#also I lost five pounds in two days

[quadrantadvisor]

I'm taking adderall for the first time in two years and my brain is freaking out but in a different way from before so.... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[wonton4rang]

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pairing: bnd legal line x reader.

warnings: +18, smut, rough sex, spitting, and idk lmk if i missed something.

summary: bnd legal line mtl (most to least) to rough sex.

note: this had to be discussed and i can't go to sleep without doing so !!!

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sungho; even though it wouldn't be his go to type of sex, he would do it more often than you'd think, taking you from behind while he held your neck with one hand and held your arms in your back with the other, he would moan in your ear, pressing his body more onto yours and making you feel so full while your cheek pressed against the cold wall. he would tell you how good you feel and his hips would be accelerating their pace before he came inside of you, showing some possessiveness he usually didn't have. i also strongly believe he would have a small/ recurrent strength kink.

riwoo; he's a wild card tbh, i can't seem to read him that well when it comes to sex or maybe i am not paying attention, but i do think he could have his days, switching from cowgirl to doggy style, his hand having a grip in your hair and you almost crying out on how hard he was fucking you. it felt good, specially because it was a weird thing to happen during sex w u two, it made you excited and it made him feel bigger when he handled you like that. pulling out to come in your ass is the ultimate thing he would do to show his "dominant" side. and btw, you know about dancer stamina right? cause if you always did two rounds, you'll do at least four of five before he lets you go today.

jaehyun; myungjae has such a whiny voice and a hyper and sweet personality that we all the time see him as a mere sub but oh, let me tell you that he can also be very rough when it comes to fucking you. i feel like he would be drinking with you or just very happy and horny when he tells you about this thing he wants to try, it was basically him overpowering you and yes please!! he would hold your legs open with his hands on your thighs, pressing them down and watching how his dick gets lost each time he pounds into your soaked pussy, i can definitely see him lowering one of his hands so he could play with your clit and maybe even insert his thumb with his cock in your pussy. telling you how dirty you looked taking his dick and finger into your pussy like a slut, dirty talk would be his thing 100%

taesan; i just know he is messy and i don't make the rules!!! he would grab your hair, spit in your mouth with a grin on his lips and fuck you so fast and rough you can barely think straight. he would fuck you in missionary because he needs to see your face, he needs to feel you close and he certainly needs to be able to spit in your mouth after slapping your face once or twice. he ain't much of a talker but he would let smalls "so pretty, so hot" that would give you a hint on how good he is feeling, as if his moans and the way his dick twitched inside of you were not enough. i don't think it'll be a reccurent thing tho, he is probably more into regular sex rather than rough but he has a HUGE size kink that takes over every once in a while.

leehan; and the prize to the messiest mf goes toooooo, hear me ouuuuut. every time he went up to you and told you he was horny and needed to fuck you, you just knew what was coming (asides from u two yk) you regularly got on top of him and ride his dick but when his hands gripped your hips and he dropped you on the bed just so he could straddle in the back of your thighs and fuck you in prone bone??? you were quite literally fucked, he wouldn't show mercy on you, fucking you fast and hard, so deep that it even made you shake each time the tip of his cock hit your cervix. that until he layed you on your back, slapping your pussy after spitting on it, he is so dirty and you can tell he is enjoying it way too much when he smiled at you before slamming his hips against yours once again.

overall, taking into consideration the frequency with the one i think it'd happen, for this one i think I'll go:

MOST.

leehan. not a surprise.

sungho. he is actually really close to leehan's place tbh. not because he would like rough sex itself but he just likes the dominant part of it, how strong he feels during it.

jaehyun. iykyk, he can be cute but he is a man after all, and he is also a very energetic person so he would fold you a thousand times and come back for more.

taesan. i personally think he would enjoy it A LOT but it's just that his personality doesn't show this eager desire of rough sex :') i've said it before but i don't think he is really into sex in general and he does gives off vibes of being more in a "calm" side so yeah.

riwoo. almost same as taesan's, but i also think it's because he is a submissive person so it wouldn't be something very reccurent.

LEAST.

what do y'all think?

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER ONE - school, life, and a punch to the face TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC) MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

If hell is real, you’re pretty sure you’re dead.  

Time drags on; seconds feeling more like hours and hours feeling like an eternity—punctuated only by the shriek of the occasional bell.  It’s a familiar limbo you’ve grown to tune out in favor of your daydreaming, interrupted only by the end of a period or the sound of your name being called from across the room.  Your pencil taps idly against the desk with the beat of your heel against the floor.  Untied shoelaces pull taught under your feet when you shift to lean forwards, squinting at the equations scribbled across the whiteboard by a wrinkled, dark hand.  Numbers and letters swirl together.

Mrs. Hall.  An elderly, frail, equally as tired woman—worn down by decades of bullshit brought on by stubborn, unmotivated students much like the kids behind you, whispering and snickering in a way that made your eye twitch with deep irritation.  Still, you’re not much better, your mind lost in thought staring at rain that pounds against the ground of upstate Texas until the sound of your name stirs you from the depths of your own brain.  When you look up, confused, Mrs. Hall stares back at you with an expecting stare—and a few students are turned around to stare at you.

You’re also pretty sure if hell is real—it's the American Public School System.

“Uh…”

“The three X’s in number five,”  Mrs. Hall taps the equation on the board with the marker.  “On the homework.”

“Right.  Sorry,”  your tired eyes flicker down to the chicken scratch on the paper in front of you, scanning the crumpled paper for the answer you hastily scribbled down earlier that day.  “Three, square root of two, and negative one?”

“Incorrect.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, scratching at your neck as you try and fail not to notice when one of the boys behind you stops whispering mid-sentence and stares daggers into the back of your neck.  Shit.  Fuck.

That’s the last time you do someone else’s algebra homework.  Math, in all its forms, was your academic Achilles heel.

The rest of fourth period escapes you.  After what feels like a lifetime and a half of talking and scribbling on your paper, the bell rings out across the classroom.  Like Pavlov’s dogs—the students instinctually rush to life—shoving chairs and throwing backpacks over their shoulders, eager to get on with the day.

You're quick to sweep your things into your backpack and high-tail it towards the door of the classroom before a certain boy behind you can notice you've left already.

Mrs. Hall says your first name again.  You stop in your tracks, not missing how your fellow student sends you an angry look as he strides past to leave—crumpling the homework you did for him the night before to add to the effect.  He must be telepathic, because you swear you can hear his voice without him even saying anything.

"You're dead."

Your feet shuffle towards the door, "can't talk, gonna be late—"

"I'll write you a pass."

"I have lunch next, though."

"No you don't."  Mrs. Hall scoffs, shooting you an unamused look from over her rectangular glasses.  "You think I don't know your schedule by now?"

You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the next,  "worth a try."

"Sit,"  she gestures beside her.

You hesitate, almost arguing further, but you sigh instead.  Getting lectured actually sounded much better than whatever hell waited for you out in the hallway the second you walked outside.  You let your backpack fall from your shoulders as you drag it over with you to collapse into the chair beside your teacher's desk.  Your eyes flicker up to where her frail hands card through some papers.  

"You graduate in two months, dear."  She reminds you, as if you haven't been scratching the tallied days into a spare notebook like you're on death row.  "Your test scores are average but all the homework seems to be…lacking.  If you even do it at all."

Average.  A word that's been thrown around a lot regarding your name, which you intended to stick with.  Average meant nobody would stick their nose in your business—that you could blend in with the crowd and avoid any and all weird glances and low whispers.  You made the mistake of showing off once, to snap back at your dickhead classmate; only to end up doing his bidding for the rest of the semester.

You figure Mrs. Hall won't take very well to being told that the reason you aren't completing your homework is because you're too busy doing Ben Davis's under the threat that he won't smash your face against the lockers again.  Broken noses are a special level of hell, but it still isn't as low as the torture that is highschool.

"Maybe I joined some sports,"  you quip sarcastically.  "Don't have as much time as I used to."

She only deadpans at you.

You stare innocently back at her.  If you play dumb enough, maybe she'll finally give up.

"I'm not attacking you.  Just worried.  If you need some extra time because—"  she lowers her voice and the bracelets around her tiny wrist jingle as she waves it about,  "---because of your family life, or anything…I'm willing to give it to you."

Your brow lowers, annoyance beginning to nip at your nerves as you sit up a little straighter.

Pity.  You've long grown tired of it.  You weren't some fragile orphan—no.  You were an adult who, in two months, would finally be free from the clutches of your frustrated social worker and the slew of whatever excited, naive couples the system dumped you on.  People have been tip-toeing around you your whole life, and it never fails to make your fists clench.

"My grades are average, you said,"  you say, stern—poking the score on one of your tests with a pointer finger.  "I don't need help."

"I don't doubt you don't need help, sweetheart.  But you're a smart kid.  Really smart, if you put the effort in.  I'm just saying if you ever need any extra—"

"I'm fine.  If you really wanna help, you won't make me late to my next class."

Mrs. Hall seems to freeze, stunned at the bite her otherwise quiet student seems to bear.  The clock ticks above your head, the rain pitters against the window outside and, for a moment, shame floods your senses; but it fades as the seconds pass and that concerned look on her face deepens.

You're the first to look away, picking up your pack and turning for the door.  "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Hall."

"Wait."

You stop, tossing your head back with a sigh.  "What?"

"Tie your shoes, sweetheart,"  she says, her voice kind as she turns away to tap your stack of tests on the desk.  "You'll trip walking around like that."

You only frown and duck out the door.

The rest of the school day passes in a familiar haze.  You space out throughout two of your classes, goof off for the rest, and get your shit handed to you the second school is out.  Ben takes the time to lecture you as well after he levels you in one punch—and you sit rubbing your jaw, bored, as he goes on and on about how you did that shit on purpose and next time, you're fucking dead.

He needed a perfect score to pass the class.  In a low moment of pain, you promised it to him despite the fact that your algebra skills had much to be desired.  Still, with a little bit of extra effort—you managed to make it through most of the second semester without a black eye.  

You're the one that always bleeds; but a part of you finds it funny how he always finds a way to talk himself into angry tears, storming off somewhere distant while kids scramble to get out of his way to avoid the same fate as you.

And, as always, you pick yourself up, wipe the blood from your face onto the sleeve of your jacket—and walk away.

Because that's all you can do.

The rain settles deep in your clothes as you make your way home, music loud in your earbuds.  It's silent and gray, as it has been all week, and your thoughts are mere static as you drag your feet back to your front doorstep.  Your bed is calling for you after such a shitty day and the bruise forming on your left eye is just making the blankets seem all the more welcoming.

You barely notice how your door is already unlocked when you enter.

Inside, the house is just as silent and empty as the rest of your street.  Rain drips to the floor in a steady rhythm as you pad across the living room of the house, dropping your backpack to the floor.  Muscle memory leads you to the bathroom—where things are, as usual, spotless.  

You've seen plenty of bad homes and residencies during your time in the system.  Most of them blurred together in a long string of things you wished to forget; either by the caretakers' fault or your own.  This house, though, was high on your list of favorites.  Your folks were never around, and if they were, they were asleep.  When you weren't working; you usually had the house to yourself.

"Fuck,"  You breathe, prodding at the swelling flesh around your eye. You run some water over it and the irritation dulls slightly as dried blood turns the water pink.  Excuses run rampant through your mind as you scramble for a way to explain the injury---because you're pretty sure they won't believe you if you said you tripped again. 

That's when you catch movement from your doorway.  Shuffling.

You whip around just as the movement disappears, and suddenly the quiet house turns eerily silent.  Your eyes lock on the doorway as the sink continues to run and water continues to drip from your clothes.  

Nothing.

You turn the sink off.

Your brow furrows, eyes locked on the cracked door of your bathroom as your hand grabs hold of the first weapon you can get your hands on—a shower curtain rod.  One foot after the other, you peak around the corner.

Again, nothing.

Out of some itch of paranoia—or just completely on coincidence—you happen to turn your head to the wall next to you.  Instead of an empty corridor like you expected, you're met with a face.

A face that immediately lunges at you the second your eyes widen.  

You stumble to the side with a yell just for the individual to grab your arm, and the curtain rod falls to the floor with a clatter.  You struggle as he yanks you to the side and around the corner and, before you have the chance to react, cold metal is pressed to your back.

"Don't fuckin' move,"  a voice hisses in your ear, and you stiffen.

You wheeze, struggling against his hold, "who–"

"Your gardian fucking angel,"  he sneers, shifting to clap a hand over your mouth.  You thrash again—but it's useless.  The gun presses painfully into your side.  "I said don't move."

A thump echoes through the room, and suddenly you see why.

You fight to keep your breathing under control as you stay firm against your captor's geared chest, still as a statue.  Your heart slams against your ribs and your ears as you listen to each heavy footstep against the floor, and your eyes widen whenever a second soldier creeps down your hallway.  Standard camo and green clothes shuffling as he walks.

You catch the long muzzle of a rifle over the soldier's shoulder, and suddenly you find yourself leaning into the gun pressed into your back.  The hand on your mouth tightens, silently shifting you away from the door.

The shifting of gear and the click of the rifle echo in the silent house as your nails dig into the skin of your captor's wrist.  You watch a muscle in his stubbled jaw twitch near your face as the sound of your first name echoes through the hall, sing-song and taunting.         

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Think.  Think.  Think.

“If y’know what’s best for ya’…”  A thick Scottish accent taunts from down the hall as he nudges the curtain rod with his foot, causing it to scrape against the wood floors.  “You’ll quit puttin’ up a fight and show yourself.”

You glance over to meet your captor’s gaze.  A flicker of anger crosses his eyes, nose wrinkling into a scowl.  He has a scar across his cheek.  

Then, suddenly, he shifts, pulling you further away from the doorway.  His grip on your shoulder is deathly tight as it digs into your clothes.  He lifts his finger from the trigger of his gun only to bring it to his lips in a silent command to stay quiet, stay with me.

Panic burns bright and all-encompassing through your veins.  For whatever reason—all your body will let you do is shake and listen. 

He ducks around the corner, pulling you with him.  You have to force your feet to move.

The Scottish soldier stops just at the end of the hall, hulking frame and what must be at least thirty pounds of gear making him a jarring sight against the flowered wallpaper of your foster home.  He must have an earpiece of some kind; because you hear him whisper every so often as he sweeps the hallways.  

"They're here,"  he mutters.  "Little fuck's just good at hiding."

It's tiny and muffled, but in the deathly silence of the house you can make out two voices in his earpiece that reply to him.  One female, the other male.  You can't decipher what they say but their responses make him growl in frustration.

"C'mon, we don't got all day…"

Tense, your captor shoves you along to another room.  He signals something down the hall, where you spot more movement in the house.  More soldiers—these ones dressed in similar, dark garb to the man who still presses a gun to your side. They have bigger weapons, concealing helmets.

Startled, you trip over your shoelaces.

Your captor scrambles to grab you before you clatter to the floor.  He curses just as the Scottish soldier whips around, gun pointed and ready.

There's a solid two seconds of complete silence.  Your gaze meets with the Scott and his eyes widen.  Then, he spots the other man with a gun pointed at you.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

You scramble to your feet and bolt.  The Scott is the first to grab you, and he's met with teeth deep in his arm.  He yells out as you kick free, gagging on the metallic substance that floods your mouth.

There's shouting.  Movement.  Gunfire lights up your house with noise and lights as you wipe your mouth, stumble, and fly down the stairs in a blind dash for your front door.

Instead, you run directly into something solid—Landing you flat on your ass.  Again.

Panting, panicking, your eyes rake up dark figure; past two giant boots, a geared chest, and hands that clench a rifle in their grip to meet a masked face and bored eyes.  You scramble backwards against the wall with a yelp.  The sound of yelling, gunfire, and heavy footsteps flood the rest of the house as the masked man's eyes widen at you.  You stare at each other; you, sizing him up and him, confused.

"Graves?!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"Commander!  We lost the kid!"

"Does anyone have a visual??"

"L.T.!"

The skull-faced man finally leaps into action at the sound of what must be his rank—because he's suddenly moving faster than you can realize more soldiers are flooding around the corner.  In a flurry of practiced movement, he grabs them.

You yell out as he knees one of the men and shoots the other.  Blood splatters across the walls and your clothes.  Then, he fires twice more at the soldier unconscious on the ground—and the house goes quiet other than your pounding heartbeat.

The towering man before you shifts, and the floorboards creak under his feet.  He rolls his shoulders and let's out a breath as he stands, slowly, up to his full height.  He turns, and the same blood that splatters across the walls runs in tiny rivulets across the skull of his mask.  His voice thick and low when he speaks.

"You broken?"

Your shaking hands lower from your ears as your eyes then rake across the corpses at his feet, but it's no use.  Through the ringing in your ears, your racing mind is unable to put together what he says for a few minutes.  It's even more impossible to tear your eyes away from the blood splattered against the patterned wallpaper.

You swallow and shake your head.

"Good."  Nonchalant, he lowers his gun and shouts down the hall.

"Johnny, you with me?"

"Over here, L.T.,"  grunts the Scottish voice from down the hall.  "That little shit Graves—"

"Let 'em go.  We'll deal with 'em later.  We got what we needed."

Johnny curses in response, but mutters a begrudging "copy" as he saunters over—nursing the clear bite mark in his arm. 

Then, the Lieutenant's eyes shift in your direction.  His hand twitches, almost reaching out to you, and you pull your legs closer to your chest against the wall.  Blood soaks your untied laces.  You clamp a hand over your mouth as you will your breathing to settle.  It doesn't.

He freezes.  Then, to your relief, he turns away and presses a finger to his ear.

"Bravo 0-7 to Actual; five shadows have been compromised on the property.  Looks like the Shadows got the word the same time we did.  Could be others, too.  Things got bloody, but…"  The lieutenant's eyes meet yours again as he speaks.  Through the bloodied skull mask, his gaze holds a calm resolve that's probably supposed to be comforting, but it only makes your skin prickle.  

"...we got the kid."

It's quiet, but you can hear static before someone speaks on the other end of the communication device.

"Copy that, Bravo.  We'll clean up the mess,"  A female voice replies.  "Bring 'em home safe, boys."

"Roger that."

[thegainingdesk]

Borrowed

“Fuck!” I barked as hot coffee spilled down my front. This always seemed to happen when I wore a nice shirt, always when I had to meet clients, always on a fucking Tuesday. God I hated Tuesdays.

Fifteen minutes of frantic dabbing with wet paper towels later I sat slumped in my chair. Not only had I not managed to shift the coffee stain, but now I'd also made my shirt wet enough that my thick body hair was plainly visible through it.

“Maybe someone has a jumper?” Owen asked.

Sandra shook her head sadly. “We asked around,” she said. “The weather's been so lovely, not sure the last time anyone brought a jumper in. There's a couple in lost and found but…” She trailed off and lifted up two jumpers - one lurid pink with three kittens covered in glitter, the other a red Christmas jumper implying Santa was about to do unspeakable things to a reindeer.

“Not really the thing for a client meeting,” Owen said, making a small sucking noise through his teeth.

“Someone else is going to have to do it,” I said. “It's in ten minutes, there's no way my shirt will be dry in time.”

“I always keep a spare shirt or two in the stationery cupboard,” Graham said, appearing round the corner eating a donut. “It'll be a bit big for you though!” he added, slapping the firm ball gut that took up his torso.

I bit my lip. On one hand, I'd look absolutely ridiculous, my lanky frame swallowed up by a shirt intended for a man surely a hundred pounds or more heavier than me. On the other hand, I'd look more presentable than I currently did. And besides, it would be kind of hot to have real, tangible evidence of just how much bigger Graham was than me - okay, so forty-five year old obese dads aren't exactly everyone's fantasies, I can admit that, but for me, Graham was my dream man.

“Thanks Graham,” I said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

A minute later I was stood in our stationery cupboard holding up a piece of fabric I could use as a light blanket. The tag said 2XL and I thought about how Graham filled his shirts - gut straining gently at the seams, the hem riding up by the end of most days to reveal a wedge of hairy fat. There were some trousers as well, neatly folded beneath the shirt. I held the pair up to my waist and boggled at how much wider they were. I imagined filling up clothes so big and felt myself grow hard.

I peeled off my own wet, stained, size small shirt and hung it on the door handle to dry a little. I slipped my arms in Graham's shirt and buttoned up the front. The shirt swallowed me. The hem hung down below my crotch, the shoulder seam lined up somewhere along my upper arm, so that the cuff hung down past my thumb, the whole thing billowed around me. I pinched the fabric and held it out in front of me - it seemed like there was a foot of space left in every direction.

My cock throbbed. I checked the door was locked, then checked the time. I had a few minutes, and Sandra was already on delaying duty. I bunched the shirt up, unbuttoned my fly and pulled my aching cock out. I stroked rapidly, keen to finish in a timely fashion. I tried to imagine myself filling the shirt. How much bigger would I be? Would I be shaped like Graham, with a firm gut, or would I be softer, flabbier, wider? My left hand raked over my trim stomach and my breath hitched as I moved it away, out to where I'd held the shirt just a moment ago. I bit my lip to stop myself yelling out as I shot cum across the floor of the cupboard, and as it dribbled over my fist.

Hit by post-wank clarity, I immediately felt like an idiot. How did I think I was going to clean this up? I frantically grabbed my wet shirt and did my best to wipe up the thick cum on my right hand and cock, struggling a bit to get it out of my pubes and stopping it getting on my trousers or Graham’s shirt. Then I knelt down and wiped up the mess on the floor.

A knock on the door. “Just coming now!” I choked.

“The clients are here,” came Graham's voice through the door. “That shirt alright?”

I looked down at myself. I looked fucking ridiculous, like a child wearing his dad's suit for a play. “Yeah Graham, cheers. It's perfect.”

I wadded up my coffee and cum covered shirt and threw it into a corner that I hoped no-one would look in over the day. I tucked the excess fabric into the waistband and rolled up the sleeves, hoping the overall effect was “loose and casual” rather than “four sizes too big”.

-

I panted softly as I squelched my way into the office. When I woke up, the weather was blissful - bright sunshine, a little warm maybe, but with a light breeze to make it bearable, the sky clear apart from a couple of distant picturesque fluffy clouds completing the picture. Of course, once I was halfway to work, the heavens abruptly opened, necessitating me to run from my tube stop through torrential rain to my office.

My body wasn't exactly built for running these days. That day with Graham's shirt had flicked a switch somewhere deep in my brain, and since then my appetite and waistline had expanded in rapid conjunction. Now my soaking shirt clung to a round, soft gut, plump tits and wide love handles, and my damp trousers made my wide, plush thighs and fat pad uncomfortable.

I was met with noises of sympathy from my much more weather-prepared co-workers as I dripped across the floor, but couldn't fail to notice the whispers and pointing as soon as I passed. My weight gain wasn't exactly fresh office gossip at this point, but I'm sure it being highlighted by clinging wet clothes didn't exactly help matters. I sighed as I sat at my desk, the cold clothes against my skin making me shiver.

A shadow fell over me and I saw Graham stood meekly above me. “I've got some spare clothes,” he said quietly, looking around to see if anyone was listening. “I'm not sure if you, you know, if they'll fit or anything, but you're welcome to them if you like.”

I saw his eyes flick to my swollen gut and my heart jumped as I realised that Graham - Graham! The office fat guy! - wasn't sure who was bigger out of the two of us. I shuffled my legs slightly to adjust my hardening cock, but knew that my overhang would largely keep my arousal hidden.

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks Graham, that would be great,” I thanked him. “I've actually borrowed your shirt before, you know,” I told him. “You wanting to keep it a secret all of a sudden?”

Graham grew more flustered. “It's not that,” he said. “I'm happy for people to borrow it whenever, you know. I figure it's best if there's a spare shirt around and at least if it fits the fattest- I mean, that is, if it fits me it… well.” He cleared his throat and looked around again. He lowered his voice further “I wasn't sure if you'd be happy to, you know, have people know you were borrowing my clothes. You know since…” He gestured feebly towards me and I felt my heart pump harder.

“That's fine Graham,” I said. “Thank you again.”

“If you ever want to talk to someone,” he said, not moving yet. “I get it, you know, the uh,” he shifted his feet nervously, “weight thing. I was probably about your age when I started to put on a bit, back when Vanessa had the twins and well… anyway. I just wanted to say that I know how it feels, and if you ever wanted to talk to someone who understands…”

“Thanks Graham,” I said. “For the shirt and the offer.” I stood up so that we were almost belly to belly. “I best go get changed.” Graham grinned and gave a small wave as he walked away.

I looked at the shirt on the hanger in front of me. Was I really the same size as Graham now? I'd certainly fantasized about the idea often enough, and the shirt in front of me looked… well, it looked normal. I thought back to that day a couple of years before when I was shocked at the size of Graham's clothes; now they looked the exact same as all the others I had hanging in my wardrobe at home.

I pulled off my damp clothes and put on the shirt. It fit perfectly - the collar wasn't too tight, the shoulder seams hit the right place, it tucked perfectly into my waistline. A little snug, perhaps, around my gut, but then most clothes did these days. The buttons were definitely straining more than they did around Graham's belly, weren't they? He'd have surely bought the next size up by now if this was how his shirts fit everyday.

I sucked in as I bent down to pick up the trousers, keen not to stress the buttons anymore and stood back up with a loud grunt. Advanced acrobatics like “bending over” and “standing back up” were getting a little strenuous these days. I looked in the waistband and froze. It was a 42 inch waist. I'd gotten rid of my last pair of 42s months ago, and in the meantime my 44s were starting to pinch painfully when I was particularly bloated. I looked back at my soaked trousers and imagined drying in them. These would have to do - maybe just for the morning until my clothes dried.

I had to suck in as I struggled to button the trousers, and immediately felt the familiar vice grip of too small clothes as I let my gut hang out fully. The fabric confined my legs and hips, making my torso explode out of the top like bread dough, and I could imagine the angry red marks I'd see once I took them off. The legs felt like skinny-fit jeans, all the way down to my calves. Surely Graham couldn't wear these? I didn't think I'd be able to sit down all day.

“Those forty-twos aren't too big, are they?” Graham asked when I gingerly came out the stationery cupboard, feeling like an overstuffed sausage casing come to life. “I only really use them if I'm feeling a bit bloated,” he explained.

I shook my head and gave a strained smile. “They'll stay up with a belt,” I said. I saw Graham's eyes flick down to the full-to-bursting fabric with no belt in sight.

He gave a thin smile. “Well then,” he said. “Glad I could help. You know where they are if you ever need them again.”

I was back in my own trousers by lunch, after promising Graham to buy him a new pair since I'd ripped the seat on his.

-

I licked the sugar and jam off my fingers as I walked up to Graham.

“Hey man,” I said, before stifling a belch. “I don't suppose I could borrow that spare shirt you keep?” I gestured down at my shirt, where jam from my donuts sat next to grease from that morning's sausage roll on the shelf of my gut. “Breakfast got a bit messy this morning.”

Graham’s eyes widened a touch and I could see him perform a series of mental calculations. “I've lost a little weight since the last time you borrowed a shirt,” he said after a moment. “I'm down to just plain old extra large these days.”

“It looked like the same shirt when I got some staples the other day,” I told him. “Maybe you just forgot to swap it out.”

He smiled weakly. “Ah, yeah, that's right,” he conceded. “Must not have brought in one of my new ones yet.” His eyes flicked down to the farthest extent of my gut, where its swell strained the buttons of my 4XL. “So you umm, I mean that is, if you think, but well.” He desperately reached for a polite way to tell me I was too fat for even the clothes that were too big for him. He lowered his voice. “Weren't you saying a while ago you shop at one of those plus-size shops these days? I never really went to those, even when I was, well, before I lost some weight.”

I grinned and shrugged. “Worth giving it a go, right buddy?” I slapped the top of my belly. “Us big guys are used to squeezing into places.”

He grimaced at the suggestion our sizes were comparable and gestured towards the cupboard where he kept his spare shirts. “Help yourself,” he mumbled.

I unbuttoned my own shirt and dropped it in a heap on the floor. I picked up Graham's from its hanger and held it out in front of me - did I really used to fit in clothes this small? I grunted as I bent down to pick up the trousers and held that out in front of my waist too - god they were narrow. My own hips were a good half foot wider, even while holding them like this. I'd have liked to have tried them on too, but they were a non-starter, I knew. A shame that I couldn't go all the way with my little game, but oh well.

I put the shirt on, even the shoulders a little too narrow to slip my arms into comfortably, and slowly started buttoning, my fat fingers slow and clumsy. The neck was a complete no go, fat oozing over the collar when I attempted. The buttons over my tits were snug, but broadly doable. The top of my gut - starting to become a real problem. At the very diameter of my soft ball gut the two sides were inches apart. Determined to make a show of myself in front of the office before I left in a few weeks, I sucked in as far as I could and tugged on the shirt hard. After a few moments of struggling, huffing and puffing all the buttons were precariously lodged into their respective holes.

I let my gut out slowly, so as not to tear any seams or send the buttons scattering. Even at the largest I dare let my gut hang out, I was still sucking in a little.

Every inch of fabric was filled with me, inflated to its limit. I could almost hear the cloth creaking. The buttons had huge ovals of hairy, dimpled skin showing between them. The bottom of the shirt hung around my heavy love handles like bread loaves and several inches of my gut hung clearly out the bottom. The waistband of my trousers were hidden beneath cascading fat, and my soft arse hung out at the top.

I grinned as I walked out the cupboard. “Cheers for the shirt Graham,” I called across the office. Disgusted and embarrassed faces turned towards me as they took in the sight of my morbidly obese body forced and squeezed into clothes meant for the merely clinically obese. I began walking towards Graham as I spoke, giving everyone a good view. “I don't think it's really going to work,” I said as I gestured towards my body. “I swear we used to be the same size?” I shrugged. “Ah well, I can cope with a couple of stains for today.”

Graham blushed bright red as I approached him, the only person forced to engage with the spectacle unfolding in front of everyone. “Oh well,” he said, staring resolutely at his computer screen.

A flash of a thought began to nucleate into an idea. Did I dare? I think I did. I made a show of wrinkling my nose a little and then- “ACHOO” - a not quite believable fake sneeze as I let my gut expand to its fullest extent. Two buttons pinged off the and I heard a small rip to my side.

“Oh god!” I feigned humiliation. “I'm so sorry Graham, your shirt! I'll buy you a new one!”

Graham paled. “That's fine,” he insisted. “Didn't fit anymore anyway, destined for the charity shop.”

“No, no,” I replied. I stroked my hand around my gut, feeling the contrast between strained fabric and exposed skin at the fresh tear in the shirt's side. “It's my fault and this spare shirt’s helped me out no end of times.” I pretended to ponder for a moment. “I swear it used to fit…”

My cock was rock hard beneath my gut as I returned to the stationery cupboard to put my own shirt on.

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan elle september issue cover story

Xiao Zhan believes in simplicity. But in acting, he increasingly likes multi-faceted and complex characters.In other words, this is an authentic state of human existence. At a time when everything is being simplified, Be willing to admit that people are different,Seek communication possibilities, Be sensitive and defend complexity, This must require love and courage.

01.

After entering the entertainment industry, these things quickly became part of his daily life - cameras, spotlights, display screens, shields. Due to his profession and popularity, countless "Xiao Zhan" have emerged, including huge portraits on the facades of high-end shopping malls, the projections of an astonishing number of fans, or the appearance of characters in the film and television dramas that have been released one after another.

Right now, in the dressing room after the shooting, Xiao Zhan is holding his box of whole grain salad, vividly imitating the scene of meeting director Zheng Xiaolong.

"I was a little confused, so I asked the director whether he wanted me to be thinner or stronger. He said, 'Thinner, of course thinner, it will look so good and sharp.'" After a while, when we were taking the final photos, Zheng Xiaolong saw him again, "He said, 'Wow, you look good like this.'" From then until now, he has lost more than ten pounds.

Xiao Zhan, the source of all fission, is decent and relaxed. The glamour seen by the outside world is an added value for him. Sometimes he even forgets about it, "Really no one will care about you." Then he continues to talk about his work.

The most recent one is "Legend of the Hidden Sea", which was filmed in Hengdian for 5 months. The previous one, which also took 5 months to shoot, was "The Legend of the Condor Heroes: The Greatest Hero" directed by Tsui Hark. This is often the case with large-scale movies and long TV series. Once you join the crew, it takes four or five months. In 2022, his main filming work was "Where Dreams Begin" and "Sunshine by my Side", in 2021 it was "Yu Gu Yao", in 2020 it was "Ace Troops", and in 2019 it was "Douluo Dalu" and "Oath of Love".

There are constant offers for plays, so sometimes I can’t decide whether to lengthen or shorten the time between plays.

In the second half of 2019, when filming "Oath of Love", Xiao Zhan filmed during the day and recorded the variety show "Our Song" at night. Both were very challenging. The former was his first time to play the leading role in an urban drama, with little experience and great pressure; the latter was difficult because of the harmony, "You have to memorize all the harmonies that are different from the tune of the song and not be carried away."

"At that time, I felt it didn't matter. I would sleep for an hour or two and wake up feeling healthy again. But now my mind says it doesn't matter, but my body is protesting."

This year, he was filming in Hengdian. Later, one day, he found that his tonsils were inflamed and swallowing was very painful, but he went to work as usual. It was not until the director came over and asked him, "What's wrong with your eyes?" that he saw his eyes swollen in the mirror. By the afternoon, "I looked like a frog."

He had to go to the hospital. The symptoms themselves were common and could be stopped by taking medicine. But what he couldn't do was exactly what the doctor advised most: you need to rest.

More importantly, "My perception will become dull. I am really afraid of this, afraid of becoming mechanical and formulaic." He put the emphasis on the word "really". He chatted with his seniors, "They also said that you have to live and experience life."

In fact, a life in the spotlight is somewhat contrary to the life of ordinary people, but the profession of an actor requires him to touch as many wrinkles of life as possible.

A while ago, he watched a monologue in a variety show that depicted the current workplace situation of young people. Before entering the entertainment industry, Xiao Zhan had a studio and worked. He could understand the depression brought by work, but the new vocabulary and new tools that appeared in the workplace weakened his sense of resonance. He found that he was gradually disconnected to a certain extent.

02.

In early June, Xiao Zhan had a short vacation and went back to his hometown Chongqing. He likes to take walks very much, and one night he walked for several hours, visiting the old street, Jiefangbei, and the place where he used to work.

In 2014, 23-year-old Xiao Zhan graduated from university and worked as a designer in a design studio. Every weekday morning, he would transfer from Line 2 to Line 3 at Niujiaotuo Station, push through the crowds, and squeeze onto the light rail. Several times, he was pressed so hard that his face was pressed against the glass window.

He simply leaned against the glass to look at the Jialing River below, the strange reefs exposed in the dry season and the various people, some swimming in winter, some jogging, some fishing, with a very optimistic spirit.

He still likes to observe the people around him——

"Why are you still here so late?"

"People walking hurriedly must have just got off work and are in a hurry to go home. Their expressions and behaviors are just like when I used to catch the subway. It's the last one and you have to run. They are very panicked. Some takeaway guys are rushing forward regardless of their own safety. There are also some very leisurely people who sit there drinking beer, and then go home and start a new day."

"Everyone has their own wonderful story. It is everyone's life that makes up our society. So it's wonderful. Everyone is the protagonist. We are all filming our own biographies. What will the story of tomorrow be like?"

At that moment, he was like all those who have been busy working in a foreign country for a long time, and finally found that "I haven't been here for a long time, and there have been quite a lot of changes." "In fact, I am not particularly happy, and I don't have any other feelings. I am living, that's all."

Two and a half days later, Xiao Zhan left Chongqing for work and returned to Beijing, then to Shanghai, and then to France. This time he also called his parents. This was a long-awaited family trip, from France to Switzerland and back to France in a week. Every detail of the trip was magnified, their happiness, quarrels, or just ordinary walks, "all very vivid."

On the day they parted, they finished their meal at a restaurant in the south of France. The car that came to pick him up arrived and he had to leave first. Before leaving, his mother hugged him and told him to take care of himself. Rarely, his father also hugged him awkwardly.

"I used to think that work was everything and life wasn't that important. It was nothing more than having a place to sleep, getting up, going to work, finishing work, and resting. But now that my parents are older and I haven't lived with them for a long time, you feel as if each other's lives, even family members, are getting further and further apart." He especially doesn't want this to happen.

The way to avoid suspension and regain a sense of reality in life is not difficult to say. "When you have time, go out and take a look. The important thing is to feel life and the world. Even if it is something terrible or cruel, it is life, and it will burst out with energy when you need it."

03.

Halfway through the interview, Xiao Zhan suddenly said that he had a conflicting attitude towards long interviews. On the one hand, he was worried that he was not growing enough and would appear timid during the conversation. On the other hand, he wanted to unearth some subtle feelings through the conversation because he felt he was not good at recording them in words.

Observation, feeling, understanding and expression are the key to an actor's creativity.

"Dialogue is also muscle memory." Xiao Zhan said, "Although I am very i, I am not autistic. Because I think actors need to learn to express, express your inner thoughts, and digest the content handed to you by the other party."

Before the filming of "Sunshine by my Side" began, he met with the main creators and held several script meetings to deepen their understanding of each other and the characters. In the early stage of "Legend of the Hidden Sea", the producer also mentioned that he would discuss the script in detail and talk about a scene with many of his own understandings.

Xiao Zhan is not a professional actor. When he first entered the industry and filmed "Fights Break Sphere" and "The Wolf", he had strong doubts and asked himself, am I suitable for this? Constantly denying and overthrowing himself made him lose confidence.

Sometimes he is asked what he would be doing now if he had not participated in the talent show, debuted, or entered the entertainment industry at the age of 23. He has thought about it, but he has not looked back.

If you can't act well, then spend extra time taking acting classes, watching the monitor more often, and asking seniors for advice. With your full strength and hard work, you will slowly find the way.

Later, when the filming of "Sunshine by my Side" started, Xiao Zhan played Xiao Chunsheng, a child of a Beijing compound, who was completely different from him, even his accent was very different. He felt insecure. Before filming many scenes, director Fu Ning ran over and whispered to him, Zhan Zhan, don't be afraid, just speak bravely, if you feel it, just say it, in fact, the audience can feel your emotions and what you want to express.

He also gradually gained more self-awareness: "Technique may not be my forte, it depends more on feelings. Only when I have my own feelings can I have the confidence to interpret it. If I rely purely on some techniques, I think it is not moving enough."

It has been 8 years since Xiao Zhan made his acting debut. Looking at his resume, he has played leading roles in various TV series and movies. But he still feels that he is a newcomer and hopes to work with more experienced production teams in the future.

He doesn't think too much, and he doesn't actually know the work plan divided by year very well. He only cares about what the work arrangements for the next stage are, rather than "asking about things too far ahead."

"I still feel like a child, but actually I'm not anymore. It seems like I'm still in high school, but actually I've grown up." A child's mind means having curiosity, desire to explore, and imagination.

He puts these curiosities and explorations into the characters. "I mean, for me, when I dig into the character's background and past, I discover the complexity and contradictions of the character as a person and present them. In this way, some of his choices and motivations may be understood by the audience, and the work may be good, and you will have the current audience, right?"

source

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 1/12

Part 2 and Part 3 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

This story is so beautiful, hopefully you'll think so too! 🥹

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

You could really get used to this life, because who else has an amazing girl boss who let's you off work in the honor of your birthday?

Well you did.

Instead of spending the last hours of the day sorting out paperwork, you were rushing off to see you your boyfriend who had surprise for you in the park.

"Oh my god, is he going to purpose?"

"I have no idea." You squealed, cellphone pressed to your ear. Your best friend Laleh was on the other end, helping you speculate why Ruben specifically wanted to spend the afternoon with you in the park.

"Do you think he had anything to do with you getting off work so early?"

"I really don't know. I would be surprised of he did."

"Yes, me too. If he did, what the hell was he thinking, leaving me to finish all this work by myself?"

You laughed. "I'm so sorry Laleh. I really owe you."

"Damn straight you do. Just make sure to send me a picture of the ring, okay?"

"I promise. Love you. Bye."

You hung up the phone and practically ran the last distance towards the park. Your heart pounded in your chest as you sighted it ahead. What if this was it? What if after three years together, Ruben, was finally ready to tie the knott. Lord knows that you were. Ruben was simply the man of your dreams.

"Y/N."

You spotted his tall figure amongst the trees. He stood with his hands in his pockets, hair stirring gently in the wind. The way your heart fluttered when you saw him could only mean one thing, no?

"Ruben, what is all this?"

He suprised you with a full on picknick. A blanket was laid out on the grass below. Beside it was a basket containing fruit, red wine and a fine collection of cheese.

"Happy birthday baby!" Ruben welcomed you to sit down.

"I can't believe you. Isn't today your rest day?"

Ruben lay down on the blanket, leaning forward to kiss you. "I can rest right here." He smiled.

You were perplexed. The amount of love you had for your boyfriend was simply too hard to grasp. He had gone so out of his way just for you. It made you giggle, how he cut you a slice of cheese with such caution, wanting it to be just the right amount to put on your cracker.

"Here you go."

"Well, thank you." You bowed with courtesy.

Ruben put down the cheese knife and licked the tip of his fingers. He licked them clean since his diet as a professional football player didn't allow him to have any dairy. Wine was also off limits. It was all just for you to enjoy.

"So..." He said, clasping his hands together as he rested on his side. "How does it feel to be twenty-five?"

"Old." You murmured through a mouth full of cheese and crackers.

"Old?" He frowned. "But I'm twenty-seven."

"Exactly my point. Twenty-seven is so old and now I'm getting closer to that age."

"Right." He snorted.

"Don't get me wrong baby. You look amazing for your age, but that's because you work out. I on the other hand...."

"If it's your fitness that you're worried about you can always come with me to the gym."

"Nah, I'm good." You chugged down the last of your cracker, dusting of the crumbs that had fallen into your lap. Ruben looked to you with admiration, the sun irritating his eyes.

"Did you know that my mom had my sister at twenty-one."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and me at twenty-seven."

"Interesting."

"Yeah and now my sister is trying to get pregnant again at thirty-one as if the two children she has isn't enough work already."

"How are they?"

"Emmy and Vale?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, well they're great, I guess. Emmy has just started her forth year in primary school and Vale lost his first tooth the other day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. His dad forgot to slip him the money from the tooth fairy though. My sister totally freaked out."

"Tooth fairy?" Ruben tilted his head.

"Yes, the tooth fairy. Didn't you grow up with the concept of a wealthy winged midget sneaking into your bedroom at night, collecting all your teeth?"

"Erm...no. No, I didn't. " Ruben looked horried.

"Hmm.....I thought the culture in Portugal wasn't too different from the rest of the countries in Europe."

"It isn't." Ruben sat up. "But I guess my family wasn't into that kind of stuff."

"What stuff?"

"I dunno, make believe stuff. Fairytales etc."

"Oh."

"Yeah, my dad was the worst. When I first lost my tooth he made me stand in front of the bathroom mirror and pull the tooth out myself."

"Really? That's horrible."

"I still remember being hunched over the bathroom sink with blood pouring out of my mouth while hearing my dad flush my tooth down the toilet."

"Ruben, that's—"

"My dad for you." He smiled. It was obvioulsy a fond memory to him. A traumatic one to you.

"I just can't imagine myself raising children right now." You said, falling back onto the picknick blanket, a sense of peace washing over you. It was such a lovely afternoon. "If anything I'm still a child myself."

"How about a dog?"

You had gone to shut your eyes, but quickly reopened them. Ruben was standing up, hovering over you with a cardboard box in his hands.

You brought yourself to sit up. "Ruben, what is—"

Something shook the box. Followed by a low squeal. A frail attempt of a bark.

"Ruben....you did not."

His smile broadened. "I did." He lowered the box for you to see what lay within, and looking up at you with the most precious eyes was a brown sausage dog, less than four weeks old.

"Oh my god." You quickly reached for it and brought the puppy into your lap. "Ruben I can't believe you did this!"

"Happy birthday!"

You looked up at him, feeling how the dog nibbled at your fingertips. "What made you even want to do this?" It was such a commitment to get a dog. Ruben had never expressed the desire to get one before, although, you knew that he was good with them, seeing as his family had own several back home in Portugal.

"I guess I just thought it was time." He shrugged.

"Time for what?" You cried. Yes, actual tears were welling up in your eyes. Even more so when Ruben joined you on the blanket, petting the fluffy creature in your lap. He then looked to you with such a gentle gaze. "For us to start a family." He said.

"Oh, Ruben." You kissed him, apologizing for your wet cheeks. Ruben didn't mind, however, wiping them away with a stroke of his thumb. "I love you Y/N. I always will."

"I love you too."

It was the best birthday of your life, filled with wet kisses and a puppy. Hopefully it was the beginning of forever with Ruben. It's all you ever wanted

Part 2 and Part 3 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Out of Darkness - Chapter Nine: Deal - Alastor x human!fem!reader

Go to: Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | 6.5 (NSFW) | Seven | Eight Hello! Sorry if this chapter is not very good. I got a bit lost while writing it and the last days were a bit rough, so I didn't get the chance to go through it again. This is also my second attempt at writing it. However, my boyfriend, who absolutely detests Alastor, said it was “actually good” so I’m hoping it’s decent. I hope you enjoy it! <3 Words: ~4200 TW: angst, mentions of blood and wounds, swearing

Muffled voices echoed in (y/n)’s ears as her body fought to wake up. Everything hurt: her body was on fire, feeling like thousands of knives pierced through her skin. Her head felt like it was about to explode as her eyes squinched in pain. The voices were still unclear, as painful static sounds would easily overcome the words.

Her eyes sting as she tried to open them, thankful that there wasn’t any light in the room she was in. It took a few seconds for her vision to become somewhat clear, as she was looking around the room, scanning it.

The bedroom looked fine as if nothing really happened. She was covered with a blanket that smelled like flowers, a sign that it was freshly washed, exactly as everything that surrounded her – pillowcases, her pyjamas, even the room smelled clean.

(Y/n) tried to get up, but pain shot through her like a dagger, making her hiss and lay back, engulfing herself in the warmness of her bed. If everything was just a dream, why was she in this state? She couldn’t even remember what happened, but she knew it happened. It was weird. Just like when you jump in the middle of the night, knowing you had a nightmare, but can’t quite remember what it was.

As the voices became clearer, she started to recognize them. It was her parents, probably coming to check on her, but the third voice made a shiver run down her spine.

“Oh, don't worry about her! I'm sure she'll be good as new once she gets a proper sleep!" Alastor's muffled, cheerful voice filled the house.

She didn’t quite know why her body responded in such a way to his presence, but she knew he was dangerous. She knew he did something, but there was nothing that could make her remember right now.

"We can stay here for a few days if it would improve things..." she heard her mother's voice. She wanted to scream, hoping they might hear her, but her throat hurt. And then, what could they do against him? Something told her to stay still, to protect them for whatever he could do.

"Oh, no, no, dears... No need to bother! She's in good hands! You are welcome to come whenever you want, but please, trust me when I say I will make sure she's safe and sound!" Alastor assured them.

Shortly after, (Y/n) heard them leaving, the door getting locked behind them. A moment of painful silence made her heart stop, adrenaline rushing through her as she heard footsteps approaching the bedroom door. She turned away from the door, burying her face into the pillows and pretending to sleep. Dream or reality, she wasn’t ready to face him.

Alastor slowly entered the room, his footsteps heavy and cautious as he approached the bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest, threatening to explode as she heard him sitting on the bed. He said nothing, but she knew he was watching her, feeling his smile radiating. It was too much, a tear falling from her eyes despite her best efforts to stay still and her breath started shaking.

Her heart sank when she felt his hand caressing her cheek, trying to wipe her tears, a low hum feeling the room.

He leaned in closer, his eyes tracing the contours of her face, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know you're awake, darling," he murmured. "You don't need to pretend to be asleep."

(Y/n) started sobbing, hiding her face in the pillow. "Please... don't hurt me..." she begged, her voice raspy and weak.

Alastor watched her as she sobbed, her voice pleading and weak. He leaned closer, his lips slowly touching the back of her neck, the sensation making her body shake. He smiled at her reaction. "Don't worry, dear," he said, his voice soft but firm. "I won't hurt you. That was never my intention."

He sighed at the sight of her ignoring him, his smile faltering, replaced by a frown. "Look at me," he instructed, his voice firmer now. It took her a while, but eventually, she slowly turned. Her eyes were red and puffy, her flushed cheeks stained with tears. Even though she was slightly relieved to be met with an appearance she once loved to wake up to, the reality was still terrifying. His eyes softened as he saw her face. Yet, he kept his calm demeanour, his smile still plastered on his face. "There you are, darling," he said, his voice softer now. He reached out, gently wiping away the last of her tears. "You shouldn't cry. It doesn't suit you."

(Y/n) analyzed him. It was him, after all… But something about it felt wrong. Like a dark aura engulfed him, making her stomach twist. The room was still dark, the only source of light being the little light that came from the living room. Her eyes fell on something shiny in his hands, her mind trying to understand what it was.

As the realization kicked in, she started shifting, trying to get away from him, but the pain stopped her from moving too much.

"Don't kill me please!" she pleaded, still trying to move away as the pain pierced through her.

"Doll," he said, his voice sharp, a firm grip on her arm stopping her attempts, "stop moving. You're only hurting yourself." He moved closer, his other hand gently grabbing her chin to force her to look at him. "And I'm not going to kill you," he said firmly, "I just need to change the bandages."

She calmed down, laying back on the bed, a satisfied grin on his face. Alastor gently unbuttoned her shirt, helping her take it off. A sense of nausea took over her as she watched the bloody bandages covering her entire upper body and one of her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, dear. It looks worse than it is, trust me.” Alastor assured her as he carefully took the bandages off. He took a moment to look at the wounds, inspecting them. They stopped bleeding, which was good, but he still had to take care of them and avoid an infection. A hospital was the last thing he would need now. Fortunately, he was skilled in taking care of wounds, as he would usually end up with a lot of them whenever one of his victims fought back.

With a wet cloth, he tried to clean the wound, a hiss of pain escaping her from time to time.

“Sorry, dear… It must be done…”  She looked at him, trying to find the words, but failing every time. “What is it?” he eventually asked.

“What… What did you tell them happened?” her voice almost a whisper.

Truth was, she still wasn’t sure if anything that happened was real. Maybe she was attacked or perhaps it was a side effect of a pill she took recently… She didn’t know, but she wanted to make him tell the truth.

"I assured them you'll be fine," he began, his voice calm. "That you needed rest."

"No..." she interrupted, her voice a bit louder. "What did you say happened?"

Alastor didn’t answer, as he reached for one of the bottles of medicine on the nightstand and poured a small amount onto a cotton pad. "This might hurt a bit, darling," he warned softly, his voice gentle. "Just try to stay still, alright?"

She wanted to protest, but a sudden pain made her jump, Alastor's hand quickly grabbing her, trying to make her stay still. "I know, I know... I'm sorry," he murmured. "Just hold on for a few moments more, alright? It'll be over soon."

It felt as if her whole chest and stomach were on fire, as the medicine dripped over the wounds. Without realizing it, she gripped his arm, her nails digging into it, trying to cope with the pain. He didn't wince, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he continued gently dabbing the medicine on her wounds, his other hand holding hers tightly, providing some comfort.

"You're doing great, darling," he murmured, his voice soft yet soothing. "Just breathe. It'll be over soon."

Alastor worked methodically, swiftly moving from one part of her body to another, each stroke of the medicine a reminder of the pain she must be feeling. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, her body becoming more and more still as the pain eased.

"All done," he said, his voice gentle and tender. Alastor took the fresh bandages and covered her wounds.

“You didn’t answer my question…” she whispered.

His expression darkened a bit, his voice firm and assertive. "I told them you were in a car accident," he began, his words slow and deliberate. "That you got hurt and needed time to recover."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But the car is fine?” she said, knowing that the last time she drove was a few days ago.

“I took care of it…”

Her brain started making connections. If this wasn’t the case, what really happened? She propped herself up in bed, taking her shirt back on. “Alastor… what happened?” she asked, watching him as he got up, putting the medicine back in the drawer.

“There are things you're not ready to know... For your own protection."

“For my own protection?” she repeated, a bit of anger biting at her. "This happened because you tried to "protect" me?!" she asked, gesturing at her body.

He clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting. He didn't want to yell back, to escalate the situation, but her accusation stung. He could feel his frustration mounting, his patience wearing thin.

She looked at him, her frustration growing with every second, as he gave her nothing. She knew this feeling. This happened to her before, back on that night at the club. She saw things, her reality distorting because of the drugs. But how could he let this happen? Did he do it?

She got up, walking through the pain that engulfed her body. She started packing her things, not wanting to spend another minute in that house.

"What are you doing, doll?" he asked, his voice strained as he took a step towards her.

"I know you did it! You drugged me or… God knows what you did and why. You did this!" she accused him, her mind racing to that night in the club, a night she hoped she would never get to live again.

Alastor couldn't help but chuckle, the irony of the situation was not lost on him. He could almost feel the gears turning in her head as she tried to deny the reality before her. It was both sad and amusing, in a twisted way.

"Doll, doll," he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "You really think it's all in your head? That everything that happened is a mere hallucination?"

She stormed past him, getting out of the bedroom, as Alastor quickly followed her, his long legs easily keeping up with her hasty movements. He reached out, grabbing her arm, trying to stop her.

"Wait a damned moment, darling," he said, his grip firm. "Where do you think you're going?"

She shook her hand away from his. "I am not staying here one more moment." (y/n) threatened and turned around to take her shoes on.

A cold shiver ran down her spine, as the lights in the room started flickering, the terrifying sound of bones crackling echoing in her ears.

“You are not going anywhere, dear.” A demonic voice, filled with static came from Alastor, as his shadow on the wall in front of her began contorting in horrible ways. The sudden change in the room was stark and disorienting, the shadows around them twisting, the air thick with static energy.

She slowly turned around, taken aback by the sight in front of her. That’s when all the memories rushed back to her: the demon who attacked her, Alastor’s fight with it and eventually… this. This monstrosity was supposed to be the man she was engaged to. That’s when it struck her: everything was real.

His eyes were dark, almost abyssal, his grin wider than ever. A hint of satisfaction played across his face as she realized the truth, the horror dawning on her.

"Now you see, doll," he said, his voice deep and chilling. "Now you understand who I truly am."

Her legs went numb, making her fall. As she attempted to crawl away, the shadows ensnared her limbs, their grip firm and unforgiving, holding her in place. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her mouth, the terror silencing her. Alastor chuckled at her desperate attempts to escape, his demonic form towering over her.

"Nowhere to run, dear," he said, his voice dripping with sadistic delight. "You're mine now." (Y/n) forced her eyes shut, praying, a desperate attempt to be helped by some Divine force. Despite her efforts, the static from Alastor's form grew louder, drowning out her thoughts, and her whispers. The shadows continued to hold her tight, unyielding.

He chuckled again, his voice carrying a dark amusement. "Pray all you want, darling. There's no God here to save you now."

She clenched her teeth in pain, as the shadows dragged across her wounds. “Alastor, please… you’re hurting me!” she cried, hoping the Alastor she knew was still there.

Alastor’s eyes glinted with an unsettling amusement as he observed (Y/n)’s desperate pleas. The shadows around her twisted and writhed, their grip tightening with each attempt she made to escape. He savoured the fear in her eyes, relishing in the anguish that permeated the room. The static crackle of his demonic form pulsed rhythmically, an ominous symphony of torment.

Alastor's gaze shifted to the ring on her finger as if noticing it for the first time in the commotion. His expression softened a bit, the realization hitting him. The shadows around her loosened, but still held her, preventing her from trying to run away again, as Alastor knelt to look at her, concern flashing in his eyes as he saw the fresh blood seeping through the fabric of her clothes.

“What did I ever do to you to deserve this…?” she said between sobs, as torturous pain engulfed her body.

His demonic facade faltered for a moment as he watched her sob. A hint of regret flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly masked once again by his usual nonchalance. He reached out his hand towards her, but hesitated, his fingers hovering millimetres away from her skin.

"Darling, you don't understand..." he said, his voice cold but filled with what sounded like a hint of despair.

“Then fucking tell me already!” she shouted, hissing at the pain. “We were fine! We were perfect! Why are you doing this?”

Alastor let go of her, his form becoming somewhat more human. He knew it was a mistake. He knew she was going to be a problem the moment he saw her. He hated her. He hated that he grew fond of her… That he cared.

“They know now…” he whispered, his smile still on his face, but his eyes hid something else – despair, fear.

“Who are they?” she asked, massaging her wrists, trying to ease the pain the dark shadows caused her.

“Valentino knows… And so will the others… I tried to keep you away from this world, but everything is now gone.”

She looked at him, her mind trying to understand what was happening. “When would’ve you told me?” She asked, feeling betrayed because of his lies. “Was everything a lie?”

Alastor’s heart sank as he looked at her, the hurt in her eyes cutting through him like a dagger. He knew he had gone too far, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth, to risk losing her.

“I wanted to kill you… many times…” he admitted.

(Y/n)’s eyes widened at his confession, not really knowing what to do. She had nowhere to run, no one to save her.

“But I couldn’t…” he said, his head in his hands. “You… You were everything I never had or deserved… And I can’t let you leave now…”

The tension was heavy in the air as the confession hung between them. Alastor’s regret and desperation were palpable, and (Y/n) could feel the weight of his words sinking in.

“You can’t keep me here against my will…,” she said, trying not to sound too angry, but failed.

Alastor chuckled, looking up at her. “And what are you going to do?” he asked. “They will hunt you down, torture you, tear you apart limb by limb, my dear… Just to get to me…” he said, coming closer to her. She crawled back, until her back was against the door, keeping her in place.

“I am the only one who can protect you…” His voice became more demonic with every second, static becoming louder, as his eyes turned to radio dials. “How about a deal?”

“What… What deal?” she stuttered.

Alastor leaned forward, his face only inches away from her face. “Stay with me here, and I promise, no harm will ever come to you… You will have everything you could ever want or need…” he said.

His eyes moved to the ring on her finger, which was now glowing a green light. “But in return… I own you…”

In a matter of seconds, Alastor's form returned to normal, his eyes fixing on the ring on her finger. The shadows around them slowly dissipated, giving her more space.

"So... What do you say, darling?" he asked, his smile widening. Out of thin air, a contract appeared in front of her, engulfed by green flames.

“I-“ she started, his eyes widening in anticipation. “I want to read it first.”

He chuckled at her demand. “Ah, always the attentive one, I see. Go ahead, darling.” He said and sat down on her couch, watching her.

As (Y/n) unfolded the parchment, the dim lights flickered, casting long shadows on the words. The contract wasn’t written in elaborate legalese but in a straightforward, almost casual tone that felt eerily fitting given the nature of its author. The ink seemed to shimmer slightly as if it were alive and aware of the gravity of the promises it contained.

Her eyes traced the neat, looping script, absorbing each clause with growing clarity. Alastor’s promises, as mentioned, were simple but potent:

The Radio Demon shall ensure the protection of (Full Name) from any situation or demon that may pose a fatal threat to her life.

The Radio Demon shall not be held responsible for minor injuries sustained by (Full Name) provided that such injuries do not endanger her life.

The Radio Demon shall not be liable for any illness affecting (Full name) that may jeopardize her life, nor for her death, unless directly attributable to his actions.

The Radio Demon is expressly prohibited from causing physical harm to the other party for the duration of this contract.

The Radio Demon shall ensure the safety of [Full Name]'s family with the same level of care and protection as is afforded to [Full Name].

The additional assurance that her family would be shielded from these monsters was reassuring. The commitments she was required to make were also equally clear.

[Full Name] shall obey every command issued by The Radio Demon without question or protest.

[Full Name] shall not disclose any information about The Radio Demon to any third party, except when expressly instructed to do so by The Radio Demon.

Both parties are expected to act with mutual loyalty throughout the duration of this agreement, maintaining their dynamic as it was prior to Valentino’s attack.

The demand for her complete devotion, both during her lifetime and beyond, was stark but unmistakable. It was a bond that extended into the afterlife, a tether that promised entanglement in every conceivable way.

“Wait… You expect me to act as we are… As if nothing happened?” she said, her tone hiding a hint of anger.

"Of course, darling," he said, his tone casually. "You will act as if nothing happened. "You will play your role perfectly.” His eye started glowing a bright red. "And besides, dear," he said, his voice dropping to a mere whisper. "Pretending nothing happened is your speciality. Isn't it?"

She frowned at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Alastor chuckled again, a sly smile creeping across his lips. "Oh, dear. Don't play coy with me," he said. "We both know that you enjoy playing the role of the blissfully ignorant one." He leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees. "But I see through the act. I know what you suppress. The thoughts you push away in that pretty little head of yours."

Alastor leaned to the small table in front of him. He took a picture of them, the only one he ever accepted to be taken of him. "You're smart, dear... You think I don't know you figured something was wrong? With me? With my story? But did you run away? Did you tell anyone... no..."

(Y/n) looked at him, a look of shame on her face. He was right. She's always been thinking about this... About the whole story, about how weird it felt sometimes... But she knew she loved him and left everything be just a thought...

Alastor's smile turned into a satisfied smirk as he saw the shame on her face. "Ah, I see I've struck a nerve," he said, his tone mocking. "You've had your suspicions, haven't you? You knew something wasn't right. But you didn't want to face it. Because in the end... We're not so different, aren't we?"

"The same? We are not the same, Alastor!" (Y/n) protested.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at her outburst, his smile turning sinister. "Oh, but we are, doll," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We are more alike than you care to admit. You may not want to acknowledge it, but I know your thoughts. I know your desires. We just wanted to feel normal, right? And I must admit... I kind of enjoyed it. And now… I give us both the chance to continue doing so. Keep reading, darling!” he demanded, his voice almost like a growl.

(Y/n) continued reading. The consequences of breaking the agreement were serious: If Alastor failed to uphold his end, the contract would be nullified until she decided whether to renew it and he would not be able to hurt her in any way after the end of the contract. If she breaks it, the demon had the right to inflict harm during the suspension of their agreement, a suspension that would last as long as he would want to.

"So... What is your decision, darling? Will you accept my deal?"

(Y/n)’s desperation grew with every moment, as she read it again and again, almost memorizing every word. Alastor's patience was wearing thin as the minutes ticked by without a response. His smirk turned from amused to annoyed, his claws almost ripping the material on the couch.

"Are you so deep in thought that you can't even give me an answer, dear? It's a simple question." He said, his voice growing more impatient with every word. “Yes or no?”

(Y/n) looked at him and got up, stumbling a bit, her legs still soft. “I want to modify something.” She said, her voice a bit more reassured.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, a hint of intrigue flickering in his eyes. "Oh, really now? And what is it that you want to modify, my dear?" he asked, his patience somewhat restored.

“You cannot force me to kill or harm others,” she insisted, her voice firm despite the fear. “Any such action must be my choice alone.”

Alastor let out a bemused chuckle. "Ah, a moral stance, how noble of you. You're truly one of a kind, darling," he said, his tone filled with sarcasm. "Of course, I will not force you to kill or harm someone else against your will.”

“And…” she continued. “You cannot forbid me to do something that I want to do if it doesn’t put me in danger.”

Alastor's smile widened even more as he nodded. "Oh, you're quite the negotiator, aren't you? Very well, I'll keep that in mind. Anything else, my dear?" He asked, his tone almost mocking.

She thought for a moment. "The clauses of the contract can be changed... if we both agree."

Alastor's eyebrow raised in surprise. "Oh? Changing the clauses, you say? You're a smart one, aren't you?" He chuckled. "Very well, we can amend the terms of the contract on mutual agreement. Though, I must admit, darling, you're pushing your luck a bit here."

Alastor extended his arm, green flames engulfing it. "So... Is this a deal?"

She looked at his arm, weighing her options as the green flames flickered in the dim light. She knew that she was at this monster's mercy, and accepting his deal meant submitting to his will. But the alternatives were far worse. After a few seconds, she took a deep breath and reached out her hand, firmly grasping his.

"It's a deal."

Tags: @sirens-and-moonflowers, @ratsematary, @xalygatorx, @princessvampxx, @lafy-taffy,

@mo-0-o

@cinnamon-galaxies

@littlebluefishtail

Go to next chapter.

[boyruggeroii]

Gazawi families that have reached out to me

@osama-family Osama Al-Anqar, his wife Rana Raed Al-Anqar and their infant daughter. It's unclear if they're moving with Osama's brother, Ahmed, who lost a leg, and the widowed wife and children of his other brother, Mahmoud, who has been martyred. They're extremely low on funds, 210/50.000£ . They're taking English pounds. gofundme. As far as I can see, it hasn't been vetted, but I don't have access to a pc rn so I could only do so much

@mohammedmoner. Muhammad, his wife Walaa and their four children: Fina (12), Salma (11), Omar (6), and Batoul (1). They need supplies and hope to be able to leave Gaza. €50/20.000 . gofundme. As far as I can see, it hasn't been vetted

@abedallhferwanagaza, operates also from @olaferwana. Ola Ferwana and her three children: Yaman (7), Qusai (5) and Mira (10 months). Her husband went to Egypt a few days before the war started and has been unable to reach them since. They need supplies until the Rafah crossing reopens. They have a tiktok. €1.549/35.000 . gofundme. Vetted

@abu-samir Shadi Sameer Ashour and his child, who needs surgery. €53/50.000. gofundme. Vetted

@eyad-alanqar255 Lyad is moving with the rest of his family and four children, his nephews Nasser, Jana, Mohammed and Hind. He's suffering from respiratory issues caused by phosphorus and needs medical intervention. €60/40.000. gofundme. Vetted

@mahmoudkhalafff. Mahmoud is currently studying in Ireland and is trying to help his family trapped in Gaza. His hope is that they may reach Egypt and temporarily settle there. The family is composed of eight members, some (I think four) of which are children. €23.815/30.000. gofundme. Vetted

@fatma--gaza Fatima Alnqar, Bilal Fader and their five children: Yazan (12), Fadl (11), Zina (10), Rajaa (7), Basma (1 ½). They need supplies.€5.272/20.000. gofundme. Vetted

@dinafamily1. Mohammed Abu Zour, his wife and their three kids. One of the kids has contracted hepatitis and his wife is pregnant and in need of a cesarean section. They're trying to leave Gaza. €1.056/30.000. gofundme. Vetted.

@hayanahed. Haya, her parents, her two brothers and her three sisters. Both Haya and her sister Amal suffer from allergies to penicillin derived medications. They're trying to leave Gaza. €80.644/100.000. gofundme. Vetted

@farohablogsworld, also @farah-mohanad. Mohanad and Farah, they're trying to rebuild their house and raise enough money to buy necessities. €1.313/32.000. gofundme. Links to their facebook and instagram. Vetted

@karamalmadhoun0, also uses @karamfamily0. Said, Basma and their children Eman, Karam and Mahmoud. They're trying to leave Gaza to rebuild a life and so that Karam can complete his education. €16,524/20.000. gofundme. Vetted

@familyetaf1234567. Etaf, her husband Youssef and her five children: Moataz, Moatasem, Maria (7), Adam (4) and Amira (3). They've escaped Gaza and are currently in Egypt but need money to pay rent, buy supplies and allow the children to continue their education. €2.008/50.000. gofundme. Vetted

@fattmawurd. Rawan Ayyad is trying to help her family escape Gaza. Donations are slowing down. 8,727/50.000 $ CAD. gofundme, use this link because not all the links on their blog work. As far as I can see it hasn't been vetted.

@drfarhatblog. Husam Farhat, his wife and their children: Sham, Muhannad and Muhammad. They're trying to leave Gaza to build a life in Malaysia. 9,319/29.500$ USD. gofundme. Vetted.

@haninahed. Hani Nahed, his wife Shirin and their children: Rital (12), Rawaa (10) and Nahed (6). I can't figure out if they're currently in Egypt or in Gaza, but they need money to buy supplies. €5/30.000. gofundme. Hasn't been vetted

@hebamatar124, also uses @hebamohammedsy and @heba-mater. Heba and her three children are trying to leve Gaza. One of the kids, Amir, has a serious skin disease that is worsening. 1,050/30.000$ CAD. gofundme. Hasn't been vetted, but the family is known by people with other, vetted, fundraisers.

I'll update the post with new gofundmes if I receive more asks, so check out the original post now and then

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter Five / Monday - George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Very mild spice. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

MONDAY MORNING

At long last, the storm had passed and as you’d slept, the crew had managed to get the electronics working well enough to move the yacht and anchor in a calm bay. 

Emerging from your quarters for breakfast, the sun shone brightly, casting sparkling reflections on the sea surrounding you, a stark contrast from yesterday’s stormy grey skies and relentless rain. 

Monday morning was a quiet affair, with the group nursing hangovers coupled with lack of sleep from being kept awake all night. Undoubtedly the surprising revelation that George had walked in on Toto having sex in the garage also hung heavy, Toto and George uncharacteristically subdued. For once, you were not the quietest at the table.

"That storm last night was wild, wasn't it? I thought we might get blown off course." you said, trying to fill the awkward silence.

"Indeed, nature always reminds us who's in charge out here." Toto replied.

Glancing between you and Toto, a hint of tension in his voice, George added, "Yeah, quite a night. Thanks for keeping an eye on her, Toto."

You could feel yourself turning rouge at the memory of Toto pulling you into the small cupboard yesterday evening, the intimate moment electric with sexual tension. For the last few days your crush on Toto had spiralled but you never dreamt that it might be returned. 

Toto merely raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips "Just ensuring everyone stays safe. Wouldn't want any of my guests lost at sea."

George laughed, his smile not quite meeting his eye as the conversation turned to your companion’s hangovers.

"Ugh, my head is pounding,” Cara moaned, sipping gingerly on her coffee, “That game was killer George.”

“I know!” exclaimed Marion, nursing a herbal tea, “"I think I might have to be teetotal for the rest of this trip.”

Chuckling, John chimed in, “"Ah, you ladies know how to live! Last night was a blast though. Nothing like a thunderstorm and some racy revelations to liven things up. You lot are a surprisingly wild bunch.”

John smirked, his eyes darting to Toto who was sat quietly, "Speaking of which, boss, any plans for tonight? Perhaps a quieter affair?"

Toto pepped up, “We'll see how the day unfolds. The crew need to dock in Porto Cervo to assess damage and restock supplies so perhaps we can explore after lunch."

– – – 

As the yacht glided into the marina, the picturesque town of Porto Cervo unfolded before you. There were already a few large boats moored and the crew expertly steered into a vacant spot. The view was glorious, the buildings painted in pastel hues and the streets bustling with life. You couldn’t wait to go for a wander in the afternoon and clear your thoughts.

As the anchor went down, Toto turned to the group. "Just to let you know, I’ve invited some friends to join us for lunch. They’re eager to meet you all."

George raised an eyebrow. "More guests?"

"Just a few old friends. They’re in town and it would be rude not to invite them." Toto replied.

– – – 

The guests arrived shortly after the yacht docked. A group of older Italian men, clearly good friends of Toto, greeting him with hearty embraces and speaking animatedly in Italian.

"Everyone, meet my friends, Stefano, Flavio, and Marco," Toto introduced them, turning to you and George. "And this is George and his girlfriend."

The men turned their attention to you, their eyes lighting up with interest.

"Bellissima! A pleasure to meet you," Stefano said, taking your hand and kissing it lightly.

"Toto didn’t mention he had such beautiful company," Marco added, his smile wide.

"We are lucky men today," Flavio said, his gaze lingering on you a bit too long.

George’s jaw tightened, and Toto seemed to notice, a slight frown crossing his face.

– – – 

As lunch progressed, the Italian men’s flirting became more overt. They regaled you with stories of their exploits, each trying to outdo the other, while George and Toto watched with seemingly growing irritation.

"You must visit my vineyard in Tuscany," Marco suggested, leaning in closer. "I’ll give you a private tour."

"Or perhaps a ride in my classic car collection," Flavio offered, his eyes twinkling.

You laughed politely, feeling the tension between George and Toto. George’s face was a mix of jealousy and frustration, while Toto’s usual calm demeanor was replaced by a more protective stance.

"You all are too kind," you said, trying to tactfully deflect their advances. "It sounds wonderful."

"You should definitely go," Cara chimed in, winking at you. "A vineyard tour sounds amazing."

"Maybe we could all go," Marion suggested, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Make it a group outing."

John and James exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

"I think George might have something to say about that," John said, nudging George playfully.

– – – 

Leaving Toto to talk business with his associates, the rest of you decided it was time to explore shore. Stepping foot onto dry land for the first time in what felt like forever, you and George, along with John, Marion, James and Cara, decided to explore the small streets along the edge of the marina. 

"Those men were quite something, weren’t they?" Marion said, linking arms with you.

"Yes, very charming," you replied, glancing at George, who seemed lost in thought.

"You seemed a bit on edge, George," John observed. "I’ve never seen you like that."

"Well, those guys were practically drooling over her," James said, laughing. "I’d be on edge too."

George stayed quiet but you sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "It’s nothing, I just want to enjoy the day," you said, trying to lighten the mood.

It became quickly apparent that George, John and James were not interested in browsing the small boutiques so the group decided to split up, the men going off to explore the coastal path while you stayed shopping with Cara and Marion. The irony was not lost on you that a few days ago you felt awkward in the older women’s company but were now relieved to have escaped George.

Picking up a silk scarf and thumbing it delicately, Cara broached the subject, “So my darling, you and George. You don’t seem as loved up as you I thought you would be, a young couple and all. Is everything okay?”

Shocked that Cara was voicing this since you didn’t know her terribly well, you stuttered slightly, “Yes… well…no.”

Her eyes kind, she came over a little nearer, “You know, dear, George is a good man. His job just takes so much of his focus. I’ve experienced the same with James. They get over excited and it feels as if nothing else matters.”

Floored that the older woman shared your experience and had so neatly verbalised it, you turned to her, eyes wide, “You feel like this too?”

“Not so much any more, but we’ve had our ups and downs.” Cara said kindly before gesturing at Marion who was trying on earrings across from you, “Marion will agree, won’t you?”

“Oh yes,” Marion nodded, “I almost left John one season. Our children were young and I was left at home whilst he was gallivanting around the world, forgetting our existence entirely. It was shit to put it frankly”

Surprised that the women were opening up to you in this way, you tried to choose your words carefully, “It’s just... he’s so distant lately. It’s like he forgets I’m my own person.”

Shooting you a sympathetic look, Cara advised you, “"It’s understandable to feel that way. But sometimes, we need to remind those we love of what they could lose. Men like George can be wonderful partners, but they often need a little nudge to realise what’s right in front of them."

Countering, Marion nudged you on the arm, “And if George isn’t giving you what you need, you owe it to yourself to have that conversation. It’s not about hurting him, it’s about being honest. You never know, he might step up and surprise you."

You smiled at the two women before you, grateful for their advice, “"I know. It’s just hard. I don’t want to hurt him, but I also don’t want to lose myself."

“Have a chat with him.” said Cara, her blue eyes firm. “That’s the only way you’ll know.”

“I will.” you said, resolving to take their advice and have a sit down with George to tell him how you had been feeling. “Thank you, this is helpful. I’ve felt so alone.”

Sympathic, the two women fussed about you, Marion putting her arm around you, “Oh my darling, you’re never alone. Please talk to us any time. About anything.”

Although you thanked her, you knew you couldn’t yet broach the subject of Toto. That was a whole other issue and now was not the time to get into it.

MONDAY AFTERNOON

As the afternoon wore on, the group reconvened on the sun deck of the yacht, Toto’s business associates readying themselves to leave. 

"So, what did you think of Porto Cervo?" Marco asked, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you.

"It’s beautiful," you replied, trying to keep the conversation light.

"You must come back soon," Flavio said, his smile widening.

"And maybe next time, without the storm," Stefano added, laughing.

“And without George.” joked Flavio, eyeing your boyfriend.

"I’m not sure about that," George said, his tone flat.

– – – 

Having bid the men goodbye, Toto then broached the topic of the evening’s plans to the group, suggesting an evening out in Porto Cervo.

"How about we hit Billionaire tonight?" he proposed, looking around eagerly to gauge everyone’s enthusiasm.

"Ooh yes, I’ve heard it’s amazing!" Marion exclaimed, clapping her hands. "We have to go!"

“I thought you were now teetotal?” her husband chimed in, “That lasted all of what… eight hours?”

Marion playfully slapped John, “I don’t need to drink to have a good time.”

“What do you all think?” Toto asked, noticing that you, George, Cara and James had not said anything.

“If Marion’s going, I’ll go.” said Cara, “But I’m definitely not drinking.”

“Spoilsport,” said James, “I’m up for it Toto.”

Turning to you and George, Toto raised his eyebrows, daring you to talk.

"Sure, I could use a night out," George agreed, though he glanced at you with a hint of concern.

"Sounds like fun," you said, trying to shake off the tension from earlier.

“Great,” said Toto, “Be ready by ten.”

MONDAY EVENING

Turning around in front of the mirrored door in your cabin, you surveyed your outfit.

“Wowser.” said George, sidling up to you and planting a kiss on your neck, wrapping his hands around your waist, “I mean wow.”

In all fairness, your floor length slip dress was a little risqué, semi sheer and adorned head to toe with light blue sequins, you shimmered like a mermaid in the golden bedroom light, “Is it too much?”

“Not at all.” said George, stepping back and admiring you once more, “As long as Flavio isn’t there.”

You laughed, “Stay by my side at all times.”

“Where else would I be?” he replied, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said, caressing his arm gently, surveying his neat navy trouser and linen shirt combination. Resort chic.

“Oh yeah?” he said, intensifying the kiss, breaking apart to tweak your strap and add, “Can’t wait to take this off later.”

You laughed, toying with the buttons on his shirt and replying, “Me neither.”

Perhaps your fears were unwarranted. When things were good with George, they were really good, and he did look handsome in tonight’s get-up, hair flopped to perfection.

Or so you thought. Until you emerged from your cabin to meet with the rest of the group and spotted Toto.

He was wearing cream chinos and a navy linen shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a tantalising amount of upper chest, sleeves rolled back on vein popping forearms. As you made your way over, you locked eyes with him, his eyes full of desire as he took in your outfit for the night. You gulped. He had definitely just checked you out.

– – – 

The crew having shepherded you all down to the marina, three sleek black sedans were waiting for you. 

“You two come with me,” said Toto, gesturing at the third car in the line. “I hope you don’t mind a third wheel.”

“Not at all. Not at all.” said George, always eager to please his boss.

Having reached the car first, Toto opened the door for you with a charming smile, "Ladies first."

You thanked him as you slid in, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach.

George made his way around to the other side of the car, looking slightly affronted but remaining polite as he slid in beside you, grabbing your hand in his, "Toto, you really know how to pick the best places."

Toto replied, "Porto Cervo has its charms." before bending down and asking with a dashing grin, “Would you mind moving across to the middle?”

You obliged as Toto settled in the seat beside you, his commanding stature filling the tight space.

As the car set off along the marina, you tried not to think about the fact that Toto’s knee was pressed up against yours, jostling as the car glided over the cobbles.

Attempting to break the tension, you looked out of the window at the passing buildings, “This town looks so beautiful at night, it’s like something from a movie.”

Toto grinned, his eyes crinkling, "Indeed. And with the right company, it becomes even more enchanting."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see George’s jaw tightening, his grip on your hand becoming slightly firmer.

In a slightly strained voice, he spoke up, "It’s definitely got a unique vibe. So, Toto, what’s the plan for the night? Any special surprises?"

Toto grinned, "Just a night of good music, great company and perhaps a few surprises. But let's see where the night takes us."

“Mysterious,” said George, his mind whirring into gear.

For the first time you felt the tension between George and Toto. The dynamic of their relationship was a strange one. It had been known to shift between father and son, friends and equals and irate boss and employee, George always eager to impress Toto. This, however, was all new territory.

Trying to calm him, you shot George a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand, "I’m sure it’ll be a fun night.”

Softening at your touch and returning your smile, George eased up, "Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just enjoy ourselves."

– – – 

As the car pulled up to the entrance of Billionaire, the vibrant energy of the exclusive club spilt out onto the street. Lights flashed and the sound of music and laughter filled the air. 

The valet opened the car door for Toto and you quickly followed suit, stepping out, feeling the excitement of the night ahead.

Extending a hand to help you out, Toto glanced at you expectantly, "Shall we?"

Accepting his large hand in yours, you felt the electricity between you once again. Careful to not hold on for too long, once righted you let go and turned to George with a smile "Let’s go."

George shot another strange look at Toto as he slipped his arm around your waist possessively, making your way into the club.

– – – 

Having found John, James, Cara and Marion once inside, you were now all settled into a plush booth, beginning to relax and enjoy the evening. Drinks flowed freely and the conversation turned lively. 

"This place is incredible!" Marion shouted over the band playing, raising her glass. "Here’s to an unforgettable night!"

"Cheers to that!" John echoed, clinking glasses with everyone.

You noticed Toto sitting close to you, his arm resting casually on the back of the booth. George was on your other side, his arm protectively around your waist. The proximity of both men not helping your situation.

– – – 

As the night progressed, the music drew you to the dance floor. Catered to an older European crowd, some interesting tunes were being played but you made the most of it and let loose.

You, Cara, and Marion danced together, laughing and letting the music take over. If someone had told you a few days ago that you’d enjoy tearing the dance floor up to Abba’s Dancing Queen with the two older women you would have called them crazy. But stranger things had happened. 

It wasn’t long before George gave in and joined you for a few songs, his enthusiasm making up for his lack of rhythm, "You’re amazing," George said, pulling you close as you swayed along to Chic, your hips bumping awkwardly as you tried to steer George towards the beat. You smiled, trying to focus on the moment.

"Mind if I cut in?" Toto asked, his voice smooth.

George hesitated but nodded, stepping aside. Toto took your hand, spinning you around effortlessly, keeping perfect rhythm. Dancing with Toto felt different - intense, almost electric.

"You've got some moves, Toto," you said, looking up at him.

"So have you," he replied, his gaze locking with yours. The world seemed to fade away as you moved together, your surroundings a blur as you admired the man in front of you. 

Slightly disappointed when the song ended, you broke apart from Toto who turned to Marion with an invitation for the next dance. Making your way back to the booth, the Italian men from lunch had arrived, joining the group. It emerged that Flavio owned the club and seemed to know everyone there.

"There you are, bella," Marco said, taking your hand. "Shall we dance?"

Before you could respond, Toto reappeared. "She’s with us tonight," he said firmly, his protective side showing.

"Relax, Toto," Flavio laughed. "We’re just having fun."

George, noticing the tension, joined the group. "How about another round of drinks?" he suggested, trying to defuse the situation.

– – – 

Feeling overwhelmed, you made your excuses and stepped outside onto the terrace for some fresh air. The cool breeze was a welcome relief from the heat inside and the turmoil that you were feeling. You leaned against the railing, looking out at the twinkling lights of Porto Cervo.

"Mind if I join you?" Toto’s deep voice came from behind you.

You nodded, feeling the tension between you. "It’s beautiful out here," you said softly.

"Not as beautiful as you," he replied, stepping closer.

You turned to face him, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. "Toto, I..."

Before you could finish, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that left you breathless. It was everything you had imagined and more.

After a few moments, you pulled away, your mind racing. "I can’t do this, Toto."

Toto looked at you, his eyes full of longing, "Why not?"

Taking a step back, your voice trembling slightly you replied, "Because... because it’s not right. I’m with George. I’m flattered but…"

Just as you were starting to articulate your feelings, you were rudely interrupted by John’s loud laughter. Jumping apart, the two of you tried your best to act natural as he joined you out on the terrace.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Stealing a quiet moment, are we?" he said, swaggering over.

Trying to maintain composure and forcing a smile you replied, "Just needed some fresh air. It’s boiling in there."

Laughing, John exclaimed, "I bet! Those Italians really know how to throw a party, don’t they?"

His demeanour shifting totally, Toto smiled at John, "Indeed. They certainly do."

Slapping Toto on the back, John was drunk and clearly wanting to have a chat, "You know, I was just telling George that he’s a lucky man. Not every day you meet someone who shines as brightly as this young lady, isn’t that right, Toto?"

Toto smiled firmly, his eyes flicking to you with an unreadable expression, "Absolutely. George is a very lucky man."

Blushing and feeling the weight of both their gazes you replied, "Thanks guys, you sure know how to make a girl blush."

Leaning on the railing beside you, looking out at the view, John continued, "So, are you two coming back inside? The party’s just getting started."

Taking a deep breath, needing a moment to gather your thoughts, you countered, "I think I’ll stay out here for a little while longer. I need a bit more fresh air."

John seemed okay with this, "Alright but don’t stay out here too long. You’ll miss all the fun!"

Giving you a final, lingering look before turning to follow John back inside, Toto added, "Take your time. We’ll see you in a bit."

As John and Toto disappeared back inside, you leaned back against the railing, trying to sort through the whirlwind of emotions. The kiss, Toto’s words, John’s interruption - it was all too much. You needed to make some decisions and soon. But for now, you allowed yourself a few more moments of solitude, letting the cool night air calm your racing heart.

– – – 

You stayed outside for ten minutes before returning to the club, trying to act normal despite the kiss still lingering on your lips. 

"There you are!" Marion called out. "We were wondering where you went."

"Just needed some air," you said, forcing a smile, feeling like the worst liar in the world.

“Heyyyyy…” said George, dancing over to you, two drinks in his hands and a cigar in his mouth, “There’s my girl. I missed you.”

He was drunk out of his mind. Possibly not the worst thing as he would be less likely to notice your nerves. “Hi love.” you said, steadying him as he wobbled beside you, setting the drinks down precariously on the edge of the table.

“Do you want to dance again? He asked sweetly, taking your hand in his.

“Sure.” you said, hoping you could distract yourself from what the hell just happened out on the terrace. Toto had called you beautiful and kissed you. Knowing full well that you were in a relationship with George. What was he playing at?

You didn’t see Toto for a while as he had disappeared into the crowd, likely chatting business somewhere. Instead you hung onto George, who was all too eager to try and impress you on the dancefloor and whisper his plans for what he had in store on return to your cabin.

– – – 

As the night progressed, the music at Billionaire ramped up and the drinks flowed more and more freely. Marion and John, in particular, were far gone, their laughter becoming louder and their movements more erratic. All you could do was watch on in amusement as they twirled aimlessly.

Slurring her words and waving her glass around Marion exclaimed, "This music is amaaazing! Whoo!"

Attempting to dance with his wife but stumbling a bit, John added, "You’re the best, Marion! Let’s show them how it’s done!"

Sitting at the booth with the rest of your group, you smiled as you leaned into James and said, "I think we need to rescue them before they fall over."

Nodding, trying to suppress his laughter, he agreed, "Yeah, probably a good idea. They’re a bit out of control."

Not faring much better was George, trying to keep up with the conversation at the table but slightly slurring his words.

Gesturing wildly he told the group excitedly,  "And then, Toto here, he’s like the king of the yachts! No one can beat him!"

Smiling, slightly amused, Toto ruffled George’s hair affectionately, "Easy there, George. Maybe you’ve had enough."

You watched the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and concern. Despite the drunken antics around you, your thoughts kept drifting back to the kiss. Toto was acting like nothing had happened.

Just as you were contemplating slipping away for another breather, Marion stumbled over to the booth, nearly knocking over a table.

Giggling uncontrollably, she leaned down to hug you tightly, "You guys, you’re the best! I love you all!"

Trying to join in and almost falling into the booth, John added, "Yeah, what she said! Best night ever!"

Amidst the laughter and chaos, Toto caught your eye, a knowing look passing between you. Despite the fun atmosphere, the unresolved tension hung heavy in the air.

– – – 

As the night came to an end, the group stumbled their way out of the cars and back up onto the yacht, the crew helping your tipsier companions safely up the passarelle and into their cabins. You felt a mix of emotions - confusion, excitement, guilt. George held your hand, but your mind was on Toto.

As he had headed to his cabin, he had given you a lingering look before disappearing down the hall, "Goodnight, everyone."

“Goodnight boss!” shouted George, still struggling to stand up straight.

“Goodnight.” you added, much more quietly.

Entering your cabin, George turned to you, sensing your distraction. "You okay?"

Closing the door behind you, you took a deep breath, knowing it was time to confront the truth. Your heart raced as you met George's gaze. "George, I need to tell you something..."

He looked at you with concern, his grip on your hand tightening. "What is it?"

Your voice trembled as you forced the words out. "Tonight, out on the terrace... I kissed Toto."

The confession hung heavy in the air, the silence stretching between you. George's expression flickered with shock and hurt, his thoughts racing as he processed your words.

Before either of you could speak further, a knock on the cabin door shattered the moment. Toto’s voice followed, cutting through the tension. "We need to talk."

And with those four words, the night that had begun with the promise of lighthearted fun took a sharp turn.

Part Six

Taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party @noooway555 @annewithaneofthegreengable  @xoscar03 @totowolfffcheco @justzluv @kravitzwhore @bborra @a-beaverhausen

[octuscle]

I'm tired of being fat and dateless can you make me a hairy muscle freak who likes having his snake drained if you get what I mean

I'm tired of being fat and dateless, can you make me a hairy muscle freak who likes his snake emptied, if you know what I mean

Well, you're not exactly the catch of the day… Well beyond 300 pounds. It's amazing that you made it to the age of 55 with your blood values. You look much older with your bad skin. Yes, you won't get a date like that… But I'll see what we can do for you.

It's not easy for you to get out of bed in the morning. Neither is taking a shower. You struggle into your jogging suit and sit down at your computer with a box of donuts. Before the pandemic, you were sometimes still in the office. Since then, you've only been able to work from home. You rarely leave the house anymore. What's the point? You take a break after two hours. Dealing with suspected money laundering cases is an annoying job. You drink a large glass of water with a shot of grapefruit juice. And do a few squats and a few press-ups. You've been trying hard to lose weight for two years. You've already lost many kilograms. But the flaps of skin that now hang from your tits and hips are an expensive price to pay. But you feel better for it. But now back to the computer. You get paid by the case.

You have a lunch break with friends. At a vegetarian restaurant a quarter of an hour away. It's raining and at first you wanted to go by car. But you're not a wimp and any exercise is good. So you take the bike. Yes, you look anything but sexy in those rain overalls. But you enjoy the looks when you take it off. You've been training hard and eating healthily for five years. You look quite respectable for a man of 50, even if the sins of the first 45 years of your life still show. But now you don't need to hide among colleagues who are sometimes 15 or even 20 years younger. The food is delicious and it's fun to chat with your colleagues, who you meet far too rarely in the office. It's not easy to lead a team that only works from home. Okay, you're not a good example today, but you try to be in the office as often as possible. If only because you enjoy the bike ride. And because it's close to the swimming pool.

The lunch break took a long time. The afternoon was short. Nevertheless, you finish work at 18:00. You have HIIT at 19:00. At 44, you are one of the oldest participants. But you easily outperform some much younger ones. Your job has been your life for eleven years. But sport is your passion. Giving your all during the day and even more in the evening is your motto. When the course ends at 8 p.m., most of the participants are panting and crawling into the shower more than they are walking. You hit the weights again.

At 11pm, Mike, the gym manager, switches on the emergency lights and turns off the music. Your signal that it's time to end the workout. You are once again the last one on the training area. You pull your T-shirt over your head, drop your pants and post up in front of the mirror. Not too bad for a man in his early 40s. Mike approaches you from behind, hugs you and grabs your nipples. Damn, this guy knows exactly where your on switch is. You're actually a disciplined nerd. But for once you give up an hour of your precious sleep for a good fuck. And if you spend the night at Mike's, you also save yourself the trip to the morning gym before work. So you fuck another round straight away.

Amazing pic found @rickmuscleguy

[jinx-xxed]

Sick Days

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Sick fics are my absolute fav thing ever!! Also idc if they didn’t have showers just let me live in this lie, maybe they’d figure it out with magic or smth idk

Summary; Ban takes care of his overworking, sick partner.

Content; Reader is sick, pretty domestic and fluffy, Ban is very sweet, Ban plays doctor basically

Wc; 1.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

It’s late morning when you trudge down the stairs in the Boar Hat tavern, one hand holding the railing to keep yourself balanced. The day outside is gloomy, the normally bright blue sky now covered by dark gray clouds threatening rain. It matches how you’re feeling perfectly.

You’d woken up feeling like shit and as much as you’d wanted to turn over, pull the blanket over your head and ignore the day, you couldn’t. You have a mission to do with the rest of the Sins and you aren’t able to just miss it, even though your head is pounding. Your whole body feels strangely cold despite the fact you’re both a fire wizard and incredibly resistant to frigid temperatures, and all of your senses feel muffled. To top it all off, your nose is stuffy.

You find your place at one of the tables within the main room of the tavern, groaning slightly at the way your body aches any time you move. You don’t know why you were feeling like this and it’s pissing you off. You have a mission to go on, damn it, you weren’t going to let some sudden illness make you stay behind.

You barely register when food is set in front of you but you were still able to mumble a ‘thank you’ to whoever had brought it. You pick at the food and take only one or two bites, the meal putting a little warmth back into your body.

Your name is suddenly shouted loud enough to pierce through the cotton in your brain.

Your head snaps up—making the pounding in your head worse for a brief second—as your captain exclaims your name. It seems you’d been so lost in your muddled mind that you didn’t comprehend him trying to get your attention by saying your name five times. “Yes?”

“Are you feeling alright?” Meliodas asks, concern creasing the features on his face.

“I’m fine.” You say simply. Before you can react, the blond is pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. He shakes his hand when he retracts it like he got burned, a wince on his face.

“Jeez, you’re burning up.” He puts his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Well, I’m taking you out of this mission then. You’ll need to stay here.”

You stand, holding back your groan at the way your head throbs and limbs ache. “What?! I’m fine, I can go on the mission. I can’t just- I can’t stay here doing nothing.” You insist.

He looks at you with a raised brow. “I’m not letting you go on a mission like this one when you’re obviously sick, that would just be irresponsible. It’s best that you stay in the tavern and rest, alright?”

Everyone currently in the Boar Hat knows that wouldn’t happen though. Even if you’re sick, you would continue to work on whatever you could. No matter how you felt, you’d keep working. You see illness as an obstacle that you simply had to walk around and ignore, despite how bad it may be. However, if you did keep working, you would only get sicker.

Meliodas was clearly a little conflicted. He wanted his teammate to rest but he wasn’t sure if anyone else could stay behind-

“I’ll stay with her.”

Ban comes to stand beside you, putting an arm around your waist to keep you stable because you’re swaying on your feet. You don’t hesitate to lean against him.

Meliodas begins to protest, “Ban we’ll need you on this mission-“

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine without me. Besides, you want them to get better don’t you?” Ban asks with a dumb smirk on his face, knowing he’s won when the captain narrows his eyes slightly.

Meliodas sighs. “Fine, you two stay here then. Everyone else, let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.”

King and Gowther follow Meliodas out where Diane is waiting. Elizabeth goes to follow as well but she briefly pauses before you and Ban. “Sir Ban, please make sure they get better! All the medical supplies are in the bathroom upstairs.” She tells him.

“I got it, princess, don’t worry.” Ban reassures her. She nods and hurries to catch up to the rest of the group.

He then looks to you who’s leaning heavily against him now, looking half asleep where you were standing. You jolt back to full consciousness when you hear the door shut behind Elizabeth. “Alright you, why don’t you go upstairs and take a hot shower? I’ll get some soup ready.” He tells you gently.

“Mmkay.” You mumble before slowly heading upstairs.

You did as he said and got into the shower, the water scalding hot. It feels nice against your freezing body, the steam rising in the room also helping to clear your stuffy nose. You stay in there for a long while.

» ☆ «

Ban understood the fact that you were probably taking a pretty long shower, as you usually would if you’re sick, but eventually it became so long that it was almost concerning. Surely the hot water would’ve run out by now?

The soup was done so he decided to go and investigate. He heads upstairs and doesn’t hear the shower running and upon further investigation, he finds the bathroom empty. He calls your name, voice echoing down the empty hallway. He doesn’t get any kind of response. Maybe you’d fallen asleep?

He goes to the ladder attached to the attic where your room is. The trapdoor leading into the attic is open so he peeks inside, looking for his sickly comrade. He finds you in the right corner of the room closest to the door where a desk is tucked against the wall. As he pulls himself up fully into the room, he sees the papers scattered on your desk that you were attempting to read over and work on.

“Seriously?” He demands, his annoyance evident in his tone.

You jump at his voice, looking over to him. “What? These papers have to get done-“

“For fuck’s sake, you’re sick.” He goes over and lifts you out of your chair by your underarms. You let out a sound of protest but don’t fight him as he sets you down on the floor. “The damn papers can get done when you’re better. The reason you’re probably sick in the first place is because you overwork yourself, you know.”

“I’m just doing my job.” You insist.

“Well, your job can be put on hold for a little while. Now go downstairs, there’s food waiting.” He orders. You sigh but listen to him, then descending the ladder. He follows shortly after and shuts the door behind him.

You sit at one of the tables and a bowl of the soup he’d made is put in front of you, steam rising from its surface. You take your first bite, the warmth spreading throughout your body. It’s delicious. It has plenty of ingredients that make the soup full of flavor but still make it perfectly nutritious for your sick self.

“Do you like it?” Ban asks as you begin eating more of the soup. He sits next to you at the table, also giving you a glass of water.

You nod, swallowing another bite before speaking. “Yes, it’s really good. As expected of something made by you.”

He smiles at the praise, resting his cheek on his hand. “I’m glad.”

You finish the bowl of soup relatively quickly and then get seconds before you’re satisfied. Now after taking a hot shower and having the warm soup in your stomach, you’re feeling incredibly tired. Ban can tell by the way your head dips a little. He stands with a small smile, “ready to go to bed?”

“Mhm.” You respond.

He lifts you off your seat with ease, holding you bridal style. You nuzzle into his chest, eyes closing as you’re carried upstairs. He brings you into his room; that way it’ll be easier to keep an eye on you and get to you if you need anything.

He lays you gently in his bed, pulling the sheets over you with an extra blanket added on. “Do you want the cold towel for your head?” He asks softly. You nod.

He quickly goes and gets the towel which was lightly dampened and then frozen. It’s folded so it can easily fit against your forehead. A small rumble escapes from your throat in thanks as the cooling sensation brings some relief to your headache.

He’d closed the curtains beforehand and turned off the light so it was a dark as possible in the room. He kisses your cheek and brushes hair off your forehead. “Sleep well.” He murmurs before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

You curl up under the covers, perfectly content in their comfort, and let sleep finally take over.

[nemo-in-wonderland]

There's such a sad love Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel Open and closed Within your eyes I'll place the sky Within your eyes

There's such a fooled heart Beatin' so fast In search of new dreams A love that will last Within your heart I'll place the moon Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through Makes no sense for you Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all But I'll be there for you-ou-ou As the world falls down

Falling As the world falls down Falling Falling in love

"AS THE WORLD FALLS DOWN" - Labyrinth

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

SO.

I was listening to some very perfect music a few days ago, music that ended up fuelling this VERY self-indulgent Mephistea Artwork and of course, as it always happens when I listen to music, the brain starts working and branching out with ideas would go very well with an idea that has been brewing in my brain ever since I drew the whole " sudden proposal" from Mephisto to Aranea.

And my brain cannot stop thinking that Mephisto's corruption of Aranea would start VERY early on.

Like, we are talking "as soon as Aranea is done with her vengeance" early on.

So, between the moment when Aranea signed her contract with Mephisto and the moment she exacts her revenge for Halim's death, I calculated it would pass around 5 years, that Aranea would spend in Cania to study *directly* underneath Mephisto himself (it was one of the clause of the contract that she herself had put. She reckoned that her soul would be lost anyway, so, in for a penny, in for a pound).

During those 5 years, Mephisto would start taking an interest in this curious Warlock of his, who was SO hyperfixated in acquiring as much power as possible to destroy the people that had taken Halim from her in the cruelest way possible.

Like, I love to imagine that in those five years, he saw in Aranea the same kind of focuse, obssessive need that often pervaded himself as well; the same kind of relentless mania; the same fury and ruthless ferocity that he felt deep within his soul each time he tried to overthrow Asmodeus.

And this left him quite enrupture with Aranea.

So, I like to imagine that, sometimes after Aranea was done with her vengeance, he would actually start to plan his moves to have more than just her soul.

He wanted to corrupt her in her entirety, so that she would match his soul completely.

AND THAT'S WHEN REALIZED THAT "AS THE WORLD FALLS DOWN" WAS JUST *PERFECT FOR THEM, AT THAT STAGE OF HER RELATIONSHIP.

The lyrics, the music, the whole scene was *precisely* how I imagine Mephisto would behave with still innocent Aranea (which is why I drew her with shorter hair and a bit younger than how I usually draw her).

How he would organize a ball for the sake of parading his prized warlock around, when, in truth, he started his seduction of her, his call toward his darkest side, with him whispering in her mind while she constantly looking for him through the crowd, moved by something she cannot, for the love of her, understand nor explain.

And well, if you know this part of Labyrinth, then you know precisely what the atmosphere would be!

And by the gods, these two have me by the throat fml.

I adore them so much. SO MUCH.

Also, fml, am living for their height difference and I like to imagine that Mephisto gave her one of the heaviest dresses possible, so that the only way she could dance if she is dancing with him.

That being said, now I will go to sleep a bit because I was up until late to finish this and I am *tired*.

But I hope you will like it anyway! <3

--Nemo

[justporo]

A much better gift

A/N: We have a second giveaway fic! And this time it comes with Gale - and smut! This one is for @85blackcat and includes her wonderful OC Bellamy. I hope you enjoy your fic! Also I cannot help it apparently to make Gale at least somewhat lightly dominant...

Warnings: explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, light dom/sub dynamics, clothing kink, thigh riding, creampie

Summary: Bellamy prepares a gift for her wizard's birthday - which entails a silk robe and lots of delicate lace.

~~~

Having to spend days and nights with companions didn’t allow for much privacy. Specifically not for a slowly budding romance and relationship. Gale and Bellamy had barely taken the first few steps together as the party had arrived at Baldur’s Gate. But their adventure was still far from over. And while each of them wished for nothing more than to be able to spend time together and get lost in each other as often as possible, duty kept knocking on their door - that and Shadowheart when she felt she had to remind them of how thin the walls were at the Elfsong.

So, how do you figure out a life together when constantly being watched by at least five other people? Some of which - on top of that - couldn’t keep their godsdamned mouths shut. Astarion especially didn’t let a single opportunity slide to throw in a sassy remark about the wizard and druid growing closer. And while Gale had resorted to answering a snarky remark with another one Bellamy didn’t feel particularly keen about having her relationship to the wizard so on display.

But quiet moments these days were rare. And to be able to share them as just the two of them was even rarer.

But tonight, at least tonight, Bellamy would make good use of a special occasion.

It was Gale’s birthday. Nobody besides her knew since Gale had figured there wasn’t time for such “profane nonsense”, as he had called it.

But Bellamy wouldn’t let the opportunity slip away. For days she had been turning around ideas in her head about what she could possibly do for her wizard.

But what gift could you possibly give to a prodigy wizard who apparently already had everything?

In the end the answer had been easy: time - and herself. A private evening together. Maybe a little sneak-peek into what could be once they got past all of this.

And so Bellamy had used utter caution to prepare for a wonderful night together: she had arranged for a special dinner and wine at the Elfsong to be brought up to their room. She had sneakily asked the favour of all of her friends to not disturb them - at least for this one evening. Surprisingly, even the vampire had quickly agreed. With a raised eyebrow and mocking smirk playing around his lips, but still.

And then finally: Bellamy had sought around the tailor shops in the city to find the perfect wrapping for her gift, so to speak, made of delicate lace and shimmering silk.

Now Bellamy was perched on their joint bed in their room at the tavern. The day had thankfully been pretty boring all in all. For hours the party had walked around the city to investigate - and found out nothing new. So they had called it early for that day and Bellamy had snuck up to Gale’s and her room under the pretence of an oncoming migraine. When Gale had looked immediately worried she had felt a twinge of guilt for misleading him. But she’d make it up for him later.

She was waiting for him to come up and check on her as she knew he would certainly do at some point. The wood elf had draped herself on the bed in the lingerie and silk robe she’d gotten specifically for this. Two glasses of wine were already poured and the light from outside was already dim.

Bellamy’s heart was pounding as she waited for her beloved to discover this special kind of gift. And as she did so, watching how the low orange light of the lanterns threw dramatic shadows on her silken robe, she felt nervousness creep up inside of her.

But as she pondered if she should have just gotten him a tome at Sorcerers and Sundries, her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

Gale was in his normal, comfortable camp clothing and had his nose in a book, just like usual. That was probably also why it took Bellamy softly clearing her throat to catch his attention and look up from his reading as he closed the door behind him.

He almost dropped the small book he’d held as he was met with the sight of his lover sprawled out on the end of the bed and precariously clothed: dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of velvet right to where the delicate silk robe was opened just enough to allow a peek of the lacey secret lying beneath.

“Well, that’s certainly a kind of headache you must be having, my beloved,” Gale remarked as he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the surprising sight in front of him. The book in his hand was loosely dangling from his fingers now, the literature momentarily forgotten.

“Happy Birthday, Gale,” the druid whispered softly and moved slowly to get up. She felt the robe slide over her body as she did so, revealing more of what lay beneath. Gale’s eyes sparked at her, lips parting slightly at the sight of it.

“So you tricked me, Bellamy?” he murmured with a slight tease and in a low voice as the druid gracefully slid off the bed and stepped over to the wizard, delicately wrapping her arms around her lover’s neck, fingers combing through soft brown hair.

“It appears so,” she whispered back with a teasing smirk spreading on her lips. “And now you’ve walked right into my trap. You have no choice but to celebrate your birthday with me now.”

Their faces were so close now, the tension created between them already palpable as they shared conspiratory glances at each other.

Bellamy felt Gale’s warm hands slide under the hem of her robe, his fingertips wandering over her hips until they met lace. When he found it, a strained groan slipped from his lips as his warm eyes took on another quality. There was real heat in them now.

“Well, if I am left without a choice,” Gale started softly, his lips not an inch from hers now. His voice was low and promising. Bellamy felt his fingers digging into her hips, making her gasp from how the slight pain sent jolts throughout her body. “I think I’m going to start by slowly unwrapping my gift. If I may-”

Gods, wasn’t she glad she hadn’t just gotten him some dusty books.

The wood elf arched her back a little so her boobs squished against Gale’s chest and bit her lip. The friction made Gale groan again and had her pressing her thighs together.

“I’m all yours,” she answered breathlessly, staring up into the eyes of her beloved wizard, almost desperate already for him to make his words come true.

“Marvellous!” was the last thing he said before he finally pressed his lips to Bellamy’s.

Immediately, there seemed to be no space between them anymore. Gale’s tongue slipped into her mouth, swallowing the moan coming from the druid directly from her open lips. She felt the definite proof of his desire for her as he pressed his groin against her, fueling the heat between her own legs. Hands tangled in hair and delicate fabric as they stumbled backwards until Bellamy’s legs hit the edge of the bed. Almost stumbling onto it, Gale’s arms around her made sure she stayed as close to him as possible. His hands were cupping her behind now as he made his knee slide between her legs.

Almost in shock she tore away from him as Gale used his leverage to make her grind against his thigh now while he held her - trapped between the edge of the bed and his own body. She whimpered at the delicious friction as he made her slide along his leg, knowing that he must feel her heat and that the delicate lace lingerie would do nothing to keep her slick from spreading all over him.

“Is this your equivalent of shaking the gift box to guess what’s inside?” Bellamy burst out as she clawed at his arms for balance as he had her almost on her tiptoes and fully at his mercy.

His eyes sparked and he grinned as he made her grind against him a final time: “Maybe it is, I’m always up for a good game of guessing.”

Bellamy huffed, Gale softly chuckled.

Then he leaned forward until it was inevitable for Bellamy to let herself fall onto the bed. With his hands on her waist Gale quickly lifted her up onto the bed and followed closely behind.

He didn’t give her much of a break, daft fingers from spellcasting quickly unlacing her robe and tossing it off to the side to reveal what was waiting underneath. Only then did he pause shortly, observing how his beloved writhed beneath him in nothing but lacey swirls and flowers that barely left any room for imagination.

“Gods,” it spilled from his lips as his eyes wandered over her body and he used one hand to run it through his hair.

Coquettishly Bellamy let her hands roam her own body for a moment as she gave her lover ample room to admire her: “I hope the gift is to your liking, Gale, I don’t think there is a way to return it.”

The wizard’s gaze snapped back to hers. Bellamy could see how his eyes softened, how love entered the delicious cocktail of emotions in his eyes. There it was again, this warmth and this genuine smile.

Instead of answering he leaned forward, kissing her again, incredibly gently this time.

“I’m so glad you don’t have a return policy,” Gale mumbled against her lips in between kisses, softly lowering himself onto her and tangling his limbs with hers. Bellamy simply laughed as she felt the same warmth Gale was so obviously experiencing spread through her chest.

But the heat quickly rose from a simmer to a boiling point again, the fire rekindled, as they kept kissing. Their hands wandered over each other’s bodies. Bellamy made quick work of the wizard’s clothes, teasing him for how he had to keep up with her. She gasped when she had finally freed his aching hardened length and was rewarded with a rumbling groan as she began stroking him.

She was compensated in turn by Gale’s hand sliding between her legs as they kept kissing. His fingers quickly pushed the soaked lace to the side and began teasing her. Without hesitating Gale’s index entered her while his thumb found her clit.

If she had thought she was a mess before the wizard quickly proved her wrong.

Breaking the kiss she almost unwillingly arched her back until it was painful beneath him as Gale fingers started pleasuring her. She stared up at him, mouth open in a soundless moan and unable to do anything more but clawing her fingers into his arm.

A second finger entered her as he pressed the pad of his thumb to her sensitive bud and had her eyes roll into the back of her skull. There were no coherent thoughts anymore, no clever plans or teasing remarks - only boundless lust and the desire to feel more of it, all of it.

“Gale,” Bellamy pressed out as she bowed her body to the wizard, the need for more primal inside her. “Please,” she pleaded, digging her fingers into his arms a little harder, her back almost lifting off the bed as Gale’s fingers plunged into her again.

Thankfully, he understood. The wizard withdrew from her, making her almost sob at the sudden loss. But Gale was quickly on top of her hands, gliding over her body, squeezing her tits, before journeying over her arms and then pressing her hands down on each side of her head. Meanwhile, his hips ground against her, his dick rubbing against her heated, slick core. He kept going like this for a few more strokes until he finally entered her effortlessly, all while his eyes bored into hers and he filled her to the brim.

“Gods, you’re truly a gift sent by the heavens,” it burst out of Gale once he had adjusted to the sensation of being inside his lover.

Bellamy threw her head back in a laugh. “Can you believe I almost just got you a few boring books?” she asked, ending the sentence in a breathless gasp as she felt Gale withdrew and then slowly and forcefully thrust into her again.

“Oh thank goodness you didn’t,” Gale groaned and began picking up a steady pace, rolling his hips into her, each time a little harder. “As much as I enjoy theory, the practicality of things is often much more enticing. This is a much better gift!”

Bellamy could only helplessly stare at him for almost holding a lecture while fucking her.

But further conversation was futile as they moved together now, staring into each other's eyes. Bellamy’s legs wrapped around Gale’s hips as he kept fucking into her, his pace becoming more ragged quickly.

Then Bellamy fell first.

She felt the tension in her body snap as she arched her back into the oncoming wave of her orgasm. In the back of her mind she noticed Gale forcefully twitch inside of her as he joined her in her fall and spilled inside of her.

They rode out the waves - Gale resting his forehead on Bellamy’s chest and her arms now softly wrapped around him. Both of their chests were heaving as they recovered slowly.

Then Gale softly mumbled something into her chest, still inside of her.

“Hm?” Bellamy simply made, too lazy to bother with actual words at the moment.

Gale lifted his head, looking at her with a smile playing on his lips: “I asked if I could wish for the same gift for next year, my beloved Bellamy.”

The wood elf simply laughed and grabbed his face for a kiss.

“For the next and every year after, my beloved Gale.”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

The Art of Failing [3]

Werewolf!Joel Miller x F!Reader, Vampire!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Warnings: violence and mild gore, mentions of blood and injures, reader is described as active and able to fight, eventual smut, loss of a child, angst to fluff, more warnings to come based on individual chapters

Chapter Warnings: discussion of child loss, discussion of parent loss, discussion of drunk driving and repercussions of that, mentions of blood and injuries, vampires drinking blood, dubcon setting but no smut, vampires play master/pet and it's hella sketchy, drugs and alcohol, reader is drugged

Word Count: 12.8k

Summary: The Division of Mythological Affairs was created to protect and serve the supernatural community while keeping the knowledge of their existence a secret. You hoped to become an Agent of the DMA like your mother before you. Just as your dream begins to fall apart at the seams, you stumble across a missing persons report that could change everything. You are desperate to solve the case, to prove your ability, and you find yourself with unlikely allies⏤ a werewolf running from his pack and a vampire shunned from his coven. The stakes are high, lives are at risk, and success hinges on the three of you learning to work together.

[a/n: i have no good reason for this being a day late other than who i am as a person. also there's a supernatural reference in here b/c i am unclever lol.]

FIVE MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT

"life went on but it was never the same again." d.j.

The only sound in the room came from the clock hanging on your living room wall as you sat on your couch and stared blankly ahead. After saving you, Din had climbed in your car with you to ensure you got home and the second you were up in your apartment he disappeared saying he was going to track down ‘Tim Brancato’. You weren’t sure the bounty hunter would’ve told you how he planned to do so, even if you had asked, so you left it alone for now. 

Apparently, the adrenaline was officially wearing off and shock was settling in its place. You could’ve died. You probably would have. The eerie smile Miles gave you told you everything you needed to know and the image of his face wouldn’t leave your mind. He was going to kill you, and he had been excited at the prospect. 

You knew being an Agent was a dangerous lifestyle. Hell, you knew better than most⏤ it was how you lost your mother. Your eyes darted to the picture on the wall of the two of you. Even when people weren’t actively trying to hurt an Agent, the work itself was still a risk. Any case had the chance to go south. That’s what they say happened to her. A simple job where everything went wrong. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Your mother had been a hero with huge solved cases under her belt. She had saved countless lives and put her own at risk just as often, but it had been a patrol that took her from you. She stumbled across a smuggling deal gone wrong, in the dead of night, and then never came home that morning.

So, it didn’t surprise you that putting your nose in something this big made you a target, but you felt shaky all the same. 

The silence of your apartment was interrupted by frantic pounding on your door. You startled, eyes wide, but a voice immediately set you at ease. “Hey, it’s me!” Joel called out, muffled by the door. You stood and hurried to open the door, and the second you did Joel pounced. His hands found your face, cradling it carefully, and his dark eyes were scanning you with concern. At his touch, your face began to burn, and there was no telling if it came from your injuries earlier in the day, embarrassment from the doting, or just the feel of his rough, calloused hands against your cheeks. His hands looked huge at baseline, but having them envelope your face made it that much more prominent in your mind. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, Joel. You didn’t have to rush over.” You replied. After the incident, you had texted him that at some point tonight he should swing by so the three of you could figure out this Tim Brancato issue, but for him to be here already he must have sped over. “Din isn’t even back yet from⏤”

“I shouldn’t have let you go alone.” Joel muttered a string of curses. He only released your face then after evaluating a few more times⏤ as if he’d find an injury that wasn’t there the first time he looked you over. “The second you told me you were goin' there, I should’ve⏤”

“There was no way of knowing.”

“We were suspicious though. That fanged metal head told us.”

“We didn’t know for sure yet though.”

Joel crossed his arms and a crease appeared between his eyes where his brows furrowed in disagreement. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone.” He repeated himself. “If the bloodsucker hadn’t been there…”

“Really. I’m fine, Joel.” You set your hand on his arm. His scorching skin under yours sent your heart into overdrive, and you had the urge to rake your fingers through his arm hair. Nima’s phone call with you flashed in your mind, and, before you could do something stupid, you pulled your hand back. “And hey, no mean nicknames when Din get backs.”

Joel scrunched his features in a pout as he shook his head. “Why not?”

“Because.” You reached around him to shut the door and walked back to your living room. “If we’re gonna work together we should at least try to keep the peace.”

Joel trailed after you with a scoff, “Well, what the hell am I supposed to call him then?”

“His name?” You shrugged. “I know that’s probably wild of me to suggest.”

Joel grumbled under his breath and as you slipped into the kitchen you saw him gravitate to stare at the pictures on your wall again. There were a good bit of places you’ve been and people you loved. Plus, staring at the pictures was probably less rude than plopping down on your couch and watching television. Not that you would have a problem if he did, but you certainly would have too much anxiety if the roles were reversed.

“You hungry?” You called out. The fridge and pantry weren’t overflowing with options. Technically, you were past due to go grocery shopping. “I can order us DoorDash or something.” Joel didn’t respond and you stepped out of the kitchen to try and get his attention. “Joel?”

His gaze snapped from a photo to you, “Huh?”

“Food? I was gonna order something while we wait for Din.”

“Oh. Yeah, I could eat.” He nodded. You picked up your phone and began to ask if he had any preferences when he interrupted. “How long until the vampire gets back?”

Well, vampire was way better than bloodsucker. You’d take it. You paused in thought, “I actually don’t know. A couple hours at least? I’m not sure how long it would take a bounty hunter to find any info on this guy.” You scrolled through your phone. “Do you have any food preferences or things you hate? There’s⏤”

“You wanna go out?”

“Huh?” You nearly dropped your phone in surprise and stared back with wide eyes.

“Out. You wanna go out to eat rather than call in?” Joel asked. “There’s a place near here I like.”

“Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah.” You nodded. Joel nodded his head toward your door indicating he expected you to follow. You snatched up your keys and wallet to hurry after him. 

Joel made the decision to drive and you didn’t have a strong enough preference to argue. It only made sense since he knew where the place was. You climbed into his cab and glanced around. The truck was an older pick up that had seen better years, but it was well kept and clean. As Joel reversed out of the parking spot he noticed your gaze.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head. Hanging from the rear view mirror was a homemade bracelet. It consisted of mostly pink and white beads, but there were a few specific beads interrupting the color pattern every three beads. You noticed one shaped like a star, another of a butterfly, and another of a soccer ball. If there were any others they were hidden behind the mirror. You chuckled, “Did Ellie make that?”

Joel’s eyes darted to the bracelet and he stared at it a beat before his eyes snapped back to the road, “No.”

He offered no further clarification and you squirmed in your seat at the sudden tension. You cleared your throat and tried to change the subject, “So what does this place serve?”

Joel seemed eager for the topic change as he spoke up quickly. The place was a simple diner, but Joel swore up and down on their food. A hidden gem of a place apparently. It was about ten minutes from your apartment and located in the parking lot of a strip mall. You had actually seen the place a few times, but had just never paid it any mind. The outside had the classic retro diner look and you chuckled when he led you in and the interior matched the old school diner look. A handful of people were scattered about.

Someone from the kitchen called out a greeting, and Joel raised a hand in return before sitting on a stool at the bar. You took the seat beside him, “You’re a regular, huh?”

“Yeah. Ellie and I come here every other Sunday.” Joel shrugged. “Tradition, I guess you could say. Friend owns the place.”

You hummed in amusement. Austin was a big city and you found it ironic that every other week he had apparently spent in your neck of the woods. You wondered what it would’ve been like to meet Joel before Ellie disappeared. 

“Hey.” A woman spoke up. She stepped out of the swinging kitchen doors and hurried over. Her long hair was a light shade of brown and her face had fallen into concern. “Any news?”

“Not yet.” Joel shook his head. It was clear they were speaking about Ellie and that made sense if him and her spent as much time here as they did. “You haven’t heard anythin' on the street have you, Tess?”

Tess narrowed her eyes at him, “I would’ve called if I had.” She did a double take when she noticed you and tilted her head. “Who’re you?”

You gave her your name with a small smile. “I’m a friend of Joel’s and⏤”

“Joel doesn’t have friends.” Tess responded.

Joel snorted. “Thanks.”

“I’m helping him find Ellie.” You clarified. Tess looked skeptical, as if she was about to mock and/or insult you, so you jumped in. “I work⏤ worked for the DMA.”

“And that’s helpful how?”

“Leave it alone, Tess.” Joel grunted. “You hear of a guy named… what was his name, sweetheart?”

“Tim Brancato.”

Tess’ eyes darted from Joel to you and back again. One of her eyebrows raised in question, and despite her claim that Joel had no friends, she must have known him well as that was all it took for him to understand her. Her hands fell to her hips and Joel scoffed, “Have you heard the name or not?”

“No. I haven’t.” She shook her head. “But I’ll make a call.”

Tess gave you one more glance before heading back to the kitchen. She caught a waitress by the arm and pointed her in your direction before disappearing into the back. The waitress quickly took your orders and brought you your drinks. You leaned your elbows on the counter.

“She seems nice.”

“You don’t gotta lie.”

“No, I mean it!” You shook your head quickly. “Maybe nice wasn’t the right word. She seems like she cares.” The woman reminded you a bit of Nima. Maybe not overall since Nima’s general vibe was ‘bubbly cheerfulness’ and Tess’ was more ‘casual homicide as a hobby’, but they were both protective. “Everybody deserves a friend who will go to war for them.”

Joel paused before giving you a small nod, “Tess and I go way back.”

“Is she a…” You started then paused to see the very human couple sitting only a couple stools down. “You know…” You lifted your hands to act like they were claws and briefly bared your teeth.

Joel’s lips broke out into a brief smile, but you were able to spot a dimple in his cheek, “What’re you doin' with your hands?”

“They’re⏤” You gasped, mock offended. “They’re very clearly claws. Thank you very much.”

Joel’s smile muted again, a moment of wistful, before it fell away. “No. She’s not. She’s human, but she’s involved in our community.” The two of you sat in a comfortable silence between one another. The sounds of the diner filling the air around you. Tess stepped back out and Joel stiffened. “So?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “My contacts don’t know the name.” Joel mumbled a curse and you found yourself praying that Din would find something. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“I don’t think so.” Joel dragged his hand over his jaw.

“Well, you know how to reach me if you need something, and I’ll reach out to you if I hear anything different.” Tess replied. He nodded. Her eyes drifted back to you. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Same.” You blurted quickly, not expecting the comment.

Tess left the space once more and you watched the mysterious woman go. She didn’t work for the DMA obviously which made you curious what her ties were in the community. A part of you wanted to ask Joel more details, but you assumed if he hadn’t offered them then he didn’t want to offer them.

Your food arrived a few minutes later and you ate in silence. It wasn’t awkward, but you found yourself glancing his way occasionally. Joel seemed lost in thought as he ate, and you wished you had more to offer him. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to your mother. If she were on this case she’d probably be much further ahead than you were. 

“My daughter made the bracelet.” Your head perked up at the sudden statement. Joel wasn’t looking your way. He stared ahead, picking at his food. “My other daughter. Before Ellie.”

The words and the tone in which he said it told you everything you needed to know and you felt your heart physically break in your chest. “I’m sorry I asked. You don’t have to⏤”

“Don’t apologize. Had no way of knowin'.” Joel shrugged. “She’ll have been gone for seven years in March.” He took a long sip of his water. “Was an accident. Drunk driver sideswiped us on the road and my truck flipped.” Joel rubbed his hands on his jeans and shrugged. “Should’ve been me but it wasn’t. Driver hit us on my side. Made no sense why I⏤” He stopped and sucked in a sharp breath. “Ellie came into my life 'bout a year ago. The six in between were… not good.”

Your chest ached in empathy for this man. Parents should never have to lose a child. You literally could not even imagine the pain that came with that. And, when you thought about the fact that now Ellie was missing… Gods, it would’ve hurt less to have someone gut punch you.

“What… What was her name?” You asked softly then wished you could take it back. “You don’t have to… to answer.”

Joel shook his head. “Sarah. Her name was Sarah. She had just turned twelve.”

Only twelve? You were at a loss for words. Not that it mattered. There were no words that fit as a response. Nothing a person could say that would touch the magnitude of losing a young child. 

“I lost my mom.” Your mouth decided on what to say before your mind could fully agree and the words came out soft and hesitant. “A little over a year ago. It was an accident too.” You wrung your hands together in your lap and tried to ignore the burning of your eyes as tears threatened to spill. This wasn’t something you had really talked to anyone about openly. Not even Nima. People knew, but you just… hadn’t spent much time admitting it out loud. You swallowed and took a slow, calming breath. “I know it’s not the same, and I’m not trying to compare pain, I just…”

Joel shook his head, “Pain is pain.”

You hesitated for a second before reaching out to set a hand on top of his which was now resting on the counter. You gave a light squeeze, “I’m sorry, Joel. I know platitudes hardly help, but I really am sorry.”

Joel finally turned to look at you and the agony in his eyes could’ve knocked the air from your lungs. He slowly turned his hand over so he could squeeze your hand back. As he tightened his grip he sighed, “I’m sorry.” Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry 'bout your mom.”

You gave him a tight lipped smile in response, but it didn’t resolve the heartbreak in his eyes. The two of you eased back into a comfortable silence and it took a moment before you realized you still had his hand in yours. As you began to pull away, the diner door chimed open. It wasn’t a sound you would’ve paid much mind too, but the other people eating in the diner reacted in surprise. Joel’s hands fell from yours as you both turned around and it was Din, in all his Mandalorian glory, standing in the doorway.

“We need to talk.” Din said.

Joel threw cash onto the counter, enough to cover both meals, and dragged you out before you could complain. He shoved Din out into the parking lot. “Are you outta your damned mind? Out in public wearin' that??”

“I’m not usually in the public, but how else was I supposed to get your attention, dog?”

“We were gonna meet at her place!”

“I don’t want to wait. This needs discussing now.”

Joel hurried to his truck. You began to offer Din the front seat considering he was much larger than you in that bulky armor, but Joel grunted. “He can shove his shiny ass into the back. You’re up front, sweetheart.”

You shot Din an awkward smile and heard a string of muttered Mando’a as everyone climbed into the truck. You turned in your seat to face Din, “How’d you know where to find us?”

“I tracked you.”

“Me?” You pointed to yourself. Din nodded and said nothing further on the matter. A trend with this team, apparently. You sighed, “Okay, did you find Brancato?”

Din nodded, “Somewhat.”

“The fuck does somewhat mean?” Joel barked.

“You said he works undercover.” Din said and you nodded to the statement. “It’s with my kind.” You opened your mouth, but Din shook his head. “Not Mandalorians. Vampires. My leads tell me that there’s a high chance he’ll be at Carnal tonight.”

Joel scoffed, “The vampire club?? Why?”

“He’s working undercover to infiltrate a vampire coven.” Din said dryly. “And you’re asking why he’d be at Carnal?”

Joel swiveled his head around to glare at the man and you held your hands up to stop the fight before it began. “Okay. We can work with that. I didn’t know humans were allowed in Carnal. I thought it was a vampire only club.”

“It is.” Din nodded. “But pets are allowed.”

It took a beat for the words to click and your eyes widened. Joel rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath that you missed. Killing to drink humans was very illegal in the city for many obvious reasons. There were different ways vampires could get their hands on DMA approved blood, sold in packs, but if a vampire wanted a way to drink straight from a source the quickest, and most legal way, was a pet.

“Fine.” Joel snapped. “So you go there tonight⏤”

“I can’t go.”

“What??” Joel turned in his seat again and you leaned forward to lightly push his cheek so he was facing the road once more. “What exactly is your plan then? You want me to fuckin' walk in? Because if that’s what it takes I’ll⏤”

You interrupted his rising anger, “Why not, Din?”

“Mandalorians do not keep pets and we don’t frequent clubs that endorse it the way Carnal does.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing you’re not a real fuckin' Mandalorian anymore.”

“Joel!” You snapped. 

Din was stiff but he didn’t respond to the dig. You turned in your seat and tried to think of a working plan. Joel was nearing your apartment by time you settled on the only one you could think of, “I have to go.” Joel stomped on the breaks of his truck, haphazardly parking in a spot in front of your apartment. “Joel⏤”

“You nearly died once today. That wasn’t enough?!”

“We can’t trust anyone else to go in!” You argued. “I think Nima has a few vampire friends. I can ask one to⏤”

Joel shook his head, “Some random bloodsucker that we don’t know. That’s who you want in that hellhole with you?” You sighed and pushed out of the truck. Joel climbed out after you, Din as well, but it was Joel who stomped after you while the armored man followed along. “Please tell me I don’t have to explain why that’s a terrible idea.”

“Then give me a better one, Joel!” You yelled back. You unlocked your front door, held it open, and then pointed inside like a scolding mother. Joel marched past you with a huff and Din quietly entered as well. You weren’t sure how the vampire could be so quiet while wearing the equivalent of pots and pans. You slammed the door behind you and tossed your keys aside. “So far, this is the only lead we got. Roberts said we need to talk to this guy and time is of the essence. The sooner we find him and get the information we need the sooner we get to the kids.”

Joel ran a hand through his hair and his anger was palpable. You knew it stemmed from frustration, but you could see the slight tremble of his body. Muscles quivering as slivers of yellow stained his dark eyes. He was pacing the floor and you hoped that expenditure of activity would keep him from transforming.

“I’ll go.” 

Your head snapped to Din who had spoken. You shook your head, “Din, you won’t exactly fit in at Carnal with the armor. Like I said, I’ll call Nima and see if she can get me in touch with a vampire⏤”

“No. The dog is right.” Din replied and Joel growled at the name. “This is dangerous. You need someone who will be useful if a fight breaks out.”

“She needs to not go at all!”

“If I go, I need a human.” Din argued. “The undercover agent, if there, will be in the back where…” Din hesitated, shifted foot from foot, before finally blurting the words out when he couldn’t think of anything better. “Where a vampire can play with its pet.”

Joel buried his face in his hands, “Jesus fuckin' Christ.”

“I can remove my armor for this.” Your eyes widened in surprise. His helmet turned to you. “Is there somewhere…”

You pointed to the door behind him that led into a small guest bedroom. Din nodded once before disappearing behind it. You stared at the door in surprise. Even though the Mandalorian coven said he was no longer one of them, it was clear from the short time you knew him that it was still an important aspect of himself.

“Sweetheart,” Joel said and you glanced back at him, the anger had melted into just frustration, “This is a bad idea.”

“It’s our only idea, Joel.” You sighed. “If we had something else, trust me I’d go for it. I’m not exactly looking forward to going into a vampire club.” The stories and rumors you heard about those places made your skin crawl. “But this is for the kids. I can do this.” Joel locked his jaw before giving a curt nod. “And Din will be right there to help if need be.”

Joel muttered something again in response to that. You crossed your arms as something dawned on you, “He’s gonna need clothes for the club.” 

Joel shrugged and motioned to himself, “What am I supposed to do? Give him the shirt off my back?”

You rolled your eyes at his snippy comment and told him to behave while you visited your neighbor. Across the hall from you was a young guy you saw in passing. The two of you weren’t exactly friends, but you were friendly. You’d pick up his mail when he was out of town, and he’d make sure no packages got stolen from your front door. He also happened to be around Din’s size and owned more than just flannel⏤ Joel’s staple wardrobe piece.

Your neighbor didn’t seem super psyched to see you knocking on his door a little past nine at night and looked even less pleased when you asked to borrow clothes. However, when you explained it was a bit of an emergency, leaving out the vampire and werewolf dilemma of it all, he begrudgingly offered you a simple suit.

When you returned to the apartment, you found Joel in the living room with his hands on his hips glaring at someone. You did a double take when you noticed Din. He had come out of the room sans armor and only had on the canvas material suit he wore under it. Din’s head turned to glance your way and you hadn’t expected to see such nervous energy in his features. It didn’t match the hard armor you had known him for. Din was handsome. No doubt. Enough so that you thought it a crime he’d been hiding it behind a helmet all these years. Tan skin, dark eyes, and equally as dark hair. As your eyes bounced between Joel and Din you were noticing a trend. Din looked younger with not a single strand of silver decorating his hair, and the messy hair atop his head was shorter than Joel’s. He also didn’t have nearly as much hair covering his jawline either. Just a bit of scruff. Joel looked bigger compared to Din who seemed on the slimmer side. Though it was hard to consider Din to be slim⏤ Joel was just huge.

“Wow.” You chuckled and pointed toward them. “You guys look a lot alike.” Joel and Din’s features both furrowed into different degrees of a glare as they looked back to one another then to you. “Seriously? You don’t see it?”

“Did you get the clothes or not?” Joel grunted.

You stared at them longer, still in awe. Whether they wanted to admit it or not the similarities couldn’t be denied. There was enough about them different that they stood apart from one another in more than just their physical features. Joel was radiating a gruff, grumpy demeanor that was far from approachable while Din currently leaned more toward a stoic nature. They both said your name and you startled.

“Right. Here, Din.” You held out the clothes. “I think they’ll fit.”

“They’re going to have to.” Din replied and the sound of his voice was so smooth without the helmet altering it. “Thank you.”

You gave him a thumbs up, lost for words, and backpedaled, “I should get ready too, I guess.”

Joel grumbled again about the bad idea, but even he seemed to realize there were very little other options. So, bad idea or not. It’s all you guys had.

It was past ten when you parked your car on the side of the road blocks away from where the entrance to the club would be. Din suggested you park at a distance and walk up to it rather than park close. Most of the time it took to get to this point was convincing Joel to go home and wait for the two of you to wrap this up. He wanted to sit on the street which seemed like an exceptionally poor idea. When you finally managed to convince him, it was only after he gave you his address and made you promise to come to his place after rather than your own. You thought a simple text of ‘I’m still living’ would be enough, you even joked so, but Joel didn’t appreciate it.

“So how long have you worn that helmet? Before tonight, I mean.” You asked curiously. As you walked side by side, a foot of distance separating the two of you, you squirmed and straightened your dress. Austin at night, towards the end of the year, had a slight chill in the air that left goosebumps pebbling up on your exposed skin. 

“I took the creed as a child.” Din replied. Vampires couldn’t have children except under very rare and specific circumstances. So Din, like any other Mandalorian, was adopted into the ranks. It was common with their coven which was one of the aspects that made them so unique to other covens. What confused you was taking the creed as a child.

“I thought taking the creed was synonymous to becoming a vampire? Kids don’t get turned though. Not legally, at least, and you wouldn’t look like…” You motioned to frame. Any child turned would never age and never develop.

Din shook his head, “Taking the creed is a separate action. By taking the creed you secure your place within the Mandalorian coven. The turning ceremony does not occur until one receives their first forge made armor.”

“Ah.” You nodded in understanding. “How long has it been since your ceremony?”

“Four years.”

Your feet came to a stop in surprise and Din glanced over his shoulder at you. His eyebrow was raised in question and he too squirmed in the clothes you had borrowed for him. You expected it was less the cold and more so the fit. The black suit jacket and button up shirt fit well enough, a bit tight around his shoulders, but his suit pants were a size too small based on how he kept readjusting himself. You shook your head, “Four years? You’ve only been a vampire for four years?” Din nodded as if still confused at your confusion. You began to walk again and mumbled, “I just expected you to be centuries old or something.”

Din chuckled, “Sorry to disappoint.”

There was a beat of silence before you spoke again, “Is this your first time without your helmet?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” Din said, voice sharp. You twisted your lips and mumbled an apology. Curiosity tended to get the best of you often, and it was kind of interesting to be able to speak to a Mandalorian. You should have remembered the circumstance though and left it alone.

“No.” You were surprised to hear Din’s response. “I’ve taken it off before. That’s why I am considered an Apostate.”

You assumed that referred to his lack of a Mandalorian title and the disdain the coven leader had spoken about him in. Despite that stripping of the title, you still mentally considered him Mandalorian. Though you knew that kind of statement might not sit right with him. 

“Can I ask…” You hesitated since he had already scolded you for asking questions, but then he had enabled you by answering. “Why did you take it off before?”

“For my son. For Grogu.”

Your lips curled up into a smile. “I see. You know, I actually don’t know much of anything about your son. I never got to actually read the full report. How old is he?”

“He…” Din paused. “He looks to be five.” You narrowed your eyes in thought of the very specific word choice he used. He continued, “As I said before, he has vampiric tendencies, but I don’t actually know his genetic lineage. He was… Our paths crossed when I was hunting a bounty eight months ago.”

A silence settled between the two of you again and you assumed that meant he wasn’t going to delve into the details of said bounty. You gripped the strap of your purse a bit tighter and shrugged, “You know, I don’t think it should count as breaking the creed if you’re taking the helmet off for a good reason. Like for your son.”

“The coven wouldn’t agree with you.” Din replied then after a paused added, “But thank you.”

After a few blocks, Din grasped your wrist and carefully tugged you to a stop.

“We can’t go in yet.” 

“Why not?”

“You smell like a dog.”

You blinked in shock then held a hand to your chest mockingly, “Well, gee golly, Din. You sure know how to sweet talk a woman.”

“It’s your riduur. He’s ruining your scent.”

“That’s the second time someone has commented on ruining my scent.” You grumbled, but the first half of his statement registered in your mind a second late. “Riduur??”

Din nodded, “Your mate.”

“No. I know what a Riduur is.” You shook your head. “I meant, Joel is not mine. He’s not my mate.”

The Mandalorian’s eyes narrowed at you as if he were trying to puzzle out a lie and you raised your eyebrows at him in question. Din cleared his throat, “I was told by the coven that you claimed he was your riduur.” 

“Oh!” You waved your hand. “I did, but that was only because I didn’t want them to kill him.” Din held your gaze and you shrugged. “I knew the bond between Riduur is not one taken lightly and I prayed it’d be enough to get both of us out alive.” Surprise flitted across Din’s features. You shifted nervously in place. “Guess I got lucky. Or⏤ Or Joel did, I should say.”

Din shook his head and you thought the vampire looked impressed. “Not luck. Quick thinking. That was clever.”

“I have my moments.” You chuckled awkwardly⏤ unsure how else to accept the praise from him.

“Still,” Din glanced around, “The point remains. You reek of Joel Miller. May I⏤” He cleared his throat. “May I scent you?”

You mouthed the word in slight confusion. Logically it made sense. Walking into a vampire exclusive bar smelling like a werewolf was probably not ideal. You just weren't sure what that entailed. “Um, sure?” Din stepped closer and you felt your heart do a somersault. Nervous. You were nervous. An apex predator was close enough to easily rip your throat out, not that you thought Din would, but your body was naturally reacting to that. That was all. “What⏤How⏤ Scent.”

Din stared down at you, close enough you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact, and you mentally cursed your inability to form a coherent sentence. Din’s lips began to curl up into a smile until he suddenly steeled his features with a small shake of his head. “The quickest way to correct your scent is if I put my lips on you.”

“Put your lips on… Oh.”

Din paused and when you didn’t reply he gave a small nod. He coughed, “So, is that alright?”

“Hmm?” You blurted. He was waiting for permission. “Yes. Sure. Okay.”

“Stay still. I give you my word, I mean you no harm.”

You began to open your mouth to reply when Din ducked down to the crook of your neck. His hot breath fanned against your skin and you felt yourself stiffen in response. You heard him take a deep breath. “Gar klesir jatisyc.” Din mumbled the words close enough that his lips brushed against your skin. A chill went down your spine. He stayed there a moment more and you softly spoke his name. Din seemed to startle and he mumbled again, “Ni ceta.”

His lips warmly pressed to the side of your throat, lingering there, and then he turned your head to do the same to the other. When he pulled back, your face felt like it was burning. Din cradled your left wrist to set a kiss there as well, and you felt the tip of his tongue drag against your skin. You gasped, but Din didn’t seem phased. He did the same to your right wrist. Before he released your wrist, he dragged a finger across the healing cuts on your palm. You had used one of your emergency healing salves rather than just the routine human store bought stuff⏤ both on the burns on your face and your hands. 

“I’m sorry.” Din mumbled. “I didn’t mean for you to get injured. I shouldn’t have…” He lifted his gaze and they fell on your neck. There was no bruise there from his hand but he stared as if there were. “I am sorry.”

“It’s okay, Din.” You shrugged.

He didn’t seem to agree, but he dropped your wrist and took a large step back. “That’s better. Nobody should be able to smell Joel unless they get close, and I don’t plan on letting any other vampire get that close.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded quickly. “I⏤ I do like that plan.”

Din let out a soft chuckle and motioned toward the sidewalk. Out of the corner of your eyes, you watched him. Stoic would’ve been the perfect word to describe, hell you had thought it not that long ago, but looking at him now you weren’t quite sure it fit. Din was shockingly easy to read. You could see nervousness in his brow, worry in his eyes, tension drawn along his features, and the downward curl of his lips conveyed anxiety. The thought lingered in your mind for a beat until it dawned on you why.

His helmet.

If Din had worn that helmet since he was a child he never had to worry about concealing his emotions. The metal did it for him. Your lips parted to comment on it, ask a question, when Din suddenly reached out toward you.

“We’re close.” He said. “Can I touch you?”

“Sure.” You nodded. Din’s arm wrapped over your shoulder so he could pull you into his side as you walked. Instinctively, you wrapped your own arms around his torso. The permission of touch had kind of been implied when you agreed to this plan together, but you found it cute that he still asked explicitly. “When we’re inside, it’s… it’s okay to touch me how you need to. I heard rumors about these kind of places, and I⏤ I trust you.”

Din furrowed his brow. Again, all his emotions of confusion and surprise drawn on his face. “You do?”

“Yeah. We’re a team, remember?” You chuckled.

“Right.” Din mumbled and focused his attention ahead. 

Being that you were already close, and getting closer with each step, you chose to keep your mouth shut and let Din lead. The alley he took you down was the exact kind you would avoid as a woman at night, but with Din wrapped around you there was little room for fear. At the end of the alley was a set of stairs that led down to a door that seemed would open into a basement. 

Curiosity rose up in you, that same eagerness for knowledge hungry for more, and you watched as Din lifted his thumb to his mouth to bite down at the tip. Black blood welled up there and he smeared it on the silver doorknob. It glowed briefly and Din was able to push it open.

“Cool.” You breathed without even realizing it. Din glanced your way and you realized you had spoken the excitement aloud and the back of your neck burned. 

The hall was nearly pitch black, but Din seemed to have no trouble navigating it. You were led down another set of spiraling stairs this time and as you got deeper into the Earth the sound of a booming bass began to vibrate around the two of you. You took in a slow breath to try and steady your nerves. Din squeezed your shoulders in comfort. It emptied out into a hall basked in red and the two of you were no longer alone. 

Eyes, glowing silver like an animal under the red lights, turned to stare. You could barely hear yourself think with the blasting music and the pounding of your heart in your ears as hungry eyes found you. Din tightened his grip on you again. You glanced up at him and your eyes widened at the silver glow of his own eyes⏤ narrowed into a glare that he aimed at the surrounding vampires. One of the others, a male dressed in a maroon suit that seemed brighter in this hall, stepped in front of the two of you. A low growl rumbled deep in Din’s throat as his teeth clenched together threateningly. 

“Calm down, buddy.” The man chuckled. “I mean your pet no harm.” He dragged his eyes over your body. It wasn’t the first time a creepy man looked at you in a way that made you feel like a meal, but this was the first time it was happening literally. “Just the two of you?” Din gave a curt nod. “And business?”

Din huffed. He turned to face you, pressing his face to the side of yours, and took in a deep breath that made you shudder. Din’s deep, hoarse voice let the next word roll off his tongue, as the hand from the arm wrapped around you found your hair and tugged it just enough to tilt your chin up and reveal your throat. “Pleasure.”

You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and the other vampire chuckled. “Go ahead. Enjoy.”

He stepped out of the way allowing you and Din to enter the club. It was one large room with various stages and levels. The entire space was dimly lit and certain areas had thick red curtains closing it off from public view. Directly in front of you was a dance floor. The throngs of people congested like a mob undulated with the best. Beyond it, on a stage, was a long and busy bar.

“You’re safe.” Din whispered the words in your ear, a chill shimmering down your spine, before he led your forwards. 

Din stayed focused on where you stepped and you were eternally grateful for that considering you were too distracted to pay attention yourself. Din curved around the dance floor, understandably so, but it forced the two of you to walk past lines of booths that encircled the space. A few booths looked no different than one you would sit in with Nima, drinking and chatting, but a few starkly different. One booth had a scantily clad woman laid mostly bare on the table as three or four vampires drank from her. A clear reminder that this was not your usual bar. The vampire drinking from the woman’s neck lifted her eyes to meet yours and you couldn’t help but curl tighter into Din’s side.

The bar was obviously the goal location and you were relieved when you finally reached it just because it was less intimidating than the rest of the club. The bartop itself was lit up bright white which made it possibly the most well lit area of the club. Din carefully maneuvered you onto a stool, but he didn’t sit himself. He stayed pressed against your side with one hand leaning on the bar and the other on your waist. It was a dominant stance. Protective. 

“What can I get you?” The vampire working the bar asked. Her eyes were reflecting the glow of the bartop and it gave the dark skinned woman an ethereal look. 

You opened your mouth to order, but Din squeezed your waist firmly. He nodded, “A shimmer.”

The bartender nodded and you raised an eyebrow in question. Din offered no further clarification. Instead, he pressed his lips to your ear. “We need to go to the back”

“Right. The pet zone.” You whispered.

“I suppose that’s one name for it.” No part of Din scared or worried you, but the words still managed to make you blanch in discomfort. You glanced back at the woman laid out on a table top, but Din shook his head. “She’s not a pet. Club owns her.”

You had ten thousand questions to ask, but were too worried to let a single one out. The bartender came back with a tall, slender glass. The liquid inside looked like the night sky. Black with silver glitter swirling inside of it. Din pushed the glass into your hands and paid for it. You lifted the glass to smell it and the aroma wasn’t something you could pinpoint exactly, but it made you think of the hot summer days where your mother would take you down to Barton Springs to cool off. Sunscreen lotion, sweet popsicles, and the carefree laughter shared between the two of you. A dizzying smile crossed your lips.

“Don’t drink it.” Din murmured into your ear as he helped you off the stool. “Just hold it.”

He began to walk you down the length of the bar. The further you pulled the drink from your face the more clear headed you felt. You stared into the swirling silver. “What is this?”

“Shimmer.” He repeated the name. “It’s used on pets. It’ll sweeten your blood.”

“Just smelling it made me feel like my head was in a cloud.” You mumbled. “And it smelled like…”

“Like a memory.” Din nodded. “A happy one.” The two of you reached a back corner where velvet curtains covered a doorway and a gruff man in a clean suit stood guard. “Adjustments make it easier to control a pet. You’ll notice everyone back here is probably on it.”

You had never heard of anything like this before and as Din led you closer to the guard you wondered how legal this stuff was. The guard studied the two of you for a minute, inhaling a deep breath that made you nervous. What if he caught a whiff of Joel on you? The anxiety was short lived though as he pulled the velvet curtain aside. 

The back room was even smaller⏤ cozier. There were booths with privacy curtains and another, smaller, bar in the back. Each booth had a curtain for the option of privacy, but not everyone used them. A young woman drifted over to speak to Din and as he responded your attention was pulled away by a fearful whimper. 

In one of the closest booths, there was a woman, close to your age, sitting on the lap of a vampire who physically looked significantly older than her. Her back was pressed to his chest as his teeth sunk into the crook of her neck. Tears streaked down her face as she whimpered. Her eyes were blown wide in terror as she stared at nothing⏤ just zoned out. You mumbled Din’s name in panic. You were under the impression the official vampire and pet relationship was consensual but this did not look the sort. The glass sitting on the table in front of them looked like yours, but it was nearly empty and rather than silver it had a purple shine to it. 

“She’s okay. I promise. She’s fine.” Din murmured and pulled you away. The woman he had been speaking to was leading you both to an empty booth.

All the booths looked uniform. Circular in shape, a low table in the middle, seats made of dark leather, and a red velvet curtain hanging from the ceiling to be used if needed.

"Keep the curtain closed if you're gonna fuck." The woman leading you said offhandedly. Din sat down and you were caught off guard when he pulled you to straddle his lap. A precarious position due to the short length of your dress. He waved a hand and the woman huffed before drawing the curtains herself. When they closed entirely a glowing sphere of light activated high above the two of you to offer light.

Din quickly readjusted to move you off his lap and he cupped your face to examine your features, “Are you alright?”

“I am. That girl⏤”

“Shiver.”

“What?”

Din took the cup from your hand to set on the table. “Yours is Shimmer. A happy memory. There are… other adjustments based on what they want to do to the blood’s flavoring.” You furrowed your brow in surprise. “Shimmer. Shiver. Simmer. Smolder.” He shrugged. “Those are the ones I can think of. I know there are more.” 

“Each one makes the blood taste different and they…” You thought back to how terrified the woman looked. “They evoke different memories.” He nodded. “So if Simmer is a happy memory…”

“Shiver is a memory of fear.”

You couldn’t imagine someone agreeing to relive a memory of nightmares just because a vampire had a taste for fear in the blood. Then again, up until now, you had never imagined agreeing to be a vampire’s pet. The wording of that thought gave you pause and you glanced away from the glass in your hands to Din’s face. He was watching you with concern and curiosity. You weren’t imagining being his pet. Not really. Not seriously at least. Not that you minded the idea of Din and his lips and teeth and tongue… Well, that wasn’t⏤ You weren’t⏤ It was⏤

“Jate’ika? Are you okay?”

“Just⏤ My brain is just, uh, nevermind.” You set the glass down on the table and pushed it further away from you. Were the fumes still invading your senses? What the hell? You cleared your throat. “Brancato. We gotta find him.”

Din nodded in agreement. “The sooner the better.” He stood up. “Stay here in the booth. I’ll be back.”

“You want to separate? In this vampire club??”

“The room is small. I can get back to you with ease if need be.” Din shook his head. “And I won’t be long. I just want to see if I can find the Agent.”

You twisted your lips but gave a quick nod. Din squeezed your hand and then slipped out of the curtain. You squirmed in your seat and smoothed out your dress nervously. You wished you had your gun. It would do nothing against a vampire, other than mildly annoy or irritate them, but you wanted the comfort of it on you all the same. A few moments passed before the curtains slid open and you were surprised by how quick he had been.

“Din⏤”

Din did not step in.

A different man burst through in a rush, but he was human like you. There was no animalistic glow to his eyes. He wore a navy sports blazer over a tight, gray v-neck with matching khaki dress pants. Around his neck was a leather collar that you’d find at a pet store. The man had a boyish look to him with messy, dirty blond hair and a clean shaven jaw. Freckles were brushed over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. Oddly though, his gray blue eyes looked genuinely irritated with you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” He demanded in a hushed voice. He took a seat by you and set the drink in his hand next to yours. The lighting in this booth made the color hard to distinguish in the black liquid. “Are you out of your godsdamned mind showing up in this place??”

You lifted a hand to point at him with wide eyes, “Tim Brancato.”

“Shh!” He shushed you. “Call me Justin.”

“How do you know⏤”

“Roberts warned me you’d be looking for me, but he didn’t tell me you’d be stupid enough to show up here.” Tim scoffed. 

You were still curious as to how he recognized you so easily, but you had more important questions to ask and for some reason you were struggling to get a single one out. “Sorry. I’m glad we found you though, or⏤ or you found us, I should say.”

Time narrowed his eyes at you for a beat then shook his head, “Who are you here with?”

“My vampire.” You held a hand to your chest. “He’s a Mandalorian.”

“A Mandalorian came in⏤”

“Well, he’s not in armor right now. He’s⏤”

“Then he’s not a Mandalorian.”

“It’s⏤” You tilted your head with a wince, “It’s sort of a long story and we don’t have a lot of time⏤” His hands suddenly grabbed your face and you tensed. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Tim scoffed and let go, “You’re high.”

“No, I’m not.” You shook your head, though your head did feel a bit swimmy, “I didn’t drink the⏤ the shimmer.”

“Are you wearing a plug?” Tim demanded. You opened your mouth then froze⏤ eyes narrowing in confusion. There was a very solid chance that the plug he was asking about was not the kind you now had in mind. The back of your neck burned as you struggled to answer. He shook his head and reached into his coat pocket. “Lean your head back.” Without hesitation, you leaned your head back and as you stared up at the glowing light above you realized that maybe you shouldn’t be following the commands of someone you didn’t actually know. He grabbed the side of your face once more and held a dropper over your nose. Each drop he released into your nostrils felt thick and tacky and as it rolled deeper to coat your sinuses and reach the back of your throat, it gave the sensation of choking. “There.”

You straightened your head and began to cough, “What was⏤”

“They aerosolized an adjustment back here. Not enough to evoke a memory, but enough to impair judgment.” Tim responded. “That won’t get what’s in your system out completely, but it'll let it wear off while keeping you from getting any worse.”

“Oh, thanks.” You rubbed your nose in discomfort. “Putting that stuff in the air seems… questionable.”

Tim scoffed, “Look, some of the folks I see run through here have a healthy, consensual pet relationship, but I also see a lot of blurred lines as well. Just keep your guard up while you’re here, alright?” He shook his head. “Now, Roberts didn’t tell me why you were looking for me.” You nodded in confirmation and he lifted an eyebrow. “So?”

“Oh, uh, right.” You tried to collect your thoughts so you could pull them together. Tim rolled his eyes at you, and you felt a flare of irritation. You scoffed, “Hey, just give me a second here, my brain is filled with vampire fog right now.” Tim shrugged and continued to wait. You huffed, “The kids. The missing kids. All over Austin⏤ We’ve had a huge string of mixed kids disappearing, and the DMA isn’t investigating. Hell, they’re ignoring it! I confronted Roberts and he said he couldn’t help, but to find you because you can.”

Tim nodded his head slowly, humming in thought, then shook his head, “Can’t help.”

“Excuse me!?” You cried. The curtain was snapped open and you jumped in place until your eyes landed on Din. The Mandalorian tensed with a glare leveled at Tim, but you felt yourself relax marginally just having him near. You motioned to the man sitting beside you, “It’s him.” Din nodded, saying nothing further, and you focused back on Tim. “Now, what the hell do you mean you can’t help?”

“Roberts never said he was sending you to me for this.” Tim scoffed. “I’m not interested in helping.” Din stepped forward, arms crossed, and the glare he leveled at the undercover agent was deadly. Tim scoffed, but you did see the stiffening of his spine, “You gonna sick your big, bad vampire on me?”

“No. But I’ll tell your vampire that your name isn’t really Justin.” You threatened.

Tim’s eyes narrowed briefly, but a slow smirk crossed his features, “You wouldn’t do that. It’s a death sentence for me and I can tell you’re not the kind to ruin a man’s life.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. You wanted to be. For the sake of Ellie and Grogu and every other kid taken from their parents, you wished you could. There was a lump in your throat keeping the words trapped in your chest and Tim saw it clear as day. 

Din hummed, “She’s too good of a person to kill you, but I’m not.” The Mandalorian grabbed Tim by the lapels of his jacket and yanked him off the booth. Tim grabbed the vampire’s hands, but he was no match for Din’s strength. “You’re gonna talk, and you better hope we like what you have to say. Otherwise, it’s not the other vampires you’re gonna have to worry about, human.”

“Just give it up. It’s over now.” Tim hissed. “The kids missing are gone, but it’ll be years before more get taken.”

Din snarled as you stood up with wide eyes, “What does that mean??”

Tim didn’t get a chance to answer. The curtains swung open to reveal two beefy men dressed like the vampire guarding the entrance to this back room. Security. Din didn’t release the agent, but both men froze in surprise. 

“There’s been a noise complaint. What is the meaning of this??” One demanded.

Tim didn’t respond, mouth agape, and Din remained silent as well. His hands tightened in their grip on the man’s lapels. Your eyes darted between them both a second more before rushing forward. You stepped under Din’s arm, forcing him to drop his grip on Tim, and laid your own hands on his chest. With a frown and a shake of your head, you let the nervous energy you felt slip into your tone. “He just came in and wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

Instinctively or not, Din wrapped his arms around you and shifted so his body blocked you from Tim and the two security guards. Tim narrowed his eyes at you, jaw locking, but he wasn’t in the position to deny it. His only other excuse would be he was talking about the DMA. One of the security guards grabbed him by the upper arm, “Who do you belong to?”

“Ranzar Malk.” Tim sighed.

The two guards grunted before dragging Tim away from your booth. Din’s hands tightened around you as he whispered, “Jate’ika, are you alright?”

“No, I’m annoyed.” You mumbled. “That got us nowhere, Din.”

“I think we should leave.”

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head. “We need to find out what he meant.”

“He’s a pet to Ranzar.” Din said firmly and began to tug you out. “We can’t stay.”

You were trying to puzzle out the significance of that. It wasn’t a big enough name that it stood out to you, but you weren’t overly familiar with the vampire circles. You allowed Din to tug you forward, but one of the guards from before slid into your path.

“Ran would like to see you.”

Din cursed then shook his head, “We’re not interested.”

“It wasn’t a request, newcomer.” The guard grunted. 

He turned to lead, and Din pulled you tight into his side then followed. This would give you the opportunity to address Tim again, though it’d be difficult in front of the vampire Tim was serving. Maybe if Din could distract this Ran then you could do something? 

The booth the two of you were led to was much larger than the one you and Din shared. Oval in shape with three small, circular tables in front of it to hold drinks. You spotted multiple vampires lounging in the booth with their humans surrounding them. You tried to avoid making direct eye contact with the ones being actively bitten. The sight of it just seemed to make your skin crawl. At what you would consider the head of the booth sat a heavy set man. He leaned back with one arm resting on the back of the booth. Thick, wavy gray hair went past his shoulders to match the thick beard he sported, and the color also matched the animalistic glimmer to his eyes. Tucked against his side, under the arm outstretched, was a human woman. She wore a tight, pink dress with a draped collar held around her neck with a gold chain. Her blonde hair, so light it looked white under the lights, was stick straight down her back and the freckles across the bridge of her nose were also decorated with glitter she had painted across it. On his other side, kneeling on the ground by the man’s boot like a dog was Tim.

“Oh, you’re a cute thing.” The vampire, Ran you were assuming, cooed at you. “No wonder my pet couldn’t leave you alone.” Ran’s eyes dragged up and down your figure slowly. You leaned against Din just as he tightened his hold on you. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I mean you no harm. Just wanted to apologize to your master.” Ran’s eyes snapped to Din and his lips stretched out into a grin. “I train my pets to behave better than Justin did tonight. Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to bother your little toy.”

Din gave a tight nod. There was actual anger in the set to Din’s brow, an emotion you didn’t fully understand, and the tension in his frame was obvious. He was holding you so tight that it was beginning to become uncomfortable.

“My name is Ranzar Malk, but you can call me Ran.” He chuckled. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” Din didn’t respond and you squirmed uncomfortably. “What is it? You have a problem with me? I’ve already apologized for my pet’s behavior. Don’t be a dick. We’re all friends here.”

When Din still didn’t respond, you nervously chimed up, “We’re just passing through⏤”

“He wasn’t speaking to you, blood bag.” A woman hissed. Her black hair was tied off into two high pigtails that would look silly on any other person, but the cruel grin on her face somehow made it look terrifying. She pushed to stand and drifted closer as if to grab you, “Hasn’t anybody taught you your place⏤”

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Din snarled and pulled you back so you were hidden behind him.

The woman hissed at him in anger, but Ran waved his hand, “Xi’an! Sit your ass down.” She glared at Din but finally dropped back into her seat roughly yanking a petite brown skinned woman onto her lap to drink from. Ran shook his head, “I know your voice. Why do I know your voice?” Din stayed silent and now kept you behind him, entirely hidden from the man. A low chuckle filled the air, “Wait a minute, wait a minute. No way. Mando?? Is that you??”

“Holy shit.” A different vampire off to the side, a man with a shaved head, pulled his fangs out of a woman’s wrist to chime in. “Nuh uh.”

“It is. That’s fucking Mando.” Ran laughed. “You’re dressed down tonight, friend.”

“I’m not your friend.” Din snapped.

“This is rich.” The man with the shaved head, mouth painted red with blood, chuckled. “Where’d that shiny armor go, metal man?”

“Come on. Sit. I insist.” Ran motioned to the spot beside him. “For old times’ sake.”

Din hesitated and you squeezed his arm once in encouragement. You didn’t know the history here, and you hated that these people that Din clearly did not care for were seeing his face, but neither of you could leave without more information from Tim. Otherwise this was a waste. He’d have taken his helmet off for nothing. Finally, Din stepped forward to sit down in the seat offered to him. He tugged you into the seat on his side away from Ran and Xi’an and closer to the other man. Apparently he was the lesser of the three evils.

“I didn’t think Mandalorians kept pets.” Ran teased. “Thought it was beneath your kind.”

“Well, can’t you see, Ran?” Xi’an lifted her lips from the woman on her lap’s neck. “He’s not a Mandalorian anymore apparently.” Din stiffened again. “Pretty boy seems possessive over the girl. Is that why you gave up the tin can helmet?”

Ran chuckled, “For him to give up that precious creed, her blood has gotta be something special.” He motioned toward you and spoke as if you weren’t even there. “You fucking her too, Mando?”

Xi’an scoffed with a mocking sneer, “Ran, can’t you remember? Mando don’t like pussy.”

“The way I remember it, it’s just your pussy he don’t like, Xi’an.” The man beside you laughed. Xi’an bared her fangs and snarled at him. Ran laughed along with the man who spoke and you hated every second of this. Din was trying to keep his face straight, but the hatred in his eyes was clear and just being here in this group made you uncomfortable for him. 

Ran hummed, his gaze on you again, “You know, after all the jobs I kicked your way, Mando, I feel like you kind of owe me.”

“No.” Din spat the single word out in a dangerous, dark tone. 

“You don’t even know what I was gonna suggest!” Ran chuckled.

“I know enough about you to guess.” Din snarled. Even as someone who didn’t know the vampire, you could read a room enough that his tone made you blanch in disgust. Your eyes darted to Tim who you found was already staring at you. His eyes darted down to his hand then back up to you. A pointed look. You glanced down and he opened his palm just enough for you to see a single stick, small syringe of something dark red. Dead man’s blood? It looked like the vampire sedatives made at the DMA. When you met Tim’s gaze again they darted to Ran.

A terrible, terrible, terrible idea came to mind. You lifted your head up to press your lips to Din's ear and murmured quiet enough that only he’d hear. “Suggest a trade. Me for Tim.” Din didn’t want to turn his head to you, but the grip he suddenly had on your thigh was enough to show his distaste. You sighed. “Trust me?”

“What’s the little lady whispering about?” Ran teased.

Din didn’t immediately answer. You didn’t think vampires could be nauseous, but that was the best way to describe the brief look that crossed Din’s face. Finally, he spoke in a tense tone. “I’ll trade.”

“No shit?” Ran guffawed. “Alright. You want little Alana here?” The girl leaning against Ran offered Din a small wave, a quirk to her lips making it clear she enjoyed her position here to some degree. “She’s a fun one.”

Din shook his head, “Him. I want him.”

“Justin?” Ran asked. Din nodded. “Hell, alright. That’s not usually what I use this one for, but he’s getting punished tonight regardless.” Ran grabbed Tim by the hair and pulled his head back with a glare. “He’ll behave real good for you since I know he doesn’t wanna piss me off more.”

Ran shoved Tim away and he rose to his feet. You stood as well to shimmy past the tables and in passing you felt him discreetly push the vial into your hand. Din stood behind you, his hands on your waist, and Ran shouted a biting comment to the other two vampires before motioning for you and Din to follow along. Din’s fingers dug into your skin as you got closer to some smaller, more private booths, and you had a feeling he was tempted to grab you and run. 

Ran stopped and pointed to a booth to the left, “All yours, Mando.” The large vampire reached out to you with a sickening grin and when you tried to step toward him Din wouldn’t let go. You shot him a glance over your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll take real good care of her. You just enjoy your time with mine, yeah?”

Din finally released you and you took in a shaky breath before stepping closer to Ran. He set a hand on your lower back before ushering you into the booth across from the one he offered Din. The moment you were in, he tugged the curtain closed. With Din out of sight, your anxiety began to rise to new highs. Ran hummed and sat down on the booth with a grunt. He eyed you hungrily, “Mando certainly has good taste. You smell sweet, honey.” Ran gave his thigh a pat and you bit back a wave of disgust. “Come to daddy.”

You set your purse down and crossed the space to him. This was for the kids. This was for Joel and Din. This was for a cause bigger than you. Steeling yourself, you carefully straddled his lap and his bare hands grasped the back of your thighs to drag up and grope your ass. Bile tried to claw up your throat as a wave of nausea overtook you. It took all your power to not gag and flinch at his touch.

“You look so nervous, honey.” Ran cooed. You forced a tight lipped smile then leaned forward to rest your arms on his shoulders. He squeezed your ass again, “Now, that’s better.”

Ran buried his face where your shoulder met your neck and inhaled deeply. A groan slipped from his lips and you felt his tongue drag up your skin to right under your jaw. He leaned in closer and you wrapped your arms around him tighter⏤ adjusting the syringe in your hand accordingly. When you felt a sharp fang nick at your skin, you buried the needle into the flesh at the back of his neck. Ran shoved you back furiously and you only barely caught yourself before falling to the ground.

“You bitch⏤” Ran muttered, but his eyes were already fluttering. His head collapsed back against the booth as his entire body sagged into the seat. 

It was only then that you realized you were panting. There was a tremble in your hands that you tried to shake away as you straightened your posture. Disgusted, you rubbed at your neck desperately trying to rub away his saliva and touch.

Quickly, you grabbed your purse and ducked out of the curtain. Nobody seemed to notice when you took the few steps to slip through the curtains of the booth across from you. You had only barely stepped in when familiar hands grabbed you.

“Told you she’d figure it out.” Tim hummed from where he sat on the booth casually.

Din rubbed your arms and shook his head, “Did he hurt you?” His hand lifted to your neck and his eyes widened when you felt his thumb brush against a tender spot. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine, really.” It felt like you had said that a lot today for a lot of very absurd situations.

“That was a shit idea. I never should’ve let you do that.” Din scoffed.

“To be fair, I knew it was a terrible idea.” You gave him an awkward smile. “But it worked.”

Din sighed and looked like he was prepared to argue with you on that opinion. You stepped past him to sit beside Tim. Din joined you and you were caught off guard when he settled his hand around the back of your neck⏤ cradling it softly. The weight and warmth were oddly a comfort that helped distract from the unwelcome touch you were still trying to forget.

“Alright, talk.” You snapped. “What did you mean by what you said earlier?”

Tim heaved a sigh but crossed his legs and nodded, “This isn’t a new problem. Since the DMA was established, this has been occurring.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “It’s usually every decade or so, but in the past it was done with more precision. Only a few kids were taken and their disappearances separated with enough time to avoid suspicion. Taken from different locations too.”

“Taken for what and by who?!” You demanded.

“How much do you know about the people who established the DMA?”

“It was the Weston family and they worked with the Olympians to create an agency that would benefit the supernatural world.” You replied. “They were the original founders.”

Tim nodded, “That’s the who.”

“The… The Weston family?” You shook your head. “Seriously?” Tim nodded again. There were portraits on the wall painted in the honor of the original members of the DMA in the lobby of the building. That’s the connection Miles Jackson had relation wise. He was the great grandson to one of the Weston members still on the board. Other than him though, you had never seen any of these people in person. “But… But why??”

Tim shrugged, “Humans work with the gods long enough, they start to wonder, ‘Why can’t I be immortal too?’” Your eyes widened at the implication. “It’s a ceremony. You can’t create new energy, only transfer it. They take it from the kids and it buys them a decade.”

“Humans did this??” Din snapped.

You held a hand out and shook your head, “This is… There is no way people just let this happen. You know all this and yet you do nothing?? Roberts knows this!?”

“You’re young. You’re naive.” Tim said with a scoff. “So I’ll forgive you for not understanding. This is bigger than all of us. The Weston family? They aren’t to be trifled with. And if a few kids every decade is the price to pay to appease them then it’s worth it.”

“Not to the parents of the kids they stole!” You snapped.

Tim held your gaze for a long moment, glanced at Din as well, then sighed again. “The reason I know is because I used to be a Captain. This is the kind of information only high ranking officials get let in on. When I first found out, I was disgusted. I wanted to fight it. But a battle against that family isn’t the kind you win.” He shook his head. You felt light headed at the news⏤ dizzy even. The room felt like it was beginning to tilt. “That’s why I gave up my status and took a role in the undercover scene.”

“You ran is what you did.” You pushed the words out forcefully while glaring at him. “You and Roberts both. You’re cowards.”

“You can’t save the world. It’s not meant to be saved. Terrible shit happens all the time and all you can do is protect your own and hope for the best.” Tim said.   

There was a buzzing in your purse that made you pause. You glanced down to pull out your phone. Meanwhile, Din’s hand squeezed your neck lightly as he spoke up. “Where are they?” There was a growl underlying his voice. “Where is my son?”

“I’m not privy to that stuff anymore, but I know they’d need a big, empty space. Someplace abandoned.” Tim shrugged. You read your screen and saw Joel had sent a number of texts asking about what was going on. The words blurred as you tried to read them. You squinted to focus, but the only thing on your screen big enough to be read clearly were the numbers ‘11:55’ in big font on the front of your screen. “Is that Joel? As in Joel Miller?” Your head snapped up in surprise. Tim blinked at you then tilted his head. “You’re working with Joel Miller. Really?”

“So?”

Tim shrugged, “I just didn’t expect that after what happened to your mom.”

The room began to spin and it felt like you were sinking⏤ your limbs felt heavy. You struggled to speak, “What⏤ What are you… I⏤ I…”

“Hey.” Tim leaned forward and titled your head to look into your eyes. You heard Din murmur your name. “Hey. Stay with me. Did Ran make you drink something?” You shook your head, but even Tim was difficult to see now. Your skin felt hot. Hot enough that you wanted to peel it off your muscles and bone⏤ strip yourself into nothingness. “Did he touch you?” 

Din’s hand on the back of your neck, which was once a comfort, made the heat worse. You tried to shake it off, but he didn’t budge. Din spoke, “What’s wrong with her?”

“Get her up. Check her skin.”

You felt Din drag you up and hands brushed against your arms, neck, shoulders, and legs. There was a pinch along your thigh as if someone was picking something off. Din held a little black square in his fingers and you felt woozy while standing. “What is this?”

“He drugged her. She should be fine with it off, but she’s gonna wake up with a nasty headache.” Tim shook his head and stood as well. “You should get her out of here. Fresh air might help.” You watched with unfocused eyes as Din tucked your phone into your purse, wrapped it around you, and then gripped your side to help you stand. Tim chuckled. “You know, Roberts was right. You would’ve made a good Agent.”

That was the exact opposite of what Roberts had told you, and days prior it would’ve made you preen with pride at the statement. However, now it just left you with a gross feeling you couldn’t attribute to the drugs. “I don’t want anything to do with the DMA.”

Tim gave a small shrug and you watched him disappear out the curtain with a mumbled ‘good luck’. 

Din was quick to drag you out and traveling through the club again was a blur of noise and light. It wasn’t until chilly night air filled your lungs that the blurriness began to alleviate marginally, but in its place was a heaviness of your body, mind, and heart. You felt Din scoop you up, but as you stared up at the sky you got lost in the stars.

Mando'a Translations:

Gar klesir jatisyc. [you smell delicious.] Ni ceta. [Sorry.]

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[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 11: ALT - "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Vernon (stomach flu), Joshua + Dino (regular flu)

Caregiver(s): Joshua, Dino

Word Count: 1,953

As he trudged through the door of the dorm behind the rest of the hip hop unit, Vernon believed he had never truly felt this tired before. The week had been excruciatingly long. Seventeen had been asked to attend a collaboration stage with a handful of other artists on Saturday, which had been derailed when over half of them had gone down with the flu. Or, to put it more specifically, two separate flu viruses that had assaulted them from all sides. No one had thought much of it when Seungcheol had made the decision to send Seokmin home on Monday with a cough and low-grade fever, and still didn’t after lunch when Mingyu barely made it to the trash can before throwing up. It was overwork, exhaustion. Or at least it was until Seungcheol had to run out of the subsequent meeting with their management team to avoid throwing up in the room with them. It was at that point that everyone (members, managers, EVERYONE) realized something bigger was going on, and subsequent tests revealed that, while all three members had the flu, the virus infecting the two rappers was different from the vocalist. 

But that hardly mattered when everyone knew they were in for a rough week.

The group had been picked off one by one until only five healthy members remained on Friday: Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, and Vernon. Their managers considered cancelling their appearance on Saturday, but Jeonghan (acting leader) and Hoshi (actively leading also) had convinced them to just send BSS, since both Soonyoung nor Seungkwan had been spared thus far, and Seokmin, as one of the first to get sick, was starting to turn the corner and argued he’d be healthy enough to get back out there if they pumped him with meds the morning of. They had, of course, been taking measures to keep the last healthy members as germ-free as possible. So their managers reluctantly agreed. But their hopes were ended with Soonyoung throwing up at 2am Saturday morning, and Seungkwan spiking a fever at 7. And because it was too late to back out now, the group chosen to represent Seventeen had been the hip hop team, since neither Seungcheol nor Mingyu had thrown up for 48 hours, and Wonwoo and Vernon hadn’t been sick at all.

The performance had been perfect. There was nothing better than sharing the stage with their colleagues, combining talents and seeing their fans eat up the interactions. 

What was less perfect was the dull throbbing assaulting Vernon’s brain. As each song wore on, it became harder and harder to ignore the pounding in his skull, the pulsing at his temples. He started to feel claustrophobic in his own skin; the sweat pouring down his face, sticking his hair to the nape of his neck, adhering his clothes to his body, was agonizing. 

Even more agonizing was that Vernon immediately knew he was getting sick. There was nothing he could do about it now. Except pray he hadn’t caught the stomach bug. 

Thankfully, the rest of his bandmates didn’t seem to pay much mind to his listless silence on their journey home. Wonwoo was usually quiet after performances, recharging his social battery, and the other two clearly weren’t back to a hundred percent yet, so everyone was mercifully quiet and lost in their own thoughts on the drive back. Vernon certainly appreciated their distraction to hide his own condition, but at the same time, he had nothing to distract him from the growing pressure in his abdomen. But he could, and definitely was, owing that to the placebo effect. 

When they arrived home, they were met by a welcoming party in the living room. 

“Hey superstars!” Jeonghan smiled brightly from his spot on the chair with Chan wrapped around his abdomen, (Vernon didn’t have the energy to figure out how Chan was doing that, but knew that an unwell Chan wanted nothing more than to curl into one chosen hyung’s body and not let go, so he figured physics didn’t apply to him.) Jun waved from one of the couches, but the effect was dimmed since it was only one hand waving from around Minghao’s head, as the younger dancer was slumped against Jun’s left shoulder while Jihoon’s head was pillowed on his right thigh.

At Jeonghan’s words, Soonyoung’s head appeared from the back of the other couch, hair smushed up and face red with the pattern of the throw pillow. “How’d it go?”

Seungcheol chuckled adoringly, rubbing Soonyoung’s cheek. “Fantastic.” The dancer captain nodded contentedly before falling back against the couch. Vernon smiled in spite of the horrible feeling in his gut, moving quickly away from his members to escape into the void of sleep. If he could just fall asleep right now, maybe he could avoid the inevitable. 

As Vernon hurried to his room, his feet automatically stopped outside a closed door. There was only one thing he wanted as much as, if not more than, sleep. Vernon considered the handle carefully, then tapped twice. There was no response. So he pushed it open. The hall light fell on the bed, on a deeply asleep Joshua’s arms already wrapped around Seungkwan. Vernon’s heart sank. Both of them looked so peaceful, yet so obviously ill, so in need of this sleep. Vernon wasn’t selfish enough to take the few steps to awaken his chosen comfort person. He closed the door with the gentlest click possible, and scurried to his own room, rubbing tears out of his eyes with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. 

***

Vernon had been able to sleep for all of an hour before his body decided enough was enough. He awoke to the worst pressure he’d ever felt in his abdomen, a tangled, cramping pain as if there were a monster writhing beneath his skin. His head was pounding worse than before. His skin was clammy and sweaty and too tight. He was going to throw up. And soon. 

There were no memories between the moment he woke up and the moment he was in the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach. In fact, Vernon would very much like to not be present in this moment at all. The churning in his stomach, the horrifying, acidic feeling of bile in his throat, the loss of control, the desire to instantly clean everything… Vernon would rather suffer anything else than vomiting. 

He had no idea how long he’d been in the bathroom, how many times he’d lurched over the toilet, when a hand, ever-so-gentle, was placed on his back, right between his shoulder blades. And, try as he did, Vernon couldn’t stop his muscles from tensing, an automatic, uncontrollable response of ‘get the fuck off me.’ A sign that his body knew exactly what it wanted and would reject anything else. 

And his attempted comforter knew it too. The hand withdrew, only to be replaced by the softest of grips on both of his shoulders as Chan’s voice whispered in his ear, soft as honey: “It’s okay. I’m getting Shua.”

As Chan’s soft footsteps retreated, Vernon hung his head in defeat and felt tears threatening. This was the very last thing he wanted, to be a burden to others. Now he’d likely insulted and hurt Chan by rejecting his help, and Chan was going to wake Joshua, who was also sick and needed his sleep, and the roiling of his stomach had yet to stop, and both Joshua and Chan would probably stay up to take care of him, which was the worst possible outcome in all of this, not to mention how horrific his entire body was feeling at the moment, and…

Vernon’s brain stopped completely when gentle hands wound around his abdomen, and he was enveloped in a cloud-soft hug from behind. The contact, the only thing his body wanted, opened the floodgates that had threatened for the past hour, and he let out an unrestrained sob.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joshua asked, his grip tightening ever so slightly to calm the sobbing without upsetting the rapper’s fragile stomach. 

“I don’t feel good,” Vernon cried. 

Joshua clicked his tongue. “Oh, Sollie. It’s gonna be okay, baby.” Vernon sobbed again, falling back into Joshua’s arms. “Have you thrown up?” Vernon nodded. Another sympathetic tongue click. “I know you hate that.” One hand left Vernon’s stomach and pushed his hair back from his forehead. The other stayed firmly in place over his abdomen, the warmth already soothing the pain there. Vernon closed his eyes as he nodded again. “Think it’s gonna happen again?” Instead of nodding, Vernon’s face screwed shut with another round of tears, prompting Joshua’s finger to smooth over his cheeks. “Oh, sweetie, I know. I know. It’s gonna be ok-ay…” The elder broke off coughing, leaning away and retracting his hand to bury his face in his sleeve. Vernon whined against his will as Joshua’s fingers left his face, and his eyes swam with new tears, this time with guilt at his selfishness. It was only a moment before the fingers were back in his hair. “Sollie, it’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry…”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” 

“You shouldn’t be here…”

“Honey, please…”

“Hyung, you’re so sick too, I can’t…”

Joshua’s hands cupped Vernon’s face, gentle but firm. “Chwe Hansol, listen to me. It is one in the morning. You are in a heap on the bathroom floor, throwing up, which is something you fear with a burning passion. You need to focus on you. I will be fine. I am going to sit here with you until you are ready to go back to bed, and then I’m gonna stay with you until you fall asleep. Got it?” 

Vernon’s answer was to collapse forward against Joshua, face buried in the older man’s shoulder and arms scrambling for purchase around his waist. Joshua couldn’t wrap his arms back around him fast enough. 

They had been sitting like that, Joshua rocking them back and forth, for an indefinite amount of time when Vernon heard a whispered, “How can I help?” He squirmed enough to see that it was Chan, leaning in the doorway, looking incredibly young. Vernon felt like crying again for rejecting the younger’s help earlier. 

“Can you grab us a water, please?” Joshua replied quietly. “Maybe a damp towel too?”

“Of course.” The younger man sprang forward, pulling a clean wash cloth from the cabinet below the sink and dowsing it with water. He handed the cloth to Joshua before disappearing into the hallway. 

“Okay, love, I need to sit back just a bit, there we go.” The older man pressed the damp cloth to Vernon’s forehead, smoothing the damp material across his overheated skin, cradling both cheeks and the nape of his neck. Vernon’s eyes slipped closed. 

“Thank you, Shua,” he slurred. 

“Anytime, love.” 

Vernon didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep sitting up until he was jostled awake, hands tugging at both of his arms to try and stand him up. He pushed himself to his feet, only stumbling a little bit as his knees shook from sitting on them too long. His supports (Joshua and Chan, of course), wrapped his arms around their shoulders as they led him back to his bed. Vernon crawled under the waiting covers, his entire body sighing with relief at the soft surface of his bed after the cold discomfort of the bathroom floor. He settled further when he felt Chan slide into the bed against his back, Joshua climbing in on his other side. 

This was all he’d wanted. Warm and content, safe with his best friends in the entire world, Vernon let sleep pull him under once more. 

[13as07]

Hanahaki Disease

(Shino Aburame)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to imoimo00000]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,878

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

“Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.”

Mentions of Mental Illness (Depression, Anxiety and Bipolar Disorders)

———————————————————————

     My eyes trail after Shino who's slipping out the door. Today is another day of him leaving without giving me my goodbye kiss. Not that anyone is counting, because I'm not counting. Who cares if Shino has forgotten to kiss me goodbye every day this month? Who cares if he's started month two of the forgotten kiss? Not me.

He's a very busy man. He's one of the teachers at the Academy, he has a lot of clan matters to attend to, not to mention he's started his training to take over as chief for his dad. So who cares if he doesn't remember to kiss me, even if it's only five seconds of his day?

It would be selfish of me if I threw a hissy fit over something so small. Shino is mentoring the next generation of Shinobis. Shino is taking care of his people and their needs. Shino is starting his path to take over the clan. His father is almost sixty, eventually, he's going to want to retire. It would be self-centered of me to start a fight because Shino is too busy taking care of the community.

     Besides, when Shino has free time he'll spend it with me. Who cares if it's been weeks since we've been on a date? Who cares if it's been a couple of months since we've been physically? Who cares that the only time I see him anymore is five minutes in the morning and the occasional nights that he wakes me up sneaking into bed? Not me, that's who.

     I knew what I was signing up for. He lives a busy life and so do I. That's the life of a Shinobi, I shouldn't be surprised we don't have a lot of time together. Shino is a pillar of our community. I know that.

But it only takes five seconds. A peck and then he can leave. Not to mention he's done it for years. Why isn't he doing it anymore? Has he forgotten? Or has he been choosing not to kiss me? There's no way Shino has forgotten, he never forgets anything, so it has to be a willing choice right? Why doesn't he want to kiss me anymore? Have we lost our spark? Is Shino over our relationship? Does he see me as another task instead of his partner? Is that why he isn't kissing me? Or maybe he just doesn't -

The thought gets cut off by a pain in my chest. My hand shoots up, rubbing my chest to try and work out the pain. Instead of working out the nest of aches, my rubbing brews a cough.

The sound of my lungs trying to loosen the pain ripples through my rib cage, making the empty apartment echo with the sound. The more I cough the more pain flutters through my chest.

My eyes snap closed as another string of coughs rips from my chest. Tears prickle my eyes as my lungs pound against my ribs.

As the third round of coughing starts, something in my chest shifts. As I cough, the loosening feelings continue, something smooth shooting out every time another wheeze is forced from my lungs. It hurts every time a chunk of whatever flies out, leaving behind a burning feeling in my lungs. Like a new scab wound is being ripped into my airway.

By the time I'm done coughing, my throat feels raw and my chest feels like it's on fire. I tip my head backward, resting it on the chair I've been sitting on. My breath is shaky and uneven as I try to catch it, the oxygen rolling over the imaginary wounds as I suck it in. It feels like licks of fire running down my throat.

After a few deep breaths, the pain has subsided and my breathing is back in check. Maybe I'm getting sick. I should ask Shino about it, he's a medicine expert courtesy of his clan.

A threat of another cough fit bubbles in my chest, making me clear my throat in hopes of forcing it down.

When I successfully manage to avoid another round of wheezing, I lift my head back up, snapping my eyes open so I can start my day. As my eyes open, I'm met with a small pile of petals littered across the kitchen table and the floor underneath it.

     The petals are wide and curved at the end. The soft yellow of them is dotted with speckles of blood, making my nerves tingle. Those weren't there before I coughed but there's no way... I did not cough up flower petals. That's impossible... It's not... It's not the Hanahaki Disease.

     Shino loves me, I know he loves me. Right? So what if he's been a little busy? So what if we haven't had much time together recently... any time together recently? He's just a little busy. I know Shino loves me, he loves me... Right?

                      ———————————

     I can feel another petal trying to wheeze its way out as I walk up the stairs back home. Sakura's words roll around my head as I climb the steps to my front door.

     "It's a mental state of mind in a physical form. The personification of your thoughts. Go home and stop stressing about Shino so much and it should fix itself."

     Sakura's words were meant in good light but at the moment it doesn't seem like that, or feel like that since I'm winded from climbing a flight of stairs. Another round of coughing is threatened in my lungs, the feeling of the ignored cough slamming against my rib cage as I refuse to give in.

     My hand shakes as I dig my keys out of my pocket and struggle to get the door unlocked and opened. When I finally do manage to get the door open, I leave it swung wide and dash towards the trash. My head hangs in it, hands on my knees as I cough into the can.

     The growing familiarity of petals being ripped from my lungs fills my chest, the yellow lilies coated in my blood spilling into the trash as I cough them up.

     By the time a flower or two is released, the fluttering of my lungs settles, leaving me to catch my breath again. My eyes scan the trash, the tears now coating my sights making it a little difficult to make out the proof of my disease.

     Shino loves me. He loves me. I know he loves me... or do I? If I knew he loved me I wouldn't be in this situation.

     "Stop stressing about Shino so much."

     Sakura's voice rings in my head again, helping me calm my breathing down.  My eyes scan over the petals once more before I climb to my feet. I'll take a nap, that should help. No coughing, no Shino, no worrying about his love for me or lack thereof recently. It's just a bump in the road, just my anxiety getting the better of me. I'll beat this disease in no time because Shino loves me... unless he doesn't...

                       ———————————

     Panic is not real, it is an imaginary emotion, and it's nothing more than an adrenaline rush. My shallow breath is nothing but adrenaline. The ringing in my ears is adrenaline. It's not even adrenaline, it is the sound of my blood moving quicker because my breaths are moving quicker because my adrenaline has been heightened by Sakura.

By Sakura who stopped by the school on her lunch break. Who 'accidentally' left my Bumble Bee's papers from her visit to the hospital today. Who doesn't understand the meaning of Doctor-Patient Confidentiality. Who took the risk of getting fired to tell me I've been neglecting my Bumble Bee so much that flowers are growing in her lungs because I am lacking as a romantic partner.

I'm well versed in the knowledge of the Hanahaki Disease. After all, one in five people will experience it during their lifetime. The chances of someone I know having the disease or getting it is quite high.

Not to mention being from a medical clan means I should be well versed in top diseases and disorders. I know the symptoms, I know the signs. I would have seen them. I would have noticed.

I pay very close attention to my Bumble Bee's health, especially when it comes to the Hanahaki disease. People suffering from depression, anxiety, bipolar disorders, or a mix of them are more likely to get it, and my Bumble Bee falls into that category. I would have noticed.

I know I've been busy but I still see her for... for a few minutes every morning and... and when I get home before midnight... which happens... once a week if I'm lucky...

My heart rate increases at the thought. Maybe I wouldn't have noticed. No, no I would have. I... I would have.

Panic - no, panic isn't real. It's just unchecked adrenaline. My adrenaline is in check, I am in control of it. But the front door being wide open with Bumble Bee's keys still hanging in the lock makes it very difficult to keep my adrenaline in check. The trash bag full of lily petals and her blood doesn't either.

"Bumble Bee?" I call, scanning for any signs that something happened. I can never be too sure that it's not a trap. "Bumble?" I call again, making slow steps toward our open bedroom door.

My adrenaline drops at the sight of her in bed. She looks pink, probably a fever forming from her body trying to respond to the flowers blooming in her chest. Her breaths are raspy, oxygen struggling to fill her lungs because of the lilies. More petals float around the room, littering our bedding and the carpet.

It would have been a pretty sight if it wasn't for the blood droplets decorating the yellow flowers. It's fitting, the yellowing of the petals. It's almost a bumblebee yellow. Bumblebee yellow for my Bumble Bee.

                         ———————————

     The feeling of arms wrapping around me stirs my sleep, panic quickly taking over me. "Calm down, Bumble Bee," Shino's smooth voice fills my ears, easing the fear that was growing. "It's just me."

     I'm calm for a second or two before a cough brews in my chest, threatening to give way to my developing illness.

     I snap my eyes open, quickly scanning for any petals that might have slipped out as I slept. None fall into view, chilling my nerves again. The last thing Shino needs is to be stressing and worrying about me. Besides, Sakura said it should fix itself if I stop worrying. It's all mental.

     My eyes flicker to the clock, four eleven. "You're home early," I mumble, trying to stay still in Shino's hold. Maybe he forgot about his after-work plans, though I'm not complaining. I'll take any extra time I can get, even if it's only long enough for his forgetfulness to clear up.

     "I know," he answers, crawling into bed. Shino shifts around moving me across the bed as he settles next to me. "I don't feel the best. I am going to take a nap," he mutters, arms tucked around me again to further crush me into his chest.

     Shino's fingertips ghost over my back, crawling across my shirt in different patterns. Soon his head dips down, nose shifting my hair out of the way. The material of his sunglasses rubs against my throat as he buries his head into my neck. He must feel really sick if he didn't take the time to change out of his day clothes before crawling into bed.

     "Do you want me to make you some soup? It'll help you feel better," I ask, going to sit up to climb out of bed. Shino doesn't have time to be sick.

     "No," He answers shortly, tightening his hold on me to pull me back down on the bed before I have the chance to get up. "It's nothing more than a fever. It'll go away after some rest. Rest with me, Bumble Bee."

"Alright," I mumble, curling back up on the mattress. I cuddle against him again, resting my head on his chest as his arms tie themselves around me.

                         ———————————

I can feel the cough brewing in my chest as my eyes flutter open. It's difficult trying to fight the cough down. If I was sure Shino wasn’t still home I’d let it out.

     My chest aches as I roll out of bed, my worries about Shino being sick and not loving me taking its toll on my body. As if my thoughts could talk, the bedroom door creaks open said bug boy poking his head into the room. "Good morning, Bumble Bee."

     "Good morning," I call back, attempting to clear my throat to further push down the cough fit threatening to happen. "You're not even dressed," I point out, eyes jumping from the clock to Shino who's still in his bedclothes. "You're going to be late."

     "One of my coworkers is covering the first hour of my day."

     "Why?" I ask, ducking into the bathroom as the need to cough continues to grow.

     "I did not set my alarm so I woke up late. When I called to let them know they said to take as much time as I need," Shino answers, his voice muffled by the doors and space between us.

     "Well I'm sorry your morning started rough," I call back, raising my voice to make sure he can hear me. The louder volume forces a round of coughs out of me, pain ripping through me as petals flutter out.

     A second, third, and fourth coughing fits fill the bathroom before Shino knocks on the door. "Are you alright, Bumble?"

     I grip the sink, resting my weight against it as I try to catch my breath. "Ya... I'm... I'm alright, Shino," I answer, watery eyes scanning the small room. Three dozen or so petals litter the tiled floor, the before dots of blood now small pools coating the colorfulness.

     "Well alright. Are you ready for breakfast?" He asks, softly knocking on the door.

     "Yes, I'll be out in a second," I tell him, bending down and starting to collect the lilies. My lungs scream in pain as air filters through them, being hunched over to clean up my mess not helping.

Once the mess is cleaned up, petals thrown out and my blood splatters wiped up, I make my way out to the kitchen. The soft sizzling of the stove fills the space, the smell of bacon fighting for space as well. "Shino?"

"Bumble Bee?" He calls back, turning towards me. I swear some of the pain in my chest melts away when he looks at me, eyes uncovered and almost shiny as he takes me in. "I'm making you bacon and eggs. I hope that's alright."

"That's more than alright," I say, sliding over to stand next to him. "But you don't have to. I know you have a busy day, I can finish making myself breakfast."

"I'll finish making your breakfast," Shino mumbles, shifting away so I can't take the spatula from him. "Go sit down."

Reluctantly, I do as I'm told, sliding into a chair at the table. I settle my arms on the table, resting my head on them as I watch Shino cook. The worry of making his day worse swirls around my head, though it melts away when he turns towards me, a soft smile crawling on his face when his eyes meet mine.

It only takes a few more minutes for Shino to finish my breakfast. My plate is set on the table, the man leaning over me to set it down. "Your breakfast, Bumble," he mutters, hands resting on my shoulders as a kiss is pressed into my cheek. "I am going to get dressed, enjoy your food," he adds, kissing my other cheek before he leaves me in the kitchen.

     My eyes flutter over my plate, scanning over the food that has waves of heat rolling off of them. I feel a bit guilty about my disease. How could I believe Shino doesn't love me when he does things like this for me?

     Because this is the first time in almost two months he's paid any attention to me. Because yesterday was the first time in too long that he's been home right after work. Because now that he's feeling better I won't see much of him let alone have any of his attention.

     Another coughing fit rams against my lungs, threatening to spill out as I pick up my fork. I need to keep my thoughts in check, they're only making my illness worse.

     "Stop stressing about Shino so much."

     Sakura's voice rings in my head as a cough wheezes out. My eyes trail after the yellow petal that spills free, watching it slowly float down to the table, settling next to the plate of food Shino made for me. Of course Shino loves me. He just has a lot of things on his plate right now. He loves me... I think.

                         ———————————

My breathing sounds more like hissing as I lean against the Academy wall. Another three dozen or so petals are tangled at my feet, staining the road in the small pools of my blood.

Sakura gave me a doctor’s note to turn in so I could have some time off. A Shinobi that’s coughing up flowers and blood isn’t exactly useful. Hence, me being at the Academy.

I take a couple more swallow breaths, trying not to tempt another coughing attack to form. Once my breathing is settled for the hundredth time today, I push myself off the wall and head inside.

It’s a quick walk to the mission center, but it’s still a peaceful one. The sound of children, teachers, and classrooms buzzing filling the space there. At least until a door slams open.

A blonde boy with bright blue eyes stares at me. Whiskers are stamped into his face as well. Naruto couldn’t deny the kid as his if he tried. “Hello, Lady. Sensei wants you.”

“What?” I ask, taking a peak into the classroom. Shino is standing in front of the desk, glancing at the two of us now and again as he rambles on with his lesson.

“My Sensei wants you. Shino-Sensei. That guy,” the boy says, repeatedly pointing at Shino. “Aren’t you his girlfriend or whatever? You should know who he is. Unless it’s not true. Sensei?!” The boy leaves the door wide open, storming back in as he confronts his teacher about ‘lying’ to him about our relationship.

I slide into the room after the boy, a smile crawling on my face as I watch Shino defend himself in the verbal warfare Naruto’s son is throwing at him. Chocho - the chief’s granddaughter - is waving her hand like crazy at me, trying to catch my attention.

I wave back at her, getting a head tilt towards her teacher and childish kissy faces shot my way. My smile grows as I shift my shoulders up, playing into the clan’s princess’s game. Her nose scrunches up as she pretends to get sick, making me giggle silently. The quiet giggles make my lungs ache, a coughing fit trying to shove its way out of my mouth.

“Please go sit back down Boruto,” Shino grumbles, ducking behind his desk.

“But Sensei! You said anyone that spotted your girlfriend could get a piece of candy!” Naruto’s son - who he totally in character named after himself - whines, staying put in front of Shino’s desk.

Shino sighs, a piece of candy being tossed to the Hokage’s son before his head pops back over his desk. “So you have your kids playing look out today?” I tease, for once pain not bubbling in my chest. It makes me giddy knowing he talks about me to his students.

More giddiness only grows as Shino climbs back to his feet, a vase full of orchids in tow along with a sleek black box. “You didn’t take any missions yesterday so I assumed you would be around today,” he mumbles, walking towards me before leaning the flowers out towards me. “When you stopped in today I wanted to make sure I saw you. I don’t want the children ruining your flowers before I get home.”

His words come out monotone as ever but still manage to make my breathing seem easier. “Thanks, Shino, I appreciate the gestures,” I answer, taking the cooled vase from him. “I’ll let you get back to class. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“You’ll see me tonight.”

“But you told your dad - ”

“I will see you tonight,” Shino cuts me off, handing me the box before softly patting my head. His glasses settle their focus on my face, the dark lens making it impossible to figure out the exact spot they’re focused on. “My father can wait. I want to be with you tonight.” His fingers coast through my hair before a soft pat is placed against my cheek. A soft smile is sent my way before he turns on his heels, Sensei Shino back in control.

I blink a few times, my sights on the purple flowers poking out of the white vase. When my senses filter back in, I wave a quick goodbye to Chocho before leaving the room.

My walk is slower this time, making sure not to spill any water onto the mystery box as I head towards the mission center again.

                         ———————————

My eyes fall down the mirror again, taking in the sundress I’ve put on. The flowy material is what Shino put into the mystery box. The dress is yellow, not my favorite but it fits with the nickname he has given me through our years together.

I figured with the fancy dress and the free time I have, I should try to look nice when he gets home, hence the done hair and light makeup.

“You are perfect,” Shino’s voice fills the room, startling me at the suddenness.

“Thank you.”

“You are beautiful,” he continues, his frame falling into view in the mirror. Shino’s glasses rest on top of his head, giving me the sight of his eyes that are jumping around my body. “We should go to dinner.”

“We should?”

Shino hums a yes, arms settling on my hips and tugging me backward so I’m pressed against him. “You look gorgeous. My partner is gorgeous. It would be a waste not enjoying your beauty,” he mutters, brushing kisses across my neck as his eyes continue to jump over the view of me in the mirror.

“You look lovely. You are exquisite. You are my everything,” Shino continues to drown me in whispered compliments, lips brushing across my jaw now. His hands rub soft circles against my stomach, his fingers nimble as they crawl across my dress. “My everything,” he repeats, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

I let myself relax against him, soaking in Shino’s undivided attention. As he toys with the hem of my dress, a thought filters into my head. I haven’t coughed up any petals since I visited the academy.