#the assigned reading fiasco

[lemonlimebitcoin]

you guys are gonna be the death of me

[mochatsin]

When MC has a Cast

A small sequel to the prompt “When MC gets pushed off the stairs”. After that fiasco with those bullies, this now focuses on the short shenanigans that come with the brothers trying to take care of you after you sprained your ankle. However, not all of them are very knowledgeable when it comes to human health care. 

if you haven't read the first part, please do! As there are some parts that is a reference from it (though it doesn’t dwell too heavy on it so it can be read on its own)

Lucifer

If he was already overbearing towards his brothers, then it’s so much more towards you now that you’re hurt. He asked for less work for the time being so he can take care of you after school, a request that Diavolo is happy to grant. Lucifer knows he wouldn’t mind, especially when he says it’s part of his duties to care for the exchange student, an excuse that the royals could see through. Though everyone knows how much he truly cared about you.

He has the power to transform the house into something more handicap friendly for you. Ramps on elevated areas around the house, adhesive stickers in the bathroom so you don’t slip, handles by the walls in case you need it while walking. He was this close to buying you an expensive wheelchair from the human realm that he found online, you had to stop him from doing so since you wouldn’t need it when you’re better.

Lucifer has an hourly alarm on his phone that reminds him to check up on you. No matter what he was doing during the day, he’ll stop and take out his D.D.D. to call you. He asks if you’re feeling any better and if you’re taking any pain medication or prescription pills as needed. He hates how he has to rely on Solomon when it comes to your medicine since they’re only obtained in the human realm, so Lucifer decided to take better care of you instead to make up for the lack of human knowledge.

If you ever said you needed something, whether it would be a snack that can only be bought outside or extra pillows to cushion your leg, Lucifer will definitely make it happen. If not him, then he’s asking Mammon or any brother available to attend to your needs regardless if it’s something for your recovery or not.

“They miss that favorite drink they usually have after school so I need you to go get it before coming home.” Lucifer’s tone is commanding, and if it weren’t for the fact that it was for you then the brothers would’ve made a fuss about his attitude. “I know it’s four blocks away, but that’s what they want. See to it that you come home with it.” He leaves no room for negotiation when he abruptly ends the call, expecting his brothers to come home with your drink.

When you’re finally out of that cast, Lucifer still refuses to let you go up and down the stairs alone. As if you were no longer capable of doing so without supervision. He makes sure you’re always holding onto the rails and that the stairways are always clear so that you don’t trip. You don’t see it, but he’s been more vigilant around you just in case there are more students he needs to keep an eye out for.

Mammon

Knowing that leaving you for just a few minutes already got you in this mess, Mammon decided to be glued to you this time. It’s almost difficult to pry him away from you, and he’s miserable every time he’s separated that he’ll do whatever it takes to run back to your room. To him, he thinks that something bad might just happen to you again if he lays his eyes off you for a second. Sometimes you wake up to a three-eyed crow stationed by your window like a little guard.

Chores and assignments are done in haste, the quality is questionable but it’s honest work. Once he tried to just rush his household chores but due to how poorly done it was, he was separated from you again in order to finish it properly. Now he tries being quick about it but still somewhat passable to standards. The only thing in his mind is how he gets to hang out in your room after this was all done. 

Dishes and cutlery placed on the table where others had more spoons than the rest, the trash bags looked like they were just chucked into the garbage can outside, some clothes wasn’t sorted that Asmo got frustrated when he found his new shirt in Beel’s room where it was mistaken for a rag… Lucifer decided to assign chores that Mammon can take to your room, like laundry folding, to ease his brother’s nerves and lessen the stress he experiences on the daily. 

Mammon often steals stuff from the other brothers if he thinks it’s something that could bring you comfort. Asmo’s scent diffuser, Belphie’s blanket, even Lucifer’s mini record player to help you sleep. They would initially get mad, though they soon see a pile of all their stuff in your room, with you resting so soundly in the middle of it like it’s a nest. As annoying as it was to have their belongings stolen, the brothers let it slide for now.

“Can’t help it aight?! My hands are feelin’ extra grabby these days.” He says as he fluffs one of Beel’s burger-shaped pillows before placing it by your back for more support. Mammon then plops down by your side with a huff, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. “That’s why ya gotta get better soon, ya hear me?”

He’s the one that refuses to let you walk around the house. Even if his brothers are there to supervise you, he claims that he’s your first demon so they should listen to him instead! Though it takes a little pout and maybe some puppy eyes from you to make Mammon yield.

Levi

At first Levi was a little agitated since taking care of you meant less time in his room. He always invited you there to hang out, but now with your cast it meant that he needs to adjust and relocate. It’s a small sacrifice if it means he gets to be with you. He’ll just switch base of operations.

Since he spends more time at home in the first place, he’s the one in charge of watching over you while everyone else is at RAD. Being a shut-in has its perks because it means he gets to hang out with you more, though it does a number on his nerves whenever he has to take care of you because he’s afraid he might make your condition worse somehow just by being next to you.

Lucifer already told him what he needs to do. Give you some medication at certain hours, assist if you need to walk or use the bathroom, and make sure you’re comfortable. It’s quite simple. They can’t risk stressing your injuries more, though that stress seems to be transmitting to Levi instead. “Hgnn… getting medication is like a fetch quest a-and assisting is like an escort mission… j-just like in the game.” Is what Levi mumbles to try and hype himself up by associating his tasks with something he loves.

Levi gets jumpy whenever you would walk, acting like you’d get hurt if you took a step with your bad leg. He’s good at keeping an eye out for you whenever you walk around the house because of his anxieties, and giving him bits of praise for taking care of you would usually do the trick of alleviating that. Eventually, he’s calmer when attending to your needs over the next few days. 

He stayed in your room more often and he started gradually moving his stuff there so he wouldn’t go upstairs too often to get something in his room. His consoles, mangas, and games are sitting idly by in the corner of your bedroom so that there’s at least something you both could do instead of laying around. Even when you sleep, Levi is still playing games by your side but with a headset or a lower volume so you wouldn’t wake up.

The brothers eventually noticed how more and more of Levi’s things are appearing in your room. The Akuzon boxes are waiting outside your door instead of his, the latest figurine he bought is displayed in your shelf than on his collection, and they find Levi putting some of his clothes in your closet instead of his. If this went on, they might find Henry 2.0 in your room. Everyone requested a week off from RAD to do some damage control like moving some of Levi’s stuff out. 

Satan

Satan stayed by your side, letting you lie down on the soft bed while he read your favorite passages. He even includes stories about the protagonist recovering from a battle, as if trying to tell you that healing from what happened is nothing to be ashamed of. You shouldn’t feel bad for resting because you need it, and Satan will see to it that you’re fully recovered with no problems.

If you were up for it, he would teach you any of the lessons you’ve missed once he’s home from RAD. He doesn’t mind giving you some of his notes and even writes it in a simpler way just for you to understand easier, even highlighting some key points so you know where to focus or what’s important. Satan wouldn’t want you to lag behind in class when you finally get back to school, but he’s only going to teach you at a pace you’re comfortable with. Your usual tutoring sessions are shorter because he wants you to focus on recovering first.

He’s got his nose glued to the human anatomy books that tackles sprains and muscles, something that Solomon provided after a lot of pestering from the demon’s end. He reads about how to treat it and the duration it would take until you’re fully better. It’s also his way of relieving his anxieties when it comes to your ankle so he can convince himself that you’re no longer suffering.

If you ever let out a grunt for whatever reason, expect Satan to suddenly be by your side asking you if you’re experiencing any of the symptoms he’s somehow memorized in his head. He’s being cautious if you might’ve accidentally aggravated your wounds and require any necessary medical attention, so he would sit you down and bombard you with questions about your condition. A brother would often have to rescue you before Satan gets halfway with his queries. 

“If I don’t know any of these, then how would I tell if you need some help? There’s power in knowledge, you know.” Satan says as he flips through the pages of the thick medical book on his lap. There’s this determined look on his face where he wants to make sure to cross out all the symptoms of any possible ailments. “Now, are you experiencing ‘explosive diarrhea’ by any chance?”

Satan is the one that makes sure that all his other brothers would be useful when it’s their turn to take care of you. He takes note of when you need your next medication, reminds them to refill your water bottles, and how they’d have to check on you for each minute if they had to. If any of them caused you problems, no matter how big or small, Satan would be ready to chase them down for doing a poor job as soon as they left your room. 

Asmo 

Asmo is treating you like an absolute damsel sometimes whenever he sees you limping around the house with your crutches. He also hates that you need to stay home for bedrest since, as he notes, you get to see him less during school days. He loves spending time with you as much as he loves staring at his reflection in the mirror.

Since you’re not around in school, Asmo is always ready to fill you in on the cheesiest gossip like he always does during lunch time or your after school walks. Now he goes straight to your room, placing his bag to the side before dramatically plopping down on your bed with more news. Weirdly enough, some of that news was about those girls that pushed you and about how they’re both fighting more recently. You even notice how big his smile is as the story progressively gets gruesome.

“Just because my darling is stuck here doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be updated to the latest scoop, right?” He says with a grin, showing you the latest tweets about the topic. “Don’t worry, you can always rely on me to give you the juiciest gossip.” This is his way of hanging out with you like how you both would at school. Whenever he wants to talk about something with you and remembers you’re not around yet, he gets a little lonely and he makes up for that feeling when he comes home.

Asmo would want to put his name on your cast once he learns that it’s something humans tend to do. It’s written all over with a pink glittery pen accompanied by little hearts on the side, maybe a little sheep doodle next to it too. The brothers were not happy to learn that he was the first one to write his name on your cast and then insisted on putting theirs next.

He insists on playing the role of ‘Nurse Asmo!’ whenever he’s trying to take care of you, complete with a play-pretend stethoscope for the role (Solomon gave it to him). Normally he wouldn’t come near someone who’s sick because he doesn’t want to catch whatever they have, that wouldn’t look so good on him. Luckily, yours isn’t contagious at all. Asmo would insist on feeding you and there’s the occasional teasing, but it’s all in good faith. 

Asmo also makes a great alert system. You once almost tripped but managed to hold onto the desk, and that was enough to make Asmo let out a high-pitched scream as he was worried your ankle must’ve gotten worse, maybe it’s not healing at all if you almost fell. It alerted every brother in the house and you not only have to deal with a worried Asmo, but now six more anxious demons as well. 

Beel

Beel feeds you foods high in nutrients. He’d even run to the stores to get you those sorts of foods if it meant you’ll heal in no time. Of course, he’s mindful of getting nutritious foods you actually like eating. He wants you to be both healthy and happy. 

“Here, Solomon said milk helps with healthy bones.” Beel says while carrying an entire box filled with jugs of milk. Clearly he means well, but you have to explain to Beel how drinking and eating things high in calcium doesn’t magically heal your ankle (it’s also worse if you were lactose intolerant). He’s a little disappointed, but he’ll understand. Beel could either drink them or give them to Luke as ingredients for his baking. 

Whenever Lucifer asks the brothers to run errands for you, whether it's something for your ankle or for your comfort, Beel is usually the first one to respond and he’s already out the door before any of the brothers could intervene. He likes hearing your gratitude when he does something for you, even if it meant he had to fly across Devildom to get you that ice cream dessert or just walk to purgatory hall to fetch something Luke made for you.

The brothers had to convince him that you wouldn’t shatter if he gave you a hug, but he wasn’t sure if he could. If the stairs already hurt you, what more for a demon like Beel who could bend metal like paper if he wanted to? He was too afraid at first to touch you, but you could see just how much he wanted to hold you. It takes only a few words and a pout from you to make the demon fold. 

If Beel would have to bulldoze everything to clear a path for you then he would. In case there was a bunch of furniture or other things all across the floor, Beel would chuck them aside to make sure you won’t have a hard time walking or risk bumping your leg onto something. Though Lucifer reprimanded him for literally shoving every couch aside just to make room for you and then forgetting to put them back properly. The house wasn’t a pleasant sight to come home to at that time.

Beel’s next solution was to help you with that ankle was to carry you around so you could get to places. You’d be in his arms bridal style while he takes you to the dining room to eat with them. He would even stop eating from the mountain of food from his plate if you needed to stand up, Beel would attend to you right away and take you wherever you needed to go. 

Belphie

Belphie is not the most reliable brother when it comes to taking care of you, not when his excessive drowsiness gets in the way of actually remembering what to do. He wouldn’t be able to wake up in time to give you your medication, or have enough energy to assist you whenever you needed to use the bathroom or just get up to walk. When you needed his help with something, at some point he forgot about your cast and told you that you can do it on your own. His older brothers definitely scolded him for that and the tasks were assigned to someone else instead.

The only role that was given to Belphie was something he can easily do, which is to make sure you’re comfortable and well-rested. None of them wants to see you walking around too much, even with your crutches, as they worry that something could happen while they’re away. They fear you might fall over and won’t be able to get back up, so Belphie is in charge of keeping you in bed and making sure you don’t move more than you need to. 

Whenever you sleep next to Belphie, you always feel so refreshed and rested afterwards no matter how long or short you slept. It’s the demon’s doing, where he makes sure you have the sweetest dreams and get enough sleep so that you’re energized. Belphie thinks that getting more energized meant that your ankle would heal faster, so he’s always trying to drag you in for naps.

For the moments that he’s actually awake, he would be ‘fixing’ your bed so that it would be more comfortable to sleep in. There are three times more than the usual number of pillows on your bed, with extra comforters and better quality blankets. Each time he comes home, he’s fixing your bed and sometimes he adds pillows on it or replaces your old ones. 

“I only have these because I was preparing a little fort for us back at school…” Belphie is a little quiet when he speaks, trying to pass it off as being too busy fluffing your pillows but in reality he just doesn’t like remembering what happened that day. “But since you’re stuck at home, it only makes sense I bring the fort over here right?” 

The only thing that upsets Belphie at this situation for now is the fact he can’t lie down on your lap like he could every time he wants to use you as a pillow. Beel had to remind him that it might hurt your ankle if he laid his head on your thighs. Even though you tried to explain that it’s not necessarily true, the twins insist on making sure nothing would hinder your healing. 

[imagines--galore]

Hi there how’s-it going? I saw requests were open. Just read bleeding love dr strange x reader, i would love a part two!! Of him slowly realising that hes moved on from Christine and misses the reader? Just a thought!! I loved that fic ahhh 🥰

Pairing: Dr Stephen Strange x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. None. A/N: I am full of angst right now, so I had to channel it somewhere. Please read Part One of Bleeding Love here, before moving forward with this one.

The moment he stepped back in the Sanctum, Stephen knew something was wrong.

Still on edge, and barely recovered from the whole America, Wanda and the Multiverse fiasco, it didn't do his nerves any good when he activated his magic, and began to prowl up the stairs, ready to face whatever may come.

"Y/n?"

Your name echoed in the empty hallways. His heart clenched in his chest. Had something happened to you? Usually you were always there to greet him whenever he returned from a mission or even an outing.

A horrible feeling had his stomach in knots, his heart jumping in his throat as his mind came up with every worst case scenario it could conjure. He found himself making a beeline for your room, his pace quick and alert.

He burst through the door, your name on his lips, only to stop short.

You weren't there.

                                          ————————–

Stephen,

Tony offered me a job, and I took it.

The note ended with a simple signature of your name. That was it.

No explanation as to why you up and left.

And that was that.

Why your drawers were empty and your wardrobe door hanging ajar, the empty hangers inside just serving as a reminder of your absence. Even the photographs were gone. You had decorated your room with physical copies of yourself as well as your loved ones. Over the years you had accumulated quite the collection.

But the walls were bare, and not a single smiling face looked back at him. Just that blank wall.

Stephen's fingers trembled. It was the norm, but not this trembling.

No, this was more then the muscles spasms that afflicted him. This trembling came from somewhere deep inside him. It slowly spread throughout his entire body. And when it reached his legs, he had to sit down on the bed, your bed, for fear of falling.

You were gone.

You had left.

For the first time in his life, he was truly alone.

                                          ————————–

Wong was extremely worried.

The Sorcerer Supreme was surely on a pathway of pure destruction.

There was nothing dark about the man.........yet.

But his behavior had been a little erratic.

He was short-tempered then usual. Where he had made sarcastic quips before, he would now all but snap at the other person. On more then one occasion he had reduced a new recruit at the Kamar-Taj to tears. Not to mention he was barely eating or sleeping. All he did was either study, practice his magic, or take on any magic assignment that would come his way.

Even the smaller ones, ones that he had, in the past, deemed too beneath him to deal with and had allotted it to a younger magic user.

Wong was more then aware of the reason behind Stephen's behavior.

But he also had no desire to be banished by some other dimension by an annoyed Sorcerer Supreme so he kept quiet.

It wasn't until he was helping the man move some of his more heavier tomes to your room, which Stephen had now taken up as his new rooms. As he gave a sweep of Stephen's bookshelf, to make sure he hadn't missed anything, Wong spotted a hidden alcove within the book cupboard. A quick sweep of his hand later found him holding a small box.

It wasn't marked or anything, but once he opened the lid, whatever was inside, had him slowly closing it once more and sighing.

"Fools. The both of them." He said softly to himself, sadness filling him as he thought of his two friends so obviously holding back for reasons that weren't even reasons.

                                          ————————–

The box atop his bed was one he had not seen for quite awhile now.

As Cloak floated away to hang itself from a hook, Stephen slowly reached out to take the box in his still dirty hands. He had just returned from a rather grueling battle with an angry earth giant. And though he wanted nothing more then to simply be rid of the dirt that covered him and collapse into bed, his heart urged him to pick up the box and settle onto his bed with it.

Made of fine, dark, polished wood, his thumb flicked the small lock that held the lid in place.

Opening the lid, he blinked at what stared back at him.

Your face.

Your face smiling up at him in the picture that had been taken so long ago. Stephen remembered that day. It had been a particularly hard one. A small child who had seen every doctor in every state. None of whom could give him a diagnosis. His parents were worried sick, the mother in near hysterics. The case had appeared before them, and being the picky doctor he had been, Stephen had actually rejected the case.

But not you.

You had taken the file. You had stayed up all night going over the child's medical history. You had spent hours in his office, pestering him so that the both of you could bounce ideas off of each other.

And despite his lack of interest before, Stephen had finally relented.

Not because he was interested, but because you were dedicated on finding a cure for the boy.

And then you finally did. Granted it had been his idea which you had further researched and after conducting a few tests of your own designs, you had been able to give the boy a diagnosis.

After that it had been a matter of days. The boy's condition improved. But the true moment of triumph was when the boy awoke from surgery with every motor function intact.

You had been ecstatic, but had kept your cool. Though as soon as the both of you stepped out of the room, allowing the small family to celebrate, you had all but tackled him to a hug. A hug that Stephen was sure, at that time, had cracked a rib.

He couldn't deny you your joy though. He had a soft spot for you. So he had hugged you back, while you had rambled at a near incoherence pace, your body trembling with sheer joy.

Stephen had no idea who had captured that moment. Probably one of the nosy nurses. While your gaze had been one of excitement and happiness, his gaze was different. The memories of what he felt in that moment came rushing back. A certain warmth in his chest, that had him smiling at you in a way he had never smiled at anyone before.

A smile that had been captured and frozen in the very picture he held.

He had kept the photograph though, after you had given him a copy. Having no photo album, he had opted to put it in the very box he now held. It had been sitting at his desk at the time. Truth be told, he had forgotten about the box, and only just remembered it when what was underneath the photograph he held had been deemed too precious to throw away.

                                          ————————–

Underneath the picture were two stubs to what looked to be a musical on Broadway. It was dated more then a decade ago. And the name of the musical sounded familiar.

Stephen wandered why he had kept the stubs. They were worthless weren't they?

Another picture underneath the stubs, ones that were related to the musical. It had been some Disney musical. Beauty and the Beast, if the name on the stub was anything to go by. There had been props outside the theater, where people would take pictures.

Somehow, you had convinced Stephen to take those pictures. With the props.

The image showed you with a tiara on your head, standing behind the cutout of the main princess, whoever that had been. While Stephen had to wear a brown beard and a mane to catch the actual look of the Beast. You hadn't been able to keep a straight face.

There were multiple photos of that moment. Some where the both of you seemed to be in character, while several where he looked annoyed, and you laughing your head off at his annoyance.

As he traced the edge of the photograph with his fingers, Stephen couldn't help but feel his lips quirk at the memory.

                                          ————————–

Photograph after photograph of memories you had shared. Some he remembered clearly, others that were hazy at best.

These were moments you had deemed important enough to print and give him a copy of. Why had he decided to keep them in a small box was beyond him.

Truth be told, he didn't think of himself as a sentimental person. Then again, he had kept this box and the watch Christine had given him when he had left New York to go to the Kamar-Taj. So maybe, he was just lying to himself.

He had forgotten the box once he came back after the Snap. But with how frayed the edges of some photographs were, anyone could see that they had been frequently handled and were well-loved.

                                          ————————–

A gala that every doctor had attended. To attain more funds from those who could afford it. A gala where the both of you had dressed up for the occasion. And while Stephen had more occasion to wear his tuxes, you barely cleaned up.

How could he have forgotten how beautiful you had looked when he had picked you up? How the dress you had worn had accentuated your every feature.

And then there was the dance the both of you had shared that night.

How could he have forgotten it?

                                          ————————–

The next picture served as a reminder as to why he had forgotten you.

Christine.

He had fallen in love with Christine.

Though the picture included all three of you, it was clear to anyone who should see it that you were the odd one out. Sitting on a chair at the other side of the table, while him and Christine sat on the other side, their chairs close together. Him with his arm around her shoulders.

For the first time, he noticed the strange emotion in your eyes. The camera had somehow been able to capture the exact moment when you had looked at your two friends, so happy and in love. And though your lips were frozen in a smile, the sadness in your eyes was undeniable.

How had he not seen it before?

Had you been sad because of him? Of Christine?

Or because of him and Christine?

                                          ————————–

Picture after picture, of all the moments you had shared with him. Moments that you had printed and given to him because, you knew that despite his tough exterior, he was sentimental about certain things.

You knew him so well. You knew him better then he knew himself.

So why hadn't he realized his feelings for you sooner?

Why, only after you had left, did he realize that he was so in love with you that everyday without you was a day living with the feeling of a knife embedded in his heart.

God, how could he have been so caught up in his own problems that he hadn't seen what had been in front of him all along.

He truly was selfish.

Maybe you were right to leave.

Someone as lovely as you shouldn't be with someone who would never appreciate you the way you were meant to be.

His eyes shone with tears as he looked at the very last photograph at the end of the pile.

It was a photograph with just you.

One that he had taken.

And he had actually printed himself before put it in the box.

It was just before the Snap.

You had convinced him to go for a walk along the beach and with the sling ring, traveling had not been a problem. The both of you had spent an amazing day on a deserted beach. You had collected shells and made sandcastles together. Stephen couldn't remember a day when he had felt so careless and free as he had then.

Finally, when the sun had begun to set, the both of you had settled onto the blanket you had brought to watch the sun disappear. Stephen had turned towards you then, looking at you as you sat there unaware of his gaze.

It was in that moment that he had realized just how much you meant to him. More then anyone. Even more then Christine. You, sitting there, in your lovely sundress, with your toes buried in the sand and hair wet from the swim you had just had together.

He had taken the photograph then, with the last of the sun's rays making your skin glow, a smile of utter content on your lips, and a loving gleam in your eyes as you had turned just at that moment to look at him.

                                          ————————–

And as he looked at your picture, Stephen realized that he wanted you to look at him like that again.

He wanted it so badly that he could feel his heart physically ache for it.

For you.

He was a selfish bastard, he knew that. So, why couldn't he be selfish for one last time, put aside his pride and ask you to come back to him.

He stood up so suddenly that the photographs as well as the box went flying to the floor. They hadn't even fully descended before he was creating a portal and stepping through it and straight into your room at the Avenger's Compound, leaving behind nothing but memories as they fluttered through the air like confetti.

                                          ————————–

The sight of Stephen Strange suddenly appearing in your room was something you could not have predicted in your wildest dreams.

"St-Stephen?" You gasped. It had been weeks, since you had left the Sanctum, and not a word from your former friend and colleague. And now there he stood, covered in dirt. But the dirt wasn't what you really noticed. It was his face. There were bags under his eyes, and his cheeks appeared hollow, as if he hadn't been eating properly. His hair was a little longer, as was his goatee, or rather beard, since he didn't look like he had shaved in awhile.

But it was his eyes that really had you worried. They looked so sad and alone. Not to mention the brightness in them seemed to have dimmed.

For his part, Stephen simply stood there, looking at you.

You.

With your beautiful face, kind eyes and gentle loving soul.

"Is everything alright?" You asked. Despite the fact that your heart had skipped a beat at the sight of him, worry gnawed at your insides. Maybe that was what compelled you to step forward, to reach a gentle hand out towards him and hesitantly resting it against his cheek.

"Are you alright?"

And with that one simple gesture, and three insignificant little word, Stephen Strange broke.

His arms came up to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in an embrace that was desperate just as much as it was intimate. Your gasp was muffled by his shoulder, your arms trapped at your sides as you blinked in confusion.

"I'm sorry." He whispered against your neck where he had buried his face. "I am so sorry that it took me so long."

Though confusion still raged within you, that small part of your heart, the part that had never stopped hoping despite all that had happened and even after you had left, stirred to life, lifting its head and smelling the air with a spark of hope in its chest.

And though you had promised yourself that you would leave behind your feelings for him, that you would leave him behind, you could never fool your heart. At least not completely.

"For what?" You asked, trying your best to not let your hopes rise.

"To realize that I love you."

And that was all it took.

Those words were all it took for that carefully constructed wall around your heart to shatter in infinite pieces and fly in every direction.

"Y-you-," You choked on air.

Finally, finally, he pulled back. That sadness in his eyes was still there, so was the loneliness, and yet there was as flicker of hope and an abundance of love.

Love for you, you realized, feeling your breath hitch in your throat.

"I love you, Y/n. I-I think I always have, but I was too blind to see it. Please, please, come back. Come back to me. I cannot bear to not have you near me. The past few weeks I could barely breath when you were not with me."

He was begging now, pleading with you.

"B-but what about Christine?" You asked, your voice hardly above a whisper. Instantly he shook his head. "There is no Christine. There is only you, Y/n. If you'll have me." He added, his trembling hands reaching out to grasp your hands in his. "I know I have hurt you with my ignorance, but if you'll allow me, I will spend my life making up to you because I love you Y/n, and I have no intention of ever letting you go again."

Your head was spinning.

There was no doubt that he was sincere. Stephen would never be so cruel as to play with your feelings knowingly. Not to mention the absolute determination with which he spoke and the film of tears in his blue eyes had you closing your eyes.

Yes, you had tried to forget him since your arrival at the Compound. But how could one let go of someone they had been in love with for years.

The answer was, you couldn't.

At last, you sighed, closing your eyes briefly before opening them to focus on his chest, unable to meet his gaze. "I have had my heart broken too many times Stephen." You said, your insides twisting with fear as you bit your lower lip. Uncertainty played about your features, one that he would work to remove from your heart, soul and mind for as long as he had to.

One trembling hand settled on your cheek, guiding your head so he could look at your face, and so you could meet his gaze. "Then I will be sure to put it back piece by piece if I have to." He promised. Tears pricked your eyes as he slowly leaned down his head angled in a certain way.

And when he captured your lips with his, a small fraction of your heart did mend.

And you knew.

Your heart had finally stopped bleeding.

[awesomehoggirl]

I WROTE 5 PAGES EVERYONE DIE!!!!!!! having a half hour break now then another half hour plugging away then i have a soooo special dinner (Motherfucking tesco green thai curry my dadsy bought me yesterday actually might cry eating it i miss him) then i will keep working a little bit maybe then i hav. some ice cream my reward. then im conking the fuck out

every single day

- goes to campus

- sits in the sun and works hard for a few hours

- (5pm) hmm i should go home i bet i will work even harder there

- goes to tesco express and buys a snack

- well i gotta watch sex and the city while i eat my snack duh. its only right

- ok well now i am gonna scroll tiktok aimlessly for a little while. i did some work this morning i deserve it

- Fuck i dont ever wanna do work again

[mischievous-piltovan]

Of Atlas and Sisyphus (NSFW)

Part 1 | Part 2

Part 2: Overthinking and Overflowing

Pairing: MiguelO'Hara x afab!Reader

Themes: Romance, Fluff, NSFW, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn.

Word Count: 9.4k words

Synopsis: Reader wakes up at the Spider HQ Med Bay and needs further care. Miguel spends his day watching the recording of their last mission. None of them are ready to face each other. But circumstances and a perky AI assistant say otherwise.

Trigger Warnings/TWs: blood, wound, piercing damage, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, miscommunication, emotionally constipated idiots, a bit of power imbalance because boss x underling (but ever so slightly), hand job, oral sex (female and male receiving), very soft femdom.

A/N: sorry for the wait. Life happened but I managed to push this one out! I'm thinking of doing a third part to really solidify the ending of this things. Comments and rebblogs keep me motivated! Have a nice read :)

The very first thing that hit you when you next opened your eyes was a feeling of unfamiliarity. The white ceiling lights buzzed overhead, overwhelming your sight; the mattress and pillow you laid on felt harder than you were used to, there was a distinct antiseptic smell in the air and somewhere in the vicinity a machine beeped. You tried getting up, but your muscles failed you, bringing you right back down. The little ruckus you caused made someone gasp nearby.

"Careful now," a masked nurse hastily came over your bed "We can't have you accidentally unhooking yourself from the IV-drip."

In your daze, it took a few seconds to register that the nurse was a Spider-Woman, a few more seconds to realize it meant you were at HQ's Med Bay and even more for it to click that that's NOT where you were supposed to be. You sat upright suddenly as dread coursed through your body, successfully yanking the needle out of your arm "The Goblin! I gotta- " 

With a sigh, the nurse gently pushed you back into the bed with a hush. "It's all right, dear. It's been dealt with," she proceeded to reset the IV needle in your arm "Boss brought both you and the Anomaly back to HQ. Your Universe is safe, you need to rest now."

"Miguel… ?" You croaked, the memories of the missions slowly coming back to you "Is he ok?"

"Yes, he was dismissed not too long ago," she reassured you "He wasn't injected with as much venom as you did, and he's also much bigger than you - it almost didn't affect him."

"Venom…?"

"Oh, right. You wouldn't know," she chirped "The projectile you took was venomous, it did a number to your body and halted your healing. But don't worry, we're working to fix that.You should be right as rain in a day or two!"

"Right…"

"Well, I need to attend to other matters now," she said in a gentle tone "There's a little button on the wall over there, press it if you need anything and I'll come running, ok? Now, get some rest."

You watched the nurse hop out of your room before sinking into the pillow with a heavy exhale. You didn't finish the mission; you couldn't carry your own weight to catch an Anomaly in your own dimension. Miguel had to do it. He caught the Anomaly by himself and had to carry your unconscious body back to HQ. Your only contribution was being dead weight.

To make matters worse, according to the nurse, you'd be stuck in the Med Bay for at least another day. This meant that all the unfinished work you left at your workstation would inevitably get delayed. Consequently, all the new tasks that you'd surely be assigned to will stack up and, thereafter, also get delayed. You shielded your eyes with your forearm as you groaned, the amount of extra hours you'd have to put in to compensate already sent a shiver down your spine; an all-nighter was definitely due. You just hoped no unforeseen crisis strike in the meantime - adding Miguel juggling a million tasks at once to quench a metaphorical fire by himself to the fiasco that your mission with him was just added more weight to your already heavy consciousness (and another jab to your very much hurt pride). You also didn't want to have him going through stress by himself  when you could very well be there to share the load - that's precisely what you've been trying to accomplish all this time after all. As capable as he was, he was still just one person - he needed you.

Wait…

He needed you.

"Because I need you."

He… He said that, didn't he? You were not entirely sure, you were in a rather delirious state right before passing out. It could have very well been a fabrication of a blood-deprived (and poisoned, as you just learned) mind that has been yearning for him for far too long. But somehow, it felt real… You've dreamed about Miguel before and it didn't matter which scenario your subconscious made up, waking up always left you with a bittersweet feeling afterwards, like you've been yanked away from your own Garden of Eden. But this particular memory had an intensity behind it, an unrelenting force. Like that first sip of cold water on a very hot summer day.

You swatted that notion away before escalating your swooning any further over a single crumb of hope. 'Because I need you' could mean anything, it didn’t necessarily have to do with romance or lust. If you recalled correctly, you were in the middle of quitting your job, he could very well have meant he needed you working in the lab with him. As in 'You became a valuable asset to the Society, replacing you would be too troublesome. I need you'.

Heh… Despite not being ideally what you wanted it to mean, the thought still amused you. Miguel finally admitted he saw worth in your contributions to the Society, after all these months of getting nothing but criticism and scoldings. And you could hear in his voice how he struggled to let the words out, how strained and a bit desperate he sounded. Like he was running out of choices and just had to use the truth for once.

It really was amusing how much leverage he gave you over him. 

Miguel didn't want you to know he needed you and you couldn't wait to rub it in his face.

—--

Miguel didn't want you to know he needed you and he dreaded to see your reaction now that you did.

It had been a full day since he was dismissed from the Med Bay and he couldn't concentrate on anything. And it's not like he wasn't trying; he kept forcing himself to focus - compartmentalizing tasks in more palatable chunks, timing his strides and peppering them with short breaks, and even going as far as vocalizing out loud what he was trying to accomplish step by step - but no matter what he did, his thoughts kept circling back to you and everything that went down in your dimension.

After the ninth time failing to keep a steady flow of work going, Miguel finally gave-up. Among the catalog of yesterday's missions log files, he put up the VOD of the mission at your dimension and silently watched it. He paused the moment before you were hit with the Goblin's javelin and felt his stomach churn; he watched himself curled up on screen, trying to fix his suit, pathetically oblivious to the impending attack coming from behind him. The next second you were lunging at him, getting the Goblin's attention and successfully protecting him at the cost of your wound.

 How… Pathetic.

His intention to accompany you on your next few missions was to protect you - he knew you bore a grave injury from a past job, he wanted to aid you until you were fully healed. To watch him be a hindrance that caused you further harm made him feel disgusting; and knowing it was because he didn't have Spider-Sense the same way most (bright and cheerful) Spider-People had just added more insult to the injury. 

But the fight with the Goblin wasn't the reason he wanted to watch the Video Log in the first place. He kept watching it until he got to the part he wished to revisit - the moment the argument broke out. Unsurprisingly, he was the one who triggered the conflict.

"Why the shock were you exerting yourself when you should have been resting?"

Miguel groaned at his tone. He didn't have to be an asshole when all he wanted was for you to be more careful with your well-being. But at this point, being a jerk towards you became second nature - a defense mechanism born from the need of keeping you at arm's length; treating you the complete opposite of how he felt about you to ensure you were kept safe from him. If you ended up hating him all the better. But actions have consequences, and tipping you off yet again was just that. He couldn't blame you for snapping, he had been pushing you for a while now - the band was bound to break. 

What he didn't foresee was that said reaction encapsulated your sudden decision to quit Spider Society altogether AND your stubborn persistence in flinging yourself back into the mission while gravely injured. His mind went into overdrive trying to salvage the situation while keeping the professional facade. He watched the moment he grabbed your wrist, the same desperation he felt then creeping up all over again. The havoc inside him caused the beast to get set loose and he recalled almost doing something stupid as he gazed into your eyes, like kissing you. It was said thought that jolted him out of his stupor, forcefully yanking the beast's leash back and making him utter the most ridiculous statement in a desperate attempt to bring the conversation back to a professional ground (it didn't).

"You're going to jeopardize this mission in your current condition."

He had to pause the video to take a breath, the surge of shame too much to bear. There were a million other ways to address your relentlessness that would both convey the message and still sound professional, but his thick skull decided to go with the ballistic option. But then again, it was the easier route, par for the course; being as mean as possible to make sure his true intentions and feelings were kept secret. He unpaused the video, and your next words were his undoing.

"I'm DONE being your silly little plaything."

What the shock could you possibly have meant with that? Yes, he had been an asshole to you for the last few months (even if not intentional), but he wasn't toying with you. To make someone a plaything means bestowing them a lesser status; is to perceive them as a mere toy, an unfeeling object undeserving of respect. And that was the last thing Miguel connected you with; to him you were a goddess, worthy of worship and absolutely unattainable. You were his muse and his tormentor, his salvation and his undoing. Far too important to him even consider playing with. The revelation that this is how you felt broke him; destroyed him to the point that made him falter and his next words practically spilled from him.

"Because I need you."

There they were. The words that escaped his lips and which possible repercussions he dreaded. The little confession that's been keeping him from concentrating in anything else. In his desperation to remedy the notion you held, he waned and the beast broke free; it spoke in his stead and revealed more than Miguel was ready to admit. In a (terrible) way, he was lucky you passed out soon after; who knows what else would come into the light had the conversation gone any further.

Yet, even though the words he uttered didn't actually convey much, the implications behind them had the potential to roar. It shouldn't take a genius to logic their way to the truth and you were highly intelligent. And he dreaded how you'd react to it, how disgusted you'd feel upon realizing the beast fell for you. Only he was no prince under a spell, he was just that - a monster.

"Miguel? Heeey, Miguel! Are you listening?"

It took Lyla to pop up in front of his eyes, completely blocking the screen he was looking at, for Miguel to finally notice her. From her frantic gesturing alone, he could tell she had been trying to get his attention for a while. 

"Ah, perdón, Lyla. I am now."

"Good grief, Miguel. You are uncharacteristically slow today," she quipped, feigning annoyance. "Did the venom from that Goblin affect your cognition?"

"I–What? No," it took a minute for Miguel to understand Lyla had insulted him "Callaté."

The AI ignored Miguel, opting to scan whatever he was working on. She assumed she'd have more luck understanding her master's plight through any other way than getting him to talk. Upon realizing the video file he was watching, she paused with an oh.

"I'm gonna throw some statements at you, and you're gonna tell me if they are true or not," she said more calmly. Before he could muster anything, she continued "You are worried about what you said during yesterday's mission.'

Miguel took a moment before responding "True."

"You don't want her to know about your feelings."

"...true."

She paused, mulling over her next statement before continuing "You think you're not reciprocated."

Miguel frowned "Fal– No, that's not even– She couldn't possibly–"

The mere thought of you reciprocating his feelings was ludicrous. Of all people, why would you fall for him - a barely human, brutish, hard-headed monstrosity. In the Society alone he could think of a good number of Spiders that you were more likely to fall for; the cheerful, laid-back types who could touch you without fear of accidentally sinking their talons into you. Lyla was delusional to even suggest that.

"Drop it, Lyla."

The AI took a minute to study Miguel, her expression unreadable. The next second, her eyes shifted, unfocused, and a glimpse of a mischievous grin spread across her face before turning to her master again.

"Aye aye, captain, consider it dropped," she said cheerfully. "On other news, you have that immersion treatment scheduled now. You better head to the Med Bay."

"Cancel it," he dismissed, the last thing he needed was to waste more time. But Lyla was having none of it.

"Not happening," she snapped her fingers and suddenly all screens from Miguel's workstation blinked off.

"Que carajo," Miguel spat, frantically trying to undo his assistant's input "Lyla! Restore the power this instant!" 

"No can do, Miguel," she said, floating with her legs crossed in the air, while pretending to file her nails. "Even if it was just a little, you still got poisoned with that Goblin's venom. Doctor's orders."

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, as he groaned. Finally, he dropped his shoulders with a huge exhale as he yielded "Fine…"

"Oh, and do me a favor while you're there, will you?" She added "I've found a strange entry in my command inputs, could you take a look at it?"

—

Miguel spent the whole walk to the Med Bay wondering how his life got to the point his AI assistant had more power over his life decisions than he did.

Once arriving, he was led to a private locker room and instructed to fully strip and enter the immersion pool area through the door on the other side of the room. 

"The session should take an hour, give or take," the nurse informed him, "There's a clock in there, so don't worry about bringing any devices with you."

Once the nurse left him, he fully deactivated his suit, the digital material retracting from his head down, and wrapped a towel around his hips. Even if he was supposed to be by himself through the whole process - thus dispensing the need to protect his modesty -, it would be unlike him to not take precaution.

The very first thing that hit him when he opened the door to the pool area was the intense herbal smell that assaulted his sensitive nose. The second thing was how foggy the place was, provided by the temperature of the water. The third thing was a yelp.

"AH! What the– Wait… Miguel?"

You stood immersed in the water, at the far end of the pool. Miguel was stunned, trying to process the situation he walked into, his head working in overdrive: Why were you here? Did he go through the wrong door? No, there was only one door. How did he miss your scent? Oh, the fumes from the concoction must have overpowered it. Should you be here? Should he be here? Once his eyes fell to how your arms hugged your chest in an attempt to maintain some sort of propriety, he promptly turned on his heels as an intense heat flared up on his face.

"Shit! I'm sorry!" He spat. "I don't know what– I should– I'm gonna go."

He frantically tried opening the door back to the locker room, pressing the buttons on the door pad with more force than he should, but it was futile. As he punched the pad in frustration, Lyla popped up beside him.

"You're not leaving until you finish your treatment session," she sang.

"Lyla! Open this door this instant!" Miguel barked. Lyla just clicked her tongue.

"Just get in the water, the pool is big enough for the both of you," she replied "Besides, the mixture of medicines in the water make it very murky, you can barely make out what's under it."

"LYLA! NOW!"

"It's OK, Miguel," you said, your voice instantly starting to subdued Miguel's anger "You need this treatment too, you should get in."

Miguel brushed his hair back with his hand, his fingers running through his thick locks as he tried calming down to assess his situation. You were behind him completely vulnerable in an extreme state of undress, protected only by a thin veil of water. He shuddered at the thought, the image in his head alone sending all the blood in his body directly south. The beast inside of him wanted nothing more than to seize the opportunity to claim you here, shrouded by the vapors and the thick herbal smell. Getting in that water was risky, it would take a lot of him to keep control. 

But what other option did he have? Lyla was adamant in making him go through the treatment, blocking the door control altogether. He had the power to just force his way out, tearing a hole in the metal with his talons, but he'd end up not only ruining your session but also exposing you (and the protectiveness in him was vehemently against it). He just had to endure it.

"Fine," he breathed out in defeat. He turned around, eyes down to avoid looking at you. He approached the pool's edge as he tugged on the towel around his hips "I'm gonna lose the towel, you… might want to look away."

You did not want to look away in the slightest, but you closed your eyes nonetheless out of respect. Once you heard the tell-tale splash followed by the ripples of water hitting you, you opened them again. 

Neither you or Miguel spoke, the silence being broken only by the gentle humming of the water heater. The tension in the air was almost as palpable as the herbal steam flooding the room. Miguel kept himself on the opposite corner of the pool, as far from you as possible. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and sank as far as he could while resting the back of his head on the edge. His heart was racing, a mixture of arousal and embarrassment overwhelming his senses. He was fighting hard to relax, to be present in the moment and enjoy the break from the ever-present onslaught of responsibilities his life bestowed upon him, but your presence was proving too strong. 

The beast inside of him stirred, flooding his mind with obscenities; you bent over at your hip on your belly at the edge of the pool, your ass on full display for him as he plunged his cock between your glistening folds; you sat at the edge with your feet in the water as he savored your nectar with his head between your thighs; him sitting on the shallow part of the pool with you on top of him, bouncing on his cock as he gripped your ass, watching your tits gorgeously jump from the movement. Miguel groaned, fighting to keep the beast on a tight leash as he tried to push the vulgarities away; fuck fuck fuck… What wouldn't he give for a chance to jerk these thoughts out of him, to release the tension just a bit to make this ordeal a bit more bearable. The occasional sigh and shudder you'd let out from the other side of the pool just added to his fantasies, making the effort of keeping his very much hardening cock down that much vexing. At least Lyla was right about the murkiness of the water - the pearlescent shade whatever chemicals granted the liquid made it impossible to distinguish anything immersed in it.

Wait, that's right - Lyla! She did ask him to take a look at a weird entry on her command input history, didn't she. This was perfect, some busy work should keep his mind occupied, if he was lucky it would take the whole treatment session to finish dealing with it. He promptly called Lyla and before long, he was scrolling through her command input history.

To say you were faring any better at the other side of the pool would be a lie. Ever since Miguel walked through that door you became acutely aware of how bare you were - your skin prickled as if more sensitive than before. On top of that, you were fighting for your life not to ogle at the man - the dampness of the ambient clung to him making his bronze skin glisten and tousled his hair, causing some thick locks to fall on his face. You started to question your decision to offer him to partake in the session with you the moment the words left your mouth; you supposed it derived from both the guilt you felt from him getting wounded during the mission and the opportunity your lizard brain saw of being close to a very naked Miguel. Nevertheless, the result was an awkward situation filled to the brim with tension. 

Suddenly, you sensed Miguel tense up for a second, meeting his eyes the moment you looked over to see what had spooked him. The workaholic that he was, he had a screen open in front of him and seemed to have seen something that surprised him. You lifted a questioning eyebrow at him, but he didn't respond; instead he returned to the document he had opened as if double-checking something before turning the screen off. He then set his eyes to the water in front of him, but his mind was distant - you could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

The silence stretched on and minutes started feeling like hours. You racked your brain trying to find a topic of discussion, something to fill the silence and loosen the tension if only for a bit. Maybe even something silly, just to share a little amicable laugh, or some kind of teasing, to partake in a familiar friendly jabbing session. And then it hit you, the one thing you were dying to bring up to him - the little confession he let out during the mission. His (work) need of you (in the Spider Society).

"Soooo," you broke the silence in a sing-song voice "Miguel O'Hara finally caved in, huh."

Miguel snapped out of whatever was consuming his mind, clearly taken aback by the tone of your voice "¿Q- que?"

"Because I need you," you mimicked, doing a very bad impression of his voice "Took you long enough to admit it."

Miguel didn't respond right away. You watched him stir, visibly distraught, as he searched your face for something. "... you knew?"

There was a tinge of melancholy behind his question, something even vulnerable. But you kept your smirk, backing down now would just compromise your attempt at alleviating the tension. "I mean, I had a feeling."

Miguel dropped his shoulders in a strong exhale as he scrunched his eyes shut. When he opened them again, his eyebrows furrowed up slightly as he looked at you in desolation "I'm sorry."

Of all things to hear back from him, an apology was not on the list. Something was starting to feel off, but you decided to push it a little more "You should be, it was high time you recognized the work I put in here."

It was Miguel's turn to look confused "... the work?"

"Oh, don't act dumb, O'Hara," you retorted, slightly annoyed. He was not gonna dissuade you from finally getting the praise you rightfully deserved from him. "You couldn't let me quit the Society, you literally said you needed me here. I might have passed out soon after, but I did hear those words coming out of you."

"But that wasn't–," Miguel started frantically, but halted abruptly, seemingly collecting his thoughts. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before continuing. "You are an exceptional member of the Society. Your work at the lab and in the field are crucial and I can admit without problem that I need you at the Society. We all do."

He paused again, contemplating his next words. After a brief second, he resumed his speech. "What I said back then had nothing to do with work."

You frowned in confusion for a moment, but then the other meaning to those words you had first imagined crept up in the forefront of your mind. He couldn't be talking about affection, could he? A yearning for you that matched yours for him? Your chest fluttered in an erratic cadence, but you promptly stomped the elation down. You had to make sure - to hear him say it - before allowing yourself the bliss.

"What did you mean then?" You spoke softly, carefully. Like your tone alone could corner Miguel and cause him to withdraw, putting his walls back up and leaving you with half truths and lies.

But he didn't give you the clarification you desperately craved right away. Instead he shifted, standing a bit taller while still leaning with his back to the pool's edge, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. 

"I'll let you know," he spoke, fiercely gazing into your eyes from under his brow; his voice husky and stern. "But first I need you to explain why you asked Lyla to find a Miguel O'Hara variant in your dimension."

Your heart sank as dread rapidly coursed through your veins. You desperately tried to find a suitable answer, one that could give him a good explanation while omitting the truth from him. But the harder you racked your brain, the clearer it became that there was no way out from the corner Miguel drove you into. 

Dread started giving away to anger. How dare he tries to dodge your question by conditioning its answer to an answer from you, one that puts you on the spot. Leave it to control-freak Miguel O'Hara to use sleazy methods to keep himself on top.

"That doesn't concern you," you said between greeted teeth. "Now, answer my question."

Miguel was unphased. "Oh, you think someone looking for a variant of myself using my tech doesn't concern me?"

"It doesn't, that was a matter between me and Lyla about a potential third person," you spat, voice rising a bit. "My question is about clarification on a conversation WE shared. THAT concerns you."

"You can't possibly-"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, O'HARA," you snapped, standing up abruptly, splashing water all around you "STOP DEFLECTING MY QUESTION AND JUST ANSWE-"

You stopped upon noticing the look on Miguel's face. He seemed shocked, eyes wide open, eyebrows knitted together and mouth agape. Then you noticed a tinge of red make an appearance underneath the bronze color of his cheeks. Finally, you watched as he rapidly looked away from you, dramatically turning his head to the side. "SHOCK! ¿PENDEJA, ESTÁS LOCA?!"

Adrenaline ebbed from your body giving room for your other senses to kick in. You shivered from the lack of heat and soon realized your rage had eclipsed you to the fact you were still very much naked and now with your torso (and tits) completely exposed above the water from your outburst. Heat quickly flooded your face as you plunged back into the water, mortified and vulnerable. 

Another thick stretch of silence fell between the two of you. You hugged yourself tightly over your breasts under the water as if it somehow could alleviate the intense shame coursing through your body. Miguel tried to compose himself, the image of your tits hanging down your torso as water dripped down in rivulets over your skin carouselled in his mind on loop. 

You huffed. Was trying to keep your feelings for him a secret worth it at this point? After sharing a bath with and subsequently flashing your boss, a love confession felt harmless. Might as well rip out that band-aid and live with the consequences of this bundle of awkwardness. You took a deep breath and…

"I asked Lyla to find a Miguel O'Hara variant in my dimension because I wanted to find a version of you with whom I could take out all my pent-up frustrations about you on," you spoke in almost a whisper, eyes away from Miguel. "Because I'm in love with you."

Miguel's eyes widened. He turned to you looking for any sign of mischief - a smirk, a held laugh, a smug stance -, but he found none. You kept your gaze downwards, your arms around you as you tried to withdraw within yourself. 

"And… I've been for the longest time, too," you continued, still avoiding his gaze. "And I would be very grateful if we pretended this confession never happened."

"What…?" Miguel croaked, still processing your words.

"Yeah, kinda pathetic, isn't it?" You scoffed, a defeated smile adorning your face. "It was obvious this would go unrequited the moment it started blooming, but I couldn't help it."

As soon as those last words left your mouth, you felt a surge of shame rising up from your very core, begging you to stop talking. But you pushed it down, the cat was already out of the bag and there was no undoing it. Alas, it was better to exhaust everything regarding this topic now than to regret leaving things unsaid later.

"And you know what the worst part is? I've been trying to compensate for my feelings by assisting you the best I can to help lighten your load," you started talking more emphatically, adding speed and volume to your speech in order to drown out the shame. "You're carrying so much responsibility all by yourself, I wanted to make your life easier if only for a fraction."

"Wait, it… its not-" Miguel was having a hard time keeping up with the onslaught you poured on him. There were a lot of conflicting emotions clashing inside him, his mouth couldn't put into words what he was trying to convey. The sudden surge of speed in your speech was not helping him in the slightest. 

"Yeah, I know. It's not working, isn't it? I figured as such, you've been really uptight about my performance lately," You spat back, not giving him a chance to talk. You were worried that you'd lose your momentum and never be able to gather it back. You needed to get everything out. "But I'll work harder! Just… Maybe it's best if I quit the Lab Assistant job, I don't want to make you uncomfortable at your own workplace and-"

"¡Por favor, deja de hablar!" Miguel's voice echoed through the chamber, halting your verbosity. "It's not unrequited…"  He spoke more quietly, a gentleness in his tone. "Your feelings, that is."

Another stretch of silence took place between you. You slowly uncurled yourself, straightening up your back as you finally looked at Miguel. His stance defied the words he just uttered to the point you wondered if you might have misheard them - he was tense, shoulders slightly up with his hands at his sides in tight fists; he looked down, avoiding your face. 

"Wait, you-," your voice failed you. You quickly cleared your throat before resuming. "You feel the same…?"

Miguel relaxed his shoulders a bit as he exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. He then proceeded to meet your gaze as he rested his hands over his hips. "Yeah…"

"Oh. I… That's perfect! Miguel, I-"

"No, wait," he cut you off. "I owe you an apology and an explanation - yes, I… I realize I have been an asshole to you lately. I'm sorry about that, it's just-," Miguel paused again, collecting his thoughts. He closed his eyes for a second and, when he opened them again, there was nothing but hurt behind them. "I've been trying to distance myself from you, and I know that that's not an excuse to lash out on you, but being near you made that task so much more vexing…"

"... why would you want to distance yourself from me?" 

"To protect you." He responded matter-of-factly.

You frowned slightly. "From what??"

"From me." Miguel said, emphatically pointing a finger at his own face.

"Why would I need protection from you??" You asked, lifting an eyebrow at him. "Miguel, don't get me wrong - you are very strong. But not strong enough to be a threat to me."

"I cannot allow myself to partake on more… intimate activities with you," he spat, avoiding your gaze again. "I would ruin you."

"And what if I want to be ruined?" You asked, taking a few careful steps towards him. Miguel swallowed nervously as he felt your words go straight south. He tried to compose himself before responding.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he muttered. "I am a monster and you know that. There ought to be a better suitor for you."

You took another couple of tentative steps towards him. "I decide what's best for me."

"No, you don't understand," he spat, his gaze towards the water. "You are amazing. You are.. strong, smart, have an intellect to die for and so, so kind. While I have to live in isolation, in a dim-lit Lab, taking shots to keep a semblance of humanity because my powers make me a monster and you don't deserve tha-"

He stopped upon feeling your hand reaching for his. He was so lost in his rant that he failed to notice your approach. He flinched at your proximity but didn't pull away from your touch. 

You took his hand in both of yours, slowly kneading his palm with your thumbs. "Do you trust me?"

"...What do you mean?" Miguel answered, watching your hands work his. At this distance he could finally feel your scent alongside the concoction herb-y smell. 

"Just in general." 

"Of course I do," he responded softly. "I trust you with my life."

"Then trust me when I say I want to be with you," You said, bringing his hand over your chest, right above your heart. He inhaled sharply at the contact, realizing the softness of the tissue below was the top portion of your breast. He finally met your eyes to prevent him from dwelling on the thought. "Trust me that I will tell you if, like you fear, it becomes too much for me."

"I… " He let your words sink in. He really was deciding he was no good for you, robbing you of your own agency on the matter, wasn't he? But something tugged at him in the back of his mind, something that wasn't adding up - a fear that prevented him from just letting go. 

Then it clicked.

He set the hand you held free, cupping your jaw with it. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. Miguel's heart fluttered at the sight, but he quickly composed himself - he had a point to make.

"You have to promise me you will actually tell me if something becomes too much for you. That you won't push yourself past your limit for my sake," he started, capturing your attention again. "I watched the video of our last mission and you put yourself in harm's way to protect me and you almost died. Add that to what you just told me about putting a lot of effort in the Society for my sake, it worries me you'd favor me in detriment of your own well-being." 

"I…," you started.

"That first injury you sustained, it was also a ramification of that dynamic, wasn't it?"

There was no way around that, you figured. Closing your eyes, you rested your own hand atop Miguel's hand on your face. "Yeah… "

With a resolute exhale, you locked eyes with Miguel once more. "I guess we both have things to work on."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Miguel's mouth. "Yeah…"

"So…," you said after a pause. "Can we kiss?"

Miguel chuckled. "There's nothing I'd like more, hermosa."

He cupped your face with both hands, craning down to face you. He opened his mouth slightly, ghosting your lips for a moment as he took in your scent before colliding into your mouth. The kiss was gentle at first, chaste even; as if Miguel was still not entirely sure it was happening and he was under some hallucinogenic side-effect from the fumes of the concoction. But then he heard you whimper into his mouth - it was a silent thing, almost a whisper -, but it was enough for his heightened hearing to pick-up. 

And then somewhere inside Miguel a switch flipped.

His tongue breached your lips, hungrily tracing the inside of your mouth. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, giving Miguel the leverage he needed to slide his hands down your sides, gripping your hips and bringing your body flushed to his. Like everything in his life, Miguel needed to take control and… it didn't feel unwelcome this time. In fact, the heat emanating from his body against yours paired with the oily dampness the concoction provided and his ministrations in your mouth was making you dizzy - your heart drummed in your ears and you could feel arousal starting to build up in your core.

You instinctively brought your hands to his hair, raking your nails through his scalp. He grunted in response, the sound going straight to your clit. You instantly got addicted, suddenly you needed to hear more; to learn all the pretty sounds Miguel could make. So in between kisses you sank your teeth into his lower lip, earning the groffiest moan you ever heard. Spurred further, Miguel descended to your jaw, nibbling his way to your neck. He nuzzled into the crook of it, inhaling hard to bask in your intoxicating scent, before sinking his teeth into your pulse point.

You moaned shamelessly, the mixture of pain and pleasure only adding to the pressure in your core. His erection pressed against you, twitching at every sound that escaped your lips. Your head spinned as if you were drunk, any reservation you formerly had dissolved.

"Fuck, Miguel," you mewled near his ear and you could sense him tensing up in response; he hardened his grip on your hips and you could feel his talons starting to pierce your skin. A gasp of primal ecstasy from deep within you escaped your lips as his talons extended, sinking further into your flesh. Miguel flooded all your senses, yet you yearned for more.

But suddenly he stopped.

He grabbed your shoulders, pushing your body back and away from him. His head hung between his shoulders as he fought to catch his breath, keeping his arms extended to maintain the distance between you. 

"Miguel, is everything okay?" You asked, worry lacing your words. 

After a moment, he took a deep breath and turned his head up to face you. His skin still flustered from the kiss. "I'm so sorry…"

You frowned slightly. "What for?"

"I lost control, I-," he stuttered anxiously. "I hurt you. I could smell your blood."

"But-," you tried speaking, but Miguel continued.

"Shit, you aren't even fully healed yet," he scrunched up his face, spiraling on. "Fuck, this is a treatment. We're in the middle of your treatment, I-. I'm an idiot."

"Shut-up, O'Hara," you spat, trying to break him from the guilt pit he started sinking in. "I'm practically 100% already from that injury and…"

Your pause brought his attention back to you. You gathered courage to continue.

"...and I rather enjoyed getting rougher a second ago." You finished, avoiding his gaze.

Miguel relaxed a bit, enthralled by your bashful display. "But still I… I'd prefer if we didn't do anything too rough today."

"Oh c'mon, man," you scoffed, very much annoyed. "Don't treat me as an invalid."

"I'm not," he responded. "I'm just not comfortable escalating this when you still have some healing to do."

"But-," 

"Please," Miguel pleaded. The raw vulnerability behind it spoke of the guilt he still felt for your injury. It faltered your resolve.

"Alright…," you pouted. "Not easy after all that, but fine."

"Don't even get me started, hermosa," Miguel responded, letting go of your shoulders. "Although…," he said, scanning the area around the pool. "I think there's something we could do."

"Hm?"

"Sit on the edge of the pool," Miguel said curtly, the change of tone catching you off-guard.

"What?"

"You heard me, princesa," he spoke again in a more sultry voice, half-lidded scarlet eyes meeting yours. "Let me see you."

"I-," you suddenly felt very shy at his request, the small break from the heated kiss you two shared seemed to have cooled you down enough to bring back your self-awareness. Sitting on the edge of the pool meant being on full-display for Miguel, way more exposed than the seconds of accidentally flashing him from before. 

Your eyes shifted back and forth from the edge to Miguel, unsure of what to do. But he was having none of it; he cupped your jaw again, his touch enough to ground you a bit, bringing your attention back to him. "I need to see you, chiquita. All of you."

"Okay," you blurted out in a resolute exhale. You turned towards the edge and paused before moving forward. "Prepare to be disappointed."

"I could never."

Miguel watched you with bated breath as you hoisted your body up the edge of the pool with your arms. Your plump ass emerged next, droplets of water running down its surface as you finally brought your legs up and onto the hard floor. If he died now, he would have died happy. You sat with your back turned to him and your legs to the side, as you held your torso up with your arms. That scene, paired with the rivulets of pearlescent water running down your body and the vapors from the pool painted an image Miguel could only describe as divine. You were his goddess and he wished for nothing more than to be your most adulant devotee.

Finally, you slowly turned around, bringing your legs back in the water as you scooted your hips to the edge of the pool. You kept your hands on your lap and your legs pressed together; subconsciously trying to hide yourself from Miguel's gaze. 

But Miguel was nothing but awestruck, trying to formulate a proper reaction. He moved towards you, placing a hand on each of your knees. "Not once in my wildest fantasies I could attain the perfection that is your body." 

You inhaled sharply at his earnest words, heat blooming across your face. His hold on your knees sent shivers down your spine, beginning to fan your embers back to flames. His thumbs caressed the inner side of your knees, a silent plea to let him pry them apart. His crimson eyes devoured you wholly, his gaze searing your skin.

"Let me make you feel good, mi preciosa," Miguel husked, as his eyes met yours from under his brow. His hands guided your knees apart and you followed, exposing your innermost self to him. You watched his gaze falling to your cunt and his chest heaving in response. He proceeded to hover his mouth over your inner thigh - the contrast of his hot breath against your wet skin driving you insane -, before planting a kiss on the soft surface. He kept kissing you agonizingly slow, teasingly making his way to your center; each of his ministrations eliciting a gaspy moan from within you. Finally, he pressed a kiss directly on your engorged clit, keeping his lips on it in the longest iteration of a kiss you ever witnessed, drawing out his teasing for as long as possible.

"M-Miguel, for the love of-."

You never finished your sentence. He hooked his hands under your hips, tilting your pelvis up and licked a fat stripe with the flat of his tongue up your slit and you whimpered. With his grip on your hips giving him leverage, he began eating you out like a man starved, flicking his tongue on your clit, kneading your outer lips with the pad of his thumbs and lapping up your essence like he needed it to stay alive. You instinctively gripped his hair for purchase, his relentlessness robbing you of your breath. 

"Don't hold back, hermosa," he said, coming up for air. " Show me all the pretty sounds you can make."

He let go of your hips with one of his hands before plunging a finger between your folds and into your velvety insides. You moaned at the intrusion as he deliciously rotated his finger, massaging your inner walls, before settling his pad on the sensitive spongy spot directly behind your clit. You buckled involuntarily into his mouth as he curled his fingers and he chuckled against your cunt, the vibration adding to the pressure building up in your core.

Miguel dove a second finger inside you and began pumping them in and out while rotating his wrist. A cry fell from your lips at the new pace, the obscene squelching sounds of your arousal permeating the air further compressing the coil inside you. A part of you didn't want to cum yet, didn't want your first orgasm with Miguel to be with his mouth when his cock was right there. 

"M-Miguel, ple- ah! Please," you managed to blurt out. "I need you inside me."

Miguel planted a kiss on your cunt before responding. "I'll use my cock if you can refrain from cumming for the next… 5 minutes."

He resumed his assault right after with a renewed vigor and you mewled. There was no way you were gonna last five minutes.

To say Miguel was faring any better was a lie. Despite his facade, his whole body screamed for release. He had his lower half pressed to the wall of the pool, lightly humping into it to get some form of relief. It was taking all of his self control not to give into your plea and plow into you then and there, to feel your warm walls around his cock instead of the cold tiles of the pool.

But you were still hurt, your wound was still healing; he couldn't risk bringing more harm upon you. 

With a final barrage to your hole and a long suck on your clit your band finally snapped. Your climax hit you like a supernova, white hot and powerful; you buckled into Miguel's face until it died down and he promptly provided the guidance you needed through it. When you finally came back from your high and managed to catch your breath, you turned to Miguel.

"You bastard." You spat feigning annoyance. He chuckled as he wiped your juices from his chin.

"Didn't see you complaining when you came." He teased, licking his fingers clean. 

"You know what I meant," you retorted. "Miguel, please, just-... Just pound me. I need you to fill me up so fucking bad."

Miguel's cock twitched at your words, still painfully hard underneath the water. He was fighting hard to keep his head cool and not just give in, to throw caution to the wind and just slam into you like you wanted. To make matters worse, you never moved after you came, still in its afterglow, blissfully unaware you kept your lower-half very much on display to him - your glistening hole practically welcoming him. He forced himself to look away before his resolve faltered.

"Next time, Chiquita," he said softly. "I promise."

"What about you, though?" You asked, hoisting yourself up on your elbows.

"I can take care of myself later."

You groaned in response. You hated when Miguel got like that, so focused on an emotionally charged aspect he couldn't fathom considering other takes. There was no need to forgo all sexual activity if he was worried about your healing, especially after eating you out (so fucking well). With a huff, you got back in the water - if there was something you learned working in his Lab all this time is that Miguel needed help seeing other points of views sometimes.

You gently pressed your torso to Miguel's back, tenderly enveloping your arms around his middle in a hug. He flinched under your touch at first, but relaxed soon after. You proceeded to run your fingers on his abs, slowly massaging the taut muscle.

"I could take care of you, you know," you whispered. 

Miguel felt his heart race at your words. He was already getting lost with the way your body pressed against his, the heat emanating from you paired with your scent causing him to walk the edge between lunacy and prudence. Looking down, he could see your delicate hands working his muscles - every little press of your fingers sent electric bolts downwards, where he yearned for your touch the most. Would it be so bad to indulge…?

"Y-your wound…"

"I'm sure using my hands wouldn't compromise my healing," you responded, trying to sound alluring. You tentatively slid your fingers down his lower belly, stopping just below his hips and Miguel hissed. You drew circles on the region slowly, feeling him shudder against you. "Let me make you feel good, Miggy."

"I-," Miguel tried speaking, but the little brain power he still had was having a hard time fighting against the sensation of your dainty fingers so close to his cock. The fact the whole massage was now happening hidden from his eyes under the water only made each touch feel searing hot.

He desperately needed release. 

"... Yeah," he husked. "Just… don't overdo yourself."

You grinned behind him before finally sliding a hand to his cock, enveloping your fingers around his shaft. He hissed at the touch, getting so wound up had made him a lot more sensitive. You glided your hand along his cock, feeling his veins against the pads of your fingers before reaching his tip. You pulled back his hood, circling your thumb around the gland before gently rubbing the slit; Miguel hitched a breath.

"Does it feel good?" You asked, feigning innocence. Having control over him, knowing he could turn the tides easily if he so wished, felt oddly good.

"Y-yeah," he managed to huff out. 

Pleased with his response, you started languidly pumping his cock and Miguel let out a strangled moan. You slid your body to his side to gain more range of motion while gently bringing your other hand to his ass. 

The pace of your hand was slowly depleting Miguel of his remaining sanity. With his heightened sensitivity, the movement alone was both a lot and not enough. Your other hand kneaded his ass gently, occasionally prodding the rim of his hole, putting him in a position of vulnerability unfamiliar to him, yet not unwelcome. It felt good to relinquish control, especially with you at the helm.

But he needed more.

"Please…," he whispered. You lifted an eyebrow at his tone.

"Please what, handsome?" You teased.

"I… I need more."

"You need to speak more clearly, big guy."

"Mierda," he cussed. "I need you to stroke me faster."

"Atta, boy".

You increase your pace, gently rotating your wrist as you pumped him. Miguel groaned, throwing his head back. He instinctively brought an arm over your shoulders for purchase, holding you against his body. He could feel the pressure in his abdomen growing, his release getting dangerously close. 

"Y-yo voy a, yo voy a…, (I-I'm gonna, I'm gonna…)" he groaned, his peak hastily approaching.

And then you stopped. And he hissed.

"N-no no no, please…," he cried out, desperately trying to rut in your hand. But it was no use.

You had the audacity to chuckle.

You cupped his jaw, bringing his attention down to you. You guided his head down, hungrily taking his lips with your own. He moaned in your mouth, frustration and arousal blending together, flooding all of his senses. 

You both parted for air, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his. He looked at you with half-lidded drunken eyes, a gentle giant tamed by lust.

"C'mon, big guy. Let's get you sat at the edge," you whispered in his ear. "I want to taste you."

There wasn't a fiber in Miguel's body capable of denying you at this point.

With his back to the wall of the pool, Miguel hoisted his torso up by his arms, plopping himself down at pool's edge with his lower legs in the water. His heavy cock throbbed, thick and dark red, covered in droplets of a mixture of precum and the oily pearlescent concoction; a sight that had you salivating.

Miguel watched you approach him, slotting yourself between his thighs. You gently pulled his hood back, revealing the gland to the thick air of the chamber, before pressing your tongue flat to the underside of it and locking eyes with him.

"Fuck," was all he could muster. There was no way he would last much longer inside your warm mouth after getting edged. In fact, he was afraid a couple more kitten licks would be enough to finish him off. But he wanted to endure a little more, to enjoy you for as long as he could.

You rotated your tongue around his head a few times, catching as much precum as you could, before enveloping him with your mouth. Miguel hissed, instinctively bringing a hand to your hair for purchase. You bobbed your head slowly, swirling your tongue around his shaft in the process. 

"Nena, I won't last," he warned you. 

You hummed around his cock in response, bringing your hand up to him with your pointer finger pressed against your thumb, asking him for 'just a little longer'.

Miguel groaned. He would try. For you, he would try.

You started to slowly increase your pace, taking him deeper with each movement. Miguel could feel the pressure in his abdomen building up again faster. He tensed his muscles and gripped the edge of the pool with his other hand in an attempt to sooth it, to prolong the pleasure you provided for as long as possible.

But you weren't planning to play fair. You enveloped the remainder of his shaft you couldn't mouth with one hand, stroking him alongside the movement of your head, and used your other hand to reach his neglected balls, fondling them in tandem to your ministrations. It was all too much, Miguel threw his head back and could only tighten his hold on your hair in warning before spilling into your mouth hard, completely emptying his seed in you in a fervent release.

You soothed him through it, until his first wince of over-stimulation. You then gently pulled yourself back, letting go of his softening cock, before lifting your chin up to him and making a show of swallowing his spent and opening your mouth to present your clean tongue to him. Miguel shuddered.

"No me hagas esto," he said, still catching his breath. "You'll be the death of me."

"A good way to go, I hope?" You jested. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Miguel chuckled. 

You two sat in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow. You rested your head on his thigh, drawing lazy circles on his other's quads while Miguel gently rubbed your scalp, admiring the peace in your countenance.

"We should probably leave soon, I'm getting all pruny," you broke the silence.

"I do so love raisins," Miguel joked. You huffed in return.

"Shut-up, O'Hara," you spat back, feigning annoyance. You paused before continuing. "I'm gonna hold you accountable, you know."

"Hm?"

"To that promise," you clarified. "About pounding me next time."

Miguel chuckled before responding.

"It's a deal."

[cupidgwk]

. . ! oblivious — kim gyuvin

► more friends to lovers !!!!

► synopsis: you and gunwook devised the oh so, full proof plan to get gyuvin to fall for you!!!

► slightly proof read

► p.s gunwook is best wingman

step one — get closer to him (physically)

gunwook laid out the steps for you one by one. first, you’d have to get close to him but in a subtle way!

his bright idea? turning up the a/c. what you didn’t expect was gunwook setting the temperature to a chilling 60 degrees.

“oh it’s pretty cold in here isn’t it.” gunwook ponders.

“yeah, just how cold is it?” you glared at gunwook as your teeth chattered.

“oh don’t worry about it! the air conditioner must be broken.” he shrugged avoiding eye contact.

gyuvin still had his eyes fixated to the tv in full focus in his mario kart race.

“are you cold y/n?” hanbin questioned. “you can wear my sweater if you want!”

“oh thank you hanbin! you shouldn’t have…” your fully slightly pained smile spilling out as you accepted the wrong person’s hoodie.

gunwook physically smacked his hand against his forehead.

spoiler alert: it did leave a mark on his forehead that lasted a good two days.

step one. failed.

step two — make him good ol’ baked home goods

you trusted gunwook with your life after all. well, not after the kitchen fiasco that was.

“uhm, is that supposed to be bubbling?” you questioned in concern watching the “cookies” bake in the oven.

“i don’t think so,” he trailed off in fear. “just how many tea spoons of baking powder did you add?”

“i think, around 3?” you replied.

“that can’t be right, then why is the-“ realization flashed through his eyes.

“oh man..” he started.

“what did i do.”

“well, you may have used table spoons instead of tea spoons.” gunwook stated re-reading the baking instructions.

he pointed his finger to the top of the ingredient list. “also, we used baking powder instead of soda.”

to make the situation even worse, the smell of smoke entered your nostrils.

“there is no way…” you raced to the oven and fished the tray of slightly burned cookies.

of course at the worse timing ever, gyuvin enters the kitchen, clearly looking for whatever he can stuff into his mouth.

“yay cookies!” his eyes lit up. “i love home made ones the best!”

“gyuvin wait!” but you and gunwook were a little too late. as gyuvin munched into the baked good that didn’t even deserve to be called a cookie.

gyuvin’s face went from joy to confusion to pure disgust.

“oh wow guys this is the best thing i’ve ever tasted!” he managed to cough out.

“dude, you can be honest.” gunwook deadpanned.

“i need a moment.” he mumbled making his way toward the bathroom.

in the distance you can hear the faucet running as gyuvin attempted to get any taste of that concoction out of his taste buds.

“great! i gave him food positioning!” you slouched onto the floor in defeat.

step two. failed.

and so the saga continued. gunwook would come up to you every day with a new plan to push gyuvin closer to you. of course, most. well. all of the attempts resulted in failure.

one failed attempt after another felt like a never ending rollercoaster. step 4? yujin beat you to asking gyuvin to share an umbrella on the walk home. step 5? we don’t talk about step 5.

“gunwook, i am one failed attempt away from dropping out and moving across the country. the continent even!” you flailed your arms in annoyance.

gunwook shook his head in disagreement. “no can do!” he shook his finger. “i got this covered y/n, just you wait!”

do not fret. gunwook wasn’t class president for no reason. he devised yet another foolproof plan by adding any steps necessary to ensure by the end of the day you and gyuvin will be a couple.

step ??? — become partners for the upcoming group project

gunwook may or may not have pulled a couple strings to ensure that you and gyuvin would be partners in the newest english assignment.

“hey y/n!” gyuvin greeted pulling up a seat next to you. “what exactly did the teacher say? sorry i think i fell asleep for most of it.”

you laughed at his demeanor before quickly explaining the project requirements and such. surprisingly enough, gyuvin listened intently nodding along to the words spilling from your mouth.

“thanks y/n!” he smiled. “so, when is this due?”

“we have around two weeks or so,” you tapped your pen on your bottom lip as you scanned the instruction sheet once more.

“wanna visit the café across the school so we can sort stuff out?” gyuvin questioned tiling his head.

your face erupted into a smile at his suggestion. “you sure this isn’t just an excuse to try their new season menu?” he pouted at your words lightly shoving your shoulder. “come one! please~”

you rolled your eyes at his antics. “of course gyuvin~” teasing him.

-

conversations filled the hallway as students rushed to beat rush hour on the train. the two of you continued to converse as you made your way to the train station. of course, gyuvin forgot to reload his train pass resulting in the two of you missing the train.

“i’m so sorry!” gyuvin apologized clasping his hands together. you laughed at his dramatic apology shaking your head playfully. “don’t sweat it, it gives me more time to spend with you.”

“what?” gyuvin questioned. your face immediately burned up as regret filled your mind. before you can even stutter out a response, gyuvin came up with one himself.

“glad to know, my plan worked,” you raised an eyebrow in suspicion. he turns to face you. “why don’t we turn that study session into a real date? you know, to make up for missing the train and everything.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “of course!” a smile erupted on his face as he suddenly engulfed you in his arms.

“i’ve been waiting so long to do this.”

gunwook’s full proof plan to get you and gyuvin together: SUCCEEDED

[ashesandhackles]

Chapter 1,2,3,4,5

I love this chapter for how much it pokes fun at politicians, particularly the political opponent saying, " a grim mood has gripped the country," barely concealing his grin or the detail of Fudge turning the PM's tea cup into gerbil and how it chews the corner of his next speech XD

Emmeline Vance seems to be put on guard for Muggle PM by the Order (Snape implies as much in next chapter), cos she was murdered on the PM's premises.

Kingsley is also assigned to protect Muggle PM, but by the order of the Ministry (perhaps also a move by the Order?)

meta for this chapter: democracy in wizarding world by @whinlatter

Love the moody opening shot of 2nd chapter: mist over a dirty river, the chimney: a relic of disused mill, and a scrawny fox looking for fish and chips. Bellatrix makes a quick entrance in the scene by killing that fox.

Love the juxtaposition of Narcissa's familiarity with Spinner's End to Bellatrix's utter contempt. (In this Muggle dunghill?)

Bellatrix does not expect Narcissa to hurt her: it reads both dismissive of the baby sister, but also an expectation of familial loyalty (your own sister?) She is so surprised by Narcissa jinxing her, she keeps sufficient distance between them later on.

the comparison to Narcissa looking like a "drowned person": a reference to myth of Narcissus.

Love how the narration makes a comment that Snape's childhood home is a "dark padded cell". It parallels Sirius being in Grimmauld Place, a place of childhood wounds. Both grown men in self-inflicted prisons.

Wormtail and Snape are flatmates, which is hilarious. Snape is the spy, and keeping Wormtail, his most inclined traitor in the flat is a way to keep both of them in check (Wormtail listens at doors to get information to curry favours). Of course, Snape uses this opportunity to humiliate Wormtail and make him an errand boy XD

Voldemort is really a cult leader: there is factionalism and resentment between DEs, as indicated by Bellatrix's jealousy of Snape's supposed favourable position. A feeling other DEs seem to share who apparently carry "false stories of treachery" to Voldemort.

Snape uses Bellatrix' high regard for Voldemort's capabilities against her XD most of my analysis of this interaction is here

the petty bickering Imao: Snape putting down Bellatrix for the Ministry fiasco, Bellatrix throwing Lucius under the bus and Narcissa shutting that down XD

I love the Emmeline Vance tidbit: we know she was murdered in the Muggle PM's backyard. Snape says it was on his information that Emmeline Vance was murdered, and Dumbledore says in DH: "To give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you." This gives an idea of how Dumbledore works: like in the Seven Potters plan - the correct date is given, but the Order having seven Harry's gambit isnt disclosed (Mad Eye dies in this ambush). I think Emmeline Vance incident worked similarly: the information given to Voldemort is broad details, and it puts an Order member in a life and death position - and unfortunately, she dies.

Narcissa and Snape, both on the floor, kneeling, while Narcissa kisses his hand and asks for an Unbreakable Vow. It is a pretty charged scene - where she is asking Snape to be Draco's protector and the vows almost read like a marriage.

Snape makes the Unbreakable Vow, knowing Dumbledore has asked him to kill him. But even then, Snape resists the idea of actually killing Dumbledore (and we know he hates doing it) - to the point the other alternative is death.

The newspaper opening of Ch3 to build details about the wizarding world is so cool. Also Augusta Longbottom giving interviews to Prophet after Neville helps Harry in OOTP lol XD she had stopped her subscription in previous book

Harry does not allow himself to hope that Dumbledore would come to rescue him and he hasn't packed. The only allowance he made to the possibility he would be rescued from Dursleys is shutting Hedwig in her cage :(

"long experience told him to stay out of his uncle's arms reach whenever possible"

"agapanthus is flourishing" - agapanthus are commonly known as Lily of the Nile. Interesting gardening note about Petunia, and memory of Lily that surrounds the house.

"we have corresponded of course" ah, Dumbledore reminding Petunia of the letter she had sent him, begging to be taken to Hogwarts.

Blacks are patriarchal. The houses are inherited via the male line.

Harry is so strikingly monosyllabic, more than usual at the discussion of Sirius' will. He really does not want to talk about it, nor think about it. But the bubbling grief within him, the anger - we see a glimpse when Harry stands up at the suggestion that Bellatrix will get Grimmauld place.

Dumbledore expresses his anger through coldness: there is a bit in the scene where he just raises a finger and strikes Vernon into silence (it could be just the power of his gesture and the dynamic in the room, it could be Dumbldore doing magic - but either way, its an effective way to show how much he controls the room).

Petunia, who had previously received kind response from Dumbledore and a Howler later when she changed her mind, is successfully guilted by Dumbledore over their treatment of Harry. She looked "oddly flushed"

The way the book begins with Dumbledore assuring Harry that he won't be attacked by saying: "You are with me" and one of the last exchanges Dumbledore has with Harry in the books is: "I'm not worried Harry, I'm with you." My heart <3

The difference in perception of Dumbledore's speed: Slughorn notices the lag, but Harry in the previous chapter couldn't tell when the wand moved. Nice way to illustrate Dumbledore's skill.

Notes from Slughorn about Lily: Charming, vivacious and cheeky. The cheekiness especially is very reminiscent of Harry.

Slughorn's casual bigotry and his token Muggleborn faves: Lily and Dirk Cresswell.

"it was hard to sympathise with Slughorn's cossetted existence when he remembered Sirius, crouching in a cave and living on rats". Stab me, why dont you:(

harry's first thought of seeing the Burrow, his second most favourite building: "Ron's in there..". Ronarry.

Harry spent two weeks in Privet Drive, refusing meals (his go to method of punishing himself), "full of chill emptiness" at the thought of Sirius' death. "It's hard, knowing he wont write to me again":(

Tonks had come in for "tea and sympathy" with Molly late at night. Molly tries to get her around when Remus and Mad Eye will be home, but Tonks declines the offer. Probably to offer Remus and herself space. She also could not quite meet Dumbledore's eyes - and I wonder if its her feelings about the mission Remus is going on speaking.

Harry spent two weeks at Privet drive refusing meals, and the moment he steps into the Burrow, he realises how hungry he is. It is very telling how much he is allowing himself to be cared for by Molly in this moment.

Molly illustrating what's wrong with Slughorn's old boys club by casually talking about how he never noticed Arthur (similar to how Slughorn would treat Ron in this book)

Molly is carrying around the clock of hers, now that wizarding world is in open warfare. The clock is in the wash basket:pleading_face:

Hedwig waiting for Harry before proceeding to go off hunting. What a cutie.

Okay, I love the scene blocking for trio here: Harry lies back down on the bed after greeting Ron, Ron pulls a cardboard box closer and sits next to his bedside while Hermione sits at the edge of the bed. There is a casual intimacy to this that I really love.

"we thought it'd be something like that?" "you did?" XD love how much Harry knows Ron and Hermione's silent language and is amused by the change of narrative tack.

the main love interest of the novel just slouches into the room looking irritable, lol. And she leaves the scene by trying to imitate Fleur's exit - "hands held aloft like a ballerina". XD

Hermione and Ginny being bitchy about Fleur is really telling moment of their friendship - especially Hermione dropping her voice to go, "She's so full of herself" XD. I love what Fleur seems to bring out in them - Ginny does not want to be patronised, and Hermione does not take kindly to what she feels is Fleur's unearned vanity. There is also an undercurrent of jealousy because of Ron's response to Fleur ("It's pathetic," Hermione says when Ron tries to tell Harry why he isnt used to Fleur's Veela aura)

"there isnt much to do here unless you like cooking and chickens" and Fleur indirectly slapping Mrs Weasley across her face with sheet of her hair lmao. Living for the pettiness.

"And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror" - Hermione backing Tonks as an option over Fleur is also speaking about her feelings about what she feels Ron should value in a girl (i.e her).

Harry coming in to defend Fleur and then immediately wishing he hadnt spoken when Hermione ("Not you too!") and Ginny (I suppose you like the way she says 'Arry do you?") descend on him : "I'm just saying Phlegm - I mean Fleur-" Poor boy.

Interesting use of silence when Ron and Hermione argue over Tonks' feelings about Sirius death: Harry proceeds to eat to deflect, while Ginny is observing the whole thing without interrupting the conversation. Harry only speaking up when he finds a point of connection with Tonks with his own grief and self blame: "She thinks it's her fault he died." No wonder he tries to open up to her later in the book: "I miss him too"

Hermione is really frightened by the implications of the prophecy, when Ron tries to bring up what the Prophet says, she shushes him, and when Harry finally confirms it, she squeezes the twins' telescope hard.

Ron just really thinks of Harry as a hero: he is amazed at the prophecy, and he assures Harry that dumbledore teaching him lessons means that Harry isnt a goner. "He must think you have a chance!" It's this tiny hero worship that is there, where he puts himself down in favour of Harry that gets equalised in next book, as Harry tells him - "Stuff like that has always been cooler than it really was. I've been trying to you for years."

Hermione's entire nervous meltdown in the kitchen over OWL results is so funny. "Hermione's hands were shaking so much she made her whole owl tremble" LOL.

ooh the sweetness of this moment. Ginny nervously asking how Hermione did, and Hermione is like "not bad" and Ron striding over to her in full confidence of her genius ("oh come off it"), announcing her results and teasing, "You're actually disappointed, arent you?" Romione <3

Chapter 6,7,8,9,10

Quidditch in Orchard, and triple helpings of food: Harry is happy :(cant do without mentioning @whinlatter fantastic fic Orchards here)

Also, Hermione is SUCH a sport for playing Quidditch with them lol.

Harry, in true runaway fashion, being upset about Florean Fortescue, the man who gave him free ice creams and homework help during POA :(

Draco's first dialogue is about his mother coddling him - he clearly wanted to do stuff alone for his mission, but Narcissa is hanging on.

Harry's Sirius grief and rage coming back again: he notices in the second meeting with Narcissa that she resembles Bellatrix. He doesn't lower his wand and steps forward to intimidate her. It's a tense scene where they both imply the other can't do much - but Narcissa picks at the wound that is propelling Harry: "I expect Potter would be reuniting with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

Fred (and george) always being surprised when Hermione compliments their magic: "For that Hermione, you can have one for free." He respects her intellect.

Just Fred and George casually displaying their enterpreunership: capitalising on people's fears and making it funny, having a Muggle novelty section as well as the DADA line, drawn from their experience of Dumbledore's Army. Telling what kind of competence we are dealing with at Ministry if Fred and George are getting massive money for their DADA line.

Harry paying unusual amount of attention to Fred and George grilling Ginny about her dating life. We see how she is edging into the narration slightly in this chapter, on the periphery.

Ginny, the 'sporty' girl, loves cute Pygymy Puffs. <3

Borgin bowing to Draco as deeply as he once did Lucius Malfoy after Draco finishes his demands: showing Draco's status as a "man" (a status he seems to be negotiating with his mother, who he snaps at for treating him like a child)

Ron and Hermione bickering all the way to the joke shop and then presenting a united front in front of Molly about how they were not missing, but just in the back room XD

Harry and his obsessive spells and leaps of logic that neither of his friends appreciate: it was Malfoy this book, and Hallows in the next one XD he comes to the conclusion here, after pondering over Malfoy's behavior and Borgin's response- that he is a Death Eater

"I wouldn't go in the kitchen right now - there's a lot of Phlegm around" "I'll be careful not to slip in it" : there is a tenderness in how Harry responds to Ginny here, and I see it a bit of a charged moment. (@whinlatter noted how this scene is set with Ginny carrying laundry, and that would set the flowery scent association Harry would have later)

Harry wondering if Tonks would be part of his security arrangements - he is actively seeking her out, in the belief that they both share the same survivor's guilt.

Ginny's lower tolerance for Ron's crush on Fleur (she stuck her leg out when he goes to say goodbye to her): I've seen fics take it as her loyalty to Hermione and her annoyance on her behalf that her brother is behaving like this when Hermione is right there.

Harry actively seeking adults out with his suspicions and threats he feel is looming is a direct response from the communication break down from last year, when he didn't go to anyone and then Sirius died. He collaborates with adults this year to ensure those kinds of mistakes don't happen.

"Harry please. You're talking to the man who raised Fred and George." lol

Neville's new wand is made of cherry wood and unicorn hair: both emphasising his pure soul, but what I found interesting is that it matches Harry's holly with associations to immortality/ eternal life. @saintsenara noted: "cherry is associated in lots of British and Irish folklore with the infant Christ and Mary, and I love it as a reference to Neville's own motherlessness, and the fact he could, as we know now, also have been the Boy-Who-Lived"

Harry coldly refusing Romilda Vane by saying Luna ("looking like a multi-coloured owl") and Neville ("whose bottom was sticking out of his pants") are his friends, is a direct contrast to the last time he was in a compartment with them and was embarrassed that Cho saw him with them.

Slughorn missing out Belby while handing out pies after Belby revealed that he is not all that well connected to his uncle, oh boy. Anyway, this is a good meta to have as reference for Slughorn's old boy club.

Zabini is so pissed off at Ginny's intervention on Harry's behalf ("Yeah Zabini, because you're so talented.. at posing") that he actually gives Harry a "filthy look" once they leave and Harry "returns it with interest".. the understated sexual rivalry Imao.

How interesting that how quiet Neville's story is - even Malfoy can't guess at what could interest Slughorn. Given that it is essentially what his aunt went to Azkaban for.

"I wouldnt touch a filthy blood traitor like her, whatever she looked like" Blaise is still burning from Ginny's insult XD He doth protest too much. And Pansy is threatened enough by Ginny to actually watch Draco's reaction about her.

This meta by @indigo-scarf breaks down Draco and Blaise interaction better.

The brutality of Draco's ambush at the end of the chapter. It felt more personal than it had ever been before.

I love the illustration of Tonks' competence even while she is very clearly "unsmiling and miserable looking". She finds Harry because she noticed he hadn't come down from the train, and she checked the compartment where the blinds were drawn. (Although she very obviously does not care about appearances - her own, or Harry's in the moment. Hermione cleans up the dried blood on Harry's face later in the chapter and it just shows how much energy Tonks has in the moment to not think of this).

Harry's keenness to leave the "new, gloomy" Tonks behind shows how much he is avoiding his negative feelings (there is a self aware moment from him later in chapter where he admits he clings to blaming Snape for Sirius' death, because it feels satisfying. The weight of what happened in OOTP is too much for him to bear alone). This is the year where he redoubles his focus outside of himself - the obsessive spells over what Malfoy might be upto, trying (in his own way) to take care of Ron and Hermione.

Snape disparaging Tonks' Patronus while his own Patronus is a reflection of his love for Lily: classic Snape lashing out at anything that reminds him of himself lol. But ofc, he intends for the jibe to be his opinion of Remus.

Snape taking the Unbreakable Vow, Dumbledore giving him the jinxed DADA post. They both have really prepared for this year lol.

So begin the Lavendar shenanigans. Rowling sets up the teenage drama by having Lavendar interrupt the usual Ron-Hermione back and forth over free periods and Fanged Frisbee, with a "loud giggle." It's an interruption in their usual conversation rhythm, but Ron, who feels unseen and is insecure, is pleased with her attention.

Last book, Neville kicks away his father's wand in shedding of his legacy. McGonagall steers further away from the family legacies and expectations by asking him to drop Transfiguration (which he doesnt enjoy but is asked to take cos of his Gran), and do Charms instead. McGonagall reaffirms this with: "It's high time your grandmother learns to be proud of the grandson she has rather than the one she thinks she ought to have." (I also love the suggested familiarity of McGonagall going to drop a line to his gran about her failed Charms Owl)

Parvati is "crestfallen" that Firenze is no longer taking Divination. Lol, woman has her priorities straight.

Love the tiny moment here in Snape's class where Snape makes an implied jab about Harry's mind power and looks at Harry, and Harry looks back. And Snape has to look away - uncomfortable most likely by Lily's eyes glowering at him for too long. (I must say, Harry's redoubled antagonism for Snape is actually quite enjoyable to read, it lends an intensity to their scenes, plus it is also the year Harry "befriends" teenage Snape via his book and by the end of HBP, culminate in what I think is among the most complicated scenes in the series)

Hermione drawing parallels between Harry and Snape's words ("Isnt that what he is saying? That it comes down to being brave and quick thinking?") and the narrative will even more parallels by Deathly Hallows, setting them up as fellow abandoned boys, like Tom Riddle.

Amortentia is in a gold cauldron. Aesthetically pleasing as well for Harry XD While Harry is like, "it has something that I might have smelled at The Burrow", Hermione already knows her answer. She turns pink and does not complete her sentence. The reaffirmation of her attraction to Ron by a love potion nonetheless, is among other things that propels her to make a move.

In close proximity to Amortentia, Ron's feelings for Hermione is also on the surface and he gets annoyed when Hermione is radiant that Harry told Slughorn that she is the best in the year. There is a subtle element of competition from Ron for Hermione's attention/validation even in the beginning of the chapter. They both are not outwardly doing anything about it, but their feelings are bubbling to the surface even more this year.

In OOTP, Harry was so disconnected from Ginny's inner life that she had to remind him about her possession. Here, when she is alarmed and angry about him "taking orders from a book", he knew "what was on her mind at once." Speaks to the comfort and wavelength the dynamic reached over the summer.

The theme of competition is really strong in this book, with neither Ron and Hermione appreciating Harry's top position in class. Although, Harry astutely read it as Hermione thinking that what he does is akin to cheating, but not only is cheating is aggravating for Hermione, but cheating is even more aggravating when he gets to be top of the class (a position she does enjoy, and only gives up "coolly" if the win was fair). She becomes "increasingly bad tempered when her Potions yield poorer results than the Prince." For Ron, however, Slughorn increasingly treats him like he is invisible.

I also love how resilient the trio friendship is that they snipe at each other, but it immediately swings back to "ooh tell us what Dumbledore says! We will wait up for you." It shows a very healthy tolerance for conflict and tension between them (a point even Harry has reached after much development), even though fandom fixates on the dsyfunction lol.

I wonder what Harry thought when he recognised the graveyard - the place Voldemort was resurrected and site of his trauma - from a distance.

The setting of the Gaunt house is such that the entire house is hidden beneath the tangle of trees (probably to hide from 'busybodies, intruders, filth'), and it even blocks the light out. What a miserable sounding place to grow up i.

"now i come to think of it, i have seen noses like yours in the village" "i dont doubt it, if your son has been let loose on them" I love the humour in the proceedings, the beginning where Harry is wondering why Odgen is not understanding Morfin when he is perfectly clear by brandishing a knife in one hand and wand in the other XD

Merope's abuse is being illustrated so clearly in this chapter: her fear of her father, who keeps berating her and calling her a Squib (and also by the end of the scene nearly strangles her). And her brother, who attacked Tom because she was attracted to him. And of course, her cooking for them while they do nothing in a largely neglected home. It paints a stark, gendered picture. (as both @whinlatter and @saintsenara - there is a deeply troubling implication of incest here. I would also refer to @saintsenara top tier works on Merope Gaunt here)

Tom and Cecilia pass by, and while Tom shows his class snobbery, it is juxtaposed with the Gaunts being proud of their heritage and heirlooms that come from Slytherin himself.

"The shock of her desertion lead to his early death - or perhaps he simply never learned to feed himself" lol

Harry is so quiet after Dumbledore declares how Tom Riddle never cared to find out about his son. There is a lovely pause in the scene here, and a mood setting. But Voldemort's abandonment by his father is something Harry understands. He is also eager to know more, and seemed reluctant to leave the office. A new mystery.

Chapter 11, 12,13,14

Although Ron's "I'm tall" is played for laughs when Hermione is dispassionately listing out why Harry has become extra popular, there is a fluidity to Ron and Hermione's relationship this chapter which goes back and forth and is very accurate to teenage experience. Hermione didn't spare him her attention when he was seeking it, so when Lavender gave him a wide smile, he nearly "strutted" in his pleased confidence (a fact that amuses Harry and makes Hermione "cold and distant" to the point she doesn't wish Ron good luck). But when Ron makes it as a Keeper, he grins when Hermione finally comes and effusively praises him ("you did brilliantly Ron!" and we can see Lavendar leaving with Parvati looking grumpy) and Ron is specifically pointed out as being "taller than usual".

However, Ron's feelings of inadequacy around Harry rears its head again ("What are you two doing?" Ron asks suspiciously), when ironically Harry is confronting Hermione in private about Hermione confunding McLaggen - in her words, because a) he pissed her off by the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny b) realising he wont be a good teammate. And this feelings of inadequacy is exacerbated by Slughorn treating him as completely invisible by end of the chapter, so we see Ron staring over at Lavendar Brown before going to bed ("As I am not invited to any parties, I'm going to bed").

Harry immediately hoping for Bellatrix Lestrange's arrest. Again, the ripple effect from previous year.

Harry to Buckbeak: "How are you? Missing him? But you're Ok with hagrid, arent you?":( the way Harry opens up to the Hippogriff Sirius was on the run with as someone who'd understand what missing Sirius is like.

"Since when have yeh called me sir?" "Since when have you called me Potter?" The way he immediately knew how to turn tables on Hagrid when he shouted Potter, he deliberately emphasised the word "sir" to disarm Hagrid. The cheek (and slight manipulativeness) of this boy <3

Arthur actually acting on Harry's tip off and raiding Malfoy manor. As @messybutsheiskind pointed out- one of the first time an adult takes harry's suspicions seriously once confided in them, and checks it out. Harry later attempts to tell his (outlandish) suspicions to McGonagall.

Ron's exception for Hermione: "Reading textbooks in bed is an indecent behavior in everyone except Hermione, who was simply weird that way."

"Levicorpus" is a spell that caused Snape some trouble. I wonder if the non verbal modification came in later? It was apparently all the rage at some point in Hogwarts, per Remus. I cannot imagine the spell spreading unless it was performed verbally a few times, and then Snape revises it to a non-verbal spell.

I love the moment Harry wonders if the Prince is actually James (and actively pushes away the thought his father was a pureblood) - this is, once again, the loss of Sirius shining through. Sirius' letters can no longer bring him comfort, so could this funny, imaginative textbook be his new father figure?

Hermione makes a correlation between the spell and the one used by Death Eaters during the world cup, suggesting darker connotations not only for the spell, the Prince but also James himself. Harry gets a "sinking feeling" about not only his dad's use of it in SWM, but Hermione's judgement of it. You can tell this is one of the reasons he never tells Ron and Hermione about the memory.

Boy do I have feelings about Slughorn ignoring Ron as though "he were a display of Cockroach Cluster". Clearly, Harry also has strong feelings about it, which is why he schedules his Quidditch practices whenever he gets an invitation. (although hilarious that Ron, Ginny and him are merciless about Hermione spending nights with Zabini and McLaggen). I also like that both Harry and Hermione know that the encounter upset Ron, and they both try little ways to engage him (Harry showing extra interest in Sugar Quills, or Hermione asking Ron where he would want to go next).

Harry's Sirius wound bursts open in the Mundungus scene in a scary way. All my feelings about this very underrated scene that people should talk more about here.

Hermione thinks Harry is angry that Mundungus was stealing his stuff, when Harry is actually really angry about Mundungus disrespecting Sirius. It shows how much of his grief he has withheld from Ron and Hermione.

Ron attempting to get attention from Madam Rosmerta, and Hermione's waspish response to his "nothing" is : "I expect nothing's in the back getting more Firewhiskey" (related to the plot, Rosmerta is giving Katie the necklace). She is bothered by it enough that she keeps flickering her eyes between Ron and the bar. The kind of insecurity displayed here is very teenage-ish. (the author obviously finds jealousy very funny - given that she invokes it in Arthur/Molly next book, but I do kinda imagine older, more secure Romione being okay with knowing that they each find other people attractive and joke around about it. #bestfriend vibes)

Another effect of Sirius' death and the events of the previous book is that Harry is going to adults with every suspicion of his - unlike the last book where he keeps his thoughts to himself. From telling Arthur to check the Malfoy manor again, to telling McGonagall about his suspicions about Malfoy giving Katie the necklace, and even giving details like following Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes

Harry's conversation with Hagrid and how he outplays Hagrid. It is more of an honest disarming of Hagrid than outright manipulation, but it displays a streak of knowing people and knowing what buttons to press. He does this with greater effect in Felix Felicis with Ron (ofc it backfires on romione, but lol). It's why he recognises Tom's very subtle and careful manipulation of Slughorn in the Horcrux conversation.

Harry witnessing Katie incident and suspecting Malfoy, Snape and Dumbledore meanwhile conspiring to save Draco's soul and Snape saving Katie's life. For my feelings about the trifecta of Harry, Snape and Dumbledore, my meta covers this.

I think it was pointed out in this reread before, about how Phineas Nigellus' feelings about Sirius' death: "the last of Blacks is dead?" + how incensed he is about how a criminal is treating Black family heirlooms, vs Harry's grief is about someone disrespecting Sirius' memory: "What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?"

Harry's indignation that Burke paid only 10 galleons to Merope (and his immediate understanding of Voldemort's anger at Smith casually talking about his mother being robbed) and his pity for his parent's murderer ("She wouldnt stay alive for her son?") surprises Dumbledore. Striking parallel: Harry's rage at someone robbing Sirius' heirlooms vs Tom's knuckles whitening over the locket.

Merope refusing to do magic reads like guilt, her penance for her enslavement of Tom Riddle Snr. Dumbledore also proposes an alternate, and it is meant to parallel Tonks: "attendant despair sapped her of her powers, that can happen".

I like how comfortable Harry is getting - pushing boundaries with Dumbledore and his own surprise at Dumbledore welcoming it. ("Where were you this weekend?" and Dumbledore promising to tell Harry in due course and of course, Harry's unthinking "Nice suit sir" and Dumbledore merely chuckling)

I like the detail of Mrs Cole looking "anxious rather than unkind" and of course, she very much reads like a woman with too much on her plate and no time for herself (it's why Dumbledore's attention prompts her to relish telling the story). The place is shabby with mismatched furniture, but also spotlessly clean. There is sterility and functionality to descriptions here. (also love the detail of Dumbledore not only enchanting Mrs Cole with the parchment, but also sneakily placing gin and two glasses as suggestion).

"Funny boy who hardly ever cried": a baby that is uncomfortable expressing needs, because it might not be tended to, and the baby understands abandonment. Also Dumbledore's immediate wariness and interest in Tom, knowing that the child is a bully.

Harry is shocked that Tom would try to establish a power dynamic with Dumbledore ("Tell the truth!") and Dumbledore's complete unfazement by it (which is also a power move, which Tom recognises and gets warier). Tom tries again - "prove it!" and Dumbledore merely raises his eyebrows and asks for respectful honorifics when Tom addresses him. I also love that Dumbledore recognises Tom, who is not truly sorry, being manipulative with his "unrecognisably polite voice" and then Dumbledore does something that establishes his total power in the scene: he burns Tom's wardrobe and asks Tom to open it. Dumbledore doesnt like what he sees as "instincts for cruelty, secrecy and domination" and ends up dominating the scene.

Also Tom staring at Dumbledore's eyes "as though to catch each of them lying" - a perhaps underdeveloped leglimency skill that he will develop well in canon?

The moment Riddle says he believes he was special, Dumbledore stops smiling but watches him "intently". Another way that Dumbledore disliking seeing mirror version of himself in another person ("you disgust me" with Snape) and here, Tom believing himself special is a reflection of his own youthful self: "I was gifted, I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory."

The first time Dumbledore is gentle in the scene is when Voldemort asks about his father - he keeps the "irksome, common name" Tom in an effort for connection to his father. And his absolving (and dismissal) of his mother abandoning him: "My mother can't have been magic or she wouldn't have died."

The way Harry immediately understands that Tom is determined to impress Dumbledore with his disclosure of his Parseltongue abilities. And Dumbledore barely validates him: "It is unusual and not unheard of", but it invokes Dumbledore's curiosity in his parentage I suppose.

Harry wondering if Dumbledore would have the mouth organ. His mind already making links to what Dumbledore is showing him.

I really, really enjoy trio conversations in classroom set ups, and usually involving something weird. The physicality of the scene - the way they work together even when arguing says so much about their relationships. The Snargaluff stump set up is so much fun: you see Ron charging into protect Hermione when vines catch her hair, and Harry succeeding in solving the larger problem, which enables Hermione to get the pod.

Hermione is so pissed off: she turns bright, boiling scarlet because she had hexed McLaggen for Ron, and he is asking her to "get off" with McLaggen. So she does what she did at Yule Ball: angrily tells him that she was going to ask him. Meanwhile Harry is in the background, pounding his pod with a trowel so he doesnt have to hear them. XD Harry is ambivalent about the idea of Romione because he might either see trio falling apart or a scenario where "he was shut out for good":(

Dean Thomas, from the Muggle world with very little access and opportunity to be a Qudditch player, gets to be Chaser <3

"And Ginny, dont call Ron a prat, you're not the captain of this team" "Well you seemed too busy to call him a prat so I thought someone should" XD

Harry having the worst practices ever and telling his team, "good work everyone, I think we'll flatten Slytherin". What a cutie.

Ah the chest monster is here (which I find reallly funny device to allude to the sexual edge of his feelings)! Harry not returning Dean's shifty grin and Dean immediately being like, "lets go back to the common room"

Love Ginny and Ron fight: a lot of it speaks a lot of her friendship with Hermione. Her being privy to the knowledge that Hermione kissed Viktor Krum when the boys dont have a confirmation (Harry suspects it because in the end of GOF, Hermione returns from her goodbye with Krum completely smooth faced, an indication she is hiding something from them), her knowing Harry kissed Cho, her vicious deconstruction of how Ron behaves around Fleur (the heat and anger there could be on Hermione's behalf, apart from the fact that Ron is her brother).

I doubt Ginny knew that Hermione hasnt told the boys about Krum or of her own fight with Ron, because Hermione is "hurt and bewildered" by Ron's behavior the next day. Although it is the stress of the fight with Ron, it is interesting that when Ginny yells about how Harry's snogged Cho Chang, she sounds close to tears.

"Ron, you're my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of the team like this, I;m going to throw you off the team" love how maturely Harry handles this. Also this exchange" "it's a mental problem you've got!" "you calling me mental?" "yeah i am" XD these boys! My favourite part of this chapter is Harry's faith in Ron. He cooks up Felix Felicis scheme on the foundation of the fact that he believes Ron can save anything when he is in form. (It also shows how well he knows his friends that he works the initial scheme.)

lmao, "Hark who's talking, confunded anyone lately?" Harry's friendship with Hermione this book is so much easier and so much fun.

Harry initiates physical contact with a character and its Ginny. And I have a feeling she notices how "let go very quickly and avoided her gaze". Because that is not normal behaviour, Harry. Later in the chapter, she also tests the physical boundaries between them by patting him on his arm.

Harry darting after Hermione when he thinks she has seen Ron and Lavendar:(: (also love how Hermione brings it up with Harry, even though trio as a collective just walk around romione feelings. "Dont pretend you didnt see him, he wasnt exactly hiding it, was he?"). And Harry being horrified that it is the moment Ron walks in, how Ron cannot look at Hermione and both Harry and Ron are waiting for an imminent explosion. It is just..such a good depiction of an insular triad friendship.

Harry "thought his voice would vanish from lack of use":rofl: as he determined to be friends with both Ron and Hermione, and both are angry/defensive about what happened.

Ginny "kept cropping up in his dreams that made him devoutly thankful that Ron could not perform Legilimency":rofl:

lol @ Harry slyly telling Hermione that she knows a lot about Fred and George's Owl order service for their love potion, and she returns it with a jab: "I don't go around putting Potions in people's drinks.. or pretending to, which is just as bad" (But I love how the scene ends with them bantering about whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were in love with each other)

How interesting that Hermione views Love Potions as not "dark or dangerous", when we know in this book just how dangerous it could be. The enslavement of Tom Riddle Snr was done through means of Love Potion. As Slughorn says in the beginning of the book, that if students have lived as long as he has, they wouldn't underestimate the "power of obsessive love." Love as a weaponised thing, as something both that motivates dark things, while also behind Harry (and Lily's) sacrifice, seems to be theme in the books.

Harry goes after Hermione after she runs off to the bathroom after the Transfiguration classroom fiasco. Love that the boy could not think of any words of comfort, so he just got her things XD. And unlike the previous books, him standing up for Hermione is stronger than his quiet attempts in POA: "What did you have to imitate her for?" "She laughed at my moustache" "So did I, it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen."/ vs "Can't you give her a break?" "No- she acts like Scabbers has gone on a holiday" and Harry drops it.

Ginny is glad that Harry is taking Luna to the party, both because Luna is very excited but also because Ginny isn't threatened by Luna as a romantic interest for Harry. (lol @ the DH scene where she intervenes when Cho asks to take Harry to Ravenclaw tower and Ginny suggests Luna instead XD)

Parvati and Hermione's interaction is genuinely very sweet since Parvati felt guilty about laughing at Hermione in Transfiguration. Throughout the books, Parvati seems to be the one trying to connect with Hermione: she tells Lavendar about Hermione crying in bathroom back in PS, her attempting to tease Hermione about leaving Divination once Firenze comes along etc etc.

Hermione inviting Cormac McLaggen to piss Ron off is an A+ petty move (also the hilarious moment she tells Harry that she was also considering Zacharias Smith XD "You considered Smith?":rofl: ). She also gets a jab in to really twist the knife further into Ron (which suggests she had spoken to Ginny, who may have revealed that she told the boys about Krum): "I like really good Quidditch players"

Worple trying to manage Sanguini's blood cravings with pasty lol.

Slughorn thinking Harry's attempt at Draught of Living Death was better first attempt than Snape's. XD But interesting that Snape's first attempt wasn't as noteworthy - it shows he has really worked to get where he is at Potions.

Luna talking about Rotfang Conspiracy with Trelawney who seemed "sincerely interested" XD

The scene with Snape and Draco is great: Snape correctly reads that Draco is at this point, scared: "What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master Draco?" and Draco's resentful bravado," I'm not trying to conceal anything from him, I don't want you butting in." he also loses patience after trying to negotiate with the said bravado when Malfoy accuses him of wanting his glory: "You're speaking like a child. " And it is around then, Malfoy, who does want to be taken seriously, leaves.

[melanirana]

Hi, I do not know if you are still updating your mer AU of Sun and Moon, but if you are and are still answering questions- I've noticed that you've mentioned Sun and Moon's father being Eclipse, and also that some of their features are due to their mother- which we have yet to see. So my question is this- who is their mother, why haven't we seen anything of her, and if something happened to make this be the reason we haven't seen her, what happened to her, and how did it happen? Covering all of my bases here, because I'm very curious ok bye- *quickly leaves due to social anxiety*

Hi, sorry for the long wait.

I am still updating Ocean Symphony Fiasco, just got a lot of assignments so I'm focusing on that a bit more.

The reason why you haven't seen Sun and Moons Mom is simply because she isn't really important to the story of Ocean Symphony Fiasco. OSF focus is on Sun and Moons relationship with y/n and theri predicament. (Also I dont have a design for her yet but I'm working on it)

Howerver she is important to Eclipse, I am playing with the idea of writing something just for the two of them. Let me tell you, you dont know but they are sugar sweet.

As for what happened to her, you can read this which explains why they split and for anything after that, you'll have to wait and see.

[helenofsimblr]

Maisie: Don’t, fucking talk to me like you know me Francine. I was expecting thunder and lightning coming in here. Instead I get a wet washcloth *she points at Sarah*, and the crap the washcloth collected *she points at Francine*. Who the fuck hired you Sanders? I didn’t do it. So was it Mr Bright, or Stella herself?

Sarah: S-Stella.

Maisie: Stella? Oh! You're on first name terms with the old managing partner are we? My gods, Francine, I had no idea your little washcloth here was so well connected!

Elita: I shouldn't enjoy Francine getting slammed like she is, but I do. She caused my brother no end of pain. Sure, a lot of it was his fault, but, still... suck on that Franny! Pity about poor Sarah though...

****

Francine: Maisie... Mrs Williams... Please, we are here to work and we will work hard and deliver the goods.

Maisie: You're godsdamned right you will. I have had many new hires stand in this office and I've seen them piss vinegar and shit fire and you two are not giving me the confidence I'd like.

Francine: So we need to have a case, I was thinking I’d like…

Maisie: No Francine, you don’t think, I don’t pay you to think. You are paid to do what I say you do, and as it happens, there is a divorce case that you’re already assigned to. As for you Sanders, there is a conveyancing matter to deal with, Borson Fatherall of Fatherall Industries, heard of him? Rich old guy, missing eye?

Elita: Maisie was restraining her tirade a lot more than either Francine or Sarah could believe. Maisie waits for a reaction from Sarah, none is forthcoming as fast as Maisie would like.

****

Maisie: Hello!? Ground control calling Sarah Sanders!! Are you receiving me? Over!

Sarah: Yes! 

Maisie: Oh my gods now I'm getting flummoxed here, so you've heard of Mr Fatherall and his industries yes?

Sarah: Y-yes, I r-read a-all t-the p-paperwork M-ms. M-montgomery l-let me r-read. To f-familiarize m-myself w-with t-the f-firm.

Maisie: Good! So while Francine was doing drugs and getting fat as fuck, you were reading, excellent. So, Mr Fatherall is buying up some land around the District with the intention of rehoming everybody who lost their homes during that space station fiasco. You will simply handle that. It’s piss easy, a chimpanzee, and two first year students could do it. Can you?

Sarah: Y-yes, I c-can. 

[buckybarnesss]

“Scott’s awareness of the Stiles and Derek thing is interesting to dissect” hi yes please do!

I find him a bit hard to read when it comes to this tbh. Scott seems aware that Something is going on throughout season 3. He always seems shocked to realize that they get along better, even though Scott is usually faster at trusting people than Stiles. (I wouldn’t be surprised if Derek/Scott’s issues early on are the source of this bewilderment.)

I genuinely can’t tell if/when Scott might have realized that their bond was more than platonic. Like he has so much “right in front of my salad?” energy that he must have noticed Stiles’s attraction at the very least, right? Was it Derek’s leaving in the s4 finale that made Scott realize that Stiles’s feelings were actually romantic? He seems very aware in s5 that Derek is a Sore Spot for Stiles.

Jeffrey-boy seems to have taken the whole “show, don’t tell” thing a little too literally here.

the thing about scott is he's really, really good at denial. especially self-denial. combining his world class levels of denial he also has multiple hang up about derek that he has a hard time letting go of and he has a specific way he perceives stiles (which is part of the mess in s5).

like he sees but he's also stuffing his fingers in his ears about it because derek and stiles being derek-n-stiles doesn't line up with what he expects from either of them.

scott also has the dubious privilege of being there from the beginning. it was just the three of them at the start of this whole fiasco.

there's hints but scott doesn't really get to see the big stiles and derek development in season 1so while he seems to kind of pick up on stiles possibly being attracted to derek because i mean look at this.

he's mostly seeing stiles being annoyed and angry but he isn't necessarily reading the deeper reasons for it because he's not privy to it.

than season 3 happens.

things shift in s3 when he realizes that he and stiles are not at all on the same page about derek. stiles has been spending time with derek outside of his knowledge for months and they're friendly.

Top 10 Anime Betrayals in Tattoo.

and than his reaction to derek and stiles messing around in the next episode. peter's entirely unsurprised and amused by this which just hints at stiles getting derek to be playful isn't new to him but for scott this is Huge. This is world altering for scott.

stiles becoming friendly with derek is one of the reasons scott's perception and trust of derek begins to shift into moving past his anger and resentment that was present in s1 and 2.

i know people say scott doesn't trust stiles and that's a whole thing to unpack and i'd have to rewatch 5a to parse it entirely but scott does trust stiles. while stiles is often right he also as often doesn't have the proof to back up his intuition in the moment.

scott is also way more scared that stiles isn't himself after the nogitune. he can see stiles spiraling and after derek leaves stiles becomes even more paranoid and irritable. almost as if stiles lost an anchor. which scott just went through himself with allison's death.

at the end of s4 this look is layered

he's terrified of losing stiles the same way stiles is afraid of losing him. it creates a weird feedback loop where that very thing happens because of their fears are exploited by theo. stiles and scott are so scared to lose each other and depend on seeing each other a particular way because of the roles they've assigned themselves they don't communicate properly.

stiles and scott are incredibly dysfunctional kids from different kinds of broken homes. it's important to remember that when dissecting their friendship.

the benefit of a doubt scene in season 5 says scott fucking noticed because his starting overture at trying to convince stiles about giving theo the benefit of a doubt is derek.

(theo is a hybrid peter-derek which is funny but he's also a dark mirror of stiles in a lot of ways. it's partly why scott is drawn to him.)

it's a calculated move on scott's part to bring up derek to appeal to stiles's emotions over his logic but he also is aware that he needs to tread fucking lightly here. the subject of derek is a double edged sword.

also scott witnessed derek's whole ass everything in 3B even if he was distracted. he knew derek would help look for stiles and protect him without a question.

i think scott figured out there was something going on in 3A and by 5A he knew it was something stiles was incredibly fucked up over but he wasn't the one that could fix it.

[lemonlimebitcoin]

My post has breached some kind of threshold into notes about how "you shouldn't read or care about the actual text of homestuck" and I feel like I just found a believed-to-be extinct arthropod beneath a cave rock in Arizona.

[menlove]

the thing abt HRT and gender affirming surgery is that like... yes many providers do provide incorrect/insufficient information. a lot of providers DO downplay the risks or don't mention all of them. ignoring this reality and pretending that everyone who starts HRT/gets gender affirming surgery is completely 100% informed doesn't do anyone any good

however

this problem is FAR from exclusive to gender affirming medical care. it is a GENERAL problem in ALL aspects of medical care, especially in the USA (and I'm sure elsewhere but I can only speak on our healthcare system as I haven't lived anywhere else)

like here's a couple examples.

when I was 8 years old, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes by a nurse practitioner. she however prescribed me a type of insulin for type 2 diabetes and instructed me to take it once a day and only check my blood twice a day. this is completely incorrect, as type 1 diabetics need to take short acting insulin every time they eat and long acting insulin once or twice a day and check their blood sugars at MINIMUM 4 times a day. I almost died. I had to be hospitalized about a week later with insanely high blood sugars. this was grossly mishandled by that nurse practitioner who had no idea what she was doing & she could've killed a child. does that mean no one should have access to insulin? or that we should start scare mongering diabetics telling them their providers are trying to harm them?

another example! when I was 14, I was having an allergic reaction to a medication and had to go into the ER. they didn't read my chart to see that I had type 1 diabetes, did not check my blood glucose levels, and gave me a steroid shot. that shot spiked my blood sugar (which was already high) so high so fast that I passed out and nearly cracked my head on the floor. it turned what would've been a quick ER trip to an overnight fiasco. does that mean doctors should never ever give steroids as treatment for allergic reactions?

or far more general than me- how many times are people prescribed birth control without the side effects being fully described? how many people get gastric bypass surgery without fully understanding what they're doing to their bodies? how many people have debilitating chronic illnesses but have no clue how they're supposed to handle them bc no doctor ever bothered to educate them (as I see constantly with other diabetics)? how many people have 0 knowledge about their own reproductive systems or have their concerns about their reproductive systems completely ignored until it turns lethal?

the issue isn't gender affirming care. the issue is medical professionals who don't care enough about their patients to make sure they're fully informed and fully consenting, or even that they themselves know exactly what they're doing. it's overworked medical professionals who skip vital steps because they've been working 15 hours in a row. it's the disregard for the health of people assigned female at birth (& the disregard for the health of people assigned male at birth if they decide to pursue gender affirming care). it's the disregard for poor people, for people of color, for patients in general who tend to get viewed with disdain for not having medical degrees and asking questions

like yes it IS something we should be talking about. but focusing the conversation on "we have to ban gender affirming care!!!" instead of "the medical system needs to take better care of its patients" is just stupid

[chaos-and-recover]

There's been a lot of discourse and blame about the clusterfuck with Teeth of God tour presale, people not getting codes, dynamic pricing and the uncertainty around what will happen with 3rd party resale. But tickets selling out almost entirely within a day of the general on-sale (except Laval, SMH, get it together Quebec!) I feel like we need to assign some of the blame to either Spinefarm or whoever the US booking agent is.

It pains me to admit it because I am so excited to see them at an incredible venue like Massey Hall and I respect them wanting to play smaller, more intimate venues, but they really have no business still playing theatres. They're too big for those. They need to be playing arenas at this point. I'm most familiar with the Toronto market so that'll be my example but there were 17k people ahead of me in the presale queue, and I heard it went as high as 27 or 30k. We've got an outdoor amphitheatre venue here that seats 16k people and an NHL/NBA arena that seats just under 20k. One night at either of those is 3-4 times the number of people who will be able to see them at the two shows they have here.

I am still in disbelief that I did get tickets for Massey but for the love of Sleep they need to be in larger venues.

Anyway I spent too long last night reading comments on the band's Instagram post about the tour selling out and cancelling bot purchases. I also work in event ticketing and have been going to shows/buying tickets since 1998 so lmk if you want to hear my full rant on the whole ticketing fiasco, what I currently understand to be the situation with resale, what people are getting wrong and right, and how to protect yourself from resale scams.

[ajokeformur-ray]

GOOD personal news!!!! (I am Proud™️ of myself)!!!!!

So, okay. I am slightly hesitant to share this in case it's only temporary, but @darklylucid very kindly told me to share it because it's good news and it's something to be proud of!!!❤️

TW; talks of negative anti-depressant side effects and me being irresponsible with prescribed medication, mentions of nausea and bad periods, mentions of health anxieties such as being sick as a result of medications and self-starvation (it's all because meds made me feel so sick I couldn't eat etc.), talks and discussions of stress, anxiety, depression and cognitive behavioural therapy, talks of doctors visits, one mention of covid boosters and bad side effects from that, one mention of passive suicidal ideation, this is a positive post but please read with caution if anything in this tw paragraph may upset or offend you!

I started therapy for my stress and severe anxiety five weeks ago. When I started, my anxiety and depression scores were both at 21/21. I was, essentially, a walking anxiety attack experiencing passive suicidal ideation.

Today, two weeks after uni officially started and five weeks after starting therapy, I scored 12/21 for both anixety and depression for the third week in a row, meaning both have improved to being moderate without medication!!!

(We all remember the absolute fear surrounding that fiasco and I still say medication wasn't the right treatment plan for me. I do have a prescription but I never picked it up and I won't pick it up because of how bad the physical side effects were. The nausea got so bad I was actively starving myself for seven weeks because I couldn't eat anything, while in the middle of end of year assignments and my job pulling me in for overtime constantly. My health anxiety, generalised anxiety and lifestyle couldn't sustain it. Everyone told me to "give it time", but after seven weeks of the worst periods I've ever had in my life and of constant nausea, I couldn't take it anymore so I quit my medication cold turkey without consulting my doctor. The medication was hurting me and not even working; I felt worse physically and mentally and my anxiety was still there, except I also felt like a zombie. I was offered a different medication but I never picked up the prescription for it out of fear that this would continue, since all SSRIs have the same side effects. I have told my therapist this and though she doesn't know any details beyond "I don't want to take it", she supports my decision. A week after I stopped my medication, my periods returned to normal and the nausea disappeared, my appetite came back and I felt better. I refuse to try again and have decided to focus on my therapy as the treatment plan. Medication isn't right for me and that's okay.)

I don't know if this improvement in my anxiety and depression is because of the therapy or because I now wake up at 3am to study before I go to work, which means that I study when I am fresh and well-rested, go to work, then come home and only have to relax, which means more free time. This decreases my stress, which lowers my anxiety and therefore improves my depression (my anxiety was so severe it caused the depression; they are not two separate conditions in my case), and means I can eat and sleep better and more.

The lifestyle switch and therapy both started at the same time, so I can't say for sure which has led to the improvement in my mental well-being, but I find myself not caring all that much. I am healing, I am doing well, I have had one anxiety attack in the last month, and that's... the news I wanted to share. My hair is gorgeous, I am eating and sleeping well, I am happier, healthier, I am not behind in uni, therapy is helping me... I'm not perfect, that would mean I don't exist, but I am healing and in a good place right now. I'm not sure if this is temporary, since uni has just started and I won't know until Christmas since that's when they throw us in at the deep end with the syllabus, but I still wanted to share this news.

I didn't think I could handle therapy, uni and my job at the same time, let alone looking for work experience in the mental health sector, but here I am, doing what I thought I couldn't, and dare I say it... I'm happy. I caught myself smiling while brushing my hair this morning, and apart from a few weeks ago when the covid booster gave me chest pains for a week, I can't remember the last time I had a tight chest due to stress and/or anxiety.

I can't thank you all enough for your friendships, encouragement, love, support, comments, asks... you've all helped me so so much, you do help me, and now I'm feeling better, I'm going to be looking at focusing on writing again. Especially since I'm not sure if this is temporary or not - but I feel hopeful for the future and for myself, for the first time in... a decade or so. I think I'm gonna be okay and right now, at least, I'm proud of myself.❤️

[freakystrashdump]

🔮The Oracle Bakery🔮

Emperor Belos|Phillip Wittebane/OC

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, Belos is a content warning by himself

Read on AO3

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Chapter 16: Forget-me-not meringues

Hunter had felt like, perhaps, that lying on the cold, hard earth, waiting for death to claim him, would have been an easier option. As opposed to, well, being forced to come face to face with the woman he was so horrible towards, all the while she was nothing short of kind to him in return.

And yes, by now he was seriously considering the scenario where Selena Fortuna was, truthfully and honestly, nice to him, with no nefarious reasoning behind her actions.

He heard it in passing last night: Steve, her assigned guard, was muttering to himself about how much it sucked that this all happened “Just as they stopped fighting over you- oh crap, I shouldn’t have said that”, before nervously bidding his farewell to the young royal and making his exit without giving Hunter the chance to stop him.

What did he mean by fighting over him?

As if the guilt hadn’t been enough, eating at him from the second he knocked that cake out of the baker’s hands. Now it was hitting critical mass with the knowledge that she was poisoned and was in critical condition. And it happened whilst she was protecting the Emperor.

That was his job, damn it. If someone was to get hurt, then it should have been…

And as he paced nervously in front of the Emperor’s chambers last night, waiting desperately for any news, he felt even worse as the oppressing, hostile aura emanating from Magnus, Selena’s uncle, weighed on Hunter like a bag of bricks.

And here Hunter thought his uncle was intimidating.

So, as he made his way back to Belos’ chambers, having received a summon from Hettie, Hunter once more considered the option of maybe just waiting for death to come and take him.

He didn’t do it, of course, but he considered it.

Arriving at the doors of the Emperor's chambers, the first thing that Hunter had noticed was that the terrifying presence of Magnus was missing - thank the Titan. One less stress to add to this entire fiasco. The young prince stood in front of the doors, picking dust off of his uniform and smoothing out any wrinkles, buying himself more time to gather up his courage. With one last adjustment to his mask to make sure it was on straight, Hunter breathed in deeply and knocked on the Emperor's doors.

“Come in.”

Well. Might as well get this over with, as it can’t get any worse. Decisively, Hunter opened the doors and stepped inside. To his surprise, he found his Uncle not in his empirical robes - Belos sat on one of the sofas, dressed casually, leisurely, though his mask was still on. It made Hunter wonder if someone else was there.

“You called for me, uncle?”

Belos looked at him pointedly, the hollow eyes of his mask making Hunter shudder "Ah, Hunter. You came quickly." He spoke absent-mindedly, letting his elbows rest on his knees and lacing his fingers together to make a place for him to lean his chin on "The Fortuna is going to be making a full recovery." He informed courtly "She is in my bedchambers as we speak, along with her uncle. They are currently informing her family of her health."

The relief Hunter felt upon hearing this news was instant. “I am…” he hesitated as he felt his chest constrict, fighting the tornado of emotions inside “...incredibly relieved to hear that, uncle.”

There was a heavy pause in conversation between them, Belos staring the boy down, mulling over his words. 

Hunter felt himself break into cold sweat.

After a moment that lasted far too long, Belos spoke again “I have been meaning to ask you, Hunter.” he started as he rose to his feet, beginning to slowly close the distance between the two of them “During the night, Selena and I spoke, has something… transpired between you two?” he stopped in front of Hunter “From what I heard, the girl is under the impression that, ah how to put it, ah yes. That you hate her.” he tilted his head slightly towards him “Poor thing seemed so very hurt by the prospect.”

Hunter swallowed hard, yet he remained silent.

“Such a shame.” Belos tutted “I have tried my best not to mix you up in all of this, you understand. But, alas.” he sighed, disappointment oozing out of him “I knew you weren’t fond of her, so I tried sparing both of your feelings. But, bleeding heart that she is, Selena insisted on treating you every time she visited.” there was a flash of blue under the mask, brief but threatening “We even fought over her stubbornness as she went explicitly against my wishes to leave you be. Unfortunate as it was.”

As if the guilt hadn't weighed on him heavily already.

The boy swallowed thickly, feeling nausea wash over him "So… it is true." He muttered to himself, gaze focused at the floor "She wasn't… she wasn't malicious..."

"Hmm?” He heard Belos through the brain fog of his own thoughts ”I couldn't hear you, Hunter, do stop mumbling to yourself."

Hunter shook his head, clearing it of rushing thoughts “I do not-” he cut himself off, opting not to go on the defence immediately “It’s true, uncle. I was… less than courteous to Miss Fortuna the last time I saw her.” he let out a shaky breath, not sure how he managed to keep his voice from breaking “That may be where she had… gotten that impression.” he looked up at Belos with eyes wide in mild panic “And I feel horrible about it! Especially now! I- I don’t know how to make it better, I-”

“Have you tried apologising?” Belos cut off his rant, successfully de-escalating the boy's rampant thoughts “From our talk, I am certain she holds no ill will towards you. An honest apology for your actions may do wonders.”

The suggestion made Hunter grimace under the mask “I’m not sure-” he started, uncertain, but straightened out when he felt Belos place his hand on his shoulder.

“It’s a start.” he persisted “And if you do it honestly - and from your heart - I'm sure she will accept it.”

Hunter felt heavy under his uncle's gaze and he looked away, taking the time to let his words settle in his head. Just an apology? Hunter scoffed, what good will that do? He thought bitterly, the image of the woman’s face welling up with tears etched into his mind at this point, haunting him with guilt every time he closed his eyes. The anxiety laid heavy in his throat, like a stone he couldn’t fully swallow. It almost felt as bad as the disappointment he could sometimes see in his uncle’s eyes as he failed him yet again.

But, he tried to reason, if Belos insisted that an apology would be enough, then who was he to doubt him. Afterall, Hunter has dealt with worse before - so what is a little apology in comparison?

There was the sound of laughter which, surprisingly enough, came from Belos’ bedroom, catching Hunter by surprise. Seeing the boy's head snap in that direction, Belos chuckled “Ah, it seems her family is in good spirits, now that she’s recovered.” he said, turning away from Hunter to go and sit back on the sofa. Hunter followed after him diligently “Now, I wonder. Do you remember what I’ve told you about the Fortunas, Hunter?”

The boy stood obediently by his side “Yes, uncle.” he said, staring straight ahead as he thought back “The Fortuna’s are one of the strongest and most influential clans of oracles in the Boiling Isles, going back generations, even before the implementation of the Coven System.” he recited in a way where it was obvious that this was something he had heard repeated a hundred times before “Their current matriarch is one of the first to receive a sigil, and she was also one of the biggest turning points when it came to getting public approval in implementing the system itself.”

“Correct. You remember well.” Belos praised him, and Hunter felt his chest swell with joy “It was Madame Isabella Fortuna, I know her well.” he filled in what the boy missed and sighed as nostalgia washed over him “Ah. Madame Isabella. How she hated my proposition for the coven system. But - she cared for her family more .”

Hunter’s head snapped to stare at his uncle in shock.

“The Fortunas have always put the needs of their kin above the needs of the rest.” Belos chuckled, “And that is exactly why they still remain one of my most loyal allies.”

“But…” Hunter hesitated “...you just said-”

“That Isabella opposed me every step of the way as the messenger of the Titan? That she hated the sigils, despite being one of the first to receive one?” Belos laughed softly to himself “Oh, that much is certain. But, Isabella had given her full public support to every decree I’ve ever made, and remained loyal to my rule, all for one simple promise on my part.” Hunter could hear the smile he wore under the mask “Every Fortuna that bows to the Emperor’s crown will always be kept safe under my rule.” 

Belos straightened in his seat and turned to Hunter, before continuing “And that is an important lesson for you to learn, Hunter.” he said matter-of-factly “Every person has a price on their loyalty, and you should always put extra care into finding what that price is, especially for those who wish to oppose you.” he tilted his head slightly downwards as he gave Hunter a knowing look behind the mask “Your worst enemy can easily be turned into your fiercest ally, as long as you know what their loyalty costs.”

Hunter let his words settle slowly, carefully, picking them apart inside his head.

The Fortuna family was one he had known of his entire life, even crossing paths with them - with how involved Belos was with them. Magnus, in particular, was a familiar face in the palace, and Hunter had crossed paths with the matriarch as well - an older woman with eyes of fire. The fact that Belos himself regarded them so highly made this confession all the more surprising: that their loyalty had not always been one inclined to his Titan-bestowed rule. That Isabella herself opposed him.

That is, until she didn’t.

Until she became a key figure in popularising the, at the time controversial, coven system. Isabella Fortuna's staunch support during this time became an open secret nowadays, in a way, after most of the main family became more recluse, and sources on what happened half a century ago became lost.

People forget fast, afterall.

But Hunter did not. Even if these events all happened way before his time, Belos never let him forget - he seemed way too pleased, way too giddy whenever the topic of the Fortunas would get brought up in any way, shape, or form. Like he was savouring every single moment of their undying support. 

Perhaps he enjoyed the irony of it? Who's to say.

Hunter’s attention, however, was soon stolen away, as the door to Belos’ bedchambers opened. For a brief moment, the sound of laughter was louder, and joyful conversation reached his ears. Magnus stood by the now open door as he continued to speak to the woman inside “I’ll be waiting patiently to take you home, then.” the older man spoke in a tone Hunter had never heard come from him before. Not in all the years he’d seen him shadowing Osran.

Soft and loving. Happy.

Hunter didn’t know he could do that.

As soon as Magnus closed the doors behind him, it was an instant change in demeanour. The cheerful facade dropped, and Hunter had to stop himself from buckling under the aggressive energy emanating from the man.

Yeah, that was more familiar of what he knew of the Fortuna.

“Emperor.” Magnus acknowledged, now in full business mode “Golden Guard.”

“Magnus.” Belos nodded back “From what I could hear, I trust she is in good spirits, yes?”

Hunter could not help but notice the man's lips twitch, just barely, into a deeper scowl "My dearest niece is doing well, my lord." He let out, voice even and contained "And it is all thanks to the expert care you have provided." Magnus bowed his head as he continued "You have my gratitude, my lord, as well as the gratitude of my entire family. Truly we are in your debt."

"There is no need for that. After all, I have grown to cherish your niece dearly - making sure no harm comes to her is the least I can do."

The glee behind his words was more than obvious, Hunter noted. Bubbling just under the surface.

"Of course, Emperor." Magnus answered courtly, then grimaced for a short moment, before schooling his expression back "And I do apologise if I was at any point short with you during these past critical hours. Emotions were high, and I let them overtake me despite knowing better."

Belos got up from his seat, hands placed neatly behind his back as he casually walked past the sofa and to the Fortuna prodigy "Worry muddles even the most rational of minds." He placed a hand on his shoulder, tilting his head before he continued "Do not dwell on it, as I have not taken any offence." Belos removed his hand from Magnus’ shoulder and placed it behind his back once more "Now." He started cheerfully "Feel free to go back to your duties. I shall call for you when Selena is ready to go home."

Magnus gave a curt bow of his head, hand to his heart, and made a swift exit.

It was a full minute of uneasy silence before Belos spoke again, as if waiting to make sure the man left fully out of earshot. "See how easily even the most brutish of witches can be tamed, Hunter?" Belos hummed in a low tone "As long as you know their price."

"Yes, uncle."

Belos chuckled softly, amused "Now, let's check up on our little hero, shall we?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

With a knock, and not waiting for a proper response, either, Belos let himself - and Hunter - into his bedchambers.

Hunter could not pinpoint the weird feeling of seeing… well, anyone , really, occupying his uncle's bed, let alone in such a state. Sure, Hunter reasoned, she was in there to receive care, no other reason. But he had never seen anyone enter his uncle's bedchambers, ever . And - Wait, was that his uncle's sleep shirt?! Thank the Titan for his mask being in place, because Hunter couldn't stop the cringing grimace he made.

It felt similar to the feeling of realising your parents were intimate together. Even though they weren't his parents, and they for sure were not intimate in any sense of the word.

"Emperor, Hunt- Golden Guard, it's a pleasure to see you." Selena quickly corrected herself, all the while smiling brightly at the two "Thank you for giving my uncle and I a moment of privacy, my lord."

"Miss Fortuna!" Hunter jumped in, nerves getting the best of him. "I, uh, I'm glad to see you in good health, ma'am." Hunter spoke formally, back straight and head held high.

"T-thank you, Golden Guard." Selena was sincere, if a bit nervous. Still wary of accidentally stepping on his toes like she did before - she did not want to address the boy too casually, lest he got angry with her again.

"I hope you don't mind-" the two turned their attention to Belos, feeling thankful for his interruption and breaking up the weird, awkward air between them "-but Hunter was incredibly worried last night, I just had to let him see you."

Using his name in front of her, on purpose, and not sounding angry whilst doing so? Selena raised an eyebrow, feeling as if something had changed, but wasn't quite sure what .

"Oh, no, no I don't mind, not at all. I'm touched, actually, that you were worried, Golden Guard." Selena's lips twitched upwards, giving a lopsided smile. Hunter just nodded, not sure what to say.

"I knew you wouldn't." Belos sounded smug as he said that. "Ah, and I believe you had something you wished to tell our guest, if I'm not mistaken?" He pushed, one hand placed on Hunter's back "Isn't that right, Hunter?"

Hunter looked up at his uncle, nodding, and turned to Selena once more. He cleared his throat and placed one hand behind his back, the other clenched in a fist on his chest "Thank you for protecting the Emperor, miss Fortuna. Your acts of heroism are an inspiration to me and my entire coven."

Selena blinked owlishly as he gave her a short bow "Your coven...oh, oh right, you're now the head of the Emperors Coven!" No wonder he always seemed to be stressed, with the weight his uncle put on him. A coven head, at his age? "And, uh, you're welcome, Golden Guard. I like to think I've done what anyone else would do, if put in my place, so don't dwell on it too much, haha."

Please. Don't dwell on it too much.

As Hunter stood there, Belos by his side, his hands fidgeted - fingers flexing anxiously as he tried to form words. He practised them! He really did, thinking of any and every possible way to put his thoughts in order and to speak to her as soon as she was better. But now, he was pulling up blanks, which in return made him all the more nervous.

The hand on his back put a little more pressure "Ahem." Belos chimed in "Are you sure that's all you wanted to say?"

"I, uh, no, there was… there was more." Hunter stumbled over his words "Miss Fortuna, I-" his uncle clearing his throat again took Hunter's attention and he looked up at him. The man very casually brought up his free hand close to his own face, and with one finger rapped gently on the mask twice. A clear sign that Hunter was quick to react to "Oh right." He fumbled a bit, posture relaxing as he did, and brought his hands up to his head. In one swift move, his mask was off, revealing a pair of crimson eyes and a nervous, gap toothed nervous smile.

Selena's hand flew to her lips on instinct to muffle the gasp that escaped her.

"I wanted to-"

Hunter started on his speech which he has repeated so many times to himself the eve before, but was quickly interrupted. The woman on the bed was scrambling out of the sheets - she sat upon her knees at the edge of the bed, pulling on the long men's sleep shirt she wore to cover her legs as much as she could, and grabbed her glasses from the night table, putting them on.

"Goodness, Darius wasn't kidding when he called you little prince , look at you!" She started, giddy beyond belief "Come here, closer , I gotta take a good look at you!" She made grabby hands, beckoning him over, all the prim and guarded air around her from seconds ago gone. 

Hunter, rightfully so, seemed nervous, eyes flying up to Belos for a hint, anything , on what he should do. Maybe even hoping he'd get him out of this all together, but alas, Belos simply tilted his head in a "well go on" gesture, and pushed on his back before withdrawing his hand fully. So there was not much he could do apart from obeying the awaiting woman, crossing the room until he stood a foot away from the bed.

He saw the oracle's eyes sparkle, comically so "Oh, now I get why you wear the mask - if you didn't you'd have to beat the teenage population of the Boiling Isles away from you with a stick!" She joked, giggling to herself.

"Why…would I beat up teenagers?" Hunter asked so truthfully, it almost hurt 

"Wha- Hunter, I'm not saying literally , I'm calling you handsome !" Selena was somewhat taken aback by his response, but laughed either way, finding it endearing  "Haven’t you ever received a compliment before?" Behind him, Hunter heard his uncle stifle a laugh. Selena frowned as she looked over his shoulder. She twisted her lips, before they widened into a smirk, eyes sparkling for a brief second. 

"Is that why your uncle hides behind a mask as well?"

Belos immediately broke his laugh with a cough, turning quiet at that comment. And in return, Selena's face beamed with pride and mischief, before turning her attention back to Hunter.

"You…think I'm handsome?" The boy blushed, hand smoothing his hair back nervously as he did.

"Look at you! Fair hair, striking eyes, such royal features! Witches your age dream about boys like you, for sure!" She assured him. The little smile growing on Hunter's face was the sweetest thing Selena had seen all week. It was always sad to her, just how little boys got praised in such a way: given compliments, called pretty, when they were so hungry for them.

Every single person likes being called pretty, it doesn't matter who or what they are.

The little bashful smile didn't last long, as Hunter seemed to have gathered his wits and shook his head, trying to concentrate and get back on track "Wait, wait, wait, stop ! That's not why I wanted to see you! Stop doing that!"

"Stop doing what?"

"That!" He huffed, annoyed "You - interrupting me! You- keep breaking my train of thought!"

"Oh!" Selena put a hand to her lips, faux aghast "Okay, okay, I'll stop, go ahead please." She sat more properly, placing her hands on her knees and straightening her back, looking poignantly at the boy. She gave him a little nod and put on the most serious face she could muster.

Finally, Hunter thought, and cleared his throat "Miss Fortuna. I want to apologise for my behaviour when we last met. It was unbecoming of me, both as the heir to the throne and as the head of the Emperor's coven. You did nothing to deserve such horrid treatment, and I hope you can forgive me." He bowed his head low, waiting for her response. 

But, for some reason, he got… none . Nothing, except silence. And it was starting to make him nervous. Slowly, just enough so he could see her expression, he lifted his head, peering through one eye, only to snap his head completely up, fully in shock, once he caught a glimpse of her face. The Oracle in front of him was absolutely giddy. Her hands were clasped together in front of her face, palm to palm, and then there was her smile - so wide it looked like it hurt her cheeks from the strain. Her eyes were wide and sparkling, with little tiny tears in the corners. And, all the while, she kept making the weirdest, high pitched noise, rising in pitch the longer it went.

What…what in the world…?

"You even sound like a prince!" Selena finally let out, albeit too loudly and high pitched. She squeezed her hands into fists, which in return started shaking with excitement, all the while bouncing up and down on the bed "Oh, oh I'm doing it again, aren't I?" She sounded apologetic, even though her face didn't quite show it. "I'm so sorry, I can't help myself, you're such a sweet young man!"

At this point, Hunter was sure his face was red from how hot it felt. He couldn't even tell for sure if he was embarrassed, or flattered, or annoyed, or maybe all three - he didn't often deal with people complimenting him. With people… being so nice .

"You're, uh, not mad at me?" He let out, meekly. The tone of his voice seemed to have finally put an end to Selena's bubbly outburst.

"I mean, I was more distraught than mad." Selena cleared her throat, chasing away the former high "The last thing I wanted to do was upset you, and that ended up being exactly what I did. So that didn't…feel good." Her eyes fluttered behind him briefly "Especially since the Emperor warned me not to be so pushy with you, and I insisted I knew better." She let out a nervous laugh "If anything, I should be the one apologising to you both."

The young royal was about to tell her there was no need for an apology on her part, he just wanted this entire thing to be over and to make sure she didn't hate him. Even though, he thought, she had every right to. However, he was startled into silence by his uncle, who somehow managed to sneak up on them both without either noticing.

"Oh, there is no need for that, Selena." Belos spoke as he passed him, going straight to sit on the edge of the bed, right next to the oracle. Her shoulders tensed as he placed a hand against her cheek, turning her face towards him "Despite your… lapse of judgement, I cannot hold it against you, as I know it came from a heart full of compassion." His fingers moved, pushing stray hairs behind her ear "Naive as it is, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately." She muttered under her breath, half-heartedly. The feeling of fingers pushing harder behind her ear, however, made her elicit a small hiss through her nose.

A warning, for getting too cheeky in her responses.

"I do admire the love you hold for all the children of the Isles." Belos continued, like his nails weren't currently leaving indents in her skin "But it is a tedious thing, I admit, having to make sure no one takes advantage of such childlike naivete." The pressure finally lessened, and Selena's eyes twitched as she felt the nails unstick from the flesh they were pressing into "Do be careful of lesser men, will you?"

The way Belos gently, just barely, tilted his head to the side, adjacent shoulder rising up as he did, it felt incredibly mocking - condescending.

"Of course, Emperor." Selena did her best to smile back, biting her tongue "I will try my best. As you should as well, not to mistake my compassion with naiveté, that is" She added in cheekily "Though, compared to you, any man is a lesser man. Who can measure up to the messenger of the Titan, afterall."

Belos exhaled loudly through his nose in a barely stifled laugh. And if she could see his face, Selena would have been greeted by the most smug, annoying smirk ever to grace a witches face, a clear show that what he thought about that statement of hers was "Yes, exactly. So do not trust other men but me."

"Now, don't be cheeky." He answered instead, hand moving back to her cheek, giving it a gentle pinch as he did. He gave her head a tiny shake, as if she were a child being greeted by aunts they see twice a year. As soon as he let go, Selena's hand flew up to her face, cheeks puffing up in an indignant pout, as she proceeded to rub the (not really) sore spot.

What a cute expression, Belos thought, it reminded him of a feral little kitten trying to look big and scary.

The two had their attention taken away from each other when Hunter - still awkwardly standing next to them - let out a nervous cough. Selena was the first one to gain her composure, smiling widely at him, as if nothing happened just seconds before "In any case, Hunter! Thank you for apologising." She exclaimed brightly, " I'm happy to know there is no ill will between us."

"Of course not, miss Fortuna." Hunter was quick to respond, head still spinning from watching the two interact so … casually? More importantly, seeing Belos , of all people, interact with someone so casually. All he saw was friendly banter, of course, not the threat behind the Emperor's touch, and it felt wildly unnatural to witness.

Like he was intruding on something intimate.

Hunter saw how Belos eyed him carefully. "If the worries you have carried from last night have been lifted, Hunter, then you're free to go back to your duties." He gestured to the woman next to him "Our miss Selena here needs to rest as much as possible before Hettie dismisses her from our care, you see."

"Oh, there is no need to send him away." Selena quickly interrupted, eyes flying between Belos and Hunter. She felt more confident, somehow safer , when not alone with Belos. So, going by what she knew of him so far, and desperate enough to attempt such a thing again, she pushed a little further, covering the Emperor's hand with her own "If he wishes to stay, he should feel free to do so, don't you agree, my lord?"

And it seemed to work, at least she thought it did. She felt the man next to her freeze up, if just for a brief moment, as her hand gently covered his own, palm so small compared to his. Selena gave him a hopeful look, hoping it would aid in breaking his determination. 

It took longer than usual for Belos to answer her.

"Hunter has his duties to think of, both as the Golden Guard and a coven head." Belos started slowly, building up his resolve "I am afraid he really can't stay long." He turned back to Hunter, staring him down "Isn't that right, Hunter?"

And the boy's reaction was instant obedience, just like Selena had seen many times before "Emperor Belos is right, miss Fortuna. I have my duties to attend to."

Oh so close, but she was afraid to push his good graces further. Selena tried her best to not purse her lips in disappointment "Of course, I understand."

With one last bow, and with his heart feeling lighter than a feather, Hunter bid his goodbye to the two, leaving the room in a swift manner. He took the mask he held in his hands and secured it back in place, jumping back into his Golden Guard persona.

And as he did finally leave, Selena let out a deep sigh. While the boy felt lighter than a feather as his guilt alleviated, she, in fact, did not.

Especially not while she was stuck alone with him .

"Don't sound so disappointed." Belos chimed in "Am I such bad company that you do not wish to be alone with me?" He teased - very brazenly so, in fact.

The way her entire face lit up red in a matter of seconds was comical to behold "Wha- no! I'd never- I never said that, Emperor!" The woman stuttered as her voice reached entirely new heights in its pitch. And as soon as she did, Belos broke into a laugh, pleased to have caused the exact reaction he wanted from her "Mean! That was mean of you, Emperor!" Selena let out a whine, as it didn't take her long to figure out that he was intentionally making her fumble over herself.

It was instinctual, the way she hit his shoulder with her open palm. Afterall, she was the youngest of three, and used to being (lovingly) teased and fighting back when it did happen - in the same loving way, of course. And being the youngest, even she was aware that she was more spoiled than her older siblings, so it wasn't a rare occasion that her bratty side would come out.

But it usually came out with people she was close to, who she was friendly with.

Not with the man who, if he knew who she truly was, would want her dead - or worse .

Selena caught herself only after her palm made contact with the Emperor's arm - not a hard hit by any means, but to her it felt like it burned the second she had done it. She gasped as the mortification hit her all at once, struggling to decide whether to soothe the place she hit, or get as far away from him as possible, that she just remained rooted in place instead, so paralysed by horror, that she didn't even notice that Belos barely even registered what she had done.

"Oh, Titan below, I am so sorry, I didn't - I mean I, I don't-"

Belos, laughter still in his throat, turned to look at her "What ever do you mean?"

"I- I just - my lord, I was - I didn't mean to hit you, I forgot myself-"

"Goodness, Selena dear, you're working yourself into a tizzy." His laugh had subsided into a chuckle "Weren't you the one who broached the subject of us being friends first?"

Selena was caught off guard by that. She was , wasn't she? When she asked for his favour in dealing with Odalia Blight, that's when she officially marked their relationship a friendship. "I suppose I was, my lord."

With both hands, Belos took hold of her face, squishing her cheeks together "Then what is this all about, Selena?" He chastised playfully, his face very close to hers  "If we are to be friends, you can't be having a panic attack whenever you behave friendly towards me, hmm?" He chuckled. His eyes were in clear view, Selena noted, the smiling crinkles in the corner of his eyes and the deep blue shining even in the shadows of his mask, making her head spin "Why, how do you think that makes me feel, having to walk on eggshells around you all the time?"

Selena quickly looked to the side, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Not… good, I suppose."

"Not good indeed." Belos sighed "Promise you will try for me?"

"Yes, Emperor Belos."

She heard him exhale through his nose in a small laugh "That is what I like to hear.” Belos spoke, pleased as one can be, and reached over to the night table adjacent to the bed. “Now, I have been thinking of ways to make sure both you and I stay safe in the face of current events.” He opened the drawer, taking out a box that comfortably fit in his open palm. “I wanted to assign guards to watch you, to make sure you are safe. However, perhaps this needs a more… subtle approach.-'' he presented the box to the oracle, opening it for her to see inside.

Selena felt cold sweat wash over her instantly, goosebumps running down her spine.

Bad news . Real bad news .

The oracle sixth sense never slept. Not really. And the moment Selena saw the rose gold brooch, shaped like a blooming carnation, it instantly sent off blaring alarms in her head.

Her throat felt dry as she struggled to speak “Ah, well…” she paused, trying her best not to grimace “Hmm, that's a very pretty brooch, how… how exactly would it work?”

Belos placed the box on his lap, taking the brooch out and holding it up to let her have a closer look. “Nothing too complex, it carries a magical insignia embedded inside of it.” He moved closer, making Selena freeze as his adept fingers attached the brooch to the men's shirt she wore. To her left side, above her breast “And when it is in contact with a specific wearer, the insignia will let off a unique energy - one which I can effortlessly recognise.”

The moment the pin was safely in place, Selena could feel exactly what he described. She could sense the hum of magic coming from the brooch, it felt like it was calibrating to her own magic.

She hoped to Titan that it wouldn't see past her removable sigil.

“There we go.” Belos purred, pleased. With his right hand, he pressed his middle and forefinger, now glowing red, to the carnation, his magic seeping into it as he did.

And Selena felt the calibration lock into place, now replaced by a steady, unique magical aura. She let her fingers gingerly graze over the petals.

“Did- did it work?” Selena asked, looking down to inspect the jewellery piece.

“Like a charm.” He answered, satisfied.

That only made her feel more uneasy. She couldn't wait to say take the damned thing off.

“Do… you like carnations, Emperor?” She tried switching the subject, hoping to lessen her unease.

“They are… satisfactory, as far as flowers go.”

Selena licked her lips nervously before continuing “Did you know, pink carnations mean that one will not forget you?” She blabbered absentmindedly “You know, since this is rose gold and all.”

“Ah, the language of flowers.” Belos chimed in, almost too gleeful “Hmm, is that so? I must say, I'm not well versed in this specific art.”

“It's somewhat old and forgotten, though some knowledge of it still remains, especially in potion making.” Selena remained focused on the brooch “I had a phase when I was younger, thinking I was so smart, when I learned a lot about it and wanted to send secret messages. Turns out it's not effective when the one receiving flowers does not know the meaning.”

Belos chuckled, “Yes, I see how that could pose a problem.” He continued “So, giving a pink carnation would signify that I will never forget you, then?”

“Y-yes, that is correct.”

“Well then, I suppose the gift fits perfectly then, in more ways than one.”

The oracle felt her entire face warm up, and quickly turned away from him in an attempt to hide it “W-well, it's a good thing you hadn't picked just gold then. Yellow carnations mean rejection and disappointment.” she let out a nervous laugh “Wouldn't that be something, haha~”

“Hmm, if that were the case, I'd have had the entire thing remade.”

Selena paused, somehow that statement made her mind go blank. That was sweet. Why was that sweet?! Worst of all, why did she consider it as such, because even if it was objectively a sweet sentiment, she of all people should not have considered it to be one. Not from him. Not towards her.

So why did it make her heart skip a beat for just a single, solitary second?

Her hands were shaking as they reached for the brooch, jaw clenched tight as she struggled to take it off. “I'll make sure to wear it whenever I come to visit, then.” She let out with all the niceness she could physically muster, feeling instant relief when she finally unclasped the damned thing “But for now, it'd be a shame for something to happen to it, don't you agree?” she took hold of his hand which held the jewellery box, bringing it closer to her. Forcing the shakes off, she managed to place the brooch back into the velvet box, gently pushing the Emperor's hand back to him.

“Please, don't let me forget to take it when I leave?” She asked sweetly, letting her thumb trace a pattern into the back of Belos’ hand “I'd hate to leave such a thoughtful gift behind.”

And it seemed that this time, at least, her charm worked, as Belos’ posture seemed to relax, and without objecting he placed the jewellery box back on the night table. Turning back, he mirrored her actions from before, his hand covering hers as his thumb pressed softly into her wrist, feeling her heartbeat.

“Of course, Selena. I'll make sure you remember.”

[osunism]

Summary: A young widowed sorceress seeks protection under the aegis of the Honored One, but he has a better idea for keeping her out of the clutches of her dangerous clan.

Warnings: Gojo might be a lil' toxic, there's some smut in this story [a lot actually the attraction is pretty instant], and it's already on AO3 if that's the format you prefer.

I.

     Protection details are light work—usually. Gojo hasn’t failed a mission since the Star Plasma fiasco in high school, and even that had been an extraordinary circumstance. It is rare that one crosses his desk, requiring at most a first grade sorcerer for success, so when the Higher Ups call him directly to assign him to protect another sorcerer—a foreigner, no less—he gets curious. And when Gojo gets curious, he starts investigating.

     The dossier alone was enough to spark his interest, from the woman’s name to the information about her background. An entire clan of sorcerers living abroad! It is one of the rare instances of sorcerers being born outside Japan, and he wonders if even that is more xenophobic mythos perpetuated by the conservatives pulling the strings in the jujutsu world. Not only is the woman he’s to protect from a sorcerer clan—and a powerful one at that—she is essentially royalty.

     What intrigues him is that she was married to a non-sorcerer. Some nobody named Jin Hayashi. He was killed in a car accident a year prior, and since then his widow, Asabé Hayashi, has been living in seclusion in a modest house in the suburbs. He’s even more surprised that she is not far from the school…and that he has not once sensed her cursed energy.

     He learns why when she arrives at Jujutsu Tech for the first time.

     After his meeting and acceptance of the mission, Gojo finds her in his office, and for a moment he watches her. Her back is to him, and the first thing he notes is how…delicate she looks. He catches a glimpse of her profile: burnished sienna skin, a sculpted nose, and full lips. Her eyes are the color of honey, and her lashes are black and full, curling on her cheek like the crests of waves.

     “Do you mean to stare at me all morning?” Her voice is soft but sultry, like smoke or fog flowing over the serene architecture of a zen garden. Gojo watches her through his blindfold a while longer, his smile unwavering, although it curls a little more at her words. He comes in, shutting the door behind him.

     “It’s an old habit,” he says without missing a beat. “I like to read the room before entering. Kind of an essential skill in my line of work.”

     Asabé does not smile, even as Gojo comes around to sit at his desk, and he gets a good look at her. If he wasn’t staring before, he’s staring now.

     Asabé Hayashi is one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. Even to say it does not do her justice. She is striking, and he finds himself ignoring the usual analysis of his Six Eyes in favor of just looking at her. The woman is a fucking knockout and he’s seen her dead husband. Gojo is wondering how a plain nobody like Jin Hayashi won the hand of foreign royalty. He’s also wondering how long it’ll take him to talk this woman into—

     “You are Satoru Gojo, I presume,” she says. “I was told that you could help me with my problem.”

     “That’s what they tell me,” Gojo says, trying not to sound breathless. God she’s incredible. Her face alone is a work of art. He wants to trace those perfect brows with his thumb, those high cheekbones, and that mouth.

     “So,” he says, even as part of his thoughts turn decidedly not wholesome or businesslike. “Assassins! Sounds exciting. But I’ve a few questions of my own before we continue. My bosses were a little vague on the details so you’ll forgive me if this sounds redundant.” He doesn’t sound the least bit regretful but she looks at him, impassive, gesturing for him to continue.

     “You’re a sorceress,” he says, watches her stiffen a little at the simple statement. Very interesting. “And from my understanding, you have a powerful inherited technique, and a powerful sorcerer clan. Why not go to them for protection? And what is stopping you from protecting yourself?”

     Asabé’s beautiful mouth thins into a grim line.

     “Gojo, my family is the one sending their enforcers after me,” she says and his brows go up in mild surprise. “And as for why I cannot protect myself…it is because of a binding vow.”

     Gojo nods, understanding.

     “Does this vow forbid you from using your technique?”

     “Only against my family,” Asabé explains. “A long time ago, my clan was nearly wiped out because of vicious infighting. As a way to prevent this from happening in the future, my ancestors made a binding vow forbidding their descendants from ever turning our gifts against one another. As you can expect, it has led to some very creative ways for more ambitious members of the clan to rise in the ranks.”

     Gojo snorts. “I wouldn’t know, but I’ll take your word for it. So, you’ve got a family who wants to kill you, but why? Your technique is valuable, why lose it by killing you?”

     Asabé blinks, visibly confused. Then, she gasps.

     “Ah, I see, it must have been lost in translation. No, they are not trying to kill me. They are trying to drag me back home.”

     And all at once, Gojo understands.

     “You’re hiding from them.”

     Asabé says nothing, but he sees the tension in her jaw, the hard swallow in her throat, and the way her honey-hued eyes harden in cold fury.

     “Yes,” she admits, and he can see how it nettles and stings her pride to do so. “It is why I have sealed my cursed energy to make it more difficult for them to locate me. But…living in Japan, I still stand out, as you can see.”

     Gojo laughs. “Miss Hayashi did you just make a joke? I do believe the ice is finally beginning to thaw!”

     “Gojo…” she says, and her voice sounds like a purr and a growl all at once. He takes a moment to try not thinking about how that voice would sound panting and moaning in his ear, saying things so obscene it would make the devil himself blush with shame. He really needs to get laid soon, but since seeing her he’s been thinking about it. God she’s fucking gorgeous.

     She clears her throat, rather conspicuously.

     “In any case,” she continues, “it’s simply more prudent to tap in with a community that can offer me protection. It’s not like I can go to the police about this kind of thing.”

     Gojo knows all about demanding families. Not that his is very demanding—he does as he pleases, but he also knows what’s expected of him. No, he suspects Asabé’s family is not unlike the Zenin clan. For that alone, he spares her some pity. He can’t imagine being seen as nothing but a potential brood mare for more heirs. No wonder she ran off to marry a nobody. Probably vastly preferable to being sequestered away to pop out babies.

     “Well, we have a few options,” Gojo says. “We can keep you here, at Jujutsu Tech. Tengen’s barriers are ancient and powerful, and we’ve vast resources if you want to study, meditate, whatever you want to do to pass the time. You also wouldn’t be required to seal yourself. But, you would be required to stay on the grounds in order to remain protected. I also won’t always be here to keep an eye on you, which I’m sure is counterintuitive to your request.”

     Asabé’s brow furrows as she considers his words. Gojo waits patiently, studying how her blood races in her veins, her pulse quickens, her heart rate rises. She’s running through all the scenarios in her head, he can feel that much. He knows without having to ask that she’s afraid to remove the seal and reveal herself, but he’s so perishingly curious about how powerful she actually is. Part of him really wants to know if this woman’s ability is worth his protection.

     Asabé’s gaze clears as she blinks, having weighed that option. He can already tell she doesn’t want to be confined to the campus. He doesn’t blame her. As secluded and protected as this place is, it has been breached many times before by highly skilled sorcerers. He has no idea what enforcers her family has at their disposal, but if they’re on equal footing with his family’s wealth and influence, he suspects curse users will be making their way here in no time. And he’s not always on the campus grounds.

     He briefly remembers Riko, and his smile almost fades.

     “What’s the other option?” Asabé asks, breaking the silence. Gojo sits back in his chair.

     “Well, the other option is you would be staying with me.” He tries not to look smug but the thought of this lovely creature walking around his home is…tempting. The circumstances being what they are, he can hardly be blamed for being a tad excited, right?

     Asabé’s eyes go wide.

     “Is…” Her voice wavers a little. “Is that appropriate?”

     Gojo turns out his hands in a shrug. “Does it matter? I’ve got a spare bedroom if you’re worried. And I can guarantee your safety more that way. Trust me, there’s nowhere safer in this whole country save for Hokkaido.”

     Asabé considers it. She has no intention of freezing her ass off in Hokkaido for the rest of her life. She frowns again, clearly not liking the idea of being roommates with the man who is essentially her bodyguard for the duration of her ordeal. Her gaze slides away, and she bites her lip. Gojo has a brief image of her doing that with his mouth on her throat.

     He really needs to get laid. Fuck.

     “Fine,” she says, terse and exasperated. “Do I have to wear the seal there too?”

     Gojo shrugs. “You don’t. But if it makes you feel better you can keep it on. I have to admit I am curious about your technique, though.”

     Asabé’s cheeks go warm and she looks away again.

     “It’s not relevant to your mission, and I try not to use it if I don’t have to.”

     “Your choice,” Gojo says nonchalantly. “So, shall I send someone to pick up whatever you need and have it brought over, or are you averse to that too?”

     Asabé frowns again, glaring at him.

     “I am not going to risk revealing myself if I don’t have to, Gojo,” she says sternly. “But yes: I would appreciate having my things brought to your…residence. Will I be confined there or am I allowed to come and go?”

     “How about we cross that bridge when we come to it?” Gojo suggests. “And trust me: it won’t feel at all like house arrest once you’re there. I’ve been told I’m pretty entertaining to be around.”

     Asabé stares at him, clearly unamused. Gojo lets out a little scoff. Sheesh. Tough crowd.

     When Asabé first meets Gojo her initial thought is that this lanky, arrogant, nonchalant idiot cannot possibly protect her. However, his cursed energy speaks volumes and then some. She felt him behind her before she deigned to turn her head and get a glimpse of him. And she is pretty sure that blindfold does absolutely nothing to hinder his sight. She wagers he’s got better eyesight than a fucking owl.

     And even his eyes could not discern her technique, meaning the seal she has placed on herself is working.

     After her meeting with Gojo, he makes a few calls, getting his staff on the job of moving her into the guest bedroom of his penthouse apartment overlooking the sprawl of the Tokyo metropolis from the safety of a quiet building nestled in the hills of the city’s outer limits. Asabé gets her first glimpse of the building during the drive: a sleek and modern high-rise of highly reflective glass. It’s the kind of place one imagines their future dark romance novel hero resides.

     In other words: it’s exactly how she imagined Gojo’s choice of residence would be.

     They enter the building together, greeted by a vigilant doorman who bows low to Gojo, holding the door open for both of them. Asabé ignores how the doorman looks askance at her out the corner of his eye, and she makes sure to give him her most impervious and imperious stare as the elevator doors close. She feels grim satisfaction as her withering look makes the doorman avert his gaze quickly and guiltily.

     The ascent is a silent one, broken only by Gojo unwrapping Jolly Ranchers to suck on. Out of the corner of her eye, she studies him. His skin is like alabaster, his hair as pale as starlight, but he keeps that damnable blindfold on so she can’t see his eyes. She wonders briefly if his eyes are sensitive to light. Back in her homeland, it is not uncommon for powerful sorcerers to develop physical ailments, especially considering how a lot of sorcerers suffer from brain damage when overusing techniques.

     Still, for as silly as his blindfold looks to her, she has no doubt he can see quite clearly.

     “Now who’s staring, hm?” Gojo says slyly, his smile becoming a smirk. Asabé’s cheeks go hot and she wishes she wore her sunglasses so she could stare in peace. Even then, she’s sure Gojo’s senses are superhuman.

     “I was just…” She struggles to find words because there are none to say. She was staring, even out of her peripheral vision, she was marveling. She’s heard of Gojo’s good looks, as well as the reputation those looks entail. And now she’s exiting an elevator into his penthouse. Once they cross the threshold, she feels nervous, as if she doesn’t belong here.

     Everything about Gojo’s apartment is sleek and modern, although there are trappings of tradition amidst the decor, and she can feel something inside her dim and muted as she crosses the threshold. She hesitates. Gojo looks over his shoulder.

     “You can remove your seal if you like,” he says casually, “this place is highly secure against cursed intrusions. It’s also insulated in case I have to get a little crazy. Can’t destroy the place in a fit of pique.”

     Asabé’s hand goes to her chest, and Gojo can see the seal nestled there beneath her clothes. A necklace? How simple…and curious. As they remove their shoes, he leads her through the kitchen, giving her the grand tour. It is extremely rare that he brings anyone to his personal home, even rarer that he brings them to the ancestral Gojo estate. Still, he doubts her intentions are to bring him harm. She seems skittish, her eyes seeming to be expecting attackers to jump out from behind the next corner.

     “And here’s you,” Gojo says, leading her to the guest bedroom. Asabé peers inside. It’s lavish in comparison to say, a hotel or motel, but it is no less than what she expects from a man like Gojo. The bed is large, facing a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook a sprawling green space and beyond the carpet of lights that is Tokyo proper, and there’s even a walk-in closet. She smiles, seeing that her things have already been dropped off for her to unpack at her leisure.

     “My room is down the hall,” Gojo explains. “I’m here when I’m not working or teaching, and since you are the job, looks like I get to be home way more often than usual. Help yourself to the kitchen—I don’t cook much, but if there’s anything you need please let the concierge know. Groceries get delivered so there’s no need for you to risk going out on your own, and the housekeepers are here once a week to clean. Not much, but it keeps me from getting lost in the clutter of the day to day. Pretty sweet, right?”

     Asabé smiles. “Thank you, Gojo,” she says with a respectful bow. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your assistance. I’ll try not to get underfoot.”

     Gojo grins. He’s not worried about her getting underfoot but the way she looks right now he wants her to get under him somehow.

     “Let me not keep you,” he says. “Make yourself at home and we can go over your situation in more detail, hm? Maybe order some Thai food. You like Thai food?”

     Asabé smiles, almost shyly. “Thai sounds wonderful. I’ll unpack and freshen up. And again: thank you.”

     As Gojo leaves her, he can see her gaze lingering on his back, curious and hesitant, as if there is more she wishes to say,  but she vanishes into her room, the door shutting softly behind her.

     In the guest room, Asabé takes a moment to really take it all in. Her husband has been dead for almost a full year, and her family has been searching for her relentlessly. She thinks about how everything went so wrong, and dreads being dragged back into bondage. She thinks about how Jin saved her without realizing it, and all he got for his troubles was an early grave.

     Asabé stares out of the windows into the well-manicured park below, and into Tokyo proper, then she begins the long process of unpacking her things. She opts to shower in lieu of simply freshening up, and when she emerges, she feels less weary and more clear-headed. It’s a lovely bathroom, with a deep, freestanding soaking tub, and a shower surrounded by pristine glass. Above the tub is a skylight. She loves that, and anticipates many relaxing bubble baths in the future, staring at the stars. She slips into a short but simple sundress, and pulls her long black hair into a single braid over her shoulder.

     When she emerges from the bedroom, she nearly runs into Gojo.

     “Oh!” She cries, gasping as he catches her by the shoulders. His hands are soft and warm, much larger than hers, and she looks up at him, wide eyed. His blindfold is off, and she glimpses his face for the first time.

     She has never seen such a face, save in the descriptions of angels and their impossible beauty. She stares, momentarily stunned. His eyes are indescribable to her, a blue that defies explanation, as if they are living pieces of the cosmos. His hands tighten on her shoulders only slightly as her gaze slowly studies his face. His mouth is soft and pink, and he’s not smiling, but nor does he look unhappy.

     “I’m sorry…” She whispers, trying to find her voice and wondering why it’s so small. Gojo tilts his head forward, those eyes studying her in full as he smiles.

     “Do I make you nervous?” He asks, his voice rich and deep, and Asabé shivers in response, unable to help herself. No, not nervousness, but something she’s not quite ready to confront. Slowly, oh so slowly, Gojo releases her shoulders, and she takes a small step back. It’s his turn to study her.

     Her dress is beautiful, but Gojo thinks this only because it looks good on her. The straps are so delicate, as if they are made to be slipped from her shoulders. He can see the the swell of her breasts beneath, and spots the thin gold chain around her neck, and the seal hanging from it.

     It’s her wedding band, he realizes. The seal is her wedding band.

     “You’ve been sealing yourself since your marriage?” Gojo asks. Asabé nods quietly.

     “It was the only way I could live here peacefully,” she says softly. “Jin didn’t know. I…I had the ring ensorcelled by a curse user who specializes in seals. It wasn’t cheap, but it worked. At least until…”

     Gojo can deduce what happened. Likely the “accident” that befell her husband was no accident at all. He beckons her to follow him and they make their way to the living room, which is surprisingly spacious. So much of the apartment is so open that it does make her nervous. She wonders if this design is his choice. It doesn’t feel very secure.

     They sit on the couch, with her curling on one end and him sprawling on the other.

     “Tell me about the accident,” he says, and Asabé hesitates. His expression is gentle, almost as if he is compassionate, and she doesn’t understand how he manages to make his eyes—so striking!—soft. She has not spoken to anyone about the accident since it happened, but if he can find any answers within, she’s more than willing to revisit it.

     “We were driving,” she begins. “Visiting his parents in Toyama. It was storming terribly, and we’d been arguing. His mother is—was—not very fond of our marriage. We were taking one of the mountain roads and…he couldn’t see the cursed spirit but I could. I tried to warn him…but he wouldn’t listen.”

     Asabé shuts her eyes, remembering.

     “It pulled us into its domain, but only briefly, and it was enough. The car hit something in the domain, sent us both crashing through the windshield.”

     This next part, Asabé hates to remember.

     “Both of us were horribly injured and dying. I could see my…I was torn open. So was he.”

     A dress of red, a skin of gray.

     “You survived using reversed curse technique,” Gojo surmises, his voice quiet and thoughtful. Asabé nods.

     “I can’t control it,” she tells him, “I didn’t even know I could do it until that moment. I just knew I didn’t want either of us to die, but I couldn’t save him. He died right in front of me.”

     “And the cursed spirit?” Gojo asks.

     Asabé fingers the ring around her neck with her slender fingertips.

     “I unsealed myself for the first time since leaving my family, and I exorcised the spirit myself. And then I called for help.”

     Gojo remembers reading about the accident during his personal briefing of Hayashi’s background. So a cursed spirit caused the accident, hm? And her unsealing herself means whoever her family sent to spy on her and hunt her down must have finally pinpointed her location.

     “Can you unseal yourself, now?” He asks. Asabé freezes, wide-eyed.

     “Gojo…” She whispers. “If I do that—”

     “They won’t find you,” he says. “Trust me. Go on, unseal yourself. I’m sure keeping your cursed energy suppressed like that can’t possibly be comfortable. And I need to see what you’re made of because if you exorcised a spirit on your own, you’re clearly not a weakling. Let your hair down, Miss Hayashi.”

     He winks, and her cheeks flush hot.

     “If…if you’re sure…” She says softly, and grasps the chain around her neck, lifting it over her head.

     All at once a great weight on her soul is lifted and she watches Gojo’s expression. He is still smiling but there’s a sharpness to his gaze, his pupils shrinking, and she remembers what she knows about the Gojo clan’s techniques. Six Eyes and Limitless…she’s not sure what either of them are capable of, but from his silence, she knows they are in use.

     Gojo has never felt cursed energy like hers before. Usually, the Six Eyes tells him everything from vitals to near-clairvoyant readings on moves everyone around him is making. He can see her cursed energy, a flame of the deepest cerulean he’s ever seen. Same color of his eyes if he were to venture a guess. It’s beautiful and it is so tightly controlled he knows she’s been trained, formally in fact. He focuses his gaze, chases the path of her cursed energy, and sees the brightness along her throat. Cursed speech? He tilts his head, curious.

     “You have exemplary control over your cursed energy,” he says by way of acknowledging her. “What about your technique? If your family wants you back this badly it has to be pretty powerful.

     Asabé hesitates again. “I…I hesitate to use it. It can be…overwhelming.”

     Gojo smirks, smug and superior.

     “I promise you can’t hurt me. Go ahead and try.”

     “I don’t want to hurt you,” she says and Gojo raises a brow. Most techniques are made to hurt or defend, he can’t imagine what power she has that could be for anything else. He gestures for her to continue. Asabé holds his gaze a moment longer, before she shuts her eyes. Without telling her, Gojo releases his infinity. He needs to feel her. God, he needs to stop staring at that brightness on her beautiful throat. He wants to trace a wet path with his tongue along it, feel how warm that satiny brown skin is.

     “You can’t hurt me.”

     “But I can.”

     Gojo lets out an involuntary gasp as he feels the sensation of…it feels like nails digging into his shoulders and forearms, yet Asabé remains curled on the couch, serene as can be.

     “How…?” He begins to ask and even though Asabé is no longer speaking he can see the brightness around her throat, still active. The nails are still digging into his skin like a lover clinging to him, and he activates his technique to repel it. He glances down, seeing no marks in his skin, but he can feel echoes of the sensation. The brightness in her throat dims.

     “Cursed speech?” He wonders. Asabé smiles thinly, replacing her seal. Her cursed energy goes mute, but Gojo has seen and tasted it and he will never forget it.

     “In a sense,” she says and Gojo cannot help but brace himself for another ghost sensation. “We do not have the precise power that the Inumaki clan does, where we must speak words that compel. Rather, it is our very voices that inspire sensation: pleasure, pain, and everything in between. With enough effort, I can make you hallucinate.”

     Gojo can’t help it: he’s smiling. He’s delighted. What a fascinating power, and a dangerous one. Compulsion is one thing, and the energy is not as precise hence why it can backfire so easily depending on how powerful the opponent is, but this? She can speak any word and empower it with whatever she wants her opponents to feel.

     “How did you exorcise the spirit?” He asks.

     “I sang,” Asabé says simply. Gojo laughs.

     “What like a lullaby? Did you put it to sleep or something?” He’s laughing still and Asabé frowns, rolling her eyes.

     “No, I sang until it was torn apart at the seams. It’s not just nails I can make you feel, Gojo.”

     Something about the way she says that makes all the blood rush to his cock. The possibilities of her voice hadn’t occurred to him until now. God, if he unseals her and fucks her, he can only imagine—

     “Yes,” Asabé says, looking amused as she watches him. “Even that.”

     Gojo grins. “I can’t imagine since you decided to seal yourself. Can you control it?”

     Asabé has the wherewithal to look indignant.

     “Of course.” She says through gritted teeth. “I’d not be much use as an heir if I couldn’t control my own technique. I only sealed myself to hide from my family.”

     Gojo leans back, casual and unbothered, and Asabé tries not to think about how good he looks, about the way his button-down is unbuttoned enough to show the beautiful column of his throat, the hollow of his clavicle, and just a peek of his chest. She thinks about how warm his hands are, how gentle he was when he held her shoulders. She bites her lip. Gojo can see it in her, her blood is racing through the pipes of her veins, her heartbeat picking up into a slightly fevered cadence. Her lips part, and her breath comes a little rushed.

     Oh, she’s turned on. Good, he shouldn’t be the only one sitting here wondering what she’ll look like with her ankles in her ears and his dick buried to the hilt inside of her. And her voice unsealed? Oh he knows that’s dangerous. He can always stuff her panties in her mouth but—

     “Stop looking at me like that,” she says. Gojo blinks, grinning like a wolf.

     “Like what?”

     “Like you’re thinking about having me with a side of fries,” she says. “Speaking of, you mentioned Thai food?”

     Gojo laughs. “So I did. Let’s eat and maybe we can both stop looking at each other like a couple of rival lions at the drinking pool, hm?”

     Her cheeks flush again, and this time she looks away from him.

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