#What Time Should You Sleep To Grow Taller Wonderful Tips

[hongmingoo]

Kind of Love

Pairing: Boo Seungkwan x reader

Warnings: older reader! x college student! Seungkwan, fluff, tiny bit angst, idiots in love, toxic family relationship, toxic mother, childhood sweethearts to lovers.

Word count: 5.0k

Synopsis: Boo Seungkwan is precious. He is the type of guy who wants to be there all the time for the person he loves. He is headstrong, sassy and confident. But at the same time, he is also shy, emotional and sensitive. So emotional that he'd be moved to tears immediately if his heart was touched. He is also kind, and caring but also a nagger with a nasty temper. But ultimately, he is the person who will love you so wholeheartedly that you would not feel lonely again. 

"Noona!" A cheerful voice called out. You looked to the side and saw a boy with fluffy hair, round cheeks and cute smile running towards you.

"Seungkwan-ah! Did you wait long? You should have told me earlier you're coming today. I would have taken a half day at work," you huffed. He just smiles sweetly, fidgeting at his long fingers. You looked up to him and wondered, when did he grow so tall?

Seungkwan must have noticed the expression on your face, that he chuckled and started bouncing on his feet.

"Did you think I grew taller? Hehe" he giggled and he's honestly so cute you want to squish his cheeks, so you did. He pouted.

"You're still so cheeky eh? Have you eaten? Let's go eat first. What do you want to eat?"

"Noona! I'm not a kid anymore. But can we go eat chicken?" You just nodded, and took his hand in yours. He grabbed his huge suitcase and rolled it towards your car. 

You ate at your favorite chicken place, luckily for you, the boy seems to love the place and the food already seeing how he chowed everything like a starved man. 

"Slow down, Seungkwan-ah. You'll choke," you laughed at him, so endeared by the younger boy. You have known him for the longest time, since he was born, when you first moved to Jeju at five years old. Seeing him all grown up now feels weird, but there's a sense of fulfillment filling your chest too, to know that you have been a part of his growing up phase. He's a good boy, so polite and kind towards his elders but a confident child who won't let anyone mess with his person no matter who they are. 

Seungkwan is a family to you and you feel so happy to see him grow up into a fine young man. You didn't realize you had been staring at the boy until he cleared his throat, the tip of his ears flushed. 

"Why are you staring at me, noona? Do I look funny? He complained, wiping his mouth with a napkin roughly. 

"No, you look good. I can't believe you're all grown up. You were just a baby, but look at you now! College student already. Aww, my Seungkwan is a big boy" you coo, reaching up to squish his cheeks in your hands again. He complained, but let you do it anyway. 

...

"Have you got a place to stay? The dorms didn't open yet tonight, right?" You asked as you drove through the traffic. It wasn't that heavy but you had a long day today so you're quite tired. 

"No…" he mumbled quietly from next to you. 

"Then just stay at my apartment. I have a spare bedroom. I'll drive you to the university tomorrow, okay?" You announced as you made a turn to a more quiet neighborhood.

"But I don't want to impose on you, you did a lot for me already noona" 

"What are you saying? You're like a brother to me already. You're not imposing. You're breaking my heart" you pout dramatically at him before looking ahead at the road again. You missed the way Seungkwan's smile dropped when he heard you saying he's like a brother to you but he quickly hid it with a side eye at your pout. 

"Or do you prefer to sleep at your girlfriend's house? Is that why you refused to sleep at mine?" You teased, and his cute reaction made you burst out a loud laugh. Seungkwan was as red as a cherry, from the tip of his ears to his slender neck. He hid his face in his hands, long fingers pressing at his eyebrows to avoid himself from frowning.

"What are you saying? You're embarrassing me! I've only arrived today, how would I get a girlfriend already? Are you stupid, noona? I'm not surprised honestly" he nagged, talking in an angry but extremely cute pout of his. You laughed again, already used to the younger boy calling you names because you know there's no bite in his words. 

"Okay, okay. Don't be mad. Seriously, you have no chill. My apartment is not that big though, but it's comfy. Well, for me at least. Let's go, we're here" you said as you pulled up into the parking lot and turned off the engine. Seungkwan was a bit taken aback because he doesn't even notice when you've arrived but quickly tails behind you like a lost puppy. 

"Welcome to my humble home" you said as you turned on the lights in the doorway of your apartment. It was a small space, equipped with a small living room and a small kitchenette. But it has two bedrooms and a bathroom. The decorations are simple and minimalist, just shades of blue and ivory. The apartment just feels like you. 

"You can sleep here tonight, Seungkwan-ah. I usually leave this room for my siblings if they come to visit. Rest comfortably," you explained as you beckon him to come over to you in the guest room. It has a single bed, a desk, chair, and a dresser. There's a big bear plushie on the bed too. 

"Can I use that too?" The boy asked, pointing towards the plushie and you just nodded with a smile. You left him to settle down afterwards and head to bed after you wash up. 

Seungkwan started his sem flawlessly, still stopping by your place occasionally to hang out. You let him, of course, because you enjoy his company more than you'd like to admit. Some days, he would bring his friends– Hansol and Chan over for a group project. He literally treated the place as his too, like you've said to him when he first arrived. They would be sprawled all over the floor on the living room by morning for staying up the whole night studying. 

Sometimes, you'd ask him why he prefers to study at your house instead of the library and he would just shrug it off and say the place is packed with disgusting couples instead. 

"Noona, don't you have a boyfriend? We're always hanging out here but I've never seen you hang out with any guys," Chan asked one day, being the nosy but caring guy that he is. He made a confused noise when Seungkwan shot him a particularly harsh glare before answering,

"She doesn't have a boyfriend. She's too busy dating her job to actually see anyone" he muttered nonchalantly. You jabbed at his side with a frown on your face. 

"I'm not dating my job! I'm just busy making ends meet. You know I have to support my family back home" 

"Yeah, I know. I'm just joking. You did a good job. I'm so proud of you Y/n-noona" Seungkwan coos, cupping your face in his hands before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. It was oddly domestic, but you love it either way. You love the feelings of being pampered by the nasty nagger. 

Hansol and Chan turned to each other and shared a knowing look. 

"When will you wire me the money? I need to pay for your sisters' school fees. I need to pay the bills. Do you expect me to pay it all by myself? Your brother hasn't given me money in a long time. And you're gonna be like this too? You both are working already, can't you even support your mom?" Your mom barked through the speaker, her piercing voice shooting through your ears, almost bleeding them. 

You held back a sigh, not wanting to irritate her any further.

"Maybe he has his own commitments too. I don't think that he doesn't want to give you some, he's just struggling at the moment," you retorted, trying to rationalize the situation.

"He should have prioritized me! I'm his mother. You're always siding with him. Are you not my daughter?!" She yelled and you almost threw the phone at the wall from irritation. 

But you have a new husband now. Why not ask him for money?

You thought but against saying it out loud. You agreed to transfer her some money as soon as you hang up and end the call. There's unsatisfied pounding at the back of your head and you let out a grunt, tugging at your hair harshly to maybe alleviate the pain. The doorbell rang but you didn't feel like receiving any guests so you ignored it. You plopped down on the couch and let your arm rest on your eyes. It rang several more times before a text came in. 

Seungkwan🍊: noona it's me. Are you home? I brought you some cake.

Your heart immediately melted at the text and typed a quick reply. 

Me: It's your birthday. Come on in. 

The front door chimed, and there's shuffling before Seungkwan appeared with a box of cake in his hands. 

"Are you okay? You seemed tired" he greeted. You just hummed at him so he proceeded to put the box on the kitchen counter and take the cake out. 

"Do you want to eat it now? Or should I chill it first? It's tiramisu" the boy asked. You let your arms fall to your sides, feeling the anger dissipated already. Seungkwan came to you when you needed him the most without having to ask, with your favorite cake. You stood up abruptly– shocking the poor boy and trotted to the kitchen towards him. He looked at you, puzzled and immediately froze when you latched onto him. Your arms wrapped tightly around his slender body, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent.

"I love you, Seungkwan-ah" you sighed. Seungkwan froze yet again, before wrapping his arms around your leaner frame. 

"I- I love you too, noona" he confessed, voice cracking a bit. It sounded forced so you looked up at him. Seungkwan was flustered, face flushed with pink dusting his cheeks. He was biting his lower lip in nervousness. 

"Yeah, I know–"

"No. Look at me properly, noona. As a man. Not as the young boy who always follows you around. And not as your brother. As a man. I've liked you since I started high school. But I don't want you to be arrested. S-so, so I waited a bit more. Until now" he explained, completely flustered. And you were speechless. You have never seen him more than a brother, never even thought about it before he mentioned it. You pulled back. 

"Seungkwan, I'm older than you. By five years. You could have found someone else at the university. Someone of your age or maybe closer. I'm not cut to be with you"

"Why does it matter if you're older than me by 5 years?" 

“Of course it matters! We could have different personalities, likes and dislikes. And we could have different ways to wind down and, I might not be able to understand your vibe–”

“If that mattered to me, I would have stop pursuing you long ago, noona. You know how I am. If I dislike something, I would have said it to your face” he replied as a matter of factly which made you stunned, almost dumb. It’s true though. Seungkwan has never had the problems to say what he thinks ot loud. He’s that kind of person who will be honest with you even if it hurts. His hands find your face, cupping your cheeks into his warm palms. He stared down at you with wide eyes, filled with nothing but honesty and adoration.

“We don’t have to change anything if you don’t want to. I won’t force myself onto you too. We can take as much time as you need. But won’t you give me a chance? To be yours? I would love to call you mine”

Your heart skipped beats, and your breath hitched. You didn’t realize how much time has passed and now you are looking at the boy who used to follow you around as a toddler, as a grown man. And it made your heart races. So fucking fast. Seungkwan is tucking strands of your hair behind your ears now, still waiting for your answer patiently. Where have the impatient boy gone to?

“Okay,” you muttered, quickly hiding your face in the crook of his neck again to hide the blush that is creeping up your face. Seungkwan chuckled because he found it funny that you’re embarrassed now, but against saying anything about it. He was proud enough of himself to be able to make you flustered. It means that you did look at him in a different light now. 

Being with Seungkwan is easy. Falling for Seungkwan is even easier. He is the kindest boyfriend ever, always so sweet and caring. Loving Seungkwan is effortless. You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the guy who’s capturing photos of cherry blossoms with his phone with his back facing you. You had taken him to watch the cherry blossoms to celebrate him passing his first semester at school with flying colors. It has only been two months since you both officially started dating, after 3 years of moping in a heartbreak from a bad break up, your heart finally allows you to love again. You watch Seungkwan coos excitedly at the falling flowers, snapping tons of photos to share with his family and friends before he turned to look at you with the brightest smile adorning his face. 

“Thank you for driving me here, noona. I love it very much” he giggled so happily. Your heart soar with happiness that  you find yourself smiling at him too. You’re in love with Boo Seungkwan.

But the happiness did not last long as you had hoped. Your mom had somehow found out that you’re dating Seungkwan and has been on your head since. She would mock you for your pathetic choice, choosing to date a college boy rather than hot, rich older guys. And you admit it was pathetic that you let her get into your head. You haven’t told Seungkwan any of the demeaning things she said to you afraid that you would hurt him. Instead, you keep it sealed inside you for who knows how long you can conceal it before you break. 

Of course, being the attentive person that he is, Seungkwan notices your changes almost instantly. He would ask you if you’re okay, or if there’s something you would want to tell him while he hugs you ever so lovingly. But you only hugs him tighter as you swallow all the painful thorns inside you. 

Seungkwan, on the other hand, can feel that you’ve been distant towards him. You didn’t chatter as excitedly as you did before with him. You only listen to him but didn’t let him on about you as much. You’d welcome him warmly anytime he decided to appear unannounced at your apartment, still treating him with so much love and care. But, he knows there’s something wrong with you somewhere and you wouldn’t let him in. So, he thought maybe he hasn’t done enough for you to trust him fully, that he would double his efforts to make you feel at ease with him. To open your heart for him. 

Today, he felt that his heart broke into pieces. You were talking to a man at a cafe near your workplace. You weren’t just talking, he can see that the man is flirting with you, and you smiled at his attempts. The man was tall, broad and attractive. Handsome chiseled face, black hair that was styled neatly, expensive suit, and watch. He was wealthy, and Seungkwan can see that painfully obvious. 

Of course, you would choose someone like that over him. Someone who has a stable career in front of him, someone who’s wealthy enough to support you and you life, your family. He knows how your family treated you like a money-making doll and you’ve gone through hell because of that. He hated himself for not being able to do anything about that other than just watching you suffer and he couldn’t help hating you a bit for choosing someone way better than him. It was just plain selfish. So, he did what was the most obvious move for him. 

Seungkwan🍊: Let’s break up, noona. I can’t do this anymore. 

He blocked your number as soon as he sent the text, turning on his heels quickly before he could see your reactions towards the text. He made a wishful thinking that he’s doing this for your sake. But he was just honestly afraid you would dump him first. He's a coward and he's painfully aware of that.

You were stunned to see the text from Seungkwan. And you’re even more speechless to see that he has blocked you on all your socials. He had left you with no means to contact him, and without any explanations. You’d go to his dorms or university for a chance to meet him but he wasn’t there. It's like he just vanished into thin air. It has been 3 weeks, and you still haven't found Seungkwan. You were starting to think the universe hated you, until you got a call from Chan.

You pulled on the handbrake harshly as soon as you noticed the trio on the pavement. You jumped out of the car, practically lurching towards Seungkwan who was being held by his friends. He tripped all over his feet until you caught him in your arms. 

"Seungkwan-ah" you breathed, relief washing over you as you stare down at the boy who's drunk out of his mind. 

"Noona?" He slurred, tipping his head upwards to look at you with a wry smile before passing out. You looked towards Hansol and Chan for explanation and they both just sighed. 

"He returned that day after breaking up with you crying his eyes out. Said he saw you on a date with another man who's way better than him. He dumped you for your own sake. But he's been moping around ever since. Decided to drink today because we just finished our midterms. We really don't know how to help anymore so that's why we called you. Sorry to make you come all the way here, noona" Chan clarified. Hansol just nodded in agreement, he's never been a talkative bunch.

"It's fine. Thank you for calling me. Let me drive you guys home."

The drive to the dorms was quiet, only filled with Seungkwan's light snores and occasional chit chat from Chan and Hansol. They thanked you for dropping them off before you continued to drive home. You hauled Seungkwan's weight on your back, dragging him up to your apartment. 

"Seungkwan-ah, do you need to puke?" You asked him as you sat him down on the bed. He was still so out of it but he managed to shake his head. 

"Here, you need to drink more water to sober up," you say, holding the glass of water to his lips. He obediently took a sip, and then some more before looking down at you who was kneeling on the floor in between his legs. 

"You're so pretty, noona. Why did you leave me?" He asked innocently. You bit your lips, knowing he still wasn't in his right mind to talk about it right now. So you just gently push him to lay on the bed and cover his body with the comforter. 

"Get some sleep first. Let's talk tomorrow okay? You need rest. Goodnight" you placed a soft kiss on his forehead and temple before moving to leave and he just stared at you as if you've grown two heads. The next time you came into the room to place a bottle of water and aspirin on the nightstand, knowing he would be in serious pain tomorrow– Seungkwan was already peacefully asleep. You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips,

"I love you, Seungkwan-ah" 

Seungkwan did wake up with a head splitting headache the next day, he reached for the water bottle and aspirin and just gulped them down in one go. But as soon as he noticed where he was, he froze. His phone was plugged in to the charger, the jacket he wore last night have been hung on the hanger against the dresser. His friends must have called you to pick him up after his ridiculously embarrassing coping agenda. Picking up his phone, he noticed it’s only 7:29 in the morning on a Saturday, you must still be sleeping since its your off day. He gathered his things quietly and made a move to leave before you woke up.

“You seriously won’t just leave like that after making me drive to the other side of the city and back at 2am, right? Tell me if I’m wrong” Seungkwan froze. Your voice sounded stern and cold that it brought shudders down his spine. He turned back to see you standing just outside the kitchen with a ladle in hand. The sight of you broke his heart. You looked pale, dark bags under your eyes, cheeks sunken and body leaner than what he remembered. 

“Noona, what happened to you? You looked sick” he rushed towards you, worry evident in his tone. You scoffed and turned away to head to the kitchen again.

“I made you a hangover soup. Eat first, then we can talk.” You both ate in silence and Seungkwan offered to wash the dishes after. He made a glass of iced americano for himself and a hazelnut latte for you since you didn’t really appreciate the taste of his favourite drink. But seeing that you stocked up the americano capsules just for him warms and wrench his heart at the same time.

“Tell me the truth. Did I do something wrong? Did I offend you in some way? Why did you leave? Without any explanations? Don’t I deserve them?” the boy was bombarded by series of questions as soon as he placed the glasses on the coffee table. Your eyes looked desperate and there’s tears pooling, waiting to disperse. 

“If… If its about the guy, it was a blind date my mom set up. I rejected him properly and was planning to tell you all about it after. I… I even bought cakes so that we could celebrate you getting the highest mark in your quiz. But you suddenly texted me that and gone! I went to your uni, asked your friends and waited for you to finish class everyday after work but you just gone! What am I supposed to do with my heart then??” you lashed out, tears bursting out of your eyes like a waterfall. 

“I thought you liked me. Am I wrong? Do you hate me now?” You felt pathetic. You never intended to lashed out and begging like this. You desperately wanting to pull yourself together, being emotional and out of control isn’t your forte but the thoughts of losing Seungkwan is driving you insane, you couldn’t help yourself. You took a deep shuddering breath, trying to stabilize your emotions. 

“Just tell me the truth. If you dont like me anymore so we can get this over with” you hissed. 

“Do you know how sad and helpless I felt when I see you breaking down on your own without telling me? I know how your family treated you, but there’s nothing I could do because no matter how bad they treated you, I know you still cared so much about them, and there’s nothing I can do. I could only stand here and watch you suffer alone. You wouldn’t cry in front of me. You wouldn’t say you’re in pain because that would make me sad so you acted strong as you’ve always did since you’re young. You have always been strong, noona. The strongest that I’ve ever met. And I’m sure that you don’t need anyone to protect you because you can protect yourself. But even the strongest soldiers need a place to lean on. And you wouldn’t let me be that place for you. You wouldn’t let anyone in. I can’t do anything about it because it’s your fight, but wouldn’t you let me be there by your side to catch you when you fall?” Seungkwan cried. He was hiccuping from how hard he cried too and you have to hold back the urge to just pull him in and give him  the biggest hug he deserves. 

“And when I saw you with that hyung. I thought that he’s way better than me. I bet he can give you everything you ever wanted. So I have to let you go and it’s for your own sake but no. I was just so scared that you’d dump me so I decided to pull the trigger first. I’m sorry, noona”

You let out an exasperated exhale. So frustrated at yourself and the situation. You could have guessed that all this mess stemmed from your inability to let people truly come in your heart. Because you weren’t able to let yourself be vulnerable in front of anyone. And because of your own insecurities, you let Seungkwan got hurt. 

“No… I’m the one who should be sorry. I let you got hurt. Because of my own weakness” you breathed. Seungkwan seems unsatisfied with what you said so he rushes to where you were standing and cupped your face in his large hands. 

“I don’t want that noona. All I want is for you to tell me how you really feel. If you’re hurt, say that it hurts. If you’re in pain, say that it’s painful. If you’re sad, you can cry. If you’re mad, then get angry. You allowed to feel what you feel. You’re allowed to act out how you feel. You’re allowed to ask for attention. You are allowed to act childish, to be selfish. For you. I can’t see you like this anymore. I can’t see you sacrificing yourself trying to be everything for others. I don’t want you to disappear just because you try to be everything for everyone else too. Don’t do this alone, noona. Let me help you, please.”

Seungkwan begged, tears streaming down his innocent face. It breaks your heart to see him like that. You have always known the boy to have the purest heart out there. He’d be the first person to cry for you whenever you got sick.  And he’d cry happy tears when you aced your college entrance exam too. He’d be there to help you with your chores. He'll help you carry the groceries on your trip back home from the supermarket. Sometimes, he’d nagged at the grandma who’s mocking you for getting sick regularly, saying it wasn’t your choice that you have a weak immune system. He’d give out the tangerines his family planted once they’re ready to harvest to the neighbours at 5am without being asked. 

Seungkwan is precious, you knew that but you still broke his heart even if that wasn’t your plan. 

“Don’t cry.. Why do you keep tearing up?” you croaked, unable to stop your own tears when you see him still sobbing until his shoulders are shaking. 

“Because you are so stupid, noona. There are people whos’ willing to listen to you if you’d just open up. But you chose to suffer alone. How stupid couuld you be? I’m so tired of your stupidity, honestly you drive me insane! How should I tell you how stupid you are?” he nagged, wiping at his face harshly. You would’ve gotten mad if it wasn’t him who said it. So, you just laugh because there was no bite in his words, just evidence of his adoration towards you. 

“I love you, Seungkwan-ah” you confessed, holding his hands away from his face to look into his deep brown eyes. 

“About damn time. I was wondering if you would ever–” he complained before he cut himself off and those round eyes widen even more. His sobbings stopped abruptly, he was staring at you in disbelief at what you said. You laughed again at his reaction and squished his cheeks with your smaller hands and stood on your tip toes to plant a soft peck on his upper lip. 

“And not as a younger brother. I love you as my boyfriend, Boo Seungkwan” you confessed again, this time pressing a kiss to his lips properly. The boy froze, his face got impossibly redder than a ripe tomato and he just stood there, staring at you. Bewildered. You stepped away from him, pulling your hands back to your sides, looking up at him with teary eyes and faking the saddest pout you can manage. 

“You don’t feel the same anymore? Am I way too late?” you asked. Seungkwan gaped at your audacity to act cute, after making him go through roller coaster of emotions. He scoffed.

“Gosh, you’re impossible” he grunted, grabbing you by the waist and tugging you close so your body is flushed against him. His nose nuzzled against yours as he sighed, relief washing over him. 

"I'm not imagining things right? You really said you love me, right?" He asked. Staring into your glistening orbs. 

"I will say it as many times as you want me to. I love you, Boo Seungkwan" you assured, kissing his eyes lovingly. The boy made happy, tiny noises and you couldn't help cooing at his cuteness. 

"So, will you take me back or not? Are you going to abandon this noona of yours?"

Seungkwan glared at you but hid his face in the crook of your neck, tightening his hold on your body. 

"I won't let you get away. You're stuck with me, noona. You're mine" he grumbled angrily and you just laughed. Totally endeared and in love. 

-Fin-

[offwithhxrhead]

Incorrect Quotes ft. the Liddell-Van Dorts

. thought i'd give this generator a go and i absolutely am so glad i did .

Alice: Hello, I'm Alice. I work at a shop now. Here to help. Look, they gave me a badge with my name on it in case I forget it. Very helpful, as that does happen.

Shapeshifter: *transforms to look like Maddie* Maddie: Okay, are you like BLIND? You look nothing like me. First off, I'm way taller. Secondly, I DO NOT look so sleep deprived and lastly, if you could drag comb through that hair you're like a 7 on a good day and I've been told I'm a constant 10.

Maddie, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

Victor: What can therapy do for me that screaming in my car for 30 minutes can’t?

Alice: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.

Cop: You ran a red light. Alice: So did you, hypocrite. Cop: I was following you. Alice: That was dumb, I'm a terrible driver. Cop: Get out.

Victor: I've got a weapon, and I'm... admittedly VERY afraid to use it!

Alice: Remember, when burying a body, make sure to cover it with endangered plants so it’s illegal to dig up! Alice: Make sure to follow me for more gardening tips!

Victor: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

Maddie: What, I can’t be in a bad mood? It’s like people think, “Oh, Maddie is such a nice person, Maddie is so happy-go-lucky! Maddie can’t be in a bad mood!” Well, you know what? Maddie CAN be in a bad mood. And right now, Maddie IS be in a bad mood.

Alice: Social distancing says you shouldn't be within an elbow's distance of each other. *later, in a barfight* Alice: Social distancing doesn't say nothing about feet! *kicks opponent in the face*

Victor: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Victor: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

Maddie: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?

Alice: I apologize for saying 'fuck' in front of Maddie. Victor: You just said it again. Maddie: Alice: I am not a role model.

Alice: How long do you reckon it’ll be until Maddie finally snaps and commits murder? Victor: I’ve been going through life assuming it’s already happened at some point and it’s just that no one was ever able to trace it back to her.

Maddie: Victor, Alice, I love y’all and all, but can I ask what in the hell are you doing? Victor, trying to stabilize a tower of folding chairs that Alice is sitting atop: Oh nothing much. Alice: I love you too :)

Alice: Guys where did Maddie go? Victor: She got arrested. Alice: How the hell- Maddie: *bursts in through the window* The cops are after me, I thought it would be fun to steal crackers and throw them at people.

Alice: Maddie, what do you have? Maddie: A KNIFE! Alice: Okay, have fu- Victor: NO!

Maddie: Would you take a bullet for me? Victor: ...yes? *Alice angrily bursts into the room* Maddie: *running away* Great, thanks!

Maddie, washing the dishes: Who the fuck used this pan?? Maddie: Wait. I the fuck used this pan… Victor: It was you the fuck. Maddie: It was I the fuck… Alice: Who cooks rice in a pan? Victor: She the fuck.

Victor: Why would anyone want to harm Maddie? Alice: Maybe because they met her?

Maddie: Mom, that’s disgusting. You’re only giving free stuff to beautiful people. Victor: Yeah, you should be ashamed of yourself. Alice: Oh yeah? *gets really close to Victor* How about a muffin on the house baby? Victor, giggling: I’m pretty.

Victor: You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong. Maddie: *Sipping their drink after accidentally adding salt* I just like the way it tastes.

Victor: If we lose, you’re out of the will. Maddie: I was in the will?

Victor: Am I right, Maddie? Maddie: I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.

Alice: What situation is not instantly improved by the addition of fishnets, I ask you. Maddie: Being a fish. Alice: Well, shit.

Alice: What the fuck is wrong with you?? Maddie: What? No good morning? Alice: Good morning, what the fuck is wrong with you??

Victor: *chokes on something* Maddie: Jeez, Victor, don't die on us. Victor: Don't tell me what to do, I'll die whenever the hell I want!

Maddie: You know what I’ve realized? Alice: Some thoughts are better left unsaid? Maddie: Nice try, anyways-

Maddie: Help! I’m drowning! Victor: Calm down. We’re only in six feet of water! Maddie: NOT ALL OF US ARE TALL!

Victor: Talk dirty to me, baby~ Alice: The dishes. Victor: Wh- Alice: They’ve been there for 4 days and it’s your turn to wash them. You still haven’t cleaned them and I have asked you to do so several times.

Alice: *sees someone doing something stupid* Alice: What an idiot. Alice: *realizes it's Maddie* Alice: Wait, that's MY idiot!

@thevalicemultiverse

[jenomark]

Nct / wayv reaction when you suddenly kiss them when you're drunk 🙏

Taeil: You were both drunk but acted like the alcohol didn't affect you. Sitting next to Taeil, you arm hair brushing against his, you felt blissful. "Do you want to play a game?" he asked, his glossy eyes on yours. Hanging out with him on Friday nights, just drinking wine and sitting at his kitchen table, was fun without the random card games. You just liked being in his presence, feeling the full effect of your feelings for him. Feeling fantastic, you took his hand in yours and brought it to your lips. You kissed his soft skin and said," No, we could just talk." The realization of what you had done slowly sunk in but, like everything else, Taeil pretended it didn't happened.

Johnny: "You're drunk." he said, grinning. You were seconds away from stamping your foot on the floor and claiming that you had hardly had much to drink, when your equilibrium was thrown off, and you swayed in place. "See," he said, pointing. "You should get some rest." Johnny was openly smirking and teasing you, which lit a fire underneath you that not even his handsome face could put out. You went into the corner beside the cabinets, brought out a tiny step stool and placed it in front of him. From there, you climbed onto it, your eyes level with his, and you kissed his lips. " Oh, I might be a little drunk, too." Johnny breathed, his sweet breath blowing back into your face.

Taeyong: He was bundled up head-to-toe, a beanie on his head, and a scarf wrapped around his neck several times. Everything on him was cold, except for his hand, which was nesting firmly in yours. You walked on, the twinkling lights of the city lulling you both into a sense of comfort. Being with Taeyong, especially like this, made long, cold nights more bearable. "Are you still tipsy?" he asked, stopping. In your mind, you saw the wine you had both shared at dinner, could picture it sitting in the bottom of your empty stomach. You nodded, facing him with an affectionate smile on your face. The warmth of the alcohol spread across his cheeks, or, maybe, it was from the biting wind. "You have something on your face." you said. Instinctively, Taeyong's hands reached up to touch his face, but your lips beat him to it. When you pulled away, shy Taeyong was staring back at you. "You're so cute." he said.

Yuta: In the quiet of his room, the thrum of the alcohol pumping through your veins was deafening. Yuta was watching you with a curious look, his eyes seeming to ask if you were brave enough. It was strange to know that you had his approval for the kiss before you had went through with it, and stranger still, that Yuta looked terrified. You went slow, kissing up along his bare arm, his warm skin flushing pink as you went. He was waiting patiently for you to find his lips, for you to snake your way up his smooth shoulder and kiss him like he'd never been kissed before. "I don't think I can wait anymore." he whispered. So, you closed the gap and found his lips earlier than you wanted, kissing him with so much passion that you could feel it in your toes. Though expected, Yuta gave a small shake, like there was an electric current running through his body.

Kun: "And press this key." Kun said. Even if you wanted to press it on your own, Kun's hand was on top of yours, and he was guiding you along. In his alcoholic forgetfulness, he seemed not to notice. You let him guide you, your fingertips touching the keys on his keyboard so lightly that you wondered if you were even touching them at all. Kun looked at your face, searching for the excitement he wished to find there. "Doesn't it sound beautiful?" he asked, adding, as if you didn't understand, "The music." You nodded, the expression on your face as clear as day: you were head over heels in love with him. You didn't remove your hand from underneath his, you just leaned in to kiss him, catching him by complete surprise. Before you could even breathe, Kun cupped your face and kept kissing you.

Doyoung: In your drunken mind, everything made sense. You loathed Doyoung, so the only thing left to do, was to kiss him. That will show him, you thought. You marched across the party, ignoring the warning signs from Taeyong in the corner, and you planted yourself firmly in front of Doyoung. He was nursing his own drink and looking at you with the contempt you felt. You couldn't remember what the old saying was, was it that revenge is best served cold? Hot? You had no idea. "What do you want?" Doyoung asked, trying his best to puff out his chest and appear confident. You started to speak but found out that you had nothing to say other than, "I want you." You kissed Doyoung then, your mouth sloppily gluing itself to his. Rather than push you away, Doyoung kissed you back, leading to a very steamy make-out in the middle of the room.

Ten: You came in from a night out with your friends, as drunk as can be, and one thing on your mind. As you tried kissing Ten, he moved away from you. "Not while you're drunk." he said. "Come on, let me tuck you into bed." You were tired, however, Ten had never looked sexier. You wanted to kiss him, to hold him and make love to him. Sensing that you were going to try and kiss him again, he jumped over the back of the couch. Your shoulders fell. "Don't you want to kiss me?" you asked. Ten stood his ground from a few feet away and said, "I always want to kiss you, but not when you can't consent." You put your hand on your hips, even your drunk mind understanding that it wasn't necessarily right. Still, you pouted. "But I wanted a kiss goodnight." From across the room, Ten kissed his fingers and sent the flying kiss in your direction, all the love on his face very sincere.

Jaehyun: Kissing him felt so good that you didn't want to stop. The taste of him was so warm and inviting, and every nerve in your body wanted to feel it everywhere. It was Jaehyun who broke the kiss, his conscious making it clear that he couldn't allow it to go further. You thought he would be angry that you went in for the kill, but he was smiling so brilliantly that you went in for another kiss. Jaehyun placed his finger against your lips before you could and said, "How about we get you home safely, so that you can sleep this off?" It was simple, but effective. Rather than going in for another kiss, you took the hand that Jaehyun held out to you, and let him lead you back where you lived, the taste of him still on your lips.

WinWin: You stared longingly at the empty bottles of wine on the table, and then at WinWin texting on his phone. "I should probably head off to sleep." you said, your body perking up when your roommate WinWin looked in your direction. He looked so pretty in the soft light, his features most likely enhanced by the alcohol you had shared. "Me too." he said, stretching so that his shirt raised a few centimeters to reveal his stomach. You both made a move to get up, laughing awkwardly as you did. Without really knowing what to say, you nodded at WinWin, leaned in, and planted a goodnight kiss right on his forehead. The horror at what had taken place hit you as soon as your lips left his skin. "Well, goodnight." you said, your eyes growing wider and wider. WinWin was smiling so big that it began to ease the panic. "Goodnight," he said. "Maybe when you're sober, you'll aim for the lips."

Jungwoo: You were both drunk, both clinging to each other, singing-well, shouting- a song that you heard earlier. Jungwoo was a lot taller than you, his big body swaying so much that you were convinced he was going to make you both topple to the ground. But he sturdily clung to your arms, his joyful face coming inches closer to your face. All you could see was his lips and how full they looked. So, you kissed him and watched him reel back in surprise, his full lips quivering. Without thinking about it for too long, Jungwoo leaned in to kiss you back, but ended up knocking his head into yours. Pain was all you felt when you collided, both from the pain of the collision and from the embarrassment. You stared at each other solemnly before bursting into a fit of giggles, the sound ringing in the night without care.

Lucas: "I can't find it!" Lucas shouted, though you were standing behind him. He was searching in the closet, using his height to search the top of the closet, his big hands knocking things over. When he turned back around and saw you standing there, he jumped and laughed and said, "I can't find it." You told him it was alright and pushed him into the closet, closing the door behind you. You turned off the light, robing you both in darkness. All you could hear was Lucas' breathing. You could smell his heavy cologne and how it intoxicated you more than the alcohol did. You placed your hand on his chest to steady yourself and find him in the dark, and then you kissed him. It was very brief, for Lucas had grabbed your shoulders and told you he couldn't kiss you when you weren't right in the mind.

Mark: The rest of the 127 members were being noisy, but it still felt like only you and Mark in the room. His eyes drifted to your mouth, hovering there for a few seconds before staring into your eyes. You spent too much time on Mark's birthday getting drunk and wishing he was brave enough to be the one to kiss you first. Realizing that you weren't going to get the other members to be quiet, and you certainly weren't going to get them to vacate the room, you tipped your body over the table, grabbed Mark's white t-shirt and pulled him until his lips met yours. The room grew quiet, only erupting into hollers when you let Mark go. As they made a fuss, you watched him grow shy from across the table, your eyes now making it known that you were staring directly at Mark's lips.

Xiaojun: He wasn't immune to first date jitters. He knew the first kiss was coming soon, and he would be expected to perform, which made the lump in his throat seem to swell more. You could say that you were equally nervous, but you liked Xiaojun a lot and very much wanted to kiss him. "I've been drinking. " he said. "I don't think it's going to be good." Him explaining himself made you feel giddy. "I've been drinking too, remember?" you said. You looked at each other for a beat too long, before you took a deep breath and just did it. Kissing Xiaojun, drunk or not, was every bit as amazing as you thought it would be. His lips were timid but receptive. He was gentle and eager, something you were thrilled by. When you parted, a first successful kiss under your belt, Xiaojun punched the air in excitement.

Hendery: When he was drinking, Hendery liked to talk. He would gear up for lengthy speeches, brushing his long hair from his face, the same face that was shaded with twinges of pink. You watched him wave his arms around, his words going in one ear and out of the other. You thought about how handsome he looked, the effect of alcohol, no doubt, getting to your brain too. "Don't you agree?" he asked, swinging his attention towards you. "They don't care about us, they never did. They-" Before he could finish his sentence, you kissed Hendery hastily. He kept trying to speak, but you kept on kissing him, each kiss becoming longer than the last. "I'm sorry," you said, keeping your eyes closed a moment longer. "You were saying. " Opening your eyes, you could see that Hendery was too stunned to speak anymore.

Renjun: "I want to ask you something." you said, cornering Renjun. He lowered a cup from his lips, the alcohol inside sloshing around. He thought it would have been better to just drink it and avoid the conversation he felt was coming. "Do you want to know if Mark likes you back?" Renjun asked. "He does like you. So, you're free to go after him, if you want." Confused, you looked at Renjun and asked, "Who is Mark? I don't know him, but I wanted to ask you if you would mind if I kissed you right now." Completely shocked, Renjun nearly dropped his cup on the ground. "I'm drunk right now." you continued. "But, Renjun, I've liked you for over half a year." Renjun blinked and could only nod. You stepped forward and kissed him, your fingers tucked under his chin. Pulling away, Renjun blinked again, before breaking out into a grin that made your heart dip into your stomach.

Jeno: Your shaking hands made it more difficult to take the photo, so Jeno took your phone from you. Placing his cheek against yours, he held the phone up high, his still thumb hovering over the button. Seeing you smile, he pressed the button and took a picture. "What do you think?" he asked, holding it up for you to see. "I think we look cute." You were both drunk out of your minds, but you were the unstable one. The picture looked fine, but you weren't staring at that. Jeno's lips were inches away, the only sign that he had consumed alcohol at all was in the way he couldn't stop smiling. Jeno was always a happy drunk, which made it that much easier to simply kiss him. You and Jeno made out, only really moving away from each other when Jeno raised your phone up high again and took a picture of you kissing each other.

Haechan: "I want you to be my first kiss, Donghyuck." you said, staring at Haechan. He was just as drunk as you were, but you could hardly tell, since he was so relaxed. You, on the other hand, were struggling to keep calm. You thought he would immediately shut you down, but Haechan looked amused by your request. He came and sat in front of you, licking his lips and smirking with pleasure when he saw how you had responded. You were moving around where you sat, not knowing where to put your hands. "Close your eyes when I kiss you, I'm shy." he said. You closed your eyes. He closed his eyes, too, but you opened your eyes up and found his lips, delighting in the slight surprise jolt Haechan made with contact. "That's naughty." he said, between kisses. "I like it."

Jaemin: He was clingy when he was drunk, which was fine by you. You liked seeing that side of Jaemin, the one who didn't care what people around him thought, the one that looked at you like you were the only person in the whole world who understood him. Jaemin nuzzled his nose against yours, your body jerking back slightly as his top lip grazed yours. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Don't you want to kiss me?" You wanted to tell him that, of course, you did. There was never a time in your life when you hadn't wanted to kiss Na Jaemin. Rather than shy away, you stepped forward in your drunken bravado and kissed him right on the mouth. Jaemin grunted in approval as your hands found their way underneath his shirt, your fingertips scratching down the ridges of his abs.

YangYang: "You don't like me very much, do you?" YangYang asked. It was less of a question and more of an observation. Yet, you couldn't help but answer it, anyway. "I do like you." you said. You took a sip from your cup, realizing that the liquid was disappearing faster than you meant it to. YangYang flipped his empty cup upside down and fixed you with a look that, for some reason, made your blood boil. "I do like you." you said again, your eyes narrowing slightly. YangYang held out his arms and looked around, as if addressing a crowd, that a coward was in their midst. "Prove it." he said. You were astounded, unsure of what action to take. When all thoughts failed, you got up and walked to the other side of the table, plunking down beside YangYang. You kissed him, as if the kiss itself would explain that you liked him more than he thought. YangYang clapped, as you pulled away. "Maybe one more time," he said. "I didn't feel like you meant it."

Shotaro: He clicked his bottle of beer against yours and took a long drink, his eyes appraising you over the bottle. You never loved the taste of alcohol, especially beer, but you liked the feeling that wrapped itself around your body like a warm hug. Also, drinking with Shotaro was one of the few pleasures you enjoyed in life. "It's good." Shotaro said, looking at the label. His lips were glistening with beer and, feeling unlike yourself, you leaned in a little closer to watch a bubble of spit pop on his bottom lip. "Yeah." you said, not remembering what you were agreeing to. "Ro, you're really handsome." Shotaro smiled and broke out into laughter, his face lighting up. Watching you lean in closer, as if in a trance, his jolly expression was replaced with lust. You kissed him and he allowed it, letting out a moan as you bit down on his lip.

Sungchan: You walked up to him, closing your eyes tight, your throat practically bursting with the words you'd held in for months. "I really like you, and I think about kissing you all of the time. I don't know if it's because you're tall, funny or you have the sweetest smile. Or maybe it's because you're a good person and you care about others, but I think about kissing you all the time. I know I've said that twice now, but it's the truth. And I've had a little bit to drink, but I am not drunk." When you finished speaking, you opened your eyes to see Sungchan's shocked face. "I like you, too. "he said, quietly. Feeling like you were on a roll and couldn't stop, you marched right up to him, got on your tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth. You could feel Sungchan's lips wanting to smile, so you parted and let him smile big enough to make you swoon.

Chenle: Like they were a moving target, you zeroed in on his lips. Your eyes followed the way his lips were moving, and how his pearly white teeth would bare themselves, and you couldn't help smiling back. Chenle was talking to you, but you didn't hear a single thing he had to say. You kept your eyes on his soft, pink lips and leaned in to kiss him, your lips puckered and ready. Chenle was more clever than you and had time to pull away before you did something you might regret. "Maybe tomorrow." he said. "After you've had a nice nap and thought about it some more." You felt disappointed by the lack of his lips on yours, but Chenle's perfect smile attacked you some more, making you lose all thoughts about the failed kiss.

Jisung: You kissed him and the world started to spin a little faster, your heartbeat zooming around in your chest. Jisung touched his wet lips with his fingertips, a look of disbelief flashing across his handsome face. He looked at you, his eyes searching your eyes for answers, but you were busy smiling off into the distance. He screwed his face up in innocent confusion, before letting his mouth relax into a small smile that reclaimed your attention. "You just kissed me." he said. Slowly, his smile began to falter when he realized that you were very intoxicated, not sober, and you might not have meant it. "We shouldn't." he said, waving you away with his hand. " Let's just talk. I'll sit up with you until you fall asleep."

[mgmoments]

Growing Into Your Own

Diavolo | Obey Me!

Muscle growth, muscle worship, macro

Warning, NSFW

Your time spent with Diavolo was always some of your favorite. When you first arrived, little did you realize that the Lord of the Devildom would quickly become not only one of your closest friends, but even something a little more.

It wasn't uncommon for Diavolo to summon you to his opulent home for coffee, tea, or simply to spend the evening talking with you. Barbatos never seemed to mind the extra company, likely because it was good for the Master of the house to have someone else to talk to. That, and you were fairly good about cleaning up after yourself.

Today was no different. Diavolo had summoned you to his office to chat while he finished paperwork. Something seemed slightly off, however. You were never really one to notice the smaller details, but you couldn't help but take note at every time Diavolo tugged at his collar or attempted to pull his sleeves down.

"Dia, is something wrong? You've been tugging at your suit a ton since I got here," you asked, curious. He simply smiled.

"Ah, no no. Nothing's wrong. It's just...a touch tight. I suppose Barbatos must have shrunk it in the wash!"

"I assure you, I did not such thing Master Diavolo," Barbatos stated, entering the room to refill Diavolo's tea. "There is...another matter of concern. Perhaps our guest should depart so we might discuss this matter privately?"

Diavolo seemed ready to protest, but a sharp glance from Barbatos quieted him before he had the chance. He sighed. "I suppose it is getting late. I'll see you again tomorrow, yes? We can have one of those 'slumber parties' you said humans like to have!"

You laughed, but Diavolo simply beamed his bright smile. With no reason to protest, you gathered your things and headed back to the House of Lamentation. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly the two needed to discuss, however. Even more confusing is how it could possibly be related to Diavolo's clothing being tight.

"I'll be Barbatos just didn't wanna admit he messed up in front of ya," Mammon said at dinner that night. "Dude's obsessed with perfection, he just didn't want ya to think he was anythin' less than perfect."

Mammon squealed as Lucifer smacked him in the back of the head with a rolled up paper.

"There is a good enough reason why they needed to discuss matters without a human present, Mammon. It has little to do with perfection. It simply is not their business, or yours for that matter."

"Then you know what they're talking about?" You asked, knowing that Lucifer wouldn't tell you even if he did know. The frown that settled on his face was answer enough.

"Unfortunately," he replied, "Whatever this issue is it is one they've decided does not concern me. It is worth stating that Diavolo has been complaining about his clothing for some time now, at least a week. I'm surprised that it just now became an actual issue. Regardless, we all need to keep our noses out of royal Devildom business. Am I understood?"

You and all the brothers gave a quick nod. Lucifer smiled, and dinner continued. Despite everything, you couldn't shove the issue out of your head. In a way it was almost exciting to think about all the possibilities. Your mind raced with theories as you drifted off to sleep.

You returned to Diavolo's castle later the next day, only to be greeted by the towering demon dressed in a dragon onesie.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning around to show off the fine details, "I heard that humans dress in fun nightwear for events such as these, so I had Barbatos make this special. Is it nice?"

"I love it, Dia," you said with a smile, laughing at Diavolo's antics, "It suits you. Though, I see you more as a teddy bear than a dragon myself."

Diavolo smiled, and wrapped you in a massive hug.

Demons, on average, were already larger than humans. Even the relatively short Mammon and Asmodeus were still both slightly taller than you. Large demons like Beel and Diavolo, however, towered over you. You always considered yourself lucky that they were so kind, because you could only wonder how things would be if these two titans decided to use their size against you.

Diavolo's strong hand enveloped your own as he led you to his home theater like am excited child. He gleefully informed you of all the movies and snacks he had planned for the two of you as you both settled down into massive beanbags. Your seat didn't last long, however, as you were soon sitting comfortably in Diavolo's lap with his arms wrapped around you.

You both sat in quiet comfort watching some cheesy romcom when you felt something throb beneath you. You were taken aback- Diavolo wasn't the type to be...like that. Then you felt it again, realizing that Diavolo's legs appeared to be tensing up. Looking up to him, you noticed him wincing slightly. A small groan escaped his lips.

"Dia...? Everything ok?"

"Y-yeah. I...I think my legs are asleep is all. Let me just...urgh....stand up."

You rose from Diavolo's lap as he rose to unsteady legs. You couldn't help but feel like he looked slightly larger than before. It was subtle, but it was almost as if his onesie had begun to cling to him where it had once hung off of him.

Diavolo groaned again and nearly stumbled over as Barbatos entered the room with a new tray of food. Barbatos quickly placed the tray down and rushed to his master's side to hold him up.

"Is Dia ok, Barbatos? He seems out of it."

"The Master has simply been overworking himself recently, that's all. Exhaustion is beginning to get to him."

"No, Barbatos," Diavolo groaned, "It's finally coming, I just can't hold it back any longer. We need to be honest with them. They'll find out soon enough anyway."

"..Very well," Barbatos said, turning towards you. Diavolo sat back down as Barbatos began to speak.

"Lord Diavolo, as you are well aware, is lord of the Devildom. It is more than a title. You may consider it...something like a race. He is unlike the other demons you've met here. He is far more powerful, not simply because of his station but because he is naturally more inclined towards power. Part of his natural aging involves what you humans could almost consider a second puberty, a period of time when he finally fully matures and can be considered ready to take the crown of the Devildom for his own."

"What does...what does that actually involve?" you asked, watching Diavolo breathe heavily in his seat.

"You may have noticed the young Master tugging at his clothing recently. It's been a slow process thus far, but part of this evolution involves Lord Diavolo increasing drastically in physical size. This is no longer common knowledge, but Lord Diavolo's father was large enough to completely fill this room. Lord Diavolo will likely be that size when this process is completed, and based on what we are currently seeing, the process will be completed tonight."

"Wait, hold on! You're saying Dia is gonna completely fill this room tonight? Sure he's big, but he's nowhere close to being that big."

"It will cease being a slow process soon enough. Lord Diavolo is entering the final stage, and it will all happen relatively quickly. I recommend-"

Before Barbatos could finish, Diavolo let out a large groan. Both you and Barbatos' eyes snapped towards the demon prince as his entire body began to tremble and pulsate. The sound of tearing fabric began to fill the room as Diavolo's body began to push outwards in all directions. The onesie struggled to hold on as Diavolo's body began to tear through it, each muscle increasing in size and thickness. His feet were first to break free, tearing away Diavolo's slippers with his toes curling in seeming pain. His arms and legs followed, his swelling biceps and thighs tearing through the cloth like it was merely tissue paper. As each second passed, Diavolo's body grew larger and large with more and more muscle packing onto his steadily taller frame. His groans slowly became moans. The process was clearly no longer painful.

Sure enough, Diavolo's cock broke free of his pants and flopped about in front of him, throbbing half-erect. He breathed heavily as pre began to drip from the tip, the cock continuing to grow with his body. You felt your cheeks grow hot, embarrassed to watch the obscene display but finding yourself aroused by the process.

"L-love," Diavolo panted, his horns and wings erupting from his head and back, "p...please..."

You looked to Barbatos who was nowhere to be seen. With no one to tell you otherwise, you climbed Diavolo's powerful thighs and placed yourself atop his expanding lap. You wrapped your own legs around his cock, the entire thing reaching up to your chin, and began to stroke it gently with both hands. You carefully ran both hands over the tanned skin, feeling every muscle and tendon in the cock with care before steadily picking up the pace. The cock stood at attention, and Diavolo's entire body shuddered in response. Without thinking you placed your mouth around the tip as best as you could, and began licking. Diavolo moaned in ecstasy as the cock throbbed with newfound power in your mouth. You felt the pressure within slowly build until it erupted outwards. Unable to remove your head in time, a large amout of Diavolo's seed found its way into your mouth before you were thrown backwards from the force of the eruption. The cock continued to let loose powerful stream after stream of semen until the room was nearly completely covered in it. When the stream finally abated, you felt the massive body beneath you begin to relax.

You, however, were not finished. You rose from the cock and began to admire the rest of Diavolo's newly massive body. You ran each hand over his powerful new muscles, tracing every curve and line and taking the time to appreciate every individual muscle. Diavolo's body shuddered again as you reached his chest and rubbed each of nipples. A small moan escaped his lips. Eventually he seemed satisfied with your worship, and cupped you in a massive hand. Next thing you knew, you were sitting on his palm in front of his movie screen sized face, his golden eyes looking at you with adoration.

"Are you ok, my little love? I hope this all didn't come as too much of a shock to you."

You simply smiled, and brought your lips to his. The two of you exchanged the closest thing to a kiss you could, Diavolo's lips nearly engulfing your entire head. You pulled back and smiled at one another.

"I would like to apologize for ruining our sleep over, my love. And for...my unseemly behavior. Please do not think worse of me for it, and please know that even now I will never do anything to hurt you."

You knew. You'd known for nearly a year now that Diavolo would never harm you. If nothing else, tonight had simply shown you how much he truly cared for you. Life moving forward would be different for you both, but you never were one for doing things the normal way. You settled down in Diavolo's warm palm as something deep within your body began to shudder...

[keiarchived]

Come To The Back | 18+

bodyguard!Dabi x rich spoiled!Reader x bodyguard!Hawks

warnings: dubcon/noncon, drugged, intoxicated, somnophila, breeding kink, split roasting

words: 1.6k

note: Decided to take part in BNHA Degeneracy discord server’s 9 to 5 collab last minute 👀 one of the nastier stuff I’ve written 💦 scummy duo ahead, read with caution ⛔️

Babysitting spoiled brats like you can never be less annoying, all you ever really wanted to do in your spare time is to party, get wasted and high. Whilst the duo have to follow you around all day because it is your daddy’s order after all, ‘Keep my daughter safe or I will have your heads.’ He made sure the consequences were known if they failed, Keigo and Touya were merely bodyguards send to protect this spoiled brat daughter of this billionaire. They have no influence like he does, sure they could run but they can’t hide forever. You are supposed to be good for your daddy, stay out of danger since his rival is out to get him and his family.

Getting only a few hours of sleep each day because of you had begun to wear their patient, it wasn’t as though they could talk to you about it. Believer me, they tried. But of course, your spoiled brat ass went running to your daddy and complained about how Hawks and Dabi were being mean to you which results in their first warning; wedges cut for a month all thanks to you. They simply don’t get paid enough for this, for putting up with you and your father’s bullshit.

But a job is a job, they needed the money. Let’s just hope this issue your father have between him and some of his acquaintances resolves quickly before one of them snaps out of bitterness.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The taller male huffed heavily, palms resting on either side of his hips as he stared down at your unconscious form. Your so-called friends were long gone after the party at this particular club has ended, leaving you out cold in the VIP booth before moving on with their night. You were mumbling none sense as Keigo went ahead and sat you upright with a soft coo, “Hey, you okay? Just drunk, stupidly high or both? Know where you are an angel?” Of course, the only responses they managed to get out of you were mumbles and grumbles that made absolutely no sense. “She’s definitely out of it.”

“You don’t say, let’s her out of here.” Touya bites back with a sigh, cigarette between his fingers. Seems like tonight will just be another night of them carrying your unconscious form back to the mansion, tugging you back into that warm and cosy cover of yours — or at least that’s what they should and suppose to do.

But rather they end up stripping those slutty clothes of yours, that’s what you want right? For men like them to use this body of yours, just admit it. You had been tempting and playing around with the duo for long enough, wearing these short skirts whenever they are around. Swaying your hips and batting your eyes at them whenever you pass them, you know fair well they cannot touch you because if your daddy knew; they would be gone. Good thing the man himself is gone for a couple of days due to a business trip, oh and they are going to have their fun with you.

One cock in your mouth and another buried deep inside your pussy, the duo wasted no time in stripping you naked after all. With your intoxicated and drugged-out self, it was easy for them to move you around, passing you between the two of them. “Fuck me, this pussy is good.” Keigo chuckled breathlessly, snapping his hips into that tight cunt of yours. Surely this is just an act right, pretending to be asleep so that they can continue to use you and let out their pent up frustration on you. 

A cloud of smoke slipped between Touya’s lips has a low groan rumbled at his chest, stroking that slightly bulge neck of yours whilst a sadistic smirk tugged at his lips. You look much better like this, with cock at either end of your holes and being used them.  “You should try these pretty lips too, given if you can last another round.” Touya taunts, earning a grunt from Keigo as he merely rolled his eyes at the other. “Fuck off.”

Just as the two began to bicker at each other, noises begin to come out of you. “Looks like our princess is awake.” Slowly, Touya slipped his hard pierced cock from those pretty plush lips. Allowing you to take a gasp of air whilst being as confused as ever with those hazy eyes, “Wh-what you doing?” There was a sense of panic in your voice and honestly, either one of them can blame you. Waking up to your bodyguards fucking you into cloud nine doesn’t happen every day and god knows how long they’ve been at it, “Oh don’t worry dove, we’re just taking good care of you. Right Dabs?” It was hard to keep his voice level without cracking as your ridge walls clamps down so tightly around his cock, even harder to hide that shit-eating smirk. Your jaw feels sore from how Touya been using you roughly, pussy feeling full, nice and stretched by Keigo’s cock.

“Exactly, you should be grateful, your highness. We don’t do this often, not free of charge at least.” Dabi’s voice was dangerously low as he mocked, reaching behind your neck and forcing you to take a look at the way his partner in crime’s cock disappearing into your slutty cunt. Even when you were passed out, it didn’t stop you from moaning and gushing slick between your legs. “This is what spoiled brats get when they tease too much.” A desperate whimper fell at those words, now that you are slightly more oriented you could feel the pleasure that comes with every thirst of Keigo’s hard cock. It would be a complete lie if you said you have never fantasied the duo take you like this before, they are handsome and attractive after all. Keigo with his witty charm and Dabi with his mysterious charm, it is hard to say no.

“That’s it baby, take it all! I-I’m cumming!” Keigo unloaded yet another ropes of cum deep inside your cunt, right up against your cervix adding to the growing mess. This totals up to three for his scores, Touya had been keeping track. Your lips hung open with drools tickling down the side of your lips, body reaching its own high whilst Keigo pulled out from your soaked pussy.

“Aw look at you, so pretty and all fucked out.” The sandy blonde man coos almost sympathetically, tugging those loose strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead. Seems like Touya had been doing quite the number on you too whilst fucking your throat open, it must be sore from those smooth metal rubbing and nudging along your velvety walls. You could feel your conscious fading in and out from that orgasm alone, swallowing on your own drool thickly as Keigo’s cum seeps out from you. Too bad this is far from over, Touya’s smirk widens as he leans down to capture those swollen lips. Exploring every inch he possibly can, warm metal swapping across your inner cheeks and lips. After all, you deserve a reward after taking Keigo’s load so good with your well-bred cunt.

“Don’t pass out on us just yet princess, you can take a few more rounds can’t you? For us hm?” Touya coos softly, cigarette scent lingering as he traces over your chin with his rough fingers. Keigo and his partner in crime exchanged a look; the look with a same shit-eating smirk stretched across their lips before switching places with Touya running his cock back and forth between your swollen slit and Keigo nudging at those pouty lips of yours. “Good girl.” One of them praises but you weren’t so sure who it was from, head spinning from the alcohol and drugs you had consumed hours before.

Touya is much rougher than the blonde when it comes to pounding you, with a merciless pace as the tip of his cock continuously hammer at your cervix. Pressing all of the right buttons inside with those round metals of his piercings, “Fuck.. you are good.. should’ve done this a long time ago.” He can barely count the number of time he had wanted to put you back in your places with his hands, forcing them to stay up all night just so you can get home safely — thrust, railing them on purpose — thrust. But Touya managed to hold back, that was until now where the final line has been drawn. It is a risky bet but Touya bet on that you wouldn’t tell your daddy how good your bodyguard fucked you, filled you to the brim with cum and made you into their own personal cumdump. You wouldn’t, why would you when you could have them do it all over again?

Keigo had you choking on a mixture of your own saliva and his essence, quickening his pace once as you could feel the way your throat burns deliciously around him throbbing cock. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased them as much as you had, maybe you should’ve listened to Dabi’s warnings of this dangerous game you had been playing with them. But it’s too late now, they had caught you by your cunt and lips. “Fuck... gonna breed you, see how your daddy likes it when he finds you all swollen with some unknown child.” Touya grunts, letting out a breathy laugh before it turns into something sinister. “You wouldn’t even know who’s the baby daddy would you?” Touya hissed at the way you suddenly squeezed around him when he mentioned it, “Oh you like it huh?” Which only made him grin wider as his climax approached and without a second warning — ropes of warm cum painted both ends of your walls white.

Your bodyguards are now a panting mess as they withdraw from you, sitting on the edge of your now white stained bed whilst a faint chuckle escaped Touya’s lips. “Liked the idea of bearing our kid that much? You slut.” The night is still young and it will be a few more days before you daddy comes home from his business trip, you couldn’t help but wonder what other ways the two of them would use you. Licking over your lips hazily, out of focus eyes gazed towards the two male. You want more, don’t you?

[dokifluffs]

Pregnant | Osamu, Kenma, Akaashi, Sakusa

Pairings: Osamu X Reader (female), Kenma X Reader (female), Akaashi X Reader (female), and Sakusa X Reader (female)

Genre: fluff!!! Pregnant reader!!

Author’s Note: im having some v domestic vibes and baby fever so might as well share it with you all too! Happy reading~ 

Warning: all post time skip! Pregnancy (duh)

Pregnant | Iwaizumi, Bokuto, Atsumu

Osamu: 

Crickets chirped into the darkness of the clear summer sky, stars twinkling as far as the eye could see as his keys jingled in the door, the cool air conditioning greeting him as he stepped in

The plastic bag of steaming hot onigiris rustled with every step and move he made

You sent him a text asking if he could bring home some onigiris, craving for some especially since you had been home all day while he was at work before he would have to take off on maternal leave when your arriving son would be brought into the world

The kitchen lights were off but the living room lights and tv were still on playing a random house hunting show

He approached your sleeping body, laid on you side with a pillow in between your legs, your arm draped over the side of your belly, the other acting as your pillow  

He set the bag gently on the table and knelt down in the space between the table and the couch right in front of you

“Y/N, honey,” Osamu’s voice was as gentle as a summer evening breeze, the kind that just made anyone feel good as they relaxed on a grassy hill, taking in view of the colorful sky as the sun set in the distance

“I’m home,” he leaned close and pressed a kiss to your forehead

Seeing you after being away all day, it made him wonder what you did at home all day, how bored you must be, how tired you must be

He caressed your cheek, tilting his head to take your sleeping face at a better angle

“Y/N,” his voice was silky and light in a quiet singsong way, almost humming your name while speaking it as he grazed the back of his fingers over your plush, smooth cheek

You reached your hand from your belly to his, a small smile pulling at your lips as you brought in close to your nose and took a deep breath

What he did not expect was you biting into his hand

“Y/N, honey, wake up.,” he laughed as he carefully shook you awake, trying to pull his hand back

It didn’t hurt, more like you were nibbling on him but this was one, if not most, bizarre thing you had done in all of your pregnancy

“‘Samu~ welcome home,” you woke and smiled sleepily, reaching your arms up as he leaned in to meet you halfway

He helped you sit up and opened the bag of onigiris, some new and not even on the menu yet, before you could even ask about them

You sat close, leaning into his side as the two of you ate, the tv on more of a background sound before he turned it off, giving his undivided attention

“This is so good,” you spoke, mouth partially full with one of the new onigiris, your craving being satiated as always provided by your loving husband, Osamu

“Are ya sure?” He asked, a little serious but mostly joking. “It didn’t feel that way when you were chompin’ on me earlier.” He stuck his hand out with the lightest marks made by your teeth moments ago. “Were ya that hungry?” He rubbed your shoulder with his hand, taking another bite of his own onigiri

Your eating came to a cease, laughter coming out as you set your onigiri down in your lap to take Osamu’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” you said totally unbelievable with all the laughter and giggles erupting from you, it could only make Osamu smile himself hearing your laughter

He didn’t even realize how long he had heard it but it felt so good, it felt nostalgic that made him love you even more

“Did it hurt?” You traced your finger over his skin, looking up to him

“Nah, I’m jokin’, eat.” He traded his onirigi to his other hand so he could hand you yours from your lap

It was your craving after all

The two of you ate one after the other, sitting comfortably side by side as if time didn’t exist

It didn’t take long at all before the bag was empty but the two of you stayed put in the living room with both hungers satiated

The room filled with a comfortable silence as as your bodies melted together

Your hand rest over Osamu’s as he rubbed your belly, reality setting in for him, and even you, for the nth time since you announced your pregnancy

This was really happening

You were his wife, you were going to have his child, both your love for each other in a new life

He was going to have you by his side just like this and you were going to have him, just like this

And one day, there will be a tiny pair of feet in between and he couldn’t wait

Kenma: 

Your steps sounded louder and louder as you went down the stairs, feeding the insecurity of your looks now that your belly was swelling bigger as time went on, days and weeks, months passing to your due date to the newest addition of your family with Kenma

A new Kozume brought to the world :)

Time was ticking

The hem of your oversized t-shirt tickled your thighs as you walked waddled toward Kenma in the living room, the wooden floors creaking with every step, it just poked and prodded at your insecurities

You paused right in the middle, the couches a few strides away but you couldn’t move another step

The sight of your body in the tv was the cherry on top- your plumped up body, the clear weight gain, especially your stomach although you were pregnant

But still

You felt so much bigger, you even stayed off of social medias seeing your old pictures and your recent ones families had taken, posting them

The difference was so great, it made your heart race, a chilling panic ghosting through your body, raising goosebumps over your arms

“Y/N?” Kenma’s voice pulled your mind out of the clouded thoughts of your mind. “What’s wrong?” He paused his game, standing to his feet, over to you in his comfortable sweats and kodzuken shirt with a simple white aesthetic that was eye catching but not overbearing

“I’m so much bigger,” you looked to him with glistening eyes, visually upset over your weight gain from pregnancy but it was bound to happen to everyone who got pregnant. “I’m so ugly,” you felt disgusted, your voice cutting off at the end and you wanted to turn away, head back upstairs, and hide under the covers until tomorrow

“I guarantee you that you are not ugly,” he rubbed his finger to the back of your hand on your belly, a little thing he did as he asked “permission” to hold your hand before he took it into his own

“Come with me,” he led you over to the couch he sat at earlier, the gray leather couch

He sat leaning onto the arm rest and some pillows, his legs spread open and patted the open space between

“I won’t fit,” you shook your head, completely sure you were way too wide to fit in between Kenma’s legs

Kenma was very much a stick, pretty thin, not too much taller than you but this just seemed impossible for you, especially since it felt like you were double his weight and width despite it being not true at all

“You will,” he reassured

You hesitated before sitting down, biting back all your thoughts and reasons as to why you should sit somewhere else or you needed to be anywhere else so you didn’t have to feel this way

But Kenma was right

His legs were own both sides of you and he eased your back to his chest

“Wait, Kenma, no-“ you tried to sit up, only to unable to because of your belly

“I’m too heavy.” Heat rushed up to your head, your want, no, need to leave eating you from the inside

“You’re not. Relax with me tonight.” He brought his arms around your body, handing you his personalized switch with animal crossing opened knowing this was one of your favorites

“Just play,” his voice was soothing to your ears, calming your heart

As you ran his character around his island, the more Kenma gave you tips, making light fun of the way you played, your thoughts and fears about your body slowly began to dissipate

With your mind wrapped up in the game, the more you let everything go

He was always able to read others and analyze things well, encased in his shell from a young age of being an introvert

But there was something about you, along with Kuroo and Hinata and others, who were able to coax him out of his shell

You were so wrapped up in the game, you hadn’t even realized Kenma’s hands resting on your belly behind yours holding up the switch, occasionally rubbing it as he let out a gleeful hum with his chin resting on your shoulder, watching you play, pointing out things you may have missed or advice on what you could do to maximize profits

Akaashi: *S/N* = Story Name 

Akaashi’s hand was soft in yours as you excitedly led him up the stairs toward the finally finished nursery

He, along with the help of your father, painted the room a light beige color and when the paint finally dried, brought in all the furniture like the cribs, changing station

All that was left was for you to decorate it as much as you wanted and you absolutely made sure he saw none of it until now

You opened the door revealing a complete nursery, he didn’t know where to look first but most notable was the mobile above the crib- little owls hung and when turned on, they rotated in a circle that made it seem like they were flying

“Push that button,” you stood right beside him, holding his arm, your heart pounding in your chest out of excitement

And that was when he heard it- the lullaby from a music box he had gotten you when he proposed to you a couple years back. And here it was, a tune that you two’s child will be growing up hearing

The sound of the device was so soothing, it made akaashi feel like he was just meeting you last week and getting down on one knee to propose to you yesterday

“It’s our song, Keiji,” you rest your head on his shoulder. “And it’s going to be theirs.” You brought his hand up to your belly as he turned to you, his gaze never leaving you, his eyes trained to your smile as you looked down to your bump and the feel of his touch on you

The way your eyes shimmered when you looked up, the same smile he could never get tired of in his life, it made his heart swell so big in his chest

He leaned his head close and cupped your face, bringing his lips to yours. He had to show his love for you, to thank you for being with him in this life, thanking whoever or whatever brought you to his life

You certainly changed it and he wouldn’t do anything to change that

“What was that for?” You laughed, stealing another small kiss from his lips as he pulled away, his sea green eyes as enchanting as always when he opened them

“The song reminded me how much you truly mean to me, my love.”

It felt like you were in high school/ university all over again- his simple, straight-forward words that were always able to reduce you to a blushing mess

“What should we read them tonight?” Akaashi smiled as he knelt down in front of the little shelf filled with children books, mostly gifts from his and your mother, as you sat back on a small couch adjacent to the crib

“Anything,” you chimed from behind

With that, Akaashi chose S/N and took his seat beside you. You draped your legs over his and rest your head on his arm as he opened the book and began to read the story

It was as clear as you remembered from your own memory, the images and scenes from your own childhood playing so vividly in your mind

Akaash’s voice was so smooth as he read aloud, voicing the character(s) with ease, it naturally made you a bit lethargic yourself hearing this story

Guess bedtime stories still worked even tens of years later

As the story came to an end, as Akaashi read over the happy ending, his story came to a stop as you raised your head, gasping

“What, what is it?” He suddenly set the book to the table beside it as he sat on the edge of couch, turning to you as you stared down to your belly. “Are you hurt?” He began to grow a bit frantic, his panic growing when you didn’t respond

“No, no, no, Keiji, the baby moved,” you looked up to him, your smile slowly spreading on your face, melting away his fears as relief washed over him

“Look feel!” You snatched his hand and placed it on your belly and it was true

The little baby moved inside of your belly, kicking the side of your tummy right into Akaashi’s hands

The doctor suggested to begin doing activities with the baby such as well as movement being something that was going to happen soon

But neither of you thought so soon

You were wide awake at this point as you felt your child move inside, a sensation you’ve never felt before, only seen in videos

“Hi, baby,” you spoke to you belly, a tear escaping from your eye as you looked up to Akaashi, your love for him and the two of you overflowing. “We’re your parents,” your voice quieted down to a mere whisper

The two of you sat astonished watching the little movements that lasted for about a minute, your hands never leaving each other, staying on your belly

This was real, this was your reality, your life with the one you loved so much

And he loved you with every bit of him, he couldn’t imagine what he would do in another life without you

Sakusa: 

It felt like your nausea combined with your cold was going to be the end of you if not the constant kicking from your daughter in your belly at your organs and even your ribs some times

You winced in your seat on the couch, hand over your belly as you took deep breaths through your stuffed nose through pain on top of all the things that was going through your body

Sakusa felt his heart drop beside you, wearing double masks over his face to make extra sure he wouldn’t catch any of your germs from your cold and morning sickness

“Another kick?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded your head, pushing though it. “I feel cold…” you closed your hands around the extended sleeves of the oversize sweater you wore, leaning closer to Sakusa

He tried not to mind this too much but it was like an irritating itch that wouldn’t go away, the fact how you hadn’t showered or anything today yet making it execrable for him

“How about a bath then?” He hesitantly rubbed his hand over your clothed shoulder but got over his lifelong phobia for a second

You were going to be by his side for the rest of his life. He had already seen and touched every bit of your body

You were bearing your guy’s child. This couldn’t go on forever

His touch was so simple, so light, it fed a hunger for him you didn’t realize you had deep inside but at the same time, it took you by surprise

The Sakusa you met years ago wouldn’t even sit or stand, let alone breathe, within two to three feet to anyone and years later, after marriage, and now with the start of a family, he was climbing the obstacle of his fears step by step

He knew, he told you with his own words he was never one to share a loving touch or caring words. He wanted to, god he wanted to so badly to let go of his cares and worries and fears but he couldn’t. It was etched into his skin and body, imprinted for his eyes and mind to constantly see and think about

But he wanted this to change. He wanted to do and say so many things to you to show his love that he deeply felt for you, it moved him and tore him on the inside

“Yes please,” you nodded

Sakusa had you walk in front of him, making sure you didn’t lose your balance going up

He took care of everything, adding soaps to the bath at the perfect heated temperature that would be perfect to soothe you as well as take care of some germs

Steam arose from the bubbly water

The two of you took off your clothes and he was the first to get in, his muscles instantly relaxing with the therapeutic temperature

You followed suit, feeling the subtle creeps of awkwardness

Again to your surprise, Sakusa took hold of your shoulders and carefully leaned you back into his chest with his legs crossed loosely beneath your legs

He brought his arms under the water, his hands looped around your abdomen and found their place on your belly

As soon as his touch was on you, you took in a sharp inhale, jolting in the water that created a little wave among the bubbles floating

“She’s been so active today,” Sakusa commented as he rubbed his hand in a circle on your belly, the other holding your hand as you gripped onto him through the pain

“Mmhm,” you gave a pained hum, eyes shut as you continued to breathe deeply

Sakusa could see the clear pain you were in, all the nausea and emotions that were all pent up in your body, it made guilt prick at his heart as he imagined all the times you probably wanted to reach out to him so he could hold you to help you though this but refrained

He could see your figure so clearly in his mind, reaching out but pulling back

Enough was enough

He pulled his arm from the water with a prominent splash and took off his masks, setting them neatly to the side

“I’m sorry you’re going through all this pain, Y/N.” Sakusa leaned close and pressed a kiss to your cheek, stifling his obsessive phobia internally. “Please never hesitate to reach out to me… I want to be a better husband for you…” He admitted

It felt so good to say this- it felt better than washing his hands or putting on a new mask

“I’ll be better,” he vowed more to himself than you

“Omi, it’s okay but thank you. I won’t.” You rubbed your hand over his forearms under the water, your chills from earlier long gone now  

It was like magic

With Sakusa’a hands rubbing your belly, it was like your daughter sensed this and her kickings finally ceased for the rest of the bath

“She’s not even born yet but she’s already daddy’s girl,” you leaned your head back to his shoulder, smiling tiredly to Sakusa as his lips mirrored yours

“You’re my girl now and forever, though. She’ll just be my little one,” he leaned close and pressed his lips to your forehead

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046  @mazey-chan  @sunboikyo00  @kara-grayson04​  @fortheloveofbakugo​ @tsumtsumsemi​ @osamuonigiri @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci​ @realityisoftendisapointing@plantisnotplant @k-eijiakaashi​ @pink-panda-pancakes​ @differentballooncollection​ @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction​ @euphorihan@turquoiselace​ @macaronnv  @oxmaddy​​ @mrkoala4prsdnt​​ @curiouslilbeast​ @plantisnotplant@therestless101​ @abcdaichi​ @oyasenpai​ @kaaidalupita​

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Illuminated, pt.2

Summary: Seeing an old friend isn’t always a happy occasion, but it can direct you to someone who undoubtedly makes your heart beat faster.

Warnings: talk of war and death, book spoilers

Part 1   

=================================

It felt strange to be walking the same halls she once revered. Y/N had barely grown at all since her time at Little Palace, if anything she'd claim she got shorter, but the walls didn't seem as intimidating as they used to.

Back then, she was just a clueless girl with dreams that turned into nightmares. The war had left deep wounds everywhere in Ravka and for that, Y/N would curse Alina Starkov's name until her dying breath.

Ravka trusted Alina to rescue them from the darkness, but she only expanded it. She fled from her responsibility and responded with force when General Kirigan asked for accountability.

Y/N was considered too young to be allowed in battle, sent away by the Darkling with children who have not yet mastered their particular branch of small science. Grisha a year older than her were given the chance to protect Ravka, something she wished she could have done. 

If it were up to her, she'd have stood by him instead of hiding.

Y/N had always been quite capable of controlling her power. Whether it be fire, wind or water, she held a firm grasp over all three elements with an iron fist and a terrifyingly sharp mind. She had developed attacks no one else is capable of, the kind that made other Grisha wary of her ferocity.

Naturally, she assumed that was why General Kirigan had called on her. The last thing she expected was to have the General, her King, admire the abominable blue flames she wields.

"Y/N?" A breathless reminder of a voice she once knew had stopped her in her tracks.

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N's lips break into a wide smile at the sight of her old friend and confidant.

She didn't waste time, running toward the girl who had fiery hair Y/N always wanted to have too. Colliding with Genya, Y/N couldn't stop a laugh that escaped her as she wrapped her arms around her much taller friend.

“I. Can’t. Breathe!” Genya manages to say between shallow, strained breaths. 

Chuckling, Y/N releases her from the death grip she calls a hug. She’s never been subtle in showing affection, or hate.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” Y/N exclaims, her attempt to quiet down failing before she even tries.

With a surprised smile set on her lips, Genya nods. “I didn’t realize you’d be at Little Palace.”

Faltering, Y/N licks her lips as her smile is erased. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“Little Palace isn’t exactly the safest place in Ravka anymore”, Genya musses.

Scoffing, Y/N furrows her eyebrows. “Alina made it unsafe.” Lifting her chin, Y/N continues, “The Darkling will protect us.”

Pursing her lips, Genya looks around carefully to ensure they’re alone. “That’s the problem. While he’s here, no one is safe.” Taking Y/N by the elbow, she pulls her aside toward the open window to help disguise their voices from any curious listeners. “Alina was our only hope of killing him.”

Ripping her arm away from Genya’s hold, Y/N narrows her eyes at the friend she once trusted more than anyone else in this world. When there was no hope, Genya put a smile on her face. Even when Y/N was losing herself, she had Genya to remind her of who she is.

She never doubted her friend, never questioned her loyalty or sanity. Until now. 

“Genya, who did you fight alongside with?” Y/N asks sharply, her lips forming a thin line.

“You don’t know the entire story”, Genya tries but Y/N steps away as if she’d been burned.

The war had made warriors from children for no matter how they tried to protect their innocence, war leaves no one untouched. When Alina Starkov decided to turn her back on Grisha, Y/N and many others have been forced to grow up far too quickly. No silly crushes or petty arguments mattered for the blood had reached them once Alina slaughtered Botkin in front of them. It was the only taste of war Y/N had for she had killed for the first time on that day. 

Alina is the reason she has blood on her hands.

“The story I do know is enough for me”, Y/N huffs as she shakes her head at Genya. “The fact our General did not kill you is proof of his generosity. Perhaps you should learn to appreciate him. Your precious Alina never showed such mercy.”

Turning her back on Genya, Y/N headed back. She didn’t want to explore the old corridors anymore, but to bathe and sleep. From tomorrow on, she’ll be working with Kirigan on her new ability and she didn’t want to display any reasons for him to distrust her.

She pauses as Genya speaks up.

“I wonder what will get you killed faster – your loyalty or stubbornness?”

Turning her head to the left, Y/N could see her old friend in her peripheral vision. “At least I’ll die for something I believe in. I’ll die for Ravka. Can you say the same?”

Fuming, Y/N tossed and turned in her bed. She turned the pillow to the colder side, she even tried turning her head on the opposite side of the headboard, but nothing could calm her mind or the itching to use her powers to blow off some steam.

The one part of herself she truly did connect with the Inferni was the temper she often got in trouble for. When Nina Zenik called her stupid, she burned off her eyebrows and Botkin forced her to wake up at the crack of dawn and do sprints for the next month as punishment. It’s probably the only time in her life she was truly in good form.

Grunting, she raised her legs and slammed them back on the mattress in frustration. Tossing the blanket off, she grabbed her blue kefta and left the room. 

Her footsteps echo the halls as she all but runs out, straight into the foggy morning air outside. The cold pinches her skin, her lips trembling for a moment before she sinks her front teeth into her bottom lip. Her breaths come in visible puffs of air as she wraps her arms around her middle while securing her hands under her armpits to stop herself from using her power that’s calling to her like the siren song calls sailors to their certain death.

Y/N always had the misfortune of wearing her heart on her sleeve with those she cares for. She also has a nasty tendency to either feel nothing or everything at once and when someone she loves turns out to be different than what she believed, it causes an uncontrollable explosion of emotion deep within.

“Is there a particular reason you’re outside at this ungodly hour?” A deep voice makes her gasp as she turns to look at the very person she most admires.

Raising her eyebrows, she nearly laughed as she realized the Darkling wore not his kefta, but the clothes he sleeps in. It’s loose clothing, black as his kefta and horse and yet it gives off a softness she did not realize a man as powerful as him could ever possess.

“I’d ask you the same, General”, she retorts with her eyebrows still raised as if she’s challenging him to come closer and make her stop ogling him.

For a moment, she thought he might turn away and leave as he stood there calmly. It feels as if he’s studying her, taking in every inch of her and committing it to memory. If it were any other man, Y/N would have spoken up or acted out to prevent the uncomfortable feeling of being watched so intimately, yet she didn’t want Kirigan to ever stop looking at her. If not for her fear of being too forward, she’d invite him closer.

As if he read her mind, Kirigan takes a step closer….and then another one. She can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind. 

What does he see when he looks at her? 

How does she look in his eyes, because the way he’s looking at her now is taking her breath away?

He looks at her as if there is something worth looking at.

“Sometimes my mind turns on me”, he admits in a low, quiet tone that Y/N has to strain to hear him properly. “I’ve lived a long life and a longer one awaits me. My mind is full of ghosts that want retribution for what I did to them.”

Swallowing thickly, she straightens her back as she comes closer – close enough to feel his breath as it fans the hair at the top of her head.

“What did you do to them?”

The left corner of his lips twitches. “You’d think ill of me if I told you.”

Averting her gaze to his bare chest revealed by the wind as it pulled the fabric of his shirt, Y/N licks her lips. She argues with herself on her next move, wondering if it would be improper to touch the man who had been considered untouchable by everyone she ever met. Her fingers years to feel his skin under their tips, to slowly trail the jawline she wants to press her lips against.

Frowning softly, she bites her lower lip as she locks her eyes on his dark ones. Unlike many before her, she does not crumble under the weight of his heavy gaze. Her heart trembles as she reaches out and places her palm on his chest.

He didn’t expect her to touch him, tensing up. It’s surprising how warm her hand is, more so how inviting the warmth is. He’s hyper-aware of every breath he takes as his chest expands under her touch, hoping this incredibly brazen Grisha does not feel the way his heart jumps with the sudden surge of her bravery.

When he notices her lips move, he holds his breath as if the simple act of breathing could muffle her voice and make it harder for him to soak up the blind loyalty and love she holds for him.

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things. You’re not evil for choosing to protect yourself and your country. I could never think badly of you, General.”

It’s been a long time since he found someone so incredibly devoted to him and his cause, exhilarating him to the core. Alina had never truly believed in him for she always considered him wicked, but Y/N couldn’t be more different. Perhaps he’s right and this time it will work. 

With someone trusting as Y/N is, he can’t possibly fail again.

Letting her hand fall, Y/N looks away as she realizes she crossed the line and his silence is the easiest way for him to inform her of it. Truth be told, she wondered who was the last woman who got to lay her hand on his chest.

Was it Alina?

There were rumors of the relationship Kirigan and Alina supposedly had and Y/N always felt a pang of jealousy upon hearing the girls talk. She never knew him, she never truly had him and she never will, but the idea someone else does brought her pain.

Perhaps her overthinking or the increasingly awkward silence prompted her temper to speak instead of her brain.

"Did you love her?" Y/N blurts out. 

Her eyes widen as she realizes her thoughts have become vocal and in the presence of the very man she should be watching her mouth around.

"I apologize. It must be a difficult time to reminisce about." Maybe Nina was right – she is stupid!

"It is quite alright.” Darkling lets out an audibly heavy breath. “I did not love her, I trusted her. I trusted her enough to put all my hope for a better Ravka on her shoulders and she betrayed our country."

"No", she reaches out slowly, her hand finding its way to his as it gingerly grasps his fingers. "She betrayed you."

Smiling reluctantly, Kirigan finds himself wondering if he should embrace the fact Y/N seems to be a very touchy person or if he should set some boundaries. Despite the shiver that runs down his spine, he allows her hand to fully take his as he closes his fingers around hers.

"I should have seen it coming. I'm far too used to betrayal."

"I'd never do that", she pauses. "I'd never betray you. I'd never break your trust."

Her responses are quick, so innocent and naïve that he can’t help but feel guilty about every moment he spends near her. No one should send a doe eyed beauty into the clutches of a beast so easily, yet he has no desire to force her to leave.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Smiling, her entire face lights up. It’s a true delight to witness so early in the morning after a long night of nightmares he faced.

“Do not worry, General. I have every intention on proving myself to you.”

Glancing at their hands, her smile widens. She spent years wishing for this and now that it’s happening she can’t seem to believe it’s real.

“The sun will come up soon”, he changes the topic.

Y/N fears he might leave and her hand would be back at her side as she watches his retreating figure, but when he speaks again her heart dances in her chest.

“Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

Inhaling sharply, she nods. “Very much so.”

Unfortunately for them, someone else couldn’t sleep that night and they had seen just enough for a terrible plan to be born.

=================================

A/N - So, I’m definitely going to play with the books here and twist some things to fit the storyline I have in mind. There might be some spoilers, so read with caution. I debated on making more than a one shot for this and taking on some ideas I have for Darkling but also Nikolai, so I’m not sure how long this will be just yet. 

Tags: @deceivedeer​ @evyiione​ @measshaw​

Part 3

[angelguk]

this prompt: jock!jaykay and namjoon running into each other at a party or sth and namjoon being like ‘you finally grow a pair and ask oc out yet?’ and jks just like 😧 and joons like ‘seriously dude? 😑 i’ve been waiting for you to ask her out since before i even dated her’. but make it more angst!!! namjoon is kind of an asshole here. there’s smoking, drinking and jk getting a brief lapdance. oc is a LIAR. jaykay deep in his feels tbh. roughly 1.5k. listen to all i wanted by paramore

Jeongguk's crossed too many paths with people during his life to remember every face his eyes have ever seen. But there’s one he will never forget, no matter how hard he tries to scrub the memory from his brain, ignore the muted forlorn twang in his heart, the low ache that ebbs from the base of his skull. It sparks up again despite years of never seeing the individual who caused the problem. How could he forget those broad shoulders? The sharp analytic eyes. The man whom you’d attached yourself too for a good chunk of your joint high school careers. It surprises him, honestly, because Jeongguk’s got a girl grinding on his lap but his eyes are locked on Namjoon, ears trailing after the sound of his deep laugh instead of the sweet nothings Nayeon (or Naeun, or Nayoung — he can’t fucking remember) is murmuring into the hollow of his neck.

For one, he’s fucked out of his mind. Taehyung probably laced the joint; he liked doing that shit even when it messed up Jeongguk’s trip. He should have known not to take a hit, but he was already ten shots in and nothing sounded better than smoke in his lungs. Maybe not nothing. This girl feels good in his hands, responds to the lightest of his touches, moans in his ear like she wants him to fuck her.

He could. He has before. Probably. She knows exactly where to nip his neck for this to have not been a repeat hook-up. But in the haze of the low living room lights and the spinning headiness of the drinks he’d downed, he couldn’t make out her face. It’d shift and twist and turn into an image that almost makes him want to cry because, at some angles, when the shadows form right, he thinks he can see your face. It could be you in his lap, you whimpering whenever your crotches aligned just right, you clinging to him like the sun hangs onto the evening sky.

But it’s not.

And for some unfathomable reason, Jeongguk’s ruined mind recognises that sucks.

Because it should be you.

He doesn’t know how he gets that girl off. Probably some lie that he needed to pee. In reality, he needed to breathe, because those thoughts surface with malicious intent, purposefully drawing him closer to deep dangerous waters. If he’s not careful he could easily drown, suffocated by desires he can’t even string together into a comprehensible sentence.

The night air hits sharp, seeping through his loose shirt. It grounds him enough for his steps to stabilise, feet following a slow trudge to the edge of the balcony. He doesn’t even know whose house this is. Somebody he’s probably never met honestly. But he wanted you to come. Everyone was coming out tonight. Even your elusive roommate Sohee was somewhere in some bathroom with a head between her thighs. You probably are doing that too, to be far. Even the name evokes bile from his throat, bitter and violent, full of jealousy he’d never really learnt to contain.

Lee Eunwoo. A graphic design major. Slightly taller than Jeongguk (only when Jeongguk is having a bad day) and somehow he can make you giggle like he’s getting paid for it.

You’d mentioned it so softly that Jeongguk didn’t even hear it at first. But then your cheeks had heated up, that stupid sparkle melting through your gaze. You wanted to spend the night with him, take advantage of an empty apartment, perhaps watch a movie or two.

It's obvious that you were going to sleep with him. The thought itself irked something visceral inside of Jeongguk. But he’d given you an easy smile, laughed at the modesty of your demeanour and wished you well with a tight hug. The same low buzzing of frustration that he got when you were with Namjoon was already waning through his system as he completed his sets at the gym with more force than needed.

Which is why he can’t help but release a bitter laugh into the night. Ironically, Namjoon was here while you were getting your back blown out by another idiotic guy Jeongguk did not like.

“What’s so funny?”

He can’t spin around to face him, Jeongguk knows he’ll throw up if he does. But he can’t forget a timbre like that. Not when you nearly wrote a poem about how wonderful Kim Namjoon’s voice was. A poem which you recited to Jeongguk before he begged you to rip it to shreds and never talk about again.

(Subconsciously Jeongguk had adopted a deeper voice whenever he talked to you since then. It came out more when he was drunk, but it’s not like you paid any attention anyway).

“Nothing,” he returns. He hopes Namjoon gets the hint and goes away. The bastard joins him on the balcony instead.

“No, seriously, what’s funny? You look like you’ve got a lot going on in your head.” Namjoon was always so concerned in talking about emotions and putting your feelings into words. It’s one of the reasons why you loved him and probably reason one thousand why Jeongguk hated him.

“Hello to you too, Kim Namjoon. Don’t you think we should catch up on the pleasantries before you start psychoanalysing me?” He retorts, forcing his gaze onto the other man. Namjoon looks good; golden skin, broad shoulders and his hair cropped short. There’s an ease to him that Jeongguk could never replicate no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps that’s what happens when you’re born sure of yourself. Like Namjoon was.

The laugh he receives is empty. Namjoon is busy rifling through his pockets, fingers emerging with a joint and a lighter. “Nice to see you too, Jeon. Didn’t think I’d ever bump into you after high school but the universe works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?” The jay slips between his lips, followed by a swift flick of the lighter before a deep inhale that Jeongguk swears he feels in his lungs. The smoke floats out pretty, fading into wisps of nothing but grey as the breeze sweeps it away. Namjoon offers it cordially, a simple raise of his defined eyebrows and even though Jeongguk’s legs are melting through the floor he can’t say no.

“You sure?” The doubt tinting his tone makes him take it. His overestimation in his maintenance capabilities leads to a rather rough inhale, and an even worse hacking cough that he wants to be mortified at because Namjoon fucking laughs. But he can’t when the world feels like air in his fingertips, slowly slipping away. Almost like you feel at times. 

“You should stop taking the shit Taehyung rolls. I don’t even know what he slips in there but last time I smoked with him I thought I was on Mars.”

“Taehyung offers, I never ask.”

“You never ask for anything to be frank.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Namjoon returns, smoke falling from his lips.

“Yeah, I fucking did. I was giving you the chance to pretend you didn’t say it.” Jeongguk’s all in his space in an instant, the itch to smash Namjoon’s face tingling beneath his skin. Namjoon doesn’t even back up, gracing Jeongguk with a quizzical look that leaves him bewildered. “You don’t fucking know me—"

“I do.” There’s a scoff that riles him up even further. Namjoon’s still incredibly unbothered as he talks. “You think being Y/N’s boyfriend I didn’t hear everything and anything about you? Jeongguk this! Jeongguk that! You know that’s the reason we broke up, right?”

That halts him, a lag in his brain as he attempts to process the words leaving Namjoon’s mouth. The older man just stares at him, the sigh that drifts in between them bordering on pity.

“She didn’t tell you that, did she? Y/N lies about a lot more things than you think, Jeon. Where is she by the way? I’ve seen all her friends but I haven’t seen her.”

“Why would you know her friends?” It’s a stupid question but in the jumble of his thoughts it’s the only thing his mind is capable of plucking out. A question that doesn’t leave him bare and vulnerable like the other one’s racing through his head.

“We don’t have each other blocked on everything. Sometimes we talk,” Namjoon supplies easily. And just like that Jeongguk crumbles. He’s not even aware of it but the first crack spears deep enough to leave the rest of him unstable, wavering as he falters away from Namjoon. You never told him any of this. As far as Jeongguk knew you ended the relationship hating him (a thought that briefly consoled Jeongguk if he’s being truthful). But apparently, you felt comfortable enough to share your life with the person Jeongguk thought hurt you the most.

“Man, fuck you.” It’s a release, to say it. Because honestly fuck Kim Namjoon. In the span of a few short sentences he’s tipped everything he’s ever been sure of upside-down, stomped on Jeongguk’s heart like it was bendable and ducked his head right into the ocean he was afraid of diving it, keeping it under until the water filled his lungs and Jeongguk ceased to function.

Namjoon shrugs, not even looking as Jeongguk stumbles back to the door. He needs to find you, ask how much of Namjoon’s words were true. He doesn’t care if Eunwoo is over he’ll kick him out if need be.

But then Namjoon opens his mouth one more time, the final nail in the coffin.

“You should have asked her out. I was waiting for you to it — she was probably waiting too.”

[cuebooks]

A Night of the Lonely

Main Character: Alastair Carstairs

Series: No, but two parts separated by: {}{}{}{}{}

Word count: 2,542

Reading time: 3-5 minutes

Any questions? Ask them in a reblog or in the comments and I’ll happily answer them

Hope you enjoy!

The cold winds caused Alastair’s skin to prickle and flush red with the bitter temperatures. He had taken these roads every night for the past week to find his father in the rundown bar. Sipping whatever drink infatuated him that night.

Alastair wanted to head home and see if Elias could make it alone. If he could survive in this cold without Alastair. But Cordelia was tucked in her bed. Her soft snores echoing from her bedroom to his ears. He and Sona had finally read her to sleep, getting her just calm enough to slip into it. She was waiting for Elias. So was Maman. They wanted to see him in the morning.

So he continued on. Letting his cheeks get whipped by the winds. His hands shivering in the pockets of his maroon coat. His favorite coat that Cordelia picked out for him. It showed off his complexion and his beautiful eyes, his Maman had said. He always wore it during these treks to remind himself that someone cared for him. It was his armor against his father.

He walked into the rundown bar, a mix of discolored woods, a lively hearth, and soft chattering from the small crowd filling it. He looked up to the bartender that was maybe a foot or more taller than him. Her hair tied back into a plait allowed him to see her face. “He’s over there, Alastair. Be careful; he’s had more than usual tonight. I took the last drink away from him, and he….”

“It’s okay. Thank you, Anira. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

Alastair stared up at her. Her features soft and shaded from the light of the flames. “I can pay, I promise. Besides, I don’t want you to get in trouble again.”

The look in her eyes told him she wasn’t going to say anything, so instead, he handed her a few bills that were more than enough. “Plus tip.” He grinned, showing his missing tooth on the left side of his mouth. He had lost it two days before, an achievement that made him proud; his mother smile, and Cordelia gag. She only offered a smile and said thank you.

As she walked away, he heard her mumble something along the lines of ‘he shouldn’t have to.’ He didn’t ask for her to repeat it. He’d heard it before. He knew he shouldn’t have to fill a role other than big brother and child, but he did. What was he supposed to do? Let his mother and sister handle Elias? No. At least it only hurt him. At least he could protect someone.

He found his father on the same stool as yesterday. His hair a mess, and his jacket off, strewn somewhere. His beard had started to grow back, and Alastair made a mental note to help him shave later.

His feet made small sounds against the wood, his weight not enough to make much noise. He placed a hand on his father’s, and Elias looked at him and smiled. “Esfandiyār!” He slurred, and Alastair wanted to step back. But he didn’t. Maman and Cordelia, he repeated in his head. He did this for them. For their happiness. Besides, Elias wasn’t as bad as he could have been. He seemed happier than he had earlier in the day.

“Come on. I want you to read me a bedtime story. Like you used to.” His voice was soft and warm, mimicking the way his mother spoke when she was reading them bedtime stories or in her children’s blanket forts.

“You’re old enough to read on your own. Let me finish this.” Elias said, staring into the bottom of his glass filled with a tinted brown liquid.

“Cordelia wants you to read to her.” Alastair tried again; usually, her name helped catch his attention more than his own. He didn’t know if it was because she was younger, his little daughter with her bright smile, or if he favored her. Maybe it was simply because she wasn’t the child in front of him. Elias set down the glass at her name, and turned— falling off his stool— and headed for the door. Alastair righted the stool, thanked the bartender, and left. His short legs falling behind.

Elias started to wander down the street aimlessly as if he didn’t know where he had come from. “This way,” Alastair waved him over, and Elias straightened his back. The cold wind righting him. Or alerting him. “Did you know brother Zachariah has a meeting in town soon? I could summon him if…” Elias only gave him a disapproving glare. Elias did everything to keep Alastair and Cordelia away from Jem. Maybe because he had left Jem. Maybe Jem— Zachariah, Alastair corrected himself, knew that their father wasn’t alright.

Elias told Alastair stories about the silent brothers— how they crept into your mind and tore into you and corrupted your sanity. Alastair knew it wasn’t true, but the seeds had already been planted, and the vines only continued to grow. But still, Zachariah was family. Alastair always asked the angel to protect him when he heard of his travels. He recalled the kind stories he heard of him, hoping one day to carry the Carstairs name half as well as he did. Kindness, open-mindedness, and honesty, he thought. That’s what makes Zachariah amazing, along with his never-ending love and strength. Never-ending love Alastair remembered. Love the man in front of me.

So with love in his fragile heart, he slowed down and held his father’s hand. “I don’t need your help. I can make it home just fine. I’m not you,” Elias grumbled and pulled his hand away from Alastair’s, and stalked ahead down the wrong street.

Another piece of his heart broke off. He wondered how many were left. How much more could his father break his heart?

Alastair looked at his father ahead, “I only wanted to hold your hand,” he whispered. The cold wind whistling over his quiet words.

The door unlocked, and Alastair held it open for his father.

Elias walked in and stumbled a bit to a table pressed against a foyer wall, but it was barely noticeable if it hadn’t been Alastair who was watching. His father was good at hiding when he drank too much; of course, he always pushed his own limits. But Alastair knew him too well. Watched it happen too often. He had to. It’s how he knew when to pull Cordelia and Maman from him and distracted them when Elias went too far. Like always, he fixed himself a drink, and Alastair went to fetch water to refill the liquor that had been poured.

The only footfall was from Alastair’s tiny feet. He couldn’t hide their sound. He was too tired, too— he should have been in bed hours ago.

He went to the couch and found his father asleep. Snoring softly like Cordelia did. He smiled a little at the reminder that Elias was a father to Cordelia; people could tell— she looked like him and Maman. Alastair had always been happy he garnered his looks from his mother’s side— at least, that’s what Maman had always said.

Alastair slowly moved to sit on the floor by his father’s hand and pried the glass from his grip, and returned the glass to the table. He took the water he collected and poured it into the alcohol bottle along with the remaining liquor from the short glass. Filling the bottle so no one would notice the sunken level.

Alastair pulled a blanket from the closet and carried it to the couch, laying it on the floor and pulling Elias off the couch carefully. A small thud of his father’s body to the blanket made Alastair look around to make sure Cordelia hadn’t woken up. He pulled the corners of the blanket off the floor and tugged. Tugged the blanket into the guest room, through the halls, and past the stairs.

Alastair eventually got him on the bed. The covers pulled to his father’s feet.

Alastair had finally untied his father’s shoes and placed them under the bed. Undoing his shirt next, spraying a scent to cover up the sour smell his father radiated from the night before. Alastair knew you didn’t smell drunk until the next day when you started to sweat it out. He sighed— he hated that he knew that.

He changed Elias’s pants next. His mother hated when people slept in items that had been worn outside to bed— the distinct smell of dirt, she passed the disdain onto Alastair.

He set down a glass bowl filled with water. And slowly grabbed a razor and shaving soap. Dabbing Elias’s face with a washcloth wet with warm water. Elias only groaned.

Alastair gently lathered the soap onto his face. Shaving where his father preferred. Gentle and with the grain. Never nicked or cut. Perfect like it had to be. And wiped the rest off with the cloth.

Alastair’s hands were tired as he shakily poured the water out as he was tired and barely tall enough to see over the counter to the bathroom sink.

He reset the bowl under the sink—the razor on the side of it, next to the shaving soap.

When he returned to the bedroom he placed the covers over his father. “Night, baba. Sleep well and have only good dreams.” He crawled back off the bed, careful to close the door behind him quietly. He left the water on the nightstand and moved back to the couch. He picked up the bottle of alcohol and placed it back where it belonged. The sun hadn’t started to rise, but as he moved to the steps, he saw the moon passed halfway across the sky. He wished there was a rune to transport him instantly to his room, under his soft blankets.

The stairs were quiet underfoot. But something stopped him in the halls— Cordelia.

Cordelia stepped out from her door and looked at Alastair.

“Layla? What’s wrong?” He asked, moving beside her.

“I’m thirsty, Ali.” She whimpered as she rubbed her eyes. Her hair was falling out of the braid their mother had styled.

“Come on, Layla.” He offered her his hands, and she jumped to him, giggling lightly as he picked her up. Her small frame was easy to hold for him. As he walked to her bed, she asked him, “may we play ‘save the castle’ tomorrow? You always play a great knight. Always so protective and kind.” She giggled as she struggled to say the words coherently at her young age. Their mother taught them big words, working with their speech every day like she had when she learned English. She was determined to make them perfectly fluent in Farsi and English, among a few other languages.

Alastair tucked her back in. “I’ll get you some water, and of course, we can play ‘save the castle’ tomorrow, but you have to sleep.” She nodded softly as she recrawled under her sheets and smiled at him. He slipped out of her room, saying he’d be right back.

He didn’t want to make her wait, so he went to his room, where he had a few glasses of water for Layla. She always did this. Sometimes knocking on his door for help. His hair was a darker red than hers for now. He knew it would turn black soon, and he was excited about it. He would look more like his mother and his mother’s parents— something his mother told him to be proud about. He hoped he would always be proud to be Persian.

He placed the glass on the nightstand. “There you go, Layla, be careful; it’s only a glass. There is no lid.” She smiled at him and grabbed the glass. She was slowly drinking the water. Then carefully placed it back.

“Thank you, dadash.” She cuddled back under her blankets, and he kissed her forehead like their mother always did. He sang her a short lullaby in Farsi. His voice carrying around the room, and her eyelids became heavy.

“Sleep tight, Layla.” He let go of her hand.

“Sleep tight, Ali!” She whispered.

He closed her door again and passed his mother’s a few doors down, and checked on her. Her deep sleep let his heart settle a bit more. And he moved on to a dark room, where he lit a candle. His father’s study. He opened a book and looked at the latest news of silent brothers. His father had some connections, and Alastair had written to them and asked about Zachariah. He knew if his father found out, he’d threaten to kill Jem, but Alastair couldn’t help it. Jem was a Carstairs. He was family. He read over the latest news. Jem had just gone off to London again for William Herondale, claiming that Gabriel had demon pox. He shook his head and laughed softly.

Mr. Herondale had the dedication he had to admit. But Jem had made it there, safe. He smiled, happy Jem was okay. He put the book away and pulled out another piece of paper— to write a letter to Mr. Herondale. Asking, just like his father would have, when Cordelia could see Lucie again. Cordelia missed her and Lucie’s family. Alastair had to admit he missed them too. He always laughed and felt happy in London. Not the place but the people that surrounded him. He admitted that he also liked how the Herondales and Mrs. Gray were buffers between his father and his family. Cordelia had been asking, and he could tell Maman wanted to get out of the city. So he wrote. Over and over— perfecting his handwriting, his diction, his grammar. Making everything perfect.

He placed it in an envelope and left it for Raisa. She would send it off in the morning. He scrambled off the chair. Lowering his feet off one at a time since they couldn’t reach the floor while sitting yet.

After doing some of his father’s work, he left the office, and the sun had started to rise. He huffed softly and frowned but shook his head and moved toward his room. He could get a few hours before he had to wake up and help Raisa get breakfast ready.

Maybe tomorrow, his heart will heal, and his father will help put it back together— not destroy it. But he knew better than to give himself false hope. He knew better than to trust the man that was weak. That had put the weight of the family on Alastair’s shoulders instead of holding it himself.

He pulled the covers over himself. His maman, sister, and father were all tucked away by him, and yet he sat in the dark room. Alone. No light. Wishing for hope.

But he knew better.

Just one more day, he said. Like he had for the past several months.

The shadowhunter academy, he thought. Just make it there, and you’ll be okay, he whispered into the dark.

He hummed himself a lullaby his mother taught him, and when he finished, he drifted off to sleep. His tired bones and aching heart settling into the mattress. Accepting the dark.

Tag List: @itsjusta-j-really @magigingercal @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1

(Let me know if you want to be added or taken off, please)

[novelconcepts]

Excuse you...😭 The first prompt being absolutely Older Jamie having a cat that bonds with her AND Dani... Sad hours in this house, damn

She never let them have pets. There isn't much Dani Clayton regrets--isn't much point, she's found, in the endless, boundless stretch of after--but sometimes, she does regret that much. Jamie always laughed it off, said she didn’t mind--What do I need pets for? Got more than enough to keep alive, thanks very much.--but Dani knew she’d never had animals growing up. Hadn’t stood still long enough for a cat, or a rabbit, or even fish. Maybe it’s true that you can’t miss what you never had, but she can’t help wondering if Jamie’s got some little puncture, deep down, that should have been filled with a big-hearted creature who would have put her first. 

And Dani, to her eternal chagrin, hadn’t been able to fill that. Hadn’t been able to allow herself that. The beast, she was sure, would someday rise, and it was bad enough to think of Jamie going without. Bad enough to imagine Jamie staring hollowly at the door, wishing for Dani’s key in the lock. What would a dog have done? What would an animal who had only ever wanted love and to be loved have thought, the day Dani inevitably left and could not return home again?

How she’d thought of it in life, anyway. Now, she’s aware of so much. Aware of time in a slipstream around her, of the immediacy of the past, the present, the future all bound up with gold-edged ribbon. She is Dani Clayton, eight years old and watching her father waste to nothing, and she is Dani Clayton, twenty-nine and watching Eddie laugh at their engagement party, and she is Dani Clayton, thirty-one and watching Jamie nervously place a moonflower on a counter. Forever, she is Dani Clayton--the lost little girl, the stubborn young woman, the beloved wife. 

And Jamie? Jamie does not yet understand forever. She isn’t yet a part of the slipstream. Jamie is silver-haired, twisting that ring: a gardener and a widow, a storyteller and a scarred heart. Jamie doesn’t get it yet. Dani wishes she could tell her. Wishes she could impart the wisdoms of after while Jamie can still make use of them. 

She can’t. She’s tried. Her hand on Jamie’s shoulder, night after night, she’s tried to will the knowledge into the love of her life. I’m here. I’m always right here. You have to keep living, Jamie, you have to keep going, because I will always be right here. 

For years, she’s worried it’ll never sink in. For years, which are moments, which are blinks, she watches Jamie stagger through the world. Jamie, making bargains with gods and ghosts. Jamie, unable to see her, unable to let her go. Jamie, desperate and grieving and miserable. It sets an ache in Dani’s chest she hadn’t thought she could feel anymore. All time is now. How is there still pain?

But watching Jamie--watching her run baths, button into Dani’s old blouses, prop that god-forsaken door open in dozens of hotels over the years--how could it not be painful? Watching Jamie hurt is the worst of the world. Watching Jamie in her recklessness, watching solid, grounded Jamie crack open one empty mirror at a time. How could it not dig at her?

You’ll understand, Dani thinks--and it is as much a wish as a certainty. Someday. Soon. Now. Always. You’ll understand. The gardener always learns. The gardener always listens. The gardener can’t not piece it together, given enough time. 

But, for Jamie, it’s slow. It’s linear. It’s one day at a time, one year after another. For Jamie, it’s another Christmas alone. Another of Dani’s birthdays celebrated in silence: a lit candle, a photo, a woman bent over her own knees as her shoulders shudder. For Jamie, time plods. Time bleeds. Time is a wound she can’t stitch shut.

And then: the first one follows her home.

It’s an accident, Dani knows--would know, even if Jamie hadn’t in recent years taken to muttering to herself in the solace of an empty room. Jamie hadn’t even realized it was happening until the scruffy little mongrel followed her off the street, into the building. It sits--curly black fur, enormous brown eyes--at her side as if waiting. As if the invitation is implicit. As if it’s already home.

“No,” Jamie says. Dani can’t help smiling; there’s something to Jamie saying no that way that has always sounded an awful lot like a wall coming down. And, sure enough, the minute the door is open, the dog saunters inside as though it has never belonged anywhere else.

A bit, Dani thinks, like Jamie after Dani had taken her hand that night. 

It’s an accident, but Jamie has never been much good at turfing out creatures in need of love once they’re inside. The dog stays. Jamie calls him Iowa--it seems to have been the first thing to slip out of her mouth, and the dog cocks his head and wags his nub of a tail, and that’s that. Jamie, for the first time in her life--fifty-seven years old, paying rent on her first flat in over a decade--has a pet. 

Dani thinks it’ll be good for her. A dog begs routine. A dog needs walks, and feeding at reasonable hours, and doors that are shut at night. That Iowa seems older--relaxed and certain and just a bit bull-headed--is even better. He doesn’t run ragged around the flat, knocking into tables, shattering flower pots. He simply trots along at Jamie’s side as though he’s always been there. 

It would be enough, Dani senses, if it were just the two of them. Jamie has always thrived in the caring for other living things. Jamie is happiest when given a task, a hands-on approach to the world. The dog, she may not have sought out--but the dog is hers, and she is his, and there is a kind of salvation in unexpected love. 

The next one is even more of an accident, if that’s possible. A huge bear of a beast, shaggy and stained and wet-eyed. Jamie finds it limping through the streets of London with mud caked on its belly and head hung low. No tags. No marker of any kind. Iowa nudges her around the knees, looking at the mountainous creature, and Jamie sighs. 

“No,” she tells him, but Dani--and Iowa--can tell it’s a lie even before the syllable is completely formed. Jamie is already reaching a cautious hand toward the trembling dog. It whimpers. It presses its nose to her outstretched fingers. Iowa’s tail wags. 

London is, when given a proper bath and brushing, quite beautiful. Her limp is temporary; her attachment to Iowa in particular, eternal. The first night, with the dog resting her chin on Jamie’s knee, stretched across a threadbare couch, Jamie says, “Found it on the street. Wanted to save it” in a tone that suggests she’s speaking from a dream. Her jaw clenches. Her eyes close. Dani has never wanted so badly to break her own rules.

Neither dog seems to notice her. She’s relieved, in a way; Jamie’s nightly ritual never wavers, save for reluctantly closing the door--as with so many features of Jamie’s world, the safety of others precludes her own--and if the dogs began barking at shadows, it’s likely Jamie would never sleep again. Anyway, these aren’t her pets. Jamie has saved them--or they’ve saved her--and that bond is one Dani can’t muster envy for. 

Two dogs and a home full of plants. It doesn’t bring the light back into Jamie’s eyes, not all the way, but she walks a bit taller these days. Fidgets a little less. Cries often enough, but now there are soft muzzles to press her face against when she does. It’s better, Dani can see. Nothing will ever be what it was, but better is sometimes the most you can ask for in life. 

The third dog is less an accident, more a surprise. A two-for-one deal, to a degree; Jamie has wandered into the local shelter, where she’s taken to volunteering on weekends, and come across a sharp-toothed, snappish shepherd no one else seems able to touch. He’s been through the ringer, the other volunteers say, sage and exhausted by similar experiences. Abuse, probably. Neglect, probably. Only three or four, but with enough mistrust baked into his bones for three lifetimes. 

“He doesn’t like men,” one weary-looking young man says. “Or people who move too fast. Or multiple people coming at him all at once.”

“Can relate,” Jamie says, her mouth quirking. Dani laughs. “What does he like?”

The volunteer points. There, in the back of the shepherd’s cage, is a lithe black shadow. It blinks lantern-gold eyes up at Jamie, tail twitching, and makes a rasping sound that might, in another animal, have been a proper meow. 

“Came in same-day. Can’t separate ‘em. Not sure how we’re going to get them adopted.”

Jamie rubs her jaw, left hand hesitating on the way down. She touches the tip of a finger to her ring and heaves a sigh. 

“Fuck.”

She calls the shepherd Paris, and though it takes time--several patient weeks, Jamie turning up at regular hours each day to coax the nervy animal into growing accustomed to her smell, her voice, her easy-slow method of moving--by the time the papers are signed, there’s no changing it. The flat is now overrun, dog hair clinging to every surface, water bowls standing sentry in the kitchen. The cat’s litterbox goes into the bathroom, Jamie frowning a little as she surveys the new landscape of her home. 

“You,” she tells the cat. “Best behavior. Anything goes crash in the night, it’s your hide.”

The cat preens, rubbing around her ankles. Jamie sighs.

“Christ, if she could see me now.”

Something tugs deep in Dani’s chest--pride, and sorrow, and love of the most fervent kind. The dogs--proud Iowa, sweet London, Paris keeping a careful distance from both--are draped around the living room. Jamie’s home is theirs. Jamie is their home. Dani knows so well what that feels like. They’re lucky creatures.

The dogs are sleepy, warm, happy. The cat--

The cat is looking at her.

Dani frowns. She’s imagining things. Must be. She’s been drifting around Jamie--traveling the world at her side, resting a hand over her shoulder each night--for years and years. Nothing has ever looked at her. Nothing has ever seen her. Not Jamie. Not the dogs. Nothing. 

But this cat. This cat, with its huge golden eyes, black ears twitching, is staring right at her. 

“Huh,” says Dani.

“Mrow,” says the cat.

“C’mon,” says Jamie, oblivious to it all. “Supper.”

Days go by before Jamie properly names the cat. She strokes her fingers gently over the creature’s back, tracing the length of spine and tail, and frowns each night. “Who,” she says quietly, “are you?”

The cat butts against her palm, rumbling deep in its chest. Jamie makes a soft pensive sound.

“Vermont?” She shakes her head. “Nah. You’re different, mm? Somethin’ else.”

The cat chirps, turning its head, gazing into the corner where Dani is leaning. Dani raises a hand, wiggling her fingers experimentally. The cat makes the same noise a second time, as if in greeting. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Eerie little beast. Never thought I was much for cats, y’know. But here you are.”

Never thought you were much for people, either, Dani thinks with amusement. Didn’t stop you drawing us all close. 

In the end, Jamie begins calling the cat Gremlin. A nickname, offered in warning, at first--any time she moved too near a plant, or experimentally sniffed at London’s paws while she slept, Jamie would quietly intone, “Oi. Gremlin. Back it up.” It is, in its own way, reminiscent of the way Poppins had clung to their first year--an accidental gift cherished by its recipient. 

Dani can tell the cat--rumbling her pleasure each time the name is used--agrees. Plants are left to their devices. The dogs seem strangely hard-wired to accept the cat as their queen. Jamie shakes her head. 

“So be it, suppose.”

It’s good, watching her build a routine around them. Dani hasn’t seen her stand this still since Vermont, but the dogs love the nearby park, and Gremlin sunbathes happily on the balcony, and Jamie seems, for the first time in years, to be fostering a simple sort of peace. The baths still fill, and her eyes are still too often far-away, but the door is shut. The dogs stretch out around the living room--which doubles, as all living spaces have for a decade, as Jamie’s bedroom--as if warding off intruders. The cat sets up shop on the back of the couch, peering down with regal bearing as Jamie slowly dozes off. And, when Dani inevitably presses a hand toward Jamie’s shoulder the first night--

“Hey,” she says, very quietly. “What’s this?”

Gremlin makes a raspy sort of sound, nudging toward her. She does not make contact, exactly; Dani hasn’t quite figured out touch, in all this time. She hasn’t had much cause. Touching Jamie is a dream, an ache she has carried since her death that reminds her forcefully of before, at Bly, when she hadn’t thought herself worthy or capable. Touching Jamie is the one part of all of this that still feels linear--I could touch her in life, and I can touch her when she gets here, but in between...in between...

In between, Dani can reach toward her. Can brush the space around her shoulder. Can be here, with her, in every way except directly, because some things are still unfair. Like Jamie feeling alone, even with Dani right here. Like Dani being able to always-someday-soon-now except for where it matters most.

She is in the kitchen at Bly, and she is in their bedroom in Vermont, and she is 1976, 1988, 1999, and she is--

Almost petting this cat. Almost. Her brows come sharply together, her heart thudding. 

“How?” she asks Gremlin, who seems not to mind. The cat presses in a bit harder, as if to say, Keep trying. Dani sees no reason not to obey. 

Each night, the animals spread around Jamie in a protective circle: Paris at the door, London beside the couch, Iowa nestled between Jamie’s knees. Each night, Gremlin sets up on the back of the couch, watching Jamie’s breath even out, and turns those enormous eyes on Dani.

And, little by little...

She can’t pick the cat up, or close her hands gently around her face. She can’t make the kind of contact she would as a living woman--matter pressing against matter, mass imposing upon mass. But her fingers are unequivocally brushing thick black fur. She can feel the cat’s breath on her skin. This is true, and real, and solid--and the cat, looking entirely too proud of herself, can plainly feel her in return.

Dani Clayton has been dead for over a decade, and Dani Clayton has been here all the same ever since, but for the first time, Dani Clayton is touching. Dani Clayton is feeling, not simply in the ether of memory, but now. 

She holds a breath as Gremlin rubs against her fingers. She’s still holding it when, slowly, carefully, she reaches down to the couch. 

Her fingers brush silver. Jamie’s brow knits, her lips parting. She’s always looked like this in sleep--as though some part of her just isn’t willing to shut down all the way. She’s always looked as though some part of her needs to be on guard. 

Now, with Dani’s fingers threading through her hair, that tight, armored expression gives a little bit. Just a little. 

In the morning, Dani wonders if Jamie’s eyes will flicker open and she will, finally, see her. There’s a breathless kind of terror to the idea--that she’s gone this long keeping Jamie safe from diving permanently into her own grief, only for a cat to undo all of that work. But, when the sun rises and Jamie rises with it, she gives no sign at all. No sign that she can see Dani, standing beside the couch, though Gremlin is staring right at her. No sign that anything has changed.

Except--except her hand, lingering at the crown of her head. Her fingers, sifting almost absently through her hair, tracing the same path Dani had been unable to pull away from. Her brow furrows. Her head shakes. 

“Breakfast?” she asks the animals in various stages of waking around her. Gremlin stretches, back leg popped high, and hops down. Dani doesn’t think she’s imagining the cat’s easy swagger as she makes her way to the kitchen. 

It isn’t the life she’d imagined for Jamie, laying awake and watching her sleep. Not the life she’d wanted for Jamie, hoping as hard as she could that the beast would remain always at bay. She’d never looked at Jamie and expected dogs to follow her home, hurt and lonely and in need of someone to show them the world can be kind. She hadn’t expected a cat with a swishing tail and a regal demeanor, standing sentinel. Jamie’s life has never quite veered in this direction before.

But: watching her now, as she slips a bit of apple to each dog, strokes the cat, leans her hip against the counter as she waits for the water to boil, Dani has to admit it suits her. Jamie has always been at her best giving love, even against her own better judgement. 

In time, Dani’s sense of soon-someday-now-always will broaden to encompass Jamie, as well. The years will press on. There will come a time where the brush of Dani’s hand across her sleeping cheek--the phantom press of Dani soothing Jamie out of a particularly bad nightmare--will evolve into the intertwining of finally standing on the same plane again. It is the natural order of things. Organic. Dani, standing outside of time, is patient. 

And Jamie: is slowly building herself a home again. Jamie is waking to take dogs out, and brushing down Gremlin’s ink-black fur, and looking more present in the world than she’s been in a decade. Jamie, staring into the mirror each night with Paris pressed resolutely against her legs, Iowa hovering in the doorway, almost smiles. 

“Someday,” she murmurs, “I am going to have some stories for you.”

Dani smiles. She knows, of course--outside of time, it’s hard not to know--but she can’t wait to hear them, all the same. Stories always land a little differently, coming out of Jamie’s mouth. 

Soon, she promises silently. Someday. Always. Now. 

In the meantime, Jamie reaches for a bundle of leashes, giving Gremlin a brief scratch between the ears. She pauses at the door, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes drifting over Dani without notice. At her side, heading the pack, Iowa gives a small bark to confirm his readiness. 

“Right,” says Jamie softly. “Back soon.”

It is the first time in too long Dani has been sure she will be okay.

[story-thief]

BNHA/MHA X READER (GIANTS AND TINIES): CHAPTER 5 - (Giant Deku x Y/N) Baby Bird

Info--------------------

Y/N- Age: 16, Hight: 5’7”, Gender: female, Quirk: Dark Phoenix, Affiliation: none

AU- Fantasy/Mythology AU, Fantasy fluff

Relationship background: You are a young Phoenix girl living a struggling life in your beautiful village set a drift on a cluster of floating islands, secluded in the clouds. Deku is a gentle giant with a deep respect and love for everything that flies.

------------------------

It was midnight and everything in the village of Antikorrho seemed to be silent and peaceful despite the soft whistle of the strong breeze hoisting them through the sky. Though regardless of how things appeared, all was not silent, nor was it peaceful, and a life was in grave danger.

Her name was (Y/N) (L/N), she was no older than roughly sixteen years of age, and if she didn't hurry in a silent fashion, then odds were she wouldn't grow any more than that.

On cautious feet the youth darted between the numberless, quaint little homes clustered neatly on the formation of floating islands that drifted aimlessly along the skyline; each one seeming to hold a safe and happy family... something she lacked. Scared but determined eyes scanned the area around her before she made her next move. She was almost home free. If she could avoid the keen eyes of her unseen pursuer, then she would be able to get away from her village, but most importantly the one Phoenix-kind who had single handedly beaten, terrorized and hurt her her entire life, the one she should have been able to turn to for love and support, he who had betrayed her.

As she ran across the cobbled path to the edge of the main isle, she mustered up all the courage she could for what she was about to do next. (Y/N) had never attempted an escape before, and if this failed, well- she'd prefer not to go any further into that thought, but if she didn't she knew it'd be the end of the line for her.

Faster than she could have liked, the rocky, jagged ledge approached. The frightened harpy could feel the doubt creeping in swiftly, almost as fast as the upcoming drop, and in spite of her aching muscles, she pumped her legs harder, bare feet rocketing her forward with each step. There was no going back.

She jumped.

The trembling wings on the girl's back unfolded and caught the air in her hesitation, though she quickly tucked them back to her body, allowing herself to dive again toward the ocean of clouds below. The barrier beneath her served but one purpose, to keep Phoenix-borns from crossing to the undersky. It was a forbidden land that supposedly stretched beyond what the eye could see, a whole other world full of strange and diverse creatures. To go below the clouds was considered suicide as no one who did ever came back, but (Y/N) knew full well that it was the same to stay. So, stuck between a rock and a hard place, she opted to take her chances with the supposed world below the mist.

She didn't care to look up, not wanting to know whether or not he was following, only forcing herself to focus on what was ahead whilst she plunged through the swirling vapor. 

After falling for what felt like quite some time she emerged on the other side of the foggy veil. Below her was far more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. Despite the dark cloak of the evening she could easily make out rolling hills and jagged mountains peppered and sprayed with large trees and an occasional river. Excitedly now, (Y/N) stretched her iridescent purple wings out; enjoying the feeling of the wings tickling her as it laced and weaved between feathers and outstretched fingers.

As she surveyed her new realm, it dawned her that she had made it, she was free! What she would do with this freedom she still didn't know, she hadn't really gotten that far but that could all be settled later; it didn't stop the uncontrollable, overwhelming happiness bubbling up in her chest any less. For now it seemed she should find a good place to rest and hide till morning. There was obviously a reason people didn't return, she should still tread with caution.

The harpy then glided down to land on one of the tall pines that stretched up amongst others, the tip on which she perched bending ever so slightly to her weight before slowing to a soft sway. Fluttering her wings uneasily for a brief moment she tucked them to her back before looking about for a good safe place to seek shelter.

Looking about she was able to spot a strange hole in the mountain side emitting light. It looked to be the mouth of a cave, and the light from inside was dim but steady, enticing the curious escapee to come closer. So, with a powerful beat of her wings, she rose into the air once again before gliding down to the strange and inviting glimmer.

Upon reaching it she slowed her descent with fluttering feathers before touching softly onto the cold stone surface. The rock under her feet was smooth, and so were the other seemingly carved, gigantic boulders lining the entrance. Even more curious now than before, (Y/N) crept silently and cautiously forward. The entrance wasn't all that long, and immediately after there was a large drop.

Whatever was in the ginormous cavity, she couldn't see, save the singular, gigantic lantern that lay on a smooth surface a good ways ahead and below. Taking another look back at the way she had come in and the chilly night air outside, she debated on checking it out. Finally giving in to her impulses rather than her better judgement, (Y/N) glided down to the tall source of light. The surface she and it stood on appeared to be made of wood,  though she could figure nothing else about where she was. The lantern was warm nonetheless, and she was tired as the adrenaline from the night's events subsided. Maybe, just maybe, she'd sleep here... but just for tonight!!!! Tomorrow morning she'd wake up early  and get going.

Satisfied with her doomed self promise, the little harpy curled her wings around her as she bundled by the warm flame that burnt steadily on, lulling her into a soft, much needed sleep.

Deku awoke to the soft glow of sunrise lighting his bedroom alongside the ever changing song nature sung as it slowly awoke. Smiling softly, the giant sluggishly squirmed out of the clearly homemade, but cozy bed he had been resting in prior. It was a new day and he didn't really have any plans other than to simply relax, especially because over the week he had made sure to account for his chores and tasks so he could have the day to himself.

Straightening his room, the behemoth wasted no time in dawdling or idling about. As soon as the small, stone room was tidy, Deku skipped out and into another simple but quaint room he used as a kitchen. Much like the rest of the home, the walls were clearly that of some sort of cave, rough and jagged walls majestically running up to an equally uneven ceiling. Hand made furnishings of rustic wood and occasional scrap metal were placed about in a complementary fashion. Deku cut a warm slice of bread from the loaf he had baked just the night before, grabbed a large fruit and sat down at a simple wooden table to eat. Before he could even take the first bite, something on the table right in front of him caught his eye.

Lying by his burnt out lantern on the table was a wadded up ball of feathers that looked like some tiny critter crawled in and died. Panic stricken, the behemoth boy slid his food to the side to swiftly snatch up the fallen fluff ball to inspect it.

Tenderly taking the limp form in his hands, he began running careful fingers across its small and delicate body, trying to figure out what it was and just how bad of condition it was in. Now that he had the motionless thing spread in his hands, he was able to see that it was a minuscule person; a tiny lady with birdlike feet and purplish raven wings jutting from between her shoulder blades and similar tail feathers pluming from her lower back and under her shirt. Countless scrapes, cuts, and bruises adorned her skin, some fairly fresh, others faded into scars.

The greenete looked at the little angel with pity, poor thing looked like it had been to hell and back. Was it even still alive?? He wondered to himself as he turned the unconscious bird in his hands one last time. He could have sworn her eyes tiredly rolled open for a split second, but they were closed again before he could check. One thing was for sure, he should find out before he jumped to any other conclusions. Deku then tentatively held her up to his ear where he tried to listen for some sort of heartbeat or possible breathing. Still unable to hear anything, he gently pressed her up against himself, making a soft thumping audible.

The giant let out a relieved sigh as he set the little woman down back on the table. He wasn't sure when she'd wake up, but until she did he'd be patient and ready to tend to her should she need anything. And with that, he quickly finished his breakfast, setting aside a chunk of bread and a piece of fruit, for when she awoke, and placed them down nearby.

(Y/N) awoke well into the morning, she looked about, confused and disoriented, until she could recall what had happened the previous evening. Suddenly remembering, her eyes opened a little more and she quickly sat up.

Looking around, she quickly came to realize that the cave was far bigger than she had initially thought and that the floor did seem to be made of wood, though much of the place's structure and makeup lacked any sense to her.

Shaking the sleep from her still tired body, (Y/N) stretched and rubbed her eyes before she noticed the food beside her. "Woah!" She startled, not entirely sure she remembered it being there the night before. Carefully, she sniffed it, still slightly hesitant on what to do about it. The bread was easily as big as her head, and the fruit slice was definitely her height at least, if not, then taller. It looked as if it had been intentionally placed there, for her, and given that she had not had a good meal in far too long, the tempting offer was more than she could resist. Scooting closer, the Phoenix-kind ripped off a piece of the bread and tasted it. YUM!! Her eyes widened as the fluffy still warm dough met her tongue, and she swiftly took to scarfing the rest of it down.

After eating as much as she could without popping, the harpy girl lied back down satisfied as she allowed the food to settle. Looking up at the rough, stone ceiling, she studied it, eventually leading her to slowly prop herself up on her elbows, still looking about at the strange cavity. Come to think of it, the place looked kinda like a house- but- Ten times bigger... Wait-

(Y/N) pushed herself into a standing position. Looking around more, she rubbed her eyes. 'Was she dreaming?! It really did look as if she were standing in a gigantic house!!' More intrigued now than before, the Phoenix-born ran to the table's edge, scanning the room intently. If this was a giant house then surely its owner was of equal proportions. Then she saw him.

Sitting across the enormous room at a simple desk was the giant. He was easily 45-50ft tall, about 1371.6-1524cm tall if she had to guess. Surprisingly enough he actually looked to be about her age with soft, kind features, large green eyes, and matching curly hair. He sat hunched over a leather-bound journal and a number of large books.

Opening up her glimmering wings she took to the air before darting to a high shelf just above the desk where she dove behind a towering potted plant. She sat there for a brief moment, trying to calm her racing heart before peeking out and down at the behemoth. He didn't seem phased!! Whatever he was doing, he was into it! Cautiously once more, she fluttered down to the desk where she perched on a stack of closed books.

Still no response.

Whatever the green haired goliath was invested in doing must have been interesting, only furthering young (Y/N)'s desire to know. So, carefully, she climbed down the numerous volumes before dropping onto the smooth spruce. Then, with slow and sure steps, the winged youth crept forward till the tips of her toes brushed the thick leaves of the journal he sketched and wrote in. By some miracle it seemed he still didn't notice her, though it honestly didn't surprise her given that his nose was practically pressed to the paper, his thick pine green brows furrowed in his concentration.

(Y/N) began craning her neck to try and glimpse at what exactly he was doing, though she couldn't quite make out the difference between one thick pencil stroke and another. Not satisfied with this, she inched around his moving arms and hands. Once or twice he'd glance away from the book to study a page from another, causing the girl's heart to stop. Regardless, he never noticed her and would soon return his intense gaze to his work.

With a few chary steps she soon had her back to his stomach. His bent over form towered above her, quite literally as he moved and shifted, messing around with the items in front of him, still painfully oblivious to the little visitor who was now doing a study of her own, observing the illegible notes he had written. Though what really attracted her attention was the pictures that were drawn. decorating the parchment were countless and various sketches of her.

"Woah.." She let the appraised whisper slip from her mouth. Why were there so many drawings of her!? They were so good!! And what did the writing beside it say!? Wait- It was then that (Y/N) noticed that the enormous hands to the sides of her had stopped working and scribbling about, held motionlessly to the page. Her heart skipped a beat as she whirled to glance up before it stumbled and plummeted. Staring up, her eyes met with an equally wide but far larger pair, gazing back down with something that was nothing short of astonishment; a look she knew too well.

Quickly the boy realized he had better say something or risk her running off before cheering in a language she didn't understand, though his joyful tone and warm smile otherwise implied he meant no harm. "H-Huh??" The phoenix-born asked, flinching as he began to slowly move. The giant sat back and against the back of his chair, giving the small angel some room before trying another incomprehensible phrase that sounded like another language. Still unable to make out what he wanted she cocked her head though she didn't ease up at all, wings quivering as if ready to launch her through the air.

Furrowing his brows, Deku tried another... and another, and another and another. He seemed to be filtering through languages until he spoke one she was able to understand. "Do you speak Flackofain??" He inquired, finally finding something she could comprehend. It wasn't her native tongue, but it was one she was fluid in.

Flackofa were a type of friendly and sociable bird folk that lived nomadic and merchant lives, exploring the under sky and selling its goods to other winged beings above the clouds. They often set up their shops on tall mountain caps that broke the ocean of mist separating the two. Once or twice she had even managed to sneak away and attend some of their bazaars and auctions.

(Y/N) perked up immediately upon hearing a language she could understand. "Yeah!! I do!!" She chirped, straightening herself. "How did you learn it!?!" She inquired now immensely curious as to how he knew. The giant was equally pleased with his accomplishment, bringing his fists in excited little balls up to his chest. "I know them!! I actually trade with the Flackofa a lot, I'm very good friend's with their chief and many of their people!! One named Kacchan doesn't like me much though..." He laughed at his added comment. "Really!? That's amazing!! What are you anyway!?" The winged youth inquired, earning another warm snicker from her new companion. "I'm a behemoth!!" "Behemoth??" "We're better known as giants..." He scratched his neck, "Sorry I use a lot of big words..." Deku added his apology. "It's ok!! I don't mind!!" the girl giggled.

"What about you!? You don't look like any angel or harpy I've seen..." He commented, to which she enthusiastically answered, "I'm a phoenix-born!!" This response quickly got the giant excited, "WAIT FOR REAL!? A REAL PHOENIX?!" He inquired eagerly, swiftly bending down to be eye level with her, hands gripping the edge of the table with equal energy. (Y/N) startled, stumbling backwards a smidge, not expecting such a dramatic reaction. "Y-yeah!! Why?"

The giant quickly sat back up and against the back of his chair again, running his hands through his shaggy, messy mop of hair. "Well, no one ever sees your kind, not after the War of Worlds!! You guys have never come below the clouds since, so I just can't believe i finally get to meet a real phoenix born!!!" He guffawed, hands still plastered to his head, pinning the fluffy green tufts back.

The girl blinked in confusion, "War?? What war??" she didn't remember anything of the sort. "The War of Worlds?? The great war of your people against the elves and dwarves??" Izuku continued, "You've never heard of it??" "N-no...?." She drew out her reply. "Somewhere around 350 years ago your people had a conflict with the elves, there are lots of different accounts of what the conflict was but one thing stays the same, things went south. The elves called upon the dwarves for assistance and after a long battle that cost your people half their population, you guys went to a group of mages known as the Everskys and asked them to conjure up some sky islands to retreat to." He explains, "You guys swore you would return one day, far far into the future and take back what the elves had supposedly stolen from you, but until then you'd lurk in the mist." he finished, giving her a look as if he expected his little history lecture to spark some sort of hidden memory in her.

(Y/N) just stared, trying to comprehend the enormous load of information she had just been hit with. As weird and foreign the idea sounded, the story actually fit well with a lot of her culture and how the under sky was forbidden. "I- I have never heard this story..." The harpy girl admitted. "Really?! Then why don't you guys come down??" "We just know that it's forbidden, supposedly filled with strange and wondrous creatures who want only to rip us to shreds." The giant looked shocked by her answer. "Then why are you down here!?" He inquired with wide, curious eyes. The winged youth's demeanor became downcast and solemn, though bitterness laced her words, "I had to get away... I couldn't stay there anymore..." She spat quietly, eyes on the table beneath her.

Deku's expression softened as he found himself pitting the little angel. "Hey, hey! It's ok now! You escaped, and you found me!! I'll help keep you safe if you like!! I promise that I won't let anything hurt you okay?? Cheer up!!" Tentatively, he reached a singular finger forward to lift her chin gently to look at him. As her gaze met his, he gave her a warm, welcoming smile.

(Y/N) could feel her face light aglow, how could she refuse, she did come down here looking for a home didn't she?? "Yeah, I'd like that!"

A request for: AnimeMemeGoddess

I am sososososososo sorry this is so late!!! I meant to have this done around early June but then I went on a family vaca, had four different relatives I haven't seen in years at my house and now I'm moving like- tomorrow, and I've had a friend who's been struggling so I've been trying to be there for him as he is getting through some tough times right now!! Not to mention I rewrote this story at least five times!! So I really hope you like it!! I put a lot of love and effort into making sure it was perfect!! ALSO THIS IS NEW, BUT I'VE STATED THAT YOU CAN NOW ASK ME TO DO SEQUELS TO PREVIOUS ONE SHOTS!!!! MEANING IF YOU REALLY LIKE A SPECIFIC SCENARIO, YOU CAN GET A PART TWO AND SO ON!!!

Up next: ( ∆ requested, Ω inspiration)

∆~ Tiny Bakugo x YN - Dynamight!? More like Firecracker!!!

∆~ Shoto x Tiny YN - Baby It's Cold Outside

∆~ Giant Shinso x YN - Forest Spirits

Ω~ Giant Kirishima x YN - The Crown Jewel

Ω~ Tiny Deku x YN - Hickery Dickery Dock

Ω~ Bakugo x Tiny YN - Pest Control is For Pests

Ω~ Tiny Bakugo x YN - The Prize Fish

Ω~ Giant Kirishima x YN - Baby Shark

Ω~ Giant Kirishima x YN - The Big Bad Wolf

Ω~ Tiny Deku x YN - Peter Rabbit

Ω~ Tiny Bakugo x YN - He's A Pop-Rockin Pixie

Ω~ Tiny Kirishima x YN - Dragon, not Lizard

Ω~ Deku x Tiny YN - The Innocence of a Child

Ω~ Giant Kirishima x YN - I Fear No Man... But That Thing.... Scares Me

Ω~ Tiny Kirishima x YN - Crossing Worlds

Ω~ Tiny Bakugo x YN - A Figment of Imagination

Ω~ Tint Deku x YN - Shoulder Angel

Ω~ Giant Bakugo x YN - GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT!!!!!!!!!

Ω~ Giant Kirishima x YN - One Heck of a Softy

Ω~ Deku x Giant YN - A Pure Soul

Ω~ Kirishima x Giant YN - Snakes Are Very Manly, Very Manly Indeed

Ω~ Giant Deku x YN - ~Blep~

Ω~ Tiny Bakugo x YN - Red on Black, Poison Lack

Ω~ Kirishima x Tiny Y/N - Feeding the Fish

Ω~ Tiny Deku x Y/N - Tamagotchi

Ω~ Bakugo x Tiny Y/N - An Exotic Edition to the Family

Ω~ Giant Kirishima x Y/N - Monsters Among Us

Ω~ Deku x Giant Y/N - A Diamond in the Rough

Ω~ Giant Bakugo x Y/N - The Duke of Goliathoria

Ω~ Giant Bakugo x Y/N - Hidden

Ω~ Giant Deku x Y/N - Gulliver's Travels

Ω~ Kirishima x Giant Y/N - Turned Tides

Let me know if you guys want some of these sooner than others, I will count it as a request and add it to queue, right now they are in the order of request to inspiration. Requests willl come before inspiration.

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This is my art and story, please do not repost or trace without my permission, feel free to reblog though, thanks!!!

[breakoutime]

Rewarded

Hades x (Neutral)Reader

Warning, nsfw!

Tags: Cockwarming, size kink, exibitionism? praise kink? (ask to tag pls)

Summary: Reader has been working hard for the house of Hades, and the master of the house has noticed and wants to reward them.

Authors note: Ok, VERYFIRST TIME writing smut, hopefully its good, or at least passable, english isnt my first language soooo yeah keep that in mind... P-please gimme feedback >///<

Your job at the House of the dead was a strange one. You weren't quite sure how to name it, but for now everyone referred to you as “The assistant”, you never really stayed in the same place for long, always being the one everyone called for help when a task was too much to handle. You have been assigned to Dusa to help with the cleaning, you’ve been working hard with the other shades inside the archive, you’ve been even assigned to stand by Achilles' side when the master of the house had visitors and considered some extra security was necessary. Dusa would always tell you how happy everyone was with your presence in the house, how helpful you’ve been, and how amazingly adaptable you were, having skills that allowed you to act and serve in all these different areas. Your face was quite often on the board at the Lounge, and it was obvious Hades himself was quite pleased with your performance. It was often that you would be called into his desk, to either give a report on your current task or to be praised for your hard work, which always left you inspired and happy for your next task.

You had to admit, your hard working attitude came not only for your passion for your work, but also for the passion you felt towards your master. You couldn't be quite sure when it started, it definitely wasn't there when you first arrived at the house. Hade´s was a rough man, cold, strict, serius. You would always hear him berate the others when their performance was not enough, often punishing them if their results were lacking. It was somewhere between Orpheus' punishment for refusing to sing, and when Zagreus started to openly fight back against his father, that you were called, alone, to Hades’ desk. Of course, at that time, you were anxious, wondering if even with your efforts, the master was disappointed in you and called to have you berated and punished, just like Orpheus was not so long ago, but no. Hades had specially called you simply to praise you, to say how, when so many of his workers, when even his own son was unable to handle his duties, you alone were there to support, cover and pull the needed effort and time to have the house working properly. You weren't able to suppress the smile in your face, or the tingling in your stomach as you heard the so often strict and stern master, praise your hard work for the whole house to hear. Slowly but surely you became obsessed with it. With working hard just to hear Hades himself telling you of your good work and how pleased he was with you. Soon you realized that those words did more than just kindle the fire of your hard work, but also left you warm with another kind of fire, one that burned between your legs. Now, everytime Hades praised you, you had to- no, you needed to take a short break to indulge yourself in that heat, to touch yourself and satisfy this burning need that arouse from you each time that booming, rough voice reverberated through your being, just to tell you how good you’ve been to this house, to him.

Today, you were hoping for such a praise, since you’ve been assigned to work at the archives, getting a lot of paperwork ready for Hades’ reviewing. This was your favorite thing to do, since the Lord was always so busy with paperwork at his desk, always reading and writing and filing, he never had anybody else there to help him with that particular part of the process, sure, at the archives many shades worked to get said paperwork ready for him, but no matter how hard you worked or how many shades he had at his disposal, he was always glued to his work, concentrated and dedicated, but also tired and slightly bored of the repetitive tasks he has at hand. There wasn't much you could do other than work hard and please him with your work, which immediately sent another jolt of heat through you. Of course, your stack of documents was done, which meant you now needed to personally deliver them to his desk. Your smile was proud and your face was slightly flushed from the heat you felt, feeling a bit too eager today to hear what your master had to say. Silently you wondered if it was noticeable, if the master knew that your enthusiastic work and demeanor came from these kinds of feelings, or even if the other people in the house knew. For a moment you thought how would Zagreus react, if he knew you had the hots for his father, but you quickly had to shake that thought and compose yourself, as you passed Achilles and walked straight up to Hades’s desk. 

As always, he was seated there, in his throne, reading attentively one of the many documents he had in his desk. One small part of you felt bad, because the stack of documents was considerably going to grow with the one you were holding, but sadly that stack was going to work either way. Patiently you waited, the stack was heavy but his desk was way too tall for you, and you already knew that interrupting him was never a good idea. If only you could float like Hypnos or Thanatos, or if you were taller, but just like the prince, your stature meant that you’d need some help to get up the desk. Soon, you saw Hades pick up his plume, signing one of the documents, a sign that he was done with his current one, and immediately you made your wade to his side, ready to hand the paperwork for when he stretched his arms to receive them. With a pleased hum, he acknowledged you, taking the stack of papers and thanking you in the process.

“Quick and efficient as always. Glad that there is someone here who never disappoints me.” You had to stifle a laugh, the comment was not only a praise to you but also a small insult to Hypnos, who was floating and sleeping soundly in the hallway in front of you two. 

“Now,” he said, tidying the new stack of documents before fully turning to you. “The house has been working quite efficiently lately, so i'm afraid there are few dignified chores left for someone of your skill and dedication...” That wasn't exactly a bad thing, sometimes you were given time off to rest, but there was something different about the way he spoke, the way he was looking at you. Anxiety started to build in you, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he simply raised his hand, stopping you. “Except one thing.” He moved, lowering his hand to your level. “Come here.” You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, your knees trembling, and cold drops of sweat falling from your brow. Was he really telling you to climb his hand? Nervously, you took a seat on it, allowing your master to raise you and place you comfortably in his lap. This was new, very new and confusing, you’ve never seen anyone have the honor of sitting on Hade's lap, but there you were, comfortable laying in one of his powerful thighs, staring up at him. Your master, who everyone respected and feared, who always made your very being burn was giving you this sort of treatment, of affection? His voice is lower this time, huskier, “Today I have a different task for you… A different kind of service that I need” His hand was on your back now, rubbing it gently. “One which will be quite pleasurable for you and for me.” You had been staring at him this whole time, looking at his eyes, his expression, which was something you’ve never seen before, desire was evident in his face. Desire for you. “I have made a concoction, to allow you to handle such a task-” he continued, now his other hand lifting his robes, exposing himself for you. You could not believe it. Your master wanted this from you, just as much as you wanted it from him. His size was massive, proportional to a man of his build and stature, you couldn't help but reach out, running your hand over it, how were you supposed to  please him? Even with your both hands you wouldn't be able to stroke him firmly, much less fit him inside of you- But your thoughts were interrupted by something uncorking. He did say something about a concoction, but how-

A small vial was in his hands, the liquid of which looked like nothing you had ever seen. It shifted in color, going from red to orange to green, it must have been made from Hades’ power. “Do not fear. Spread yourself for me, and I'll take care of the rest...” You didn't have to be told twice.  Breathing heavy, you allowed your master to pour that strange liquid into your entrance, which seemed to burn you in the most pleasurable way, making you let out soft pleased sounds. “It was about time we took some sort of break, so few of us take our work seriously...” gently, he applied pressure with his finger into your entrance, which to your surprise stretched without problem to fit his finger, coating your insides with the strange liquid as it went in. “And you are one of the bests of course.” His words were like honey, fueling the need inside you. “That's why I know only you will be up to this task….” He removed his finger, having your insides well coated and warm for his member. “I want you to keep me company, to keep me warm... While im at my desk today.” Your legs were shaking, but you knew what you had to do, he really didn't have to tell you. Bracing yourself against his chest, slowly you pressed your entrance into his member, even with the concoction, it took some effort, the tip slipping a couple of times before being able to get in. The stretch should have been painful, but all you could feel was pleasure, the burn of the strange liquid must have changed you, allowing you to take such size and not feel an ounce of pain. “Hmmmmm, go on now, get comfortable- Ah~!” Your master moaned when you started moving, the tightness of your hole breaking a small part of his determination to keep this quiet. You yourself weren't being quite quiet either, whimpers, moans and whines coming out of you as you slowly adjusted your tight grip on Lord Hades’ cock as you sank down, coming to a rest against him, now his member fully sheathed inside of you. Your Lord seemed to be taking a moment to compose himself while you simply slumped against him, your thighs twitching as your insides squeezed exquisitely around your master. In the back of your mind, you wondered if this was some sort of dream, one witch you’d never want to wake up from, but as Hades moved a document from the stack to be reviewed, one of his hands went for you, lifting you barely from his cock and pushing you down again, making him growl in satisfaction and you cry out in pleasure. “Absolutely perfect. Even now your performance is impeccable.” You couldn't really answer much to that, being a bit overwhelmed by this whole situation. “I was hoping to work while you kept me pleased, but you’ve demonstrated to be far more… stimulating than I thought.” He shifted you again, making you see stars and your insides to tremble. “But It hardly matters, this just means my paper work can wait....” He looked hungry at you, even more so, now holding you with both hands with the clear intention of focusing on you. “Now I’ll have to work on giving us both a reward for working so hard.”

With that, he started really moving you, pounding at you slowly and gently at first, but quickly picking up pace and intensity. Your screams of pleasure practically echoed in the house, you were unable to repress them, far too gone in the pleasure to care. “That's it, L-let everyone know your price- your pleasure!” He boomed on top of you, now lifting you up to lay on the desk as he stood and pounded away at you. “Let this be an example for everyone- Only the best can get this from me” Hades growls and loudly proclaims on top of you now, his movements so fanatic you can't understand how you havent came ten times by now, but the ecstasy you felt right now was more than worth it. You couldn't help but look around, now laying in said desk you had vision of Hypnos, who clearly had woken up and was openly staring with both of his hands over his mouth, a deep flush evident in his face, and achilles, who clearly was looking away, red and ashamed of being in proximity of such an act, and of course, many shades where looking, some even cheering at the expectable, even with the little features they had, you could see a pang of envy on them, which only fueled your pleasure. With a mighty grunt, he slammed deep inside of you, filling your insides with his seed, which was all you needed to break and finally cum yourself, blacking out for a second, over the overwhelming wave of pleasure he had just given you, that delicious burn his liquid gave you coming back with vengeance, making you ride your orgasm with that pleasure too, leaving you utterly spent and satisfied. Maybe it was that same liquid which made your orgasm wait, so that you could reach it with master Hades. 

Now, with both of you panting, he gently pulls out of you, covering himself again and using a clan rag on one of his drawers to help you clean up. The adoration in your face must have been evident, since the look he gave you was both gentle and smug. “I’ll leave you to rest in my quarters, but once I'm finished with this paperwork, I'll join you one more there, I won't be long.” With that, he picked you up and carried you to his room, just in time for zagreus to rise from the river, shooting you a questioning look as he saw his father carry you away. You were far too tired to care, really, the only thing that mattered now was the fact that Lord Hades himself was laying you on his bed, where he would surely instruct you to pleasure him, now in private. Curling up. you knew you needed some rest if you wanted, like always, to give your very best for the task.

[selene-tempest]

How to care for your John Tracy

So, you want to get a John?

Before deciding that a John Tracy is the one for you, you must first realise that they take a lot of specialist care, time and attention that you must be willing to put in if you wish to get the best out of your John.

When taking on a John Tracy one must approach as you would a feral cat, making no sudden movements, do not attempt to touch or grab on first meeting. Allow him to size you up, get used to your presence and approach in his own time and at his own pace.

This could take minutes, hours, days, weeks or longer, there is no set time frame in getting a John to trust you, it varies from person to person. You must be prepared for setbacks and times when it might seem like an impossible task. They require regular reinforcement of their socialising, lots of praise and quiet support.

If you do not have the time, patience or love to devote to your John then we suggest you consider adopting a different breed of Tracy, they are many and varied. For a readily sociable one we suggest you try a Scott or a Gordon, both of which are friendly from the offset and easily tamed with the offer of food.

If a quieter Tracy is still needed but one that is less skittish than the John breed then maybe a Virgil is better suited to your situation. Or if you want one you can play with a lot, then an Alan would be perfect for you. A Tracy is a lifetime commitment so take your time in choosing the right one for you.

Personality traits:

If you do decided that the John is still for you then you will find that all the time and effort you put in is incredibly rewarding. Once you have proved yourself to a John you will find that it will go from a hissing, trembling, retreating ball of anxiety to a purring, snuggling pussy cat that is happy to cuddle for as long as you wish and is, in general, a pretty laid back, chilled addition to your life and household.

Contrary to popular belief a John Tracy is not an antisocial being, this is misinformation that has been circulated due to their quiet nature and contentment in their own company. A John Tracy is by nature actually an asocial introvert (see below pictures).

Once your John Tracy is used to you and has adapted to your ways he will be the most loving, wonderful, affectionate, caring, engaging, sweet, adorable, funny and friendly creature in the world. When he is allowed to do so on his terms in a way that makes him feel safe and secure, of course.

A John Tracy does not hate people or dislike interacting with them, he simply does not do well in crowds and social situations in which he is not prepared or comfortable. Then he may feel overwhelmed and react in a way that society sees as negatively, although for a John social anxiety is perfectly normal and acceptable and should be treated as such. A John is perfect as he is.

Your John Tracy requires a safe and secure place that he can retreat to when feeling overwhelmed or over stimulated, but on the whole, if allowed to come out of his shell and interact without being pushed, forced or tricked he will be perfectly content. John's need positive reinforcement, kind words and to be made to feel secure and loved from the start, this is the only way to bond with one.

A John Tracy is a devoted, loyal and loving creature that is known to mate for life, as do most other breeds of Tracy. A Tracy is a delightful companion that you will not be able to live without once you have one.

Unfortunately, many people will just not work out with a John Tracy, the very reason that so many varieties of this breed are left abandoned in space stations around earth's orbit.

Many see them as hard to socialise and grow impatient with their John, wanting him to act a certain way in a certain length of time, none of which is conducive to a happy and healthy John.

This is often seen as a fatal flaw in the John breed of Tracy, but many John enthusiasts insist that that is part of their attraction. The introverted tendencies of the John is in no way a flaw, it is part of what makes this particular breed of Tracy so special and so desirable to the right person.

John's make very good companions and they are well worth the additional effort that you will have to put in.

Feeding:

John's are not demanding in the food department and you will have to be prepared to offer food at regular intervals as they hardly ever seek it out for themselves.

Your John will try to exist on a diet of bagels and cheeseburgers but this is not good for them and, as much as they may protest or go on hunger strikes, you must continue to offer them a variety of options in your quest to ensure they eat enough to survive.

The same rules apply to keeping them hydrated, they will naturally gravitate towards coffee and occasionally water but they need to include fruit juices, herbal teas and the occasional meal replacement if they have been in a particularly stubborn mood, which they are regularly inclined to slip into.

Nothing is more stubborn than a Tracy breed and the John is one of the worst.

Exercising:

Your John will take care of itself in the exercise department although, once bonded to their person, a John will often try to entice you, or can be easily tempted itself, into playtime and physical activity.

When left to its own devices a John Tracy will spend many hours running, either outside in nature or indoors on an exercise ring. This helps to keep them healthy and fit for their jobs, for all Tracys are working creatures, all highly trained in their fields.

A John will also enjoy playing in water, such as swimming or diving and some extreme sports if it sparks his interest as John's are very athletic and flexible.

John's not only require physical exercise but mental agility training too. They have a very active, inquisitive and engaging brain and enjoy problem solving, organisation and stimulating intellectual conversations.

John's like to work with their hands and are very good with computers and AI's but be warned, they are also very good at hacking and you will have very little privacy with a John in your life.

Housing needs:

You John will require extensive housing to stay happy and content. He will require not only the run of your house with the ability to explore every single inch of your property but also his own specialist housing.

John's require a lot of space, both in the social way, the physical way and the outer space way. Do not deprive him of these essentials.

He will require access to both indoor and outdoor housing of the tropical island variety as well as his own space station.

Now this might seem excessive but it is a necessary part of having a John. John Tracys require extended periods of time in Zero-Gravity in order to both thrive but also stay calm and in control. John's like to feel weightless and to indulge whenever the urge takes them so you will have to be prepared to spend large amounts of time without your John in attendance.

John's prefer quieter surroundings to noise and will often take themselves off to hide if they are over stimulated and surrounded by other noisy Tracy breeds. You cannot stop this, it is part of the John's nature and you have to accept this if you wish to have one of your own. Attempting to force a John into socialising when he does not wish to is an unpleasant, cruel and unfair action and should never be undertaken if there is any other option.

John's also require a number of soft surfaces on which to stretch out, relax and be quiet. John's seem to require very little sleep and are very active both in body and mind for long periods before they crash out completely and need time to re energise themselves.

Appearance:

John's come in a variety of Ginger and Blond colours and are on the taller end of the Tracy spectrum. Long, lean and sleekly muscled the John is a beautiful specimen of Tracy breeding and very pleasing to look at.

Their hair is of the softest quality and, when a John is relaxed and content in your presence, they often enjoy it being stroked and petted, this pleases them and helps them to stay calm and sleepy.

John's have arguably the prettiest eyes of any Tracy breed, although lovers of the Scott, Virgil, Gordon or Alan breeds will beg to differ saying that blues and browns are nicer.

John's sometimes have a questionable dress sense when allowed to please themselves but their standard blue is figure forming and pleasing to behold.

Petting and affection:

John's can be extremely affectionate when they feel comfortable with someone. It just takes them a long time to get there.

John's do not like sudden movements or to be grabbed or forced into affection by someone they do not know well and are not already comfortable with. Unexpected affection from someone that is not one of their chosen people will cause them to freeze like a fainting goat and adopt the tactic of play dead until the threat goes away.

But when a John is comfortable it very much enjoys attention, affection and love.

As mentioned above, John's are an introverted breed of Tracy and allowances have to be made for them. They do not respond well to being forced out of their comfort zones or into interacting when they do not want to.

When a John wishes to interact they will be friendly, approachable and funny. They will happily join in with family activities and events but be aware that they may require additional quiet time after to recharge. This is just the way of the John.

Additional tips and information :

-Respect your John's boundaries. They will make it clear with body language if they are comfortable or not even if they do not verbalise it.

-John's are sensitive and they will respond with sarcasm when they feel threatened or attacked.

-John's cannot be forced into anything they don't want to do. They cannot be moved if they don't want to move. They cannot be tricked or cajoled, they are too smart, give up now.

-John's love their family more than anything and are fiercely protective of them. Never get in between a John and another Tracy breed. You will come off worse.

-John's have a death stare that might actually kill you. You have been warned.

-John's are generally very sensible, until it comes to a challenge between other Tracys, they are extremely competitive creatures and nothing will stop them.

-John's are logical and organised.

-John's do not respond well to blackmail, trickery, deception or engineered situations.

-A John is perfect as it is, never try to change it or force it to be something that it isn't.

-Being socially avoidant is only one part of his personality and it's only when you take the time to get to know him that you will see the rest.

All in all, we can highly recommend bringing a Tracy into your life, they are wonderful creatures and well worth your time and energy. Just think carefully before you choose a John as they require the most love, patience and attention.

(John pic curtesy of @misssquidtracy)

[nerdypanda3126]

Playing with Fire – Ch. 8

So two things: first, I did write a little interlude between last chapter and this one, and you can find it here.

And second, in the part with Luka's journal, he's in a dark place at that point in his life and there's some suicidal ideation in there. If you'd prefer to skip over it, you can jump over the italicized parts, and as far as I know that's the only time it'll pop up in this story 💖

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You want to find my family?” Luka asked incredulously as he held a branch aside for her to walk past. 

He was tired, and so was she; they’d been walking all night, but Luka had insisted they needed to put as much distance as they could between them and the tower while they still had the cover of darkness. By the time the sunlight was able to filter down to them through the canopy, she suspected it was closer to mid-afternoon and they’d been up for a full twenty-four hours. He’d been stuck in his mostly-human form for the longest he’d ever had to endure it. Maybe not an ideal time to bring up her plan, but…  

“We’re already running for our lives, we don’t have a home to go back to, at least not for a while, so… While we’re out wandering anyways, I thought…” 

“We’d lead an angry mob straight to my mother and sister?” 

She rolled her eyes at him. Definitely not the best time to bring up her plan. “You’re cranky when you’re tired,” she noted, letting her own irritation slip into her tone. He grunted back, but it was more of a challenge than an assent. 

“Besides,” she pushed on, ignoring the way he bristled, “it might take a while to find them. How long do you think the townspeople will follow us, anyways? My guess is they get to the tower, see it’s empty, and turn around and go home.” 

“I’m not worried about them,” he grumbled. “There’s a certain friend of yours who didn’t seem ready to give up anytime soon.” 

If he had venom, he’d injected it into the word “friend.” She winced at his bitter tone. 

“Okay, so what’s your plan? We wander the wilds aimlessly chasing our tails for the rest of our lives?” 

He faltered and glanced over at her. The way he seemed so unsure made her realize he’d never had a plan. At least not past “stay alive and wait.” This was all new to him; he didn’t know what he was doing or where he was going. They’d traveled in as much of a straight line as was possible away from the tower, but other than that… he was lost. 

She drew closer to him and threaded her arm through his as an apology. He laid a hand over hers as he took her meaning and sighed. 

“Where would we even start?” he asked, his voice small in the quiet of the forest around them. 

“There have to be other towns nearby, and I’m sure someone would remember seeing dragons flying around 18 years ago.” 

“More townspeople…” he grumbled again. “Great.” 

She squeezed his arm in sympathy and they walked in silence for a while. She could feel the weight of the plan starting to fall on his shoulders, the idea of asking around, relying on humans, how long it might take. In truth, she hadn’t realized the enormity of the undertaking until she’d proposed it to him and now she could agree that it sounded impossible. 

“Maybe they’ve been waiting for you, too,” she dared to say. 

He let out a quiet laugh. “Ma wouldn’t, her treasure is the open skies and she wouldn’t wait for anyone.” He paused to think, then sighed. “Juleka might, though.” 

“Your sister?” 

“Mhmm. We were close when we were young. Before…” His eyes slid over to her and he let it drop. “She might’ve followed Ma at first, but I’m sure she wasn’t happy with the decision to leave me behind.” 

“What’s she look like?” Marinette asked, her curiosity overtaking her. He’d never talked about it before, but for once he seemed open to the topic. He smiled wistfully as he tried to remember. 

“A lot like me, I guess. Except, you know…not...” He gestured to himself, to his human form. “Unless she made the same mistake, but I doubt Ma would’ve let that happen again. And she’s taller than me, or at least she was when we were little. Maybe it’s changed a bit, but she was always kind of a lanky thing. Ma’s pride and joy, though, if I’m honest. It’s her fire. Most dragons have some variant of red; it’s rare enough to get blue fire, but Jules…” He shook his head, that wistful smile growing as he remembered. “Jules had violet fire. Unheard of, really. You’ll see when you meet her, she’s—” He caught himself then as he realized what he’d said. “If, I guess,” he amended quietly. 

She squeezed his arm again and smiled over at him. “When,” she agreed. “When I meet her.” 

He half-shrugged, but his smile warmed when he looked over at her. Before she could stop it, she yawned loudly and he laughed as one took him over, too. 

“First things first,” he said when it subsided, looking around at their surroundings. “We need to find a place to camp.” 

***

Later that evening they found a cave. 

Marinette had laughed a little at the prospect. Dragons, caves, towers, curses. Her life was sounding more and more like a fairytale turned inside out. Wasn’t there supposed to be a shining knight that rescued the damsel in distress from the terrible, fire-breathing dragon? 

But she didn’t feel very “in distress” as Luka joined hands with her to remove his stone and sighed with relief when his transformation took hold. She didn’t feel very in distress as he blew a small ring of fire into the floor of the cave, patting it down as he went to create a smooth, warm, bowl-shaped indent for them to curl up in together. And the only distress she felt as she tucked herself into his coils was her racing heart and trembling hands as the kiss they'd shared came back to her. He blinked up at her, sensing her hesitation, and uncurled a bit as if he intended to stand. 

She shook her head and laid her hand on his back, reassuring him, then took a moment to run her fingers over his scales, admiring them in their full splendor. Even though they were pitch black, they caught the bare light of the cave and glinted back at her like he was wearing a solid coat of jewels. They turned softer towards his belly, finer, more like the scales of a snake that she was used to as opposed to the armor he wore on top. 

As she continued to touch him, he let out that noise again, a small satisfied hum, and laid his head over his claws as he closed his eyes. 

His wings fascinated her. There was a solid joint of muscle on each side where they met his shoulders, as thick as both her fists put together, but the wings themselves seemed so fragile—she could see her hand through the delicate skin stretched thin between the bones. And yet they were able to hold not only his weight but hers, too. 

She felt it when she hit that sensitive spot that had made him ticklish before. Something like a chuckle rumbled through him and his wing flinched away from her reflexively, but he didn’t pull it out of her hands. That spot was along the side of the bone she’d been tracing, the longer one that nestled into his side when they were furled. She did it again out of curiosity and a shiver ran through him. 

She tried to remember what she’d read about dragon anatomy. But instead she was imagining how it must feel to him. Maybe something like if she were tracing the ridge of his shoulder blade when he was human. 

When she looked back at him, his eyes were still closed, like he was pretending to be asleep. She knew better, though; his breathing was uneven. As much as he was trying to hide it, he was hyper focused on her every move. 

She let her hand trail down his arm until she found one of his huge, rough hands. She picked it up despite his small grumble as his head shifted, and marveled at the largeness of it. The pad of what would be his palm was as big as her face, and the curved ebony claws reminded her so much of the hawks she’d seen in her life that she knew they were deadly. But his were each as long as her entire hand. 

As she set his hand back down, he opened an eye to look at her. She watched the slit of his pupil as it dilated to capture as much light as it could in the gloom of the cave. And the fiery blue that surrounded it was the same as the tuft of hair along his neck and at the tip of his tail. 

She should be frightened. Luka in this form was danger personified. Everything about him should have made her adrenaline spike. Should have made her want to run away or try to fight for her life. 

But as he blinked at her again, probably trying to understand what she was thinking, all she saw was… Luka. The same soul who had promised her mother he would take care of her, who had offered his life to her, who had saved her when she was too small to even know to be afraid. 

No wonder she’d still had dreams of sleeping curled up next to him. When she looked at him, at all of him, all she saw was safety and home. And as he tucked his wing around her like a blanket, she couldn’t imagine a safer place than right next to him. 

***

She grumbled awake when the light hit her eyes the next morning. She’d have to talk to him about getting curtains or something to cover that damn opening while they slept. She curled away from it, trying to press her face into Luka’s scales, but her nose was hitting something warm, and breathing, and...smoother than she expected. 

Her eyes flew open as she realized her lips had touched skin. 

It was later than normal and they’d already switched. Luka was human beside her. His arm was draped around her waist, she was curled up against his chest, and she had just nuzzled into his neck and brushed her lips against the hollow of his throat. She froze, but he was still solidly out, snoring lightly every so often, his arm a heavy weight around her. 

The night before rushed back to her. Fleeing the tower, their long walk, the cave they’d settled into for the night… and Luka. His dark hair was falling over his eyes, and those dark circles had returned after only one night of missed sleep. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed and he looked so peaceful she almost wanted to reach out and touch him if only to make sure he was real.

But she didn’t want to wake him. So as carefully as she could she extracted herself from his embrace and stood to stretch, realizing that all their walking from the past few days had caught up to her. Before she did anything else, she retrieved his stone from where he’d left it and slipped it around his neck so her flames didn’t attract any attention. Or worse, set anything in their temporary shelter aflame. 

They’d need to find food and water, but exploring their new area would have to wait until Luka woke up. For now she settled on taking inventory of what they’d brought with them, munching on a piece of bread from her parents’ bakery as she did. She froze when his lyre fell out, making an awful twang against the cave floor, but Luka only muttered in his sleep and rolled over. 

When she continued searching through the bags, her fingers caught on the leather of his journal. Another glance at Luka proved that he wouldn’t be awake for a while yet; losing sleep as they traveled had hit him harder than her. She walked as close to the entrance of their cave as she dared and sat in the light to read. 

The first few pages were mostly unintelligible. Scribbles and squiggles as Luka struggled with the quill and ink. Then came pages of the alphabet, unsteady at first, and traced over what must’ve been Jagged’s handwriting. The letters got stronger, more confident, and then on the next page, his first written word. Just his name, but she could almost see the pride he must’ve felt in accomplishing that one word. It stood alone on the page. She imagined a young Luka running out to show Jagged his hard work, beaming with the joy of learning a new skill. 

Then other words started to fill the pages. Jagged Stone, fire, bond, wings, rabbit, trap, tower. Naming things around him, sometimes with little drawings that accompanied the word. 

But then she saw the word “bakery.” Her breath caught. That wasn’t a word that Luka would be familiar with unless… 

Underneath that was a sentence. “My bonded lives in a bakery.” 

And as the pages went, she found more little tidbits about her life interspersed between Luka’s practicing. “My bonded has blue eyes.” “My bonded has black hair.” “My bonded likes the color pink.” “My bonded likes flowers.” 

It seemed he’d tried to learn as much about her as he could, but either Jagged never told him her name or Luka never asked because every one of them started with “my bonded.” She wondered if he did it on purpose. It seemed like something he would do. Waiting not only to meet her but to hear her name. 

He’d filled the next page, and it looked like a letter. Addressed to her. She glanced back at him, but he was turned away from her and she couldn’t see his face. She remembered how he’d stiffened when she asked if she could read it before he’d brushed it off as nothing. But he did say she could read it… 

So she did. 

***

To My Bonded,

You probably won’t ever get the chance to read this. I’m not sure why I’m even writing it other than I guess if the worst happens maybe there will be a small piece left of me that I can hope you would come to know.

From what I know of you, I think you might be someone who would listen.

Firstly, I don’t blame you if you’re angry with me. It probably hasn’t been easy on your end and I don’t know how much you’ve been told about our situation. Which is the worse curse, I wonder, knowing everything and waiting to see how it unfolds or knowing nothing and having to make a decision. Either way, I guess it’s really my fault anyways.

As for the second thing. I don’t know that I’ll have the chance to show you so I want you to know. I do care for you. Deeply. Sometimes that scares me because I don’t even know your name. The only thing I remember is seeing your eyes that day I rescued you. When they opened, when I knew you were okay, I was so relieved that I hardly even noticed your eyes were blue until Jagged reminded me years later. But they are, aren’t they? I wonder if they were like that before, or if maybe that’s another part of me that stayed with you.

I’m both dreading and hoping for the day I get to see those eyes again. Maybe when that day comes I can explain myself and apologize and tell you all this in person. Until then.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I didn’t think I’d write to you again. But Jagged told me today you had a ‘crush’ on someone in your village. A taylers boy, although I don’t know what that means. He told me about the fire too. He didn’t really have to. I felt it. I felt how your heart hurt and I wanted to go to you. Maybe I should have. I was afraid. 

Jagged said you were fine, that you would be fine. But next time I feel that, I’m coming to you. Scared or not.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I am sick of this place. I’m sick of this tower and sick of the waiting and sick of feeling like I’ll be stuck like this forever. I thought you’d come for me. Aren’t you curious about me? Don’t you know by now what’s happening, why I’m still here, that I’m waiting for you? Or maybe you’re staying away because you know. Maybe you want it to be this way, maybe this is your choice.

I don’t mean that. If you knew I’m sure you’d be here already. I guess I wish I knew how much longer it’s going to be like this. How much longer I’ll be waiting for you.

Yours, Luka

---

Dear Bonded,

I keep writing to you for some strange reason. It’s a sort of comfort, knowing that you’ll probably kill me before you get to read any of this. I’m sure that’s your answer now because your village has started sending men to kill me instead. They come up from your village anyway.

It’s okay. I get it. You’re probably scared of me. The rest of them have been so I can only assume you think the same. I haven’t let them win yet. For now there’s still a small part of me that hopes you don’t know anything about this. That it has nothing to do with you. For now anyways.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I hate the taste of blood.

Yours, Luka

---

Dearest Bonded,

This is my last letter to you. I can’t keep doing this. The men keep coming. I’ve tried everything to get them to leave me alone, but nothing seems to work. And I’m tired. I know you’re probably not coming. You won’t come. Even if you did, you’d be here to kill me. And I had every intention of giving you that choice, but I’ve made my decision. The next time those men come I’m not fighting anymore.

If you do find this. If you do come for me. I’m sorry. I’ve loved you with every breath.

Yours, Luka 

---

Dearest Bonded,

I’m a coward. Or a fool in love. Either way, I’m still here. I have to have faith in you.

Yours, Luka

***

She jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder. Luka laughed as he sat down behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist to press his chest against her back and lay his head on top of hers.

“Dramatic, wasn’t I?” he asked, still chuckling. As much as she could she swatted at his hand with the journal. 

“You scared me! You shouldn’t come up behind someone like that!” 

“We’re the only ones here, who else did you think it was?” 

Damn him, she could hear his satisfied smirk in his voice. She swatted him again for good measure, even as he pressed a kiss to her hair, but his last two letters were still sharp in her mind. 

“Why’d you stop writing?” she asked, flipping through the many blank pages that were left. She felt him shrug behind her. 

“I didn’t see much point to it, really. Either you’d come and we’d live happily ever after and I could tell you everything myself or… not. And it wasn’t like I ever expected you to want to read it if things went badly.” 

“How long after this…” she started, but she lost her voice halfway through. She had to swallow hard past the lump that was forming to find it again. “How much longer did you have to wait for me?”

He was quiet for a moment and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, probably trying to soften the blow. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly. 

“It does to me. Luka, if I’d known any of this—why didn’t you let Jagged tell me?” 

He let out another of those soft laughs behind her and his breath ghosted across her neck. “He wanted to. We fought about it a lot. But I figured that would only make you feel… obligated.” 

She thought about that while she stared at his last entry. Of course it was impossible to think what she might’ve done, or how she might’ve felt because she only knew what had happened. The series of events that led her to him. The nightmares and the flames and thinking she was a curse to her family and her village. And up at the tower Luka was dealing with his own nightmare. He’d almost given up hope and when she did come to the tower she’d almost proved him right. 

His arms tightened around her as if he could sense where her thoughts had gone. As if to prove he was okay and it turned out alright. She pressed back against him and could feel his heartbeat thudding steadily through her own chest. Maybe he was right. Maybe it didn’t matter. They were together now. That’s what she’d told him. To stop blaming himself for what happened. She didn't blame him for anything and at the very least he'd already forgiven her, too. 

She turned in his arms and slid her hand behind his neck to pull his face down to hers. As she pressed her lips to his, it felt like a promise. A promise that he’d never have to be apart from her like that again, bond or not. 

He melted against her and for a moment they were both lost in each other, in the knowledge that in this moment they were safe and together and that was all that mattered. 

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 1: Logince

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 1: Your soulmate’s name is on your wrist.

Content: Flower/Tattoo Shop AU, background character death (unspecified cause, none of the sides), that’s pretty much it, it’s just soft Logince.

Word count: 2.7k

A small ding from the store entrance pulled Roman out of his thoughts, and he groaned softly. It was nearing the end of his shift, almost closing time, and another customer at this time would probably mean he was staying after hours again. All he wanted to do was go home and watch cheap reality TV in his sweatpants while shoveling handfuls of hot cheetos into his mouth. So sue him, it had been a long day. But nooo. Someone else had just walked in, probably someone with a very specific style that was out of season and they would argue for half an hour, no matter how many times he explained that tulips aren’t blooming right now, Vanessa! 

Sure, usually his customers were great. Nervous first anniversaries, eccentric brides, all that romance stuff. He loved it. And they were usually all too willing to give him a budget and a color scheme and let him go wild, which was the best part about his job. He was good at it, too. His boss had seen his eye for style and almost immediately gave him solo shifts, which meant decently good pay and hours alone to belt out songs amongst the flowers and daydream to his heart’s content. It was a small enough business that the only mandatory part of his outfit was a green apron, so he could wear whatever he wanted, and he didn’t need a pesky nametag. Those had always weirded him out just a bit. So yeah, he loved his job, but right now, he knew himself too well. He had awful luck. 

With a forced customer service grin, he poked out of the backroom and began his usual spiel of, “Thanks for coming to The Rainbow Bouquet, what can I get started…” 

His words died in his throat at the mere sight of the man before him. Never had he been so equally attracted and frightened at the same time.

He was tall, probably just taller than him, but he held himself in a way that made Roman feel miniscule. Both arms were covered in tattoo sleeves, the left one a flurried mix of black and white and color, beautiful strips of pink and blue galaxies blending with grayscale skulls and clocks. The other had more order; shadows of a forest growing from around his wrist, shimmering mist curling up over his bicep and ending with a full moon stamped on his shoulder like a crest. A corner of something peaked up around the collar of his torn vest, and if Roman had to guess, there were most likely plenty more tattoos that were covered by his ripped black jeans and blue Nasa shirt. Not that his mind was going there at all, no siree. 

Once Roman’s brain had screeched to a halt back in his body, he spoke again.

“What can I get started for you today?”

The man swallowed with difficulty, taking in the rows and rows of flowers surrounding him. He definitely didn’t look in his element.

“I need an arrangement for my mother. She’s in the hospital.”

Ah, the part of the job that Roman didn’t enjoy. Probably half the orders that came in were for sick people or funerals, and those were always a lot harder to arrange. It was always hard to find joy in creating for something so dismal.

“I’m sorry to hear. Did you have anything specific in mind? Does she have a favorite flower?”

“Daisies. She likes Daisies,” He murmured, still admiring the space around him. Roman couldn’t help but smile at the man’s expression. It was just a little awe inspired, a little bit of childish wonder, under that rough exterior. It was a gorgeous shop, that’s one of the reasons Roman had started working there.

“That’s good, it makes it a little easier for me to design something when I have that to go off of. Do you have a budget, or…”

He shook his head weakly, finally turning to look at Roman. “Price isn’t an issue. This is one of the last things I’m going to be able to give her.”

“Oh,” Roman whispered, slowly putting down the pen he’d been writing with, “I’m so sorry.”

“It can’t be changed. There’s no point in losing sleep over it.”

“Just because it’s going to happen doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. You’re allowed to be sad about it.”

The man narrowed his eyes, giving Roman a once over before lifting his chin slightly. “I don’t need advice from a stranger.”

“Of course you don’t,” Roman quickly corrected, remembering he was still at work, “My apologies. When did you want to pick it up?”

“I’m visiting her tomorrow at noon. Could it be ready by then?”

“You bet. Can I have a name for the pick up?”

“Logan.” Roman’s pen skittered over his notepad, almost falling through his fingers. 

Having a common name on your wrist was a curse in and of itself. And poor him, the hopeless romantic that he was, had met countless “Logan’s” in his day, and consequently fallen for most of them at first introduction, only to figure out quickly that they weren’t destined for a “Roman”. As inconspicuously as possible, he tried to glance down at Logan’s wrist, only finding a mass of swirling tattoos covering his skin. Dammit. There were some people born without soulmates, or had their soulmark fade to nothingness when their person passed away, and he tried not to think too terribly hard on which one Logan was. He tampered his rush of excitement as quickly as it had arisen and turned back to his notes, ignoring Logan’s raised eyebrow at his sudden stop.

Roman scribbled down the name and phone number as it was given, setting down the notepad with a customer service smile. The man spent no time dawdling, immediately starting towards the door, only to hesitate before walking out.

“Her favorite color is yellow.”

Roman nodded, the fake smile slowly morphing into an authentic one. “I can work with that.”

It was now a week after Logan had picked up the bouquet, a somewhat awkward interaction filled with small compliments towards the arrangement and Roman nearly dropping the flowers as their fingers touched while passing it over. As he was ringing up the total, he’d been able to uphold a brief conversation where Logan revealed he was a tattoo artist (no shock, considering he showed more inked skin than plain), and Roman showed off his rose tattoo on his upper arm. It would have been fine if the conversation ended there, but no, Logan had to reach up tentatively to brush his finger along the edge of the piece, commenting off handedly about how the color had started to fade.

“How long ago did you get this done?”

“Probably ten years, give or take.”

“You’re what, mid twenties? There’s no way you were legal ten years ago.”

“Who said I was?” It was said with a small wink that made Logan pull his hand away, an action that immediately dampened Roman’s mood.

“If you ever want it touched up, come by the shop. It’s just down the road.”

Roman had promised to consider, pulling the collar of his long sleeve shirt back up over the rose and bidding the man a good visit to his mother. Even now, a full week later, he couldn’t help his thoughts that were so centered around the tattoo artist. So maybe that was why Logan walked back into the shop the following Wednesday. I simped so hard I summoned him, Roman thought weakly as the gorgeous man strode straight up to the counter, leaning on it like he owned it. 

“I have a question.”

“What’s your question?  

“A client asked me yesterday to design a tattoo for her. A bouquet, seen from the top, and all she specified was it should feature hydrangeas, and she asked me to, quote, ‘go nuts’.”

“This isn’t sounding like a question so far.”

Logan sighed apprehensively, adjusting his glasses, “I was hoping you could give me some ideas on how to start. All the tips I found online contradicted each other in some way or another, and the arrangement you created for my mother was so well done…”

He trailed off, giving Roman a look that clearly said I need your help but don’t make me ask for it. Chuckling slightly, he leaned onto the counter as well, his face inches away from Logan’s. For the first time, he could see the small piercing on the man’s tongue as he sighed again. God, that’s hot.

“I’ll help you. On one condition.” 

“Being?” 

“Help me design my next tattoo.” In full honesty, he hadn’t even considered a second tattoo until that second. 

“Deal.” There was no hesitation in his answer, and he took Roman’s offered hand, barely shaking it in the small space between them. 

“Alright!” Roman pulled back, satisfied but disappointed as their hands separated, “Let’s talk flowers!”

And talk they did. For hours, in fact. It started with Logan’s tattoo dilemma, and Roman’s skillful eye and creative mind solved that problem in a flash, crudely drawing out a bouquet idea that fit all the criteria. The tattoo artist took it from there, using the notepad paper and Roman’s sketch, along with a quick round of the shop to see what the recommended flowers, fillers, and greens would all look like, and drew out a detailed piece that put Roman’s own art talent to shame. After explaining that his shift was done at the parlor and he had the rest of the afternoon free, Roman invited Logan to stay for a while longer, seeing as his day had dragged on customer-less so far, and he was bored. Plus, now was as good a time as any to pay back the favor. Two mugs of breakroom coffee later, the two were huddled around the counter, Roman describing his ideas and Logan sketching them like there was no tomorrow. Maybe half way through the brainstorm, the conversation switched to Logan’s mother (which he talked about hesitantly), then to Roman’s family, slowly changing to the absurdity of satin couch cushions, then to their favorite foods, and finally ending with a loud debate on whether pineapple deserved to be on pizza.

“It’s a fruit, Logan! Why the hell would you put fruit on a pizza?!”

“All I’m saying is that the sweet flavor of the pineapple balances out the tanginess of the marinara sauce, and adds more to the plain crust!”

“That doesn’t make it right!”

Logan had to go soon after that, wanting to visit his mom before visiting hours ended. He left with a begrudging smile on his face and a promise to come back another day, drawing an ear to ear grin from Roman. He’s just a friend, he reprimanded himself sternly, all the while sliding the drawing of his next possible tattoo into his phone case with startling reverence. No use getting attached to some who wasn’t his soulmate. 

Yet, he still couldn’t help but feel saddened as a week passed again, then two, then a month. His job had returned to it’s boring normalcy, with only the flowers and no cute boy to keep him company. Even when he sat at his little desk next to the counter, hands working effortlessly to string together order after order, he couldn’t help the occasional glance at the door. The hope that his prince charming would waltz back in, piercings and ripped clothing galore, never faded. 

A month and a half later, the little chime above the door dinged, and Roman glanced up from his handful of Baby’s Breath (seriously people, there are other fillers). Immediately a huge smile pulled at his lips and he dropped the half finished bouquet onto his table.

“Logan! What took you so… long…” His expression morphed into one of worry as he took in the other’s appearance. Gone was the usual grunge attire he was so prone to wearing, replaced with a black hoodie and beaten up Vans. His eyes no longer held that dangerous glimmer that had intimidated Roman so much when they first met. He just looked… small. Logan had never looked small before.

“My mom died last month,” He whispered.

Roman was over the desk in a second, pulling the man into his arms before he could protest. It took Logan a second, a long, awkward, stiff second, before he let his arms wrap around his waist, allowing his forehead to rest on the florist’s shoulder. 

“I thought I’d be okay when she died… it was inevitable. It was her time… so why does it still hurt so bad?” The desperate whisper shattered Roman’s heart. 

“You’re allowed to feel sad, Logan.” He felt him merely shake his head in response, but he said nothing to push the topic further. 

Logan didn’t cry as they stood there, though he clung to Roman almost desperately. If he had to guess, the poor man was probably already cried out. He looked exhausted, and his unusually slumped posture only weakened more when Roman tightened his arms ever so slightly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. You were probably waiting.”

“Hey, no apologizing.”

“I just… didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“So what changed your mind?”

Logan shrugged, still not pulling away, “I couldn’t seem to snap myself out of it. And I needed someone who wouldn’t laugh at me. If our few interactions were anything to go by, you were that person.”

Roman decided to ignore the blatant implication that Logan didn’t have anyone except a practical stranger to go to. They could talk about that later, if he decided to stay for a while. Roman really hoped he did. 

When the tattoo artist finally pulled out of the hug, many minutes later, he pushed his sweater paws under his glasses to scrub at his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t cried, but he sure was close to it. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I don’t even know your name, and I-”

“It’s okay, stop-” Roman reeled back slightly, eyebrows shooting into his hairline, “Oh… sweet Zac Efron. I never told you my name! Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“It felt too late to ask,” Logan smirked subtly despite himself, letting his hands fall back to his side.

“Oh, my sweet summer child.”

“I am none of those things.”

Roman sighed in soft exasperation, smiling at the barely perceivable glimmer in the other’s eyes. Ah, there it is. “My name’s Roman. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

He was instantly concerned with the way Logan’s face fell into one of total shock. Shit, what did he do wrong? The fear was quickly replaced with understanding, however, as the artist’s hand drifted to his right wrist. 

“What are the chances that your wrist says my name on it?” Logan said it like he was scared to be hopeful, like a happy ending was just not imaginable for him. Roman couldn’t comprehend all the emotions he felt at one time; elation, shock, fear. He answered in a choked voice, smiling all the while. 

“One hundred percent.”

The both upturned their arms in near harmony, Roman pulling his gardening glove down to reveal the name. He squinted at Logan’s wrist, finally noticing the small writing that just barely stood out underneath a grayscale (anatomically correct) heart. No wonder he missed it before, it almost blended in with the outline. 

And then Logan did cry, but so did Roman, so it was a little more okay. He seemed more confused than anything as Roman pulled him back in, holding him even tighter than before.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m so unused to… well, feeling. I’m not usually like this, I believe I’m just sleep deprived and worn out from-”

“You never, ever need to be guilty for feeling, you absolute punk stereotype.” Roman pressed a long kiss to the other’s temple, letting him unwind in his arms. “We’ll work on that together. I promise.”

A muffled affirmative hum was all he got in response. He pressed another kiss to the top of Logan’s head as his crying slowed, breathing out heavily into the man’s hair. Together. That’s all that mattered.  

Peep this gorgeous art piece for this fic

[janekfan]

Too Much

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972698

When Jon stalked back into the archives the fierce conviction in his face belied his ragged appearance. Tim wasn’t stupid. He’d known there was something shady happening in this place probably before Jon did, considering. It didn’t stop him from purposefully hardening his heart against his pallid skin and bloody throat, his poorly bandaged hand, his filthy, mud-covered clothes.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice was soft and it set off a trembling in him that Tim could see from across the room. “Hey--” Without warning, Jon bent double over the nearest wastebasket, going down hard on his knees as he emptied his stomach painfully, shaking so hard the bin rattled. “Oh, oh, Jon.” Hands fluttering over his back, Martin hovered close, unsure of what to do, before settling next to him on the floor to hold his hair back, plaiting it loosely to keep it out of the way.

“Nngh...s’sorry.” Jon collapsed the rest of the way, resting his weight over the bin, his forehead on the arm slung across the top. “I, I...clean. Clean it up.” Shuddering, voice thick and wavering on a heavy breath. “God, I. I’m so, so sorry.” Another bout of dry heaving cleaved through him, Martin’s hushed reassurances making the ire in Tim rise to vitriolic levels and if he stayed any longer in this room he knew he’d do something to upset Martin. Physical violence had never been the way he preferred to resolve disputes but the confirmation of being trapped here. Trapped by Jon made him desperately want to lash out. Scream. Kick. Throw a tantrum and that wouldn’t do, even if the anger and dissolution flooding into every empty space left behind by the deaths of Danny and Sasha and his freedom begged him to take it out on the one thing left that represented it all.

“Tim, where are you going?” Martin’s attention was still focused primarily on the man panting under his palms, but he spared him a glance.

“Can’t be here for a while.” He flashed a bitter smile. “Guess I’ll be back, won’t I?” He was suffocating and if he stayed here one second longer he’d explode and Martin didn’t deserve that.

Martin had his hands full of a sick and shivering Jon so had no choice but to let Tim go. It was probably best at the moment. He’d been sniping at Jon even before he’d disappeared and the fury flashing behind his eyes wouldn’t help anyone right now. And besides, Jon was going to pass out any minute by the look of it.

“Jon?” His head jerked up and he swayed where he kneeled.

“Sorry, s’sorry…” the slurred apologies certainly weren’t a good sign. “‘L’get this cleaned up.” When he moved clumsily to do so, Martin stopped him with a hand on his cheek, ignoring his temperature for now in favor of attempting to catch his unfocused gaze.

“Let me worry about that later.” And Jon looked stricken, but when Martin pulled him to his unsteady feet he was more concerned with staying upright, embarrassment shoved unceremoniously to the back of his mind. “Can you stand?” Whole, long seconds passed and Martin almost asked again, but Jon took a wobbly step only to topple into the taller man who caught him up and held him close.

“S’sorry.” Martin hitched him a little higher. “Dizzy. Jus’...ah.”

“It’s alright, Jon.” Who knew having a cot in the archives would prove to be so useful and Martin was grateful for it now, lowering him as gently as he could. “Nothing to be sorry for.” The hiss of pain sucked through his clenched teeth didn’t bode well. “I’ll be back.” With the first aid kit, warm water, maybe a change of clothes--he was pretty sure he had a few things. They’d be big on him but certainly cleaner than what he was in now. When he returned with his supplies, Jon had tipped onto his side, apparently asleep, and Martin was careful to wake him slow, worried when he didn’t seem to remember where he was or what was happening. With him so sluggish and lethargic, Martin wasn’t sure where to start (maybe a 999 call), deciding top to bottom was as good a plan as anything. Forcing cheer into his tone, he talked about what had been happening while he'd been away, dipping a cloth, wringing it out, and wiping the muck off his skin, noting the pallor in his face underneath all of the dirt. He had the start of a pretty intense fever and looking at him it wasn’t hard to puzzle out why but the only thing for it right now was water and rest.

Jon pushed him away when he began on his neck and it took Martin several minutes to talk him back down, convince him that he was safe before he was allowed to hold a warm compress over the gash across his throat to loosen the blood. It was deeper than it looked and longer than he’d have liked; another brutal scar to add to his growing collection and how was any of it fair? Butterfly stitches applied and covered over with clean bandages, Martin gave Jon a break and kept urging him to drink. He was so silent, focused on pulling in short and shallow breaths, and Martin kept his questions to himself, trying to ease the ruined jumper over his shoulders when it became clear that he was too sore to do it on his own. Each centimeter bared developing bruises just beginning to black and Jon’s breath hitched the higher he was forced to raise his arms, exposing more over his stomach, his ribs and Martin couldn’t help himself.

“What happened?”

“Mm?”

“These bruises?” He ran a delicate thumb over the edge of one, watched him shiver in response.

“Oh…” Martin got the impression Jon was answering from somewhere far away and didn’t blame him. “Asked questions.” He didn’t elaborate and Martin moved on to his hands, draping the blanket over him while he unwrapped old dressings and examined the burn spanning his entire palm and fingers. He didn’t want to think about the shape of it, like he’d shaken hands with the wrong sort, and instead examined the broken blisters lining the long, ruined fingers of both hands, cleaning them gently and applying salves and more bandages before slipping a worn jumper over his head and joggers onto narrow hips, tying the cords to keep them secure. Jon was too pliant, too submissive, more than spent after whatever he’d been through and he sighed in heavy relief when he was finally allowed to lay down.

“Better?” Martin brushed some stray curls out of his face after tucking him in and he nodded.

“Tired.”

“You can sleep, it’s alright.” Jon forced heavy lashes apart, closed them again when Martin swept light fingertips over them. “I’ll keep watch. You’re safe.”

Late into the next day, Martin saw Jon back to Georgie’s flat where he immediately curled up in bed with the Admiral, clutching his borrowed clothes, so baggy they dwarfed his small frame and made the vulnerability in him that much more. He shared a cup of tea, spoke with Georgie in a hushed voice and urged her to keep an eye on him if he’d let her. She nodded resolutely and wished him luck when he left to return to the institute.

“Well?” Basira accosted him immediately as soon as he stepped through the door.

“Christ, Basira!” Hand over his heart, Martin calmed his racing heart, suddenly surrounded by the lot of them.

“Well?”

“He’s exhausted.”

“Aren’t we all?” Martin ignored Tim’s comment. It wasn’t a competition, just a bad situation all around, and after treating and cataloging all of Jon’s myriad injuries, he didn’t feel like continuing along that track. It wouldn’t help anybody. It wouldn’t convince them that Jon was as much a victim in all this as they were. That he didn’t want this. Instead.

“He’ll be back in a few days. Or probably tomorrow, knowing him.”

“Wonderful.”

“Tim!” Martin pinched the bridge of his nose, already exasperated. “Tim, just. Go easy, alright?”

“Oh, I’ll go easy.” Full of grief and anger and heartbreak with nowhere for all of it to go, it had sharpened into a blade Tim wielded with deadly precision. Jon had been at the other end of it for a long time and despite his own frustrations with him, Martin wanted to shield him from the worst of it even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to. If Tim wanted to hurt Jon, he would, and it made him want to weep.

Sure enough and right on time, Jon dragged himself into the archives, mumbling a breathy ‘thank you’ to Martin as he passed by him to his office on new fawn’s legs. It didn’t escape his notice that he was still wearing the jumper, bundled up in it with his bandaged fingers tangled in the sleeves.

And work began again as though they’d never stopped.

Jon could have spent the next eternity wrapped up in bed, bundled in the comfort of Martin’s clothes and hiding from his very new and very real responsibilities. He ached, deeply, profoundly, in a million different ways, crushed by the weight of it all and barely able to breathe. Georgie was disappointed by his decision to go back to the institute but he had to do whatever he could to protect the rest of them, even if that meant playing into Elias’ hands until they came up with a solution together.

If they would have him back.

Reading the statements was going slow, too slow, the pounding in his head increasing whenever he tried to focus. Jon kept the lights low, avoiding the hallways with their cold fluorescent bulbs beaming down at him from above, bowing his back, trying to push him into the floor, keep him there like an insect pressed between pages and he would gladly succumb if it meant he could rest.

“Oi!” He jumped at the sharp voice, groaning when the stabbing hurt all over his body intensified.

“T’Tim?”

“‘Y’yeah.’” He mocked, tossing a stack of folders onto the already overflowing surface of the desk.

“What, what’re these?” Though his hands were shaking and sore, Jon picked up the pile, paging through distractedly.

“How the hell should I know. Martin said you asked for them.” He had?

“I don’t. I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

“Tch. Of course. Busy work to keep us preoccupied so we don’t have time to plot?”

“Wha--no, no!” It seemed his paranoia continued to have lasting consequences and he supposed it was only fair. “No, I wouldn’t. I. I’m sure I asked for them.” Reasonably sure, though for the life of him he couldn’t remember when. He couldn’t remember asking Martin but there was no reason for Tim to lie. Fingers snapping in front of his face jerked him back to the present.

“What’s wrong with you?” His eyes were narrowed and he was standing so close, too close, and suddenly Jon was on his feet, swaying into the wall and pushing past Tim in a desperate bid for the loo, head pounding enough to make him ill and only just making it in time to rid himself of the tea he didn’t remember drinking. Shaky, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning back against the wall and willing the spinning to stop or slow or do anything that might make it less overwhelming. He washed his hands, his face, letting the cool water drip from his chin and closed his eyes against his reflection in the mirror. When he returned Tim was gone and Jon was thankful, tears prickling, threatening, as he sat back in his chair and rested his forehead on his folded arms for only a moment.

It was better in the stacks, dark and still, silent save for the rustling of statements and that didn’t make any sense at all even though something in the back of his mind insisted it did, encouraged him to pick one up and devour it. But the letters swam on the pages and his legs refused to hold him up any longer and he slid to the floor, hugging the folder to his chest and breathing in the stale scent of old, yellowing paper and ink. He felt so poorly, so tired, and he didn’t remember curling up on the floor but he must have, because he was, the statement still crushed in his arms like a safety blanket. How long had he been asleep? Getting up seemed too monumental a task and he let his eyes slip shut with a sigh, breathing through all the pain of his injuries.

Too much. This was all too much.

But it was quiet here among the boxes and envelopes, tucked with his back against the shelf grounding him, taking away some of that awful wooziness, the feeling of vertigo he hadn’t quite gotten rid of after his encounter with Mike Crew. He was safe here underground; underground was the opposite of up, the opposite of falling endlessly and he breathed in, out, slow, measured. Until his physical self seemed to drop away with everything else.

Plucked like a weed, Jon was lifted into the air, hauled up by his collar and set clumsily on his feet, pressed forcefully into the shelving. If it wasn’t for the hand at his throat (his throat, she was going to slice him open, bleed him like a game animal) he would have fallen and he was so scared of falling, no air in his lungs, just the deafening rush of it in his ears, so he scrabbled desperately, the statement fluttering away somewhere in favor of holding onto wrists attached to arms attached to shoulders attached to Tim. The world tilted on its axis, rolling like a ship at sea and he was desperately afraid of being released into that endless void.

“--Hiding down here?” How long had he been speaking? His face, features so twisted in revulsion of him he almost didn’t look like Tim, was close enough that he could feel his breath on his face. “Martin’s been worried sick looking for you!” Why was he yelling at him? He’d, he’d been here, not hiding, not doing anything. Just trying to, to, stay on the ground. Everything blacked out when Tim shook him roughly, shouting something else, and Jon didn’t know what he wanted, what would make him leave him alone, stop being so angry with him. He was going to be ill, too dizzy even when mercifully held still again and he was torn between letting go and taking his chances with Crew and sticking to Tim like a burr. But Tim made the decision for him, shaking him off, dropping him to his feet and shoving him forward and Jon knew he shrieked, shameful, loud, but he was falling, falling, falling and he hurt where he’d been pushed, like his bones were trying to make room by doing their level best to yank themselves free.

But he was plunging down, straight down, unmoored, unanchored, too much space, infinite space and nothing to grab to slow himself and he was going to fall forever and ever and ever and--

“Jon!”

No. He’d. How.

“Martin…” Whimpering, voice choked with tears, more of them streaming, pouring down his face, and he clung to Martin, solid, strong, holding him.

“Tim, what did you do?”

“M’falling...m’falling, Martin.” Clutching, clawing, he was going to hurt him if he wasn’t careful but he was too frightened, he had to be hurting him. Sobbing, selfish, stupid, and he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not, I’ve got you, Jon, I won’t let you fall.” Murmuring gently, embracing him tightly and it hurt, but he’d rather hurt than fall forever. “You’ve got to take a breath, Jon.” But all the air was rushing past him, too quickly to drink up even a sip, let alone breathe any into his seizing chest. “I’ve got you, try for me.” And he did, he would swear it, he’d try anything for Martin but he’d always failed in the most important tasks. He’d always failed the most important people.

At least he wasn’t falling anymore.

“Tim, what did you do?” Martin shifted Jon, passed out over his shoulder with bandaged fingers still tangled in his jumper and he was surprised he hadn’t torn it in his panic. Gently he pulled him into his lap, boiling with heat beneath his hands and heaving hard-won, gasping breaths.

“I--” He swallowed, shock naked in his expression. “I found him here, on the floor. Uh, pulled him up?” Tim raked his hair back. “I was rough, but. I didn’t mean.” Martin could only hope he looked as angry as he felt and Tim stopped speaking, following him to document storage like a lost puppy.

“Mm…” he held Jon tight, secure, relieved that he’d come around as quickly as he did even if he was groggy, setting him firmly on the cot, exerting pressure on his shoulders, an unspoken ‘I’m here, you’re here, no one is falling.’ He ducked his head, hiding from the light and groaning low.

“Jon, look at me.” He hadn’t noticed before, the black of his dilated pupils swallowed up by deep brown irises, but with the light, and his sensitivity to it, Martin suspected a head injury. “Jon?” Gently he tilted his face up with the tips of his fingers under his chin, trying to catch his dazed stare as it slipped over him like water over a stone.

“Hey! Stop ignoring him!” Jon flinched, hands clapping over his ears and curling even farther into himself while Martin glared. “Sorry.” Tim mumbled, arms crossed, leaning against the wall to give them some space.

“S’okay, Jon.” He inched closer. “Did you hit your head? Does your head hurt? Can I check?”

“Check?” Before Tim could do much more than scoff, Martin shushed him. If he wasn’t going to help, then it would be better for him to leave.

“Yep.” He didn’t wait for much more confirmation, just carefully reached forward under Jon’s wary gaze and buried his fingers in thick, unkempt curls, smiling softly when he leaned into the touch. Bolder, he cupped his face with his other hand, stroking along his cheek and watching his eyes drift closed with a hum. “Ah, oh, Jon.” Right at the back of his skull there was a large swelling, painful to the touch if Jon’s reaction was anything to go on. “Were you hit?”

“Hit?” Jon’s wrapped, burned fingers brushed against his own when he went to check for himself. “Daisy hit me.” Just a stated fact that chilled Martin to the bone and he watched his other hand come up to touch the column of his bandaged neck. “Daisy cut me.” He glanced back at Tim, trying to gauge his reaction, relieved to see horror blossoming in his expression and when he turned to Jon again, it was as if he was seeing Martin for the first time. “Martin?” He let his weight fall into his palm, and when his dark, damp eyes slipped shut, tears ran down his face. “Don’, don’think m’well.”

“Okay, it’s okay. I’ve--” his eyes flicked towards Tim. “We’ve got you.” Jon swallowed and Martin could feel it against his palm, literally holding his cut throat in his hands. "Can you tell us what's wrong?"

“Hur’s. Spin...falling, m’falling.” He paled, clutched at the linens, his breath shallow and fast and even Tim came forward in concern.

“I’ve got you, won’t let you go anywhere, Jon.” To Tim, “Don’t think he can tell which way is up. Vertigo? Concussion? We’ve got ice packs in the freezer yeah?”

“Anything else?”

“Ginger tea? If we have it.”

“M’tin…” He brushed stray curls back away from his forehead. “Stay? Please?”

“Of course I will.” Gentle and soft and Tim returned with tea and cold compresses quickly, passing off the mug to Martin, going so far as to sit beside Jon. “I’ve got to let go of you now.” And the look of panic and sorrow and resignation told him more about his state of mind than anything else.

Martin promised he would stay.

Martin was letting him go.

Jon was not surprised.

Just sad, so, so sad.

Prepared to be tossed aside.

“‘Course...s’sorry.” Another swallow, another and another, swallowing it down, how frightened he was, how lonely. Tears slipped over Jon’s skin, over Martin’s. “M’sorry, sorry.”

Too many.

Too much.

He watched Jon pull away, swaying, woozy, grip tightening on the sheets such that his knuckles were bone white. Alone again. Alone always. How dare he think or hope or dream otherwise.

“Got’chu, boss.” Martin waited until Tim had him ‘round the shoulders, pressing him into his sturdy side, before removing his hand and holding the mug to his lips.

“Drink this down and then some sleep, I think.” Together, they tipped him carefully sideways, grabbing his hands when they flew out to the side in an attempt to break a nonexistent fall, and Tim pressed a cold pack to the back of his neck, a shadow of a smile crossing his face when Jon relaxed into the pillow.

“You’re alright, boss. Won’t let you fall.”