#(there's layers to him offering that that makes it funny‚ i promise. he offers concoctions based on a person's personality? i think??? he

[yakny]

Knight Bobo, wearing some of the patterns I drew :D!

[esseegg]

Four Words and Then Some - Dabi [Reader-insert fic]

Summary: There are few things that faze Dabi. Nonchalance and apathy are what he’s best known for. When he meets someone of similar manner, however, he can’t help but feel a tad curious. He can’t help putting labels beyond your demeanor — anything to remember you by.

Word Count: 1846

Note: gender neutral Reader. not quite romantic, although one could argue its implications. written before the Dramatic Dabi Reveal™ in recent manga chapters, so this embraces more of the mystery that initially surrounded his character.

Warning: mentions of murder, alcohol, and sex.

There was only a handful of words that Dabi could use to describe you.

The first was “immoral”.

That was the first look he saw in your eyes that night. Under the pelt of the rain, you watched — watched as his scarred, bloodied hand clasped over an innocent person’s mouth. A show of blue humored your eyes not in the open, but within the screaming walls of his victim’s throat.

The man collapsed, just inches away from your feet. Before Dabi could purr a despairing taunt, a promise that you’d end up the same, you cut him off with a scream. It was the innocent’s — turned dry by scarring flames, turned hopeless by the press of your heel.

As you dug your heel into the victim’s throat, you tipped your umbrella in Dabi’s direction. From below the shadow of your umbrella’s weeping canopy, your smile twinkled ever so humbly. 

“Thank you,” you uttered.

He just wanted to scorch a loose mouth. He didn’t know you had bad blood with the guy.

The second was “cocky”.

When Dabi asked if you knew who he was, you affirmed that you did. As he rose to his feet, your arm rose with him. Somehow, your umbrella still accounted for him.

“You aren’t afraid of getting burned?” Dabi sneered.

Flames hissed above the rain’s pulse, drawing a line along the dips and curves of his neck. A stray flicker reflected in your eyes, and he caught sight of a heart-seizing intensity.

“Not really.” Your airy chuckle extinguished his flares of blue. “The public’s noted you as a more.. erratic person among your associates.”

You tilted your shield back, letting the rain’s barrage on him resume.

“You don’t exactly have the highest body count among criminal kind. At least, when you’re acting alone.”

Dabi eyed the canopy that no longer wept for him. Lifting a hand, he ignited a flame beneath its edge. You spared it only a glance before tossing the whole thing aside.

The third was “blunt”.

“You’ve never been reported to appear in this area before,” you remarked. Your hand, no longer occupied, simply took refuge in a slot of your jacket. “Do you mind if I ask what for?”

You had friends nearby, as well as a relative just a few blocks away. Although you thought it pointless to steer a villain’s will, you wished it kind, nonetheless, if he were to leave your relations alive and well.

The way you gestured with your shoulders, mixed with the lazy perks and dips of your lips — Dabi couldn’t help but laugh. Although it came off as more of a scoff, you noticed.

“Relax,” the villain drawled. “Burnt cities aren’t the agenda. Your folks will be safe, unless they have a quirk in my interest.”

“Is that what happened to this guy?” you asked. Only then did Dabi realize — your foot was still on the bastard’s throat.

“You could say that.”

“Hm.” You took your foot away, irked by the raspy gasps that followed. “I’m not surprised.”

The fourth was “beguiling”.

After his third torching of your shared victim’s throat, you asked if he intended to stay the night. He thought he knew a tease when he heard one.

“That sounds like an invitation,” he hummed. You didn’t flinch nor tense as he neared, and in good fun, the tip of his nose tickled yours.

Liquor or sex, Dabi predicted. One or the other — maybe both if he was lucky. You didn’t seem below two shots or a few, and the rain hugged your form with a shameless, flattering grace.

There was a lighter’s tease in your eyes too, one that begged for another flick of the thumb. Roll the wheel, your eyes seemed to say. Spit sparks of blue on your skin; start a flame that’d eat you out, pain you, pleasure you, until you were ashes on a bed. He’d feed you the last shot of your cheap shared liquor, distastefully warm by that point. Then, he’d leave. That’d be a night, certainly — just the kind of night he–

“It’s not.” Turning your head away ever so slightly, you bared a look of total disinterest. “I was hoping you’d leave.”

So much for that night. Whatever, Dabi scoffed.

He fished out his burner phone, paying you no mind as he dialed his associate’s number. The tone droned in his ear, monotonous like the rain, quiet like your soles on concrete as you strayed to pick up your umbrella. You only cared to shake off the drip of puddles, rather than the grime that stuck.

The fifth and final word was “comforting”.

"You have zero caller credits left on this device. To purchase more, visit one of our locations at– Beep!"

The phone smacked concrete, cracking upon impact. After his snarl had sputtered, making it no further than the barrier that was his lips, you spoke.

"Is everything alright?"

Dabi’s eyes darted over, meeting the shadow of that weeping canopy again. Your buttery tone, light and airy, put the image of a smirk in his head.

"What do you think?" he sneered.

Your eyes sheened like all-seeing moons above the night's drizzle. White — from what he could tell — hazy and plain.

"Do you need a place to stay?" you asked. “I have a couch you could borrow.”

Dabi paused, confounded by the offer. He looked to the sky, as if his answer had been tucked away up there. Looming over urban silhouettes, the clouds wallowed in their sorrow. Silver linings were impossible to find.

The villain sighed. Eventually, he replied, “Alright. It’s not as if I’ve got anywhere else to go.”

The canopy twitched, revealing a quiet surprise in your eyes. Dabi chuckled, sparking a funny, fleeting life in your eyes’ shine.

He’d remember that. He’d remember many things about you.

He’d remember the pale vinyl flooring of your apartment and how mud stuck itself between boards’ gaps. He’d remember that ugly, aged yellow of your lightbulbs, which loved to cackle and gossip whenever he turned his back. He’d remember the weak, chilling pulse of your shower head: a nice gift after blue had licked his skin raw.

When he came out of the shower, Dabi found a flaccid pillow on the couch. From the kitchen, he could hear the clinks of a spoon dipped in warm milk. When you caught his stare, you spoke.

“Insomnia.” You shook the mug as if it were a glass of wine. “Just a comfort habit of mine.”

As the night dragged on, he slowly understood what you meant.

While he rested on the couch, slowly sinking into its tough, ridged cushions, you lingered in the kitchen, concocting drink after drink to accompany the fiction in your hands. Every few minutes or so, he’d hear the crisp flick of another page, the kind that often sliced through the drone of the rain.

Then, out of nowhere, the spoon-clinking and the page-turning quieted.

“Aren’t you tired?”

Your voice mingled with the muted racket from outside. He almost didn’t catch it.

“Do you honestly think a villain’s gonna take a chance at a stranger’s home?”

Dabi’s voice cushioned his words, turning curtness to breath and derision to wisps. The scratch of your mug and the kitchen counter followed, as did the flutter of pages and the last hiss of your kitchen light.

You strolled out of the shadows, placing the mug at the foot of the couch. Before he could question you, you plopped onto the armrest. In response, Dabi scrambled up, tucking his feet away from you, while blue raced along his fingertips.

“Relax,” you uttered. “I’m just here for the better light.”

A shitty excuse. You both knew it.

“If you want better light, I’d look somewhere else,” the villain retorted.

Propping himself up, he nestled into a crook of your couch. You didn’t mind, even as he angled himself for a perfect view of whatever threats you might attempt.

Threats. Right.

He’d remember that thought. He’d remember all that he could before that night’s end.

He’d remember how your pages turned to whispers. He’d remember that irking clonk between your foot and the couch, then the silence after he spat something at you. He’d remember your yawns, long and perpetual — shamelessly dramatic.

That was you: a peculiar thing of the owl’s night with dark, curious eyes and airy smiles. Eerily still yet alive, you lived in your own little world that Dabi had simply intruded upon, when he could’ve sworn that it was the other way around.

In your world, hearts were slow, yet steady, safe, and content. The darkness was kind, drooping over his eyes and working his limbs loose. Bulbs became stars, humble and pleasant within the morning’s grayness.

When the villain awoke, he was greeted by fleece, sewn together from the night’s black. The sky seemed full of silver, accompanied by a light, shimmery mist that turned your window into a colorless mirage. In the new light of the sunless city, there was you.

Your body teetered, looking ready to topple off the armrest at any moment. Meanwhile, your book slumbered against the slope, having long since closed by the will of its bindings. By your feet, which dangled innocently, your mug laid on its side. It had dried over in a layer of crusted liquid that spanned out and seeped into the vinyl boards.

At all of you, the villain huffed. You bemused him. Yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to question you — any of you. You felt like a dream, after all, utterly surreal.

He was certain he’d be that way to you too. You’d question a lot of things.

You’d wonder if your mug sprouted legs last night. Otherwise, it would’ve never made its way to your sink.

You’d hug the fleece that had hugged so snuggly about your shoulders and question it. Before last night, blankets never flew.

You’d ask if your book was always so fickle. Rather than stay by your side, it got up and moved to the kitchen. It would’ve found its way home, on a shelf or the like, but it forgot that home a long time ago.

Worst of all, your umbrella, which you had hung onto the front door knob to dry, was now gone — actually gone. You’d wander the halls, search the rooms, and even call Dabi’s name to ask where it had gone.

There’d be no point, though. In the end, you’d know.

Somewhere, far away from the place you called home, your umbrella was wide open and smiling beside the atmosphere’s light, joyful cries for a brand new day. All the while, the canopy, spotted with mud and baring a singe along its edge, casted a warm, comforting shadow over its new owner.

Dabi thought it foolish to bring the item along, but he did. As he walked, he twirled the canopy and grinned, happy to thieve a sliver of the subtle peace that you had blessed him with.

Thank you for reading! Likes, Comments & Reblogs are much appreciated <3

[belladxne]

i will see you where the shadow ends | chapter 5

[see notes for ao3 and ff links]

part of the put your faith in the light that you cannot see series AU: Breath of the Wild pairing: KiriBaku word count: 6,400

chapter 5: i will hold on hope, and i won’t let you choke on the noose around your neck

Eijiro wakes the next morning to Inko having laid out two simple white shirts and a pair of trousers for him—he can tell as soon as he runs his fingers over the shirts that unlike what he’s wearing now, they’re made of soft and comfortable material. It feels sturdier, too, but that may just be because anything’s bound to feel sturdier than clothes left to rot for a hundred years. Beside them are a padded doublet, clearly designed for warmth, and a pair of thick gloves.

He looks up to see Inko humming as she merrily gathers food for breakfast—eggs and rice. He’s relieved to see she looks none the worse for the wear after losing out on her bed for the night.

“Where did you get these?” he asks, curiously. It’s… not exactly like there are any merchants or tailors able to get up onto the plateau. Inko hums, distracted, before she glances up and seems to remember what he’s talking about, and a bright smile crosses her face.

“They’re old. They were all too big for me, so I took some time last night to tailor the shirts and trousers to something I thought might fit you better.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down at them. He’s focusing real hard on not having a repeat of yesterday—he’s so immensely thankful, but he’s gonna try not to get emotional about it. Well, too emotional about it. Well, okay, he’s already really emotional about it, but he can at least try to not get choked up. “I—thank, you, so much, I really don’t know how I can—”

“If I hear another word about repayment out of you,” she scolds teasingly, but Eijiro can tell she doesn’t have any sort of threat to actually finish the sentence. Still, he gets the message, laughing softly.

“Okay, okay,” he relents, “I just—I really do appreciate it.”

She knows, of course. He’s just glad he’s said it enough to make it clear.

After they finish the omurice Inko’s made, the two of them both get ready for the day. Eijiro’s got a few plans, but his main priority is finding somewhere private and getting this scratchy hell shirt off of himself.

As Inko’s tugging on her boots, she makes a face, more confused than bothered. She pulls the offending boot back off, turning it upside down and giving it a shake, and a familiar-looking seed comes clattering out onto the stone floor. Inko doesn’t pay it any mind, but Eijiro blinks.

“Is that a Korok seed?” he asks, thinking of the five he's collected so far. He hasn’t seen any seeds just loose before—they’ve all come directly from the hands of a tiny forest spirit, delighted to have been found in their odd little hiding spot.

“Hm?” Her tone is distracted, but when she follows his gaze realization crosses her face. “Oh, yes.”

“You see them?” He’d thought—the first Korok he’d met seemed so surprised when he’d seen him. Eijiro thought most people couldn’t…?

“Oh, no, not very often,” Inko replies as she pulls on her other boot and stands, straightening her clothes out. “I think they have more fun playing their games and causing mischief if they keep themselves hidden. But they do seem to like me an awful lot; they’re always leaving me funny little gifts. The seeds only started about a week ago. Why, would you like it?”

Huh. She talks so casually about it, like she has no idea how out of the ordinary it is. Of course, he thinks if he were a Korok, he’d probably think Inko was great, too, but still. It’s a little odd, but it doesn’t take much of his focus as they both carry on with their day. He’s in too much of a rush to find someplace to change to dwell on it.

The verdict when Eijiro does find a more secluded area and get into the new clothes is oh, thank the gods, this is so much better, holy shit. His pants actually reach his ankles. The plain, undyed shirts she’s given him are probably better suited to being undershirts, worn under a tunic or something, but they’re so much better than something itchy and falling apart at the seams.

He might burn the old one, honestly. Or he guesses he could keep it as a rag. Cutting it up could be cathartic.

With that out of the way, Inko had suggested he try fishing, and he at least wants to make sure he leaves her something to have for lunch before he spends all day hiking up cliffs and mountains and undertaking trials. He knows Inko has banned all talk of paying her back, but he figures this is the easiest and sneakiest way to make sure she gets something for her troubles.

He’s just a little proud of how crafty he feels, concocting this plan.

Eijiro finds himself aware of three different facts by the time he’s returning to Inko’s house with two freshly-caught Hyrule bass in hand, and he’s not sure how many of them should have already been obvious.

One—Koroks really are absolutely, ridiculously everywhere. He accidentally found one in the water while he was fishing, and there’s even one hiding out on top of Inko’s house. She must not have been wrong when she said they liked her. He’s genuinely not sure how it took him so long to start running into them yesterday, because it feels like he’s stumbling into one every other step now.

Two—the longer he spends around the plateau, the more he’s forced to realize… there’s something odd about Inko. Like, really odd.

For one, she’s everywhere. Almost every time he’s turned around on this plateau since yesterday, she’s been there. Every time he’s been anywhere near the campfire outside the Shrine of Resurrection, she’s been at the campfire. Every time he’s been anywhere near her house, she’s at her house. When he raised the tower, suddenly she was at the tower. When he did his first shrine trial, she was at the shrine. She pops out of nowhere sometimes, and more than once he’s thought she moved awfully quick for her age.

Then there’s the odd amount of information she knows—and that’s just including what she’s told him. She’d said she didn’t know much about Sheikah buildings, but she’d seemed to know that his slate had been what activated the tower—and then she’d pulled out all sorts of information on his slate, too. And fast travel! She’d also been able to tell him the shrine only started glowing at the same moment the tower had risen, but she’d come from the opposite direction of the shrine.

And there was the day before, too… she’d been so frazzled as soon as he was going to the shrine surrounded by the old machines, and just as much so afterwards. Like she’d known what he was going to run into—why else would she be so scared for him with that shrine, but not the other?

He thinks maybe he’s just being paranoid, like when he’d jumped to the conclusion that he’s dead, or been fully convinced he’d gotten possessed, but he can’t shake the feeling that there might just be more to Inko than she’s admitting. It’s not like it matters, though—he can’t mistrust her, even if it is true. She’s done too much to help for him to ever be able to believe she could be untrustworthy.

And three—his little scheme to repay Inko right under her nose was doomed from the start.

He was going to just leave her the fish and go forage something for himself that he won’t have to cook to take up the mountain, but the second he offers her the fish, she puts him to work. She’s not letting him go up the peaks at the southern end of the plateau unprepared, she informs him very adamantly, and so instead she takes the next hour and then some to walk him through the recipe and cooking processes of several more dishes.

She tells him all about how when spicy peppers are cooked right, they make the body run warmer—and makes sure he sees how she does it when she cooks them into a meat and seafood fry with the last of the fox meat from last night, and an abundance of seafood rice balls. She wraps them all carefully in parcels made of paper, to keep them until he needs to eat them.

He’s a little afraid his mouth won’t survive the dishes, with all those peppers cooked in, but she swears that between them and the warm doublet and gloves she’d given him, he’ll be comfortable for as long as he has to spend on the snow-covered cliffs. He’s grateful, but he’s also been foiled as she uses all of the food that he’d meant for her to help him.

He’s going to do something nice for her to make up for this all, he’s really going to. Eventually he’ll find an act of kindness she can’t counter!

As much as he wishes he’d been able to get away with his little plot, he’s barely five minutes up the path behind the Temple of Time before he’s so glad for the spicy dishes. The padded doublet she’d given him didn’t cover his arms, but he thought he’d been smart about accounting for that—as much at it had pained him, he’d put his first, awful, itchy shirt back on and then layered both of his new shirts over it.

Unfortunately, the layers only did so much, and he could feel the wind whipping through them and biting at his arms. But Inko had had his back—so he’d pulled out the meat and seafood fry, torn the paper back, and gone to town on the meal as he walked along the riverbank.

Yes, his mouth was absolutely on fire like he’d feared, and he might be crying, like, just a little bit, but he’s sweating within minutes. He’d be kept warm as long as he hurried and was smart about rationing the food, exactly as she’s promised. If that came at the expense of looking ridiculous as he walked along with his mouth wide open in hopes the frigid air would soothe his burning mouth, then so be it.

When he reaches the bridge he’d seen on the map, he has a problem. He hadn’t noticed that the bridge is collapsed—the supports are all still there, but most of the planks on his side of the river have fallen through. He spends just enough time despairing over the prospect of having to go all the way back to try and go around the river the other way to feel frustration welling up intensely, but then, of course, he remembers.

He can fucking do magic now. He had to walk past the giant, ruined metal doors of a collapsed gate just beside this bridge to even inspect the damage—after the hour and a half he’d spent puzzling out every potential creative usage of the magnesis rune in the shrine yesterday, he can’t believe it takes him as long as five minutes to think of laying the two massive doors over the gaps in the bridge.

It’s not the neatest job, or the most stable, but it gets him across safely enough. He does allow himself to be a little proud of his problem solving.

He’s all over the southern side of the plateau for the next few hours. The worst of his difficulties are over after the bridge, and the path to both shrines are mostly straightforward apart from a couple of surprise Koroks—seriously, even in the cold, high altitudes? They’re forest spirits, where’s the forest here?—and a handful of monster camps.

At Keh Namut Shrine, Eijiro spends over an hour figuring out all the applications of the cryonis rune—which allows him to make solid pillars of ice erupt out of any source of water. Even if his water source is shallow, barely ankle-deep, the pillars are always at least eight feet tall, and the great blocks of ice will even erupt sideways out of waterfalls. This… he thinks this one might be the most useful yet.

He can use it for a vantage point, for cover, to get to things out of his reach, to lift things out of the water, as stepping stones or bridges… and, if Inko’s idea to get him off the plateau doesn’t work, he might just be able to use it to hop down the waterfall that spills off the plateau, pillar by pillar.

He finally feels like he’s made tangible progress.

Owa Daim Shrine, across the plateau, isn’t so simple to reach. He’s left with only one spicy seafood rice ball by the time he’s painstakingly scaling down to where the shrine rests, halfway up the cliffside, but he’s relieved at least that the temperature becomes more bearable on its own the lower he goes. He can save the rice ball for the return trip and move quickly.

Inside the shrine, the pattern holds, and he’s gifted another rune: the stasis rune. The description the slate gives him of this rune takes longer for him to puzzle out than the others—it uses phrases like ‘storing kinetic energy’ and ‘stopping an object in time’, the first phrase confusing him for lack of surety at its meaning, the second confusing him for lack of ability to visualize its possibility.

Thankfully, the trial the shrine offers, just like the others, is nothing if not a perfect set of puzzles to allow him to figure it out. The rune has a wide range of uses—securing safe passageways from moving or unstable objects, halting oncoming projectiles and other dangers, and making temporarily immovable obstacles for others to traverse, to name the ones he grasps quickest.

The most important use, however, is the one where the stored energy comes into play—it takes him a little to work it out, but once he does, he’s able to send even the most giant of obstacles flying out of his path. And to use them as projectiles. Even large, heavy stones can be moved by something as insignificant as arrows shot from a distance, as long as he hits it with enough of them for the force to compound. It’s awesome, and it gives him the same giddy delight that the magnesis rune had.

When the last of the monks hidden away in the shrines on this plateau fades to nothing, Eijiro can’t really deny that this spirit thing they keep doing to him is really getting to him. He might not be possessed, sure, but the bizarre feeling that’s overtaken him after each ‘gift’ has only gotten stronger with each instance, and it’s not fading.

There’s—something, he’s not sure, an energy maybe, that feels like it’s thrumming under his skin and the sensation is so unsettling. It’s supposed to be the strength of their spirits, or whatever they’d said, but he doesn’t feel stronger, necessarily, just—just—just very noticeably affected!

He can feel whatever it is and it’s distracting. He’s not sure how it’s supposed to help him.

It’s late afternoon by the time Eijiro emerges from the entrance to the shrine, and he’s confronted with the obvious evidence that his most worrisome of theories is true. Inko is not a normal old woman; can’t be.

She can’t be, because there she stands, on the wide ledge that houses Owa Daim Shrine, and there’s just no way a simple old woman could be here. There’s no possible explanation for it. She’d either have had to cross a wide chasm behind her house and then scale the cliffside up to reach him, or hiked the unforgiving eastern slopes of the plateau and then scaled the cliffside down. Neither is a reasonable task for a woman of her age.

So—so there it is, then. He knows now. There’s something odd about Inko, something she’s been keeping from him about her nature. He’s obviously not so surprised as he could be, but it’s still—it’s still—hard to process that the woman who’s helped him so much has been lying to him. All he can manage is a quiet, “Oh.”

“Hello, Eijiro,” she greets him, but her heart is clearly not entirely in it. There’s something in her tone—she obviously knows as well as he does that this marks the end of—of whatever simple and easy experience they’ve been having together so far. A change is coming whether she chooses to explain what she’s been hiding or not, and they both understand that.

“So, you’ve finally explored all the plateau’s shrines,” she notes, a gentle and rueful smile just barely touching at her features. Eijiro can only nod as he shuffles his feet, watching her with equal parts expectation and dread. “You worked hard to reach them all. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he manages, tone barely audible.

Inko sighs. “That means it’s time, I think, to finally give you an explanation. I can’t keep shielding you from the worst of it forever, and I think you’ve more than earned the right to hear… well, everything.”

Eijiro doesn’t know how to respond, there’s too much going through his mind—he opens his mouth to say—to ask—something, anything to grant him some clarification, but the words get caught in his throat. He stands there with his mouth opened somewhat helplessly, but it seems Inko wasn’t intending to wait for a response.

“Meet me at the temple of time,” she requests gently. “I’ll be waiting for you there, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

“Why—” There’s so many questions he needs to ask that all start with that word, that they all tumble over each other before he can sort them out, but the most pressing of them is, of course, why can’t you explain it here? He wants to ask, but Inko smiles apologetically, and she—

—she just fades.

It startles him, when he suddenly realizes that he can see through her, just a little bit—and then just a little bit more, and then all at once he almost yelps as she starts to glow and eerie flames spring up around her. It’s not like watching the monks turn into motes of light that disperse up and away; she stays in one piece, but the light emanating off of her and the color of the flames hovering near to her are the same otherworldly blue-green glow.

Shaken, Eijiro stares blankly at the spot where she disappears for a few moments after she’s gone, before slowly he sinks down to sit on the surface of the shrine. It’s only a minute, that’s all he needs, but—but he closes his eyes and uses all of that minute to try and process, and work through as much of what he’s seen since awakening as he can.

The temple somehow seems more daunting when he emerges onto the path that leads from it, rubbing at his arms.

He takes a steadying breath, eyeing the decayed machines that dot the front of the structure around its entrance, and then shifts his gaze to the side of the building instead. On the side facing him, one of the massive, soaring windows that reach the entire height of the temple is empty—both of glass and the metal bars that make up the decoration and frame of the other windows.

The temple is huge, so with the window being one of the ones nearest to the back of the structure, it’s a good distance away from the closest machine. And Inko hadn’t said he had to come in the front door of the structure, so—he doesn’t feel any shame in beelining towards the window, hoisting himself up, and toppling with at least some amount of grace into the sweeping structure.

The space is incredibly open—not just due to the high, vaulted ceiling or the lack of walls in the giant structure, but because a massive hole has been ripped out of almost the entire front half of the opposite side of the building. He only barely notices that, though, because the feature that claims his attention—nearly all of it—

—is a stylized, towering winged statue of Bakusatsuo that dominates the space. It’s stationed to his right, against the back wall of the temple, and it must be fifteen feet tall, at least. And it’s glowing. Faint, iridescent light seems to be shining straight up from the bottom and Eijiro just… is drawn to it.

He hasn’t even looked around for Inko yet, but his feet carry him towards the figure without him really having to think about it. It’s a crude and simple likeness of the god in the way all the shrines to him across the country are, not proportioned in such a way as to actually resemble a real being, and the statue’s hands are spread out to its sides, palms up. The expression isn’t incredibly detailed, but Eijiro thinks most people would see it as calm, if not quite serene. But Eijiro—he swears its eyes follow him as he approaches, and he would swear the look carved into its face was almost tender.

He climbs the steps that lead up to the statue and instinctively drops to one knee before it, though he doesn’t bow his head in prayer. He keeps his eyes upturned to meet the figure’s gaze as the faint light at its feet seems to flare, almost like it’s reaching for him, and Eijiro swears he feels something like fondness radiating off of the statue, towards him.

You’ve done well, comes a faint whisper at the edge of his mind, and it—it sounds so much like the voice in Hyrule Castle. It’s so similar but—but it’s not quite the same, and Eijiro feels his jaw drop.

A warmth settles over him that somehow feels like the voice sounds, and that bizarre energy he’s felt humming under his skin finally dissipates. It’s not exactly like it goes away, more like it—like it finally settles, almost. It feels like the strange force that’s been lingering there finally seeps into him fully, and finally feels like it’s part of him. He realizes, when it finally happens, that he does feel stronger. Heartier, like Inko had said. Some of the aches and soreness that have built up in the past couple of days fade, just a little, as he stares at the statue in awe.

Go, and bring peace to Hyrule…

Like that, the glowing fades, and Eijiro almost feels like he imagined it all. That’s… he’s pretty sure Bakusatsuo just spoke to him. The god. The patron god of Hyrule. Beloved of the Three Goddesses and protector of the entire realm, and he’d spoken to Eijiro. With clear affection in his tone. It’s… unreal.

“Eijiro!” Inko’s voice hails him, startling him out of his moment of shock. He stands, the motion stiff with his distraction, and it takes him a few moments to locate her once he’s turned around. Of all the places to spot her, it turns out she’s peering down at him through the gaping hole in the partially collapsed roof.

“You’ll have to meet me up here, I’m afraid,” she calls down to him, before both her luminous figure and the tongues of blue-green fire that hover around her retreat out of his sight.

Eijiro stares at the spot he’d last seen her and he gives a shaky sigh. He doesn’t know what’s coming, but he wants to, very badly. So he’s going to find out.

There’s a ladder that runs the height of the building.

Even though it stands just beside the collapsed temple wall—on the far end from the machines, thankfully—it remains intact. Stable, even, though he figures out about a third of the way up that he needs to let his dragonscales overtake his hands if he doesn’t want to get splinters.

Inko is visible immediately from across the definitely unsound and precarious roof, waiting in the tower of the steeple at the front of the temple, still emitting that eerie light.

Balancing his way across the peak of the roof, he pulls himself up the rubble into the steeple to meet her, and despite having all this time to figure out where to begin, he’s���he’s still at a loss for words. Inko seems nearly as unsure how to start as he is—or simply reluctant. Either way, she heaves a mild sigh and attempts a sad smile.

“You’ve done so well since waking up, Kirishima Eijiro. I hope you know that,” she says, voice emphatic if a little quiet and somber. He startles at the full name—it’s—he hadn’t even given thought to whether Eijiro was his given or family name, let alone what the rest of his name might be. He’s had so much else on his mind. And this whole time—this whole time, Inko has known it? And not said anything?

“You don’t know me,” she continues with her eyes downcast. “At least—not very well, my son only brought you around a few times, and we never really spoke. But my name is Midoriya Inko. You should know, Eijiro—I know I’ve told you some, but the kingdom is not like it was when you entered your slumber. The Kingdom of Hyrule… it doesn’t exist anymore.”

Eijiro swallows, but he nods when her eyes flick up to gauge his reaction. The ruins everywhere—the monstrosity enshrouding the castle—the scarcity in meeting or even seeing other people—it all points to the same conclusion. He doesn’t remember much—anything, really. He can’t say if he’s ever been to any of the ruins that dot the landscape as far as the eye can see, can’t say if he ever knew anyone that lived in any of them—but he can say that he knows, knows deeply and inherently the wrongness of it all, to see or even think about.

The kingdom, or lack of it, isn’t how he’d remember if he could, and he knows that.

As Inko speaks, a transformation seems to come over her—she looks the same, and yet, there appears another version of her like a second image overlaid atop. Decades younger, maybe only forty or so.

“The Great Calamity was merciless when it swept out over the kingdom. There was nothing in its path that it didn’t devastate a century ago. I was one of the few who were lucky—the Sheikah village was remote and hard to reach, and well out of the Calamity’s focus. I lived a long, full life after it was said and done, but I couldn’t bring myself to move on, because… well, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

Inko heaves a sigh once more, and the look she gives Eijiro is apologetic. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you, but you have to understand. What you’ve been through—it was awful, Eijiro, and it would traumatize anyone. It would have been unfair and dangerous to overwhelm you with too much horrible news so soon after you woke, with your memory still fragile. I’m sorry.”

“I...” Eijiro manages, but his voice is weak. Overwhelmed is exactly the word for it, so he understands, but he only has more questions because of the time spent keeping things from him. He just wants to know already. “It’s… it’s okay.”

“Such a sweet boy,” she echoes the sentiment she’d told him last night quietly, before seeming to steel herself as she turns away to face the view of the castle through the steeple’s window. “But you’re ready, now, I think, to hear what happened one hundred years ago. All for One… that horrible monstrosity we can see from here—the stories said that long ago, that demon king was born into this kingdom, before he transformed into… into that.”

“I… I remember the legends, I think,” Eijiro tells her honestly. “That… that he’d barely been more than a fairy tale, a scary story people told, but—but didn’t really believe until… more recently.”

It’s so frustrating, what he does remember and where the blanks are instead. He remembers the tales, remembers that there’d been a shift from them being treated as fiction to being treated as an impending reality, but he doesn’t remember when or why.

Inko, for her part, nods, and seems to pick up on his frustration. “There was a prophecy,” she informs him, “Maybe twenty years or so before the Calamity came to pass. We knew it would be coming back, but the prophecy also promised a way to stop it, lying dormant beneath the ground. The Sheikah, the royal family—the entire kingdom came together, to try and find the aid the prophecy mentioned, and they were quick to find several ancient relics made by the hands of our distant ancestors.”

“The Divine Beasts,” Eijiro supplies, though his tone isn’t certain. But—but he knows this information, he thinks.

“Yes. Four giant machines, to be piloted by warriors,” she says, affirming the information that he thinks he has in his mind. “And, later, we discovered creations our research eventually taught us were called Guardians.”

The lifeless robots, decaying and overgrown with nature, which dot the plateau flash into his mind as his breath catches and his fists clench. As soon as she says the name, he’s sure of it.

“They were meant to be an army of mechanical soldiers, that fought autonomously to aid us. We realized—in the ancient legends we’d heard echoed so often, many of them told of these machines. That meant all of the legends—the prince with a sacred power, and his appointed knight who was chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness, who were the only ones who could truly seal All for One away with the aid of the relics we were discovering—all of it must be true.”

Yes, he knows those legends. Everyone knows those legends—there were far more of them than simply the ones centered around these ancient creations.

“One hundred years ago, there was a prince who would come to wield that power,” Inko continues, before she turns her head to meet Eijiro’s eyes, “and a skilled knight who fought at his side. The path laid before us was obvious, even without the prophecy. There were too many legends that echoed it all. So four Champions were chosen from across the kingdom to pilot the Divine Beasts, and together with the prince and his appointed knight, we were so sure we would be able to turn back All for One’s assault the moment it began. We had—we had all the pieces in place, after all.”

With that, Inko’s voice suddenly breaks. She turns away from Eijiro once more, with her hands pressed to her eyes. “We didn’t know—we couldn’t have—we never realized, All for One had spent all of those thousands of years plotting to—we never imagined it would appear from below Hyrule Castle itself, or take control of the Guardians and Divine Beasts. All that time spent restoring the machines to—to protect, and—”

Eijiro’s heart breaks with how devastated she sounds, and he stumbles forwards a few steps, reaching out a hand to—to—he doesn’t know, but he just wants to help. He wants to fix this, though he knows there’s no changing what’s already happened. He doesn’t remember any of this, but it hurts to hear, hurts to imagine.

“The Champions were killed, so many in the castle, in nearly every town nearby—and the appointed knight nearly lost his life in protection of the prince. He almost didn’t survive his wounds, he was in no shape to continue the fight. If the prince hadn’t survived, and returned to the castle with—with another chosen of Farore—if they hadn’t gone to fight the beast, alone, there would have been no hope for those who survived.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Inko chokes off the beginning of a sob, and Eijiro stumbles the last few steps forward to place a hand on her shoulder. It’s little comfort after everything, but she sags with the gesture.

“Eijiro, that other chosen of Farore… he’s my baby, my Izuku, and he’s risking his life to help Prince Katsuki hold All for One off. And the courageous knight, the one who kept Prince Katsuki safe until the very end, so that he could make it there at all…. Oh, Eijiro, honey, it was you. You were so brave, you did—you did so well, but even you couldn’t endure such an onslaught.”

Despite the tears still flowing freely down her face—and, shit, he realizes now that his own cheeks are wet, though he doesn’t remember any of this—she lays her hand over his on her shoulder, and the gesture somehow feels comforting even though he was the one trying to comfort her.

“You were carried here, to the Shrine of Resurrection, and spent one hundred years healing. I couldn’t rest with my Izuku still trapped in the castle, and I couldn’t bear to think of you awakening here alone, with no one to turn to, so my spirit settled here naturally when I died. I’ve been looking after you as best I can. And… and the voice you’ve been hearing, guiding you since you woke, that’s Prince Katsuki himself.”

Eijiro’s eyes pull from her face, and he finds himself looking out towards the castle with a feeling of desperation. Katsuki. That’s the name he can put to the voice. Katsuki, fighting with Izuku. Katsuki, who asked for his help.

“He’s still there, with my baby, fighting to restrain the Calamity, and—oh, Eijiro, honey, you’re so young to ask this of you, all three of you boys, you’re all so young—but they won’t be able to hold out for much longer before they’re going to need you. You’re—you’re the only one who can help them stop the Calamity from consuming all life left in the land. It’s so unfair to ask this of you, I—I can hardly bear to, but please save my son. Please bring my Izuku home, and destroy All for One before it can destroy anything else.”

Clearing his throat and swallowing roughly, Eijiro manages, “I will. I’ll—I’ll do it.”

This only makes Inko cry harder. “You shouldn’t have to. I’m so sorry.” She turns and embraces him suddenly, and the feeling now that she’s revealed her nature as a spirit is odd. Somehow warm and cold at the same time, but it doesn’t matter—he wraps his arms around her tightly. When she speaks again, her voice is muffled against the doublet she’d given him.

“You can’t go to the castle yet. Even Prince Katsuki wouldn’t expect that of you. There are things you still need to know, and—and All for One still has control of the Divine Beasts, and all of the Guardians. Please, please promise me you won’t make straight for the castle.”

“But...” Eijiro’s voice is still wobbly, and his hands are still too occupied to try wiping at his eyes. “I have to help them. Where else...”

Inko pulls back as he trails off, and she does her best to draw to her full height and look stern through a faceful of openly flowing tears. “You won’t be helping them or anyone else by charging off towards certain death before you’re fully recovered from your slumber. You should make for Kakariko Village, down the eastern road that cuts between the Dueling Peaks. The young man who leads the Sheikah, Aizawa, was an advisor to the Prince, and he’ll be able to give you counsel on the best steps for you to take. You’ll want to speak to him.”

Eijiro’s brow furrows, and he casts a look at the castle. Katsuki needs him, had asked him to hurry. “How long do I have? Before they run out of time in the castle? Do you know?”

“Long enough,” Inko says firmly, though the effect is somewhat undermined by the sniffle that follows. “Prince Katsuki would expect you to be smart about this, and he would know that will take time. Meet with Aizawa.”

Every fiber of his being wants to charge off, but… as painful as it is to promise, he tears his gaze from the castle to meet Inko’s eyes, and nods numbly. “Okay. I will.”

Relief floods Inko’s features. “Thank you. And you—you’ll need these.” She turns, then, to grab something he hadn’t noticed before; a pack that’s considerably less aged than his current one, with lots of different compartments. Flapping one such compartment open, she withdraws what she’d been seeming to work on the night before, and holds it out to him.

What he’d mistaken for a blanket, he now sees could never have been one—it’s too small, and the fabric is more like canvas, though it’s not quite as stiff. Still, he can tell that air won’t flow through the fabric easily, and even water would have a hard time soaking the material. He takes it from her, noting two wooden handles that run the length of its sides. “What’s…?”

“It’s a paraglider,” she informs him, managing a small smile. “It will support your weight and let you glide down from the plateau. And this bag is enchanted by Koroks. It belonged to my son, but he didn’t think… he didn’t think he would need it, to go to the castle. Each of its compartments can hold much more than it should, and it will be nearly weightless.”

He looks up from the gifts to meet her eyes once more, and the tear tracks on both their cheeks are still wet as he breathes, “Thank you. For everything.”

Inko’s smile grows, and she begins to fade once more as she presses the bag into his hands. “The best way to thank me is by staying safe. Take care, Eijiro. I’m so proud of you.”

Fifteen minutes later sees Eijiro standing at the very eastern edge of the plateau. The sun is setting, and the wise thing to do would be to rest for the night and set out in the morning, so he isn’t traveling in the dark.

Eijiro can’t wait. Impatience hums in his veins, making him twitchy and full of restless energy. Katsuki needs him, Inko’s son needs him, and he needs to be doing something. He won’t be able to stand the wait. So Eijiro takes a deep breath, new bag strapped to his back and paraglider clutched tightly in his hands.

And he leaps.

[thgfanficinspo]

New chapter of my Odesta fic is up - please read!

(FINNICK)

They summon me, Blight, Cashmere, and Enobaria to an interview with Caesar Flickerman to discuss what happened with our tributes yesterday. They wanted Johanna to be on the panel, but she’s hung over and Caesar can’t stand her in general, so Blight takes over. I’d prefer Enobaria be replace, too – ideally by Lyme, but she’s too sympathetic for these blood-and-gore interviews. She doesn’t play up her victor persona.

I’m hung over, too, but there’s no getting out of this, especially after Snow cut me a break last night. Somes brings me some sort of concoction to calm my stomach after I barf in the kitchen sink. He’s one of those people that isn’t bothered by vomit at all, and I wonder if it has something to do with his life before he was an Avox. I know the ones from District 3 are usually electricians or techies; District 6 ones work in garages, doing repairs on trams and cars. I know the ones from the Capitol are usually servants, forced to wait on their former peers so they never forget their new status. 

I down the drink in one go and hand him back the empty glass. “Is this what you make for Broadsea?”

He nods.

“Does it work?”

He bobbles his head in a way that I think means, Not really or Sometimes.

“Fantastic.”

My stylist keeps quiet again. She’s usually very chatty and I usually don’t mind, but it was a rough night. And a rough morning.

When she’s done “sprucing me up” – a phrase Johanna taught me – I thank her and promise to be in a better mood next time.

She puckers her lips, which have been surgically altered to form a heart shape, and gives me a disproving look. “Mm-hmm.”

I like her much better than the last one.

I’m the third to arrive after Cashmere and Enobaria. Caesar greets me with an oversized smile and a handshake. “Finnick! Wonderful to see you as always. How have you been?”

I put on my best smile. “Can’t complain. And you?”

“Wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful! I was just telling Cashmere here how exciting these Games are already.” He leans forward slightly and lowers his voice as if to tell me a secret. “Between you and me, I was a little disappointed with the lack of action last year.”

“I think Timothy would disagree,” I say.

Cashmere whips out a few of her beloved blackberry cigarettes and offers them around. “Want one?”

“Sure.” I pluck one from her outstretched hand.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid blackberry isn’t my flavor,” says Caesar.

Enobaria spits, “I don’t smoke.”

Blight shows up out of breath. “Sorry. Overslept.”

We settle in around the table as Caesar starts his vocal warmups. I put out my cigarette as makeup artists apply an extra layer of powder to Blight’s sweaty forehead.

“I saw a kitten eating chicken in the kitchen.” Caesar over-pronounces each word. “I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit.”

“Could we get some coffee maybe?” I ask no one in particular.

One of the production assistants comes bounding over with a huge mug. “Sugar, sir?”

“Yes. Lots of sugar.”

“Can I get a water?” Blight asks.

The assistant smiles politely, but the look in her eyes suggests she wants to smack him. “Of course.” How dare he interrupt her conversation with the illustrious Finnick Odair? She could be the woman to finally make that philanderer settle down! But now she’ll never know because some idiot wanted water.

“Betty bought some butter, but, said she, the butter’s bitter. If I put the butter in my batter, it will make my batter bitter.”

Cashmere lights another cigarette which we share. We take turns dragging and blowing out ribbons of pale purple smoke. Cashmere can blow out perfect blackberry-scented rings. I can't eat blackberries anymore because they remind me of Cashmere, of her cigarettes, of the way she tastes when we're forced to kiss.

“But a bit of better butter will make my bitter batter better. So Betty bought the better butter, better than the bitter butter, put it in her batter, and made her bitter batter better. It was better Betty bought some better butter.”

The assistant gives me and Blight our beverages as the director counts down. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.” He points at Caesar to let him know he’s live.

“Good morning, Panem!” Caesar begins. “Yesterday, we witnessed the first major showdown between tributes following the bloodbath. Career tribute Piers Whitaker of District Four died trying to protect his counterpart, Annie Cresta, from his Career allies. Annie wounded Gad Centaury of District Seven, leaving his allies no choice but to kill him. Let’s take a look at that footage one more time.”

I concentrate on drinking my coffee while they play the clip.

Caesar directs the first question to me. “Now Finnick, I think what everyone at home is wondering – what do you make of Annie Cresta’s actions? I must say I was surprised. She didn’t strike me as being capable of such . . . violence.” He probably wanted to say savagery or barbarism but the whole thing is savage and barbaric. Needed to come up with a different word. “As her mentor, can you offer us any insight?”

This would be a great question for Johanna, who played the weakling when she was in the arena at first, but shocked the world with her violent attacks on the other tributes.

“You never know what someone is capable of until you put them in a situation like that,” I say. “I think that since we made it through those situations, victors know ourselves better than most.”

Caesar is nodding his head as he listens intently. “Mm-hmm.” He turns to Enobaria and asks her what she thinks of that statement.

Enobaria is a psycho but somehow doesn’t even make my list of the top five worst victors. What really puts me off about her is her teeth. In the final battle of her Games, she was pinned down by a boy twice her size and couldn’t move her arms or legs. The only weapon she had was her teeth, which she used to tear his neck wide open. That doesn’t bother me: she did what she had to do to survive. What does bother me is the fact that she had her teeth filed into fangs as an homage. I don’t know if she did it because she thought it would be a funny or if she plans to weaponize them again in the future.

“I agree,” she says to Caesar. “And I think all of our tributes are starting to understand who they are after this.”

“Oh, certainly. But what I want to know –” he puts his fingertips on the table and leans forward a bit “– is what do we think of Annie defeating Gad like that? Blight, any thoughts?”

Blight’s right in the middle of gulping down orange juice when Caesar asks the question so Cashmere answers instead. “Caesar, there’s always a longshot in the Games, and they always get farther than we expect. If you ask me, I think Gad was a bit too confident in his abilities.”

“There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance,” Caesar says. “Don’t you think so?” he asks me with a chuckle.

“Me? Caesar, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” I flash a shmoozy smile at him.

“Finnick, so saucy!” Caesar’s oversized teeth steal the show when he opens his mouth to chuckle.

I excuse myself to the bathroom, where I vomit up Somes’s tonic and everything I’ve eaten in the last three days. I’m washing my mouth out over the sink when one of the televisions in the bathroom – they have televisions in nearly every room – cuts to a shot of Annie Cresta opening her eyes.

(ANNIE)

I’m on the docks. I know that because I’m wet and I’m all nestled up in ropes. And I can smell the wetness. The water against the concrete edge of the port. I don’t like that smell. I don’t like it anymore.

My eyelids are heavy. There’s gunk in the corners the way there is sometimes when somebody wakes me up in the middle of the night. But it’s not the night. I don’t think it is. The air at night feels difference from this. The air at home feels different from this. So do the ropes on the dock.

I make my eyes open. I’m not on the dock by the water. There is no dock and there is no water. Concrete and rain and vines and the vines have me all tangled up and I don’t know where I am.

I know I should stand. Should walk. I’m not supposed to stay here but I can’t remember why.

Sit up. But my head hurts. Let’s go back to bed. No, no. Can’t do that. Get up up up. Gonna fall back down – no, hang onto the vines that feel like rigging and don’t fall down again, Annie!

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate –

Silver thing floats down and lands at my feet. Parachute. A gift! I open it up as fast as I can but it’s nothing, just the cannister itself. A water bottle! I can use it for water.

But I had a water bottle. I just had it I just had it it was just I was just –

Can’t breathe. Hands on me squeezing me squeezing my neck and Piers is screaming and my thumbs are in his eyes and I look down at my hands and there’s jelly on them but not jam-jelly it’s jelly from the eyes from his eyes from his eyes from his eyes and Piers is screaming and I cover my ears to block out the sound but there’s still jelly on my hands and it gets on my face and in my hair and I try to clean it clean it but it won’t go away I try to scrape it off on a concrete wall and I scrape my skin off too.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie She gathered up the bones of me

And tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper            Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

(FINNICK)

There are bruises across her neck in the shape of Gad’s hands where he choked her. it looks excruciatingly painful. The damage is enough that I doubt she’d even be able to swallow a sip of water.

I wince when she begins to sing, partially because of how painful it must be and partially because it’s – well, terrifying. Her squeaky, scratchy voice sends chills down my spine.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie She gathered up the bones of me

And tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper            Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

She abruptly covers her ears like she’s trying to block out a sound, but the microphones in the arena don’t pick anything up. She tears her hands away and looks down at them. They’re still stained with blood.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She starts clawing at her own hands like she’s trying to peel something off – the blood, probably. When that doesn’t work, she presses her palms into a nearby cinderblock and drags her hands down it so hard that she scrapes off some of her skin and smears blood on the block.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie She gathered up the bones of me

And tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper            Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

She lies back down among the vines and curls in on herself.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door. “Mr. Odair?” It sounds like the production assistant from before. “They want you on stage.” I don’t respond. “Mr. Odair? Are you in there?”

I shut my eyes and sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

Blight and the others are leaving just as I come back to the stage. Caesar is looking at the monitor on the desk in front of him with a very strange expression. I know we’re not being recorded when I sit down and he asks me, “What on earth is she doing?”

“Singing, I guess.”

The song ends and Annie burrows into her little nest and falls asleep again. Caesar lets me go after we establish that the song is an old nursery rhyme and Annie’s in shock, and that there are nine far more interesting tributes to focus on, like the ailing tribute from District 2 or the boy from District 10 who captures and eats small mutts.

Maybe when Annie wakes up she’ll be normal again.

[imagine-loki]

Atlas: Space

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 12/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album. 

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 12: Space

Summary: Loki decides to make good on his promise to take Becca to see the Universe and another promise he hadn’t even voiced.

Warnings include: Language, maybe? I don’t even know. It is a fluff bomb, though. Sometimes stories deserve happy endings. 

[Funny story, though. There are 12 chapters because I miscounted songs. So, y'all get an epilogue, I guess.]

=

“Oh, wow. You’ve actually gone insane, haven’t you?” Becca scoffed, rolling her eyes petulantly over the mug of coffee poised at her lips. “It was bound to happen sooner or later, I guess,” she added before taking a long draw of the milky concoction. 

Loki didn’t seem fazed. He remained with his arms folded across his chest, leaning against the far wall of the kitchen with his legs crossed. Becca wanted to scream. How dare he look like such a poised, regal, beautiful thing this early in the morning when she looked a little like a growth-stunted mountain troll.

“For the millionth time, I am not insane.”

His lips tilted a little further upwards, eyes sparkling dangerously at the sight of her rosy-cheeked response to his staring. Despite her train of thought, Loki thought her short, tousled bed-head was the prettiest sight in all the Nine. Especially when he had contributed to it by waking her with his lips on her skin far before the Sun had even deigned to make its way up.

“Do you not trust me?” He teased, knowing it would get a rise out of her.

“You know that’s not true, Lo!” She snapped with a frown. The frown turned into a look of concern. “But, it’s space. What if I get lost? What if you take me somewhere and there’s no oxygen?”

He chuckled then. “Why, dearest heart, would I take you somewhere with no oxygen?”

“I don’t know, some weird kink?”

“You know, as well as I, that my only kinks, currently, are a consistent sleep schedule and not dying,” he retorted, earning him a laugh. “Darling, I am offering you all of space; every realm known. We can go where ever your heart desires.”

Becca drew in a deep breath, worrying her bottom lip. All of space did not help her make any relevant decisions, nor did it narrow her range. Her mind drifted then, to a picture of the past.

Before he had left, before he had broken her heart, Loki had gone off with Thor on a short mission. He was gone for a few weeks, but when he returned, he had promptly cornered her in a quiet corridor and presented her with a single flower. Now, flowers were never her thing. Becca always claimed that the ones in shops were too expensive and that they smelled of funeral homes.

This one, though…

This flower was something else entirely.

It looked like a magnolia blossom, but with the layered look of a peony. The petals were soft as down and their color a shimmery silver. The pollen that had fallen and stained her fingers was warm gold. She had stared at the thing, fascinated, for around ten minutes before Loki felt the need to make sure she wasn’t having a stroke. It was beautiful and rare, and he had apparently kept it safe for a week and a trip on the Bifrost. The small gift was so thoughtful that she never wanted to lose it, so she pressed it between the pages of a book when it began to wilt. Becca had not had the heart to toss it away when he had left. It was still pressed between the pages of an old copy of Macbeth that was on her shelf.

“Can we see the flowers?”

Loki’s eyebrows rose. “You remember that?” Becca nodded, not mentioning the fact that she still kept it. “Yes. We can go see the flowers.” He laughed, suddenly, shaking his head reflexively as he thought. “You know, on that planet those silver flowers are betrothal gifts. If the flowers are well looked after, you’re meant to marry. It’s a kind way to refuse an offer, if you don’t wish it.” He chuckled again, tilting his head. “I might superglue one to your hand,” he threatened jokingly.

Becca sat silently for a long moment, eyes narrowed on him. “You’re lying.”

“I assure you, I am not.” She didn’t say anything else, only rose from her seat and brushed past him towards the living room, leaving him vexed in her wake. Pulling out a well-loved, hardcover copy of the Scottish play, she returned to the kitchen. Before he managed another question, she shoved the book into his chest and returned to her breakfast. “Oh…kay. I don’t think I’ll need reading material for the trip, dar–” His breath caught in his throat as he rested his hand under the book’s spine and it fell open. Flat but still glinting in the crisp morning light was his flower.

His smile returned in full force as he glanced back at her form, blushing and fighting a grin of her own. Carefully plucking the flower from between the pages, he closed the book and placed it on the table. Loki kneeled beside her, pinning the dried bloom in her hair with one of the bobby pins already nestled in her locks. Without sparing a moment, he cupped Rebecca’s face and pressed a searing, emotional kiss to her lips.

After a moment, he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “You’re going to love the flowers they give to newlyweds,” he muttered, sighing contentedly.

Becca giggled, brushing her hands over his face with adoration, embracing the pleasant ache in her heart at the easiness of his words. “I can hardly wait.”

[reapers-carino]

Can you by chance. Write me a story of Meihem. But it's were Mei cleans up Jameson. Like he has a nice suit on and bathed. Yes bathed and she shows him off to everyone and roadhog last?

“Jami-Jamison sit still please!”

Mei’s voice was exasperated as she tried to get her fidgety boyfriend to stop moving and splashing as she scrubbed shampoo into his soot-laced hair. She was being careful and gentle, not wanting to pull out any more of his constantly shedding, thinning hair out. The petite woman stood outside of the bathtub in her room, Junkrat’s sitting form still coming up to her shoulders as she bathed him. This is what it had taken to get Junkrat into the tub, the promise that ‘she’d join him’. And join him she had, just not as naked as Jamison would have liked; already bathed and dressed in her namesake deep blue tanktop and a pair of shorts that Jamison had offered to take off for her. She declined.

Instead, Mei had motioned for him to enter the tub she had already filled with piping hot water, just the way he liked his showers, and had an array of bath bombs set up outside of the tub as a affectionate atonement for her deception. Jamison had pouted fiercely, arms crossed and grumbling about how his ‘lil snowflake’ has tricked him. He kept up his behavior until she had begun to scrub heartily at his back, drawing purrs from the lanky Junker, his body turning to putty for the rest of the bath. Mei was thorough, scrubbing dirt, soot, gunpowder and whatever manner of mess clung to his skin. It took time and elbow grease but soon, Mei had managed to find what really lay under all those layers of unclean. His skin was tanned, if not a bit red from her aggressive washing, and he was covered from head to toe in freckles. Mei’s fingers had lingered, quietly assessing the freckles with intense curiosity before Junkrat would grab her hand and nip at her fingertips only to be blushily admonished. Now she had finally made it to his hair.

“Can’t help it, darl”, Junkrat exclaims, fidgeting a bit more before tossing up his arms. “Tickles! That ‘n I feel…naked!”

“You are naked”, Mei answered back, expression deadpan but tone holding a hint of a chuckle.

“Yeah I am”, Junkrat answered with a waggle of his bushy brows, tittering as Mei flicked him light in the back of the head. “I mean without me dirt! Just don’t feel natural!”

Mei understood, she really did. The Omnium explosion had torn a hole in the ozone layer above continent of Australia, leaving the land highly susceptible to adverse weather conditions and a concerning lack of protection from the sun. Heat prevented clothing being used as a skin protectant so instead dirt, mud and various homemade concoctions guarded them from debilitating sunburns. Mei had done her research, her expertise in climatology granting her insight into the possible ripple effects a severe climate changes might have on a society. The Eastern coastal cities used technology to bubble their city, the less sophisticated Junkers used dirt. But they weren’t in Australia anymore.

Roadhog had taken to daily bathing as if it was an old, dear friend, the elder Junker always clean and smelling of whatever perfumes or colognes or deodorants caught his fancy. Junkrat, however, had never been a daily bather, had never known the joys of relaxing in a hot shower or tub. The demolitionist would lament how Roadie would ‘hold him down in the water and scrub ‘im like a dog’, often followed by the agitated statement of ‘just wash your own ass and I wouldn’t have to’. But bathing was out of his comfort zone, the dirt and soot on his skin kind of like a comforting blanket when he wasn’t ‘home in Oz’ anymore. He had gotten better since he had been at the Watchpoint though. Mei’s soft reminders of he couldn’t lay in her bed if he was dirty combined with Mako’s nurturing threats to drown him again actually coaxing the man into washing at least twice a week of his own volition. Now the only smell that seemed to linger with him was that of gunpowder and firewood, even when he was covered in a fine layer of dust. Tonight’s event, however, demanded absolute cleanliness.

Tonight was the first official formal gala for the newly legalized Overwatch. It was an all hands on deck event, even the uncouth Junker required to be on hand site, to let the world know about their brand new, legal reputation. Best behaviors were expected and anyone stepping out of line would be reprimanded. Normally this wouldn’t be nearly as threatening or terrifying as one might think, but when Ana was the one doling out the punishment it was no joke. Mei sped up the washing of his hair as much as she could, the dirty burn blonde locks turning gold-platinum in the bright light of the bathroom. Wiping her forehead, she took a half-step back to appraise her hard work and couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks as she surveyed him.

She had always believed that Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes was attractive but seeing him clean and pristine was something brand new. In the oddest of ways, he was devilishly attractive in his duality. He was raunchy and dirty and passionate and excitable and a chaotic force that gave hurricanes a run for their money, but he could also be gentle and tooth rottingly sweet and tender. Nibbling lightly on her bottom lip, Mei could feel a blush rise to her cheeks, only growing darker as Jamison stood up with a flirty smirk on his lips. Mei’s hand clapped over her face, less in embarrassment and more in exasperation as the Junker shook his hips, his dick slapping his thighs audibly. How he managed to do that in a tub, mostly filled with water without either of his prosthetics would be impressive if it wasn’t so damn raunchy.

“You are impossible”, she sighed, dropping her hands from her face and rolling her eyes at him, not fighting the slightly amused smirk that crossed her lips. His toothy grin didn’t waver, but the movements of his hips stopped as he Mei moved closer and reached out to him.

“Knew ya couldn’t keep your hands offa me snowflake”, Junkrat teased as Mei’s arm easily wraps around his small waist, helping to hoist him out of the tub and setting him down on a chair she had brought into the room.

He practically purred like a pleased feral cat, shaking his shoulders as Mei gently pat him down with the towel, drying his skin gently and carefully. Next came a layer of unscented body lotion, a spritz of a special cologne and a gentle combing through his hair. Junkrat blabbered on and on as Mei groomed him tenderly, his golden eyes glittering as he relaxed underneath her tender touch. The Junker made a mental note to return the favor but for now he would bask in the delightful feel of her hands all over his body. As Mei backed away from Jamison, he couldn’t help the cheeky grin and unbalanced pose she struck for her. The petite Chinese woman’s hands jump of to her lips, stifling the giggles that he was able to so easily pull from her lips. Mei’s giggle was like music to his ears, soft and tinkling and punctuated with a slight snort if something was especially funny to her. Hearing her laugh was one of his greatest goals and he was pretty successful at it most of the time, stroking his pride and filling him with as much warmth as a napalm.

“Ey Mei”, Jamison questioned as his eyes darted around the bathroom, searching for something and not finding it. “Where’s me arm and leg?”

“Oh I have a surprise for you”, Mei exclaimed, clapping her hands together in sudden remembrance. She held up a finger before rushing out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, returning with something held behind her back. “Ta-da!!”

She thrusts her arms out, a grin on her face as she revealed her gift for him. They were newly built prosthetics, streamlined and completely black with bright neon orange lights and joints as highlights. The arm was extremely similar to Symmetra’s, but it had obviously been sized and created just for Junkrat. His peg leg was done in a similar fashion, the shocks and joints and cushioning covered while still tapering off into a thin, high shined black peg. A nervous smile settled on Mei’s lips as she waited for Jamison’s reaction, eyes dropping sheepishly to the new prosthetics.

“I-I hope this is okay”, she exclaimed, face growing redder as she locked her focus on the limbs. “I-I know you made all of yours but I-I thought th-that maybe a formal pair might be nice! S-So Satya helped me to design so-some. But it’s okay if you don’t like them! I ho-hope I didn’t overstep…sorry.”

When Junkrat still hadn’t replied, Mei peeked up at him through her lashes, her face and neck burning as she finally looked at her boyfriend. His bottom lip was quivering, a watery smile on his lips, tears of joy actually rolling down his cheeks.

“For me”, Junkrat questioned, pressing a hand against his chest and grinning wider and wider. He roughly pushed the tears away, sniffing hard and giggling softly. “Thank ya, snowflake!”

“You’re welcome Jamie”, Mei said warmly before slightly shaking the limbs. “Let’s finish getting ready!”

“Whoa…nice look Junkman!”

“No fricking way….nice going Mei!”

“Impressive…”

“Nice looking, my friend!”

Junkrat was fighting a mix of emotions; to puff out his chest and bask in the glory or to shy away because all the attention was making him sheepish. Mei held onto his hand light, smiling up at him in a way that managed to push the anxious buzzing from his stomach. She really had gone all out to make sure the both of them looked their best. She had her hair half up, half down, a small bun held back by a white chrysanthemum pin while the rest of her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulder and face. Her dress was a crimson floor length halter top a-line with a knee high slit that showed off her toned calves and cream colored heels. Her makeup was soft and sweet, a sweeping of pink blush and a deep pink gloss across her lips. Junkrat had gushed, slack jawed and starry eyes as Mei had gotten ready that evening, fawning over her with what felt like hundreds of compliments. She was sure that she had heard how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to have her and how everyone would look like shit in comparison. While Mei was nothing to sniff at, everyone was gawking at Junkrat.

Mei had gone above and beyond to make the younger Junker look just as amazing as she always thought he did. He wore a black tuxedo and white dress shirt, tailored and fitted to fit the lithe frame of the demolitionist; orange tie, handkerchief and dress socks a pop shocking pop of color against the monochrome outfit. The right leg of his tux had been rolled up, showing off the new, sleek black and orange prosthetic he had been gifted, Mei gently holding onto his black hand. His light blonde hair had been combed back and gelled into a coif, giving his angular face a stylish, sharp look. With all the dirt gone, hair styled and dressed in actually fitting clothes, the Junker looked his age if not a bit younger. He looked attractive and clean and completely unlike the Junkrat they had grown used to, Junkrat practically glowing with pride at all the compliments being bestowed upon him.

“Oh Mako”, Mei said with a grin, adjusting her glasses needlessly once more as she peered across the room. The man had placed himself in a corner, away from all the action and attention that was buzzing around towards the front of the hall. Smiling apologetically at her friends, she began to push through the small throng of agents that stood in front of them. “Sorry sorry, we will be right back.”

“Oy Hog”, Junkrat exclaimed, a part of him perking up as soon as he caught sight of his bodyguard and best friend. “Whatcha think mate?”

Mako was without his mask, his silver bushy brows lifting in surprise as his dark eyes studied his employer. Roadhog glanced at Mei before giving a slight wink, grunting low in his throat and giving a slight shrug of the shoulder. The both of them giggled softly as they watched his shoulders sink before Junkrat moved forward and placed one heavy hand on Jamison’s shoulder and the other on Mei’s

“Nice”, Roadhog said simply, the single worded compliment making the younger Junker’s eyes light up, a tittering giggle leaving his mouth. “Good job Mei.”

“Oy it’s my face mate!”

“And she actually made it look halfway decent.”

“Fuckin’ ru–”

“What was that?”

“N-nothin’ mate! I got it, thanks for the compliment!”

Mei covered her mouth, tickled pink and proud at the highest of compliments coming from the other Junker. Squeezing Jamison’s hand lightly she smiled sweetly at him, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand tenderly.

“You look very nice.”

Junkrat’s eyes lit up even brighter, giving a sharp toothed grin to his petite date.

“Well thank ya darlin!!”

[chubby-dragon13]

The Bakery Next DoorObese!Captain Rex x Baker!Reader

This contains male weight gain. If you don't like it then just keep scrolling. I don't own Star wars.

Rex had a bit of a secret. Well it wasn't really secret, not as long as his big round belly was wobbling in front of him as he walked. All his troubles had started with you at your bakery next door to his apartment where he stopped by innocently enough one day on his way home from his crappy job. It had been a pretty good day, he'd just been accepted in to college and decided to reward himself with a treat. Needless to say he fell in love with your cream donut that day. The next morning he found himself unable to shake the idea of getting another treat from you for breakfast and so he stopped again in for a plain coffee and another donut.

That had been a couple years ago and since then he had stopped by the bakery pretty much everyday for a donut or some other pastry. Lately though he'd been taking to getting a few snacks for the road and a few for his home, much to your delight. You, the baker, had certainly noticed the incredibly attractive young man coming in to your store more and more frequently and did not fail to notice him filling out. You would blush when he wasn’t looking, you had a little secret as well, you were an admirer of larger people, in fact if you were honest with yourself it was probably one of the main reasons you decided to become a baker. You absolutely loved watching hefty people come in to you store and indulge themselves on your cooking, always looking satisfied with your pride and joy. Before long, you were on a first name basis with Rex and flirted with him. Rex would return the flirtation happily and just always seemed to be in such a good mood when he entered the bakery, his face always having a full lovely smile when you would give him one of your treats and talk to you.

It always made your feel so happy when he came in for one of your creations, so you decided to start preparing ‘special treats’ for you favorite customer. You liked to think of them as ‘special flavored’ just for him, but that wasn't the only thing ‘extra’ about Your special treats. The ‘extra special flavoring’ could soon been seen doing its work on Rex's thighs and waistline, and recently his whole body was sporting extra bulges and rolls of soft doughy fat. It was all due to a special kind of oil You were using to bake Rex's treats. It was a sinfully fattening, but amazingly sweet buttery oil that couldn't be beaten. Rex was hooked to them and you knew it.

Rex quit his job to return to school full time a few months later, and to say the least, the damage to his figure from your treats really started to add up. Since he wasn't working, and you knew the horrible budget that full time students had, You offered an all you can eat deal for a token fee. Practically free food was a hard offer to refuse for the budget conscious student and with him living nearby he began stopping by the store twice, sometimes three times a day. Everyday You’d coax him to have an extra pastry or two, and each time he left it seemed as if he was a little fuller, and fatter, than the day before. It made your heart flutter every time.

You were taking great pleasure in watching his clothes get tighter and tighter week by week, his buttons becoming strained each time he bought a new outfit to contain his new swelling lush curves. It was a bit of a twisted, sweet, delightful game to you. You wanted to see just how fat You could make this sexy chubby guy grow from Your devious baking. As time went by, Rex grew, and grew, and grew. And by his third year of study, he was barely recognizable from the first day You met him and now over the past several months his appetite had really gotten out of control. obese or fat was an understatement, he'd grown absolutely enormous and adorable, easily well past four hundred pounds and was heading for five hundred at an alarming rate.

On one particular day however, Rex stopped by as per usual, but he seemed a little down. You being concerned for him began to chat with him, but he just seemed so down and slightly upset. His next words though made you freeze.

"… So this might be last time I stop by actually, since I've finished my degree and I've decided to visit London and maybe I'll stay there, for a while, if things work out. I'm sure going to miss your amazing baking though." You had to force a smile. This was going to ruin everything and your were going to lose him! You had to think quickly before he left forever!

"I'm so sad to hear you're leaving! Here, I’ll tell you what, why don't you come by tomorrow and I promise to prepare you a little 'going away' feast, as a last hurrah incase we don’t see each other any more. Consider it my gift to you for being my favorite customer all these years." You winked at him playfully with a sweet smile.

Rex had a blush spreading across his chubby cheeks, making your heart beat increase at the sight. In reality, the main reason for Rex’s sudden move was that he had to get away from your bakery. It wasn’t you personally, actually he rather liked you, a lot, but he was watching himself blow up like a balloon, helplessly addicted to the baked sugary treats You easily provided him. He knew if he just moved to the other side of town it would not be far enough, he'd make excuses to himself to come this way and see you and your addicting desserts. No, the only way to escape the sweet, fattening seduction was to move somewhere totally new and very far away and try to put all this delicious food out of his head and try to distract himself with a new life. Then he could really start to focus on himself and get some exercise and hopefully get some his figure back while he was still young. At least, that was his plan so far anyway. Looking back at you Rex agreed to drop by for his going away present. If only he knew what You had in store for him tomorrow. If only he knew you were the real reason he was now a walking, wobbling, cute blimp.

You couldn't bear the thought of losing your lovely burgeoning love. You had put in so much time and effort into fattening him up and charming him and you were certain he wasn't even close to being done growing yet. You had so many things to prepare for him, You’ d planned to feed him so much he’d never leave or want to. You began to work immediately preparing the strongest batch of  special baking oil you’d ever concocted. This was going to be a feast to remember.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— Time skip

Rex approached your bakery in the evening the next day. He had actually planned to stand up your invitation but the thought of you being so upset and mad quickly changed his mind. Besides by the time evening came around the temptation of all his favorite treats waiting for him made his belly growl and it got the best of him as well. He blushed as he walked to the bakery, he had gotten so fat the only outfit he could possibly squeeze into was an extra-large set of blue overalls, given to him by one of his brothers, who was a farmer, and even they were cutting deep into his fat so much that a faint creaking noise could be heard with every hefty, waddling step he took.

When he finally got there You greeted him warmly and affectionately. You showed him to his table near the large double doors of the kitchen. You jokingly set up some candles, which made both of you giggle at the cheesiness, and a large pile of hid favorite pies, pastries, cakes and other assorted sweets all prepared with love. You had gone to the trouble of decorating each of the cakes and pies with cute or funny little faces in icing or chocolate sauce almost humanizing each treat with a little personality. Lined up in the back was a row of two dozen pink frosted cream filled donuts, they were his favorites, they were surrounding a huge triple layered chocolate cake which was decorated with the words "We'll miss you Rex!" surrounded by love hearts written in white cream and sugary red jam. "Oh how sweet of you.” exclaimed Rex with a gentle smile, genuinely surprised at the effort You had gone to.

”But, jeez, there's so much I couldn't possibly eat all of this…" his words trailed off, the sent of  the special baking oil was radiating from the table. It’s delicious warm aroma was stirring something deep within his stomach. It rumbled deeply, hungrily, and he had to place a hand on it to steady himself. It was almost like an unseen force was drawing him towards the table, his honey gold eyes were progressively glazing over and his mouth watering with anticipation. He sat down slowly, careful not to brake the metal chair, which creaked loudly.

"Bon appetite, sweet cheeks.” You said to him with a wink, presenting the first sugary treat to him and he giddily took a bite. The young man moaned in an almost an obscene way as the flavor hit him like a ton of bricks. He had no idea what he had just gotten himself into. He was blushing as he realized the sounds he was making were audible.

“Oh! Excuse me [Y/N], they're so good!” he said apologetically, covering up with a nervous laugh. You chuckled and smiled at him.

“Oh, please, forget about it. Just enjoy yourself, Hon. Call me if you need anything, ok?” You knew he'd prefer to eat in private so you ducked out of sight, however you couldn't resist peeking at him through the crack of the kitchen doors.

As soon as he thought he was alone, Rex picked up a velvet cupcake and stuffed it into his mouth, in one single bite, desperately trying to stifle his moans of complete bliss as he swallowed its buttery rich goodness. He felt entirely giddy, elated even, everything seemed so hazy and light, almost like he was on the best of highs, one that not even drugs could give you. All of his concern for his expanding waistline was forgotten. Right now, all he wanted was to indulge to his hearts content, if only for just for one more night. Besides, what harm could one more binge do? Ah, again if only he knew what You had in store for him.

Rex ate with immense gusto. Finishing the cupcakes, then the pies, lemon, jam and chocolate. Then the Danish pastries, cream & jam éclairs, chocolate éclairs, apple turnovers, pecan pie, cinnamon swirls, butterscotch pudding. Every bite was swallowed faster than the last one, he was eating so fast he was starting to get out of breath and began to pant. He plowed through the chocolate cake centerpiece at an incredible pace, for anyone really, getting chocolate all over his fingers and face. The taste was so good he'd finished it before he knew what he was eating. He was starting to feel full some way through all the  sweets but again the strange sense of euphoria was making him keep eating. It was like the blissful feeling was getting more and more intense the fuller he got. It was almost sexual, he felt like he HAD to keep going. He was panting desperately between mouthfuls trying, in vain, to stifle his audible moans of pleasure.

He finally made it to the back row of donuts. Fullness had caused him to slow his pace down considerably, but his glazed over eyes and smile were content as his stubby arms and fat juicy fingers reached with mass amounts of determination, for more food. Those pink frosted donuts just looked too good for him to have not to at least try one.

He slowly ate them one by one. Just more and more filled him up, You watched in fascination with a huge grin on your face, Your mouth was slightly ajar in awe at his purity of his gluttony right now. With each one he ate his eyes and mouth widened and watered a little more in anticipation of another flavorful bite. Once he finished the dozen he moved on to a second batch, he could barely contain his excitement. Rex was beginning to struggle now, but oddly enough the fuller he got the better your pastries seemed to taste. Each time he told himself "just one more and that is it” but he found himself unable to find the willpower to stop himself from taking another.

Finally, after about an hour of non-stop eating he was absolutely full. His belly rumbled and a small burp escaped his frosting covered lips. There was only a one donut left and it taunted him with its white creamy frosting. It was entirely unbelievable to him that he'd eaten everything else on the table. He felt so incredibly STUFFED. Never in his life had he eaten even half this much in a single sitting ever. He felt completely blissful. His head was starting to spin on the biggest food high he'd ever had. For a second he attempted to lean in and try to grab the last donut, but the key word there was ‘try’, the tightness of his overalls and the weight of his overstuffed belly that prevented him from raising himself out of his seat to reach it. Now he leans back in the metal chair, exhausted, breathing heavily and feeling like a bloated beached whale. You saw this as Your cue to come back into the room. You admired the big bloated man, his satisfied face and the almost completely empty table.

“Was it good, Rex? I hope you liked it.” You asked with a smile. He smiled and nodded slowly with a slight blush forming on his chubby cheeks. You picked up the last sweet and presented it to his face.

"Last one, come on don’t let it go to waste, hon.” He eyed it for a second, licked his lips, then nodded blushing even more. You moved the white frosted donut towards him gently, he opened his plump lips wide and let you stuff it into his mouth. His eyes nearly rolled all the way back, the flavor seemed even more intense and delicious than all the others he had eaten before.

Then he tried to swallow it. He was so immensely full it was actually pretty hard for him. Rex had to try two or three times and sipped some milk you brought him but finally he got it down. The regret was instant as it he felt it travel down into his painfully stuffed belly. He broke out in to a light sweat. He'd definitely eaten way too much. He leaned back moaning deeply in slight discomfort. He felt like a giant swollen balloon. He rubbed his wide belly and arched back trying to adjust himself into a more comfortable position but he was way to full and just felt like he was getting fuller some how.

Suddenly he felt his overalls make a creaking sound. He looked down at his bloated body puzzled. The ominous creaking sound continued and got progressively louder and louder. He frowned  feeling a sudden discomfort in his shoulder straps they seemed to be cutting into him a lot deeper then normal. Rex suddenly realized he could feel his overalls getting much tighter all over with every passing second. He could feel them starting straining more around his butt and hips, his breasts were being squeezed more than he ever remember and the pressure against his poor overstuffed belly was beginning to get really painful. His eyes widened in pure shock and his mouth slowly opened in absolute horror as he began realize he could visibly see himself blowing up. He held his plump hand in front of his face and he could feel a sense of dread fill his heart as he watched his fat wrist and plump sausage fingers swell thicker and fatter right before his honey eyes. A terrifyingly loud gurgling sound drew his attention back to his ponderously growing belly as he began to feel like a huge fat blimp. His stomach slowly pushed outwards, he felt himself rising up in his gradually shrinking seat as his butt and thighs ballooned. The gurgling sound coming from inside his huge body was seemingly getting louder. Pop! Pop! The seams and threads from his once strong and fitting overalls began to snap and pull all over as he blew up faster. He could feel his underwear riding up uncomfortably and cutting into his fat bottom. Creeeeak! Bang! Bang! His shoulder straps snapped suddenly and violently. His now feminine looking tan breasts surged forward, overflowing the top of his outfit. Every inch of his fat was bulging all around the rapidly constraining confines of the blue denim fabric. A loud rip sounded out and a large hole suddenly appeared above his navel, exposing a portion of his soft belly flesh. The hole was steadily growing in size as he continued to fatten up, then to his horror, with a large groaning tearing sound, his belly tore the now super tight overalls right down the middle from top to bottom. His huge round gut poured through the tear like a waterfall and plopped itself in his thickening lap spilling off the edge of his gargantuan swelling thighs. His, surprisingly, lush breasts overfilled the top more then burst through the sturdy blue fabric out into the open. Simultaneously, Rex’s expanding thighs burst out of their confines making it look as if his outfit had exploded off his body. There was nothing left to contain poor Rex’s body and it continued to swell like a big fat naked tan balloon. His belly knocked over the table with a loud crash as it bulge passed his growing calves. The legs of the metal chair  began to groan and bend under his colossal weight. Finally, his huge girth came to a wobbling rest on the cold floor in front of him. When his belly settled his chair moaned ominously before abruptly collapsing under his massive quivering butt cheeks. He sat there in complete and utter shock pinned down to the floor by his enormous belly protruding outwards like a blimp in front of him.

He now resembled a giant ball of squeezable dough, complete with more rich fat rolls than you could easily count. Poor Rex's head was spinning. The amazing sense of euphoria had now changed to panic and complete shock as he just realized what all your delicious food had done to him.

“I-I ate too much!" He spoke shakily. He was so embarrassed. His face was beet red and a couple of tears started to bead at the edges of his eyes. He began to blame himself for his own lack of self-control. He thought it had to be a dream, a nightmare, or a terrible hallucination brought on by the sugar. He sniffed and tried to get up, but nothing happened except his fat bouncing around. Oh no.

“H-help, p-please! [Y/n] Please me I-I can't move!" He wiggled his fat arms and legs as much as he could with as much energy as he could muster. It just caused his blubber to slosh about wildly, he was simply much too fat and heavy to lift himself up anymore. You smiled softly and came up to his doughy form gently resting your head on his shoulder, pressing your cheek against his fat one.

“Shhh, it’s ok, sweetheart, just try to calm down. You have just eaten a very big meal, don’t worry. Honestly, I really didn't think you'd be able to finish all of it.” You said surprised.

"I'm so sorry, you must think I'm such a fat pig!" Rex whimpered and a tear slid down his cheek. You tenderly wiped it away and pecked his temple.

“Aww, Nonsense, you're my favorite customer, my sweet Rex.” You said in a soft almost dreamy tone as you moved around to pet his humungous belly in a way that oddly soothed him.

"Don't worry I'll help you.” You told him squeezing one of his thick fat rolls giggling a little. “I know just what to do, Ok?” He nodded and gave you a smile unknowing about what you had in store for him. So Rex assumed you meant call a doctor or an ambulance or something. Instead, he nearly fainted when you came back from the kitchen with mini fork-lift.

“What the hell is this?! What are you-!?… aaahhh!" He gasped as the cold metal forks from the hydraulic lift slid smoothly under his great bulk. The motor actually strained a little as you started to lift him off the ground, using the remains of the large, crushed, chair as a support. You tried to move him but, what you hadn’t expect, his fat stomach was still touching the ground, you had to raise him in to the air another foot or so up.

"Stop! [Y/N],What are you doing!? Where are you taking me!?” Cried Rex, hid fat face wobbling as he tried to look behind her over his shoulders. You could see and immense amount of fear and panic in his plump face that made your heart ache a bit.

“Don’t worry I’m helping you.” You moved the massive blimp of a man back through the doors and turned him around. he gasped at what he saw. A gigantic bed made out of several mattresses and dozens of pillows awaited him. The true nature of his predicament began to sink in and he promptly fainted.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Time skip

When he awoke up he was lying on the enormous bed, propped up by the pile of soft, warm pillows. Well, at least you made him feel very comfortable and cozy. He wanted to get comfortable but he knew he had to try and call for help some how. He started to struggle and attempted to get up, again, but was pinned down by his own fat. He began to sweat and whimper in fear as he realized he'd been kidnapped! You had fattened him up! How could you do such a thing to him? You made him get so fat you didn't even need to tie him up, he was a completely helpless blimp! He thought about crying out for help, and crying in general, but who could hear him? That and he couldn't bare the embarrassment of anyone else seeing him like this. The thought of his brothers seeing him like this flashed across his mind making a fresh bout of tears rise up. The sound of a door opening and closing caught his attention away from his humiliating thoughts.

You emerged from the hallway and through the door. "Ah, nice to see that you're awake my hefty creampuff. I really hope you're comfortable." You cooed.

"What happened to me? Did you do this to me on purpose?" accused Rex.

“Well, yes and no. You see I’ve always liked you, thats no secret, since the first time you came through my doors all those years ago and well you can’t say you didn’t have a little thing for me either.” You smirked at his instant blush. He did like you quite bit actually. You chuckled and patted his chubby cheeks.

“As for making you fat, that was pretty much all you, hon. I’ll admit I put a little special oil in them for flavor, it did add a few more calories, but you were the one who came in and ate all the time. You could have said no at anytime but you didn’t and I was just serving my favorite customer.” He didn’t think his face could get any redder. It was true he was kind of addicted to your sweets and maybe he did let himself go with them, but you were the one who had him here right now.

“Then why did you make me this fat then?” Now it was your turn to blush.

“Well, ahem, I’ve always had a thing for bigger people and you were getting so big and soft that I couldn’t resist you. Why I made you like this is really because I couldn’t stand to lose you. I know i’m a nut but honestly it could be worse. I’ve just made you fat that's all, nothing more. Besides from what I can tell, you throughly enjoyed what happened.” You said smirking at him mischievously. You walked around him prodding and poking his fat here and there hitting a few ticklish spots that made him quiver with his giggles. Once he composed himself, Rex tried to keep his upset disposition and glared at you.

You raised an eyebrow and stood in front of him looking at him in the eye for a moment before looking at the titanic blubbery mass of his belly and admired it. It was so big it came up to your chest! He had gotten so much bigger then you ever thought he would be. You blushed and your eyes glazed over and, jeez, you simply couldn't resist, plunged forward hugging his fat tan gut with your whole body, your arms barely reaching half way around the front of his belly! You started to cuddle into his warm wobbly mass, kissing around his cavernous belly button making him get giggly and flustered.

"Hey! Stop that!" Rex yelled trying to hold back the laughter that was threatening to come out.

“Haha, I’m sorry you looked like you could use a belly rub. You must be really sore after that meal… and I couldn’t resist giving my big creampuff a hug.” You smiled and continued to massage his gut with your whole body. Waves of fat jiggled his massive body up and down.

"Ugh! I'm still so full, why did you let me eat so much?” Rex moaned. You laughed softly.

“I told you, you seemed to really be enjoying it. You always do.” You chortled. A ding from the back of the room gets your attention.

"Ah, they're ready! I made a couple little treats for you.” You excitedly darted back around the ovens and brought out a large tray of assorted treats.You approached him with the delicious smelling treats and presented one to his mouth.

"Are you crazy [Y/N]?! I'm as big as a house and you want me to eat more… MMph!" You stuffed a cupcake into his mouth. You could see there was still some fight in Rex though.

Rex tried to spit it out but you forced another in making him eat them. Rex was realizing your game and this time refused to open his mouth. You went a little drastic and held his nose until he was forced to open his mouth to breath and when he did you stuffed in another cupcake. Rex held fast and refused to swallow, but desperate to get some air he actually bit one of you fingers.

"Oww! Damn it, what the hell!?” You withdrew a bit angrily as Rex coughed sending cake crumbs flying all over his soft expansive flesh. You then tried several more times to get him to eat but he remained defiant and there was nothing you could do would make his swallow the pastries. You huffed frustratedly, you just wanted to feed him some normal treats but if he’s so worried about getting fat then you’ll make him fatter then he thought possible.

“Humph! Fine guess you don’t like my sweets as much as I thought.” You said dejectedly and sighed.

"Don't worry though, if you won’t take my normal treats now you will when I'm through with you, love!” You pulled out some of the pillows that were propping him up and his body sloshed a bit as he sank further back into the mattress. His big fat round belly obscured most of his view and he began to struggle moving his arms and legs uselessly, the motions only causing ripples of fat to dance across his engorged body. You left the room for a moment and when you returned you wheeled in a large cylindrical container. You popped the lid off with some effort and the room was suddenly filled with a familiar sweet, buttery scent. It was a vat of you special baking oil. You looked back at Rex, who began to get even more nervous as he recognized the wonderful smell. He connected it with all those delicious treats he'd devoured over the past few years with you. You sighed and gave his cheek a soft kiss before taking a large ladle and poured some of your special oil into a big pool between his soft breasts. The warm oil seemed to spread and absorb itself right into his skin.

“[Y/N],What are you doing? What is that…? Whoa…" Rex's voice trailed off as something began to happen within his vast body. He suddenly felt light headed, his tummy began to rumble and his skin felt warm. He could taste something sweet and buttery in his mouth. It was as if his own saliva was now becoming saturated with some kind of delicious sweet and buttery tasting substance. His tummy felt full again, and was gradually getting fuller, almost uncomfortably so. He burped and got an even stronger taste of that same substance.

You smiled at the start of the process again. Lets see how big he’ll get now. You went to another corner of the room and began to dress in a light beige cover all that appeared to be made out of rubber. You completed the outfit with some gloves and double checked that you were completely covered. Then you started ladling the special oil all over his body,  gently massaging it in to his soft skin as you went, kneading his tubby fat with his hands like it was a delicate dough, which it was to you.

“Oh, No… No… Please God… It tastes so good…" Rex murmured and moaned as the fullness in his tummy increased tenfold and lazy smile spread across her face. He practically purred at the feeling of you massaging him.

This made you smile and continue working his fat with your hands and knees hugging his gut, using your whole body to massage and work the oil deeper and deeper into him. Within minutes every inch of him was glistening, like a freshly glazed doughnut. Every roll, every fold, every thick flabby part of him was covered in the shiny oil. It oozed out if every pore and trickled in a thick stream out of his deep belly button.

You sighed, now satisfied with your handiwork, and climbed up on top of him, hugging his fat and listening to his belly with eager anticipation. An odd sort of gurgling and rumbling sound began to emanate from deep inside him. You could felt it vibrate through his body under him even making him wobble a bit. Then his fat gut started to ripple and quake sending some oil spurting out of the well that was his belly button. It was almost as if the oil was somehow being absorbed directly into his fat cells, his whole body suddenly began to swell up again, like one of your doughs!

Inflating like a balloon, Rex began to feel his arms being forced out from his thick sides as his hips and side rolls grew, he could feel his legs being forced further apart by his own fattening thighs. His double chin jiggled as it fattened, along with his face that looked puffier by the second. His shoulders were thickening and swelling until he felt them making contact with the tips of his ear lobes. His breasts tingled as they began to fill like giant water balloons, and his belly, his gigantic, monstrous belly rose and rose like an emerging mountain of quivering blubber. Every last inch of him was being inflated. Even his plump little sausage fingers and toes were being spread apart as they too filled with fat. You were squeezing and cuddling all his lush warm fat.

“Mmmm, see this is pretty nice, right? I can tell you love this. Truth be told, me too.” You gleefully grabbed huge armfuls of his soft flab, bobbing up and down gently in the waves of his belly fat. It seemed that the jiggling of his fat rolls increased the effect of the oil absorbed by his fat, making him grow in kind of uneven bursts, every jiggle you gave him causing him to inflate more and more into an enormous level of fatness that nether of you knew until now. You shook his fat as hard as you could, it sloshed his belly fat around, another burst of fat came outwards like lava.

"Oh, God! [Y/N]!“ Rex moaned desperately as his face, cheeks, and lips suddenly became so fat and plump he could barely get the words out. The intense euphoria of his previous feast was returning like a raging storm. It felt like he was practically eating ten donuts a second, and the pleasure centers of his brain were lit up like fireworks. Images of your warm, delicious food swirled through his head, donuts by the dozen, hundreds of pies and pastries, entire rivers worth of soft ice-cream and hot gooey chocolate fudge sauce, enough cheesecake to fill an ocean. He couldn’t explain it at all it really tasted real! He started to feel so full he thought he might just burst at any second, but he couldn’t stop himself, it felt so good. Now faced with becoming the fattest person on the face of the planet he honestly just wanted to give in to his gluttony and to you. He wanted to eat everything! He just felt like he wanted to just gorge and gorge until he exploded! Regardless, it seemed he was going to be filled to the brim whether he liked it or not.

Tidal waves of flab crashed over Rex's glistening body. They covered every inch of his fat as he plumped up more and more. His chest inflated bigger and bigger as they became more wobbly, his nipples starting stiffening as they floated further and further out of his reach. His belly widened while it grew rounder and rounder pushing up higher and higher towards the ceiling and outwards towards the walls. His butt grew enormous underneath him along with his rolls of back fat raising his head up further and further from the floor and his gigantic, goliath sized thighs thickened into huge balloons. His arms and legs had become almost conical in shape, tapering down to just as fattened hands and feet that at this point were just  plump inflated balls of fat with thick stubby fingers and toes poking out. His hips had expanded well and truly off the of the mattresses, his huge side rolls of flab, each bigger than most people's entire bodies, just kept bulging and bulging, growing thicker and thicker. Poor Rex just kept whimpering and moaning completely helpless as he continued to fatten up and with seemingly no end in sight. Getting wider and wider, and so very much rounder, his belly was rapidly becoming an ocean of jiggling fat!

From a distance it still appeared as if his whole body was filling and rising like one of your loafs of bread, his belly button deepening as it pointed upwards towards the ceiling. Oil seemed to erupt from it, only to be reabsorbed in to his belly fat. He was now almost completely round, continuing to expand like a big ball of dough that you so desperately wanted kneed. You walked up to his huge mountainous belly, hearing the soft gurgling inside start to slow down along with his growth. You stared at him in awe of his expanding body before tenderly rubbing his incredibly soft belly. He blushed at the feeling of your significantly small hands caressing him and moaned at the tingling feeling it was giving him. It seemed that the bigger he got the more sensitive he became and the belly rub was giving him a lot of pleasure. You started to work him over more and started to use the rest of your body both of you thoroughly enjoying the other. As you worked your way down his colossal tummy he began to feel a tingling sensation deep in him like a little pressure in his deep belly, not like the oil type of pressure though, after a moment he realized it what it was and what it was building into. He began to pant as you guided your expert hands down to his very sensitive underbelly. You kneaded it and planted kisses and love bites all over all the while Rex was a quivering mess, Obscenely moaning and flailing his now useless limbs. You smirked at his reaction and stopped for a moment to climb up on him. He whined at the loss of your touch.

“Don’t worry creampuff, I’m just getting to a new spot.” You laid down on him smiling from ear to ear when you could feel his blubber wobbling against your own stomach. It was so nice you couldn’t help but let out your own moan of pleasure. You moved up towards his face and chest and reached down to start nibbling at his trembling chins and stretching out your arms to start tweaking at his hard nipples. He gasped and bucked against you which caused his body to jiggle wildly. The vibrations of his body hit you and you moaned again and filled up your arms with him, pressing yourself flat against him.

“D-do that again.” You said breathlessly before pressing yourself harder into his chest and belly. You took handfuls of his breasts and kissed him deeply feeling his fat cheeks and chins smother your face pleasantly. He groaned  into your mouth and tried to pull you closer which you happily obliged. You felt like you needed to get more contact with him and began to rub yourself on his belly, but it just wasn’t enough. Growling into him you pushed yourself off and started to undress yourself. Rex looked at you, his face redding at the sight of your undressed form. You smiled at him and straddled him as much as you could and continued where you left off. You squeezed his fat and watched as his plush tan skin oozed between your fingers. This was much better then kneading any dough you had  and his reactions made it so irresistible not to play with his new body.

Rex was practically seeing stars from the pleasure of your working hands. He gasped and groaned loudly as you took one of his hardened nipples into you mouth and sucked hard. He cried out, Your teasing set his bucking in to gear. You actually had to hold on to his rolls to not fall off but it was worth it. His fat was bobbing and jiggling like mad against you. You could feel every shake and vibration of his blubber and it went right to your core. It felt better then anything you had ever experienced and you needed more. So you began to bounce on him making more friction and motion. Rex was sweating and panting heavily as he got closer to his release.You were in no better shape, breathing hard and getting ever more excited with each bounce and jostle of his fat against your body. You moaned deeply and smothered you face into his thick ring of fat around his neck biting and sucking on his tender flesh. Rex couldn't take it anymore, the pressure underneath his behemoth belly was so sensitive that all the wobbling and your attention made it impossible for him to hold out any longer. A single bite and lick  from you under his vulnerable tender neck rolls was all it took for him to climax. His eyes felt like they had rolled back into his head and his entire body shuttered, and with that little added vibrations you came soon after.

Rex laid back into the pillows, exhausted, and just a big blubbery mess. As his euphoria faded, a part of him was disappointed it had stopped.  It was in this time of  calming down he was realizing his size. He had to be as big as an elephant, pinned down by his fat. His arms were about the size of an industrial truck tires and his legs were spread wide apart just to make room for all his blubber. He suddenly felt so heavy. It was an effort just to raise his head against all the fat on his face and chins to look at you. Trying to reach you, he discovered he could barely wiggle his fat fingers and toes let alone move a limb!

You had come down from your euphoric high and watched him try to move his arm, but to no avail. You smiled and reached around his neck and kissed him lovingly and rubbing his blonde fuzzy hair. A deep rumbling broke your kiss and Rex turned bright red again. He was getting hungry again! How could he be hungry this quickly?!

“You hungry, Love? Haha, don’t worry ill get you some sweets I made for you.” His eyes widened. Oh no, not again he just stopped growing! He was sure he was going to pop if he got any bigger. You noticed his panicked expression and pecked his cheek.

“Relax, Rex. These won’t have the oil in them, their just going to be regular pastries I promise.” You them climbed down from on top of his belly, carefully sliding down one of his side rolls. You walked around his circumference whilst looking up and enjoying the view in complete awe at his mountainous fat round body towering over you, you could barely see his head from where you stood. So many rolls, so much fat, it was unbelievable and the best part was he was all yours. You gave his belly a quick tickle, compiling him to start giggling, before heading to the ovens and picking out some normal treats. It only took about five minutes for you to go and return and when you did his belly was rumbling loud enough for you to hear. You could see Rex’s honey gold eyes looking at you, he was probably embarrassed.

“S-sorry, I don’t know why I’m already hungry again. I guess it was because of our, uh, excitement.” Yep definitely embarrassed. “Well that could be it, our ‘excitement’ made you hungry. You had to admit though it was amazing and, lets face it, we both loved it.” You playfully pinched one of his fat rolls and put down the platter.

“Dang, I can’t get up there. Hold on let me get my step ladder.” You glanced back to see some red creeping up on his tubby cheeks. You walked until you reached your closet and pulled out the step ladder. You returned and set it up against his side, picked up the plater and claimed up until you found his head. Rex blinked as your face came into his line of sight with the food. You leaned over his face holding the baking tray and spoke gently but playfully.

"Now my gigantic sweet, butterball, are you ready for desert?" Rex only acknowledged you by the immediate roar of his belly from the sent of your tray and opening his mouth, willingly, as wide as he could, letting you feed him a delicious cream filled éclair. He smiled and swallowed blissfully now hoping he could just lay there and let you feed him forever no longer caring how big he grew he was too hooked to the sweets and you.