#and I try to churn out all this content just to distract myself and maybe have a little bit of fun but

[evansbby]

I swear to god this place gives me so much anxiety now

[impishjesters]

Touch-starved Moon

CW// non-sexual touching, teasing, no actual sexual content notes: Sun and Moon are separate animatronics, not mentioned but implied that the reader is already dating the boys A/N: I don't know what to call this, a preview? Snippet? Drabble? Either way, late last night I got on the topic of touch-starved Moon with my friend, which led to me typing up bits at a time to send them. They were my magical muse because I've been having writer's block, so I just find it funny that I wrote up a bunch via Discord messages versus my usual setup...and on my phone of all things. Maybe I'll do this more to try and get out of my writer's block, definitely seems to be doing a better job than forcing myself to write shit up. But yeah, since this was written up on my phone I've gone through and fixed all my 2 am sleepy typos and grammar mistakes, obviously this isn't finished. Again why I said I don't really know how to label it. Maybe with enough interest, I could pick it up and flesh it out a bit more. But it wasn't intended to be this long, just like the first bit then a jump to the reader touching and over-stimming Moon and junk 💀

“Hm, Moonie?” Your hand drifted down his chest plate before giving the elastic of his pants a quick snap.

Moon hummed, gaze still locked on your face. “Yes, star?”

“What did I just say?”

“What?”

“Oh my, Moonpie were you distracted?”

“I was listening.” he hissed. Moon’s chest plate rumbled with annoyance but grew warm under your touch.

“Mhm, and what was I saying?”

Moon froze and sent your hand a glance, watching as your fingers walked their way down his stomach. “D-daycare..”

“Daycare? Mm, that’s a pretty broad topic.”

“Cleaning..” he cleared his throat. “Cleaning the daycare..”

“Moonie… It’s morning, the daycare is already clean.”

Shit.

“Seems like someone hasn’t fully booted up. I’ll overlook it this time, try not to get distracted with the kiddos, okay?”

Moon forced himself not to chase your hand as it left him, forcing out a grunt in agreement.

“Well,” you stretched and turned to look out into the daycare. “I’m gonna go find Sunny and ask him for his thoughts on what I said.”

He flinched. Did you ask him for his thoughts on something? For the daycare? Moon held back a whimper as you left, crimson eyes trailing the hand you used to touch him, now being used to wave Sun down. The same hand used to touch him now rested against Sun, and it made his chest ache and stomach churn.

Why did you stop touching him?

The rest of the morning was spent with the feeling of eyes on you. Every curious glance resulted in catching Moon’s gaze on you instead of the children he was supposed to be tending to. And without fail, every time he was caught he’d look away and find a way to excuse himself to a different place in the daycare.

By nap time the staring didn’t let up, even Sun had commented, questioning why Moon was so out of it and staring at you.

Moon silently stewed in his emotions, irritated at every touch between you and Sun. You’d yet to touch him again, in fact, you’d gone out of your way to avoid touching him.

During lunchtime, you’d made sure to avoid his touch while handing out the lunch trays, only to touch Sun’s by “accident”.

What made Sun so special? Was it because he’d spaced out earlier? Were you upset? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be in Sun’s place right now.

Should he apologize? If he was going to he needed to think fast, you’d turn away from Sun and were headed straight for…him?

“Hey Moonpie.” You whispered, careful of the sleeping children, and sat beside him on the floor keeping a decent distance between the two of you. “Feeling better?”

Moon’s voice box rumbled. “Peachy.” Despite the darkness, he could see the gap between the two of you clear as day. Normally you’d sit on his lap with him during nap time while Sun took to doing a mid-day clean up.

“Is that so? I’m glad.”

The glow-in-the-dark stars of the nap room alongside Moon’s dimly lit eyes gave you just enough lighting to see the gap between you two. His leg twitched and you took to distracting yourself to look at a nearby napping child—time to see how the event from this morning would unfold.

The two of you sat in silence aside from the music box playing away in Moon’s chest. Careful to keep your eyes elsewhere, you’d occasionally catch the gap between the two of you growing smaller and smaller.

“What do you think of a sleepover tonight?”

Moon flinched, pausing mid-movement to process the question. “Sleepover? Tonight?”

“Mhm, I talked it out with Sun. Use the theater room and get pillows and blankets to cuddle up together.”

Harsh red lights lit up your face, nearly blinding you and risking waking the children. You slapped a hand over his eyes and they instantly dimmed. Well, that’s new.

You’d c-cuddle them? Of course, you’d done that before but that was…well before his current predicament. No, wait focus.

Your hand lingers on his eyes despite the light dimming, watching those tiny pinprick pupils stare at your hand. Oh right, it probably doesn’t feel great having someone’s hand on your eyes.

Before your hand can fully pull away and lose all contact Moon grabs it, shifting it to his cheek instead. It’s at that moment you feel his leg touch yours…he closed the gap you’d intentionally placed between the two of you.

Such a touchy little Moonpie.

[knockyasocksoff2022]

Motion Sick

Sicktember 2024 - Prompt #6 Dizziness/Vertigo

Words: 4,440

Pairing: Tanizaki Junichoru x Tachihara Michizou

POV: First person

CW: Mentions of nausea and throwing up, but no graphic descriptions

Junichirou’s Perspective

I can feel my stomach churning, and that familiar acidity rising in my throat. I’m going to be sick. 

I knew I shouldn’t have come along, the agency didn’t even need me for this trip. It was Kenji who insisted that I come along so I wouldn’t miss the dolphins in the bay. He doesn’t know about my terrible motion sickness and being as spineless as I am, I couldn’t say no to him.

Now I wish I had.

It’s late afternoon but the summer sun is still high in the sky, the weather hot and sticky. My back aches and I feel lightheaded from being bent over the railing for so long.

Then I get an idea. It’s probably stupid, but no one is paying attention to me so I should be safe. I plug in my earbuds and press the dial button for the first contact in my phone. At first, the ringing is uncomfortably loud then the call is answered and his voice fills my ear.

“Jun? You good? You only call if there’s an emergency.”

I don’t answer right away, letting Michizou’s warm voice wash over me. I swallow thickly.

“Junichirou?”

“Sorry,” I whisper

“What for? You’re not hurt, are you? Why are you whispering?” Panic enters his voice. I shake my head before remembering he can’t see me.

“N-no. I’m-“ My voice fades out as my stomach roils, threatening to send its contents back up. I think I’d die if I puked while talking to Michi on the phone, that’d be way too embarrassing. I shouldn’t have called. “It’s stupid. You can hang up if you’re busy.” 

“I’m not. I’m at lunch with Gin and Higuchi. I'm glad you called too, cuz they were being all disgustingly lovey-dovey. And I’m sure whatever you called me for ain’t stupid. What is it?” Despite the loud conversations around him, his voice is comforting.

“I . . . well, I’m getting motion sick and I think I’m gonna puke. I . . . uh . . . just thought that hearing your voice might distract me a bit.” It sounds dumb as I say it.

He doesn’t answer, the line crackles in silence.

“See, I told you it was stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Where are you? In a car?” His voice is calm now, with a serious tone and I can imagine his expression, cool as he thinks through the situation. The background is quieter now like he’s stepped even farther away from wherever he was.

“On a boat, we’re looking for evidence in a murder case that was dumped in the bay. The waves are bad today though, so . . .”

“So that’s why we’re whispering.” I can see him nodding to himself. I smile at the thought, “Where are your meds?”

“I left them at home,” I admit.

“Of course you did. I’d bring you some, but . . .” He laughs, the affectionate teasing sending warmth through me. “So what should I do?” The teasing turns to sympathy.

“Can we just talk? About anything.” The desperation leaks through as another wave rocks the boat.

“Sure. . . .” He hums trying to think of a topic, I find myself tapping out the rhythm on the railing focusing on it instead of the rocking of the boat. He ends the melody with a flourish, “Today I ran into Elise, you know, the Boss’s kid or whatever.”

I turn on the camera and nod, still not trusting myself to speak. Michi seems to get it.

“Yeah, well she somehow bribed him to wear not only a maid outfit but a nurse outfit and one of those supposedly “sexy” devil costumes. She showed us all the pics. It was a riot but I felt kinda weird looking at them, you know. Like it was an invasion of privacy, and also if the Boss knows I saw them he might give me desk duty indefinitely.”

I laugh, so hard that my stomach pain increases fivefold but it feels good.

“That’s the only really funny story I have for today, some other stuff happened too, we had an assassination job, but if you think you’re gonna puke maybe I’d best not tell you those. . . . Anyways, want me to make dinner tonight. I might need your help, but I can do most of it. I know being sick always makes you tired.”

I think I can speak again, I take a breath, sighing when I find my stomach has settled down considerably. “Yeah, I would like that, make it something light though, a soup or something.”

“Cool. And, uh, don’t feel bad about calling, I’m happy to help. And seeing Gin with Higuchi was making me miss you a lot, I miss you right now.” He sounds awkward, still new to expressing emotions so blatantly. My stomach clenches, not out of nausea, but wanting. Seeing him over the phone isn’t enough, I want his arms around me, his lips brushing my cheek.

“I miss you too, but I guess I should let you go before Gin and Higuchi get suspicious.” I’ll admit even I can tell I sound pouty, but I know the longer I stay on the call the more likely it is for one of the other agency members to catch me.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But promise you’ll call me back if you start feeling bad again.” I can hear the worry in Michizou’s voice even as he tries to hide it. It makes my heart flutter in my chest.

“Okay,” I say the word but don’t hang up, neither does he. We exist for a moment in comfortable silence.

“They’re so wrapped up in each other I think we have at least another hour before they realise.” He rolls his eyes.

I smile.

He starts telling me about how Akutagawa was being creepy while referring to some short story about some gate, and I bask in the warm glow of his voice and enthusiastic facial expressions as he talks. Soon I’m laughing so hard I drop my phone, my earbuds yanked out of my ears. I can faintly hear Michizou complaining about how I “dropped” him.

I bend down to pick up the device but someone is already handing it to me. Kenji. 

My breath catches and I feel nauseous again. Maybe he’ll be really nice and won’t tell.

He stares at the phone screen, and Michizou stares back, as if maybe if he’s still enough Kenji will think he’s just a photo. Or maybe he’s in shock. After a second he clicks off the camera and hangs up belatedly.

“Why were you talking to the Bandaid guy? Is he your friend?” Kenji asks it with no malice whatsoever, but if he knows he might tell the others, not realising the ramifications.

I think about asking who he’s referring to, and playing dumb but it’s too late for that.

“Oh, um, we were just . . . He’s my friend, but you can’t tell anyone okay.”

“Okay! Is he nice like Cool Hat-san?”

I snort at his nickname for Executive Nakahara. “Well, he’s nice to me, but he can be a little mean sometimes, you know.”

“Oh, he’s just like Cool hat-san then!”

“What do you mean?”

“Cool hat-san always seems so angry but one day I saw him and Dazai-san snuggling with each other through the window of Dazai-san’s dorm. And he must be a really good hugger because Dazai-san kept telling him not to stop. I was only walking by so I don’t know the rest, but they seem also to be good friends.”

I’m so shocked that I can’t answer for a whole minute. I’m not sure what the hell is going on between those two but I know they weren’t snuggling. Before I can form an acceptable reply, Kenji asks: “Is Bandaid guy a good snuggler?”

If I was drinking or eating anything I would have spit it out. I can feel my entire face heating up. I’m not sure whether I’m saved or doomed even further because Atsushi is walking over to me.

“Junichirou! What’s wrong? You’re all red!”

“Ohhh, I . . . uhh, I’m just seasick is all, I hate boats!” I groan again, patting my stomach to add extra effect.

Atushi nods, “Oh, I didn’t know. Are you alright? Should I bring Naomi?” He sounds unsure and cringes as he says my sister’s name.

“No!” It comes out too quickly, I force myself to sound calmer, “Don’t bring Naomi, I can handle a little sickness myself. I’ll be fine with a few deep breaths.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

Atsushi walks back towards the boat’s cabin.

“Maybe you should call Bandaid guy again, tell him to bring you some medication when we return to the dock,” Kenji says, too loudly, because Atsushi turns back around.

I expect him to make a scene but he just walks over calmly.

“Who’s ‘Bandaid guy?’”

“A friend.” I can hear the shaking in my voice. Atsushi hates the mafia, he’ll never trust me again if he were to find out.

He squints as if thinking then his eyes widen, he stares straight at me. He knows.

What should I do? What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?

“I see. Hope you feel better.” is all he says before walking off again.

WHAT? WHY? Isn’t he going to tell? How is he just okay with that?

-

Everyone else is so busy with the evidence being pulled up from the seafloor that I’m alone again.

The anxiety has turned back into motion sickness, even worse than last time, so despite already being caught once, I do the only thing I can think of, I call Michizou back.

He answers on the first ring.

“Worse?” he asks

“Yeah.” is all I can manage.

“How bad?”

“Bad.” I cringe at the croaky sound of my voice.

“Okay. What can I do?”

“Just talk?”

“Sure. I already told you most of the funny things. Does it matter the topic?”

“Nothing gory.”

“Hmm.” I hear him shuffling around, “How about this? It’s a collection of poems, I got it from my brother . . . it’s what they sent back when he, well, you know.”

He takes my silence and heavy breaths for a yes and starts to recite the poetry. I close my eyes and lay down on the boat deck soaking in his gentle words.

Kenji’s Perspective

After a long day, the boat is finally back in the dock and we’re all gathered at the rail where the ramp will drop for us to get back on the ground, all but one.

“What the hell is he doing?” Yosano-san asks, pointing to Junicihrou-san lying on the boat’s deck with his earbuds in. He looks serene.

“I dunno,” says Atsushi-san.

“I think he’s talking to a Band-Aid guy, or maybe he’s listening to music.”

Oops. What do I do now? I’ll have to apologise to Tanizaki-san for revealing the secret.

“Baindaid guy? Is he a doctor?” Yosano-san asks

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, but no, I don’t think he’s a doctor. I saw him on Facetime, he looked way too young.” I shrug. 

I did recognise him, from the raids on the office, but I don’t know his name. I hope she doesn’t ask if I know him. I’m a terrible liar. Thankfully Atsushi steps up.

Atsushi’s Perspective:

I tap Kenji on the shoulder and he steps back.

If you’d asked me to lie even a few months ago, I’d have totally flaked, but these past few months of excusing for gaps in time have improved my skills greatly. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

“Maybe he’s a friend from school? The siblings go to the local High School, right? Surely the two of them must have some friends besides us to see when they’re not working? If not that’s sad.”

Yosano-san nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Maybe? But they’re pretty weird so I’m not sure. They've never mentioned anyone. If it is a friend, though, I’m glad. Maybe Noami will find a nice boy to get attached to instead of her brother.” She sounds doubtful. I don’t blame her.

“Eh, well just go and get him. I’m sure he’ll tell you if you ask.” Kunikida-san says

I can’t help frowning at this. “Yeah, he probably will.” It comes out louder and more bitter than I intended.

“What’s that face for?” he asks.

“He’s scared of Yosano-san, and you know it. It’d be unfair to use that against him. He probably doesn't want to tell us, so don’t make him, okay.” I’ve never snapped at him before, and I’m not sure if this qualifies, but I don’t want Junichirou to say anything he isn’t ready to yet. 

Ryu told me about them as soon as they got together. And . . . I know that Motojirou-san has a massive crush on Yosano-sensei

She frowns back at me. “Okay? Jeez. What’s got you so intense about this so suddenly?”

“I- I, he just looks really relaxed. If he’s not in pain from the seasickness anymore, does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” She concedes, still looking very suspiciously at me. After a tense moment of staring, we both nod. The boat is almost to the dock, and Junichirou is still lying on the deck.

Kunikida-san is walking over to him, probably worried about his schedule, we were out here longer than planned. The last thing he wants is for disembarkment to be delayed. Poor Junichirou. 

Kunikida’s Perspective:

I have patience for Junichirou’s affliction, of course I do, but if he doesn’t get up soon, we’ll have to carry both him and the evidence off the boat. I’m sure Kenji wouldn’t mind, but, still . . .

As I look down at him, it’s impossible to miss that he looks more serene than I’ve ever seen him, and on a boat of all places. His breathing is steady and even. He’s hovering on the edge of sleep. I wonder what he’s listening to. White noise maybe? Surely not waves?

I almost don’t want to wake him. Alas, it’s necessary.

“Tanizaki-kun, please get up. We’re at the dock now. You won't feel ill anymore.”

He doesn’t stir. After a moment I give him the lightest of taps with my toe. 

“Mmm, Michi? No. Let me sleep a bit more, okay? I’ll have soup later.”

“Michi? Who’s Michi? It’s me, Kunikida-san. Your superior at the agency.”

He jolts up, eyes wide. Is this “Michi” his girlfriend? If so, I can see how that would be embarrassing.

“Wha– I-I’m so sorry. I thought, uh, I thought that you were, uh, my . . . brother. Yeah, my bro Michi, uh, you know.”

Brother? But, he has no other family members besides Naomi, as far as I’m aware.

I look him dead in the eye, daring him to continue. He powers down his phone, probably ending whatever audio he was listening to.

“Tanizaki-kun, you don’t have a brother.”

He blinks slowly, processing. “M-maybe I do . . .”

“Tanizaki-kun. I don’t really care who you were talking to, but you do need to get up. Come on.”

He looks distinctly relieved as I help him to his feet. He sways a little but seems alright overall.

-

When we return to the office, the President relives Junichirou of his duties for the day.

“Go home, Tanizaki-kun. Rest up.”

“T-thank you, sir.” Junichirou bows deeply, still looking a little shaken.

Poor boy. Today wasn’t easy on him. Kenji apologises for suggesting he come along as he goes, but Junichirou shakes his head, saying it’s fine, telling him not to feel guilty.

Junichirou’s Perspective:

It’s nice that Noami agreed to stay at the office to help out with paperwork in my place. Even a few months ago she would have never.

After lying down for so long, it feels odd standing up. My head spins and my legs feel heavy. I still feel hot with the embarrassment from earlier with Kunikida-san. 

When I’m far enough away from the office, I pull out my phone and dial Michizou again.

The car park feels way too large, and heat radiates off the concretised ground. Since when did the earth rotate so fast? Maybe it’s just me?

“Hey, Jun, you hung up on me earlier, what happened? Are you back now?”

“ . . . Yeah, and I th-think I’m gonna pass out. P-please come pick me up.”

“Shit! Yeah, where are you?”

“Uhh, everything a bit fuzzy honestly.”

“Jun? Shit, uh, stay awake okay, er, sit down if you can, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I do, leaning against some stranger’s car. It does help. “I’m sitting, I’ll share my location.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

-

I open my eyes to the screeching of tyres. It’s close, but I can’t bring myself to move, too afraid I’d only fall. Which I guess doesn’t make much sense since I’m already sitting.

“Jun! Hey, Jun, you good?”

Michizou stands over me. He crouches down, tucking my hair back.

“Hey, come on, let’s get up.”

He starts to lift me but his body is too warm against mine, I shove him off.

“Too hot.”

“Sorry. I’ve got water.” He holds out a thermos, I take it eagerly, almost dropping it, but it doesn’t fall, only floats. It’s cool. I watch it in awe for a minute.

“Jun? Are you alright? You need to drink.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m just a bit out of it.” I must be more ill than I thought, It’s obviously just Michi’s ability that’s making the thermos float.

“Okay, tell me if you feel sick again.”

“Yeah.” Carefully, I take a sip. The cool water does wonder, the fog clearing so quickly it makes me a little dizzy again.

“Better?”

“Much.”

“Good, I have meds at home, and soup too, you’ll need to eat.” He says as he opens the door for me.

I don’t realise that he’s given himself the driver’s side until I’m already under the safety belt, hand movements on autopilot.

“Wait, Michi, you know I have to drive. If I don’t I’ll get sick again.” I start to unbuckle the belt, but it’s a bit harder than usual, with so many straps. Michizou puts a hand over mine to stop me.

“Juni.” It’s a sweet nickname, one he almost never uses. I can count the number of times on one hand, and this is only the second. It makes me feel ready to melt. “You’re all dizzy and shit. Let me drive, yeah? We’ll be home soon.”

“But . . . I’ll get sick again.” It’s babyish of me, I know and I hate how whiny I sound but, “Michi, I really don’t want to be sick again.”

He leans over the console, hugging me from the side. He smells nice, and the motion is gentler than usual. He rubs my shoulder and runs his fingers through my hair. The small action does wonders for the blooming headache, “I know. But you’re not good right now. Just this once? You’re always fixin’ me up when I’m down, so let me help you today.”

His hands feel so good that my eyes start to close. He’s right, there’s no way in any universe I could operate a vehicle like this. And he’s a better driver than me on my best day, more experienced.

“Yeah, I’m dumb.”

“No, you’re not,” he assures. “Just close your eyes. I’ll wake you at home.”

-

When Michizou’s voice draws me from sleep I open my eyes to the sight of the out kitchen counter overhead light. It’s off, sparing me from a worse headache. Am I . . . on the counter? He must’ve carried me in and put me here. I blush a little. There’s something cool on my forehead, a flannel, I think. Do I have a fever? I thought I was just seasick, but maybe . . .

“You’re really warm, not a fever, but I think you got heat stress,” Michizou informs me, his voice drifting in from the bedroom.

“Oh,” Is all I can say. I notice that he’s stripped me down to my pants and tank top. I do feel better. “Why am I on the counter, though?”

He blushes this time, “I dunno, I figured the sofa would be too hot since you’re kinda sweaty.”

“Makes sense.” Our sofa is very warm, and covered with blankets that Gin and Ichiyou-kun gave us.

The room only blurs a little when I sit up. I wring the now slightly warm cloth out in the sink.

“Google said a cool bath would help bring down your temp and with the headache. How sick do you feel? Do you wanna eat first? Or can the meds wait.”

I consider myself for a moment. I’m still a little queasy. I was asleep so I didn’t get sick in the car, but the ride didn’t exactly help. The medication would bring relief, but I’m still worried whatever I eat might come right back up. I hate throwing up. You’d think it’d be easy after all this time, but it hurts. Maybe if I wait it out, the queasy feeling will go away. “Bath first, I think.”

“Kay, I’ll run the water.”

-

The bath fills quickly, and because I don’t have to wait for the water to cool, I can get in right away. It feels like heaven after all day on the hot boat deck. I just soak for a minute, listening to Michizou finish dinner in the kitchen. He’s not amazing at cooking, but he can make about five dishes really well, and soup happens to be one of them.

Michi was right, I am sweaty. I should probably shower.

Lazily, I drain the tub and turn on the shower nozzle. Standing up reminds my stomach of the boat, but the cold water helps.

-

“Soup’s done. There’s cucumber salad too, and watermelon cuz Gin went to the farmer’s market. I gotta cut it though.” 

“Mmm, sounds good. I’m almost done.” I hope my stomach can take it.

“You decided to shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Feeling better?”

“A lot.”

I hear him start to return to the kitchen.

“Wait.”

“Yeah? Do you need help?”

“Could you wash my hair?” I’m grateful he can’t see me, it makes the request easier. I’m so used to having affection sort of forced on me by Naomi, as pure as her intentions may be, that it’s made me shy to ask for it.

“Sure, let me just wash my hands. Be there in a sec.”

-

I hear the tap shut off and Michi’s footsteps, almost silent across the wooden floor.

The door opens. He smiles, softer than his usual fanged grin. He’s holding a pitcher and a stack of clothes. I must’ve forgotten do get mine.

I sit, waiting patiently as he fills it.

“So, did your colleagues find the evidence they were looking for? For all that trouble, they better have.”

The phrasing makes me laugh. “You’re so formal sometimes.”

He looks down, focusing on the label of the shampoo bottle, “Yeah well, my mum had high standards for me growing up because of my brother, she beat it into me before I left. Some of it stuck, I guess.”

I smile, not that can take away all he’s been through, but I can try. “They did find it, I’m not sure what it was though.”

He laughs at that. “Tip your head back.”

I do, letting the cool water cascade over my head.

-

He helps me up.

The clothes in the stack are a mix of mine and his. I borrow from him so much it’s hard to keep track. Well, I say that, but our styles are actually quite distinct. I don’t care, not really. His black tee is well-worn and comfortable.

While I finish dressing, he dries my hair. It’s at times like this when our two-centimetre height difference is noticeable. He doesn’t have to reach up at all. It’s kind of hot, I won’t lie.

-

Thinking about food is one thing, but at the sight of it, I’m suddenly queasy. Not from motion sickness, per se, but just the anxiety that I’ll be sick again if I eat it, a vicious cycle.

“Michi, ‘m gonna-”

He helps me to the sink, rubbing soft circles over my back. 

I haven’t eaten since breakfast, but since I managed to avoid being sick on the boat and in the car, it’s all coming back up. The smell and sight make me sick yet again until my mouth feels disgusting.

“Shit, you’re really not feelin’ good, huh? Maybe I should take your temp again.”

“N-no, m’ not ill. Just worried.”

He seems to get it, as he shifts his hands slowly, running them down my side until his warm palms are against my upset stomach. “I promise, food will make you better, it always does.”

“Y-yeah, I know. M’ just dumb.”

“You really gotta stop sayin’ that.”

“Sorry.”

“That too.”

“Sor- I mean,d pens’t this gross you out.”

“Not really, I’ve seen worse. Besides I’m used to it . . . oh, not from you. You’re fine, I, uh, just had this friend, you know. Anyways, are you good for sec? I’ll get water.”

(A/N: Fukuchi’s always getting hungover lmao)

I nod.

He brings a glass with ice, fills it and hands it to me. I swallow and spit, repeating the process until I can’t taste the bile anymore.

“Better?”

I nod again, still shocked by the rudeness of it.

“You need only eat a bit, just to have something in your stomach before you take the pills. I’m not keen on a repeat of last time.”

There’s that formality again.

Last time. I had a bug so I took paracetamol without eating, got sick then passed out in the bathroom for a few hours.

“Me either.” I let him lead me to the table.

True to his word, and what I know in the back of my mind, the broth is harmless. I manage nearly a whole bowl with a small serving of salad before downing the medication with tea.

-

“See?” He’s smiling as we settle down on the sofa, “You’re fine now.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Now that I’ve cooled down, I miss his warmth again. I pull him closer until he wraps his arms around me.

“I’m so happy that I have you . . . I love you, Michizou.”

Maybe he didn’t hear, but then he leans down, lips brushing my ear, and whispers “Love you too, Juni.”

Suddenly the film isn’t nearly as interesting, not as much as Michizou’s finger in my hair anyway, making me feel all warm and fuzzy. I’m tired today, and I dislike lying, but maybe I’ll tell the President I’m still not feeling so good tomorrow.

Gosh, the things we do for love.

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 105 // There's a Thickness in the Air Part 2 // Day 104

Contents (Warnings): Ah yes, it's all coming back. (Angst, character and monster info as always). Read full chapter on A03

Wordcount: 2,000+

Song I correlate to this Chapter: None unfortunately

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

(Jan. 26th, Thursday)

Lynette

He was my first kiss. 

My stomach churned at the thought. 

It wasn't how I imagined it—I never considered kissing anyone. I barely been on a date!

I glanced in Alexander's direction. It wasn't Xander's fault. I was the one who played. I shouldn't have. I only did it in an attempt to prevent Lev from winning.

Drake patted my shoulder and assured me he'd try and beat Lev. 

"You don't have to get involved." I reminded him. He didn't have any stake in the games. It didn't stop him from going anyway.

My eyes fluttered up when they caught Alexander approaching. He's coming closer. My abdomen tightened and told me I was about to throw up. I wish I wasn't like this. I hate feeling so queasy. I fought to prevent it. I didn't want to upchuck on him like I did on a past date. I had a good smoothie during our first break; don't spit it up. 

Or if I do, maybe they'll be too disgusted to eat me ever again. I dryly chuckled to distract myself. My hands gripped the side of the table I had my back against. 

I held my breath and turned my head down when his deep thrum entered my ears.

"It wasn't anything." I looked up at him. It wasn't what I expected him to say. I thought he'd talk about how frustrated he was that I played, didn't give up, or something of that nature. He wasn't even facing me. "You don't have to worry about it being your first kiss."

My eyebrows slanted in sympathetic confusion. Is he… I couldn't study his expression—he turned his head more when I attempted. Is he trying to comfort me?

"It was just me clutching you. The same equivalent of me grabbing your wrist to stop you from doing something dumb."

My eyes then dropped into a glare. TRYING indeed. However, my nauseous stomach subsided. I smiled, relieved and admittedly, almost touched. "Thank you, Xander." I lessened my grip on the table.

His shoulders flinched. He flicked his head to me, "Why are you thanking me for telling you the obvious?"

"I'm thanking you because you didn't have to try and make me feel better, yet you did," I said.

"That's-" His lip raised, and he partially bared his relatively normal teeth—he had an extra set of canines compared to most people.

Unlike usual, he didn't move closer. "You're reading too much into it like you always do."

"Maybe," I turned away to temporarily release my breath. I'm not sorry, don't apologize. I told myself and refaced Alexander. "But I'm not taking my thank you back." 

My hands clenched the table edge out of reflexive nervousness. I had been in worse. I didn't feel the same fear I did back then. Here it comes.

We were interlocked in an intense stare. I didn't like prolonged eye contact with him or Lev. I expected him to argue.

Alexander lifted his hands toward me like he went in for a grab, then sharply balled his fists, growled, and turned his head away. "I'll remember that when I win tomorrow's game."

He said, stepping away to the table a short walk from mine.

I dropped my shoulders and nearly fell as soon as my hands unclenched. I recaptured my balance and watched Alexander pull a chair out to sit down.

After I yelled at him that day, he backed down more often. I should be proud of this.

I wasn't. I refrained from asking, as Drake recommended I should, but I wanted to understand what made him run away.

…

Drake

Lev stood with his back to the blonde woman, who scolded Drake as he approached.

The vampire beast knew her crush on Lev, and he couldn't care less about her jealousy. He wanted her face to pucker more, if anything, after her snide comment to Alexander.

Lev ignored her, held the stick near his mouth, and smirked invitingly."You want a kiss, too, Drake?"

Drake physically cringed at the suggestion. I don't like you, Lawless. 

He went to confront Lev for Lynette's sake. None of them would typically want to versus Lev in something so ridiculous. That dragon knows it, and he chose Lynette to start to see her fail.

The breakroom door far behind him opened. It's Zilla because Beatrice is already here. The scrap of the chair told Drake his best friend was getting up.

"If I win, you're feeding yourself to Zilla today." Drake declared, loud enough for her to hear. 

He intended to prevent her from attacking Alexander and to instill fear in Lev's eyes. Instead, Lev's yellow hue flared wildly, showing his eagerness for the challenge. You gambling addict. 

He tapped the stick to his lips. "Then fine." Momentarily, he shifted his sight. "You're off the hook today, Lynette~." Lev chirped and turned his gaze back to tighten down on Drake. "If I win then, Clemente," Drake's head dropped in annoyance. "You'll feed yourself to Zilla on Tuesday for me." 

Fuck you. "Deal."

Lev put it in his mouth and tipped forward to be level with Drake. You're awful. Lev's eyes and slight smile begged him to come closer.

Drake got the other end and stared back. His bangs provided much-needed comfort.

Lev went closer, taking a quarter. Drake hesitantly did the same. Focus on his heart. Drake murmured in his head.

In spite of his impending doom, he refused to surrender. He won't be my first kiss.

Drake could tell Lawless didn't want it either, but the flirty deviant made it halfway. Damn it. Having parted his lips, Drake's gut reaction told him to escape. His breathing wobbled, and his tensing muscles whined.

Drake had no choice. Their lips got far too close, so he snapped his jaw shut and yanked away.

He removed the piece from his mouth and cursed. "I'd rather put my bleeding face in a piranha tank." 

...

Lev

He ate his half of the stick and grinned off his own apprehension, "And I was looking forward to being your first." 

"LIKE HELL," Drake grunted, returning to the table in irritation. "I heard your heartbeat."

Lev snickered and traced his thumb on the lid of the box. I'm aware, and knowing you're always listening is aggravating.

"Lev," Her voice buzzed next to his ear. 

Keeping a smile on his face, he fantasized about grabbing her head and crushing it. He pretended to tolerate her presence.

"Yes?" Rather than teasing her, like everyone else, he hummed in a botheration-filled tone. Not that she knew or cared about the difference. 

She gestured to the box, puckering her plump red lips in a kiss, "It's my turn."

By human standards, in her case, she was attractive. To Lev, she was just a bug. Persistently droning, fighting for attention he didn't want to give her. He rarely encountered a monster like her that wanted him in ways that made him sick.

The worst part was that he was metaphorically bound to keep things civil with her. She was one of the only people who knew about him.

He shifted his eyes to the table Lynette sat at across from Drake. His smile widened, fearfully so.

Soon, he was interrupted by the rattle of nails across his bicep. "Lev?"

He snatched at her hand, holding it up and turning to her. "Are you sure you want to lose, Honey?"

He disgustingly watched the thrill in her rise when he used the nickname she gave to everyone else and clutched her hand.

She squeed, "I won't be losing."

He let her hand go and took another stick out from the box. He forcibly settled his heart and inhaled a deep breath.

He placed it between his lips and leaned near her, offering it. She jumped at the opportunity without an ounce of hesitation.

The sweetness of the stick did nothing for the bitterness she brought by joining the game.

She was an unexpected variable.

Lev planned out what would happen—he expected Alexander to make some stupid mistake and lose to Lynette. Next, Drake and her would engage until one would back down. And the winner certainly would never challenge him because they all thought he'd do it.

He let people fabricate their own assumptions based on questionable statements. He didn't usually lie. He simply said things tailored explicitly for his listeners to craft what "he meant" or "what he'd do."

He fooled many this way, including those on the night crew.

If they got too close, he'd snuff them out and say something to take their attention off him.

Beatrice worked differently. She wanted Lev to hurt her, berate her, and eat her. So he had little to use against her without losing his job, as they'd know if a coworker would use magic or kill one another.

He moved up the stick, and she did the same, too eagerly, puckering her lips as she did.

There was no doubt that his coworkers' eyes were on him. This meant he couldn't back down. If he did, they'd see his vulnerability and question whether he should be taken seriously in the future.

He took more of it into his mouth, sliding further, closer to her heat.

Lev controlled his expression and was grateful the sweat on his head was out of the other's view. I bet Drake's listening.

He said in his head as he rested his lips at the center. In less than a second, Beatrice jumped for the middle, and reflexively, Lev couldn't take it.

He threw up his hand and caught her face, pushing it from his. He worked on his recovery, "You'd think I'd let you get what you want that easily?"

She grumbled, and he let her face go.

No one at the table looked surprised except Drake, who watched him closely.

"Rude." Beatrice pouted her lower lip, and her blonde curls bounced as her head turned. She smiled after. "Hold on, doesn't that mean I win?"

"Correct," Lev said.

He put the box away, subtly wiping the sweat from his brow when his back was to everyone else.

He was humiliated. He picked a game and couldn't follow through. All because of you.

He went to glare at her, but she wasn't beside him anymore. The queen "bee" herself was at the table—Zilla, Alexander, Drake, and Lynette sat. She beckoned Lev to the table and offered Lynette to him.  

A consolation prize to get on my good side? He walked over, resisted the urge to strangle Beatrice for her mockery of his pride, and casually leaned on the table, blocking her from Lynette's sight.

Lynette's reaction to move back as he crept into her space was so much more appealing to him.

"I don't really count today as a victory, so why don't we reset? I'll give everyone a less...physical game tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Your game day was-"

Lev intervened, almost too desperate to regain some semblance of control. "I didn't know you'd prefer getting eaten to having a second chance."

Lynette's face read defiance, followed by thoughts. Her internal debate looked loud and clear to him. He anticipated her agreement and waited to hear it.

"Fine."

He pulled back, and Zilla bounced up from her seat. And all of them, besides Lynette, grew tense. I forgot she had been waiting, hadn't she?

"Well, you all have about thirty or more minutes left. So...it's my turn for some fun."

Everyone quickly vacated the area, and Lev, being as he was, 'accidentally' pushed Beatrice at Zilla.

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. I'm glad I put out a story that people can enjoy! I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable, as always~).

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Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below  ↓ ↓ ↓ 

What I’d do for a Livable Income Part 2 (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Taming Arrogance - Chapter 20

*Warning Adult Content*

The flight home is unbearable.

Our seats aren't together this time and I'm left fending off my anxiety while sitting beside a middle aged woman who is so large she takes up all of her seat and half of mine.

The turbulence is worse this time around, too.

The plane bumping and skidding through the tormented winds.

I try to distract my mind but every time my thoughts move to something else, they inevitably fall back on Blake.

I can't help but wonder if he requested to sit apart from me.

My stomach churns at the thought or maybe that's the burrito I had at the airport.

The woman beside me adjusts in her seat, smashing my finger on the arm rest with her elbow.

I wiggle it out from under her and curse, inspecting my finger for damage.

The entire thing goes unnoticed by her and I huff before shoving myself as far as I can towards the window.

Wisps of dark clouds scamper past the small window and I chant over and over to not look down. '

This sucks. It really, fucking sucks.'

By the time we land, my hands are stiff and snow white from gripping my arm rests so hard.

I don't bother waiting for Blake before going to our baggage claim.

He didn't even give me a chance to explain myself but if he wants to be apart from me, fine.

Two can play at that game.

There aren't a lot of people at baggage claim by the time I get down there and I stare at the dark suitcases as they start brushing into view.

The belt whines as bag after bag passes by at a snail's pace.

My foot starts bouncing after a few minutes pass, my impatience getting the better of me.

I just want to get my luggage and get the fuck out of here.

As far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for me to see Blake again until work on Monday.

The man is infuriating.

Yeah, so I had Cade in my hotel room overnight.

It's not like anything happened.

'But he doesn't know that,' the voice in my head challenges me with a persuasive edge and I brush it aside.

Even if we had done something, it's not Blake's business anyway.

Isn't he the one who just broke up with fag-tard Phil?

It's not like we're together or some shit like that.

My prior guilt and trepidation begins to melt away to the heat of anger bubbling up inside me.

A dark blue suitcase with a white stripe down the side comes into view and with muscles taut with irritation, I hoist it off the belt.

If Blake is around, I don't see him.

If he sees me, he doesn't try to stop me as I head out the doors of the airport and hail a cab.

If my company wasn't good enough for him on the plane, than his isn't good enough for me on the drive home.

The cab driver gets out of the car and helps me put my bag in the trunk.

When the two of us are back in the car, he turns around with a half-hearted smile.

"Where to?"

********

As well-played as I thought my idea was to travel home alone from the airport, it only makes things worse.

The terrible flight manifests into a terrible weekend and then an even worse first week back to work.

When another Monday rolls around, I have zero motivation to walk inside those doors at all.

Blake's clinical kindness has down-graded to a state of indifference that even the most aloof people would find offensive.

It's not my imagination, either.

I see the way people whisper when I walk past, their gossip circulating like wildfire how, in a matter of a few days, I fell out of Blake's good graces.

By the end of last week, I began to wonder if Blake noticed my presence at all.

My eyes flicker to the time on the dashboard.

With a heavy sigh I get out of my car, slamming the door shut behind me.

A few other cars sprinkle the lot but for the most part, it's a ghost town.

I do my best to avoid as many customers and fellow employees as possible but by mid-morning my name blares across the speakers.

"Callum Greene, you have a call on line three. Callum Greene, line three."

I head towards the nearest work phone in the break phone and pick it up.

"Hello?"

"I need you in my office please. Now."

Click.

The call disconnects and I slam it back on the receiver.

Just hearing Blake's voice sends unwanted waves of desire prickling across my skin.

What the fuck happened to me in the past few weeks?

I shake my head and trudge to Blake's office, my palms sweating with uncertainty.

I see the man on an-almost daily basis.

So why has my confident ability to be around him dissolved to dust?

His door is ajar and I give it a tentative knock.

"Come in."

I step inside and suck in a breath.

I haven't been in Blake's office in almost a week.

Is the fact that I'm in here now a good thing or bad?

Blake doesn't look up from his stack of papers as he mumbles for me to close the door.

After a beat of silence, he sets his pen aside and lifts his gaze.

His guarded eyes settle on my face and I think it's the first time he's looked at me, really looked at me, since were in Florida.

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks just having his attention on me again.

"Please, sit," Blake instructs.

I sit without question, my spine ramrod straight.

Blake fiddles with his cufflink and a deep frown creases the space in between his eyebrows.

He shifts his eyes away from me and I have the sinking feeling he's letting me go.

"Am I being fired?" I ask, my voice so timid it's humiliating.

"No, Mr. Greene. You're not being fired."

My shoulders sag with endless relief.

Then curiosity takes hold and I start wondering just where this is headed.

Blake leans forward, resting his elbows on the edge of his desk.

He clears his throat.

"I believe I owe you an apology."

'An apology?' My ears perk. 'This is it. He's going to apologize for being so cold and callous the past week.'

Maybe he'll even add in a comment or two about abandoning me and making me sit next to Fat Bertha on the airplane.

I almost have to hold back a giddy chuckle as I wait for him to continue.

"My behavior while we were in Florida was unprofessional. Inexcusable even."

My grin slips.

'Wait. What?'

"You are, first and foremost, my employee. I should have treated you as such," Blake continues, eyes never meeting mine.

"I apologize for letting things get out of hand. I'm not sure what got into me. Maybe it was just the stress but I assure you, Mr. Greene, it won't happen again."

My heart picks up speed as the full impact of his words unfold.

He's not sorry for anything last week.

Instead he's apologizing for the possessive moments, the stolen kisses and the intimate touches.

He's apologizing for the very memories that consume my thoughts every night while I drift off to sleep.

Of its own accord, my tongue swipes across my bottom lip, a silent reminder that Blake's lips were against them at one time.

I run a hand through my hair and slump back in the chair.

I've ended plenty of 'flings' over the past few months.

None of them amounted to much but a few chicks ended up shedding tears as they left the confines of my bedroom walls. Is this what they felt like when they left?

A gift-wrapped pile of shit?

"Oh..." my voice trails off.

I feel like an idiot.

What was I expecting to happen when I came in here?

For us to pick up where we left off?

To live out some sort of fantasy office romance?

'Hahaha. Looks like the jokes on me.'

The emotions tumbling through my body are so foreign and intense my head starts to pound in pain.

Blake looks at me again.

The hardness of his expression is gone and his eyes search my face with a hopeful gaze.

He's looking at me as if he wants me to challenge his words.

To give some indication that this isn't what I want.

Every inch of me wants to argue, to give up my pride and let him touch me as much and in whatever way he wants.

It's all I think about, anyway but my pride doesn't work like that.

Instead it flares with every bit of strength it can muster, extinguishing my only opportunity to change the outcome through silent acceptance.

I swallow hard, trying to fight down the feeling of regret.

"It's all good," I say, my eyes focused on the corner of one of his file folders.

"Already forgotten about."

I can't bring myself to look at Blake, though I can tell by the change in his position that he's disappointed.

He picks up his pen and points the end of it towards the door.

"Wonderful," he says, his voice distant and cold.

"I have work to do, now. You're dismissed."

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Y/N and Spencer decide to keep seeing each other in secret. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, cockwarming, heavy petting, penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral sex (both receiving), degradation, exhibitionism, fingering, cum play maybe? Word Count: 7.5k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is... *nervous laugh* this is pure filth. Like... It’s nothing but sex scenes, y’all. Buckle in. (Also the end is a lil angsty so watch out hehehe)

———

JULY 8th

"You're sure you guys are okay without me for a little while?"

I love my mom. Really, I do.

But if she delays her bath for any longer than one more second, I'm going to burst into flames.

Thankfully it seems that Spencer is patient enough for the both of us. "Positive. You deserve to relax a little. Go. Take your bath, we'll be fine."

Mom looks to me for extra reassurance, and I give it to her with a nod.

"Okay. I'll try not to be too long."

She turns and kisses Spencer, long and lovesick, and I want to barf. What's even worse is that when she pulls away and pats my head before retreating up the stairs, he's smiling. And he's supposed to, I know that. Part of him obviously cares about my mom, and even if he's only fucking me on the side, the fact remains that he goes to sleep next to her. That's the way it has to be.

But it still makes me incredibly envious.

It's a problem.

Mom is upstairs now, but our rule is that unless we know for certain that she's not coming into sight or earshot anytime soon, we remain distant.

Still, I make my distaste for their affections known. "You guys are gross..."

Spencer laughs, his hand sneaking over the couch cushion and grazing the end of my skirt. "Jealous, are we?"

Of course, I have to make it difficult for him. "You're a genius, you tell me..."

"Hey now... You're lucky I'm giving you any attention at all... Besides, you know the rules."

I glance over at him, practically crumbling apart at the seams under his intense gaze. It's one I've gotten used to as of late, one that rivals every smile I've ever seen him give my mother.

"Doesn't make it any easier," I mumble, glancing down at where his fingers are still toying with my skirt.

"I know..." He reaches out and touches my hand, and my skin tingles. "Come here."

Even though I can hear that the bath water has only just started running from below, I comply all the same. I scramble off the couch and return on his lap, straddling him and nesting my fingers through his hair while I lean in to kiss him.

He welcomes me with open arms and an open mouth. The moment our tongues brush, I sigh and melt into him, needing desperately to be as close as possible. Our kisses then are languid and wet, and soft. We don't want to get carried away in case we need to be alert and jump apart, so it's best to keep our bodies controlled.

But as I'm learning, around Spencer, controlling myself is painstakingly difficult.

A whine escapes me when his right hand slips under my skirt and rests along the inside of my thigh, and I shift, silently begging him to give me more.

"So impatient..." he mumbles over my mouth.

I pull away and slide my hands down over his neck and shoulders, my hips rolling forward as I pout. "I haven't had you all week. I'm lonely..."

It's true.

Once all my STD tests came back clean and I got my birth control figured out and solid, the first thing he did was tell my mom he wasn't feeling well and texted me the address to his apartment. And after I told her I was meeting up with a friend, I drove over there and got my brains completely fucked out. We spent all day under the sheets, on the couch, over the kitchen counter, and then on the floor, until I had to go home and pretend like it never happened.

Since then we'd only slept together once, and that was just over a week ago, quickly while Mom ran to the store for an onion of all things. And then Spencer had been busy with consulting on new cases that his old job wanted a little help with, and once he had free time, Mom insisted they go on a date weekend.

I pout harder, stomach churning at the memory of the look he gave me before they left—a silent, sweet goodbye that had left me empty and wanting.

But he's just amused.

A smirk ghosts over his lips, red and a little puffy from the pressure of my own against them. "So I definitely can't trust you to be quiet enough to fuck you properly..."

That warrants another whine and another roll of my hips, and I can feel his hand gripping my thigh a little tighter.

"Please... Spencer, I need you..."

His name rolling off my tongue must be what makes him give into me, because I barely have time to react before he's kissing me again, using both of his hands to lift the back of my skirt up and knead my ass.

"Wait... Are you wearing..."

I grin over his lips, wiggling my ass into his touch and utterly turned on by the fact that he knows what underwear I'm wearing just by touch.

"Mhmm," I answer, nipping his bottom lip. "Your favorite..."

The sound that rumbles in his chest as he crashes his body against mine has to be the sexiest thing I've ever heard. He's obviously trying not to be loud, but it's hard, and that makes the sound strained. He really wants this, wants to keep me, and to do that he has to refrain from going absolutely primal right now. He has to do anything to keep this quiet.

So he pushes me off of him, and I pout, thinking he's given up until we can get a true moment alone.

But I know that isn't the case when he spins his finger and then starts undoing his pants.

"Turn around, sweetheart," he huffs, slipping his pants and underwear down just enough that his erection emerges free. "You're gonna sit here, keep quiet, and keep my cock nice and warm, understood?"

Don't have to tell me twice... I'll fucking take what I can get.

So I spin, back up, and move all my clothing to the side, my skirt lifting as I nestle into Spencer's lap and hold my panties to the side. He laughs at my eagerness, though he isn't laughing much longer once I sink down onto him and get in real close. His hands come out to grab my chest and pull me flush against his own.

The way he stretches and fills me has my eyes rolling back, a long, happy sigh falling from my lips. I wish I could say I'm being dramatic about it, but I'm really not.

I'm genuinely relieved and satisfied with the burn.

"There's my girl," Spencer muses through a sigh of his own, his breath fanning gently over my neck right before he gives it an open-mouthed kiss.

His hands slip under the baggy sweater I'm wearing and run along the planes of my stomach, then up and up, taking the fabric with him until it rests above my bare chest. Being exposed like this, right in the middle of the living room while my mom is just upstairs, excites me more than I think it should.

While Spencer kisses and licks at my neck, his hands now gently kneading my breasts, I squirm.

He doesn't like that very much.

"Ah-ah," he warns, squeezing me tight and pulling me into him more. "Relax..."

He hooks his legs around mine then, spreading them apart and somehow filling me deeper. I whine, leaning my head back onto his shoulder and trying not to roll my hips.

Instead, I settle for clenching myself around him, and that seems to be the right move.

"Atta girl... Lay back and relax... Just feel me filling you up nice and slow..."

"Mmmm," I respond in kind as his hands loosen and glide down my body.

He's light with his touch, though the kisses on my neck feel hungry, and his cock feels heavy and thick inside me. It's a beautiful contrast, really, making me feel so full and yet so light, like I'm a raincloud.

Soon his fingers dip under my skirt and cover my hand, which is working at keeping my panties off to the side. He traces the curves of my fingers with his own, mumbling praises and scattering kisses along the side of my neck. And I'm distracted enough that I almost don't feel his other hand make gentle contact with my clit until I gasp from the sharp sensation.

I can feel his smile against my skin as he starts rubbing in slow, precise circles.

"That feel good, princess?"

"Uh huh," I breathe out, trying to keep still. My other hand digs into my knee in hopes that I can stay grounded and focused on keeping still. But despite that, I'm feeling rather calm. Satisfied...

Right where he wants me.

"Mmm..." He hums happily into my skin, continuing to kiss my neck while working my clit.

And I have no idea how long we lay there. It feels like it could be hours.

The TV is on, but we're not paying any attention to it. In the back of my mind I know that Mom could be done with her bath at any minute, but it's been too long without Spencer inside me... And even though he's not actually fucking me, just having him this close and feeling him touch me, fill me, breathe me in...

God, I never want it to stop.

I'm almost on the verge of coming, but he removes his hand from me and slides them up my stomach again.

I whine at the loss of orgasm, but he pays it no mind. "Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna start moving..."

I start to get excited, wiggling in his lap a little.

With a dark laugh, he brings his hands to my breasts, kneading them gently and nipping my earlobe. Getting my attention...

"But you're not gonna stop until I fill that slutty little cunt with my cum, got it? I don't care if you come more than once. I don't care if you come at all... I don't care if your mom comes down here and sees..."

I swear I almost come on the spot from his words alone.

And then his voice is somehow even darker, seeping through my skin and settling into the very deepest parts of me.

"You will not stop until you make me come, am I clear?"

I wouldn't deny him if I could. I'm so damn whipped by this man, so eager to please and be near him that he could ask me to do any fucking thing on the planet and I would.

My rational brain might have second-guessed that feeling if it hadn't been horny as fuck...

And so I get to it, maneuvering my hips and working Spencer's cock like my life depends on it. And honestly, it kind of does, because if my mother comes down and catches us I'm dead.

Despite the urgency, though, I relish every second of it. I try to remember every sensation vividly because I don't know when I'll get to feel it again. So every time I sit back down on his dick, I clench it on the way up, because I know that drives him wild and it also means I get to feel him grab me tighter.

I can't see him, not even really when I turn my head, but I can picture how he's probably biting his lip, trying not to be loud. His eyes are probably shooting daggers at the ceiling, praying to the heavens above that my mom won't come down.

But it looks like the heavens above have decided to damn us to hell.

That unmistakable sound of the drain in the tub rumbles through the ceiling and down the inside of the walls as the water travels through the pipes, and my heartbeat races faster than it ever has.

Spencer tugs my hair then, pulling my head to meet his shoulder once more. "You better hurry, little girl..."

That's when I finally come. My cunt throbs and shakes around him as I bounce as quietly as I can. His grip in my hair is tighter, urging me to keep going, and the sharp sensation seems to extend my orgasm a little.

I whimper and whine as I feel it, and that seems to be what does him in.

"Fuck, Y/N, that's it... That's my girl..."

Four more bounces from me is all it takes, and then he's holding my hips in place. He grunts as quietly as possible into my shoulder and fucks into me slowly, filling me to the brim with his cum and breathing harshly into my skin.

I can hear Mom walking around upstairs, most likely getting dressed, which means she'll be down any minute...

"Time to get up, princess," Spencer whispers a moment later, letting go of my hips.

I turn my head into his neck, whining. "I don'wanna..."

"I know, I know... But you have to."

I know he's right. But I can't just get up and lose him so quickly. I want to hold on for as long as possible.

So I tilt my head up and bring his lips to mine. Thankfully he doesn't reject me, instead returning my affections and sighing into my mouth. He's still sheathed inside me, and I can feel his cum very slowly starting to drip down.

I have to get up now...

My mouth reluctantly parts from his and pouts. I expect him to return it with a sad smile, but his lips are rather mischievous.

He smirks, lifting me off of him and quickly pulling my panties back in place. His cum instantly soaks into the thin, lavender fabric, and it only reminds me of his absence.

But then Spencer spins me around on the heels of my feet and presses his hand firmly to my clothed, sopping wet cunt under my skirt, rubbing it in and making me whimper out at the overstimulation.

"I missed you," he whispers sincerely. Sweetly...

I can't help but smile as I lean down to kiss him one more time.

"I missed you, too."

JULY 23rd

I've been looking forward to this weekend since Mom brought it up after her bath—A call from work. A weekend business trip across the country.

She would be gone for almost a whole week.

Spencer's already started on his coursework for the next school year so he'll be busy most days, but at night? That's when he's all mine.

The only hard part about this, really, is containing my excitement. Just yesterday Spencer got me alone and warned me that I better keep my cool and be patient. Though, the way he said it was hardly a bad thing considering it gave me an excuse to feel his hands on me, even in the laundry room where, more or less, this had all started.

Even now I can still feel their warmth and their heft as they grope and paw at my breasts while he attacks my neck with sloppy kisses.

But right now he's not here, and as much as I can't wait to spend the week with him, my mom is also going to be gone for that long.

Just because I'm fucking her boyfriend on a regular basis doesn't mean I don't still love her.

Though, the thought of it all makes me a little uneasy—I don't know what the future holds. I know Spencer obviously cares about my mom, but if it really gets to a point where they've been together long enough, would he ever marry her?

And then what?

It's one thing for him to be my mom's boyfriend, who doesn't live here and only stays when he can... But it's a whole other one to be my stepfather. And what if my mom wants to have another kid?

No.

I'm not even going to think about it... If it ever gets to that point, then we'll deal with it, but right now I've only known Spencer for nearly 2 months, and it's way too soon to be thinking about any of that right now.

"You gonna be alright without me for a week?"

I curl into Mom's side, laughing and thankful for her distraction. "I spend almost a whole year away at college without you, I think I can survive five days."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I wish you could just stay here with me forever."

"Ha, no you don't. I'm a menace."

"Only when you eat all my food and then complain that you're starving..."

My eyes roll affectionately. "Mom. That was one time, and I was fifteen and dramatic."

She kisses the top of my head and then rests her chin on it. "Then my point stands... You were only a menace when you were fifteen. Now you're an angel."

I can tell she's sincere, and when I tell her Thank you, it feels incredibly deceitful—Especially when she starts humming my favorite song and brushing through my hair with her fingers, just like she used to do to get me to sleep as a kid. The foggy feeling it sends through my bloodstream reminds me that I'm definitely not the same person I was back then.

Although, it is true that some things never change, and within minutes I'm soundly asleep in my mother's arms.

———

When Spencer and I are sending her off at the airport the next morning, my heart thrums wildly in my chest.

"You have Spencer's number in case of an emergency?" she asks me in a haste.

"Yes, Mom. For the thousandth time, I have his number, and I have Grandma's number, and I have just about every other number you've ever given me for emergency contacts."

She gives me The Look.

"Yes, I have it. And I'll be okay. I love you."

"Oh, I love you, too," she says, pulling me in for one last breath-reducing hug, though, that's not truly what knocks the breath from my lungs.

She goes to Spencer next, reaching up to give him a goodbye kiss. I'm expecting it. I'm okay with it.

But this is unlike any other kiss I've seen them share, and it admittedly makes me jealous.

Spencer almost has her off the ground, pressing her close to him and kissing her deeply. Her hands weave through his hair as he tilts his head, and this time I can see his tongue slip into her mouth.

"O—kaaay, my eyes are burning... Thank you for that..."

I know I can get away with that because it's a completely normal reaction to seeing your mother make out with anyone, so I don't feel bad about it one bit. And I especially don't feel bad about the warning look he gives me over my mom's shoulder when she comes to give me another hug.

But then she's gone, and minutes later we're leaving the airport parking lot, and I can't seem to shake my jealousy. Even when his hand rests politely on my knee.

The whole way home I only barely acknowledge his presence, giving him half-hearted smiles and remaining mostly still when he glides his hand higher up my leg. By the time his fingers slip under the hem of my skirt, I think he knows something is up, because it stops there.

He waits until we get in the house to bring it up.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

I plop myself down on the couch with an overexaggerated sigh. "Kinda..."

I know Spencer used to be a profiler, and really, it's not that hard to figure out what's wrong with me. But it's still a little scary how easily he just knows.

"You know I had to," he says, walking over and standing in front of me. "Keeping up appearances and whatnot."

He's right. And it's a consequence of what we've decided to do, so really I'm in no place to complain.

Still, I reach out and pull him in by the belt loops, leaning my face in rather close to his crotch. "You know... Actually, I think you just like making me jealous..."

The smile that dances over his lips is amused and downright sinful. "Oh?"

"Mhmm," I drawl, sliding my hands to the front of his pants and rubbing him through the fabric.

He laughs. "Yeah, you are pretty cute when you're all huffy."

With big eyes and a fluttering in my stomach at the way he looks down at me, I feel that pressing of jealousy start to lift off my chest. I know that within an hour he'll have me pinned under his body somehow, and the thought allows my response to come out clearly and without question.

"So how are you gonna make it up to me?"

———

We're already out of our clothes by the time we make it upstairs. And when we finally get into my bedroom, I'm about to shut the door and then Spencer stops me.

"No one's home, sweetheart... Leave it open."

He takes two steps and has me in his arms, his hands sliding down my back and resting over my ass. And when he gives it a squeeze, he grins down at me. "You're gonna be loud for me, understand?"

"Hey, that's on you," I tease, wiggling against him. "You want me loud? Make me loud."

His grip on my ass gets tighter as he pulls me closer, and I yelp out. "Don't challenge me, little girl... You'll regret it."

I laugh then, calling back to his earlier statement. "Aw... You're pretty cute when you're all huffy..."

"Alright, fine."

The next thing I know, I'm on my knees, and his hands are rooting in my hair. The rough carpet underneath me already burns, but I know in the end it's gonna be so worth it.

Spencer brings me close to his exposed crotch and tilts my head up to look at him. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude right out of your pretty little mouth, got it? And you're not gonna do a damn thing but take it like a good girl."

I would have asked him if that was a threat or a promise if he hadn't immediately shoved his dick in my mouth. It has me wet in an instant, the way he just pulls me onto him and starts fucking my face with an urgency that seems to contradict all the time we have. He needs me now, with no time for teasing or pleasantries, and I fucking love it.

Which is why I do as I'm told, enjoying every second as he holds my head still and snaps his hips forward, his velvety smooth cock gliding over my tongue and down my throat with ease. It doesn't take long for my eyes to water, my vision going blurry and my body growing hot. My face is angled straight ahead, but I still find a way to look up at him, and from this low angle?

It's the best thing I've ever seen.

No matter how many times I've been on my knees like this, staring up at Spencer as he loses himself at my hands (or rather my mouth, if you want to get technical), I swear I could never tire of it.

His eyes are glaring down at me as he concentrates, his arms are out in front of me as they hold my head in place, and his pubic bone and sculpted hips are right there, moving ferociously in front of my eyes. He's so deep in my throat for a few seconds, holding me down while I gag around him, that my nose is buried in the soft trail of hair that gathers on his skin, and I want to stay there forever.

But my gag reflex isn't much durable for more than fifteen seconds, much less forever, so I have to pull back.

Spencer pulls me off of him completely, a trail of spit following my lips and then detaching until it lands along my chin. I blink away some of the tears that had gathered in my eyes and pout up at him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're supposed to be making it up to me..." My voice is scratchy and a little hoarse now, but I know it'll probably be worse if Spencer really thinks he can make me as loud as he says (which I truly don't doubt for a second).

He tugs me up by the hair, and I whine as I get to my feet, my knees aching already. And then his mouth is on my cheek, gently kissing away a tear. "Aw, I thought you liked having my dick in your mouth..."

"I do..."I giggled a little, nestling into his body and feeling his erection, now slick with my saliva, press up against the inside of my thigh. "But I like it better in other places..."

"Mmm, you're right... I do, too..."

I certainly hadn't been expecting that answer.

But it doesn't surprise me when he walks us over to the foot of my bed and pushes me onto it. "Hands and knees, princess."

My knees still burn from the carpet, and I'm sure this squeaky-ass mattress won't alleviate the pain at all, but if there's one thing I've learned since having sex with Spencer it's that pain is all part of the pleasure.

So I don't question it. My limbs submit to his simple command, and once I turn away from him and perch myself on my hands and knees, I can feel him climbing on the bed and crawling up the backside of my body. His hands roam my ass and my waist, and within seconds he has his cock nestled against me.

He moves nice and slow at first, dragging the length of him through my slick cunt and ghosting the skin of my backside with his hands.

"Remember... Nice and loud, okay? Wanna hear how good I make you feel."

Like I could ever deny him. Even though I like to tease him and push his buttons, I couldn't think of a single thing in the moment that I'd ever deny him.

So he finally pushes into me, stretching me out well and good, and a low groan slowly rolls off my tongue like a waterfall. And I'm not doing it for his sake; It's like he draws it out of me like a syringe, and I'm utterly powerless against it... Against him.

Like I need a metaphor to explain how I'm well and truly his bitch...

"There she is..." Spencer breathes, reaching the very deepest part of me and staying there. "There's my obedient little girl... Tell me what you want."

I turn my head to get as good of a look at him as I can, and give him the pout to end all pouts. "I want you to fuck me, hard... Please?"

His answer is a gentle push forward, his body leaning over mine to take my hands and pin them behind my back, which pulls me up towards him so that my back is nearly flush with his chest. His hands are so big that one of them is able to hold both of my wrists while the other gathers my hair and tugs.

I feel like I'm being held by a bungee cord, especially when Spencer starts snapping his hips and pounding into me roughly. My knees are pushing into the springs of the mattress and lifting again with each thrust, and I can't help the stream of whimpers and shouts that escape me at the whole experience.

He lets go of my hair in favor of reaching around and palming my left tit, his pace never faltering for a second. Everything he's doing is precise and swift and so fucking good that my eyes can hardly stay open.

"I'm hearing you, pretty girl, but I don't think you're quite loud enough..." he grumbles in my ear, letting go of me and gently pushing me back down on the bed. He slips out of me and I whine at the loss, but I don't have to worry about it much longer when I feel him lay down over top of me and slam into me hard.

I yelp out, my hands reaching out and clutching the comforter for dear life. Spencer's hands, meanwhile, push up off the mattress on either side of my hips to lift himself up, and then he's grabbing my waist and pushing me into it while he fucks me.

When I instinctively shove my face down and try to muffle myself, though, one of his hands leaves my waist and comes up to tug my hair, pulling my head up. His hips pause, pressed deep into my backside, and I can feel how he's struggling to keep still.

"Uh-uh... No one's home, princess... Let it all out..."

He pulls back and plows into me again, and this time his pace is frustratingly slow. With each slam forward my voice grows louder, begging him for more with incoherence until I start to feel myself grow tense with pleasure.

"You're almost there, baby, I can feel it," Spencer breathes. His voice is far away, and I wish he was closer, his breath on my neck and his lips not far behind. But for now I gladly settle for his hands, tight and bruising on my hips, and the force of his pelvis as it collides brutally and wonderfully with my ass.

What finally brings me sweet release is the sound of him grunting out one word. A command. And once again it's like I'm powerless under his spell.

"Come."

I do, and he fucks me thoroughly through each wave. Even once I've finished, he chases his own orgasm for minutes.

By the sounds he's making and the way his hips falter here and there, I can tell he's close, but he wants to make it last. I want to tell him that we have all weekend, to maybe tease him a bit, but I'm so fucked out and incoherent that I couldn't have said a single word if I tried.

So I lay there and take it with a weary smile on my face, ever the whiny, whimpering mess that I am, and patiently wait for the moment he decides to let go.

And when he does, it's the most glorious feeling in the world. I'm tired, yes, but never tired enough to lift myself and wiggle my ass back into him, clenching myself around him and relishing in the way he grunts out my name. He empties himself into me, and I hum, positively satisfied and warm.

Before I know it, I'm sinking down within the comfort of my blankets, and I rest my head in my arms, the pillow still a little too far out of reach. And though I'm content, I still whine out sadly when Spencer retreats and leaves me feeling empty.

I'm about to tell him to get over here and cuddle me when I feel his weight redistribute, and it isn't long before he has his head between my legs, his tongue acting as a net for the cum that drips out of me. He barely touches me, only the tiniest of flicks with the tip of his tongue darting over my skin. I can't tell if I'm thankful because of the relief or if I want the burn to go on forever.

In the end, I don't really have a choice.

He pushes his tongue up, sweeping over my dripping cunt and cleaning me up. Suddenly his mouth is everywhere, making the most delicious sounds and bringing me closer to another orgasm, and all I can do is let it happen. My weary smile is joined by a fluttering pair of eyelids and a string of whimpers that are so small they don't dare drown out the words Spencer is grumbling between my legs.

Some of which, I can hear, sound out, "Another one..."

His finger adds to the mix, coming up and rubbing my clit in tight circles as he finishes cleaning up the mess he made, and within seconds I'm a writhing mess at his undoing.

I'm not sure how long it lasts, only that one second I'm tensing with another orgasm and the next I'm having my limbs moved.

Spencer is beside me in an instant, his face coming into view as I feel my breathing slow to a steadier pace. The longer I wait, the more focused I am on his features, soft and even a little concerned as he strokes some of the hair from my face.

"How are you feeling?"

The smile that beams across my face is just about the most natural thing I'd ever felt. And it seems to bring out those bright glints of adoration in his eyes that only ever serve to make my heart flutter, which makes what I tell him even more true.

"I'm happy."

JULY 27th

Waking up to Spencer next to me, while a daily occurrence these past few days, is still possibly the most surprising and comforting feeling in the world.

Our bodies never part. From the moment we lay down to sleep until the moment we wake up and decide it's time to start doing necessary daily things, not one inch of skin is untouched. Even when showering.

I think back to yesterday morning, where he dragged me out of bed because he had to pee and didn't want to leave me. I was slumped over the backside of his body while he went and then in his arms again while he ran us a shower to wake up.

It brings the widest smile to my face, however sleepy it may also be.

"What are you smiling for?"

I squint one eye open and see that Spencer is staring at me. I hadn't expected him to be awake.

"Just thinking about yesterday..."

He tightens his grip on my waist and pulls me even closer, my face instantly drawn to the crook of his neck. "Mmm," he hums as I nestle in and press a sleepy kiss to the bare skin at the column of his throat. "Which part?"

"Our shower."

I feel his thumb then, rubbing back and forth over my hip as clearly as I can feel him smile against the top of my head. "That was fun, wasn't it..."

"Mhmm," I agree. My lightly tongue traces over his collarbone before I kiss it again. "Our shower is much better equipped for sex than yours."

"So... What you're saying is that shower sex is out of the question this morning?" he confirms with a laugh.

"That's exactly what I'm saying..."

"Well then, princess, what uhh... What alternatives do you think we should try out?"

I start to laugh when he pulls my leg up over his waist and hoists me over on top of him. My face remains buried into his neck, though I trail my lips up and up until I reach his jaw.

"Hmm... What if I just ride you and see where it takes us?"

When my lips finally reach his cheek, Spencer shifts and captures them in a long, butterfly-inducing kiss before pulling away with a smile and brushing the hair from my face. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

It helps that I can already feel him hardening beneath me, and from the moment I felt his hands on me, I'd been aroused.

Though, as soon as I line him up and get ready to start our morning the right way, his phone rings on the bedside table. I'm tempted to keep going, but he half pushes me off of him when he reaches and reads the name.

"It's your mom."

That instantly kills my mood.

With a dramatic sigh and a pout, I hop off of him and curl up under the covers, letting him answer.

"Good morning," he chirps rather happily, and I try not to imagine my moms smile on the other end of the line. Thankfully I can't hear her, but I can still see Spencer smiling as he greets her and goes through all the pleasantries that come with a long distance relationship; I miss yous and how are yous...

I wonder if he really does miss her. He must, at least a little, right?

I'm staring straight ahead now, picking at my nails while I wait for them to finish talking, but something feels off.

I can feel Spencer's eyes on me.

But then he asks, "What are you wearing?" through the phone with a voice so playful and seductive, and I snap my head around, glaring at him.

"Really?" I mouth.

The smirk on his face makes me want to chuck his phone across the room.

"Mmm," he hums, looking me dead in the eye. And the next time he speaks, I swear he's talking directly to me. "Why don't you take it off... I want to talk you through some things..."

I know my mom is hearing the roughness in his voice through the phone, but right now I can see his eyes, hungry as they rake over my body once I slowly peel the blanket away and reveal myself to him, and I know that his main goal isn't to get my mom off.

It's to finish what we started before she'd interrupted.

"Touch yourself for me, baby? Nice and slow. Just relax..."

He softly crawls over to me, keeping the phone to his ear with one hand while the other takes my knees and spreads them apart.

I start to touch myself as instructed, but he swats my hand away and winks, nestling between my legs. I lean up on my elbows and tilt my head, wondering where he's going with this, when he leans his other cheek into my thigh.

"You know what I'd do to you right now If I was there?" A small pause. And then, "I'd use my fingers to slowly stretch you open... Feel you contract around me..."

His fingers do exactly like he says, and I have to stop myself from making any sound. The evil grin growing on his face as he does it all makes it even harder.

"I'd finger-fuck you nice and slow," he continues in a voice just above a whisper. "Until you're begging me for more."

When his eyes meet mine, once more I want to lean forward, snatch his phone, and smash it on the floor. I want him to utterly devour me, without any interruptions or avoidances at getting caught.

But he's such a fucking tease.

Mom must be talking on the other end, because Spencer is silent, slowly fucking me with his fingers and watching them intently as they disappear inside me. Entranced... The thought of her speaking to him and holding his attention makes me jealous— Sure, he's fucking me right now, but really, she's the one calling the shots.

I lean my head back in frustration, letting out the tiniest of whines and grinding my hips up into his hand, hoping and pleading for more.

A low laugh leaves him. "Please, what?"

It's not lost on me that my mom must have asked for more from him at the same time I did... It cements just how absolutely fucked this whole situation is, and yet I can't help but clench around his fingers in earnest, silently pleading with him to go on.

He removes his fingers from me and I sigh out, trying not to disrupt their call.

"And... How would you like me to fuck you?" he asks, looking at me with an evil grin and knowing damn well I can't actually answer.

After he gets her answer, he climbs up on his knees and spreads my legs further, throwing one of them up on his shoulder while he leaves the other on the bed. Since he only has one hand to work with, he gestures to it and I help him out, lifting my other leg up to my chest and holding it with one arm to let him get inside at a good angle.

"Yeah, and how do you want it, baby?" He lines himself up with me and very slowly sinks the head of his cock in, holding it and running his hand along my stomach. "I'm thinking... I'd like to fuck you so slow you're practically writhing beneath me..."

I stick my tongue out at him, and then without warning he slams into me. I bring a hand to my mouth and bite down on my finger, trying not to make a sound.

"You're gonna be patient... And you're gonna let me take my time... Until you're nice and desperate... Whining out for me like a good little whore..."

Each sentence is punctuated with another thrust, hard and deep, followed by a short pause, and it's all I can do not to cry out his name and beg him to go faster.

Mom must be talking on the line again, because Spencer doesn't say a word as he fucks me. His pace doesn't pick up or slow, and his own self control starts to recede—I can see it in his features. I can also feel it in the way his free hand grips my leg. He wants to go faster, he wants to lose control, and this is killing him just as much as it's killing me.

But then he pants into the phone, his voice breaking a little as he pauses and rolls his hips into me, slow and burning. I whine into my hand as quietly as possible, and he asks the question that will seal my fate.

"Where do you want it?"

I wait, clenching around him and praying for the result I want.

And then he laughs. "Yeah? You like when I paint you with my cum, huh?"

I shake my head, silently begging him to resist and stay inside me, but he only shrugs as if to say, Sorry about your luck, and then pulls out, leaving me whiny and desperate.

Just like he said.

And then, he comes all over me, stroking himself fast and hard. Even though I've still yet to feel any sort of relief, seeing him in front of me like this, feeling his warmth dance across my skin in warm spurts, and hearing him groan out as he watches my body gladly accept it all...

It's quite honestly the most satisfying thing I've ever seen.

I can't say I'm not happy, though, when he slumps down and pants, sighing out a few goodbyes to my mom and then tossing his phone on the floor when she hangs up.

He smiles at me then, and I pout.

"You're evil..."

"Mmm, you love it," he drawls, leaning down and starting to dart his tongue over the mess he made on my stomach. Meanwhile his finger finds its way inside me again, and I feel myself start to turn into a writhing mess once more.

And he's right.

I do love it.

JULY 29th

Approaching the front door with Mom in step behind me, knowing that Spencer awaits for her on the other side isn't what makes my heart jump out of my chest.

It's the look on both of their faces when they see each other.

Though I push Mom forward to go see him, it nearly breaks me seeing her run into his arms. He picks her up and spins her around, reminiscent of their little moment at the airport, and the pure happiness on her face specifically makes my stomach twist.

This time it isn't jealousy.

It's guilt.

She's... incredibly happy. I don't think I've ever seen her this happy before. She's positively beaming as she hugs him tight and buries her face into his chest.

And when he looks past her head and looks over at me, I feel it.

The heartache.

Spencer's eyes burn holes into my own, and fill them with a sympathy that makes me feel more wounded than comforted.

I wonder then if he can see it on my face; The way I'm trying not to break down and cry... The way I'm only holding myself together by the weak smile I'm wearing, both to assure him that I'm fine and also to feign happiness for my mother, rather than the aching envy and sadness that festers within every crevice of my soul.

I offer to grab more of Mom's things from the car and dart right back out the door to avoid them for a little while. Maybe to also get some fresh air, even though I'd just been outside less than a minute ago.

After flinging open the trunk of the car, I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my chest start to tighten at the realization that I might be starting to fall in love with him.

A man who isn't mine, and who could never be.

———

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Labor Day Bonus Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Nothing like a holiday giving me an excuse to post the next chapter early. It's one of my absolute favorites.

Read on AO3

Chapter 5

Gwyn yawned, her entire form stretching and tightening. She knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed by Nesta and Emerie, but she just smiled serenely. She had needed this – time to talk and laugh and enjoy good food with her two closest friends in the world. The fae lights were dim, casting the private library in dusky shadow. Book spines were barely visible on the shelves, but she was content to sit and enjoy the conversation. She sighed before turning her focus to her Valkyrie sisters sitting on the floor, finding Nesta with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“What?”

The eldest Archeron patted her hand on a tufted woolen floor pillow, green like a spring meadow. “Sit, Gwyneth. We need to talk.” Unease coiled in her stomach, but she slid down from the couch, clutching another throw pillow to her chest.

“What do we need to talk about?” Gwyn’s voice was tinier than she’d intended, and she knew the question was ridiculous as soon as she asked it.

“You’re tired. You’re sad. Nesta knocked you on your ass today,” Emerie answered, concern glowing in her dark gaze.

“That doesn’t mean something is wrong with me,” Gwyn giggled, but she knew her mirth was unconvincing. “You both are skilled fighters. Maybe Nesta has just gotten better than me.”

“I haven’t and you know it.”

Gwyn turned her attention to a very interesting tassel on the pillow she held. She could feel the pressure stinging her eyes and tried so hard to push down the tears that had so quickly threatened. She felt gentle fingers at her chin, pulling her gaze until she met Nesta’s gray stare.

“Gwyn. Talk to us. You are our sister. We love you. We’re worried about you.”

Her sisters. The knowledge that she had Nesta and Emerie had kept her going these past weeks, kept her stubborn heart and eyes from giving up. And now it was that care and comfort that unraveled her. She felt the hot trickle down her cheeks as Nesta’s calloused fingers brushed tendrils of hair away from her face. But she couldn’t say the words. She wasn’t one of those females that needed a male to be happy and thrive. She was a powerful warrior, strong and skilled.

“Is it Azriel, Gwyn?” The voice came from her other side, along with a feather-light brush of fingertips down her back. Emerie. Gwyn blinked and took three steadying breaths, allowing the patience and care from her sisters wash over her. It took a few moments before she felt she could form the words she needed.

“He started avoiding me, after the necklace,” her face cooled when Nesta removed her hands and reached down to grasp one of her own. “I let it go on for a few days, but I missed him. We were friends, and he… he helped me when I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes we would talk, most times we would train. After we found out about the necklace he stopped coming out to the ring at night. He would come to the door, and when he saw I was there he would leave. So I cornered him one day after training. It was all so stupid and I just wanted things to go back to normal.”

“What did you say to him?” Emerie asked, her voice soft as velvet.

“I told him that the necklace was a stupid thing to do, but we all do stupid things. I said that Elain and I had both deserved better, but I knew he would be better. I told him that I missed him, that all was forgiven, and then I asked if things could go back to normal.” Gwyn looked back up to Nesta, then turned to Emerie. “He said we were friends, and that everything would go back to normal.” She took a shuddering breath, earning a squeeze on her hand.

“And then he just… disappeared.”

She felt the burning return to her eyes and her throat, recalling that night in the rain when she had desperately wished he would come to her.

“That’s when you started zoning out at training. And punching the post until you were bruised and bleeding,” the Illyrian female realized.

“I knew it was bad when Cassian made you stop,” Nesta mused.

“Twice,” Gwyn confirmed, tears welling again. “I trained hard during the day, harder at night. The effort and pain helped distract me from the loss of his friendship… and from the nightmares.” She stared down at their interlace hands, noting how the low light made Nesta’s and Emerie’s skin contrast so deeply to hers and letting the tears fall in earnest.

“I thought they were better, Gwyn.” The worry lacing Nesta’s voice was thick, and suddenly the priestess felt guilty for keeping it from her… from them. She couldn’t look at them, but clutched their hands.

“They were, but now… it’s been really bad these last few days.” Gwyn sniffled and pulled her hands away from the comfort of her chosen family, opting instead to clutch the tasseled pillow to her chest again. She needed that grip, as if it were the only thing that could hold her together. “Almost a week ago I was in the training ring at night. It had been a difficult day, my hands were throbbing, Merrill was being… well, Merrill. It was raining when I walked out the door, but I needed time and space so I went out and sat in the middle and just let the rain wash everything away. Azriel came to the doorway, the first time since I’d cornered him that day. And… he barely spoke to me. I even said I’d had nightmares almost every day. And… and he told me I should go inside and then he just left.”

Gwyn tucked her knees up to the pillow against her chest and covered her face with her hands. Her body shook, much like it had that night when he’d left her – when something had shifted. Her throat felt so tight around her words. “It’s like something broke then. I stopped going to the training ring, and started working extra to distract myself. And the nightmares,“ she sobbed. She wasn’t ready to admit the terror of her changing dreams, but she was also desperate to tell someone how she had been suffering. “I have the same one every night – of that day at Sangravah. But… but when the general is done, when he tells the other males to continue taking from me…” Her breath sawed in and out of her and she could feel herself tremble. She could barely make her voice work as she uttered the terrible turn that her dreams had taken.

“He doesn’t come for me,” she whispered. The air was so still that she could feel Nesta’s sharp gasp stealing it from the space. “That moment when Azriel slaughtered them – when he saved me – no longer exists. And I have to face the terror of knowing what is coming. The fear and the pain and the horror and the desperation… it all feels just as real as it did that day.”

A pair of strong arms crushed her, and then a second embrace. Gwyn let go of the pain and the fear of those nights alone, afraid of sleep and unable to seek comfort from the only person who had helped keep those dreams at bay. Fingers combed through her hair, stroked up and down her back, soothing her as she cried.

That was all there was, for how long she didn’t know. She just knew heat in her cheeks, trembling, comforting hands at her shoulders, on her back, and in her hair. Then fingers gripped her wrists to pull her hands away from her face. She was sure her skin was red and splotchy, but she looked up to find Nesta’s own watery gaze.

“Gwyn, we will always come for you. All of us, including Azriel. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” the priestess answered with a nod.

“Good. As for the rest of this,” Nesta wiped her eyes and donned an expression not so unlike the days when she was brimming with the power of death. “Azriel is a fucking idiot.” Emerie burst out laughing, causing Gwyn to join with a chuckle of her own.

“I’m so glad I don’t prefer males.” The winged Valkyrie’s eyes glittered with mirth and concern, earning a nose-crinkling smile. Nesta pulled Gwyn’s attention back, pushing her jaw with a finger.

“Azriel is an idiot, but he cares for you. I’m certain of that. I haven’t known him too terribly long, but Cassian has. He’s different with you.”

“Maybe that isn’t a good thing.” Gwyn shrugged. She had thought so, too. But now he seemed to treat her with the same brooding aloofness that he reserved for practical strangers.

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Nesta insisted, reaching up to brush the wetness away from her cheeks. “Cassian and I have had this conversation more times than I can even count. ‘Berdara made Az laugh today’. ‘He couldn’t stop grinning today’. ‘I’ve never heard him banter like that’.”

“Why do you have so many conversations about that?” Gwyn couldn’t help but laugh at the strangeness of that thought, that Nesta and the general would be so invested in her interactions with the spymaster.

“That’s not even the point, Gwyneth,” Nesta huffed. Gwyn stuck her tongue out, still feeling Emerie’s hands softly at her back. “I’m going to kick Azriel’s ass back into line, but…” The priestess could see that Nesta was trying to choose her words, lips pursing  and eyes staring above her. Then those icy eyes came back, full of determination.

“Do you care for him, Gwyn? Or, I suppose, how do you care for him?”

She just stared into Nesta’s eyes for a long moment, trying to find the right things to say. How to express what was churning in her heart. “Of course I care for him. He has become a dear friend.” Her friend’s gaze didn’t falter, daring her to say what she hadn’t admitted to anyone, not even to herself.

“And?”

Gwyn jerked her head, surprised that Emerie also seemed to know that there was more. The Illyrian’s countenance held that same caring determination, waiting with barely concealed expectation. Gwyn could only sigh.

“I… I don’t know. I trust him. Implicitly. He’s the only male I’ve never feared. And he’s beautiful, of course.”

“Yes, he certainly is,” Nesta sighed wistfully. Gwyn giggled and swatted her friend playfully on the shoulder.

“I feel… drawn to him, like we understand each other’s darkness. I should be terrified of him, theoretically, but I can’t be. And if… I don’t know what romance is supposed to be, what a relationship looks like. But I think, if he wanted to try, I would say yes. Without hesitation. Even after what happened at Sangravah,” she admitted. “But first and foremost… I just want his friendship. If that’s the only thing I can have then I’ll be happy.” And that was the truth. She would have him in her life, in whatever capacity. His absence was far too difficult to bear.

An enormous yawn pushed out of her lungs and she clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Nesta and Emerie laughed, Nesta pushing herself to her feet before offering her hands to Gwyn.

“You need to sleep. Hopefully tonight will be more restful,” she said as she pulled Gwyn to her feet and swiftly gathered her into a hug. She felt Emerie at her back, enveloping her as well. Gwyn could only smile and release a contented sigh, reveling in the love of her chosen sisters. She felt lighter, relieved to have shared the struggles she’d been facing. But then she yawned again, the exhaustion in her bones suddenly the only thing she could feel. Her eyelids drooped and she felt herself losing her battle with sleep even as she stood there, still wrapped in that Valkyrie embrace. As her body became heavy, yet weightless, she couldn’t comprehend the words she heard.

“Ready to crash boys night, Em? I might actually kill him.”

~~~

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys lounged in the study, each nursing crystal glasses with varying amounts of amber liquid. Azriel studied the cut angles in his glass, the firelight reflecting kaleidoscopes of brightness off the liquor. He’d already had more to drink than usual, not typically one to lose his wits from alcohol. But tonight he had partaken in a bit extra, perhaps in the vain hope that the libations would settle his mind. The roaring thoughts still stormed through him from earlier in the day – guilt, stubbornness, anger, shame.

Of course, the alcohol staunched none of it.

“You seem particularly broody tonight, Az.” Cassian’s amused voice broke through that cyclone and Azriel fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare. His brother just smirked victoriously at him, knowing the truth in his observation. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that sleepover at the house, would it?”

“Sleepover at the house?” Rhys turned his starlit gaze toward the shadowsinger, but Azriel didn’t have any intention of answering. Cassian, however, so enjoyed irritating him.

“A certain redhead priestess has been acting strangely and Nesta is determined to figure it out,” he drawled, pointed amber gaze fixed on the spymaster. “I think it has something to do with our tall, dark, and brooding brother here.”

“Gwyneth Berdara?” Azriel flicked his eyes toward the High Lord whose brows were arched in surprise. “Why would that have anything to do with you?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Azriel groaned when Cassian began to answer, sinking deeper into the velvet tufts of the oversized armchair, “that the two of them want to be friendlier than friends.”

“Gwyn and I have a professional, platonic relationship. Nothing more,” Azriel growled. He wasn’t in any sort of headspace to deal with Cassian’s ribbing, or to explain it away to Rhys. He looked up to find the Illyrian general had set down his glass and was leaning back casually, crossing his arms.

“Is that so?” Azriel wanted to slap that smug grin off his face. “Is that why you can never keep your eyes off her at training? Is that what’s happening when you grin at her when she gives your shit right back to you? When she makes you throw your head back and laugh?” He could feel the heat rising up his neck and into his cheeks.

“Laugh? Out loud?” The High Lord balked and Azriel rolled his eyes.

“I laugh, thank you very much.”

“Not like that, you don’t,” Cassian countered. Azriel just shook his head as his brother turned to Rhys. “You should see it, Rhys. I never thought I’d see the day – “

“WHERE IS HE?!” A female voice echoed from down the hall.

“Nesta?” Rhys wondered aloud.

“Where is that idiotic overgrown bat? I swear on the Cauldron I’m going to kill him.”

“Yup, that’s Nesta,” Cassian confirmed with a groan. “What the fuck did I do now? I wasn’t even at the house –“

The study doors burst open as Nesta pushed through, gray eyes shimmering with rage. Azriel leaned forward as her gaze fell on him.

“YOU.”

“Me?”

“Him?” Cassian gawked, but then grinned wickedly. “Oh, this is a nice change. I could get used to this.”

“Keep your mouth shut or you’re next,” Nesta snapped as she strode in front of Azriel’s chair. “Azriel, would you care to tell me why I just spent an hour comforting one Gwyneth Berdara while she sobbed in my arms? Any ideas?” His eyes grew wide and his face went slack, unable to comprehend exactly what was happening.

“Nothing to contribute, Shadowsinger? How fucking convenient. Maybe you could tell me why you avoided her even after you told her that things would go back to normal and that you were friends? Or perhaps you could explain why you left her alone in the rain the one time you did actually talk to her, even after she told you her nightmares were bad again?”

“I –“ He didn’t get a chance. Nesta stepped closer.

“Not done, Az. Not even close. Maybe you have an explanation for her working herself into exhaustion at the library to avoid time alone? Or the reason she doesn’t go to the training ring at night anymore?” Azriel just stared, dumbfounded at what she was saying. He pressed himself back into the chair as the honey-haired female placed her hands on the armrests and leaned in so far they breathed the same air.

“Tell me, Azriel,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion and ice, “why every night for the last week she has dreamed of Sangravah. And in that nightmare when that general is finished hurting her, she has to feel the soul-crushing terror of watching the next soldier take his place because you don’t come to save her.” And Nesta pulled a hand back and slapped him.

Azriel knew his eyes were wide as saucers as the breath punched out of him. He barely registered the tingle of pain in his cheek, absorbing what she had told him. Gwyn’s nightmares. Every night. And they had twisted into something even more horrifying.

How could any part of her think that he wouldn’t come for her?

He looked back to Nesta who had backed away. Cassian had risen to comfort her, brushing tears away from her cheeks and murmuring into her ear. Azriel got to his feet and took a measured step toward them.

“Nesta, I –“

“You care for her, don’t you?”

Azriel knew they could see the wetness in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had been wrong to leave her, wrong about so many things. And he was done denying.

“Of course I do, Nesta. More than I think I can explain right now.”

“Then fix this.” Her voice was colder than his could ever be, a warning that he wouldn’t like what would happen if he didn’t make it right. But he had every intention to.

He was miserable without her.

Azriel gave Nesta a curt nod, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the study. He kept his surprise masked as he passed Emerie, who was leaning in the doorway, also wearing that expression – promising violence for hurting one of their own. He nodded to her, too, acknowledging his part in all of this. Then he practically ran down the hall and through the entrance of the river house, only taking three steps in the night air before taking to the sky.

Straight to the House of Wind.

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[not-poignant]

New-author-Anon here. Thank you so much, Pia. It just... It's so easy to see the "small" wordcount and think "oh, this is nothing." I'm pretty good at churning words out normally, but on top of this, I have a legal job that takes up 25-30 hours a week, and I teach Japanese 3 hours a week. I kept telling myself that it's not too much. The salary is good for my area (about 19k AUD a year), and that's the probationary one. Thank you. You're probably right it's burnout. Ill try to adjust my workload

It's so easy to see the "small" wordcount and think "oh, this is nothing."

Honestly I agree! I saw the 1,600-1,900 words and thought 'oh that's not too bad' and then I saw 'twice a week' and was like '....hang on' and then added up the numbers on my calculator and did a tiny little scream in my head about what you'd committed yourself to.

I'm just a little worried about you anon! You're obviously a superstar with everything you do, and I'm really really glad you're getting paid a decent amount for your area! I want this to be a good fit for what you're doing because you like the content and you like the work. But man, non-fiction takes a toll. It's harder to write than fiction, for the most part, because it requires more research every single time. You don't get to 'settle down' into characters, and those hours of research and editing aren't invisible.

One thing you can maybe consider doing while you figure this all out, is sit down and - if you aren't doing this already - work out the hours you spend realistically on the writing job. Not just the writing itself, but the editing, the researching, and also thinking about what to write re: the topic itself. It's sometimes easy to forget that these are also the hours of your new job, and they are all equally important.

Another thing you could do if you're very committed to keeping this job, or can't restructure easily, is seeing if you can try and get ahead on your schedule, so that you feel less like you're constantly at the mercy of your deadlines - I don't know if it's possible, but if you can even get a week ahead sometimes, it can help remove some of that dread. ADHD makes this very hard, and so this may not be possible with what you're already doing, so don't stress if you can't. It's okay.

Your feeling of helplessness may be your body or mind trying to communicate to you that you're just overwhelmed right now. And if it is writer's block - there will absolutely be different techniques that you can use to help you.

And 100% you need to look at scheduling some rest. One of my hardest earned skills personally is the ability to go - after staring at a chapter and hating myself for not writing anything - is 'Right! I'm not going to write for the next four hours! I'm clearly tired! I'm going to go lie down, and get some rest. Or I'm going to do something fun or relaxing. Or I'm going to go for a walk. But the thing I'm 100% not going to do is stare at this document. I'll come back later.' The hardest part of this skill is catching it before 3 hours have gone by, lmao. Sometimes I'll just do the 'endless scroll' and distract myself and feel guilty and stressed, and I have to actually just be like 'walk away and go do something else.' I may still worry about it, but at least I gave my brain a TV show, or a movie I love, or a book, or I ate something tasty, or I drank some water.

The fact is, people tend to write better when they're not exhausted all the time. I have to take days off because of chronic illness anyway, but taking actual rest time is vital to you actually being able to feel inspired and motivated enough to write. You obviously have discipline! And reaching out for help is great too. Give yourself some mercy and kindness in amongst feeling like you're not getting anything done, you're getting a lot done, and are maybe now needing to re-evaluate a little. I really hope it works out though, and it sounds like you're working damn hard to achieve it. I do wish you all the best, seriously.

(Oh, and random tip that isn't in my other writer's block links - if you can, consider hooking up with some Twitch stream 'write ins' or other writing groups. Sometimes the gentle pressure of other people who 'get it' all kind of figuring it out at the same time can actually help? I'm not one of those writers who benefits from this, but I know plenty who are, and it might end up being your thing too!)

[aminiatureworld]

Irrational

Characters: Ganyu, Jean, Keqing, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,100

Warnings: Alcohol

Premise: Emotions aren’t always rational, a fact easy enough to ignore when one is happy or in love, or in any similar situation. However more negative aspects aren’t always as easy to ignore.

In which the reader’s s/o is jealous.

Author’s Note: This is our welcome for Jean! I have to admit she was really enjoyable to write. Especially in a prompt such as this, my guilty pleasure trope.

Not proofread because I’m tired will do so tomorrow.

Ganyu

Relationships were still something that often eluded Ganyu. Friendships, work dynamics, love, they all spun around in her head, and though she sometimes found her bearings, relationships still felt like walking on a tightrope high above a dark and churning sea.

These thoughts and feelings still lingered in her mind, even now when her relationship with you was rock solid she still worried. Ganyu was a mess of repressed emotions; isolated from most of humanity she still felt the need to be absolutely perfect near you, to never let her emotions get the best of her, to be the best partner one can be.

Which is why she hated those stupid love notes.

They’d started arriving about a year and a half into your relationship. At first you’d thought it was from her, but your look of happiness quickly turned to one of embarrassment and slight discomfort when she revealed she had no idea who was leaving little gifts and notes at your desk. Although you made a point to get rid of them as soon as you’d read the contents of the letter they still kept coming, and every day Ganyu saw one of those pink little envelopes on your desk she grew more and more irritated.

And yet Ganyu still didn’t want to tell you, for she was afraid that you would think she was suspecting you in some ways. You couldn’t control what was going on after all, why should she burden you with her fears, with the emotions that threatened to squeeze all the air out of her lungs and tear her thoughts to shreds. No, she wouldn’t burden you with this, she’d take care of it herself. You wouldn’t want to be bothered with her stupidity anyways, it’d only cause more problems.

“I really don’t understand who’s doing this.” You groaned, entering the office one morning to the sight of a rose on your desk, the telltale envelope attached to the stem with a red ribbon. Walking over to it, dragging your feet in a way that made Ganyu, who had been standing behind you, giggle you tore open the letter in one nonchalant movement.

“What does it say?” Ganyu kept her voice as soft as possible, trying desperately to ignore the emotions that were threatening to cut off her throat. How long was this going to go on?

“Oh listen to this,” you scoffed, turning towards Ganyu, a wry sort of smile plastered across your face, “my dear friend – as if whoever this creep is would ever be a friend of mine. I noticed recently that you’ve become quite close to the secretary of the Liyue Qixing. I would never question your decisions – oh of course not – but I find that work romances never last. Perhaps if we were to meet I could explain to you why, though I’m sure you already know the reasons yourself and would never dream in participating in such a thing. Still, I await you reply. Sincerely, your secret admirer.”

With a flourish you bowed, before promptly chucking the letter in the trash. “Well at least they seem finally to be catching on to the fact I’m disinterested. Honestly though, I don’t know what this person is thinking. I really ought to complain to the department, see if they can’t find out why this is happening.”

“I agree,” Ganyu couldn’t help but let disgust fill her voice, “this is harassment. You really ought to tell someone about it.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, before sighing. “I’d hate to be a pain though…”

“You aren’t!” Ganyu shook her head, indignant at the insinuation. “Protecting yourself isn’t being a pain. This isn’t merely distracting, it’s concerning. You deserve better.”

“Thank you Ganyu.” You smiled; glancing around to make sure no one was there you gave her a soft peck on the cheek. “You’re always looking out for me.”

“Of course I am!” Ganyu replied, her face burning slightly. “I love you.” She added softly.

“I love you too.” You smiled. Sitting down you glanced at the rose as if it were a weapon rather than a flower. “A pity they keep sending flowers, I hate to throw out the poor things.” Hesitating you took it in your hands, smiling sheepishly as you stuffed it into your desk drawer. Ganyu smiled back, attempted to ignore the small twinge of annoyance that rattled in her and whispered that she should burn the reminder of her suffering.

The two of you had worked later than usual that day, and it showed the next morning as you failed to show up at your usual spot. Although Ganyu might’ve normally waited for you, today she glanced around her before quickening her pace as she made her way towards the Qixing headquarters. This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, and though she felt slightly bad about sneaking around behind your back she was also at her wits’ end, and if she wasn’t going to tell you then she was surely going to figure out once and for all what was going on.

The door had been left open by the last person who entered, and Ganyu wrinkled her nose at the irresponsibility of such a thing before walking inside herself. The office was mostly dark, and the contrast of your light being the only one visible throughout the hallway immediately put her on high alert.

Her suspicions were justified when she walked through the door. A man was standing at the edge of your desk. In one hand was a bouquet of flowers and in the other was an all too familiar note. Although Ganyu might’ve normally been merely frightened and appalled she now found herself more angry than anything else, and her words were spat out with a vehemence she hadn’t entirely known she’d possessed.

“What in Teyvat do you think you’re doing here?” She asked, voice shaking slightly. The man jolted and turned around, relazing when he saw who it was. That was a mistake.

“Ah it’s the secretary,” His smile was mocking and the way he bobbed his head made it clear he thought nothing of the half-adeptus in front of him. “I was wondering who would catch me eventually. Didn’t expect it to be the Tianquan’s personal servant.”

“Answer my question.” Ganyu spoke once more, completely unfazed by the insults of a man who was so utterly loathsome. “What are you doing here.”

“You’re rather dull aren’t you,” the man’s tone was a dismissive as before, “I didn’t realize this needed any explanation. I think it’s very clear that I’m here to deliver something to this office’s owner.”

“Do you even know their name?” If Ganyu hadn’t been so angered perhaps she would’ve found the man’s expression hilarious. He seemed to be completely malfunctioning.

“Of course I know it!” He finally let out. “It’s written on the plaque outside the door if you’ve forgotten. But I doubt you would. You seem awfully close to them recently.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh but it is.” The man’s smile was utterly enraging. “They’re very important to me after all.”

“They aren’t even aware of your existence.” Ganyu spat. Approaching closer she drew herself up as tall as she could. “They’d never have anything to do with someone as worthless and creepy as you.”

“What exactly am I doing that’s creepy?” The man backed away slightly, slight panic mixing with defensiveness. “I’m only showing them how much I care for them! What’s wrong with that? You’re just jealous aren’t you. You want them for yourself, don’t you. Well you can’t have them, because they’re mine.”

“They don’t belong to anyone.” Ganyu replied, voice made soft and hoarse from the anger burning in her chest and pounding in her ears. “And if you can’t see that then you’re even worse a person than I thought you could be. You may think them something to possess, and you worthy to possess them; but in reality you’re lower than dirt and they owe you nothing, not even the air you breathe. You should leave now. You may have no respect for privacy, or rank, or profession. But the Liyue Qixing are nowhere close to incompetent. And if you value a life not spend in total societal isolation or, Morax forbid, behind bars, I suggest you never return.”

“You really ought to listen to her.” Your voice was music to Ganyu’s ears after what had just passed. Turning her head slightly she saw you leaning against the door, a grim smile painted across your face. “She’s the person in this office least likely to simple chuck you out the window.”

Gulping slightly the man finally moved. Shooting one last glare at both you and Ganyu he scuttled out into the hallway. Only when she heard the front door close did Ganyu breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” She said, flushed with embarrassment and the lingering anger she felt. “I shouldn’t’ve threatened them, or lost my temper like that.”

“You were utterly in your right.” You smiled. “In fact you were quite gallant if I do say so myself!”

“I lost control of myself,” Ganyu shook her head, “I wasn’t thinking about doing the right thing, or protecting you. I wasn’t thinking of anything. I was only angry. Angry and… well I don’t know.”

“Jealous?” You suggested. Flushing, Ganyu glanced at the ground.

“Maybe.” She whispered.

The half-adeptus glanced up in surprise as you wrapped you arms around her. After a while she returned the gesture, and for a while there was simply silence as you two basked in each other’s presence.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about being jealous.” You spoke after a while. “Every feels jealous sometimes, it’s completely normal. And in this case it was positively valiant! Even if you weren’t thinking of me, you still stood up for me. And I couldn’t be more grateful.”

“I lost my temper.” Ganyu was stubborn in her conviction that what she’d done was wrong. Lessons that she’d taught herself about displaying her emotions passed through her thoughts. “It’s not good to be jealous. I’ll only end up pushing you away if I keep losing myself to my emotions.”

“Being jealous is only a problem when it spirals out of control,” you replied, “being offended at the way someone speaks about your partner, or disliking the fact your partner is getting sent weird letters every day is something that any normal person would be jealous about. Even if the person turned out to be such a lout like that one.”

“You aren’t angry?” Ganyu ventured, still skeptical. You drew away slightly so she could see your face. You were smiling brightly.

“Not a bit.”

“Good.” Ganyu smiled back.

You nodded your head. Apparently satisfied you moved to grab the stuff you’d left in the doorway. Still somewhat unsure Ganyu walked over to you.

“Um, can I ask something?”

“Sure!” You replied. “Anything.”

“Um… can you get rid of the rose in your desk?”

You paused for a moment before giggling. Walking over to your desk you took out the offending flower, opening the window and throwing it out onto the lawn.

“There we go.” You turned around. “I’m sorry if that was making you uncomfortable. Tell me next time you’re feeling jealous, alright?”

“Okay.” Ganyu whispered.

Relationships were confusing. So many invisible lines that one might trip over. Still Ganyu would gladly learn where the lines were in regards to you. For she loved you. So very much.

Jean

Jean didn’t like work parties at the best of times, but now it was all she could do not to scream as she watched the young knight next to you begin to break into verse, proclaiming to all the – hopefully blacked out – knights around you that he loved only you.

Normally Jean was pretty dismissive of the antics of her coworkers. Being the Acting Grand Master she saw it as her duty never to be too punishing, always aware not only of the power she held in such a position, but also of the respect that she had garnered, that she had worked tirelessly for. The Knights of Favonius, from the highest ranked captain to the lowest foot soldier, was comprised up of well meaning, enthusiastic workers. Despite all their faults she cared deeply about them all, and could often sidesteps their antics as the result of their camaraderie.

This time however felt different. Even if Jean knew full well that the knight probably meant nothing serious by it, knew that he was simply drunk and having a good time, she still couldn’t help the coil of emotions that wound taught into her stomach. Scowling slightly into her drink she cursed herself. Maybe she was the tipsy one, for only a fool would be jealous in a situation like this.

“Feeling already Grand Master?” Kaeya’s voice was as cheerful and as unassuming as usual, not at all revealing the fact that he should’ve been utterly plastered. Now he simply sat down across from his irritated coworker, taking another swig before glancing over towards what was capturing Jean’s attention.

“What do you want Kaeya?” Jean asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from its obvious ending. Kaeya was currently the only member of the knights who knew of the relationship between the two of you, and though he took that honor very seriously he was also quick to tease, something made only worse by his current state.

“Ah I see what’s going on.” Kaeya smirked, refusing to cooperate. “What’s going on here? A lover’s quarrel perhaps. No. Our dear adventurer seems hardly happy with the situation. What could it be then?” He let out a sudden gasp. “Is our dear knight jealous?”

“Neither they nor I are ‘our dear’ anything.” Jean pointed out, rolling her eyes. “And I’m hardly jealous. Only pitying the poor soul for the embarrassment he’s going to feel tomorrow if he or anyone in his regiment remembers this.”

“Ahh, I see.” Kaeya replied, tone of voice making it plenty obvious that he didn’t believe Jean one bit. Shooting him a dirty look Jean sighed, once more raising the beer she was drinking to her lips. She didn’t much like beer really, but it was sort of the signature drink of Mondstadt – unless you were rich enough to afford Dandelion Wine on the regular, which few were – and Jean felt the compulsion to blend in with those around her in taste and in manner. Although in this case it was becoming difficult to do so.

Was she jealous? Although Jean would like to say surely not she wasn’t so naïve or so optimistic. She knew very well that she was jealous, but there really was no reason to be so. It felt somewhat below her, to be so blatantly upset by this pseudo-flirtation. Wasn’t she more aware, more mature than that? The answer became very clear when the knight stopped his verbal rambling and attempted, somewhat unsuccessfully, to grab your hand.

“Sir Heinrich.” Jean’s voice had taken on the authority that she rarely liked to use in casual company. “Might I ask you to control yourself in the presence of our guest.”

Heinrich, apparently not so drunk as to be unable to read the now somewhat tense room, immediately and somewhat dramatically, snapped into attention. “G-Grand Master Jean! Yes, of course! I’m so sorry.” Bowing quickly he promptly burst into tears and, proclaiming that he’d betrayed his Grand Master, was dragged outside by some friends, hopefully to sleep off his inebriation.

The tone of the party quickly returned to its jovial origins, anyone still in attendance at 3:00 was either Jean, you, Kaeya, or too drunk to care about what had just happened. Jean, however, was somewhat surprised, and extremely embarrassed, by her sudden outburst. Sinking down on the stool next to you she put her head in her hands.

“I’m going to have to apologize for that tomorrow.” She sighed. Glancing over towards you she reached out her hand, which you quickly took, palm sliding gently into hers. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be! I don’t mind a bit of flattery, but that was becoming… a bit much.” You let out a giggle, the glass next to you an indicator that you were probably a bit tipsy yourself. “Besides, you’re very cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” Jean scoffed, blushing slightly. “You and Kaeya I swear, incorrigible.”

“How am I not surprised he picked up on it too,” you laughed, smiling fondly. “I don’t mind it, at least not in cases like this. By all means, be as jealous as you want.”

“I’m not jealous.” Jean insisted, shaking her head violently.

Laughing you leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the head, ignoring the scandalized gasps from the remaining crowd.

“Whatever you say, my dear knight in shining armor.”

Jean let out a nervous giggle. What was she going to do with you, now that she loved you so much.

Keqing

Keqing wanted to make it very clear that she never became jealous. Absolutely not, under no circumstances.

She had more respect for herself after all, more respect for you. It was below your relationship to be worried over something such as jealousy, and Keqing for her part resolved never to lower herself to such a level, even if you were somewhat more dismissive of the idea than she was.

“Jealousy is an emotion,” you explained when she asked you why you were so cavalier in regards to the notion, “and since I know both you and I are hardly likely to spin out of control if it were to happen, I don’t really find the idea repulsive.”

“You’re very strange.” Had been all Keqing could respond, not wanting to argue with you about it. It would never happen anyhow. No point in fighting about it.

Now Keqing was somewhat regretting that statement as she watched the woman next to you chatter away while she stood, still as a rock, trying desperately to bite back the retorts that were running through her mind at everything this random lady was telling you.

“It really is such a pleasure to see you again!” You smiled at the woman, some friend of yours and, from what Keqing gathered, a long forgotten one at that. “It’s really been too long.”

“I agree!” The woman replied eagerly, her smile so syrupy that Keqing was surprised it wasn’t melting in the sun. “We really must go out for coffee and catch up.”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, ignoring the stare that Keqing was now focusing on you. “Maybe sometime in the summer?”

“Sounds like a plan! Now excuse me, I have to go.” The woman smiled. Nodding towards Keqing, evidently she wasn’t completely oblivious, she waved before walking away. Waving back you turned around towards your partner, a smile on your face.

“Thanks for stopping for me, I realize that took a little while.”

“It was nothing.” Keqing’s voice was sharp and flat, and she ignored your puzzled look as she turned back towards the Qixing headquarters, determined to forget this entire conversation, and the dark emotions it had managed to dredge up.

The rest of the day was somewhat quiet, though Keqing could tell you wanted to talk about your old friend. She knew that she was being exceedingly rude by ignoring your cues, but she couldn’t help it. The whole situation made her uncomfortable, and she didn’t know how to process that. If she admitted it you’d just chock it up to jealousy and not only would she feel somewhat invalidated, but she’d have to deal with the knowledge that all her boasting had been for nothing. Or, to be more explicit, that she’d been wrong.

“Want to have dinner together?” Keqing glanced at the clock on her desk. The day had long ended, and now it was just the two of you.

“Gladly.” She smiled at you, getting up from her chair. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“No worries!” You waved your hand. “I wanted to spend some time with you anyways.” Unlike you did earlier today? Keqing bit the retort back. It would be cruel to say that, and somewhat revealing. Besides she really did want to walk home with you, and wouldn’t taint the experience with her own emotional turmoil.

The walk was a lovely one, for the day had been somewhat hot and now a cool breeze brought in by the sea blew lazily. You were discussing one of the transactions you’d had to check, when Keqing spied your friend up ahead. Before she could change your course the lady noticed the two of you however. Calling your name she waved her hand wildly. Distracted from your conversation you waved back, running up ahead and leaving Keqing behind in the dust.

“Fancy meeting you here again!” You exclaimed. “I was just walking home from work.”

“I was stopping by one of the stalls.” Your friend gestured towards the temporary structure behind her. “I forgot to buy groceries, so I suppose it’s grilled Tiger Fish tonight.”

“It happens to the best of us.” You laughed. Keqing couldn’t stand the atmosphere anymore. The conversation was insipid, the participant who’d brought it up even more so. Unable to stop her frustration Keqing walked, or rather stomped, over towards you. Huffing slightly she grabbed your hand. Turning around your face betrayed surprise, but it was quickly replaced once more with a smile. “Ah, I almost forgot. Lily, this is Keqing!”

“Oh, a pleasure to meet you!” The woman, Lily apparently, smiled. “Are you coworkers?” Keqing felt a flicker of resentment at not being directly addressed. Surely she didn’t need a translator.

“My partner.” You corrected, smiling and squeezing Keqing’s hand, something which did little to relieve the tension she felt.

“I see.” Your friend smiled her saccharine smile. “Nice to meet you Keqing.”

“Pleasure.” Keqing replied, not bothering to keep the irritation out of her voice, after all wasn’t she known for being blunt? “Now we really ought to get going, if we aren’t going to be eating in the middle of the night.”

“Sorry for dashing on you,” you apologized, something which Keqing deemed completely unnecessary. “See you around.”

“See you around!” Lily replied. As she turned back to the stall Keqing started moving again, half dragging you through the streets and to her apartment.

Finally arriving home Keqing breathed a sigh of relief. This, however, was quite short lived.

“What was that all about?” There was amusement in your voice, and though Keqing was glad you didn’t seem irritated with her, she certainly wasn’t happy about the mischief in your smile.

“It was getting late.” She replied curtly. “I’d rather not be cooking dinner in the dark.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Your voice was slightly sing-song and Keqing rolled her eyes, knowing immediately where this was going.

“Of course, what other reason could there possibly be?”

“I don’t know, maybe you were a little jealous?” You shrugged your shoulders dramatically. Keqing tensed for a moment, before shaking her head.

“Why in Teyvat would I be jealous? After all, they’re just a friend.” Although she hadn’t meant to emphasize that last bit Keqing couldn’t help but feel somewhat irritated. It was just a friend, she was sure of that, sure of you. And yet it had irritated her. It had irritated her intensely. And what was that but jealousy?

“Of course they are.” You smiled gently. “They’re just a friend and you’re just the person I love. But Keqing?”

“Yes?” Keqing found her voice somewhat unsure.

“I don’t mind if you’re a little jealous. As long as you never doubt my affections for you, then it’s okay to be a little selfish. Okay?”

There was a pause, before Keqing walked over to you, wrapping you into a tight hug and burying her face in your neck. Drawing back slightly she pressed a soft and somewhat impatient kiss to your lips.

“Are you sure?” She asked, pulling away once more.

“Very sure.” You replied, before leaning in to kiss her in turn.

Keqing was glad to be carried away by the content feeling of being in the embrace of one’s love. She found today incredibly embarrassing and just wanted to forget the whole matter. And she knew you’d let that happen, for even if Keqing felt irritated, even if she resented your friend for accosting you and not leaving you alone she still trusted you more than anything.

And that was what counted.

[mashiraostail]

Hi Den! I just saw your depressive reader request and I really appreciated it, of course and your other contents, they were amazing. I wasn't really feeling myself lately and seeing the characters comfort the reader, believe me it really helps me, especially I'm going through a big test right now. I was wondering if I can request a Vlad King version, or any other characters you have in mind? I really wanted to be in his big arms, if no then it's ok too💗please stay hydrated at these times and be safe, I'm looking foward to your great work💗

 Hi! I'm really glad you liked them! I have another ask looking to get Mic and Yagi so I’ll add them here too, i hope your test goes well! 

Sekijiro Kan / Vlad King Hindsight is always much clearer. You wished you'd started the assignment when you got it rather than continually putting it off, but no, so everything had piled. You somehow managed to churn it all out the night before but it left you thoroughly exhausted. So much so that you end up flaking on your plans with Sekijiro, he doesn’t seem too perturbed on the phone though, he knew you had a lot of work right now, he’s been guilty of the same thing on occasion.  Though that was a week ago. Nothing particularly devastating had happened, nothing out of the ordinary, and yet you just felt so exhausted. Everything was a chore to you. Which made staying in bed with the lights out for days on end incredibly easy. But it made doing laundry, changing your sheets, doing the dishes, and even just finishing a glass of water basically impossible. All you had the energy to do was get up, go to your job, and come straight home and get back into bed. If your coworkers noticed your rapidly declining state no one said anything.  It was rare for Sekijiro to go more than a few hours without at least a text from you. You sent him literally whatever crossed your mind, pictures, random ideas or thoughts, questions about what you should eat for lunch or dinner, should you get mocha in your coffee or vanilla? You also usually called him when you were doing some sort of mindless task, cooking or cleaning and other things of the like. Not to mention how often you saw each other, practically everyday you usually stopped in on him while he was paroling, or asked him to come to your place when he was done. Now he was going full days without hearing from you at all. Since you’d given him a raincheck on your plans earlier last week he’d hardly heard from you. He texted you first of course, he’d asked how you were feeling numerous times now, but you always just said ‘I’m alright’ or ‘a bit exhausted’ at the worst before turning the conversation around to him again.  “You look nervous.” Aizawa doesn’t look up when he speaks, but it was an elephant in the room. Sekijiro was sure everyone had noticed how often he was checking his phone, or the nervous jitter in his leg every time it went off. “Yeah big guy what’s got you so rattled?” Mic agrees from his spot beside Aizawa in the teachers lounge.  “Nothing really.” Vlad cracks his knuckles, a nervous habit. “I bet you told Ryo. You shouldn’t play favorites it’s-”  “I didn’t tell him and I don’t play favorites.” He cuts Nemuri off.  “Is it romance troubles?”  “Why do you always take it there, Midnight?”  “So it is.” She looks proud, “I don’t always take it there, I just have a keen eye.”  Sekijiro lets out an empty huff of a laugh, “sure.”  “Maybe we can help.” If anyone but Aizawa said that Sekijiro would have written it off. It’s not that Aizawa wasn’t a nice guy, he was a hero after all, but for the most part he liked to keep to himself. Him offering help must have meant that Sekijiro was jumpier than he’d previously thought. “I have this...friend..and they’ve just been sort of MIA lately is all.  I don’t wanna barge in on them but they’re just not acting like themselves. I’m worried I did something to offend them, or that they’re hurt or sick and not telling me, when I ask they just write it off. I don’t want to seem like I don’t trust them but something just feels wrong.” Now that he said it out loud this did sound like the type of thing Ryo would have been really useful for, though that in mind Ryo knew you better than the others, the chance of him just barging in on you was much higher. The trio ponders this new information before Mic seems to have a lightbulb. “Why don’t you go there with a gift? That way it’s less like barging in and more like surprising!” Mic jumps, holding up an inquisitive finger, “or bring some take out or something like that!”  “That’s..not a bad idea..” Sekijiro murmurs to himself, it wasn’t out of character for him to surprise you at random times either...  “Great. Why don’t you head out now?” Aizawa offers and Sekijiro turns to him.  “No I mean, I would but I agreed to stay back for my class so they could use the-”  “We’ll be here for a while.” He’s curt but his kindness isn’t lost on the taller hero.  “Thank you Eraser. I really appreciate this, I’ll repay you.”  “Don’t mention it. If this’ll get you to stop shaking like a wet dog all the time.” He mutters to himself turning the paper before him over, “let us know if we can do anything else.”  You were starving. Yet you didn’t have a single morsel of food in your whole apartment, not even a jar of peanut butter. The hunger pains in your stomach weren’t enough to motivate you to venture out into the world, the terrible gloomy weather wasn’t helping either. You rolled onto your chest with a groan, wondering how much longer you could go on like this. Maybe after work tomorrow you could stop some place and pick up some groceries, for now though sleep was a great distraction.  Despite having a key Sekijiro still knocked, though after receiving no reply he elected to let himself in.  It seems like you’re in, your shoes are by the door, and your key is on the hook above them, but the coffee table is covered in plates, utensils and half empty cups of water or juice, your favorite blanket was strewn haphazardly over the couch, dangling onto the floor, you normally folded it neatly and draped it over the back. Your work papers and other things were cluttering the arm chair on the far end of the room and there were various wrappers around the floor and couch.  “Hello?” Sekijrio calls out for you but gets no reply. He clears a spot on your coffee table for the take out he brought and sets the other bag of various odds and ends on the couch before setting to straightening up. If you were asleep, which is what he figured, then you probably had a cold or something. He doesn’t wanna clean everything, incase you..liked it like this? He’s not sure himself but maybe you were trying something out. He empties the glasses into the sink and cleans them and the utensils off before discovering you had literally no food in your whole apartment. This was becoming concerning.  “Hey..” He knocks on the slightly ajar door of your bedroom, there’s no light coming from inside.  “I’m gonna come in alright?” He nudges the door open with his shoulder and the light from the hallway illuminates you, asleep. You didn’t look sick, though somehow you still looked worse for wear.  He shuffles over to you, “hey you?” He crouches down but keeps his voice low, “wake up.” He doesn’t want to startle you or anything. His efforts are fruitless. He straightens up and looks around a bit, pondering his next move.  He elects to climb into bed with you, he isn’t sure why he does this, but it feels like the right move. He carefully maneuvers your limp and sleepy form to rest against him. You start to mumble sleepily, still deadweight stacked against him, “Sek?” You’re wrapping an arm around his ribcage.  “Hey’re you up?” He looks down to you, only to find you are in fact not up. So he stays like that for a while, holding you by the back of your head to his chest, his other hand running long strokes over your spine, he could reheat the take out for you when you woke up.  When you do wake up you’re fully prepared for the terrible pang of hunger to be the first thing that you feel. But instead you just feel warm, you didn’t remember bringing a heavier blanket in here with you, but the warm weight on your back was comforting and...moving? Why was your blanket rubbing your back? The next thing to hit you was the scent, warm and piney to mask a slight metallic twinge, it was Sekijiro’s.  “Hey you’re awake.” His hand halts, “sorry to barge in like this.”  “it’s...okay.” You wipe your eyes and sit up, his hand slides off your back and wraps around to hold your waist.  “You feeling alright?”  The hunger hits you then.  “Honestly? No..” You’re straddling his leg, hands resting on his stomach.  “Yeah, I had a feeling. What’s up? It didn’t feel like you had a fever.”  “I’ve just been exhausted lately, Everything’s a chore. It’s all piling up and I have no motivation, and then I isolate myself and that doesn’t help.” You scrub your face. It clicks for Sekijiro then.  “Oh.” He sits up, “oh.” He holds either of your arms in his hands, “why didn’t you say something sooner? I would have come to help.”  “I didn’t wanna be a burden or seem childish, normally I can be pretty high functioning when I get like this. I’m still going to work and all so I figured I’d just pull out of this slump and then..apologize to you for being so aloof. I just-” Your stomach growls.  “And another thing! You don’t even have a crumb of food in here!” Sekijiro scolds you, “seriously I was worried sick when I got in. And you’re starving! You could have asked me to bring you something!”  “I didn’t wanna bother you, especially when I was being so cold I-”  “Okay. Don’t work yourself up.” Sekijiro uses the hand not being held by you to pull your bedhair back from your face, “well I brought food anyways. We can heat it up. So why don’t we talk after you eat?” “I’d... rather talk now..” You murmur, holding one of his hands in both of yours, “I’m really sorry Sekijiro. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I should have called you and explained and-”  “That’s a lot easier said than done babe.” Sekijiro stops you, “I won’t say I wasn’t worried, I was. Aizawa even said something to me.” He laughs a little, “but...this isn’t always something you can help. I didn’t wanna seem like I didn’t trust you by just barging in so I let it go on too long. I’m sorry for not coming sooner even though I was worried.”  “It’s not your responsibility to-”  “Shush. Anyways, now I know this kind of thing can happen from time to time, are you okay with me coming to check on you if I’m worried?”   “Of course I am..” You lean forward and drop your head onto his shoulder,  “I’m sorry too, for shutting you out and being cold..I didn’t make you think I was mad at you did I?”  He laughs, “It had..briefly crossed my mind.”  “I’m sorry Sek..” You wrap your arms around his back, you feel it shake with quiet laughter.  “It’s alright. Everything is fine now. You must be starving though, do you feel better? Enough to eat at least? Let’s go out to the couch, a change of scenery may do you good?”  You agree blindly, affectionately leaning into him as he rubs your back, truthfully you weren’t even sure what you agreed to until you were rounding the corner to the living room.  “Oh no it’s-” Not half as bad as you thought?  “I just picked up some stuff while you were asleep.” He waves, “I left your work stuff and the blanket, I know you can be particular about them. Get comfy and I’ll go heat this up.”  You sit on another bag by accident, curious you peek inside to find a niche collection of aspirin, a heating pad, and some socks among other things. You can feel your eyes getting wet.  “Hey why don’t you pick a movie too?” He’s coming back with two plates, “I can even give you a pass this time I won’t mind if you fall asleep because I-”  “Did you get all this for me?” You scrub at your eyes and he rushes over, quickly setting the plates down.  “W-well yeah I though you were sick!” He pulls you forward again, into his chest, he wraps his arms around you, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”  “It’s just really nice of you-” You sniffle, carding your hand through the back of his hair, “thank you for coming Sek.”  “Well..yeah of course I came babe. I’ll always...geeze, don’t cry..I didn’t wanna make you cry. Come on buck up.” His hands are sort of aggressively rubbing your back, but it’s actually kind of comforting..  “You could never bother me with something like this. I wanna help.”  “I’m sorry.” You pull away and wipe your face after he squeezes you one last time, “sorry I’m..I don’t know why I’m so emotional right now-” You sniffle and look up at him, “I'm such a baby aren’t I?”  “No..I don't think so.” He reaches out and nudges a tear with his knuckle, “I think it’s sweet. Babies are cute anyways.” His palms cup your face and his thumbs rub comforting strokes over your puffy cheeks, “let’s eat, okay? Put on a movie and you can fall asleep again if you want, I’ll even carry you to bed after. Tomorrow we’ll both go to work and then come back here and start getting you back on track alright? You’d help if it were me so don’t worry about troubling me. It’s really not any trouble at all. I feel better knowing you’re taken care of so really you’re doing me a favor.” 

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic The pair of you were quite literally inseparable. You called each other during every commute, texted and chatted throughout the entire day. So when he started lamenting to Aizawa that you’d pulled away a bit Aizawa told him to buck up, you probably just needed time to recharge. He’d been friends with the voice hero for over a decade now and even he needed to take time to himself on occasion, and he didn’t see Hizashi half as often as you did sometimes. He always reassures Hizashi that loudness can be exhausting but that doesn’t mean he’s disliked, sometimes people just can’t match his energy. That was probably the case now. While that put him slightly at ease he was still a bit disgruntled. You’d never had an issue talking to him about this sort of thing before, you were always the first person to ask him to quiet down, or to lower his energy level, and usually you were the one of the few who could do it in a way that was somehow sweet rather than hurtful. The fact that you were plain ignoring him now sort of...actually hurt his feelings. You answered his texts, though usually with much less gusto than before, and you always cut your talks on the phone short with some random excuse, ‘i think someone is at the door’ or, ‘sorry someone else is calling me’ or ‘my phones about to die’ and so on. When he asked to see you you deflected, you had a migraine, you were backed up at work, you wouldn’t be home till later, you had to get up early the next day, any excuse under the sun to take a raincheck on him. He spent about 2 days brooding over it, genuinely hurt by your actions and wholly unsure of your intentions.  To be honest, his high energy, loudness, and general excitability was exactly what you needed right now. You never had trouble asking him for help with things before; Help me open this jar? Could you pick up dinner on your way back? Do you mind moving my couch please, I’m trying to redecorate.. Will you straighten my hair I always miss pieces in the back. So you didn’t know why you couldn’t ask him to just be here. You didn’t need anything else, just his company would have been nice. You’d had an awful week, there was so much to do and you could feel your interest waining as the seconds ticked by, it was normal for you to get dragged down this time of year. Your coworkers and teammates were understanding of it, everyone had their ticks and this was yours, they were happy to help pick up what overwhelmed you and you were grateful for that but at the same time guilt gnawed at you, you felt useless and burdensome, the last thing you wanted to do was ask yet another person for yet another favor. Begging for help when you should be able to do it yourself. You didn’t want to suck the energy out of Hizashi, you already felt guilty enough for leaning so heavily on your colleagues. In hindsight your reasoning would make no sense, but all you wanted to do now was isolate yourself. It was as if your growth wouldn’t mean anything if you didn’t achieve it all on your own. You’re never really sure how you reach these conclusions but in the end they always feel logical.  That being said, it didn’t feel like you were achieving much of anything right now. All of these tears were over nothing, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed but still. You’d written it all in pen, and now the error..it’s not that you couldn’t white it out, you surely could, but the white out would look sloppy now and it would be clear you made an error but you were so close to being done you didn’t want to start the whole page over. It felt like a silly thing to cry over, but you did anyways. Eventually it tired you out enough to get you to just resign to bed. Hardly past 10 pm, but bed. You needed bed. You were so wrapped up in work that you didn’t even notice him texting and calling, you hadn’t even spoken to him once today, and then when you decided to call it a night you just left your phone at your work space.  He was antsy, jumpy and even a bit irritable. Worry didn’t really begin to describe it. Eventually, late into dinner Nemuri tells him to just go to you. “Check up on them, if they really are exhausted they’ll tell you that to your face, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”  Everyone seemed to echo her sentiments, which was largely unsurprising considering his change in demeanor was probably the least refreshing thing to befall the group of teachers the semester. Dorming wasn’t entirely unpleasant, they liked each other enough, but when things like this happened everyone’s patience was tested.  He calls when he’s outside your complex, he’s mostly sure you won’t answer but he at least wanted to try before knocking, and then eventually deciding to just use his key. Not answering wasn’t going to be enough to get rid of him, he decided he was going to get to the bottom of this tonight. Even if the issues was simply that you just needed the time to recharge from him you could say that instead of just dropping off the face of the Earth, it wasn’t like you to be such a terrible communicator. Which is why he had trouble believing that as the truth, but even if it was there needed to be some sort of conversation about how this was not effective for either party because now he was mad at you and even if you had recharged sufficiently he wouldn't’ want to see you until he cooled down.  Hizashi isn’t surprised when you neglect to answer the door. He is surprised by the terrible state of your apartment though. Papers and pencils are scattered around the living room, the kitchen is practically turned upside down despite the only food on the stove being a pot of plain rice that looks hardly touched. The further he ventured into the apartment the less he worried about you being tired of him and the more he worried that something awful had happened, and he’d neglected to notice you when you were in harms way.  Your bathroom wasn’t much better than your kitchen, once neat medicine cabinet shelves were disheveled, cabinet doors were left open things were far from their usual place, not to mention the pile of laundry in the corner. He hand’t announced himself yet, normally it was the first thing he did, loud and boisterous and probably incredibly annoying to anyone but you, “I’m here, where are you?? come say hello!!” But something unsettling was constricting in him, his chest, his stomach, his throat it made his shoulders tense. Had something terrible happened to you while he was trying to give you space? Had he ignored an obvious cry for help? Was he too late? Would his neglect cause him to lose someone else? The last place to look was your bedroom, but the light was off, and it was hardly past 10, he brain wrote off any possibility of you being there, you were a historic night owl why would you be in bed at 10?  He wasn’t relieved by the lump under your covers, in-fact he’d go as far as to say his panic only rose, bubbling up to the point he could feel it behind his eyes, like some awful pounding headache, the kind you get after driving home from a loud concert and having to look at all the city lights at night, though this was much less euphoric.  “Hey?!” He can’t help tearing the covers back, flicking the lamp on, he hates to startle you, but right now startling you would be one of the best case scenarios.  You jump, it presses you back into your pillows, into your mattress, the sheets crumple beneath you, it’s just instinct, you don’t know what else to do, you throw a pillow at him.  “Get out!”  “Hey it’s just me!”  You were flinching, bracing for some sort of retaliation, though when nothing comes you open your eyes.  “Hizashi?”  “Babe, thank god,” he exhales like he hadn’t taken a breath in 10 minutes, not before pulling you up into a rib crushing hug.  “What are you doing here?” Your hands hover over his back, confused.  “What am I doing here??” He scoffs holding the back of your head, huddling you into the crook of his neck. “Looking for you! That’s what I’m doing here!” You feel a twinge of guilt at that, especially since he’s holding you so tightly, “are you alright?”  “I’m fine..Zash..I’m okay.” One of your hands fall limp into his lap.  “I was so worried.” He pulls you back, “seriously I was going insane, I thought something happened to you, you got abducted or hurt or worse I thought-” He stops himself, “please don’t ever disappear like that again.” He presses his forehead into yours, “you don’t need tot ell me where you’re going, I’m not trying to keep tabs on you, just please at least tell me you’re safe. Promise me you would tell me if you weren’t, that you’d be honest with me if you were in trouble or scared-”  “Of course I’d...Zash is something wrong?”  “I should be asking you that! Where have you been?” He’s pulling away again, squeezing your arms, “did you just get sick of me? Is this your way of-”  “No!” You jump, “no, Hizashi I’d never do that to you-”  “So then why? Why isolate yourself like this? Why would you do this? Did you just need a break from me? Was I being too loud, too much to-” “Zashi please stop you’ll make me cry-” You shake your head, “this didn’t have anything to do with you. Please stop thinking that, I’m sorry I made you feel that way I-”  “You’ve already been crying!” He’s inspecting your face, “why didn’t you call me, how long have you been upset for? Is that...” You can see the gears turning until the dots are connected.  “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner I-”  “It’s not your fault don’t be sorry! I should be sorry I- and you-” You hiccup.  “Me? What about me?” He Looks down at you, “this is about you babe I’m fine-”  “No! You thought I was upset with you! Or tired of you! Or worse that I didn’t want to be with you and that’s not true! I worried you for no good reason and I’m sorry!”  “Oh babe...no..” He shakes his head before pulling you into another hug, “no..no way it’s not like that-”  “But it is! Isn’t it? You even asked me if you were too much lately! You aren’t you never are Zashi, there’s no such thing as you being to loud or annoying or..anything. I just want you to be yourself, I’m okay when you’re like that, getting to see you like that I.... I don’t want you to change anything, please don’t change anything-”  “Babe that’s sweet.” He squeezes you, you feel his lips on your temple, "but I’m worried about you. What happened to make you so emotional?”  “I just got overwhelmed. I hate this time of year.” You fist his shirt in your hands, “work was too much. Everyone is nice, they understand, but somehow I feel even worse taking help from them. It feels like if I can’t pull myself up on my own it makes me weak, it doesn’t count if I don’t do it by myself. Which is why I didn’t call you. Or text you, or try to see you at all. I was already leaning on so many people I didn’t want to take from you too. I didn’t wanna suck up your extra time, you energy I...you’re my boyfriend not my caretaker I just-”  “Stop me if I’m butting in unfairly.” He rests his chin on your head, “and I mean this respectfully. But that’s stupid.”  “Asshole! I just poured my heart out to you don’t call it stupid!” You shove him.  “Hey let me finish!” He catches your hands before you can get up, “it’s stupid because I lean on you all the time.” He pulls you forward again, “are my accomplishments null because you help me out all the time?”  “Zash When do I ever-”  “Don’t even finish that sentence. And don’t answer a question with a question.” He scoffs, “you help me out all the time. Even if it’s not always big emotional stuff...babe this past week’s been hell without you around. Even things that feel small, like making a bed, or doing laundry or running a bath for someone make a huge difference, they mean a lot to me and knowing I’ll get to see you has always helped my mood. I lean on you for stuff like that constantly. But I don’t feel guilty because I know you like doing it. So don’t feel guilty when it’s the other way around, I wanna give too, I want you to lean on me, to take from me. Seriously, nothing would make me happier than knowing I helped you.”  “I’m sorry I pushed you-”  “Don’t cry over that!” He laughs, “god you’re sweet. It’s okay. I was being mean. I shouldn't have said it like that. Anyways you never answered my question.”  “What question?” You look up at him.  “Are all my accomplishments null? Because I lean on you? because I need you?”  “...well it’s not-”  “It’s a yes or no question. It is the same. It’s okay to need help, more than just opening a jar. It’s okay to need support, that’s normal. No one is meant to do it all on their own. So yes or no?”  “...no you’re right. No.” You turn into his chest and he plaits his fingers through  the crown of your hair.  “And you’ll always be there for me right? Because you love me, don’t you?”  “Of course I’ll always be here for you. And don’t ask a question like that you know I love you.” You mutter, ducking closer towards him and wrapping your arms around his ribs, “i’m sorry I didn’t call. You really didn’t think I got sick of you right?”  “No.” He swings his legs onto the mattress and lays back with you, “Shota and the others said you probably just needed a break but it didn’t really sit right with me, you’re the only person who never seems to need a break from me. ‘s why I showed up. To be honest I wasn’t really that worried about your wellbeing, I just figured you were swamped with work and didn’t want me worrying, but then when I saw..you know the mess..I panicked. I thought something happened to you, and you hadn’t answered my calls all day, or even yesterday.”  “I’m so sorry-” You warble, “god I’m so selfish I shouldn’t have-”  “It’s okay. You were overwhelmed. But if this happens again just..try to let me know you’re safe okay? If you aren’t ready to ask for help...and on the topic of help, how can I help now that I’m here?”  “I just wanna go to bed.” You murmur, latching onto his arm.  “Hm..nonsense. How about I run you a bath? And hey what were you crying about before?”  You flush, this was embarrassing.  “I messed up the page I was writing. But I did it in pen so I didn’t know what do to and I didn’t wanna start over because I was almost done but white out will look messy and so I got upset and then I got overwhelmed and then I started crying and then I went to bed.” You press your forehead into his arm petulantly, “and if you laugh at me I’ll make you leave.”  “I’m not gonna laugh.” He promises, “I’ll run you that bath, while you’re in there I’ll rewrite the page for you so you can stop worrying about it. But you should use pencil from now on.” He squeezes the nape of your neck, “sound like a square deal?” You silence says otherwise.  “What’s wrong?” He looks down to you.  “I want you to take the bath with me.” You mutter it, it hardly registers, “please.”  “Huh? Did you just say what I think you just said?” He looks delighted, despite his tone being almost devilish, “why would you want me to do a thing like that?”  “because..I missed you...and I still feel bad and I know you like taking baths with me and..” You look down at your hands where they’re interlocked, “and...I want you to wash my hair. I can figure out that page tomorrow or something.”  He sighs, “I can’t be mean to you when you’re being so sweet.” You get pulled along as he sits up, “of course I’ll come, and I’ll wash your hair for you.” He cups your cheek, “what else do you want? You can have anything just ask.”  “After that I...I think I just want to go to bed, and deal with the other stuff tomorrow. I want you to stay though.”  “I’m gonna have a heart attack.”  “Hey! Don’t say things like that! It’s bad luck!”  “Don’t be so sweet then!” He argues, pulling you to stand.  “Of course I’ll stay. I’ll stay tomorrow, and help then too, if you want. You don’t have to decide right now I know asking for help can be hard. In the meantime let’s just take that bath okay?” 

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might Retirement had left Yagi with some rather pleasant spare time. He’d never gotten to have many hobbies before but now he was enjoying freedoms life as All Might had never permitted. Chief among them being a continuous close proximity to you. Even though you didn’t technically live together it didn’t really feel as though either of you had a designated space either. It felt right for Yagi to be in your space, using your things, like he belonged there. It felt equally right for you to be in his space, existing and using his things as you pleased. You didn’t need permission and neither did he, it just felt right to exist around each other. Especially now that he had the extra time to spend with you and you both realized how easy and comfortable being together was. Though right now nothing felt easy or comfortable or right, your entire existence felt like a pair of jeans that was way too tight. Just taking a breath that was too deep felt uncomfortable.  Your closeness to Yagi made the shift in your mood apparent to him from the very beginning.  It was silly in hindsight. The proposal had a 50/50 chance anyways and it’s not like you had anything directly to do with it’s failure, it was just the last straw, the tiny thing that made all the other things seem huge, and as quickly as you’d realized that your mood had already plummeted. You’d run out of motivation, any drive to do anything but sleep and drag yourself to work had dissipated, at work you did what you needed to to get by and afterwards you went back to your place, even though Yagi’s was closer. Just being with someone else privately seemed like it would be overwhelming. Despite the fact that Yagi was the least overwhelming person on the planet, if anything you’d say he had the opposite effect, he was amazing at pulling your attention away from the little overwhelming details. However you couldn’t shake the gnawing nervousness that popped up at the thought of seeing him or anyone really. So when you crossed paths it was short, you poked into the school with lunch, into his place with dinner, you never stuck around to eat though. A conference call pulled you away, an important meeting you couldn’t be late for, you were catsitting and it needed your attention, you promised to call a relative and they’re just soo chatty, a late assignment needed tending to, all overused excuses that you normally practiced on everyone but Yagi, usually to get the pair of you out of an unwanted dinner or social event. You tried to avoid letting him into your apartment, you knew it was getting cluttered, you avoided the dishes and your laundry like the plague, putting another plate in the sink atop the pile only fanned your anxiety but the thought of actually cleaning it up makes you sicker than the sight of it. You tried to keep the front living room neat, luckily the overflowing sink was out of sight around a small corner, and the laundry cluttered a small closet out of sight as well. The only things out of place at first glance were the shoes, the coat rack and the copious amount of cups, cans and bottles littered around the apartment, some empty, some full, others in between.  Of course he noticed these things, to a passerby it wasn’t extreme, but Yagi sensed the shift in you like it was a shift in himself. Though you insisted it was fine, you were just exhausted, it was the busy season after all, come February things would plateau. You promised him. So he resigned, he trusted you after all if you said it was okay that must mean you were dealing with it on your own.  To be fair you were trying to. You honestly were. You just didn’t know how to ask for help in a way that didn’t make your stomach want to grow legs and run away from you. You said you were okay though, even if he didn’t totally buy it he’d wait patiently for you to tell him the problem, to seek him out. He knows how overwhelming it is for people to pry when you aren’t ready to divulge information. He doesn’t want to contribute to anymore bad feelings. However he could tell you were hiding something, still he plays dumb for your sake. He doesn’t try to poke further into your apartment, to your bedroom, or kitchen, places he’d normally allow himself without double checking with you, he doesn’t prod at you when you seem unusually emotional, when your excuse doesn’t hold up. He know’s you’ll come to him when you’re ready, at least that's the hope.  When you were like this a mediocre day is a terrible one, and a genuinely bad day is world ending. Today had been genuinely bad. You woke up early to prepare for a meeting, you put extra time into getting ready, you even stopped for a coffee at your favorite spot, all things you hadn’t had the energy to do even just a day ago, you really felt like today may be when things start looking up. But then the first coffee the barista made you was burnt, the machine was acting up, you assured her it was fine, it wasn’t her fault after all, you woke up early so you had time to wait for another one. Even that wasn’t really sullying your mood, it was nice to chat with the young girl while she remade your drink, there were no expectations of you, she didn’t care about pile of energy drink cans in your apartment, or the mountain of dishes in your sink, she didn’t even know the existed and she’d probably never consider that they did as a possibility. She was friendly and she always looked happy to see you. But then your bus was early and you missed it waiting for your coffee. You could see it receding down the street. It’s okay though, you woke up early. You had time. Then it was raining. Then the next bus arrived but skipped your stop so you had to walk. And suddenly all the time you put into your hair meant nothing.  Nothing terrible happened in the meeting, it was as lifeless and uneventful as ever, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. And somehow your bus skips you stop again on the way home. Why hadn’t it stopped raining?  You’re about to climb into bed, drenched clothes and all when you hear someone knocking on your door. It was Yagi, you could recognize it anywhere.  “Hey Yagi I’m really-” You want to send him away, you do, you don’t want him seeing you so upset you felt like a child, but he just looked so concerned.  “I just got back.” You change your phrase last minute, “wanna come in?”  He sits on your couch, you appreciate how he doesn’t try to peek into the kitchen. You know you haven’t been subtle.  “I’ll wait here. You can go change into something warm. Please.” Yagi takes your hands, “and we can order dinner.” He wants to offer to make you tea, but something stops him from it. “You’re shaking. You must be freezing. I’m cold just looking at you. Go on, I’ll sit on the couch.” So you do what he says, sort of grateful for the demand since you would have fallen asleep like this, freezing and miserable and wet, and woken up sick the next morning.  “Much better! Good you even got a towel! Comfy?” He’s grinning at you as you round the corner, now in dryer, warmer apparel.  “Sit in front of me, I’ll dry your hair for you a little, it’s still dripping.” You nod as you follow his directions, any excuse to not have to look at his concerned face, getting out of his earnest blue gaze was top priority.  “The rain was totally out of left field huh? It even lasted all day.” His hands are big and warm, even through the towel how gentle his touch was is obvious.  “Yeah..” You draw your knees up to your chest, “I couldn’t seem to avoid it.”  “Well at least we can warm you up now.” You can tell his grinning again, trying to brighten up your mood. You felt like an ugly gloomy cloud, and he was a big bright cartoonish sun.  “Go ahead, you can lean your head on my leg, close your eyes. I can see your head drooping.”  You do that too. You sit there for a quiet 5 or so minutes, it does wonders to quell the nervousness in your stomach. You feel him pull the towel away and card big familiar hands through your only slightly damp hair. His palms are soft and comfortable against you, it feels right.  “You’re exhausted.” He observes, combing your hair off your forehead and pulling your head back a bit, closer to him.  “Mhm.” You don't open your eyes to give your minimal reply, instead thoughtlessly coiling an arm around his leg.  “Why don’t you come sit up here with me? It’ll be more comfortable. Your hair’s much dryer now.”  “You don’t have to baby me.” You stand up then, “I’m alright.”  “Ok I won’t baby you.” Yagi’s smile is soft and he casts it upwards to where you stand before him, “how about some tea? Are you up for making it? I’m still a little cold from the rain. Then after that you can some back and sit with me. Not because I want to baby you, but because I want to sit with you okay?” “okay..” You relent, “I can do that.”  “Perfect. I’ll wait here.”  You don’t know why you bit at him like that. You watch the kettle warm up as the guilt gnaws at you. It’s not like you were mean. All you did was tell him not to baby you. That wasn’t mean. You didn’t bite at him. But you kind of did. He was just trying to help. You aren’t mad at him so why are you mad? You open the cabinet. Of course there’s not a single mug to be found. You venture to the sink in search of two.  You’ve found the last one by the time the kettle starts to whistle which startles you enough to get you to drop the stupid glassware. The ceramic shattering on the floor is sort of akin to a dam breaking. Tears are stinging your eyes.  Things were looking up, Yagi was here, he was gonna take care of you, you were gonna feel better and now this stupid mug. You crouch down to pick it up.  “Are you alright? I heard a crash?” Yagi’s there, of course he is.  “Hey be careful, you’ll cut yourself.” He’s turning heat below the kettle off, "sweetheart here l-" and then rushing toward you. "I've got it." You were collecting the bigger shards in your hand. "Let me. I’ll get a broom, before you cut yourself. Please let me." He insists and you snap, ever so slightly, "Yagi. I said I have it."  “Hey, okay, it’s okay," he takes a step back, "do you wanna be alone for a minute?" He offers and you sigh, "Tosh I just-" then you slice your palm open, "oh fuck everything," you hiss and drop the bits you were holding and Yagi kneels beside you, "hey." "I'm sorry." You could feel yourself starting to cry, the stinging tears pouring out, "i'm sorry I got so short with you." "Hey it's fine, I understand." Yagi murmurs, a large hand rubbing your back, "it's alright, leave this for now so we can clean your hand up." He takes your wrist in his hand, but you don’t say anything. “Do you hear me?" "Yes." You nod, and take in a deep breath, "yes I hear you...yeah let me just get the-" "It's okay, the shards aren’t going anywhere." You just sort of stare at the muddled mess of ceramic and now a bit of blood mixed up on the floor. "Hey." Yagi takes your face in his hands, "look at me." "I'm looking at you." Your lips barely move. "No, look at me, not through me. Ignore the mug, look at me." He presses and so you do, you focus on him, his face, his eyes, his nose, his hands on your cheeks, the warmth that radiated from him. "Let's clean you up." You nod, "yeah. Sorry." "Don't be sor-" Yagi stops himself, "it's alright, not a big deal. No permanent damage. Go sit on the couch, I’ll get the first aid kit.” “My bathroom’s really-”  “It’s alright.” He promises, “it’s okay. I’m here to help you. That doesn’t bother me. None of this,” he gestures around, “bothers me. I’m here for you, whatever you need that to mean. Go sit down okay?” He wipes a stream of tears away. It’s quickly replaced but it’s a nice gesture.  You do manage to get the loudest tears out before Yagi comes in. "Alright let's see the damage." He opens the first aid kit on the arm of the couch beside him, "does it hurt?" "No-" Your voice gives your current state away. "Sweetheart.." Yagi kisses your temple, "come on.." "I'm sorry-" "I don't mean like that." "I know-" You wipe your eyes, "I know..I’m sorry I just-" He shushes you and extends a hand, you hold out your palm to him, you had pressed an old face cloth to it which did help ebb the bleeding a bit. "It's not that bad." You murmur as he wipes the blood away, "just a lotta blood.." “That’s how it always is.” He murmurs as he presses the wet cloth to the cut and pulls your hands up to his lips, kissing the damp fabric over the wound. You tilt your head at the sight of it, "I love you Tosh..I’m sorry." "It’s okay sweetheart, it’s alright. I love you too." He murmurs back, squeezing the cloth for a little longer before pulling it away. He goes through the routine you'd so regularly followed on him, before, when he was All Might all the time, cuts and bumps and head injuries that you always tended to for him, you cleaned up all his wounds before wrapping some bandage around it and kissing it, he mimics the routine on you "good?" "Good." You nod back voice soft and wet with tears. "I'm no expert but..did pick up a few things from one." He grins and you snort a little which makes him coo, "hey there's that smile 've been missing." He kisses the high of your cheek, "how do you feel?" "A little better..." You nod, "sorry you had to see that..." "I know that you feel like you have to apologize for everything but trust me okay? Stuff like this? I'll always rather help with. It's never a chore, but even if it were that’s okay. I want to be there for you." He kisses your forehead, "I wanna make you happy." "Then.. thank you I guess.." You look up at him and he wraps you in a hug. You spend a comfortable few moments there until he pulls away. "Don’t mention it...now," He stands and takes you with him, "let's go clean up the mug? Together. Then we’ll sort out the other stuff tomorrow, together too.” 

[juniorgman187]

Home Alone (Reid Fic)

Summary: For the first time since living with Spencer, Reader is home alone and left to brave the figurative and literal storm on her own.  Pairing: Platonic Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff, One-shot Content Warning: Storm, fear and paranoia, use of a deadly weapon Word Count: 2.8k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

It was a dark and stormy night. 

Too cliche? Let me start over. 

It was the time of the year when the wind was so strong, even the sturdiest tree would blow over. Meanwhile, the rain relentlessly pelted the windowpane, cascading down the glass at a record speed. In the distance, you could hear thunder’s deafening clap and see lightning’s blinding flash preceding it. The only thing that could make this storm worse?

Being home alone in it. 

Spencer, my roommate, was never gone for more than two days at a time. He always arrived at the exact hour when he texted he would be, and he never ever left me home alone before his arrival. Without fail, he would call over a friend to stay with me or if he knew he’d only be gone a few hours, he’d drop me off in a public space, where he knew people would see me. To put it simply, if I was in the apartment, I wasn’t alone, and I had to think it was because of something he would never tell me about. 

Without explicit reasoning for his unwillingness to leave me by my lonesome, I could only conjure up theories and inferences that were never confirmed. My best guess was an accumulated paranoia caused by all of those cases he worked on. I’m betting there’s been more than one instance where a woman was home alone and ended up dead one way or another, and after all that he’d seen, he couldn’t let the same thing happen to me. If for no other reason than he just didn’t want to slave over another case like this and have me be the victim in it. He’d seen it too many times to not learn his lesson. And trust me - Spencer Reid is not a person who needed to be taught something twice. 

But before I lived with him, I was never scared of being home alone. In fact, I might’ve actually preferred to be alone as opposed to being in the company of someone else, but I think my compliance with his precautionary procedures made me weaker. After years of living with Spencer’s routine, I relied on it for my safety. I’d gotten so used to the luxury of having somebody around when he was away that this loneliness was so unfamiliar that it left me uneasy. By now, I’ve associated the presence of another person with the feeling of being safe, and conversely, I now associate being alone with being in danger. 

So if you asked me to sum up how I was currently feeling alone in this storm in one word, I’d choose ‘uncomfortable’, but if you asked me to sum it up in two, my answer would be ‘in danger.’

It wasn’t until the situation presented itself that I realized I’d never been forced to deal with it, so I never knew what to do when it happened. Never before had I needed to call Spencer while he was at work because prior arrangements had always been made in advance, but I hadn’t heard from him since noon when he told me that he was boarding the jet and he’d be home before I came home from work. Was it inappropriate to call him while he was working? I wouldn’t know - I never had to do this before. 

But then again, he called me when he said he was about to board the jet, so if I called him, maybe he was still on the jet and it wouldn’t be bothering him. Unless, they got another case as soon as they landed and it required his immediate attention and the thought of calling to let me know he wouldn’t be home yet completely slipped his mind. I could see that being a possibility too because even if I was totally oblivious about when to call him, I wasn’t blind to the mayhem his job involved. 

With no good reason to pester him with a phone call, I decided against it. After all, I was a big girl. I could be home alone. 

In fact, this was the perfect opportunity to do all the things I couldn’t do while someone was around. Plus, distracting myself was the only way I could ensure that I wouldn’t slip into the same downward spiral of paranoia that led Spencer to enforce this very system.

After my steamy shower, I wandered aimlessly around the apartment in just my towel and nothing else. This was something I hadn’t done since the days when I lived alone. Mainly because I didn’t want to leave so little to the imagination. Honestly, as much as I love Spencer platonically - I’m not blind. He’s obviously a very gorgeous, very single man for God’s sake, so the thought of prancing around in nothing but a rectangle of terry cloth had certainly crossed my mind once or twice, but if anything, wearing more clothing would attract his attention more than wearing less would. That’s just the way he is.

Second on my list of luxuries that came with alone-time was blasting music. This is something I hadn’t done in forever. Out of courtesy, whenever I played music, it would only be through my headphones, so Spencer wouldn’t be bothered by it. Even then, I think sometimes he could hear it faintly in the background while he read or studied his paperwork, but if he noticed, he never said anything. So to relish in my newfound freedom of aloneness, I turned my phone’s volume all the way up and danced ridiculously to it, too. Of course, the music wasn’t loud enough to disturb our neighbors - I wasn’t that insensitive - but it reached new volumes tonight. Louder than it ever had been in this apartment before. 

Somewhere in the middle of my impromptu concert, I heard something like knocking. It was a distinct enough sound to make me pause my music, but not so distinct that I could recognize where it came from. I wondered if it was a noise coming from my song, like when you’re playing music and you think someone called your name, but when you pause your music you realize no one actually did. But this … this was different. It was too real of a sound for me to be imagining it. I could hear it from exactly where I would normally hear knocking, but now that I was alone, and quite frankly - naked - hearing knocking made my stomach churn. 

“Hello?” I dumbly called out from my bedroom doorway into the living room.

This was a horror movie-esque choice, I’m aware, and it was usually made by the docile female only seconds before a murderer appeared and chased her up a flight of stairs that she’d somehow forgotten to properly ascend. But my thinking was if there really was someone knocking outside, they’d answer me, and I’d be able to detect the danger if necessary, but in true horror movie fashion, no one responded. Leaving me to hunt further to access the situation. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but my mind did exactly that. 

You’re about to be murdered. My conscience concluded. Or kidnapped. Or assaulted. Or violated. Or -

Knock! Knock!

My heart accelerated at a pace my lungs couldn’t support, not without heavy breathing. It was here where all my logic and rationality flew out the window because for some reason, I started tip-toeing to the door as if not making any sounds on the floorboards would somehow ensure my safety.

I didn’t know what I was trying to prove by finally grasping the doorknob with the intentions of turning it open, but it certainly didn’t prove I was a “big girl” or that I was any less scared because as quickly as I had touched the knob, I just as quickly recoiled my hand away from it and ran to my purse to find my phone. 

Matching the speed of lightning, I dialed Spencer and sighed a quick sigh of relief when I heard the line ringing. That was a good sign. 

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up,” I pleaded to myself as if God would hear it and grant me my prayer. “Please pick up, please pick up.” 

“The number you are trying to reach (702) -“

“Fuck!” 

That’s never happened before either. He never sent me to voicemail, not even when he was away and asleep. He’d always answer my call. This wasn’t a good sign. 

The knocking went away minutes ago, but my fear hadn’t. I couldn’t tell you what exactly was so scary to me, but all I knew is that I would feel a whole lot better, and honestly - a whole lot safer - when Spencer came home. 

“Come on, Spencer. Where are you?” I tried his cell phone probably three more times after the first call, my hope decreasing with each dial tone.

There was nothing I could do but wait. After all those missed calls, he’d have to call me back sometime, but I just hoped he’d be home before it’d get to that. 

My trepidation clearly clouded my judgement because rather than putting on clothes first and having my priorities in order, I was already reaching for the spare gun I knew Spencer kept in his bedside drawer. He didn’t know I knew it was there, but I did. And I planned to use it tonight if it came down to it. 

One hand held the top of my towel up from falling while the other shakily clenched a gun. 

Before this, I’d never actually held one before, but then again, there’s a lot of ‘firsts’ I was experiencing tonight. 

I didn’t expect it to be so heavy - and I don’t mean the actual size, but the weight of the object itself. This thing could take so many people’s lives, and I was holding it. It was a nauseating feeling, but my rapt fascination wouldn’t let me put it down. I had never noticed how intricate the contraption was. There were so many little details, so many little parts that needed to work harmoniously in order for it to carry out its function. I was only made more aware of just how many parts there were inside the gun because of my shaky hand unconsciously rattling the magazine inside. 

The clip sounded nearly empty. Jesus, Spencer, how many times have you had to use this thing?

My thoughts were cut short when the sound at the door returned. It didn’t sound like knocking, but something much worse. 

Someone was coming in. 

I wasn’t yet prepared for the worst so rather than confronting it outside, I stayed hidden within Spencer’s room ready to shoot when they finally came into my line of sight. 

If you were an intruder, I don’t think you’d be very intimidated at the sight of me, but for some reason, I still felt rather powerful. My hair was like strings draping over my shoulders since it was still damp, and the one hand I was using to hold the gun (the other being used as a towel holder) was shaking violently. I could barely carry this thing with one hand, and yet I still couldn’t put it down. 

I needed protection. 

I needed Spencer. 

I could hear footsteps slowly trailing in, and it seemed like the slower they walked, the faster my heart beat. 

“Who’s there?” My voice was loud, but it wasn’t nearly as threatening as it should’ve been to scare somebody. The dominance in my tone was clearly stolen by my fear. 

I saw a figure loom into the space between Spencer’s bedroom door frame and the living room, which was adequate distance for shooting, so with only partial hesitation, I nearly pulled the trigger.

“Shit!” The figure ducked their head while their hands raised into the air to suggest harmlessness - something a suspect would do to surrender. 

“(Y/n), put down the gun! Put down the gun! It’s me! It’s Spencer!” 

I could recognize his voice, but the storm’s darkness hid his face from me so I was still skeptical. It wasn’t until he swiftly came into the light to take the gun out of my hands that the small flicker of city lights illuminated his face. 

Spencer!

As soon as I could make out his perfect nose and his amber eyes, I melted into his already open embrace. I entered his arms wordlessly and shut my eyes so solidly with such relief that a tear escaped. 

“Hey, hey … you’re okay. I’m here. You’re okay, my dear.” He took my face in his hands to read me, and I think he must’ve seen my tears because his voice never travelled above a whisper. Maybe he thought if he spoke even a decibel louder, I’d shatter. He let my head travel back to his sternum, the warmest spot on his body, and again, he embraced me in a hug. His hands hovered in the air for a moment while he tried to find an appropriate place to put them - like I said before, he’d never seen me in just a towel, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he threw his good manners out the window and hugged me just as tightly as he would’ve had there been more covering me than just terry cloth. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, I’m right here.”

He held me for longer than normal, but he knew the circumstances were different here. Maybe that’s why he kept a single arm around me even when he travelled to his dresser where he collected an old t-shirt that he would go on to slide over me. I let the towel drop when the t-shirt was fully on, creating a sort of magic trick, where he never saw my naked body. But that wasn’t exactly true. 

I didn’t need to be without clothes to be naked. I was naked right now, even in his shirt - completely and totally vulnerable. He could see the plain fear that held me prisoner tonight, and so he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. 

“Do you wanna sleep in my room tonight?” 

I nodded into his chest without a spoken word. He knew I would still be scared, and in some way, I think his doting treatment was how he believed he could make it up to me. He even helped me into his sheets, taking the time to tuck me in like a child. I realized later though, he might’ve only tucked me in so the movement of the bedsheets would mask the sound of him carefully sliding his gun back into its rightful spot in his drawer. 

“Where were you?” I finally croaked, neglecting to add, ‘I needed you.’ It would’ve been redundant. He knew I needed him.

“The storm knocked over a telephone pole just a mile away. I was almost home when it happened.” 

Somehow hearing that he was so close only made me more frustrated. Here I was, thinking I was on the verge of death when Spencer was literally just a few blocks down the street. 

“You scared me when you didn’t answer my calls.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t see them until I was at the front door. I was too busy focusing on getting home to you as soon as possible while still driving safely through the storm.” 

With my eyes already shut, I could imagine him, his hands at ten and two on the wheel, his eyes straightward with nothing else in sight but the road ahead of him, his motivation to get home to the person who needed him most being what propelled that car forward - not even the gas. 

“I love you, you know that?” He whispered into my hair, where his fingers were already laced. 

“I know. And I love you, too.” I honestly replied. That’s why I need you here with me. It’s the only way I feel safe. 

I would’ve gone to sleep right then and there, but I was stuck on the fact that he was just a mile away this entire time. Maybe that was the point, though. 

He was never too far away. He was always right there, in one way or another. 

“In the morning, I have to leave at 7, so I’ll drop you off at the library.” What’d I tell you? He always made arrangements for me so I’d never ever be left alone. “So in the car ride there, you can tell me why you were about to shoot me.” 

After his statement was the first time I laughed that night. I nudged him to show my playful disapproval of his jest. 

“I thought you were an intruder!” My voice finally regained its volume. “You scared the shit out of me when you walked in.” 

Our laughter faded to silence and it seemed like that would conclude the night’s conversations, but I could still hear the gears in Spencer’s brain turning. 

“Hey, wait a minute - how did you even know I had a spare gun in my drawer?” 

To his question, I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to answer, exaggerating my snores to emphasize my blatant sarcasm. 

“Answer me!” He persisted; I could hear him smiling.

But I only smirked against his chest and coquettishly cooed, “Goodnight, Spencer.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

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[frenchy-and-the-sea]

OC-Tober Day 1 - Journey

Interrupting my crying over fictional lesbians to bring you my first piece of OC-Tober! It’s not a hard and fast rule, but my intention is to do the entire month, and to do it all for the characters of my silly sailing story. Most of them will be much, much shorter, but I decided to let myself go a little harder on day one, as this piece takes place during the events of the story, and I figure I can probably loan pieces of it to the final work later. 

Anyway, please enjoy Alex and Tahir coping with the notion that they might have very well orchestrated their own demise! 

~ 1300 words

-----

The night before the journey that would almost certainly kill them, Tahir courted Alex's good favor with an offering of lukewarm stew, and the least grainy pour of small beer that he had been able to charm out of a barmaid’s hands.

They tucked away the meager meal in silence, watching as their hirelings fortified themselves against the long sea journey ahead. Lively conversation had turned quickly to calls for real ale, which in turn had become raucous songs, shouted stories, the beginnings of several card games on several tables around them. Alex had already started a mental tally on which of her crew would actually be taking their advances in the morning. It did wonders to keep her from thinking too hard about how ridiculous it sounded to call them “her crew.”

“Terrible, isn’t it?”

Blinking, Alex turned her attention back to her own table, where Tahir was frowning down at the contents of his supper like it had offered him personal offense. A spoon stood upright in the center of his bowl, propped up by the thick, lumpy grey-brown slurry that passed for a hearty meal in this particular house. As Alex watched, it began to sag ever so slightly to one side, with an awful sucking noise like boots churning through heavy mud. She stifled a laugh.

"At least it moves.”

“Oh, now you choose to be charitable.” Scowling, Tahir wrestled his spoon out of the grip of his dinner and dropped it onto the table with a snort of disgust. “I expect this sort of misery in an English boarding house, you know. I expect this or worse. I just thought the French considered food to be something you ate.”

“You expect too much of the French,” Alex said with a thin smile. “And you are perhaps the only man in this room giving any consideration to the food. Everyone else seems more concerned with relieving themselves entirely of the burden of their money. Or with the thought that they likely won't survive this mad endeavor we've arranged for them.”

She expected another huff, a pointed look across the table; instead, Tahir's good-natured scowl tightened into a grimace. He sank back into his chair and dragged his mug closer.

“Begging your pardon,” he said gruffly, “but I’ve been trying damnably hard to avoid that very thought myself all night.”

Alex rolled her eyes, but dutifully returned to surveying the tables around them as he drained his cup. They had fought this battle too many times to bother repeating themselves again. Distraction was Tahir's preferred method of dealing with impending doom. Planning, in his opinion, solved absolutely nothing if you exhausted yourself tinkering with it. Alex had just never seen the harm in preparing for the second or third - or fifth - most likely outcome too. It made them a solid match when things went thoroughly to shit; Alex to set their contingency plans, Tahir to keep her from killing herself or anyone else over it.

Unfortunately, it also made them fight, on those rare occasions when they were bothered by the same thing.

Across the barroom floor, Alex watched as one of the twins - Davin, maybe - laid down a run of cards, and then gleefully swept the stack of credit letters in the center of the table into his pockets.

“Did you tell your family?” she heard herself ask suddenly. The words had come unbidden, against every ounce of good sense, but Alex couldn't quite work up the nerve to recall them. She couldn't bring herself to look in Tahir's direction either, but she heard his chair groan as he shifted towards her.

"I did," he said after a moment. A touch of warning had entered his voice now; she was treading dangerously over the line he’d just set. Pressing like this would be the sort of deliberate crossing that started brawls in lesser men. But Alex could feel the thrumming ache of worry clenching just behind her jaw, the sort that made her brain itch with a sketch of the second and third and fifth most likely outcome. There were gaps in the wide, tender weave of her plans, and suddenly, they were all Tahir-sized. She leaned forward.

“What did you tell them?”

For a long moment, Tahir said nothing, just watched her from across the table with the narrow look of someone trying very hard not to be angry. Then he sighed, and the fight spilled out of him like wind from a split pennant.

"I told them that I had signed onto a private merchant charter," he said, slowly, "and that it was making a run out to the colonies."

A tiny, gnawing fear suddenly rose in Alex's chest. "Nothing about me, then?"

"No."

She nodded and sank back in her seat, embarrassed by the weight of her relief. She had spent no small amount of her otherwise unremarkable shore leave in the company of Tahir’s family. They had liked her, and she had been more than inclined to feel the same. The awful, brutally selfish part of her didn’t want her name to become a curse to them, if the worst happened. 

Knowing helped, though. Knowing meant that she had a place to begin her planning. Knowing meant that she had a leg up on whatever horrors waited for them on their crossing, and knowing meant that she could - 

“Alex.”

Her head snapped up on reflex. Tahir had dredged up a shadow of his officer's bark, the one that Alex had thought he reserved exclusively for idiot pressmen. She knew it because she had been an idiot pressman, not so long ago.

The reminder clenched a muscle in her jaw, and she pushed the tight spiral of her circling thoughts deep, deep, deep into her stomach as she squared herself back to him. “What?”

“What, he says," Tahir muttered to himself. "I can nearly hear your fucking thoughts, is what. I asked kindly before, but I’ll be clear this time - I intend to sit here, drink my fill, and not put a single thought towards tomorrow morning. I intend to watch one of the twins start a fight and see who likes them enough to haul them out of it. I intend to be downright lousy with idle hands. I know it’s not your way, but if you’re the thinking sort - and I’ve got it on some authority that you are - then you will give yourself the first fucking break of your life, and you will join me in pretending like the only journey that you have to make at any speed is over to the nearest barmaid.” 

He punctuated his thought by shoving his cup across the table towards her, and then leaning back into his seat with both great arms folded over his chest, daring her to argue. 

Alex’s first instinct was to swat his stupid mug right back it him. It was an old impulse, a leftover glimmer of the street rat that Tahir used to lecture just like this. Half a decade’s worth of practiced composure put her hand around it instead.

“You know as well as I do that it doesn’t go away when you do that,” she muttered, snatching her own cup too. Across the table, Tahir’s expression softened.

“No,” he agreed. “But you certainly sleep better. And that does help.”

Bastard. He loved to be sensible just when Alex was feeling moody. She took a deep breath, unstuck the rigid tension in her jaw, and sighed, long and hard. 

“Very well,” she said. She thought some part of her even meant it. “I’ll be spending the next few wretched weeks playacting, anyway. I suppose I could stand to have some practice.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tahir said dryly, but Alex could see a shade of his propped-up cheer return. She flashed him a rude gesture with her free hand just to save a little face, then turned on a heel and trudged off towards the bartop. She would still make her plans. Tahir, much as he would like to, couldn't stop that. 

But maybe, this time, they would start in the morning.

[cuddlepilefics]

Shared suffering

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickies: Jisung, Felix

Caregivers: Chan, Minho, Changbin

Requested by: @kilixsstuff

 No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids had just finished up at the company building and were ready to go home for the night. Since none of them were in the mood to cook after a long work day, they decided to stop at a restaurant and have dinner there. That way, nobody would have to do the dishes either. The stress of the day was slowly melting away as they waited for their food. Despite having worked for hours, Jisung and Felix were slowly finding their energy again after getting rid of the stress. While everyone else just quietly ate their food, trying not to fall asleep before making it home, Jisung kept stealing Felix’ food. The Aussie kept loudly complaining about being hungry and not wanting to share his food but Jisung kept sneaking bits from the younger’s plate. It also didn’t stop the rapper when Felix started to kick him under the table every time he noticed Jisung’s chopsticks getting too close to his plate. The other members just watched them, curious as to how they weren’t tired yet. “Lix, can I try a bit of yours?”, Chan asked. Felix pulled a face, whining: “Please no. Jisung has already stolen most of it and I’m still hungry myself, so if you people could just let me have my food, I’d really appreciated it. Thank you!” – “Alright, alright. Sung, you let him eat please. There is still a plate full of food in front of you”, the leader laughed, turning back to his own.

To his surprise, Felix felt full when he finished the last bites of his dinner. He didn’t really eat much because of his youngest hyung but it seemed to have been enough. They made their way back to the dorm and after a quick shower, everybody went to bed, exhausted from the day. Although he had went to bed, Felix had no intention of sleeping yet. His stomach had started to hurt a bit, so in attempt to distract himself, he played games on his phone. About an hour later, the Aussie started to regret playing games on his phone in the dark. The fast movements on the small screen had begun to make him feel nauseous, so he plugged his charger in and placed the phone on his nightstand. He pushed the blanket off because he was running a bit hot and tried to go to sleep, ignoring the pain and churning in his stomach. After a few minutes of tossing and turning in his bed, accompanied with groans of discomfort, Felix decided to use the bathroom. Maybe the pain would go away afterwards.

What he didn’t expect when he shuffled down the hallway, was the bathroom light being on and soft cries coming from the bathroom. Carefully, Felix opened the door to find Jisung sitting with his back against the bathtub, knees pulled close to his chest. “You okay, Ji?”, he whispered, sitting down next to the rapper and rubbing his arm. Jisung shook his head and sniffled into his sleeve before admitting: “My stomach hurts really bad and it feels like I’m going to throw up but nothing’s happening.” Felix cringed in sympathy, though he was a bit confused. The other had been fine all day, they wouldn’t have been fighting over food earlier, if he hadn’t been okay back then. Food. Food that they both had eaten. “Jiji, did you feel okay before dinner?”, the Aussie questioned shakily. Jisung dried his tears, nodding: “I was perfectly fine earlier and then I just started to feel really, really bad.” Felix bit his lip, almost certain that he knew what was bothering them both. ‘Well, that’s what you get for stealing my food’, he thought sadly. Laying one arms over his own sore middle, Felix sighed: “I think it was the food we had earlier. The only reason I’m still awake is the stomachache keeping me up. I thought I only felt nauseous from playing games on my phone but now that I see you, I’m starting to doubt it.” – “You’re not feeling well, either?”, Jisung frowned. Felix shook his head and allowed the rapper to rest his head on Felix shoulder.

“So, what are we going to do now?”, Felix asked, rubbing his arms up and down. In contrast to earlier, he was now feeling rather cold. Jisung lifted his head and hummed: “Sleep over on the couch?” – “Okay, you feeling okay to move?”, Felix asked, still nervous the other would get sick any minute. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his own stomach in place if Jisung got sick. To his relief, the rapper nodded: “Still think it’s gonna happen at some point, just not now. I’ll get our blankets and two buckets, you get water and tea?” – “Sounds like a plan”, Felix agreed, “See you in a few.” They got up and parted ways. Felix went to the kitchen and prepared a pot of ginger and peppermint tea, hoping it would settle their stomachs. He knew where Jisung was coming from when he wanted to get buckets too, he just hoped the rapper would be wrong and they wouldn’t need them. Jisung snuck into both of their rooms to collect the blankets from their beds, careful not to wake any of the members up. After dropping the blankets on the couch, he raided the closet in the hallway and brought two buckets that he set down on either side of the couch. Felix soon joined him with a tray, carrying two water bottles, two cups and a pot of tea. Jisung was already curled up on one side of the couch, so Felix handed him his tea before getting comfy with his own cup in hand.

After a few tentative sips, Jisung put his cup down, afraid he wouldn’t be able to stomach any more. The liquid didn’t sit right with him. Felix finished his tea completely, convincing himself that it would help him feel better, if he just managed to get it all down. They wished each other good night and tried to go to sleep. Maybe they’d be able to just sleep it off. Felix again started to shift around, unable to get comfortable. He was always craving physical affection when he wasn’t feeling well and he doubted he’d be able to go to sleep without cuddles. “Jiji?” – “Hmm?” – “C-can we cuddle, hyung?”, the Aussie asked shyly. Jisung shifted around a bit, making some space next to him and warning: “Just try not to touch my stomach, please. That wouldn’t end well.” Felix nodded nervously and settled himself against the rapper’s side, wrapping his arms around the other’s shoulders. “You okay, Lix? You’re shivering”, Jisung hummed, feeling the younger shake against his side. The Aussie admitted that he was cold, so they decided to layer their blankets. “You know, Ji, I really want Channie right now”, Felix groaned, pressing his hand against his stomach as it cramped up painfully. Jisung stroked the younger’s arm and sighed: “I know, I really wish Minho was here right now too but they were so tired earlier. We should really let them sleep.” Felix nodded. A loud gurgle could be heard, followed by Felix whimpering. “You good?”, Jisung frowned. Felix shook his head, whining: “It hurts so bad.”

They tried resting for another ten minutes, when Jisung started to pat Felix’ arm urgently. Felix immediately let go of the rapper, who darted to the bathroom. Jisung made it there just in time to gag harshly over the toilet. Tears started to pool in his eyes as he coughed, choking up a small trickle of his dinner. Felix tried to take deep breaths through his nose, as he made his way to the bathroom to. He knew how much the rapper hated to throw up, so he went to comfort him. It wouldn’t really make that much of a difference to Felix anyways because he could hear him from the living room too. The Aussie carefully crouched down behind his friend. One arm wrapped around his own middle, as his stomach was upset at him for getting up from the couch, the other hand gently rubbed up and down Jisung’s back. Felix could feel the muscles tense under his hand, every time the older threw up. He tried to ignore the sounds of something thicker than water splashing into the porcelain bowl but in combination with the smell, Felix own stomach started to rebel even harder. It didn’t take long for him to jump up from the ground and step in front of the sink, as his throat contracted with a gag. His knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the sink so hard, while breathing heavily. He tried to calm his stomach, maybe he could keep it down if he just took a few deep breaths. Hearing a strained retch come from Jisung was too much for the Aussie to handle and he squeezed his eyes shut as his own dinner shot up his throat.

Felix was still heaving over the sink, while Jisung tiredly rested his cheek on the toilet seat, too dizzy to care about germs or anything. The rapper was completely spent, feeling sorry that he couldn’t return the favor of rubbing Felix’ back like the younger had done for him earlier but he would probably faint if he tried to get up right now. Felix whimpered pitifully before giving a rough cough that only made him bring up more of his stomach contents. Then there was a hand on his back and another one around his waist steadying him. Felix managed to look up with tears in his eyes, looking into Chan’s concerned face. “What’s going on?”, the leader hummed sleepily. Felix tried to answer but had to turn back over the sink, getting sick again. Rubbing Felix back, Chan looked over at a pale and drained Jisung, who groaned: “Food poisoning.” It only made sense how they suddenly went from their energetic selves to this in a matter of hours. Spitting into the sink a last time, Felix slumped back into Chan, who caught him and carefully lowered him to the ground, afraid the younger would pass out. “Are you both done for now?”, the leader asked, feeling relieved when both of his dongsaengs nodded, “Okay, hold tight you two, I’m gonna get Minho.” Jisung wanted to protest because the older really needed sleep but he also wanted his hyung by his side to make him feel better.

“Hey there, little squirrel”, the dancer cooed when he crouched down behind his almost-boyfriend, “You’re okay. Why don’t we get you to the couch?” The rapper nodded, allowing the older to pull him to his feet. They slowly made their way to the living room with Jisung leaning heavily onto his hyung. Minho smiled sadly at the camp he found on the couch. Apparently, they had both been up for a while already, trying to handle themselves without waking any of the older members up. While Minho got Jisung settled on the couch with the bucket in close reach, Chan stepped next to Felix. The younger was still sitting on the floor with his legs pulled close to his chest. He leaned his head against Chan’s leg, while the older rinsed out the sink, cleaning away any evidence of the ordeal Felix had just gone through. “Don’t fall asleep yet”, the oldest warned, earning a small whine from Felix. He chuckled: “By the way, thanks for not sharing your food with me earlier, Lix.” – “Hmmm Channie, please don’t talk about food”, the younger groaned. Chan wet a washcloth with cool water and crouched down to clean the sweat from Felix’ face, cooing: “There you go. I think you’re also running a temperature. Seems like your body is trying to get rid of as much as possible and burning the rest.” Felix only whimpered as the leader picked him up and carried him to the living room.

“You know, I’m never stealing food from you again. You make bad choices when ordering stuff”, Jisung complained when Chan helped Felix get comfortable on the other side of the couch. The Aussie just stuck his tongue out, agreeing: “Good. ‘twas mine anyway. Can we cuddle again? I’m cold.” – “Sorry Lix, I’m really, really hot right now”, the rapper said with a sad smile. Chan looked at Minho, frowning: “Is he running a fever too?” The dancer nodded and knelt on the floor next to Jisung, running his fingers through the younger’s sweaty hair. Chan handed Felix his water bottle, so he could get rid of the vile taste. For a while it was quiet except for the occasional gurgling of one of the sickies’ stomachs. Then suddenly, Jisung sat up and Minho immediately pushed the bucket into his lap. Chan took that as their que to leave and quickly carried Felix to their room that they shared with Changbin. He sat his dizzy dongsaeng down on his bed and handed him his headphones, afraid the younger be affected by Jisung getting sick, then he pushed the bin from under his desk next to the bed, just in case. Felix was still wracked with chills, so Chan bundled him in the remaining blankets and let the younger rest in his arms. Felix was dozing off with his head on Chan’s chest, listening to Chan’s sleep playlist while the older played with his hair. Changbin sat up, studying his roommates confused. “What’s going on?”, he rasped, voice thick with sleep. Chan looked at the rapper, feeling bad that they had woken him, and whispered: “Felix and Jisung have food poisoning from what they ate for dinner. You can go back to sleep, Minho and I got it handled.”

Changbin shook his head and sat up, now fully awake. He wanted to help too. Chan explained how they had made their quick escape a few minutes prior, so Changbin got up and made his way to the living room to at least collect Felix’ blanket and water bottle. The sight there almost broke his heart. Jisung was clutching the bucket like his life depended on it. He cried in pain while Minho rubbed his back, biting his lip. “Sung, I really think you’re done now. You can let go of the bucket”, the dancer whispered. Jisung shook his head before burying his head into the bucket with a forceful retch. Minho sighed but continued to comfort the younger. “You need help there?”, Changbin asked quietly, startling the pair. Minho nodded, while Jisung was to busy trying to bring something up despite being empty. Changbin quickly brought Felix’ things back to their room, informing Chan that Minho needed him. When he made it back to the living room, Jisung had accepted that there was nothing left in him and was now quietly crying in Minho’s arms. Changbin took the bucket to the bathroom and cleaned it out, before taking it back to the living room. He also took a cold washcloth with him because of how flushed and sweaty Jisung had looked. Minho thanked him and gently brushed the washcloth over Jisung’s face, cleaning away sweat and tears before resting it against the younger’s feverish forehead.

As Jisung slowly calmed down and drifted off to sleep with his head in Minho’s lap, Changbin went back to his room to check on the two Aussies. Felix seemed to be asleep against Chan’s chest but something about his pained facial expression didn’t sit right with Changbin. He picked up the bin and had it ready just in time, when Felix suddenly sat up and lurched forward with a retch. While Changbin held the bin under his chin, Chan removed the headphones and steadied Felix by his shoulders. The younger only brought up a thin trickle of bile, already mostly empty from earlier, before cuddling back into Chan. “How did you predict that?”, the leader whispered surprised. Changbin put the bin back on the floor and replied: “I’ve never seen somebody change color that fast.” The leader nodded, he had only seen the back of Felix’ head so he couldn’t notice but was glad the other had in time. Sighing, he brushed the hair away from the younger’s sweaty forehead. Seems like they were all in for a long night. Around lunch time the next day, Jisung’s fever broke and he was able to keep the small amount of soup, Minho forced him to eat, down. Felix took a bit longer but by the next evening, his chills were gone and he let Chan talk him into nibbling a few crackers, which luckily stayed down as well.

[nalu4emily]

The Unexpected Reward - Chapter 15

Summary:  Natsu and Lucy go on a job together, but what they bring home is something neither anticipated. Forced to make a life changing decision, they have to adapt quickly, but that's never easy, especially given the circumstances. As they work together on their toughest adventure yet, they find themselves drawn to one another, in ways they never realised. Nalu/cute/fluff/multi-chapter.

The moon had come out to play by the time the Heartfilia girl finally stirred from her slumber. Casting shadows across the bed she found herself in, she carefully sat herself up and promptly took in the familiar sight of her bedroom. Goosebumps scattered across her skin as the covers fell from her shoulders. Catching a glimpse of herself, she noticed her clothes were not the same borrowed items she'd worn previously, but a slinky night top instead, one that barely covered much of her midriff and a pair of butt-hungry underwear.

Adjusting to the dim glow peering in through the large window, her eyes pored over the room in hope her memories might return should she find what she was searching for, not that she knew what that was, of course. There was something—something important—she knew, but what? It was right there, staring her blankly in the face, so close she could almost touch it…

"Haru!" She yelled, eyes widening when the events of the previous day came flooding back.

In a blind panic, she scrambled to get herself out of the bed, battling with the covers that didn't seem to want to let go. Cursing at them in her haste, she attempted to swing them off of her and felt the frustration rise when she'd accomplished nothing more than nearly tumble out of the bed. Luckily, a single warm hand reached from behind and grabbed her around the wrist, guiding her back onto the mattress just as she was about to face-plant the floor.

"Lucy, what're you doing? You'll wake everyone up with the noise you're making." Natsu's gravelly voice reached her ears from behind.

Turning around, she noted that he had also just woken up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning loudly. She stared long and hard at him, like she was searching for answers to questions of which she'd not asked yet.

"Natsu…" Tilting her head in confusion, she hadn't even noticed him there. "Where's Haru? Is he okay?"

"He's doing just fine; warm and comfy last time I checked." Natsu grinned, trying to ease the worry that was clear in her expression. "Why don't ya come lay down with me? Then you'll be warm and comfy too!"

"But, I-I…" She hesitantly pulled away from the fire mage, who'd been gently coaxing her back into bed, and walked over to the bedroom door. "I need to peek in on him and see for myself, or I'll never get back to sleep."

Truth be told, when she cracked open his bedroom door, little Haru was fast asleep. A milk bottle still hung from his mouth and a little milky drool had trickled onto the mattress. Lucy stood by his crib side for a moment, drinking in the sight of her son sleeping so peacefully after his ordeal. Smoothing a few wispy black strands away from his eyes, she smiled, relief over taking all sense of dread that had reeked havoc on her and relaxed a little.

Yawning herself, Lucy left the baby's room to return to her own, slipping down under the plush covers. A calmness washed over her, allowing sleep to pull her back in. Her peaceful disposition was quickly ruined when she felt a ruffling of the covers. Her eyes pinged open when two very strong arms came to wrap around her middle and draw her into a muscular torso, one she all but melted into.

"See, I told ya he was fine. You worry too much." The fire mage spoke into her hair, smirking as he nuzzled his head against the top of Lucy's.

"It's not that I didn't believe you; I just needed to see for myself and you were right. He is fine—more than fine—he's perfect!" She confirmed, snuggling into Natsu's firm hold, eyes level with his collar bone. "That was some incredible power he dispelled though, don't you think? It was enormous! I definitely wasn't expecting that!"

"You're telling me, it was awesome! He's gonna be so much fun to spar with when he gets older; I can teach him all kinds of cool stuff!" Natsu beamed in his enthusiasm, already making plans for the little boy.

"You want to teach him your magic? But I thought it was too dangerous? If it weren't for Igneel and his plan, you and the others would have dragonized by now." The blonde pointed out, wondering if the man next to her had thought about the consequences of his magic type.

"Yeah, so? He doesn't have to be a dragon slayer to learn fire magic."

"O-Oh… right. Well, what if he doesn't want to learn fire magic? What if he wants to be a celestial mage, like me?" She asked uncertainly, half expecting him to scoff at the idea.

"Then he'll learn celestial magic… duh! Honestly, Luce, I thought you were the smart one here?" Natsu smirked and Lucy simply rolled her eyes back at him, secretly impressed by his answer.

"What about ice-make magic?" She suggested oh-so innocently, grinning to herself as she heard the displeased growl emanate from Natsu's chest.

"Okay, now you're pushing it…"

Lucy chortled, in turn making Natsu do the same. They turned to each other, moss green peered down whilst chocolate brown gazed up, grinning like idiots no less—like best friends did—just the two of them for the first time since the fire mage had returned from his mission.

Lucy was so contented to have him back in her arms again. The same old dragon slayer that brought joy wherever he went and to whomever he met. A truly pure-natured and beautiful person was he, inside and out, that she really didn't know where her life would be without him.

"I've missed you, Natsu, and I'm so glad you're home now, everything feels normal again." She leaned up to gently caress his cheek with her thumb and felt him move closer, his breath now fanning softly against her mouth.

"I've missed you too, Luce, but I thought about ya everyday!" He gently placed his forehead on hers and relished in her wondrous scent, allowing it to seep into his pores and overtake his senses. "That job was such a drag without you there, it's just not the same."

"At least you had Happy to keep you company. How did it go anyway? I never did get to ask you." She asked, feeling guilty for being so distracted at the time.

"You're gonna wish you hadn't either." He shrugged nonchalantly, obviously not interested in talking about it.

"Oh… Like that, huh? My little wake up call was well received then?" The girl smirked, flicking her nose against his.

Hearing his chuckle rumble through his chest sent a shiver down Lucy's spine. She had certainly stirred something within him. The hunger evident from the way he licked his lips. His tongue glided from one curved corner to the other so fluidly, so intentionally, that he appeared almost predatory. With his face so tantalisingly close, she felt her breath mingle with his. The slight quirk of his lips formed into a knowing smirk once she'd surrendered under his fiery gaze.

Pushing forwards, the lustful dragon welded their lips together, pouring three weeks of needy desire into her mouth for her to swallow down. Lapping it up desperately, a tingle ran from her lips straight down to the heated area between her legs, eliciting a small hum from the pleasant sensation.

He flicked and swirled his tongue across hers, reminding her of all the times he'd done that exact action in other, more intimate places to bring her to the brink of ecstasy. The very thought had her clenching her thighs together to calm the arousal that was surely building. But, she had to pull away all too soon, stifling a yawn that'd rudely interrupted them.

"Oops, sorry!" She heard him snigger this time, clearly amused by her body's impeccably shit timing. "What a way to ruin the mood…"

"Nah, you could never do that." He murmured close to her mouth, looking her dead in the eyes as he spoke so huskily. "I'm always in the mood to fuck you."

Nearly choking on her own spit, she hadn't expected him to be so crude. "Natsu…" She blushed, giving him exactly the reaction he wanted. "You're so dirty! It's a shame I'm too tired to teach you a lesson."

"Is that so?" He smirked, grazing his mouth along her jawline, planting open mouthed kisses all the way along it. "Maybe I need to try a little harder then…" The young man whispered into her ear as he sucked on her lobe, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "Call it, returning the favour."

Using his teeth to nip at her sensitive neck, he deployed his hand to graze languidly down towards her ample chest, lightly brushing over her nipple peeking through the fabric of her top on its journey towards her panties.

"A-And where does your hand think it's going?" She gasped, a vault of electricity shooting down to her groin as he tweaked the erect nipple once more.

"For a little wander…"

His hand delved under her chest and lightly brushed along her curves. Upon settling between her hips, it had one final hurdle to overcome—her panties. He pushed the heel of his palm down into her lower tummy to tuck his fingers inside and slide them deep below the lacy material.

Lucy's eyes flew wide open the moment his heel dug too deeply and unexpectedly shot upright, gasping loudly. Clutching hold of her belly with both hands she looked down at it in shock; a moan of discomfort passed her lips as she felt a wave of nausea hit her straight in the gut.

Her stomach had felt fine not a few moments ago, but now it was twisting and churning unpleasantly. With gritted teeth, she winced, clenching her hands tighter around the tender area in the hopes it might pass.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Natsu asked surprised, sitting up with her to have a closer look. He noticed instantly that her expression was pained and distorted. Her fingers gripped at the hem of her top and seemed to tighten every time her face winced. Was she in pain? Did he hurt her somehow? He didn't remember doing anything to cause such discomfort. "Did I hurt you, Luce?"

"I-It's not yo-" The poor girl covered her mouth with a slight groan, feeling something other than words about to spew out of it.

Natsu placed his hand on her shoulder, feeling her skin begin to warm and moisten under his touch. Honestly, he wasn't all that sure what was wrong or what he could do to help, except to try and offer some sort of comfort. About to ask what he could do for her, the blonde groaned much louder this time and hurried off of the bed, using her legs to push off of it like a slingshot and catapulted out of the door.

"Lucy?!" Natsu exclaimed more urgently, moving quickly to follow after her.

Before he could even reach the bathroom door, the offensive sound of his partner throwing chunks showered his ears. In all the years he'd known Lucy, she'd rarely got sick and he'd very rarely seen her vomit, so this was a new one for him. Unease and, dare he say it, curiosity filled him as he made his way to the bathroom, not fully prepared for the sight that greeted him. The poor blonde was kneeling on the floor, her hunched form hugging the toilet bowl with vomit coating the bottom of it.

Taking the initiative, he knelt down behind her and gathered her hair away from the danger zone. Applying a light pressure, he placed a warm hand on her back and rubbed it in small circles, just like she did for him when he had motion sickness. She continued to puke until there was nothing more to bring up, retching and heaving instead until her ribs and stomach began to ache.

"Ugh! This is so gross… I'm sure this isn't what you meant by repay the favour." Lucy chuckled lightly whilst panting, earning a small half smile from the fire mage.

No, it most definitely wasn't… He'd seen their night going very differently. Not a few minutes ago he had been complete horn dog, now that couldn't be further from the truth.

She leaned herself against Natsu's upper body and placed the back of her sweaty head on his shoulder. Inhaling rapid, shallow breaths through her dry mouth, she closed her strained, watery eyes, knowing the nausea wasn't quite through with her yet.

"Did you eat something funny or what? You don't just throw up like that for no reason." The disconcerted man asked, dragging the clumped, blonde bangs away from her clammy forehead. He was trying to work out just what the heck could be wrong with his sickly girlfriend and what, if anything, they could do to cure it. "Are you in pain, Luce?"

"A-A little… My head is pounding, but it's my stomach that hurts the most. I don't think I've eaten-" The thought of food in that moment twisted her stomach in knots, enough to land her head back in the bowl.

"It's alright, Luce, I gotcha." He quickly gathered her hair again and began running his fingers through the ends, trying to bring her some comfort at least.

She could only describe her stomach pains as something similar to period cramping, but instead of bleeding, it was accompanied by the need to force more and more bile out of her system. With barely enough time to catch her breath in between heaves, her chest had grown tight and heavy causing even more discomfort than before.

The stellar mage didn't know how long she'd spent vomiting in the end; after what'd felt like hours, the nausea finally subsided. A sense of euphoria came over her when she could finally breathe again and Natsu, ever so gently, pulled her back into his chest.

"My chest is so sore!" Hands clasped between her breasts, gulping down as she fought to fill her lungs with needed air.

"I know, you've been at it for a while, Lucy. Do you think you're okay to come back to bed? Some sleep will do you good." She nodded and went to stand. Natsu jumped to his feet first and reached a hand out to carefully bring her up onto unsteady legs. "Take it easy there Luce, you don't wanna make yourself hurl again."

Smiling appreciatively, Lucy grabbed a wash cloth from beside the sink and soaked it with cold water to cool her skin, washing the sweat off in the process. She brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the nasty taste that lingered there. Once she felt a little fresher, she straightened herself out and took one last glance in the mirror.

"Do I look different to you?" She asked curiously, staring down at her exposed abdomen, not sure if it was just her eyes playing tricks on her.

"Obviously…" Natsu answered, watching Lucy whip her head around to glare at him, giving him scary Erza vibes. "You're all sicky; you're not gonna look normal after all that!" Then she relaxed again, thankful for Natsu's obliviousness to such matters. "Do you need me to get you anything? Water? A bucket?" He sniggered at the last suggestion, earning a playful smack to the arm by an amused but overly exerted blonde.

"Water would be great, thanks." He was gone in a flash.

With an exaggerated yawn and stretch, her jelly-like legs traipsed back to their bedroom. Perching herself on the edge of the bed, Lucy leaned her head down at her sensitive stomach and stared at it curiously, grazing her hands ever so gently over it to test how far she could push without feeling sick again.

She didn't understand what was wrong with her; why was she so sick? Could it have been something that she'd eaten? Or maybe she'd caught a stomach bug? Whatever it was, it seemed to come in bouts and was made worse when she felt tired or drained, like when she'd used her magic. She'd never felt so sick in her life, the odd cold here and there but that was about it.

In general, Lucy felt that she was pretty healthy, she ate well, looked after her body, stayed well hydrated, so to be struck with an unknown sickness like this had knocked her for six, that was for sure.

"Here ya go, Luce." Natsu said, walking into the room. He passed her the water and watched her swig it down in one. "You must've been thirsty! Are you feeling alright now?"

"I don't really know. It's my stomach; it feels… weird, I guess?" Lucy steadily reached over to place the empty glass down on the bedside, careful not to make any sudden movements that might land her back in the bathroom.

"Hmm… You mean like you can't touch it?" Natsu asked, not really understanding what 'weird' meant in this context but took the initiative to go off what he felt like after vomiting.

"Yeah, kinda. Every time I do, I feel sick again. It's super sensitive right now." She sighed dejectedly and let her head fall lazily onto the pillow, bringing her legs up to get comfortable while Natsu got in beside her. "I hope this feeling goes away soon. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning after some sleep?"

"Maybe. But if you don't, I'll look after ya, so you ain't gotta worry." He said, planting a small peck on her cheek and then turning her face with his fingers to place a longer, more loving kiss on her lips. "G'night, Luce."

"Thanks, Natsu, good night." She felt the warmth from his body envelope hers, comforting her sore muscles as his hand laid carefully on her hip and stroked the exposed skin there, relaxing under his touch.

The young slayer waited for her to fall asleep before relaxing completely, exhaling a large sigh as he took in the events of the previous day. He really did hope that Lucy wasn't coming down with some nasty bug, that's all she needed after dealing with Haru being so poorly. If Natsu was being completely honest with himself, he wasn't sure what to think. From what he'd seen so far, he was sceptical to say the least; was this some unknown ailment? Or something else entirely? He didn't know.

Sure she felt nauseous; was vomiting; complained of headaches and fatigue; which were all indications of illness—he knew that. However, something just felt different about her symptoms compared to other times he'd seen her under the weather, the boy just couldn't figure out what.

Lucy had told him she'd spent the better part of the past week awake all day and night feeling stressed about Haru, which would tire anyone out. He deduced that that might explain her fatigue and headaches, but the nausea and vomiting—that he couldn't explain. Not to mention her sensitive stomach and the cramping. Nor could he decipher why she'd struggled so much when using her magic; a bug wouldn't usually interfere with that.

He was no expert on these sorts of matters, hell, it was rare the hot head ever found himself unwell in the first place, so really, what would he know?

But there was an inkling. A hunch you might say or conception, ironically. In the deep recesses of his boggled, clueless mind, he knew he'd come across this sort of thing before. Not all that often but around town, on jobs, even in the guild hall he'd heard mutterings between fellow members and guild mates alike, he'd just never taken the time to care before now.

Now he kinda wished he had…

With his lack of knowledge, Natsu had no idea what his suspicions meant and whether he was actually on to something or just barking up the wrong tree. His brain, unable to make any sense of it, was beginning to hurt from all of the over thinking he was doing and decided to dismiss the idea completely.

Nestling his head into the back of Lucy's hair, he inhaled deeply, her floral scent invading his nostrils and allowed the tiredness to overcome him. Closing his eyes, the slight pang of disappointment didn't go completely unnoticed before he drifted off to sleep.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay while I'm gone?" Natsu asked outside the bathroom door, not overly pleased that Lucy had locked him out. Hearing more vomit hit the pan, he cringed and wondered how much longer she was going to be. "Because I don't wanna leave you like this…" He heard the flush go and the water run, then finally the lock on the door clicked and it swung open, revealing a ghostly pale and zombie(ish) looking Lucy, "Luce, you're looking awful!"

"Thanks, Natsu, always the charmer…" She croaked out, throat sore from throwing up her breakfast. She'd been in and out of the bathroom all morning, puking her guts up, looking more and more, as Happy put it, like death warmed up. "I was kinda hoping I'd feel better today, but I just feel like shit…"

"Maybe you just need some more rest? I could always ask Wendy over?" He suggested, forgetting the young girl had left for a mission that morning. "Oh, actually forget that, what about Porlyusica instead?"

"No, please not her! I think she saw enough of us yesterday and I really don't feel like being shouted at today, my head can't take it." That woman could be frightening at the best of times, it was better to avoid her unless absolutely necessary.

"But Luce, you've been in the bathroom all morning, you gotta see someone about it!" Natsu tried to make her see reason, he didn't want to see her sick any more than she wanted to be sick, but Lucy was stubborn.

"I'll wait for Wendy to heal me; I'm sure I can manage until she comes home."

If Lucy was going to have anyone help, she wanted it from Wendy. The sweet, young dragon slayer was always eager to assist anyone and far from being intimidating or dismissive, unlike the old dragon woman. No matter how well versed Porlyusica was in magical ailments and medicines, particularly potions, she had a hot temper and a dislike for humans, so it was best to take her in small doses.

"You never know, I might feel better by then." Lucy smiled at the fire mage in a weak attempt at easing his worry.

"If you say so, Luce." Realising he wasn't getting anywhere, Natsu sighed. He'd have to figure out another way to help her instead.

Once back in the living room, Lucy slumped onto the couch and smiled at the little one playing on the floor with Happy. The sight of Haru finally acting like his usual self again was enough to brighten her up a bit. He'd been perfect all morning—happy, playful and cheeky, just the way she liked him.

"Hey, Lucy, this'll cheer you up!" Happy gestured to the baby, catching both Lucy and Natsu's attention. "Right Haru, just like we practised, say, Mama!"

Haru looked over to Natsu, who was smiling encouragingly at him, and then to Lucy, who was waiting patiently. It was the one word, he'd been reluctant to say since he'd started trying to speak, but Lucy could hope.

"Mama. Go on, you said it earlier." The cat encouraged.

"He did?" Lucy asked, surprised to learn that she'd missed it.

"He sure did!"

The baby looked apprehensive, sucking on his fingers, it seemed he needed a little extra push now that there was an audience. Happy flew over to Lucy and pointed at her, repeating the word again.

With a smile forming on his face, Haru crawled over to Lucy's feet and yelled at the top of his voice, "Mama!" whilst attempting to clamber up onto her lap.

"Yay! You clever boy, you finally said Mama!" Lucy beamed, picking the little one up and supporting him to stand on her lap.

"Good job, little guy!" Natsu grinned, coming to lean over the couch where Lucy was sitting and pretended to high five the baby. "Next we gotta get you saying Happy."

"Yeah, then fish, then fishing, then yummy fish-"

"Naturally…" Lucy hummed sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the cat.

"Anyway, I think we better head off. What do ya say fella?" Natsu said, picking the small boy up from his mother and placing him on his hip. "I think this little guy can come with me to the guild. It'll give you time to rest and me some time to catch up with him."

"Oh, er… okay." She smiled, liking the sound of having a few hours to herself. "That'd be nice."

The young man smiled down at the pale girl and kissed her cheek, gesturing for Happy to follow him as he walked over and opened the front door. "Catch ya later, Luce!" And off he went, locking the door behind him, leaving the blonde in peace.

"Is Lucy gonna be okay on her own?" Happy asked, flying along beside the dragon slayer. "She's really not looking too good."

"She'll be fine, she just needs some rest, that's all. If she needs me, I'm sure Loke will sense it and come looking for me. Lucy's a tough one; she don't need us pandering to her and getting in the way." He dismissed it knowing fully that Lucy's 'sickness' didn't seem to be as simple as that, but alas, this was the best he could do for now.

The journey to the guild was a pleasant one as they strolled leisurely through the busy streets of Magnolia. Entering the bustling main hall, Natsu quickly slipped passed the unknowing mages drinking away at the bar, not wanting to be cornered by one of them, and made his way to the back room where Master Makarov was waiting for him. The old man had asked to see him about something and the fire mage hoped it wasn't about the destruction Haru had left yesterday. Without knocking, the boy with the baby and flying cat walked in, announcing his presence with a bright smile.

"Natsu, there you are! I didn't think you were gonna show." The short man perched himself on the table and gestured for Natsu to sit amongst the piles of papers that made up the man's office. "How's the little one today? I heard he's had a rough time of it recently?"

"Yeah, but he seems back to normal now. Don't ya, bud?" Natsu grinned at Haru, who'd been eyeing the old man's beard since they'd entered the room. The little boy grinned back and began repeating sounds like 'da' and 'ba' as if he were joining in on the conversation.

"Good, I heard about what happened. Magnolia's Mayor has been here all morning giving me an earful about some woodland that had been… decimated, I think he said. You wouldn't know anything about that now, would you, Natsu?" The old man stared at the young man, his brow and lip raised simultaneously whilst waiting for an answer.

"Well, Natsu?" Happy teased, revelling in the slayers fluster, finding it rather funny and in turn making Haru chuckle too.

"Er… I-I don't know what you're talking about… M-Must've been some one else?" Natsu's voice raised in octaves and he began to sweat profusely, not sure what hell awaited him for what his son had done. Was this now going to become a regular occurrence?

"That's what I thought." The Master said, smiling knowingly, a chuckle passing his lips at the state the fire mage was getting himself into and decided that was punishment enough for now. "However, I did mention that should it have been a Fairy Tail mage responsible, I would personally see to it so that it doesn't happen again."

"R-Right… Sure, Gramps." Natsu stuttered, thankful he wasn't going to suffer the consequences because little Haru had destroyed the woodland. It suddenly dawned on the poor dragon slayer that this was, in fact, almost definitely going to become a regular occurrence, he could just feel it in his bones.

The baby, not knowing the trouble he'd caused, had been too focused on the Masters facial hair and was reaching his chubby little hands out to touch it, but with no one paying him any attention, he did the only thing he knew would work—whine. It was a quiet little noise but enough to catch his father's ears.

"What's the matter, little buddy? Whatcha tryin' to reach for?" Natsu asked, following the baby's line of sight, landing on the old man's face. Furrowing his brows, the slayer looked back at the small boy, "You want Gramps' hat? Alright, kiddo."

The fire mage plucked the hat off of the old man's head, much to Makarov's annoyance, and gave it to the ten month old. Although not what he'd originally wanted, Haru settled for the strange item in his hands, sticking the material straight in his mouth and began to suck it, effectively stopping his whimpers.

"You know I expect that returned, without infant dribble on it?" Makarov stared at the clueless dragon slayer and sighed; who was he kidding? He was never going to see that hat again now that Haru had claimed it. "Oh, and before you head off, Natsu, there was another reason for calling you in here. A job has come through asking for you personally again. You're quite popular it seems." The Master gave him the request paper, watching the fire mages eyes light up with excitement.

"Awesome! This one better be cooler than the last one!" Natsu read through it quickly. It appeared to be the typical 'unknown monster raiding my garden, need help!' sort of request, a stupidly easy one by the looks of it. Reaching the bottom of the paper he saw in big bold writing: the reward. A figure so great, his eyes nearly flew out of his skull.

"Whoa! They're offering that much?" Happy exclaimed, not even knowing what to call a number with that many zero's at the end of it.

"Yes, they are willing to pay that much at the request that it is you, Natsu, that attends. Obviously you don't have to go alone, you can take whoever you want with you."

"Wait 'til I show Lucy the reward, she's gonna be so pumped! That money would last us forever!" He exclaimed, beaming with excitement, wanting to run home and show it to her right away.

Then like a ton of bricks hitting him all at once, he remembered.

Lucy…

As if reading his mind, Happy was the first to speak, "But, Lucy, she's not-" He whispered.

"Yeah, I know, Happy." He looked up from the paper and without any hesitation went to hand it back to the Master, a serious face replacing his excited one. "Sorry, Gramps, but I can't do it this time."

"That's not like you, my boy, is something up?" The bearded man asked, concerned for the fire mage. "What's this about Lucy? You can take her if you want, it's up to you."

"No, I don't think I can, Gramps. She's really sick at the moment and I don't know why." Natsu said sombrely, mindlessly stroking the infants back as his eyes faced the floor.

More time away from her and Haru was definitely not something he would consider; who knows how long this job would take? Taking her with him could've been an option if she'd felt up to it, but with her magic being all weird, he wasn't willing to take the risk.

"Yeah, she's been spewing her guts all morning and yesterday she could barely summon any magic without it tiring her out. What kind of illness does that?" Happy blurted out without thinking.

"Is that right? Have you spoken to Porlyusica about it yet?" Makarov asked.

"No… Lucy told me not to…" Natsu sighed, not knowing who else to turn to. "She said she'd wait until Wendy returned, but who knows when that'll be?"

"It'll be about a week before that happens. There are other doctors she could see in the town, but if it's affecting her magic then I doubt they'll be of much use. The only other option is you go to Porlyusica and ask her yourself, Lucy doesn't have to know you've been." Makarov could see it was getting the fire mage down; he'd always been fiercely protective of his friends and particularly Lucy. He absolutely loathed it when he couldn't make her feel better. "I'm sure it'll work itself out, my boy, Lucy's strong enough to get through it, whatever it is."

"Yeah, Natsu! Lucy's beaten worse than some sickness bug before, she'll be fine!" Happy chirped in, his eager expression popping up in front of Natsu's.

"Your right, come on then Happy, let's go. See ya, Gramps." Natsu feigned a smile for the old man and left the room, his lips dropping into a frown the moment the door slammed shut.

It wasn't that he didn't believe them, he knew Lucy could cope, that wasn't the problem. His issue with it all was that it didn't seem to be acting like any ordinary ailment. It affected things that it shouldn't and that made him feel even more incompetent than he already did, but worse than all of that, he felt helpless.

The dragon slayer was desperate to get some answers to what was wrong with his pretty blonde and there was only one way he knew he could do that. If he went to the old woman healer to ask for advise, that would go directly against Lucy's wishes; but on the other hand, could he really sit around and watch her suffer the way she had been?

If she would just let him ask for her like Gramps had suggested, she'd be better in no time. They'd even be able to go on that job together, he knew how Lucy was with money and that was one hell of a reward he'd just passed up.

All this crap was doing his head in, he needed some fresh air, some time alone to think things through before he made any rash decisions. Happy had wanted to stay behind at the guild. Glad the cat could see he needed space, Natsu headed out of the door, ignoring his guild mates shout out to him, they were but a buzzing sound amidst the chaos in his brain. Not up to explaining it all to them, he continued forward, legs guiding him towards the park.

It'd been hours, well, it'd felt like hours since he'd been sat there, in the same spot, entertaining the little one who was playing in the grass. Haru had a way of making everything bright in the dullest of moments. His little face was so cute and his smile so happy, it was hard not to mirror. Seeing the world through the infants eyes was both refreshing and simple, with everything so new and exciting, Natsu found himself getting excited for him. But that usual happy, contented feeling had been duly quashed by everything else on his mind and it was starting to irritate him.

"Whatcha got there? A stick? If that's really what ya wanna play with then go for it, buddy." Natsu chuckled, watching Haru try to pick up a stick twice the size of him was a sight to behold, settling for munching on it instead, spurring Natsu into 'daddy mode'. "I wouldn't go eating that if I were you! That's gotta taste nasty and Mama's not gonna like it if she finds you with splinters in your mouth. Let's chuck it away and find something else to play with, how does that sound?" Natsu took the stick out of the baby's mouth and coaxed it out of his hold. Launching it in a random direction, he'd failed to notice the horror-stricken expression on Haru's face.

It began with a whimper, with his bottom lip jutted out and quivering, a full on wail came next, piercing the poor slayers ears, shocking him and making him wince. "Hey, no, don't cry! Daddy didn't mean to throw your stick away, er…" Struggling to find something to replace it, Natsu whipped his head in every direction, finally settling on giving his scarf.. "Here ya go, that's much better. You can suck on that as much as you want."

"Huh… So you do know how to parent, who'd have thought?" A low male voice mocked from above. Glancing up, Natsu saw none other than the ice-make mage himself standing there, half naked as always, smirking down at him.

"Well, duh! That's because I am one!" Natsu rolled his eyes like Gray was the stupid one.

Huffing at his friends idiocy, Gray ignored him and sat down, greeting little Haru with a smile and a wave. "You're looking much better now little guy, everyone was worried about you yesterday!" Ruffling the baby's thick hair, the young man chuckled, in turn, receiving incoherent babbles back. "Although you on the other hand…" He turned to Natsu, "What're you doing out here by yourself? It ain't like you to want peace and quiet."

"What's that supposed to mean? I like it every now and then; there's nothing weird about that." Natsu had avoided eye contact with the raven haired mage since he'd sat down. He knew he was acting odd, but he just couldn't help it.

"When it comes to you, Flame brain, it's very weird. And you didn't answer my question." Gray knew something was up, regardless of how often they fought, they were very in tune with one another, some would say in a brotherly capacity. "If you're not gonna tell me, I could always guess? And from where I'm standing, it looks like something to do with Lucy, am I right?"

Natsu tsked, pretending not to be impressed by the half-naked man's insightfulness. Gray waited patiently for an answer, a smirk ever present on his face. But he received nothing from the suspiciously quiet Natsu, which, in itself, was his answer. "Right, so it's about Lucy, that's obvious. Did she finally kick you out?"

"What? No, why would she do that?" Confused, the pink haired man turned to his rival and knitted his brows together.

"Alright, well, I thought maybe she'd come to her senses, ya know." Gray cocked his brow up teasingly as he took great enjoyment in seeing the annoyance rise within the fiery tempered slayer. "Well, if it isn't that, then… huh… I got nothing… Just tell me why you're here, Natsu?"

"Well, why're you here, Snowflake? You don't have to be; you could always go bother someone else." Natsu bit back, not wanting this sort of interrogation and especially not from Gray Fullbuster, of all people.

"I could, but they're not as fun to annoy and I have my own reasons for wanting to see you."

The ice mage leaned forward to grab Haru and hold him in his lap, doing that funny baby talk thing and laughing when the infant responded. Natsu watched their small exchange, confused that Gray actually wanted to see him about something other than brawling. Intrigued, he waited for the topless man to start speaking.

"I actually came here to, er… well, apologise for something." He stuttered, placing his hand on the back of his head, whilst looking slightly embarrassed.

Natsu remained quiet, speechless in fact, not sure whether the guy was being serious or if this was some elaborate prank. Gray had never apologised to him before, so this was definitely a peculiar experience for the both of them, one to be cautious of.

"You don't gotta look at me like I've got two heads or somethin', I can be mature to admit when I'm wrong… sometimes." Gray added, not entirely keen on the shocked gawk he was receiving from the fire mage. "It's about yesterday actually. The way I reacted about helping Haru and our fight because of it; he's your son after all and it wasn't my place to say those things. I can't imagine how I made Lucy feel, she was struggling enough already without me making it worse. It was wrong of me to do that, so I'm sorry."

If he was being honest, Natsu had forgotten all about that, putting it to the back of his mind like he did with all of his bickering with Gray, it was the least of his worries at the moment. But the ice mage did have a point, their disagreement had gone beyond the boundaries of their usual rivalry banter, having brought not only Haru into it, but Lucy as well.

"I didn't mean to explode like that, I've kinda had a lot going on and I took it out on you guys." Gray added, his earlier smirk gone and mood now dampened.

Natsu could see the man was troubled; something was bothering his friend deep down under that hard exterior, but was reluctant to say what. He'd been eyeing him carefully; he knew him apologising smelt off and now he just needed to know why?

"Yeah, so quit broodin' and spit it out." Natsu said, not wanting to give away too much that he was concerned for his frenemy, but also completely clueless as to what he might tell him.

Sighing dejectedly, Gray answered, "Natsu, what's it like?" He couldn't bring himself to look at the fire mage, his eyes trained on the infant in his lap.

"What is what like?"

"You know, this." He gestured to the infant playing with his father's scarf, still comfortably sat in the ice mages lap.

"You mean having a kid?" Natsu asked, garnering the attention of said child when he spoke. "It's the best thing ever!" The young father exclaimed with his usual, vibrant enthusiasm, lightening the mood without even meaning too. "Why'd you wanna know?"

At first Gray stayed quiet, not knowing how to answer that question without it all becoming too real for him. He was worried for sure, scared of the unknown, not knowing if he was prepared enough for such a life changing experience, yet now, he really had no choice and it didn't take long for Natsu to cotton on to what was going on.

"Oh! I get it! You're just worried that your kid ain't gonna be as great as mine." Natsu smirked at Gray's dumbstruck expression, chuckling as he turned his attention to Haru briefly, "Did ya hear that kiddo? You're gonna have a new buddy to play with!" Sniggering, Haru gave one of his 'Natsu' grins and decided to crawl his way over and sit in his fathers lap instead.

"Whoa! Hold on a second! I never said that; who said I was having one? Maybe I was just asking out of curiosity?" Gray began fidgeting, his eyes shifting between Natsu's knowing eyes and his smug grin.

"Uh-huh… And if I were to go to Juvia right now…"

"No! Okay, you're right!" Gray panicked, waving his hands to stop Natsu from getting up. "Please don't do that, she didn't want anyone knowing until she felt well enough to return to the guild. She wanted to be there to tell everyone herself. Which is fine but what a pain it's been having to pretend she'd caught some weird bug on her last mission and that's the reason she hasn't shown her face recently."

"Why is she sick?" Natsu asked, curious to find out more. He didn't know a whole lot about what women went through when having a baby, he'd never experienced that with Lucy—they'd skipped that part. "The baby makes her sick?"

"Well, yeah, and a bunch of other stuff. It's like living with a bag of hormones at the moment. One minute she's normal, then she puking her guts out, then she's crying for whatever unknown reason. Honestly, man, I don't know where my head is at right now, I just can't keep up!" Gray sure did look frazzled, now that he had openly said it out loud, his own mood swings and weird behaviour made a bit more sense.

"Hasn't Juvia always been like that? Apart from the blowing chunks bit."

"I guess so, but now she's even crazier."

"Aren't you happy about it though? 'Cause I'm sure Juvia is." The slayer asked, curiously.

"Yeah, sure I am, but I'm terrified too. It's just weird ya know? And with her magic acting up lately, she hasn't been able to go on any jobs with me." Gray shrugged, not seeming too bothered by it.

"Wait, what did you say?" Natsu's mind had gone into overdrive the moment those words left the demon slayers mouth. "The baby… It affects her magic too?!"

"Yeah, it drains her, makes her sick and tired. Although, Porlyusica said that's a symptom that eventually wears off." Gray said, eyeing the dragon slayer as his eyes became like two saucers, a gaping mouth to match. "What? Did I say something?" Not having a clue what was going on, the ice mage stared at his friend, not knowing what he'd said wrong.

"N-No, it's, uh, L-Lucy, she's… I gotta go!" The pink haired boy hopped to his feet and as quick as lightning he was in the distance, yelling his thanks behind him.

"Wait, Natsu! You never told me… what was wrong with Lucy?" Already out of sight by the time Gray had finished speaking, he sighed and shook his head. "That idiot…" He muttered under his breath, ignoring the horrified stares of the people around him as he took himself out of the park, never looking down to see that he'd lost his trousers now too.

[hchollym]

Aerion x Viserys - We Finally Got Our Dragons

I couldn’t help myself. I will go down with this crack ship  🤣

Warnings: Afterlife, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Age Difference

Read it on AO3. 

____________

Most people think that a person finds peace after they die. Aerion would tell you differently.

The Targaryens have their own “exclusive” afterlife, stuck for eternity with only one another for company. While he's glad that they all appear as they were right before they died and not as they died (for then he would have a hole in his throat and be unable to talk), it still does not change the fact that he’s stuck with these shits forever. Most of his relatives find enjoyment (or at least contentment) here (seeing as half of them are married to each other), but for others – like Aerion – this place is a special kind of hell.

He died drinking wildfire. It certainly wasn’t his finest moment, nor was it something that he wants to remember, given the resulting pain. And yet, his family will never let him forget it. They torment him about it daily, as if he hadn’t already suffered enough.

“Oh look, it’s the Prince Who Thought He Was A Dragon,” they sneer at him whenever he walks by. It’s not as if he’s the first Targaryen to think of himself as a dragon and die because of it. What about all the other fools who got themselves killed trying to hatch a dragon egg? Why aren’t they mocked as he is?

Even his own father sighs disapprovingly when he sees him, as if Aerion brought him embarrassment. It makes Aerion scoff. His older brother was literally known as “Daeron the Drunken” and yet Aerion is somehow the stain on their family name? It’s absolutely ridiculous. His brothers ignore him (he hears their comments about Aerion the Monstrous, and really, when are they going to get over it?).

His own son, Maegor – who joined them when he got into a fight with the wrong person at a tavern – won’t talk to Aerion, because he blames Aerion’s “madness” as the reason he never got the throne. How ungrateful can you be? Maegor wouldn’t even be alive without Aerion.

His bitch of a wife isn’t much better. She refuses to allow him into her bed, and her brother and father are more than happy to guard her chamber door. To be honest, it’s not a huge loss though; she was annoying anyway, always crying and whimpering and screaming while he was trying to enjoy himself. Still, it’s the audacity that angers him.

You would think that the ancestors would grow tired of insulting him after so many years, but it appears that there is not nearly enough exciting news to go around here, so the taunts and insults go on year after year. Even the “Mad King” doesn’t get scorned as much, because people seem to either fear him or feel pity for his insanity.

Aerion tries to ignore most of the ridicule by keeping to himself, which is thankfully easy to do in this endless hallway with infinite corridors and chambers, but that doesn’t completely stop the talk from reaching his ears. He’d been humiliated, angry, and defensive for the first decade or so of these disrespectful comments, but after more than 60 years, he’s just sick and tired of it.

So when the others stop talking about him and begin insulting another, one they mockingly call "the last dragon" and "the beggar king,” Aerion is initially relieved, and then intrigued. He questions his father, who will at least answer him (albeit grudgingly). When he hears the tale of this Viserys, he feels an instant kinship that takes him by surprise.

He’s never felt like he could relate to someone else before, but the fact is, Viserys thought himself a dragon and he too died for it in an excruciating way. The other man was treated like shit in life and now again in death by his own family (Aerion knows the feeling), and his own sister had him killed in a cruel twist of irony.

Aerion’s glad that the attention on him has finally stopped, but he finds himself unexpectedly feeling sympathy for Viserys – an emotion so foreign to him that it took him a while to identify what it was. Perhaps it's because they share similar deaths (though by vastly different means), or that Aerion knows what it's like to be humiliated by the hypocritical ancestors, or because he knows what it’s like for your own family to turn on you.

He hears that Viserys' mother won't even give him sympathy because of how he treated his sister, but so what? The bitch killed him. Why are mothers always so quick to defend the weak? Aerion’s own mother is still angry at him for his treatment of Aegon, but he doesn’t think he has anything to apologize for. Why should he be “nice” to pathetic people? Daenerys should have been grateful that Viserys raised her after they fled King's Landing. Aerion would have sold her immediately to the highest buyer and bought himself a nice house until he raised his army to take back the throne.

He hears through the gossip that Viserys locks himself inside his chambers to avoid the others, which Aerion also understands. He's not entirely sure why he decides to go see him, but perhaps it's because he’s sick of being judged and looked down on, and Viserys seems like the one person who won’t do that.

He makes his way to Viserys’ chambers, holding his head high and ignoring the looks he gets along the way, only to find that the others have painted slurs on the door, and Aerion feels disgust at their tackiness. How old are they? Five? He opens the doors without knocking and sees a man sitting on the bed, his elbows rested on his knees and his head in his hands. When the figure looks up, his expression one of annoyance, anger, and pure exhaustion (a combination which Aerion knows well), and Aerion is struck by just how young he is.

For some reason, he pictured Viserys as close to his age, but he couldn't have been more than 25, though Aerion guesses it’s actually closer to 20. He's practically still a boy, and Aerion feels a hot wave of rage rush through him. This is who they are tormenting for making mistakes when he was exiled in Essos (by no fault of his own), trying to care for an ungrateful sister who eventually murdered him? Honestly, and they thought he was monstrous!

"I'm Aerion Brightflame," he starts before Viserys can get upset at his intrusion. He refuses to give up using that name; the ancestors can go fuck themselves. Viserys' expression clears, and he blinks in confusion before frowning warily.

"What do you want?" He asks suspiciously, and Aerion shrugs nonchalantly.

"I know how these shits can be when they decide to harass someone. Fuck them. You don’t need any of these bumbling fools. You and I, we're still dragons," he assures Viserys, not entirely understanding why he feels compelled to do so, but Aerion knows that he still is a dragon, regardless of how everything ended, and he’s willing to say that Viserys is as well out of solidarity for the mutual enemies/family. Viserys looks shocked before scowling.

"Clearly not, seeing as melted gold killed me, and fire cannot kill a dragon," he points out bitterly, not even mentioning Aerion's own failures, for which Aerion feels unexpectedly grateful for. He sits down next to Viserys, and he finds it hilarious how the other man looks alarmed and ready to flee.

"And how many others have been killed by fire when trying and failing to hatch dragon eggs? We're still Targaryens. We’re still dragons, no matter what those stupid sea cows have to say.” Viserys' expression changes from one of shock to hesitant gratitude. It's a look that Aerion is not used to having directed at him; fear, anger, and even lust are common emotions he’s used to seeing when people look at him, but never gratitude. It makes his stomach churn oddly.

After that, they form a strange bond of companionship. They spend most of their time in one of their chambers (it’s easier to avoid the others that way), but occasionally they venture out to the other rooms with alcohol or food. They don't need either, but it provides them with a distraction to the never-ending boredom. They even throw knives sometimes, though Aerion had to teach Viserys because he never learned.

Their conversations start by talking about all the people they hate and are angry at (of which there are many). Then it changes to their time in Essos (the good, the bad, and the ugly). And finally, they talk of their own failures; the feel of the gold burning through Viserys' skin and hair; the way the wildfire scorched Aerion’s throat and blinded him in pain. They talk of how humiliating it was (and still is), and of their disappointment in the way their lives turned out.

It's odd, because Aerion has never felt the urge to share his thoughts with anyone - no one was ever good enough or would truly understand (until now) - but he finds that it's actually rather nice. He quickly decides that he hates Viserys’ brother Rhaegar – he started this whole mess and yet he still looks at Viserys with disappointment, and it makes Aerion want to burn him. And Viserys quickly decides that Maegor is being selfish by hating his own father. Aerion’s found an unexpected ally in Viserys, and it’s the first time he’s felt anything other than miserable since his death.

...

Maybe it happens because of their surprisingly easy companionship, or maybe it’s because they are so isolated from everyone else (no one else seems capable of getting along with them), or maybe it's even simply because it's been years since Aerion slept with someone. Regardless of the reasons, they somehow end up in bed together. Aerion doesn’t know exactly how it happened, but he’s not complaining.

Viserys accepted being the bottom quickly enough, and Aerion found out later that it's because it wasn’t his first time; he’d been forced to sell his body in order to survive at his lowest points in exile, and Aerion’s never felt protective of anyone before, but he feels it now for Viserys. He also feels irrationally jealous that someone else dared to touch what is his, and yes, he has come to think of Viserys as his.

Viserys is wonderfully responsive, biting his shoulder, scratching his back until he bleeds, moaning and cursing loudly, urging him to go faster and harder. It makes Aerion’s blood sing, his thoughts fuzzy, and the heat envelop him all over until he’s nearly drowning in it.

But it's Viserys’ eyes that really send Aerion over the edge. The pale, lilac orbs dilate in lust, but there's also anger, determination, and hurt in them. Viserys has a vulnerability in his eyes that Aerion would have thought had been destroyed years ago, but somehow it remains, and it's both intoxicating and addicting to see.

When Aerion finally decides to try bottoming (because why the hell not? they're dead, and he’s bored and ready to do something new), he finishes embarrassingly quick. It's better than he ever imagined; fire seems to completely consume him, so hot and bright that Aerion feels like he might pass out. Viserys' cock rubs against a place inside of him that causes sparks to shoot throughout his entire body, and all he can do is pant and gasp as he clings to Viserys for dear life, thinking that if he weren't already dead, then this would definitely kill him because it's too much, but he wants it more than anything.

Viserys never mentions his premature response, and they don’t talk about the fact that Aerion starts to roll them over more and more so he can wrap his legs around Viserys' waist, urging the other man to fuck him. He's relieved by Viserys' lack of acknowledgement, because even in death, he still has his pride, and it's embarrassing how much he loves to fall apart underneath the younger man.

And when Viserys guides Aerion to ride him like a stallion for the first time, Aerion screams himself hoarse, and it suddenly reminds him too much of the wildfire burning his throat, and he starts to panic, so Viserys holds him until he calms, but they don't talk about that either.

...

When Daenerys does finally show up, Aerion becomes insanely angry. She's cold and distant, though she does try to talk to Viserys, and Aerion wants to kill her. How dare she?! He refuses to let her see Viserys until the younger man finally tells him to leave them so they can speak.

Aerion feels something hot and ugly churn in his stomach at that, and he waits by the door until Daenerys leaves, looking only barely fazed. He instantly goes inside to see Viserys' eyes shining with angry tears. He still hasn't gotten good at hiding his emotions yet, and truthfully, Aerion kind of hopes that he never does.

"She hatched the dragons. The fire didn't kill her," Viserys says angrily, but there's also jealously and pure despair there, and Aerion doesn't like it. He pulls Viserys into his arms and kisses him soundly until Viserys pulls back and leans his head on Aerion's chest, sighing heavily.

"Why her?" He asks, though the unspoken why not me? is obvious.

"Because the gods are cruel," he answers honestly, because she didn’t deserve it more than either of them.

"But it doesn't change things. She's here now, just like us, with no dragons. Fuck her, and fuck all of them. We are still dragons," Aerion continues vehemently. He feels Viserys swallow and nod, as if trying to convince himself.

"We are dragons," Viserys says shakily before gaining confidence.

"We are dragons. And while she's here alone, I have you now; my own dragon," he finishes stubbornly, and Aerion feels a rush of something that he chooses not to examine further at those words. He tightens his grip on Viserys and kisses the top of his head.

"And I have you. Looks like we both finally got our dragons."

[quillsink]

Hi Ink!

So I have a couple questions-advice-thingies I want to ask you, if that's okay.

You said you were under 17, right? So I'm assuming you're still at school. How do you balance your blog with your schoolwork, if you have any? I also have an amrev blog and I've been struggling a lot with it. I get distracted by tumblr a lot and I have too much overdue work. I'm wondering how you get it done.

And you write fanfiction too, right? How do you find the time to have a (really funny, may I add) blog, do your schoolwork, and write great fics like that????? like I'm seriously wondering how you manage??

and if you don't go to school and/or you also have hw problems, then lmao ignore this

Hey anon!

Yeah, I‘m always open for questions! I won’t respond if it’s too personal, but my inbox is always open!

Yeah, I’m under the age of seventeen, and dragging myself through high school (ugh). I do have a lot of schoolwork! For the past few weeks, I’ve been on holiday, so I’ve been more active. When school restarts in the next few days I probably won’t be online as much.

Ahhh yes the ol’ I get distracted by tumblr. My tip for this is — make your friends your alarm. I’ll say on the server “yall if you see me online in the next one hour bonk me on the head i need to study.” This way, if they see me on tumblr or discord they’re like INK GO THE FUCK BACK TO YOUR TEXTBOOK.

Another tip is to take away your devices while studying. Take your ipad or phone or laptop and put it away in a corner of your room. What I do is I set a timer for one hour, and I keep that tab open, while I walk up and down in my room and study. The times reminds me “hey you go to another tab youre being unproductive” and the deadline pressures me into studying.

Another tip for not getting distracted is to not follow too many people! The less chaotic your dash is, the less you’ll want to check it. Try to limit your follows to people whose content you think is something you’ll want to see 99% of the time. My rule is, you look at someone’s blog, at least half of their listed fandoms you have to be in, and the 5 most recent posts on their blog have to be something you’d like to see. I often go through my followers and unfollow some people, and I’m also not joining any more discord servers—two is enough for me.

So yeah, set limits for yourself!

See anon the answer is I have no friends-

No actually it’s quarantine and it’s currently holidays, so I have the time to do all I want. Back in April when I was still in online school, I would generally do homework during class, so I would finish all my homework and classwork in the first part of the day when the teachers were rambling about nonsense (I multitask aight lmaoo) and by the second half of the day I could chat on discord and check tumblr, then after school I’d study for a few hours, then check social media, etc. Most of my fic writing is done on the weekends or a spare half an hour on weekdays. I’m churning out fics pretty fast now cuz holidays, but during school I’d write maybe 1-2k words every weekend.

Okay this was very long lmao, but I hope you find it helpful!

(And yes even though I don’t listen in class I still pass, the teachers are shit and they can’t teach, I’ve learned more from the textbook than their incoherent rambling. My teacher once taught us an entire concept, then told us “lol i was wrong” and didn’t reteach it, so i just don’t listen to them any more and learn from the textbooks, khan academy and crash course)