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hayakawalove · 7 months ago

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Test of Love (Chapter Six)

Chapter Six

All Chapters

Summary: You hang out with a friend you haven't seen in awhile. Later, you pay a visit to the boys.

A/N: How many times can we cuck Gojo. Comments always appreciated!

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex (Reader to Man), Dirty Talk, Creampie, Humiliation, Alcohol, AFAB Reader, Female Reader W/C: 8,018

Credit to Benkeibear for the banner

You rest in your seat, your eyes staring into the ceiling. The classroom was empty, your last student having just gone home. You were so sore. Earlier in the day, you jumped in on a mission as it seemed your student needed help. Using your curse technique for a long time drained you. The muscles in your body felt like cement as your head pounded. On the best of days, your technique was almost limitless, but on the worst of days, you could only use it for ten minutes before feeling faint. You were able to use Plasma manipulation, a subset of blood manipulation. You weren't a part of the Kamo family, which made your technique all the more interesting. The three families were intrigued by you when you were a student, wanting to understand how you were able to use Plasma manipulation. Eventually they gave up when there didn’t seem to be a deeper meaning. You just could.

You think you could fall asleep in your chair if you were given the chance. You weren't even supposed to be working today. It was a Saturday, but Inumaki had texted you for help and you couldn’t just say no. The two of you were a wreck after. By the time you finished, you were limping out while blood drippled past his lips.

At least you knew for certain you wouldn't be working tomorrow. There were no missions assigned out on Sundays, giving you the chance to finally use the rest of the day today and all day tomorrow to recuperate.

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel yourself slip, the temptation of sleep crawling up your spine. No one else was on campus, it wouldn't be that big of a deal to take a nap. There's no harm in resting your eyes for ten minutes before you head home, right?

Your head clears as you slip between the state of being awake and being asleep.

Your phone rings loudly, causing your eyes to fly open.

Fuck.

You fumble until your fingers wrap around your phone, pulling it up to see who’s calling. Chisaki. She was one of the friends you made when you took a couple years break from Jujutsu. She wasn’t a sorcerer, which made your relationship difficult at times. At the same time, you were able to act like a normal person around her. You win some, you lose some.

“Hello?” You answer, dragging your hand across your eye.

“You sleeping?” She must pick up on the heaviness in your voice.

“No, what’s up?” You put her on speaker as you lean against your desk, resting your cheek sideways.

Maybe you’d pass out like this.

“Good. We’re going out tonight. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

You almost groan but you’re able to stop yourself. You dreaded the idea of going out. All you wanted to do was get under your blankets and sleep for the next ten days. But, Chisaki never was one to take no for an answer.

“Huh?”

“I want to see you for drinks!”

“But-“

“No! I am getting ready now and I will be by your place to pick you up in two hours.”

You feel your shoulders crumple a bit at the order. It’s not that you didn’t want to see her. You were just so, so exhausted. You mumble a farewell before hanging up, soaking in the last few moments of silence before you have to make your way home.

Once at home, you stand in front of your closet for way too long before deciding on what to wear. You had a black piece on the far side, only having worn it a couple times whenever you had a night out with Chisaki. It was a bit short for your taste, but you figured if you were going on a girls night you may as well go all in. Makeup felt like too much of a drag, so you just do the bare minimum, while leaving your hair down. The dress fits like a glove, caressing your curves in a way that almost makes you flustered. You briefly think about taking a picture to send to the boys, but ultimately decide against it. This was a girls night, you were going to devote zero time to them.

Chisaki is already at the restaurant by the time you get there. You hadn’t eaten so you decided to go out for dinner, going out of your way to choose a place that had cheap and tasty drinks. She looks hot as ever as she waits in your booth, bold makeup painting her face while she wears a dress that was even tighter than yours.

She calls your name, excitedly waving from her seat causing a few patrons to stare. It made you laugh, she did not care about drawing attention at all.

“Looking good!” Chisaki comments, squeezing you in a hug before sitting across from you.

Her hair gleams under the light and you find yourself feeling a bit jealous. She was always stunning.

“So are you. Are we going out to dance after this?” You ask, sipping the water that was waiting for you.

“Not unless you want to. Figured I may as well count my blessings that you came out at all. I haven’t seen you in months!”

A pang of guilt shoots through your veins and you try not to wince. You honestly had no excuse for not hanging out. You were busy, sure, but you could have squeezed her in somewhere. Some kind of friend you were.

“So tell me what’s been up with you lately. Spare no details.” She stares at you, sipping her cocktail.

That was just like her. She seemed unbothered at your lack of contact, and you find yourself wordlessly thanking her. She gave you too many chances. She was a great friend.

“Just work. I have some interesting students this year so they’re keeping me busy.”

“I bet huh? Private school right? Are they rich and snobbish?”

She didn’t know you were a Jujutsu sorcerer, so you told her you worked for a private school. You think back to your students and laugh to yourself. The only one there who could be considered rich and snobbish was Satoru.

“Not this year, thank god.”

A waiter comes back and you order a cocktail, and the two of you order your food. You were feeling like beef tonight, so that's what you get.

The two of you make idle chatter as you sip and eat, the restaurant slowly filling up with other patrons. Even for a Saturday night it was busy, you were glad Chisaki snagged a seat for you.

She worked at a hair salon, so it was always interesting to hear about the customers that came through there. You briefly imagine Suguru going and you shake your head with a chuckle. There was no way he let just anyone touch his hair.

“So, any guys lately?” Chisaki asks, her words slurring together.

She arrived a little earlier than you so she was definitely drunk, but you were starting to feel it as well. You sip from your drink and giggle.

“Yeah, two of em.”

“TWO?” Her volume causes the group next to you to turn their heads.

“Yeah!”

“What’re they like? Got any pictures?”

She definitely was going to want to see them.

“They’re opposites but also… Sort of really similar.” You say as you pull out your phone.

You didn’t have any pictures with Suguru, but you had a multitude with Satoru. He was always the one taking them. ‘For the memories’ he’d say. You scroll through your photos until you find a picture with him. It was one he took when you were on an outing with the students, both of your classes together for once. He said the outing was to scout for curses, but in reality he just wanted to try out the new ice cream shop. He didn’t fool anyone.

“One is really quiet and kind, the other one is… well” you think about how to describe Satoru.

“Noisy and bitchy?” She finishes.

You giggle and shake your head.

“No he’s… he’s kinda like you actually.”

“Huh? Should I be offended?” She asks with a laugh.

You chuckle and finish your drink. The tips of your fingers were beginning to tingle as your eyelids started to droop. Okay, you were definitely starting to feel it.

You turn the phone to her and she stares at Satoru, her eyes popping from her head. Satoru was definitely her type. You couldn’t blame her, he was your type too.

“What a stud. You bagged them both?”

You think for a moment. You were with both of them, but you weren't with them yet. It was casual and fun, but you weren't official.

“Yeah, but it’s not anything serious yet.”

“I see, I see. What’re they like in bed?” She asks.

You’re drinking from your next glass as she asks and you choke on the liquid. Her eyebrows are raised as she stares at you, expecting a full breakdown of their sexual prowess.

“We haven’t- Well… We’ve- I've only slept with one.”

Memories from the previous night flash through your brain. The way he looked, smelled, tasted. You couldn’t dwell on it for too long or else you might get too worked up.

“How was that?”

You try to decide on how to put the night into words. Incredible, fantastic, life changing. You didn’t want to reduce Suguru to a body, but his dick game was unmatched.

“Fucking unreal.” You say.

Chisaki laughs and shoves your shoulder across the table. This was nice. You were having fun, talking about men and work like a normal person. You always had fun with her.

“Lucky!”

Your head swirls as the alcohol fills your system. You were feeling really fucking good. Your skin was tingly and your headache was gone, memories from the earlier fight already slipping from your brain.

“Why haven’t you fucked the other one yet?”

You stare at the table in front of you, trying to focus but you’re seeing double. Why hadn’t you fucked Satoru yet? You couldn’t come up with a reason. He was busy, sure, but so were you. He had been pining after you for years. If he really wanted to fuck, you definitely would’ve by now, right?

“I don’t know.”

“Come on! There must be a reason. Why don’t you make the first move?”

“Satoru’s just always busy.”

“That’s an excuse if I’ve ever heard one!”

The more Chisaki talks, the angrier you get. She was right. There was no reason you and Satoru couldn’t have fucked by now. He’s just been teasing you and leaving you dry.

“Chi!”

“All I’m saying is maybe you have to tell him how you really feel. The guy probably doesn’t know you want his dick.”

He definitely knew. He practically held it over your head every chance he got. The man was the walking definition of sex, and you didn’t know if it pissed you off or made you horny.

You check the time on your phone. 11 pm. The guys would probably be up, right? Maybe you should go over and talk to him.

“Yeah. I agree.” You murmur and dig in your purse for your card.

“You heading out?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m gonna- gonna go talk to him I think.”

Your legs wobble as you stand to your feet. Once you pay, you stumble outside. The streets are much more busier than they were several hours ago when you first arrived. There were loud voices coming from all directions, only disorienting you further. You reach an arm up to hail a taxi. While you’re waiting you sway back and forth, letting the Saturday night ambiance whisk you. You feel a pinch on the side of your foot so you lean down and yank your shoes off your feet.

A taxi comes up fairly quickly, and you slide inside and give the address to the driver. Your head is spinning as you drive there, words filling your brain. What were you going to say to him? Maybe it would be better if you wing it.

The taxi comes to a halt in front of the expensive apartment building. You dig around your purse until you find cash at the bottom, which you grab to pass to the driver. The cold pavement bites into your feet as you stammer to the front doors.

Because it was so late, the front desk was empty. There wasn’t anyone around which you were grateful for.

All you can focus on are your feet in front of you as you make your way to his place. The elevator makes you unsteady, you have to lean onto the side to not fall over. Maybe you had a little too much to drink. It didn’t bother you though, if anything it made you feel even more fired up. What was Satoru’s problem? Did he not want to fuck you?

The elevator stops and you nearly fall over, but you’re able to steady yourself. You’re moving purely on memory as you take yourself to the boys apartment.

You knock on the front door, swaying back and forth.

The door opens and you look up.

“What’re you doing here?”

Suguru says your name, eyes filled with concern as he watches you.

He looked really good.

What were you here for again?

“S-Satoru.” You murmur, your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth.

“Are you drunk?” Suguru asks, raising his hand to palm your cheek.

“Satoru.” You repeat, smooshing your cheek further into his hand.

He was so warm. You could probably fall asleep like this if he’d let you.

Suguru looks over his shoulder then faces you again, sliding the door open more to let you in. You walk forward, your eyes following his as Suguru makes his way to the kitchen. He’s standing in front of the sink, sleeves pushed up as he washes dishes.

Satoru is sitting at the bar, facing Suguru. He turns to look at you, a confused expression on his face. Satoru says your name, and you feel the anger start to seep up again.

Right.

You were here to fight with him.

You slide on your feet until you’re in front of him, and he’s looking you up and down.

“Are you drunk?” Satoru asks, squinting at you.

“What’s wrong with you?” You respond, pointing a finger at his chest.

Suguru is in the kitchen, eyes flicking back and forth between you two. His fingers are soapy as he washes the dishes, face neutral.

“Huh?” Satoru says, almost offended.

“I said what’s wrong with you?” You point into him harder.

“I heard you. What’re you talking about?”

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” Your voice is a bit louder than you mean for it to be.

The room goes silent, Suguru’s hands pausing as he stares at the scene in front of him. He knows he shouldn’t get involved.

“What?” Satoru’s expression shows that he thinks you’re ridiculous.

That only makes you angrier.

“You must not want to have sex with me, is that right? You keep teasing me, making me all ready only to leave!” Your chest is full of emotions, your face set in conviction.

“That’s not- I’m busy.”

“Sure, sure. Maybe you’re just worried you're not gonna be as good as Suguru.”

Suguru’s eyes widen and he stares at his hands, instantly going back to work.

Not getting involved. He is not getting involved.

“You and Suguru had sex?” Satoru asks, and you think you pick up on something similar to hurt in his voice.

You don't care. All you can think about are the emotions simmering in your body.

“I was going to tell you today.” Suguru says.

Suguru shuts off the water after washing his hands, turning around to dry them. He’s digging in the cupboard, but your eyes are boring into Satoru’s, a silent battle going on between the two of you.

You hiccup and the motion almost causes you to fall over, so you fly a hand out to grip onto the counter.

“You’ve been flirting with me for forever! Do you not want to?” Your voice breaks at the end as you feel your heart break.

“You know I want to.” Satoru’s voice is split between pleading and disbelief.

Suguru comes up behind you with a glass of water. He nudges it toward you, but you push his hand away, only caring about the fight.

“Drink.” Suguru softy says.

“No!” You squirm away from him.

Suguru holds the back of your head and lifts the cup to your mouth. You try to fight back but once the liquid touches your lips you take several big gulps.

Satoru’s eyes are staring into you the whole time, filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. Suguru steps back once you finish the glass and goes towards the kitchen, leaning back.

“If you don't want to then just tell me.” You try to seem strong.

What if he really didn’t want to? You wanted him to want to.

Satoru sighs and gets to his feet, now towering over you. You refuse to back down, instead looking up towards him. He grabs your arm and bends down, his face right infront of yours. There’s rocks in your stomach and you feel like your heart has stopped beating.

“I want to. God knows I want to.” He says.

He stands back up and turns towards Suguru.

“I'm gonna bring her to our bed.”

Satoru holds your hand and drags you to his room. Is he wanting to go now? That didn’t sound too bad. You start to slip your sleeves off your shoulders, getting your dress partly off your body before he turns around.

“What’re you doing?” He says, stopped in his room.

It’s just the two of you now, the heat of his gaze causing your mind to reel.

“We’re gonna-“

“No, we aren’t. Not right now.” Satoru replies, not even looking down at your chest.

He goes to his dresser and pulls out a shirt, one big enough it would cover everything and then some. He throws it over his shoulder as he starts to take off your clothes, large hands grazing over your skin.

Suguru walks in the room and watches from the door as Satoru tries to undress you.

“What do we do?” Satoru asks, unsure how to handle a drunk person.

“She’ll need Tylenol before she goes to sleep.” Suguru says and turns around to go back to the kitchen to retrieve the medication.

Satoru’s able to get your clothes off and is in the process of sliding his shirt over your head. You can’t stop staring at him, drawn in by his beauty. Was he always so perfect?

You were beginning to forget why you were even mad in the first place, head spinning as you admire him.

“Get in.” He murmurs, watching as you slide in bed.

You feel small under their sheets, but they’re so soft. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look up at Satoru, the lamp making his white hair appear gold. Suguru comes back with pills and sits on the edge of the bed, slipping them in your mouth.

He urges you to drink water from the glass in his hand and you’re more willing this second time around.

Your body’s heavy as you sink into the sheets, your eyes having a hard time staying open. The men are standing above you, watching as you make yourself comfortable. You couldn’t even remember why you were here. All you could focus on was the way the pillows felt beneath your head.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow morning.” Satoru says.

Suguru leans down to kiss your forehead before he’s slipping out of the room.

“What’s up with you?” Satoru says soft enough you almost miss it, eyes lingering on your face.

He presses a kiss to your cheek before stepping away, turning off the light.

~~~

Your body wakes up slowly, your head tossing back and forth over the soft pillow beneath you. It was hard to crack your eyes open, but you manage.

Wait.

Where were you?

You knew exactly where you were, and it wasn’t in your bed. Why were you in Satoru and Suguru’s house? Your body flies up as your eyes dart across the room. The bed was empty besides you, there was no hint of either man in the room.

When you look down you notice that you’re wearing clothes at least, thank god, but they’re not your clothes. You pull the fabric to your nose where you sniff, Satoru’s cologne filling your nostrils.

“Why am I wearing…” you murmur to yourself.

“Morning sunshine.” You hear Satoru’s voice.

He waltzes in with a tray of food in his hands. Waffles, bacon, and fruit. Suguru must’ve cooked, Satoru sure as hell didn't. The sight of the food causes your stomach to rumble, loud enough you’re sure the whole house must’ve heard it. Satoru doesn’t even spare you a glance as he sets the tray down on the nightstand, sitting on the side of the bed.

“Take those, Suguru says you'll need them.” He’s pointing to a couple of pills on the tray. Tylenol by the looks of it.

You eye him carefully as you slip the medicine in your mouth, bringing the glass of water to your lips. You didn't realize how parched you were until the liquid passed your throat. The glass is empty by the time you’re finished.

“Suguru said it’s important to take them. I don’t really know how to handle drunk people or hangovers, but Suguru’s had his fair share.” Satoru’s rambling and you can tell. Usually people ramble when they’re nervous, but not Satoru. When he's nervous, which happens rarely, he gets quiet. And that made you more uneasy.

“Quite the show you put on last night.” Satoru says.

What happened last night?

“So, you wanna tell me what the hell that was?” Satoru crosses his leg over the other, a bloated silence falling over the room.

Your stomach flips under his gaze. What was he feeling? You felt like you were being scolded, that’s for sure.

“I-I’m not sure.”

Satoru barks out a laugh that jolts you. As he laughs, your eyes trail down his figure. He’s wearing a plain black shirt with boxers, the sight of his bare legs nearly scandalous.

“You aren't sure? Do you even remember what happened last night?”

You weigh your options in your head. You could tell him you remember, and just wing it. Or you could admit that you totally forgot everything. Which was worse?

Your fingers pick at the blanket as you wrack your brain for anything, only to come up empty handed. It couldn’t have been that bad, right?

“I don’t.” You settle on the truth, figuring it’s better than the alternative.

“Well, let me clue you in.” Satoru leans forward and grabs a grape, popping it into his mouth.

Your eyes follow him as he sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucking off fruit juice from his finger. The way his tongue darts out to clean his finger causes your chest to tighten.

“You came here after you went out drinking. I'm not sure where you were before coming here. Then you stormed in here and started yelling at me. In my own house.” Satoru turns towards you and you feel the need to back up slightly.

“Yelled at me because we haven’t had sex yet. Apparently you’ve had sex with Suguru already though, which is news to me.”

He isn’t mad. You know exactly what he looks like when he's mad, and this isn’t it. That doesn’t change the fact you feel like you’re being reprimanded.

You blew up at him because you haven’t had sex yet? It did bother you, but you didn't think you were that mad. You knew it was because you kept getting interrupted. And it would happen eventually, you knew it would.

“I don’t really care about that. I mean, I wish you would’ve told me, but it’s not a big deal. You know what is a big deal though?” Satoru leans in, his presence all consuming.

“The fact you thought we haven’t fucked because I would be worried Suguru would be better.” He narrows his eyes at you, searching you for answers.

You really said that?

“Satoru, I-“

“I mean, I would be more offended if you took everything back. I may cry if you pretend you aren’t upset that we haven’t had sex yet”

Satoru raises a brow as he looks at you and suddenly you feel like he's twenty feet tall.

“You aren't going to take it back, are you?”

“N-no.”

Satoru carefully gets up from the bed only to get on top once more, crawling over to you. His eyes are locked on you the entire time, leaving your skin buzzing.

“Didn't think so.” Satoru stops in front of you and lifts his hand up.

His palm holds your cheek and you’re frozen in place, unable to do anything. Even if you could move, you aren't sure what you'd do. Satoru presses his lips against yours, and even though you were expecting it, you still inhale sharply. His lips mold to yours as easily as they always do, as if they were made for yours. Your eyes flutter closed as you taste the remnants of fruit on his lips.

He parts his mouth and swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, smirking at the whine you let out. Your heart is racing as his tongue slides into your mouth, tangling itself with yours. It’s getting heated fast, and you remember a small little fact in the back of your head.

“Satoru, what about Suguru?” You ask, pulling yourself away even though it feels painful.

“I told him to leave for two hours.”

He pushes his lips against yours again, more rough than the first time. Your fingers dig into the bed, not sure where to place them. Was this really happening?

Satoru spreads your legs and you have no choice but to lean back, at the mercy of him as he hovers over you. It’s overwhelming in the way he’s completely covering you. Your mind reels as your mouths move in tandem.

You were almost expecting his phone to ring, to rip him away from you. There was always something that kept you apart, like god couldn’t fathom the idea of you together.

Satoru pulls away and grins to himself.

“You’re kind of greedy, aren't you?” He questions.

“Fucking Suguru then coming here to ask for more? Naughty little girl.”

Satoru reaches up between your legs. He brushes against your thighs, before pushing your shirt up. The hair on the back of your neck stands up at the cool air that blows against your stomach. His thumb rubs your tender flesh before he kisses you again.

You’re panting by the time he kisses you once more, positive you’re leaking between your legs. He pulls away and stares into your eyes as his hand traverses your skin.

His hands find your underwear and he slides his fingers inside, wasting no time as he traces your slit. Satoru watches your reactions as he slides a finger inside, groaning as it sinks into your pussy.

Satoru pulls it out carefully before sliding it back in, lips parted as he watches you. You always knew he had long fingers, but knowing was much more different than feeling. It felt like he was reaching your throat.

Satoru has a slight grin on his face as he stretches you out, and all prior guilt you may have held was gone. Of course you didn’t expect him to be really mad at you, but you didn’t think you were going to get rewarded either. He eases a second finger in, curling them up until you let out a shaky moan. It felt weird to be open like this with him, the two of you constantly teased each other. You were half expecting him to make a smart remark at your expense given how pathetic you looked, and felt.

“How’s it feel?” His voice is low and dangerous as he hovers above you.

“S-so good.”

You clench the sheets beside you, looking down to watch where his hand was. You were getting so wet that your pussy made noises each time he slid his fingers in. His palm presses against your clit as he finger fucks you, causing your breathing to stutter.

You’re trying to keep still underneath him but it's getting increasingly difficult as his hand speeds up, the heel of his hand bumping into your clit each time. His long fingers stroke your sensitive walls, and you know that you’ll never be able to repeat the sensation. You were sort of pissed at yourself for missing out on this for years. It felt like he was bringing you to the gates of heaven with his fingers. You wished you could feel this forever, the pleasure nearly overwhelming.

Your moans increase as his lips graze against your skin. He’s close to your face, eyes flicking back and forth between yours. He must be able to feel the rhythmic clenching because he lets out a dark chuckle. The heat of his gaze makes it hard to breathe.

You’re close.

So close.

“That’s it baby, let it all out.” His hushed words of encouragement are all you need to send you over the edge.

You throw your head back as you cum, you don’t think you could handle looking at him. His fingers slow as you float back down to earth, a dull tingling running over your skin.

When your eyes flicker back to Satoru, he's looking at you with hunger. For a moment it startles you.

He sits up and slides his hands down your sides until they settle on your underwear. They’re off in a blink of an eye, and he's spreading your legs.

“Satoru!”

“What, you didn’t think we were done, did you?” His voice is filled with disbelief as he looks at you.

Your teeth dig in your lip as you watch him lay on his stomach, face in front of your pussy. You’re a mess, you can tell. Cum is sliding from your core, making you wiggle your hips.

“Don’t worry, I'll clean you up.” His breath brushes against you making you shiver.

Satoru sticks his tongue out and drags it through you, savoring your taste. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasm so you squirm backwards to try to have a little bit of reprieve. It almost hurts how sensitive you are. Satoru holds your legs open as you whine, his mouth attached to you.

You can hardly breathe. Satoru was always like that, though. Making it so you didn’t know which way was up and which way was down.

“I've been dreaming about this pussy for days, I missed the taste of you.”

He dips his tongue inside you, dragging it back out. His grip is nearly bruising as he pushes your legs open. You can’t say anything, only whimpers fall from your mouth. His tongue nudges against your clit and it feels like a punch in the gut, you let out a broken sob.

When Satoru pulls away there’s a string attaching his lips to your pussy, the sight pornographic. You force yourself to look away, somehow still finding it in yourself to be self conscious.

You hear a rustling of clothes in front of you and out of the corner of your eye you see Satoru sliding his shirt off, exposing his lean abs. The sight was mouthwatering, you could feel drool begin to seep past your lips.

Without his shirt you’re able to see the large bulge that’s poking from his groin. You think you catch a wet patch but it's hard to tell.

You close your legs as you stare at him.

“You’re ruthless.” You murmur.

“And you’re a brat.” He says.

“Am not!”

“Are to.”

“You just make me so-“

“Wanna put that mouth to the test, then?”

Satoru looks at you with a cocky grin as he slips his thumbs beneath the band of his boxers, pulling them down. You inhale sharply as his cock springs out, standing straight. The tip is a pretty pink, precum leaking down the sides. There wasn’t a singular flaw. He’s slightly longer than Suguru, which mildly scares you, but he wasn’t as thick. Your hole clenches as he brings his hand down, stroking himself twice as he watches you.

You move to your hands and knees and crawl towards him, tunnel vision on his cock. You couldn’t possibly fit the whole thing down your throat, could you? Then again, you didn’t think you'd be able to take all of Suguru either, and you were able to.

You come to a halt once his cock is a mere two inches from your face. His precum is shining in the morning sun, a tantalizing sight. When you flick your eyes up to him, he's already looking at you. He raises a hand and pushes your hair back, gripping it. Your stomach twists as a pool of desire pours through you. You want to make him proud.

Your tongue lolls out, and you watch him as you glide it against his tip. He releases a hiss at the feeling, his stomach flexing. You were already craving more. You swipe your tongue again, the sound of his moans going straight to your pussy. When you pop the tip into your mouth, you gently suck. You allow your eyes to close as you fall into a rhythm, your head moving as you carefully take more of him.

He’s already halfway down your throat, and you still have inches to go. You struggle to breath as your throat spasms, the craving for oxygen desperately clawing at your insides. When you hear him moan once more, you think that you might not need to breathe again, as long as you get to hear him keep making those noises.

Your skin breaks out in goosebumps. You force yourself to take more until he's hitting the back of your throat. Gags fill the room as you start to choke on his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it.” Satoru moans.

He keeps his hips still as you gag on him, slowly bringing your head back. You slide your tongue along his sensitive veins, swallowing as he continues to leak down your throat. His groans make butterflies release in your stomach.

When you open your eyes again, the sight above you whisks you off your feet. Satoru’s lips are parted, a light pink dusting across his cheeks.

Handsome, handsome, handsome.

You tear your mouth off and watch as a string of saliva falls down your face. Satoru’s leaning down, grabbing your cheek as he presses his lips to yours. There’s a sense of urgency in the way he kisses you, his front teeth knocking against yours. He helps push you back until you’re laying down and he's hovering over you. When he pulls away, you're able to see him up close. Every little detail is on display in front of you. His unique blue eyes, flawless skin, and strands of white hair.

Satoru pulls your shirt up, throwing it off to the side. It’s getting harder to breathe. It was finally happening. He pushes your legs apart and glides in between.

Years, you had been waiting years for this.

“Let me get a condom.” He murmurs under his breath, leaning over you to search his nightstand.

“Wait, you have condoms?”

“Yeah, bought them after our last night.” Satoru responds, sitting back.

He’s holding the packet, opening it as he carefully looks at the condom.

He didn't really have to wear one. Plus, you didn’t want him to.

“Satoru, I’m on birth control.”

He stops in his tracks and looks up at you. You only have a quick moment to gather yourself before he's tossing the condom aside, lowering down until his bare chest presses against yours.

“Thank god, you're gonna let me feel you?”

You moan quietly in confirmation.

Satoru’s cock slides between your folds as he rocks his hips back and forth slowly. You can hear how sopping wet you are, but it only makes him glide easier. His tip bumps against your clit and you groan out, attempting to squeeze your legs together but your attempts are thwarted by Satoru’s hips.

He pushes himself up and looks down between the two of you, using one hand to guide his cock to your core. The head presses against you and you can feel the momentary tension before he slips inside. As soon as he dips inside, your pussy is pulling him in, aching for more.

Satoru moans as he watches himself carefully push in deeper and deeper, and you can’t take your eyes off the sight either. It's mesmerizing. He’s halfway in when you feel him bump your gspot, making your lips tremble.

You think you stop breathing but you don’t notice, not when all of your attention is on him. His cock carves a hole into your walls, making you see white. Satoru’s moaning above you, and it only makes you clench against him. He must feel it.

“Fuck, almost there. Think you can handle more?”

You can tell he's snickering without glancing at him. He must be teasing you. But you aren't sure if you can. Can you take more? It feels like he's already two feet deep inside of you.

“More.” You groan out.

“You really are greedy.” Satoru murmurs.

He thrusts all the way in and you think your heart stops. It takes you several seconds before the ringing in your ears calm and you're able to bring yourself back down to earth.

He’s so fucking deep.

Your pussy tightens around him. Your skin feels like it's buzzing with the need for more. You expect him to be grinning to himself with a quip sitting on the tip of his tongue, but when you look up, that’s not what you see at all. He’s staring down at where you’re connected, eyes unblinking as they glaze over. His tongue slowly drags over his bottom lip to wet it. Not only were you feeling ruined, but apparently so was he.

You two hadn’t even started yet.

“You’re so f-fucking wet,” he says, pulling his hips back a couple inches before thrusting in again. “And warm,” he goes on, his cock sliding from you. “And tight.”

You moan beneath him and dig your nails into his arms, your head reeling from the feel of his cock. He isn’t even going fast, but you still can’t control your breathing. The schlick noises fill the room along with a mixture of your groans. Satoru’s breathing hard as he squints at where you’re connected, entranced by the way you keep sucking him in.

“Made me wait years for this.” A forced laugh bubbles up from his mouth and you can feel he's building up speed.

“Then you have the nerve to come to my house and act like I’m the one who’s been stopping us?” He moans once before slamming into you.

“Give me a fucking break.” He murmurs.

You yelp and grip onto him tighter. He’s pressing into your gspot each time he pushes himself in. Your clit is feeling neglected, twitching under the heat of his stare.

He sets a good pace, his moans starting to join yours. They were getting you off just as much as his cock was. It was a good thing Suguru wasn’t home, or else he’d be able to hear every little noise coming from the two of you.

“Satoru you’re so fucking big.” You groan.

“I know, but you can take it. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

He thrusts himself in, moaning once he feels you squeeze around him. He knows he might be going too fast, but he doesn’t care. He needs this. He needs you.

You’re close to sobbing below him, feeling so good you think you may die. Your legs are twitching on either side of his hips, so you wrap them around him to steady yourself. This only achieves in pulling him in closer.

“Shit.” He moans quietly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

You wrap your hands around his neck to tug him down closer to you, wanting to feel him utterly and completely. His sweaty chest presses against yours, your swollen nipples dragging along his tight muscles. His mouth is directly beside your ear, his hot breath fanning across your neck.

You’re moaning loud and digging your nails in once more. Your pussy is already getting sore from the way he's pounding into you, but you couldn’t care less.

He snakes a head between the two of your bodies and slides it to your clit. You’re shaking beneath him as he starts to rub slow methodical circles around you.

“Is this what you needed, baby?” He asks.

“Y-yes, fuck, yes!”

It was too much. He was too much.

You moan as he pushes into you, the whole time he's stroking your clit. If this is what you get when you bitch to him, maybe you should do it far more often. Your skin prickles.

“Yeah? Just needed to get fucked good, huh?”

You wished he would shut up. His words were bringing you closer to the edge, but you didn’t want to cum yet. You wanted more and you wanted it to last longer.

“Satoru you're gonna make me,” you groan as his finger speeds up.

“Cum? You gonna be a good girl for me for once and cum on my cock?”

You aren't sure how you haven’t drawn blood yet with the way your nails are embedded in his skin. It's hard to breathe with the pressure on your chest and the pleasure buzzing through your veins.

His cock thrusts inside you, working with the way his finger glides against you.

You were so fucking close.

He groans beside you as your pussy begins to rhythmically twitch against him, betraying your wants as you inch towards your orgasm.

“Look at me.” He commands, pulling up until his face is inches in front of yours. “Want you to look at me as you cum.”

Your eyes trail along his face, unsure of where to look. He looked good. You didn’t want to appreciate just one of his features. You wanted all of him.

His blue eyes demand your attention so you give in to stare at them.

He only has to swipe a couple more times before you cum, your mouth hanging open as you clench around his cock. You’re so tight he nearly has a hard time fucking you through it, your pussy desperately clinging to him. He’s almost as loud as you as you cum, trying to stave off his own orgasm until you finish first.

Your vision clears up but you're immediately thrust back into the throws of passion. He’s not done yet. The whimpers falling from his lips threaten to turn you on again.

“Where do you want me to,” his voice is airy as he inches closer.

“Inside!”

“Yeah? Gonna let me cum inside and fill up t-this pussy?” He’s delirious you think, but you aren’t faring much better.

“Yes, yes,” you moan. “Please, please.”

His hip thrusts become irregular until he lets out one last loud groan, shooting cum inside you. It's warm and sticky as it fills you up, threatening to leak from the sides of your pussy if he wasn’t plugging you up.

He pushes into you a couple more times before sitting up, the two of you watching as his cock slides from you. His cum drips from your pussy, the heat of it dragging on your skin.

When you look up you find that he's already staring at you. You think he may want to go again.

“You doing okay?” He questions.

That wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Yeah…” You’re better than okay. You feel weightless.

You finally fucked the two of them. Even though you shouldn’t have come over and yelled at Satoru, you were slightly thanking yourself.

Satoru grabs a towel to slide between you, cleaning up his cum. You wince at the sensation, which he chuckles at before he tosses the soiled fabric away.

You sit up and immediately feel the way your pussy begins to ache. You hadn’t gotten used to the sizes of them yet. Your throat is parched as you watch Satoru lay down beside you, his skin glistening in the morning light.

“I'm gonna get water.” You murmur.

“Okay. I’ll be here. Promise.” He kisses the side of your mouth.

Your lips threaten to smile, so you get up and turn around before he can see it. You throw on his discarded shirt before opening the bedroom door, making your way out.

“Oh hey. Done already?”

Your feet stop instantly. You turn to the side and find Suguru sitting next to the bedroom door, flicking through a book.

He was here?

“I-I thought. Satoru said-“ you stutter as Suguru looks up, his feline eyes making your heart flutter. “Satoru said you wouldn't be home for two hours.”

“Satoru told me to leave for one hour.” He murmurs.

What a little shit.

Suguru’s eyes slide from your face down your figure. He appreciates the way his boyfriends shirt clings to your body, your bare legs out in the open for him.

“What’s taking so long-“ Satoru’s voice surrounds you. “Oh hey Suguru, didn’t know you’d be back so soon.” Satoru nearly sounds giddy.

Satoru’s wearing his boxers once more but he skipped putting on a shirt. If Suguru somehow hadn’t heard the two of you, which he most certainly did, then he would have been able to tell what you had done just based on your appearances.

How embarrassing.

You bring your hands up to your face to hide yourself. Suguru must have heard everything, or close to everything.

“Did you have fun?” Suguru asks.

He doesn’t seem mad, if anything he seems smug.

“I did. She’s amazing.” Satoru answers.

“I know.” Suguru responds, a cocky grin spreading across his lips.

“I'm gonna go get water…” you try to excuse yourself, embarrassment creeping up all over you.

Your eyes fly across the room, looking for something to settle your gaze on. You see the couch which has two blankets thrown against them with two pillows on either side. Had they slept out here last night?

“Go lay down sweetheart. You must be exhausted.” Suguru stands and walks over to you, kissing the top of your head.

“I did all the-“ Satoru starts to say before Suguru shoots him a dirty look.

“I'm assuming you didn’t get around to eating your breakfast?” Suguru asks, tilting your head up.

You remember the tray of food that Satoru had brought in, you never got around to eating any of it.

His thumb swipes the corner of your eye where your tears were starting to dry. Tears you cried because his boyfriend was fucking you.

“No.” You say.

“I’ll make some more then.” He replies.

Him and Satoru share a look before Suguru’s turning around to head to the kitchen. They were both stifling a grin, contentment settling over their bones at their decision to open their relationship. Satoru turns you around and brings you back to their bed, scooping you up and setting you down on the soft sheets.

“Wait here, okay?” He says to you.

You get comfortable under the blankets before grinning at him.

“I'm not going anywhere after what you did to me.”

Satoru chuckles and rolls his eyes before standing up.

“You liked it and you know it.”

“Never said I didn’t.” You watch as he makes his way to the bedroom door.

He closes it softly behind him, leaving you alone to recuperate.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @spookysoowpprince, @reosnagi, @faerie-soirxx, @platrom, @oownowonwoo, @megumisdivinedogs, @sakui1, @maskedpacific, @riri-twix

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theconstellationprincess · 2 months ago

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Whumptober Day 15: Painful Hug, "I did good, right?"

After the battle, back in Lindon, Elrond and Gil-galad talk. Gil-galad is proud of his herald, even if Elrond does not seem to believe it.

Before they could begin preparing for the next fight, they had to recuperate from the last one. Elrond worked with the healers for the most part, though he was occasionally part of the meetings. It was odd to now be invited to the meetings that he had so desperately wanted to attend a few short months ago, and dread them. He only sees Gil-galad in the meetings- It is not that he is avoiding his High King but he does not want to face the disappointment he knows he will see in Gil-galad's eyes. The High King will try to hide it, of course, Elrond knows that Gil-galad does not wish to cause him any emotional harm, but Elrond failed him. Failed everyone.

This avoidance is why, upon finding Gil-galad standing near the entrance of the healing halls, Elrond freezes in place. The herbs in his hands fall from his slackened grip, and he blinks, brought back to reality. “High King,” Elrond greets, voice shaking slightly as he stoops to gather the dropped plants. He had been in the processing of rebundling them, so most of them had spread across the floor. He inhaled sharply when he saw Gil-galad bend in the corner of his vision, carefully averting his gaze and continuing his task. “Thank you,” Elrond whispers when they both stand and Gil-galad hands him a few of the scattered plants.

“Elrond, will you look at me?” There is a hand on Elrond’s chin, tilting it up, but he keeps his eyes facing downwards. If he can postpone this a little longer, even if just for a moment, maybe he will finally be prepared to face the hatred, the shame, the disappointment that will look back at him. He had known Gil-galad for a very long time, and to even consider the fact that he had ruined one of his oldest friendships was almost to much to bear. “Elrond.” Gil-galad’s voice is scolding now, but there is a desperation in his voice that catches Elrond off guard, and he looks towards his High King.

He does not see anything he had expected to see, the gaze is clear of anger, instead filled with concern and hurt. Elrond swallows, breath catching in his throat, and he cannot help the way he leans into the hand holding his face, seeking the comfort. He had not considered that avoiding Gil-galad would cause any issues, but clearly it has. Elrond truly could not do anything right could he? His vision blurred and he blinked rapidly, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks until Gil-galad brushed them away. Gil-galad was always too kind to him, remains too kind to him, for he is comforting Elrond after Elrond had hurt him, had pulled away and isolated himself for no reason other than his own shame in facing his mistakes. Mistakes that, it appears, Gil-galad did not fault him for.

“What have you done to yourself, hmm? I’ve been told that you’re on edge, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that I hardly see you anymore.” Elrond opens his mouth, but his words dry up in his throat and nothing more than a whimper makes it out. Gil-galad sighs and pulls Elrond into a hug, cupping the back of his head with one hand and using the other to hold him tightly. “Shh, Elrond. The battle is over, you were good, you may take a moment to rest, just as the rest of the elves are.” The embrace is comforting, though it pains the sore spots he still has following the battle. Most of the cuts had healed, and bruises faded, but the broken ribs have taken far longer. But he dare not complain, lest Gil-galad pull away, because this was what he had been craving for so long and he has finally got it.

“I did good?” Elrond asks into Gil-galad’s shoulder, where his head is tucked and slowly dampening the fabric with tears. There is a moment of silence that feels like it lasts an age, where Elrond feels his stomach drop, because perhaps Gil-galad did not mean his words. Gil-galad was a politician, like Elrond, and could lie easily, and Elrond would believe him. “I did good, right?” Elrond repeated, desperately, voice hoarse and shaking, but he needed to know. He needed to know that Gil-galad truly was not angry with him.

“You performed wonderfully, my dear herald. I am proud of you.” Gil-galad speaks slowly, but deliberately, his voice honest. Elrond would be suspicious, but he no longer has the energy for fighting. He collapses against his High King, legs failing beneath him and he hardly processes the grunt Gil-galad makes as he finds himself holding Elrond’s weight up. Relief overpowers Elrond, the knowledge that his High King still considers him worthy of pride, that he has not ruined their friendship as he had so feared.

Gil-galad hums soothingly, supporting Elrond through the short walk to one of the beds nearby and sitting down with Elrond still clinging to him, now tucked against his side. It was quiet, and Elrond’s breaths were steadily slowing from panic to ease, much to Gil-galad's relief. “There’s no need to bear this burden alone,” Gil-galad murmured, his voice comforting but firm. “You have done more than enough, Elrond. You always do.” He ran his fingers through Elrond’s hair in slow strokes, and Elrond closed his eyes, exhausted, from the wild range in his emotions.

“I thought I’d disappointed you,” Elrond whispered, sniffling quietly. “I felt as though I had failed.”

Gil-galad shook his head, sighing with an exasperated fondness that made Elrond’s heart ache for his fathers. “You never disappoint me,” he said sadly, pausing his petting on Elrond’s hair to turn and look the peredhel in the eye. “You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you think it’s not enough. But it is, Elrond. It always has been.”

Elrond inhales sharply, and then lets a small, hesitant smile come over his face. He had spent so long avoiding this, avoiding Gil-galad, fearing the disappointment that never came. And here, in his High King’s arms, he felt the last of his defenses crumble, and for the first time since the battle, Elrond felt safe—truly, undeniably safe. They sat there in silence, the world outside their bubble of space momentarily unimportant.

“Rest now, my herald,” Gil-galad whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Elrond’s head. “There will be time for everything else later. For now, you need only to recover.”

#star writes #trop #gil-galad #gil galad #ereinion gil galad #elrond #elrond peredhel #whump #whumptober 2024 #trop spoilers

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sanccharine · 27 days ago

Text

05:53 | mm

pairing: assassin!momo x handler!reader

summary: good speakers are good liars, too bad momo is neither. co-written by @eternallyghosting chapter summary: momo needs a fucking break

warning: feelings of anxiety and burn out, brief mentions of killing and weapons (generally assassination related themes)

word count: 5.8k

a/n: assassin!momo is here early bc of indigo, everyone say 'thank you indigo' !!! NEED TO MAKE THIS EXPLICIT AS POSSIBLE, AS USUAL I DIDN'T DO SHIT <3

masterlist

“Good work in Johor Bahru, 64. The organization wants you to leave for Bergen right away. Proceed to the airport immediately. I’ll be sending over travel details soon.”

You were met with silence.

“64? Can you hear me?” Momo didn’t answer.

You sighed, “64, I know it’s a bit of a long flight.” That was the understatement of the century. “But at least that’ll give you some time to recuperate before the next mission, right?”

“I don’t need to recuperate,” Momo mumbled.

You hesitated for a moment. Clearly, she needed the rest, you didn’t know why she wasn’t being honest.

“Listen, 64, I know it’s hard—” you began.

“I don’t think you do,” Momo let out a derisive laugh. You swallowed the rest of your sentence.

“Alright, I’ve obviously hit a nerve but I think—”

“I’m not asking you to think! Or sympathise! Or whatever it is you’re trying to do,” Momo spat. “Maybe just do your part of the job and I do mine, yeah, Hippolyta?”

This was a new development. But not unfounded.

“Sorry,” she said after a few seconds of awkward silence, the waver in her breath caught by your sensitive earpiece. “Sorry, I’m just tired, alright? Please go on.”

“Uh, alright, as I was saying. After this, your Costa Rica mission has been pushed forward by a week. The client wants the cartel taken out as soon as possible,” it was difficult to give her the next order. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave for San Jose as soon as you wrap up in Bergen, 64.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show in your voice. Your organization was currently going through an overdrive, which meant more missions kept piling on, leaving no rest for Momo. It had been weeks since you had last seen your wife, last hugged her, or held her.

She reflected your disappointment as she just sighed. It must be harder for her.

“Hey, 64,” it was so hard to be personable when you couldn’t say her name. You hoped your voice made up for it. “I’m sorry, I know—”

“You know nothing!”

Whatever calm had come across her in the last few minutes instantly vanished.

“You know nothing of what it’s like! What it’s like to be out here for hours on end! To stalk and hunt and kill! Actually, you know, it’s not even about lying in the dirt, or carrying around heavy weaponry, or eating shit for days just to stay undercover. That I can deal with,” Momo let out another scoff. “It’s the waiting that gets to you—it’s the travel, it’s the constant seeking of approval just to get back home… ”

Once she started, it was hard to control everything bursting out of her. Although she had become pretty comfortable with Hippolyta, and often shared random conversations with them, this was the first time she had let anything personal spill. You couldn’t help but startle initially, but now you just sat there taking the verbal lashing. This wasn’t your fault, you were aware of that much. So why did it feel like it was?

“Mo… hmm, I—” you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying her name. Your heart ached for her. Not just because she was away from you, but also because you couldn’t share this burden with her. You couldn’t help her lighten the load.

Not as her handler. Not as her Y/N.

You waited for Momo’s breath to even out. When she didn’t say anything, you decided to start again.

“I may not know what it’s like being out on the field,” you had to tread carefully here. “But I do understand what it’s like being away from your loved one.”

Your breath hitched when you admitted that. Neither of you had ever let something this personal come into your agent-handler relationship before.

“It’s just the kind of job we signed up for,” that’s all this was. A job. “I won’t deny it’s a shitty situation, but after that one week, you’re done. You can go home. I promise you that.”

The long silence almost had you double-checking the connection of the call.

“Hey, 64, you there?”

You were met with silence.

“Agent, I need an affirmation.”

“... Alright,” she whispered.

It wasn’t much, but you’d take it. After all, Momo had never strayed from official orders before. Not enough to risk her job, at least.

“Wait, what? So you’re telling me—”

“Yup, I’m in Bergen right now.”

“Woah, how did that happen? That must’ve been an insane journey!” you sounded fake to your own ears. You hoped Momo didn’t catch on.

“Yeah, remember when I didn’t answer any of your texts a few days ago?” Momo let out a laugh, there was no mirth to it. “I was on a plane the whole time.”

“I just assumed you lost track of time playing Candy Crush or something.”

That did bring a real laugh out of her.

“Well, that too,” she said. “Did you know I’m on level 651 now?”

“Real impressive, babe,” you said toying with the earpiece, discarded on the coffee table from your last call. “But anyways, when are you coming back from Bergen then?”

She paused. You saw her pacing around her stuffy hotel room as she hesitantly answered. “Well, actually, I don’t think I can come home right away. They’re sending me to Costa Rica tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” you couldn’t help but glance at yourself in the tiny box on the screen from time to time. You hated how fake your expressions looked, how you couldn’t be honest with her even when she needed you most.

“I’m so sorry. It’s some internal management thing,” Momo let out a frustrated groan. “They need someone who’s at a higher position to open up the San Jose branch. Just my luck it happened to be me they chose.”

Momo’s disappointed tone broke your heart. You knew this was coming, of course you did, but hearing it once again from your wife’s mouth made the distance much too real all over again.

Still, you tried for a smile.

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure San Jose will be fun. I’ve heard they have amazing museums there!” Knowing how upset Momo was about the constant travel made you want to try harder to be supportive. “Maybe you can go and take goofy pictures in front of the sculptures like we did that one time in Prague, remember?”

Unfortunately, it seemed that no efforts to cheer her up would work this time. She let out another long groan and threw herself on the bed. Bringing the phone really close to her face, she said, “I really just wanted to come back home. I’m sorry I keep doing this to you.”

Shit. Of all the times to have video called Momo.

Averting your eyes from her teary ones so that you wouldn’t cry too, you attempted to comfort her.

“I know how tiring it must be to constantly travel, don’t beat yourself up over it, Momo. And don’t worry about me, okay! I’m fine, truly! I’ll keep everything up and running here while you whip rookies out there into shape. It’s what we do, right?” you were trying to convince yourself instead of her. “Besides, Mr Jones invited us for dinner and I know you really don’t want to have to sit through that again, right?”

“Still, though,” she whispered, “you shouldn't have to go through that by yourself. I'd rather sit through that than here all alone.”

Oh Momo. If only she knew that you were aware of what she was going through.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll distract him and ask about his ‘good ol’ golfing days’. That’ll have him chattering on for hours,” she chuckled at that, although it was muffled since half her face was pressed into the pillow. “And I’ll also go down to the store and buy those berries you like so I have a pie ready for you when you come home. We’ll spend our time relaxing. How does that sound?”

She nodded sleepily. Momo must be exhausted to the point of falling asleep right there on call.

You doubted she heard you but said it anyway.

“Have a good night, Momo. I love you.”

[11:52] Momo: im boarding now Y/N: Have a safe flight! See you soon <3 Momo: me too, cant wait to be home aaaaa Y/N: I’ll be waiting with your pie!

[16:37] Momo: just landed! Y/N: How was the flight? Momo: eh Momo: were you gonna pcik me up or should i take a cab Y/N: You’ll have to get a cab, sorry. I tried rescheduling it but the town committee meetup is at our place tonight. Momo: omg i legit forgot they still did those Momo: i can take a cab dw Momo: you must be so busy Y/N: Yeah, I’m just making sure all the snacks and drinks are ready. Y/N: Might have to make one more grocery run actually.

[17:20] Momo: found a cab Momo: should be home in 40 mins

She sighed. You must be really busy or else you rarely left her on read.

As the cab neared your street, she could see a crowd of people already gathered around the house. This was what living in a small town was like. Everyone knew each other, and so of course, offered to get together to help for any event you held, no matter how small.

They have nothing better to do with their lives.

Okay. Perhaps, that was a bit harsh.

Thankfully, Momo managed to slip into the house, unnoticed by all the townsfolk laying out chairs and tables filled with plates of snacks that you had made. Her stomach grumbled upon seeing all the food, but she hurried upstairs into your shared bedroom before dropping her suitcase and rushing to change out of her travel clothes.

What she really wanted was a long hot shower, maybe even a soak in the tub, but fresh clothes would have to do for now. On her way out of the room and down the stairs, she bumped into you.

“Y/N!” she yelled the same time you screamed. “Momo!”

This would be an incredibly stupid way to die, the voice in the back of your head said, you shushed it quickly and leaned on the stairway railing. The shock had subsided quickly and was replaced by elation; you hugged Momo as hard as you could with the cutlery in your hand.

You broke apart apologetically. “I’m sorry, I wish you could take a rest but the meeting’s starting soon and we’re still missing a few things.”

“No worries,” Momo shrugged it off, though there was no energy in her voice. “Anything I can do to help?”

You passed over the handful of cutlery to her as you hurriedly stated, “Yeah, could you just lay these out for me? And I think we still need to pour some juice for all the kids.”

Momo nodded and went down the stairs two at a time. As she rounded into the kitchen, she wished she’d taken a minute to mentally prepare herself for all the questions the neighbours would no doubt ask her.

She was right. As soon as she went over to the table, she heard. “Oh Momo, when did you get back? Y/N was telling us how you were away for really long.”

Momo forced on a polite smile, she had no idea who she was talking to. Perhaps having files on her neighbours might help, she thought to herself. She made a mental note to ask Y/N how they remembered all these people. “Yes, I had to travel quite a lot for some business-related things, but I’m just glad to be home now.”

“Where was it you went to? Malaysia, was it?” Momo’s vision blurred for a second. “I remember Y/N telling us we had to cancel the meeting two weeks ago.”

“Mhmm, Malaysia. Then Norway. Now, I just got back from Costa Rica.” Might as well just tell them everything. Sure, why not. Momo tried not to be scornful, she really did.

“Good Lord, Momo! How do you even manage all that?” That was something Momo wondered herself. “It sure is nice you have Y/N to manage everything here for you while you’re away.”

A burning sensation grew at the corner of her eyes, she would’ve rubbed them if her hands weren’t full of forks and spoons.

It was a seemingly unharmful statement.

Well, no.

There was a bite in there somewhere, Momo was just too exhausted to dissect it.

Momo ignored the scratchy feeling in her throat and turned away hurriedly, mumbling something about getting the juice out. As she approached the refrigerator, she unceremoniously dropped the cutlery on the counter. She opened the fridge, the cold air doing little to alleviate her tension. When she pulled out the carton of apple juice, she was undertaken with the sudden urge to leave. Being at this gathering was taking more of a toll on her than she had thought.

Momo needed to be alone. Now.

She walked into the pantry and into the cabinet Y/N made sure to leave empty ever since they’d found out about her meditation space. Well, Momo thought bitterly, it wasn’t just a meditation space now, was it?

Momo crouched down, hugging her knees and seeking comfort in the familiar darkness. She could still hear the faint voices of people as they rushed around the house, but this was the best she could do right now.

When Momo closed her eyes, she could feel every muscle pull taut. A headache bloomed at her temple, building down her face until even the act of breathing felt painful. She tried to focus on the warm scent of the ciabatta loaves you always had stocked up. How the bread broke and crumbled as she took a bite. How adamant you’d been to get the best stand mixer available. How you took your time to shape the dough and how Momo had flattened it with one motion.

What she wouldn’t do to just have a simple sandwich with you.

No loud music. No clanging cutlery. And definitely no nosy neighbours.

Just the two of you.

The pain seemed to slowly ebb away, she could finally breathe. Momo had no idea how long she stayed like that. She didn’t want to leave but she couldn’t even text Y/N to apologise for leaving them alone because she’d forgotten her phone with her luggage.

However, she didn’t have to wait long before the pantry door opened.

Momo hid herself deeper in the cabinet when a knock came on its door, an excuse ready on her lips should she be found…

“Momo,” your voice was soft, she wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t pressed to the door. “It's me.”

Momo visibly relaxed when she heard Y/N.

“Can I come in?”

The answer was the opening of the cabinet door.

As soon as you lowered yourself onto the floor, Momo launched herself into your arms, clutching onto you as though her life depended on it. Confused by the sudden outburst but also suspecting what could have brought it on, you just gathered her closer and gently brushed her hair with your fingers.

“How did you… ”

“Find you here? Couldn't see you in the crowd so I figured,” you shrugged.

“Can we... can we just stay here for a moment?” she sniffled, burrowing her head into your neck.

“Momo, you don’t even have to ask. I’m here for you.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time intertwining your limbs against each other. You rubbed up and down her arms gently, taking deep breaths so she’d mirror you and relax.

When her breathing returned to a normal rate, you pulled back slightly to look at her face. Although still pale from hunger and exhaustion, she looked considerably better than she had a while ago.

“How’re you feeling?” you whispered.

“Still tired, but I’m okay now,” Momo said, her voice raspy. “Thanks for staying with me.”

You took a moment to take her in. The dim light couldn’t hide the bags under her eyes or how bloodshot they were. She had a pallid complexion, something you would’ve rushed to treat, but instead, you had this stupid meeting to run. But even then, Momo tried to put on a smile for you, as small as it was. Smiling, you pulled her in to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

With a sigh, you pulled away from her. Her face was held up by your hands. “Although there hasn’t been any yelling or crashing yet, I don’t think it’s right to leave them without a host for too long.”

Momo languidly nodded her assent even when the rest of her body reacted differently. She pressed her forehead to yours until your noses were touching.

Momo deserved to rest. And you wanted that for her too. If possible, you would have stayed here like this all night long. But alas…

“I should probably head back,” you whispered. Momo only hummed. “but you can stay here longer if you—”

“No,” Momo mumbled.

“No?” you asked, not wanting to pull away first.

Momo did it for you. She exhaled a deep breath before pulling back, her eyes finally looking at you.

“No, that's fine,” Momo said, shaking her head before helping herself up. Then she extended a hand to you. “We should host together, shouldn’t we?”

“We really should,” you took her hand and pulled yourself up. “I’ve already canceled this three times, I think they’d flip out if it was only me out there,” you said with a grimace.

Holding hands, you exited the pantry together.

Thankfully, everyone was too caught up in the snacks you’d made to comment on your disappearance. Momo just ignored the few stares thrown her way. Making your way to the front of the living room, you called for everyone’s attention and began the town meeting, steadfastly holding onto Momo’s hand the entire time.

Although the townsfolk had also helped in clearing up after the meeting, there were a few things only you two could rearrange as the people living in the house. You wanted Momo to go upstairs and rest while you quickly cleaned up, but she was as stubborn as ever and refused to leave your side. Fortunately though, having two people definitely made the job go quicker, and before long, you were heading into the en-suite to draw a bath for Momo.

You turned off the hot water at the temperature you knew Momo liked most before adding a spoonful of lavender bath salts to the water, your gift to Momo from when she had returned from a mission complaining of sore muscles. She smiled gratefully at you as she slipped into the tub, leaving you to once again sit on the cold floor beside her. Not that you minded, you’d take any proximity you could get. The both of you just sat there, basking in the comfortable silence as Momo relieved her weary body.

Eventually, you spoke up, making sure to be cautious in the way you approached this topic. “Do you want to talk about what happened downstairs?”

Momo looked at you with a look, a knowing one, but she turned her eyes away quickly.

“What? About Hector?” Momo managed to laugh, it almost sounded real. “Yeah, it was funny when he stood up and demanded we vote for a stop sign near the corner store, only to realize we’ve had it all along and he needed to change his glasses prescription.”

“Momo,” you took her hand that was laying on the edge of the bathtub. “Seriously.”

She finally turned to face you with a sigh, deciding not to run away this time.

“I was doing as you said, the cutlery, that is,” Momo’s finger intertwined with yours, she trained her focus on your joint hands. “Someone was asking me questions, I don’t know who, asking about my job and where I’d been and whatnot… and then suddenly,” she paused to take a deep breath, her eyes filling with tears.

You brought your other hand to engulf hers and rubbed your thumb across the back of her hand in circular motions.

“Suddenly, out of nowhere, they said something about how I’m lucky to have you manage everything around here while I’m away,” she trailed off, a small scoff escaping her. Momo mumbled, but you caught every word. “Well, not out of nowhere, they are right. I am lucky. I’m never here.”

“Momo…”

She continued, talking through her tears, not bothering to wipe them away as they slipped down her cheeks.

“I just… you’re the one who always has to manage things around here. I just feel bad, you know?” Momo straightened, turning her whole body to face you as an odd resolve washed over her. “Like, I’m always busy flying around somewhere but you always accommodate me and my work. But I don’t do anything like that for you? Actually, what do I even do?” At that, you wanted to stop her, but she kept going. “I guess I feel incompetent? I’m just equal parts grateful for you but also, I feel guilty.”

That was a lot to take in. Momo was never one to bare her soul, so for her to say all this meant she had been bottling it up for quite some time.

“Well, I see it differently,” you leaned in as you formed the words in your mind. “You’re doing all this to provide for us and you work so hard for it. This house, everything we have, is all possible because of you. I could never be upset about that, Momo.”

“I guess,” Momo sounded unconvinced. “But like maybe I could do more local work? That way, I could stay at home with you and work?”

“As tempting as that is, I can’t ask that of you. I can’t say I don’t miss you when you’re gone. And of course, I love having you around.”

You spoke slower so the words sunk in.

“But you’re doing what you have to do,” you tried to be as vague as possible when saying the next few words. “I mean, your company sends you all over the world because you’re a hard worker, and a really good one at that. No one is going to be able to do what you do anytime soon and I’m proud of that. Of you.”

Momo didn’t say anything, she was staring at something behind your head. Her eyebrows were furrowed together; for once, you couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“But the work itself… ” she trailed off, still staring into the distance.

That confession, if that was what she was planning it to be, had you on alert. You had to be careful here. Somehow, you had to glean Momo’s feelings about her ‘actual job’ without asking outright questions about it.

“What about the work, baby?” you asked. The term of endearment felt sour on your lips. Momo didn’t look at you.

You had to bite your tongue from interrogating her. Is it monotonous? Is it stressful? Are you having second thoughts about killing? Do you want to be transferred? What’s wrong? What can I do? How can I fix it?

She didn’t speak for a long time.

Panic was beginning to sink its claws into your skin. You were a good liar, but not that good.

Fortunately for you, Momo began once again.

“The work… I mean, sure, every job has its own boring routine and mine does too. It is exciting at times and I’m good at it too, which I can’t confidently say for a lot of other things,” you wanted to interrupt her and tell her how wonderful she was, but she spoke over you. “And I don’t really want to quit right now because we’re also earning decently.“

“Enough for an early retirement in the Swiss Alps, right?” you uttered before you could even think about it.

When she had first been accepted as an agent by your organisation, Momo had excitedly jumped around your tiny one-bedroom flat. Making big talk about how the two of you would buy a cottage in the Swiss Alps and go skiing every day in the winter and strawberry picking every day in the summer.

Reminiscing about the memory bought a real smile out of her. “Exactly.”

But the smile slowly faded as she kept talking. “I just… wish I didn’t always have to keep traveling. I barely get a few days with you before I have to fly out again. And I know that’s a part of my job, it's just that this time around was too long.”

You silently agreed. What was the organisation thinking, making an agent go three weeks out in the field, one mission after the other. You don’t even recall how many cups of coffee you’d downed just to keep up with the time differences.

“Well, you’re here now,” you placed a kiss over your joined hands. “And we’re going to make the most of it. Hopefully, you get more than a few days this time.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” she repeated, although she sounded anything but.

You bit back the long sigh and nudged her instead, looking for a way to divert her attention. “I couldn’t tell you before, but your pie’s waiting for you in the fridge.”

Momo sat up at that. You jerked back to narrowly avoid being splashed by water. “Me too! Well, not a pie but I did manage to bring back a dessert called Cajetas this time. I didn’t have time to taste it but the lady selling them told me they’re a staple.”

Her eyes finally regained their usual shine at the mention of the two of you sharing desserts. It had been a longtime tradition for you to bake her favorites when she came back from a long journey, and for her to get local items you both could try together.

“Unfortunately, I’m too stuffed now,” she finally relaxed into the tub, tipping her head back. “Those finger sandwiches were delicious Y/N. What did you put in them?”

“Love,” you said dreamily, before pressing another kiss to the hand you were holding. Momo pulled away and cringed. “What, too much?” you laughed, “besides, I don’t think they were that amazing. You were just really hungry,” you said, poking her shoulder.

Momo just hummed as a comfortable silence fell over the pair of you.

Although the bathwater would’ve been cooler by now, she looked too comfortable to be asked to move.

By the time Momo finally got out of the bathtub and into the towel you were holding out for her, the water had gone completely cold.

“Ugh, my skin is all wrinkly now”, she complained.

“Hmm I don’t know, it’s giving me a good idea of what you’d look like in another thirty years.”

“And?” she twirled around. “What do you think?”

You gave her a once over. “I think… I think I’ll stay with you for more than thirty years if that’s what you’re going to look like.”

After a quick change into your respective pajamas for the night (with you having to change again due to a mock water fight you two had), you ushered Momo into bed.

“Are you not sleeping now?” she asked, when you didn’t get into bed with her.

“Just about to, don’t worry,” you replied, straightening her edge of the comforter, effectively tucking her in.” Mariko asked for an order of cupcakes for her kindergarten class next Tuesday, so I’m just going to make a note of that before I forget.”

She pouted, drawing out an arm from under the covers and pulling you down by your sleeve. Leaning down, you had no choice but to look right into her puppy-dog eyes, nearly shutting from exhaustion were it not for Momo resisting her body, fighting to stay open. “I wanted to cuddle but I’m already,” she broke off into a yawn, “falling asleep.”

You kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, I’ll be back before you know it,” you whispered.

“G’night,” she mumbled with drooping eyes.

Your demeanor changed the minute you left the bedroom, gently closing the door behind you. Throughout the evening, you’d noticed how burnt out Momo seemed, and this late-night conversation further proved that she desperately needed a rest. You grabbed your laptop and keyed in a call to your organization, late hours be damned.

“Hippolyta to HQ. Calling in regards to Agent 64.” You waited for the call to go through.

After a few minutes of having to listen to the ridiculous call tone they had put in (seriously why on earth would someone want to listen to that Piña Colada song while they waited to make a serious report), you were about to pull out your earpiece and give up when a bored robotic voice answered, “Hippolyta, your call has now been cued. State your report and wait for an agent.”

You cleared your throat before saying. “As her handler, I believe Agent 64 is in need of a short leave, allowing her time to recuperate and be mentally on track for any and all future missions.” Hopefully, that should be enough to get an agent connected to you.

After another couple minutes of listening to the godforsaken song, a voice sounded on the other end. “This is Baklava to Hippolyta. Your report has been recorded. Do you have other details you wish to share?”

“It’s exactly as I said before. I noticed a change in Agent 64’s behaviour and mental state through her last couple missions, and I believe it would do her good to take a temporary break.”

“Agent 64, huh? Let me see, I’ll pull up her file here.”

“Oho,” you heard after some shuffling on the other end of the call, “so this is the infamous Agent 64 and Hippolyta. I see. Well, I’m afraid I have to deny your inquiry and cannot grant her the break.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, surprised that a decision had been made so quickly. “Why?”

“Clearly, her being your wife makes it a point of personal interest. We can’t really have that, so she’ll continue on her missions as usual.”

“Excuse me, but in all these years, I have never let personal feelings get in between our working relationship.” You could feel your anger rising and had to be careful not to raise your voice too much, lest Momo wake up. “In fact, as her handler, I have made sure to push her exactly as much as she needed to get her missions done. She has a ninety-eight percent success rate, only possible because we don’t let personal feelings get in our way.”

“Nah, but in this case, Agent 64 has not filed for a break herself. You doing this on her behalf shows vested interest.”

You didn’t know if it was because of the late hour, but this conversation with Baklava was going nowhere and you were starting to get frustrated. You sighed.

“What’s the matter, Hippo, going soft for your wife? Is that it?” the voice sneered.

You saw red. No one except Momo was allowed to call you that.

“Grant Agent 64 the break or else you’ll lose not only your best assassin but also one of your best handlers,” you gritted your teeth.

The line suddenly cut.

Fuck.

You didn’t really want to have to go through the whole process of reporting your inquiry again, but for Momo you would do it another hundred times.

Just then, a new voice was heard through your earpiece.

“Hippolyta, this is Shooting Guard. Your report has been transferred over to me.”

Shooting Guard… the name was familiar to you.

“Hippolyta speaking. Not sure how much of my report was transferred over but it’s in regards to Agent 64.”

“Oh yes, I know about your wife, Hippolyta. What’s the matter?”

It suddenly hit you. Of course Shooting Guard was a familiar name. He had been an agent a year above you at the training centre, a hardworking and calculative senior, but friendly once you got to know him.

“Well, I know the organisation has been working through some things right now—” you heard a scoff on the other end, “but 64 has been on individual missions for three weeks straight. She would never say this outright but I can tell the constant travel is getting to her. As… as her handler of course, not her partner,” you hurried to add, lest you were misunderstood once again.

To your surprise Shooting Guard said, “I believe that being her spouse makes you all the more attuned to how she’s doing Hippolyta. And with your spotless record so far, having a spouse as a handler doesn’t seem to be working negatively at all.”

“Does that mean you can get her leave approved?” you asked, hopeful.

“Well, that’s the difficult part. In your words, the organisation is working through things right now,” he chuckled without mirth.

“Please, just get her a psych eval or something. Anything that grants her a break,” you were coming across as pleading when you should have been firm, but Momo’s wellbeing was at stake here.

“Let me see what I can do.” You heard him hum as he clicked on various files, rearranging calendars and rescheduling appointments, no doubt, before he finally broke the silence.

“I can give her two weeks. That fine?”

“More than fine. Truly, thank you, Shooting Guard,” the stress visibly left your shoulders.

“Don’t mention it. The agents around here need a fucking break anyways.”

You logged off the call once you got the final approval that your report had been accepted. You couldn’t wait to see Momo’s joyous face when she would break the news to you tomorrow. But for now, sleep was calling.

As you made your way back upstairs, a smile spread across your face at the thought of spending the next two weeks with your wife. When you entered your bedroom, Momo was fast asleep, sprawled across the large bed, somehow taking up enough space for two people. You shook your head fondly as you turned off the lights, slipping in beside her. As if sensing your presence, she pressed herself closer to you, wanting to be together even in sleep. You looped an arm around her torso and held her tight.

Yes, you certainly were excited to spend two weeks with her. But most of all, you were glad your bed would be warm with her presence again.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: so that poll... y'all be impatient as fuck (and i be lazy as fuck bc i think i was the only one who voted for this being split JLDFKSHFK) anyways happy misamo day and have a good day/night !!

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @happilychaengs

#a game of hide and seek #mala's collection #sanccharine #indigo's archive #eternallyghosting :]#momo x reader #twice x reader #momo fluff #jype twice #twice imagines #momo imagines

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natalchartnurtures · 10 months ago

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PAC: what do you owe yourself big time?

I channeled these messages with the intention to aid self love and the connection to self for all those who come across this. Hope it does just that. Happy reading!

Pile 1 to 3- left to right

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Pile number 1:

What do you owe yourself?

Grace. You owe yourself grace, sweetheart. You've been doing SO much (be it physically, mentally, or spiritually), and even though you're exhausted, you simply power through. You might feel like there is an invisible standard that you need to hold yourself to, for whatever reason, which might keep you stuck in your head. You may be grappling with perfectionism too. You might even accidentally fall into analysis-paralysis (too much thinking and not enough doing), which is keeping you in the frequency of resistance to the abundance that the universe is ready to give you as a result of ALL the work you've put in right now. You might feel like life is getting a little dry, and everything seems like drudge-work and as if it's sucking the life out of you (in extreme cases). So what I see you owe yourself right now is some self-love, the permission to rest, and the grace of knowing that you've been hard on yourself as a result of a wound that is now ready to be healed. Your healing needs your attention right now; you need your attention right now.

How do you give what you owe yourself?

Reflect on why you keep yourself so busy, pile 1. Maybe reflect on it a little? Is it coming from a healthy place or a wound or societal conditioning? What makes you think taking care of yourself is secondary to anything else in the world? If it's your work-life that's keeping you in this rut, try working in some "me time" into your routine when you can simply breathe and be alone by yourself and marinate in your energy. Even for about like 5 minutes would be a great start. Doing some simple breathing exercises like the 2X breath (breathe in for 4 - hold for 2 - breathe out for 8) could help you MASSIVELY, and it won't even disrupt your routine to do like a couple of cycles of these. This will help clear out some mental clutter, which will greatly improve your quality of life. It's 20% effort to get 80% results. What's not to like? If you had a meditation routine, you could resume that again as well, and if you didn't, now is a great time to begin. Try whatever ones that call out to you. Your intuition has always been a powerful guide to you. The trick to giving yourself what you need right now is making it feel like it's very little effort and not another chore for you to get done with. Love, light, and hugs, sweet soul.

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Pile number 2:

What do you owe yourself?

A chance to recuperate. You might have lost something/someone recently and haven't been able to give yourself the chance to grieve it fully yet. That's what you owe yourself, big time right now. You really wanted something to work out here and were super excited about it, but it ended up disappointing you instead. I'm so sorry, pile 2. Allow yourself to grieve this. Feel into it to heal yourself from it. I'm getting that if it was a love situation that ended, it was for your highest good because the person you were dealing with had secrets of some kind, and you didn't need another person with hidden agendas around you (that was very specific, take it as it resonates). You are making space for a more pure kind of love as you grieve this old connection. You will gain a lot of clarity after you have grieved this situation. You might get hit with a lot of epiphanies about the situation and maybe even some blessings from the universe. I'm not getting anything specific in terms of that because it's probably different for each of you reading, but it's mostly around the themes of love and emotional well-being. You are headed towards a situation that will replace your current loss and bring you some much-needed fulfillment and relief. You might even stumble into some success in your work life too if that's a desire of yours.

How do you give what you owe yourself?

It's really simple. Throw yourself a pajama party for one and watch sad movies, cry your pretty heart out, and embrace this loss. Also, I hear - "Is it a loss or a redirection?" Reflecting on that question could help you get some of those epiphanies I talked about earlier.

Love, light, and hugs, sweet soul.

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Pile number 3:

What do you owe yourself?

Some fun. I feel like y'all need some much-needed fun because it honestly feels like y'all have been holding your breath for a while (proverbially), like you were waiting on something to happen or just waiting in general for something good to happen so you could relax and have fun. But the thing is, pile 3, you're supposed to make this thing you really want to happen, happen for you. You may believe nothing good happens to you, and this belief in particular is hindering your ability to actively create the things you want in your life. After all, taking aligned actions is an important step in manifestation. You owe yourself aligned action. Taking actions however small towards your desires is exactly what you need right now. The challenge here is that you might not know what you want right now, and that's something you have to actively take on. Side note: You might have had to take on different identities for different people to survive childhood (for some people) or simply to get through life in general, and this has left you feeling detached from yourself, but you're learning how to "come back home" to yourself now. Which is wonderful pile 3, yay!

How do you give what you owe yourself?

Start to take an active interest in learning about yourself and about your likes and dislikes. Spend some time by yourself away from the burdens of others' expectations from you. Reflect on the origins of your lack mentality, and by that, I simply mean - ask yourself why you believe good things can't happen to you. Is it because you think you don't deserve it? This could lead to some revelations about yourself which will further empower you to pour into yourself and nurture your energy, which will inevitably lead you to develop deep and profound inner peace along with a sense of groundedness within yourself, which is also something you owe yourself big time. You'll find that new pathways start to open up for you where once you found dead-ends (specific message, take it only if that one resonates).

Love, light, and hugs, sweet soul.

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#PAC #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a picture #tarot reading #practical spirituality #astrology community #spirituality #spiritualgrowth #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot cards #tarot witch

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hogwartseighthyear · 4 months ago

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wax paper

"your girl" series: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | (part 4)

(can be read as a standalone)

pairing: neville longbottom x fem!reader word count: 3.7k tags: rated G, house-neutral reader, fluff, established relationship, maybe a smidge of angst, no Y/N used summary: neville introduces you to his parents. note: cue me strolling in like it hasn't been over a year and a half since i last posted a fic. this is based on a request i lost a long time ago for something with neville's family (iirc). i might come back later and give it another edit since this was a bit hasty, but for now, enjoy and thanks for reading! (cross-posted here to AO3)

After spending the last several years living through an outright war, the months immediately following Voldemort’s demise were tinged with a sense of unreality.

You mourned for the lives lost and the destruction that had been wrought. You slept fitfully and replayed the worst moments of the Battle in your nightmares. Sudden, loud noises sent you diving to the ground with your wand in hand, reminding you of crackling spellfire, flashes of green light hurtling overhead, smoke in the air and screams ringing in your ears.

Yet, for every moment of grief and pain, there was hope and happiness in equal measure. Wizarding Britain was gradually reassembling. The Ministry was being gutted from the inside out, Aurors were hunting down wayward Death Eaters, repairs were underway at Hogwarts. For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t look so bleak.

And somehow, in the midst of it all, you’d started dating Neville Longbottom.

You’d both confessed your feelings just after the Battle had finished, when you and Neville finally managed to escape the cacophony of noise and emotion in the Great Hall and retreat to the quiet shores of the lake. The two of you were still singed and bloodied and covered in dirt, but it hadn’t mattered in the slightest. When you finally kissed him, it felt like coming home.

It was difficult to separate you and Neville that following summer. In all honesty, the amount of time you were spending together might have been excessive, if not bordering on codependent, but considering the hell you had just endured, neither of your families voiced any complaints. May, June, and July passed in a languid procession of warm afternoons in the back garden and hours of general lazing about around each other’s homes as you recuperated from, well, your whole adolescence.

You and Neville had already accepted Professor McGonagall’s offer to return to Hogwarts to properly complete your education, and while you were looking forward to it, you knew that it wouldn’t be easy. So, you greatly appreciated the chance to take a break from life before the fall term rolled around.

One day in early August, you were doing just that, lounging on the couch and reading a particularly interesting chapter in Dragon Species of Ancient Mesopotamia, when the fireplace whooshed with a burst of green flames. To your surprise, it was Neville who stepped through the Floo into your living room.

In a rare turn of events, you and Neville didn’t actually have plans to see each other until tomorrow. Today, he, Ginny, and Luna were scheduled to meet in Diagon Alley for an interview with Farida Wolff of the Daily Prophet, who was interested in writing an article on the student rebellion the three of them led during the Death Eaters’ rule over Hogwarts. Afterwards, Neville was planning on paying his parents a visit at St. Mungo’s; fetching money from his Gringotts vault; getting fitted at Madam Malkin’s for new robes; picking up treats for Seymour, the Longbottom family owl, at Eeylops Owl Emporium; then joining his gran in the evening for a belated birthday dinner with his great-uncle Algie and great-aunt Enid.

A glance at the clock told you that while Neville’s interview must have just wrapped up, he definitely hadn’t had time to finish the rest of his errands in downtown London already. There was no reason for him to stop by your place. And yet here he was, wearing a rather nervous expression.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” you asked, sitting upright, a worried frown quickly overtaking your face.

“Hi. Um. Yes,” Neville said haltingly.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “Did something happen during the interview?”

“No, no, the interview was fine.”

You waited for further explanation, but he remained silent.

“Neville?”

He dithered for a few more moments before taking a deep, steadying breath and finally looking at you.

“I was just about to go see my parents,” he said, standing a bit straighter, “and… I was wondering if… you’d like to come meet them?”

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Neville said, this time with more conviction. “I know they don’t really— They can’t exactly, you know—” He cut himself off, his mouth twisting. “But. I’ve already told them about us, and it would mean a lot to me.”

“Okay,” you said, unable to keep the slight tremor out of your voice. “I’ll come. Of course I’ll come.”

Meeting your boyfriend’s parents for the first time was nerve-racking on principle, but meeting Neville’s parents was especially so, considering how fiercely guarded he was when it came to them.

He’d told you what happened to his mum and dad during the First War, but it had always been a sensitive topic. You remembered how agitated he’d been when his friends ran into them at St. Mungo’s a few Christmases ago. Neville was protective of his parents; he didn’t want anyone witnessing them in their vulnerable state. And yet here he was, asking you to meet them.

No pressure, right?

You smoothed your hands over your lap and looked down at your outfit: the soft, comfortable one you’d been lounging around in all day while you read. “Oh! I should change before we go. And fix my hair. Shit, wait, give me a few minutes,” you babbled as you stood from the couch, anxiety already churning in your stomach, but Neville caught you before you could rush past him.

“Love, you look fine,” he said.

“I look like I just rolled out of bed!”

You were too busy fretting over your appearance to notice the way Neville rolled his eyes, though his expression was still unmistakably fond. You refocused only when he put his hands on your shoulders and turned you to face him.

“You’re beautiful, I promise, but”—he stressed the word when you went to open your mouth again—“if it makes you feel better, I was going to suggest we Disillusion ourselves anyway.”

It took you a moment to catch on to his reasoning. “Oh,” you said with a sympathetic wince. “How bad was it this time?”

“At least ten different people asked for my autograph.” Neville kept his voice low, as if he were saying something scandalous. “I tried telling everyone I didn’t have a quill, but then some of them conjured quills for me, so I just signed what they asked. I felt like the world’s biggest prat!”

Fame was something Neville was still struggling to get used to. He’d been largely shielded from it these past few months, considering that the two of you had been living like hermits. But on the rare occasion he happened to wander out into public, there was almost always someone who recognized the Boy Who Killed Voldemort’s Snake.

“We’ll have to brainstorm some new excuses,” you said with a resolute nod.

Really, you should have remembered that magic exists when you came up with the quill idea, but to be fair, it was better than Neville’s plan to claim that he was sick with the highly-contagious doxy flu anytime a stranger tried to approach him.

After putting on a pair of shoes and casting your respective Disillusionment Charms, you followed Neville through the fireplace, Flooing directly into St. Mungo’s reception area.

The chaos inside momentarily stopped you in your tracks. You’d never had a reason to visit St. Mungo’s before, and you couldn’t help but gawk at the various witches and wizards gathered in the large waiting room. One man swaying unsteadily in line appeared to have his legs spelled on backwards. A woman whose entire body was covered in green boils napped in a nearby chair. There was even a man seated against the opposite wall with a continuous stream of soap bubbles pouring from his ears and floating up to the ceiling.

Neville, of course, didn’t seem to be phased by any of it. He’d surely grown used to such sights after visiting for so many years.

“This way,” he said, taking your hand and leading you through the double doors past the inquiries desk. He took out his wand to remove the Disillusionment Charm only once you’d reached a quiet stairwell.

“That felt a bit… unauthorized,” you said, patting nervously at your hair and hoping you were still presentable. “Will we get in trouble if someone finds out we haven’t, I don’t know, signed in anywhere?”

“No, they keep track of everyone who passes through the Floo. Whoever’s currently attending mum and dad probably already knows we’re on our way. Although”—Neville sent you an apologetic look—“they’re on the fourth floor.”

The last time you climbed four flights of stairs at once was during the Battle of Hogwarts, caught in a panicked crowd of students rushing through the castle and ducking spellfire. The months since then had been, for the most part, very slow-paced and sedentary. Your legs were not going to like this.

“Right. Well.” You straightened and took in a big breath. “Up we go.”

You and Neville were both huffing and puffing slightly by the time you reached the fourth floor. In the brief pause the two of you took to catch your breath, you made a mental note to find a magical solution to make climbing stairs more tolerable. Some sort of numbing charm below the knees? No, tripping would be entirely too easy. A Feather-Light Charm? Possibly, though if you cast it too strongly you might be liable to launch yourself over the whole staircase and into the wall.

Whatever. You’d figure it out later.

You followed Neville along the Spell Damage corridor, straight to a door at the far end, which happened to be the entrance to the Janus Thickey Ward. He knocked, and a few moments later a lock clicked from the other side and a middle-aged witch in green Healer robes answered.

“Neville, dear!” she greeted, reaching up to give his cheek a fond little pinch.

“Hello, Miriam,” Neville said, enduring her fawning. You had to hold back a laugh.

“I’ll say, it was such a wonderful surprise to see you were stopping by. And with company, no less.” Miriam turned her twinkling eyes towards you.

You introduced yourself, giving her hand a polite shake. “I’m Neville’s—” You paused, not sure how you should label your relationship in front of Miriam. The fact that you and Neville had started dating was something only your immediate families knew, so far.

You cast a questioning look at Neville. He nodded at you, a small smile curving his mouth.

“—girlfriend,” you finished.

All your other current anxieties aside, saying it out loud still made you feel embarrassingly giddy.

“Girlfriend!” Miriam exclaimed, beaming at you and Neville. “Oh, isn’t that just delightful! I’m Miriam Strout; I’m so pleased to meet you, darling. Come in, come in.” Healer Strout ushered the two of you through the doorway.

The Janus Thickey Ward was a long, open room with a number of beds lining the walls, each sectioned off by a set of floral-patterned curtains. Despite the somewhat sterile feel of the tiled floors and the off-white walls, the residents here were long term, and the collection of personal effects made the room a bit friendlier: things like knitted blankets, family photos, stacks of books, house slippers. You could even recognize a song by the Forty Phantoms playing on a radio somewhere nearby.

“Your father’s been a bit sleepy this morning, Neville, but he and the missus were both awake the last time I checked. I’m sure they’ll both be happy to see you,” Healer Strout said, locking the entrance once again with a wave of her wand. “Are either of you thirsty? We have a new elf in the kitchens that makes the most excellent cup of masala chai.”

“That’s alright, Miriam. We’ve got it from here,” Neville said.

“Thank you, though,” you added on.

“Of course, just tell me if you need anything.” And with that, Healer Strout stepped away to tend to a nearby patient who was standing on top of his mattress, stretching to pin a photo to the wall amidst an already-excessive number of portraits. All of which appeared to be self portraits.

He looked awfully familiar, in fact.

Wait. That wasn’t…?

“Gilderoy, you silly man, what have I told you about climbing up there?” Healer Strout called out fondly. “Falling down and bumping your head is the last thing you need!”

You whipped around to look at Neville. “Lockhart?” you whispered.

He nodded with a grimace. “Don’t make eye contact, he’ll take it as an invitation to show you his fan mail collection.”

The two of you hurried away.

Neville lost a bit of his steam as you neared the end of the ward, slowing his steps and running a nervous hand through his hair. You were nervous too, but you still made the effort to send him a supportive smile. He returned it, a bit wobbly, but there nonetheless.

And then before you knew it, you were standing in front of the floral curtain drawn around the very last two beds. “Mum? Dad?” Neville said. He grabbed the edge and pulled it open.

You’d seen photos of Alice and Frank Longbottom from their Auror days; Neville’s gran had several hanging proudly in her home. You’d always been struck by Neville’s likeness to his mother. Sure, he’d ended up with his father’s height and smile, but the rest belonged to Alice: his coloring, his round cheeks, his gentle eyes.

Now, though, it was evident that the life and verve you’d seen in those photos had been drained from Neville’s parents over the years. The familial resemblance was much more difficult to pick out in their current state.

Frank was propped up in his hospital bed with a heavy quilt draped over his lap, donning a thick, knitted jumper despite the warm weather. He gazed vacantly out the nearest window, which had been spelled to show a pleasant view of the English countryside. Meanwhile, Alice was sat in an armchair between the two beds, wearing a pink cardigan over her nightdress and fiddling with something small and papery in her hands.

They were both gaunt and pale as a sheet. Their hair had turned white, and their skin had creased and wrinkled, aging them far beyond their years. Neither Frank nor Alice reacted to their son’s arrival, and you had to wonder if they even realized anyone was there at all.

“Hi guys,” Neville said quietly, stepping forward and sitting himself on edge of his mother’s bed.

It took you a moment, but you eventually managed to unstick your feet from the floor, making sure to close the curtain behind you before taking a seat next to Neville.

He cleared his throat and continued. “It’s Tuesday, August 4th, 1998. I turned eighteen last week. Sorry I didn’t stop by sooner for my birthday, but I wanted to bring someone along this time.” Neville introduced you then, telling his parents your name.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom,” you said, your hands clasped tightly in your lap.

Again, they showed no reaction. Not that you thought you would get one out of them. You just weren’t used to it yet: speaking to someone so unresponsive.

Neville, however, was clearly well practiced in these one-sided conversations with his parents. “I know you’ve, erm, heard quite a lot about her,” he continued, casting a somewhat sheepish glance your way. “I just figured you should finally meet each other, now that we’re together. Though, really, I should’ve— I should’ve brought her ‘round a long time ago. She survived meeting Gran when we were twelve, after all.”

You huffed a laugh, remembering how terrifying the formidable Augusta Longbottom had seemed back then, nearly making you sick with nerves when faced with her hard, assessing eyes and stern tone. Neville had to assure you multiple times that his gran didn’t hate you the way you feared she might. In fact, after taking some time to warm up to you, she actually grew to be quite fond of you, often asking after you in her letters while Neville was away at Hogwarts.

You’d always remained quietly cautious of her, knowing how easily and often her sharp words could cut through Neville. There was no doubt Augusta loved him, surely, but that didn’t mean her standards for her grandson weren’t high, or that the comparisons she made between him and his father weren’t harsh. It was only over the course of the last year that Neville had finally gained his gran’s approval, and some of the bumps in their relationship seemed to have smoothed over.

“It wasn’t so bad. We get along pretty well these days, I think,” you said, looking to Frank as you spoke of his mother.

You weren’t expecting to find anything other than Frank’s blank stare still fixed on the window, unmoving, save for the slow rise and fall of his chest—which is why it was so startling when he sat forward and rose to his feet with a quiet grunt. You straightened your posture, briefly thinking he was going to approach you, but Frank’s eyes skipped over you and Neville completely as he shuffled past his bed.

Neville followed suit and stood. “Dad?”

“Is he okay?” you asked with a concerned frown.

“Yes, uh, he’s probably just headed to the washroom,” Neville said, already trailing after his father. “I’ll walk him there. We’ll be right back.”

They both passed through the curtain, where you heard Healer Strout call out, “You boys alright?”

“All good, Miriam, I’ve got him!”

That left you alone with Alice.

You floundered, unsure how to fill the silence between you, punctuated only by the crinkling of whatever Alice was still turning over in her hands. You tried to think of what a mother might like to speak about with her son’s girlfriend upon their first meeting, but you didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for this sort of thing. The only common ground you could find with her on short notice was, well, Neville.

“Neville is really good at Herbology,” you blurted. Then, sheepishly, “…You probably already know that, though.”

Great start.

“It’s what most people know about him. I mean, people who actually knew him before the Battle.” You realized a moment too late that the reminder that her son lived through the horrors of war might not be well received by Alice—assuming there was a chance she could understand you, even if she couldn’t respond—and you quickly moved on. “I struggled with it more the further along in school we got. I’m pretty sure the only reason I managed to pass my Herbology O.W.L. was because of Neville. He made this for me while we were revising that year, see?”

You reached underneath the collar of your shirt and pulled out the necklace that hung there more often than not. The pendant was a petal Neville had plucked from the flutterby bush the two of you had spent time tending to in one of the greenhouses. With the right combination of charms—and some help from Hermione, he’d later admitted—the petal had been hardened and polished, as though encased in glass.

You remembered how the urge to grab his face and kiss him had swooped through you when Neville presented you with the gift after your exams, and you remembered how little that urge had surprised you, even then.

“The fact that we only recently started dating feels rather ridiculous now, looking back on everything,” you muttered, rubbing your finger across the smooth edge of the petal as you peered down at it. “I can’t even pinpoint when I started… fancying Neville. I suppose I’ve always loved him in one way or another.”

You looked up to Alice, feeling somewhat shy and hot in the face after sharing something so honest, and found that her own gaze had risen to settle on your necklace. You stilled your hand and held it out for her to see. She stared for a long moment before returning to her fidgeting. Except this time, she began twisting something, the crinkling sound getting louder.

You leaned forward for a better look at what Alice held in her hands. It was a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, you realized. The was a whole dish of it sitting on the nightstand behind her.

She unwrapped the gum and placed it in her mouth, then held out the wrapper for you.

“Oh… alright,” you said, taking the wrapper. Did she want you to toss it for her? There was a small bin tucked next to the nightstand, but it was clearly within her reach. Uncertain what to do, you smoothed out the waxy piece of paper into a neat little rectangle, idly admiring the gold foil around the edges.

It wasn’t much longer before Neville and his father returned. Once Frank was situated in bed, Neville returned to his seat by your side, smiling at both you and his mother. However, he froze when he caught sight of the Drooble’s wrapper in your hand.

“Neville? Are you alright?” you asked.

“Is that—? Did she give that to you?” His wide eyes darted back to Alice, whose jaw was working as she chewed on her gum.

“Yes. Was she not supposed to? I can throw it away—”

“No!” Neville’s outburst made you pause from where you’d risen to your feet, and he grimaced at himself, urging you to sit back down with a gentle hand on your arm. “No, no, sorry. It’s fine.”

“Well, if you’re certain.”

“I am.” He hesitates for a moment. “She’s… giving you a gift. It’s all she has to give, really. But it’s for you.”

You looked over at Neville in surprise, emotion suddenly twisting inside your chest. You could see some of it reflected in his face, the crinkle of his eyes, the slope of his mouth. A face you loved so dearly, made of the two people sitting across from you.

You swallowed a bit roughly and held onto the wrapper with care. “Thank you, Mrs. Longbottom.”

Neville pulled you into his side and laid a kiss on your temple.

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fic #my writing

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leggerefiore · 5 months ago

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I've been forced to push myself too much at work and now I'm sick and exhausted 😩 can I request the dead inside trio and submas comforting a sick/overworked s/o??

I struggled a lot with this one so it's probably not my best

cw: stress, comfort, mentions of fainting in some parts

character: Ingo, Emmet, Nanu, Cyrus, Larry

▲Ingo▼

● His immediate thought is to scold you after you basically collapsed from overwork. As your emergency contact, he was naturally the one they called when it occurred. When you declared yourself fine, if not just a bit tired, he helped get you back home to rest. Your work had so kindly given you a few days off work to recuperate, seemingly horrified at the thought they were quite literally working you ragged. So, as you lay in bed at home, Ingo also took opted to take a few days off to help you relax, too. His worrying would have made doing his normal work next to impossible, he knew. Emmet was more than happy to give him the time, anyway, knowing how badly he often overworked himself, too. It may have felt a bit hypocritical when Ingo chided you for letting yourself be worked like that, but it was a sign of his genuine care. He was in an absolute panic when he got the call about your collapse and could not have gotten off the battle line any sooner.

● Ingo will make you rest. There will be no chores or anything done until you had at least a day or two of unwinding. At best, you can convince him to help him as he handles the chores. At worst, he chases you away from even something as simple as folding towels. He does not want you to further exhaust yourself – The image of you suddenly collapsing now burned into his mind. Why your work thought it was okay to treat you like this until the very extremes was beyond him. He certainly would never do that to his employees. That could endanger the lives of so many for little return. He bites his lip as he knows you will not want the offer to work under him. It was wrong for him to consider nepotism there, even when it came from genuine concern for you.

● Instead, he focuses that energy into doting on you. Ingo dutifully makes many dishes that you like simply so you keep up with meals, worries that it may have also been a factor in some way. Any hobbies you have are also brought up and engaged if it suits you. He also spends plenty of time just cuddled up with you and reminding you how much he does truly love you. Part of his behaviour is like an overbearing mother. This has shocked him horribly, and he now completely understands how you feel when he overworks himself. Internally, he makes a promise to never do that to himself again if you feel this horrible concern as he does. In the end, you will feel well rested and stress-free. Ingo works tirelessly to make it so. You both make a promise to not let the other do that to themself any more.

▽Emmet△

○ The younger twin notices the telltale signs of your behaviour and feels a mild annoyance. Nothing really bad, just a thought that you and Ingo were acting for too similarly for his liking. He is certain to stop you before it becomes bad. A bright smile on his lips as he tells you to demand time off work. He feels you need at least a day to gather yourself, but he knows more would be better here. No matter what, he would panic if you got worse. Emmet is bad at expressing his worry, and he may just actually go into your job, ask for you, pick you up, and carry you away. He is just impossibly worried. Ingo is bad enough… The thought of you in such a state is enough to make him start being more aggressive in his battles. When you finally do get that time off, he finally eases him up on people to a point where it is noticeable and debated among Depot Agents.

○ Emmet instantly takes off time alongside you. He is so worried about you and wants to make sure that you actually relax on your time off. His mind thinks about a time he forced Ingo to take a day off and came home to find him having cleaned their shared apartment. He does not want something similar to occur here. Any household chores and needs can be handled by him. He will not pretend like he enjoys doing them particularly, but making sure that you are resting his highest priority. There is something oddly endearing about the younger twin dutifully washing dishes while you lay out on the couch cuddling with his Galvantula (who he asked to keep you busy). Seeing you unwind makes him feel immense relief, truthfully. The poor man was nearly really about to physically drag you from your work to make you relax.

○ He gets take out from any place you want in an attempt to make sure you are getting proper meals and not having to stress yourself with even minor cooking. He internally knows he is being a bit ridiculous there, but he has scared himself too much. His cooking skills are lacking, and he is a bit terrified of somehow accidentally poisoning you. Joltik cuddle time is assured also. He figures the little bugs have some energy to spare with you, and time spent with some cute things might reinvigorate your exhausted mind. Emmet cuddle time happens as well. He is almost constantly all over you since he is just so worried. There will be no escaping his affection. (Unless you tell him you cannot relax with him clinging to you. In which he will pout but relent.) You have to promise him that you will not let this happen so badly again. You and Ingo will make him “was Emmet” instead at this rate.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 He notices when you start overworking yourself and throws out a helpful remark about not doing that. Nanu knows there is not a lot you can really do – especially if it's work making you like this. At best, he can tell you about standing your ground, but he knows boundaries will not always be respected. He does feel a bit frustrated seeing you like that despite it all. His indifferent facade melts away, especially after you end up having bad exhaustion spells. It is then that he helps you schedule time off since you clearly need it. He has seen some people collapse from exhaustion back in his International Police days, so he refuses to let you get to that point. And, admittedly, he used to be guilty of overworking, too. Obviously, not these days, but he still remembers.

🌑 Your time off is spent strictly away from anything that might be too much. Nanu cannot really stop you, in truth, should you want to, though. Mostly, he just asks that you let yourself relax and forget about any obligations for at least a day if they are not overly important. It is hard to deny the old man such a request. Besides, his Meowths are clearly ready to lounge around with you. How could you say no to some lazy times with the kitties? You really cannot decline when one opts to curl up on your lap and sleeps so peacefully while purring. (Nanu sent them after you, wanting to make sure you had a little time off your feet.) The Kahuna opts to handle a few things around the home to keep them off your mind, too. There is something a little sweet about catching the old man folding laundry and glancing at you reading on the couch.

🌑 He also goes out of his way to subtly do numerous things for you to help you recover. Casually, he will pick up takeout for you to eat or even try to bravely cook you something of edible quality. There is something nice about simply sharing a meal with you and helping you relax. Usually, you end up lounging out on the couch, watching some show half-heartedly. His arm rests around your shoulder as he pulls you close to him. Red eyes drift, to you leaning against him, and a sigh leaves him. He was ready to do everything you wanted, honestly. You could ask him to juggle, and after his initial deadpan, he may just try. You agree to be more careful next time in the end, seeing how genuinely concerned that Kahuna was for you.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He fails to notice at first – Something that will bother him immensely for far longer than he will ever admit. The blue-haired man usually does keep a close eye on you, as he is distantly aware that he worries about you far too much. Yet here, where he felt it most important, he had failed. You had fainted at work from sheer exhaustion, and he had been called as your emergency contact. Mortification was the only thing he could feel while rushing over to get you. Whatever harsh words that he used to hit your workplace with about being so negligent were swallowed as he instead confirmed that you were otherwise alright. Thankfully, they gave you a few days off in response to such a grievous situation. Or, perhaps, it was due to Cyrus's terrifying expression as he helped you up.

☄️ Whatever hypocritical nature may be present as he scolds you about taking adequate breaks and pacing yourself with work completely goes over his head. Even attempting to bring it up will make him insist that it is different from what he is doing. (In a sense, it is.) He also bars you from doing any housework. Cyrus has no reservations about doing them anyway— It is almost relaxing to him in a way. (Once again, chiding him back for overworking will not lead to realisation.) There is even an offer to book you some kind of spa or massage appointment to help you further relax. He would admit to having gone to a few himself during more light moments of stress. Cyrus would take off the day following you passing out, but not really anymore. Though, he does check in on you throughout the day. If you do take the spa offer, however, he may join you. Free Cyrus date at the cost of your mental and physical health.

☄️ Most of his real effort is far subtler. He is not inexperienced in cooking and will take over that while you recover. Most of the meals are more basic, but there is a surprise attempt at making something he knows that you like. It is not half bad. He also seems to come home more regularly, wanting to make sure that everything is going well and that your condition is not worsening. This means more time to spend with him. While he usually opts to focus on home upkeep, if you ask for some physical affection, he will relent to it. Your comfort matters most to him as it stands. He honestly is willing to do many things he otherwise would refuse normally simply to make you happy. (If he was even in the middle of his plans, he might be willing to drop them if it seems like they would stress you out even more.) In the end, you do make the decision not to overwork yourself because Cyrus obvious worry is a rare thing, and it made it clear that what you were doing was too much.

💼Larry🏢

🍙 He does not notice. There is a large amount of shame in failing to notice this happening, yet his work simply keeps him too tired to really give anything his full attention. Sure, he had seen the signs, but he had thought it was mostly him projecting. Then, you suddenly had intense fatigue at work and had to call him to come pick you up. He was mortified when he recognised you symptoms as so familiar to him. This was a common thing he experienced, admittedly. Walking you home, he asked you to schedule a few days off if possible. He knew it was a lead into a fainting episode or extreme burnout. Both of which he thought were best to avoid. He knew how difficult management could be, but he was far too worried about you. There was some relief that it got approved quickly soon after.

🍙 He struggles to really know what to do to relax. Whenever he gets himself into such a state, he usually sleeps for a few days until he has to return to work. Whether you wanted to do that or not was beyond him, but he does mention it. There is some mention of how to better manage a workload between you both, but it is a struggle for him, too. How you kept going on so long like that was truly not within his range of comprehension. Larry opts to aid you by covering house chores and doing other various things for you. He could not get any time off to join you himself, but he works to avoid overtime, so you have him around more. His Staraptor seems to decide to keep an eye on you, too, when he is home. The bird cawing whenever you tried to do anything more intense than putting dishes in a dishwasher. It seemed that if it could not stop its trainer from stressing himself, it would stop you.

🍙 Larry is not only coming home more often, but he tries to be more engaging with you when at home. Casual check-ins on you become more common since he does not want to fail to notice anything going on with again. Lazy affection is also common. You both often end up lounging on the couch together, forgetting whatever woes had been bothering you. He frequently calls ahead before he comes home, too, to ask about what food you want. He is certainly no cook, but he does know the best restaurants in Medali. You will whatever food you desire. Larry does not care if he ends up having to visit Kofu to get it. He also discusses the situations vaguely a bit with you and gives you more experienced advice on how to handle situations at work to make life more bearable. In the end, you return back to work better equipped to advocate for yourself, and be more mindful of your workload. Larry is relieved.

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #nanu x reader #cyrus x reader #larry x reader #pokemon/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon cyrus x reader #pokemon nanu x reader #pokemon larry x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #cyrus/reader #nanu/reader #larry/reader

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general-cyno · 1 year ago

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I watched film gold the other day and it's been making me think about luffy's relationship with food wrt zoro and how it's been presented in different OP media.

Aside from the importance the riceball incident holds for the animanga and OPLA, luffy's specific reaction to zoro's injuries after the mihawk duel in the latter is so good. although the LA won't touch luffy's full backstory for a while, it's obvious he loves food in both the usual goofy manner and as something he associates with kindness or a lack thereof. it's why zoro eating the riceballs and sanji feeding gin is important in both iterations of the story. and not only that, OPLA also directly links luffy's appetite to his mood/feelings - when kid!luffy gets sad about shanks's upcoming no-return departure, makino goes out of her way to point out something's really wrong after luffy says he's not hungry. as it is, OPLA used this character trait of luffy's again to highlight how affected he is by seeing zoro (who, at that point, luffy hadn't considered could lose) truly hurt for the first time.

From I'm not really hungry right now, Nami amidst his rising panic, refusing sanji's food, admitting he'd eat his arms and legs to save zoro's life (in the context of what happened to zeff and sanji) and my gut hasn't been so great lately, the message is clear: luffy is not only worried about zoro's wellbeing, he's also very, very upset and willing to go crazy lengths if it means saving zoro. plus, if you watch the LA knowing about sabo and ace, imo it emphasizes further why seeing zoro in such a state makes luffy feel/act the way he does and how much he cares for zoro to react like that to begin with. I love it. I also love that though he rejects the food for himself, luffy admits while rambling that he wants zoro to eat and asks sanji to prepare food he believes zoro would like, even if he quickly concludes letting him rest is probably the best option instead.

That last part brings me to thriller bark, in the manga. It's not food per se and it's portrayed less seriously, but he still tries to have zoro - unconscious and wounded after You Know What - drink an entire barrel of booze because luffy knows how much he loves it (as much as luffy loves meat) and believes it will make zoro wake up/feel better. comedic as it may be intended to be, it's also kinda sweet. luffy's shown more than a few times to recuperate ridiculously fast and in an equally ridiculous manner from injuries by eating meat, so this is luffy's own way to show how much he cares and that he wants zoro to be well again imo.

This also brings me to the start of thriller bark itself! luffy's offered to share his food before (with nami, for example), yet ig what stood out to me during this part is how he just... offers to share his lunch with zoro simply because luffy wants him to come along. luffy rarely makes that sort of offer for specifically mundane reasons, so. squints.

(the fact that zoro fell right for it is so. lmao.)

And as for film gold - albeit not canon as most of the OP movies are, it's still interesting. for once, it's zoro who ends up in need of rescue. after the whole ordeal with tesoro capturing zoro and pushing the straw hats to try and buy his freedom before the public execution, luffy seeks out food.

And when usopp remarks zoro is more important than that? luffy immediately agrees, but insists that's precisely why he needs to eat.

This is a fun contrast to OPLA luffy though I'd say not necessarily a contradicting one. whereas there's little OPLA luffy can do wrt zoro's injuries, film gold luffy can't afford not to eat because here he needs to be at peak strength to rescue him. I like that the movie showed luffy's frustration too,

and how far he'd go to save him: jumping into a duct that's filled with "vicious golden bats" no one's survived from and launching himself straight against a moving, giant sea prism stone ventilation fan (all related to rescue plan) that franky has to bodily drag him away from before he gets more seriously wounded.

(Quite a reminder luffy's pretty crazy about zoro too!)

All in all, food is a very important aspect of luffy's character whether it's for a comedic or serious effect. though it's made more relevant in the WCI arc, I still love how it's something you can see portrayed in his relationship with zoro throughout OP too, be it in the animanga, the LA or in movies as well.

#zolu #tp #long post #ish #sjdjd the way I was out of brain juice bc of work and the fact that I've been sick for over a week now #but the zolu brainworms once again prevailed #(it's 3am save me)#anyway daily I love zolu so much #forgot to say but the gif is mine btw #jay reads op

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vixenihy · 20 days ago

Text

Reunion: A Flash Fiction

Summary: October 17, 1963. Mrs. Kennedy finally returns from her trip to Greece, and her husband is waiting for her and ready to welcome her home.

Tags/Notes + Pairing: jfk x jackie kennedy, mentions of past infidelity, improved relationship, loss of child mention, caroline and john jr. are in it too lol.

Word Count: 897 words

A/N: this one is shorter and a bit messier than my last fic :,( i’ve been having quite a bit of brain fog so unfortunately some things may be a little off. sorry guys!! i hope you enjoy it <3 divider was made by @/ aquazero. hope you guys caught the jackie 2016 reference ;)

Jack sits in the backseat of the car, nervously playing with his hands in the darkness. Every so often, he looks out onto the empty runway only illuminated by blinking lights. Jackie will be here any minute now, but why do those minutes have to pass so slowly?

The past few weeks had been awfully rough without Jackie; The depression and headaches he acquired from his withdrawals after finally being able to stay abstinent and cut himself away from the rest of his ‘women’ was rough. He’d been so used to that lifestyle, he never realized how addicted he was until he found himself desperately writing a letter at midnight to a woman he had ended his affair with over a year prior. When he read the letter the next morning, he embarrassingly shoved it in the bottom of his desk with the intention of discarding it.

Having to continue to mourn the loss of Patrick on his own after Jackie left was even worse. Sure, he had dealt with plenty of things on his own before, and Jackie had been there for him up until the day she left; but there were times at work where he felt so alone. He didn’t dare bother his wife about it when she was recuperating from the loss. So when he got off the phone with Jackie, there was no one to call, no one to talk to, and no one to see. Just cabinet members and paperwork. When he cried in his wife’s arms that day, he felt as if his eyes were opened to a new world. To be comforted by someone he loved dearly and not shunned for crying made him feel…loved… Though this was an incredible realization for him, he didn’t feel comfortable opening himself up like that with anyone else; at least not yet. Joan was there for him when he secluded himself in his room and didn’t come out, and he’d gotten a few sympathy calls here and there; but it just wasn’t the same as that morning when he felt Jackie lovingly wrap her arms around him as he let his emotions run like a river.

“Daddy, look!” Caroline exclaims, pointing out the window with that innocent smile she shares with her father. “I think I see mommy!” She continues, climbing over her dad and brother to see the plane landing in the once empty runway. Jack can’t help but smile at her excitement and

“I think you’re right, Buttons! Lets go out there and meet her. But stay close to me okay? Don’t run out in front of the plane before they put the stairs down.” He instructs, opening the car door and stepping out before taking Caroline and John’s hands into his.

“I wanna go on the plane!!” John shouts, pulling against his fathers hand as they approach the runway. Jack does his best to hide his own excitement as the stairs are placed in front of the door. And as soon as the door opens, Jack bends down as best he can.

“Go on, go give mommy a hug.” He tells them before rising and letting them rush off ahead of him and climb the stairs.

As Jack follows his children, he finally comes face to face with the woman he missed so dearly.

Jackie looks just as beautiful as she did when she left, and as she rises from greeting Caroline and John to look him in the eyes, she looks just as happy to see him as he does for her.

Without a word, Jack leans over and takes Jackie in his arms. His back issues and lack of experience in physical contact makes his hugs quite stiff, but Jackie doesn’t mind one bit.

Jackie pulls back slightly and wraps her arm around her husbands neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

“I missed you, Jack.” She sighs, shuffling the two of them away from the open door so that they can’t be photographed by the swarm of paparazzi outside and holding him close.

“I missed you too, Jackie…” Jack smiles, letting go of his wife and glancing at the open door leading out the crowds of photographers awaiting the First Lady’s return.

“You’ve got quite an audience out there…Are you ready?” He asks teasingly, brushing a lock of hair out of Jackie’s eyes.

“Of course, I love crowds.” She replies, her voice laced with sarcasm. She pulls away from her husband and reveals herself to the sea of cameras. They run their films and snap their flashbulbs at the family as they descend the stairs and make their way to the car waiting for them. Jackie is the first to enter the car, then the children, and finally Jack.

“It’s good to have you home, Mrs. Kennedy. Now, why don’t you tell me about Greece. I take it that you had a good time?” Jack teases, reaching his arm over their children clinging to their mother so that he can put his arm over her shoulder.

“You’ll know when we get home….” Jackie smiles back, giving her husband a discreet wink before looking down at Caroline and John, who had managed to fall asleep in their mothers lap. “But first, I think it’s time for bed.” She finishes quietly just as the car comes to a stop in front of the White House…

#tw loss of child mention #tw past infidelity #jfk #kennedyposting #john f kennedy #john fitzgerald kennedy #jfk x jackie #fic #flash fiction #jackie kennedy #the kennedys #jacqueline kennedy

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aspiring-writer-hidden-voice · 1 year ago

Text

Result of the DB/Z/Super Poll:

Tie for first place:

DBS Beerus x f!reader

“You don’t say?” Bulma’s eyebrows furrowed with interest as Jaco brandished a holographic flyer. “And this pop star is taking the galaxy by storm through music? Sorry, that doesn’t seem really like our kind of thing.”

The Galaxy Patrolman scoffed, acting wounded while taking back the device. “That right there shows that you have no idea! She’s dubbed Goddess of Music for a reason and you are just too thick to realize why.”

“Come again?” She growled menacingly with steadily growing embers within her gaze.

“I’m just saying that if you of all people on Earth haven’t the slightest understanding that having her grace this planet with a performance is heavenly then you clearly do not wish to know that I’ve heard rumors she’s looking for a place to lay low for a while.”

Rumbling earned their curious gazes to rise in time to spot a dust storm worthy of classic writing lore a moment before nearly being billowed by the wind following a figure who appeared from its core with golden eyes wide and ears standing at attention, a slim tail lashing behind them. Purple-gray hued skin, not a single strand of hair to be seen, large ears and manicured paws for hands, the God of Destruction himself was barely recognizable courtesy of the glimmering stars threatening to give away the hidden emotions swirling within. “Run that by me once again, little man.”

Amused, Bulma couldn’t help but poke light fun when spotting Whis appearing a moment later with several bowls of whipped parfaits wearing a shocked expression. “Oh, there you are. I forgot you were hanging around somewhere nearby.” One of the suspended bowls slipped underneath Beerus’ nose and earned their raised brows when he paid it no mind. “Okay, spill it. For you to ignore food means that something is special about this girl.”

“You just don’t know the music of Calliope and even if you heard it I doubt you’d appreciate it.” Jaco’s hands rose when noticing a certain glare from the feared entity, beginning to sweat profusely. “A-all I’ve heard is that she may be taking a break from tour and is currently in search of somewhere to recuperate! One of the guys at work knows someone who knows someone—”

“Get to the point.”

“—from the sounds of it she’s expressed an interest in Earth but she isn’t sure if this corner of the cosmos is ready for her music!”

Almost in the same manner of a rocket, the mighty God of Destruction appeared inches from Jaco’s face. “Tell me you’re not joking or I swear I’ll destroy you now.”

“It’s the truth! I swear it on my life and I would never lie to Bul—I mean to you!”

Tension hung heavily in the air as the slanted golden eyes bore into the small patrolman until he straightened stiffer than a ruler. “If what you are saying is true, and I’m not saying I believe you, then there is much work to be done.”

Bulma shared a questioning look with Whis who looked just as lost as the Earthling woman.

….

Golden eyes narrowed with disgust while regarding the stage. “Wrong, it’s all wrong. Start again.”

A unified exclamation rose from the people who had been working diligently since appointed beneath his guidance. “That makes seven redesigns in the last four days!”

“Well, then, make it eight and stop wasting my time by doing it right the first time I asked!” Beerus snapped, visibly deflating while settling into a nearby chair resting beneath its umbrella. “I can hear your condescending snickers from here, Whis, so you better shut up before I destroy you along with those ingrates.”

Beside him appeared a tall fair blue skinned individual who cooed softly to the rich chocolate desert within his hold. “Forgive me, my lord, I did not mean offense.” Between his lips disappeared the spoon laced with thick fudge, powdered sugar, tart cherry, and fluffy cake that earned his bright smile and wiggle of the spine. “Oh, Almighty, this is truly divine!” He momentarily grew serious when no interest was shown by the God of Destruction. They’ve come to know each other very well in the past several centuries, he boasted to practically know the cat-like deity better than a dragon its own scales, however these last few days have been truly interesting to behold. As if something had come over the once stoic, cold, indifferent being. The desert was placed off to the side, with regret, before he fixed his gaze upon Beerus. “Come now, is it truly worth getting all excited over something so silly?” If he noticed the sudden heavy pressure within the air Whis chose to ignore it. “That musician was looking for a place to relax, not put on a show. Wouldn’t it be rude to shove something like this into her face and practically demand a performance when she’s utterly exhausted from traveling or worse?” So sooner had his words faded to silence did the chair become vacant. “My lord?”

Wordlessly, he stalked towards the incomplete stage as the workers quickly retreated upon seeing his approaching form. They were left speechless and highly frustrated when with a tap of a claw the entire structure was rendered to piles of ash. “What are you fools going on about now? I just saved you several more days of complaining so show a little gratitude.” Beerus fixed each in turn with narrowed eyes. “Or perhaps you wished to be entombed within your failed production.”

Both of his ears perked when telltale pings sounded from the scepter his Angel used.

Whis, taken by surprise, stood and peered into the sphere. “Would you look at that, an unmarked ship is approaching Earth as we speak.”

Disappointment permeated the air as Beerus returned to his seat. “Don’t get my hopes up like that.” Swiping the desert, he began eating with vigor and gusto worthy of a God of Feast rather than a God of Destruction.

“Would you like another?” A soft voice came from the side, earning Whis’ pout before it turned into a grin as several similar dishes were placed carefully across the table. You cast a smile, and a wink, from over your shoulder when Beerus took a moment to take in your appearance. “I made those specifically for you by my own hands so I can’t wait to hear how you like them.”

Almost too faintly for you to hear came a unified gasp from the pair before near identical croons of happiness.

Bulma brightened when you stepped into the kitchen, hands clasping your own. “You’re truly a lifesaver, seriously. When our chef that they’ve attached to became ill I wasn’t sure what I was going to do! Then dad said you were looking for work and had recommended you for the position! I hope they weren’t too rude.”

“Trust me when I say I’ve encountered much worse.” You grinned brightly. “It’s nice to be doing something like this with my hands. I better get back to work though to make sure our guests stay satisfied.”

“Too true,” the blue haired genius waved while walking towards the entrance, “but be sure to take as many breaks as you need!”

“Will do!”

It wasn’t until the door closed with a hiss that you released a sigh of relief. A pair of headphones were procured as if from thin air that you secured upon your head and faint notes of music could be heard as you went about the kitchen. What should you make this time?

….

Alarms blared wildly as Bulma sat upright in bed, blinking wildly when spotting her Saiyan husband by the window staring down as flashing lights. “What’s going on?! Is it the media again?” Her arms crossed. “What did you do?”

“Quiet, woman, I’m trying to listen.” His narrowed eyes slanted farther. “Appears that the authorities who wear blue are preventing someone from entering.”

A glance at the clock earned her groan before swinging her legs over the bed’s side. “It’s four in the morning, it’s probably (Y/n) trying to come to work. Guess dad forgot to add her to the directory.”

“Don’t move.”

“And why the hell not?”

Vegeta’s lip curled. “Your interference is not needed since they have turned from detaining to entertained.”

Blinking, she crossed the room to peer out of the window alongside her Prince and felt her jaw hit the floor before a face breaking grin lifted her lips.

….

“How were those deserts?” You asked with a smile, clearing away the dirty platters and dishes to place them upon the cart you’d brought. “I hope they were to your liking.”

“Truly amazing, my compliments to the baker!” Whis hummed.

Beerus made to ignore your question if not for the nudge of a food. Clearing his throat, his golden gaze met yours, earning a warm ember to nestle within your gut. “They were perfectly adequate and acceptable.”

No sting of disappointment came at his words, only appreciation, earning his blink of shock when you genuinely smiled instead of withered beneath his gaze. “I’ll make the next ones even better, you just wait! I want to hear from your own lips that my food is delicious. Then I’ll share with you my super-delicious-ultra-special desert.”

“Perhaps you should make it instead of hyping it up.” A smirk appeared upon his face. “Why boast when you can flaunt?”

Whis’ lips parted to reprimand the God of Destruction’s jab but they pursed, eyes widening, when you cocked a hip and lowered your face to be inches away from the deity.

“And when was the last time you made anything with those hands, hm?” There was no mistaking the challenge within your tone as a slow blooming smirk raised your lips the longer silence filled the air.

With a huff, he turned his head. “I’ve done things with these hands you couldn’t scarcely imagine, human, so I suggest you mosey on back to the kitchen for our next course. Besides, I am a God of Destruction not of confections.”

A bell was struck, ringing clearly through the air as the surrounding outer backyard that belonged to the Brief family.

“Thanks for joining me! We can start off easy with a simple meringue.” You clapped your hands, internally relishing when Whis smirked at the scepter he quickly hid when anger filled golden eyes locked upon him. The outside had vanished to be replaced by the all too familiar kitchen you’ve come to call home.

“What the hell are you playing at?!”

“Lord, would you mind cracking a few eggs?”

The glare was fixated upon you as a carton passed from your hands to sit before him. For a moment you surmised that he would still fight but for some reason, after his gaze meeting yours, he picked up one of the fragile shelled items. It almost immediately shattered between his claws. This earned his great displeasure once noticing a certain Angel suppressing a chuckle.

“No worries,” you soothed, placing another within his hand, “let’s try again.”

“Treating me like a child will earn you my wrath if you’re not careful, human,” he growled lowly. Despite his own words, Beerus indeed handled the egg with a bit more care as you showcased how he should rightfully crack.

Yolk and whites were separated with each egg he successfully freed from its shell. Sugar was added to the whites, which were made into fluffy clouds courtesy of a handheld whisk procured from a drawer. It was then that you revealed a pretzel pie crust that had been cooling in the refrigerator along with a bowl of previously prepared cream cheese. Both Destroyer and his Angel watched with fascination as you helped them to fold the meringue into the mixture, farther earning their wide eyed expressions when you lightly smacked reaching purple-gray hued fingers.

“Ah-ah, no snitching until its done.” A dollop of whipped cream appeared upon Beerus’ nose. “You can munch on that until I say its done. If you’d like, you can pick what toppings should go with it.”

Upon his forehead appeared a growingly frustrated tick mark while Whis happily disappeared into the nearby pantry. Surely this female knew just what he was capable of and to not irk him farther. His assumption was completely thrown out the window when you took a moment to fix him with a serious expression. The need to snap and question you was stifled when noticing something that made him pause. “That earring. It looks familiar.” Beerus eased himself closer, eyes narrowing to get a better look at the lone piece of jewelry you wore.

Panic made your heart begin to pound harder as his breath wafted your face. “O-oh, this? It used to be a necklace but the chain broke and thought that—”

“It suits you.”

Shock and awe filled you at his tone of sincerity. Did he, the God of Destruction, just compliment you? “Thank you very much,” you managed once he retreated far enough for you to breathe fresh air, “that’s kind of you to say.”

“I simply can’t decide! Lord Beerus, shall we go with sweet or savory?”

Like a glow stick, the fragile atmosphere cracked audibly when the deity huffed. Though that did make an idea come to him when you hurried to help the Angel carry in possible options. “I think we should be a bit adventurous and try something combining both. What do you say with including chunky salt and a sauce?”

“I like where this is going.” You smiled, searching the cabinets until brandishing a sea salt shaker then selecting both caramel and white chocolate chips. The entirety of your attention fixated upon the pair when they voiced doubtful objections, your gaze meeting gold. “Do you trust me?”

What an odd question. In the many years of being in his position, Beerus had never hears such an inquiry made of him. Such things meant little to beings such as himself because it was unnecessary. Yet the way you were looking at him, with those eyes and the unique air about you, set his mind, possibly very soul, at ease. “I suppose I can indulge you. Yes, for now, I shall.” Deep within his being something warmed as your cheeks lightly dusted pink.

“I promise to not betray it.”

And he believed you.

….

A frustrated growl filled the air when Destructor and Angel returned to their original seats beneath a large umbrella. “Seriously? Why do I have to wait two hours?” Beerus scowled, nostrils flaring slightly while stretching then settling. “What a bore. Just what are we supposed to do to pass the time?”

“And just where have the two of you been?”

He didn’t have to open his eyes which had closed. “None of your business, Bulma, move along.” Indignation filled him when a finger swiped across his skin, fangs shining brightly as he revealed them with a venomous hiss. “How dare you!”

Bulma blinked while inspecting the residue upon her skin. “Is that powdered sugar?”

“And what business is it of yours?”

“We were helping a certain young female create a desert within the kitchen not too long ago. Now we simply have to find some way of entertaining ourselves until its ready.” Whis’ bottom lip protruded in a pout. “I’m simply dying to taste it but I’ll hold out because of her assurances it would be to die for!”

Blinking, the blue haired woman blanked then brightened. “Oh, you’re talking about (Y/n), right?” Bulma bit her lip as Beerus confessed to not asking for your name. This was almost too good! “Well I have some good and bad news for you.”

Both sat upright with stiff spines, eyes widened once she finished speaking. “What do you mean she left?! What about our desert?!”

“Something came up for her and she had no choice—”

“Find her now.” Beerus’ growl earned their partial amusement when he failed to notice a figure who appeared from behind.

The tap of your finger upon his shoulder earned a sideways glare before it melted into something akin to admiration. Gone were your rudimentary clothes to be replaced by spectacular clothes that swayed with each movement of your body. There was no denying that he instantly knew who you really were. “I’ve been looking for you both. I should’ve known to start here first.” A decorated container was procured with a wave of your hand that slipped itself into his hold. “I hope you’re satisfied with tasting something you’ve made with the people you care for most. Cooking is one of my fave pastimes and I had a lot of fun! Let’s be sure to do this again sometime!”

Incomplete words leapt from between his quivering lips as you pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

“Be sure to take good care of Earth, okay? I definitely want to come back the next time I need to recharge!” With a wave and bow, you disappeared in a flurry of sparkles.

Bulma and Whis failed to contain their grins when the God of Destruction practically melted into a puddle with an equally goofy smile. How odd to see such a being as himself in such a state. Their amusement, however, was short lived as he carefully placed the desert upon the chair he’d vacated then faced the two of them with steadily growing malice.

“How long have you two known that she was Calliope this entire time?”

#dragon ball super #dragon ball super x y/n #dragon ball super x f!reader #dragon ball super x you #dragon ball super Beerus #beerus x reader #beerus x f!reader #beerus x y/n #beerus the destructor #reader is goddess of music #beerus x goddess!reader #beerus the god of destruction x goddess!reader

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fairyniceyeah · 29 days ago

Text

💎🐈‍⬛ I’ll always be with you

Title from MAESTRO (SEVENTEEN)

Summary: After everything went wrong on the flight to LA, Seungcheol just wants to sleep. But a call from a very sick Wonwoo shatters his plans.

CW: emeto

Sickie: Wonwoo Caretaker: Seungcheol

Seungcheol threw his phone on the hotel bed and let himself collapse face first onto it as well. With a groan he buried his face in his pillow and swore the next person that wanted something - anything - from him would get a few choice words about sleeping cycles. Even after all those years time zones confused him a bit but he was sure that three at night was a terrible time to be awake whatever place you were.

They had finally arrived in America after a five-hour delay in Incheon, a missed transfer in Tokyo and another two-hours of delay - only to find out that all their bags were somehow in Lagos instead of Los Angeles. Apparently LOS and LAS were too confusing for the people loading the airplanes.

They had argued with the person at the info point at the airport until they found out the truth and at which point Seungcheol had known they needed to buy a lot of new clothes. All their stage outfits were … not there. Neither were their casual clothes. So he had sent Mingyu, Vernon and Seungkwan to go shopping for everybody. Jihoon had only stopped whining about his lost guitar when Joshua had timidly admitted that he may have put all his prescription migraine medications into his suitcase. Which was now on the opposite site of the world. So Joshua and a manager had tried to find a way to get his medication just in case, after finding out that all the medication he had left with his family, which would have been such an easy solution, was way expired.

So, truth be told, Seungcheol just wanted to sleep. Preferably until the managers had sorted all the problems out. At least they had the next day off to recuperate from the jetlag. Small mercies.

The leader was just contemplating the merits of just falling asleep without changing into sleep clothes or brushing his teeth over making himself get up one last time so he wouldn’t feel disgusting in the morning, when his phone rang.

He could just let it ring, right?

Members could figure their own shit out.

The managers even got paid for that.

But Seungcheol also wasn’t an asshole and he was the leader.

So he accepted the call and put it on speaker without looking at the caller ID.

“Yo?”, he greeted, hoping his voice told the other person that he was in no mood to deal with slightly inopportune problems.

Of all the people calling the leader he hadn’t expected him.

“Hyung?”, Wonwoo asked, his voice confused but also with an undertone that Seungcheol couldn’t place.

At once all his annoyance slipped away. Wonwoo had that effect on people, especially his hyungs. Well, it wasn’t like them to deny their dongsaeng anything - Wonwoo only spoke up when he really really wanted something so to get a call out of nothing was a bit disconcerting.

“Wonwoo-yah, what’s up?”

“I’m really sorry to disturb you”, Wonwoo mumbled and hesitated.

When he didn’t continue speaking, Seungcheol started to get confused. What was up with the younger rapper?

“Won…”, Seungcheol started at the same time as Wonwoo continued.

“I threw up.”

Seungcheol froze with the rest of his question on his tongue. Great. This was great. There was nothing more Seungcheol wanted now than to look after a sick dongsaeng. Especially one who apparently had issues keeping his bodily fluids inside.

But it was Wonwoo.

His quiet, knowledgeable and strong dongsaeng, dependable till the end. And he was sick, in a strange country, in a strange city, in a strange hotel. Alone.

It wasn’t like Seungcheol wouldn’t have dropped everything for the other members. Of course he would.

But Wonwoo was the hyung line’s baby in a way. Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Joshua always made sure to pay attention to him so he would not get shoved to the back due to his quietness. He was frail in a way that didn’t fit his tall, broad body but inside there was deep hurt and the need for somebody to hold him every now and then. His past illnesses, his shyness, his grief - it was what made Wonwoo Wonwoo but it was also what made them his hyungs.

Seungcheol must have been a bit too quiet for a bit too long because he was torn out of his thoughts by Wonwoo sounding very apologetic and, despite trying to hide it, even more desperate.

“I’m sorry, I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I’ll be …”

“I’ll be there in a minute”, Seungcheol interrupted him, “don’t worry. What’s your room number again?

“267”, Wonwoo mumbled, “I’m really sorry, hyung.”

Seungcheol was already up and moving when he said: “Don’t be sorry, Wonwoo-yah. You’re sick. It happens. Sure, it’s an inopportune time but when isn’t it, huh?”

264

265

Wonwoo didn’t reply, the only sounds coming over the speakers were deep, controlled breathing and rapid swallowing. He really sounded sick.

266

267

“Can you open your door for me?”, Seungcheol asked, “I’m here.”

“Yeah”, Wonwoo mumbled, swallowing again after he spoke. He sounded so incredibly nauseated that Seungcheol was a bit worried he would never make it to the door without puking on the floor.

How long exactly had Wonwoo been feeling like this?

The door was unlocked and opened to the inside. Seungcheol took in the scene for a moment, his concern rising with everything he saw.

Wonwoo’s glasses were nowhere to be found and his face was so pale it nearly blended in with the white of the wall he was leaning against as if he couldn’t even hold himself up without it - which was likely true. He was wearing sweatpants but no shirt, shivering despite the LA heat. Worst of all, he was clutching the tiny bathroom trash can to his chest, aligned with his chin just in case.

“Hyung…”, he gasped out, the sound ringing double over the phones, breaking off his sentence to retch harshly, a bit of bile spilling from his mouth into the makeshift bucket. Absently Seungcheol ended the call and took a big step towards his dongsaeng. He gently grabbed Wonwoo’s shoulder and steered him further inside the room, kicking the door shut with his foot.

Luckily the bathroom was directly next to the entrance area and with Seungchol's hand on his back, Wonwoo stumbled inside, crashing to his knees in front of the toilet. The leader carefully took the trash can from his grasp, setting it aside. A curious and worried look revealed that Wonwoo had indeed thrown up a bit into it, a small amount of reddish vomit swirling on the bottom. There were some chunks of the pasta he had eaten earlier visible in it and with a sigh, Seungcheol pushed it far away to be dealt with later.

Wonwoo in the meantime had put both elbows on the toilet seat, holding his head over the water. His breathing was shallow as if he was trying not to throw up again. He probably was, considering how much he was trembling and swallowing on top of it all.

Seungcheol gently rubbed circles on his back, not even caring about the sweat he felt stick to his hand. There was unusual heat radiating from his poor dongsaeng, leaving Seungcheol to worry about how high his fever was. A heave caused Wonwoo’s back to jerk forward with the force of it and another mouthful of vomit splashed into the water, closely followed by gags and a second and third wave.

The younger was panting in between bouts, his breath hitching as if he was about to cry. Seungcheol couldn’t fault him for it - he’d probably do the same if he even felt close to how sick Wonwoo seemed.

“Deep breaths”, he whispered into Wonwoo’s ear as another heave, this time at least dry, made Wonwoo whimper. “It’s okay. I got you.”

“‘m so nauseous, hyung”, Wonwoo whispered defeatedly, his voice raw from how badly his throat was probably torn from all the forceful, involuntary spasms.

“I know, baby”, Seungcheol whispered, feeling more than a little helpless in the face of his dongsaeng’s misery. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Wonwoo nodded weakly and breathed in. With Seungcheol’s guidance he took a few more calming breaths before the leader asked: “Let’s lean back a bit now, okay?”

The younger nodded again, though this time even more reluctantly than before. Seungcheol carefully helped him scoot backwards and propped him up against the bathtub, grabbing a towel from the rack to fold a little pillow for him. Wonwoo let him do as he pleased but he nervously eyed the toilet.

“If you need to be sick again, the bathtub will be cleaned easily enough”, Seungcheol assured but made it his most important task to get the fearful look out of his member’s eyes. After gently brushing Wonwoo’s hair behind his ear, giving him just a moment of adoration and comfort, Seungcheol stood up and grabbed the trash can from earlier.

He winced as he now for the first time noticed Wonwoo’s abandoned hoodie laying underneath the sink, a splash of vomit on it. So that at least explained why the rapper was shirtless despite obviously freezing. Even if the circumstances were awkward, Seungcheol was glad that he was not cooking to death in it. His fever would only get higher with clothes like that. For now, however, cleaning the hoodie could wait.

Seungcheol quickly emptied the contents of the trash can into the toilet, internally flinching at the disgusting sound, and flushed it away with whatever else Wonwoo had brought up. He stepped over to the other end of the bathtub and took the hose to wash off the remnants of sick in the can. Sufficiently cleaned for the time being, he knelt down next to Wonwoo and placed it by his side. Wonwoo immediately held onto it - not lifting it in his lap - but keeping a hold of it in case of emergency.

“Let’s get you cleaned off, hm?”, Seungcheol muttered, not expecting an answer from the drained rapper and not receiving one either. He wetted one of the complimentary wash clothes with cold water and then went to sit cross-legged by Wonwoo’s side.

Wonwoo had his other arm wrapped around his sour stomach and his head hung low, chin nearly on his chest. It seemed like he was even too exhausted to keep his head up.

“Hey, baby. Can you look at me?”

He didn’t wait for Wonwoo to respond, instead he cupped the younger’s face with one hand and lifted it up. Coming face to face with Wonwoo for the first time, Seungcheol noted the deep bags under his eyes and the way the dark obs looked far away. Tenderly Seungcheol wiped Wonwoo’s whole face, then took extra care to wipe away the dried bile in the corner of his mouth before moving down to clean and cool off Wonwoo’s chest. The moment the cold cloth touched his skin there, a violent shiver ran through Wonwoo’s body.

“Do you think you can try to drink something? Take some meds for that fever and the nausea?”

Wonwoo shook his head, a hiccough but luckily nothing more escaping him. “Feel too sick.”

“How long have you felt sick?”, Seungcheol asked. He was really starting to get worried about his dongsaeng’s health; the fever, the constant nausea and the forceful vomiting were all concerning.

Wonwoo swallowed before he answered quietly: “Didn’t feel well this morning but I hoped I could sleep it off during the flight. I was okay, most of the time, just not hungry. But when I laid down to sleep earlier, I nearly immediately threw up.”

Seungcheol nodded and abandoned the wash cloth to sit next to Wonwoo and wrap his arm around his shoulder, pulling the younger to lean against his shoulder. This morning - assuming this morning as in when he first woke up before the flight - was over twenty-four hours ago. He rubbed the younger’s upper arm a few times before continuing his questions.

“How do you feel now?”

“Nauseous. My stomach hurts. I thought I’d be empty and feeling better by now but I just feel worse.”

“You’re probably dehydrated, baby.”

“Hm. Been throwing up for nearly half an hour constantly before I managed to call you.”

Seungcheol felt his heart sink to his stomach hearing that his dongsaeng had been so sick alone for so long. There was nothing to be done about it now.

“Next time, tell somebody you feel sick before you throw up, okay?”, Seungcheol reminded him, “I know you wanna be strong but you have twelve people with you who care about you a lot. You didn’t have to be alone tonight.”

“We were all so stressed with the delays and then the bags…”, Wonwoo mumbled, “I didn’t want to make everything worse.”

“Your wellbeing matters more than some stress and bags, baby. We’re a team, a family. Most of the guys were just standing around waiting the whole day, it would have been no problem.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond, just turned his face so he was now completely buried in Seungcheol’s neck and twisted his body so that he was splayed over Seungcheol’s chest and lap. It was a cute sight, domestic in a way that Seungcheol had not expected. Like a sick child desperate to be closer to their parents. He held onto Wonwoo tightly, rubbing his spine up and down for a few minutes.

Pressing a kiss against Wonwoo’s hair, the leader then asked: “Do you want to lie down? You seem done for now and sleep would do you good.”

“Too nauseous”, Wonwoo whispered, lifting his head and looking at Seungcheol with teary eyes. Briefly the older wondered how much Wonwoo actually could see of his face, considering Wonwoo’s terrible eyesight and the haze the tears would paint. But there was also so much trust in Wonwoo’s gaze, knowing he could depend on Seungcheol. Proudness welled up in Seungcheol’s chest.

“We can bring the bucket and put it by your side”, Seungcheol soothed. He would have done so anyways but it wasn’t what seemed to concern Wonwoo.

“No, I mean…” Wonwoo swallowed heavily. “... I get so nauseous when I lie down. That’s, uh, how the hoodie happened.”

That explained a lot. There was no way Seungcheol would make him lie down if it would make Wonwoo’s situation even worse. Right now his stomach seemed to be ready for a truce which they would not tempt.

Nevertheless, Wonwoo desperately needed sleep.

“Okay, let’s try something”, Seungcheol suggested and when he received the affirmation from his dongsaeng he helped Wonwoo move forward a bit, then slipped behind him so that Wonwoo was sitting between his legs.

“Lean back”, he whispered and grabbed the abandoned towel to use as a makeshift pillow against his shoulder. Wonwoo, drained to the core, didn’t need to be told twice. He slumped back and his head nearly immediately lolled towards Seungcheol’s, Wonwoo deeply asleep. Seungcheol wrapped his arms around his shivering body and sighed.

He probably should have checked for a fever before Wonwoo fell asleep but he was not about to wake him up again.

It promised to be a long night.

💎

Seungcheol woke achy and sore to the sound of his phone ringing. He was a bit disorientated, his back and head hurting from the bad position he had slept in. He yawned and winced, then became very aware of the heavy weight leaning against him. Wonwoo. The younger had slipped down a bit in sleep, his head now more on Seungcheol’s chest than on his shoulder.

He was still snoring slightly, totally undisturbed by the sound.

Wanting it to stay that way, Seungcheol patted his pockets and accepted the call before even fully having moved it to his ear.

“... fucking door”, Jeonghan’s voice came through.

“Good morning, Hannie”, Seungcheol greeted, smiling a bit at his best friend’s antics. Jeonghan couldn’t see him, so doing it now wouldn’t bite him in the ass. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been knocking on your door the past ten minutes like an idiot. Open up”, Jeonghan demanded.

“Why?”, Seungcheol asked, happy to tease him a bit. Deserved him right for the rude wake-up call.

“The manager wants to speak with you. There is an issue with the luggage and …”

“I’m not available to deal with the luggage. Tell the managers they have to figure it out themselves.”

“What do you mean ‘not available’? Open your door, mister. You know they will make me deal with it if you don’t.” Jeonghan sounded like he was whining. “Manager-hyung said I have about two minutes left to come back with you.”

Seungcheol laughed a bit, but the movement of his chest seemed to disturb Wonwoo, who shuffled a bit and sighed in sleep. Carefully, Seungcheol stroked his hair, hoping it would soothe him back to sleep. It did the trick.

“I would. However, I am not in my room”, Seungcheol replied.

That stopped Jeonghan’s tirade.

“Well, now I feel even more like an idiot”, Jeonghan said after a moment, stunned. “Shua, stop laughing at me.”

“Shua, keep going”, Seungcheol edged the third 95-liner on, sure that Joshua could hear the whole exchange. He should have expected that Joshua would be trailing Jeonghan even that early in the morning.

“Where are you?”, Joshua asked, coming closer to the speaker. He sounded curious and a bit tired. Seungcheol wondered if Jeonghan had woken him up too.

Seungcheol sighed. As much as he had enjoyed the banter, he could not ignore the situation. Wonwoo had not thrown up in the past - he checked the time on his phone, guesstimating when it had actually been that they had fallen asleep the last time - hour and a half and seemed to have been able to sleep well enough. He had been sick again a few times throughout the night and his fever had been seemingly steady. Still, he would probably need some time to recuperate - if he wasn’t still sick to his stomach and this was just a lull.

“I’m with Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheole explained, “he started vomiting earlier and called me. He’s asleep currently and I don’t know how his stomach feels but he is still feverish.”

��Shit”, Jeonghan exclaimed in surprise. “You could have started with that.”

“I could have”, Seungcheol agreed easily, “but I was rudely cursed at by somebody. Shua-yah, could you go and find some fever reducers and some tummy medication? Maybe some crackers and sport drinks? Hannie, I’m sure you’ll find a solution with the luggage.”

He hung up before he could hear Jeonghan’s reply.

💎

When Joshua knocked on the door about fifteen minutes later, Seungcheol had managed to extract himself from the sleeping Wonwoo. The younger had barely stirred when Seungcheol had moved him to lean against the bathtub again, placing the towel back under his head. The hoodie had been deemed a loss, especially since he hadn’t dealt with the stain immediately, so it was bagged in a plastic bag and set to the side. In hopes that Wonwoo would soon be able to go back to bed, Seungcheol placed the clean trash can by the bedside.

“Hey Shua”, Seungcheol greeted tiredly, wincing as he moved his head. His neck hurt from the night on the floor but he was not about to complain.

Joshua waved at him with one hand, carrying a medkit - likely borrowed from a medic - and a small bag full of what seemed to be groceries in his other hand. He handed the two items to Seungcheol without a word and tried to step inside.

Seungcheol blocked his path. “We don’t need anybody else to get infected if he is contagious. It will be bad enough if I am sick in a few days.”

Joshua frowned and protested: “You must be tired, Cheollie. Let me help.”

“No, Shua. I know you want to but consider how bad it will be if this spreads. Let me take care of Wonwoo-yah while you and Hannie wrangle the other kids”, Seungcheol reasoned. He wouldn’t budge on this. There was no way he would let the illness spread in the group if he could help it. Considering how awful Wonwoo felt it would be a disaster. If there was one thing they had learned from Covid it was that isolation was key. “Besides, you already brought me the supplies.”

“... fine”, Joshua finally agreed. “Please take care of yourselves and, Choi Seungcheol, if you get sick before Wonwoo is recovered fully, you call for help or make Wonwoo call for help.”

“I promise”, Seungcheol said, a bit scared of Joshua daring to call him by his full name, “thank you so much.”

After closing the door behind Joshua, Seungcheol turned around to put the groceries away but stopped midway when he realized that Wonwoo was looking up at him through the partially open bathroom door with teary eyes. Setting the bags down, the leader rushed to him and knelt down by his side again.

“Hi”, he greeted with a small smile, “how are you feeling?”

But instead of replying verbally, Wonwoo just shook his head and buried his face in his knees, making himself as small as possible for a man his stature. “I’m sorry I’m causing so many issues. I shouldn’t have called, I’m perfectly able to take care of myself. You don’t have to take care of me.”

He clearly had overheard the conversation but had taken it very wrong.

Seungcheol placed his hand on the back of the younger’s head, ruffling his hair. “You certainly can take care of yourself”, he said cautiously, “that doesn’t mean you have to and we want you too. It’s alright to ask for help especially when you are throwing up and running a fever but even if not, we will always be ready to help you. As I said before, we are a family and we take care of each other. You wouldn’t have left, let’s say, Dino alone if he had called in the same situation, would you?”

Wonwoo lifted his head so quickly he seemed to have made himself a bit dizzy and shook his head. “What? Of course not!”

“See? Why would I act any differently towards you, baby?”

“I don’t want you to get sick, hyung.”

“If I get sick, I get sick”, Seungcheol replied with a shrug, “it’s part of life. I won’t like it but I won’t blame you. It can happen at the most inopportune times and I wouldn’t want to be healthy if I knew that I could have helped you and didn’t. Don’t feel guilty, Wonwoo. That’s not how family works.”

Wonwoo finally seemed to understand and nodded hesitantly. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Of course. Besides, you are saving me from having to deal with the luggage”, Seungcheol added with a wink.

Wonwoo giggled a bit at that, leaving Seungcheol feeling a bit lighter.

“Now, how do you feel?”, he questioned, continuing to play with Wonwoo’s hair.

“Still really queasy”, Wonwoo admitted, “my stomach feels really sore too. Everything does, to be honest. I just wanna sleep.”

“Do you think you could try to drink something and take some meds? Maybe see whatever Joshua brought you to eat?”

Wonwoo seemed to contemplate the answer to this question for a few moments, then nodded. “I am kind of thirsty. I don’t really want to eat but I will decide if I can try something when I know what we have?”, he suggested. “Can I brush my teeth first?”

“That sounds like a plan. Come on, up you get.”

Seungcheol stood up and reached down for Wonwoo to take his hands, pulling him up. Upon standing, Wonwoo swayed a bit, dizzy most likely, and nearly fell against his leader. Before anything could happen, Seungcheol stepped close and hugged him to his chest until the younger was a bit more steady. Once Wonwoo had brushed his teeth a bit faster than he normally would but enough to get the taste out of his mouth, Seungcheol took Wonwoo’s hand in his and tugged him along towards the bedroom, taking the groceries and the medkit with his other hand.

Wonwoo sat down at the edge of the bed where the blankets were a bit disheveled, likely from his earlier attempt to get to the bathroom in time, careful not to stumble over the trash can.

As he unpacked the plastic bag the leader discovered that Joshua must have gotten ice chips from somewhere. It would have been nice to know, considering that they were already starting to melt and the bag outside had a lot of condensation but they were saved easily enough by putting them in the room’s freezer. Then Seungcheol pulled out a few bottles of water and different sports drinks, ignoring the snacks at the bottom for the moment.

“Which one do you want?”, he asked, gesturing at the multiple bottles shining in different colors against the white table.

“I don’t care. What taste is the orange one?”, Wonwoo asked. “Orange?”

“I’m guessing you mean the fruit not the color”, Seungcheol joked, struggling to make sense of the English word on the bottle, “it’s, uh, what’s tangerine?”

“Isn’t that what the international fans call Kwannie?”, Wonwoo asked, “it’s fine.”

Seungcheol opened the bottle for him and handed it over, sitting beside the younger for the moment. “Take a few sips”, he advised, “see how that stays down, okay?”

Wonwoo nodded and drank a few mouthfuls before putting it to the side, wincing as he swallowed.

“Okay?”, Seungcheol asked, ready to grab the trash can if needed.

“Hm”, Wonwoo replied, “I don’t know if it tastes weird because I’ve been throwing up or because I just brushed my teeth or because it just tastes weird.” Relieved Wonwoo didn’t seem to be about to be sick, Seungcheol laughed.

“Do you wanna change into some fresh clothes before we try some food and meds?”

Wonwoo nodded and quickly Seungcheol grabbed the stack of clothes that the other members had bought. It was a matching pajama set of short pants and a t-shirt, with small black cats printed on it. “Mingyu-yah”, Wonwoo groaned when he saw it. Seungcheol just giggled. His own sleep shirt he had received had a cherry printed on it, so he kind of saw where the members' minds had went.

“It’s cute”, he said casually, “come on, you’ll feel better in clean clothes.”

Wonwoo pouted but did as bid, clearly wanting to be in fresh clothes more than protest their design. “It’s cold”, he commented, pulling up the blanket to his shoulders.

“That’s the fever”, Seungcheol said from where he was standing at the table and sorting through the food they had available. Joshua had been very thorough in his buying - there were plain crackers shaped like animals but plain nevertheless, applesauce and even some instant rice. “Why don’t you think about what you might like to try to eat while I get the thermometer and the medicine?”

Five minutes later they had established that Wonwoo was still running a low fever of 38.0°C and he had eaten a bit of the applesauce with the meds.

“How do you feel? Ready to sleep some more?”, Seungcheol asked, slightly getting tired of the question. He just wanted Wonwoo to feel better now. The younger was slumped against his shoulder again, not far from nodding off in exhaustion again.

Wonwoo yawned. “Yeah. Stomach feels a bit weird but not too bad. Maybe I’ll be fine when I wake up.”

“Lie down”, Seungcheol requested and helped his dongsaeng climb fully onto the bed. He spread the blanket over him, making sure it covered him fully, before brushing Wonwoo’s hair from his face and planting a kiss on his forehead. “Sleep well. Love you.”

“Love you too”, Wonwoo slurred, mostly asleep, “lay with me?”

Before Seungcheol could answer Wonwoo was already completely down for the count but there was nothing else Seungcheol had to do and he wasn’t about to deny his dongsaeng’s request. So he slipped under the covers with Wonwoo and pulled the younger close before falling asleep himself.

💎

“I’m never eating again”, Wonwoo groaned, finally lifting his head out of the trash can. Seungcheol had been woken by him frantically scrambling for the bucket about ten minutes ago and he had been throwing up ever since.

“At some point you’ll feel better”, Seungcheol mumbled as he took the bucket from Wonwoo’s hands but it seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

“Well, I want to feel better now”, Wonwoo hissed, clearly annoyed and overwhelmed. His eyes were ablaze with anger and frustration which quickly switched to tears again. “I feel awful. I’ve been feeling awful for I don’t know how long. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. I’m nauseous and exhausted. Don’t tell me stupid platitudes.”

“Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol stuttered, not having expected such a violent reaction from his normally so calm dongsaeng. Granted, maybe his words hadn’t been the most helpful but what else was he supposed to say?

As quickly as the anger had come, it seemed to vanish.

“I’m so sorry, hyung”, Wonwoo apologized, nearly falling from the bed in his attempt to bow in apology. Only Seungcheol’s outstretched arm was able to stop the fall. He quickly put the bucket down and took Wonwoo’s hands in his.

“Don’t apologize”, he soothed, “you’re sick. I won’t fault you for being in a bad mood due to that. I’m really sorry, I really hoped the meds would help more.”

“Still, I shouldn't have yelled”, Wonwoo whispered, staring down at his lap and blinking tears away. Seungcheol squeezed his hand before wrapping his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t think I would have been any nicer in your situation. I just wish I could help you somehow.”

“I think I just want to wash out my mouth and sleep again”, Wonwoo whispered, “maybe my stomach will feel better after being empty for a while.”

“We can do that”, Seungcheol agreed and handed him a water bottle. Wonwoo swished the water around his mouth and spat it into the trash can Seungcheol held for him. He even swallowed a tiny sip of water which the leader took as a win.

When he returned from washing out the receptacle, Wonwoo was dead asleep again.

💎

By evening Wonwoo hadn’t thrown up again and even admitted to feeling a bit hungry. He had eaten only half of the cup of instant rice but it was better than nothing. He managed to sleep through the night and by the evening of the next day he was deemed healthy again and ready to join the interviews that were scheduled on the day after.

Seungcheol had returned to his own room, happy to sleep through the night without waking up every half an hour to check if everything was okay. He had changed into sleep clothes and buried himself under his blankets when his phone rang.

“Nonie, I was about to go to sleep”, he complained in greeting.

“Sorry, hyung. Seungkwan isn’t feeling …”, Vernon started and then stopped suddenly before rushing footsteps and a sigh sounded through the speakers, “Seungkwan just puked all over himself.”

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

#Kpop #Kpop blog #Kpop sick #Kpop sickfic #Sickfic #Emeto #🧚🏻‍♀️#Title from MAESTRO (SEVENTEEN)#💎#🍒#🐈‍⬛#sickie wonwoo #caretaker s.coups/seungcheol

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