#He said the moment they’re healed he’ll fuck me until I’m crying which >\\\\<

[transbunnyboi]

Anywayyssss uhmmmm I haven’t been bred properly for two weeks because Puppoy got hip piercings and OUGH they’re so attractive but :(((

:(

[zafirosreverie]

Can I request a Agatha x reader where there in west view and its the final battle (but let’s pretend there having it on the ground) and Agatha gets distracted by something and isn’t ready so human reader stands in front of Agatha and takes the blast so then Agatha goes full on witch and like almost kills Wanda and then goes a takes reader home and heals her. Happy ending please.

Sorry it took me so long dear! But here it is! Hope you like it <3

Harkness or Y/L/N? (Agatha x Fem!reader)

Where the fuck were they?

One second you were having breakfast and the next one hell exploded in front of your face. Agatha and Wanda broke out of the floor and quickly disappeared in the sky. Red and purple magic wrapping them. You blinked and looked at the giant hole in your house. You could see your basement from there. Oh no. Agatha must have revealed herself to Wanda. 

Oh shit.

You ran out of the house, looking at the sky, but you couldn’t see any of them. This was bad, really bad. 

“Y/N!” you turned to see Tommy running to you. 

“Tommy! What happened?” 

“Mom and aunt Agnes are fighting! There are soldiers and dad is fighting another dad but white” he quickly said and you frowned

“What the-”

“Billy said to come for you” he said, taking your hand and not giving you time to process it all. 

A second later you were in the park. You gasped. People were running away, soldiers were entering Westview, Vision flew away with White Vision, Geraldine Monica had Billy against herself, protecting him, and Wanda and Agatha were in the middle of everything, throwing magic balls at each other. 

Chaos.

You ran to Monica, holding Tommy’s hand. She sighed in relief when she saw you. She thought something had happened to you for a moment. 

“What’s going on?” she asked 

“The hell i know?” you said and turned to look at the two witches. “They’re going to destroy everything if we don’t stop them”

“How?” 

“Why is aunt Agnes attacking mom?” Billy asked and you frowned.

“She’s not. Mom’s the one attacking her” Tommy said before you could answer. See? This is why he was your favorite.

“It doesn’t matter” you said “We need to stop them. Now” 

“How?!” Monica asked again. 

You looked around, trying to come up with a plan. You knew that you could calm Agatha, convince her to take this fight to another place, somewhere with no people around. 

“Ok, here’s the plan. Do you think you could stop the soldiers?” They nodded “Good, I’ll try to talk with Agatha, maybe i can make them stop at least for a moment. That should give you enough time to take everyone out of here”

They nodded again and ran to fight. You took a deep breath and turned to the witches. Agatha was powerful, but Wanda was furious. You didn’t know what the hell happened between them in the basement, but it wasn’t good. 

“At least they’re not flying” you thought. It would have been harder to stop them if they were.

One of Wanda’s power balls made a building fall and you gasped. There were people under it! They could die! But a purple smoke stopped the concrete pieces in midair, giving people time to run and escape unscathed. You smiled to yourself. At least your girlfriend wasn't completely evil after all (Not that it mattered, you'd follow her to the end of the world even if she was). 

But it seemed that the other witch didn’t care, using the distraction to attack Agatha.

It all happened too fast. You saw Wanda’s angry expression and the giant ball of red energy forming between her hands. Agatha wasn’t paying attention. You ran to her instinctively, yelling her name. 

You screamed in pain as the red ball mercilessly struck your body, sending a wave of electricity through your veins and raising your body temperature significantly.

In other words, you were burning alive from the inside out. And hell it was painful.

Wanda gasped as you fell unconscious on the floor. Where the hell did you come from?! But she wasn’t the only one staring at you in disbelief. Agatha not only heard you yelling her name, she also felt your pain when you took Wanda’s attack. 

“Y/N!” She ran to you, kneeled beside you and tried to wake you up “Please, love, don’t do this to me” she begged you. 

Wanda was still in shock. She didn't want to hurt you! You weren’t supposed to appear out of nowhere just to help Agatha of all people! She knew you were her girlfriend, but she assumed you would change your mind when you discovered Agatha’s real colors. Little she knew, you were a huge fan of that color palette.  

“Ags” you whispered and the witch sighed in relief, hugging you close to her chest. You felt her heart racing. 

“Why did you do it? You shouldn’t have done it. I could have lost you” she was almost crying.

“Because I love you, silly” you smiled. You were too weak, but you managed to caress her cheek “Aggs..”

“Yes, love?” She asked, confused at the smirk that was slowly appearing on your face.

“Unleash hell” you said before closing your eyes again. 

The witch gasped and you knew she thought you were unconscious again, but you weren’t. You waited until she let you on the floor carefully, and heard her steps getting away from you, to open your eyes again. 

Wanda took a step back when Agatha turned to her. Her eyes weren’t blue anymore, not even purple like the first time she used her magic in front of her. They were completely black. There was no trait of white in her eyes, as if she didn’t have eyeballs at all. And then there was the purple glow again, coming out from the darkness. 

“What-”

“You shouldn’t have done that, little witch” Agatha interumped Wanda “You Really. Shouldn’t. Have.”

Before Wanda could do anything, a purple smoke swallowed her. It was strange, because she didn’t feel much power coming from it, but looking at Agatha’s lifeless eyes, she knew she was in trouble.

Vision, Monica, Billy and Tommy turned to the women when Wanda screamed of pain. Agatha was just standing there, your body lying on the floor behind her. Wanda was trying to attack her, but every time she threw a spell, it would hit the purple dome Agatha put around her and then hit her back with more strength. 

Monica took the twins away while Vision flew to the witches. She knew what was happening. 

Wanda was slowly killing herself.

You smirked. Damn your girl was hot. You felt bad for Wanda for crossing paths with an angry Agatha, but well, she tried to kill her, and that’s something you wouldn’t forgive. Nobody touches your witch.

When the younger witch fell to her knees, too tired and injured from her own spells, Agatha smirked. She felt Vision floating to them, but she didn’t even turn to him while she put a dome around him too. At least the android knew better and didn’t try to attack. He knew it would just come back to him.

“When your little wife wakes up” she said to Vision, but kept staring at Wanda “be sure she understands how lucky she is. Tell her how thankful she must be. Thankful that my precious Y/N has a bigger heart than any of us together and that she loves those children of yours. Because that, dear Vision, is the only reason i won’t kill her.” 

With that, she released the android. He just nodded and watched as Agatha made the dome around Wanda get smaller and smaller until the purple smoke was wrapped around her. She threw one last ball to Wanda’s head and the witch fell unconscious on her husband’s arms.

“If she ever places a single finger on my girlfriend, ever again, i’ll kill her without a second thought” she warned Vision, her eyes still black. The man nodded again and flew away with his wife. 

You smiled as Agatha approached you and took you in her arms. Her eyes slowly turned back to normal when she noticed you were awake. She couldn't believe you. You knew! You knew the power you had over her.

______________

Three days after that, you were still in bed. Agatha had taken you back home, your real home, and quickly healed you. It didn’t take much time and almost all your physical wounds were gone. But your head was still hurting like hell. So, of course you would make a drama out of it. Currently, you both were lying in bed.

“I love you” you whispered and took Agatha’s hand “Please remember that”

The witch smiled and kissed your temple. “I love you too”.

“Please take care of our beloved son. He might be a bunny, but he can take over the world, Aggie. He can”

“I have no doubt of it, Y/N” she giggled and rolled her eyes.

“You know what’s my biggest regret?” you asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to you

“What?” she asked, trying so hard not to laugh.

“that my gravestone is going to say Y/N Y/L/N and that’s unfair” you pouted.

Agatha lost it and laughed. God, you were so cute. 

“That’s your name, love” she chuckled and kissed you softly. You smiled against her lips. 

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be” you argued. 

“First of all, stop being so dramatic, you’re perfectly fine, you’re not going to die” she said “second, what in the world should your name be then?”

“Y/N Harkness” you answered without hesitation. 

That made her freeze and you laughed as her cheeks slowly turned pink 

“Or maybe yours should be Agatha Y/L/N, haven’t decided yet. It’s hard to take such big decisions on your deathbed”

“S-shut up” she mumbled and you laughed again, kissing her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead by now?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be grateful I'm not?” you said, loving her grumpy face “besides, I’m not leaving this world until i make sure my gravestone will say Y/N Harkness” 

“Your name won’t change until i make sure you’ll stay with me forever” she said, taking your head on her hands.

“Deal” you said, kissing her again. 

__________

“Which one do you think he’ll like better? Señor Scratchy Harkness or Señor Scratchy Y/L/N?”

“Y/N, I love you, but it's 2 a.m, go to sleep, I’m begging you”

“Señor Scratchy Y/L/N is it then”

“The hell it is!”

[natsukitakama]

Ahh alright then, thank you 🙏🏻

Then could I please get Nsfw alphabet (season 4) Floch Forster A, B, D, E, F, I, N, O, S and W with a fem s/o please

Author note : To be honest I was actually excited to work on that, because I barely got the chance to work for Floch. Despite what people might think I find him quite interesting and yet so difficult to understand. I hope it won’t be too OOC, I really take time to read couple of chapters just to see how he is behaving toward people. 

Warning : Obviously NSFW / Everyone is aged up / Floch being dirty / Fem reader. It might contain degradation kink, spit etc. 

Disclaimer : I know some Aot’s fan are not quite found of Floch which I can understand but don’t bully me or anyone for writing them and I won’t tolerate people shaming my anon for requesting something for Floch. 

I tried to find a good picture of him I'm sorry 

Masterlist

A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

Well he is neither the best nor the worst. Obviously he won’t let you in your mess, but he won’t be the one to massage your legs too. He is just too cope in the moment. Things being said, if you’re feeling too sore after your session he wouldn’t mind cleaning you up and bringing you some water or foods if you feel like this. Definitely would crack a joke or two and might praise himself, especially if you’re feeling sore.

One thing he really loves, is to chill on his bed with you on hist chest. Cliche or not, he really enjoy having you close to him right after having sex with you. So it won’t be a surprise that after getting clean have a drink together he will prepare the bed.  And if after your bath you’re still feel weak or anything, he might take things in own hands he would either massage your sore body or will look after something to heal the pain away. 

B -  Body Part ( their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) 

When Floch likes something, he won’t be afraid to tell you so. It won’t be a surprised for you, when you felt a hand on your ass stroking it as you two were waking together. He is absolutely in love with your legs and ass your hips too, there something about the way you move your hips when you’re walking that never feel to make him hard. Of course he would definitely say it casually, like one second you two might be talking about titans or political subjects and you would move softy and then he would straightly tell you « damn you look good with those pants you should wear more often ».  This attitude of his never changed even after Shinganshima event. He even became more dirty with you. When he used to brush his hand against your thigh when you were eating together, he nows put his hand closer to where you wanted to without getting close enough, his thumb would caress very softy the inner of your thigh, sometimes he would be fine by just grab your thigh. When he used to put a hand or your ass when you were talking to someone, he knows grab it firmly or slap it. He enjoy seeing you getting flustered and he enjoys even more seeing the decomposer of the poor guy who thought it was a good idea to hit on you. 

When it came to him, he is pretty proud of his arm and tone chest. He is pretty well-build and he knows that it can be impressive, he also tends to love the fact the his whole chest can cover your body whether you’re below him or when you two just hug. Also he loves his biceps because when he got Wilde on you, it’s a part of his body with his shoulder and back where you tends to scratch the most. He works hard for his body so he except you to thank him by worship him. Everytime he felt you hug one of his arm or just feel your hand on his hand as you were grabbing his arm muscle it never felt to stroke his ego, he knows you love his arm as much as he loves them. 

D - Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) 

He is always claiming that he is whole dom in bed, well in a way he isn’t wrong. When he wants to dominate you he won’t be afraid to put matters in his own hand much to your pleasure, but there’s time when he is too needy to dominate you and each tome he got all pooty on your hand expecting you to taking care of him. When he is on the mood, you might be able to be on the top the whole time and he won’t mind at all, getting all flustered, a mess because of you is something he enjoy even if he claimed after that he was just testing the water. All you have to do is to reminds him that testing the water didn’t involve him getting you all cream pie because he came a lot, multiple time. 

Despite enjoying to edge you until you’re crying for mercy, he really and I mean REALLY enjoy when you’re the one that edging him, it’s even better when you decided to give him what you he wants but instead of letting cum once you actually overstimulate him. Do it until he’ll cry, you might think that you broke his ego or something but no don’t worry about it. He is switch, he doesn’t want to admit it but he is. He daydreams a lot about you being on the top of him. He wants you to be dirty on him. 

E - Experience (How experienced are they ? Do they know what they’re doing ?) 

I do not believe he got time to actually date multiple people, I believe that when you two started dating you were is first of everything. But he won’t admit that, so it took you a lot of times until getting intimate with him. Not that he didn’t want that, but he didn’t want to look weak not after claiming to you that he was Shinganshima Hero. No no. He needed to pretend he got experienced, so obviously he started to listen to soldier’s talking a bit more, everything they got explicit he just listen carefully to learn a lot of things and he was caught listening to them all he had to do was to smirk them as if he could do better than them. It’s not like he didn’t know how to do it, but he was aware that you needed more time than him to actually getting ready and the worst for him would be to hurt you while putting his dick in you. So he wanted to be sure to be able to give you the foreplay you deserve. 

When he thought he got enough information, he started to be explicit with you. Again, he is way too honest with everyone so when he decided that he felt okay to have sex with you he told you so. It could be a more romantic, but we’re taking about Floch. 

F - Favourite Position ( this goes without saying. Will probably include a visual) 

Even though he claims being pretty open-minded with sex (which he is), he does have his favourite things to do with you in bed. Whenever he feels dominant or submissive, there’s some positions which he loves to take you even though during the do he tends to change. 

Doggy style : First, having you on four for him he is favorite position. He just love to have his neck around your neck while the other is on your hip grabbing it firmly, just so he could grind you against the mattress. He loves the power he got from this position, it feels so good for him and he could lean his body just to brush every good spot inside of you. When he feels extra dominant, he would talk extra dirty, he would slap your ass and even grab your hair. If you thought he would be soft on you, you were wrong at least not with this position. It gave him a huge ego boost. 

Andromaque : When he feels cocky or in need, he would just lay back on his bed, head behind his head as he watches you bouncing on his body, using him for your own pleasure. Whenever he felt like this, he would either grab your ass or slap it while moving his hip faster. He may have something with your ass cause everytime it’s on display he can’t help but either grab it or slap it he just have to do it. He wants your ass to be marked by him, seeing you struggling while sitting or anything just the fact that he is the reason of your struggling, another ego boost for him. 

Anvil : When he feels like this, sometime he would have your body close to him as he is moving his hips against you. The way his body is moving slowly but strongly against you, his hand would stroke your face or your hair. Everything he would do is careful and loving, he would treat you as if you were made of glass. It’s pretty rare and OOC for him to do it, it happened during time when he can’t stop thinking about the shinganshima event. In order to cure him from his trauma, he uses sex and especially vanilla sexe so he could just appreciate the moment and your warmth to help him focus on the present. 

Missionary : Sometimes he would tolerate missionary but just because he could hold your neck firmly and spit into your mouth and he is fucking you dumb. The problem about this position is even though he got a huge access to your clit he can’t spank you the way he wants to. But he counterbalance that with the way your boobs is moving up and down and he is moving his hip deep into you 

I - Intimacy (how they are during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

As I was explaining earlier, most of the time he is on the dominant side. He was already cocky and a bit pride, but then Shinganshima and he became colder and yet in need of control he merely looses his life back then, the thought of not having control about what was about to happen might trigger him. So now, he is need of controlling everything. And yet sometimes, when he feels extra needy or when he feels like he needs your attention he would be more submissive. 

More submissive in the way that he would allow you to be on the top of him, or he would take extra care of you, he would kiss you a lot to the point both of you might lose your breath. He is not vanilla at alt, so expect a lot of degrading stuff, dirty talk, he would bring some pain in bed nothing too serious but he knows you can take it. He is also very talkative in bed, always saying how good you’re taking him, how well you’re prepared for him, what a good slut you are. 

Don’t expect any I love you during the act, it’s very primal for him not a way to show you his love but more his devotion or desire. 

N - NO (something they wouldn’t do,  turn offs) 

He is absolutely against everything that involve someone else, why would he bother getting someone in his bed when he got you around his fingers ? What make them thinking they were worth of his time ? Although he won’t mind if someone was watching us trying to be discreet, he would gladly sent them a smirk while getting rougher on you just for the pleasure of knowing someone is watching him. He doesn’t want to share you but would gladly share his time. 

He won’t do anything that involve physical fluid except saliva (if you think that bastard won’t spent into your mouth when he feels extra dirty you’re so wrong). Because of what happened in Shinganshima and because he tends to be more violent now, he doesn’t like anything that involve blood, one time he bit your shoulder way too harder and you end up bleeding from his bite, it kills his mood. There’s so many violence around him, he doesn’t want to be violent on you. 

Although he doesn’t mind you being on the top, he would never allow you to put anything in him,  getting on four isn’t a possibility for him. He is a switch but won’t accept to be too submissive.  

O - Oral ( preference in giving or receiving skill, etc)

Alright due to his huge ego, 99% of the time he wants you on your kneel for him and act like the good slut you are. He absolutely love when you are on your kneel for him while he stood up, put both of his hands on either side of your head as he throat fucking you. Take it and he would reward you after. If you’re teasing his head too much, or give it extra attention he would switch into a more needy side and he would anything and I mean anything to cum, and if you’re overstimulated him he might call you Queen. 

He won’t mind giving you head, but use most of the time as a reward or a way to get a quickie, like he would make you cum on his pretty skill tongue and then stood up quickly put you face against the wall as he got his way into you. He is pretty good with his mouth, he loves writing his name on your clit with his tongue or fucking you with it. He would tease you a lot with his finger brushing against your G-Spot without actually hitting hit, it can also be a way to « break » you so would be nothing but a crying mess for him. 

S - Stamina ( How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last) 

He is soldier so I believe his stamina is quite strong, he can last easily for twenty thirty minute when he feels like it. Although he is pretty sensitive especially around his head which might force him to not last as long as he wanted to (especially if you’re clenching around him, do it and he would moan like a bitch). But because he is pretty sensitive at his head, he tends to get overstimulated very easily which is good when you’re taking the lead and want to punish him or something but it might be troublesome if you just wanted another round and he just needs some time to breath and calme down. 

I think he can do two proper rounds without being too sensitive, if you’re going through his rounds he would start moaning, and if you’re being extra generous with his hands he would be putty in your hand. But you two are down, all he wants to do is having you on his chest taking his breath and just sleeps, he is not the strongest. 

W - Wild card ( Get a random head canon for the character of your choice) 

One of his most dirty fantasies, is to tactually take you during a Yeagarist meeting not necessarily for a orgy (even though he would be turn of by the thought) but just the fact that he is taking in front people that might be interested on you, just the way of showing to everyone that he is actually a god, that thought never failed to bring him close to his climax. It might be a voyeurism kink or maybe deep down he is into orgy I don’t know, but he loves stroking his dick while thinking about you two fucking while surrounded by people masturbante in front of you. 

[multiplefandomsblog]

Gundham, Kazuichi, and Mikan with an Ultimate veterinarian S/O

warnings; light cussing, unedited, inaccurate depictons of what vets do, gender neutral pronouns for reader, gn!reader

Request; Hi there! Can I request gundham, kazuichi, and mikan with an Ultimate veterinarian S/O? Maybe they have wild animals by their side all the time :) thanks!

Gundham

◊ Gundham would trust you 100%

◊ He relies on you a bunch.

◊ Knowing that you are a veterinarian who loves animals, is all he needed to know to trust his life and the dark devas life with you.

◊ Gundham is pretty protective and careful with his devas, so if anytime the devas showed signs of a small sickness, he’d immediately go to you.

◊ He’d be so concerned for his devas so he would always go to you to see what’s wrong.

◊ Most of the time, the devas are fine and Gundham was just being a worried dad.

◊ But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a biiiiiiit happy every time he rushed into your clinic with a worried expression on his face.

◊ You assure him that his devas look fine, but he still insists you check them thoroughly.

◊ As usual, they are fine and he looks relieved.

◊ Though actually, one time he had faked his worry for the devas so he could have an excuse to see you.

◊ He was planning to ask you out while you examined his loyal companions.

◊ “So erm, how are my dark devas doing? Perfectly, I assume.” He spoke in his low tone of voice. “Well, Maga-G, Sun-D and Jum-P are doing fine. Except for Cham-P, he may be a tad dehydrated. If you monitor him carefully and make sure he drinks water, he’ll be good.” Gundham nodded with a nervous but confident grin, words not quite hitting his ears yet, “Indeed, so would you like to- Wait WHAT-?” Gundham paled, registering your words a bit too slow and freaking out.

◊ “Cham-P iS DYING?? WHAT WILL I- Oh goD-” Gundham hyperventilates, grabbing your hands unconsciously and squeezing them so tight it slightly hurt. 

◊ “Please, S/o, save his life!!”

◊ You looked at him with surprise, face heating up at the sudden touch.

◊ ”G-gundham, Cham-P isn’t dying, he just needs to drink more water.” You cut off.

◊ Gundham suddenly froze, face heating up from the realization of his hands in yours.

◊ “O-oh, I see my mistake.” You laughed at his reaction, relishing in the feeling of his hands still resting in yours.

◊ “So what did you want to ask me earlier?” Gundham’s eyes widened, “Oh uh- I was just wondering if... Yo-you’d help me nurse Cham-P back to health?” He chickened out at the last minute, mentally scolding himself for losing his confidence.

◊ Though you knew that wasn’t what he meant to say since you had told him about Cham-P after he had tried to ask you something, you still accepted happily.

◊ Your animals and his dark devas had a few debates as you and Gundham helped Cham-P drink from the water nozzle thingy.

◊ “Water is not wet.” Maga-G scoffed, examining his nails. “Okay but, water makes things wet, so how is it not wet?” Your bird argued, looking at Maga-G with disbelief. “I have to pee.” Jum-P blurted out, hopping back inside the cage to do his business. “Can I come!?” San-D followed suit, hopping into the cage as well.

◊ “What do you think they’re talking about?” You questioned, looking at the animals argue.

◊ “Obviously, they are discussing their plan to destroy the world. My dark devas have the intelligence of a god!” Gundham boasted, staring at the dark devas with pride.

◊ “-No, you’re wrong, I’m right, shut up.” Maga-G ended the argument unfairly, stomping his foot down(if you get the reference, ily).

Kazuichi

◊ Kazuichi would be scared when he first saw you walk by with your army of animals following you.

◊ “I-is that a tiger!?”

◊ He’d be kind of intimidated by you at first, not wanting to get on your bad side and have your animals maul him.

◊ Other than your army of animals catching his eye, he thought you were pretty cute.

◊ Though he was itching to ask you out, he was too scared to go within 5 meters distance near you.

◊ He’d kind of just, scream cheesy pick-up lines to you.

◊ “HEY S/O! ARE Y-” “What!?” “ARE YOU-” “Can you come closer!? I can’t hear you!” “HAHAHA, N-NEVERMIND IT’S NOTHING!”

◊ Eventually, Kazuichi warmed up to your animals(it’s kind of the opposite really-).

◊ Funny story how actually, Kazuichi was working on the underbelly of his machines, and he needed his wrench. Assuming Fuyuhiko was still there—Which he wasn’t—, he asked for a wrench.

◊ (un)Luckily for him, one of your dogs had been there, and it had picked up the wrench and brought it to Kazuichi’s outstretched hand. 

◊ “Thanks, Fuyu.” He accepted the wrench, expecting a grunt of ‘You’re welcome.’

◊ He, however, did not expect a very loud, “BORK!” in return.

◊ He screeched, wincing as he jolted up and hit his forehead on the hard metal underneath his machine.

◊ Not long after the bark echoed through the area, you had come running, your forehead creased from worry.

◊ “Oh, there you are!” You huffed out in relief as your eyes caught sight of the familiar coloured fur.

◊ You looked down at Kazuichi’s bottom half sticking out underneath from a machine, hearing a groan coming from him.

◊ “Kazuichi?” You squealed when you heard a- “S-s/o!?” come from underneath the machine, A “BANG!” following after.

◊ “Ow- U-uh hey S/o..!” He greeted waving his hand awkwardly from underneath the metal. 

◊ “Uh, A-are you going to come out?” You asked, concerned for—what sounded like—his head injury.

◊ “U-um nope. It’s uh, it’s cozy underneath here.” He refused politely, not wanting you to see his red face. 

◊ Literally red(or pink??) face; Blood had been running down his fucking forehead from the two hard bonks against the metal.

◊ The dog could smell the bullshit(and the blood) emitting from Kazuichi’s words, and bit gently onto his sneaker, urging out a scream from the pinkette.

◊ It pulled him out from underneath the machine, revealing his bloody forehead.

◊ You gasped in shock as you hurried him up to his feet, hastily bringing him to your clinic.

◊ He blushed at your close proximity, letting you drag him to a waiting seat.

◊ He watched warily as your animals ran into the backroom of your clinic, bringing you medical supplies as you carefully examined his forehead. 

◊ The animals watched you two as you disinfected his forehead, making Kazuichi nervous from the many tiny animal eyes glaring into him.

◊ He tensed as he felt a ferret climb his shoulder, clenching his eyes shut. 

◊ The ferret kissed him on his forehead, leaving you and him speechless.

◊ Well shit, the ferret had more confidence than you.

Mikan

◊ Mikan thought your ultimate was pretty cool!

◊ Since you were both in the medical field, you two had many things to talk about, therefore getting along unsurprisingly well.

◊ At first, she was a bit scared of your big animals, your small ones not so much.

◊ All your animals seemed to really really like her, and they’d be pretty protective of her.

◊ If Teruteru had said something perverted to her, one of your bears would maul him. 

◊ Everyone cheered as the bear kept on swinging TeruTeru’s arm in its jaw.

◊ That one time Hajime made Mikan cry, one of your lizards had slipped off Mikan and bit his finger.

◊ “Not cool, Hajim-“ Nagito started, before glancing down on his bloody finger, “Oh shit, are you okay??” 

◊ There’s always at least one of your animals stuck onto her just in case she gets picked on by Hiyoko or TeruTeru.

◊ They always have her back!

◊ If Hiyoko insulted Mikan for no good reason, the monkeys would pull her pigtails whilst the cats quickly ran to her dorm to shit inside it.

◊ Hiyoko stopped messing around with Mikan after that.

◊ Those times she trips and falls in very inconvenient positions, the animals cover her or scare everyone else away until you or someone trusted comes and helps.

◊ As the animals always have her back, she always has theirs.

◊ If someone tried to attack one of your animals, she’ll cover the animals and take the hit for them.

◊ Though before anyone could get hurt, your tiger had already pounced on the assaulter, tearing off their pants and watching as they ran away from the humiliation.

◊ If you’re busy healing one of the animals and can’t take care of the rest at the moment, Mikan will be your number #2 and she’ll help in any way she can!

◊ She remembers each animal’s feeding time to heart, never forgetting to feed them or give them water.

◊ She cherishes the animals almost as much as she cherishes you.

◊ She adores how kind you are to the animals and her, falling in love with your sweet personality.

◊ Mikan kind of becomes your wife and the animals being your shared children together.

◊ It’s really cute when you see the animals cuddle up to her while she pets them, it just makes you want to get on one knee.

◊ You are indefinitely thankful for her care, you’re sure you love her.

◊ Sooner or later, you two finally get together.

◊ All thanks to your animals actually, they did that classic nudge where you two kissed on accident.

◊ After you two get into a relationship, expect lots of cuddles.

◊ Correction, expect lots of cuddles with the animals.

◊ They regularly interrupt your quiet time with her by climbing in between and around the two of you, creating a safe and warm barrier. 

◊ As you’re always caring for your many animals, you sometimes forget to take care of yourself, so she’d also make sure you were okay too.

◊ Since she was the ultimate nurse, she knew humans better and so she knew when you weren’t taking care of yourself.

◊ She would get concerned for you as you overworked yourself, therefore reminding you to take care of yourself-

◊ Before immediately apologizing for her worries, afraid you thought she was clingy. 

◊ After assuring her you could never think that she was clingy, you promised her you’d take care of yourself, kissing her worried tears away.

◊ You’d do anything for Mikan, and she would do the same.

note; sorry if it’s a bit rushed!! i hope you enjoy anyways though, tysm for reading!

[voltagesmutter]

Lucifer - A, C, D, I, M, O, Y. Avatar of Pride.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Surprisingly sweet after sex, ensures your okay and that nothing was uncomfortable for you. Helps to dress you and presses tender kisses to your swollen lips. He cares so deeply for you and shows it with his gentle actions, even though only moments ago he was ploughing you into the floor.

He can get scared sometimes that when he’s in demon form he’ll lose control and hurt you, seeing the angry red marks of his claws upon your skin, he’ll kiss them and promise to talk to Solomon about a spell to help them heal. Regardless how rough or lost in the moment he gets, his main concern is always you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Always inside you, as if he’s scenting you (which he is, got to keep them pesky brothers away).

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He finds it hard to control himself when you get bratty with him, challenging his authority especially in-front of his brothers. 

“Did you enjoy your little stunt?” A sharp blow, a wide palm covered by a leather hide, comes down up upon your ass.

“L-Luci!”.

“Answer me,” His tone was dark, a hint of lust riddled in his words.

“No, I’m sorry,” You whined, wincing when another smack came down, this time harder and followed by a disapproving tut. 

“Isn’t it funny how in front of my brothers you were so keen to undermine me, what was it you called me?” He pretends to think, the anticipation high in the air, “Oh that's right, ‘Old Strict Balls’”. The feeling of his hand against you once more, unable to hold back the moan as the sharp sting melted into pleasure. 

“I’ll show you just how strict I can be,” His voice hot against your ear as he leans over you, a hand fisting into your hair pulling you up off his desk you were bent over. The desire thick in his eyes as he turned you around, eye’s glowing with red and need as he licked his lips hungrily at you. The arousal between your legs ruining the underwear you were wearing, you’d played this dance together many a-times.

“Now,” The sound of un-clinging metal from his belt sends shivers across your spine, “Get on your knees and apologise,”. You dropped instantly to your knees, biting your lower lip as innocently as you could whilst he pulled out his already hardened erection, angrily red and wonton with need.

“Apologise to me and I might just let you cum this time,” A hiss leaves his throat to feel your mouth wrap around his leaking head, one of his leathered hands entwining in your hair to push you down further, a raspy, “Good girl,” follows.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Whilst he comes across as harsh at times, every word is filled with love. ‘Your not going out in that,’, ‘Stop spending so much time that foolish Mammon,’, ‘Your behind on your work,’, it’s not to be cruel, controlling or demanding. It’s because he cares for you and wants you to achieve your full-potential. 

Get him alone and watch that sternness melt away, give him a kiss and tell him ‘how cute he looks’ and watch him become a blushing mess. He adores spending time alone with you, even if it’s sitting on his knee whilst he works through piles of paperwork, just having intimate moments enough make his heart swell. 

He’s confident in himself to express how he feels through both words and actions, often telling you ‘he loves you’ with sweet kisses. When he’s not in demon form sex is a lot more loving and more on the ‘making love’ side, but in demon form it’s rough, fast-paced it’s only after when your a mess in his arms that his softer side will re-emerge. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Get bratty and argue back with him and watch his cock twitch with need. He’s so use to being in-control that when you act unruly around him, he loves nothing more than to teach you a lesson on your behaviour. “It appears Miss.____ you’ve been a bad girl who needs to be punished for her behaviour,”. He can barely get the words out with growling.

When his ego takes a bruise he needs reassurance that it’s okay for him to be perfect, he needs to know you still love him just because Satan squared up to him over breakfast, almost frightened that you’ll leave him because of it. Which of course you would never do. Moments like these is when sex can either sweet and filled with reassuring words of love or it can do a flip 180.

The two pairs of ebony wings fluttered, two curved horns pulsing with need as his eyes radiated with desire staring down up your naked form. His claws sinking into your skin ensuring to leave marks for days to come, to remind you of the raw velocity of his power.

“Again,” Through gritted teeth, pulling your waist backwards to meet his thrust, leaning back slightly on his knees to angle it perfectly to hit that spot inside you, “Say it again”.

“Y-your better than S-Satan… Lucifer please!” Another sharp thrust sends you clenching over him, fingers fisted into the sheets as your back curves, Lucifer keeping you on the edge as he had been for a while. 

“Again!” Growling like an untamed animal, wings now spread out. Sweat ran from his forehead and down his neck, making its way across his slightly-tone chest before dripping on to your arching back. Never had Lucifer been this intense, built up anger that spilled out into his actions, all because Satan mildly flirted with you at dinner.

“Your-... fuck, better than…Satan, fuck!” A hazy hog taking over your mind, unable to repeat the phrase he’d been making you scream since thrusting into you, ensuring his brothers would hear you, ensuring Satan would hear you. “Lucifer!” The cry of his name gets stuck in your throat, arms giving out as your chest falls to the bed, your ass kept in place by the strength of Lucifer as he with-held his teasing motions and pounded into you. You came around with him with little to no-warning, the bed shunting against the wall as his pace never faltered. A smirk on his face as he continued through the night until you was a boneless puddle, having all his brother know it was you who was screaming his name well into the early morning, he really was the avatar of pride after all. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

As the avatar of pride, he gets off just giving you pleasure. Nothing makes him stand taller and prouder than hearing you moan his name over and over whilst he delivers you a pleasure like none other. That sharp-witted tongue isn’t just good for hurling abuse at his brothers, at clicking in disappointment at something dumb Mammon said, it’s also perfect to bring your knees weak as he laps it up and down your clit. Seeing you so needy, so desperate, so lost in the pleasure only he can bring to you with just his mouth alone is enough to fulfil his sense of pride. 

He knows his younger brothers all have/had a thing for you so his ego is boosted almost back up to the heavens to have your lips wrapped around his cock, an action that is forever and only for him. Blow him when he’s stress, which lets be honest is 99% of the time, or after he’s had a pent up row with Satan and he’ll reward tenfold by repeating it on you before fucking you senseless. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Being the more mature male of the brother’s Lucifer isn’t a horn-dog like the others, he’s able to control his needs. When he’s overwhelmed with work there might be a bit of dry spell for you both because he’s just so busy.

“Luci… come to bed,” You whisper, pressing kisses from the corner of his mouth down his jaw line, a strong arm encircled around your waist as you straddled him.

“Soon my love, I promise,” A softness in his voice, light bags underneath his eyes and you can tell he’s been working tirelessly for the last week. 

“You said that last night,” You pouted against his neck, purposefully pushing your chest against his, “Lucifer I miss you,”. Pulling back slightly, resting your hands on your thighs and slowly drawing up the nightdress you were wearing, giving him a slight glance to the bare flesh glistening beneath, “I need you, please don’t make me go to bed alone again,”. It’s enough to make a low groan fall from his throat, placing the quill he’d been writing with in his free hand down and lean forward capturing your lips in a soft kiss. 

“Let’s go to bed,” He whispered between kisses, holding the back of your thighs as he stands up, letting you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, carrying you from his office and to his room, lips never parting.

ABC’s masterlist here

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 7

Fire and Ice

CW: bbu and everything that relates to that, discussion of noncon drugging, drugs/alcohol, injury description, blood mention, hypothermia/frostbite/basically whumpee left in the cold for too long, whumper playing caretaker, intimate whumper, noncon/dubcon kiss, general noncon/dubcon discussion and themes, sick whumpee, ptsd flashbacks/nightmares (let me know if i missed anything!)

"Jesus Christ, were you trying to kill him?"

"Shut up. Come here, help me keep him up so I can take the belt off."

Hands, warm hands on Gio, grabbing, taking, hurting. He shrinks away from them, he cries out, it hurts, everything hurts, his world is painted bright red with pain all the time, breathing is painful, moving is painful, existing is painful.

"He doesn't look so good, Nicko, I think we gotta go to the hospital-"

"He's fine. Here, hold this."

The world spins and jostles Gio around, and then he's off of the burning cold of the ground, enveloped in heat that's almost too much. It makes all of the dull aching that seems to have frozen overtime thaw out, and he begins to sob, chest heaving, gnawing pain clawing up his throat, and he can't even stop himself. He can't open his eyes, can't move at all, he's only able to cry, and it's just like the first round of training. He thinks, for probably the thousandth time, "I'm really going to die this time, this is really it for me, I'll never heal, it's over it's all over" and he cries and cries and cries.

"It's ok, Gio. You're alright now."

Now he's somewhere else, he doesn't remember leaving the freezing cold nightmare of outside, where he was lonely and shaking until his muscles felt like they were gonna give out and his skin felt like it was falling off. He must be in a bed, now, wrapped up in thick, warm blankets, laying on something sinfully soft. Panic rips through him, but everything is muted just slightly and all he can do to communicate his fear is a measly whine. He can't even open his eyes, they're held shut with a velvety exhaustion, the same one that holds him to the bed that he knows he's not worthy of. He wants to sit up, be awake, but trying to move is too hard, his skin feels like it's all shredded up where it brushes against the sheets. He wants to wake up, he hates to be asleep, he doesn't want to have any more bad dreams. He whimpers again.

"Giovanni, I'm here. I'm right here." He flinches when fingertips trace against his temple, then they are in his hair and he moans miserably. It hurts to be touched, mostly because it isn't enough. Life is agony and he feels like he's dying, he needs more than just a gentle hand in his hair. He needs a hug. He doesn't know if he remembers how to ask for that without sounding pathetically broken, so he doesn't try. He feels scalding hot tears streaming down his cheeks and falling into his hair. "Ugh, I'm so sorry, darling. I went way too far."

Gio doesn't understand. Too far? No, no this is about customary. Text book. Whatever he did, he can't remember now, was bad, bad enough to leave him in this condition, and so that means it was justified. He's never been told sorry before, he's never heard anyone who's hurt him admitting that they went overboard.

"Oh, please stop crying, Gio, you're breaking my heart." The hand is away from his hair, and Giovanni wills the tears to stop. He doesn't want anymore pain.

It takes all of his remaining energy to take in a shaking breath and force himself to whisper "I'm s-sorry, sir." It's rehearsed, even if it's broken up and weak, and he hopes that he says it good enough.

He hears a sigh, then the mattress sinks down a little next to him and the blankets are moved around a little. The cool air of the room slips under the sheets and it makes him shiver. That hurts, too, and he holds his breath until his lungs are tight so that he doesn't cry anymore. Then, strong arms are wrapping around him, drawing him against a body, warm and breathing and surprisingly gentle. He knows that this isn't right, it's not normal for an idiot boxie like him to be held, to be pressed up close against another person underneath covers for no other reason then to be held. Still, it's all he can do to not start bawling in relief as he buries his face against the chest in front of him.

He falls asleep again, nightmares full of blanked out faces and pain he doesn't ever think he'll forget plague his sleep, and every time that he starts to tremble or whine softly, Nicko pulls his wiry frame closer and pets through his hair and whispers that he's ok. He should have been doing this the entire time, he thinks, every time he heard Gio crying in his sleep or waking himself up to gasp and sniffle softly, he should have pulled him up into the bed and held him like this all those times. Now, as he's holding Gio's battered, frostbitten body against his own, he can't believe he was making them both miss out on the comfort. All it takes to calm Gio down enough to sink back into silent sleep is for Nicko to remind him that he's in harmless (for the moment, at least) arms, and then he whispers "you're ok, Gio, I've got you" into his tangled, blood soaked hair, and then he settles back into Nicko's grip and his breathing evens out. Nicko is baffled that it's that easy. He's also shocked at how, even though he hated Gio with everything that was in him hours ago, now he finds himself wanting to never let him go, to be this comfort to him forever.

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

Nicko was inconsolable when he came back inside. Rory was the first person to try and talk him down, try to convince him that it wasn't Gio's fault and to let him back inside, but he wanted to listen to her least of all. Instead, he took a few more shots of burning tequila and yelled at her, told her to get out of his house. At first she didn't take him seriously, only grabbed onto him and pulled hard at his clothes, insistent that he "just calm down" because "it wasn't that big of a deal", but once he grabbed her shoulders and told her to get the fuck out of his face, she left in a hurry.

After that, his roommate, Ben, who he'd barely noticed when they passed him in the hallway, came out to the kitchen and sat next to him, pretending he wasn't trying to find Gio out in the dark, snowy backyard as they talked. It took about thirty minutes of Ben trying to timidly suggest that maybe it wasn't entirely Gio's fault before Nicko calmed down. Then, there was another long stretch of time where he carefully made Nicko feel like shit for hurting Gio in the first place, and hours after he tied Gio up there, Ben and Nicko went outside to retrieve him.

He was in much worse condition than Nicko thought he left him in, and he was a little afraid at how not aware he had been. Giovanni had been bleeding from his nose and mouth for who knows how long, and now dark marroon blood was cracked and dried and probably fucking frozen on his face and down his entire front. Even Nicko's belt, that was much too tight around Gio's frail neck, to the point it was bruising him, was covered in blood. His ears were a burning, bright red from the bitter cold, so were his cheeks and the tips of his fingers and toes. other than that, he was ghostly pale. More so than usual, which was concerning. But the most concerning thing of all was that he was passed out, head tipped back against the post and face blank and just unmoving. Nicko wondered if he passed out from the belt, he had thought that he would reach up and take it off himself once Nicko was inside, and he was disappointed in himself for doubting Gio's obedience. He was suddenly all to aware that this kid would do anything he thought Nicko wanted, or at the very least try with everything he has before exhausting himself. Rory, too, but only because he thinks he owes it to Nicko to listen to her as well. And here he is, soaked in his own blood and no doubt bruised from where Nicko kicked him right in his stomach, and he'll be sick from the cold, and he was so high before hand he probably had no idea what was going on.

He was probably so scared. He probably always is. That hadn't even occured to Nicko before, he was seeing him only on the surface, as the boxie he got for cheap to fuck around with, not as a human, not as something so broken and so easily frightened. He felt an overwhelming surge of guilt right then and there, especially when Ben said:

"Jesus Christ were you trying to kill him?"

I don't remember. Maybe I was.

"Shut up. Come here, help me keep him up so I can take the belt off." He had to keep his cool, he had to act calm and unbothered, couldn't let it show how much this shook him up.

Giovanni sounded just pathetic when they tried to situate him, even though they were both incredibly careful. Nicko was thrown off, he'd only heard Gio make noise when he was absolutely out of control with panic, horrified or when something had been hurting him for a long time, and even then it was quite. Well, except the time the Giovanni begged him with such desperation to stop touching him, horrified by his hands on him, the implication of him touching him somewhere else entirely. Nicko had been angry with him too, then, and he was starting to really feel the weight of his remorse.

"He doesn't look so good, Nicko, I think we gotta go to the hospital-"

Oh God, do you think he needs that? Oh fuck, I messed up.

"He's fine." Nicko insisted, mostly because he was horrified of what people would think of him if he brought Giovanni into the emergency room in this condition. They would know he did it, his knuckles were bruised and covered in Gio's dark, dried blood. He hadn't had time to wash it off in between his need to get more fucked up, yelling at Rory, and trying to allow himself to be calmed down. But he had to worry about getting Gio inside first, try to gauge just how bad the damage was. He slipped the belt off from around Giovanni's poor, bruised throat, he gasped feebly in response. Nicko barely caught him with a hand on his shoulder as he collapsed to his side in exhaustion. "Here, hold this."

The belt was passed off, like a baton in a race, and Nicko wasted no time gathering Gio's small, trembling frame against his chest and standing upright with him in his arms.

He didn't bother cleaning either of them off, Gio was much too exhausted for that. It was probably a better idea to get him warm first anyways.

Nicko's heart aches for him as he fades in and out of his dazed, disconnected state, crying when he's present enough to feel his pain.

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

Rory doesn't come back after that. Giovanni is sick for the next few days, he barely leaves Nicko's bed the entire time, Nicko works on bringing him back to health, he only drinks a little in the evening, just to be relaxed with Gio while he holds him and tries to sooth him enough to sleep. He's got a fever, hot to the touch and shivering all the damn time. It feels like the cold from outside has buried itself under his skin.

Except for when he's asleep.

When he sleeps, he's burning from the inside out. The mixture of his fever and coming off of the drug that had made him feel so fantastically far away, he remembers the nightmares. Sometimes he wakes up gasping, Shooting up in bed, shoving the too heavy blankets and Nicko's suffocating arms off of him with desperation to get away from the heat, in his dreams he's surrounded by bodies, too close and too hot and hands touching and taking and torturing. Other times, the burning inside is different, it's from dreams where he's all alone, everyone is leaving him, they don't want him he's just not good enough for them. Then, he wakes up and he's grabbing fistfuls of Nicko's clothes, pressing himself closer, closer, begging in a watery, wobbling voice, "Nicko please, please stay. Please don't go. Hold me, don't let go of me please."

So Nicko pulls him closer, and through the drunken, heavy veil of sleep, he finds himself placing soft kisses in Gio's hair, stroking little circles against his ribs, over his sharp shoulder blades, shaking with each gasping breaths.

Nicko misses Rory. He doesn't feel that bad about making her leave, not as awful as he feels for what he did to Gio, but he misses her, nonetheless. He misses a warm body, a touch more than panicked desperation. He finds himself wanting to touch Gio all the time, wants to tattoo him again, or toy around with him while he's completely there, when he can look sort of apprehensive and bothered and mouth-wateringly flustered. He's easy, and Nicko adores it.

When Gio starts to get better, it's relieving to everyone. He had said he didn't want to see Salem, not in this disgustingly sick and disoriented way. Once he gets a little more clearheaded, Salem is glad to see him in the kitchen when he gets home from school. Much too his- and surprisingly Nicko's -disdain, he's usually spending his time out of bed cleaning. He goes until someone insists he stops. They get worried when he gets pale and sways in front of the sink where he's been trying to wash the dishes. Salem often takes him to his room, which Nicko allows, and lays down on the floor with him, music playing softly through his speakers. Nicko, when he finds him in worrying pallor like that, takes him to his bed and asks him to lay down, to rest for a little while. Sometimes he joins him, sometimes he doesn't.

Gio starts to miss Rory when he feels better. He doesn't like how he feels with her drugs out of his system, for no one around to playfully treat him how he deserves; less than a person, more of a toy. Nicko is suddenly too nice and gentle, and Gio doesn't know if he likes it that much. He really doesn't like sleeping in his bed every night, he's too frightened now, especially when he's sober. He misses that amazing feeling he had the last time he saw Rory, even though the high and the new concussion and the fever made him forget almost everything that happened before Nicko came in and hurt him. He knew it was something bad, he was glad he wasn't really there to experience it.

One night, after waking up from another awful, empty and lonely dream, he turned over on the mattress, trying to find Nicko in the dark by dragging his hands across the sheets. He found his warm body, he shivered at how he was slightly overheated from his panic and his need to be close to someone in the obedient way he was supposed to, to be good for Nicko. He pressed himself close, timidly pressing his lips against Nicko's throat until it pulled him back into consciousness. He didn't seem upset about being woken up, simply finding Gio's thigh under the blankets and wrapping his sometimes threatening fingers around it and squeezing it with a pleased hum. Giovanni had tears on his face, they got onto Nicko's neck where Gio was getting closer and closer to Nicko with need and aching and yearning.

"What are you doing, Gio?" He asked. His voice was a hoarse rumble through his chest, Giovanni ran his hand over Nicko's bare chest, and he panted against Nicko's skin. Suddenly Nicko was aware of how bothered and worked up Gio was, and he pulled away from him. His eyes took a second to adjust, and from the streetlight outside, he could vaguely see his darkened, bruised eyes, shining with tears, staring at him wide eyed.

"You're my favorite person, Nicko." Gio was whispering, almost afraid to be admitting it. "I... I want to be close to you all the time. I don't want to bother you but it hu-hurts when I can't be."

He was so earnest when he said it, Nicko didn't think he was lying. He had no reason to, really. Nicko could see through the dark that his wide, permanently panicked eyes were flicking back and forth from Nicko's eyes to his mouth.

"Rory was right," Nicko started, his voice low and gravelly, "you're so cute. Especially when you say things like that."

Giovanni flushed at the words, and he was glad that it was dark enough that Nicko probably couldn't see him blushing hard. "You really think so?" He asked, voice wavering, like he was expecting Nicko to say "no you fucking worthless idiot. Not even a little bit do I think that".

Instead, he reached out and ran his thumb over Gio's cheek, across his jaw, and finally over his bottom lip. He smiled when Gio began to tremble at the touch, breath hitching in a beautiful way that was almost unnoticeable. "Yeah, Gio," he answered, "yeah, I do."

And then, before either of them changed their minds, Nicko pulled him close and kissed him.

Gio melted right into it, pressing his body flush against Nicko's, opening his mouth just a little as an invitation. He was perfect, he was made for this, for kissing and touching this way. But then Nicko felt guilty for thinking that. He had to remind himself constantly, every single time that Giovanni was looking irresistably adorable, that he was trained into being this way. Nicko couldn't even be sure that Gio really wanted it, or if he just thought he did because he knew it was what Nicko wanted. He was reminded again of what he'd realized when he saw Giovanni outside, saw that he hadn't even tried to get the belt off of his neck: Gio would do anything for Nicko. He had just admitted that Nicko was his favorite person, after all. Guilt started eating away at him yet again, so he pulled away from Gio.

"It's late." He mumbled, turning away from Gio altogether. "You need to get your rest so you can feel better."

He was answered by silence, and it made him sigh heavily. He didn't want to upset Gio, but even more he didn't want to use him, not when it didn't mean the same thing to him. "G'night, Giovanni."

Again, Gio was perfectly still and perfectly quiet. When he thought Nicko was asleep, he started to cry softly. He let his tears slide down his cheeks and wet his hair and the pillow. His fingers were pressed tightly to his lips. He wanted the ghost of Nicko's mouth on his to stay there forever. Eventually he exhausted himself, falling asleep crying, aching and burning for Nicko.

[shinjaeha]

itsay ep 5 (thoughts + spoilers)

i feel like i’m on a high that i’ll never come down from :))) the itsay effect. this show is truly a cultural reset.

first up, i just want to say that i have never been more worried about a final ep before IN MY LIFE. for the past couple eps, i’ve tried to watch them live raw, but for this one, i was afraid of spoilers (and wanted to understand everything from the first watch), so i waited for the vimeo ep to drop and let me tell you...that was both the longest and shortest wait ever...the excitement and the dread i’ve been feeling this whole week has been unreal.

as usual, this is not an analysis. tbh there’s prob going to be even less analysing in this one bc most of the time i was either crying or yelling at my screen (and i feel like this ep in general didn’t have as many scenes to analyse?). but god, i’m SO GLAD that they gave us a happy ending bc it would have broken me into pieces if i had to rewatch and recap this knowing everything had fallen apart for them (ecstatic that wasn’t the case, and my feelings from last ep on how things might go in this one actually panned out!!). after what went down in ep 4, i always thought that that was going to be the peak of the climax/conflict, and that this one was going to be much more of a healing ep...the ep that would bring more closure to each of the characters and their relationships, as well as wrap things up as a final ep should.

so the way this ep starts is actually kind of anti-climactic. esp after the intense emotions of what happened at the end of ep 4. which is understandable? like they were being petty teenagers angry at one another, but now it’s a few days later, and all those heated emotions have tempered down. they’re in that awkward stage where neither of them even know how to start approaching one another after the loaded feelings of the last ep (basically this is what happened to them when they were children. no one reached out, and they both drifted apart...only now they’re aware of what might happen if no one reaches out and it’s a question of whether they let history repeat itself).

oh-aew using the cue cards that teh gave him and being worried ;;; doing that thing that teh told him about writing something over and over again when he can’t say it out loud...teh deleting his line chat history ;;; i was torn with this one bc on one hand noooooo, but on the other, it could be representing them starting anew again?? ALSO, they always know how to make the most of the ost in this show (i think it’s the can’t translate/lost in translation instrumental?). i was literally shaking the first time i watched this.

i was actually very worried about how his mum was going to treat him after last ep...i thought she would be angry/ignore him, and i was feeling so anxious about it...maybe bc i personally know what that’s like. that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’re scared of how they’ll react to you after a fight. teh wanting to make his mum proud is hugely important to him, so when she handed him the plate, i actually let out a sigh of relief. i’m glad that his mum understood and backed him when he needed it most (she may not be fully all the way there yet, but feelings are raw and it takes time). and i already knew hoon would, so i wasn’t too worried on that front.

tarn is so good for teh, and i really see why they were drawn to each other. but i like how she’s prioritising what’s right for her, and also telling him like it is. they need to focus on their studies now and figure out the other stuff later.

teh loitering outside the tutoring classroom before entering sort of reminds me of ep 1 when teh and oh-aew met up for the first time after their first fight...just this time it’s less straight up antagonism between the two of them and more hurt feelings as they avoid each other instead. i also appreciate the gang during this. they’re so normal and encouraging about the whole situation. they know something went down between teh and oh-aew, but they don’t really press too much about it. just let teh know that they’re here if he needs someone to talk to.

the ep 5 trailer played us!!!!!!! i was WONDERING why oh-aew would suddenly say all that nice stuff about bas (not that bas doesn’t deserve the nice stuff, he’s an ANGEL) in front of class, but their teacher was the one that put them up to it. the horror i felt as i watched teh look straight at oh-aew but turn to bless phillip instead and then start on that whole spiel about how phillip “never sees the good intentions of friends as worthless. never says ‘no’ to what friends give you” and how he’ll never leave him because of that. ALL RIGHT IN FRONT OF OH-AEW’S SALAD...STOP TEH. PLEASE. he’s digging himself into this hole himself with the passive aggressiveness again. THEN BAS COMING IN TO STEAL THIS WHOLE SCENE. i don’t think any of us were expecting him to be as forward as he was but omg. he laid it all out on the line in the way that teh couldn’t (at this point in time). i’m really, really glad that oh-aew got to hear what bas thought of him though, and that bas got to tell oh-aew all his feelings. nothing is misconstrued. he’s so brave and the utter respect i have for him increased by tenfold...what a fantastic character. just so sure and convinced in how he feels, and so uncaring of what anyone else thinks. it’s so damn refreshing. and for oh-aew to know that there’s nothing wrong with him at all. that he’s desirable and wanted and loved (it calls back to ep 4 when oh-aew’s sobbing and desperately asking teh “what did i do wrong??” again and again). it must have meant so much to him. the conflict i felt in my heart watching that and knowing that bas would be SUCH a good guy for oh-aew, but also knowing that sometimes that’s just not enough.

DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON TEH’S REACTION TO ALL THIS. he’s truly facing the consequences of his actions in this one. but just imagine being in this position, being too scared to own up to your own heart, and then watching this other boy do it like it’s the easiest thing in the world?? like it’s just another regular day?? like it’s nothing?? all to the boy that you’re in love with. to the boy that wanted this exact thing from you, but you couldn’t give. it’s like teh’s watching oh-aew slip through his very fingers, but knowing that it’s bc he never had oh-aew in the first place (and the reason for that is himself). i also really love how no one in class (including their teacher) makes a big deal out of this? they’re all just applauding bc it’s a sweet confession. it would be so jarring for teh to see this acceptance when the fear of society not accepting his feelings for oh-aew is one of the reasons he can’t accept them himself.

anyway, i had like one thought in this next scene and it was just DRINK THE COCONUT TEH. DRINK IT!!!!!!! so nice to see how his fam loves and believes in him.

teh watching on as bas and oh-aew take the first step with their left foot :(((

LOVE how they use the firecrackers going off to represent anytime there’s some sort of shift in teh and oh-aew’s relationship (when they first met, when they had their first fight, and now again when they talk for the first time after the fight and oh-aew tells him teh that he and bas are dating now). it’s such a great way to symbolise the spark and passion of their relationship. anyway, this meeting mostly consists of the both of them trying not to cry as they act civil with one another and skirt around what happened. teh asking about what the deal is with oh-aew and bas is like a parallel with what happened last ep when oh-aew asked about teh and tarn...only this time oh-aew and bas are actually dating...man, this is really not the kind of news you want to hear right when you’re about to sit one of your most important exams ever :/// teh holding himself together until the moment oh-aew leaves and then just having a fucking meltdown over the news :((( as always, it just hurts to see teh torture himself in this way. but esp when he’s supposed to be sitting his exam and he just can’t stop crying in the exam room (been in that position and have almost done the same thing before). when he hadn’t finished his exam and they were like “time’s up, pencils down” the sheer panic i felt at this...ugh. i hate it.

the elation on bas’ face when oh-aew asks him out for chinese new year. he’s the cutest. THE ABSOLUTE CUTEST. and then when he holds oh-aew’s hand????? the boldness of it. he. just. does. not. care. i wish i had that sort of confidence!! oh-aew’s shock at this too. his realisation that it’s okay. that this is okay. and then bas being all “why would i be?” after oh-aew asks if he’s embarrassed. bas is literally giving oh-aew everything that he wanted from teh and more (compare this to that scene in ep 3 where teh and oh-aew grazes hands but don’t hold each other’s hands). he’s proud to be with him and to show the world. and, you know what?? i would do anything in the world for bas to be happy.

AND HERE WE HAVE IT. MY LONG AWAITED HOON/TEH HEART TO HEART. i wanted teh to tell hoon soooooooo badly, so to hear the words come out of his mouth...that his brother was the first person he told. i felt so relieved bc i knew that hoon would support him no matter what. the struggle in teh’s face and words...he fought so long and hard against ever admitting these feelings to someone else out loud that it would have felt so incredibly terrifying, yet also like a weight being lifted off his chest, to finally get them out there. to have someone else know his secret. and to know that his brother loves him unconditionally regardless. “if you like him, you go after him” THE WAY I SOBBED DURING THIS. i really loved what hoon said to teh. he didn’t sugarcoat things and say that everything was going to be fine if teh liked boys too. not every single person you meet is going to be okay with who you are, that’s just a fact, but i loved that he emphasised to teh that HE was okay with it. it’s just what teh needed to hear. and that it might take their mum some time to accept it too, but all she truly wants is for teh to be happy. just the feeling of hearing his brother, someone that he very clearly looks up to and respects, tell him that he can like whoever he wants to like?? that it’s all up to him and he’ll still be there for him whoever he wants to be with?? teh sorely needed that and i’m glad he got it. hoon encouraging him to go fight for his love!!!!!!! i was cry laughing at how teh just starts bawling his eyes out at hoon telling him to go after oh-aew, but then teh telling him that it’s too late for him bc he likes someone else. like from hoon’s perspective, he’s prob just like ‘this is so needlessly dramatic’ and the sibling energy during that whole part is too real. i love them.

watching bas/oh-aew with the rest of the gang and their respective girlfriends really makes you realise how open and accepting they all are. like teh was terrified in the scene just before about how his friends might not accept him and oh-aew, but then you see them here with bas/oh-aew and no one even cares (which i expected bc they’ve been supportive since day one, but it’s just nice to see in practice too). oh-aew teasing them all ahhh. cute. phillip being the relatable only single guy there (me at every gathering i go to with my relatives omg).

THE PIANIST PLAYING SKYLINE. they really wanted us all to be SAD sad huh, and they succeeded. how it pans to oh-aew and this song is yet ANOTHER reminder of teh...you know he’s thinking about cape scene where they were singing and translating to one another. on the day they made their promise to each other :( and teh being there too??????? all alone with his bowl of oh-aew on the table. feeling the exact same heartbreak that oh-aew’s feeling too :( it’s the way that so much of their relationship is beyond words for me. but they’re also both hurting so much that i just want to push them together and make them talk so they can clear everything up.

hoon talking in cute japanese to nozomi on the phone while teh goes through oh-aew’s old worksheets and cries I HATE IT HERE. i love the different ways in which teh has smelt oh-aew’s coconut scent since ep 2. how it evolves from curiosity to desire to him heartbrokenly reminiscing, every feeling changing with the shifts in their relationship.

can i just say that oh-aew’s parents are ADORABLE. but also, finding out exam results is the worst kind of anxiety. was so happy that oh-aew got in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he worked his ass off for this :’))) teh not getting his first pick wasn’t altogether surprising bc it did feel like they were leading up to this. but when he apologised to his mum about it ;;; noooo, she’s so proud of you. as someone who’s been through this process before (and didn’t get my first pick either), it always feels like it’s end of the world when you don’t get the uni pick that you want, but it really isn’t. still, it sucks when you’re in the moment there’s no denying that. but i get that it’s also particularly sad for teh since he’d already basically gotten his first pick before he gave it up for oh-aew. but again, it’s all part of the learning process, and the consequences for his actions. 

BAS BEING BEST BOY EVER YET AGAIN. how he knows exactly how oh-aew feels bc he feels it too, but he never imposes those feelings on oh-aew. he knows that oh-aew’s heart isn’t with him, can’t be when it’s with someone else, and bc he cares that much about oh-aew, he guides him in teh’s direction. it’s never a good idea to date someone who’s hung up on someone else, but i’m glad that they tried at the very least. the both of them did what they could, and oh-aew needed to experience it to know. i’m really glad that bas was there to make oh-aew realise how worth it he is too...and bas deserves someone that loves him back just as much as he loves them. seeing bas cry is the worst experience ever. 0/5. never want this ever again thank u. their hug scene was just devastating, and worse still bc it’s not anyone’s fault...you just can’t help how you feel, and that’s just the way it is sometimes.

idk why but for me, the scene with tarn was possibly the hardest scene for me to watch in this ep. it’s interesting how he’s wearing the shirt that oh-aew was wearing in ep 3 in this scene (with the bold ‘sunset’ lettering). i guess it symbolises him being ready to open up about his feelings on where their relationship is heading? either way, she’s a great friend. she’s so encouraging, and understands him and his ambitions to a tee. the both of them are always filled with such fierce determination. they just know what they want and go for it. but that’s also why these past couple eps have been all the more confusing for teh since he’s always been so sure of himself before. how she tells him that no one can take away his identity and that no one can take his dream away from him?? all these characters just knowing exactly what teh needs at the right time. she’s so incredible. no wonder teh is so scared of losing her as a friend. it’s great that he apologised for how he treated her last ep bc it’s def the least that she deserves. that being said, watching her heart get broken as teh tells her that his feelings for her have changed and asking if they can still be friends...like damn, that fucking hurts. there’s something in tarn’s face in this scene that stays with me every time i watch it, and it’s that heavy feeling of knowing that the opportunity is missed. they had the potential to have been something, but it’s slipped by now, and now they can’t go back to those initial feelings anymore. too much has changed. but it’s also that she, like bas, values teh’s happiness too much. values their friendship so much that even if she’s heartbroken, she can still overcome those feelings of heartbreak bc she cares for teh so deeply and wants to see him happy. despite the pain she’s feeling, she still encourages him to make the first move and talk with oh-aew bc she knows that oh-aew is who makes him happy. anyway, we already established this in my last rant text post for ep 4, but i love tarn with my whole heart and only ever want her happiness too. the purple hibiscus in her drawing for teh was like a final stab to the heart :(((

what i love about bas and tarn is that neither of them are the bad guys in this situation. this drama has no outright antagonist, and a lot of the time in BLs (even in standard dramas in general) that’s what the secondary love interests are used as...a hindrance for the main couple to get over. but the both of them are written (and acted) with such respect and care. it’s really hard not to fall in love with them too. the real conflict and antagonism mostly comes from within teh himself, so this series is his own journey to overcome that. a true coming of age story.

oh-aew in his uni uniform!!!!!!!!!!! cue me constantly chanting “come through, teh” over and over as oh-aew passed the restaurant hoping to see him. and I KNEW HE WOULD. not me bursting into tears as soon as they show him following oh-aew on the motorbike ;;;;;;; he loves oh-aew too much, and this was too important, he was never going to back out on this promise. i mean, he gave up his uni spot for oh-aew so he could keep this promise. technically, if you think about it, it worked in a roundabout way bc teh giving up his place was what made oh-aew decide to do the admission exam again...and better still bc he got into his first place uni all on his own accord. he proved to teh that he could do it like he always wanted to.

love that teh pushes the good luck coconuts onto oh-aew too, like his mum and brother always do for him. it’s cute. when they go to the temple again, and the significance of it being open this time so they don’t have to sneak in anymore????? my heart is FULL. another thing i love is how teh’s kind of behaving like how oh-aew did in ep 3?? being flirty?? almost toying with him?? like that part when they’re drinking the coconuts together, and he sort of slides backwards drinking the coconut, eyes not leaving oh-aew before bouncing away. that’s an oh-aew move okay. and, as always, teh encouraging oh-aew when he’s down bc the sun isn’t out. rival and inspiration. i love them more than words could ever describe.

skyline instrumental is legit the perfect song bc sometimes when you listen to it, it can make you feel like you’ll never be happy again, but then other times (like when they’re walking to the tip of the cape), it’s like a shot of pure hope to your chest. that shot of them going through the trees and right into the open space of the tip of the cape with the sun shining all around them was BEAUTIFUL. the freedom of it all, of no longer being constrained. seriously, these shots of the two of them standing in front of the golden glow of the sun are just *chef’s kiss* so stunning. cinematography on point (but when did this show ever fail me on that front).

“when i gave it, i really gave it to you” I’M NEVER GONNA STOP CRYING. i literally cannot watch this part without getting choked up and/or screaming. they’ve missed each other so much, and it’s piecing the broken bits of my heart after the last 4 eps back together again. THEY’RE FINALLY TALKING.

okay i really have to talk about this scene when oh-aew asks teh “how about you and i?” bc of the war flashbacks i’m having back to the last time this question was asked and how disastrous that turned out. it’s in how oh-aew asks it and reads teh’s hesitancy as teh thinking the same as he did last time...oh-aew’s fake smile (the same smile he put on when he asked teh how things were between him and tarn and teh told him they were pretty much the same) when he thinks that teh still isn’t willing to acknowledge he likes him back. it’s how oh-aew is willing to accept ANYTHING from teh...whether he wants to be friend or a rival...whether teh likes or hates him...as long as teh stays in his life. he’s willing to accept whatever teh wants to define them as bc he’s just missed teh so much and can’t stand to be away from him. and it’s like this is what finally clicks in for teh. that restricting himself this way is only ever going to constantly hurt the both of them. teh finally saw past himself, and realised what this meant to oh-aew. it’s like he’s finally looking at oh-aew and seeing what oh-aew needs most (has always needed most), and that in turn helps him gain the courage to say it out loud bc the love he feels for oh-aew (and for himself) is ultimately stronger than any fear he has about society not accepting them. it’s such a beautiful scene. after pushing back at himself and his feelings time and time again, he can’t deny himself anymore. his character arc has come full circle ;;; everything teh’s done in previous eps for oh-aew has shown how much he really loves and cares for him, so it just makes me happy that he released his breath and let himself be happy. it’s all i ever wanted for him.

the amount of tears i shed at teh asking oh-aew to be his boyfriend...i knew teh was very likely going to give in to his feelings for oh-aew at this point, but this was even more than i expected. that was so SMOOTH. oh-aew bursting into tears after that...SAME. then the hug in the sunset WITH the new ost song. and that last shot of teh’s handwritten full pages of ‘love’...they did the MOST with this and i’ll never ever ever be over it.

then the part 2 announcement!!!!!!!!!!!!! after so much angst, i can barely believe we’ve been given so much in such a short space of time omg. i love how teh’s tie is red and oh-aew’s tie is blue for their respective uni uniforms. ADORABLE

i know everyone was afraid (myself included) that this was going to end sad from the get go. from the trailer to the ost, we were all TERRIFIED bc realistic shows like this often end in heartbreak. we’re so used to it. but i saw someone describe itsay as a love letter to the lgbtq+ community, and i totally agree. it could very well have ended tragic/sad, but instead they subverted our expectations of the traditional ‘bury your gays’/sad gay ending we’re so used to and gave us a story that showed us that there’s realism in happiness too. there are so many struggles and hardships that lgbtq+ people have to go through bc of the world that we live in, but they CAN be happy too. this post that nadao tweeted of teh crossing out the lyrics of skyline and writing “let me set my own destiny“ instead is SO powerful, and shows the immense character growth he’s gone through over the course of the series. it made every single tear that i have shed for this show completely and utterly worth it.

i’ve mentioned this multiple times before, but i’m so grateful to nadao for giving us this drama. literally one of the best dramas that i have ever watched in my entire life. i’ve never felt so passionately about a show before, or been so attached to the characters and their relationships. everything about it...the directing, the writing, the cinematography, the acting, the soundtrack, EVERYTHING has been set to such an impeccable standard i really don’t know how, or if, i’ll ever get over it (prob not). i know i’m not the only one that thinks so, but it’s truly a masterpiece. i hope it sweeps all the awards bc it’s the least that it deserves. moreover, i’m so happy that their story isn’t over bc this cast of characters are some of my fave characters ever and i genuinely cannot wait to see more of them in march next year :’)

[vikingpoteto]

27, 9, pick any two bats

 To no one’s surprise I pick Jason and Tim + cleaning wounds + “Listen, I know it’s hard, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Red Robin looks around his kitchen and tries to list 5 things he can see. The pictures of his friends held by magnets on the fridge. The pile of dirty mugs in the sink. The unread papers spread on the table. The closed window. The trail of blood leading to the counter where he’s sitting. He makes a mental note to clean that up in the morning. Before that train of thought leads him somewhere else, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 4 things he can touch now. The leather of his cowl that he slowly peels away. The cold surface of the counter. The hard wall behind his back. The needle between his fingers. Another deep breath. 3 things he can hear. The clock ticking against the loud silence. Traffic and distant sirens. His mildly ragged breath. He opens his eyes, hoping he doesn’t have any cracked ribs. Another deep breath. He can smell antiseptic and also something coppery. He licks his lips. The one thing he can taste is the bitter pang from the antibiotics he took. 

Tim Drake glares at the needle. This isn’t the first time he had to stitch himself up. This isn’t the first time he had to take care of his own wounds. 

However, this is the first time he’s the one and only responsible for it. 

In another life, he would do a patch job, emergency stuff only, and then get to Alfred as soon as he could for a double check. In a time that felt like a dream now, he would have the latest health tech available and Cissie hovering over his bed while Cassie fussed about how he irresponsibly hurt himself, Bart made a joke out of everything and Conner, of all people, would be the one getting Tim proper care. Less than a month ago, the most deadly organization of the world was making sure Tim was getting the best care available. While his trembling fingers put the thread in the needle, he thinks of the almost healed scar from a damn splenectomy. He doesn’t know what Ra’s people had done to him, but he’s been recovering unnaturally fast, especially considering his immunity. 

Tim bites his tongue and looks down at his battered outfit. He could go to Leslie’s clinic. But it’d be stupid to go all the way there for a couple of bruises and a wound that would probably take less than five stitches. Tim could go to the cave, but… No. He puts the needle down and starts pulling his shirt out. He can’t completely muffle a pained groan and he hates the way it echoes in his empty kitchen. It’s been less than a week since he left Dick, Alfred and Damian. He’s an emancipated adult by all means. Bruce trained him to be independent. He can do this. 

Except… as soon as he reaches for the antiseptic, he hears a noise coming from the living room. Tim freezes. You’ve got to be kidding me. Of all the nights to have a robber breaking into his apartment, tonight? Did it have to be tonight? 

Painstakingly, he jumps to the floor and reaches for his staff. He has half a mind to get his cowl, but he thinks Tim Drake defending himself with what could’ve been a broomstick is easier to explain than Red Robin just hanging out at his place. If he’s lucky - and, after tonight, he feels like the universe owes him - he’ll knock out the robber before they see him. 

The most ridiculous thing about all this is that he feels like crying. He doesn’t know why. He barely remembers the last time he cried. Probably right before he realized Bruce could be alive. As much as he’s in pain now, this is no reason to cry like a baby. Especially not in front of a robber. 

Tim silently hides by the side of the fridge and listens. The person in his living room is good. He can barely hear their steps. He can tell there is only one of them, however, and, judging by the way the sound become louder, they’re coming towards the kitchen. Partly to focus on his hearing, partly to ignore the way his eyes are glazing over, he closes his eyes, listens and waits. He waits. He waits a little more.

Ignoring the way his muscles ache in protest, he swirls around and aims for the gut, hoping to knock the air out of the robber. Gloved hands grab his staff and the invader takes a step back before recovering his balance.

“Woah,” he says in a familiar voice, “easy there.”

Tim raises his gaze to face him. Red Hood lets go of the staff in order to remove the helmet, revealing Jason Todd’s frown. Tim feels his shoulders slumping.

“What the fuck, Jason?” Tim hisses. He feels his voice will break if he tries to speak up. 

“I should be the one asking that.” Jason puts his helmet aside. He takes one second glancing around until he finds Tim’s medical supplies. “Is this sanitary? Shouldn’t you be doing first aid in your high tech basement?”

He should. It would’ve been more practical than getting the whole first aid kit and bringing it up here. However, using his medical bay for the first time… It would make it all too real. Too definitive. Tim can’t tell Jason that.

“Medical bay isn’t finished. Kitchen or bathroom were my best options,” he lies.

“Hm,” Jason says as though he doesn’t believe him.

Tim could lie to Batman if he needed to, but, for some reason, Jason seems to always know the truth.

Without another word, Jason takes off his gloves and leather jacket. He drops them aside and walks to the sink. Tim doesn’t ask Jason how he knows where Tim lives - he won’t insult Jason’s detective abilities like that - but he does frown at the older boy as he strides through Tim’s kitchen like he owns the place. 

In fact, Tim doesn’t want to ask anything. He wants to scream at Jason to go away. He wants to lie down on the cold floor and not move for days. It’s comical in a twisted way that Tim had been just thinking longinly about the time in which he wasn’t alone, and, now that he has company, he wants nothing but to go back in time and hide inside the cupboard until Jason goes away. 

“What are you doing?” Tim croaks. 

“Washing my hands,” Jason says simply. He turns to Tim and waves at him to come closer.

It’s a testament to how miserable Tim feels that he does it without questioning. Jason arches an eyebrow at him and points at the counter where Tim had been sitting not long ago. Tim doesn’t move, even as Jason wipes his hands dry with paper towels and reaches for the hand sanitizer in Tim’s medical kit. 

“Jason,” Tim insists. “What are you doing?”

Jason sighs. “One of my guys told me this new vigilante, this Red Robin guy, took an ugly beating near the harbor while he took down one of Sionis’ turfs.”

“It wasn’t an ugly beating,” Tim mumbles.

“Wasn’t it?” Jason asks, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Was it easy to fight fifteen guys at the same time, Superman? Did it feel wise to bring a freaking staff to a knife fight?”

“I won!” Tim says. 

“Yeah, and which victorious mighty hero is bloody and purple all over?” Jason barks. “Sit your ass down, Replacement!”

Tim flinches and… freaking hell, his eyes are stinging again, which is the most absurd thing ever. 

Jason sighs one more time, but this time he sounds… Well, annoyed isn’t quite the right word. He does sound somewhat irritated, but there is something else in his tone. Discomfort? Embarrassment?

“That’s not… Ugh, I’m sorry, alright?”

Except that’s actually worse. 

Moments ago, Tim wanted nothing but to be seen. It was pathetic. He wasn’t even that hurt and tonight hadn’t been special. It was just the first time he went out for patrol since he moved into his new apartment. He didn’t stop Poison Ivy, didn’t get into a scuffle with Harvey Dent. He just put away a bunch of low level henchmen even if he miscalculated how many of them would be there. Such a small feat, but there was a part of him that wanted someone to acknowledge that. To see all the bruises and bloody scabs, to pat him on the back and tell him he was great for how hard he was working.

How childish. 

Now that there is someone and he seems to be fully aware of Tim’s misery - enough to apologize for speaking a little too loud - Tim only feels small and stupid. He should’ve hidden it better, he shouldn’t be in this sorry state at all. 

The last time he saw Jason, they made amends. Just returned to Gotham after his mishaps with the League of Shadows, Tim found him to let him know he was aware that Red Hood was active again. Jason had said - albeit not in so many words - he lamented trying to kill Tim one year ago. Tim had told him it was water under the bridge by now and they agreed to work around each other, even if Jason still didn’t meet Dick eye to eye after last year. Then Tim had promised himself he would become strong like that. Jason had been through hell and back so many times and he always bounced back on his own. Why couldn’t Tim?

Maybe that’s why it felt like rubbing salt to the injury when Tim glares at Jason, the boy he was supposed to replace, the man whose shoes were too big for Tim to fill, and Tim’s vision is blurry with tears and his voice is overflowing with frustration when he asks yet again:

“What are you doing here?”

Jason meets his gaze. His brown eyes show clear unease, but he doesn’t look away. His brow is furrowed as though this is painful to admit, but he finally says:

“I heard you were probably hurt like that,” Jason gestures at Tim’s bare torso. “I knew you weren’t going to the cave for aid, so I brought the aid to you.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because if it were me, I wouldn’t go there either,” he states simply.

Tim bites his lip. “You dealt with your wounds alone after you came back.”

“Yes,” Jason says. He gestures at the counter again. This time, Tim sits. “I know it sucks. You ever tried stitching your own back? It’s really fucking hard.”

Tim looks down and doesn’t say anything. Jason brings a damp cotton ball to Tim’s wounds and stats methodically cleaning them. Tim doesn’t flinch, even when it really stings. Even when he feels like shame and guilt are all going to drown him.

“How did you do it?” Tim finally asks.

“The back stitches? A mirror and one of those grabby claw things, whatever they’re called…”

Tim glares at him. 

“So serious,” Jason complains. Then, in a calm voice, “I did it the same way you were doing before I got here. If I didn’t I’d die. Guess I wanted to keep living. You’d be impressed with the things people do when they have no other option.”

“You’re incredible,” Tim admits quietly. “I’m not like you. I’m not strong or… I gotta do this alone. I don’t know how.”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying out loud all the things he struggled to keep hidden for so fucking long. Jason doesn’t seem surprised with the confession though. He keeps calmly checking Tim’s injuries. 

“Not strong, huh? Which one of us took fifteen guys in a fight and won?”

“You know what I mean, Jason.”

“Yeah.” Jason grabs the needle Tim picked earlier and checks it before starting to work. “I know. Except you don’t gotta do anything, Timbers. And I don’t mean the vigilante thing. Fuck, I know none of us can quit this fucking life. We’re in too deep. I meant you’re not supposed to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. That’s what fucked up the old man. That’s how you lose yourself.”

“What’s that?” Tim scoffs. “You sound like a shrink.”

Jason looks up and smirks. “Maybe I have a shrink.”

Tim frowns. “Who?”

“Guess.”

“Jason.”

He chuckles. “Okay, so… I know it seems crazy, but she found me and asked me to join my crew in exchange for taking off this explosive thing that Amanda Waller put in her. And she’s crazy competent, so…”

“No,” Tim interrupts him. “You did not let Harley Quinn join your crew.”

“Actually, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy,” Jason has a shit eating grin even as he finishes his stitch job. “They’re a package deal. Ivy showed up a couple of days after Harley and I couldn’t get her to leave so…”

“You’re working with Harley Quinn and letting her give you therapy sessions,” Tim says. “Am I on a parallel Earth? Have those guys killed me and I’m hallucinating?”

“A lot changes in a year, Timbers, you’ve been gone for a while,” Jason shrugs. “People change too.”

“Not that much!” Tim protests. 

“Is that so? Then how come you gave me, what now, three, four second chances?” Jason glares at him.

That catches Tim off guard. He takes a moment to realize what he’s talking about. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tim asks, genuinely confused.

“I came back, I tried to kill you. You let it go. I get arrested, you help me to break out. I thank you by losing it after seeing B’s clusterfuck of a testament. You come back like it was nothing and tell me you hope to do business in the future. And you think I’m insane for giving shelter to an abused lady?”

“I’m not saying you’re insane for helping her. I’m saying I wouldn’t trust her advice,” Tim corrects. “Besides I know what you’ve been through. I understand, even if the others don’t. You’re still a hero. Why wouldn’t I help you get back in the game?”

“Because I could hurt you again, you moron,” Jason frustratedly points out.

“You could also be helpful. I decided it was worth taking the chance,” Tim states.

“Yeah, you did,” Jason whispers, using the bandaging as an excuse to avoid Tim’s gaze. “You’re the best of us, Tim. I’m not letting you crash like I did so many times.”

Tim just stares, his lips parted in shock. 

That’s when he feels the dam breaking and tears finally start to stream freely down his cheeks. He sniffles and makes that horrible choked up sound of someone vainly trying not to cry. Jason keeps tending to his injuries even as Tim’s body shakes with barely contained sobs and Tim doesn’t know if he’s ignoring the meltdown out of mercy or because he simply doesn’t know how to deal with it. It’s probably both. 

By the time Jason finishes wrapping up Tim’s many scrapes and rubbing medicine on countless bruises, Tim has managed to contain his sobs and is gingerly trying to wipe his face and pretending he doesn’t feel like he almost drowned.

“Listen, I know it’s hard, Baby Bird,” Jason mutters, a tad awkwardly. “But I’m not going anywhere. It’s not just you against the world.”

“Then what, is it the two of us against it?” Tim tries to quip.

“Maybe,” Jason says. “You did a lot for me. It’s about time I start deserving it.”

“I didn’t do it because I wanted you to pay me back.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here, dumbass,” Jason takes a step back. “I’m done. Go get changed into a pair of sweatpants or something. I’m gonna introduce you to the wonders of 2am cereal.”

Tim lets out a chuckle. “I’ve eaten cereal at 2am before, Jason.”

“Not mine, you haven’t. Chop, chop, kid, we don’t have all night.”

Tim listens to him. 

He should know better, after all he had experienced new beginnings before. All of them inevitably lead to crashing and burning, some rather spectacularly too.

However… There are a few firsts here. This is the first time someone truly understands. This is the first time Tim doesn’t feel like he’s entering a challenge, that he has to earn his place as Robin, as Young Justice’s leader. He feels like his place had been earned, like there’s a small beacon of hope after a long struggle. 

Tim lets himself accept it.

[maybankiara]

NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN (I’LL CRAWL HOME TO HIM)

pairing: JJ Maybank x Pope Heyward

summary: JJ realises he’s immortal when he wakes up buried in a coffin. He’s got to make his way back to his friends - more than anyone else, back to Pope, whom he hasn’t admitted his feelings to. (Not like he admitted them to himself either, anyway).

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: gay angst with some immortality!! also, there’ll be no mention of claustrophobia, just jj trying to figure out how to get out. i have another mayward fic planned with immortal!jj but basically everything else is different. 

masterlist | tag list

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JJ wakes up in a coffin. He comes to the realisation when he makes an attempt to turn around, thinking he’s in the bed of the spare room at the Chateau he’d long ago claimed his own, only for his shoulder to bump into something hard.

 ‘Ow!’

 The sound of him hitting the wood and it feeling oddly…contained, for the lack of a better word, summons a series of flashing images.

 A gun in his hands. Topper Thornton dangling by his ankle from a tree, screaming bloody murder. John B shouting JJ’s name. Pope crying it out in pain, Kelce’s hands on his neck.

 A gun in Rafe’s hands. White thunder.

 ‘Fuck,’ he whispers. And then— ‘Holy shit, I’m immortal!’

 Laughter that falls from his lips is maniacal. He thinks of all the pranks he could do now – if there’s no death to fear, there is nothing to fear. Even if he doesn’t know the limits, JJ can only think of the endless possibilities of what he could do – what do you do when you aren’t afraid of anything?

 JJ’s hand slams against the top of the coffin and he does it again, on the verge of crying from excitement. His breathing is rapid and so is his heartbeat.

 ‘Take that, Rafe! Whoo!’

 He wants to tell the pogues. He wants to see the look on their faces—all the questions they’ll have—and he wants to see who’s missed him out of others, if anyone has. He has to ask Pope about the implications of his immortality and how it works – if his memory hadn’t suffered up when Rafe blew his head up and it still serves him right, Rafe did blow his head up. It was probably a closed casket.

 Huh.

 JJ’s fingers hesitate for a long second before touching his chin, half-expecting to find nothing but a mesh of whatever his body was made of. But they’re met with a firm, hard jawline, skin connecting it to his neck, and his lips, and keeping his blood and whatever—Pope would know better—where it’s supposed to be, inside.

 The blond lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It comes out in the form of a chuckle, airy and free.

 Pope would find this the most interesting. Does JJ have scars? He’d know how his body managed to heal, how his brain preserved.

 He begins to wonder about what effect this has on the rest of his life—afterlife?—when he hears a small voice, just like Pope’s.

 ‘Being buried alive is one of the worst ways to die,’ he told the pogues months ago, solving a past paper that someone who wants to be a coronary would take. ‘You’ve got five and a half hours’ worth of air, tops. You’ll suffocate before someone finds you, if they ever do, anyway. It’s not all bad, because the carbon dioxide you produce breathing eventually overtakes most of the air inside the coffin, and you fall into a coma. You die and you feel lightheaded, like you’re falling asleep.’

 You die like you’re falling asleep.

 JJ wonders if he’d wake up again. Probably. Does he have nine lives or an infinite number?

 He’d like to test that.

 But for now, if Pope’s right—and JJ is kind of hoping he isn’t—then he’s got about five hours to get to the surface. Even if he wakes up again, there’ll be no air for him to breathe, which essentially keeps him dead, until possibly thousands of years pass and someone accidentally opens his grave and he storms out like a zombie from another time like in that movie with—

 Focus.

 ‘Focus. Yeah, I gotta focus.’

 JJ nods to himself. He calms his breathing and starts to think about every possible way to get out of his situation. He’s not claustrophobic, which is surprising, but that might be because the fact that he vividly (kind of) remembers being shot in the head is kind of more dramatic than waking up in a casket six feet under.

 Four feet, he remembers – the earth on the Cut where they made the graveyard isn’t good for digging, or anything, really, so the graves are usually shallower than the standard six feet.

 He should be able to push through it – right?

 Right?

 JJ’s died and come back to life. If he can do that, then he can make his way out of here.

 For the next however long, JJ tries to remember every piece of information that would help. He knows from John B and when they worked at a construction site for some quick cash that when he opens the casket, all the dirt will fall into the hole he just made and fill it out.

 He knows from surfing that aerodynamic works best the flatter the object is, so if it applies to water, it probably applies to earth, too. When he opens the casket, he needs to shoot upright as straight as possible—doing something straight will be the biggest challenge, really—and let the dirt fall over him.

 It’s a game of seconds. He’s really got one shot at this.

 ‘If there’s a massive fuckin’ hole in the middle of a graveyard, someone will notice, right,’ he mutters to himself.

 It’s fine. It’s something.

 JJ presses his palms flat against the massive wood over him. The material is hard and stiff, but when he bangs against it, it moves a little. Enough for a few bits of the earth to fall in, on his chest.

 (Or so he thinks. It’s not like he can see.)

 He figures that his best bet is pushing it open like a door, then squeezing immediately as he keeps pushing it. The gravity of the earth falling should hurt him—he knows this isn’t going to be easy, or nice, or pleasant—but he should push through if he does the Superman pose, with his hand in the air.

 The thought makes him chuckle, and as his lips stretch, he tastes sweat in the corners. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and it leaves a wet mark, so he wipes that on his shorts.

 JJ sighs. ‘They buried me with the fuckin’ cargo shorts.’

 He hadn’t given much thought to how he’d be buried, but now he reckons his hair is a mess, his shirt is a basketball-style, holes big enough so that the sweat from his armpits soaks into whatever carpet they put at the bottom of the coffin.

 JJ stinks – like, badly. He remembers Pope said that corpses shit and pee themselves and fart and whatnot, but has no clue if he acted like a real corpse. Was he dead dead, or just kind-of comatose without a heartbeat?

 Shit, what if he’s been dead for a while? If his dead had been blown off then it must’ve taken ages to reconstruct.

 What if he comes back and the pogues have moved on, they have families and kids, and Pope’s gone off to university and—

 ‘Shut up,’ JJ whispers to himself. This pitch-black darkness is making him see things, and feel things he doesn’t want to.

 He’ll deal with that later. The only thing that matters right now is getting the fuck out of here.

 JJ doesn’t let his hand shake when he applies pressure to the wooden board above him. He does it slowly, and when it doesn’t budge, he knows slowly isn’t the way to do it.

 So JJ just thinks of Pope, John B, and Kie, and their faces on the HMS Pogue, and slams through the coffin. He slithers through the whole immediately, eyes and mouth closed and the same hand that opened the coffin is outstretched, high above his head, and he’s pushing with his legs instead of his back.

 He was right – the earth is heavy. He feels it crumbling around his chest, around his feet, around every inch of space he’s just created, but he keeps pushing.

 If he doesn’t push, he’ll stay like this—half buried—forever.

 The tip of his finger touches the air – then another, then all five. The fact that he’s so close gives him a surge of adrenaline, coursing through his veins, and he pushes through the weight of the earth even further, until his entire hand is above the ground.

 fuck yeah.

 Then an elbow. Then he slides his other hand across his torso, feeling the weight tug at the bones until the pain is so intense he thinks he might’ve broken it. His chest tightens—it’s been almost a minute—but he manages to get the other hand out, too.

 Just a little more.

 One more push.

 that’s what she said, he thinks.

 And pushes.

 Being out of the coffin after spending it in about an hour or so is like jumping from a tall cliff – thrilling, chill-inducing, and very much like breaking the water tension with your back instead of the head.

 He gasps like a fish out of water, still trapped from shoulders and below, but he breathes.

 JJ laughs, and then realises he’s also being soaked because it’s raining harder then he can remember, and figures it’s okay to open his eyes. It hurts, at first glance – the sky is shrouded in dark grey clouds and rain is absolutely pouring, but he sees that it’s day, not night, and he sees that the trees still look like late summer.

 ‘FUCK YEAH!’

 Thrilled to be alive, JJ lets himself have a moment to breathe. He sees he’s buried in one of the cheapest parts of the graveyard—which says much considering his dad must’ve been the one who paid for the funeral—and most of the other graves look terrible. He turns his head to the side, just enough to look at his own.

 J. MAYBANK. 2003 – 2020. BELOVED SON AND FRIEND.

 ‘Sons of bitches,’ he mutters. ‘It’s like it would’ve killed them to be fuckin’ creative for once.’

 His arms ache and his legs feel like they’re about to give in, but he’s got to get out. With a deep breath, he buries—ha!—his fingers as firmly into the ground as far as he can, and then tugs.

 He’s out a minute later, but he’s damn glad no one was around to hear him grunting like a little pussy.

 JJ shakes his limbs, getting some blood through them. He looks disgusting – dirt mixed with sweat means that it’s all sticking to him, and he doesn’t even want to know what his face must look like – even if it isn’t absolutely mangled. His hair is terrible probably, too, because the strands that aren’t sticking to his face seem mucky when he tries running his finger through it.

 i thought they made dead men look pretty.

 Then he tells himself not even dying and crawling out of a grave could make him look any less pretty, so he’s okay.

 ‘Ha,’ he muses to himself, ‘my pretty goes beyond the grave.’

 About ten minutes later, when his muscles feel as alive as he does, he begins his twenty-minute trek to the Chateau. He figures it’s his best bet – it’s next to the marsh, which isn’t too far from the graveyard, and JJ’s not going to get anywhere near the road if he’s taking the fastest route.

 So, looking like a dead man walking, he sets off for the Chateau.

 By the time he’s arrived, some of the dirt has washed off—he conveniently stood under a tree that was basically leaking water—and he guessed he didn’t look a lot different than anyone walking around under this kind of weather. There were no puddles for him to look at himself at, which was quite a shame, but he figured he’d just check himself out at a mirror in the Chateau.

 Now, JJ is just… He’s just standing in front of the backdoor to the place. The marsh is behind him and the house in the front, and this should be simple, except he’s got no clue what’s about to happen. Lights are on in the living room, that much he could see from the outside, but there was no guarantee it would be his friends.

 Panic started to eat him inside out – what if he walks in, unannounced, and it turns out he’s been dead for years and some completely random people live here, instead?

 Before he manages to chicken out, he opens the door. The door creaks—that’s a good sing, thinks JJ, John B was going to have it fixed by the end of the year—and promptly closes behind him. Old reggae coming from the living room is the only sound aside from water dripping off of JJ.

 fuck it.

 JJ makes his way to the living room. A lightning strikes somewhere nearby and, just as he rounds the corner, thunder follows.

 His friends are sitting on the floor, in the middle of the room.

 JJ grins. ‘Tell me, do I make Freddy Krueger look pretty?’

 In that very moment, three things happen. John B screams. Kiara knocks over the speaker. Pope faints.

 And as for thing four, that happens a moment later, JJ just sighs. ‘That bad, huh?’

—

‘…and that’s how I ended up here.’

 About two hours later, JJ’s finally finished his story. It took them quarter of an hour just to stop freaking out—Pope had been convinced he’d seen a ghost until Kiara and John B managed to explain to him he hadn’t—and even then, they weren’t ready to hear the story.

 They made him take a shower, first. Fair enough.

 John B went with him to get some towels and clean clothes, and Kiara stayed in the living room, getting Pope some water. Nobody spoke for a very, very long time.

 When JJ looked at himself in the mirror, he was both distraught and amazed. There was a scar running from cheek to cheek, over his nose, and well underneath his jaw, with skin inside this circle looking like it had been slightly burned years ago, with colour different to the rest of his face. JJ ran a finger over it – the texture was rough in some places, smoother in others.

 Somehow, he was convinced the scars would persist, but his skin would heal. He felt it in his bones – it rang as true as the fact that his heart was about to burst through his ribcage the moment he’d locked eyes with Pope.

 JJ took a shower, cleaned himself up. The clothes John B had brought him were his own, and he smelt them for a second – it felt like coming home.

 The Chateau had always been his home.

 When he returned to the living room, Pope looked a little better – they all did. JJ reassured them that he had, in fact, died and been buried. Pope went on to state in graphic detail how mangled his body—head more so than other parts—had been when they’d last seen him.

 JJ forgot Rafe had killed him in front of them.

 ‘Y’all must be scarred for life,’ he said as he took a seat on the floor of John B’s living room, and then grinned. ‘But not on the outside, like me.’

 They didn’t find it as funny as he did.

 So, with the aid of some water and pizza they had leftover from earlier, JJ told his story. There were a lot of interruptions—not as many from Pope as he would’ve thought, considering dead people are his expertise—but he managed to get it done.

 And now, he grins at them, arms spread over the couch behind him. ‘So, y’all impressed already?’

 The silence is pregnant. Kiara’s hands are folded in her lap as she leans her back against the couch, and John B mirrors her position, only on the wall. Pope, unlike the other three, is standing with his side against the doorway, biting his nails. (JJ is pretty convinced that’s a habit he picked up from him.)

 Kiara clears her throat. ‘JJ, you were gone for two months.’

 ‘What? No way, that’s— That’s impossible, Kie. It was just yesterday—’

 ‘We buried you,’ says John B, voice hoarse. ‘Mourned you. Had to learn how to live without you.’

  ‘But I’m back now! That’s great news, right?’

 ‘JJ, we’re fuckin’ happy you’re back.’ John B leans forward and pats him on the back, squeezing his shoulder. His smile is grim, but it’s there. ‘It’s just a little unbelievable. We watched you die. It’ll— It’ll take us some… time.’

 At the doorway, Pope is still staring at JJ as if he’ll disappear at any given moment.

 JJ’s neck stiffens, and he’s sure John B feels it, because his hand falls limp to the side. The blond mumbles something, incoherently enough that not even he knows what he said, then shakes his head. ‘I should probably get some rest.’ His eyes fall to his lap. ‘Apparently two months wasn’t enough.’

 His words seem to cut through the atmosphere in a way that alienates him from the rest of them – the uninterruptedly living.

 Nobody says anything, but JJ still rises to his feet. His hands pat his shirt and his shorts, as if they could do anything to smooth the creases. He glances at John B, whose eyes are fixed on him. ‘My room still empty?’

 ‘Nobody’s touched it since you…’ The brunet shakes his head, as if a thought needed to get out. ‘Might be a little dusty.’

 ‘You want me to fetch you anything?’ asks Kiara, voice wavering. ‘I can go to the Wreck—’

 ‘I’m good. Thanks.’

 JJ doesn’t linger around to see their reactions – if there are any, anyway. Last thing he sees is Pope, still leaning against that door frame, unmoving and stoic as ever.

 Like John B said, the bed needed to be dusted. JJ was done with that in a couple of minutes, and then he stripped into his underwear (what a waste of fresh clothing) and slipped under the covers.

 The weight of these past few hours crushed on him like a raging storm. It doesn’t matter that he crawled out of his grave to join them – they had two months to figure out a way to live without him. Two months is more than enough to move on, to accept the new reality.

 He knows because he’s been through it.

 Outside, the storm rages on, too. JJ thinks of John B, a little calmer and quieter now; Kiara, distant like she seemed at the beginning of her kook year; and Pope.

 Pope, who wouldn’t look him in the eye for longer than a second. Pope, who always had a smartass comment to chime in with, now pushing himself to the side and not participating.

 JJ sighs. His chest is heavy and his face is stinging a little, but the realisation is heavier than any physical pain – his friends managed to move on from him. Couple of hours for JJ meant a couple of months for the pogues. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe he gets to leave, now, when everybody thinks he’s dead.

 Some time later, JJ lies awake, still. The storm has dwindled to mere tapping on the window, but his mood hasn’t changed.

 Another kind of tapping him reaches him – full, against the wooden door separating him from the rest of his life.

 JJ gets out of his bed with a tired sway to his hips, legs dragging along the floor. He rubs his eyes before he opens the door and when he does, he leans against the door frame, blinking against the sudden light.

 ‘Hey,’ greets Pope.

 ‘Hey.’

 There’s hesitation reeking off the boy in front of him. His shoulders are slumped and JJ feels like he’s his height, even though Pope has always been taller.

 The blond scratched the itch underneath the left side of his jaw. ‘You want to come in?’

 Pope nods. JJ moves to the side and closes the door once they’re both in.

 Out of habit, JJ plops down onto the bed, face-first. He doesn’t even notice Pope hasn’t done the same until he shifts a little and realises there’s a silhouette positioned against the window, blocking the moonlight from entering the room.

 JJ drags himself to the edge of the bed, feet bare on the floor. His elbows are draped over his knees and he sees Pope a little better now – hands in his pockets and a frown on his face, lower lip with a quiver to it.

 ‘What’s up?’

 ‘You’re really here, right?’ Pope doesn’t miss a beat. ‘Alive?’

 JJ chuckles, but there isn’t much humour to it. ‘As far as I can tell.’

 ‘But we watched you die.’

 ‘I know. I can remember all of that.’

 ‘You shouldn’t be here. Alive.’

 ‘I know,’ JJ says. ‘But I am. What are you going to do about it?’

 The hesitation that comes off of Pope is different this time. It’s fleeting—ephemeral—and JJ only gets a moment’s worth of looking into his eyes when there’s hands on his cheeks, and warm lips smashing against his own.

 All he hears is the rain tapping on the window, or the beating of his own heart. The warmth of Pope’s lips on his, or the cold of the storm.

 The touch disappears, and JJ thinks he’s about to wake up in hell, and this was just a way to torture him – to give him something he’s yearned for and take it away like it was nothing.

 open your eyes, boy. we ain’t finished.

 His dad’s voice is like electricity and JJ opens his eyes, terrified.

 Except it’s just Pope staring at him, looking just as distraught as he feels. JJ isn’t in hell. He’s in John B’s room, and while it might stink like hell, it isn’t it.

 The storm is still quiet and gentle, but JJ doesn’t even notice it so much. Not after—

 ‘I thought I’d missed my chance,’ Pope says, weakly. ‘I just needed— I couldn’t—’

 JJ shifts the weight to his feet and his hands find Pope’s neck like they belong there (because they do). He holds him—gentle, cautious, fragile—and shakes his head, at loss for words.

 He wants to say ‘me too, Pope,’ except it’s not good enough. Except it doesn’t encapsulate what it feels like to die thinking the man you love never loves you back, or at least you’ll never find out, only to wake up, alive, and find out that your feelings have been reciprocated all along.

 To crawl out of a grave for him.

 JJ kisses him with the very same ferocity, with more hunger to it. JJ’s felt death—he’s felt the unknowable—and he won’t let another moment pass without doing the things he’d been afraid to do.

 By the time they part, both boys are catching their breath, not even an inch apart. JJ’s hands are firm on Pope’s neck, thumbs tracing the lines of his jaw, while Pope’s hands grip the blond’s shirt at his sides.

 JJ wants to say something, anything.

 Pope is faster. ‘I thought I’d never get to do this.’

 All JJ can do is nod; no words could ever be enough.

 The shaky breath that falls from Pope’s lips only moments later is different from the boy who was leaning against the door frame earlier – more like the Pope JJ knew.

 fell in love with.

 It’s a little bit cynical, and a little bit guarded, but nevertheless free and innocent like JJ always knew him to be. But he takes creates some distance between the two, and JJ’s hands drop to his sides.

 Pope’s smile isn’t what JJ thought it would be. It doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘You’re leaving.’

 He should’ve known Pope would realise it. He just wondered what gave him away. ‘I don’t know.’

 ‘Don’t lie to me, JJ. Not after we just—’ Pope cuts himself off. He clears his throat, resting the back of his head against the window.

 Breathless, JJ sits down on the bed, same position as earlier – as if his entire life hadn’t just been rocked from one side to the other. ‘I’m dead, Pope. You buried me. That’s what John B said. I get to— I get to do whatever I want. Go whatever I want. I’m… I’m free, Pope.’

 The moon peeks through the clouds, bright enough to bask Pope’s silhouette in silver. JJ thinks of how much the boy resembles an angel – how he felt like one when he’d kissed him, granting him a wish he’d never dared to voice.

 ‘You could stay,’ suggests a small voice. ‘Be our own little ghost.’

 JJ lets out a full laugh. ‘Is that what I am now?’

 Pope’s smile becomes a little clearer as the moon gets back behind the clouds, and JJ wishes he could see his eyes clearly, too. ‘I can’t lose you again.’

 He knows he should leave. They both know, Pope more so than anyone. JJ’s dead—legally—meaning that he can’t be seen around town without raising more than a couple of eyebrows. He can’t live on his own. He can’t—

 He’s free from his dad, from obligations, but if he stays, he becomes enslaved to his own death.

 But if he stays…

 i lost you once already, pope. i can’t do it again, either.

 He sighs and, unaware JJ’s already made his choice, Pope drops on the bed next to him, hand holding the blond’s. ‘Just for a year. Not even that long. Then I’ll be off to university, where no one knows any of us, and— And we can get a fresh start. Together.’

 Careful, JJ cups the boy’s cheek. He can see his eyes now, as the moon shines on them like no other person has been worthy of its light – they’re not sad, or hopeful, but they are fretting.

 JJ kisses his cheek, before turning his head slightly to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

 He could never think of giving up on this. Not when he’d died to get it.

 So he echoes, ‘Together.’

  ★

tagging. @the-pogues @ronnieweasley @outerbankslut @drewstarkey @jjmaybanky @sacredto @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @outrbank @drewstarkeyobx @ilovejjmaybank @teamnick @jjmaybanksbaby @mahleeyuh @nicolewithasoul @starlightstarkey @stargazingstarkey @anonymous0writer @outerbongs @jjandreidsgirl @kaitieskidmore1 @maybanksbaby @obx-direction-sos @stfukie @abbiesthings @tempestuousjj @solllaris @ijustgotnothingbetter2do @rafej-cambanks

[shanastoryteller]

Trick or Treat Shana!!!! Could you maybe do something Naruto related? I love how you spin the show

Naruto insists that theywere the best of friends from the beginning, inseparable from the moment thathe knocked her over while running from an irate shop keeper at the age of five.

Sakura rolls her eyes andinsists that it was only once they started the academy at the age of seven thatthey became real friends.

It doesn’t make much ofdifference about which one of them is right. The end result is the same.

~

Sakura doesn’t really have a crush on Sasuke. For one,she’s used to loud and bright and cheerful, and his stoic angst just gives hera headache. For another, Sasuke thinks Naruto is an idiot, which he kind of is,but he’s her idiot, so. That being said, competing for his attention with Inois usually a lot of fun, and there’s a thrill of triumph at her shrill cry ofdespair at Sakura being put on Sasuke’s team instead of her. Unfortunately,it’s pretty much immediately overwhelmed with the knowledge that she’s been puton a team with her best friend and a silent, stubborn jerk.

She meets Naruto’s gazeacross the room, and he shrugs in ‘what can you do’ gesture. Sakura sighs,because in her ideal world she’d have been put on a team with Ino and Naruto –even Kiba would have been okay – but training with Sasuke is going to be such apain.

“Troublesome,” shemutters. Shikamaru (who is well aware of her true feelings and always has been)laughs.

~

On top of the roof,staring at their new sensei and trying not to snort at the bit of chalk duststill in his hair, Naruto looks at Sasuke out of the corner of his eye. Handsshoved in his pockets and shoulder’s hunched, he just looks kind of …. lonely. Naruto’s pressed up next to Sakura from shoulder to hip, but it’s kind of justoccurring to him that he’s never actually seen Sasuke touch anybody before,unless it was sparring.

He’s knocked out of histhought process by Sakura elbowing him in the ribs. “Hey!” he rubs his side,but doesn’t move away from her. “What was that for?”

“Sensei’s talking toyou,” she says, glaring, but he’s known her way too long not to notice thespark of amusement hidden in her eyes.

“Oh, right. What?” heblinks.

Kakashi’s eye is stillclosed and it looks like he’s grinning under the mask, but Naruto is verycertain he’s irritated. It’s what Naruto does best after all. “I said, you gofirst.”

“Go first for what?” he asks. Sakura coughs to hide a laugh. He knocks their shins together.

“Name, likes, dislikes,dreams …” Kakashi repeats.

Naruto thinks if helistened carefully he could hear the man gritting his teeth. “Oh. I’m NarutoUzumaki! I like Sakura, and training, and ramen, and Iruka-sensei! Idislike….uh,” he scratches his head, eyes squinting. He’s probably laying in ona little thick, but Sakura is nearly turning red to keep from laughing so it’sworth it. “I dislike the four minutes it takes ramen to cook, and the Councilbecause they give Jiji headaches. I’m going to be Hokage!” He ended thisdeclaration with throwing both hands up in victory signs.

Kakashi blinks. “…Right.Pinky, you next.”

“Okay!” Sakura chirps andflutters her eyes at him, and now it’s Naruto’s turn to keep from laughing.“I’m Sakura Haruno. I like Naruto, cooking, and reading.” Naruto shoots her awounded look, and she rolls her eyes. “Training is fun too, I guess. I dislikepeople who are mean to my friends. My dream is to be a top class kunoichi, andprove that ninjas from civilian backgrounds can be just as good!”

“Yatta!” Naruto andSakura high five.

Kakashi is blinkingprobably more than he needs to. If he’s thrown off by them now, Naruto isseriously looking forward to working with him, even if he’s late always. “Okay.Your turn,” he jerks his chin towards Sasuke. Both Naruto and Sakura turn tolook at the last Uchiha in interest, because as far as they’re aware Sasule’sonly hobbies are training and being a bastard.

The kid grunts andstraightens part way from his crouch, “Sasuke Uchiha. I like getting stronger.I dislike being weak. My dream is to rebuild my clan and avenge their deaths.”

Sakura slumps so most ofher weight is on Naruto. He pats her shoulder, and they don’t have to look ateach other to know they’re both having the same thought:

We’re doomed.

~

Kakashi is, if he’s beinghonest with himself, intrigued by this group of genin. They’d all hidden whenhe’s said the test was about to begin, but Sasuke’s off on his own while Narutoand Sakura have hidden themselves up the top of one of trees at the edgeof the clearing. With a little bit of chakra, it’s easy enough to pick up theirconversation.

“-Academy! This isinsane!” That’s Naruto, far too loud for someone supposedly hiding.

Sakura responds, tornbetween frustrated and whining, “I know! A genin against a jounin –“

“Oh not just any jounin.Copy-Nin Kakashi, he’s S-Ranked in the Bingo Book. He’s also Ex-Anbu.”

Kakashi blinks, becauseno one below Chunnin should have access to a Bingo Book, and anyways how the fuck does Naruto know he used to be anANBU?

“Naruto, how the hell do you know that?”

“Who used to babysit me?”Naruto returns. Kakashi isn’t even seeing the words in his book anymore,because Naruto wasn’t actually supposed to know he was being watched by Anbu.And if, as an organization, they’d been beat by a kid, he was turning in hisheadband.

“Huh,” Sakura says, “Anytips?”

“He smells like dogs and,unlike most of ANBU, almost never like blood,” Naruto offers, dry.

Sakura groans, whileKakashi mentally puts down training with the Inuzuka for Naruto whether theypass or not based on his sense of smell alone. “So he’s either really, reallyinsanely good, or watching you wasn’t healing time.”

“Watching me was alwayshealing time,” Naruto says immediately, and for being a supposed dead lastNaruto is proving himself to be an annoyingly perceptive little kid. “Why elsewould they waste Anbu on me? It was a mission, but a mission with like, zerorisk. And Kakashi-sensei is really,really insanely good, so there’s no way they’d waste him on me if he couldperform other missions. “

“Unless there’s apersonal tie between you,” Sakura says, and hoo boy, wow, what a smart littlekiunoichi in training she is. He’s going to destroy her.

“You know,” he sayscheerfully, shiriwaming to right next to them, “You two should be more quiet ifyou’re trying to hide your position.”

“AAAHHH!” Naruto screams,and then falls out of the tree. Sakura follows Naruto down, more controlledin her decent, but they both hit the ground softly, rolling to their feet andrunning across the field without breaking momentum. He throws a katon jutsoafter them, and the fireball goes wide, but Naruto still yelps and ducks.Kakashi leans against the branch, and hopes it will have the effect of drawingSasuke out as well.

Kakashi leaves a clonelazily reading Icha Icha in the tree, and goes to trail the genin. He findsthem in another clearing, this time with a low level notice-me-not jutsu aroundthem. Of course, it’s only effective if the person doesn’t know who they’relooking for, but it’s a nice try.

“We need a plan,” Sakurais saying, “We can’t just hide from him, we’ll never get the bells from himthis way.”

“We can’t get the bellsfrom him at all,” Naruto sighs, “He’s a jounin,”

“Theoretically, a fewgenin can take out a jounin.”

“Yeah, maybe, but certainly not alone. Andwe’re awesome Sakura, we’re great, but –“

“We’re no match forKakashi-sensei,” Sakura agrees, slumping.

Naruto huffs and thensquints, looking eerily close to where Kakashi is hiding. He crosses his arms,“I could just send a couple hundred shadow clones at him to wear him down?”Kakashi really hopes Naruto’s exaggerating, but he read Iruka Imuno’s report,so he knows he isn’t.

“You know, we could ask Sasuke for help,” Sakura says.

Kakashi blinks. This ispromising.

Naruto snorts, “Oh, yeah,like he’ll go for that. You heard him, he’s all avenging lone wolf.”

Sakura grumbles, “We’lljust beat him up until he agrees.”

“I don’t want to waste mychakra beating sense into Sasuke. That could exhaust even my reserves.”

“Naruto, you justsuggested making a few hundred shadow clones. I’ve literally seen you expelchakra from your hands for hoursbecause the shimmering was more amusing than Iruka-Sensei’s lecture. Yourchakra reserves are never a cause for concern. Your chakra control on the other hand –“

“Oh, shut up,” he shovesher, but they’re both smiling. A sudden scream of thwarted rage echoes acrossthe clearing, and Kakashi blinks as his clone is dispelled and he gets thememories of Sasuke leading him into a trap that he never would have fallen for, but his shadow clone apparently didso cheerfully and waved at Sasuke as he was expelled.

Both Naruto and Sakuraare looking towards the sound of the scream. “Well,” Naruto sighs, “at least we know where he is.” He stands, holding out a hand to pull Sakura to her feet.“If he tries to kill us on sight, I’m blaming you,” he says, already dartingaway.

“If he succeeds, I’mblaming you,” Sakura counters.

Kakashi silently followsthem. Even if Sasuke flat out rejects them, he still might pass them. Narutoand Sakura clearly understand the value of teamwork, and clearly not just witheach other. That’s valuable, especially in ninja so young.

[hollyhomburg]

..... This isn't fair like reading the miscarriage warning then reading about how happy everyone is that the reader is pregnant how dare u play with my emotions like this

I’m sorry but like- bruh, it’s about to get worse- major angst coming in this ask, like all the triggers- but also I’m not going to go into a lot of detail because of how heavy these topics are. this is also the end of like- my prewritten content for this. trigger warning: mentions of miscarriage, injury, rape, and depictions of PTSD. 

So anyway, after yoongi comes home injured, Jungkook leaves to take his place and control of the armies- he’s the only one who Yoongi trusts in his Infirm state. but the war is almost over and the other army is scattered without their commander. namjoon sends back a few messages that allude to the fact that the expected peace talks to come in the next few weeks. Hoseok too- sends back word that planting should resume once the weather allows. but in the north- as winter resumes it’s trudge. the city seems lighter, almost relaxed.

they shouldn’t have relaxed.

I don’t want to go too gory- but basically one night an elite group of assassins from the other side sneaks in and steals the reader in retaliation for killing their youngest alpha. They don’t get far, and they don’t end up being able to take Seokjin only because he manages to sound the alarm. 

they take her on the run and even though they only have her for an evening they do enough damage. they might not have physically taken you but. that night, something is lost. 

By the time Yoongi manages to track them down, she’s already been raped and her inner omega is so traumatized by it that she loses the baby. Yoongi goes absolutely feral- not even shifting before he rips out the assassins throats with his teeth and tearing him to shreds. all the while you’re just- staring into space, body small and cold in the snow with not even enough energy to sit up after having fought for so long, and though yoongi carries you back as quickly as his injuries will allow- it’s already too late.

when Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jungkook find out what’s happened, they nearly completely abandon the war effort. Jungkook is emboldened and hardened by the loss, and wipes out their forces with ruthless efficiency, taking back the pack lands within a few days. He doesn't stop killing until namjoon goes onto the battlefield to take him off of it- and tell him they’re going home- where they’re really needed now. 

Namjoon has the other alphas from the pack put to death for hurting his family,  they ride home and leave the army behind them to catch up, riding as quick as they can. When they finally get into the palace walls Jungkook runs to find you, finally finding you in the garden, crying in relief that you’re not in a bed somewhere dying like the message had made it seem, sitting at one of the tables with untouched tea and lunch in front of you- he shouts your name- breaks out into a sprint, the first smile on his face in weeks- because if you’re alive and healthy he can fix it- he knows he can- he can do anything with you and the pack by his side- and a few strides away from you he’s intercepted by Taehyung who is quick to grab him around the middle.

They argue- Jungkook yells and thrashes, so close but so far from where you sit, but quiets when you turn to look at him. your eyes- you don’t look like you’re really hearing it- really seeing it. really there at all. you only look at him for a moment before you’re closing your eyes and leaning back in the chair again, your body barely anything other than limp where you lean, like you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself up if it weren’t for the chair.  

You might have lived through what happened, but you’re a ghost of who you once where. You don’t speak- to anyone really, not anymore- you barely even nod or shake your head on a good day. The first few weeks are tense and sad- with you barely eating and the others scrambling to keep the kingdom afloat while dealing with the loss. 

Seokjin is your constant shadow, always making sure that the few chosen omega staff are treating you with the utmost gentleness and keeping the alpha guards away from you, never farther in than the wall that encircles the garden and the palace. it seems to make you shake and hyperventilate to have any alpha but the members of your own pack close- and even that's somewhat of a stretch- you’re still unable to handle most affection from them the majority of the time. The only ones you let even touch you are Seokjin and Taehyung. Namjoon tries once, but you don’t respond, nothing beyond your trembling when he tries to touch your hand. 

here are moments when they see whatever blockage stays in your mind to block you from the trauma of that night, moments when you start to shake and it won't stop when your eyes turn lucid and clear and you start to sob, and then the next moment, you’re as placid as a lake and twice as calm. it happens around Jungkook once, and one moment he’s cupping your cheeks in his hands and the next you’re pushing him away so hard, scrambling back to get as far away from him as possible. Taehyung putting himself between the both of you hands out, voice low and soothing, “it’s okay, Jungkook didn’t mean it,” 

yoongi- yoongi is a worse story entirely, he’s still healing but it’s going badly. the night he tracked you down he reaggravated his broken leg and did permanent damage too it. he’ll likely never walk without a limp again. You refuse to see yoongi, and will actually stand and walk away if he tries to talk to you- which in the first few days is as dangerous to you as it is for him. 

The others try to talk to him about what happened, but beyond the details of the killing, he dosent want to- he dosent want to tell them how the midwife had tried to help you through the night, how much blood there had been in the snow and on yoongi- how much of your blood had been on his hands, how damaged you’d been, how you’d cried and cried into Seokjin’s chest until the doctor had given you a mild sedative so that you’d sleep and stop panicking, the blood vessels in your eyes burst from the strength of your sobs. how after it, you’d woken up and been like this. 

Seokjin tells them eventually, standing by the door, putting his body in between them and where you sleep. later, he’ll go to you too and curl up around you and hold you when you jolt awake, keeping you tethered. he needs to be strong for you now- he needs to take care of you as the lead omega, it’s his responsibility- you’d endured the worst pain an omega could endure. 

Seokjin thinks it should have been him who was taken, he was the one who’d had the more of a connection to the old royal family- then at least- you wouldn’t have lost the pup.  

“What do you want me to tell you!?” Yoongi yells, his handbook slipping off the side of his shoulder, showing the bandages wrapping his chest. he knows he shouldn’t yell- he could end up coughing up blood but he can’t keep it in any longer, can’t be quiet even though you’re asleep in the other room. he’d watched around the corner as Seokjin had helped you, he knows- you’d have stayed up looking at the falling snow in the garden all night if no one had gone to get you if Seokjin hadn’t helped you with a soft hand on your arm, Taehyung not far away, ready to rush forward with your nightclothes when Seokjin finally gets you to accept his help and stop pushing his hands away. 

“Do you want me to tell you that I wasn’t fast enough, that I let her be taken- that I let her be hurt while i was here? that I’m a shit alpha and I wish I never was one to begin with- do you want me to tell you it was all my fault? because it was. Hoseok- it’s my fault, it’s all my fucking fault that our baby is dead and she’s” he breaks off, sobbing when he thinks of you, oh you, his sweetest love, sweeter than the cherry blossoms and twice as beautiful, and now- he’d failed, failed to protect you from the world.

“You want someone to scream and yell at and hurt- you should hurt me because I’m the one to blame for all of this”  Hoseok pulls yoongi close, leaning in close to scent him, Hoseok’s throat wet with Yoongi’s tears, they hold onto each other sobbing. Hoseok’s hands tightening in Yoongi’s back after a moment, “Hyung, you need to sit, you’ve been standing for too long come here-” 

That night, they end up talking it out, they’d have you here for it but mostly- they need to discuss you. They don’t know how to help you so they’ll settle now- for keeping you alive and safe. Seokjin ends up crying into Jungkook’s shoulder, Taehyung rubbing circles onto his back. Namjoon’s had tightens so much around his tea that the cup shatters, his hand turning into the clawed form of his wolf before he reigns in his temper. for there is no one left to kill to sate his anger, no one left to be mad at except himself. and he won’t blame yoongi- no matter what the alpha says. it’s not his fault. 

(I wish i was never an alpha to begin with, is what yoongi said that night. and the moon who looks over all of you hears that and remembers it for a later date. in the next life, she’ll be sure to make yoongi more gentle, the life of an alpha might be too much for him, his soul so soft around the edges) 

(this is 1.5k so I'm gonna leave this here~) 

[animekath]

You’ll Be Okay

Milo X Reader

Hey guys, Kat here!

This little story is for @danish-fay, Who’s going through some tough things at the moment - So they requested Milo, being the little cutie that he is, to comfort the reader!

The thing we agreed on was that Milo doesn’t get enough love, which is bull, because he is the most precious cinnamon-roll in Pokemon and you can’t change my mind!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story! Sorry for spelling and grammar!

Words: 2428

Warning: Mentions of surgery, bit of anxiety, comfort, loving, SO MUCH FLUFF, Cuddling, eating out, Big D, light dirty talk, creampie, Pokemon puns because I CAN!

Enjoy!

Panic ran through you as your eyes bored into the coffee table, while your finger tapped onto the cup you were holding, seeming to be in your own little world.

You had to have surgery in a few days, worry and anxiety filled your body since it was something you’ve never had before. What if something goes wrong? What if it was permanent? You don’t know what’ll happen! You tried to calm yourself, but when you thought about having surgery, it all came flooding back. You were scared to go through it, but you have to, you-

“Honey?”

You snapped out of your daze and looked up to your boyfriend, his green eyes looking over you with worry. Your boyfriend, Milo, has not left your side since you told him the news. He saw the concern in your eyes; he saw your hands shake a little and even the tremble in your voice - even if it was for a second. He always comforts you, loved you, pulling you into tight embraces to calm you. You sometimes think you didn’t deserve this wonderful man. The only time he left your side was for his Pokemon battles, but after, he’ll return to you. You always watched his fights; they made you forget to what's to come and just cheer on Milo, so he knew you were with him.

“Ah, sorry. Just in my own world. Nothing to worry..!” You gave him a weak smile, Milo seeing right through you.

“I sadly do worry, My love.” For such a large and strong man, he had a heart of gold. “You’ve been in a daze these past few days. I know it’s hard, but I want to make you smile for every second of every day.” You were silent, but starting going teary-eyed, making the massive man panic. “Wait, wait, wait! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry...!”

“I-It’s okay; they’re not sad tears.” You sniffed, rubbing your eyes to wipe the tears away. “You are amazing, Milo. You have so much on your plate, and I-I feel like I’m just making it worse.” You said, your eyes drifted to the side. “You’ve never left my side, you’ve practically made me live in your house, and whenever you’re free - You’ve been with me...” You felt like a nuisance to your boyfriend. You were happy to have the support and comfort, but Milo was busy enough with his work, training and even farming. You also felt terrible he hasn’t seen much of his friends recently.

“_____...” His large pleasant hand grabbed your shoulder, pulling you into his body to hold you close, now sitting on his lap. “You could never bother me because you aren’t a bother. I’ve been so happy you agreed to sleep over my place for a few weeks while this is happening, it kind of seems like we’re living together.” He chuckled, the peach haired boy didn’t notice your blush because you were hiding it in his chest.

“I want to say I understand what you’re going through, but I sadly don’t. But I want to comfort you so much and ease your nerves. Deep down, I am nervous too...But, Honey.” He pulled away to cup your cheek, getting a good look on your face, seeing Milo giving you a comforting smile. “It’ll all be okay. You are so strong and brave, much braver than me. I’ll be beside you every step of the way...I will hold your hand and never let go. Because...I love you so much. I do all of this because you mean the world to me and the only thing I want is for you to be happy.”

Milo’s words were simple, but they struck you hard. 

Milo noticed your eyes water again, making him pull you into his chest so you can sob your heart out. “I-I love you too...” You gripped onto his shirt, his hand gently rubbing your back, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

“Just let it out, Honey. I’m not going anywhere...After all...I Choose you..!”

You couldn’t help but snort in his shirt, letting out a small giggle. “Y-You are so cheesy, Milo.” 

He couldn’t help but smile by your giggles. You looked up to give him a quick peck on the lips, Milo letting out a hiss. “Oh! You've got the lips of a Jynx; I’m going to faint...!”

“Stoooop...!” You laughed.

“I think I'm going to need a Burn Heal because you're hot..!”

“I swear to Arceus, you better stop..!”

~~~

That day, the sun came out, and the stars lit out the sky.

You slipped into Milo’s bed, wearing nothing but his T-shirt - you could practically make a tent out of his shirt. You curled up, waiting for Milo to put the Wooloos’ in the barn so no Nickits’ will be roaming about for meat.

You soon heard the door open and clothing being on the floor, heavy footsteps walking over to the bed and felt a dip behind you. Milo wrapped his strong arms around your waist, humming with relief to have you in his arms once again. “I love this time of day. I get to cuddle with the best girl in the world.”

“Is that so? What did you cuddle up to before you met me?” You asked, smiling as your hand placed over his large one.

“Well, ur...Wooloo’s are very comfy..?” He replied sheepishly, a giggle leaving your lips.

You did love this time with Milo too. His excellent form surrounded your body, feeling comfy and protective - including his muscular arms were gently around your form. “Mm...You’re like my personal safety blanket.”

“Oh, yeah? I’m glad..!” He smiled, running soft kisses along your neck. “You’re like my own Teddiursa, So soft and cuddly. I could do this all day.” He hummed with a smile. You turned your body to look up at you, his bright green eyes looking down at him, them two orbs could lit up a city. You placed a hand on his chest, giving him a sweet kiss, your boyfriend happily returning it.

Milo was always happy to give you love and affection anytime and anywhere; he didn’t mind kissing you in front of people, liking how flustered you got.

“Mm...” You continued to kiss him, only small ones, but it soon turned deep and passionate. You shifted your positions, Milo’s king-size form was towering over your body, his hand rubbing your hip to ease you. Milo always took his time; he never liked rushing things. “Mm...From the way you’re holding onto me, it seems like you’re hinting more than just cuddling?” He smiled down at you as he cupped your cheek, having a glint in his eyes which implied something else to you.

“Maybe...”

He chuckled, his hand running down to your thigh. “Well...Let me see if I can relax you, Honey.” He said, leaning down to kiss you again, this time your tongues dancing along with each other. He took his time; his hands were running along your body, leaving light kisses on your skin and slowly removing your clothes until you were bare in front of him. “Damn...I can’t get enough of your body. It’s so perfect for me.” He hummed as he parted your legs, smiling down at your flustered form. “Don’t get shy on me now, Honey. We have done this before, right?” He chuckled, leaning his head down to place soft kisses on your inner-thigh. “I got you...No need for worries.”

“M-Milo...” You breathed out, running your fingers through his soft locks. “Mn-!” Your breath hitched when his tongue ran along your slit, running outside and inside of your folds. “O-Oh...” You bit your bottom lip, feeling his hands holding your Thighs apart as he continued to eat you out. Fuck, his tongue...His tongue did wonders to you. Milo always cared about your pleasures first, putting his excitement to the side. His eyes flicked up at you as his tongue continued to lick, letting it go up to your sensitive clit. “M-Milo...” It looked like he was enjoying himself, his eyes half-lidded and having a bit of red dusted across his cheeks. Fuck, he was so adorable. “Mm..!” You bucked your hips into his face, burying your pussy against his mouth which he happily accepted.

“Mm...Honey...You taste-Mm...So good.” He muffled against you, taking short breaths through his nose. “Like strawberry...Cheesecake.” He groaned. “I can’t get enough...” He buried his face between your legs again, his tongue slipping inside you, now at the juicy centre. How can he get enough of you? Milo loved every whimper, moan and word that escaped your lips. It drives him wild when you gripped his hair to keep him in place. Fuck, it made him throb in his boxers.

“M-Milo...I need...” You gasped, your free hand gripping the bed-sheets. “I-I need you, please. I want Y-You to fill me..!”

It took all of his strength to pull away from your sweet honey, wiping his mouth clean as he looked down at you. “Is that so? Well, I can’t keep my girlfriend waiting.” He smiled. He went between your legs, watching him slide down his boxers to show the monster he was holding back. Fuck, Milo’s size always made you exhilarated, nearly drooling by the sight. “Heh, I always that look in your eyes; it never gets old.” He chuckled, his hand guiding himself against your lower puffy lips. “Are you ready, Honey? Mm...I’ll go slow at first.”

“Y-Yes, oh Arceus, yes...!” You begged, bucking your hips to get him inside. You couldn’t wait anymore! “Mm-!” You bit your lip, feeling his tip slide inside your pussy before his whole shaft started to go in, your walls already pulsing around him. “S-So big...Nhh...So deep.” You gripped onto his muscular arms, whining when he was all the way inside, feeling like you’ll be split in two. “Milo...!”

“Oh, Honey...My love...Hah-you always feels so good.” His breath hitched, giving you a reassuring smile, but his eyes were filled with pure lust. “I love you, _____. I really do...I-I’m here for you.” He tangled your fingers together with one hand, his other one on your waist as he started to move. It was slow at first, feeling every inch and pulse inside you. Holy crap, He was everything to you!

“I-I love you too, Milo...Please...I need you.” You moaned out, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Mm...Milo...” He moved his head to kiss you, moaning in each other's mouths while he continued, his nails softly digging into your hip. You were the world to Milo - He loved and cared for you so much, he’ll do anything to make you happy. Heck, even if it were eating you out every day, he would do it. “Mm...I-I love when you hold me like this.”

“Nnh...I do too. I love looking into your eyes.” He muttered, resting his forehead against yours. His thrusts were starting to increase a bit, heating up when you heard the squelch sounds between you, feeling his heavy balls slapping against your ass. “Goodness...Nnh-Honey. So tight...” He slicked his hair back, giving you a crooked smile. “Do you love it, Honey? my C-Cock being so deep inside you..?”

“D-Don’t sound so lewd...You know what it D-Does to me...Mm-” You bit your lip, bucking into him to get his cock in deeper if it could. Milo never swore in front of people, but when he did it in bed with you, you felt yourself getting soaked by his naughty words. “Milo, please...I-I need it faster...Harder..!”

“Heh, okay...But tell me to stop if it’s too much.” Milo purred. Now his thrusting became harder and deeper, making you see white for a few second. You felt his tip slamming into your womb; your moans turned into cries. “Oh, Honey...! That’s it...Let it all out for me. I love hearing you scream for me.” He breathed out; his panting started to increase, his eyes never leaving your face. You looked like a goddess to Milo. “I love you, _____...!”

“Nnh! M-Milo! It’s so good!” You cried out, your hand gripping his own, your nails digging into his knuckles. “So deep! Aaah, fuck!” You gasped. Fuck, fuck - any more, and you’ll come undone. “I love you, I-I love you! F-Fuck me!”

“Hah...You’re squeezing on me-Mmm...” He buried his face into your neck, wanting your bodies pressed together. “You close, Honey? Please, please, come for me. I want to feel you...!” Milo’s hand ran down between you; your body jolts up when his thumb rubbed your clit. “Oh yes, Honey-Nnh! I’m going to come...”

Both of you were panting, moaning out in the bedroom. But something you said made him see stars. “C-Come inside me! Get me pregnant..!” Milo had hearts in his eyes when you said that, now giving hard, deep thrusts until you came. “Ahhh! M-Milo!!!”“_____!” Milo cried out. He finally hit his end, his cock buried in deep as he filled you up with hot, thick cum, the feeling made your body to the very core. “Ngh! Honey..!” He held your body close, swallowing in deep breaths.

“Milo...” You rested your head back on the bed, the room filled with heated pants, feeling his sweat mixing with yours. “Y-You...Mm...”

“That was rude, Honey...” He slicked back his damp hair, giving you a childish pout. “D-Don’t say stuff like that. You know what it does to me...” You let a shaken chuckle, pulling him into a tight hug again, playing with his hair. “Mmm...You feel so good, though...I love when you pull me in. Makes me feel so special.”

“You are special, Milo. I love my big boyfriend.” You giggled.

He pulled his cock out slowly, both of you get comfortable in bed - Now your turn to rest on him. “How are you feeling?” He asked, his hand rubbing up and down your back.

“Mmm...Much better. I’m too lazy to shower now.” You sigh, hearing your boy chuckle.

“That’s fine. Tomorrow, I’ll cook up breakfast while you shower. I’ll make you pancakes with strawberries and cream...Maybe some sweet honey on top, but I already have you for that.” He grinned, feeling your hand bump his chest. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“I know...Silly man.” You said, Milo pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“You’ll be okay, Honey...”

THE END!

[monchikyun]

XIV. only human

It's not his fault. Gavin repeats that lie in his head like it’s some twisted mantra. He does it until the words merge together and lose all meaning.

 It's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my fault. 

Except it is. He can't keep blaming the circumstances for every inconsiderate decision he makes. 

Because it was none other than him who made Connor cry this time. He's supposed to make sure the android stays relatively happy and well, a job he's excellent at failing. 

So what if he loves him like no one else in this world, doesn't mean he has to burden the poor soul with this irrelevant information. They’re friends, first and foremost, even though the Connor who lives in his chest tries to convince him otherwise. It shouldn’t matter. They have each other now, despite the fact that one of them always try to get closer. Though if they ever want to go there, it will have to be a mutual decision. So he’s more than glad he didn’t let Gavin kiss him. Lucky his partner has brains. At least one of them should.

Gavin still can't quite tell whether his feelings are reciprocated or not, and at this point, he's more than terrified to find out. 

That's why he cut Connor off when was about to counterattack with his own verbal ammunition. He’s fortunate to avoid whatever his friend had in store for him, for it couldn’t have been anything good. If there’s something he can’t deal it’s being overwhelmed, feeling too many things at once. If he… if he told Gavin that he loves him too, his heart would most likely give in. And there was no time to emotionally prepare, so any outcome would have disastrous consequences, surely.

 It’s true that Gavin is beyond curious about where his friend stands in all this, but that's the one sentiment that has no say in his emotional hierarchy. Perhaps it’s best to let his affections lie low, at least for now. Easier said than done when he’s cradled in Connor’s arms like a fucking baby. The diabolic android is running his soft hands all over his back as if he’s aware of his maybe not-so-internal shivering. 

It’s too hot to breathe, and yet he can’t stop trembling from the cold. It doesn’t make sense to him for a while until he remembers that he must be running a fever. His ageing body can’t withstand anything these days, just like his disturbed mind. Sometimes he envies Connor his android nature, how he goes against everything that’s natural and still thriving, more than Gavin ever would. He won’t have to worry about getting older or ill, doesn’t have to put any effort into looking this beautiful. They live on a different time-scale, and it scares him stiff. He’s not sure if that’s the reason for his current tears, or if he’s just delirious from the high temperature his system is trying its best to deal with it. 

“Ok, let’s get you to bed.”

His attempt at refusing to move results in a soft whine coming from behind his lips, which only serves to remind him how truly pathetic he is. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Of course the plastic can read his mind, he doesn’t expect anything less from him. 

Gavin knows the moment their bodies separate he’s going to freeze to death before bursting in flames and that’s just something he’s not sure how he’ll be able to handle.

He hates being sick more than he hates himself, which is a considerable amount. 

His brain is surrounded by a thick fog as he’s being lifted up and carried on the uncomfortable mattress. As he’s being laid down, their contact gets inevitably interrupted, and he has to suck in all the oxygen his lung can take before the coughing fit steals his breath away. When it’s done, he’s left heaving in pain and no one is around to make him feel better. Connor must have finally wisened up and left, good for him. 

“Here, drink this.” 

Or not. It’s just his mind tormenting him with awful scenarios, as it tends to do. 

“What is it.” He doesn’t really care but feels the need to say something, to test out whether he’s still able to speak, if nothing else. 

“Hot water.” 

“Gross,” he complains and chugs it all down like a liquid-deprived desert dweller.

He gets handed another pill which he doesn’t question and swallows in the hope it’ll immediately sort him out. Obviously, there’s no such thing as an instant cure, so he continues sweating under the blanket, utterly overpowered by whatever disease his wrecking his puny mortal body. He’s about to yield to his weakness and beg Connor to lie next to him, because to Gavin, there’s no better concept than dying in his arms. But there’s no one here again. He starts thinking that this all is just a hallucination created specifically to torture him. His eyelids get heavy and there’s nothing preventing him from letting the darkness take him under. 

“Sorry about that.” An unpleasantly wet sensation on his forehead pulls him back from the blissful oblivion, and he can just about make out the worry in Connor’s eyes as his slowly open. 

“A cold compress, it should help break the fever.” The android sounds uncertain, seeming like he’s not sure whether he’s doing everything possible to make certain this stupid old human doesn’t check out. Sweet. No wonder Gavin fell in love with him. Too bad it won’t have any follow-up. 

Another set of coughs forces their way out of his throat, making him ache all over, even more than before. 

“Maybe I should call an ambulance.” 

That alerts his warped survival instinct. He does his best to steer clear from hospitals, for fear of ending up like his mother. 

“No! No, no, please. I don’t… I wanna be here. With you.” 

Gavin tries to communicate that he needs Connor close lest he might drift away somewhere bleak and endless. He expects all sorts of things, but the android stripping his shirt as he sneaks in under the blanket and presses his half-naked front against his sure isn’t one of them. 

“I can regulate my body temperature, so this should cool you down some.” Now when he’s been explained the technical reason for why Connor is willing to be so close to him as he’s struggling to keep himself in one piece, the android truly does feel like an icicle more than anything remotely human. Just the thing he craves. He gathers his last strength and pulls him into a proper embrace, intertwining their legs together because he’ll never have enough of this. 

They fall silent for a couple of minutes or an hour, but eventually, the need to apologise becomes too unbearable to ignore. 

“Sorry.” 

A sound that is barely there, whispered into Connor’s bare chest. 

“For what?” 

Sometimes, he’s grateful that his friend has super-hearing abilities. Not tonight. His throat is firmly against him forming any and all words, but he pushes through regardless. This feels very important somehow. 

“For being such a handful.” 

“You think I care about you out of the goodness of my heart?”

Connor’s body is becoming warm again. Maybe Gavin has already absorbed all the cold and there is no more left. It’s not unpleasant. Quite the opposite, really. 

“Maybe… I don't know.” He’d rather not know. 

But Connor tightens his hold on him, just like it always does. And he can’t fight that anymore.

“You.. “, the android takes a deep, shaky breath,  “you still think I don't love you.” 

And just like that, he can’t resist the tears about to spill over from behind his squeezed eyelids anymore.

“D-do you?” 

Curiosity has ways of finding a backdoor whenever he’s stunned enough to stop paying attention, to which he’s thankful right now. 

“Of course I do, you stupid… human.”

It hurts and heals him at the same time. But the relief that washes over him is something else. It turns the whole heavy atmosphere upside down, making him want to laugh through the pain of it all.  

“Not a very smart choice, given there are many androids who would kill just to be with you.” 

The right moment to stop being serious for once. 

“And yet I decide to fall for the trashiest meatbag I could find.” 

Even their voices reflect that this is a time to be happy. 

“A man…,” Gavin corrects himself, remembering what Connor told to him earlier, “...person of terrible taste, unlike me.” 

What follows is a tiny period of calm when he isn’t sure if he’s still awake or already dreaming, until a soft whisper pulls him back from his daze.

“Get some sleep, Gavin. I promise I'll be here in the morning.” 

“You better.” 

His flesh is sore and heavy, caging a soul that longs to soar. If he’s lucky, this will all have still happened when he wakes up.

“G’d night, tin can.” 

@a-convin-new-year 

I don’t know how active I’ll be in the next week because Christmas = busy, but I promise I will continue working on this until it’s complete //this winter// 

[solomo-n]

Avert Your Gaze

Characters: MC, Satan, Beelzebub, Luke

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: mild descriptions of violence

Other: SFW, gender neutral MC (they/them), second-person perspective

Word count: 1626

Summary: Cute outing with two of the brothers takes a turn for the worse, until a certain angel steps in to save the day.

You had been fine just a moment ago.

Wandering along the cobblestone streets of the Devildom, the gentle glow of the lanterns above you bathed the path in soft pinks and greens. You were flanked on either side by two of the brothers, Satan and Beelzebub.

Satan had, earlier in the day, asked you to accompany him to try a new café that had just set up shop in town. He had sauntered into the common room, exuding an air of easy confidence as he extended his invitation, hoping to score some alone time with you. Unfortunately for him, Beel had been passing by the doorway and, upon hearing that a new café had opened, took the liberty of inviting himself on your little date.

So, the couple-turned-throuple set out into the early afternoon crowd. Satan, to his credit, had adjusted his plans rather quickly. He calmed his temper with the knowledge that Beel would most certainly be more focused on the pastries than on either of you, so really, his plan was still a go.

Or, at least, it would have been if he hadn’t allowed himself to become so focused on trying to pull Beel away from a restaurant window that he left you alone by the curb.

It had happened fast, too fast for either brother to react once they heard your cry of alarm. Their heads snapped immediately to where you had been standing, only to have to lower their gazes to the damp street. You were lying on your back, hands clutched tight to your side. Their inhuman senses picked up the sharp, metallic scent of blood.

The apparition that struck you was already bounding around a corner, having carried out their gruesome task.

Satan’s vision went red, his casual form fizzles out and is immediately replaced by his demonic counterpart. Before he can leap after the perpetrator, Beel calls out to him, cradling your smaller body close to his chest. Blood now seeps from your clasped fingers, staining your shirt and the street below you a sickening crimson. Satan closes his eyes and forces himself to take several deep breaths, willing his energy to fold back into its former shape.

“It’s bad.” Beel grits, hands holding you tightly against him. “Really bad.”

Satan purses his lips and brushes his fingers lightly against the back of your hand. You flinch away from his touch with a whimper. Your own blood pools around you. That much blood, that fast… Satan knows that Beel is right. It is bad. Really bad.

“If you bring out your wings and fly them back to the house, you can transfuse the blood we keep in storage.” The cogs in Satan’s mind begin to whirl, focus narrowing on the logistics of the plan in a desperate bid to distract himself from how damn fragile you look in Beel’s arms.

Beel makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t know how to do that.” He furrows his brow. “And they’re bleeding so much now, if I move them-“

The two demons halt their argument when another cry rings out behind them. They swivel their heads in unison, which would be hilarious if you had not already fallen unconscious from blood loss.

There, standing under the soft magical lights, is Luke. The parcel of bread and devilmatoes he had been ferrying dropped unceremoniously onto the cobblestone road.  

“What,” he voice wavering, a finger lifted accusingly in their direction, “did you do to them?!” His eyes flit between Satan, Beel, and your lax form betwixt them.

“We didn’t do anything.” Satan snapped, “it was some lower demonic scum. You don't honestly think that we’d hurt them, do you?”

The angel boy’s face scrunched up in anger, opening his mouth to hurl more accusations their way before Beel cut him off.

“Please, help them.” He said, “With your celestial magic. They still teach angels how to heal, don’t they?”

Luke’s jaws snap shut, gaze darting towards your bloodied form. “I… yes I can. Give them to me.” He steps over his parcel, arms outstretched.

Beel carefully maneuvers himself around you, Satan leaning in compliantly to help transfer your supine form into the angel’s arms.

Once he settles your head limply against his shoulder, Luke brushes his trembling fingers against your cheek, soft skin marred with little cuts from your fall. He bites his lip to silence the whimper that threatened to slip out. Sometimes it was easy to forget that you were so much weaker than him.

Luke pauses, your head cradled in his small hands. He shoots a sharp look back at the two demon brothers that had crowded around the two of you expectantly. “Well,” he bites, “avert your gaze!”

Beel turns his back without hesitation. Satan, however, continues to stare upon the kneeling figure with open curiosity. Without looking back, Beelzebub grabs the Avatar of Wrath by the top of his head and turns his face away sharply, forcing his body to follow suit to avoid a broken neck.

“Fucking hell, Beel,” the fourth oldest starts, attempting to swat his brother’s large hand away.

Beel retains his hold and leans in close. “It’s a personal thing.” He states. The look in his eye offers no room for argument.

Satan can feel the urge to continue his struggle bubble up within him, egged on by his sin, but he grits his teeth and forces it back down. He doesn’t understand. He was never an angel. The gap in knowledge, in life experience, grates on his nerves something fierce. For your sake, however, he’ll ignore it.

Satisfied that the two men aren’t watching, Luke returns his attention to your body lying prone on the pavement. His fingers once again brush against your cheek, in the tender way that a child does when holding something fragile, and he closes his eyes.

If you had been conscious, you would’ve described it as rapturous; the light emitting from his blurring form too bright for mortal eyes to bear. Within that white light, Luke’s body shifted, an amalgam of incomprehensible shapes twisting and reforming anew. Two of these shapes stretched backwards, trembling slightly as if it is with effort that they take on the contours of wings, small and cherubic.

His arm (?) reaches out, composed entirely of hard light, and hovers over your stomach. Fingers (?) splay out above your mortal wound, not quite touching. The gentle light of his form extends past his palm (?) and permeates the injury with its warmth. Slowly but surely, the angry red gash in your side begins to mend, flesh stitching together, leaving only smooth skin behind. A miracle.

Seeming satisfied with his work, Luke tilts your head back against his shoulder (?) and passes his light over your slackened face. The scrapes and bruises that you had accrued in your struggle faded from red to purple, to green, to yellow, before vanishing entirely.

Your eyelids began to flutter, color returning to your cheeks as your body caught up to the fact that you were no longer dying. Quickly, Luke tamped out his celestial light, his form shifting and twisting once more before finally settling into his usual vessel.

“Luke…?” You called out, wincing at the weakness of your own voice.

Luke presses his palm against your cheek, hiccuping out your name. “Are you okay? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt? Have you always been this tall?” He bombarded you with questions, fingers pinching and prodding at your face.

Upon hearing your voice, Satan and Beel turned to face you both, the sacrilege of viewing Luke’s holy light no longer a deterrent. Beel helped Luke slowly pull you up into a sitting position while Satan peeled your bloodied shirt back slightly, examining the soft flesh where your wound had once been.

“What happened?” You murmur, hand coming up to press against your forehead.

“You were attacked.” Beel says. “You were too far away, I couldn’t get to you in time. I’m… I’m…” His face contorts, not willing to cry in front of you for fear of upsetting you further.

“Oh. Oh, Beel.” You caress his face softly, rubbing a thumb under his eye though no tears fell. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” You pause. “How am I okay?”

“Luke healed you.” Satan has moved up to inspect your face now, grasping your chin lightly as he turns your face hither and yon.

Your eyes flick over to the young angel who had remained glued to your side despite the two demons that now crowded around you.

He shifts under your gaze. “I…” he squares his shoulders, “I am an angel, you know. And angels have the ability to heal humans. Which is what I did. I healed you.” He leans in closer, scrutinizing your belly. “I did heal you, right?”

You weren’t in any pain, save a mild headache, but you decide to let the young angel have his victory. “Yes, I’m fine now. Thank you, Luke.”

The look of relief that washes over his face would’ve been adorable had the situation not been so dire only moments ago. Satan, finally satisfied that you were, in fact, fine, raises an eyebrow at the boy’s reaction. “What, was that the first time you’ve ever healed someone?”

Hit the nail right on the head, evidently, as the angel releases your arm and reels backwards. He begins to defend himself, stating that he’s only been taking healing lessons for a little over 200 years so of course he’s never been allowed to heal an actual person before.

As Satan continues to gleefully antagonize the angel boy, you smile up at Beel, and he smiles back. Everything was just fine.

»»———————————　 {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} 　———————————-««

A/N: yooo this is literally the first thing I’ve written since middle school, so I hope it’s enjoyable 😔😔😔

[caitlesshea]

death doesn’t discriminate

“Nile called. She said they did a recon mission in Brazil, blew up some buildings.”

Booker waits a moment, makes sure James is fully in the room before speaking again.

“She said it could’ve been a solo job.”

“She wasn’t supposed to tell you.” James mumbles as he stands next to him. 

Booker turns towards him, ready for an argument, when he sees the wary expression on James’ face. 

“Why?”

James turns away from him and starts pacing the length of the room. Booker thinks momentarily that he should’ve started this conversation in the office and not their bedroom, but he can’t change it now. 

“James. Why?” 

At the sound of his name, James turns toward him with wide, almost terrified eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It does matter.” Booker crosses his arms as he leans against the dresser and stares at James. “Why didn’t you give me the job?”

“Because.” 

“Because why?”

“I couldn’t.”

Booker scoffs. “You couldn’t?”

“Mm.”

“Why?” Booker moves closer to James as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Why?”

“He said you were in pieces!” 

Booker freezes and it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of his lungs. 

“What?” Booker breathes out and it’s the only sound in the room. 

James rubs at his face like he’s mad at himself for letting that slip. 

“The church, after the grenade, the report back was that you were in pieces.” James’ breath catches on the word pieces and Booker stares at him incredulously.

“I healed.” Booker says slowly, as the dawning realization that James had cared for him, even then, sinks into him.

“You won’t always.” 

“Not for a long time.” 

“Just look at Andy!”

Booker feels like he’s been slapped and James realizes what he said a moment too late. 

“Sébastien.”

“No.” Booker takes a deep breath. “No.”

Suddenly he can’t be here, in their room, in their house, with James. Booker bodies his way out of their bedroom and starts moving through their house, collecting his keys, wallet, and phone. 

He knows he needs to say something, anything, but he can’t get the words out from where they’re lodged in his throat.

Before he makes it to the door he turns to look at James and almost stops what he’s doing at the tears in James’ eyes. This isn’t how Booker saw this conversation going, this isn’t how he wanted it to go. 

James pulls Booker’s motorcycle helmet from its hook by the door and hands it to him. The argument that he’ll survive any crash is on the tip of his tongue but he takes the helmet and nods instead. 

He turns without another look back and it isn’t until he’s been riding for at least thirty minutes that he lets the tears fall. 

When his phone won’t stop buzzing he finally pulls over to look at it. He wants to rip his helmet off and throw it into the grass as far as it will go, but he stops himself. 

He sees a few texts from Nile and one from James and because he’s nothing if not a masochist he reads that one first. 

[James: I’m sorry]

Booker wipes at his eyes and instead of reading the string of texts from Nile he decides to call her.

“What the fuck did you say to him?!” Nile seethes on the other end of the phone without so much as a hello. 

“I didn’t…”

“Don’t make me call Quynh.”

Booker sighs and a feeling of helplessness settles in his gut. 

“We got into a fight.”

“No shit.”

“Nile.”

“You need to fix this Booker.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Booker hangs his head because he knows that’s not true. 

He knows it only escalated because he got scared when James admitted to caring about him even then.  

“You better. He requested to join us on our next job, he’ll be in Berlin tonight and we head out tomorrow.”

“Job? What are you talking about?”

“Some trafficking ring. The meetup happened yesterday and we’re taking them out tomorrow, he asked to join.”

“He can’t!”

“Well. He is. So you need to fix this.”

“The house in Berlin?”

“Booker.”

“Dammit, Nile.”

He can hear her sigh over the phone. He knows he’s breaking every rule they have in place that allows him to speak to Nile and Quynh, and sometimes Andy, but never affords him the opportunity to join them on jobs. 

They don’t even know he’s dating James. Or was. 

Fuck. 

“Please.” Booker isn’t above begging. He knows the kind of people on this job that they’ll be dealing with, he can’t let James go into that, CIA training be damned. 

“We’re at the house in Berlin.”

“Thank you.”

“And Booker?” Nile waits until she confirms he’s listening. “He was crying.”

She hangs up, after she twists the knife he was already feeling in his chest. 

“Fuck.” Booker groans, wipes more tears from his eyes and heads to the private plane hangar they use and asks for a flight to Berlin. 

When he gets to their safe house in Berlin he wants to scream. Nile, the asshole, said the job was tomorrow. 

What she didn’t say was that it was in the dead of night. 

So, now he’s a couple of hours behind when James got here, and Booker can tell he’s already been here because his laptop is on the table, but they’re all gone. For however long this job takes. 

Booker really doesn’t want to get caught in the safe house when they return so he heads out to a café until he can get Nile to let them know they’re back. 

He’s barely taken a sip of his coffee when his phone rings.

“Nile.”

“You’re in Berlin?”

“You know I am.” Booker grits out.

“Copley’s hurt.” 

The blood drains from Booker’s face and he sways where he stands. 

“What?”

“It’s bad. Can you meet us?”

“Tell me where you are.”

She rattles off some address and he’s already jumping on his motorcycle before she even finishes. 

Fear, like he’s never known, grips him to the point where he knows he’s a mess. He barely manages to contain the sob caught in his chest as he finally makes it to their location.

Nothing matters except getting to James. Booker doesn’t even take out his gun as he runs into the building. 

He barely has a chance to take stock of the situation, which is, a lot of dead bodies and the people he considers family all sitting around James as they check him over.

Booker feels like he can’t move. There’s so much blood, more than he feels like he’s ever seen before, which he knows isn’t true, but it’s coming from James, and it matters.

“Sébastien?” James croaks out and Booker doesn’t hesitate, he slides down next to James, pushing Nicky out of the way, who protests until he sees the look on Booker’s face. 

Booker’s frantically looking over James, who looks surprisingly okay for someone sitting in so much blood.

“Sébastien.” James grabs his hands and stills them. 

Booker looks at him and then back to Nile and narrows his eyes at her sheepish look.

“She said you were hurt.” Booker whispers and James nods at him but lifts his shirt to show him his bloody stomach. 

“I don’t.” Booker shakes his head. “He needs a doctor!” 

It’s not lost on Booker that the placement of the wound is very similar to the one Booker obtained at the church in France. 

The wound they were arguing about. Healed but not. 

“We can’t take him to one.” Andy says quietly.

“We have to. He’ll die.”

“Sébastien.”

Booker turns to look at James as he coughs wetly.

“No.” Booker swallows. “No.”

Booker fumbles for his phone and calls one of James’ contacts that he set up for Andy should she ever need medical help.

“What are you doing?” Joe asks him and Booker shoves him back.

“I’m getting him help.”

At their blank stares he growls. “Do you really think he’d just let Andy die if she was hurt?”

No one says anything and Booker feels anger coursing through him that they still thought so little of James.

“You can either leave or you can stay.” Booker grits out.

Thankfully they all keep quiet and in no time at all Booker’s sitting in a waiting room in a hospital waiting to hear if James is going to survive. 

Booker feels like his nerves are so frayed he’s going to come apart at the seams. He can’t get his legs to stop shaking, either. 

Nicky settles his hand on Booker’s knee and Booker looks over at his brother with watery eyes.

“He’ll be okay.” Nicky says quietly and Booker shakes his head. 

“You don’t know that.”

“Have a little faith, Book.” Andy says from where she’s leaning against a wall.

He laughs as he tips his head up toward the ceiling.

“How long has this been going on?” Joe asks as he squats in front of Nicky’s chair. 

Booker doesn’t want to answer, wants to tell them it’s none of their business since they decided to exile him, but.

“Since London.” 

Booker looks around at everyone. Nile’s smiling, Quynh has a grin that looks suspiciously like the Cheshire Cat. Andy looks tired and Joe and Nicky have their heads tilted to the side like they’re wondering just how much they missed.

“Not here. We’ll talk at the safe house.” Andy decides and Booker nods. 

They’re finally allowed back to see James and Booker can vaguely hear the doctor explaining something about a miracle and fast healing organs when he see James sitting up in bed, smiling. 

Booker rushes over to him and grabs his hands.

“I healed faster than I should have.” James says quietly to him and Booker looks at him and James pulls up his shirt to show his unblemished stomach.

Booker doesn’t hesitate he just leans down to hug James as best he can while he weeps tears of joy. 

James puts his face to Booker’s cheek and kisses it once.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. I’m sorry, too.” Booker doesn’t think he needs to admit just how scared he was, and how he understands now why James didn’t want Booker running headfirst into danger.

“I love you.” James whispers and Booker feels the tears well up again.

“I love you, too.” 

[paintingraves]

A purr-fect day

Went to OPT prompts and received a prompt about Percival being swarmed by a pack of kittens so here - have this very soft thing ❤️

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

It’s Percival Graves’ birthday. 

The man himself doesn’t seem to care, but  every single one of his Aurors know about it. So does Newt, who's been living in a rented flat in New York for a few months now, working in an official capacity as a consultant for the MACUSA. They are trying to reform some of their laws about magical creatures: it is a long, tedious process -- one that sets back the publication of his second book by months -- but it’s important and Newt really feels like he is making a difference. 

His routine these days is usually the same. Newt wakes up at the crack of dawn and tends to his creatures; then he gets dressed and drops by Jacob’s bakery on his way to work in order to grab coffee and a delicious pastry. His favourite at the moment is a croissant-like delicacy filled with warm chocolate.  Newt always wolfs it down like he hasn’t eaten in three days and licks his fingers clean afterwards, unashamed. 

He steps into MACUSA through the magical revolving door and heads to the Aurors’ bullpen, where his office and work await him. They chatter amicably between colleagues until 8 am, at which point Director Percival Graves makes his grand entrance -- cup of bitter black coffee in his hand and dark circles under his eyes. He gives them a debriefing as he sips his drink. When he's done they get to work, and Graves heads down to his own office. He always passes by Newt when he does, and Newt always gets to appreciate the heady smell of his cologne on the way. 

(He… may or may not have a bit of a thing for Percival Graves. So what? Almost everyone here does, apparently, because their director is just that striking. Newt is no different.) 

But today is a special day, and things take a different turn. 

Newt stills drops by Jacob’s bakery, but he’s earlier than usual. Instead of buying only one pastry, he buys an assortment of them, trying to pick ones he thinks Percival would like. 

All his colleagues are present at the office as early as 7 am. Newt steps into the room as they’re starting to clear the tables free of paperwork, ink, quills, books and other bulky things to rearrange them in a sort of semi-circle to serve as a buffet. 

Madeleine uses her wand to unfold a large white tablecloth and everyone helps set the table: there's pots of coffee, warm chocolate and tea; Newt brought pastries, John’s baked an apple pie, and Esther made a fruit salad. Soon enough, with everyone’s contributions, the table is full of food and drink aplenty. Diana is blowing up balloons while Geralt hangs a large ‘happy birthday’ banner across the room. 

There's one table reserved for gifts. Newt can guess what most people could have bought: perhaps a new tie or a book, a good bottle of wine, etc. Newt himself has gotten Percival an exotic plant, whose flowers release a calming scent that has the same effect on humans as a cat purring. He hopes Percival will like it. 

It’s nearly 8. They're all a bit nervous; truth be told they have no idea how Graves will react to the display. He certainly isn’t expecting it, that's for sure. Geralt said he's never known Percival to mention his birthday, much less celebrate it. But today also marks the first year the man's been back at work despite his ordeal at the hands of Grindelwald, and that deserves to be remembered. They’re just hoping he’ll be touched by the attention, and happy. 

When Percival walks into the room at 8 precisely, he freezes on the doorstep. His eyes widen in surprise and alarm. He takes in the redecorated room, his hand shaking slightly around his cup of coffee. “... What is this?” 

“Happy birthday, sir,” his Aurors say all at once, smiling. 

Percival’s eyes widen even more. “Oh shit,” he says, coming to a realization. “It is my birthday, isn’t it? I’m… Fuck. I don’t know what to say. This… is a surprise, but...” 

“You deserve it,” Diana says simply, and they all nod in agreement. “I’ll put on some music. I hope you like jazz!” 

“Get you anything to drink, sir? Or eat? We got a ton of stuff here, including but not limited to John’s famous apple pie!” 

“A - a slice of apple pie sounds perfect, thank you,” Percival says, still bewildered. He looks almost timid, so wrong-footed. “And coffee, please. I’m sure it’ll taste better than this brew I have.” 

“Let me take your coat,” Newt offers, stepping forward. “And make yourself comfortable.” 

"There’s work to do,” Percival says, even as he takes off his cream-coloured trench coat and his hat. Underneath, he wears one of his usual three-piece suits, complete with dark blue pants, a white shirt and an assorted waistcoat and tie. Everything is tailored to perfection, as per usual. Newt will honestly never get over how attractive the older man is. It doesn't help that Percival rolls up his sleeves to his elbows. "I can't stay long, but I really appreciate this, thank you…"

His words get drowned in the soft jazz music that starts playing. Everyone relaxes and starts to eat and drink, standing up, or sitting on chairs around the room; they're all happy that Percival hasn’t reacted negatively (and why would he?) 

The director seems to have gotten over his shock now; he is clearly embarrassed (the tips of his ears blushing red) as well as deeply flattered, but he’s not mad. 

At one point there's the opening of presents. 

Percival stays sitting in his chair as they bring the wrapped gifts over to him. He thanks each Auror warmly, saying he never expected to be this spoiled, and that they shouldn't have. He makes jokes about getting old. Percival receives a brand new watch (courtesy of three of the Aurors, who put together some savings to afford it) as well as a silver hoop earring -- much to his delight and surprise. He raises an eyebrow as Geralt explains sheepishly that he’s noticed Percival’s ear was pierced, yet that he never wore such jewelry, promoting Percival to regal them with a few tales of his rebellious youth. He puts the earring on. It looks incredibly dashing, giving him a bit of a more roguish air. It's terribly, terribly attractive. 

There's also a funny tie with little ducklings printed on it which Percival promises to wear the next day at work; two Sherlock Holmes books; a shiny pocket knife (for Percival never goes anywhere unarmed) and finally Newt’s plant. Newt monologues about its healing properties, as he’s wont to do, and Percival thanks him with a warm smile, telling Newt it is incredibly thoughtful. He is so polite. So sincere. So composed. Ugh. Newt wants this man quite badly. He doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this sweet torture... 

The last gift Percival receives is… different. He is laughing, and he's never looked this happy in the months Newt has known him. It makes his heart swell painfully inside his chest. He wants Percival to keep smiling like that, everyday, and he wants to be the reason behind his joyous smile. 

“Alright, what is this?” Percival asks as Madeleine give him a large square box. They managed to convince him to wear one of those pointy colorful birthday hat, and it is slightly askew on his head. A strand of dark hair falls into his face. Percival looks more ruffled and relaxed than they’ve ever seen him, and Newt wonders whether one of the aurors spiked his coffee with whiskey or something, because this is quite the contrast compared to the austere, severe, put together man they’re used to seeing daily. 

“Open it!” Madeleine says, and Percival does - only for everyone to gasp in sheer joy at the sight of what’s inside of the box. 

Kittens! 

“Oh my god!” Esther squeals happily, slapping a hand over her mouth. 

“So one of my cats had babies recently, and I figured this was a nice gift! Here they are!” 

“I…” Percival says, at a loss as to what to do. Madeleine grins and, gently, she takes each kitten from the box and puts them in Percival’s lap, then takes the box away. 

The kittens (four in total) immediately meow for attention and begin to explore their new surroundings: one of them tries to climb on Percival’s chest, digging its claws into the expensive fabric of his waistcoat; another nearly falls off Percival’s thigh except the man catches him, and the kitten fits in his big hand. Percival says ‘Hello little guy, hello’ and strokes his head with a finger so very gently. 

Percival Graves and kittens. Newt thinks this might be heaven. 

“They’re so tiny,” Percival murmurs in awe. “Oh no no no, where are you going? Ow, not the claws, hey, not the claws --” 

Percival Graves swarmed by a pack of kittens is definitely the cutest thing Newt has ever seen. He can’t stop smiling. 

Neither can Percival, apparently - his cheeks are glowing with happiness, his eyes wrinkling attractively at the corners, his face and posture open and serene. He helps one of the kittens climb up his shoulder, where it sniffs Percival’s collar curiously, and gathers the other three together in his lap, petting them. Noticing Newt’s staring, he holds one of the kittens up. “Take him.” 

Esther kneels next to Percival, who gives her one of the kittens too, and she looks about to cry as she holds the tiny animal in her hands. She folds her arm and the kitten curls up in the crook of her elbow, seemingly having found a nice corner to nap in, and purrs as she scratches it behind the ears gently. 

“They’re up for adoption,” Madeleine informs them, beaming. “We already have three cats, and I got a friend who adopted one from this litter, but these four are looking for a new home!” 

“I’ll take one,” Esther says immediately. “My husband’s allergic but we’ll find a way to make it work. I've always wanted a cat.” 

“... I can take one too,” Geralt says hesitantly. “They’re rather cute.” 

“They’re adorable.” 

“Percival? Ahem, sir?” 

Percival had been busy making heart eyes at the kitten in his lap. “Hmm? Oh, I wish I could, but…” He sighs. “I wouldn’t have time to care for him. They deserve better than that.” 

“Newt?” 

Newt shakes his head. Same as Percival, he’s already got a lot of creatures to care for. 

“I’ll keep asking around then,” Madeleine concludes. 

Geralt takes one of the kittens. Percival gets up from his chair, his last tiny friend still perched on his shoulder like a very fluffy parrot. He brushes cat hair from his pants with little success, and walks up to Newt, who’s busy cooing at his own kitten. He’s already given it a name and everything. Oh, and she’s a female. 

“This is Kiara,” he says, showing the kitten to Percival, who smiles warmly. 

“Seems like she’s adopted you, uh.” 

“I do so wish I could take her in,” Newt says mournfully. 

“Hmm. You’ve already got a lot on your shoulders, haven't you, but I understand the sentiment.” 

“You look happy,” Newt remarks. 

Graves laughs. “You say that as if it’s the second coming of christ. Am I that sour and grumpy all the time?" 

“Well...” Newt ducks his head and avoids the question, though he knows Graves is just teasing him. “I’m really glad you liked our little surprise party here.” 

“Whose idea was it?” 

“Everyone’s, really. We figured you ought to know how much we all appreciate you. You’re a very good leader, Percival, and a good man, and a good friend.”

“...Thank you,” Percival says quietly. "I do try."

“I mean that,” Newt insists. “Met a lot of politicians in my life, after all, I know what I'm talking about." 

"Ah ah. While I can’t say I’ve met a lot of magizoologists in my life, I also really like working with you, Newton. You've very knowledgeable, and you are able to think outside the box. I really like that.” 

Newt swallows at the compliment, his heart picking up pace, heat rising to his face. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcing himself to look straight at the other man. Percival meets his gaze. There’s a heavy moment of silence. Time slows down as Newt’s eyes flit from Percival’s own down to his lips, and he is overcome with the urge to simply kiss the other man. Percival wets his lips too, looking up at him underneath his dark eyelashes, and he leans imperceptibly closer and Newt thinks oh fuck -- and then Madeleine steps into their intimate circle with a plate of cake to offer them some. The moment is shattered. 

But… Newt didn’t dream it, right? Right? 

For a moment there he saw desire reflected back in Percival’s eyes… right? 

He refuses another helping of cake, but Percival does take an apple fritter and bites into it, smearing sugar across his lips. He licks them clean. 

Newt wants to kiss him so badly. Again. 

After an hour or so of festivities it’s time to clean up and get back to work, however reluctant they are to do so. 

For the rest of the day, the balloons still hang on the walls of the aurors’ room and kittens roam free in the office. They play with bits of string or red dots that the aurors make appear on the floor with the tip of their wand. 

Percival goes back to his office and keeps the pointy hat. It’s not a very productive day, work-wise, but it’s one that leaves everybody in high spirits when the evening comes, and certainly strengthens the bonds between colleagues. 

Around 8, Newt prepares to leave the bullpen as well. He tidies things up on his desk and takes his suitcase, turning off the lights as he leaves. He knocks on Percival’s door and hears a rumbling ‘yes, come in’. 

“Leaving for the day,” Newt says. Percival nods his assent, nose deep in paperwork. “Good night, sir.” 

“Good night, Newton,” Graves says absently. He dips his quill into ink and scribbles something down. Newt sighs. 

“Sir?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Would you - that is, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime?” 

Percival pauses, looking up at him above the rim of his tortoise shell glasses. “Why?” 

“B - because…” Oh bugger, he read this all wrong. A stab of fear lances through him.  “Err. No, nevermind, forget I asked. I’ll just - go. I'm leaving. Yes.” 

“Newt.”

“Yes?” Newt looks back at him, his palms sweating, only to be struck dumb. 

Graves is smirking. He’s never seen such an expression on his face and oh, that must be what Graves looks like when he’s really flirting. Newt feels weak in the knees. 

“It’d be my pleasure,” Percival purrs, and Newt makes a sound not unlike that of a startled mouse. He flushes and haltingly steps back, fiddling with the handle of his briefcase, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

“Oh. Oh that’s. That’s good then. Great. Brilliant. Hm. Is… after work tomorrow okay for you?” 

“It’s good,” Percival agrees. “Have a good evening. And Newt?” 

“Y - yes?”

“Remember to breathe.” And there’s that infuriating, smug smirk again. 

Newt vows to kiss it off the man’s face one day until Graves is the one struggling to remember how to breathe. He shall make Percival lose his carefully constructed composure. 

“Tomorrow it is,” he repeats, straightening up. “I look forward to it.” 

Graves shakes his head, as though he can’t believe he’s really doing this, but he’s still smiling. 

Newt makes his way out MACUSA and back to his flat with a spring in his step, happiness and hope bubbling inside his chest. 

He did it! 

And Percival agreed! Holy shit. This. Is. Amazing! By Merlin - tomorrow can’t come fast enough!