#Sitting upright to eat breakfast made me cry from pain

[blackbird-brewster]

Been mostly lurking on here lately. Just dealing with immense stress rn and my body has decided to react to that stress with agonising and debilitating pain and migraines.

But yeah. I'm around. Just quiet. 💜

[plant-flwrs]

Heyy!! I wish you would write a fic where Fred is lowkey really into Shakespear and Romeo and Juliet and tries to woo the reader cs she’s muggleborn? Idk but it would be so cute!! 🥺

romeo and juliet // fred weasley

masterlist!

summary: Fred reads Romeo and Juliet and can’t help but fall in love

a/n: schools out, so hopefully that means more time for writing! thanks for the request anon i thought it was adorable, hope you like it!!

(2.5k)

At first, it was a secret. Fred had no intention of actually enjoying it. He had simply accepted the book Professor Lupin had lent him, thumbed through it, and stayed up all night to read it by accident.

Maybe it was because Lupin had seen the way Fred looked at you across the class, separated by hidden bloodlines and upbringings. You, with your muggle pens that you smuggled in. You, with your muggle records you used an entire bag to carry onto the train. You, with your muggle magazines that spread through the common room like wildfire. You, with those weird little things called cigarettes that you sold in your third year to the older students. You, with the way the older pureblood witches would sit and ask you to do their hair for them because only you could do all the newest muggle styles. You, with your reluctance to Quidditch but your love for soccer.

Fred was gone, absolutely gone for you. He was even more behind than usual in class because he couldn't help but find you with his eyes, no matter the room you were in or the distance between you both. Remus Lupin, the secret romantic, asked Fred to stay after class.

"Mr. Weasley," Professor Lupin called, feet kicked up on his desk while he levitated a novel wandlessly in front of him. A half-eaten apple rested on a napkin beside a chocolate wrapper and Fred was forced to remember the breakfast he had barely eaten, choosing to instead pretend he hadn't noticed the fact you had only sat a few seats away.

Fred stood in front of Lupin's desk, waiting as the room emptied out and George shot him a wink from the doorway.

"Yes, Professor?" Fred rocked on his feet, hands stuffed in the pockets of his robe. He tried not to wonder if you had noticed that he had been called behind, or if you had noticed him at all. He vaguely registered that this might what his brother would call 'pathetic'.

"You never turned in that essay on wandless defenses," Lupin said slowly, the book moving to rest on his desk as he moved his feet to the ground.

Fred was quiet, biting the inside of his cheek as he couldn't seem to recall the last time a teacher had bothered to talk to him about his assignments instead of deeming him a 'lost cause' or a student who 'simply wouldn't apply themselves'.

Professor Lupin sighed, moving again to stand. Fred thought he caught a flash of pain on the professor's face, perhaps a wince as he stood, but the moment was gone before Lupin was giving Fred a calculating and sympathetic glance.

"Do you need an extension?" Remus offered, leaning his hip against the desk and inclining his head to show Fred the importance of this offering.

"I'd appreciate that, Professor," Fred admitted.

They were silent again, Remus still looking at Fred like he was something to figure out. Remus shifted, eyes dropped to his desk and lips lifting.

"What's got you so preoccupied?"

Fred was blushing before he could think of a lie, and then he realized he didn't want to lie. He hadn't even told George about his crush on you- no doubt it was obvious. Fred had had flings and crushes on loads of girls, all fun and easy, but this felt heavier. He didn't want to have a fling with you.

"I guess-" Fred sighed, removing his hands from his robes and wiping them on his trousers, "I've just been distracted recently. A lot on my mind."

"Ah," Remus smiled fondly, nodding slowly.

A book began to move from a pile in the corner, elegantly and easily avoiding the tall stacks of clutter and various lumps of papers to levitate to Fred. Fred reached out for it, moving it in his hand to read the cover. Romeo and Juliet.

"I'll make you a deal, Fred," Professor Lupin said, his voice sounding so mischievous that Fred was surprised he hadn't become ten years younger right in front of him. "You can either write the essay on wandless defenses, or you can read that and write an essay on 'Romeo and Juliet'."

Fred thumbed through the book, eyebrows furrowed. He had never liked reading, most of the books at the Burrow belonged to Bill, Percy, or his father. He was pretty sure that George would find Fred reading Shakespeare to be just as funny as the time they released Cornish Pixies in the Slytherin changing rooms.

"Yeah, alright."

Fred managed to eat dinner that night, with you safely at the opposite end of the table. The curtains to his fourposter had been closed for hours and the light from his wand had been steadily bright for just as long. He had gone from laying on his back, head propped up beneath his arms, to resting his back against the headboard, to sitting upright in the center of his bed, head propped on his fist, to laying on his stomach, to laying on his back again with his head at the foot of his bed, and soon enough, the sun was flooding through a crack in the curtains. He had just finished Romeo and Juliet when he heard the showers starting.

"Lupin!"

Remus stopped and watched Fred catch up to him. He looked tired and simultaneously wide awake, his hair was a mess, and Remus was almost certain that he was wearing his pajama pants beneath his school robes.

"Mr. Weasley," Remus said cordially, continuing his walk to the greenhouse.

"I wanted to talk to you about that book you lent me-"

"Oh, you can keep it, if you'd like. I've read it dozens of times."

Fred hesitated, a wide smile spreading over his face, "Oh, thanks, Professor! It's just, I wanted to tell you I really liked it."

"You've finished it, then?" Remus asked with an impressed smile.

"Read it last night," Fred admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

"I look forward to the essay, then," Lupin said with a kind smile and a nod, turning into the greenhouses and leaving Fred in the corridor.

Inside his robes, he felt the weight of the tiny book against his chest. He kept it in a pocket there, fingers itching to hold it and read it again.

He couldn't help the roaring thoughts in his head. The idea that you were his Juliet, that you and he could find a hidden love, just for you two, amongst your external differences. He was oddly disappointed by the ending and decided he might not completely finish the book if he read it again, perhaps pretend it ended differently. He leaned his back against the stone wall behind him, fighting a blushing smile from his face.

So, Fred loved Shakespeare in secret. He loved reading in secret. He loved the weight of the book in his hands in secret. He loved the words and the phrases in secret. He loved the way it made him think in secret. He loved you in secret. He loved in secret.

Until you started dating Thomas Meadowbrooke. Thomas was a Ravenclaw, wickedly smart, handsome, kind, and the victim of many of the Weasley twins' pranks for a while. George didn't directly ask Fred why they were suddenly pranking this one boy so relentlessly all of a sudden, but he didn't need to.

Thomas wore blazers with patches on the elbows and combed his silky hair down the middle. He always had a flower in his coat pocket to give to you and he always carried a book of poetry with him. He was sensitive and wistful in all the ways girls loved, including you.

You thought Thomas was painfully boring. He would fawn over you in the most annoying ways, giving you poems that he wrote (horrendously awful, they were) and quoting lines from old and boring books to you. He didn't listen to Joan Jett or Janis Joplin and he cringed when you played your records. He suggested Bach or Debussy instead. He was boring.

You had only agreed to go out with him because he asked. Thomas Meadowbrooke may have been able to put a cornish pixie to sleep just by talking to it, but he was undeniably handsome. Well, he was more handsome before he had fallen victim to a particularly entertaining Weasley twin prank that turned his hair gelled and spiked up for a few days.

You broke up with Thomas soon after. He took it well, saying it gave him fuel to finish some poetry he hadn't been inspired enough for before.

Remus heard this gossip quite excitedly.

"She did, did she?" Remus tilted his head, a coy smirk on his lips.

The smell of fertilizer was strong, but he learned not to mind it as he watched the merry witch digging in various pots.

"He was quite heartbroken, the poor thing. Filius said that when he did routine bed checks, he could hear Thomas crying for weeks!" Professor Sprout sighed, patting down the soil and checking for weeds.

"Teen romance is always quite fickle," Remus commented, following Pomona as she moved to the next pot.

"Says you!" Pomona playfully scolded Remus, her red cheeks filling as she smiled.

Remus chuckled, thinking back to Sirius who would sneak into his office later to distract him from grading papers.

"You know, Pomona," Remus said in that voice of his, the one that got Sprout to drop her trowel and lean in close to hear the latest gossip. "I think Fred Weasley's got a bit of a crush on Y/n."

Pomona gasped, dirty hand flying to cover her mouth. She paused, scrunching up her face and sticking her tongue out to spit out the clump of dirt.

"He hasn't!" she continued, not minding Remus' amused smile and the clean rag he offered her to wipe her hands.

"He's always staring at her," Remus said, thinking on it. "I reckon he's quite the secret romantic."

Pomona cooed and awed as she continued to tend to her plants, she and Remus trading anymore gossip that they could think of.

The weather changed at quite a convenient time for Fred. With the slightly warm but still a bit chilled fall weather, Fred could dawn his lighter coats. His lighter coats that happened to have wonderfully shaped pockets on the inside, just the right size for a book.

Fred wondered if you had gone out with Thomas because Ravenclaw book nerds were your type, or if you had broken up with him because Ravenclaw book nerds weren't your type. Fred had spent almost all of the warm weather contemplating how he was going to continue to live if he was determined to remain secretly in love with you. By fall he had figured it out.

Fred wasn't going to hide anything, not the books he had recently begun to love, or the way he loved so strongly. He wasn't going to miss meals because you were so distracting. He wasn't going to suffocate under his crush on you.

It was a beautiful day. George was up in the dorms with Lee working on a prank and Fred had decided to take a walk down to the Black Lake. His lighter coat was a bit heavier because of the book in the pocket, and Fred pushed his hair out of his eyes as he looked down at the ground to avoid stepping on tree roots. He found a nice spot beneath a tree, resting against the trunk and reading.

"Hey, Fred," a voice called, coming closer as they easily avoided the maze of tree roots.

Fred looked up to see you, in those perfect muggle clothes you wore any chance you could, hair styled in that wonderful muggle way, one of those muggle cigarettes tucked behind your ear, walking towards him.

"Hey," he responded, surprised by how easy his voice sounded.

"Have you been reviewing at all for Lupin's?" You sat next to Fred like it was the easiest thing in the world, brushing your shoulder against his.

"No, not really," Fred closed his book with his thumb tucked between the pages saving his spot.

"Mmm," you hummed, leaning your head back against the tree and closing your eyes. "What're you reading?"

"Romeo and Juliet," Fred replied, looking at your profile while he had the chance.

"Didn't think that was your thing," you said playfully, opening one eye to catch Fred looking at you.

He flushed and turned his gaze to his hands in his lap. "Me neither," he admitted, swallowing.

"I always liked ‘The Taming of the Shrew’, personally."

Fred smiled to himself, because of course, you had also read Shakespeare, and of course, you would have a cool favorite.

"I like that one, too," Fred said lamely, enjoying the way you were smiling at him.

By winter, Fred had devised a plan. It was perfect, more perfect than any prank he had created or any Zonko's product he had bought. He would die if he kept all this love to himself, so he decided all he needed was one kiss.

The Yule Ball was in full swing, the classical and slow music long forgotten as everyone moved to the dance floor and rocked to the loud and fast rhythm. Fred had seen you when you first arrived, noticing with glee that you were alone, and hadn't lost sight of you since. He had removed himself from the heavily crowded dance floor, stumbling to the table with the juice he and George had spiked hours earlier. He loosened the collar of his robes and pushed his already disheveled hair out of his face.

You watched Fred move through the crowd like a tornado, a mass of energy that you felt required to look at and admire. He strode to the table, a quiet and self-satisfied smirk on his lips as he took a long sip of punch.

Fred caught you staring at him with pleasant unexpectedness. You looked just as beautiful as you did when the night started, skin glowing and everything dawned upon you with your magical muggle-ness. Fred put his cup down, a comfortable pink hue warming his cheeks, and approached you. He touched his hand to yours.

"Hey, Fred," you said with an entertained smirk, glancing down at his hand on yours.

"I need you to do me a favor," he slurred, voice easy and breath warm as it landed on your skin.

"What kind of favor?"

"I need you to kiss me," Fred pulled his mouth away from your ear, looking to your face.

He didn't have much of an opportunity, though, before your lips were on his and you stole his breath. He tasted of the spiked punch and his hands were trembling and careful as they rested on your waist. You grabbed a fistful of his robes, pulling him close to you with urgency.

He pulled away, lips red and swollen, with his eyes still closed.

"I need you to do me a favor," you said, mouth hovering above his.

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me," you whispered, just loud enough for Fred to hear.

He listened, and held onto you with less trembling and more confidence as you kissed for the second time.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Continued from here

-

At first, Hero doesn’t notice the slight changes around them.

They wake up, and the pain wakes as well, flooding them with its burn and stealing away their breath for the few instants they take to accept and relax into it before opening their eyes. Villain’s curled-up figure, snoring softly from the armchair next to the bed, is the first thing they see.

Hero lays their head back down and sighs when last night comes back to them. They wish they couldn’t, but they remember it all too well – every kind word, every worried touch and whispered confession.

Embarrassment burns their cheeks at the thought of Villain seeing their scars, the horror written across their face when they did. They were never supposed to see those – no one was, not when all of them were results of Hero’s fails, of Superhero’s discipline. They were a shame Hero carried for not being good enough, and one Villain should never have seen.

They give Villain a side-glance, sighing again at how uncomfortable their position looks, their body too big for the tight space of the armchair.

It’s only then that something clicks into place.

Hero doesn’t own an armchair.

They jerk upright, and immediately fold forward, holding their stomach when pain shoots through them. Hero catches the anguished whimper before it escapes, and only a huff of air leaves in its place. It’s still enough for Villain to open their eyes and sit up too.

“You’re awake,” they state with a yawn, giving Hero a once-over that stops at the clean bandages and makes their stomach churn.

“Where am I?”

Villain’s smirk sends waves of fire through Hero’s blood. How the fuck were they so stupid to trust Villain when they were at their most vulnerable?

“Welcome to my place. Do you like it?”

Hero bares their teeth in indignation and grips the sheets with the hand that isn’t holding their injury. “Take me the fuck back.”

“Oh, no can do, sweetheart. I gave you the nice guest room, though, I think you’ll like it,” Villain says, already standing up and calmly walking around the bed. Hero doesn’t move from their spot under the duvet, not when they can barely move without grunting, let alone get up and follow the bastard. “What do you say about breakfast? I’ll be right back with it.”

Hero can only watch as they leave the room, and the lock clicks behind them.

They fall back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling hopelessly.

Villain locked the door. Hero’s hands tremble at the thought, at how the room suddenly seems so much smaller. They had said they’d be back with breakfast, hadn’t they? But how can Hero trust Villain after they kidnapped them?

The feeling isn’t unknown, though. Hero is way too familiar with the helplessness of being locked away from the world, isolated until they were desperate enough to comply. So forlorn they were the perfect vessel for learning, as Superhero would say. It hadn’t happened in a long time, not since they started obeying the orders without question, but the terror of being alone for hours that turned into days that turned into weeks never truly left them.

You are too unruly, Hero, Superhero always said, scowling at them after they refused an order or made a mistake, if I don’t discipline you, you’ll be just like any villain. It’s for your own good, and one day you’ll see it.

And then the door would be locked, and they’d be alone. Alone until they forgot what it was like to talk and be answered, alone until they gave up on any form of pride and just screamed at the walls that they were sorry, please, I’ll do anything, alone until–

“…hope you like toast, we didn’t have pancakes, but I do know how to make really go– hey, Hero?”

They look up to see Villain walking inside, carrying a tray filled with food. Hero doesn’t cry – you don’t show weakness, Hero, ever, or will I have to teach you how to control yourself too? –, but a sob gets caught in their throat.

They aren’t alone. They are not alone. Hero shakes their head to push away the memories and glares at Villain, carefully pulling themself into a sitting position.

“Why am I here, Villain? Am I your hostage? Your prisoner?”

A shiver runs up their spine at the thought, at the punishment they’d earn for being caught by Villain of all people – being caught without putting up a fight, of all things.

“You are hurt,” they say as if that’s enough of an answer, and sit down in the armchair again, placing the tray in the bed between the two of them and pointing at the piles of food there.

Hero crosses their arms and waits.

“Just eat, Hero, we’ll talk about it after breakfast, okay?”

“How did you even bring me here?” Something vicious is curling around Hero’s heart, something unwelcome, something painful, something they aren’t ready to admit feels like betrayal. Villain doesn’t owe them anything, Hero has no right to feel it, and yet, there it is. “Did you drug me while I bled out?”

Villain averts their gaze and sets their jaw. “They hurt you,” they seethe, the rage only barely contained in their voice.

“I didn’t even tell you why or how I got hurt, you can’t–“

“I’m not stupid. You said enough for me to guess it.” Villain looks up with such unrestrained hatred, that even though they know it isn’t directed at them, Hero can’t contain a flinch.

They straighten up as best as they can to hide it, though, keeping all of the pain carefully hidden away from their features. “Superhero helped me become the hero I am today. Each of these scars is a mark of shame, of my failure. So if you want to blame someone for them, blame me.”

But instead of appeasing Villain, the words seem to have the opposite effect. They clench their fists, nostrils flaring, pupils swallowing their irises whole. “Keep talking and I won’t be able to contain myself next time I see that sad excuse for a person.”

Hero pales, trembles. And Villain, of course, notices.

“Superhero has abused and gaslighted you, and you still blanch at the idea they might be hurt,” Villain sighs, looking up to the ceiling as if searching for an explanation there. “Scars aren’t shames, Hero. Scars are traumas, and there’s absolutely no context in which they’d be a form of discipline. That’s blatant abuse.”

“Don’t talk about them like that,” Hero says rigidly, staring down at their hands. Somewhere deep inside them, hidden so far away they barely remember it’s even there, there’s a young Hero nodding and crying along with Villain’s every word. But Superhero’s words sound louder than any old, forgotten, version of Hero ever could. We don’t speak ill of our people, Hero. And if you do, you’ll have to face the consequences, they’d say between each crack of the whip.

“Just eat,” Villain sighs, hiding their face behind their hands and rubbing their eyes.

There’s so much worry mingled with ancient fear inside of Hero, they don’t even question how fast they answer to the command. They are hurting and confused and betrayed, and their mind can’t help but fit in its usual mode of complying with each and every order. Just like all good heroes do, Hero, you must obey your superiors, and therefore help the people. Show me you can obey and I won’t need to hurt you anymore.

They eat breakfast in silence, and although Hero’s mind keeps bouncing around the argument and their future, something that went unanswered keeps bothering them until they can’t help but spill it out.

“Did you drug me to bring me here?”

Villain looks them dead in the eye, lets them see the guilt lurking there – but also the truth. “Yes. You are hurt and I wouldn’t leave you like this to be even more battered by your beloved Superhero.”

“You had no right,” Hero whispers. Tears well up in their eyes, and the air gets caught in their throat, turning into gasping breaths that are not enough. Suddenly, they can’t breathe. They can’t think. Villain drugged them after Hero trusted them and let them see it all, they drugged them and took them away and they had no way to stop and they still have no way to stop it–

“Hero!” Villain shouts, holding their shoulders and giving them a little shake. It hurts their wound and makes them gasp, but it isn’t enough for Hero to stop quivering.

“You drugged me–“ is all they can rasp out, fighting to regain control of their swirling emotions.

“I gave you a mild sedative and brought you here, that’s all I did,” Villain says hurriedly, “you didn’t wake up because you were really tired, not because I knocked you out. I’d never take your will away like that.”

“But you did!”

Their stomach hurts and their chest echoes and Hero feels like they’re falling and falling and the fall never ends.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be this upset about it,” Villain exclaims, holding their hands.

Hero snaps before even they realize what they’re doing – one moment Villain is holding their hand, the next said hand is flying through the air and connecting with Villain’s jaw with a dull thud and a sharp pain in their abdomen. Two gasps of pain sound at the same time, and both Villain and Hero curl forward, holding their respective injuries.

“You punched me?” Villain says, unbelieving. For one moment, one fleeting instant, Hero freezes and waits for the blow to be returned, only twice as bad, or maybe for them to be left alone as punishment. And then the moment passes, and Villain’s stunned eyes come back to focus. Hero pants and glares at them, but even though they’re still mad and scared, there is also guilt overlaying it all now.

“You drugged me!”

“I also kidnapped you. And it was a mild sedative, you could’ve woken up– why are you so hung up on the drugging?”

As if in answer, Hero’s heart starts to pound. It screams from their chest, thrums inside their ears. Their tongue doesn’t voice any of the truths laying there, though. Not when they can still feel the bitter taste of betrayal – what would Villain do with the knowledge of how many times they were drugged as a punishment? As a ‘calming technique’, according to Superhero? As a ‘teaching mechanism’?

“Does it matter?” they bite out, shifting their weight and holding in a moan when the wound shifts as well. “I never should have trusted you.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

But that doesn’t mean anything, not really. Superhero’s said it before, and they ended up hurt either way.

“You can’t keep me here against my will. Unless you plan on tying me down and locking me up, I’m going to leave whether you want it or not.”

Villain takes a sharp breath and grits their teeth. Although goosebumps spread across Hero’s skin, they don’t back down.

“Why would you go back to them?” Villain sags on the chair, and even though their face is somber, there is something in their eyes that looks so much like pleading that Hero holds their breath. “I can protect you. You can even ‘save the city’ or whatever, I won’t stop you. But why go back to the person who hurt you? I see the fear you’re hiding, Hero. You and I both know that the only thing waiting for your return is more pain.”

“What do you want me to do? Stay here? Become a villain myself?” they scoff.

Something flashes in Villain’s eyes, something so weirdly close to pain Hero find themself at a loss for words. And then it’s gone, as fast as it appeared, and Hero chooses to believe it was only their imagination.

“Do as you wish, but I won’t be responsible for your being hurt again,” Villain says in a final tone. “And if I have to tie you down and lock you up until you’re healed and able to defend yourself, then so be it.”

“So the ‘playing hero’ part is over, huh?”

There’s so much hurt, so many places. In their belly, in their contained tears, in their heart. Hero grips the sheets and glares at Villain’s narrowed eyes.

“I never said I was playing hero,” they respond coldly, “I’d rather be damned than be anything like Superhero.”

Villain gets up after that, but stops at the door and turns around to look at Hero. They stare at each other, and in their gazes, something builds and something breaks, and as words form and die in the tip of Hero’s tongue, they seem to do the same in Villain’s, for they simply sigh and turn their back, leaving the room without another glance and locking the door behind them.

(part 3)

[ikaroux]

Zhongli: The Dragon Dance. (Part 1) (EN)

Version française

f!reader

Aaaah Zhongli, my sweet Zhongli, writing about followers is really painful in itself given their longevity... I didn't come here to suffer, okay! *crying in a corner*

Les Ost pour ce chapitre :

Broken Hero Onmyoji

Rabia Honkai impact

Masterlist

The port city of Liyue was abuzz with excitement as the New Year's Eve celebration took place. The streets were brightened by the laughter and chatter of passers-by and lit by paper lanterns decorated with cut-out designs of dragons, maple leaves, herons and more. Various flowers from the region decorated every part of the city, right down to the ponds with golden carp. You could see dancers strutting a flexible dragon figure in the image of the Geo Archon in the streets. Street vendors shouted at the top of their voices, selling the merits of their goods or the deliciousness of their food. Everything seemed beautiful and magical.

You had come from Mondstadt to spend the end-of-year celebrations here, with some friends who lived in the city. They had suggested that you go and see the fireworks which would take place later in the evening, but your curiosity led you to walk through the streets of Liyue alone before joining your friends.

This year the festival organisers asked the inhabitants of Liyue and their guests to wear a mask which was offered to them by the city. You knew that the festival was to end with a kind of masked ball that would take place all over the city, with musicians placed here and there, sometimes in the corridors overhanging the streets or in the harbour by the sea.

The organisers of the ball wanted everyone to be able to enjoy a moment of joy and happiness without fear, without fear of the gaze of others.

You would walk along the wooden quays, your fox mask partially covering your face. You gazed at the reflection of the city lights on the surface of the water, a smile on your face. The street was crowded but you loved it, the atmosphere was so similar to your beloved city.

As you turned your gaze to observe the quay parallel to yours, you noticed the refined figure of a tall man. His posture was refined and elegant, he stood upright with his arms crossed behind his back and his eyes fixed on the horizon. He wore a long coat that matched his build perfectly, his hair, tied back in a simple tail, swayed in the sea breeze. He wore a golden mask with the image of a dragon.

The man seemed to notice your gaze lingering on him, turning his face towards you. The masks only hid the upper part of the faces, so you could see the soft smile on his lips. Embarrassed, you ran away, slipping through the crowd of people enjoying the shops on the harbour.

As you reached the centre of the city, the sweet sounds of the typical instruments of the region echoed through the streets. You could recognise the erhu among all the instruments that were playing.

Men, women and children began to dance happily, some laughing, others giving each other longing looks.

Seduced by the warm and loving atmosphere, your lips stretched into a wide smile before quickly disappearing as a large gloved hand reached for yours. You quickly turned to see who had surprised you, thinking at first that it was one of your friends who had found you. You opened your eyes wide when you recognised the man in the dragon mask. He pulled you to him, placing his free hand on your hip, he began to dance with you, guiding you perfectly to the rhythm of the music. You were mesmerised by his amber eyes watching you intently under his mask, the soft smile on his face making your cheeks warm.

You gradually began to relax in his arms, laughing out loud as he twirled you around before pulling you back against him, a husky laugh gently rising from his throat at your adorable reactions. After several minutes of energetic dancing, he moved his hand up your back, pulling you closer to him in a slower, more sensual dance. He gently placed his cheek on the top of your head as your face rested on his chest, breathing in the lily scent that wafted from him. As you swayed gently on your feet, he picked up a silk flower that decorated one of the columns that littered the street, supporting the upper floors of the houses. He placed the little pink button in your hair (colour), admiring how well it suited you.

Your dance was suddenly interrupted when the dull sound of fireworks was added to the melody of the musical instruments, your attention instantly turned to the play of light in the sky. Your pupils shone with a new brilliance at the sight.

Dazzled by the beauty of the fireworks, you glanced at your mysterious escort, hoping that he was enjoying the show as much as you were.

Your cheeks turned a deep red as you noticed his eyes were fixed on you, your hands still linked together. He moved his face closer to you, pushing a few strands of hair out of the way.

"Thank you for the evening. "he whispered in your ear.

Without giving you time to answer, he brought the back of your hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it. He reluctantly let go of you before stepping back, giving you one last look before disappearing into the crowd.

"No, wait... don't go... your name... give me your name!"

But now he was out of your sight, regret tainting your heart. Why didn't you ask him before?

"(Y/N)! "

Hu Tao's voice called to you in the distance, bringing you out of your thoughts. She was accompanied by Xiangling, Chongyun and Xingqiu who waved their hands at you, their faces lit up with big smiles. Taking one last look at the place where your mysterious date had disappeared, you finally joined your friends, ending the evening with them.

Zhongli was sitting on the terrace of his flat, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. His gaze was lost in contemplation of the liquid in its container.

He was still wondering why he had left without asking your name. Even after living for thousands of years, he still felt a little foolish.

Perhaps he should have invited you to share a cup of tea with him? Perhaps he should have taken off his mask and introduced himself to you properly?

Zhongli had rarely had regrets in his long life and today was one of those rare moments. A sigh escaped his lips, from the moment he had met your gaze on the docks, you had intrigued him. He had immediately noticed from your manner that you were not from Liyue. From Mondstadt perhaps? That's what your clothes suggested.

For some reason, you dodged his gaze when he turned his attention to you, running away from the platform that separated you from him.

Curiously, Zhongli couldn't help but follow you, speeding up to avoid losing sight of you. Eventually he caught up with you, admiring your wondering eyes for a few seconds. He would have liked to take off that fox mask to better admire you, why? He didn't know. What he did know was that at that moment he wanted to share an intimate moment with you, wanting to create a peaceful and sweet memory with a stranger whose smile was brighter than the most precious of diamonds.

Zhongli had felt an intense happiness arise in him as you relaxed in his arms. He savoured the breath you projected on him as your head rested on his chest, your warmth comforted him, your laughter fascinated him, your eyes (colour) captivated him. Why was he gone? Why had he left? He might never have the opportunity to see you again. Zhongli knew, after accumulating 6,000 years of knowledge and wisdom, that feeling desire or attraction for a mortal could become something painful for both you and him. Zhongli might not be the Geo Archon anymore, but he was still a follower with a long life expectancy...

Yes, he knew... but knowing didn't stop you from hoping.

You had a hard time to wake up, the evening of the new year having been rather animated. After the fireworks, you all went to Xiangling's house to have a last drink, without alcohol for some of you, Hu Tao, Xingqiu and Xiangling taking care of the atmosphere of your little party. You were able to talk with Chongyun about your evening, the magic that the stranger in the dragon mask had worked on you still haunting you. Chongyun had listened patiently before suggesting that you might try to look for him in town tomorrow, and even though the mask had prevented you from seeing him, his presence remained intact in your mind.

So you slept at Xiangling's house. When you woke up, she was preparing breakfast with a big smile on her face. Xiangling had prepared a home-made hangover remedy for you with your meal made of blue lily of the valley flower, sweet flower and apple juice extract.

"Thank you Xiang, it's delicious."

"You're welcome (Y/n). And you have to be in shape for today!"

"Fit? Why?"

"Didn't Hu Tao tell you? We're going to show you around the city today. And then..." -She walked over to you, her hand covering the side of her mouth as if to tell you a secret. You moved closer to her.- "We need to find your handsome stranger in the dragon mask!."

You choked on your food.

"H-How did you...I didn't...!"

"Chongyun told me about it last night before he left! He didn't like seeing you so sad so he thought we could look together today."

You sighed, desperate. You couldn't blame Chongyun, after all you hadn't told him to keep it to himself and besides this boy was far too adorable to be sulking.

After you finished eating you went to take a shower before changing your clothes, combing your hair and finally applying some light makeup to your face. Hu Tao met you downstairs at Xiangling's flat, finishing his discussion with an elderly lady who greeted you with a brief nod before leaving.

"Good! (Y/n) it's time we took care of your case."

"My case huh..."

Hu tao grabbed your arm, leading you into the sparsely populated streets of Liyue. She showed you some shops while you described your dance partner's appearance to her.

"A tall, elegant and polite man with a long coat you say? Eeeeh... Reminds me of someone."

Hu Tao paused for a moment to think before being interrupted by the deep voice of a man calling out to him.

"Hu Tao there you are, I have a small... favor..."

His amber eyes met your eyes (colour), a long silence settled between the four of you, Hu tao and Xiangling swinging their eyes towards you and then the newcomer. The man did not take his eyes off you, his mouth slightly open. It was him, you were sure, it was him!

Zhongli looked at you without saying anything, too amazed to find you so easily when he had just come to Hu Tao to ask for his help. He had recognised your eyes from the moment he saw them.

He cautiously approached you, forgetting everything around him. He took your hand in his, a gentle smile appearing on the delicate features of his face. You were even more beautiful than he had imagined. He could feel your fingers trembling with emotion in his hand, tightening it to soothe you.

"Ah- I, you..."

Zhongli paid no attention to Hu Tao and Xiangling's curious looks. He was focused on you, only on you. Drawing you to him, his hand again on your lower back, he began a few dance steps to assure you that it was really him. Your tears rolled down your cheeks as a smile lit up your face. Several minutes passed before he stopped twirling you around to the beat of his heart.

"What is your name?"

"(Y/n)"

"(Y/n), what a beautiful name." -He brought your hand still buried comfortably in his to his lips, placing the most delicate of kisses.- "Zhongli. May I invite you to drink tea with me?"

"With pleasure."

Zhongli knew that forging bonds with a mortal could be painful.

He knew but... he would take that risk.

[racheloveyunho]

Till Death do us part - 1

Y/N grew up in a wealthy family, she always was seen as a beautiful and smart kid and was most likely to take her father’s place as the CEO of one of the most important companies in South Korea. However, after the death of her mother, Y/N’s family slowly started to break apart. Her father was always working to forget his uncalled pain while his kids were left alone at home.

She was 17 years old when her life took a sudden turn when she met him in a dark alley. He was a bloody mess, bruises everywhere but behind blood and dirt, she could see his beautiful features and his addictive gaze. Maybe she should have walked away, maybe she shouldn’t have helped him, but the moment his gaze locked with hers, she was already his.

Choi San was his name.

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, stranger to lovers

Words: 2486

 TW: Y/N is described as an OC. Please be aware that this story will contain a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, drug, kidnapping, etc. Do not read if you are under a legal age!

Chapter 1

 I still wonder what would have happened if I didn’t meet him during this gloomy night? We were young and I was way too brave for my own good. Maybe it was my faith or maybe it was a sheer coincidence but now, I know that I will love him till death do us part.

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 5 years ago.

 "Hey Y/N, wake up sleepyhead! It’s time to go to school and I will surely not wait for the princess to wake up" my brother yelled loudly from the first floor, waking me up in the process.

I groaned and shifted uncomfortably in my bed; it was too much noise at such an early time of the day. My long-browned hair was messy from the last night, as always. I was the type of girl to move a lot during my sleep and my morning head was always a funny one, swollen, with small eyes and with some of my lightly curled hair stuck in my mouth. After five minutes of rethinking my life decisions, I found enough motivation to get out of my bed and walked down the stairs.

"Why the hell did I agree to help other students during holidays, huh?” I asked my brother as I lazily rubbed my tummy.

“Maybe because you are too dumb to say no to your teachers?” he answered, his mouth full of food.

“Do you mind keeping your mouth shut while you are eating? It’s disgusting.” I shook my head disapprovingly.

I headed toward the kitchen to get a cup of fresh milk. Jin, my brother, childishly opened his mouth wide to show me the content of it. I let out a long “Ew!” before smashing his arm playfully.

“No, but seriously Y/N. There’s no use to be brilliant at school if that means you have to help your classmates with their studies during holidays” Jin said after taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, but the teacher who asked me this favor told me that he will write a recommendation for me if I agreed to help him” I answered.

“You don’t even need a recommendation, we’re from a rich family” Jin mumbled to himself but it was loud enough for me to hear it.

 He wasn’t totally wrong and I knew it. We were born with a silver spoon in our mouth. We were “cake eater” as the other kids used to call us when we were younger, we never knew what it felt like to run out of money and everyone at school was jealous of me because of that.

But they didn’t know. No one knew how hard it actually was for me and my brother.

My mother passed away 2 years ago, and since then, my father didn’t stay at home with us longer than a week straight. He was always working, working, and working again, his job had literally become his life. He was one of the richest men in Korea and still, he was always eager for more and worked every day and night for it.

He wasn’t a good father for me and Jin. He never made any compliments to us, all he was able to do was to pressure us to be as perfect as possible or at least perfect enough to not ashamed him and his reputation. Unlike my brother, I wanted to hear my father say that he was proud of me, just for once. That’s why I was trying hard to be the perfect daughter, with good grades, good manners, and good appearance but even if I tried my best, it wasn’t enough for him.

 “Do you know why I’m working so hard, Jin?” I asked him, voice as soft as a whisper, almost not daring to tell the truth.

“Why?” Jin put a hand on the top of mine, a sign of comfort since he already knew my upcoming answer.

“I don’t want to follow his rules forever. I’m still a minor so I had to stick at them but when I’ll turn 20, I will leave this house and will never come back” I sadly stated, “I want to marry a man I’m in love with, I want to do a job I like and most of all, I don’t want our father to commend my life.”

 Jin tightened his grip on my hand. He understood me, he understood me too well. We were indeed rich but we were far from being happy. Jin was 6 years older than me which means he was already an adult. He wanted to leave this house as much as me but couldn’t bring himself to do so and leave me behind.

Unlike me, Jin has never been a good student, he always has been considered a failure to our father, and even if he finally was able to run away from here, he stayed there for me. I was really lucky to have a brother like him and I was well aware of that.

 I took my breakfast and came back to my room to take a quick shower and get ready for this day I knew would be exhausting.

My brother was already waiting in his car. Jin took me to school as often as he could. He was working on a supermarket he owned and even if he was pretty busy, he wanted to spend his mornings with his “sweet baby sister” as he liked to call me.

I am indeed lucky to have a brother like him.

 8 pm, it was already late when I heard the bell ring for the last time today. I was the last one to leave the class as I helped my teacher with the preparation of some material for the next day. It didn’t bother me too much, I wasn’t in a hurry to get home since I knew my dad was finally coming back home from his work.

In all honesty, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t miss him at all, even after all this time. I wandered here and there even though the street was already pitch black.

 “Oh! It’s been a while since I last went to the haunted alley!” I happily exclaimed to myself.

I knew every nook and cranny of Seoul, I grew up there after all. My favorite place was the haunted alley. As its name suggests and according to some beliefs, that path would be haunted.

It was an old story I heard with my friends when I was less than 10 years old. A grandma from our neighborhood scolded us and told us not to stay there because there was a woman who had been murdered in the walkway and that since then, one could hear her cry every night.

A simple way to scare naïve kids you may think, and you are more than right. However, this story is known by everyone, not just by kids. That’s the reason why I love this place, thanks to all of these rumors, no one uses this path except me. It was like my secret place.

 I walked around the alley with heavy steps, thinking about my father and his upcoming lecture about how to be a good girl. My thoughts were suddenly stopped by the voice of two men who seemed to be fighting each other. I stayed still for a moment, trying to figure out where the noises were coming from.

“You piece of shit! And you claim yourself as the Boss” son?” One voice laughed.

I hid in the dark and saw what could have been mistaken with a scene from a horror movie. Between two old houses, a tall man was beating up a boy who seemed to be around my age.

I felt shivers down my spine but before I could even think straight, my body started to move with its own will.

“Hey! Let him go!” I shouted, my voice betraying me by showing how scared I really was.

 I moved closer to the two men, I could now see them more clearly.

The young boy was sitting on the ground, badly bleeding, whereas the tall man was standing in front of him, blood on his hand and his nose broken.

They were watching me. The silence was heavy, the only thing I could hear was the beating of my racing heart and the shake of my knees that were begging me to run away from this place. The silence was soon replaced by an ominous laugh.

“Wow. What a beauty! Is she your girlfriend? Huh?” The tall man laughed and hit the youngest on his stomach before coming closer to me.

He came closer, until he was in front of me. I had a better view of his poor state. He wasn’t less bleeding than the other man, his blood was actually covering his whole face.

I don’t know what had taken into me at this exact moment, the adrenaline was rushing in my veins and even though my feet were stuck on the ground, unable to move, my hand reached the pepper spray I always carried in my bag. Before the man could react, I used my weapon against him.

When the chemical product had reached his eyes, he screamed and placed his hands on his face, trying desperately to soothe the pain. I took advantage of the situation and kicked him as hard as I could on his crotch before he fell loudly on the ground.

I quickly grabbed the boy by his arm and helped him stand up. He was badly injured but followed me without any complaint.

 I was panting when I reached a lighted street. We stopped there, trying to catch our breath.  I turned around to face the man I was still holding and my breath hitched in my throat, not from the run I previously had but because of how beautiful this man looked.

“Are you okay? What is your name?” I asked him but he simply stayed silent, staring at me with his piercing eyes.

I took a better look at his features, he was really handsome with a well-defined face. He wasn't older than me but he hadn't the body of a teenager either. His broad shoulders and his arms muscles could be seen without any effort from him. His dark hair was harmonizing with the dark of his eyes and his dimples were visible as the border of his lips turned upright in an inviting smirk.

How can someone like him be involved in such a fight?

“The sight is at your taste?” he giggled, his smile spreading wider.

I finally took notice of my staring when I heard him laugh. I must say it was the most beautiful laugh I ever heard, slightly high-pitched but almost bewitching.

“I wasn’t staring!” I shouted from embarrassment. Fortunately, the darkness of the night was covering the redness on my cheeks.

“Sure, you weren’t” He added, amused by my reaction “I’m San. Choi San. I didn’t need your help earlier but thank you, I’m glad you rescued me”

He came closer to me and gave me a sincere smile, showing even more his dimples.

My heart was going crazy in my chest. This boy seemed small earlier compared to the other man but he was way taller than me, maybe 7 inches taller.

“You’re welcome”

I was a bit intimidated by him but I dared not to look away. He had something special, an aura that seemed as dangerous as comforting. His gaze was intense and deep, it was like he was looking through me, memorizing every detail of my face.

He didn’t move and didn’t talk for at least 2 minutes and even if I was feeling uncomfortable, I did my best not to let him know.

“Where is your house?” he finally asked after what felt like an eternity.

He startled me with his sudden question, I didn’t expect him to talk this soon. Why did he want to know where I lived? He probably wanted to walk me home and I would have gladly let this handsome guy walk me home if I hadn’t met him in an odd situation.

‘But he is really handsome…’  I thought, sighing softly, making San arch an eyebrow.

“It’s okay, I live near here, no need to walk me home. You can go ahead…” I said “Go ahead to…the hospital, your house or…go murdering someone…whichever comes first” I added, lowering my voice at the end of my sentence.

His face changed into a surprised expression “I wasn’t going to walk you home, don’t worry”

I sighed in relief even if I felt a bit disappointed, maybe he wasn't that bad after all.

“I want to stalk you” he stared at me with his beautiful smile as if it was the most natural thing to say.

‘What the fuck?’

“Sure, stalking me haha, it was obvious, silly me!” I gently hit my head and laughed awkwardly, taking a step back from him.

He laughed sweetly and took my chin between his thumb and his index to lift my face up. His mouth came closer to my ear and he whispered a small “Just joking” before turning his heels back and leaving me, alone, in the dark street.

  I was finally back home. Fortunately for me, my dad hadn’t noticed me since he was already sleeping on the couch.

I quickly went upstairs to my room and collapsed on my bed, my mind still processing what had happened earlier. It was scary to say the least but fascinating at the same time. I was still confused even after showering. This San had a deep effect on me, not only mentally but physically too.

“Choi San…” I muttered before closing my eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

---------

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This is my first story, it’s bad but I’ll try to improve myself!

This series will be uploaded slowly since I don't have a lot of time.

Thank you for reading!

[mosswillow]

Iced Coffee 2 - Dark!Stephen Strange x reader

Series Warnings:

NEW WARNING! Somnophilia 

18+ adult content, Dark, Rape/noncon, obsessive behavior, stalking, doctor/medical themes, needles (chapter one, not sex related), violence, abuse, kidnapping, forced marriage, smut, escape attempt, Somnophilia

Potential warnings, a non-exhaustive list: Oral, praise kink, mild degradation (Will not include whore or slut)  

You can join the tag list here.

Thank you to the unnamed requester and @couldntbedamned​ for this request. 🖤

By Clicking keep reading you confirm that you are over 18 and understand that this content is mature and potentially triggering.

Light from the window slowly crept up towards you as the sun rose. When it finally reached your eyes you turned and groaned, your body still throbbing all over. You managed to make it to your desk and grab your phone. Shit, Coworkers were going to start arriving soon and they couldn’t see you like this, couldn’t know what you had done. You let out a sob as you pushed your body to it’s limit, walking out of the lab and to the elevator. It took everything in you not to trip, ramming your shoulder into the door as you walked through the entrance of the hospital. People were looking at you with concern but you ignored them and kept walking.

You weaved between vehicles, using them to balance yourself as you slowly made strides to your car. Ten more feet and you would be there, you could do it.

“Hey, are you ok,” Stephen stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

“I’m fine, just trying to get home,” you replied. You took a shaky step and stumbled, slamming your side against a minivan. Stephen grabbed your arm and helped you up, his hand remaining even after you were upright, holding you in a tight grasp.

“Woah, I’ll give you a ride.”

“No,” you whimpered as you tried in vain to pull yourself out of his grasp. You weren’t sure he could even tell you were trying to pull away, you were so weak.

“You’re in no position to drive yourself anywhere,” he wrapped his arm around your middle and held you up. You looked at him and inhaled, his concern and determination was evident throughout his entire body. His face was scrunched into almost a scowl and his muscles were tense. He held his breath, obviously ready to argue. He wasn’t going to give up.

“I’ll call a car,” you said, raising your phone up. Your fingers were so shaky that the phone slipped immediately from your hand and to the concrete, making a loud sound that made you both flinch. He leaned over and picked your phone up, holding it away from you.

“It’s just a ride home, please” He urged.  

You took a deep breath and slowly nodded. It pained you to let him help but there weren’t many other options. You weren’t going to make it home yourself, you weren't even sure you could keep yourself up without his help.

“Fine, just a ride home,” you agreed.

His body relaxed slightly as he helped you to his car. He opened the door for you and buckled you in. As soon as the door closed you leaned against it and closed your eyes trying not to cry. You were almost home, you just needed to make it a little longer. You were already feeling better than the evening prior and were sure if you just slept for a while longer the side effects would wear off.

Stephen stole quick looks at her as she slept in his passenger seat. His cock twitched and he shifted, uncomfortable with how turned on he was.  He wanted her so badly, it’s the only thing he could think about. Her under him, face scrunched up in focus as he fucked her. Her body moving with him, reacting to him.  

He wanted to show her how he had changed, wanted to prove something to her and if he was honest with himself he wanted to win. He wanted to be better than her, shift the power she had taken back to himself. He had never been turned away like that and it made him feel hurt and angry. He deserved her love, deserved everyone's love.

He decided then that she was his responsibility. No matter what happened in her life, whether she decided to be with him or someone else, he would take care of her. He owed it to her after what he did all those years ago.

He set his jaw and focused on the road, trying not to think about his intense desire to pull over and fuck her. She was so weak and helpless, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of that addictive feeling, the feeling of power and control, of being the best.

Stephen didn’t want her because she was weak and helpless though, in fact her physical weakness was the only thing he didn’t like about her. He had always been attracted to power and his attraction to her was no different. He wanted an equal, someone just as brilliant and strong as he was.  

It was about the vulnerability for him. She was so strong - so independent and focused. For her to give into him, to argue with her and win, was like nothing he had ever felt. Her helpless body sitting next to him was only attractive because it meant that he won.

She let out a small whimper and he put his hand on her knee, rubbing small circles.

“It’s ok love, I’ll take care of you,” He whispered, knowing she was too out of it to understand his words.  

He didn’t know how to get to her house but even if he did there was no way he would let her out of his sight like this. His girl was so sick, she needed him. If he wasn’t so respectful, so thoughtful of what she wanted he would take her to the emergency room. He knew though that she would be angry, that taking her would push her away from him, possibly forever. He couldn’t lose her, refused to jeopardize the seed of a relationship he was planting.

He parked at his home and carried her to his guest bed, covering her with blankets and setting water next to her bed. His cock throbbed and he brought his hand down and unbuttoned his pants, stroking himself as he watched her sleep. God, she was beautiful, perfect. He imagined pushing her over his desk at work and having his way with her. She stirred and he reluctantly tucked his cock away and left her to sleep, retreating to his shower where he wouldn’t risk waking her with his groans.

When you finally awoke the cold you had felt before was gone, replaced with a different sensation. Everything you touched felt different, it was weird and curious, like another sense you hadn't possessed before. It took several moments to remember what had happened, how Stephen had found you in the parking lot and gave you a ride. He must have taken you to his house instead of yours you concluded.

You stood and walked to the bathroom, feeling much better, almost back to normal. A set of clean clothes were laid out for you along with a toiletry kit. You turned the shower on and looked at your face. You looked just like you did before you had injected yourself with the medicine, not that you expected a  change of appearance. The important part is what it did to you on a cellular level. You looked at the injection site, which had blue vein-like lines extending in a circle around it. You touched it gently and felt a sharp sting. A list of multiple tests started forming in your head. You needed to do them before your lab was shut down, see what it had done to your body. The pain you had gone though would be worth it if it worked. Even if it didn’t work at least you would know.

After your shower you grabbed your phone and called a car to take you back to the hospital. The door creaked as you opened it and you held your breath, tip toeing through Stephens home.

It was exactly what you expected, pristine, immaculate, almost sterile in it’s cleanliness. Your soft footsteps felt loud against the tile floors that covered the entire house and you slowed your walking even more. You could hear him cooking in the kitchen and held your breath when you finally reached the front door.

“Where do you think you’re going,” shouted a sharp voice.

You stopped and turned to see Stephen standing in the breakfast room with a spatula. He held it like a scepter, moving it around as he spoke.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you out of here before looking you over.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted.

He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I’m a grown woman and doctor,” you tried again.

“So you know that doctors are the worst at taking care of their health then, good, come sit over here,” He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table.

You looked at the GPS on your phone, which showed the little car getting closer to the pick up location.

“Cancel it, I’ll drive you after we’re done,” He called from the kitchen.

You hesitated at the door before canceling the ride. You didn’t want to be rude, he had taken you home and let you sleep in his guest bed after all. The least you could do was eat a small breakfast, let him check your temperature and look in your ears.

You sat at the table and he brought you a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast before leaving and coming back with a small black tote. You took a few bites while he dove into his bag and pulled out several instruments.

“Your temperature is very low,” He mused, writing it down in a little notebook.

“I run low,” you lied.

“I’d like to run some tests,” he muttered, jotting down a list in his notebook.

“No,” you said quickly “ I’ll have them done but not by you,” you added when his eyes narrowed.

He sat back in his chair and clenched his jaw.

“Is there information you’re not telling me?”

You shook your head and unconsciously grabbed your arm. He pulled your jacket down suddenly and examined you.

“What is this?” He asked.

You panicked, your heart rate starting to rise.  “A bug bite,” you stammered.

He gave a short nod, his expression the embodiment of distrust, and grabbed your face. He looked at your eyes, ears, and throat, his hand remaining on your cheek after he finished, thumb rubbing back and forth so subtly that you barely noticed.

“You look ok but I’m worried about your arm, promise me you’ll get it looked at immediately,” his voice deepened into a low, commanding tone.

“I promise,” you whispered.

Instead of letting go of your face he leaned closer to you.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” He said, breath hot against your cheek.

He gave you a soft kiss where his breath was seconds earlier and pulled away.

“Eat up,” he motioned to your plate.

You picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite.

“Thank you... for your help,” you mumbled awkwardly.

Stephen looked at you and gave a half smile.

“It’s the least I could do.”

-o-

Series Master list 🖤 Previous Chapter 🖤 Next Chapter 

[saynotoshityouhate]

Bluebird

Words: 1568

Summary: Your new relationship with Adam Sackler is put to the test when a close family member passes away. 

Tags/Warnings: angst, crying, death of a family member, funerals

Author’s Notes: This is based on an experience I had earlier this month, unfortunately. You could say I’ve been going through some shit lately. I found this helpful to write it all out - and although Sackler wasn’t there, I was surprised and overwhelmed by the support of my friends. 

____________

You ended the call in shock and began to cry, almost forgetting that you were on a date. You looked up at the man sitting across the table. “Uhhh, kid? Everything okay?”

You had been dating Adam Sackler for a couple months when you heard your grandmother had passed away. Things were going really great - he was funny, charming, and a perfect match for your quirky personality. You felt absolutely terrible that you basically shut him out over the next week, as you were so incredibly busy seeing to the arrangements for the visitation, funeral, and the various meals that went along with it. As the oldest grandchild, you felt an extra responsibility to do more to support your family, often at the expense of your own emotional and physical well-being. Adam tried his best, calling you (he wasn’t much of a texter), stopping by your apartment, bringing you Gatorade to replenish your electrolytes...he really was too good to be true. You just didn’t know how to process your own emotions, let alone let someone else in on those emotions. You didn’t want to burden anyone. Regardless, you didn’t have time to burden anyone - there were phone calls to be made, meetings to attend, and the guy at the flower shop was being a real pain in your ass. 

It was the day before the visitation and Adam had come by your apartment to bring you dinner from your favorite Chinese restaurant. You sat quietly on the couch together, eating directly out of the white paper cartons. You felt Adam’s intense gaze on you constantly, as if he was trying to read your mind - since you certainly weren’t going to share. “Kid - you good? What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” You answered with a mouth full of orange chicken. “Nuffin’ I’m fine,” you kept your eyes focused on your chopsticks, avoiding those hazel eyes. “Graaraggghhhaaarrrrr” Adam slammed his beef and broccoli onto the table with a loud groan, standing up from the couch. He began pacing the living room, hands in fists, primal noises escaping his plush pink lips. “Adam!” You shouted at him, setting your dinner down as well. “When are you going to knock off this ‘I’m too evolved to possibly need help’ act? I’m working my ass off here to get you to let me in! Let me help you, Y/N, you’re doing too much! Please!” Adam knelt down in front of you, grabbing your hands and looking up at you with his puppy dog eyes. You slapped his hands away, standing up and stomping across the room. “I am not too evolved! I’m fine - I told you that. Multiple times! And if you can’t understand that, maybe you should just leave. I have so much work to do for tomorrow, and you’re distracting me with your drama.” You pointed at the door. “Y/N...come on…” he sat back on his heels, eyes wide with worry. “It’s probably best that you just go...I’m sorry.” You opened the apartment door for him. Adam stood up to leave, walking towards you. He leaned in for a kiss, but you turned your head away. He settled for a kiss on the cheek, and a squeeze of your shoulder, as he exited. 

You locked the door, and leaned your back against it for support as you felt your entire body weakening. You closed your eyes and slid down the wall, collapsing into a puddle on the floor. Your body heaved with sobs so intense you didn’t even make a noise. Your eyes were screwed shut so tightly, but the tears still flew out of your eyes, soaking your face and shirt. You pulled your knees tight to your chest, the pain from the weight of the week slightly relieved by the opening of your shoulder blades. Opening your eyes, you completed your breathing exercise which usually worked to calm you down. In for four seconds, hold for four seconds, out for eight seconds. Repeat until calm. Your breaths began as shaky and stuttered, eventually evening out, causing a release of tension across your face, shoulders, and back. You could have kept crying for hours, but as you told Adam, there was too much to do. Thinking about Adam made your eyes well up again, but you shook it off. Focus. Pushing yourself off of the floor, you headed to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face. 

You barely slept that night, tossing and turning, thinking of the work to do the next day. You’d wake up, remembering something you hadn’t done yet, and roll over to write it on the notepad you kept on your bedside table. Looking in the mirror in the morning, your face was puffy and eyes bloodshot. You groaned. What a horrible day this was going to be. You took a quick shower and pulled yourself together as much as possible. You had three errands you had to run before getting to the funeral home to set-up. Getting into your car, you had a chance to look at your phone for the first time and saw two missed calls from Adam. Setting your phone on the passenger seat, you promised yourself you’d call him after the day was over. Choking back tears, you went through your day. With each item you crossed off the list, two were added. Your resolve was at risk of failing, but there wasn’t time to let that happen.

At 4:00pm, the doors were opened, letting in the friends and family who had arrived to pay their respects and share their sympathies. You stood tall and strong in the front of the room, wearing a simple, conservative black dress and sandals with the slightest heel. You knew you were going to be running around, and comfortable shoes were a necessity. You greeted the crowds of family and friends with hugs and handshakes, smiling at the compliments and accepting the words of sympathy. “You look just like her when she was younger.” “She was so proud of you.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, smiled, and said thank you before moving on to the next person. One hour into the two hour event, your cousin elbowed you in the side, pointing towards the door. “Who’s the giant? Someone from grandpa’s side of the family?” 

You immediately burst into tears. There, towering over a sea of white haired aunties, was Adam. Wearing a brown tweed jacket, blue button down and green tie, he was scoping the room in search of you. When he found you, he began swimming through the crowd of elderly visitors. “‘Scuze me! Fuck! Sorry! Oof!” You couldn’t help but laugh through your tears. Finding his way over, he stood in front of you, slightly out of breath. “Hey, kid.” Through your sobs you replied, “You came.” He sighed. “I’m always going to be here for you, kid. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You crashed into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his chest, resting your forehead on his sternum. You stayed here and cried for what seemed like hours, Adam squeezing you back, while also managing to rub your back and stroke your hair. Adam stood by your side the rest of the evening, arm wrapped around your waist to hold you steady. You caught yourself introducing him as your boyfriend, to which he looked down at you and smiled, squeezing your waist in approval. 

He drove you home that night and you asked him to stay, where he held you all night, his large body intertwined with yours. When waves of sadness crashed over you during the night, he rubbed your back and walked you through your breathing exercises. He made you breakfast in the morning, where he asked you to tell him stories about her. He listened intently, smiling and laughing, and at one point even shedding a few tears. He stood tall and strong next to you at the funeral, smiling up at you as you read a bible passage in front of the entire church, kissing your cheek when you returned. In the car, after everything was over and done with, you turned to look at him. He chewed his lip as he drove through the crowded downtown streets, his dark shaggy hair falling into his gorgeous eyes. “I’m sorry I pushed you away, Adam.” You began to cry, reaching over to put your hand on his thigh. “I can’t imagine having done this week without you. Thank you - for everything.” He reached down to hold your hand in his. “Thank you for letting me in, kid. I was fucking scared, seeing you burnt out like that. You gotta talk to me, Y/N, you know I love the sound of your voice.” He squeezed your hand and pulled into a parking spot. “I’m sad this week is over - it means she’s really gone.” You looked down into your lap, tears spilling onto your cheeks. Adam wiped a tear off of your cheek. “You know she’s floatin’ around here or some shit - you just gotta be open to seeing her. Like over there!” He excitedly pointed to a bluebird that had landed on the railing of your front stoop. You smiled, taking a deep, cleansing breath, as you both sat in silence watching the bird before it gracefully flew away.

A/N: special thanks to @agirlwhoisaphantom and @weareallstoriesintheend​ for their support this past month. I wouldn’t still be upright without them. 

[shoutogepi]

Birthday Breakfast

Bakugou Katsuki

word count : 1.8k

[ ☀︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ]  fluff and smut, i deem thee smuff!— a term i made after being utterly blown away by this fic that i read last night. *bows down to moe*

themes : uhhh oral. reader receiving ;) 

bio : The birthday boy gets to eat whatever he wants for the most important meal of the day.

author’s note : something sweet and short, because I can’t get enough of domestic Bakugou, it’s his birthday, and I’m feeling soft (but still saucy LMAO)

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄸t’s nine in the morning when Bakugou’s eyes finally open. To most people, nine a.m. is not considered sleeping in, but for the hero who wakes at dawn and sleeps at dusk, this is definitely a luxury he doesn’t normally indulge in. Speaking of indulgence, the first thing he sees when he turns his head on the pillow is his sweet girlfriend’s face, doting eyes already looking at him and filled with excitement.

“Happy birthday, Suki!” You cheer, throwing your leg over his hip and clambering on top of him. You’ve been waiting for a whole hour for him to wake up, switching between scrolling through your phone and staring at his handsome, restful sleeping face.

He doesn’t bother hiding his lazy grin, thick arms wrapping around your waist as his hands lay along your back. “G’morning, Princess,” he murmurs, craning up to plant a kiss on your lips. His voice is deep and gravelly, laden with slumber. 

You pull away much too soon for his liking, and the first frown of the day appears on his lips as he strains his neck higher, wanting your lips back on his. But you only wiggle back, eyes alight with enthusiasm as you begin to chatter. “How did the birthday boy sleep? Are you excited for your party tonight? I hope you don’t mind, I invited a few more people than I told you about, but—”

“Shhh,” Bakugou hushes you, fingers curling around the back of your neck and bringing your lips to his once again. He sighs into the kiss, content washing through his bones at the intimacy. His favorite time of day has always been just after waking up from a night of tangling in the sheets with you, whether it be from snuggling or plowing you into the mattress.

You giggle into his mouth, and you feel his lips twitch into a big smile as his favorite noise falls on eager ears. You give him a minute to smother you in kisses before you try to pull away again, laughing as he continues to pepper your face with affection. “Sukiii,” your laugh is followed by a cutsey whine as he nibbles your jaw gently.

“Y/NNN,” he replies teasingly, rough hands incredibly gentle as they wander around your back, shoulders, and sides, dipping underneath the hem of his t-shirt you’d worn to bed and brushing against your skin. The drowsy smile remains on his face as he watches you shiver, eyes focusing on how you bite your lips ever so slightly.

Leaning back to sit upright on top of him, you take his wrists in your grasp and hold them on his chest, making him quirk an amused brow up at you. “Let’s eat breakfast, baby, I picked up a buncha groceries yesterday after work so I can make whatever you want. You get to choose, birthday boy,” you beam down at him, playfully booping his nose with a finger.

Bakugou can only stare up at your radiance in adoration, his hands moving to glide along your exposed thighs. Raking his fingertips along your flesh back and forth temptingly— not quite enough to breach the hem of the cotton hanging off your body— he smirks at you, watching as you close your eyes and sigh at his caress. “Anything I want?” He clarifies, his brow still raised as his smirk begins to split into a grin.

You’re still in your blissful little bubble, unaware of the conversation suddenly steering toward a more suggestive direction. “Mmhhmmm,” you answer, finally opening your eyes again to catch his intense gaze, heat suddenly rushing to your cheeks. You squeak as your boyfriend pounces on you, grabbing your wrists, rolling you over, and pinning you to the mattress as his knees spread your legs.

“Oh, I know what I want, then,” he growls, flashing his straight teeth and pink gums at you in a playful, predatory snarl. He draws backwards, maneuvering down the bed so he’s lying on his stomach between your legs, his forearms wrapping underneath your tented thighs and gripping the tops of them with capable fingers.

You gasp as he presses his face into your panties, your cheeks and chest flushing even harder at his shamelessness, your hand flying to press your fingers to your mouth in embarrassment. “Ka-Katsuki, I didn’t mean—”

The blonde rubs his face between your legs, enjoying how wide your eyes stretch and the flustered look on your face. “Ah ah, the birthday boy gets to eat whatever he wants, Princess,” he grumbles, nipping at your clit through the cotton fabric. He grins when you whimper, your legs jolting in his hands as he holds them open. “Sorry babe, I don’t make the rules.”

You lick your lips as his fingers hook into your panties, and you lift your hips without a fight as he drags the material down your legs and off your feet, throwing them over his shoulder as he settles back into his place.

“Mmmm, good girl,” Bakugou praises, closing his eyes as his lips trail down your thigh toward your knee, then back up to between your legs, then repeating the motion on your other thigh. His fingers dance along your hips, and his pride only grows when he catches you throwing your head back into the pillow, your hands clenching into small fists.

Your pussy twitches as his heated breath lands across your body, a tiny noise leaking out of your closed mouth. Casting a desperate glance at him, your heart thumps loudly when your eyes meet his, and his tongue slides between your folds, nice and slow. His hands travel up from your hips to grab your waist, thumbs stroking the smooth skin on the side of your navel tantalizingly as his tongue lays long, flat stripes up and down your slit.

You’re extra sensitive in the morning, your body not yet numbed from the labor of the day, and Bakugou knows this— takes full advantage of it. He closes his eyes as his tongue does the work; slipping around your petals, rolling along your clit, and trailing in leisurely circles around your entrance. Moaning into your dripping sex, his movements passionate and unhurried, he devours you like you’re the only nourishment he will ever need, like he could spend his whole life in this position, ravishing you. He eats your cunt until you’re soaking, slick dripping down your ass and dampening the sheets, desperate for any kind of penetration because every time his tongue dips inside of you it’s gone instantly, leaving you breathless and destitute.

“Sukiiii,” you mewl as he pulls away from your opening again, your head tossing side to side with a pained expression on your features.

Bakugou continues his ministrations, unphased, sucking your clit between his swollen lips and lathering the pink nub with hard and lethargic licks. “Hmmm?” He purrs, sending a vibration through your pussy and making it spasm around nothing, your hips digging into the mattress.

“Please— I need more, pleasepleaseplease god, please,” you grovel, sanity a thread from being lost to the wind.

“More?” He chuckles, one hand sliding off your thigh. Your body jumps as his thumb brushes your clit, a choked moan croaking out of you. Your limbs are shaking as the digit travels south, splitting your folds with ease. He drags the finger back and forth along your slit, coating it in your ample arousal to ensure he’ll give you the best possible feeling. The tip of his thumb teases your trembling hole, pushing back and forth by just millimeters, just shy enough to cheat you of feeling the pleasurable stretch you so frantically desire.

You cry out in distress, tears beading up on your lower lashes at his torture, your chest heaving hopelessly as you weakly raise your neck to look at him. Bakugou throws you a little taunting pout, scarlet eyes full of mischief.

“Aw, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you needed it that bad.” His thumb pushes into you and heat shoots through your body, emanating from the stretch in your core. Bakugou has grown into a beefy man since his schooldays, and his thumb is the thickest finger on his hand, just long enough to wiggle against that special spot inside of you.

Your hips crash against him as his mouth takes your clit inside once again, a growl dislodging from his throat and sending tingles through your entire body. His thumb pulling out all the way before sliding back in, the stretch feeling heavenly after his torment. You can’t hold back your moans— they ring out and bounce off the bedroom walls unrestrained and Bakugou savors each and every one, only fueling him to lick a little quicker, finger thrust inside a little deeper.

“Mmm, my pretty girl gonna cum for me?” He instigates, mouth returning to satiating you just as soon as he’s finished his sentence. Your body is squirming in his grasp, and you nod enthusiastically, jaw hanging open as your thighs try to wrap around his head. His thumb keeps on rubbing against that spot inside of you, and you feel the tension heightening in your abdomen as his actions speed up, egging you on, giving you everything you need to reach the finish line.

Your body seizes as your orgasm hammers through you, a string of broken moans and blabberings floating from your lips as you pulse around his finger, a fresh wave of slick spilling out of you and onto his chin. He swaps places between his thumb and his tongue, the finger rubbing your clit to draw out your climax while his tongue reaches deep inside your hole, slurping up your wetness and tickling your insides. Your body feels weak as the pleasure begins to dull, your toes still stretching in euphoria and your fingers still latched onto the sheets for dear life.

Once your cunt stops twitching on his mouth, Bakugou finally sits back, a cocky smirk on his lips as he wipes the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand. You’re completely breathless, and you’re sure your face is flushed and your eyes dazed, probably holding that goofy, dreamy look they always do when he brings you such ecstasy. “That… That was… god, Suki,” you huff, your brain still too jumbled to make a coherent sentence.

Bakugou grins confidently, a gleam in his red eyes as that mischievous look returns to his gaze. “Was?” He chuckles darkly, dropping down to plant his hands on the sheets underneath him. “We’re just gettin’ started, Princess.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

ahaha shitttttt 🤭🥴 happy birthday baku part 2!! 💥💚🧡

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[pretty-much99]

That time of the month

Zion × Reader

Plot: Fluffy story of Zion helping you out when your period starts and him confessing his love for you.

(Y/N POV)

It is Monday and I am supposed to be at work by 8 but as you wake up you feel the pain all women dread. I started my period and I literally can't get out of bed and it is an hour before you have to go to work (fml). It is more painful than normal, my cramps hurt so much that I am in a ball on my bed. I texted my boss and told her I can't come in and had to use a sick day that I had. My first phone call is to one of the closest people to me, Zion who is my best friend. He would always help out when he wasn't playing fortnite or doing stuff with the band. I call him and he groggily answers after the fourth ring "hello" you try to speak but I start crying because the pain was so intense. I heard him shuffle around really hard and then eventually I mustered up the courage enough to say "I'm okay I just…" He hangs up the phone and you try texting him to let him know that you are okay but nothing.

Ten minutes later you hear the door opening (he knew where the spare key was) and you heard him yelling (Y/N). I weakly called out to him, he made it to my room wearing a t-shirt and night pants and he said "where is the person and why did they hurt you". You softly tell him to sit down and slightly hit your hand on your bed. He gets more upset and tells you "I am not sitting down no matter what" so you have to quickly tell him that no one hurt you. He looks at you unsure of the facial expression that you are making but it is enough to finally calm him down. He sits down beside you and you have to tell him that it is that time of the month. He started to understand everything better and he asked if you needed anything. You smile through your pain and ask for an ice and heat pack. He got up and walked out without another word. A few minutes passed which was odd since he knew where everything was and just as you are starting to call out for him he opens the door with your favorite breakfast in bed tray.

You slowly turn your body and he tells you not to move. He put the tray on your nightstand, he had the ice pack wrapped up in a towel so it wouldn't be so cold on your skin. He slowly turns you upright and puts the ice pack on your lower stomach where it hurts most. He smiled and playfully said "you woke me up out of my sleep you better be lucky that I…." He went silent immediately and coughed and tried to change the subject asking about how you felt. You smile and try not to press on what he said so you said "I feel like I got hit by a bus and a truck at the same time and being stabbed and life sucks." He laughed and assured you that by the end of the day you would feel better. He grabbed both of your arms on the bottom and slowly started sitting you up and you got settled. He gently brushes your hair to the side out of your face and you look over at the tray as he reaches for it.

He grabbed a bowl and picked it up with a spoon. You smile and say it is too early for soup but he makes you eat the chicken noodle soup anyways because it will help. He also had crackers and ginger ale. You laugh with some pain and tell him you are not sick. You feel like your stomach is being stabbed from the inside out. "This is what I know how to do..  wait I have to go get you some chocolate that will help right?" This was the nicest gesture someone had done for you in a long time and he grabs his phone and sends a text. "Thanks so much Z but you don't have to get chocolate, you have already done so much for me I appreciate it." He smiles and he turns on your tv hoping for you to get settled a little more. Thirty minutes later after watching some of an episode of The Originals. There is a ring at your door bell and he gets up and answers it and you hear mumbling and what sounds like the other boys from the band they walk in your room.

They were all in their pj's and asked if you were okay. You let them know you are okay and you see Nick come in with some chocolate and some fake flowers and a get well soon card. You smile and tell all of them to give you a hug and Z steps back. You motioned for him to get into the big group hug. It hurt but you were happy they were there and they were being sweet about it. Z switches the ice pack to the heating pack and puts it on the lowest setting so it would not create more pain for you. They were all on the bed and they picked up from where the episode left off and you slowly fell asleep. You wake up and everyone is gone and the TV is paused. You are still a little sleepy but you feel better with your stomach pain. You were able to finally get out of bed, and walk into the living room and see the boys. They all check to see how you are feeling and Z stood up and walked up to you and kissed you out of nowhere.

You are stunned and realize his kiss is like honey and you slowly melted and in a way forgot about your pain. But you slowly pull away because you remember the other boys are there. They all awkwardly leave and you ask Z why he did that. He said "Talking to the boys made me realize that I love you a lot (Y/N). I will always help you out no matter what even if that means waking me up out of my sleep. I want to be with you and take care of you when you don't feel good because you always take care of me and everyone else around you. You have a heart of gold and I feel like you and your heart were made for me, I love you and that is never going to change." You start smiling and tears streaming down your face at the same time, his words touched you because you felt the same way about him. You confess your love for him and he kisses you and his adorable beaming smile that lights up the room that was only focused on you was all you could ask for.

[angstyaches]

This is trope anon from before :) It might be interesting to see Elliot put off feeling sick, because he is so caught up taking care of everyone else? He kind of strikes me as a worry about everyone else first kind of guy lol. Then absolutely regretting it later haha

If not Elliot, Ryan also kind of gives me similar vibes

CW: mention of disordered eating/malnourishment, trauma mention, overwork, nausea, emeto, dizziness, blood mention (he’s a vamp, so yeah), pining (for absent partner), platonic/brotherly caretaking

Author’s note: Elliott and Felix are going to be just FINE! They’re not even broken up; Felix is just a little AWOL after a fight they had. I just loooove me some angst.

Elliott’s vision went pitch black for a moment as he stood and waited for the kettle to finish boiling. His stomach lurched so harshly that he almost turned towards the sink, expecting the return of the blood he’d drank for breakfast. Instead, he swallowed, closed his eyes, and breathed in slowly through his nose. He was overexerted, probably. He’d been pushing himself during his and Shayne’s ritualistic “sparring” (or, as Shayne called it, “trying to kick the shit out of each other” or “therapy”) session. Elliott had hoped his supernatural abilities would have begun to manifest by now, seeing as his transition to full vampire was complete. But still, nothing yet. Maybe the stress of Felix being gone was stunting his development. Maybe the stress was adding to how bad he felt.

The kettle clicked, reminding him of why he was standing in the kitchen in the first place. Elliott’s heart sank as he recalled Shayne’s eyes rolling back in his head, his body almost hitting the ground before Elliott could catch him. Turned out the kid had been starving himself again. Elliott would have punched his lights out if they hadn’t already basically been out.

A minute later, Elliott picked up a hot mug and crossed the open-plan kitchen and living area to where he’d left Shayne on the white sofa. He was conscious now, at least, but his eyes were glazed and unfocused.

The mug contained hot, weak tea and a few spoons of the glucose solution Ryan had concocted for Felix’s blood-and-sugar lollipops. Back in the day, when Felix refused blood and couldn’t hold food down, Ryan had fed him the solution like this, and it had kept him from passing out. The smell was so strong that Elliott almost gagged, his body so delicate as to protest merely being in the presence of human sustenance.

Elliott tried to hand Shayne the mug, but his cousin’s hands were so shaky he almost dropped it immediately. Elliott took it back, trying to ignore the fact that his own hands weren’t exactly the steadiest. He brought the rim of the mug to Shayne’s lips.

Shayne made a face and pulled away as soon as he took the first sip. His hand went to his mouth, like he was considering spitting it back out.

“Swallow it.”

A shiver seemed to roll through Shayne’s body as he did. His eyes watered like he was about to cry. “That tastes like shit, El.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for forgetting that you need to eat.”

“I didn’t forget I needed to…” Shayne mumbled. “I’m not stupid.”

“That’s extremely debatable. Drink.”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Drink,” Elliott said again, as calmly as he could, “or I’m going to get Ryan.”

The last of the fight went out of Shayne’s eyes. Elliott knew he didn’t want Ryan or Nancy to know things had gotten this bad again.

Victorious but not feeling it, Elliott brought the mug to Shayne’s lips again and again, letting him take small sips. At one point, he covered his mouth again, shoulders jerking forward as he gagged slightly. Elliott’s stomach flipped at the sound and he had to turn his face away until Shayne stopped. He didn’t usually puke from seeing somebody else do it, but he had a bad feeling that if Shayne threw up, he would lose it too.

Shayne shook his head when presented with the mug again. A tentative hand rested on his stomach. “I can’t, El. It’s so heavy.”

Part of Elliott didn’t want to yield so easily, wanted to make him finish the mug. He wondered what Felix would do, or how Charlie would have reacted to that pleading look. Elliott knew he wasn’t soft in the same way they were. He just hoped he wasn’t harsh.

He hoped he wasn’t frightening.

He swallowed against a swell of nausea in his belly. Whatever was gnawing at the pit of his stomach weakened his resolve.

“Okay,” he said, “lie down.”

Shayne gave a small sigh of relief.

Elliott took the mug back to the sink. White floor and wall tiles swayed all around him like he was inside the world’s most colourless kaleidoscope. He slowly breathed in through his nose, leaning on the edge of the countertop to try and introduce some form of balance to his body.

He’d extended the offer to Shayne, but honestly, lying down sounded like an absolute dream to Elliott, too. Maybe his body would stop freaking out if he got a little more rest. His sleeping pattern was completely thrown off, his mind raced in the middle of the night. Felix had star-fished across about forty different mattresses before choosing theirs, and while Elliott had acted like he didn’t care which one they bought, he had ended up agreeing that it was the best mattress he’d ever used. But sleeping there without Felix felt wrong, so his body had been rejecting it as much as physically possible.

Nowadays, he might as well have been sleeping in a wooden coffin like the stereotype dictated.

He turned around to check on Shayne, frowning when he saw that he was still sitting upright on the sofa.

“I thought you were going to try and sleep?”

“I can’t – I can’t,” Shayne whispered, lowering his head into his hands. “El, I – every time I try, I feel like she’s here. Breathing on the back of my neck…”

Guilt churned Elliott’s stomach this time. Elliott felt regrets like cobwebs sticking to his soul, and although he didn’t allow himself many, one of those cobwebs was the feeling that maybe he could have gotten Shayne out of Madelyn’s sooner.

“She’s not getting in here,” Elliott promised. “Ryan will have her head on a stick before letting that happen. Nancy will turn her blood into tar.”

“She doesn’t have to be here, El. She’s already here.” Shayne pressed a finger to either side of his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jesus, I’m – I’m sorry, man.” Elliott laid a hand on his stomach, stifling a belch since he really didn’t need gas leaving his body to make this moment even more stressful. “What usually helps when this happens?”

As Elliot should have expected, Shayne gave a lifeless shrug. Alright, think, Elliott told himself, swallowing thickly. He’d never seen Shayne warm up to anyone until that day in the park when he’d been clinging to Charlie like his life depended on it. He liked to act tough (and who did he pick that up from, I wonder?), but really, Shayne just didn’t want to be alone.

He’d be lying if he said he couldn’t understand that feeling.

Elliott swallowed again, fighting the lump in his throat and the swirling in the pit of his stomach.

“Want me to sit with you?”

Shayne opened his eyes, looking genuinely surprised.

Elliott sank down on the sofa without waiting for a verbal answer. He hit the cushions a little too quickly for his stomach’s liking. It shifted noisily, semi-digested contents swimming around inside. “Now, if you think you can feel someone breathing on you, you can tell yourself it’s just me.”

“Ugh,” Shayne groaned, curling up on his side so that the top of his head was just next to – scarcely touching – Elliott’s thigh. “Do not breathe on me, man.”

Elliott smiled through his vaguely-concealed discomfort, glad that Shayne wasn’t facing him. “Afraid you’ll catch vampire cooties?”

Shayne didn’t respond beyond a soft groan that Elliott interpreted as “shut the fuck up, old man”. So even though he’d have loved to keep taunting his cousin and keep himself distracted, Elliott shut up, letting his neck rest against the back of the sofa and draping one arm up over his eyes. Lack of vision made the world feel a little less like the spinning drum of a washing machine. Elliott regretted dreaming up that metaphor, gritting his teeth as he realised his stomach felt like such a drum, too.

He was swallowing constantly, every few seconds now, chest tight with the effort of drawing slow, shallow breaths. It felt like the fibres holding his being together were frayed and left just shaky enough to throw everything off without causing him any actual, physical pain. Beneath it all was a tiny flame of anger; what the hell was the point in becoming a vampire if feeling unexplainably shitty at inconvenient intervals was still on the table?

An icy shiver ran down Elliott’s back, and he flinched where he sat. He slid his hand around the back of his neck and gulped another wave of saliva. Nothing was there, yet when he exhaled, he shuddered again. Shayne’s talk about Madelyn must have wormed its way into Elliott’s mind. Lord, he really was a mess.

He glanced down to make sure his sudden jump hadn’t disturbed Shayne. It was hard to tell if the boy was sleeping or just trying very hard to stay still. At least he didn’t seem to be panicked or shaking anymore. Elliott desperately wanted to stand up and walk around; moving and distracting himself would surely ease the building pain in his stomach, but he didn’t think he could get up without jostling Shayne.

Sucking in a breath and trying to brace his stomach for the move, Elliott shifted his weight on the sofa, cringing at how much the cushions flexed with him. He watched Shayne’s head, his breath still caught somewhere between his belly and his lungs. Another trickle of unpleasantly cool sweat ran down the back of his neck and his hands shook until he dropped the weight of his head into them. His elbows felt unbalanced on his knees. His stomach flipped, and he swallowed measuredly against its protests.

“El?”

“Yeah,” Elliott choked out, though he’d meant to give a friendly, open yeah? As in Felix’s chirpy Yeah, buddy? Are you okay? What can I do for you?

“Y’alright?” was all Shayne replied with.

“I’m good, yeah.” Upon tasting blood and bile, Elliott gulped again. “Just relax, okay? No one’s going to –”

Elliott jammed a fist against his lips in time to stifle a wet, shallow belch. The sound was so sudden and violent that his head shot forward, almost ducking between his own knees.

“Fuck,” Shayne gasped, scrambling upright despite the fact his eyes were barely open. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Elliott half-snapped, annoyance at himself manifesting as annoyance at Shayne. “I may have pushed myself a bit this morning, but I’m –”

He was once again cut off by a belch, this one rumbling up from much deeper inside him. His belly continued bubbling even after the air stopped being pushed up.

“El, I think you need to –”

“Don’t.” Elliott shook his head.

“Why did –” Shayne winced slightly and rubbed at his head. “Why didn’t you say you were feeling sick?”

“Because I was trying to look after you!” Elliott sighed into his hands. The tiny burst of frustration was dizzying on top of everything else. “Lord fucking knows you can’t take care of yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Shayne said back, though his voice was empty of any of its usual fight. “I’m – I’m trying, I’ve been trying… Elliott, just go to the sink!”

Elliott’s shoulders rolled as he covered his mouth with his palm, feeling a thick film grow over his tongue. He was tempted to swallow it down again but a cramp ripped through his gut, making all of his organs squeeze in defiance of him swallowing anything.

“Shit,” he somehow mumbled, sitting forward and pushing himself to his feet as Shayne pushed – weakly but with good intentions – at his back to help him up. Elliott sprinted across the kitchen tiles and flung himself at the sink, stars in his vision and blood in his mouth. He was unbearably dizzy as he heaved up what he’d drank that morning. At least it had been an animal-blood day, and he wasn’t watching mouthfuls of human blood pooling in the sink and trickling into the drain.

It was a waste, but it could have been worse. He choked on a sob, realising he’d never thought like this until Felix.

“Fuck,” Elliott gasped when something moved next to him. He hadn’t even noticed Shayne following him to the sink. “Christ. I feel awful… Why – why do I feel this bad?”

“You’re trying to force something you’re not capable of.” Shayne folded his arms and rested them on the countertop, eyes falling shut again.

Elliott spat bitterly towards the drain. “How the fuck do you figure that?”

“Because that’s my whole life summed up, El.”

Elliott gripped the neck of the tap and turned it on, directing the water around the sink to get rid of the mess he’d made. His head was spinning and his nerves still felt alive with electricity and just wrong in general, but his belly felt a lot better. He felt like he could breathe normally again.

“You okay?”

“I think so.” Elliott rinsed his mouth, running tap water into his palm and lifting it to his lips. It was cool, and soothing on his throat after the retching.

Shayne looked positively miserable as their eyes met. “What now?”

As he shut off the tap, Elliott brushed a wet hand across the back of his own neck, relishing the cold drip that started trailing down his back. He shut his eyes, feeling like he was ready to drift off to sleep on his feet, like a horse.

“Well,” he said, “how would you like to take a nap on a really nice mattress?”

[glitxhwayventeen]

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow

Minghao: Chapter 2 (Mr. Brightside)

Characters: Minghao x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of voyeurism, mentions of exhibitionism, public sex, nudity ish, marking, mating, creampie, dirty talk, angst, fluff, blood and gore mentions (I’m not really good at being descriptive busy still, it’s there in this chapter and if you’re not up for it, please don’t reader), runaways, domestic violence, death mentions, violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to Mr. Brightside by The Killers. It sets a good mood for this chapter I think.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀 & 💋 & ☁️

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow Master List

Chapter 2: Mr. Brightside

The pack decided that once morning came, they’d send out a group to investigate the screams you had heard last night. Low and behold, after breakfast was finished and everything was cleaned up, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Jun, Mingyu, and you went out to see if you could find any remnants or answers on what had happened last night. Of course, Minghao fought for you to remain at the house and have him go in your place as he didn’t want you around any danger, but you insisted on going out with the others instead. You were the only one who really had any knowledge of or experience with Sirens. It just made the most sense. So he reluctantly agreed that it would be best for you to go, after some heavy convincing from his Alphas.

As you all sat out on your adventure, Mingyu was the one that lead the charge. He had the most reliable sense of smell compared to the rest of you and, as a single man, he would have a better chance at tracking the Sirens whereabouts than you would. After what seemed like hours of false leads and suspicious activity, you all finally stumbled upon something worth while.

“Ew. What is that?” Jun questioned aloud while covering his nose to try and mask the scent of death that met his nostrils as you approached the scene.

“I think the question is: WHO is that?” A disgusted Seungcheol stated, nearly vomiting from the sight in front of him.

You couldn’t blame either of them for their reactions. The picture in front of you was enough to churn even the hardest of criminals stomachs. On the forest floor, there was a dead body, though you couldn’t really even classify it as that anymore. It was a mess of blood, bone, meat, and skin that trailed on for about five feet around its center. Bits and pieces had gotten caught on the rocks and trees around. It’s smell was putrified as it had been sitting out in the middle of the night. It was so unrecognizable, the only reason you all figured out it was human was because of the scent. Animals and humans had different auras around their essence. Animals had more rustic scents to them while humans smelt more … fresh in nature to wolves. And whoever this was smelt more fresh than your average animal.

“Yep. This was definitely done by an angry sire boys.” you let out casually as you knelt down to examine the victim more in depth, holding your breath as much as you could so you didn’t have to inhale the scent of death anymore than you absolutely had to.

“How the fuck did some poor person end up as a piñata on the forest floor?” Wonwoo asked, still in quite a bit of shock at seeing a human so messed up. Wolves could get vicious, and they had all seen a lot of carnage in their time, but this took the fucking prize for most traumatizing corpse they had ever dealt with.

“Sirens use men to get pregnant. They know within minutes if it worked. And this mess here tells me this guy didn’t… satisfy her needs. So she killed him” you declared, bringing yourself to stand back up in an upright position, dusting your hands off once you were standing.

The boys were all honestly shocked that you remained so cool during the whole commotion. The thought of what happened even made Wonwoo wince, but not you. They were a bit taken back by your ability to deal with such a thing and not want to draw back in disgust.

“So he didn’t get her pregnant. Big whoop. For most girls, that’s the dream. Why does the bitch care so much about it?” Seungcheol responded to your last remark, attempting to bring back his usual cool exterior while crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sirens are like wolves in that department. Any wolf with a mate will tell you just how hard it is not to mate them to have kids. It’s a primal urge. Even humans feel it, just not as strong. But with Sirens, their goal is to continue spreading themselves around the world to wreak havoc.” You explained, using your knowledge of them to your advantage so you could tell the boys more about the dangerous creature you were dealing with.

“And when a human can’t give the siren a baby to continue it’s work, they eat the human they used to procreate. The result’s… pretty brutal as you can see” you added, gesturing to the mess around you.

“So this is for sure the work of one of those things? A siren?” Mingyu asked, clearly wanting to know whether or not he would be in danger as he was one of the few boys in the pack who always had to have sex, regardless of who it was with.

“Yeah. I’m pretty positive. Which means everyone needs a curfew now.” You huffed out, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance at the thought of being stuck in the house all day again.

“Hey (Y/N), you said that these siren things really only go after single men yeah?” Jun inquired while dropping to his knees next to the pile of flesh beside him.

“Yeah. Single men are the easiest targets as they’re the ones most susceptible to their song. Most sirens, not all, but most used to be scorned women when they were mortals. They don’t usually want to put that fate on another woman, so they just find horny single guys. Why?” You responded to Jun’s question.

“Well…” he said as he picked something up off the ground and brought himself to his feet again, “I think this… pretty much proves that this thing doesn’t care if the dude’s taken or not.” He continued as he held something out for the rest of you to see.

It looked like the remains of a human hand. But there was a gold band wrapped around one of the fingers. Shit.

“That’s- that’s really REALLY not good.” You gulped as you took the hand from Jun and examined it yourself, praying that his first hypothesis was wrong.

“Why? It just means that she’s not picky, right?” Seungcheol let out a dry chuckle at his own shitty joke.

“No. It means that she was probably born a siren. If she’s able to seduce a man in love, she’s worse than a conjured siren. It means She’s half human. So she can walk around during the day looking like a normal human.” You shuddered out, worry now spreading throughout your whole body for everyone around you. This was bad. This was really REALLY bad.

-

“Hey baby!” Minghao exclaimed as he came and kissed your head, meeting you guys right outside the house just as you returned home.

“How’d it go? Find anything out?” He spoke as he quickly engulfed you in a hug, having been waiting by the door for your return the entire time you were gone.

Once he had caught up with you and had you in his arms, you suddenly burst into tears. You buried your face in his chest and sobbed uncontrollably, worrying Minghao a great deal. He looked to his brothers for answers as to what your sudden outburst could’ve been about but, all of them were just as shocked, they had all thought that you were fine after everything that had happened. So they saw no reason to panic as your coolness earlier showed them they could handle what was coming. But clearly, your currently state meant that something was very wrong and, regardless of how curious they were on what it could be, they knew you well enough to know that you just needed to be alone with your mate when you were like this. They knew he’d get to the bottom of it and come to them if it was anything important or concerning. Everyone bowed their heads towards Minghao and then quickly made their way toward the house.

You didn’t mean to start crying. You tried your best to hold it in. But you were absolutely fucking petrified on what could happen with the siren running around. You weren’t a protective Alpha like Seungcheol, you weren’t as level headed as Wonwoo, you weren’t as innocently curious as Jun, and you weren’t as optimistic as Mingyu. Seeing everything that happened to that married man and knowing everything that the siren could still do to the people you loved hurt you on deeper level that even you didn’t understand.

You held a solid face in front of the others earlier as you didn’t want them to see your pain or feel scared themselves. But Minghao always made you feel safe and loved and knew how to comfort you and he took all your bad thoughts away. So when you saw your mate’s face, you just lost it. You needed him. You didn’t care that the others saw, you could explain it all away to them later. You just needed your mate to hold you and tell you that everything was gonna be alright, even if it wasn’t.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” Minghao asked as he picked up your depressed form and walked with you into the forest, far enough away so that the pack couldn’t hear you.

“Hao- I- I’m so worried. The siren- she- she destroyed a man. He was just a puddle when she was done with him. We wouldn’t have even been able to see that he was human if we weren’t wolves.” You sniffled as you clung to his shirt for dear life.

“What if she- what if she does it to one of you? She- she can do it whenever she wants. She can hurt anyone anytime she wants. She can walk around during the day- she’s half human. She- she can hurt anyone. She can hurt you. I- I cant lose you Minghao. I- I just can’t” you choked into his chest as he sat down with you on his arms on the forest floor with his back against a tree.

“Baby, it’ll be okay. I won’t let her hurt the pack. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m all yours. Siren be damned.” He spoke softly as he kissed the top of your head.

“There- there was so much blood Hao” you whined as you looked up to his angelic face, watery eyes causing tears to stream down your face.

He subtly wiped the water off of your cheeks and held your chin with his index finger and thumb.

“I know. I’m sorry you had to see that my love. But it’s over now. I’ve got you.” He shushed you with a small kiss to the top of your nose.

“He was married. He was in love with someone and she- she still got him. I- I don’t want her to take you too” you whimpered out, he brought his hand up and cupped your face gently, stroking your salted cheek to help sooth your pain.

“She won’t take me baby. You’re the only girl I could ever want. You’re the only girl for me” he smiled at you, the adoration in his eyes evident. But you were still unconvinced.

“But… how- how do you know that?” You whispered as you look down at your hands, trying to focus on something else so your tears wouldn’t start up again.

“Because my love��� he said, pushing some stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear, “No one in this world could EVER give me what you can”

“And what’s that?” You mumbled. He quickly pushed your face up to look at him and connected your chapped lips to his plump ones.

His lips were beyond the softest thing that you had ever felt. You had kissed him before, but this was different, it was like he was trying to express everything he felt for you through one kiss. It was powerful and passionate. You responded immediately, grabbing the nape of his neck and pulling him deeper into the kiss.

He slid his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for access, which you swiftly gave him. Your tongues started fighting for dominance and, although both put up a good fight, it was Minghao who came out on top, as usual.

The kiss quickly escalated, ending with him lying you down on the ground and placing himself between your legs. His lips started traveling down your neck, leaving bright purple patches on your skin, before he stopped at your breasts.

He gave you a devilish smirk moments before he ripped the tank top that you were wearing in two. You gasped, using your arms to help cover your semi-exposed chest as a blush rose to your cheeks.

“Relax baby. It’s just me and you here. And I…” he said in a deep, almost inhuman voice while unhooking your bra, “want you just like this.”

Before you could react, he attached his lips to one of your perky nipples, rolling the other between his two fingers and groaning. The vibration sent shivers down your spine, making you lose touch with reality for a second. When you regained your senses, you grabbed his face and brought it up to yours to gain his attention.

“But we’re in the woods. You tore my shirt off. And I cant just be naked on the forest floor while you pound into me. My back’ll get all torn up. And what if someone comes and sees us fucking. What’s then?” you pouted at him before you pecked his rose petals lips.

His bottom lip protruded out before an idea struck him. He pulled his shirt off of his toned body and slid it on yours. It was obviously much bigger on your petite frame than it was on his, it came down to your mid thighs.

“There, now you’ll be protected from the ground and any gazing eyes and we’ll both get what we want” he smirked before he started unbuckling his belt.

You had to admit, after the day you had, you REALLY needed him. And the thought of him taking you right there out in the open had you wet within seconds.

You bit your lip in anticipation as he finally managed to pull his hardened member out of his constricting jeans. You never got sick of this part, wtching his dick smack back up to his stomach after being restrained for so long always made you giddy.

He grabbed his cock and stroked it a few times, smearing his pre-cum down the base to help lubricate himself. He pushed himself back down to kiss your lips one more time before he glided himself in your entrance, leaving you momentarily stunned.

You had had sex with him a few times before, but Fuck, you’d never get used to his length. He fit inside you like a glove, hitting all the right places with the perfect amount of pressure. Like he was made to fuck you stupid. You loved it.

He paused for a moment after bottoming out, wanting to give you a few seconds to adjust. You groaned out and, even though you were still feeling a dull pain from the sudden stretch, you lifted your hips to meet his, indicating that you wanted him to continue. He quickly got the hint and slowly started pulling himself back from your heat before he thrusted in at full force, making you wail out his name.

“Fuck. It hurt so good. Please go faster Hao. Please!” You moaned in a pleading voice while grabbing at his biceps and scrapping your nails down them.

“Whatever you say baby” he smiled to himself as he picked up his pace, placing his hands on the sides of your head for leverage. You let out a Yelp and a gasp before throwing your hand over your mouth so you wouldn’t get any louder, not wanting anyone to find you in such a compromising position.

He felt your walls tighten around him and he couldn’t help the growl that emitted from his chest. He lifted your leg and put it on his shoulder. Hitting deeper into you causing you to lose your breath.

He tilted his head down to look at you. Fuck. He loved how you clung to him while he pounded you. He loved the dirty little moans that passed your innocent lips as he pushed into you deeper. He loved how quickly you would get wet at the thought of him fucking you. But most importantly, he loved how your pure little face scrunched itself up in pleasure whenever he hit the right spot.

“God, you take me so well. It’s like your little cunt was made for me. So tight and warm. Who do you belong to baby huh?” He grunted out, gritting his teeth as he moved to kiss your neck, enhancing your pleasure by sucking at your sweet spot under your ear.

“I’m yours. I belong to you. Only you. Please, don’t stop. I’m so close” you whined, dragging your nails down his biceps so hard that it no doubt must have broken part of his skin.

Just as he hooked your other leg to his waist to add to your ecstasy, you heard a twig snap nearby. Minghao immediately darted his head up to look around, though he didn’t stop his pace.

“W-what is it?” You question, trying to form words even though you were close to your orgasm. Your walls starting to flutter around his dick, earning a groan from him.

“It’s just a dear baby. Don’t worry. Nobody can see me ruining you. Not that I would mind the boys seeing me take you like this” he said while thrusting as deep into you as he could. Your walls started to clamp down on him at the thought. He laughed slightly.

“Maybe then they’d finally get the hint that you’re mine. Maybe then they’d stop thinking about fucking you. Everyone would know you’re mine. Everyone would know this pussy is all mine.” he bit his lip before he grabbed your hair with one of his hands, jerking your head to look him directly in the eyes.

You were so close, you felt like screaming. And, almost as if he could read your mind, he stopped you by lightly squeezing your neck with his dominant hand. The lack of oxygen felt incredible and your eyes began to roll to the back of your head. Minghao was quick to take notice of your sudden increase of pleasure and decided to tease you.

“Do you like that baby? Do you want me to show everyone who owns you? Is that what gets you off? Or do you like the idea of them fucking you huh? Which is it?” He sneered out and tightened his grip on your neck a little more.

“Answer me baby. You know I don’t like being kept waiting” he stated, continuing to fuck into your heat like it was his sole purpose in life.

“Fuck- both. Both! Part of me wa-wants them to take turns fucking me. Part of me want-wants you to force them to watch you rail me. Both.” You scream out at his sudden roughness, knowing full well the ideas both make him hard too.

“What a naughty girl you are. Wanting to be their little slut and wanting to be claimed by me in front them. I should go fuck you in the living room right now to show them this cunt is mine. But…” he started in a sexy tone that seemed to be only half joking, his fangs elongated as he got closer to his release, “I think making you cum and marking you right out here in the open will do. For now”

He smirked as he took the hand that was wrapped around your thought and started to rub your clit, finally tipping you over the edge, making you see stars. He bit down on your neck and made your release ripple out in the most jaw dropping orgasm you’d ever had.

Soon after, Minghao came inside you, his hot cum painting your walls in the most delicious way possible. He pulled his teeth from your neck and ran his tongue over the wound to have it close up. He found your panties and shorts and slid them on your exhausted body before he laid down beside you.

“You’re- you’re not mad are you?” You wondered aloud in a small voice.

“Mad? Why would I be mad? You just let me mate and mark you out in the open. What could I possibly be mad at?” He chuckled out as he moved you to his chest.

“Because of what I said before I came…” you trailed off, drawing small invisible shapes on Minghao’s chest.

“No baby. I’m not mad. I think it’s kinda hot actually. But we can talk about that another time. The only thing that matters to me right now is that you’re okay. Are you feeling any better?” He asked, concern laced his tone as he rubbed your back with his large hand.

“I’m okay. It helped comfort me. I just hope that the siren doesn’t try and take you away from me.” You responded earnestly, snuggling further into his torso.

“Don’t worry. She won’t. I’m all yours” Minghao declared confidently.

“But… how can you be so sure? I know we love each other, but the siren can take anyone she wants.” You added, nervousness surrounding your tone.

“Relax baby. She won’t get me. It’s never gonna happen because I love you too much.” He stated positively before kissing the top of your head.

“When did you become Mr. Brightside?” You smiled up at him with playfulness glistening in your eyes.

“One of us has to be my love” he laughed out, “Now rest up for a minute. We’ll have to go back inside soon or they’ll send a search party. That is… unless you want them to know we fucked out here” he let out questionably with a mischievous grin.

“Hmm… Relaxing for a minute it is.” You say shyly as you nuzzle into his chest. God you loved him.

Another Author’s Note: Okay so smut chapters take a lot longer for me to write so so only wrote this one. But technically Mingyu’s went up after midnight so I actually wrote two today. Which isn’t awful… but I want to write more. I’ve just been sick. But I swear tomorrow I’ll read these two chapters for errors and as soon as I get better I’ll start writing more!

(Updated 8/22)

[kim-miri]

HALF(have a little fun) pt. iii

→ one | two

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part three / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: drugs, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 2,948

☾ iii.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾ iii. part iii: meteor city

Sayomi woke up with a start. 

Her violet eyes flew open as she gasped remembering the past events and how her mother had drugged her.

Attempting to rise from her less than comfortable position on the ground, a nasty stench made her cringe as she gaped at her new surroundings. 

Trash and dumped items made up the entirety of where she sat, as well as everything else she could see from her spot. Most of it was worn down enough to be unrecognizeable, only looking like jagged pieces of material building upon each other.

Standing up in one swift movement, Sayomi stretched out her tired limbs as she tried to grasp the situation she was in. Maybe mother threw me in the junkyard?

It wouldn’t be the first time her mother had tried to dump her somewhere, but Illumi or her father would usually come running for her before she would even have time to recognize her surroundings.

Taking a step forward to start exploring, she paused as she kicked something lying by her feet. 

The item stood out amongst the rust and filth, as it was immaculate and seemed to radiate a familiar aura. A katana?

Tilting her head curiously, Sayomi reached down and grabbed the sheathed weapon. It was indeed very clean and actually seemed brand new. 

Looking it up and down, a silver gleam caught her eye- it was an engraving left on the otherwise black covering. 

‘Sayomi Zoldyck’

A rush of adrenaline ran through her blood as she recognized her own name engraved on the sheath. But why would mother reward me after dumping me in this junkyard?

Thousands of questions and possible scenarios ran through her head, but she pushed them aside with a shake of her head. I might as well play with this to pass the time.

The 10 year old unsheathed her new weapon, getting ready to take a practice swing when a rolled up piece of paper dropped from the katana.

Unravelling the note, Sayomi read it contents without a moment to lose. 

Sayomi,

Welcome to Meteor City. 

I’m sure you recognize the name from the many stories I’ve told you and your brother about my hometown. 

And from those same stories, you should know that those who make it out of the city come back stronger than they’ve ever been before. 

My only daughter, you know how much I cherish you and wish to see you succeed. 

When the time is right, you will find your way back home and claim your rightful spot as heir of the family business.

Until then,

Mother

Meteor City. As the reality of her situation started to sink in, Sayomi found it hard to breath. Whether it was the anxiety starting to take over her brain, or the barely breathable, polluted air of Meteor City, she found herself falling to her knees, nauseous.

☾iii.

Sayomi was desperate. She had been walking alone for close to four hours before traces of civilization began to appear in the distance.

Her wounds were splitting open under the cloth bandages she wore, and dehydration sent black spots dancing across her vision. 

Sayomi remembered something from one of the stories her mother had once told them. It was that the citizens of Meteor City refrained from hostility between one another unless they were threatened first.

With this in mind, Sayomi continued on to the tents and vast pillars of smoke in front of her. 

Clutching her side, which was now bleeding through the wraps Illumi had given her, Sayomi spotted vague figures moving about within the camp.

The sweat dripping into her eyes didn’t help her already blurring vision as she squinted hard to try and identify the faint figures that grew larger as she approached them.

At last within modest range of the camp, one of the members turned to face her. 

One after another the citizens turned from their positions, analyzing the outcast that had stumbled upon their camp.

Struggling to remain upright with her wounds and burning lungs, Sayomi let out a cry of pain before falling to the ground once again, the jagged surface cutting into her ankles.

Several of the figures rushed towards the fallen 10 year old. With caring hands, one of the citizens lifted the girl into her arms, her lightweight figure not being a struggle to carry.

Sayomi looked up at the woman weakly, she was most likely in her 40s, her eyes gray and facial features dull.

At the same time, the woman stared back, seemingly trying to analyze Sayomi’s strong features. She recognized that her slanted violet eyes were far foreign to Meteor City, along with her intricate kimono and katana. How did a child of such status end up here?

Taking Sayomi to her own home within the camp, she treated Sayomi’s wounds and gave her water along with a small portion of food to eat.

The woman had introduced herself once Sayomi was back on her feet. Her name was Rin, and she had been living in Meteor City since she could remember. 

She introduced her husband and daughter as well. Their names being Shota and Ayame respectively. 

Ayame turned out to be two years older than Sayomi. She had ashy brown hair and gray eyes like her mother.

The rest of the community welcomed Sayomi with open arms, not bothering to ask where she came from or why she was here. It seemed they didn’t care.

Though Sayomi was grateful of their hospitality, she was homesick already. Missing the mansion where everything was familiar and made sense.

When night fell on her first day in Meteor City, Sayomi shut her eyes tight from her spot next to Ayame on the floor. It didn’t seem real to her. Just yesterday she had been with her family and everything had been as it always was.

Did everyone want her gone? Not just mother?

Thoughts like these ran through Sayomi’s fragile mind. All this stress at such a young age poisoned the girl’s mind, making her question the validity of those who loved her.

☾iii.

Much like Illumi back at the Zoldyck mansion, Sayomi spent most of her time in Meteor city training.

The environment, as well as occasional gang fights taught Sayomi real fighting, and not the guided sparring she would do back at home. 

Mirroring the techniques she had once seen while shadowing a senior assassin, Sayomi worked towards extending her abilities to mastering the katana.

Her needles remained as well, safely tucked away on a band she kept around her left thigh, hidden from others. They were a constant reminder of Illumi, her best friend and the only one she had her hopes left in to save her.

On another note, the family she stayed with was generous to point that she began to grow suspicious of their willingness to take care of her.

Hospitality was one thing, but she knew enough to recognize an odd-favored deal when she saw one.

Sayomi had been freeloading off the family, wearing the extra clothes they provided her, eating their food, drinking from their water supply, and even sleeping in their tent. 

But as wary as she was, she knew this was the only option she had. For now.

She had already stayed far from the city’s borders, and the only way off of the island in the first place was by boat. 

Sayomi would have to wait for the right time in order to escape the city alive.

☾iii.

6 years later

“Sayomi~” 

The sun rose over Meteor City, waking its inhabitants, and marking the start to another day.

Inside one of the many worn tents at the camp, a girl with tangled, brilliant white hair laid sprawled out on the cardboard-floors.

“Sayomi!” Ayame entered the tent once again, waking the girl to join her family for breakfast.

Sayomi groaned at the sunlight that entered the tent with Ayame’s return.

Sitting up, her hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, just barely touching the floor below her waist. 

Now 16 years old, Sayomi’s face had thinned out, no longer round and chubby, but firm and angular with more defined features. 

Her striking violet eyes and silky white hair were the only things that seemed to remain the same from when she was dumped 6 years ago. 

With a noticeable number of inches added to her legs and arms, as well as new subtle curves adorning her body, Sayomi had matured a great amount, both physically and mentally. What had once been an innocent, joyful 10 year old girl, was now approaching the end of her youth days trapped in a foreign city.

Sayomi didn’t talk about her family. Or the past for that much. 

She didn’t like to remember the feeling of waiting desperately for someone to find her. 

As a 10 year girl, she didn’t know any better than to rely on her family to come rescue her. But as those days turned into months, and the months turned into years, her hope had died miserably, being replaced by a deep sense of betrayal.

The most she had told the family about her life before Meteor City was about Killua. She had beamed proudly as she told them how similar they looked to each other. Killua. I wonder how he’s turned out to be. If he’s 6 years old now, that means he’s already started training...

But this was her life now, whether she liked it or not, and she would make the most of it even if it meant living only for herself.

“Sayomi! For the last time, waaake uppp. Breakfast is ready.” 

Yet another day in Meteor City began for Sayomi. After finishing up breakfast with Ayame and her parents, Sayomi grabbed her katana to go run through more forms on her own.

6 years with the katana, and Sayomi was almost considered proficient in the sword’s fine practice. Without a master to learn from, the majority of her techniques were either gathered from faint memories of when she was younger, or those she came up with herself.

She had also taken the risk of going into some of the gang fights using only her katana, and though she had gotten in dangerous situations to begin with, her hard work didn’t betray her. 

Standing in the piles of junk with her arms raised naturally behind her head, Sayomi took a deep breath in and out, ever so bored of the dull features at Meteor City.

☾iii.

After another day filled with meticulous training, Sayomi head back to camp, making her way to Ayame’s tent.

However, upon approaching the little green tent, she sensed within the air that something was off. 

She could feel the abnormally tense auras of those sitting inside the tent, much like those of someone caught lying. Slowing her steps towards the tent, Sayomi activated her zetsu in order to listen in to the apparent conversation going on inside.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s her full name. Sayomi Zoldyck. She’s the one we’ll give you instead of Ayame.”

It was Shota’s voice. 

His normally confident tone was replaced by one filled with a thousand concerns. 

“I assure you she’ll be here with us when you arrive tomorrow. Thank you again, sir, for accepting the replacement. Good Night.”

Could it be another gang looking for trouble? She was sure she could take them, whoever they were, but it still hurt to be referred to as ‘the replacement’. 

Sayomi shook her head out of such thoughts, realizing how panicked she was becoming over another silly gang. She made her presence visible once again, taking louder than normal footsteps as she returned into the tent for the night.

☾iii.

It was a quiet night much like usual, but everyone inside the tent could feel the discomfort that seemed to radiate around the 4 in endless circles.

Sayomi shifted in her sleep, unable to ignore the itching feeling in the back of her mind. 

The gangs here are nothing, I’ll be fine. 

She fell asleep late that night, despite being exhausted from a full day of training. A battle of worries and self-reassurance eventually died down in her mind, letting her sleep in peace.

Having fallen into a deep sleep, she had missed the sound of Ayame crying softly next to her. The older girl fell asleep facing away from Sayomi, feeling too guilty to even look at her.

“I’m so sorry, Sayomi.” Ayame whispered into the darkness. 

☾iii.

Early morning the next day, a commotion stirred through the camp.

The sound of multiple vehicles treading over glass and broken fragments awoke Sayomi, who sat up too quickly for her tired self.

Her body lurched to the side, thrown off balance by the sudden movement she had made to get up.

Groaning while she firmly held her balance with a single hand digging into the blankets pooled around her, Sayomi was confused to see that the tent was empty around her.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Sayomi slung her katana over her shoulder hastily before making her way outside, her left hand hovering over the needles strapped to her thigh.

It was still dark out when Sayomi lifted the entrance of the tent. Quite close to golden hour, but still dark enough for her to have to strain noteably in order to see.

The vehicles she had heard were parked about 50 feet from where she stood. There were 3 cars parked side by side, black sedans that looked much similar to the ones back at the estate. 

Upon her eyes’ adjustment to the dark, Sayomi could see several men dressed in black suits conversing with Shota and Rin, Ayame by their side.

She kept her guard up as she attempted to read the auras of the people standing in front of her, getting a faint feel for their emotions.

Ayame and her family were tense, worried, but Shota showed small signs of relief in his expression. The men in suits were less readable, their emotions hidden behind an experienced aura of composure.

Looks like they’re pretty experienced… But they don’t look like a gang, or like they’re even from around here.

Taking a risk, Sayomi edged closer to the group, trying to listen in on the conversation. She was partially concealed by a pile of junk, only peeking out once in a while to confirm their positions.

Her new spot was about 30 feet from the closest man, and she could now make out parts of their conversation.

An unfamiliar voice rumbled “Rest assured, she will be provided with more than she ever was here.”

Shota’s voice was next. “And will she be safe on the trip to Yorknew City?”

Yorknew City. So whoever these people were didn’t want to kill her, but take her with them to the great city of opportunities? Well, damn.

Sayomi stepped out from her position behind the pile, not caring to keep her guard up as she willingly presented herself to her soon to be captors.

Ayame gasped upon seeing Sayomi walk towards them with her hands relaxed behind her head. Her eyes shifted to her parents. They were just as surprised, having not noticed her presence earlier.

The men looked from the shocked family of 3 to the teen strolling towards their makeshift circle. She could sense them growing tense with each of her steps, deducing her identity as their target.

One of them finally broke the silence, acknowledging her presence. 

“Sayomi Zoldyck?”

Sayomi gave a flat-lipped smile in return. “Yes sir.”

The family was wading in embarrassment and horror, caught red-handed agreeing to sell Sayomi off.

The men scoffed at the brazen teen, preparing to catch her off guard with the proposal, but Sayomi spoke first.

“So, what I’m getting from this- is basically that… you had a deal with this family for whatever reason. And were going to take their daughter from them, but they pleaded with you and insisted that I could be a better replacement?”

Her deductive instincts had helped her reach the conclusion that was pretty much dead on.

The family remained still, averting their gazes from the teen in front of them, while the men nodded several times before speaking.

“Correct. Your arrogance will surely not be needed where we’re going, but I guess it’s alright as long as you’re able to back it up.”

Leaving no opening for Sayomi to respond, another one of the men spoke up. “Shall we get going then? It seems like force won’t be necessary, so we might as well move while everyone’s cooperating.”

Sayomi had only nodded, a slight skip in her step as she seized the opportunity to leave Meteor City at last. Whatever business awaited her ahead could be dealt with, and she found it in herself to smile as she faced the family that had supported her for the past 6 years.

“Shota, Rin, Ayame. I could never thank you enough for your generosity during these past years of mine. And so, with all due respect, please forget all about me and flourish in the love of your family once again.”

No matter how blunt, she had meant every word she said, and with that Sayomi turned her back to the people who had raised her up through her broken youth. 

She felt no remorse for their guilt-ridden feelings, for it was just another thing in the past.

The 3 cars took off through the rubble, Sayomi in the backseat of one of them. Her violet eyes reflected off the glass of the window beside her, reminding her of the first time she had arrived. She sat in silence as she watched the hell that had been Meteor City flash past her.

Old news.

Just like her family.

☾iii.

to be continued.

a/n: i made a taglist if anyone wants to join! :)))

[thatnamelessbutler]

(OoC: No you have not told us about that, please share.)

((ooc: Okay >:::::D

Cw for underage drinking, mentioned death, bad coping mechanisms, possible hallucinating, etc.

So. John ran a bar, which means that Bu with very often around alcohol and drunk people, and he knew that John served it all the time. Alcohol is not actually a thing that invokes bad memories, but rather fond ones for him.

So, while Billiam was asleep and Hubert was somewhere else entirely, he got into the wine stash and pulled out a bottle he recognized. He wasn't entirely sure how to read read incredibly curly text, but it was a brand that was always in high demand at John's bar. And he was just feeling... empty, and lost, and angry for a while after that shock through his pearl that told him John had died. So for a little bit, he just stood there staring at it, remembering things, and he remembered how John would stop him from ever drinking anything, telling him to wait until he was older.

Well, he was older. And John was dead.

Quietly, and looking around as if John would somehow materialize and take the bottle out of his hands, he popped the cork and took a swig. It tasted awful. He kept going.

Billiam came down that morning to Hubert serving breakfast alone, with the excuse of Bu never came down. So he went out to find him after eating. Bu was not in his room, and it took a while before he found him by the alcohol rack with a nearly-empty bottle in his hand and sleeping soundly for once. Nevertheless, he was far too late to waking up, so Billiam shook him awake, and thankfully it didn't take long. He hadn't been asleep for more than 30 minutes at this point, so he was still very. Very drunk. And he woke up and had no idea what was going on or where he was or who Billiam was. He thought he was still in the town and he thought Billiam was the sheriff and he said that multiple times, "get off me, sheriff" when Billiam tried to shake him back to himself. Billiam tried to say he was Not a sheriff, but Bu didn't seem to hear him. He just stood up, very wobbly and clearly intoxicated now that Billiam took a look at him.

He does not want this child to turn into James, if they even survive that long.

He felt the weight of the bottle, lifted it up to look at it, and mumbled "John's gonna want this back." Billiam does not know who John is. Bu tries to walk a couple steps and nearly falls over with each one, and Billiam has to grab him before he gets too far. He once again protests, calling Billiam the sheriff, and Billiam is surprised to hear a curse word leave his mouth. Butler never curses. He doesn't like to.

Eventually Billiam can get the awfully intoxicated child into his arms and the bottle back on the shelf. He carries them up to their room, but trying to put them down means Butler gets distressed and clings to him for dear life, even leaving rips in his sleeves. The gloves haven't been made yet; he doesn't wear any. His claws are out and open. Billiam doesn't like the fact that Butler is damaging his things, but trying to pry him off only yields a worse result. He's stronger than he thought. So Billiam relents, picks him up again and moves to his much larger bedroom instead, because if Butler won't let him leave then he might as well stay in the comfort of his own room instead of a dirty servant's room. He tucks Butler into the bed(with no small amount of gentleness, although he will forever deny any hint of softness and Bu doesn't even know it happened) and resigns himself to sitting down next to them. They latch on and wrap their entire upper body around his lap. He does not like this, but he does not move.

Hours later, Bu wakes up again with the worst headache he's ever felt, so he just nestles into the very warm pillow and tries to go back to sleep. Billiam pokes him, and it doesn't take any more than that for him to sit bolt upright despite the pain and the absolute mess he's in.

(There are burns on his face. He was crying while he was asleep. Billiam comforted him and stopped them before they could get any worse.)

"Good. You're awake."

Butler feels absolutely awful, but he acts normal. Unfortunately, Billiam knows the hell that a hangover brings. "How much did you drink?"

Butler does not know how to answer that. Things fade out after the first sip. Billiam sighs exasperatedly and just stands up, beckoning Butler to do the same. He cannot stand without everything swimming, and Billiam just takes them to the bathroom to get it all out, because he knows they're going to throw up because he has before.

It's been a while, so once it's all out of Bu's system, Billiam takes him down to get some water. That makes a hangover feel better, right? Hubert, of course, sees, he's been worried sick about this kid all day, and Billiam just casually mentions that oh yeah, he drank almost an entire bottle of alcohol, and Hubert fucking PANICS because that shit can be DEADLY and he wastes absolutely no time in getting Butler down to the nurses to make sure they're completely okay. Billiam still gets them that water bottle.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

An Ending Within--Ch. 17

Chapter 17

           It was dark. Rain lashed against the windows. Underneath it all, the whimper of my daughter and the soothing tones of my husband’s voice.

           I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left the bed or held my child. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said a word to anyone. The last time I’d eaten.

           My eyes burned. Raw and hot from tears. I was empty, hollowed out from the inside. Everything hurt. But I couldn’t really feel anything at all.

           I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through the tightness in my chest. Sitting upright in the middle of the bed, I stared into the blackness of the room, doing my best to think and simultaneously not think at all. Time had lost meaning. I couldn’t remember what day it was, or how long it had been since I’d run into her backstage at Raw. When my whole being forgot everything except for the feeling of my life slowly slipping away into blackness.

           The door opened, spilling slices of stark light across the carpeted floor. I didn’t have to look up to see Seth standing in the doorway. “Are you going to eat?”

           My shoulders rose and fell. I didn’t care. I couldn’t make myself care, no matter how hard I tried. Guilt rushed through me, even though I couldn’t gather the strength to deal with it. I hated myself more every second that I couldn’t get myself together.

           “Llane, please…” he whispered, stepping closer to the bed. In the back of my mind, I wondered if he was going to sit on the edge of the bed. If he was going to try to put his arms around me, to tug me close and try to talk me out of my depression. I wished and prayed and hoped that he didn’t.

           It didn’t matter that I wanted to—more than anything I’d wanted in a log time—there was no dragging my mind through the blackness that still covered me like tar.

           I could sense him standing there, waiting, watching, trying to figure out what he could do. I hated that there wasn’t anything that would change it. After another minute or two, he turned and walked away, shutting the door softly behind him.

***

           Time slugged by. It raced around the edge of a black hole and compressed into every moment in every history. I’d lost track, and I couldn’t grasp its flow any longer. There wasn’t any meaning left in it for me. And some part of me liked it that way.

           It was daytime—the light streaming in the windows was evidence of that—but there wasn’t much more I could figure out. I didn’t know what day it was. My phone was dead, having sat on the bedside table unplugged for God knew how long. An ache settled in my stomach. My vision swam with each move of my head. Moving required more energy than I had.

           Noise filtered from the rest of the house. Echoed and reverberated and grew louder as it got closer. The door banged against the wall.

           “Alright, dollface,” Jon said from behind me. His voice was almost too loud in my ears. His ever-present frenetic energy made my skin crawl and itch. “I’ve had just about enough of this.”

           He rounded the bed and stood over me, his eyes flashing like blue chips of ice. I blinked slowly. He ran his hands over his close cropped hair. “Get up.”

           I blinked again. Tried to roll away. Ended up flopping in a contorted position that made my neck throb.

           Jon kicked the bedpost with his steel-toed boot. “Sophie Weston Lopez. I said to drag your ass out of this bed right now.”

           Movement flickered in the corner of my eye. Seth standing at the doorway, our sleeping two-year old against his shoulder.

           The bed jerked again. The sound of steel on wrought iron echoed again.

           “Alright,” Jon snarled, “that’s it. I’m sick of this shit.”

           He leaned over the bed, scooping me up into his arms and practically draping me over his shoulder. The world tipped and swayed as he walked. He brushed past Seth. I caught sight of his face—part terrible sadness and part complete relief. Sefina shifted against his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his neck.

           A moment later, I was plopped unceremoniously at the table. A bowl of cereal and a full glass of water sat just a few inches away.

           “Eat,” Jon said from right beside me, pointing his finger angrily at the food. “Now.”

           I drew a breath. My chest ached with it. I wanted to cry, but didn’t have the tears.

           He moved around the table, pulled out a chair. Turned it backwards and straddled it. His mouth tipped into a frown.

           “Eat,” he repeated, more angrily than before.

           Seth crossed in front of me. I glanced up, met his gaze, begged somehow for him to drag me out of whatever this was. He smiled softly but shook his head. It seemed like I was on my own.

           My fingers shook weakly as I gripped the spoon and maneuvered a bite of cereal to my mouth. I gasped in a breath after each bite, even as I felt a little bit of awareness creep in as sugar flooded my system.

           Jon wasn’t satisfied until I had eaten every bite, slurped down every drop of milk left in the bowl, and drank every ounce of water in the glass. I felt full and sluggish at the same time as my nerves started to jitter with sugar rush.

           “Good,” he said at last. He stood, arms crossed over his chest. “Now get up. Let’s go.”

           “I don’t want to go anywhere,” I murmured barely loud enough to be heard.

           Jon leaned forward, bracing his fists on the table. Fire snapped in his eyes. He stared me down ferociously. “Let’s. Go.”

***

           The lights were too bright. Every sound echoed painfully through the empty room. Dust motes danced in the light as Jon half pushed half dragged me across the room toward the training ring in the corner of Black and Brave’s gym. We were alone in the silence.

           “Get in the ring.” Jon gave me a firm shove between the shoulder blades. “Right now.”

           I fetched up against the apron, folding forward and resting my head on my forearms. Whatever energy I’d gotten from the sugary breakfast had swept out of me in the walk from the kitchen to the car and the car to the ring.

           “I can’t.” The words came out in a weak moan. “I can’t, Jon.”

           The ring rattled and bounced as he swept in beneath the bottom rope. I could sense him hovering over me. In the next moment, Jon grabbed me under the arms and yanked me up to stand on the apron. He barely gave me time to get my bearings before he hefted me over the top rope and pushed me into the corner.

           Turnbuckles dug into my back. I couldn’t quite find my balance. Vertigo made my head spin.

           “You can’t?” Jon whispered frustratedly. “Can’t or won’t?”

           I whimpered. “I can’t.”

           He walked a few steps away and leaned against the ropes. “Huh. That’s not the woman I know. You’re weak.”

           Something like shame and anger burned in my chest. My brain wanted to fight him, but my body didn’t have the energy. I didn’t even think I had it in me to argue with him.

           Jon paced across the ring, bounced off the ropes on the other side. I watched him with a detached disinterest. Like there was a thick glass that separated me from him. From being able to care.

           “You should have stayed out of the ring when Ronda put you down,” he said, his voice stern and cold. “She did you a favor really. All of us. So we don’t have to watch you anymore.”

           Anger burned bright in my chest. Every word out of Jon’s mouth was an echo of the doubts and fears that had plagued me from the moment I’d returned to wrestling. They were the nightmares that shocked me awake at three in the morning, sweat making my clothes stick to my skin.

           I hated myself for every whisper of those doubts. And God knew, in that moment, I hated Jon for repeating them.

           “Fuck you,” I spat.

           He grinned, one corner of his mouth tipping upward. “Bringing you back was a mistake. Giving you another title was a pity move. Because they knew you wouldn’t last much longer. ‘Let’s give her one more run, she’ll be on the shelf soon.’”

           “Fuck you, Jon,” I snarled back. I balanced myself with the ropes, putting my feet firmly beneath me. Anger boiled in my blood. “Fuck you for every word you just said.”

           He chuckled. “What are you going to do about it? You left whatever was good about you in the ring when Ronda almost broke your neck because you fucked up.”

           I sucked in a breath and let out a scream that echoed against the rafters. My feet pushed me across the canvas before I consciously thought of it. Blood pounded through my veins. Adrenaline flooded my limbs.

           Jon and I slammed into each other in the center of the ring. He caught me by the head, snapping me into a side headlock. His bicep crushed into my ear. Fingers locked as the pressure made me feel like my skull was going to explode.

           I wriggled, pain lancing along my face as I squeezed out of his hold. I ducked under and ran toward the ropes. Bounced off, swerved away out of his reach, and kicked out with the top of my foot against the back of his thigh. He swore and limped for a moment. Then he turned back toward me, a playful grin on his face.

           “Now,” he said with a chuckle, “are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”

           My limbs buzzed with electricity. Being this close to Jon drew out some of that frenetic energy that always crackled when he was around. I felt a smile rush over my face as I crossed over to him, throwing my arms around his waist.

           “Thank you,” I whispered. I felt his lips brush the top of my head. “You always know exactly what I need.”

           He laughed. “What was it Seth called me—I’m your emotional support Jon.”

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[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 6 "Bang Bang!"

CW: drug/alcohol description (explicit), mention of noncon/dubcon, vomit mention, injury description (past and new), emotional manipulation/gaslighting, creepy/intimate whumper, tourettes/tics, August in general, food mention, stalking mention, bondage, drowning mention, gun mention, gunshot wound, blood mention, character death (explicit) (Let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias woke up with a pounding headache and a nausea that he had never felt before. He couldn't even open his eyes, all he could do was curl in on himself with a groan. At some point he had been set on the bed, the blanket pulled over him. As he tried to recall how he got there, he came up blank. The last thing he remembered was sitting next to August, asking him for another drink. After that, it was all blank. As he pulled the blankets tighter around him, a jolt of pain ripped through his body, and he let out a whine. Everything hurt, every inch of his body felt mangled or broken or bruised. He wanted nothing more than to just pass out so he didn't have to feel it anymore, but he felt like he was spinning just laying there and it made him feel sick to his stomach in a way that wouldn't allow rest.

He heard the door open, carrying along the sound of footsteps and the smell of bacon cooking. He gagged at the smell, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, scrunching up his face in disgust.

"You awake, Eli?" August asked, his voice carrying softly in case he was still sleeping.

"Go away," Elias grumbled, "I don't wanna talk."

August let out a laugh, much to Elias's annoyance, and then to really add to his growing irritation, he felt the mattress sink down next to him. "Yeah, I bet you're pretty hungover, huh?"

"I'm serious August. Please leave me alone." He felt August's hands on him over the blanket, and he was suddenly furious. Hadn't he done enough? Elias was black and blue and still had caked blood on his face from his nose and felt like he might vomit any second, couldn't he just spend a little bit of time resting? Was that really too much to ask? As he sat up much quicker than even he was expecting, he shoved the blanket off of himself and pushed August's hands away. "I said leave me the fuck alone!"

August glared at him as the bitter words left his mouth, but it only lasted a second before he backhanded Elias across the face. He wasn't surprised at the broken cry Elias let out, or the fact that he had to grab him by his shoulders and press him hard against the wall to keep him upright after the blow. He leaned in intimidatingly close, until he could see the glistening tears building up in Elias's fear hazed eyes. "If you ever speak to me like that again I will rip your fucking tongue out."

Elias stared at him, eyes wide and silent tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't try to move away from him and didn't speak, paralyzed in fear. He wanted the pain to stop, he wanted to stop being scared, he wanted to go home. But all he could do was stay silent and allow August to break him.

"Never talk to me that way. Do you understand?" He was using a more steady tone now, less furious. He loosened his grip on his arms, and Elias could already tell his arms would have hand shaped bruises later. He finally nodded his head once, swallowing back his fear. "Good," his voice was kind again, a self-satisfied grin spread easily onto his face, "good boy."

Elias sighed shakily, looking down at his trembling hands. It suddenly hit him that no one was going to save him, that it had been days and he was still stuck here. August was right, Tyson didn't care about him like he thought he did, now that Allen was ok. He was going to die here. This was it for him. A chill ran down his spine, and he looked up at August as a sort of sickening acceptance hit him. He couldn’t help but hope that August, in his own twisted way, actually wanted him. Even if it only went as far as desire, of lust, he hoped that behind all the torture that August actually wanted him here. Because if he didn't... that would mean that no one wanted him. Not Tyson, not his parents, not even August. And he didn't think he could handle that.

"Do you care about me?" He whimpered. "Or am I just a replacement for Allen?"

"That's a stupid question," August huffed, letting go of Elias altogether. "I hardly even know you, idiot. Of course you're a replacement." He was still smiling softly at him as he said it, and if Elias wasn't really listening to what he was saying he wouldn't even realize he was being mean.

Elias closed his eyes, his heart sinking. This was all a game, he was just a toy, a warm body. Every nice thing he'd said was suddenly a lie, Elias didn't believe any of it. He wasn't beautiful or perfect or precious like August told him, which he knew, but knowing that August had been lying about it made it that much worse. And he had been begging for affection, allowing him to touch him so intimately. Now the deep nausea in his stomach worsened with the swelling disgust in himself. He noticed August was still staring at him with that sickly sweet smile, and he tried to plaster on his own nonchalant, carefree grin. Even he could tell it was faltering and not at all convincing, but the only other alternative was to show that he was hurting, that August's words bothered him, and that was even worse. "That's...that's so relieving." His voice caught painfully as he forced a mangled chuckle. "Here I was, worried you'd catch feelings and I'd have to break your heart." Even as he said it, even with the strained smile he wore, he was choking back his sobs.

"Oh, Eli," August sighed, seemingly defeated. His face softened a fraction -maybe, Elias could have easily been imagining it- and he looked almost like he felt bad for making him upset. "I was only kidding angel. Just giving you a hard time." He reached out and pet Elias's hair gently, frowning when the obvious hurt look on his face stayed. "You're so sensitive. I'm utterly obsessed with you."

Elias sniffled and brought his good hand up to wipe the tears out of his eyes, but once his fingertips fell on the damaged skin of his face, he decided it wasn't worth all the pain, and he let a few slide down his cheeks anyway. "You stress me the hell out."

August laughed at him and pushed himself off the bed. His black shirt had some sort of band logo on it, one Elias had never seen, and it made him a little uneasy to think of August being normal enough to like a band, to buy a tee shirt from them. It was too human, and thinking of August as anything less than a monster made him feel like the crazy one, like he was making up all of the torture.

"Come on, let's get you some breakfast."

Elias groaned at the mention of food, shaking his head. "Man, I can't even think about eating." He was yanked off of the bed by his arm anyway, letting out a sharp gasp and doubling over as a searing pain tore through him. He clutched onto August's shirt, his breathing hitched and short as he waited for the pain to subside.

"What is it, love?" August asked him, his voice concerned. Elias wanted to roll his eyes at his honeyed voice, it was giving him whiplash to try and keep up with August’s violent switch between caring about the pain and being the creator of it.

Instead, he could only shake his head, still unable to breathe correctly. He cried out as August scooped him up, then, almost like he was giving up, buried his face in his clothes. "You really hurt me yesterday," he whimpered, "I thought you said you would only hurt me when I misbehaved. I didn't misbehave."

"I didn't hurt you because you were bad, angel. I hurt you because you sound so pretty when you're hurting." He set Elias down in one of the uncomfortable kitchen chairs, smiling at the breathless whine he let out. "See, like that. Absolutely gorgeous."

Elias looked away from him, chewing on his lip nervously. He hated the way August explained everything like it was obvious, like Elias was missing out on very well known information. Of course August hurt him because he liked the way he sounded. Duh. He grimaced when August grabbed his face, tilting his chin up towards him. "You are so beautiful, Eli. So very pretty."

Elias couldn't help but lean toward him, sighing at the touch. "I wish you were so sweet all the time," he whispered.

August chuckled, running his thumb across Elias's lip, amused at the way he relaxed against him. He was surprised at how easy he'd been adjusting, so far. Sure, he was stubborn and foul mouthed, but he didn't expect him to be accepting, borderline wanting, touch so easily yet. It took Allen a little over a week to get where Elias was already. "I have to show you something," he said, already pulling out his phone.

August had had people keeping an eye on Tyson, following him to make sure he stayed clueless, leaving minuscule threats that were untraceable, ready to hurt him if he was getting too close to finding Elias. They had been sending August pictures as updates, and August was absolutely giddy at the few that they had gotten of Tyson and Allen, them clinging onto each other in a tight embrace, them going somewhere with Tyson's arm slung around his shoulders. Supposedly it wasn’t much more than a friendly touch because Allen was still with Leo, his free shrink, the one he called his husband, the one who Allen was using to make himself feel better. But that didn’t matter, Elias didn’t need to know that. As far as he needed to know, Tyson had handed him over and was now all touchy with his ex again.

When he turned the phone to show Elias, he watched his face fall into a dejected, hopeless frown. So August wasn't lying, then. Tyson really had traded him off for Allen, threw him to the wolves in order to protect the person he actually cared about. He turned away so he didn't have to see it anymore, closing his eyes. He had been hoping against hope that August was lying, clinging onto the belief that Tyson cared, that he would never dream of doing something so horrible. Maybe he was just stupid. Maybe he should have expected it from the beginning.

"See? You're better off here, where someone actually cares for you." August rubbed his shoulder as he spoke, his voice soft and almost...nurturing.

Elias looked up at him, nodding his head. "Yeah," he whispered. His voice was horse and tense from trying to choke back his tears. "Yeah, you're right." He sighed as August placed a kiss on his forehead, leaning into the touch. So that was it, then. Tyson didn't want him and probably wasn't looking for him, he was stuck here with August. He told himself it could be worse, August could do what he did to Allen and torture him and beat the shit out of him, and he wasn't, really. For the most part, he was just vaguely threatening when he wasn't being sweet and praising. He could live with this. Maybe if he was very well behaved, August would stop being cruel altogether, he could actually enjoy being here.

"Want some orange juice? It might help your hangover."

"Yes please," Elias answered, wrapping his frail arms around his battered body.

After August finished eating and Elias felt a little less like he was standing on death's doorstep, they were sitting in the living room, Elias on the floor in between August’s legs. He had his eyes closed as August played with his hair, listening as he hummed softly to himself. His headache was starting to subside, and August began to massage his shoulders. Elias wondered how long it would take him to actually wholeheartedly enjoy the touch, how long until it didn't come with a confusing mix of fear. Half of him wished it would be soon, it would be so much better than the gnawing anxiety he was feeling all the time. But the other half was appalled at himself for even so much as sort of wanting it now. Why would he want to enjoy the soft, obsessive touches of the person who had spent the last few hours torturing him? Why was he letting him touch him right now? He was an idiot, for not running away from him and doing absolutely everything in his power to keep his hands away from him.

"Are you feeling better, bunny?" August asked him, leaning over so his lips brushed against his ear. He smirked when he noticed that Elias's muscles grew instantly taut as he closed in on him.

"A little. My body hurts, sort of." He tilted his head back to look up at him, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile when he kissed his nose. "Th...thank you."

"Of course." He grabbed a fistful of his hair to pull him closer, Elias's already unsteady breathing faltered nervously. "Hey, I'm gonna invite some of my friends over later, is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's cool." He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to relax in his grip. He wasn’t really sure why August made it seem like he had any say in the matter. He was probably messing with him again, pretending like he cared, like Elias mattered to him. "Can we get drunk again?"

August chuckled, pulling off of him altogether. "We should just get high, I don't think your little body can handle anymore alcohol."

"I don't like weed," Elias grumbled, "I told you not to let me smoke again."

"Not weed then. I think I have some molly." He stood up, making his way to the kitchen. When he came back, he sat on the floor next to Elias, holding out his hand to show him the two small pills placed in his palm. Elias was scared, he hadn't even smoked weed or drank before he came here, he didn't know if he was ready for something like molly. But August was much less scary when he wasn't sober, much easier to be around. His stomach was in knots and his hands were shaking as he reached out to take the pills from him, and then he was tossing them back before he had a chance to change his mind.

Elias felt like he was floating, like his body and his mind were finally connected. His tics weren't painful anymore, they were borderline comfortable, like he was scratching an unreachable itch in his brain. The world around him seemed to glow, a bright and beautiful haze that enveloped him with warmth. Why had he been so scared to feel this way? This was what he wanted life to feel like all the time, this calm and pleasant and warm.

August's friends were loud and laughing from the second they walked in, they were all hands and flashy smiles and guttural laughter. Elias noticed how different August seemed around them, how he wasn't threatening or evil at all. He seemed so normal.

Elias was the focus of their attention, he seemed to amuse them quite easily. Particularly when he ticced. They all laughed and mimicked him, but it was all in good fun, to Elias. The laughter just felt warm and friendly, and the way August was looking at him with a wide grin made him feel comfortable with it.

"Hey, here's an idea," one of them spoke up, "let's take little Elias for a swim."

The rest of them chuckled and agreed, and Elias was yanked to his feet, the amount of hands on him was confusing, everyone was ushering him outside. But it was just swimming, right? August took him swimming a few times, and usually it was one of the few places he was safe, at least for awhile.

He blinked at the bright sunlight, looking at the glimmering pool and then at all the people around him. He felt his shirt being tugged at, and he began to feel nervousness creeping up his spine. He started frantically searching through the sea of people to find August, but every face that stared into him was unfamiliar and almost demonically grinning at him. He squirmed in their grasp, the fun suddenly seemed to ice in the air around him..

"Stop it, please," he begged them, still searching for August. "Come on, you're scaring me."

"Awe, he's scared," one of them teased, grabbing some of his hair and pulled it playfully, laughing at him, "look at him, he's still spazzing!"

Elias gasped as they pulled his shirt off, using it to tie his hands up behind him. He scrambled a little bit as they shoved him toward the edge of the pool, afraid of the suddenly dark and choppy water, trying his hardest to not fall in. It was all futile though, and they tossed him into it carelessly.

Elias could only think of one thing as he tried to kick his way to the surface: oh god I'm drowning! He couldn't seem to get the shirt off of his arms, no matter how hard he tried. His lungs were screaming for air, surely his panicked thrashing wasn’t helping, and through it all he heard a loud pop from above the water. He heard another, this time he felt something shooting threw the water next to him. Were they... Shooting at him?

He grew more frantic, fighting against the shirt and the water, suddenly lightheaded. After one of the gunshots, Elias's arm lit up in pain. His shoulder was burning, and he fought harder. The pool around him was dark with blood, making everything all the more horrifying. One last shot rang out, and seconds later Elias was pulled out of the water. He collapsed onto the rough concrete as he gulped in breaths, trying to ease the burning in his chest. The shirt was pulled off of his arms, and he cried out as his shoulder fell forward, remembering the pain. He was pulled to his feet, feeling himself being pulled into a warm, clothed chest. August. He was able to breathe a little better, but now he could hear the quiet wailing of someone behind him. August pulled away before turning him to his group of friends, one of whom was on the floor holding his leg as he cried. Elias noticed the puddle of red around him, and he paled. Had he shot himself by accident? As he thought it, a cold, heavy thing was pressed into his hand.

He looked at August questioningly, eyes wide. He felt August force his fingers around it, holding his fingers down with his own. "What... What?"

"He shot you, you're gonna shoot him back." He spoke through his teeth, an angry grit in his voice. So August had shot him. That made sense.

Elias shook his head, feeling August stretch both of their arms out to point the gun at him. "No! I don't wanna do that!" He whimpered, trying to pull his arm away.

"Stay still Eli!" August snapped. He held him still, tightening his grip over Elias's hand on the gun.

"Please, August!" The man on the floor wailed, writhing in pain still. Elias was shaking in his panic, watching him in horror. He flinched when August forced his finger down on the trigger and it made a loud pop. He froze, eyes wide as he watched the bullet pass through his head, and then watched him crumple to the ground in now an ever bigger pool of blood. He couldn't speak as August pulled the gun away from him and tucked it away. He stumbled as he was led inside, feeling light-headed and like he was about to vomit.

He was silent still as August sat him on the edge of the bathtub, cleaning the wound on his shoulder. He couldn't even feel the pain, his body numb.

"It's a pretty clean shot, I don't think it hit any bone. Kind of just grazed you." August spoke as he bandaged him up. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," Elias answered mechanically, his voice wavering. He tried to breathe, but his breathing was unsteady and quick.

"Hey, look at me." August instructed. Elias looked up at him, his breath catching. "You're ok. Everything's ok."

Elias felt tears streaming down his face, but he still didn't really feel anything. "I think I'm in shock." He whispered.

"Yeah I think so. Let's go get you wrapped up in a blanket and get you some water, ok?" He helped Elias up, leading him into the living room. He draped a blanket over his shoulders and sat him on the couch. He left him to talk to the rest of his friends, and all Elias could hear from their conversation was something about getting rid of the body. He pulled his knees up to his chest, staring blankly at the floor.

August came back in, sitting close to him. He handed Elias a glass of water, smiling as he took small sips. "There. You ok?"

Elias looked at him, then back at the glass of water. "I shot someone," he stated blankly, "I killed someone."

"Mhm. And he deserved it, too." August petted his cheek gently to try and sooth him, but Elias stayed rigid and cold.

"I killed him. I killed someone." Now he was saying it like he was reminding himself what he did, trying to come to terms with it.

August pulled him into his arms, holding him tight. He was waiting for him to break, to get over his shock and start bawling or screaming, but he stayed eerily still against him, besides his shaking.

They sat that way for around 30 minutes, Elias worryingly silent in August's arms. He wasn't even ticcing anymore, he was so still that it was freaking August out. He pulled away to look at him, and when Elias made eye contact, his face twitched into a frown.

"What the fuck!" He gasped, his hands tightening around the blanket. His eyes welled up with tears.

"Hey, hey, it's ok," August soothed, wiping at Elias's tears gently. "You're alright, love."

"I can't believe...what the fuck did I do?!" He began to sob, his shoulders jolting with the gasps. "What the fuck! Holy fuck!"

August got concerned at his ragged breathing, the panicked rising of his voice. He couldn't say anything to calm him down, not when he was panicking so much, so he slapped him. Not too hard, just enough to jolt him out of his panic. "Listen to me, Eli. Everything is fine, don't work yourself up."

Elias bit back sobs, frowning at August. "I'm sorry," he whined, his lip trembling, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"You’ve got to stop freaking out like this.” His voice was scolding, like Elias had broken a plate or something only slightly annoying and not shot and killed someone. “Seriously, sweetheart, you’re letting everything get to you way too much. You’ll make yourself sick with worry.”

Maybe it was the tone of his voice, the way he was making it all seem so insignificant, but Elias believed him. He didn’t have any control over the situation, maybe there really was no point of getting so worked up, it only made it more scary.

“I want to get drunk again, now,” he breathed, his voice trembling and weak, “please.”

August grinned at him, nodding approvingly. “Ok, love. Whatever you want. Come on, we’ll go make some drinks.”

When they were in the kitchen, two of August’s friends were still in there, hovering next to the counter. One kept looking over his shoulder out the window, at the now red tinted pool outside, his face pale. The other simply stared at the wall to his left, his stare blank and faraway. Elias felt them turn to stare as he lowered himself into a chair at the kitchen table. He was surprised when the more obviously nervous one moved to sit across from him.

“Hey,” he mumbled awkwardly, “how are you feeling?”

Elias looked like maybe he didn’t hear what he said, using his good hand to pick at a chipped part of the table. There were traces of dried, partially washed away blood on his forearm. It had slid its way down his arm when August was bandaging him up and he hadn’t bothered to wash it away completely. Elias understood why, what was the point of it? What was the point in worrying or caring about anything? Like August said, like he was starting to realize, it was a waste of his energy to sit around upsetting himself over it, what was a little dried blood?

“I’m fine,” he choked out. “What about… what about you?”

The man shrugged, watching Elias’s hands shaking and ticcing every now and then as he tried desperately to keep them busy with the ruined wood. “I feel bad. It was meant to be a joke, it wasn’t supposed to go that far. I didn’t know he was gonna… I’m sorry that happened.”

August took a deep, aggravated sigh from where he was mixing their drinks. He didn’t say anything when he set a glass down in front of Elias, but he did trace his thumb over his wrist before turning to the counter. He made three more drinks, dispersed them to his friends and then sat down with his own.

They all drank in haunting silence, August seemed like he was the only one who wasn’t upset, his face was almost bored. Elias tried to mimic his levelheadedness, to try to not think about it. And yet, he kept having to reach up and rub the tears blurring his vision out of his eyes.

[janekfan]

Chronic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802141

Thank you @taylortut for helping me!!!

Jon looked at the clock.

537.

The glowing numbers burned themselves into his retinas. How had it been less than an hour since last he’d checked? No use for it. Better to get himself up and ready for work. But he’d closed his eyes against the headache blaring like a klaxon and he’d have to open them again at some point.

Taking advantage of his lonely flat, Jon allowed himself to indulge the noise pushing its way through grit teeth as he maneuvered his sore legs from under the quilt. He sat a moment, pressing the bare soles of his feet on the cold floor and levering his heavy body upright with a shaking arm.

Exhausted.

And it’s only--a quick glance.

544.

The hell was wrong with him?

Since just before accepting the position as Head Archivist, and rightly pissing off both Sasha and Tim on her behalf, Jon felt like he’d been constantly coming down with something. Dizzy and nauseous and unable to eat, he was chronically exhausted and while he’d never slept well at the best of times, it was evading him more than ever.

And there were his mornings. Struggling to motivate himself out of bed, brushing his teeth with his eyes closed and leaning against the wall. Deciding he could forgo a shower just once more and choosing instead to make breakfast. Forcing himself to eat a piece of dry toast with his heart hammering away in his throat and half laying on the table, panting through his tea. Mentally, Jon prepared himself for the walk to the train, automatically going for his cane because lord knew he needed the support.

He’d get to the Institute hours early.

At least that made him look good?

Taking advantage of being a cane user, Jon opted for a reserved seat, the guilt at truly needing one eating away at his insides. But there were black spots at the corners of his vision and he had to sit down before he fell down and the guilt is a far sight better than causing a scene. The trip was too short. His chest ached from the constant pounding and he pressed the hand not holding his cane for dear life against his breastbone. It didn’t help but the pressure and touch grounded him enough to stand up. To head to the cross street. To wait for the lights to change. To stagger down the stairs and into his office, to drop into his desk chair and focus on every breath of air moving into his body and back out of it.

Jon put his head down. There was no one here. Wouldn’t be for a couple hours yet and he was exhausted, shaking from it. Nauseated. There wasn’t a fever. He’d gone as far as to purchase a thermometer to be certain when the strange symptoms refused to abate no matter how often he let himself rest, no matter the meals he tried his damndest to eat, the water he drank down. He was trying. Jon couldn’t remember ever taking such good care of himself and of course it refused to pay off. In Uni, he’d driven himself into the ground with little consequence. He’d maintained those habits until a few months ago and now--

Muffled voices drifted through his door, the rise and fall of easy conversation. The kind he’d once been allowed to partake in. Laughter filled the air and while Jon wished to join them he knew he wasn’t welcome.

Why had he done it?

Why hadn’t he refused Elias?

Because you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish. Needy. Greedy, grasping, always striving to know answers and never satisfied with what you're given. You take what you don’t deserve.

Reluctantly, Jon stood, slowly, because doing anything quickly these days has him ducking his head between his legs or waking up on the floor without any recollection of how he came to be there. He could at least collect their research in person, greet them. Try to be the boss they deserved.

Sasha was the boss they deserved.

“Ah, g’good morning.”

“Jon!” Martin, smiling shyly. “You’re here so early!” He began to stammer and Jon’s legs began to ache. This wasn’t a good day. They seldom were anymore. “I m’mean, of course y’you are, you work very hard!” Martin was saved by Tim swinging an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ve broken ‘im, boss.” A flush rose in Jon’s cheeks. He could feel it. “No worries, Marto. He’s always been an early riser.” While it was said in jest, the tone settled heavy in Jon’s chest, directly beside the pain blossoming like a thorny rose. Luckily, he was rescued by Rosie, standing halfway down the stairs and informing him that Elias requested him in his office. Jon didn’t relish the climb, no matter how grateful he was to escape out from underneath Sash’s heavy gaze. She had every right and he would bear his punishment in silence until she chose, if she ever did, to forgive him.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jon limped out of Elias’ office without any recollection of what they’d spoken about or if he’d even spoken at all. Thumping pain and panic and he knew he was rude to ignore Rosie at her desk but he wasn’t in any shape to hold a conversation, fairly certain that he wasn’t able to currently speak, far too focused on trying to hide how ill he was. But every sound was magnified tenfold in his ears and he could barely remember where the door to the archives was with the way his head reeled and spun. Jon wanted to sink to the ground once he had the door between himself and the lobby but he’d never make it to his feet again after that. Push through, he told himself. Get to your desk. He allowed himself a moment, two, just to put his head to rights, to try and breathe through the battering of his pulse.

And oh god he wasn’t going to make it and he wondered if somehow Elias knew. It was as though he’d kept him standing there talking about nothing until Jon hit his limit, knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to get back to his office.

But he had to try and he’d almost gotten down the ridiculously narrow stairwell before he forgot nearly entirely why he was there in the first place. Was he going up? Down? Meeting with someone? Just arriving? He could barely breathe and the panic welling in his throat was choking and the black was crawling over his eyes and the dizziness only increased and he needed...needed…

For a moment, Jon didn’t recognize where he was, the migraine, the fuzziness, conspiring against memory and reason. But he knew this color, the hideous lick of paint some contractor had splashed over the walls a lifetime ago.

Breakroom?

Wha--

“Jon!” He winced, his own name like broken glass shredding every sense to ribbons. “Christ, are you alright?” Martin, the sounds he made were shrill, grating, and if he’d been able to tell him to be silent, he would have. “We heard the noise--you’d, you fainted! On the stairs! Luckily it was only the last few.” Jon blinked, dull and dumb, forcing himself up, up, up, and through heavy mist and fog in his search for words. Weary to the marrow of his aching bones, Jon slumped on the cushions and tried to think of a way to stop Martin’s incessant chattering. Tim and Sasha, alerted most likely by all the commotion, stood over him and he craned his neck up to look at them. Tim especially looked furious.

“You could have been seriously hurt!”

“S’sorry…” And he was, between his rabbiting heartbeat, throbbing migraine, and difficulty drawing breath into his exhausted lungs, he wanted to cry with how sorry he was.

“This is ridiculous. You need to take better care of yourself.” Jon wasn’t sure why the sting from Tim’s accusation cut so deep and he hung his head, biting trembling lips to prevent the tears threatening to spring free.

It wasn’t fair.

By all accounts he was taking care of himself. More than ever!

“Did you even eat today? Drink anything?” He nodded, miserable, unwell, and equipped with no better answers than the truth.

“Tim. He’s just come to.” The understanding was the final straw, and Jon’s sight blurred with salt damp. “I’ll make sure he eats something before going back to work.”

“Alright, Martin. If he gives you any trouble, call.” At Jon, he pointed. “And you, no trouble.” And he nodded miserably.

“Okay, they’ve gone.” The familiar sounds of the kettle heating filled the room, the clink of a pair of ceramic mugs, the rustling of the tea bags, Martin’s distracted murmuring, all combined to calm him. “How long have you been feeling this way?” Jon looked up, surprised, and shrugged one shoulder, accepting the small plate of biscuits and nibbling slowly and when he finished those, Martin offered up the tea. Sitting with him in companionable quiet, he sipped on his own cup. Nothing more was exchanged and when Jon finished he thanked Martin for the company and locked himself away.

Jon was at wit’s end. Nothing he tried seemed to improve anything and the few times he did speak with a doctor, he was sent away with the same, useless advice, or worse, told he was imagining things, making it up, having panic attacks even though he was familiar with those and this was not that.

Work was a nightmare made even more miserable with the overwhelming amount of paperwork, statements, boxes, misfiled folders and envelopes and items and Jon missed the easy camaraderie and understanding he’d had with Sasha and Tim. Maybe he should resign, try and salvage what little of the relationship they still had, or, or invite them out for dinner, his treat, but Elias would never let him quit and the very idea of entertaining exhausted him. A cuppa appeared at his elbow filled with something new, something floral and slightly sweet, accompanied, as always, by a few biscuits.

“That’s a lot of work, Jon.” He sipped, grateful, lifting an eyebrow in response.

“I knew it would be when I accepted this position.” Undeterred, Martin stumbled forward.

“Y’yeah, I mean, you would have. Of course. I just--” A breath. “I’ve finished with my other assignments, ready for round, uh. Well, another round!”

“Ah. Alright, I’ll bring something over when I pick up your translations.” Martin took back the cup, nodding enthusiastically, and Jon appreciated that it was business as usual, selecting a few he’d been putting off and making his way toward his assistants ignoring inquiring looks in favor of taking the chair Martin offered up to go over his expectations. Short, succinct. A few notes on one translation, advice to remember for next time, and Jon felt reasonably confident Martin could handle himself. It wasn’t until he’d gotten back to his office that Jon realized that was the first time he’d been offered a chair. It was becoming apparent that Martin was good at noticing the little things about them. A blush heated his cheeks and he tried to rub it away, feeling ridiculous that such a small act of kindness made him feel so seen.

Jon pushed forward, ignoring the warnings his body was trying to give him in favor of plowing through his work like he’d always done, and by the time he made it home, was on the verge of collapse. Hot tears of frustration stung at the corners of his eyes, spilling over when Jon allowed himself to feel it. More than anything, he was used to having control over himself, working when he wanted, burying himself in the research, devouring knowledge. Now he was at the whim of his physical form. Paying more attention to it than ever before and never knowing if he was going to wake up and have a good day or a bad day and it was maddening. Managing whatever it was without knowing what it was, was impossible with no rhyme or reason he could discern.

So in the absence of both, Jon kept shoving his way through how difficult it was because if he could just be normal through pretending everything was normal, then it would be.

Jon knew Tim was cross with him and managed to avoid him for most of the day, taking breaks here and there like he’d promised Martin he would do. But his luck, while it had been holding steady, had just run out and he found himself cornered in the breakroom.

“What do you think you’re on about?” Frustration had long since turned to outrage, boiling over.

“Tim, I. I’m not sure what you mean--”

“Damn it, Jon! You’ve already taken on a job you aren’t fit for! You can’t keep heaping your work onto Martin and then swanning off!”

“That’s.” He balled his hands into fists, nails biting crescent moons into his palms. How could he explain when even the doctors thought he was making it all up? Heat rushed through him, top to toe, flushing his face and he wavered, legs threatening to buckle, vision threatening to go dark. He was going to pass out a second time today if he didn’t sit down. But that would mean walking away from Tim, and he didn’t think the man would let him. At least not until he was done telling him off. Better to be silent. Try not to pay attention to how erratic the persistent beating caged behind fragile ribs had become.

“Why didn’t you say no?” Because he wanted to be useful. Because Elias made him feel like he was capable even if he wasn’t. “Why didn’t you just let Sasha have this?” Because he was an awful, selfish person. “God, Jon. Why did you drag us all down here with you?”

Because he was lonely.

Because they’d been friends. Once.

Rather than remind Tim that he was free to go at any time, that he and Sash hadn’t been forced or coerced into accepting positions here in the archives, Jon pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Well?!” Sharp, strident, Tim’s shout echoed around in the space between his own hurting, agonal breaths in his ears.

“I. I, I need to si’down…” wanted to lay down. Wanted to sleep, trembling with exhaustion, about to go down.

“What?” Lashes fluttering as he gripped the thread of consciousness with both hands, he barely registered Tim’s hands around his shoulders, guiding him into a chair and pushing his head down between his knees. “Jon?”

“M’okay…”

“You are clearly not.” A wide palm settled on his back, keeping him folded over. It was helping.

“S’mm...been. S’fine.” The floor came back into focus, all the little cracks and imperfections and Jon counted the streaks in the pattern in an attempt to ground himself but kept losing track of the number. Neither moved until Jon attempted to sit up, slowly, accepting Tim’s help.

“Jon?” He looked spooked, pale. “Please, what’s going on?” His hand settled in the crux of shoulder and neck, thumb ghosting along his clammy skin, and Jon allowed himself to find a morsel of comfort in the familiar gesture, the threat of tears closer than ever. So he reached for him.

“I don’t know.” And Tim pulled away as if burned, the frustration and anger rising in his face again, and Jon was bereft. “T’truly! I--”

“Why won’t you be honest with me? Don’t you trust me?” Standing, he took a step backwards, away from him, the hurt in him a palpable thing. “We’re supposed to be friends!”

Yes. They were friends. It was most likely why for the first time in a long while, the pain in his chest wasn’t a physical ache.

“Tim, I.” Fingers folded to fists to rest on his knees. But he was already gone.

“Jon!” Tentative, Martin lifted his chin. “Oh, oh.” Having been crying, Jon figured his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and he didn’t bother attempting to hide the evidence. “Alright.” Martin went about making tea, chamomile, herbal and calming, placing it before him on the table with a chocolate digestive. “Drink this down and then go home. It’s half six.”

“Mm.”

“Sleep will help.”

“Mm.”

“I could speak to them for you. If--”

“No!” All but shouted. “No. That won’t be necessary, Martin.” Carefully he stood, paused. “Thank you.” And left.

Jon called off.

Called off again.

Again.

Apologized to Elias in a curt email requesting leave and was granted it.

He ignored his phone. His texts. The knock at the door and Martin’s voice behind it. He slept when he was tired and he was tired often and it was easier besides, to finally listen to the screaming of his body. It was after hours on his fifth day gone when Tim let himself in with the spare key to Jon’s flat.

“Hey.” Sheepish, he held up his hands in surrender, a bag of takeaway from Jon’s favorite place dangling from one. “Martin said you wouldn’t let him in.” Dressed in the most comfortable clothes he had, which were also the shabbiest, Jon glared at him from where he laid on the couch. “I was an arse.” Slowly, he sat up, making Tim wait on purpose, a powerful frown still aimed in his direction.

“You were.” He was aware he looked a mess, greasy hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, but he felt a sight better for the rest he’d gotten.

“Would you accept an apology?” Folding his arms, Jon leaned back into the cushions and fixed his stare at whatever rubbish was on the telly.

“Might do.” Silently, Tim scurried into the tiny kitchen and Jon listened to the familiar sounds of him rooting around for cutlery. It smelled delicious and comforting, a reminder of nights spent together laughing at nothing on this same couch and despite himself, Jon began to relax.

“I’m sorry.”

“Alright.” Tim’s face split in a wide, relieved grin, and he flopped down next to him, planting a loud kiss to his temple before urging him to eat. “Martin sent you here.”

“An angry Marto is not to be trifled with.” Through a mouthful of noodles, Tim chuffed in laughter. “Wouldn’t tell me anything, other than to stop being a prick.”

“He did not.”

“He did not. But it was more than implied!” He put his bowl on the low table in front of them, sitting forward with his hands dangling between his knees. “And he was right. I didn’t give you a fair shake and accused you of awful things. And I know you’re doing your best at this job.”

“Gertrude isn’t making it easy.”

“Neither is your health, I take it.” Jon set his own meal aside, curling into the padded arm.

“No. It isn’t.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

“I know some things that help. M’Martin has been invaluable.”

“Has he, now?”

“Leave off!”

“Okay, okay.” But he continued giggling as Jon felt his face go hot, muttering.

“He really has.” This time Tim pulled him gently into an embrace.

“Then Sash and I will just have to catch up.”