class the previous term, and nobody had even noticed; they’d all just assumed he’d put his head down to go to sleep.

And yet, Charlie… Charlie saw him.

He wondered what would happen if he told him the truth. If he said that he was scared and ashamed to eat anything, that he was so hungry his stomach hurt, that this was still so much better than the alternatives...

Shayne glared at the back of the seat in front of him, hating himself for even considering burdening Charlie with all of that. Charlie was staring, still waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t exactly look worried yet. One advantage of being a miserable bastard was that Shayne didn’t have to put up an exhausting, cheerful façade.

“Kind of tired,” he said finally.

“Okay." Charlie frowned. "Well, I’m going to read over my notes a few more times, but if you’re really tired, I’ve been told my shoulder makes a good pillow.”

Shayne blinked with genuine incomprehension. The words didn’t stick in his brain long enough for him to dissect them; all he could really focus on was trying to breathe in time with the hunger pangs fluctuating in his stomach. He could usually keep it relatively quiet that way, but being this close to Charlie was making him even more anxious than usual.

“What?” he mumbled.

Charlie’s eyelashes fluttered as he broke into another smile, his gaze flicking away from Shayne’s. “Um, you can sleep on my shoulder, if you want.”

Shayne scoffed under his breath.

“Or don’t,” Charlie laughed, turning his attention towards his notes. “Whatever.”

Shayne’s gaze wandered towards the paper in Charlie’s hands, skimming over the headings that he’d jotted down in his annoyingly pretty handwriting. The topics sounded vaguely familiar, like he remembered them from a movie he hadn’t watched since he was a toddler. Like he’d last heard them from the other side of a thick veil.

His stomach pinched, and he realised he was hugging his waist again in an attempt to ease the pain and muffle any unwanted noise. He swallowed harshly, glancing from Charlie’s notes to Charlie’s shoulder and remembering his offer.

It was so silly. And yet Shayne wriggled a little closer.

The fabric of Charlie’s jacket was cool, unpleasantly so, against his cheek at first, but he quickly got over it. His head instantly felt better, supported by something solid instead of trying to follow the turns of the bus. Shayne inhaled deeply as his stomach squeezed and his shoulders tensed against the pain. A low grumble began to surface, soft enough that he covered it up with a sigh.

“I know I sound like a broken record,” Charlie said, startling Shayne a bit, since he’d thought he’d gone back to revising. “But… you can tell me if something’s wrong.”

“I’m fine,” Shayne said. The words felt like shards in his throat. He didn’t know – wouldn’t realise for a while yet – why it was getting more and more difficult to bring himself to lie to Charlie.

Charlie nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Shayne closed his eyes and continued taking deep, delicate breaths.

#hunger #whump #angst #hunger fic #whump fic #hunger mention #starvation mention #StW Shayne #hurt no comfort #no comfort #hunger writing

53 notes · View notes

samstree · 4 years ago

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Hug a Witcher Day (4/4)

In which Geralt makes plans, but everything goes wrong.

(geraskier, 4.7k, hurt/comfort, sick jaskier, love confessions, first kiss, second kiss, cuddling, geralt talks about his feelings!)

This story ends here. Remember to give your local witchers a hug!

AO3, previous: [1] [2] [3]

Loving someone is unbearable, Geralt has recently realized.

In the big medical camp, when they can only sleep with hundreds of healers and patients in one big room, their single beds are arranged next to each other in parallel. The night renders the place pitch dark and Geralt is the only one still capable of seeing anything.

Geralt watches Jaskier drift off the moment his head hits the pillow, his breathing calm and his heart slowing.

The bard is tired, but he’s safe.

Geralt watches for a few more moments longer and, gradually, a warm pool of fuzziness begins to gather in his stomach again. He revels in it, in the feeling of loving Jaskier.

He reaches out a hand towards the bard and stops at the edge of the bed, a mere foot away from Jaskier’s sleeping form. The steady rhythm of Jaskier’s human heart lulls Geralt into oblivion but his hand remains there, so close and yet so far away.

That’s how Jaskier wakes Geralt in the morning, with a brush of knuckles, a gentle squeeze on his wrist and a soft, bleary smile. His brown hair is sleep-rumpled and there’s a long pillow crease on his cheek, and Geralt almost blurts it out on the spot.

Loving someone is unbearable.

Loving someone while not telling them is even worse.

But Geralt will tell Jaskier one day. A witcher can’t afford to be a coward. He didn’t get through the worst trials only to be intimidated by a simple human bard. No, the reason he can’t voice those three words is only…bad timing. Jaskier has been through too much in the span of just a few seasons, and yet his smiles are still flowing with patience; he persists with the gentleness that is so distinctly Jaskier .

Geralt won’t weigh Jaskier down, not until they can pack their bags and leave this city.

And they do.

The end of summer brings the first chill in the air, and Geralt finally leads Roach out of the gates of Vizima. Jaskier follows not far behind with the lute on his back and a spring in his steps.

It all feels like a dream when Geralt remembers being cooped up in one place and isolated from the world, but he walks out of the city as a new man. The love flowing through his veins is the tangible proof of his change of heart.

“Roach must be dying to stretch her legs, don’t you think?” the bard offers when Geralt mounts the mare, her gait anxious.

“Catch up to me?” Geralt asks.

“Always.”

The corners of Jaskier’s eyes crinkle and the sun spills down his hair and threads it with gold. With a gentle nudge, the mare takes off eagerly. The bard’s silhouette grows more distant and Geralt gives up on hiding the lovestruck grin on his face.

For a long time, Geralt anticipates he will tell Jaskier in the most dramatic, world-ending way.

After all, the bard does everything so dramatically and world-endingly that anything related to him should deserve the same treatment. Geralt reckons even if he tries to keep it down, Jaskier will find a way to make it the grandest scene there is.

Geralt thinks about doing it in Dol Blathanna, a poetic symmetry to their first meeting that the bard will certainly wax poetic about. The idea churns for two days and suddenly he realizes how terrible it is. The fall will soon render the valley of flowers barren and they’ll just be standing on rocky ground.

So Geralt turns his eyes to the north, where Kaer Morhen must be hiding behind the mountains. Within the walls of the ancient keep, there’s a tower just next to their training yard that he has spent so many sleepless nights in. Standing on top of that tower and watching the stars and northern lights might be the rare moments when he’s truly at peace. It’s when he’s at home.

He silently decides on taking Jaskier home for the winter.

“Why are you taking us this far north, Geralt? Urgh, and why do you have to push me like this? You truly have no pity for me.”

The bard sits on his bedroll and rubs at his eyes at dawn, his face scrunched up with displeasure.

“Hmm.”

In his mind’s eye, Geralt can almost see Jaskier’s face when he steps into Kaer Morhen for the first time, the bard raving about all the songs the ancient keep could inspire and exploring the place with wonderment. He can see the way Jaskier’s eyes would light up under the night sky at the sight of those colorful lights, awestruck and gleaming.

If Geralt was any other man, he would be giddy with anticipation.

And perhaps, that’s why he doesn’t see it when sickness creeps up on Jaskier in the most unexpected way.

Surviving a terrible plague and falling ill right after sounds way too anticlimactic. Jaskier would be disappointed in a twist like this if it’s in a story. It never even crosses Geralt’s mind that Jaskier’s increased complaining is a result of discomfort, of months’ exhaustion silently building up. It never occurs to him that Jaskier, now with his waist and shoulders thinner, might need to take more breaks on the road and wear more layers on harsher days.

An autumn storm catches them off guard and that’s all it takes.

“You got lucky. There’s only one room left.” The man behind the desk throws a pitying look at the bard, dripping on the creaky floor and swaying on his feet. “The rest are all booked for the festival.”

Geralt pays no mind to his remarks. His world narrows down to getting Jaskier into a warm room and stripping him of these wet clothes. He has no choice but to replace them with one of Geralt’s dark shirts—the bard has never been good at keeping his pack dry.

Now Jaskier is shivering under the covers and groaning like a dying animal. His hair is damp from the residual rain and cold sweat, his frame drowning in the too-large tunic.

“Can you light the fire, Geralt?” Jaskier asks through chattering teeth. The blanket is slipping from his shoulders, the open collar exposing a patch of skin and sending a chill down his body. Geralt wraps the blanket tighter around him and looks puzzled at the roaring flame in the hearth.

“It is on. Can’t you see it?” Geralt frowns, confused.

Jaskier’s eyes focus on somewhere far away. The dazed expression lingers for way too long before his head turns to the fireplace. “Oh.”

The worry in Geralt’s stomach grows heavier. He feels for Jaskier’s forehead and lets out a curse when his palm meets burning skin.

“You are feverish.” Geralt continues to wipe away the sweat gathering at the bard’s hairline. “Damn it, Jaskier. Why didn’t you say something?”

The bard leans into Geralt’s cooler touch instinctively. “Well, if you learned one thing about bards, Geralt, you should know that we can’t predict the weather.”

“No.” Frustration seeps into Geralt’s voice. He lets out a scowl. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? You must have been feeling terrible for days if you have a fever like this. Jaskier…”

Geralt breathes out his name and finds anger rising, but not towards the bard. He’s angry with himself, for neglecting Jaskier’s comfort in favor of furthering his stupid plan, for not seeing what’s right in front of him. Jaskier staggering on his feet in the pouring rain stirred up some old fear in Geralt, the fear that hasn’t left him since the day he stepped into Oxenfurt in the spring.

“I guess it didn’t even cross my mind,” Jaskier explains, his voice small and unsure. “We just survived something unimaginable, my dear. I was so excited to go out again. It’s you and—”

Jaskier is rudely interrupted by a coughing fit. The violent wheezing wracks his lungs, causing him to fall forward in a struggle. Geralt catches his limp body in a frenzy and Jaskier ends up with his forehead on Geralt’s shoulder to ride it out, his too-warm breaths fanning over the skin of Geralt’s skin.

“It’s you and me against the world,” Jaskier finally croaks as Geralt helps him sit against the pillows. “All the adventures we missed, think about them. I was just…excited.”

Geralt finds himself kneeling on the bed and a hand’s breadth away from Jaskier’s face, his cheeks worryingly flushed. He looks down to adjust the blanket again to make sure the bard is completely bundled up.

“Excited? And you couldn’t even tell you were sick?”

At least the bard is looking contrite.

“I thought I was just out of shape, with all the pain in my joints and my back. Ugh.” Jaskier squirms in the sea of pillows, adjusting to find better support. “I suppose you don’t have anything for it? A whole bag of witcher potions and none for humans—”

“I—” Geralt splutters. “I’ll, um, get you some willow bark. And a sleeping draught.”

He gets off the bed in one swift motion and works under Jaskier’s curious gaze. The bard is entranced by Geralt’s movement as he boils the water and prepares the tea that he’s been carrying around and replenishing for years.

Blue eyes remain inscrutable as Geralt strains out the shredded bark and scoops a spoonful of honey in the steaming water. He brings the cup to Jaskier’s bed as well as a tincture of sleeping potion.

The bard lets go of the blanket in favor of the cup. He takes a sip and lets out a soft sigh. The honey should be soothing his throat, and it counters the bitterness of the willow bark as well. Geralt leaves him to finish the tea and goes to retrieve his cloak. The thick garment is now completely dry and toasty thanks to the fire, so he gathers it and puts it over Jaskier’s lap.

The bard hands Geralt the empty cup, uncorks the tincture, and downs the greenish liquid.

“ Urgh. Why do all sleeping draughts taste so dreadful?” He grimaces, sticking out his tongue. “Should’ve saved some of the honey.”

“You need more?”

Geralt is ready to fish out the jar again but a hand resting on his elbow stops him.

“Don’t waste it, Geralt. I know how much honey costs.”

“It’s not a waste,” Geralt insists.

Geralt sinks back down into the mattress and suddenly Jaskier’s palm on his arm is burning a hole into his bones, and it’s not because of the fever.

“Because you bought it for me?” Jaskier’s gaze grows intense, the question phrased like a statement, like the bard has never been more sure of anything else. “You keep a jar of honey in your pack and only put it in our water after I sing for a whole night. You carry fresh willow bark for my headache—gods know it’s too weak for your metabolism. You have sleeping potions for humans.”

All statements should feel accusatory, but something is brewing like a storm under Jaskier’s unwavering eyes.

Geralt’s ears heat up in the too-warm room. He wants to get as far away from Jaskier as possible to avoid feeling so exposed. It’s almost like Jaskier has stripped him bare and left his heart in the open.

“It’s nothing.”

And that’s the wrong thing to say.

“What? No.” Distress overtakes those blue eyes. “Geralt, you take care of me. You have been taking care of me for years. How can it be nothing? Even just in Vizima, you stayed for me and you were there for me—”

“I wouldn’t just leave you there, Jask.” Geralt says defensively. The bard truly is burning with a mad fever if he thinks Geralt could ever leave him.

A sad smile spreads across Jaskier’s face.

“I know. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he answers, half to himself, which makes Geralt all the more confused. He covers Jaskier’s hand resting on his arm and squeezes gently for the bard to continue.

“It’s been three years, Geralt. It’s been three years since that night. Do you still remember? It was the night before we had to part for the winter, and it was so cold. I couldn’t even get my teeth to stop chattering and you insulted my choice of wear, as you do.” The bard rolls his eyes. “I fell asleep in shivers and woke up warm with all my toes still intact. Miraculously.”

Jaskier slips his hand out of Geralt’s before threading their fingers together, his other hand running up and down the cloak on his lap. “You had given me your cloak during the night so I wouldn’t freeze. And when I turned around, you were just…there. Lying on your bedrolls, cloakless, sleeping, and so far away.”

Geralt stares at Jaskier’s dazed expression and the melancholy at the corners of his mouth and senses his languid heartbeat pick up. He remembers that night, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Why Jaskier thinks it was anything of significance is baffling.

“That was the moment for me. That morning, right before we parted for a whole season, was when it hit me. I—Geralt, I wanted to tell you then, but I was too much of a coward, so I sent you away without knowing.”

Tell me what?

The question dies in Geralt’s throat. Instead, habit compels him to deflect. “But you were cold.”

Jaskier’s eyes are gleaming in the warm candlelight, wide and earnest.

“It’s what you do, Geralt. You save me from monsters and rude patrons. You tolerate my faults and you compel me to do better. You traveled across the continent to see me safe, and you stayed. You stayed .” Jaskier is on the verge of tears, and Geralt wishes more than anything in the world to erase that dejected look on his face. “My white wolf. My protector. I—I had nothing to thank you for, except for my songs. So I wrote the song, thinking I could show you that way.”

The fire crackles and Geralt asks dumbly.

“What song?”

Jaskier holds his gaze and hums the too-familiar tune of Hug a Witcher, his voice breaking from time to time, growing hoarse by the end. Geralt is pinned to the spot, unable to form words.

“I got the whole continent to do it for me, didn’t I?” Jaskier chuckles tightly but his usual smugness is nowhere to be seen. “But, you see, the whole continent gets to hug you for a day. They’ll get to show you their appreciation. But not me. What a wonderful plan! I guess that’s the price for being selfish, for wanting an excuse to—just to…”

Jaskier trails off, his fingers limp in Geralt’s hand. The silence hangs too heavily as Geralt lets the thunderstruck realization sink in.

As if Geralt has ever cared about what everyone else thinks of him. As if he ever wanted everyone else’s arms around him. Jaskier can never be selfish when it comes to Geralt, never when it counts. He’s being such a fool for assuming and Geralt lets out a frustrated growl.

The bard flinches, and retreats, pulling his legs towards his chest to appear as small as possible. His curled-up form is so small that it looks wrong. Jaskier should take up all the space in the world.

“No,” Geralt corrects him desperately. “No. You are not selfish, Jaskier. You’ve done nothing wrong by me in this—”

“I’ve brought nothing but trouble to your side. The song, the plague…I’ve worried you, and now I’ve burdened you. I—” Jaskier’s gaze darts all over the place, heedless of Geralt’s protest. The delirium is muddling his mind. Geralt panics and wraps Jaskier’s chin in his palm, desperately trying to anchor his bard.

“Jaskier—”

“Will you leave?” There’s old fear in the question. “Am I going to be cold and alone again?”

It must be the fever. Added with the ordeal of the past year, it’s bringing back memories of childhood, of painful days confined to a bed and struggling for survival. He needs to reassure Jaskier, to erase the lost expression on Jaskier’s face.

In a frenzy, he ends up doing it by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s.

The kiss is a hot and urgent thing and it’s over in a second. The bitter taste of the sleeping potion lingers. Geralt breathes into the space between them, his palm still caressing Jaskier’s cheek. A tear rolls down and Geralt catches it with the pad of his thumb.

Blue eyes refocus, piercing Geralt’s soul.

“Geralt?” he breathes.

The name comes out so reverent that Geralt is sure that his heart will burst. Gods, he loves Jaskier.

“I love you.”

A soft gasp escapes Jaskier’s lips.

“Can you hear me now?” Geralt’s thumb continues to trace small circles on Jaskier’s skin. “Can you hear when I say that, Jaskier, you are not a burden? You are not trouble that I have to deal with. You are not selfish for staying and you will never be alone again, not if I ever have a say in it.”

Jaskier’s limbs unfurl, his arms gradually stretching out from the tight hold over his knees.

"I never wanted to tell you like this. I shouldn’t. Not like this.” Geralt sinks into the presence of his bard and presses their foreheads together. Jaskier stays painstakingly silent and a pang of fear hits Geralt. “Shit, Jask. You don’t need to say anything. I shouldn’t have done it when you are still sick. You know what, forget about—”

“You love me?” Jaskier whispers, his voice so small that anyone but a witcher would have missed it.

“I love you.” Geralt pulls away to stare into the stormy blue of Jaskier’s eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. For longer than I know, Jask. I made so many plans for this moment. I wanted it to be perfect for you. But now, I…I just need you to know.”

He just needs to make it better, make Jaskier better. All the plans are nothing but useless, his fear of rejection too. The sight of Jaskier in pain is enough to chuck every worry out the window. Even if his love is not returned, even if a witcher can never have it returned.

But with a heartbeat and the next, Jaskier has thrown himself into Geralt’s embrace, nearly knocking the breath out of him. And, as if in a fantasy, Jaskier’s lips are everywhere, peppering small, wet kisses all over his face.

“You are perfect for me, you oaf.” A smile finally blossoms on Jaskier’s face and their lips meet again.

The second time Geralt ever kisses Jaskier, it feels like coming home. It’s a drawn-out and lazy dance that lulls him into dreamland, only the dream has come true in the solid form of Jaskier’s supple lips against his and nimble fingers carding through his hair. The bard lets out a string of adorable giggles as he climbs onto Geralt’s bent knees and straddles him, the cloak and blanket shoved out of their way.

Geralt is falling.

And soaring.

“Hey, steady.” he keeps both hands on the small of Jaskier’s back to keep him in place.

The weight of Jaskier is heavenly, and the unlaced collar of Geralt’s shirt provides the best opening for him to slowly suck at the junction between Jaskier’s shoulder and neck. The bard ends up a whimpering, limp mess, draped all over Geralt’s shoulder with a shudder running down his spine.

“Do you even know how easy it is for you to ruin me?” Jaskier murmurs breathily in Geralt’s ear. All he can muster for response is another growl.

When Geralt gently lowers Jaskier down onto the pillows again, the bard looks a fine picture of debauchery, with a beet-red flush painted across his cheeks and patches of reddened skin at his neck that will surely bloom into dark bruises. His hair is sticking in all directions and the shirt slips down from one shoulder, his chest heaving from the exertion.

Tears well up in cornflower blue eyes again but this time it’s not from pain. All Geralt can smell is the heady pleasure that is equally affecting him.

“I’m afraid your sleeping potion has kicked in,” Jaskier yawns just in time. “It’s the good stuff, my dear. You spoil me.”

The bard blinks his eyes open stubbornly as Geralt fishes the blanket up from the floor and then the cloak.

“I’ll spoil you more when you get better.”

“Big witcher with bigger promises.” Jaskier is slurring his words but the smile on his face can match the bright afternoon sun.

Geralt curls around Jaskier’s body and drapes the blanket over both of them, the cloak tucked where chill might creep in during the night. When he pulls Jaskier closer, the bard tucks his head under Geralt’s chin and nuzzles ever so slightly.

The urge to kiss is overwhelming, and Geralt realizes that he can.

“Goodnight, Jask.”

His lips touch Jaskier’s eyelid and the bard is out in the next second. There’s still a faint smile on his lips.

Geralt wakes up like this, with Jaskier sprawled on top of him and snoring softly. He brushes back the hair at the bard’s forehead and feels for his temperature. The fever is still running low but it will be gone in a day or so. Sighing with relief, Geralt revels in the sensation of the rhythmic thrumming of Jaskier’s heart against his ribcage.

His attention drifts to what woke him in the first place. A group of men seems to be yelling on the street right under their window. Geralt only catches a few words in the distinct conversation, but from the looks of it they are arguing about…building a stage somewhere.

And then, the word Saovine stands out.

If they are already building the stage for the performance, and the tavern has been booked up by travelers… Geralt does the math in his head and almost feels giddy when it dawns on him—

It’s today.

It’s Hug a Witcher Day.

The thought doesn’t leave him with the agonizing emptiness that is Jaskier’s absence anymore. Instead, Geralt feels like he’s floating mid-air among the clouds and he may never come down again. He might as well not, since Jaskier won’t be going anywhere any time soon.

He hides a goofy grin in tousled brown hair.

One of the men hammers down on something and Jaskier stirs, inhaling deep and then groaning loud. He arches away from Geralt’s chest with a low growling whine—the fever must still be hurting his back and joints. Geralt untangles their limbs and rests his palm flush against the bard’s lower back where it seems to bother him. He kneads gently, massaging the soreness away. Jaskier lets out an exaggerated moan, his face buried in the pillow to muffle the sound.

“It wasn’t a dream.”

When Jaskier speaks, his voice vibrates deep and nasally from sleep, and it makes something warm gather in Geralt’s stomach. He pushes up the hem of the shirt on Jaskier and places a kiss on the side of his waist before lying down again, face to face with the bard.

“It wasn’t.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier mirrors one of Geralt’s many hums and looks up blearily through drooping lashes, his smile content and his blush healthier. The bard boops his nose. “What are you grinning at?”

“It’s my day.”

“What day?” The furrow between Jaskier’s brows is too adorable and Geralt is too smitten with it. Eventually, the bard catches on. “ Oh .”

He then scoots closer to tuck a strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear. Excitement sparks in his eyes.

“Can I?” Jaskier asks as if they didn’t just spend a whole night snuggled against each other, as if Geralt hasn’t been ready to say yes since three Hug a Witcher Days ago.

“Yes.”

With that permission, Geralt finds himself on his back with an armful of bard. Jaskier is hugging him so tightly that even a witcher can barely breathe.

“For luck, right?” the bard says into his neck and flings a leg over Geralt’s hip, putting his entire weight into the embrace. “Only the gods know I’ll be needing some for next year.”

“No more scaring me like this.” Geralt mutters half to himself as he runs his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and pulls him even closer. It’s a near-impossible endeavor since he’s already crushed between the mattress and the too eager bard.

“No more,” Jaskier agrees and rubs his nose into the silver hair pooling on the pillow, humming with buzzing pleasure. “And who would have thought? Destiny can be cruel just as she is kind. It’s today, of all days...”

“Hmm. Who would have thought…”

Geralt inhales the scent of Jaskier, now the sour stench of misery only faint. In its place is the happiness that reminds him of the afternoon sun baked into fresh linens.

“And to think I forgot to tell you yesterday. The most renowned poet on this continent forgot to profess his love. How embarrassing!”

Geralt snorts, but in truth, he doesn’t even care anymore. Jaskier being here, in the safety of his arms and recovering from the ordeal of the past year is more than enough. He can live with the knowledge that Jaskier knows that he is loved. He is loved so deeply by someone who was told his whole life to be incapable of it. Now that Geralt is on the other side, the idea of ever not loving Jaskier becomes an unthinkable thing. It’s like not loving the sun or the earth or—

“You’re thinking sappy things.” The bard looks up and the mirth in his eyes disappears. “And probably bad things about yourself. After all these years, after so many songs and so many scrapes and bruises, you still doubt it. Oh, Geralt. Can’t you see? I wrote Hug a Witcher because I didn’t know how to tell you that I love you. To be fair, I wrote every song for the same reason, but this one…I needed you to feel loved, darling, even if it’s not by me.”

So he got the whole continent to do it for him and dragged every other witcher down with it. Geralt should be appalled by the length of theatrics the bard is willing to go if he doesn’t somehow find it the most endearing thing in the world.

“A love letter. Delivered by everyone but you,” Geralt adds.

“Is it to your satisfaction?” Jaskier purses his lips sheepishly. A sheepish Jaskier is such a rare occurrence that Geralt can’t look away. “My white wolf. My protector.”

Geralt takes Jaskier’s wrist and guides it to his chest, placing his palm right over the slow rhythm of his heart. “That’s one thing we have in common, isn’t it? You protect me too. You guard my heart and my name. You use your strength but not for violence but love. If destiny has ever given me one blessing, Jaskier, it would be you. And you are asking if I’m satisfied...”

Geralt puts the answer in the kiss he presses on Jaskier’s forehead with all the gentleness he can muster. It must be the one-millionth time he’s kissed Jaskier because he can no longer remember not being allowed to kiss Jaskier feels like.

“So, Hug a Witcher Day, eh?” Jaskier springs up with renewed vigor, so fast Geralt amazes that he isn’t getting dizzy. “How should we celebrate?”

Geralt looks at his bard, surrounded by his clothing and his love, basked in the shimmering morning light.

“I believe it’s in the name.” he challenges, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, honey. You know I won’t let you go for the rest of the day, right?” the bard smirks with mischief. “But first, if I remember it correctly, didn’t you say that you had some…plans for your grand love confession?”

Geralt blinks. “Are you always this incorrigible?”

“Duh!” Jaskier shrugs, offended. “Oh, come on! I promise I won’t make fun of you! And I’m sure I can make at least one ballad out of your plotting, my darling witcher. With how much of a sap you are, a whole romance book if I put my mind to it!”

“I won’t give you the chance to make fun of me for the rest of time, bard.”

“But I’m sick.” Jaskier bats his lashes. “It will make me feel better. Won’t you indulge me?”

Geralt cannot believe the bard is already playing this card. What’s worse is that he knows his resolve will break very soon.

It’s Hug a Witcher Day after all, and Geralt finally, finally gets to have the one person he wants the most in his arms. If a little bit of embarrassment is the price for it, he can’t say that he minds that much.

---

Geralt gets lots of hugs. Jaskier gets to tease him endlessly. And I can start new wips!

I was torn between two different ways to end this story and finally settled on this more conventional one. I’ll be putting up the alternative ending soon ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @birdsflyhome @dapandapod @artisanbaguette

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #cuddling #snuggling #hugs and kisses!#sick jaskier #jaskier gets sick but it's unrelated to the plague #jaskier whump #protective geralt #love confessions #first kiss #second kiss #geralt of rivia is a sap #this should be a tag #the other ending is very silly #so very silly

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

‘Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like this.’ Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’ .

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red.

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers.

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe.

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s.

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves.

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own.

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh.

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky.

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply.

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion.

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response.

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink.

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes.

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’.

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water.

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he’s hungry for is chasing a win. I hope you’re ready to handle that.’

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation.

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is enormous) , bickering over what movie to watch next.

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say).

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart.

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face.

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine.

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap.

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away.

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips.

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest.

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry ‘arsehole!’ by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes.

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind.

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that.

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially when the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call.

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come.

‘Tsumu?’

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses.

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again.

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes.

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye.

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka.

Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like that), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate.

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home.

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’.

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of fine, not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a dad made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that shit - even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated.

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’.

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death.

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see hope reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too.

So she says yes, and catches his smile in her hands.

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her shiro-muku, the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s montsuki. Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her kaiken, a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup.

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family.

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed.

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuucreations #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader #miya twins #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #inarizaki

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qianinterprises · 4 years ago

Text

Lies {Ten x Reader}

Author's Note: I wrote this in a few days and it has not been beta read so I'm more than a little sure it will have grammatical and spelling errors. I still hope you enjoy though!

Synopsis: You are hiding a big secret. A secret that, to keep hidden, you continuously lie to your boyfriend about.

Pairing: Ten x Reader

Word Count: 3600 words

Brisk, polluted air washed over the city, bringing the soft, fresh scent of morning to the land. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but the city was awake, shop owners unlocking their doors, cars stuck at traffic lights, half dressed and hung over men and women doing the walk of shame. It was the same every morning. Except, this morning, there was a slight difference.

You tugged your boyfriend's jacket tighter as a soft breeze breathed across your body. You weren’t usually awake at this hour, preferring to sleep well into the morning, but today, there was too much to think about. Too much on your mind. You’d slept as long as you could, but, for once, your boyfriend's embrace was unable to lull your racing thoughts.

Life could be complicated. Just when you were starting to enjoy it, it threw you a curveball. Typically, those curveballs somehow made everything fall into place, somehow kickstarted your life in some new, better direction. This time, life had done more than throw you a curveball. It kicked you in the crotch and spit in your cereal.

Your fingers wrapped around the cool rail of the balcony and sighed. Worries and fears rushed through your mind. How were you going to tell Ten? How were you going to tell your family and his? How did you even feel about all of this?

A hand dropped down to your stomach, still aching and cramping from the early morning sickness. Your eyes shut. This was the last thing you needed. Yet here you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure? You could just be late this time,” your best friend had asked.

You weren’t. All you were certain of was it had been two weeks since you were supposed to get your period and it still hadn’t shown up. Now, you didn’t like bleeding from your lady bits, but it was always a sure sign that your uterus was perfectly unhappy without a fertilized egg nestled inside its warm walls. Without a bloody hissy fit producing a murder scene in your pants and with some sort of stomach virus churning up your guts, you were beginning to get worried.

“Have you been to the doctor?” she asked.

“Yeah right, they’d call here and Ten would somehow end up answering and find out the truth from some middle-aged balding guy instead of me!”

She raised her hands in surrender.

“Then… a drugstore test?” she asked.

“How? I’d end up using my credit card and when he pays the bill, he’d see a weird charge and ask me about it, then I’d have to tell him after he’d backed me into a corner!”

She sighed, clearly getting annoyed.

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

You paused a moment to think, a smile blossoming across your face.

“That’d be great!”

She let out a groan and slid up off the couch, grabbing her purse.

“If you are, I get to name it,” she declared before marching out of your apartment.

As her car started and back out of the driveway, you grabbed your favorite blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around you, burrowing yourself deeper into the fuzzy softness as your stomach twisted in knots. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath, praying for a good answer, but the issue was, you had no idea what answer you truly wanted.

On one hand, you loved Ten with all your heart and would jump at the chance of having a family with him. On the other, he was an idol. He was an idol in NCT no less that was constantly traveling back and forth between South Korea and China for promotions. He was busy. His career was just getting good. Something like this could, not only change your life, but alter his forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hadn’t taken long for your best friend to get back from the pharmacy. It was only right down the road after all. Still, as soon as she stepped in the door, holding up a bag filled with packages of sticks that could show your future and alter your life, you tightened the blanket around you. Did you even want to know?

She sat down on the edge of the couch seeming to read your mind as she brought a hand up to softly stroke over your shoulder. Her gaze softened. You knew she understood. It wasn’t long ago that she’d also had a pregnancy scare which had resulted in simply being food poisoning.

You doubted that was the case this time.

“It’ll be better once you know. Then, there’s no longer the lingering curiosity and fear,” she encouraged softly.

She was right. You knew that, but nothing could stop the anxiety from pooling in your stomach as you cast your eyes at the shopping bag.

“How many did you get?” you asked.

“Five. Just to be certain,” she said softly.

With a nod and a deep breath, you reached for the bag still resting in her hand. You carried it to the bathroom, locking the door. You knew she wouldn’t barge in on you, but as shuddered breaths fell from your lips, you knew you needed to do this next part completely alone.

You unpackaged each of the tests and lined them up in an easily accessible row.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eight minutes later, you sat on the bathroom floor, back pressed against the door as your eyes sharply watched the timer on your phone count down. Your chest clenched at the last few seconds before it dinged in your hand, signaling time was up. The tests were ready and, once you looked at the results, you would finally have answers, answers you possibly didn’t want.

“Deep breaths, (y/n),” you whispered to yourself.

You shut your timer off and eased yourself off the floor, hands trembling as you reached for the closest plastic stick. What were you even hoping for?

Your fingers closed around the plastic and your eyes closed, breath becoming shallow. Just a few more seconds. Few more seconds of ignorant bliss before you would be forced to learn the truth.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and opened your eyes, two pink lines on the stick greeting you.

The test fell from your hands as your body crumpled to the ground, tears spilling from your eyes and cascading down your face.

“(y/n)?” your best friend asked.

You didn’t respond. Your body shuddered as silent sobs racked through your body. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy or that you’d never dreamed of having a family, you just never expected it to happen like this, especially when you could not only ruin your life, but the life of a child and your boyfriends.

It was a few extra minutes before you were finally able to pull yourself off the floor and unlock the door. Your best friend gaped at your teary eyes, face etched with worry, but she opened her arms and you dropped into them, wrapping your arms around her tightly and clinging to her.

“It… It was… p-positive,” you stammered.

She squeezed you tightly, hands rubbing up and down your back.

“I’m pregnant…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By sheer luck, Ten hadn’t come home that night, choosing to stay at the WayV dorm with Hendery and Xiaojun who, according to Ten, were distraught and upset that they didn’t get to see Ten every day anymore.

His absence had allowed you time to dispose of the tests, all of which read positive, burying them in the trash and making a mental note to take the trash out the next day. You’d also had time to calm yourself down enough to make a decision.

Getting rid of the baby wasn’t an option. You loved children. You’d always loved the prospects of having a child. Even if Ten wanted nothing to do with you or the child, you were not going to simply get rid of it. If he left and you decided you couldn’t do it on your own, you would check yourself into a facility that would help you and give the baby up for adoption. If you thought you could handle it, you would raise your own child. Because no matter what Ten said, you still had your own choices to make.

That night, you had settled down with a sappy romance movie and a bowl of ice cream, curled up in one of Ten’s shirts in bed, preparing to tell him the next day.

However, that day would never come.

As the next day rolled around, you had put off telling him and, as the days ticked by, you kept making excuses not to. Pretty soon, you’d hit the three month mark with a healthy baby and your flat stomach was starting to expand. You’d always worn baggier shirts so, covering up wasn’t a big deal, but the constant sickness and cravings were getting harder to hide.

Arms wrapped around your waist, causing you to jump, thoughts evaporating into the chilly air.

“What are you doing up so early?” he whispered sleepily against your ear, a chill running down your spine.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you calmly responded.

He hummed against your ear and squeezed you a little closer. You winced as his arms tightened around your stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head.

“I’m still getting over this virus, I guess,” you lied.

Ten was an attentive man, so when he noticed how often you were getting sick, in the mornings specifically, he had immediately asked you about it. Being on the spot and not quite ready to tell him the truth, you’d lied that you’d been hanging around a friend with the stomach virus and they must have given it to you. He had bought it, insisting that you go to the doctor if it got worse, but you had declined. Now, weeks after you’d first lied, as your sickness continued, Ten was becoming more freaked out, begging you to go to the hospital, convinced that you were dying.

Not wanting to admit that you’d been lying, and slightly concerned that, even three months into your pregnancy, you were still getting sick, you had waited until Ten was doing promotions before going to your doctor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (y/l/n), how have you been feeling?” your doctor, Dr. Byun asked, taking a seat on the plush stool by the laptop.

“I’ve been alright. Just concerned. I know I’m around three months, but I would have thought the morning sickness would have ceased by now…”

He let out a hum and pulled your chart up on your laptop.

“Your last check-up was two weeks ago. Did they do an ultrasound? I’m not seeing it in here.”

You shook your head.

“Alright, so that’s the first step. I will tell you that morning sickness at three months usually goes away, but it is completely common and natural for some women to experience sickness well after that,” he responded.

You let out a sigh. Ten would never buy it if you told him your throwing up was completely normal. But you nodded and he stepped from the room to get a nurse to set up an ultrasound.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the ultrasound, Dr. Byun came back, holding his notes.

“It looks like everything is normal. It’s possible that the baby is simply rejecting some of the nutrients given. I know oftentimes during pregnancy, the baby craves sweets, junk-food, or other things, but I would recommend trying to eat as many fruits and vegetables as possible. This will help give the baby nutrients and hopefully quell the sickness. However, I am going to send your blood-work to the labs and see if there is anything else going on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That had been a week ago and still, even with extra vegetables and well-balanced meals, the sickness persisted, and with it, grew Ten’s worry.

“Maybe I should take you to the hospital if it keeps getting worse,” he suggested, mumbling against your ear.

You shook your head.

“I trust Dr. Byun. He says it can be normal when the ba- I mean, when the immune system needs a little extra nutrients,” you answered.

He didn’t respond for a long moment, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Did Dr. Byun ever call you back with your bloodwork results?” he asked.

You shook your head. It was the truth. Sort of.

You really did feel bad for lying to him. It never was your intention, but the longer you kept your secret, the harder it got to tell him. Part of you wished you’d just come clean the day he’d gotten home so, you’d at least know how he felt and whether or not you’d be doing it alone. The other part of you was terrified the moment you told him that you’d be giving him up.

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, lips touching your skin in a soft kiss that made you shudder in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered against your skin.

Your heart melted. If he truly loved you, would he stay? Would he understand why you lied? Would he accept you and the baby as his?

Suddenly, you felt brave enough to come clean. No matter what, you were confident that love would prevail.

“Ten I-”

You were cut off as his phone began to ring.

He sighed, letting his head drop onto your shoulder before reaching into his pajamas pants to retrieve his phone.

“Hello?”

You couldn’t hear who was on the other end, but it was definitely Kun or their manager.

“Now?” he asked.

His nose crinkled in annoyance.

“But (y/n)’s still sick!”

A huff fell from his lips.

“Fine,” he growled into the receiver, hanging up the phone and shoving it back into his pocket, eyes fixing hard on the railing.

“I have to go. Some stupid radio show decided last minute they want us there and we can’t get out of it now,” he grumbled.

You turned around, your courage disappearing as you placed a soft hand on his cheek.

“It’s alright baby. Go, I’ll be here when you get back,” you spoke softly.

He leaned his cheek against your hand, leaning his face closer to press a gentle kiss to your wrist. Butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“I’ll be home after lunch,” he promised.

With that, he hurried back inside.

You watched him disappear into your shared bedroom before facing the city again. The sun was now almost all the way over the horizon.

Would Ten still kiss you like that if he knew?

Your heart clinched heavily in your chest.

Would you be able to live without him if he left?

Ten’s POV

Something wasn’t right. Ten knew that. What he didn’t know was what. (Y/n) had been sick for several weeks and, despite her reassurance that everything was “normal” and “fine,” he couldn’t shake the notion that you were lying about something.

As his car pulled up to the WayV dorm where their manager would be picking them up, he glanced down at his phone. He had been expecting to see you in his background, smiling blissfully, looking as radiant and beautiful as ever by the lake they’d visited over the summer, right before you’d gotten sick. What he saw instead was himself, grinning and holding a small cupcake with purple icing, a single lit candle waiting to be blown out. The picture you’d taken on his birthday.

Confused, he turned the phone over in his hand and shook his head in minor annoyance at the cute little stickers of Ten and the other members of WayV stuck on the clear phone case. Your phone case.

He must have accidentally taken your phone rather than his own in his rush to get dressed and get to the dorm.

A small laugh bubbled to his throat. He knew getting matching phones and phone cases would end up being a bad idea, but you had insisted.

The phone vibrated in his hand and he laughed as his own name popped onto the screen.

From Ten<3: Babe, you took my phone instead :D

Ten shook his head.

To Ten<3: guess you’ll have to forward me updates from everyone today!

From Ten<3: Or I could keep them all to myself and “forget” to tell you

He sent back a laughing emoji and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He stepped out of his car as the large van meant to take them to the radio show pulled up. He waved to the manager driving and laughed to himself as YangYang led the way sprinting from the building, Lucas and Hendery hot on his heels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was in the middle of the show that Ten felt the phone buzzing in his pocket. As Lucas energetically retold the story of how he’d managed to pull off a prank on Kun and WinWin, Ten discreetly pulled the phone from his pocket. Dr. Byun flashed across the screen and Ten’s heart quickened. On one hand, he wanted to respect your privacy and not answer the call. On the other, he desperately wanted some answers.

“We’re going to take a quick break! We’ll be right back!” the host said over the speaker.

That was all the answer Ten needed to hear.

He clicked the green answer button and pressed his phone to his ear, quickly making his way out of the room before anyone could question him.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Byun, is Ms. (y/l/n) nearby?” he asked.

“She isn’t but I’m her boyfriend. I can take a message.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ten knew he shouldn’t have said them, but part of him couldn’t help being curious, his gut too filled with worry to think rationally.

“I’m calling to let her know we got her results back. Her sickness is being caused by an anemia that sometimes has the effect on women carrying children. The fetus isn’t getting enough protein nutrients. We’d recommend she eat more red meat and add anemia vitamins to her prenatal vitamins. If the sickness doesn’t stop in two weeks, she should come back in for another visit,” he said.

The phone dropped from Ten’s hand, hitting the floor hard. His eyes were wide, hands shaking. His left knee gave out first, buckling beneath his weight. He clutched the wall for support.

“Ten!”

Kun’s voice barely reached his ears as his heart pounded.

The leaders arms wrapped around Ten’s middle, leading him to lean against him as Kun held him up.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok? Are you feeling faint?”

Ten didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall.

Pregnant. That’s why you kept throwing up…

Your POV

The moment you’d noticed you were left with Ten’s phone, anxiety pooled in your stomach. You had no idea when Dr. Byun was going to call or whether Ten would answer. Dr. Byun telling Ten the truth was not exactly the best way for him to find out. Especially since you’d been lying to him.

The minute the door to your shared apartment flew open, slamming hard against the wall, your hands began to shake.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?!” he snapped as soon as he rounded the corner.

His face was red with anger, a sight you weren’t used to seeing. Ten didn’t get angry a lot. And when he did, he often had good outlets, like dance, to vent his anger.

He yanked your phone out of his pocket and threw it on the couch, making you flinch.

“You lied to me! For months! Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he seethed.

Yours eyes glazed as they met his, tears gathering, but you blinked, refusing to let them fall when his anger was your fault to begin with.

“I-I… I was afraid… I didn’t want to lose you…”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to take them back. His face fell. His arms tumbled precariously to his side. Tears gathered in his own eyes, escaping and cascading slowly down his face.

Ten didn’t cry often. His pride prevented it. Watching his shoulders begin to tremble and shake had guilt gripping at your heart tightly.

“Did I not prove my love to you enough?” he asked, voice stammering.

You stared at him for a moment before sliding yourself off the couch and wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders.

“I know you love me baby. But… your career… I was afraid you’d leave me… leave us… because I was holding you back from this…”

It was a long moment before he responded.

His hands cupped your face gently, brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized were beginning to fall.

“My career is important. I love being in WayV, but you always come first. And now, you and the baby come first,” he spoke softly.

He trailed his hand down to softly rest it on your stomach. A water smile spread across your face.

“You’re going to have to do a lot of the parenting alone. So I’ll understand if you want to leave me to find the baby a father that will be there to help you. Otherwise, I’m with you all the way.”

You brought your gaze to his, searching his eyes for jokes or laughter. Finding none, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to you.

“Our baby could have no better father than you,” you whispered softly.

He pressed his lips delicately to yours, drawing you in closer and holding you against him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Both of you.”

#ten fanfic #reader insert #ten x reader #nct x reader #short fic #I hope this isn't too trash

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trashytummiez · 4 years ago

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Professor Sickly

@squidbiscuit drew an amazing Professor Kukui feeling nauseous and burpy. So you know that means I have to write something for it. ;3

Kukui had a pretty strong stomach. Even before they were married, Burnett was always awestruck at how much her dark skinned husband could eat through. But Kukui was also a man of varying tastes, and sometimes that meant eating new things that didn’t always agree with him.

He was sitting weakly up on their couch. His usual friendly and confident smile was replaced with a sickly, groggy frown. Kukui’s labcoat, hat and shades were gone. He just sat there shirtless and huffing nauseously with his hand over his mouth and salivating a little more heavily than usual. Next to him was a bin just in case.

Kukui’s stomach was gurgling oppressively. It was a loud and really acid-heavy gurgle that made him cringe when it rumbled forth. He wrapped an arm around his middle and slumped forward with his hand over his mouth nervously, as if he was willing himself not to puke.

“Ungh, ohh god...”

“Poor baby,” Burnett said sympathetically when she arrived and rested the side of her hand against Kukui’s forehead. His half-naked body was visibly sweaty. He certainly felt warmer than usual, but not feverishly so. “Had to have been something you ate earlier. Where’d you go?”

Kukui held a finger up to pause the conversation and pushed his fist against his lips with a miserable look on his face. There was a loud gurgle erupting from his stomach, which made him cringe even harder. He grabbed the bin and brought it to his mouth. Kukui spat a few times into the bin but otherwise, nothing came up his throat except for a bit of drool.

He blew off to the side. His breath was warmer and tasted grosser than usual. He tried sniffing to get a clue of was causing him so much intestinal distress but it told him nothing except that he could probably use a mint right now. “I don’t remember what I ate. I just know that it probably tasted a lot better going down than it will coming up...”

Kukui was a bit of a glutton. Burnett decided a while ago that whenever he got himself sick from eating too much that he’d have to ride it out since it was his own fault. But Kukui’s stomach was flat. It stuck out a little because of his nausea but this time, Kukui didn’t pig out the way he always did.

Besides, usually when Kukui ate too much and was whining in bed, Burnett would think it was more funny than anything else. Seeing him sick and suffering wasn’t fun at all.

So this time, she took pity on her goodnatured husband.

She sat down on the couch next to him and started rubbing his aching, churning belly.

Kukui sighed softly and leaned back a little as if leaning into his wife’s magic touch. He huffed shakily while Burnett rubbed his churning stomach in soft circles. Nausea came in waves. He would occasionally bring a fist to his mouth and puff out his cheeks. Kukui looked like he needed to burp really badly, but there was this look of uncertainty in his eyes. He was trying to softly release the pressure in tiny intervals because he was scared if he didn’t, he’d puke right there on the spot.

Burnett continued taking care of Kukui’s tummy. She gently pushed her fingers into his soft warm flesh, stroking the area around his belly button especially, from that smooth patch of flesh above it down to the area where his happy trail would’ve been if he had an ounce of hair on his tanned stomach. Kukui took in deep breaths that made his stomach expand a little until he exhaled the air.

“And you wonder why I’m not as eager to always ‘try new things’,” Burnett teased while she stroked her husbands aching belly.

Kukui managed a weak smirk and lightly nudged his wife in the arm, trying not to move too much and upset his stomach even more. “...Can’t eat spicy curry forever...”

“Watch me,” she responded and continued to run her palm gently across the surface of his smooth, soft stomach, making sure not to press down too hard. Kukui’s stomach was usually a little firmer. After all, there was a reason he always rocked around bare chested most days, he was in great shape. But the distress within his gut caused some mild bloat, softening his stomach to the touch and making it feel more delicate than usual. Meaning she had to be extra careful with it while she rubbed.

She felt her husbands stomach quiver inside as it churned and tightened itself into knots that made Kukui recoil in a sickly manner. She shushed the poor young professor and massaged his tummy with her whole palm, rubbing it like she always did when they cuddled at night. It was a familiar feeling to him that always brought Kukui comfort.

He was still sweat heavily and looked like he was one wrong movement away from puking intensely, but the tummy rubs certainly helped him ease up just a little bit. And apparently, the gut rubs were doing something because it loosened his twisted stomach up. Enough for Kukui to actually muffle a pretty deep burp into his fist. He blew away from his wife and groaned a little.

That gave Burnett an idea.

She got up from the couch and headed back to the kitchen. There she grabbed a large cup and poured some ginger ale into it. Kukui kept his fist hovering around his mouth, his cheeks puffing again as he blew out nauseously. By the time Burnett arrived, another gas bubble worked its way up and this time Kukui couldn’t hold it in.

oooooOOOOOOOORRRRRP!!!

Kukui let go a deep burp into his fist that got a little louder at the end. Burnett smirked when she returned and teasingly said, “Heh, charming.”

“Ungh, sorry, huh...” the sickly professor muttered, still looking plenty green.

But Burnett simply leaned over and felt his sweaty forehead again with the back of her hand and said, “Don’t be. Sounds like your tummy really needed it.” Which was why she handed her husband that ginger ale cup she was holding. “Drink this. It should help get some gas out and settle your tummy a little bit.”

Kukui’s face soured. He really didn’t want to put anything else in his stomach when it was churning so painfully. But one look at his wife’s assuring smile and he was in. He took the cup and looked down into it, seeing the bubbles rise and pop endlessly. No doubt, the inside of that cup wasn’t dissimilar to what was going on in his belly right now.

Burnett sat down and rubbed Kukui’s stomach some more as he proceeded to drink the soda. He closed his eyes tightly as the bubbly liquid poured down his throat with some tentatively big gulps. Kukui looked miserable when he drank, but he went along with it. Already his stomach was becoming a little more reactive with the introduction of all that carbonation pouring into his gut.

A ways into the cup, he pulled it away from his mouth and exhaled in a strained sort of way. He slumped forward a little bit and it felt like a wave splashed inside of his belly. Then Kukui burped. And it was a big one too.

BwruuuUH-OOOOOOOUUUUUUUURRRP!!!!!

Kukui’s eyes widened as he tried to hold a hand around his mouth while that big eruption rolled out of him. Burnett’s hand was still rested against Kukui’s belly. She could literally feel that one rumble out of her husband.

“Wow, that was...louder than I thought it was gonna be,” Burnett said, surprised but a little amused. “Feel better at least?”

Kukui clenched his eyes shut and held a finger up. Then he hit his bare chest a few times to work another grizzly burp out of his throat, followed by a weaker one after. He exhaled heavily and slumped forward a little.

“Oooohhh god,” he groaned weakly, but sighed in a way that sounded relieved after. He rubbed his face with exhaustion and said, “I’m sorry for being so gross, hun, but...whew...”

Burnett simply smiled and very gently patted his belly. “That just means it’s working. Don’t worry about being gross or not. Just drink up.”

Kukui wasn’t one to disagree after the hint of genuine relief he felt so he drank some more ginger ale. With that big gas bubble out of his belly, he downed his drink a little faster while Burnett continued rubbing his belly to help circulate the excess air inside. The more Kukui drank, the more she could feel his stomach get just a little bit bigger from all the carbonation filling him up.

After getting the rest of the soda down, Kukui set the cup aside and almost instantly burped so hard that Burnett almost thought the couch was rattling. Kukui gasped, it almost took his breath away. He leaned forward a little, grasping at his knees when he burped again. Kukui burped really deeply after that, as in there was a lot of rumble to it, like the ones that came directly from his chest.

Burnett climbed up and sat directly behind Kukui since he was slumping so far away from the cushion of the couch. She leaned right up against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist until both of her hands were squarely planted against his turbulent stomach. “Good boy. Get it all out,” she insisted, digging the tips of her fingers just a little firmly into his belly.

In response, her husband let rip a really raunchy burp, one that sounded especially guttural and caused him to drool a little, which ended in a weaker burp. But then she squeezed a little against his stomach and he proceeded to tense up momentarily before a huge, gassy burp exploded from his very depths.

BRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUPH!!!!!!!!

That one had to be a record. It was so incredibly loud and stretched on for a few seconds straight. Burnett could feel Kukui’s entire body reverberate with that one.

Kukui slouched almost lifelessly and sighed heavenly with desperately needed relief. “Haaah...oh my god, that...that’s so much better...” he said, comfortably patting his belly with relief. It was still gurgling but it wasn’t nearly as aggressive as it was moments ago.

“I think this is the part when you say ‘excuse me’,” Burnett joked.

Kukui only burped in response, which to his credit, got a good laugh out of his wife.

#kukui #professor kukui #pokemon #burnett #emeto #nausea #burping #belly rub #indigestion #stomachache #comfort

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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A Hope to go Home

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer’s POV and Vietnam war AU)

Summary: Spencer is drafted for the war and the only thing that helps him get through it is the letters he gets from Reader.

A/N: This is my second fic for my 1250 follower celebration!!! It’s also the third part for my Spencer Reid & Letters series based on this request by @90spumkin 😊 This was super fun to write cause of how much of a history nerd I am! It’s the first time I’ve done a full blown historical AU (besides the series I’ve got coming in the future) Thanks for reading hope y’all like it and requests are open!

Warnings: Talk of violence & Talk of war- this whole fic is kinda loosely based on the prison arc with Spencer, just with an obvious twist

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

When October 28th was called out over the radio my heart dropped deep down into my stomach. I had been huddled next to the men that I worked with that were eligible. I remember distinctly thinking that there was no way that it could ever be me, if I didn’t fully acknowledge the possibility it would be easier to get through.

Then reality decided to slap me across the face.

Out of all the 27 million men that were eligible for the draft, why did I have to be part of the 2.2 million that got chosen?

None of the other men I worked with at the bureau had been called in, besides Anderson though I wasn’t very close with him. Most of them besides Me, Anderson, and Morgan were already too old to be eligible, I envied them immensely.

The looks on their faces told me all that I needed to know. They looked like they were already ready to start planning my funeral. I was glad I had at least been given the rest of the day off so I wouldn’t have to look at their somber faces anymore. At least I’d also get to go home to them early. It would probably be my last day off in a while, maybe ever.

Morgan and I had been pushing to get funding from our bosses for a new department, along with a few others, especially that old timer named Rossi. We had a few working names, chief among them the “Behavioral Science Unit”. Our idea was to create a unit in response to the uptick of violent crimes- especially serial offenders and help catch them by analyzing their behaviors. Most of the bureau thought we were a bunch of cooks, they still viewed our idea to use psychology to help catch criminals as a pseudoscience. I had even considered quitting my position a number of times because of the rampant disregard for people’s rights by the director, J. Edgar. Hoover, who’s questionable investigations caused my stomach to churn regularly.

But, we were getting close to getting that first pile of cash to help us fund a unit and I felt a need to see this project through. It was too important of a project to quit right when we were so close. Even though the actions of the government made me sick, I wanted to help from within, I wouldn’t quit. Though in light of my new circumstances I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to see that pile of cash, let alone be able to name the unit. Maybe I’ll live to see what name they choose, if I get out of Vietnam alive. Though from what I had seen already from the people that came back injured beyond belief, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get out alive.

Even though I considered myself too weak to be a proper soldier that could be successful in combat, I didn't have any viable exception to the draft and I wasn’t brave enough to dodge. I cursed myself internally for not going for another PHD, I had heard it was rather easy to obtain a waiver if you were a student. However, I felt increasingly guilty for thinking that.

It was a well known fact that the richer you were, the easier it was to get a deferment. And, even though I wasn’t the most well off I still would have been able to afford to get another PHD when many couldn’t even think about getting a bachelors. Plus, I wasn’t even sure what we were supposed to be fighting for anyway. In the last world war there had been a reason. It seemed like no one knew the reason for this one. Was it worth it to see all these men perish? I guess it was for the Washington elite.

As I boarded to leave to a country so few knew anything about or cared to know anything about, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever come home again. The look on their face when I broke the news to them and their devastation when we had said what may be our last goodbye haunted me. They were smart, arguably just as smart as me, they knew I was most likely marching to my death. I hoped their devastation wouldn’t be the last thing I’d ever be able to remember of them while I bled out in a country I didn’t think we should be fighting against. I hoped I’d be able to come home.

—-

The only thing that was really keeping me going over here, where the sun was so hot I thought I would be incinerated to a crisp like those poor people in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was my hope. Though maybe that was the fear of being bombed by my own country and brushed off as “necessary casualties” talking, all in an effort to put down an enemy most of us didn’t understand.

I waited impatiently under the burning sun tapping my foot repeatedly while someone next to me kept talking. Any other time and at any other place I would’ve been talking just as much as he had. When I first got here and the only person that I had connected with in basic training was almost immediately blown to smithereens. I decided that forming relationships here was futile. It was just easier to keep my head down and hope for home.

It had been quite a long time since I had gotten my last letter, specifically from them. Most of the letters I ended up getting were from them, my mom sent some on occasion but because of her fragile mental health I had told the staff where she was to not tell her where I had gone. My co workers had tried too, mostly at the beginning though when it was somewhat assured I’d still be alive. I think they had lost hope that I’d return, though some had obviously thought that was never going to happen, probably on account for my obviously unathletic stature.

My significant other had been the only one who seemed to hold out hope, even sometimes more than I could muster. That’s why every night I’d look over the letters they had sent me, to help replenish the hope that had been drained throughout the days.

It had been so long though, since I had received my last letter from them. A sense of dread filled the bottom of my stomach over the crippling fear of wondering if they had moved on. I didn’t know how long I’d been here, I stopped counting after a month. Had they stopped bothering to count too? Was it no longer worth it?

“Reid!” My last name was barked at me by the man in charge who I only bothered to learn the name of because I didn’t know I would have gotten in trouble. He barked again at me, “Letter for you!”

My heart caught up in my throat. I hoped the letter would be from them, if it was from anyone else I’m not sure it would bring me any happiness- at least it would be nothing compared to the happiness letters that they sent me made me feel, even if only for a moment.

I scooted off quickly with my letter in hand towards the barracks eager to tear into the letter. I hadn’t flipped over the envelope yet, wanting to wait to see who it was from by myself so I didn’t show emotion in front of the other soldiers. I plopped down on the cot assigned to me, though it was so thin it might as well have been a wooden board. My fingers shook as I tore into the envelope rabidly, I needed to see the words written in their hand. I didn’t know if I could handle this letter not being from them.

“Dear Spencer,”

As soon as I saw those words written in loopy cursive on a creased piece of paper I always felt slightly better. The letter was filled with sweet words and flowery language that most people would scoff at, but it meant the world to me. I wasn’t ok by any means and I didn’t know if I’d ever be fully ok again. But the words ‘Dear Spencer,” made me hope I’d one day go home again.

—

When that fateful day came, it was surreal. It wasn’t until I was back home on U.S soil that I had processed that I was finally going home.

My heart pounded in my chest as I waited to be reunited with them- the streets were crowded with many people. It had been the happiest sight I had been able to see in a long time, people reuniting with their loved ones.

I couldn’t find them in the sea of happiness around me, it made me worry. The last letter I had gotten from them had been a few months ago. I clutched it in my hand like I had clutched onto my hope. I wondered if it had been too long since I had been home.

“Spencer!” My name being called, my first name, not my last as I had become accustomed to overseas. Relief flooded through my veins that had only known anxiety, dread, and fear for so long. I knew who it was instantly and I knew it was time to come home. Maybe they’d let me name the unit now that I was home.

——

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Letters Series: (Group of Unlinked fics about Spencer and letters)

@whoreforthebau @sierraraeck @90spumkin

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #mgg #mgg x reader

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salemsbones · 3 years ago

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What You Did Last Summer- Regulus Black Oneshot

TW: implied child abuse, forced scarification/ dark mark

He had been avoiding me since the middle of summer. It started slowly, like when I began to notice he stopped addressing my letters to "ma cherie" but rather my name. Then the letters became less, only once a week, then once every other week despite the many letters I would send him. When I attempted to come visit him at the Black manor as we had planned just weeks before, I was told he had fallen ill was too sick to see me even though I saw his shadow brush past like a phantom ghost just down the hallway. Eventually my letters were returned to me, completely unopened with a short letter attached stating I was to stop sending letters and if I didn't, they would be used as fire kindling. School had began again just a week ago and he was never alone, always surrounded by new founded friends who held their noses high in the air and would yell slurs down the corridor as easily as it was saying their names. I knew he enjoyed being alone, I knew those were fake smiles, I knew he hated when one of his new friends would rip the book from his hands and toss it between a few of them as if it was a game rather than a rude disruption of a calm activity he enjoyed. I knew he hated also saying the slurs his friends said so easily, I knew it caused bile to rise in his throat every time he forced the syllables past his teeth. He avoided me, within one week he had completely rearranged his class schedule so we barely had any classes together, ruining the amount of time we had spent just months before discussing our timetables so we could share as many classes together as possible. And the classes we did have together, he avoided my gaze, his nose stuck to his books or Potions ingredients, sitting as far from me as possible. He continued to leave his long sleeves rolled down to his wrists despite the unusually warm September weather, constantly pushing them down to keep his forearms covered, unlike his new idiot friends who boasted about their new Dark Marks, and about how they now followed the Dark Lord who would eventually become the new leader of the wizarding world and rid the world of anyone but pure bloods. The dirty secrets he kept from me about the past summer made me sick, made my stomach churn and my mind race. I know he didn't agree with the ideology of Voldemort or the beliefs his parents had tried to force down his throat his entire life. I knew he was more like his older brother Sirius who had rebelled against their parents but because of how often he heard their disgust and dismay in regard of his brother, that he did not want to disappoint them or make them lose their only remaining heir. It's tearing me apart, the fake smiles, the forced laughter, the comments about half bloods or muggleborns. I knew this wasn't the real him. I had somehow managed to corner him after he was leaving the Great Hall with his friends, fellow Slytherins he had previously stated he hated and found idiotic. "Regulus!" I called, quickly running after him. He glanced over his shoulder to look at me and I could see the defeat in his eyes and the slight slump of his shoulders as I got closer to him. "Addy..." He said quietly, dropping his gaze to the floor, ignoring the calls of his friends who were making their way to their next class. "Where have you been?' I asked, the anger and confusion that had followed me for the past few weeks that I had somehow pushed down, bubbling to the surface. "You know where I've been." He said quietly, not meeting my eye. “I'm sure Orion and Walburga are proud." I sneered nodding to his covered arm. "Addy please, not here." He glanced to me and then back to his friends. He rubbed the back of his neck with the arm that held his secrets and before he could stop me I grabbed his arm, pushing up the white sleeve of his button up shirt, revealing the twisted black snake ink of the Dark Mark he had tried to cover and keep a secret. "I know what you did last summer." I say, dropping his arm and looking at him in disgust. “I didn't do anything." He clutched his arm to his chest, pushing the sleeve back down. "Just lied to me." I shake my head and go to walk away but he grabs my hand and pulls me down a empty hallway, away from his friends and the concerned stares coming from passing students. "Addy-" He starts but I cut him off. "Tell me the truth Reg. Tell me where you've been and don't even think about lying." I say, staring deep into his stormy grey eyes. "I know what you did last summer. Look me in the eyes." He looks at me and sighs. "They held me down and made me get it. I didn't want it and I tried to fight it but I couldn't." I stood in front of him for a moment unsure about what to say, "I wanted to see you over the summer, I promise. I just- I just didn't want to make you upset after you saw it." "I missed you," I whisper, dropping my eyes from his gaze and shift uncomfortably, feeling like an asshole for accusing him to getting the Dark Mark when he was actually forced to get it. "I missed you too." He said, giving me a small smile. "I'm sorry." I say quietly, still avoiding his eyes. "It's okay, I would've been upset too if I was you." He admitted. "So what are you gunna do now?" I ask, looking back up to him and he smirks lightly. "I have a plan,"

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elianamarie-blog · 4 years ago

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The Things You Give Pt 13

AN: Another part is up! Let me know what you’re thinking of the series so far because I’m thinking of ending it soon because I’d hate for it to go on longer than needed. But I am having a lot of fun writing it and love hearing back from you guys! Thank you all for those that have been reading since the beginning and if you’re just finding the series, welcome! Enjoy!

Steven Hyde x Reader

October 15, 1978

The Forman Kitchen

Point Place, Wisconsin

The morning at the breakfast table, things still hadn’t changed between the three teenagers, but they were at least able to be around each other without fists flying, so y/n took that as a plus. Y/n could barley eat though. She had woken up feeling sick to her stomach; the thought of food repulsing her. She nibbled on her toast and couldn’t even sip on her orange juice without wanting to vomit.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Kitty asked concerned. “You’ve barley touched your breakfast.”

Y/n groaned. “Just feeling a little sick is all.”

Kitty hummed and pressed the back of her hand to y/n’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm. Maybe it was something you ate.”

Y/n groaned again and put her head down. “Maybe.”

“Hey Dad, can you pass the bacon?” Eric asked, stretching arm out.

Y/n gagged and groaned. “Please don’t say bacon.”

Eric smirked and grabbed a piece, biting into it. “Mhmmmm…bacόn.”

“Please stop,” she grumbled, her stomach churning.

“It’s so juicy and chewy and the fat at the end is the best part,” Eric continued, laughing.

“Oh, God! Did you have to say that?!” she screeched as she made haste to the nearest bathroom. She could feel the contents of her stomach rising before she made it to the bathroom.

“Did you really have to do that?” Kitty asked, disappointed.

“Yes,” Eric responded. “Yes, I did.”

Kitty shook her head in disapproval and brought her fork of food to her mouth.

Red glared at his son before returning his attention to the newspaper.

“What?!” Eric asked. “She started it!”

“Oh, boo hoo, she broke your dolls,” Red mocked.

“G.I Joes,” Eric corrected.

“Whatever,” his father answered. “Whatever she did isn’t worth making her throw up over.”

Yes, it is, Eric thought.

Y/n returned to the kitchen, her skin ashen and her eyes sunken. “I think I’m going to go back to bed so I don’t barf all over the table.”

“Well, okay honey,” Kitty said getting up and taking her plate to the sink. “I’ll bring you some soup later, okay?”

Y/n shook her head, making a face of disgust. “Please, Mom. I can’t even think about food right now.”

“Well, you have to get some food in you,” Kitty responded. “Otherwise you’ll get even more sick.”

Y/n nodded. “Okay. I just really want to go back to bed.”

“Okay sweetie,” Kitty responded, rubbing her daughter’s shoulder. “We’ll see you later.”

Y/n nodded and stole a glance at Hyde before she made her way upstairs.

“Eric, I need you to mow the lawn later,” Red demanded as he finished his breakfast.

“What? Why can’t Hyde do it?”

“Because unlike your sorry ass, I actually have work,” Hyde replied.

Eric glared at him before turning back to Red. “Why do I always have to do it?”

“Because I said so!” Red barked.

--Time Skip—

“So, you think you got food poisoning, huh?” Donna asked that night over the phone.

Y/n nodded before she realized she was talking over the phone. “Yeah, I do. Every time I move, my body screams at me. My back is hurting so much. And my stupid cramps aren’t helping any either.”

“Have you been throwing up that much?”

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, wiping her sweaty and oily hair out of her face. “I think I pulled a muscle in my back or something because of it. Even my boobs hurt.”

“Nausea, back aches, and tender breasts,” Donna counted off. “Hey, you may be pregnant.” Donna chuckled at her own joke.

“Ha ha,” Y/n chortled. “You’re funny. Definitely not pregnant.”

“Yeah? And how do you know?”

“Because I’m supposed to be getting my period in a few days. These could be symptoms of PMS. Or maybe both.”

“Supposed to,” Donna pushed, putting emphasis on her words.

“Shut up,” Elena laughed. “Stop saying that. I’m not pregnant. Eric would throw himself off a cliff if that happened. Or Hyde. Or Eric would push Hyde off a cliff. One of the three.”

Donna chuckled. “But seriously, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just can’t do much for a couple of days.”

“Okay, well if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks Donna,” Y/n said. “I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll talk to you later.” “Alright, rest easy. Talk to you later.”

Y/n hung up the phone before turning back around and falling back asleep, feeling her stomach churning. Pregnant.

The word echoed in her head as sleep quickly enveloped her. --Time Skip—

“Guys!” Kelso called as he barged through the door in the basement. “The Omen is on TV right now!” He hurriedly made his way over to the television set, switching on the movie.

“Kelso, what the hell, man? We were watching that!” Hyde piped up. “C’mon, it’s Halloween season!” Kelso argued. “Tis the season to be jolly!”

“That’s Christmas, moron,” Jackie said from behind him.

“Well, whatever! I think we should get in the spirit.”

The gang groaned as they leaned back into their seats.

“Hey, where’s y/n?” Hyde asked.

“Oh, she’s upstairs sleeping,” Donna answered nonchalantly.

“Still? It’s six o’ clock,” he responded. “She’s been upstairs since this morning.”

“Well, food poisoning is a real bitch,” she replied. “And so is PMS.”

“Alright, TMI,” Eric said and got up to turn up the volume on the TV.

“Oh, Eric, don’t be such a prude,” Fez said. “It’s completely natural. In my culture, we honor women whenever they go through their monthly ordeal. It’s kind of a big deal. We thank the gods and celebrate their womanhood. Then, we bring them flowers and chocolates and some candy too. Or whatever else they’re craving. They get a week off and can stay at home in bed while their husbands, brothers, fathers, or sons take care of everything.”

“Wow…can I join your culture?” Donna asked.

Fez chuckled. “Sure, if you feel like eating bugs for breakfast.”

Donna grimaced. “Never mind.” She turned to Eric. “Why don’t you do that for me?”

“Because a woman shouldn’t bleed for seven days straight and still live,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah, I don’t trust anything that can bleed for that long and not die,” Kelso said.

Hyde looked at him amused. “You can’t even be with a woman for seven days straight, let alone be there for her during her monthly problem.”

“Not true! I was with Jackie for three years!”

“And you cheated on me at least once a month!” Jackie responded. “Hey…wait a minute!”

“You guys, women are sacred. They need to be honored and cherished during this time because the pain they go through, we will never understand,” Fez said gently.

“We don’t understand?” Hyde said. “Have you ever been kicked in the nads?”

“Okay, sure, but imagine getting kicked in the nads for at least 3 days straight,” Donna responded.

“Oh, God!” Eric said, squirming in his seat. “I can’t even imagine that!”

“Well, sometimes, it’s even more painful,” Jackie added.

“What does it feel like?” Kelso asked, staring at her.

“Well, it can feel like someone is taking a knife to your pelvis and slowly twisting it,” Jackie responded causing all the men in the room to squirm, except for Fez.

“Fez, man, how are you not effected by this?” Kelso asked.

“I grew up with five sisters,” he responded, shrugging. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

“Are you guys seriously talking about periods?” Y/n asked as she slowly made her way down the stairs.

“Hey, you’re up,” Donna stated. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty lousy,” Y/n said. “But I’d rather be miserable with company than go through it alone.” She plopped down on the couch next to where Hyde was sitting.

“Are you going through your…girl problem?” Kelso asked nervously.

“What? No,” Y/n replied. “I mean, I could be, but it could also be food poisoning.”

“Well, what did you eat?” Hyde asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that you guys didn’t eat,” she replied.

“Must be the PMS thing then,” Donna said, laughing when Eric shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Can we please stop talking about my sister’s cycle? It’s giving me a very vivid image that I’d rather not have.”

“Y/n, do you need anything?” Fez asked sweetly. “Chocolate? Water? A hot water bottle?”

Y/n smiled at him. “Why, yes, Fez. That would be lovely.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” Fez beamed and hopped out the chair to run out the door.

“Hey, man, why are you taking care of my chick?” Hyde asked, stopping Fez at the door. “That’s my job.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?” Fez shot back.

Y/n’s mouth fell open in a laugh as she covered it with her hand. Donna and Jackie tightened their lips to keep themselves for laughing.

“’Cause she didn’t ask,” he responded.

“She shouldn’t have to,” Fez said calmly. “You should just do it for her. That’s how you keep your woman happy.”

“Then why couldn’t you keep Jackie happy?” Hyde quipped.

Y/n gasped. “Steven!”

“No, no it’s okay,” Fez said, oddly calm. “You know, Hyde, normally that would bother me, but not today because I’m not the one having another man making my woman happy.”

Hyde grabbed the nearest object—a magazine—and threw it at Fez, but before it could hit him, he slammed the door shut; the magazine hitting the door with a thud.

“He’s right, you know,” Y/n responded with a smile.

“Do you really feel that way?” Hyde asked her.

Y/n shrugged. “Not really. It would be nice though.”

“I see,” Hyde said and stood from his chair, stalking his way to his room.

“Steven, wait!” she called after him. “I wasn’t being serious!”

He flapped a hand at her without turning to look at her and slammed his door.

“Wow,” Jackie said, puffing out her cheeks. “That escaladed quickly.”

Y/n shrunk down in her seat, feeling guilty. “What else is new with this group?”

“This is great!” Eric beamed, causing everyone to stare at him in confusion. “Now Hyde is mad at you too! Not just me.”

Y/n groaned and stood up slowly. “You’re an immature dillhole. I’m going back to bed.”

“What should I tell Fez when he gets back?” Donna asked.

“That I’m upstairs and he can come up.”

“I don’t think Hyde will like that very much,” Kelso mentioned.

“Who cares?” Eric griped.

“Look, I’ll deal with Hyde later,” Y/n responded, ignoring her twin. “Right now, I just want to feel better.” She trudged up the stairs, leaving the group alone.

“What a mess,” Donna said.

“Tell me about it,” Jackie responded. “Eric, are you still mad at them?”

“Of course, I am!” he responded, surprised that Jackie would ask him such a question. “How can I not be?”

“Well, you can try not being mad,” Jackie suggested sarcastically.

“Eric, give it a rest, yeah?” Donna said. “It’s been over a week.”

Eric growled and leaned back in his seat.

“He was supposed to be moved out by now,” he mumbled.

“Shut. Up. Please,” Donna snapped. “He literally has nowhere to go. You have to be a real prick to throw him out on the streets. It’s not like he murdered your sister.”

“You just don’t get it, Donna!” he whined. The whole group groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah we don’t get it because it’s not our sister and we would be pissed too if Hyde was nailing her, blah blah blah. Seriously, Eric, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we’re sick of hearing about it,” Kelso said, irritated. He just wanted to watch the movie. Why wasn’t anybody respecting that?

Eric furrowed his brows at his friends. “You guys really feel this way?”

“YES!” Jackie, Donna, and Kelso said in unison.

“Oh. Well, then, fine,” Eric grumbled and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Donna asked.

“Since you guys are tired of hearing about it, I’m going to go somewhere else.”

“Oh my God, you are such a drama queen,” Donna groaned. “Just sit back down and watch the movie with us.”

“Nah, I’m good. See you guys later.” With that, he grabbed his coat and shut the door, leaving the three teenagers left to watch the movie.

“He’s gotten more annoying than usual,” Jackie commented.

“You know, Jackie, normally I would be offended by that, but this time I have to agree with you,” Donna responded.

“Well, now we can watch the movie,” Kelso said.

The three sat in silence on the couch until Kelso tried to sneak his hand up Donna’s leg.

“Kelso!” Donna screeched as she slapped his hand away.

“Damn, Donna! I was just looking for the remote!”

“The remote is on the table, you idiot,” Jackie pointed out.

Kelso looked between the two girls with a hurt look. “Women are mean!” He stomped out the basement, forgetting the movie.

The girls looked at each other and shrugged, returning their attention to the TV before Donna got up to change it back to the channel they were watching.

--Time Skip—

Y/n stared down at the home pregnancy test, shock filling her. Positive. The test was freaking positive. She was going to be a mother. Oh God, how would everyone else react? What kind of mother was she going to be?

“Oh, Y/n, how could you?” Kitty asked from behind her, hurt playing on her face.

“Wait, Mom--!” Y/n tried to call after her mother before Red showed up at her side.

“How could you be such a disgrace to the family?!” Red shouted, his face turning pink. Kitty turned to her husband’s side and started sobbing. “Look what you’re doing to your mother!”

“No, but Daddy—” Y/n said, tears welling in her eyes.

“Wow, you’re such a whore!” Eric laughed as he suddenly appeared by their parents’ side. “And here I thought Laurie would be the one to get knocked up from some rando.”

“What?” she asked her twin, tears cascading down her pale cheeks.

“Wow, little sister, you certainly top me,” Laurie said, smirking.

“Laurie?” Y/n questioned.

“I’m leaving you,” Steven said coldly, appearing in front of her. “You were just a fling. You knew this from the start. I can’t have a baby with a loser.”

“You said you loved me!” Y/n screamed.

“I lied,” Steven said and smirked. “I only strung you along so that I could nail you. Now, look at you. You’re fat and alone.”

Y/n looked down and saw that her stomach had enlarged. “What?” she whispered.

“We can’t have you in the family,” Kitty suddenly said. “We can’t have a whore in the family.”

“You have Laurie!”

“At least she didn’t get pregnant!” her mother shot back. “You and your mistake can get out of our house, out of our lives. You’re no longer welcome!”

“No, Mom! Please, I need you. I need Daddy and Steven, please. I can’t do this alone. I need you more than ever.”

She went to grab his hands, but he jerked away from her. “Well, you’re gonna have to do it alone.”

Tears cascaded down her face as she tried to blink them away, but as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. Suddenly, Y/n found herself sitting alone in a total darkness, a single light shining above her.

“No,” she whimpered, looking around. “No. No. NO!”

Y/n jerked awake, sweat coating her forehead. Her breathing was slightly heavy as she glanced at the clock. 2:08AM. She sighed and fell back onto her pillow, fingers threading through her sweaty and knotted hair. She couldn’t believe she’d been asleep for eight hours.

Her room suddenly flooded with light as Kitty, dressed in her pink robe, hair a rat’s nest, stood in her cracked door. “Y/n, honey, are you alright? I heard you yelling.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Y/n replied. “Just had a nightmare.”

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Kitty replied and moved closer to adjust herself on the bed. “You know, when you were little, you would get nightmares all the time. And the only thing that would soothe you and get you to go back to sleep is when I would gently caress your hair until you fell back asleep.”

Y/n smiled softly. “Too bad I’m older now, huh?”

“Oh, nonsense,” Kitty said and leaned over, caressing her hair back. “You’re never too old for your mother’s love.”

Y/n smiled and turned on her side, facing Kitty.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked her daughter after a moment of silence.

Y/n thought about it for a minute. She actually wanted to talk to her about it, but she knew if she did, she could open up something that she really didn’t want to. Even if it were just a dream, Kitty would know that it was something much deeper than that.

“No,” she responded after a beat. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Of course sweetheart,” Kitty cooed. She continued to smooth Y/n’s hair, effectively calming her down. Fifteen years later and it still works.

Y/n could already feel sleep overcoming her again. “Thank you, Mommy,” she mumbled as her eyelids grew heavier.

“You’re absolutely welcome,” Kitty responded and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/n whispered before falling asleep once more.

⧝⧝⧝

Y/n woke up the next day, just as horrible as the day before. She dragged herself out of bed and trudged downstairs to see her family eating lunch.

“Morning Sunshine,” Kitty cheerfully greeted her. “You must be really sick to sleep in till noon.”

Y/n grunted back and grabbed some orange juice and sat down. The smell of their lunch making her nose curl, repulsing her.

“How’re you feeling, kitten?” Red asked.

“I’m okay,” Y/n responded. “Could be better. Still feel kinda nauseas and tired.”

“You want some dry toast?” Kitty asked. “You haven’t eaten much.”

Y/n nodded tiredly and put her head on the table. “I’d love some actually.”

Kitty smiled and got up, popping bread in the toaster. “Oh, your foreign friend dropped off some stuff for you. I left it here on the counter.”

“Hm?” Y/n hummed, looking at Kitty.

“He said something to do with your menstrual cycle, so he dropped off a hot water bottle, some midol, and a box of chocolate.”

“Oh, come on, Kitty, not while we’re eating!” Red exclaimed, disgusted.

The whole time, Eric and Steven had been quiet. Steven glared at the gifts through his aviators. Eric rolled his eyes and continued to eat his lunch.

“What a sweet boy!” Kitty laughed. “You know, I don’t think I’d mind if you ended up with him.”

Y/n smiled as Kitty set a plate of two slices of dry toast in front of her.

“I’m going to make you some tea as well. You gotta get some liquids in you,” Kitty stated.

“Kitty, don’t put ideas in her head!” Red said, throwing down the paper he was reading.

“What do you mean by that?” Y/n asked, offended. “Is it because of his skin color?”

“What?” Red asked, scrunching up his face. “God, no! I don’t want you dating anybody. You’re too young.”

“Dad, I’m eighteen,” Y/n deadpanned as she nibbled at her toast. “Eric and Donna have been dating since they were, like, eight.”

“No, we haven’t,” Eric argued.

“Shut up, yes you have,” Y/n said.

“Eric’s different,” Red continued. “Eric is a man, or as close of a man as he can get. Besides, Donna is the best he’s ever going to do.” He started laughing, but he was the only one who found that funny.

“Thanks Dad,” Eric deadpanned.

“Red Forman!” Kitty exclaimed.

“What? It’s funny!” Kitty gave him a hard look making him shut up. “Fine, it’s not.”

Y/n managed a small smile before bringing a piece of toast to her lips. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m not even seeing anyone.”

Eric stopped mid-bite to give side eye to his twin sister. Y/n returned a hard, cold stare to her brother as if to say don’t you freaking dare.

“So, Fez gave you those huh?” Steven asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Y/n replied. “That was really nice of him.”

“Yeah, real nice,” he responded slowly.

“It was,” Y/n replied, staring at her boyfriend in suspicion. “You got something to say?”

“No, why would I?” he responded. “Why would I have anything to say that my best friend is flirting with my…other best friend?”

Kitty stood at the stove as she waited for the tea to heat up and squinted her eyes at Steven before looking to her husband who was giving him the same look.

“What’s your deal, Hyde?” Y/n asked him, growing annoyed with him.

“Oh, nothing,” he responded. “I’m just saying that he’s never done this for another girl before unless it was Jackie.”

“Steven, what’re you getting at?” Red asked him.

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, Y/n?” Hyde said, staring coldly at her.

Y/n returned the glare. “If you’re insinuating that Fez likes me, you are terribly, terribly wrong.”

“Then why would he do it for you?” he asked impatiently.

“I don’t know!” Y/n responded, flabbergasted. “Because he wants to be nice?”

“Nice, ha!” Steven hollered, causing everyone to look at him in surprise. “Guys don’t do things just to be nice.”

Y/n gave him a look. “Why do you care so much what he does?”

“Yeah, Hyde. Why do you care?” Eric asked with a smirk.

Steven realized what he was doing and looked at everyone who was looking at him with furrowed brows. He straightened his posture and looked down at his lunch, clearing his throat. “I don’t. I just find it rather odd.”

“And if Fez does like me, what’s it to ya?” Y/n asked, cocking her head to the side.

“It doesn’t,” Hyde replied coldly, taking a sip from his iced tea.

Y/n lifted an eyebrow at him before finishing off her toast.

“Is there something going on between you two?” Red asked.

The couple stole a glance at each other before looking to Red.

“No, not at all,” Y/n replied casually.

“Why would there be?” Steven asked.

“I don’t know. You’re acting weird,” Red commented. “Stop it.”

Steven grinned at him. “Yes, sir.”

“Here’s your tea, sweetheart,” Kitty said, bringing over a mug of tea. “And I put in some honey, Honey.” She laughed at her own joke.

Y/n chuckled softly. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Oh, by the way, Sasha called for you yesterday,” Kitty said, sitting back down.

Y/n perked up. “She did? Why?”

“I’m not too sure. She wanted to talk to you about something, but I told her you weren’t feeling well. So, I took down her number and told her you’d give her a call back when you feel better.”

“Yeah, I’ll call her back once I can stop vomiting.”

“And yet, you’ve been able to achieve that this whole time,” Eric said sarcastically. “Must feel nice to finally be able to achieve something for once. Congrats, sis.”

Y/n glared at him. “If I could control it, I’d do it on you right now.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Kitty cut in. “Finish your lunches.”

“I can’t. I’m going downstairs to watch TV,” Y/n whimpered.

“Okay. Don’t forget your tea!” Kitty called out.

Y/n turned back around and grabbed the warm mug between her cold hands and made her way downstairs. On her way, she grabbed the midol and the hot water bottle.

At this point, Steven was seething as he watched his girlfriend take Fez’s gifts.

“Alright, well, I’m heading out for a few,” Steven announced, quickly getting up. “Thanks for the lunch, Mrs. Forman.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, dear,” she responded.

“Wanna come?” Hyde asked Eric.

Eric looked up at him. “What for?”

“Just come on,” Hyde pushed and grabbed Eric by the shirt, tugging him out the door.

“But I’m not finished!” Eric whined.

“You are now,” Hyde said before closing the sliding door.

“What’s with them?” Red asked.

“I have no clue,” Kitty responded, not caring. “They’re always up to something.”

Outside, Eric shoved himself out of Hyde’s grasp. “What the hell, man?”

“Get in the car,” Hyde ordered, unlocking the El Camino.

“What? No,” Eric said, standing in his place.

“Get in. We have to talk.”

Eric crossed his arms. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Great. Then you can just listen,” Hyde responded standing in front of the driver’s side door, waiting for Eric to get in. His arm rested on top of the car casually as if not a care in the world. “You going to get in?”

“Why should I?”

Hyde groaned. “Just get in the car, man!”

“Are you kidnapping me?” Eric asked as he slowly made his way to the passenger’s side.

“Of course not.”

“You gonna take me to the middle of nowhere, take my clothes after you convince met to skinny dip in the lake, and abandon me while I walk around naked and afraid like last time?”

Hyde rolled his eyes. “I came back for you, didn’t I?”

“Three hours later!”

“For the love of God, just shut up and get in the car!”

“It was so cold,” Eric whimpered as he slid in the front seat and shut the door. “Where are we going?”

“For a drive,” Hyde responded and backed out the driveway. Once they were on the road, Hyde broke the silence. “Listen, man. This whole thing between you, me, and Y/n has gotten way out of hand.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“What happened to you shuttin’ up and letting me talk?”

Eric sighed, making a face. “Fine.”

“Look,” Hyde began. “I know you’re pissed off at us for dating and going behind your back—”

“And lying.”

“…Yeah, and lying about it. But I need you to know that everything I said is true. Y/n is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and when I say that I will do whatever I can to make her happy, I mean it. And this whole ending a friendship over it is stupid.”

Eric stared at Hyde in disbelief. “You’re serious about this? About my sister?”

“Yeah, man. That’s why I’m here talking to you,” he responded and turned onto the main road. “I know we could’ve gone around it differently, but come on man, what would you have done? You’ve been saying that we need to put ourselves in your shoes, well put yourself in our shoes. Imagine if Donna was my sister, but you really liked her. What would you have done?”

Eric was silent for a minute. “Well, we probably wouldn’t be friends considering you kissed her and tried to get with her.”

Hyde gave an exasperated sigh. “Man, will you focus?”

Eric thought about it for a second. “I guess I can understand that.”

“And I want you to know that I won’t disappoint her. I will take care of her and make sure she gets everything she wants and needs. I’m not going to be like the rest of my family and be a deadbeat and end up in prison. I will do good for her.”

Eric turned his gaze to him and suddenly felt an anchor of guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. “Oh, man. Look, Hyde when I said that…I didn’t mean it. I was angry and—”

“It’s fine,” Hyde said, cutting in.

��No, no it’s not,” Eric turned to face him. “It was wrong of me to say that to you. It’s just that…she’s my sister, man. My twin, you know? My favorite sister. I can’t help but feel, you know, maybe a little overprotective of her.”

“No, but you were right,” Hyde confessed and turned onto the highway. “I probably was headed down that path anyway. But being with her has actually made me want to be better.”

Eric looked at Hyde like he had two heads. “You look like my friend, but you don’t sound like him. Where’s Hyde?!”

Hyde chuckled and turned off the highway, noticing Eric calling him his friend. “I know. It’s sickening.”

Eric laughed and turned back around, facing the front. He noticed they were entering downtown. “Hyde…where are we going? This isn’t just a drive anymore.”

“You’ll see in a minute,” he said and continued down a narrow road before stopping in front of a super store. He turned the car off and sat back quietly. “Just so you know, this wasn’t easy for me to talk about it. So, if you tell anyone, I’ll deny the whole thing.”

Eric nodded and looked at Hyde seriously. “I’m still not happy about it, but I guess I don’t have a choice but to accept it. You two really do seem happy.”

Hyde nodded and looked down. “We are, man.”

“Just…don’t hurt her,” Eric said. “Then I’d have to kick your ass and then I’d end up getting my ass kicked and then Red will kick my ass for getting my ass kicked and then he’d hunt you down like a dog and then he’d kick your ass.”

Hyde sat there in stunned silence. “Wow…that’s…detailed. How long have you been sitting on this?”

“Pretty much since I found out.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Eric replied. “Also, one more thing. I don’t wanna hear or see you and my sister doing anything. The image of you two doing anything makes me want to hurl.”

“Deal,” Hyde chucked. “So, are we good?”

Eric looked at him for a moment and grinned. “Yeah, man, we’re good.”

Hyde nodded and the two boys lifted their hands, bringing each other in for bro-hug.

“Can I just ask you one question, though?” he asked.

Hyde hummed.

“Why her? Why Y/n?”

Hyde sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man. She’s different. She’s smart and actually funny, interesting, and genuine. Really sweet and cares about others beside herself. Besides, she’s smoking hot.”

“Well, I’d never thought I’d hear my best friend put my sister and ‘smoking hot’ in the same sentence,” Eric retorted and pretended to gag. “Really, really unpleasant.”

“I know. I just said that because I think it’s funny,” Hyde laughed.

Eric slugged him in the shoulder. “And every time you say stuff like that, you’ll get hit.”

They laughed lightly together before Eric slapped a hand on Hyde’s shoulder. “And, uh, don’t worry about my parents. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks, man,” Hyde replied. “Well, let’s go inside.”

“Why are we at this one?” Eric asked, joining Hyde outside the car. “You know there’s like three different stores in town. Why this one?”

“Because this is the biggest one in Point Place and they have everything I want.”

“Which is?”

“You’ll see.”

As they entered the store, Hyde went for the first thing he saw: flowers. Specifically, half a dozen red roses. Then he went towards the freezer section, grabbing a pint of her favorite ice cream: mint chocolate chip.

“Ice cream?” Eric questioned.

“I heard chicks really dig ice cream during their…problem time.”

“Yeah, Donna eats like four of those.”

“Damn,” Hyde sighed. “I’m, uh, I’m not very good at this. All I know is I want Y/n to feel better and I was kind of a jerk earlier.”

“Yeah, about that,” Eric piped up, browsing the ice cream flavors. “Why were reacting that way?” Eric’s eyes grew a fraction wider. “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

“What? No. I don’t get jealous.”

“You so did!” Eric laughed. “You hated that Fez bought all that stuff for her because you felt like a bad boyfriend for not thinking about it earlier!”

“You wanna get your ass kicked this early in the day?” Hyde threatened.

Eric continued to laugh at him. “Just admit it. You totally did.”

Hyde rolled his eyes as he found his way to the soft drink section and grabbed a few bottles of ginger ale. “Okay, fine, maybe a little. But he shouldn’t have been hitting on her. She’s my chick. I should be the one getting all the stuff she needs.”

“And that’s what you’re doing now,” Eric stated, looking around. “Is that why you brought me here? To help you find stuff that she would like?”

“No,” Hyde answered as they entered another aisle. He found a tin box of saltines and bent down to grab them. “I know what she likes; I don’t need you for that. I mainly brought you here so that we could sort crap out.” He picked up a box of assorted chocolates, something he knew she’d like.

“You trying to tell me something?” Eric smirked, causing Hyde to chuckle. “Don’t you think you maybe going a little overboard?” He asked when he noticed Hyde putting everything in the basket.

“Maybe,” he answered honestly and led Eric away from the grocery section. “I just want her to know that I care.”

“Well, she’ll definitely get that message,” the twin responded and noticed where Hyde was leading them. “Seriously? Condoms?”

“You don’t want me to knock her up, do you?”

“I’m still trying to accept you two and by you doing this in front of me is really bumming me out.”

Hyde laughed cruelly. “That’s kind of funny.” He quickly grabbed a pack and threw it in the cart. “Just don’t look at ‘em.”

Eric sighed and looked away. “What else are you giving her?”

“Besides a good time?”

Eric dramatically screeched and squirmed. “Please. Stop. Saying. That.”

Hyde burst into laughter, laughing at his friend’s discomfort. “That will never get old.”

“You’re a sadistic son of a bitch, you know that?”

—Time Skip—

Y/n laid on the couch in the basement, wrapped up in a blanket, mindlessly watching tv. She was in and out of consciousness for the good part of the afternoon. Even though she was sick, she was still upset about her little dispute with Hyde.

When did he become so jealous? Why would he think that of Fez? And worse of all, why didn’t he trust her enough? It hurt, but she was more curious as of why. She could feel her stomach beginning to churn again as it was ready to bring back up what she brought down earlier.

Please, God, no. She quickly sat up, the room spinning for a minute, before she ran back to the bathroom and found herself with her head in the toilet. This had to be the forty-fifth time in the last couple of days of her spending time kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach into the light green basin.

She held her hair back as tears pricked the corner of her eyes. It hurt so much and all she wanted in that moment was just to stop. What in the hell did she catch that made her feel this violently ill? After she was sure she was done, except from the dry heaving, she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. She sat against it for a little while longer, wishing her stomach would calm down enough for her to get a good sleep in. She couldn’t help but let a few tears escape. Her back was hurting, her body was aching, and her throat was burning. And on top of all that, she started cramping earlier in the day and the pain hadn’t subsided.

“Y/n?” she heard from the basement living room.

She groaned in response and heard footsteps approach the door to the tiny bathroom. She twisted her face in pain as another surge of nausea reared its ugly head. Hyde appeared in the doorway just as he saw her turn her pale and tortured face into the basin once again. He could hear her whimpers through each retched gag.

“Awe, Doll,” he cooed and knelt down beside her, rubbing her back. He gathered her long hair in his hands and tried to look anywhere besides the toilet. He gently shushed her and reassured her that he was there now for her.

Once she was finished, she fumbled for the handle, and pulled down. Hyde handed her some tissues to wipe her mouth. She gratefully accepted it and sat up fully, leaning against the wall.

“What’re you doing here?” she croaked. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” he responded and helped her off the floor. He wrapped a protective arm around her waist and guided her back to the couch where Eric also sat.

“Are you here to fight? Because this isn’t how I envisioned our first fight.”

He gently sat her on the couch, handing her the blanket and chuckled. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then what?”

“Mainly to give you these,” he responded and handed her the roses.

Y/n’s face softened as she weakly grasped the flowers in her fists. “What’s this for?”

“An apology,” Hyde responded and took a deep breath. “I know I was a jealous jerk earlier and…I’m sorry, okay?”

She looked at him in the eye. “Why were you?”

“I don’t know,” he responded and rubbed his neck. “I just…I just didn’t like seeing some other guy bring you things that I should be bringing.”

She meekly set the flowers down on the coffee table in front of her. “Steven, do you not trust me?”

“What? Of course I do.”

“Then why did you act like Fez was going to hook up with me and I wouldn’t be able to say no?”

“No, it’s not that. I…I—can you hang on a second?” he turned around to look at Eric. “Can we get a minute?” he asked impatiently.

Eric’s smug look never left his face. “Sure. Doll.”

Hyde stood abruptly, intimidatingly. Eric laughed and ran upstairs.

Y/n knit her eyebrows together. “You guys are okay now or something?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat and sat back down. “That’s another story.”

Y/n nodded. “You were saying?”

“Look, Y/n, when I saw Fez jumping in to immediately take care of you, I guess it felt like I…wasn’t doing my job as your boyfriend. And then when you said it did bother you, I knew I wasn’t. And…that maybe what everyone thinks is true.”

“Which is what?” she pressed.

“C’mon, you’re really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” she responded sternly.

Hyde sighed and tore his eyes away from hers. “That…I’m not good enough…for you. There. Ya happy?”

Y/n sighed, giving him a sad look. “No,” she responded gently and grabbed his hand. “No, I’m not happy. You can’t think that. You can’t let Fez get to you like that and it really didn’t bother me that you didn’t jump up to help me either. I’m a big girl. I can very well go get the stuff myself.”

“So, you don’t mind?”

She smiled gently. “No. Yes, it’s nice if you did that stuff for me and trust me, I’d love it, but I’m not going to make you do it for me. I want you to want to do it for me.”

He smiled at her and kissed the side of her head. “I did get you some things though.” He leaned down and grabbed the white bag, laying out the contents on the table. “I got you some ginger ale and saltines to help you with the nausea and then when it passes, I got you some chocolates and ice cream to satisfy your cravings.”

The look of sweets made her stomach churn, but she smiled through it and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly and kissed her head once more. He noticed that she was shivering and gently stood. “I’ll be right back.” He high tailed it to his room and brought back a sweater. “Here.”

She grabbed it gratefully and threw it over her head, inhaling his scent: musk and woodsy. He settled on the couch next to her as she cuddled his side. He grabbed the blanket and threw it over both of them.

“So, how was your day?” he asked her.

“Fantastic,” she responded. “I spent the day throwing up my body weight and writhing in pain.”

“Sounds like a blast,” he chucked.

“Oh, yeah, it was like a party in the toilet,” Y/n responded and chuckled when Hyde made a face. “How was yours?”

“Well, you know, it was fine,” he responded.

“You and Eric work things out?”

“Yeah. He’s still not happy about it, but he seems to—or trying to at least—accept it. I made him see the bigger picture here.”

“Which is?”

“Us doing it.”

“Steven!”

He threw his head back laughing. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be,” she said and reached over, grabbing the ginger ale. She laid back into his side and took a sip. She hummed and set it in her lap. “Thank you, Steven. This is probably the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He smiled at her gently. “Anything for you, doll.”

“Awe that’s so cute,” Eric called from the staircase. “It makes me want to vomit.”

Y/n scowled at him. “What do you want?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you,” he said and sat down in the opposite chair.

“You want to yell at me again?”

“No,” he responded and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted. I know I was an ass and I should’ve handled it better, but c’mon, my best friend and my sister, hooking up. I never thought that this would happen and to say I was shocked is an understatement.”

“I know,” she responded. “But you still said some pretty hurtful things, Eric, and you can’t take that back.”

“I know and I wish I could. You’re my sister, the best one at that, and Hyde, you’re like a brother to me and I just…it hurt, okay? I can understand not wanting to tell anyone else, but to hide it from me? I felt like you couldn’t trust me.”

Y/n cast her eyes down, feeling guilt. “I’m so sorry, Eric. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. Lying to you wasn’t easy for me.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“How would you take it if we just straight up told you?” “

Yeah, Forman, what would you have said if I straight up said, ‘I’m nailing your sister.’ I bet you still wouldn’t have taken that lightly.”

Eric shuttered at the thought. “Yeah, definitely wouldn’t have. But it still wouldn’t have been as bad as me catching you.”

Y/n looked at her twin for a moment before letting out a groan. “Dammit, I hate it when you’re right.”

“Yeah, and it’s not like I’m not going to kill you or anything.”

“Well, to be fair you did try to disown us,” Hyde defended.

“Okay, yeah, but I just didn’t want to look at you guys at the moment,” Eric said.

“But kicking us out of the group and the house was the logical answer?” Y/n squinted at him.

“Yeah, not my finest moment,” he agreed and sat down next to Y/n, causing her to shift over. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. I hope you can forgive me.”

Y/n looked at her brother, eyes getting all misty. “Only if you can forgive me.”

Eric smiled at her. “C’mere little sister.” He brought her in and hugged her tight.

Y/n reciprocated by wrapping her arms tightly. “I’m only two minutes younger.”

“Still,” he chuckled. “Besides, if I don’t forgive you, then I won’t have a sister anymore.”

“We have Laurie,” Y/n responded, pulling away.

“Do you really want her close?”

Y/n paused, pretending to think it over. “No, I really don’t.”

Eric chuckled. “Look, Y/n. I know I was a jerk, but you’re not only my sister, you’re my best friend and I don’t want anything to come between us.”

Y/n nodded, smiling and wiped at her eyes. “Me too.”

“I’m still not entirely happy about you two and to be honest, I’m not sure if I ever will be, but I want you two to be happy and if it’s you two that make each other happy, then so be it. I just don’t want to see any of it.”

“You got it,” Y/n responded, feeling lighter about the situation.

“I’m going to give you the same speech I gave Hyde,” Eric continued as Y/n’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’d never thought I’d have to say this to my sister about my best friend, but don’t hurt him. I may not be able to kick his ass, but I can for sure…try to kick yours.” As he was saying it, he knew it wasn’t true. Even if it was, he wasn’t going to do it anyway.

Y/n cracked a wide smile, a smile that she hadn’t been able to muster for the last couple of days, and nodded. “Okay, bro. That sounds fair.”

He turned to Hyde. “Just so you know, if you get her pregnant, I will have to find a new and interesting way to kick your ass.”

“Trust me, man, that ain’t gonna happen,” Hyde responded.

“Yeah, we’re careful,” Y/n responded, adjusting herself to be laying against Hyde. Her stomach and back were starting hurt again and she was desperate to find some relief. Hyde threw an arm over her shoulders, bringing her closer. “Besides, Dad would literally stick his foot in both of our asses.”

“And somehow, he’d still find a way to blame me,” Eric said.

“Hey, Y/n baby,” Fez called out, entering the basement. “How’re you feeling? You get my gifts?”

“Hi Fez,” Y/n greeted with a tiny smile. “I did, thank you. It was very nice of you, but I’m not feeling too much better.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he responded.

Y/n shrugged and snuggled deeper into Hyde’s side. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“Just wanted to come by and see how you were feeling,” he responded.

“No, you didn’t,” Hyde spit. “You came here to see if she was alone, didn’t you?”

Fez made a face at him. “What’re you talking about? No, I’m not!”

“Yes you are!” he said and stood up. “Now, knock it off before I make you the first person to touch his chin to ass!”

Fez looked offended, placing his hand on his chest. “Have you been spying on me?!”

“Steven, honey, it’s not that big of deal,” Y/n said, trying to calm down the situation.

“Yeah, honey, listen to your lady,” Fez said, starting to get nervous.

“No, Y/n, he needs to understand respect,” he replied.

“I’m sure he gets it now,” Y/n said, signaling Fez to run now.

“No, he doesn’t,” he responded. “If he—”

He was cut off by the slamming of the door as Fez ran outside, away from him.

“He’s not getting away that easily,” Hyde commented before darting to the door.

“Hyde, no!” Y/n called after him. She jumped up from her seat, despite her stomach and head screaming at her.

Hyde ran out the door, causing it to slam against the wall. Y/n followed him out the door, ignoring the sudden faint feeling she had.

“Steven, stop!” she called again, her voice weakened and wavering. She could see Hyde quickly gaining speed on Fez.

Fez screamed as Hyde tackled him to the ground on the Forman’s front lawn. Eric was behind Y/n in a flash, watching the scene in front of him unfold. Hyde struggling to get Fez in a choke hold, Fez fighting to get out of his grip, and Y/n yelling at him to stop.

“Steven, enough!” Y/n shrieked weakly, her voice quieting as the world started to spin, the edges of her vision darkening. “Steven, please…”

Her vision darkened as she hit the ground, making the two boys suddenly stop to jerk their attention towards her. Eric dropped to the ground next to her.

“Y/n!” Steven shouted, letting Fez go and running over to her. “Y/n!”

And that was the last thing she heard before she was swallowed by darkness.

Tags: @lieswithoutfairytales @mdittyz123 @n-dg-wm @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-003 @taysirene

#Steven Hyde #steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #That '70s Show #that 70's show fanfic #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #jackie burkhart #fez #Michael Kelso #red forman #kitty forman

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plush-rabbit · 5 years ago

Text

Homesick

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Mammon X Reader

A/N: I feel like MC’s homesickness is never talked about enough

There is much to say about living in the Kingdom of Devildom when you’re a human. It makes your stomach churn and twist with sickness when all other forms of demons look at you as a delicacy, a rare dish that walks around unarmed, only protected by the glares of Lucifer and the brothers who have grown attached to you. You walk around, accompanied by a brother, an angle or often the other human but they all hold a form of power- they’re not vulnerable like you, not naive like you and always keep themselves guarded because they can. They can protect themselves and you cannot. No matter how many times you’ve bared your teeth in the human world, how tightly you formed a fist and how you spat words of poison at others, you know you could never take on a demon, no matter how weak they were. Your bared teeth will be met with sharper, deadlier teeth, your fists with talons as sharp as the blade of a knife, your words would mean nothing when they could so easily open their mouths and take a bite.

Devildom is beautiful. Festivals that hold glowing lanterns and bubble blowers that send out bubbles that are enchanted to swim through the air. Bright stars that shine in the night with falling stars that never seem to touch the ground. There's no sun, only a dark night sky painted onto the sky above, stars that twinkle and shine and you’re unsure if it’s an illusion or if Devildom really does have stars. Air that sometimes feels too stuffy, reminding you that you don’t belong here. Places that you are unable to travel to alone lest you get taken, gobbled up like you’re the last sweet on the plate. Demons who sneer at you and flash their fangs to frighten you. Brothers that are so nice that you often forget who they are until they laugh off a past torture, brothers who appear to be human until they get angry and show their true selves.

It’s all so new to you. You don’t know how to handle it. You sleep in the night, protected by covers and the deep breathing of the brothers who lay dormant but you're aware of the power they truly hold, you've been on the receiving end far too many times that you have begun to wonder if you have a subconscious death wish. You sleep and wonder if they can hear it when you move on the bed, when you hum yourself a song from home, tears that slide down and wet your pillow.

Days are easy here. You chat and laugh, are hugged and praised by demons who you've become to see as friends. You sit together at night and let them hold onto you as you start to doze off. You hug them and hold their hands, ruffle their hair and eat breakfast at the same table.

Days are hard. You want to hide and curl in on yourself when others stare at you. You cover your arms when nails dig too far into your skin and scar you. You cry in the shower when you remember the people you love who aren't with you. You try to remember the warmth of the sun and the smell of rain when it all feels too empty in your room. You avoid the gaze of the brothers when you wake up with red and puffy eyes, too ashamed to admit that you fell asleep crying.

"Do you miss it?" He asks, his voice quiet and hesitant.

"Yeah." You let the word hang in the air and he waits for you to speak. "Some days it's really hard. Today was a hard day." Your eyes flutter close and your hand ghosts above your side. "I like it here, I really do but sometimes I just miss… things. I miss the sun. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss the food." Your voice cracks and you stop speaking, your eyebrows knit and eyes scrunch up before relaxing, the tears are blinked back.

His hand scratches at his thigh. "Are we not enough for you?" He hesitates and swallows his nerves down. There’s an underlying question to that, the real thing he wants to ask is obvious but even you know that it will hurt for him to admit it, to voice the words out loud, "Am I not enough for you?"

"Mammon," you start, opening your eyes and trying to find his in the dark.

"I know we ain't exactly your family but I thought-"

"Mammon, no." You rise from the bed, sitting in a criss-crossed fashion. "That's not it. It's different. I feel weird here. Like I don't know if it's acceptable for me to ask you for a hug or to just lean on you during a movie. I don't know if I can go to you when I feel nervous." It all comes out in one breath, your voice uncertain, pitiful and lost. There’s much more for you to say, words that you want to spill until you’re clinging onto him like a child, but you refrain, you bite your tongue and voice the trivial things.

He's silent for a while, the only sound that comes from him is his deep breathing. In the silence you realize that his breathing is deeper than yours, a low rumble deep in his chest, a deep vibration that fills your ears and you’re positive that if you were touching his chest, you’d feel it under your fingertips.

His hands reach over to grab yours, his hand is soft- long, nimble fingers soothe over your knuckles, resting over the hand that is palm up, his fingers rubbing softly over your skin.

His cooing has stopped, now replaced by a low whimper when you interlace your hand with his, squeezing it tight with full acceptance. “You can always ask for a hug,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and skittish, hands holding tight onto yours as he opens his eyes, azure colored eyes shine brightly in the dark and you wonder if he can see you in the dark just as well as he can see you in the light. “Of course you would want to hug The Great Mammon,” his voice raises in pitch, a sharp smile that is tugged to wide as he looks away from you.

You scoff and roll your eyes, a wistful smile on your face as you sit up in bed raising to stand on your knees, your hand leaving his and you can hear his breath hitch, nails tickling your palm and fingers curling around yours but get shaken off.

“Can I have a hug Mammon?” You ask, opening your arms.

He sputters for a second, his voice breathy and tone tense as he tells you of course, but only because you’re his and he has to take care of his things. He shifts in bed, standing on his knees and inching his way closer to you, arms spread and a face- that even in the dark- you can tell has taken on a different shade. His hands are stiff as they rest on your back, fingers jerking before coming to a still, hands splayed on you and he’s still.

“Mammon?” You call to him, arms holding onto his shoulders as you pull yourself away from him.

His hands fall back to his side and you can hear the dejected tone in his voice, “What?”

You take a deep breath. “Hug me tighter, please?”

In the dark, he nods, and you’re close to him again, face buried in his shoulder and hands pulling on his nightshirt, trying to press him closer to you, desperate for the warmth of another being.

He takes a second to relax into your touch- still and rigid, with hands that he has to hover above you or else you’d feel his shaking. But then you nuzzle into him, burying yourself deeper into him and he breaks. His arms wrap tight around you, always cautious of his strength, with hands that clutch your shirt, bundling it up in his hands, and he takes a shaky breath. He wants to pull you closer, he wants the hug to remind you, to show you, that he cares for you even if he can never find the right words, even when he says the wrong thing and misses his chance with you. You’re being vulnerable with him and if he can’t say the words to you, he’s going to show them to you, he’s going to do whatever you want as long as it proves what you mean to him. He hugs you tight, wanting to feel your body against his, wanting this moment of intimacy and trust to last forever.

“Days are hard here,” you mumble, thumbs rubbing along his back, “like really hard.” His hands loosen and scratch lightly at your back through your shirt. “You know, in the human world, there’s this thing called seasonal depression where you’re more likely to get depressed during winter cause of the lack of sun and all and sometimes I don’t mind not having the sun, but other times, I miss it.”

“I’ll take you to the human world someday soon. Promise.” He’d bottle the sun if he could, bottle the warmth and give it to you in a heartbeat. He’d move the sun into Devildom if he could. He’d do it all for you.

“‘Mon,” you whisper, sniffling and pulling away to look at him, hands moving to rest on his shoulders. “I wanna," the words are hard to say, you're both so different and so similar when it comes to the physical aspect of your relationship, "I- Can we cuddle?"

He's glad you can't see him as well as he can see you. He can feel his cheeks flare, the tips of his ears burning hot and making him squirm. It's a silent answer that he gives you, the bed squeaking softly underneath as you two get comfortable, wrapping his arms around you and running his hands through your hair. He presses his lips against the crown of your head, it's a soft kiss that makes him want more, that makes him want to bury his head into you and lay there forever., to press his lips against yours and memorize the feel and taste.

The silence fills the room is a gentle cover. The only thing he can hear is your breathing. Soft and even, the only indication that you're awake is how your fingertips rub his chest in slow circles.

To him, this is better than the Celestial Realm will ever be. He didn't have you there. He didn't have your smiles, your gentle touch, your kind words. You weren't there. But you're here. You're a human and you're cuddled against the Avatar of Greed, putting your entire trust in his hands, giving him far more value than he thinks he's worth.

If he could, he'd never let you go. He'd hold you in his arms forever. He'd make sure that you were at his side at all times, always protected and safe. He doesn't know what he would do if you got hurt. He can't bring himself to think about it.

"Mammon, is it okay if I ask you something personal?" Your voice is gentle, a whisper that breaks the silence and he's giving you his full attention.

"Go ahead," he replies.

You lick your lips. "Do you remember the Celestial Realm?"

He's silent for a moment. "Sometimes."

"Do you miss it?"

His Adam's apple bobs in his throat. "I miss the things." He smiles when you snort. "It was nice up there. Bright and stuff. The food was really good. Melted right in your mouth. Lemme tell you- the demons around these parts won't ever admit it but I'm positive they'd sell an arm and a leg for a chance of Angel's food."

"It'd be a good business to get in with Luke."

"Nah. I tried. Luke didn't like the deal I proposed."

"Which was?"

"Eighty-five, fifteen."

"Let me guess, you get the eighty-five and he gets the fifteen."

"You see! You get me!"

You giggle and nuzzle into his chest. "Sh, Lucifer might hear and then we'd never hear the end of it."

"Shit. Right."

Its silent again.

"You know if the human world, we have things called angel and devil food. I think they're cakes or something."

"A cheap attempt at the real thing." You hear something in his voice. Defensiveness? "You've had devil food. You tell me if it tastes the same."

"Yeah, you're right. Devil food in the human world is a lot better." You feel his hand lightly thwap at your back.

"You think we should sell some of the human delicacies? There's a place here that sells human food but it ain't the same right?"

You smile at the "we". "It's been a while since I've had actual human food but nah. It's different. Like you said, a cheap attempt." You chuckle. You shift, his arms hovering above you to allow yourself to get comfortable, only to lower and hold you close. Your eyes begin to droop and body sinks into the demon underneath you. “We had all these kinds of delicacies and snacks. Even thinking about it makes my mouth water.”

There’s a long pause in between your words, you’ve almost fallen asleep when his voice cuts through the silence. "Sometimes I miss the Celestial Realm." His voice is hardly above a whisper. "It was nice up there. Weather was always good and stuff." His grip around you tightens. "Here is good. I can do whatever I want here-"

"As long as Lucifer doesn't catch you," you mumble, forcing yourself to stay awake.

"Tch. Minor detail." His hand waves off your comment, placing it back down on you. "It's nice here. Only shitty thing is all the packs. Everyone wants a taste of Greed."

"Being in a pack is a bad thing?" You whisper with furrowed eyebrows and the feeling of guilt inside of you.

He's quick to fix his mistake. "You aren't so bad. You hardly do anything even if you do have control over me." Your power over him has nothing to do with the pack. "It ain't so bad most of the time."

"I like being in a pack with you." You rub your hands over his sides in slow, lazy circles. “You’re my first.”

“Damn right I am,” his hands press you closer to him. “Good to know you finally understand that.”

There is no sun in Devildom, there is artificial light that does nothing to help when you want to curl in on yourself and beg for a moment of happiness only to rest for hours on end. But there is moonlight and the light from the stars which when cast upon makes everything appear divine. It makes the demons appear holy, your eyes wide and face flushed as you bask in their glory, feeling unworthy standing next to something so brilliant, feeling as if you’re tainting their light when you yourself are nothing like them, that you’ll never be even a fraction of their radiance.

Right now, in the dead of night, with eyesight that is poor and bleary, you’re only awake to view the heavenly glow that seeps in through the blinds and covers the room in pearly, white light. With eyes that you try to keep open, Mammon lies in your bed asleep, with a glow casted upon his features. You forget that they are in fact demons, the most deadliest if you want to be accurate, but it often slips your mind that they were once celestial beings, that they were indeed untouchable and above you. He isn’t perfect by any means, he’s a demon after all, but with him asleep next to you, with strong hands on your body, lit up by the outside that had managed to enter your room, you remember that you’re allowed to touch him now, that he allows you to touch him and whisper words of praise and play with hair.

You miss home. You miss your friends and family. You miss the food and the drinks. You miss the sun and the rain. But when you lie awake at night with the bothers smiling down at you, sometimes it gets easier to breathe. When you lie awake with the last bit of strength that you have, using it all to admire the Avatar of Greed, your heart doesn’t ache as it used to, it jumps and it flutters and you feel warm inside as you bury yourself closer to him, indulging in your own greed to just be near him until he awakes and flushes with a darker shade, stammering and praising himself and you. Until then, you’ll take what you have, the moment etched into your mind until all that you can remember is the way he hugged you and the softness of his voice.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me one shot #om mammon x reader #om mammon #mammon x reader #i really love him #yearning hard

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holylulusworld · 4 years ago

Text

Demons lie

Summary: Demons lie and sometimes lies have consequences.

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Omega!Reader (flashbacks), Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, language, pining, abandonment, rejected omega, sickness, eating disorder due to sickness, A/B/O, nonconsensual claiming, comforting, fluff

It was like you never knew him, the alpha pressing you against the wall, not caring you whimper at the pain he causes. He whispered dirty things into your ear, but you tried to ignore his intentions.

The demon your friend became tried to terrify you with his words and his hands around your throat.

“You know, Dean never tried anything as he was afraid to get you killed,” the demon purred against your lips, forcing his tongue down your throat.

“D’,” you fought, clawed at his shoulders but his lips and teeth wandered to your neck. He inhaled your scent deeply, smirking when you started to whine against him. “Please, let me go. This isn’t you Dean.”

“Alpha, that’s how you will address me from now on, omega. You’re mine, always belonged to me. Be good,” he purred against your throat, his teeth only inches from your mating gland.

“Dean doesn’t want me, please. He’s with that girl, Cassie. They are a pair, he wants to claim her,” you sniffled silently, feeling his teeth nibble at your neck. “He’s only afraid to get her killed.”

“He’s not afraid, sweetheart,” the demon smirked, lapping at your skin. “Dean wants you, that’s the truth. I think, you need confirmation, something to make you see how much he wants you…”

Moments later Castiel dragged Dean off your body, healed your twisted ankle, not missing the panic in your eyes when Sam entered the room. “Cas, please…don’t…”

The angel nodded, letting you run out of the room to hide in your bedroom, crying silently.

This is how you ended up in Dean’s room, begging him to talk to you…

“Dean, can we talk?“ You can see the guilt in Dean’s eyes when he forces himself to look up as you step inside his room. He’s seated on the floor, glancing at the mark he touched not moments ago. “The demon, he said a few things and…”

“Demons lie, Y/N,” Dean mumbles, not remembering everything he said to you. “Whatever he told you, it was not me. I promise, nothing of it was true.”

“He said you wanted me, not Cassie. That you didn’t claim her as you…” you swallow thickly when Dean shakes his head, looking anywhere but into your eyes. “Demons lie, I get it.”

“Demons lie, sweetheart,” the pet name is a punch to your guts. Moments ago, you believed Dean would finally admit he feels the same and will be there for you like an alpha should. “I’m sorry if he scared you.”

“It’s fine, Dean. I just wanted to talk things out,” the alpha nods, searching for your eyes but this time it’s you who looks away.

“Did he say anything else? Do I need to apologize?” you would like to snort at his words. The demon whispered he loves you and your heart fluttered. How can you tell Dean so if the demon lied?

“Just nonsense about how he hates Sam and my food or crap. Don’t worry, Dean,” you try to keep a straight face, but your eyes would give your lie away. “I will have a rest, sleep a bit.”

“O…okay,” Dean watches you walk out of the room. Your postures changed. When you entered his room, you showed of confidence but now, your shoulders are slumped your head hangs low and he can hear a deep sigh leave your lips when you close the door.

“Y/N it’s two days, did you eat?” Sam calls from outside your room. “You can’t be too tired to eat anything, kiddo.”

“I’m fine, Sam. I ate a sandwich, an apple, and one of those odd energy bars you bought. Stop worrying about me,” your voice cracks when you hide underneath your blanket, but you can’t tell Sam you barely made it out of your bed over the last two days.

“I’ll check on you later, Y/N. You better leave your room for dinner,” you know Sam means well but you can’t find it in you to leave your bed or room.

Something doesn’t feel right, and you wonder if you will ever feel the same again...

“It’s five days now, Dean. I don’t know why she’s not leaving her room,” Sam watches his brother's eyes drift toward the empty chair at the library you used to occupy. “I think she didn’t eat anything lately.”

“Maybe she needs to get over that I attacked her and said stupid things. I don’t remember everything, only pieces of the demon’s words,” Dean mumbles, not daring to tell Sam what you ask him days ago.

“That’s no reason to not eat, Dean. If she doesn’t come out for dinner, I’ll send Castiel in to check on her.”

“Y/N open the door and let me check on you,” Sam rams his shoulder into your door, growling as he failed to pick your lock. “Kiddo, I know something is off but it’s eight days. You only sneak out to use the restrooms and to drink water. I need to know you’re still alive.”

“I’m so tired, Sammy,” your voice sounds weak and miles away whilst you struggle to open your eyes. “I don’t know why. Everything feels so…heavy…”

“Damnit, Y/N,” using all his strength Sam repeatedly rams his body into your door but the lock won’t budge. “Hang on, Y/N. I’ll get something to open that door.”

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Dean watches his brother despair when he hears a low whimper leave your lips. “Shit, let me open that door,” Dean rams his foot against the lock, hearing the door gives in. “Almost there, sweetheart,” another kick, and another hits the door until it finally flings open.

“Y/N, fuck,” Sam’s eyes fill with tears watching you snuggle into your pillow, too weak to lift your head. Food is splattered all over the floor, just like empty water bottles and dirty clothes.

“Sammy, let me,” Dean eyes land on something letting his stomach churn. “I think Y/N need to talk, okay. Can you make her something to eat? A soup would be great or drive to town and buy chicken soup at the dinner.”

“I’ll be right back,” worriedly watching his brother close the door behind him Sam wipes his eyes. “Please help her…”

Dean feels like someone is squeezing his heart when you ignore his presence. Nothing seems to pick your interest, everything is just grey to you since Dean said the demon lied.

“Sweetheart,” Dean whispers, kicking his shoes off. He’s stripping down to his boxers to crawl onto your bed. He’s reaching out for you to wrap his arms around your weakened body. “I’m so sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” voice thin you close your eyes, drifting into sleep again. “The demon lied…” Flashbacks hit Dean when he looks at the mark on your neck.

He’s pressing you against the wall, telling you he will prove to you how much he wants you. His teeth sink into your neck right when Castiel tries to drag him off you. The demon resists sinking his teeth deeper into your flesh to leave a permanent mark.

“I never wanted it to be like this. God, I didn’t feel our bond, Y/N,” Dean mumbles, pressing soft kisses to the mark the demon left. “I think the mark suppresses the bond. I don’t know…”

“He bit me,” your eyes flutter open when Dean gently turns you in his embrace to hold you close to his chest. Your head rests against his heart when you finally open your eyes. “The demon wanted to hurt me.”

“No,” Dean whispers, pecking your hair, “he wanted to have what I desired. The demon, he took what I wanted for so long, Y/N. I was afraid to lose you, so I lied about having Cassie in my life. We only met once a year ago, but it didn’t work out.”

“You lied,” sniffling you try to touch Dean’s face, but your hand slips away. “He didn’t lie?”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Sam’s features darken hearing Dean confessing he tried to push you away to keep you safe. “I didn’t remember I bit you that day. I swear if I would’ve known I marked you…”

“I got soup and water, some energy bars too,” whilst you lie on his chest, unmoving Dean holds out his hand.

“Give me one of the bars, I’ll feed her, Sammy. Maybe you can make some tea and I’ll bring her to my room when she’s a bit better,” his younger brother eyes Dean angrily before he hands him one of the energy bars.

“This is your fault, Dean. You and your fucking good intentions…”

“Another one, sweetheart. Come one, baby, you can eat one more spoon of this fantastic chicken soup I made,” you scrunch up your nose, shaking your head. “I don’t want to use my alpha voice young lady.”

You stick your tongue out, refusing to eat the soup Dean made. “It tastes odd,” you whine, pressing your lips into a thin line.”

“He put the medicine inside,” Sam snickers watching his brother fight with you over soup. “You refused to take the pills.”

“This is,” you glare at Dean who uses the moment you open your mouth to shove one last spoon with soup into your mouth.

“There we go, omega,” grinning proudly Dean hands the empty soup bowl to Sam. “Now we are going to check on your temperature and sleep a bit. The doctor said you’ll feel better soon.”

“I hate pills and I’m not a child,” you whine whilst Dean drags the blanket off your body, eying you shamelessly. “This is unnecessary.”

“You are with my child, Y/N, nothing is unnecessary if it comes to Dean jr.,” you narrow your eyes snatching the blanket out of Dean’s hands. “Four years and you are still untamable. The demon should’ve bitten your ass not your neck.”

“You insensitive rude alpha…” you sniffle looking at Sam for help. “Tell him that was rude, Sammy. He can’t say things like that to me…” sobs leave your lips until you start crying.

“Sweetheart, no, don’t cry again,” Dean whines. “Please, don't cry. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m glad I marked you, okay. Look, Impala is kicking his daddy.”

“We are not going to name our son Impala, Dean. I told you so months ago,” poking your finger into Dean’s chest you lick your lips when he gives you a cocky grin. “No, we won’t.”

“Dean jr. it is then,” he smirks now, pecking your lips. “Imagine, you call my name and two Dean’s come running into the kitchen to get a slice of pie,” Dean swoons while you groan.

“I hate you,” Dean hums, resting his head on top of your belly. “I mean it, alpha. You’re so…”

“Back then the demon made me the greatest gift. If not for him I would’ve chickened out until you found a better alpha, now you are all mine, round and grumpy only for me…”

“I still hate you, Winchester but you can stay to rub my back…” Sam watches you fight over names for your pup whilst he leans against the door frame. “Maybe I like you a little.”

“I like you a little too, sweetheart…”

SPN Forever Tags

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--------------------------------------

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

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