#i wanted to do the bulk of the work before the new year and i did it

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 8]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

"You can add a layer of natural compost to provide the plant with the nutrients its missing. Then add a layer of this mulch right at the top, it'll help keep the moisture in. Your plant should be fine right after." You smiled, handing the bag of mulch and natural compost to the customer after she paid.

"Okay, I'll go home and repot it properly. Do I stick to my regular watering schedule?" She asked.

"Water it every alternate day instead. Since we're retaining moisture, there's no need to water it every day now. Or it might drown the plant." You informed.

"Ah, I don't want that to happen." She giggled and you nodded with a laugh.

"Come back if you need any other help." You told her, walking her to the door. She bowed her head and left your store.

Once she left, you went back to working on online order pick ups. You recently received a big order for a huge event so you were trying to clear orders and you were not able to take in anymore new orders.

"Excuse me. Are you open?" The door opened.

"Yes, I am. How can I help you?" You wiped your hands and went out to greet the customer.

"I need a bouquet for a friend in the hospital. Do you do that? Maybe a small teddy bear, I don't know..." She smiled in embarrassment. But you knew what she meant and what she wanted so you waved her further into the store.

"Do you know the person's favourite flower? If not, there are sunflower bouquets, those are popular because of how bright they are." You chuckled.

"She doesn't have a favourite flower... Let's just go with the sunflowers. I know she likes blue, can that be added?" She asked.

"Of course. I'll wrap the flowers in baby blue tissue, there'll make it really pretty." You smiled.

"Thanks." She sighed and sat down to wait. You hummed softly to yourself as you picked out the sunflowers and began to trim the stems, remove the excess leaves and arrange them.

"I'll add some extra flowers on the side if that's okay, just to bulk up the bouquet." You checked with the customer.

"Sure." You nodded.

She watched as you laid everything out in a bouquet arrangement and tied the stems together with a rubber band first. Then you wrapped the bottoms with wet tissues and began to wrap the whole thing in decorative tissues. The girl watched you as you worked, securing the bouquet together with a ribbon.

"These are the designs of small animal plushes we have. You can pick one and I'll add it to the bouquet. Also, you can write the card." You placed the box on the counter for her to pick.

"This one. She likes cats." The girl explained. You placed a holder and positioned the flowers while she wrote the card.

"All done. Is there anything else I can do for you?" You asked as you walked her to the counter.

"No, that's all. Thanks for all your help, the bouquet is beautiful. I don't know anything about flowers. I just know you get it for people when they're sick." She shrugged.

"Of course, happy to help." You showed her the bill and processed the payment on her card.

"Thanks again." She bowed and walked out of your store.

"Now, where were we?" You continued to work on your online orders. Suddenly, someone tapped you on the shoulder, making you flinch and jump, letting out a small yelp in surprise.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you, I forgot to ask for a name card." The girl from earlier asked.

"Sure, sorry about that. I overreacted." You tried your best to maintain composure as you went to retrieve a name card for her before she left again. Your heart was racing, you didn't know why you reacted so badly to someone touching your shoulder.

Who were you kidding? Of course you knew. Because it was like the guy that was at the club. You shivered as a flash of what happened passed in your head.

And at the same time, you wondered if the guy would come back and sought revenge against you. Or was he even alive?

"Don't think about that." You scolded yourself with a frown. You didn't know the state Hongjoong left the guy in, he could be dead or alive.

"Focus on work." You let out a long, shaky exhale and proceeded to throw yourself back into your work. Hopefully, that will be the last that you encounter Hongjoong.

You didn't know what he did and what he was but at this point, you'd rather not find out.

"Hi. I'm here to pick up order #2140?" A male came in.

"Yes, sure. Let me help you get that. Can I see the order confirmation? Just to be sure." You wiped your hands against your apron. He nodded and showed you in email.

"That's great. Here it is, order #2140. You can check that everything is to your liking. Then you can pay." You told the customer. He scanned the bouquet and nodded in approval, going to settle the payment. It was a standard bouquet that you had on the website, an anniversary bouquet that was quite popular.

"Have a nice day." You wished as he left. Since there was a little bit of lull time, you stopped working on orders and worked on your botany.

"Tincture." You opened your botany book. Tinctures were made of dried and/or fresh plants and herbs, steeped in either vinegar or alcohol to extract their properties.

"This, this and this." You sought through your collection to find what you needed.

Following the recipe, you picked out the herbs that you needed and placed them into a glass jar then added concentrated alcohol.

"Ready in 4 weeks? Wow." You wrote the date and type of tincture on a piece of tape and taped it to the jar. Then you placed the jar on the shelf to let it mature.

"Hi (y/n). Here for today's pick ups." The delivery man came through the back door like always.

"Hey, Mr Kim. Let me see which orders are for delivery." You went to the area where all the prepared flower orders were.

"Looks like it's all these here." You gestured. He nodded and began to bring the flower boxes out to where his truck was parked in the alley. You helped him carry the bouquets while he picked up more of the wreaths and flower boxes.

"You've got the addresses already right?" You confirmed. He hummed and scanned all the barcodes on the order invoices against his checklist to make sure everything was there.

"There's a bouquet missing it seems. Order #418?" He showed you the screen.

"Hmm. Let me check, it could be mixed up with the pick up orders." You went back into the store and looked for it.

"Roses bouquet with black and grey tissue." You checked the description on your order list. Maybe you had missed out on the order while wrapping the flowers.

"Sorry, Mr Kim. Let me quickly put that bouquet together." You bowed and apologised.

"No worries. It happens." He waved you off.

"Feel free to have some tea while you wait." You gestured to the pot of tea that you always brewed in the shop, it's usually for yourself or familiar visitors like delivery men. You quickly picked out the flowers that you needed and made the bouquet. It was a standard rose bouquet with baby's breath surrounding the red roses.

"There, sorry again for delaying you." You handed him the bouquet once it was done, all wrapped in the layered tissue and secured with a thick, silver ribbon.

"No need to apologise, (y/n). Thanks for the tea. Have a nice day." He patted your shoulder and left to make the deliveries.

"You too!" You waved as the truck drove off. After that, you went back to getting orders sorted.

Finally when you sat down, you winced as you lifted your leg. It was a sprained ankle, nothing too major but you've been hiding the bandage under pants and the pain with a smile.

"Hello~" Jihoon entered through the back door and you quickly put your leg down, making sure your pant leg covered the bandage.

"Jihoon, what are you doing here?" You blinked in surprise.

"Well, hello to you too, neighbour. I'm here to deliver you a warm lunch! You're welcome." He held up the paper bag and the iced drink that he was holding.

"Thanks, Jihoon. Let me know how much everything is and I'll wire it over." You smiled gratefully as you stood up. At your words, Jihoon shot you a flat look. He knew you would insist on paying but he didn't want you too.

"Hush, just eat. Don't worry about paying." He sat you back down and cleared your table so he could put the sandwich and drink down.

"Hmm..." You shot him a look but sighed in defeat and patted the seat beside you. Before sitting down, Jihoon poured himself a cup of tea from your warmed tea pot.

"This is nice. What is this?" He pointed, taking a sip.

"Mixed dried berries with raspberry leaf." You replied, taking a bite of the warm sandwich.

"Isn't that what pregnant women drink?" He raised an eyebrow. You shot him a surprised look but nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah, my mom gave a lot to my cousin when she was pregnant with my nephew. Supposed to make birth easy or something. I swear she even bathed in it once." Jihoon scoffed.

"It'll help with muscle cramps too, it's an anti inflammatory and anti oxidant." You explained.

"Hopefully it'll get rid of my calf muscle pain then." Jihoon chuckled and took another sip. You laughed and continued to eat your sandwich, enjoying your chat with Jihoon. Mrs Kim was always your lunch time companion, Jihoon must know that you would feel the absence of her presence and come.

"Do you miss her?" Jihoon asked. Your hands stopped and you paused your chewing before nodding your head with a hum, knowing he was referring to Mrs Kim.

"You know that she was the closest thing to a mother figure that I have ever had." You replied.

"Mhmm. I also know you didn't even give yourself a break." Jihoon stated.

"I don't need a break, Jihoon. Continuing and distracting myself with work is what helps me, not sitting at home and crying." You shrugged, standing up and going to toss the trash.

"Don't you have a cafe that needs running?" You chuckled, changing the subject so you wouldn't harp on that topic for too long.

"They'll survive without me." Jihoon waved you off. You laughed and shook your head.

You and Jihoon continued to chat until your lunch break was over and you chased him out. No doubt his workers were good but you didn't want to be the reason why their boss slacks. So after giving him a bouquet of flowers to decorate his shop with, he left.

"Welc- Hongjoong sshi." You blinked, stopping in your tracks. Having heard the bell, you thought that there was a new customer. You didn't expect Hongjoong to come in.

"Good afternoon." Hongjoong bowed his head as he entered your shop.

"W-What can I help you with?" You blinked.

"I... wanted to make sure you got your ankle looked at." Hongjoong cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Oh! I'm fine, it's just a sprain. Nothing big. Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable." You forced a small smile and gestured to the seats by your work table.

"I'm glad. Thanks." He unbuttoned his jacket and sat down on the stool. You poured him a cup of tea and offered it to him.

"Please, don't let me stop you from your work." He gestured to the materials that were scattered around.

"So, how have you been Hongjoong sshi?" You asked to try and prevent an awkward silence from falling down on the both of you. You kept your head down, focusing on the bouquets you were preparing to put in the display and fridges for walk in customers. Hongjoong watched you, sipping his tea.

"Same as always. What about you?" He asked back. You had stated clearly the last time you met that you didn't want the incident to be brought up again but Hongjoong couldn't help it.

"Fine. Same as always, too. Just here, running the shop, fixing orders, you know..." You shrugged.

"Hongjoong sshi, I don't mean this in any way at all but what's the real reason you came here?" You finally asked him.

"(y/n) sshi, I feel like I owe you yet another apology." He confessed with an honest look on his face. The way he looked at you, it just reminded you of Mrs Kim.

"If it's about what happened last week-"

"No, I mean, yes. Partly. I... I know we're practically strangers but I've been treating you unfairly." Hongjoong sighed

"Okay, now you've lost me." You chuckled. Hongjoong was relieved that you laughed, making this conversation a whole more lighthearted than he thought it would be.

"Like I said when we first met here... Whatever my relationship with my mother was shouldn't have clouded my view or attitude towards you. It's just... I don't know... It seems like we knew her as a different person entirely." He rubbed his temples.

"I get it..." You nodded your head with a hum.

"But that shouldn't excuse how I've been towards you. I have to deal with my demons myself." He confessed.

"It's okay, Hongjoong sshi. I know it can't be easy with everything that's been happening. And honestly, it's conflicting to me too." You empathised with him.

"So I'm not crazy." He cracked a smile.

"Far from." You giggled, fixing up the bouquet. You momentarily left the conversation to put the bouquets in the fridge.

"But still, I apologise." He insisted.

"There's no need to but if you insist, apology accepted. And I think at this point, we can drop the formalities." You turned your head to say to him as you arranged the bouquets.

"I'd like that." He smiled kindly as you returned to the work bench. You noticed his ears turning a light shade of pink. Dropping formalities didn't immediately mean a friendship but at least you two were no longer just strangers. Whether you liked it or not, the universe keeps making your paths cross.

"(y/n), I have another request, if it's okay with you." Hongjoon gulped as he mentioned. You nodded.

"I'm not ready to talk about my mother. My relationship with her, your relationship with her. I'm not ready... But when I am, I hope you'll help me." He looked at you with desperate eyes.

"Of course, Hongjoong. Any time. Whenever you're ready." You smiled softly.

RINGGGG

"Ah, hang on." Hongjoong clicked his tongue, annoyed that his phone broke that moment you were having. He looked at his phone to see Yunho calling.

"What?" He hissed, turning away slightly. You weren't gonna eavesdrop so you just continued your work.

"Look, Yunho. Just... hire another gardener, you don't need to tell me this! You make decisions too, all 8 of us do. If you need some sort of approval, ask Hwa." Hongjoong threw his head back with a groan.

"Fine, fine... Yeah, sure. I'm not sure why you want to add to my workload with this but I'll look when I get home later... Yeah, whatever. Goodbye." Hongjoong hung up with a grumble, glaring at his phone as he did.

"Everything okay?" You stifled a laugh.

"Oh, yeah. It's nothing. One of my brothers can't seem to hire a gardener himself all of a sudden." Hongjoong clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

"Well, if it's not too much. If you're too busy to find a gardener now, I could help you in the mean time." You offered.

"What? Really? I don't want to make you busier, I'm sure you have a lot to do with the shop." Hongjoong shook his head.

"I wouldn't have offered if I couldn't. My shop is closed Sundays and Thursdays anyway, I could go once a week on those days to tend to the plants." You shrugged.

"Just until I have the time to find a gardener." Hongjoong said.

"Sure, whatever you're comfortable with. Do you have a picture of your backyard?" You asked.

"Oh, let me see. Although, I don't know what plants we have." Hongjoong took his phone out and scrolled through his pictures, trying to find the last time he took a picture of the backyard garden. When he finally found one, he showed it to you. Your eyes widened at the huge backyard. The fenced garden only took a portion of it.

"Wow... That's a big garden..." You couldn't help but be in awe.

"It is. But you'll just need to tend to the fenced area. The rest of the field behind it is not necessary." Hongjoong informed. That was where they killed or practiced weapons sometimes.

"Sure, I'll be there on Monday." You smiled, excited to be working in such a big garden space.

"Here's the address." Hongjoong took the small piece of paper from the table and scribbled it down for you.

"Thank you." You took the paper and tucked it into your pocket.

"When I came in here, I didn't think I would leave after having offered you a job." Hongjoong admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. You nodded in agreement.

"You never know what the universe has in store for you." You chuckled and cleared your work table.

"Thank you, (y/n). I have to return to work now but I'll see you soon." Hongjoong slid off the stool.

"You're welcome, Hongjoong. Thank you for stopping by. I'll see you Monday." You walked him to the door. He nodded and bowed politely before exiting the shop. You watched as a chauffeur opened the door for him to enter a luxury car before returning to drive off.

"What just happened?" You asked yourself in disbelief as you walked back to your shop counter. You told yourself you should steer clear but here you were, offering to work for him.

But it was too late to regret now, what's done is done. You knew you couldn't go back on your word.

You'll just go, tend to plants and leave. Simple.

"I'm not ready to talk about my mother. My relationship with her, your relationship with her. I'm not ready... But when I am, I hope you'll help me."

Hongjoong's words from earlier replayed in your head. It was so different, he looked and sounded so involuntarily vulnerable.

To be frank, you were not ready too. You were fond of Mrs Kim, she took care of you, cared for you.

But were you ready to hear how sour Hongjoong's relationship with her was? No, you were not ready to hear any of that. Especially since that wound still felt so fresh.

"I hope I don't regret this." You muttered to yourself.

~

Series masterlist

[wall-eye]

I think that im all set to open commissions when I feel ready, just need to set up PayPal for it.

[bladeofthestars]

.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader

Simon's short term rental is almost claustrophobic.

He tries to stay out of it, tries to keep himself busy. Active. After a week since you asked him to go home, to give you some space, he noticed he's lost weight. The thick of his ribs, his stomach, his thighs, has thinned out, cutting his bulk, exposing more muscle.

The grief feels more fresh than it has in years. Talking to you, telling you, has dredged up long buried things, agony and regret, pain that steals his breath and leaves him paralyzed. He forces himself not to think of it, but it still finds a way to creep in. To make him feel torn apart, turns him into a ghost.

He walks a lot. Walks to the store. Walks to the pub. Walks to the park. Sometimes he sits on the bench and watches mums push their buggies, wondering if it's something you might enjoy, if you were feeling better. Wishing he had made more of an effort to get you out of the flat, into the sunshine.

He's still walking to your building at night, standing under the tree, watching the lights flicker on and off. Your windows stay lit longer now, periods of sleep more infrequent, leaving him to worry that you're not getting enough rest, not taking care of yourself.

He walked all morning into early afternoon today. Tried to quell the nausea swirling in his stomach, tried not to watch the clock, or count the seconds. Tried to brace himself for the bittersweet he knew was coming.

>Hey, I'm going to be leaving pretty soon for work, and could be gone for a while. Could I see Orion before I go? Spend some time with him?

>Sure.

Your reply still rings in his ears. Short. Torturous.

But he doesn't blame you. He did it the wrong way. You have a child, his child, to protect, to take care of. Of course, you should be concerned. Maybe he should have found a better way to tell you. Maybe he shouldn't have told you at all.

A large part of him, the instinctual part, considered refusing you, when you asked him to give you some time, and he still hasn't made a decision about what he will do in the long run.

It would be so easy, to hide you away. To take you in the middle of the night, wake you up in a brand new home, high in hill, in a whole new country across a border.

When the knock on his door finally comes, he crams the overflow of emotion coursing through his heart into a teeny tiny box, and prays he'll be able to keep a lid on it.

"Hey." Orion turns in your grip, looking for Simon's voice, and you smother a wince at the shift in his weight.

"Hi." You look through him. Past him. To the left of his elbow, at his shoulder, the floor. Anywhere but his eyes.

"Thanks for letting me spend some time with him." Your lips go flat, but you shuffle the baby into his arms, managing to avoid skin to skin contact. It makes his stomach hurt worse than it already did.

"Of course, you're... you're his dad." You peek around him, trying to get a better look of the flat. "Do you uh, have stuff for him?"

"I went to the store."

"Okay. Well, good." You hand him the bag next. "I wasn't sure what you had so there are a few changes of clothes in there, just in case, and some bottles. They should probably go in the fridge. Diapers, some toys. Just in case... I didn't want.... I wanted you to have everything you might need." It's thoughtful of you, and he wants to smile, but you won't look at him.

"Thank you." You nod.

"Alright well, I'll come pick him up later? Just text me I guess, when you're ready. Hopefully he'll take a bottle."

"I can bring him-"

"No, that's okay." you cut him off sharply, shaking your head. He frowns.

"Why not?"

"I- I don't mind, coming by to get him."

"But if it's dark..."

"I can manage." You snap, and he purses his lips, but says nothing.

"Alright well, see you later then." You make some noncommittal noise, and then step closer, mouth pressing to Orion's cheek.

"Bye baby, love you." You finally look up at him, really look, and he holds his breath when he sees it all in your eyes. Pain. Confusion. Worry.

He did that.

The evening goes too fast. He manages to get Ry to nap, and drink over half a bottle, a huge win, but spends most of the time just holding him, walking him in circles in his flat, trying to memorize the feeling of his baby in his arms. He's fussier than usual, crying anytime Simon tries to put him down, which he doesn't mind, but concerns him. Is he like this at home, with you? Is this why you've been up more at night?

Still, it's over too soon, and when you're knocking on the door again, he stands on the other side a few seconds too long, wishing he had more time.

He's always wishing he had more time.

"How was he?"

"Good. More fussy than usual, but I got him to take most of a bottle. Is he doing alright?"

"He's been like this, the past few days. He's either going through a growth spurt, or developing some late colic. I hope it's the growth spurt." Oh no.

"Well, I'm here if you need anything. If you want me to take him at all." You nod.

"When uh... when are you leaving?"

"Two weeks or so. Once the guys get back, they'll have a few days debrief and then... we'll be off."

"Okay, well. Just let me know, when you want him again?"

"I will." He kisses Orion's cheek, whispering in his ear how much he loves him, before passing him to you. You have to reposition your posture to support his weight, and he winces. "Are you okay?" You blink at him, skeptical and surprised.

"I'm great Simon. Really peachy."

"Look, I know I really sprung-"

"Sprung? Is that what you're calling that? Simon... you blindsided me. You... you-" He holds up his hands.

"I'm much more careful now. I've learned a lot of hard lessons, and I would never, ever allow anything to happen to you or Orion." His shoulders slump, and he drops his eyes to the floor. Ashamed. Grief trying to work its way, trying to break him down just as it has all these years before. "I've learned from my mistakes." There's a long, uncomfortable since between the two of you, one that Orion fills with fussing, and then your voice cracks.

"Simon, that wasn't your fault.... I'm not... I'm not upset about... that. Or anything, that happened to you. I mean, I'm upset but not at you for that..." You take a deep breath. "I am upset for you, that those things happened to you, that you've been through such trauma, such horrible things." Tears wet your cheeks, but he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. "I would never hold that against you. I'm upset about your job. And the danger it puts us in. I'm upset that I didn't know that you'd been gone for weeks, possibly months at a time. I'm upset that you promised me you'd be here, and then never mentioned the super secret task force that will... take you away from us." Orion cries, and you bounce him back and forth, finally looking Simon dead in the eye, facing him head on. "It feels like you've been lying to me, for weeks now. I thought we were in this, together, that we were- we were building something, together. Now it just feels like... I could lose you at any second instead. That Orion could lose his father, grow up without you." The last word rips from your lips in a sob, and you shake your head as he steps close.

"You will never lose me. Do you understand? That will never happen." He vows it, swears it, forces it out into the universe as a covenant, but you only shake your head again, sadly.

"You can't promise that."

[feeder86]

The 1%

It had been such a thrill, finding that the scouts had picked him; those same experts who had signed up the likes of Harley Hawkinson and Carl Williams. Did they really see the same potential in Nicko as they had done in those superstar football players? It all felt so surreal as he got off the plane to Oklahoma and entered the training facility. 

Nicko knew it wouldn’t be easy to prove himself. He looked around the large sports hall, filled with over one hundred large, athletic college guys, all hoping for the same dream of a professional sports contract: to play the game that they loved and get paid handsomely for it.

“As you all know, the modern game of football is dominated by guys who are more muscular than we have ever seen before,” an older guy explained to them from the staging area during this first welcome meeting. “In the last three years, we have seen the average weight of a professional football player increase by 30lbs. And that number looks set to continue to increase.”

Looking around at the other guys, Nicko couldn’t help but understand why he was saying this. Sure, the guys around him were full of talent. How else would they have got here otherwise? But put them on a field with the professionals out there these days, and they would get trampled down in seconds. They all knew it. None of them had the muscle and the bulk that was needed to survive in a big league game.

“Our training scheme and medical support can give you that last hope of achieving your dreams,” the man on stage went on; selling the scheme which each of them had already signed up for. They all knew this was their only real shot at success. These days, no professional football player got anywhere without the experimental drugs offered in places like this; not that anyone would ever admit it outside of these walls. “So, my advice to you is, train hard and work with us… Now I’m going to hand you over to someone you will all be very familiar with. We’re so proud of him and delighted that he has given up his time to be with us today. Boys, please may I introduce you to… the one and only… Carl Williams!” he beamed, as the large room of excited college athletes roared into life.

An enormous, hulking mass of man began strutting from the door and onto the stage. He lifted his arm up, accepting all the applause and smiling from ear to ear. Every muscle on his body was pumped and full. Even his forearms looked incredibly developed. Nicko could hardly believe his eyes! His biggest celebrity crush, right here in the same room with him! Carl was known for playing rough and dirty on the field and, in Nicko’s wildest fantasies, he was much the same in the bedroom. Not to mention the fact that, in terms of celebrity bulges, Carl was off the charts. Every gay site he visited had picked up on the fact Carl was packing something absolutely enormous between those giant thighs. 

The man didn’t speak to them for long, but soon had everyone up on their feet, chanting his name. He stuck around too, and was there that evening as they sat down to their first meal together.

“They say he has some sort of sixth sense about which guys will go on to do well here,” Nicko’s new friend, Steve, whispered to him; both of them looking with jealousy at the six young guys who had been invited to sit on Carl’s table.

Nicko shook his head sceptically. “Nah, they’re just the loud ones who know how to sell themselves,” he scoffed, having met a couple of them and deciding that they were not the type of guys he would want to hang around with here; so pumped full of arrogance and self-importance. “We’ve just got to train hard, that’s all.”

Steve exhaled and raised his eyebrows. “I wish that was true,” he mumbled. “But we both know the only thing that sets this training academy apart from the rest is the drugs they use. You can train as hard as you like, but if the drugs disagree with you, that’s the end of the line. Career over.”

Nicko rubbed the spot where he’d had his first injection earlier that day; straight into the muscle at the top of his right butt cheek. ‘Please work!’ he thought silently. There was nothing more he wanted in life than to be up on that top table with Carl Williams.

During the first three weeks, some guys started to stand out remarkably well. Shoulders began to widen, whilst larger glutes and thighs made the training sessions more intense and physical than ever before. Nicko could see the changes in his roommate, Steve, each time he came out of the shower: his biceps bulging and his pecs pumped.

As for Nicko, he had seen only minor changes in his muscle mass, and he was yet to make any impression on the trainers. But as certain guys began to bulk faster, hit harder and dominate on the field, it became more and more of a challenge to stand out, or even stay on your feet.

Egos were beginning to run riot at the camp. Those guys who had quickly responded to the treatments began to strut about with more confidence and ownership of the place than any of them had expected. The larger guys hung out with each other more, sitting together at meal times and excluding those they obviously found inferior.

“Don’t worry,” Steve whispered to him as it was obvious that everything was getting to Nicko. “You’ll respond more to the drugs soon. You’ve just got to focus on the training. That’s the important part.”

Nicko nodded, knowing that Steve didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. In two weeks, they were making their first eliminations, and Steve knew he was heading straight home.

During the assessment, Steve very quickly got a sense of how badly it was going. He was weighed, prodded and poked to within an inch of his life; seeing the same grim faces on the medical professionals all around him. In the end, he was simply sent to a small room and told to wait there for someone to come and speak to him. The afternoon training session was to begin in thirty minutes, but no-one was in a rush to ensure he would make it. The reason for that was obvious: he wasn’t coming back. 

It was no shock to Nicko that he was in this position. The last week in particular had been especially hard. He’d been thrown around by the larger guys in training, beginning to understand how the nerds must have felt back in high school. At twenty-one years old, Nicko was in a place that was little better than a kindergarten playground.

Without warning, and making Nicko jump with surprise, the door suddenly opened and an enormous muscular man entered. It took a couple of seconds for Nicko to focus and recognise the person who was now filling the tiny room they were in, but when he did, he shot to his feet and held his arm out, desperate to shake the guy’s hand. “Carl Williams!” he blasted. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Carl looked across at him with a smirk; his eyes travelling up and down Nicko’s body as he reached out his hand for him to shake. “So you’re Nicko, huh?” he asked, as if trying to hold back a laugh.

Nicko nodded, hardly believing that this meeting was even happening. Carl was even more insanely huge and attractive up close like this.

“Sit down, Nicko,” Carl ordered, grabbing a chair himself. “I need to break something to you.”

“I’m being kicked out, aren’t I?” Nicko shot back, not wanting to draw this out and ruin his one-on-one time with his biggest celebrity crush.

“Oh, of course you are,” Carl chuckled, seeming surprised that Nicko had only just figured it out. “But one of the boys told me you had a bit of a crush on me, so I thought I would come in here to soften the blow.”

Carl gazed at Nicko with a sly grin on his face. He knew that he had embarrassed him and he was enjoying the period of time when Nicko was squirming and desperately thinking of how to respond.

“Um, so… how come I’m going home?” he asked, trying to fill the cringing silence.

“Because you’ve not responded to the drugs the same as everyone else,” Carl shot back, looking at him as though he was stupid for not being able to see that for himself. 

“But there are a few guys who aren’t packing on muscle all that fast either,” Nicko protested.

“Oh, you’re right about that,” Carl nodded. “But you’ve not gained any muscle mass at all,” he stated harshly. “In fact, you’re part of the less than 1% who actually lose muscle mass on this treatment.”

“That’s not true,” Nicko protested. “I have gained weight since I’ve been here.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Carl laughed. “You’ve only gained fat since you started.” He pointed at the slight paunch that always popped out whenever Nicko was on a bulking diet. “All the guys can see that. I hear they’ve been giving you a rough time this week? The medical team spotted a nice collection of bruises on your body this morning.”

“Not too bad,” Nicko lied, not wanting to look pathetic in front of his idol.

Carl simply laughed as if he knew differently. “Sure, sure,” he nodded patronisingly. “Those guys are just learning; being on a football team is like being part of a pack of wolves. So when you see a little piggy on the field with you, you’ve got to go for them.”

Nicko’s eyes bulged at Carl’s rudeness. But the professional athlete simply smiled at him, as if daring him to call him out on his comments. Then, when Nicko kept quiet, the big man nodded in approval.

“I like you,” Carl grinned wickedly. “You’ve got the right attitude and you don’t live too far from where I play, do you?” he asked, having clearly studied Nicko’s notes before coming in. “I’d love to grab a few beers with you sometime in the coming months.”

Nicko nodded his head frantically.

“Good,” Carl smiled, reaching his large hand out to stroke Nicko’s thigh. “Play your cards right and I might even let you suck me off,” he teased, before standing and heading straight out of the room.

Despite the daring, unbelievably hot fantasy Carl had dangled in front of Nicko’s nose: home still beckoned. He had lost. The dream of sporting success and insane riches was now over.

With a mediocre college degree, Nicko settled into an equally mediocre office job, close to home so that he could move back in with his parents. He’d suffered from a great sense of failure after the training scheme had gone so badly. No one wanted to be the first one sent home; he hadn’t even had a chance to say even a quick goodbye to his friends. He’d got himself into quite the slump, finding that no matter what he did, he simply couldn’t shake off the little arching paunch he had developed in Oklahoma. In fact, despite all his careful eating and gym work, it actually seemed to be increasing in size more than anything. 

The same could be said for the rest of his body, with Nicko’s underwear pinching uncomfortably as his tight glutes began to pack on some extra, softening mass. Was he really developing love handles at this age, even after all this exercise? It just didn’t seem physically possible. His date, the weekend before, had even called him out on his extra pounds. Perhaps he had even been right to do so; his profile pictures really were a little out of date these days. It meant that when he got the call from someone on Carl Williams’ staff, trying to set up a date for their beers, Nicko went immediately into panic mode. There was nothing in his closet that was suitable for drinks with a football superstar; at least, nothing that fitted!

“Well, well, well…” Carl smirked as Nicko entered the very private VIP room at the back of the noisy, exclusive club in the city. The enormous 335lb football player looked sexier than ever, all dressed up as he was for a night out. “Let me get a look at you,” he demanded, ruthlessly kicking away the table in front of him with his feet and making space for Nicko.

Having travelled for an hour to get here and arguing with the security outside for twenty minutes that he was a guest of Carl’s, Nicko wanted nothing more than to just sit and have a drink. However, when Carl clicked his fingers and pointed again to where he was being summoned, Nicko only did as he was told.

Immediately, Carl reached forwards, slapping one hand on Nicko’s larger butt and the other on the furthest extent that his paunch was now sticking out. He smiled, bouncing both lightly and seeming to appreciate the new width across the middle of Nicko’s body. “Look at you!” he growled with disgust. “You wouldn't last two minutes on the football field now. My boys would rip you to pieces!”

“I’m trying this new diet…” Nicko began explaining, not knowing what else to say.

Carl winced and shook his head impatiently. “Shh! I don’t want to hear about shit like that.” He leaned right back, then tapped his outstretched thigh, silently telling Nicko to sit on it.

Again, Nicko did as he was old, unable to comprehend that he was getting so close to his football idol. He heard Carl growl in appreciation as Nicko’s torso slipped so easily into his reach. Then, without a word, he began unbuttoning Nicko’s shirt from the very top.

“Wait!” Nicko jumped. “Don’t people come in here?”

“Yes,” Carl replied, unperturbed as he reached the fourth button down.

“What if someone comes in and sees me like this?”

“Then they will see…” Carl smiled, finally reaching the end of the buttons and now splaying the shirt material to the sides, “...THIS!”

Nicko tensed as his fleshy torso was revealed to the one person he had been carefully dressing to conceal it from.

“Fuck!” Carl blasted. “Even the tits are coming in!” he laughed loudly, reaching up and bouncing one of Nicko’s nipples.

Nicko got up, feeling embarrassed. He felt Carl’s strong hand clasp the back of his pants and pull him back over his knee so that Nicko actually fell into the space on the couch beside the football superstar. From there, the enormous man seemed to envelope him, his arm over his body and his face so deliciously close.

“Don’t be shy,” Carl whispered teasingly. “This happens to all the boys at the training camp eventually. Well…” he grinned, raising his arm to show off his incredible bicep, “...almost all.”

“Weight gain?” Nicko asked, feeling his stomach rolling over his belt as he sat, half on his back, with the enormous athlete looming over him.

Carl nodded. “A fat belly, jiggly tits, a giant, doughy butt… you know how it goes,” he laughed; his lips devastatingly near. “But the one percent, well, that boy is always very special.”

Niko nodded, remembering Carl referring to the muscle stimulant medication having an opposite outcome for one percent of the people who used it. Which, in Nicko’s group, had been him. “I’m special?” he asked, aroused by all this attention he was getting.

“Very much so,” Carl grinned, rubbing Nicko’s cheek with an outstretched finger. “The one percent packs on fat faster than anyone else. In less than a year, he can go from a chiselled athlete to a full grown superchub!”

“That can’t be true,” Nicko replied. “They’d never allow something like that.”

“And yet…” Carl laughed, grabbing the roll of fat hanging over Nicko’s belt: his point made. “You really have no concept of how much money there is to be made in football, do you? How vital things like this are for the economy? Fatties like you are just… collateral damage… a necessary evil on the way to creating superstars like me.”

“How do I stop this?” Niko asked, watching the athlete getting up and unbuckling his pants.

“Sucking on this should help,” Carl lied, pulling his monstrously large erection out and slapping it into the palm of his hand. It was even bigger than Nicko had ever imagined, gazing at pictures and videos of the guy’s bulge over the years

Overcome with lust, Nicko slipped his mouth over as much of it as he could, just as he was directed. Everything that had happened since entering this room had been like a dream. Whatever weird things were happening in his life right now, here he was, pleasuring a football champion!

“Oh, yeah! That’s good!” Carl moaned. “Yes! Work that tongue, One Percent! Take as much of me in as you can!”

In those moments, Nicko did not care what was happening to him. He was the luckiest guy in the world, feeling ecstatic as he brought the enormous man to a full climax, simply by using his mouth.

Clearly impressed, a sweaty Carl buckled his belt back up and sat himself down again. “Keep that up and you’ll go far with me,” he sighed in appreciation.

As Carl fixed his clothing, Nicko tried to do the same, beginning to refasten his shirt buttons. However, Carl was still having none of it; placing his large hand very decidedly over Nicko’s and saying ‘no’ in a very strict manner; as if training a puppy.

“Have you ever thought about moving to the city?” Carl asked next.

Nicko shook his head. “I couldn’t afford it. Plus, I don’t know anyone here.”

“Good. That means you wouldn’t go wandering,” Carl shot back bluntly. “I can get you somewhere by next weekend. You can live there, and then you’re close by for me to pop in whenever I want. I keep a few guys that way.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Nicko asked, confused by what he felt were a rush of mixed messages.

“At a game, the front row seats are always the best,” Carl simply replied, leaning across once more and flicking the fat roll that fell over Nicko’s belt. “And this is a show I have no intention of missing…”

It was a couple of months later. Nicko stood at the large picture window of his apartment, still unable to comprehend the amazing view he had over the cityscape. Fully furnished and decorated by professional interior designers, Nicko was living a life he could have only ever imagined in his very wildest of dreams. He was even paid a salary each month and had new bank accounts set up entirely by Carl’s people. And all it took was the signing of several non-disclosure agreements from the athlete’s numerous lawyers.

“It’s time to put that pizza down, Fat Boy!” Carl called out, striding in unannounced, as usual.

Nicko chuckled. He hadn’t been eating any pizza, although you would never have guessed that from looking at him. Upon Carl’s insistence, he wore only his underwear around the apartment, catching glimpses of his increasingly lardy reflection in the many, many mirrors that Carl had insisted was part of the interior design.

“Jeez! Look at you!” Carl laughed, undressing himself at the door, as he always did, and watching as his secret project came waddling into view. He pulled his erection out and stipped even his boxers, standing there as the perfect masculine specimen. “Your tits just won’t quit growing, will they?” he laughed. “And look at this fat butt!” he marvelled, dropping Nicko’s underwear and slapping the oversized glutes which had been filling up at a faster rate since Carl had been sending over take-out most nights. Nicko could tell from the way that Carl was handling them, exactly how the big man wanted to fuck him that evening.

The big mirror in the hallway was always Carl’s favourite spot. He could bend Nicko over the sturdy little desk and watch their reflections as he powerfully bombarded his boy’s chubby’s rear with blow after blow.

“You played well last night,” Nicko offered afterwards as a naked Carl lounged on his sofa for a rest afterwards..

“Yeah, yeah,” Carl sighed, rolling his eyes. He had people blowing smoke up his ass all day long. This wasn’t what he kept Nicko for.

“I felt so proud, I decided to finish all those doughnuts you sent me,” he explained, hoping to please his lover.

“Good,” Carl nodded. “It’s about time you stopped resisting the ways I’m trying to help you fatten faster.” He beckoned Nicko closer, just as the chubby boy had hoped. “So, tell me, how did it make you feel, eating all that for me?”

Still fully loaded and, as yet, unsatisfied, Nicko gasped in excitement as he felt Carl’s hand moving onto his thigh, ready to pleasure him if only he said the right things. “It felt incredible,” he replied, exaggerating. “It made me want to eat even more food and please you so much more,” he continued, feeling his erection having a gentle stroke; so subtle and yet so precise.

“Go on,” Carl demanded, not letting Nicko stop. “Tell me more.”

Nicko gasped, always climaxing pathetically quickly whenever Carl was the one touching him. “It made me so excited to get heavier for you…” he offered.

“Oh, no. That’s not the right word now, is it?” Carl sighed with disappointment. “You’re not just getting heavier, are you? Tell me what’s really happening, One Percent.”

Nicko gave another gasp of arousal, his jaw slackening as the pleasure built. “I’m getting fatter for you,” he replied diligently.

“What else?” Carl demanded again, having found a small crack in Nicko’s defences and prizing it open in any way that he could.

“I’m getting lazier. I don’t exercise. And I eat like a pig,” Nicko whispered, just as he had been trained.

“You are a pig,” Carl shot back at him, spiking Nicko’s arousal even more. The shock he felt over the word was now gone, given how many times Carl had whispered it into his ear whenever he came. Now the word had become a key for unlocking Nicko’s arousal. 

Nicko nodded, gazing submissively into the big man’s eyes. His breathing was heavy and his entire body twitched as the orgasm built.

“Piggy, Piggy, Piggy!” Carl sang teasingly, forcing Nicko’s hardess to erupt explosively yet again.

“My goodness! What on earth have you been eating?” asked Nicko’s mother a few weeks later as he called home for a quick visit.

Nicko could feel his face flushing. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to conceal his stout gut that had quickly formed and dominated his torso. It was all his family wanted to talk about, demanding explanations from Nicko about exactly what he was doing to gain so much weight so quickly. Didn’t he have any regard for his health? His appearance? His ability to find someone nice to settle down with? Just what was this city life doing to him? 

“She’s only thinking of you, Son,” Nicko’s dad offered later that afternoon, as the pair retreated into the TV room to watch the football. 

“I know, I know,” Nicko huffed, trying to concentrate on the game to see how Carl was playing. Then he winced as Carl went in for a big tackle, destroying the opposition.

“Ouch!” Nicko’s dad hooted. “He’s a nasty piece of work, that Carl Williams! Look at him getting up like nothing’s happened. That poor guy will be out for weeks after that tackle.”

“So?,” Nicko replied defensively. “It wasn’t an illegal tackle. He’s not broken any rules.”

“No, just another guy’s shoulder by the looks of things. Third one this season by my count.”

They both watched the screen as Carl strutted about on the pitch, waiting for the medical team to finish up so that play could resume. Nicko knew the football player well enough to know when he was trying to suppress a proud smile.

“A man that big has no place on the football field,” Nicko’s dad continued. “Look at him! His arms are bigger than my thighs! The game has gone ridiculous!”

But Nicko definitely was watching, feeling blood pumping into his groin. He rubbed his fat tummy, just as Carl would have, suddenly knowing that he wanted to gorge himself stupid on fast food on the way home.

“I weighed myself this morning,” Nicko explained, lying on his front, naked on the bed after a particularly boisterous session with Carl. “Three hundred and forty one pounds,” he smiled, rolling a little and grabbing a wedge of belly fat.

“You have to start eating more then, won’t you?” Carl replied, unimpressed. “You’re only just a little heavier than me.”

Nicko laughed. Whilst the fact was true, his and Carl’s bodies were complete polar opposites in terms of composition.

“I mean it,” Carl stated seriously. “Three fifty by next weekend. Make it happen.”

“Am I the fattest of the guys you keep?” Nicko asked, knowing how Carl supported lots of secret lovers all over the city.

“Not even close!” Carl laughed.

“Do you think I could be, one day?”

Carl looked at him seriously, studying his face in a way that he did not usually. Then his answer, when it came, was actually a lot more considered than anything else that usually came out his mouth. “Why? Do you want to be?”

The feeling of having Carl’s attention was a drug that Nicko could never wean himself off. “For you,” he smiled, “I’d do anything.”

With Nicko’s new enthusiasm and commitment, he felt himself rising up the ranks in Carl’s mind. The athlete came over a lot more and took a very active interest in ensuring that Nicko continued to grow as he’d promised he would. One such perk was having free seats to any of Carl’s games; often getting himself on camera as he gorged on corn dogs in the stands.  

“Steve?” Nicko asked as he recognised the man standing by the rest rooms after the game. “How’re you doing, buddy? I can’t believe I’m bumping into you!”

The young man Nicko had met and made friends with in the training camp failed to recognise him until Nicko introduced himself once more. His jaw dropped and he spluttered and mumbled his way through the conversation, clearly not quite believing that they had once been roommates a little over one year ago.

“How did the training camp work out for you in the end?” Nicko asked. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to anyone.”

“Yeah, we got used to that,” Steve nodded. “We’d see guys at breakfast and then… gone. Kicked out. I got down to the final thirty or so. But it got so toxic in the end,” he grumbled, reeling off the names of the guys both he and Nicko had despised: the ones who were now making names for themselves in the professional game. “In the end, I was quite happy to leave.”

Nicko looked down to Steve’s body, noticing a stout little stomach under his pumped pecs. 

Steve noticed him looking and he sucked in hids stomach slightly, clearly feeling a little awkward. “I’ve been trying to keep up the training,” he rambled on, clearly used to making excuses for his appearance. “It’s just hard to balance now I’m working full time as well.”

“It’s much easier when you give into it,” Nicko smiled knowingly. 

“Yeah, well…” Steve smiled awkwardly. “I’m not quite ready for that.”

Nicko wondered whether he should tell his old friend that the weight gain wasn’t going to stop; that just like him, Steve was heading on a path to enormous obesity as a result of their time in the training camp. However, he resisted, giving his old friend the goodbye hug he had never been allowed at the camp, and watching the guy’s meaty, round glutes and stubborn love handles as he walked back to his girlfriend who was now out of the restrooms. If only she knew the body her boyfriend would soon inhabit: another victim of his own lust for sporting success.

It was only now that Nicko realised just how involved Carl had been from the beginning, having invested millions in the training camp they had attended, and reaping fifty times as much in return. It was what he loved most in the entire world; never missing a single event day they held, and personally seeing to it that more and more naive college boys were signed up each year.

“You’re such a good pig these days,” Carl grinned, watching Nicko nibbling on the specially made giant doughnuts that fitted perfectly around Carl’s thick erection. “Just seeing you without your clothes on now… you’re so disgustingly obese, and yet… look at you eat!”

Nicko nibbled and licked the remaining bits up quickly and sat up so that Carl could touch and jiggle his enormous body, laughing as the waves of pure fat travelled in such interesting ways through his entire body. 

“How about we get you somewhere nicer to live than this dump?” he asked, scorning as he looked around the plush, luxury apartment. “Somewhere a lot more superchub friendly.”

Nicko nodded, happy to live wherever Carl thought was best. As he had grown, the wage that was deposited into his account each month had been increasing more and more. Carl had always been great at incentives. In a couple more months, he would even be able to buy his own place, should he so wish.

“I’m looking for somewhere very exclusive for my original piggy to live in,” Carl explained, bouncing up and pushing Nicko onto his back on the bed. “I’d like it to be somewhere for you both to live together,” he smiled, picking up another cream filled doughnut and pushing it into Nicko’s submissive mouth.

Chewing quickly and swallowing as much as he could, Nicko nodded with interest. “This is the guy you first went on the training course with? Your fattest boy so far?”

“You wait until you see him!” Carl grinned excitedly. “Mountains and mountains of pure blubber!” he chuckled, stuffing yet another doughnut into Nicko’s mouth and watching as the greedy boy swallowed it down for him “But he’s not always obedient, like you. He still tries to push against my rules on occasion,” he sneered in irritation. “The pig’s almost one hundred pounds heavier than you are,” Carl explained, having never actually given Nicko any insight into the differences between him and the other fatties he kept. “Yet, he still thinks he can defy me at times.”

Nicko looked up at the gorgeous, hulking monster above him. “Don’t worry. I’ll sort him out for you,” he stated with certainty.

Carl threw his head back and laughed. “My disgusting fatty is setting himself a mission, is he?” he mocked. “Well, you do that then, One Percent,” he nodded approvingly. “Turn him into a good piggy, just like you.”

Nicko smiled, delighted to be trusted with such a task. He rolled over, feeling Carl’s large hand smacking an entire palmful of lubricant into his crack. Then he pulled his heavy, fat-filled glutes wide apart to demonstrate that he was ready to be fucked again. Nicko didn’t know exactly when he had stopped caring about anything else in his life; devoting himself entirely to Carl’s wants and needs. He knew that the guy was wicked and manipulative; throwing his money around and flaunting his good looks to get whatever he wanted. He knew as well that the guy could get bored of him and drop him in a flash. But whilst he was here, basking in the limelight, he would enjoy every second of it. 

He would be the very best piggy.  

[gb-patch]

Our Life Now & Forever: Polyamorous Relationship Feature Announcement!

So, I’ve changed my own mind! You will be able to end up in a relationship with both Qiu and Tamarack if you want to when Our Life: Now & Forever is fully released. I originally didn't guarantee a polyamorous relationship option because I didn’t know for sure if it'd be possible to add it without pushing the game back, however this story would simply feel incomplete without that. It was very obvious when writing the Step 2 preview for the soon-to-release demo update. Qiu, Tamarack, and the MC are as important as a group as they are in individual pairings. It has to be done. Besides, tons of choice and having relationships be whatever makes you most comfortable is why people wait years for GB Patch to finish these games in the first place, haha.

Now, the way the optional poly relationship will work is that Qiu and Tamarack would be in a committed platonic relationship with each other and can be in a committed platonic or romantic relationship with the MC. Qiu and Tamarack won’t be romantically involved with each other regardless of the choices the MC makes.

This relationship dynamic will only be available in Step 4: Adulthood. It won’t be something you can get together during the bulk of the story because Qiu and Tamarack do need time to sort things with each other over the years before taking that kind of step.

Nothing is going to change with our plans so far. Our Life: Now & Forever will have a Kickstarter that's launching less than two weeks. If everything goes well, the goal will be to release the first three Steps and most of the DLCs in late 2025. The Step 4 Epilogue with the poly relationship option and any bonus DLCs that get funded by the Kickstarter would come out later on. 

Our Life: Now & Forever Kickstarter Pre-Launch Page

I’ll be updating the game’s information to reflect this new element as a basic part of the project ✨.

Thank you to everyone who’s loved both Tamarack and Qiu already! I hope this will make the story that much happier to experience.

[bluetooththereptile]

Black Robin

(Yandere Tim drake x twin brother reader x yandere Bruce Wayne)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: I couldn't resist making this, Tim's personality and also Bruce's possessiveness to his adoptive children and sometimes his cold indifference are ripe for making agnst and a good fic!

Summary: Your stubbornness ends tonight, and Bruce will make sure of that.

Tw: mentions of abuse

"Are you out of your mind?!"  you were taken aback by Tim's shout, your eyes widening behind your mask slightly. The always composed and nervous Tim was now yelling at you, well, this was new. You shifted on your feet in the dark place, sighing as you crossed your arms on your chest, trying to not groan since the bruise on your chest hurt to the touch. "Please just spare these words" you grunted, but your response only made Tim more livid, and he took a hold of your jacket, pulling you closer to him "You will come home with me!" He hissed "And that's final!"

You pushed Tim away with a scoff "Woha...easy right there bro, slow down, I'm not coming back, not after finally finding the place I deserve!" Tim couldn't help but let out a forced bitter chuckle "Deserve? Look at you! You're all bruised and battered, wearing a cheap leather jacket and military pants, and your only gadget is probably comms, you are dragging yourself around without proper care and you call it a deserving place?! Is your hatred for me that strong?"

You rolled your eyes, groaning, dear God how many of these conversations you've had already with him? Probably close to a thousand times. "Look, bro, I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions-" "Don't bro me!" Tim's voice echoed in the dark empty alleyway, after the joint mission of Batman and Midnighter, Tim finally after a whole year of not facing you had dragged you away so you could talk.

"I could understand your frustration and anger, I could have tried to make things right, I knew you were by the fact that you were not chosen as the Robin, I can understand that you didn't get enough attention and you wanted to be a hero yourself, but you couldn't leave just like that!" Pushing Tim away from you, you finally snapped "Wait a damn minute!" You took your mask off so you could talk to him properly. Approaching him you looked deep into his eyes, looking at your reflection in them and Tim winced a little at the hint of smoke on your lips, his brows furrowing as he realized what you had been smoking before the mission. You then sighed and looked away, looking down at the puddle of water on the ground. Damn, you were indeed bruised up, you were still a rookie and the hero responsible for you, Midnighter truthfully didn't have many rules for you to follow, just do the things and get them done by any means necessary, I don't care, which meant you had to do everything yourself, ending up as an official mess. In the past year, you had strained yourself so much that you couldn't recognize yourself in the mirror anymore.

Sure you were Tim's identical twin, you looked nearly the same, minus the eyes of course, but you had changed from that, your body had bulked up under the pressure of constant training under Midnighter's eyes and the diet of protein bars, you didn't have time to eat so you had to resort to those, you had forgotten the taste of normal food, yet you refused to complain. The only reason that Midnighter had taken you in was your stubbornness and willpower, no one wanted to take Batman's boy in when the old bat didn't like the idea of it, you had to prove him you were worth taking in. You had to cut your hair short to cut out the water bills, oh right, he didn't pay for you either, you had to work your ass off to make some money for yourself, you just hated working at fast food joints, sometimes you wanted to serve some Karens some of those knuckle sandwiches Midnighter gave you when you messed up. Around your eyes were still smudged with the smoky eye makeup your new friends had put on you for last night's concert, personal hygiene was sort of out of the window for you, but you still kept pushing. You were a mess, but still an independent mess out of Tim's shadow.

"I chose this path and I'm happy with it! It's none of your business anymore!" You finally spoke, "Oh so all of a sudden when you are 18 you can do whatever the hell you want?" Tim sighed as he crossed his arms "Yeah?" You answered, "We both know Bruce had only let you go just to make you realize your place is with the family!" Tim's response wasn't that farfetched, you knew Bruce was capable enough to drag your sulking ass back to the Manor but he had chosen not to, why? You weren't sure, perhaps it was because he wanted to punish you for being too rebellious, the thought made you shudder.

"Whatever..." you waved your hand in the air "You know that I don't want to go back from this path" Tim scoffed "Oh? Being the "Black Robin" is that good?" He teased you about your name, making you let out a soft groan in irritation. Midnighter was mistaken as Batman and now you, as his sidekick, was the black Robin, another mistaken identity, well you did look like Tim, just larger in muscle mass. "Yes, it's better than being compared to you all the time!" You snapped at your twin, making his lips turn into a frown. You had hit a nerve, well it was progress.

"You were always the one that was better, you were the Robin and then the Red Robin, while I had to train harder and harder, watching you get all the attention while I was just there!" You continued "You know it's not true, Bruce adopted you as well, you are still his son! You were not chosen as Robin because he wanted someone more...smart..." You rolled your eyes at that, you had heard all of those excuses so many times, you wanted something more out of your life, and you had decided to get something out of it one way or another.

When Tim was adopted you had dragged along him, but since Bruce needed help, he examined you both but he found Tim more fitting for the role. At first, you were happy for your brother, but as time progressed on, that feeling turned into resentment, Tim was the nervous smart brother, always getting the attention of others, especially Bruce, while you pushed yourself to your limits, yet since you were more capable than your brother, Bruce thought of you more of a pillar of trust for Tim while he wasn't there, but you wanted more, you wanted his attention, his fucking love, you wanted to feel like a true son, so if he didn't want to pay you attention, you'd rebel, and you did it on your 18th birthday, and your life had become a hellish arena after that, but you still kept pushing, unknowingly digging your own grave.

Your bickering with Tim was interrupted by a loud bang, and before you could react Midnighter had been thrown over two buildings, his landing making a hole into the wall close to you and your twin. Who... who had done that?! Who could do that to the superhuman clad in black? Oh no...The soft thud onto the ground and that familiar presence...oh no no no no...it was the big bat himself.

"Shit," you and Tim said in union "language" Bruce's stern voice made you clamp your lips close, you hadn't seen him like that before, his gaze burying deep into your wide eyes as he approached you with that imposing figure. "Black Robin" your hero's name rolled onto his tongue with a dark tone. "How fitting" he continued before he suddenly reached out and grabbed you by your jaws, making your mouth open.

You were too afraid to talk, you knew he wouldn't listen even if you wanted to talk "Three teeth..." Bruce hummed, before tightening his grip, making you let out a soft groan of pain "Cracked jaw..." he added "Muscle tissue of your left eyelid is hurt, your ear is broken and this is just for the head..." he hissed "I had warned him before to not touch any of my boys..." he let go of you but his hand moved to take a hold of your jacket as he looked down at you.

"Malnourished and still high on drugs, what was he thinking?!" He growled before looking up at you again, he leaned closer as he took a sniff of you, his grip tightening even more "And you've been smoking...it's the same brand as he does..."

"B-bat-" "Silence..." Bruce snapped at you, "Being mistaken for me is one thing I can sort of tolerate, but stealing my boy from me is something I can not overlook...look at you Y/N!..." he pulled you closer to him "You are on the path of self-destruction! You are no superhuman, you are a young one in need of care!" Your throat dried up as he spoke, you knew the consequences of your actions were creeping to get closer to you.

Bruce's heart ached at your sight, he shouldn't have let you go, he had thought no one would take you in and within a month you'd be back into his arms, begging for forgiveness and he'd punish you lightly. You reminded him so much of himself, that was why he didn't want you to get into the world of heroes, yet his worst nightmare had happened and you had plunged into the worst scenario head first like a mad bull.

"You're coming home with us" Bruce's words were final as he took you in "H-hey!" You wanted to pull away but his hold was too strong, he didn't bat an eye at your struggles "You need stitches and a new set of teeth, and when you are ready enough, I'll whip you into the right shape of the Black Robin..." his last words made your shudder in fear, he was angry, but deep down, a small part of you was happy that your dad had finally come for you.

You were strapped into the Batmobile and Tim sat close to you, holding onto your arm tightly, you felt something tug on your heart, that look in his eyes, you knew that too well, you were just minutes older than him but he still looked up at you as his older brother, perhaps you'd reconsider your decision and give in...perhaps...only time could tell. 

[butterscotchpiesandguys]

Bad Boys Get More

I had been working my office job for years now, at least 3. I talked my way up and had been happily ready to be promoted. But last time someone got it over me, no big deal. I wasn't concerned. I mean he was here longer than even I was! So of course he did! And then this month I had applied and interviewed again for a manager spot. Even higher than I got before. Unfortunately... I had been passed up again.

This time was different though. This time was much much worse. It was some guy with tats all over his body. That wasn't the only problem either. Devin, the new "manager" and guy in question, just didn't show up to work some days. So I decided enough was enough and I tried to confront my boss about it. It was his decision ultimately.

"Hey." I said a bit annoyed, but trying to conceal it. "Mind if I have a piece of your time, Henry."

My boss looked at me, he was also a bit younger... not as young as me but not old old? Probably just about 40. "Yeah sure, what's it about." He said a bit plainly as he walked back into his office, me following.

"It's about Devin." He nodded, knowing what I was going to say. "Why was he chosen over me? I mean... he has such shit attendance! He barely even did his job!"

By now Henry was a bit upset, I had been talking about this for the past week to other co-workers and he had overheard it. This was his decision and now he'd let me know why. "You wanna know why Devin got the job instead of you? One simple reason. He's chill."

"What?"

He continued as if I hadn't said a word. "Devin's a cool guy, he's been here a little less than you, sure, but he won't complain when someone else gets the job instead of him." He looked at me and nodded, as if knowing something.

"But he hardly looks professional!" I blurted out.

"Neither do you, Colt." Colt? Who's Colt? "But don't worry, we don't discriminate here against what's on someone's body. Which by the way, what are all of yours about?" He pointed to my arm... what was happening to it?! Black writing was going down it and ink filled it up. Making images, Henry came over and looked at my arm.

"Oh that? That's a meaning between someone and... wait... no..." I tried to resist.

"No need... dang, what gym do you go to? I would ask the next question on our interview but you've worked here for a while and I do know you can lift more than 50 pounds now." I looked at my bulking up physique. I tried to stop it but it just looked like I was flexing more. I held back a chuckle.

"Well... I think the interview might be done. You have the job, unless you have questions for me."

"I-I... What did you do to me?!" I stood up and looked at my body. My clothes clung to every bit of me, an outline in my pants and pecs obvious.

"Why Colt, I just made you able to get the job you wanted. Trust me. We were going to give it to you anyways but with how you were acting? Devin put in a good word at least. Said all you needed to do was be more like him. So... there ya go." He stood up and shook my hand.

"You'll get used to your new life during your shift with Dev tonight, shouldn't take long. Tons of changes... hopefully you find them all for the better." Henry smirked as he walked out. Devin came into the room.

"Glad to see you finally got 'your' Position dude. We're gonna have fun tonight..."

[dyaz-stories]

how long will I slide? || Eun Hyuk x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: angst, big spoilers for s1 of sweet home, that should be it?

A/N: Written for day one of @neohumanmonster's fandom event, Turning a New Leaf. Prompt: The Other Side. He's the one I had an idea for for that theme, but I actually haven't watched s1 of Sweet Home in a couple of years, so I hope this feels in character for Eun Hyuk, and that it's not too incoherent for the setting of s1!

Eun Hyuk has eyes everywhere in the Green House apartment building — as much as he possibly can, at least. He’s used to studying efficiently,to taking as much information from a page as possible in a single glance. He’d never thought his abilities would be used in that way. That he’d end up sitting in front of footage coming from surveillance cameras, making sure not to let anything go unnoticed, because that would be the best way for him to be helpful to the people around him.

Oh, he doesn’t just do that. He’s taken up most of the tasks that require organization, wouldn’t trust others with it, if he’s being honest, but this is where he spends the bulk of his days. In front of a screen. Staring. His books forgotten and gathering dust in a corner of the room.

He doesn’t get distracted. If his eyes linger when you appear in front of ones of the cameras, it’s just because you’ve been vocal about thinking that other solutions were needed, and he doesn’t want you to endanger everyone by trying to put one of them in action. That’s all there is to it. He doesn’t have time for anything else anyway.

So when one of his screens flickers, he notices immediately. His mind starts running through the possibilities as he leans toward it, all of them bad. Any kind of system failure would be disastrous. Loss of electricity would be close to a death sentence. A camera being destroyed could mean that the monsters are getting better at finding them, smarter, which would mean they’re evolving.

And the last possibility, that he’s having a hallucination because his monsterization symptoms are progressing…

Well, he coldly evaluates, it would depend. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, if the residents could evacuate before he loses control completely.

When the screen lights back on, and he’s met with his own eerily smiling face and eyes gone completely black, he’s almost relieved.

Good, he thinks. I’ll be able to help as long as the cameras work.

“Will you?” his other self asks as it spreads to the other screens like a virus, voice coming out like a screech through the speakers. “Are you sure you’re helping them?”

He supposes it shouldn’t surprise him that the monster knows how to get under his skin, and yet he sits straighter at the question.

“Of course I am. Without me—”

“Maybe if they’d run when they wanted to, most of them would be safe right now,” the monster says, admitting out loud a fear that’s been eating at Eun Hyuk since the very start of this forced confinement. “Maybe you’re killing them by making them stay here. And really…” It laughs, high-pitched and maniacal. “Using that kid when you’d never have the guts to step out there by yourself?”

“I would,” Eun Hyuk protests, even if he’s aware that there is no actual argument happening here. “But I’m not the same kind of infected person as him. And I’m doing my part here. It’s not like…”

“Like you’re sending a kid out to be tortured only so he can be ostracized here? Sure looks like it.”

“It’s not,” Eun Hyuk repeats, weaker this time.

The monster opens its mouth to speak once more, when there is a soft knock on the door.

“Eun Hyuk?”

It’s you, and the monster’s face lights up as Eun Hyuk’s heart rate picks up.

Out of fear, surely. He doesn’t want you to know about his issues.

“Well how about that?” The monster practically purrs. “The thing you won’t let yourself have. Won’t even admit how badly you want—”

Eun Hyuk’s not really thinking when he picks up one of his notebooks to throw it at the screen. It bounces without any effect, of course, and the monsters starts laughing once more, until that’s all Eun Hyuk can hear, while it gets louder and louder and louder and—

The door opens behind him.

“You weren’t answering—”

“Don’t—”

You freeze in the entrance.

“Don’t what?”

He knows before turning around. Of course he does. Rational, human him is deeply aware that there is no way for you to see the things that his mind is creating.

“…come in before I tell you it’s okay,” he finishes with an even voice. “If you see something you shouldn’t, I don’t want to have to deal with everyone else’s panic.”

You click your tongue at him, and he immediately hates himself for saying it. He doesn’t even mean it. You clearly have everyone’s best interests at heart, even if you believe in a very different way of handling people than he does.

“Well, I just noticed you hadn’t eaten your share yesterday,” you say, and it stings that your tone is biting, particularly when he knows how soft-spoken you can be with others. “I was bringing you something to eat.”

“You should let someone else—”

“You can’t let yourself go weak,” you reply, pushing the food in his hands and folding your arms over your chest. “You know how much people rely on you here. We may not see eye to eye, but the last thing they need is to start worrying about you and thinking you’re not able to lead them anymore.” There’s a second of silence before you add, almost as if you can’t help yourself “Also, you know I already think these rations are too small. You really shouldn’t go a day without eating at least that.”

 He glances down at what you brought. True, it’s meager, and yet he feels a smile forming as he looks at it, at the acknowledgement that you were worried about him, even if you didn’t phrase it that way.

“Thank you,” he says.

And just like that, you soften. There’s part of him that finds it ridiculous, how you’ve given him a million second chances, how he’s let you down every time, and how you keep affording them to him still. The other one is so, so infinitely thankful for your kindness.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He sighs.

“As okay as I can be,” he answers, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think anyone is doing good.”

You nod gravely, then brush your hands over your jeans.

“Alright. Well then, I’ll leave you to—”

His hand shoots out to grab your wrist before he can hold it back and before you get too far away. You turn around to look at him, surprised and a little confused.

“Can you— would you mind eating with me?”

He could justify himself. Tell you he doesn’t like eating alone, even if he’s been doing it since his parents died, tell you he needs another set of eyes on the screen while he’s eating, tell you he needs to talk to you about one of the residents. He doesn’t, though. You read him a little too well, could probably tell that he’s lying. And he hopes that, with that big heart of yours, you’ll just…

“Sure,” you answer.

You grab a chair, pull it so you can sit facing him. As you sit down, your knees brush against his. The gesture feels surprisingly comfortable, in a way that he hopes doesn’t bring too much color to his cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It gets lonely in here,” he answers, which technically isn’t a lie.

There’s a wrinkle on your forehead as you study him, one that forms whenever you’re concerned.

He’s more used to seeing the one between your eyebrows directed at him, the one that’s there when you’re annoyed.

“You can always ask me to keep you company,” you say, and his heart skips a beat. He’s sure you didn’t mean it like that, tries to pretend that it’s the monster that stirs his mind in that direction, but he knows, deep down, that that’s not the truth. That he’s actually desperate to know that someone like you could see value in someone like him.

But the truth is, if anything, you see value in everyone but him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re looking at him with these eyes, that you’re sitting with him, that you brought him food. You’re kind. You’d do that for just anyone.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells you flatly once he’s gotten himself back under control. “Thank you for doing that.” Then, after a moment, “Anything I should know about what’s going on out there?”

You start answering, soft voice describing all sorts of meaningless details that you’ve noticed and apparently care about. Eun Hyuk keeps his back to the cameras. He still sees, from the corner of his eye, the monster taunting him. But as long as you’re here, so real, so soft, so human, he knows he can resist its pull.

Too bad he doesn’t know how long you’ll stick around for him.

first time writing for eun hyuk and it was quite interesting to do! also i think i need to try my hand at writing him before s3 comes out lol. i hope you enjoyed it! reblogs and comments are strongly appreciated and keep me motivated and writing :)

more writing for sweet home

[s-sugustar]

Your heroes — 𝒟．𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 , 𝒥．𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝

🎧﹒synopsis ﹒✢﹐— Should've left her in my care, this wouldn't have happened if you did. — 𝒟．𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧

🎧﹒pairings ﹒✢﹐— Yandere! Red Hood x blk!fem reader x Yandere! Nightwing

🎧﹒content warning ﹒✢﹐— dark content, drug usage, smut, dub-con, power play if you squint hard enough, impact play, spitting, choking, degradation

🎧﹒author's notes ﹒✢﹐— had this in my drafts for ages since i had been a bit skeptical about posting it but here it is.

🎧﹒wc ﹒✢﹐— 3.1k

“D’aww, look Jay. She’s drooling.” Grayson concedes, his hips pushing further and further into while his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing both sides from time to time. Jason struggled against the ropes as he watched Grayson mercilessly pound into you. The whining and tiredness in your voice had caught Grayson mid-way; stopping you from reaching your climax. “Is the baby tired?” he seethed, pulling you up by the neck to stop you from slumping over onto the bed.

Screeching in pain, the squinting of your eyes and the muffled sounds of your screams had been enough for Jason to wince. Everything was hurting and he knew that but there was nothing he could do. His limbs were like jello and his energy was gone; all because of some poison Grayson had thrown at him when he tried to stop Grayson from entering his apartment. 

“Babe, you know the rules. You go to work, and you come straight back home, y’hear me?” Jason muttered, giving you a light kiss on the lips before placing one on your forehead before putting the metal helmet on. You really wished he didn’t have to lead this type of life; you wanted him to settle down for a bit, so you begged. Every single time he bid you goodbye at 2 in the morning, you always had something to say about staying home with you.

Regardless of how you put it each time, his answer had been the same regardless. “Gotta provide for you and f’me baby. Gotham needs to be at peace once in a while.” The end part being a joke to cheer you up or in hopes of making you laugh but that never happened. Staying quiet seemed like the best option every single time after the very first time you brought it up. 

To say it in the easiest way is best. Jason is paranoid; a bit too in over his head but his paranoia comes from years of battling against Batman and the fear of the Joker finding him once again and stripping him of everything, only this time, he feared it would be you with the aches of being hit with a crowbar.

After his resurrection, Jason bulked to say the least. His confidence hadn’t been there but he was stronger than before and he knew for a certainty that he would have a better chance at protecting you than before. Hiding away in the most grimy places in Gotham was his best alternative at this point. 

After becoming Red Hood, many of the districts fell under him as he ranked up. Unfortunately, he had a run-in with the one and only Batman, and to say that it ended in the most gruesome way possible was an understatement. Oh, no one was injured gravely, but the feelings that had been pent up for years had come all undone. 

“Jason, I’m sorry.” It took three words for the young boy to fall to his knees in tears. After all that he had been through, he still cherished the man that left him to die. Oh what a pity. But alas, had it only been the Bruce and Grayson that had been in mourning? Dear God no. Had anyone think to check on Y/n, who had been Jason’s best friend? Grayson sure did. He had to be the one to keep her going after she heard the news.

The pain, the torment, the nightmares day in and out. It was a lot for Y/n to keep on going but Grayson made it better. During that time of need, Grayson stayed by your side through everything. He was your shoulder to cry on, the one who made you laugh till your stomach aches. He was your everything and all in one when Jason couldn’t have been. 

“You know I’ll never leave you right?”  Grayson questioned, he peered down at you with a sullen look in his eyes, his fingers grazing the sides of your face.You fell asleep not too long ago, your head perched on a pillow with your head resting against Grayson’s arm. He knew that you wouldn’t have answered him, you had an extremely long day and with today being the 2 year anniversary of Jason’s death casting your light down even further than it was.

Bruce hadn’t been around you much, guilt filled his heart whenever he saw you so he chose to stay away. Grayson on the other hand, he knew that you lost the one who truly understood you, who had been there through thick and thin. Although Jason meant everything to you, Grayson held a piece of your heart as a dear beloved friend. 

To say that Grayson hadn’t felt a little bad that he was a bit glad that Jason had been gone was quite the understatement. He felt some sort of joy to see the way your eyes watered and your lips quivering before you had a full-blown breakdown. The heaving and small sniffles that came from you whilst Grayson soothed you made his heart do flips.

Now, Grayson was a sadist in any form or fashion but the way you looked, so vulnerable, so heartbroken, God did it do some things to him. Maybe it won't be a breakdown next time, maybe you'll be under him squirming and squealing as thrusts his dick into you. His plan was in place, all he needed was to wait for the right moment.

Silence filled the room as you looked straight ahead of you, shock written all over your face. You couldn't move, you dearly wish you could've in this moment but how could you when the one you thought was dead stood boldly in front of you, a metal bodice surrounding his form and a metal mask in hand. "Jason?" was the only thing that fell from your lips as you drank in the boy or well man that stood before you.

Red had always been his favorite color from young; you never forgot. His eyes seemed distant; his stance wasn't as before. Rigid and hollow, many walls built for the sake of his sanity and maybe yours but in this moment, all of that crumbled when he spoke. "I came back. I came back. . . . .for you." All the love that had been shared between the two of you came rushing in like a tidal wave, breaking whatever strong force that tried to pull it back.

Grayson laid on the floor, bruised and bleeding; his mouth pooling with the taste of metal and the sight of red on the pavement. He cursed heavily before pulling himself up, his head against the nearest wall as he held his abdomen in pain. "That stupid red mask." He found his way home, easing through the open window, maybe a bounce in his step to see you.

A burning sensation rang through his jaw but that didn't stop him from calling out to you. Yet, he was met with silence. Odd. Usually you would have your arms wrapped around his torso, completely unaware of the wounds he had until a wince fell from his lips making you completely aware of his wounds before apologizing. "Hey munchkin, this isn't the time to play hide and seek with me. I'm hurt and I need your company right now."

Yet no response, again. Maybe you were asleep. With his head, he peeked into the room, quietly surveying it before slipping in ever so quietly. "Baby, stop heading from m-." "She's not hiding from you, she's gone." Nightwing sneered, wincing as he turned to face the one with a metal helmet coated in red with white lenses stared back at his broken body.

His hand balled into a fist before speaking, blood pooling in his mouth. "Where did you take her? Where the hell did you take her Red Hood?" A deep rumble emitted from his throat, his eyes squinting as he stalked towards the bigger man. Yet he didn't make it far as the barrel of a gun found refuge between his eyes, the metal was cold and hard since Red Hood pressed it harder against the skull of Nightwing.

"You come after her, I put a bullet in between your eyes, Grayson." The name fell from Jason's lips with much hatred and malice but with the built in modulator it was hard for Nightwing to understand the emotions behind what he had said. With a pregnant pause, Red Hood gave Nightwing one last look before going out through the window. Nightwing grunted in anger and in pain but stood in his place for a couple of minutes. He'll get you back, one way or another.

"Sugar, you know I love you too much but I can't let you out. I'm sorry." Jason reasoned, it had been almost a year since he scooped you up from Grayson and you loved every bit of it but you felt caged. You couldn't leave the apartment, orders of Jason Todd. Sure, he had his reasons, but you wanted out. No, you needed to get out.

Seeing the same four walls day in and day out started to make you lose your mind and you couldn't afford to do that right now: not to Jason anyways. He had been through too much for you to act out and start whining over not being able to leave the house. Maybe it was for the best. Just like what Grayson used to say.

Grayson, Richard Grayson or well Dick as he wished you to call him. Boy was he some character. His worrisome state and his constant clinginess had been enough for you. You knew he meant well but sometimes you felt if there had been some sort of kick he was getting out of this.

You knew he meant well but sometimes you could feel something more sinister and darker, something he wasn't saying or well doing. Shaking your head from such perilous thoughts, you switched through channels trying to find some that would catch your attention.

A few hours later, you fell into sleepy state, your eyes shutting but blinking back to life to stay focused on the movie that had been playing. What did seem to catch your attention was the loud thunk that echoed from a room in the corridor. You sat up looking towards the hallway patiently waiting for Jason to appear.

Glancing over at the digital clock that showed 2:14 a.m. in bright red colors, it was around this time that Jason would normally get home but seeing that he didn't appear yet, you went to investigate. You peered into the training room, calling out to him. but you saw nothing, the only other room there had been the one both you and Jason slept in, so you headed there. You pushed open the door, a curious look upon your face when you saw that he hadn't been in there either, maybe something fell.

Now, you weren't one to be paranoid, but you felt goosebumps rise against your skin and the hairs on the back of your neck rising. You were being watched. At times like this, you wish Jason had trained you in some sort of hand-to-hand combat, something you could fight with, but he left you helpless, like a doll without blemishes, perched in a high place just to look pretty and keep up appearances. So caught up in the pretenses of the happy life you lived and the one you longed for, you weren't able to sense the light steps that followed behind you so in esseence, you were an easy target.

Yelping in pain, you grabbed the side of your head from the place where you had been hit and at the same time, you turned to see the culprit, but instead of meeting a face, your eyes met the hard plywood within the apartment; splotches of black covering your sight. Soon enough, you were out cold and left in the hands of the culprit.

A sheer gasp fell from your lips as some strong force from behind. Wrapping their dominant hand around your waist and one hand gripped against your mouth. You tried to scream and hit them at the same time but all failed when the perpetrator tightened their grip on your waist and squeezed the flesh of your jaw, nails and the fabric on their hands digging into your skin.

"C'mon sweetheart, don't be like that to poor little Grayson." Your eyes widen in fear when a voice you could never forget sounded from behind you, but you weren't so shaken by the fact that Grayson had been pounding you whilst you slept but the fact that Jason had been tied to a chair, eyes wide open and staring right at you.

Brusies of all shapes and colors decorated his skin, more so the black eye that was starting to form. It was only then that you realized he had been gagged with some sort of sheer material from what you could see.

Then you saw the watery look in his eyes, was it because of the bruises, maybe so. That had been your first guess since it couldn't possibly be that he was crying, was he? With the little energy you had left, you twisted and turned your arm to loosen the grip that had been around it before you snatched it away, reaching towards Jason with a soft wail leaving your lips as you tried to reach him.

Alas, but Grayson had been attentive. Although caught up in filling you up with his cum and making sure Jason knew you were his, he pulled back your wrist, a tighter grip than before, wrenching it back in the same position, not caring if he had hurt you in the moment.

"You pull away from me again and I will break both your arms, understand?" Fear enveloped your entire body, but you still nodded, not wanting to anger the man any further. Maybe it had been your body that made you fall into the deep end. Panting at the surge of pleasure that flew through you as Grayson thrusted against your hips; the slick fabric rubbing against your skin every time he moved. The grip on your hips maybe have been tight but it felt good, really good. You weren't the only one who felt good in this moment though, the sane yet needy body that had been ravishing you from behind felt the shift in your stance.

Your arch deepened and your moans and whines felt more eased than strained; you were finally started to like it and that made Grayson excited. Yet on the other hand, Jason was furious; fingers deeply caved into his palms, he wouldn't be surprised if they were bleeding and his teeth clashed to the point where his jaw started to hurt. He shook against the restraints, pulling and twisting to find some sort of release.

His teeth snapping into one of your soiled panties, which he only learned that it was when Grayson had pointed it out when you were still passed out. The sweat shined in the moon light, beads of it dripping from his eyebrow. He felt hot and squeamish, he needed to get out of these restraints. Groaning at the rope that restricted his wrists, the roughness from it, bruising his wrists. The discomfort from the tactical pants he wore; not only from the ropes that sat around his ankles but also from inside of them.

The pushing against the fabric, a bit too tight for his liking. God, he felt disgusted with himself, but the sight of you was so appealing, he needed more; needed to feel you, feel inside you. The deep hollowness within his stomach stated enough, it was detrimental but addicting.

He hated the way Grayson corrupted you, pushing you into unknown waters, hazy of all things around you. He wanted to keep you safe, away from the dangers of this world, safe and wrapped in his arms. He was pulled from his thoughts when Grayson started to mumble, murmuring words into your ear. Jason didn't even realize that you were awake; eyes wide and staring right at him.

Was it shock or fear? Normally, with his enhanced hearing, he would have been able to hear every word that Grayson whispered to you and maybe he would've been able to break out from the ropes if his advanced strength and agility was still there but whatever Grayson had in that syringe caused his energy to deplete and his limbs to feel gummy.

Back to present moment where Grayson had your back arched and head pushed down in the mattress, Jason watched as you wiggle and squirm but every time that you did, you received a harsh slap to your thigh, causing you to whine in protest. Grayson had pulled out from his daze and looked towards Jason with a large smile, canines pointed and sharp, ready to strike and pierce.

He saw the mischievous glint in his eyes; that meant he was up to absolutely no good. "God Y/n, your blood smells divine. I don't understand why Jason hasn't sunken his teeth into you yet." As Grayson spoke, Jason's eyes widen in fear, head shaking vigorously, trying to signal to Grayson not to do it but by the smile etched on his face, he knew his attempts were futile.

Your screams were muffled by Grayson's hand as he sunk his teeth into your exposed neck, gripping your neck as he pulled it further to the side for more access. The man in restraints screamed, begged Grayson to stop but his screams were muffled by the now soaking wet fabric that invaded his mouth. His chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, eyes blown wide and bright in red as he heard your screams dying down and head lolling to the side, indicating that you had passed out from too much of your blood being taken.

"Oh no, poor baby all tuckered out." Grayson taunted, dropping your limp body back onto the bed as he pulled out of you; not caring enough to clean you up or wrap you in a soft cotton cloth. The older man got up from the bed, grabbing his escrima sticks before walking over to the chair that Jason had been tied to. With a pat on the shoulder, Grayson left Jason tied to the chair with nothing else but to stare at your unconscious body in the moonlight.

Tears cascading down his face not just from sadness of not being able to protect but from anger that the one person he trusted defiled the one person that kept him going. Once Jason was out of the ropes, he'd clean you and keep you warm but after his eyes were dead set on Richard 'Dick' Grayson and destroying everything he stood for. This meant war.

[javiersprincess]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝚬 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝚬.

tags: 18+ minors dni, fem reader, established relationship, pro soccer player kunigami, closet sex, fingering, making out, penetrative and oral sex hinted, jealousy and possessive themes, mention of unwanted flirting and physical touch - let me know if i missed something !

synopsis: what is kunigmai rensuke’s is kunigami rensuke’s, and nothing will change that even your stupid co-worker who can’t keep his hands to himself.

If Kunigami had it his way, he'd make it so you would never have to lift a finger. He’s overpaid doing what he lives for - going pro was everything he wanted, and it soothes an ugly green part of himself that knows he can provide for you. But you are too kind for that kind of life, you still try to pay for things despite how he always pre-pays for dinners or straight up takes your cards out of your wallet when you go out shopping. You work a normal job, something usual and consistent. You like it that way and he tries to respect that very much. 

He thinks he’s done an excellent job of it until you bring him to a corporate party and all that goes out the window. It starts normally enough, you show him around your office and it makes him smile that you have a framed jersey with his number on it, a poster of his team, and a framed photo of him holding you at a championship game - the first one of his pro career. It’s sweet, it fills him with such pride to know you carry him with you each day you clock into the office. He meets your co-workers - most are older than you as you are one of the newer hires and they all gawk over him with wide eyes and gasping lips.

You had told your office your boyfriend was a pro athlete but didn’t explicitly say your boyfriend and Kunigami Rensuke were the same. It didn’t bother him in retrospect, you’ve always been the quieter one between the two of you - all attempts for privacy came from you, and you never wanted Kunigmai to feel as if you were with him for fame or money.

You love Kunigami Rensuke with all your soul and it is there in the most subtle of ways that exist only for the two of you to bear witness to. The polaroid of your blacked-out silhouettes from New years on the back of your phone case and the locket around his neck that holds the photos of your engagement shoot that he kisses before he’s out on the pitch. The way you have a homemade book filled with recipes for when he goes on his diet to help him bulk up or slim down when the soccer season rolls around. The way he has a list of which chocolate and jam spread brands you like for when you have your cravings. 

These things, these actions are eternal in an otherwise epithermal world and Kunigami knows damn well that he does not stand for on the international stage to play for something like his country’s pride. He plays for you and for you alone, for the beading of tears that shine in your eyes whenever he succeeds - his pride is yours and his joy is yours too. And for the most part, you two have had your relatively peaceful love lives, your e  waits for the two of you in the summer of next year and it’s blissful in a way that he doesn’t have the words to describe. Maybe that’s why you always nagged him to pay attention in his Classics class, then he would have the words to describe all that he feels for you the way you always know what to say to him whenever he needs it.

And he would have all the words to say what he feels when he hears what your co-worker, a relatively handsome man your age, calls you - “Hey work-wife”. Kunigmai already does not like him, he feels the way you tense from where your arm is tucked into his elbow - he was raised to be a gentleman by a strict mother and an even stricter older sister who has been handed too many douchey men so she made sure to raise him right (He hears her bragging to you about his manners too many times to count when he brings you over for family dinners). He can see why you tense up because the minute you're on your own - you wanted to get something to drink and when he offered to get it instead, you gave him that pout that speaks to your want to do things on your own. It never fails to be cute to him so he laughs softly and lets you go with a nod of his head and a final squeeze of your hand. Any joy evaporates and tastes of ash when he sees your younger co-worker come up to you and place his arm around your shoulders - tugging you close, too close in his opinion which sours further when he sees how you tense under his touch.

He knows you, and he knows how much you hate anyone’s touch other than his own.

Kunigami is on his feet faster than ever and your work best friend sputters after him as their polite but meaningless conversation goes to dust as he leaves with a barely-there excuse. He is at your side faster than you can blink, long legs and speed training make it so. His hand is warm and familiar - firm as he loops it around your waist, tugging you until you are flushed to him, free from your co-worker’s touch.

“Wow, easy tiger - is this the infamous famous boyfriend? I thought you were fibbin’ about him bein’ a pro soccer player?” The man grins at you in a way that was supposed to be charming but looks more like a grimace and his accent reminds Kunigami of Karasu so he concludes he is from Osaka. Auburn eyes light into a blaze as he tilts his head, sizing up his prey and he is glad when he sees the other swallow thickly at the sight of him. Kunigami has always been imposing - with each centimeter he grows and each kg he gains it only adds to how easily he can intimidate the people around him.

So he delights when he sees how the other man’s confidence withers and dies, turning to bone and ash before his very eyes - it worsens when Kunigami can see the familiar glint of jealousy that burns like acid when Kunigami tightens his hold on your waist; drawing you closer to his side until he feels your warmth through your clothes. Kunigami’s ego only soars on two occasions when he scores and when he has you in his arms in front of someone who so badly wants what is so rightfully his.

Kunigami doesn’t say anything - he doesn’t have to, the other man knows the battle is lost. He never had a chance to begin with, not when your man is Kunigami Rensuke himself. You let him take you to the lobby of the building, far from the party and there is a look of distress on your face that Kunigami can’t stand - he has half the mind to go back to the party and punch your shitty coworker himself. With a quick sweep around the lobby, he snorts when his gaze lands on the opened coat closet that would be the perfect place to take this to where he wants. Still leading the way he pushes you inside it, locking the door behind him and he finds that it isn’t as cramped as he thought. It still lets him push himself up against your smaller form - crowding you against the wall in a way that he knows makes you tongue-tied.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask and he says a quick no because he’s not - jealous and possessiveness dance along his spine but that can wait until you are comforted.

“Does he always talk to you like that - touches you like that? When you don’t want to be?” He asks and he tilts his head so you can see a single searing auburn eye among the shadow of how his hair falls. You nod, bringing a hand to your face, and rub at your temples in exhaustion.

“Y-yeah he does - I thought it would go away if I started talking about you but when that didn’t work I started bringing some of your merchandise from home to here, you know to show that I’m dedicated to you and stuff.” You pause to take a shuddering breath as you remember how the man’s touch felt on your skin - stinging like acid rain and rancid like sulfur, you only wanted Kunigami to be able to touch you like that. He hums, leaning back against the door so that he can hear it creak a little under his weight.

“I thought - I already wanted to bring you along but I thought if you came he’d finally give up his stupid delusion of always flirting with me, calling me stupid things like his work wife and stuff.” You finish and your shoulders are by your ears like they do when you are about to cry so he draws near, wrapping a bulky arm around your tense shoulders. You are brought in close to where you can almost taste the notes of his cologne and all it does is make you nuzzle into his skin in the way you know tickles him. He chuckles into your ear and his hand that rubs at your shoulders relaxes you into his body.

“Guys like that are assholes, they don’t give up - thought you would have known that from being around me all the time and the team,” Kunigami mutters, throwing a tease in there to make you laugh. It’s to his relief that it does and you snort into the color of his shirt, your voice muffled against his strong body.

“You aren’t an asshole,” you defend him and he huffs amusedly at your claim.

“The others are - and I’m not an asshole to you.” He remarks pulling away just to look at you with a barely there smile that was a little too proud of what he is saying. You look at him with a stern expression, though there is some amusement in your eyes and he’s glad he still can cheer you up.

“Your teammates aren’t that bad, and neither are you.” Kunigami smiles slightly and butts his head with you like the way dogs do when they want your attention and your affection.

“That’s why guys like that always think they’ve got a chance with you - always so sweet even to shitty losers who don’t deserve it.”  You pull away to look up at him, raising a finger to point in his face with something stubborn in your eyes.

“You better not be put in that category of a shitty loser Kunigami Rensuke, you hear me?” You warn, voice firm and he smiles a little wider - the sort of self-satisfied and dripping in ego that he most reserves for being out on the field but he gives it to you too sometimes. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I got you, there's no way I’m a shitty loser when I get to take you home every night.” His smug reply and the rolling of your eyes are cut off by the heated kiss he presses to your lips. It tastes of him - the snowy peaks of his hometown and the fire of his veins you can only latch onto the front of his shirt when you feel his tongue slip into your gasping mouth. It feels right, it feels true Kunigami is the only man who is allowed to touch you, to taste you and that is how it must be. His hands don’t keep to themselves, they slip under the skirt of your dress. A simple long-sleeved dress but it makes him hungry all the same, gluttony and greed paint his hands as you feel them come up to the curve of your ass - his fingers follow the lace trail of your panties, stockings, and garters with the same worshiping haze of a devoted acolyte.

Devotion can be tasted and love can be felt as your hands do not remain idle, they are in his hair and cradling his jaw. When he pulls away Kunigami hates that he can’t sustain himself on you alone but your lipstick is on his lips and your perfume coils around him like a fog and he thinks that’s good enough for now. You’re panting, his hands haven’t stopped just because the kiss has and you whine something startled when you feel his fingers trace the gusset of your panties with something wicked in his autumn eyes.

“I thought you said you weren’t mad -”

“I’m not,” He says with certainty but there’s evil in the way he half smiles at you, “just competitive.”

 What you wish to say never comes as you gasp when you feel the skirt of your dress being rucked up and the too-cool air of your office dancing around your heated lower half. The garters squeeze into the plush of your skin and Kunigami can’t stop the groan that tugs from his chest even if he wants to. Rough fingers pull back the soft satin material of your panties, and your cunt weaves its silk webs of wanting that follow the damp fabric until they snap and his fingers are tracing the petals of your pussy with newfound hunger. The curls of your pelvis part and cling to your slick, Kunigami fights the urge to drop to his knees to lick you clean but this isn’t the place for that - the closet is too narrow and the walls too thin, they can barely conceal what it is he is doing to you now. Strong fingers find your puffy clit and you hide your whine into his beck, your form crumpling and shaking under the sudden but all-encompassing pleasure that laps at your ankles up to your neck. 

“You��re mine, yeah? Doesn’t matter what any shithead calls you - you’re mine.” His words are like magma that course through the earth and you can only nod and whine and nod some more with each declaration he murmurs into your ear as you lose more of your sanity in the flow and ebb of having your cunt played with. Kunigami is nothing but demanding and now that he’s shed his polite outer layer all he is left with is the beast within. He ensures to ensnare you with his claws as if there is anywhere else you would rather be.

 You feel his hair tickle your temples as his head turns - Kunigami twisting his head until his mouth is level with your neck - tender is the flesh and ripe for his white teeth to dig into the skin. You gasp, a third finger has slipped it along with the burning sting of his teeth digging into your neck you can’t help but sigh his name in utter adoration - “Rensuke!”

The fingers inside you curl and Kunigami sucks at your neck, the flesh darkening and flushing the same color as the lust shared between the two of you. Your chest aches, from your heart to the peaks of your nipples that grow tight still confide in your dress because this isn’t enough despite the burning twine of pleasure in your stomach.

You want for more - his tongue, his cock, and then his fingers again, it all feels so good; this does not feel like enough. Your words are clipped and breath but they reach him, your prayers for your lover of a god.

“Please - please Rensuke! I want more, please give me more!” You whisper to him, nerves fried and everything feels like a blur except for how your thighs tremble as the pleasure becomes more and more unbearable. His fingers, thick and long and so very cruel, keep their pace, curl inside of you the final time and you cum with his tongue in your mouth. It feels dirty and indecent - it could be because the setting of where your cunt was finger fucked into a haze is finally setting in but you can’t even put two in two together until you feel Kunigami’s hard-on pressed up against you. Your stockings feel soaked through from sweat and slick, your heels make you feel unstable and you can only blink up at him barely as he pressed his mouth to your ear again.

“You’re gonna go out there - say your goodbyes like the sweet thing you are with your cute cunt fucked by my fingers and with my marks on your skin. Get your things, take longer than ten and I won’t let you come all night long.”  A promise whispered, made with the following action of his hands following the curve of your ass as Kunigami smoothes down your pretty dress to give some decency after the indecent things both said and done in this small space. The prospect of punishment weighs heavy on the tongue but a part of him is delighted in your choppy nod and starry eyes. He opens the door but not without pressing a final kiss to your bitten lips and with a final reach of his hand to sweep your hair to the side - where the mark of his teeth screams all the possession he carries in his heart.

As you walk out of the closet with unsteady steps he can’t help but let his palm meets your behind in a quick swipe - it makes him half grin, a cruel tease as you jump and rub at your ass. Kunigami holds up the car keys and tilts his head in the direction of the parking lot.

“I’ll be outside - don’t keep me waiting.”

[bekkathyst]

Hi, long time customer (although I admit it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten anything new) and I have a question about what responsibly sourced means for your business. I’ve seen more and more stuff about the crystal mining industry and I don’t want to have to stop buying them. I will if I need to but I want to know like, where REALLY do your crystals come from? How do you know/what do you mean by responsibly sourced? From other small businesses? Where are THEY getting them?

Mostly I just really want to continue supporting your shop if I can with my purchases but I think I should just ask to make sure.

Hi! Thanks for asking; I think it's an important thing to discuss. I've talked about all of this before but it's been a while, so I thought I'd write it all out again. If things are unclear it's because I'm running on very little sleep atm and a bit overwhelmed with work, but I would be happy to answer any clarifying questions as needed!

So for me, responsibly sourced means that I care about who I am supporting and try to make the best decisions that I can. While it is true that there's no way to 100% know what's going on unless you visit a mine yourself and watch them work, that's why I think that getting as close to the source as possible is really important. I've spent the last 11 years building long-term business relationships with people who own mines, dig crystals themselves, or have smaller operations and employ a lot of their families. There's a huge difference to me between supporting a couple in Uruguay who owns a small mine or two and has their whole family involved in the business versus buying African diamonds from a British company that's been exploiting the land and the people living in it for over a century. The smaller the mine and company, the better. A lot of the people that I work with have introduced me to their whole families, seen my daughter grow up over the years, and often times they'll invite us to visit their country and visit their mines with them. (I'm not in a position to do any world traveling atm lol but I hope one day I can go do this!) I think it's super important that the people from the country where the stones are being mined are the people running the business and actually making the profit from it - not someone from a completely unrelated country coming and taking over the operations and making massive profits by exploiting and mistreating the people who live there.

Also to clarify, I work with wholesalers. As a retail business owner, I can buy from these mines and companies because I have a business license and buy in large quantities to resell; they usually don't sell to the general public, or if they do, it's just at mineral shows once or twice a year. Over the past decade, I've met so many great people at shows and then stayed in contact with them in between shows and have been able to continuously order from them.

So I aim to work with these miners directly as much as I can, but if I do work with a general wholesaler who offers things from several different countries, I use my best judgment and ask questions to make sure that their values align with mine and they're doing their part as well. I also work with a few carving companies that buy rough in bulk from various countries and carve and shape the stones - same thing as above applies.

And it goes further than that too, because if someone does really anything that goes against my personal morals, I stop doing business with them. The strongest example of that that I can think of is there used to be a warehouse I worked with in the US that imported directly from Brazil, but one time the owner said something really racist to me and Antonio in a joking tone. After that, we cut all ties and never went back. It still makes me mad to think he ever got any of our money.

I think this about sums it up, but if you have further questions, I'd be happy to answer after I get caught up on work :)

I'll just end this by saying that you know what you're comfortable with and you shouldn't do anything that goes against your beliefs! I'm running my shop in the way that I think is right but of course, there will always be people with differing opinions.

[hotluncheddie]

omg I didn't realize you wanted chubby steddie asks 🙈

as much as we love the babygirlification of Steve Harrington..... I'm obsessed with boyish manly Steve who is chubby and Eddie is obsessed with him!!!! I'm thinking about your one fic with the sweaty tank top!!!!! do you have more thoughts on this??

yesssssss!!! anon yes yesssssssss!!!!!

not me being like 'yeah! sweaty task top fic nice nice' then realising i have like three different posts that have Steve in a sweaty tank top lol

thankfully @scoops-aboy86 came in clutch with a new tank top sciario <3 (and held my hand thru writing the end lmao ty pal)

but i just love an ex jock trope, i love bulk under muscle and i think big beefy hairy guys are hot - and Steve harrington deserves to be all of that, and more

and also, importantly, eddie munson deserves to have all of that too, in and around him, all the time, in the form of Steve Harrington.

-

Eddie had come to accept the wealth of things he could be into, the actual buffet of people and scenarios that could get his dick hard. He's had more than his fair share of knuckle biting orgasms over the ex chief of police Jim Hopper. Before and, maybe worse, after getting to know him.

So he knew what it was to have something of a shame wank. To enjoy a moustache or two and a paunch at a middle.

But nothing, no deep seated daddy issues or fantasy of being held down, could ever prepare him for Steve Harrington.

Post upside down, post eventual college and transition to work. Post two bed apartment with Robin, then two bed apartment with Robin and Eddie. Then actual full blow house with Eddie, and more often than not weekend guest Robin. Dating Steve for as long as has was one thing, loving Steve with everything he had was another, and being loved by Steve was something he still had nights of panic about - silent tears as fear and self doubt gripped his throat, nightmares about it all being an elaborate prank that sneak their way in even with Steves arms wrapped tight around his middle.

but Eddie had him.

Was allowed to love him, and worship Steve for all that he was worth. It was wonderful. Eddie knew that.

But it had its challenges. Nothing past Eddie could've done would help current Eddie for what he was in for.

Like how Steve had bulked up over the years, settled and filled out in a way that made those visions of Hopper, and guys from bars he really shouldn't have been at, all come surging back.

Steve was thick, and strong and still so achingly beautiful. Boyish in his actions at times but also protective and capable in a way that made Eddie swoon. Honest to god. Made him feel like a main character in one of those bodice ripper books he had seen (taken out and read) at the library.

And then Steve made it worse.

So so so much worse.

Because Steve went and got a tattoo.

Well, another tattoo. He added roses to go along with the robin and branch on his arm, adding to its greenery with red petals and thorns that Eddie knew were secretly for him. He’d said, offhandedly, that they were his favourite and he knows, because he knows Steve, that thats something he'd listen to and remember.

He’s a die hard romantic.

And now Eddie is going to die, hard.

Soon, if Steve doesn't put a proper fucking shirt on.

Steves been wearing his stupid, old, cropped, white tank top since the appointment. He's "letting the tattoo breathe", "doesn't like the feeling of the healing skin against the fabric", "wants to do it properly". "hates Eddie and wants him to die of hard dick, big-fat-ball disease."

He glares at Steve from the other end of the couch, and maybe only three of those things are something Steve's actually said, but, he thought them. All of them. Must have.

Because Steve's tank is so old it's nearly see through, the peak of his pink nipple evident and distracting. The cropped end keeps rolling up and exposing his wider bellybutton and soft sides. And, as always, with any tank top, with any tank top on Steve, hit tits are there - hairy and lovely and out.

'Steve, please.' Eddie whines, he doesn't think he can take much more.

Steve just raises his eyebrows, taking a swig of beer and not looking away from the tv. 'If I sweat too much, it'll mess with the healing.' He says.

Eddie just crosses his arms, sinks lower into the couch. ‘Can you put on a normal shirt at least? For my sanity, for that alone, please?' Not wanting to sound desperate, but he is desperate.

Steve sighs, muting the TV. 'C'mere.' He holds his arms out and Eddie crawls into his lap. Still sulking, arms still crossed. ‘Eddie, you’re the one who gave me the tattoo. I’m following your instructions.’ Steve says gently.

‘M’firing Robin for getting you to sign the info form.’ He grumbles.

Steve smiles at him, tucking some hair behind his ears. ‘You can’t fire her for doing her job baby.’

‘Maybe not’ Eddie sniffs. ‘But I’m not sharing my baby blue ink with her next time she gets one of her slutty little lady sailor pin ups booked in.’ He mumbles to himself.

Steve pulls Eddie in closer, hands on his waist as he leans in to whisper in Eddies ear. 'Aren't I being so good though? Following what you said, no strenuous activity for two days right?' His voice a little breathy, soft.

And that makes Eddie pause, makes his insides churn and his heart rate increase. 'Ye-yeah.' He rasps, eyes wide. 'So good Stevie.'

'So we have to wait until tomorrow, like you said, yeah?' Steve asks, eyes all big and sweet, lips in a little pouty.

Fuck. He's right. Eddie dug his own grave.

'Yeah.' He sighs. He can do it, for Steve.

Steve smiles sweetly at him, tapping Eddie on the ass and shifting him closer so Steve can unmute the tv and keep watching his game. 'Good boy.' Steve says, kissing Eddies temple.

…Wait. Eddie scrunches his eyebrows, half hard and confused.

But Steve just holds him closer. Eddie buries his head in Steve's neck, and whines.

[night-market-if]

Answering some bulk questions

I am getting the same kind of questions in my inbox and instead of answering them all individually, I thought I would just make one long post. Hopefully that can clear some things up.

Why is m!pen white and f!pen black?

Mostly because the character of Pen is death. They have no form. Not a real one. Much like the MC, the image they are presenting is a construct. So, when I thought about that, I kind of thought it would be fun to play around with two very different aesthetics (I think in the final edit I might even write them a bit different). I did this for two reasons. One, because I haven't really seen this in ifs. And two, I kind of liked the duality of it. Opposites, really. It sat well with me for the character of death.

2. Why does nothing bad ever happen to Milo? Stop playing favorites.

Bad things have happened to Milo. More so than the other characters, I would argue. I have a feeling this is more from people annoyed that a very specific bad thing won't happen to Milo. Because Milo has watched Malcolm and MC die. Was beaten as a child. Orphaned. Didn't know where his real home was or who he was. Has a ghost for a sister. (who he also watched die). Has been responsible for keeping his best friend sane for quite a few years. And got the shittiest job in the world. He has also been stabbed at quite a bit. Betrayed. And used.

I do a lot of bad things to Milo. Favorites would be if nothing bad happened to him. And defending your characters decisions is not playing favorites. It is just knowing your characters as a writer.

3. Who is your favorite RO?

I have said before that Milo is not my favorite to write. So inevitably I get asked who is. I don't answer this question because I don't want the complaints.

4. Why don't you have stats?

Because I don't like them. I come from much more of a storytelling perspective than a game mechanics one. And don't get me wrong. People that do game mechanics are awesome. I admire them a ton and enjoy their games (though my field is more video games). But that's never what I wanted the Night Market to be. I just want people to be immersed.

5. Do you feel you have to have inclusivity as a writer?

I don't know why I've been getting this one a lot. Might be something going on in the community. The honest answer is no, I do not. I have never felt pressured to have a certain representation within the Night Market. That all being said, maybe I don't feel that way because I tend to have an organically more diverse cast of characters? But I can't say I have ever felt like I have to put a certain representation in. And I don't believe writers should feel pressure for that. Because a lot of times, if you are just putting in a token character to do it, it becomes a bit problematic.

6. What are your favorite IF's and do you have recomendations?

I hate to say this, but I don't read IF's. I've dabbled occasionally in the past but I find when I read IF's, it messes with my head and my ability to write. Now, I read a lot of novels. That is my preferred vehicle of reading. But as for IF's, I probably won't read a lot of them until I am officially done with the Night Market. I struggle to enjoy stories when I feel like it is a part of my day to day job.

7. Why don't you ever speak out politically?

Because that is private for me. I don't want to. I want to provide an escape from the world. Not add to discussions that are being had by people far more adept than me. I leave my political feelings and responsibilities at home.

8. Why can't you provide (insert numerous topics) to the route?

Because coding and writing are a bitch. There is a lot of work that goes into this stuff that isn't always fun. And sometimes, as much as I would like to put something in or have a new route, I just can't. I am one person. A person who has a pretty hefty personal life. I am doing what I can.

[wing-ed-thing]

... And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part II

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 4.5k

Tags/Warnings: Naive!Servant!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Canonically Mean Vinsmokes, But Reader is Kinda Into It, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Wall Punching, Language, Reader Falls First, Yonji Falls Harder

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Notes: My draft of this story in it's entirety is over 14k... and I haven't even gotten to the scene I wanted to write.

The two of you met by mere happenstance, and it was even rarer that the library was ever docked onto an important area of Germa. Spring marked the time for a seasonal cleaning. So, like every year before, the laboratory grunts were to store old accounts in the library and perform an overhaul of laboratory references, guarded by one of Judge’s children. 

Yonji had been assigned guard duty this year, although the responsibility didn’t include much besides docking his fleet around the two storage snails. The men working in the laboratory would march back and forth carrying records and books, and you would assist in arranging your new inventory. 

Aside from the one bulky book tower, the library ship didn't comprise much. The impressive structure took up nearly the entirety of the support snail, sporting several conical turrets and a grand archway in the center. The stone arch formed a closed bridge-like structure connecting the two towers. The northern wing housed important but dated scientific records, while the southern wing stored traditional texts. 

With the bridge sitting near the eyestalks and the crew’s quarters located in the disconnected basement of the southern tower, paper took up more of the library snail than people did. 

Given how little traffic typically went through the library tower, inventory day marked your snail’s busiest day of the year. Approximately five ships anchored around you, not including the laboratory, which was attached directly to your snail. You considered yourself lucky to have soldiers and technicians helping with the sheer volume of inventory, which had been shipped in bulk and hauled onto the library snail via a lift.

Yonji’s ship had docked directly onto the library snail. You remembered when you spotted his green raid suit from the library’s grand window, barking orders and taking command of the troops below. The ensuing wave of emotion nearly knocked you off your feet, a pit of fluttering anxiety festering at the pit of your stomach as you retreated outside to greet him. 

You could recall every stone step down from the second tower and into the arch, and before you knew it, you were across the short yard. You greeted him formally and bowed. You were sure you were shaking. 

Every other member of Germa 66 had served as a guard for you in the past during this occasion. Ichiji and Niji had been assigned to you once each, while Reiju had been several times in the past. But Yonji, in all the time you had been acting as the royal library attendant, had never made an appearance before this past spring.

He didn’t regard you with much, his indifference a stark contract to your acute, starstruck trembling. You bowed politely, blathering something about your job and a promise to do it well. Yonji stared you down with nothing less than annoyance and slight disgust, which, unbeknownst to you, would mark a recurring theme. And that had been your unremarkable first meeting with the fourth prince of Germa. 

Like his siblings before him, Yonji didn’t involve himself much in your affairs. He seemed just about as interested in the reorganization process as he was in you, and you doubted that he’d even do a walkthrough when everything was finished, like Ichiji or Reiju. Instead, he busied himself with what you could only assume was his usual training regiment on the extended courtyard just outside the library window of the southern tower. 

You saw him occasionally, catching a glimpse of green as you walked back and forth between the northern and southern towers with the inventory. And to your surprise, Yonji and his men remained active from the time the library organization team began in the morning until sunset, far later than even the inventory team worked. (The inventory team rose early and stopped in the mid-afternoon.)

You sat in your usual plush chair by the window, the commotion just outside becoming a part of your nightly routine as you read your book in the glow of the sunset. You didn’t even catch yourself staring, drifting off in thought as you watched Yonji interact with the men outside. 

A little voice squeaked your name. You blinked to yourself, trying not to appear as caught off guard as you felt. The cook’s twin children sat on the velvet rug at your feet, eyes squinting in the setting sun's light. The little girl sat hunched, her hands gripping the ankles of her crossed legs, while the little boy lay sprawled out on the rug.

“Sorry, I thought I saw something outside,” you muttered a quick apology before clearing your throat to start again. “‘Well, Father, said Beauty, ‘as the Beast will accept either you or one of your daughters, I will give myself up to his fury, as it is on my account you have been involved in this trouble…’”

You continued to read aloud. Due to the archive ship’s distance from most of the larger snails, the library housed a single cook in a single, below-deck kitchen to support the small staff of you and a handful of soldiers and crew. And, like a surprising amount of non-combatant employees of Germa, the cook had children. 

However, children under the age of twelve were not allowed to roam freely within their respective parts of the caste, and once they were of working age, they were expected to learn servant’s skills. But considering the isolation of the library snail and the few staff members who stepped into the archive at all, you could afford to bend the rules a bit. But with a member of the royal family visiting, one of your many priorities was keeping the children quiet and occupied, especially after dinner.

By the time you closed your book, your voice was beginning to sound hoarse, and the sun had completely set outside. The kids on your rug yawned with drooping eyes. You peered at the clock. You had kept them for far later than you intended to, but you supposed it was better that they were a bit late to bedtime rather than getting into trouble around the ship when the prince was visiting.

“Why can’t we play outside? We usually play outside after stories, and we haven’t been outside in weeks.” the boy groaned, tensing his arms and legs in a full-body stretch before letting them hit the rug below. “We’re gonna get vitamin D deficiency and die.”

“Nice try. It’s been two days, and it’s nighttime.” 

The two children huffed. The girl stood and moved to the window to look out at the makeshift courtyard from the windowsill. She stood on her toes, barely able to peer out the glass. The boy rolled onto his stomach before pushing himself to his feet to join her. 

You quickly bolted up with them, ready to pull the two from the window. While you had no issue with the twins listening to a story in the library as the archive’s sole keeper, you anticipated that Prince Yonji might not take terribly well to being ogled at by small, unwelcome children as his battalion trained. 

But to your surprise, all of the soldiers were gone. You glanced at the clock again. You supposed that even people like Yonji had to sleep at some point. 

“C’mon, shark bites.” You set the book of stories on the round table next to your chair. “Let’s get you back downstairs.” 

The twins protested but were too tired to put up much of a fight. You scooped the boy up into your arms. He tucked his head into the nape of your neck, just about falling asleep instantly. You took the girl by the hand, ready to lead them out of the second tower and around the back to the two cellar doors leading to the servant’s quarters. 

Just as you pushed open the doors with your foot to corral the two into the hallway, you could have sworn you heard movement. You were too focused to pay it any mind.

***

It took several days for the books and files to be properly organized into their respective archives—and several evenings of extended, after-dinner storytime sessions—but as had happened every year before, the operation went smoothly. The moment he heard that everything was finished, Yonji immediately called all his men back to their respective ships to depart. 

“Master Yonji?” You trailed behind him, attempting to keep up with his wide-paced stride. Yonji paid no mind to you as he barked orders across the deck. “I don’t mean to insert myself into your affairs, but might I ask if you intend on performing a walk-through inspection? Mistress Reiju often likes to make notes concerning the new orientation to communicate with Lord Judge. And we’ve actually reoriented the delta files a level down this year—”

Yonji suddenly turned on his heel, causing you to smack into him. You recoiled, trying to resist the urge to grab at your nose. You might as well have walked straight into a wall. 

“I don’t remember asking for direction from you.”

The two of you stopped in the middle of the archway, his form barely shaded by its shadow. Yonji stared you down with his dark irises. You took a file out from under your arm. 

“I—” 

Yonji’s fist swiftly struck the wall next to your head. He had backed you up against the wall, now towering over you. The stone behind you crumbled as your knees locked together. Yonji hovered over you, letting out a steady stream of hot, irritated air from his nose. 

You were unaware of how his lips pulled slightly down and of Yonji’s rapid analysis of your face. Instead, your gaze remained solely on the gloved fist next to your head. 

That was the first time Yonji saw that spark in your eye. Your lips formed a passive line, but the shine of authentic amazement that glimmered in your gaze betrayed you. You held a crushing grip on the files in both hands, and neither you nor Yonji mistook the beat your heart skipped as fearful. 

He withdrew his fist, leaving the large divot in the stone. More fractured pieces fell, clacking on the solid ground below. 

Neither of you moved, nor did you say a word. 

You weren’t afraid of him, and Yonji should have been angered. If it were anyone else, he would have been. He stared down at you; his mouth contorted into a wolfish grin as he quickly decided he could make an exception for that stupid gleam of admiration in your eyes. You knew your place, Yonji considered, and it was marveling at his strength. 

Your fate was sealed.

***

Yonji hadn’t wanted you at his quarters the morning of his mission in Speleothem, nor did he call for you for the rest of the day. And so, for the first time in the last few months, you spent your time in the library, tending to the archive. 

You stood in the middle of the largest chamber of the southern tower, basking in the sunlight that flooded through the large window with a few books in your arms. You breathed in the smell of paper and sea air. It was a clean scent and one that you missed now that you spent so much of your time in the main castle. 

You wheeled over the rolling ladder, positioning it right next to the gap you could see a few shelves up. With the three texts tucked into your elbow, you climbed the rungs. The encyclopedias had been slightly stained by dirt and significantly roughed up by the Vinsmoke princes’ target practice, but the damage was nothing a rebinding couldn’t fix. 

The first book filled the gap on the shelf perfectly. Ichiji spent some time picking out his selection when the three princes entered your library. His intention to use the book as a part of his target practice didn’t stop him from picking out a pragmatic option: a collection of writings about early forms and types of gunpowder.

You ventured up the steps to the balcony, finding your next spot near the ceiling by the window. Niji had selected the bulkiest and hardest-to-reach text he could find within reach with the help of his jet-propelled boots. However, his efforts stopped at the very top of the stairs. Despite his intentions to torment you, his apparent curiosity seemed to fade with the effort of venturing up to the balcony. You placed the book in its spot, the compilation of weather patterns, maps, and navigational information making for a tight fit. 

Yonji had selected the last book, although his choice didn’t appear to have much reason behind it. You were sure he was going to take the book you already had out. A piece of the late queen’s collection, the completed set of folk stories and fairy tales from all four blues had a near-permanent residence next to your usual reading chair. You pulled it enough to read to the twins, if not to yourself, for nostalgia’s sake. 

You remembered how he stopped, head tilted downward, to read the book’s cover. With the two tips of his fingers, Yonji gently turned the book to face him. He had stared at it with his weight shifted to his back leg as he looped a thumb into the front belt loops of his slacks. He looked handsome, you had decided, as he stood posed in the afternoon light. 

But Yonji left the book be, instead opting for the first text he saw on the adjacent shelf: a detailed encyclopedia about birds native to the North Blue. It fit right into the space left for it. 

A gruff rumble sounded behind you. Your heart nearly jumped as you turned on your heel to see Yonji leaning against the open double doors. He cleared his throat again, pushing off the wall with his shoulder. 

“Prince Yonji!” you exclaimed, quickly bowing. “How might I be of service?”

Your heart pounded as you wondered if your eyes were deceiving you. You had been convinced that talking out of term had banished you back to the library for good, but you couldn’t help the deep pang of excited dread that came with Yonji’s rare presence in your archive. 

His eyes narrowed to the side as he approached you. The slightest pout played on his lips as he glanced around. His gaze traveled up the curved staircase to your left and along the balcony as far as his peripheral would allow. You rose from your bow.

“What information do you have on Rivulette?” he asked, and his question filled the air.

You replayed his words in your head, wondering if you heard him right. You tilted your head to the side, blinking as you tried to process what he asked of you. Of all people, Prince Yonji Vinsmoke couldn’t possibly be asking for a book— at least not in person or when he could easily search his own electronic database. (It was likely far more accessible than anything in your library, anyway. The library was extensive, but it was an archive at the end of the day.) 

“Rivulette, as in, the island?” you questioned. Yonji scoffed. With a few shakes of his head, his lashes fluttered closed. 

“Obviously.” He lifted an arm and rotated his shoulder backward to readjust how his usual white, short-sleeved button-up sat around his biceps. Yonji looked off somewhere into the room again with teeth gritted. “Do you have it or not?”

“I think we have some texts on Rivulette, but I don’t know if they’ll be what you’re looking for.” You scurried over to the rolling ladder. Yonji followed indifferently behind you, his scowl still ever-present. “It’s mostly basic geographical—”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he gruffed, standing directly beside where you moved the ladder. He did not hold it for you as you climbed the rungs. 

You stopped three steps up, conscious of his watchful gaze, as you pulled a collection of texts from one of the upper shelves. Yonji watched silently from below, although you weren’t too far above his head. At his height, you were sure that Yonji could have pulled the books himself even without the ladder. 

“I have a geographical account from about a hundred years ago, an autobiography from Rivulette’s eighth president, Brooke Waters…” You trailed off, tilting the shelved texts to allow Yonji to read the spines. You continued to rattle off the titles of the few books you had, all undoubtedly useless, especially considering the context. Yonji had to have a more extensive and relevant wealth of knowledge in his computer system. 

“What’s that one?” Yonji gestured to a text at the very end of the compilation. The spine was easily four inches thick and partially obscured behind a section of your ladder. 

“This one?” You pointed to it, glancing down at— or more accurately toward— Yonji, who rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, that one.”

“It’s an encyclopedia with information on native geography, plants, and animals—”

“Give me a summary.”

You blinked at him. Yonji stared back at you, awaiting an answer.

Oh, he was being serious.

“A summary of all the landmarks and wildlife on Rivulette… from the beginning of time?”

Yonji huffed, shifting his weight to his back leg as he pivoted slightly away from you. He ran a hand up his face into his hair with a shake of his head. When he turned back to you, he appeared to do so reluctantly, folding his fingers on his palm in a waving gesture.

“Just… bring ‘em all down,” he groaned again. Yonji placed his hands near the back of his hips, rotating his torso to stretch as he waited for you to complete your task. 

You eyed the collection of books. While the amount wasn’t necessarily as extensive as some of your other accumulations, the sum of all the spines easily amounted to an arm’s length. You began at the far end, taking two sizeable texts in your hand. You collected them in the crook of your opposite elbow before reaching back for more. 

Yonji observed your efforts with a creased brow and a judgemental dip of his lip. His hands still settled on his hips, although they had balled into scrutinous fists. 

The ladder wobbled beneath you as you piled a total of five books into your elbow, balancing yourself only by the strength in your legs. You missed Yonji’s deep scowl as he stepped toward you. 

“This is ridiculous” was about all the warning you received before you were scooped off the ladder altogether. Yonji lifted you from below, wrapping a singular, muscular arm diagonally around your hips as he effortlessly placed you on the ground below. He did so unceremoniously and easily, like your body weight— along with the small mountain of books that you nearly dropped on the floor in shock— was nothing. 

Yonji moved the ladder out of the way and reached up to grab the rest of the stack with little exertion. Much like how he had forced you out of the way, his actions were straightforward as he supported the pile under his arm. He brushed past you toward the ornate table situated (and screwed down to the floor) just a short distance behind you. 

Yonji placed his sizeable stack on the shiny wooden finish, and you put your smaller collection next to his, seeming to be playing catch-up as Yonji took a seat at the head of the table. 

“Prince Yonji—?”

“Sit.”

You immediately did as you were told, pulling out a chair adjacent to his as Yonji began to separate the books. He appeared deep in thought, studying the covers briefly before spreading them across the immediate surface. Every so often, he would flick one open to thumb through the pages, grumbling to himself before placing the text in its designated pile. 

You studied him, trying to hide your acute surprise as he craned his neck over the encyclopedia from before, his eyes pouring over the glossary. He looked out of place hunched over a large book. For his appearance and general demeanor, you had never thought Yonji to be one for the quiet accumulation of knowledge. 

He was, after all, a physical being in all senses of the word. Yonji boasted a bulky build, which strained most of his clothes, and referring to him as tall was a drastic understatement. It wasn’t difficult to see how much pride he took in being Germa 66’s offensive tank, nor was it hard to notice his immense pride in his physical prowess above all things. You didn’t recall ever seeing Yonji eager to sit still very long for anything, more interested in finding nearly anything else as an excuse to test his strength and power.

You should know. You had been the one tending to his every whim for the past few months. 

And so he sat at the edge of his chair, his forearm reaching across the top corner of his book to grip the top open and flat with a wide, sturdy grip to read. Yonji slung an ankle over his opposite knee, tilting his head at an awkward angle as he sank further into his light research. 

“Commentary.” The word carried a downward inflection like a mix between a demand and a question, but you knew better than to take it as anything less than a command. 

The single word stalled your thoughts. Yonji glanced up, his posture gradually reverting upright as he gripped the page he was on to guide the book closed slowly. Your lips parted to speak, but nothing came out. Yonji’s dark irises stared curiously into yours.

“Commentary on…?”

He leaned back in his chair and coiled his arms over his chest. The hem on the cuff of his short sleeves strained on his biceps. The hems of his clothes were always a bit too small for him, but you supposed that Germa 66 went through too many textiles to put much stake into personal tailoring. 

“I bet you’ve read every book in this goddamn room,” he said, but his words were spoken like an accusation. Yonji gestured loosely with the bob of his shoulder, glancing briefly at the thousands of books that lined the walls. 

You stared down at the encyclopedia, eyes slightly widened as you pondered the best way to answer him.

“I can’t say I’ve read an encyclopedia cover to cover, Prince Yonji,” you spoke quietly. 

Yonji let out a bellowing laugh, letting his mouth hang open wide as he threw his head back. But he cut his laughter short, reassuming his almost hunched-over position at the table with a foxlike glint in his eye. Yonji slid the large book over to you before resting his cheek in his palm. His right hand gripped the armrest of his chair, his elbow creating a ninety-degree angle.

“What do ya remember about this one?” 

The corners of his lips were upturned, not too dissimilar to how he looked when he was up to something mischievous. But the milliseconds you spent trying to figure him out only revealed the true seriousness that lingered just below the surface. 

“Sparking sparrows,” you answered quickly, still unsure as to what he was getting at. Yonji’s frame visibly sunk. The upturned corner of his lips faltered as he glanced off to the side with a deep heave of his chest. 

“Birds?” he spat.

“They’re very small but have very sharp beaks,” you offered. Yonji grew less amused by the second, although you didn’t quite understand why. But despite his evident dismay, he motioned for you to continue. You flipped through the pages quickly, pulling up the entry you were looking for. “They let off little sparks, um, and they use this electricity to terrorize wild snails. There are several accounts of them sticking their heads into transponder snail shells. They’ll actually go out of their way to—”

He shook his head with a deepening frown.

“No, what do you remember about the geography?” 

You sat at the edge of your seat, your lips pursed into a slight line. One of Yonji’s brows twitched in annoyance, and while you weren’t quite sure what he was looking for, you knew at your very core that your answer was not it.

“It’s very pretty?” You unconsciously shrunk farther away from him, which only served to sharpen your posture. You held a death grip on the lap of your uniform, pooling the fabric in your fingers. 

“Ugh, forget it.” Yonji stood suddenly and harshly, causing you to to nearly recoil back into your seat. He slammed his chair into the table, the two hard wooden surfaces coming together with a loud bang before he stalked off. He gestured to the table behind him. “Clean this shit up.”

***

Yonji didn’t like feeling stupid, although he didn’t know what to do with that information other than work off the steam. After an evening of training that was a bit more destructive than it needed to be, dinner, and then a post-workout workout, Yonji finally felt like he had reached an equilibrium. 

Yonji didn’t know what he had been thinking. And your eagerness to please, the very trait that Yonji kept you around for, had vexed him that day. You tried to piece together his ambiguous requests, but each question only served to heat his demeanor little by little in annoyance. He didn’t even know what he was looking for when he visited you in the archive, and your simple questions did little more than call attention to how silly he felt in coming to you.

In fact, by the end of his last gym session, he was convinced that it had all been a waste of time. Yonji, a top commander in Germa’s military force, had followed a lead that turned out to be a fluke. 

He could make peace with a fluke, he decided. But he had wanted to listen to his gut, and with the memories of Speleothem constantly ruminating in his head since the job, Yonji had always followed his instincts. 

But now, he stood in the penthouse office on Rivulette with his siblings. Ichiji and Niji bickered over how to best crack the encrypted snails the client hadn’t told them about in the background. Yonji couldn’t help the heavy pang that reverberated through his chest as he locked onto the window on the opposite end of the room.

He thought he had been shot by something.

“Keep it together, Yonji,” Ichiji gritted. The room was still. 

Yonji hardly heard him. His entire focus was on the small bird he spotted perched just outside the window. The bird pecked at the glass, leaving slight scratches with its shallow electric sparks. He walked over to the window, stopping just before the glass. The bird continued to peck, undaunted by the figure that loomed on the other side. The hand that Yonji held over his chest slowly rose to his mouth and over his right eye.

“Oh, man,” he breathed, glancing behind him. Ichiji and Niji continued to bicker.

Yonji turned back toward the bird, and suddenly, a whole night’s worth of thought spiraled down the drain.

Yonji opened the window.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: It would be my honor and privilege to remind everyone that Yonji stands at a whopping 194 cm (6'4"), so no one better come at me for the size difference. That man is a beast (pun intended).

And I spent an obscene amount of time making gifs to use for this series. It's not even funny.

Also, I use a grammar checker that completely messed up and started deleting random words/parts of words in the middle of the text. Please let me know if there's a crazy typo somewhere.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

[sorcerer-felix]

I hear you can help me. I want to be older to be out of my college years. I'm nerdy, so beefing up wouldn't hurt either. I'm just tired of the jocks always messing with me.

The salty breeze whipped around you as you perched on the stone wall overlooking the Mediterranean. The boat ride earlier had been unbearable, the jocks tossing around crude jokes like beach balls while you fiddled with your engineering gear, feeling like a fish out of water. The raucous laughter of the jocks echoed in the distance, each burst of sound like a sharp jab to your chest. You closed your eyes, allowing the rhythmic crashing of waves below to wash away the day's frustration. You were 21, but every time you glanced in the mirror, the reflection of your slender frame and youthful face felt like a cruel joke.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back, staring up at the fading sunset, the brilliant oranges and pinks bleeding into the deepening blue of the sea. You were lost in thought when a figure caught your eye. Strolling along the path, a young man dressed in white silk shorts and a matching gilet glided into view. His blonde fade cut shimmered in the light, and those piercing blue eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief. You blinked, half-expecting him to disappear like a mirage.

He walked with an effortless grace, and you can’t help but stare. Could he be…? “Hey!” you called out, your voice rising above the sound of the sea. “Are you… Felix?” He paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “I am. And you are…?” “Just a confused engineering student,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Mind if I join you?” he replied, plopping down beside you. “What’s got you looking so glum?” You chuckled bitterly, your heart racing just being near him. “It’s these oceanography students. They’re all surfers and jocks, and they think it’s funny to pick on me. I can’t wait for this study trip to end.” “Jocks?” Felix raised an eyebrow, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “Sounds like a rough crowd.” “Rough doesn’t begin to cover it,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping. Felix laughed, a rich, musical sound. “Well, I have my struggles too. Helping a friend with his new hotel resort, and now I’m stuck doing his gardener’s work because the guy quit unexpectedly.” You couldn’t help but smile, “You? In a garden?” “Hey!” he laughed again, his eyes bright. “I’m more than just a pretty face! It’s exhausting work, though. I’m covered in dirt half the time.” He brushed a hand through his hair, and you caught a glimpse of something different in his expression. “But it’s nice to get away from the usual.” “Yeah, I could do with a break,” you said, leaning back and gazing at the sunset. “I wish I could just skip campus forever. I’d give anything to be older—maybe a bit more…beefy, too.” You laughed at the absurdity of it, but Felix tilted his head, considering your words. “That is manageable, but there’s no free lunch!” His grin widened, and you felt a shiver of excitement mixed with apprehension. “What do you mean?” you asked, half-expecting him to suggest something ridiculous—like some creepy ritual involving animal sacrifices. He leaned closer, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “You could help me with the garden work for a week. In return, I can help you out with that… beefiness and age you’re longing for.” Relief washed over you. “Seriously? That’s it? I thought you were going to ask for something insane.” Felix shrugged, unfazed. “Nah. Just some hard work. What do you say?” “I’m in!” you replied, eager to escape the jocks for a while.

Felix raised his hands, and a blue sphere of shimmering magic coalesced between them. Your awe quickly turned to thrill. “Wait, I don’t have to work first?” “Not at all,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. “You wanted to bulk up, right? Well, this is how we start.” As the sphere pulsed in the air, you felt warmth radiate through your body. Your muscles began to swell, filling out your limbs until they felt taut and powerful. A grin spread across your face; it was exhilarating. Then, without warning, a deep rumble erupted from your throat. “Moo?” you responded, bewildered at the sound that escaped your lips. Felix chuckled, his laughter ringing like the distant bells of a coastal town. “Don’t worry! It’s all part of the process. First, we bring a bit of meat to your bones.” He paused, waving the sphere again, and the energy swirled around you, engulfing you in its light. “Later on, you’ll become a little older.” You tried to speak, to voice your concerns, but instead, another discontented “Moo!” tumbled out. Panic began to claw at your insides as you looked down at your body, realizing the transformation was more than just muscle. “Why am I turning into a bull?” you thought, your heart racing.

Felix placed a calming hand on your shoulder, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just trust the process, Rodrigo. After a week of helping me in the hotel park, you’ll be back to human. Think of it as a vacation from the jocks!” “Rodrigo?” The name felt strange, foreign on your tongue—or rather, in your mind, since it didn’t seem you could speak at all. You mooed again, this time in protest, shaking your head as if that could change your fate. “Exactly! A fitting name for a bull, don’t you think?” Felix grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Now, let’s get started!”

Over the next few days, you toiled in the resort's park, digging, lifting, and hauling under Felix's watchful eye. The work is exhausting, and you find yourself too tired to resist his commands.

Obedience became your default, and you accepted your fate for the week. You, now a bull named Rodrigo, had no choice but to follow his lead; the exhaustion from the hard labor has left you too weary to resist. "Good boy, Rodrigo," Felix praised, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. "We'll make a fine team by the end of the week." You can only moo softly in response, a mixture of acceptance and resignation. As the days passed, Felix's training became more intense. He teached you obedience, and you find yourself surprisingly compliant, rationalizing that it's only for a short while. "Just a few more days," you thoughed, "and then I'll be free."

Then, on an ordinary afternoon, your world shifted. A farmer drove his herd past the resort, and as the cows ambled by, something primal stired within you. You felt a surge of power, and your bull form responded instinctively. Your cock, thick and heavy, pushed out from its sheath, causing Felix to approach with a mixture of caution and intrigue. "Easy, Rodrigo," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I suggest you restrain yourself. Breed the cow if you must, but we can't predict what that might trigger." He gestured to a phantom cow, a mechanical contraption designed for bull breeding. "Use that if you're horny," Felix instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We don't want any accidents." You snorted, a defiant huff of air. But you've heard the tales of men losing their sanity after experiencing the raw, animalistic pleasure of mating in beast form. Determined not to fall victim to such a fate, you chose to endure the torment of your lust, ignoring even the phantom cow. But the following days were a constant battle. Every little stimulus—a gentle breeze, the scent of fresh grass, or the mere thought of a cow—would cause your cock, now a powerful bull's pride, to spring forth, glistening with anticipation. As the week drew to a close, you were desperate for the transformation back to human form, your lust burning like an unquenchable fire.

Finally, Felix approached you, his hands raised, the blue sphere of magic dancing between his palms. The air crackled with energy as the spell took hold, and you felt the magic course through your body. Your muscles shifted, changing, and you stood tall, no longer a bull, but a man—a muscular, rugged stud in his prime. The transformation left you breathless, and you stared at your new reflection in awe. A stubble graced your masculine face, and your body was chiseled, every inch a testament to power.

But the awe quickly turned to frustration as you realized your lust had not diminished; it had intensified. Your gaze locked onto Felix, and you lusted after him, this handsome boy, with a newfound intensity. Driven by desire, you strode towards Felix, your steps confident, almost predatory. "Felix, let's take our collaboration to the bedroom," you purred, your voice deep and commanding. Felix's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and amusement flashing across his face. But his expression quickly turned stern, and he raised a single eyebrow, his voice firm. "Don't you dare, Rodrigo. You will address me as Master from now on." His words shocked you, but the obedience training from your time as a bull took hold. "Yes, Master," you heard yourself say, your voice hoarse with submission.

Without another word, you turned and fled to the nearest hotel room, your body throbbing with need. Inside the room, you tore at your clothes, exposing your muscular frame. Your cock, hard as steel, demanded attention. You grasped it, stroking furiously, seeking release. Moans escaped your lips as you imagined Felix, his pale skin, and those captivating eyes watching you. "Oh, Master..." you whispered, your voice hoarse as you climaxed, but the release provided only temporary solace.

Still breathless, you sought out Felix, determined to understand this persistent desire. "There's something wrong, Master," you pleaded. "I'm still so aroused, even after..." Felix's grin was mischievous, his eyes sparkling with knowledge. "I told you to use the phantom cow, Rodrigo. Your state of arousal upon transformation is key. It determines your permanent desire." Confusion mingled within you. "But I can't function like this!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with frustration. "I need my mind sharp, especially as an engineer." Felix let out a booming laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement. "An engineer? You? Look at yourself, Rodrigo. You're in your thirties now, and your wish has come true—you'll never set foot on campus again. What job did you expect?"

The realization hit you like a wave, and you felt your world tilt. You are no longer a student; you are an adult, magically barred from your studies. Panic rose within you, and you struggled to find your footing. You're trapped, not just in this new body but in a future you never imagined. "But... but I..." Your words trailed off, unable to form a coherent protest. "Don't fret, my friend," Felix said, his voice softening. "I know, and I've taken care of it. With your engineering knowledge and new physique, you'll be an excellent addition to the resort staff. The guests will be more than happy to have your... personal services, all without charging them a penny extra." "Personal services?" You repeated, your voice cracking. The idea of becoming a servant, let alone a sexual servant, was never part of your plan. You glanced around, noticing the hungry stares of a mature woman and a young man, their eyes locked on you with unspoken desires. Your cock twitched, responding to their gaze, and you understood what Felix meant. "But I..." Your protest died on your lips as Felix placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm yet reassuring. "Go on, Rodrigo. It's time to embrace your new life. The guests are waiting."

And so, your journey took an unexpected turn. By day, you tended to the hotel's needs, fixing leaks, and repairing broken furniture. But as the sun set, you transformed into the hotel's secret weapon, satisfying the guests' desires with your insatiable lust. Farewells were brief as Felix departed, leaving you to your new life. The guests' moans and whispered thanks became the soundtrack to your nights, and you found yourself embracing the pleasure you gave and received. Little did you know, this was just the beginning of your journey as the hotel's resident stud, and the Mediterranean nights would forever be marked by your passionate encounters.