#American Gods Technical Boy x Reader

[castiwls]

invisible string - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'All along there was some, Invisible string. Tying you to me?'

Requested; @writing-with-emy

Notes; this idea is so cute omg (also I am British and have no idea how the American college system works and also I'm unsure of what year Sam started collage so pls bare with me ahaha)

also requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

“I didn’t even know I had all these still.” You laugh quietly pulling yet another pile of pictures out of the box. The carpet in your childhood bedroom was scratchy as you shifted to pull out the final pile. “Your parents really did keep everything,” Sam said as he thumbed through a pile of your baby pictures.

He paused on one holding it up with a grin. “You looked like ET.” You looked over squinting slightly at the picture. “All newborn babies look like ET.” 

He nodded looking at the picture again before picking up the next one. “You were a cute kid.”

You smiled reaching over to take the pile. The pictures held memories you barely remembered.Trips to the park, your first few birthdays, family holidays. You smiled quietly to yourself pausing on a picture from your first day of school.

A vague memory flashed through your mind as you traced the picture with your finger. Too caught up in your own memory you missed Sam’s noise of confusion. 

He placed a hand on your ankle. “Hey. Look.” He gestured for you to come closer. Moving to his side you leaned over his shoulder. “What?” The picture was one from a trip to see your grandparents in Minnesota. An eight-year-old you were smiling while holding a half-melted ice cream. Sam pointed to a boy who stood a few feet behind, his back to the camera and you. “That's me.” His head turned slightly as he held the picture closer. “He pointed to another figure who stood over to the side. This boy was clearly older but still not nearly old enough to be out without some sort of supervision. “See, that's Dean.”

You frowned slightly squinting. Sure enough the closer you looked the more similarities you could see. “Oh my god.” You moved the picture down. “That's insane. Seriously what are the chances.”

Sam laughed quietly looking back to the picture. You watched him for a moment, gauging his expression. His eyes seemed to grow sad for a moment as he looked from the picture to the piles scattered over your floor.

“Keep it.” 

“I can’t.” He shook his head. “It’s your picture.” 

“Technically it's ours.” You pointed to the picture. “And Deans.” You shrugged.

You continued on for a while, memories seeming to come and go as you watched yourself grow up through the piles. It was a nice change to simply sit in relative silence with no worries. 

The last hunt had been bad. The bandage on Sam’s arm an ugly reminder of how close it had been. Going home had been his idea - a way to destress. 

Picking up the last pile you flicked through the pictures pausing after a moment. “You went to Stanford right?” Sam looked over at your words nodding. “Yeah, why?”

“What year did you start college?” you inspected the picture further. “2001.”

You nodded flipping the picture around. “We were in the same graduating class.”

He looks at the picture his lips parting slightly. The picture had been taken during orientation. You and your friend had been snapping pictures with the new camera you’d been gifted for your birthday.

Somehow you’d seemingly managed to catch an almost perfect picture of your boyfriend while he’d been walking through the fair. Sam laughed. “No way.” He held up another picture. “I’m starting to think we’ve been in each other's pockets for years.”

You reached for the picture. You couldn't have been more than twelve in it as you and your mum both smiled at the camera. The Grand Canyon was visible in the back - as were three figures.

You looked back over to him. “Your dad took you to the Grand Canyon?” You raised an eyebrow. He nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Perks of moving around I guess.” You passed him back the picture.

“That's how many now? Three.”

“Four.” He passed you another from the pile. “Oh my god, I loved that coffee shop.” You gasped taking the picture. “Their cake was so good.”

Sam chuckled. “It was.” You looked up from the picture. “I can’t believe we've never met before. We always seem so close in these pictures.” You placed it down. 

Sam hummed thinking for a moment. “Maybe we were meant to meet until we did I mean,” He picked up another picture - five-year-old you in a Cinderella dress. “We lived in a different world.”

Snatching the picture back you rolled your eyes. “I guess we did.”

Gathering up the pictures you began placing them back into the box. Sam watched for a moment before shifting behind you. He wrapped a hand around your waist as he placed his chin on your head. He watched quietly.

“I’m glad we met.” He pressed a kiss to your head. “I’m glad to.” You turned your head, pressing your lips to his for a moment. 

He smiled looking back down to the five pictures still laid out on the floor. “You wanna keep them?” Your voice was soft as you spoke. “I think I have enough.” 

He chewed on his lip for a moment before reaching for the orientation picture. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The box was pushed back under your bed as he stood stretching. Taking his hand you pulled yourself up looking around the room for a moment. “We should probably head back to the motel before Dean claims the room as his own.” He grinned squeezing your hand.

You nodded taking one last look before following him out.

“Wait. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Sam nodded mumbling a small ‘okay’ before disappearing down the stairs.

Turning back into your room you opened your desk drawing pulling out your old camera. The same one you’d had at orientation. You flipped it over in your hand for a moment before putting it into your bag.

Glancing over your desk smiled at the graduation picture tucked in the corner. You picked it up looking it over for a moment before frowning. 

Stood pretty much besides you was a familiar figure. Shaking your head you placed the picture back down.

Maybe fate was real.

[ink-and-blood-goddess]

List of Characters Fanfic Requests III

ATTENTION ALL FANFIC READERS! I REPEAT, ATTENTION ALL FANFIC READERS!!!

My third list of character fanfic requests and request inbox is now opened. My other two fanfic lists are still open for requests, so please send them in.

List of Characters I

List of Characters II

I take my time into writing requests, since I’m busy with my job most of the time and writing my stories, so the request box will be opened and closed from time to time so that I can catch up.

And as a side note here, I DO NOT write for Character x OC fanfic requests AT ALL. I write Character x Reader fanfics ONLY...

List of Characters III

Marcus Corvinus-Underworld Evolution 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Michael Corvin-Underworld 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Lucian-Underworld 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Albert Shaw/The Grabber-The Black Phone 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Legolas-Lord of the Rings Trilogy 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Thranduil-The Hobbit Trilogy 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Aziraphale and Crowley-Good Omens 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Albert Wesker-Resident Evil 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Shadow Moon-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Mad Sweeney-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Technical Boy-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Mr. World-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Michael Kenmore-Stargate Atlantis 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Todd the Wraith-Stargate Atlantis 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Lestat de Lioncourt-The Vampire Chronicles 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Warlock-Warlock and Warlock the Armageddon (With Julian Sands) 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Bo, Vincent, and Lester Sinclair-House of Wax (2005) 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Symbols:

🌸-Fluff 

❤️‍🔥-Smut 

👐🏻-General 

 💐-Dating 

 💘-Romance 

🖤-Angst 

🔪🩸-Violence 

 🔞-NSFW

Citrus Scale:

🍑 (Peach)-No Sexual Interactions 

🍎 (Citrus)-Romantic hug/or kiss 

🍊 (Orange)-Romantic hug/or kiss with a hint of sexual interaction 

 🍈 (Lime)-Heavy making out with light groping 

 🍋 (Lemon) Actual Sexual Intercourse

[glygriffe]

Rec list of April

In April, I read a lot more Stranger Things stories than usual, and they were all good! So I made a section just for this fandom in my recommendations, like for Supernatural. As usual, the fanfics I read were on the shorter side, mostly one-shots.

If you read any of those fics before (or because of this post) feel free to tell me what you liked about them!

I also finished reading American Gods, by Neil Gaiman. It took me 8 weeks to finish it! I swear not so long ago a could have finished a book that size in a week... But on the bright side, I'm reading paper books again (I missed that a lot).

Supernatural writings

Apple of My Eye: A series set in season 13 with a setup during The French Mistake by@bamby0304 (Dean x Reader)

Being Human: just a little slice of life where Castiel remembers that Dean is human by @thoughtslikeaminefield (No pairing)

Letting Go Holding On: They’ve been doing that for years, but which way it dies depends on something not so simple. An atmospheric story by @thatfangirl42 (Dean x Reader)

Part-time soulmate: angst about an impossible relationship from Dean’s POV by @princessmisery666 (Dean x OFC)

Weekend at Rufus: A sort of coming-of-age story where we follow Jo on a journey towards hope and family by @lesbianjoannaharvelle (Jo, Bobby x Rufus)

Tricks are for kids: The Winchester brothers on the road, between seasons 2 and 3, playing games, eating Frootloops. A short carefree fic by Vehemently on AO3. (No pairing)

Chasing Feathers: A missing piece from Faith 1x12 by @faithdeans where Dean ruminates on his life (implied Destiel)

Pure: a smutty ficlet by @deanwinchesterswitch set in Purgatory. (Dean x female!Reader)

Untitled archangel drabble: Ok, it could technically be any Lucifer and Micheal, but the inclusion of Gabriel makes it SO Supernatural-esque! A piece of writing by @archangstels (No pairing)

Gimme Shelter: A migraine-driven one-shot full of domestic fluff by jumpfallflysoar on AO3 (Dean x Castiel)

Paternity Test: After all is said and done, Lucifer yearns to be a father by @quietwingsinthesky (Lucifer, Gabriel)

To the wonder of all things: A wonderful mid-size fic by Purple_starflower (@hauntedpearl) A small exploration of Castiel's story, his relationship with humanity, and most of all, love. (Castiel x Dean)

Prompt request: just à Drabble full of fluff! By @lipstickandwhiskey (Dean x Reader)

Contained: A WIP by @posingasme where Sam begins his career at the "CDC" and his first subject of study is something he’s never seen before. (Sam x Castiel)

Other writings

A soldier’s little girl: a sweet piece by @atomwritez showing the tender side of Ben (Soldier Boy x Reader & baby girl)

A fairytale-like robber at sea (well, on a lake) short story by @thestuffedalligator

Only You (a Lucifer Drabble): a sweet and fluffy piece from Chloe's POV by @idabbleincrazy (Lucifer x Chloe)

Stranger Things writings

Cardinal: A story of healing and hope in the aftermath of Stranger Things 4, a journey of discovery... nudged along by Murray. By @metalhoops / Astra_Wards on A03, (Eddie x Steve)

Untitled Steddie Drabble: The Stranger Things' Hellfire Club corraled Steve the join their game. He might not be a big D&D fan but he seems to know what he is doing... A cute story by @steveshairychest (Steve x Eddie)

Untitled Stranger Things ficlet: it made me laugh, it made me cry, it made my heart swell thrice its size. "It's Dustin who saves Eddie." By @loveinhawkins (Dustin, Eddie, Steve)

First conversation - another untitled fic by @loveinhawkins. Where Steve encounters Eddie at the library: two gentle souls connecting. (Steve, Eddie)

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Headcanon/Preference # 6

(American Gods - show)

Gifs NOT mine.

If any gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me know, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credits go to - (In order) @spicyinsanity - @vsnom - @subredditag - @americangodsdaily - @schreiberpablo (Unless told otherwise.)

Year posted - 2021

Note - Blue text is them speaking to you.

----

•Mad Sweeny•

----

As soon as the words "Bruise my esophagus." left your lips - "Oh Dote you've know idea." 😈

☘ Oh you adorable woman, do you have any idea what you're asking for?

☘ Sweeny is backed up against a wall, leaning against it completely, his knees bent a little and his back slouched.

☘ He'll loom over you, just grinning down at you as he pat your hair down.

☘ Don't let that gentleness fool you, his attitude will switch as quickly as a light switch.

☘ If you weren't already on your knees, he'll shove you to the ground roughly, his fingers digging into your skin harshly.

☘ He pulls your hair into a messy ponytail, actually tying it off with a hair tie, one he kept around his wrist for this sorta situation.

☘ Then he'll grab ahold of your jaw, applying enough pressure to force your mouth open, but not enough to really hurt you.

☘ "You know what to do." He smirks at you, waiting for you to unzip his fly.

☘ Tease him and he will hiss down at you in Gaelic, his eyes glaring in warning down at you.

☘ When the action starts, his hands are holding your head surprisingly tinderly, but his thrusts are anything but gentle.

☘ "Is this what you wanted?" He'd growl as you choked on him, tears rolling down your cheeks, and drool dripping from your chin.

☘ When you managed to moan in response he nearly lost it, the muscles in his thighs shaking a bit as he tried to hold back from cumming to soon.

☘ A cocky chuckle leaving him when your eyes practically rolled back in ecstasy.

☘ "Who knew you were so filthy." He laughed as you peered up at him with innocent eyes. "Just another thing to love about ya." He'd taunt before cursing under his breath.

☘ As he nears his end he picks up his pace, not even giving you the opportunity to breathe properly, and he's as far down your throat as he possibly can be.

☘ His pace is relentless at this point, his teeth clenched as he starts cumming down your throat.

☘ For a second you think you might be drowned by cum, but the heavenly sensation of it all pushes that initial worry aside.

☘ It's safe to say he's satisfied with his work, and you can't hardly speak for a few days.

----

•Shadow Moon•

----

As soon as the words "Bruise my esophagus." left your lips - "What did you just say?"😳

🌙 You totally caught him off guard with that demand.

🌙 He totally blushed when you repeated yourself, a smirk tugging at his lips regardless.

🌙 He's definitely game though just give him a moment to wrap his head around the boldness of your request.

🌙 He's sitting on the leather couch with his legs spread wide, giving you plenty of room to make yourself comfortable between his thighs.

🌙 Shadows honestly the most tinder about it.

🌙 Like don't get me wrong he's gonna do what you asked, but he's gonna make sure you're okay the entire time.

🌙 He will let you have a moment to breathe very frequently unlike everyone else!

🌙 He's holding your hair back with gentle hands, his eyes might be soft as he looks down at you, but his thrusts are very rough.

🌙 "You're doing so good baby." His encouragement is laced with so much adoration for you, sweat covering his forehead and neck.

🌙 Shadow is moaning your god damn name like a prayer the entire time.

🌙 He's never felt so honored or loved by anyone so much, I mean you're literally trusting him with your life here. Encouraging him to choke you on his cock until he's satisfied.

🌙 He'll give you ample warning when he's about to cum, asking you if you want him to cum in your mouth.

🌙 When you look up at him with those innocent doe like eyes he's done for. But he is quick to pull out enough so cum onto your tongue and not directly down your throat.

🌙 He's praising you so so much afterwards, kissing you everywhere he can reach before going down on you.

🌙 He's a gracious lover after all.

🌙 Even though you asked for it, when he realizes how stranded your voice is, he feels guilty as fuck.

🌙 Be sure to assure him that you're quite content with the outcome of the night, even if you have to write it down for him.

----

•Mr. World•

----

As soon as the words "Bruise my esophagus." left your lips - "With pleasure." 😏

🌎 You're going to know the true meaning of cock worship you slut.

🌎 Oh he's going to tease the ever living fuck out of you before even allowing you to unzip his pants.

🌎 He's calling you all sorts of degrading names as he makes you suck on his thumb.

🌎 "Such a nasty little whore you are." His eyes are practically sparkling with excitement, the darkness lurking just beneath.

🌎 "So desperate for cock you're willing to risk your own life for it." He'd then slap your face, and pry your mouth open.

🌎 "Fucking slut." He'd hiss before spitting in your mouth, watching with a grin on his face as you graciously swallowed it.

🌎 All the while he's lounging comfortably in his throne like chair, while your on your knees hovering over his lap.

🌎 World is undoubtedly the roughest with you, he's got tears rolling down your cheeks before he's even let you touch his cock.

🌎 He doesn't let you free his cock this time though, he does it himself with one hand, while the other holds your face in a vice like grip.

🌎 When you lay eyes on it you're not surprised to see him rock fucking hard, he's throbbing already, the head an angry shade of red and dripping pre-cum.

🌎 A laugh escapes him as an idea pops into his head, then without warning he's slapping your face with his heavy cock.

🌎 He does it so many times you end up with an outline of his dick on your cheek.

🌎 "Open up whore." He'll demand in a growl, the hand that's been holding your face now yanking your head back by your hair.

🌎 There is no option to try teasing him, Worlds in charge and he's going to absolutely fuck your throat up.

🌎 He's pace is fast, and his thrusts are brutal, your lungs aching for air and your throat on fire.

🌎 But he knows you're enjoying this, he can practically smell your arousal.

🌎 World will give to one chance to catch your breath, and it's right before he's about to cum, so he only gives you a few short seconds.

🌎 He's hissing under his breath, sweat on his now red forehead, veins protruding along his neck as he chokes you with his cum.

🌎 A laugh rumbling in his chest when some of his cum shoots out of your nose, your eyes practically rolled back into your skull.

🌎 World fucked your throat so hard that you had to see a doctor about it... You couldn't speak a word for weeks.

🌎 And to ensure you don't try speaking before you've properly recovered, World locks you away from everyone.

🌎 And if you attempt to speak to him when he comes to check on you, he's glaring you down with malice.

🌎 Assuring you it's because he wants you to be safe and not hurt your throat further.

🌎 Sometimes even taking things as far as to hand feed you himself as a reward for being good.

----

•Technical Boy•

----

As soon as the words "Bruise my esophagus." left your lips - "On your knees then Princess." 😎

📱 Oh this is gonna be a long, long night. Hope you're prepared babygirl.

📱He's standing over you, watching your every move with calculating eyes.

📱On the inside he's kinda nervous as fuck, he's never done anything quiet like this before, so he's worried he'll disappoint you.

📱He's gonna work you though for as long as he can manage.

📱He's acting so cocky as he roughly ties your hair into a bun with the hair tie you offered him.

📱If you wanna fuck with him a little act like it actually hurt when he did that.

📱He froze as soon as you winced in pain, his demeanor changing in an instant.

📱"Sorry babe, you okay?" He asked with worried eyes, subconsciously brushing his knuckles across your cheek.

📱When you assure him you're alright he tries bringing the act back up like he wasn't just fawning over your well being.

📱Take the lead for a little while, help him get into this, and boost his stupid ego.

📱He finally relaxes when his cock is down your throat, his cocky personality washing over him all of a sudden, his eyes dark with lust and power.

📱He can't help but bite the fuck out of his lip as he thrusts down into you, the little moans you make sending a shiver up his spine.

📱When he's nearly at his peak he pulls you away from his cock, refusing to cum yet.

📱So to distract his body and calm down the high, he pulled you up to your feet for a make out session against the nearest wall.

📱When he's finally calmed down enough to feel like he isn't about to bust, he'll shove you back down to your knees before shoving himself back into your mouth.

📱 A cocky smirk on his face the entire time.

📱Every so often he'll freeze in place, just to feel the sensation of your throat trying to swallow him, pulsing around his cock like your greedy cunt would.

📱When he's finally ready to cum, after what feels like hours of him fucking your throat, he'll pull out just far enough that the heads still in, ordering you to swirl your tongue the way he likes as he cums.

📱 "Fuck fuck fuck." He is hissing through his teeth, his body shuddering a little as he comes down from that glorious high.

📱Afterwards he's getting you a glass of water, insisting that you drink the entire cup before trying to speak.

📱When you do speak your voice is harsh, almost unrecognizable to him, which only boosts his ego more.

📱Queue Tech sitting there like 😎 "Oh yeah I did that." 😏

----

•Low-Key Lyesmith•

----

As soon as the words "Bruise my esophagus." left your lips - "Aren't you just full of surprises." 😜

☞ Someone's eager, but who's more eager is a good question.

☞ You're both stripping out of you clothes as quick as possible, stumbling a few times, resulting in laughter and giddy stolen kisses.

☞ Low-key "accidentally" falls over at one point, pulling you down with him, relishing in the feeling of you laying on him as he kisses you hungrily.

☞ He's very content with remaining on the floor, having you on all fours above him, thrusting up into your mouth with a playful laugh.

☞ For the most part he makes you do all the work, a playful and amused gleam in his eyes.

☞ Don't let that fool you though, he's just waiting for the perfect opportunity to ruin you.

☞ As if he's totally unbothered by you sucking him off, he takes his time braiding your hair back, his nimble fingers threading through your hair like silk.

☞ "You're so pretty." He'll muse when he finished with your hair, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone.

☞ Then his eyes darkened and he thrust up into your mouth without warning, catching you off guard and gaging you.

☞ Which of course makes him giggle

☞ "Sorry Sweetheart, but this is what you wanted." He grins down at you, taking a firm hold of your head.

☞ When you moan in response around him, he sighs in delight a smile stretched across his face as always.

☞ He's not thrusting to hard, or fast even. Instead he's pushing you down onto his length, forcing you to take as much as possible.

☞ He'll be somewhat generous with how often he'll let you breathe, his thumb replacing his cock as you're panting for air through your nose.

☞ "You're so pretty when your face is wrecked." He mused at the tear stains on your cheeks, drool making a mess of your mouth and chin.

☞ He's praising you for being able to take so much of him, and for so long the entire time.

☞ Low-key will warn you when he's close, a laugh escaping him when you moan in response.

☞ He intends to finish all over your face, he always loves the look of your face covered in his cum.

☞ You're not able to talk properly for several days, but Low-key doesn't mind in the slightest, he'll talk for ya.

☞ Aka he's talking your ear off even more than normal, telling you all sorts of wild stories of old.

----

[eyesonpablo]

omg look at the gossip ladies in the back

[imaginethatneathuh]

Death: Mr World - American Gods

Mr World x gn!reader, ex and abusive relationship

You ran from Mr World and he wants you back.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop. Some parts were edited by her, too.

Requested by Anon - Hi! I just found the Tarot Card thing and I was wondering if you could do Death for Mr. World ...

TW/CW: Car accident, abuse, domestic abuse, fear, PTSD, anxiety, paranoia, dehydration, hunger.

Word count: 12.5+ K

This was very triggering, that's why it took so long for me.

•

Hands stuffed in pockets, you walked down the concrete sidewalk. Pulled up, the hood of your dark hoodie obscured you from view. It was only a small comfort knowing that it was more difficult for something like a camera to pick up on your face.

A street light flickered above you as you passed by.

Remembering the effects the New Gods could have on technology, you turned around, looking for one of those weird “boxes'' they used. But the street lights all stayed on and none of the boxes materialized.

Stopping for a few moments more, you looked around just in case someone was there and you just couldn’t see them. You mentally cursed the loud chirping of the crickets. Even if someone was there --- you weren’t sure if there was or wasn’t --- you wouldn’t be able to hear them over them.

Finally, with one last look, you turned back to your back and continued down it.

As you approached the small apartment complex, you searched for lights in the windows. Occasionally, a neighbour or two would stay up until the wee hours of the morn. Tonight though, everyone seemed to have gone to bed except for you.

Carefully, you climbed the stairs to your flat. The hair on the back of your neck raised as the cold breeze passed by.

As you got to your floor, you looked down and around. It wasn’t a quick one look-see and done kinda deal. You analyzed everything, half expecting someone to jump out or come around the corner. Everything from the flicker of the old wall lamp, to the shaking trees, and the swarming insects around light was scrutinized.

Despite the months of being away from him, he was always in the back of your mind. You knew, despite being miles away from where he had you last, he could find you and bring you back under his thumb. He was more powerful than you ever imagined. He had eyes and ears everywhere. Here, even with no security cameras and out in the middle of nowhere, you knew he could still get to you. The trees may be plentiful and the people few and far between, but he still had power

No one jumped out, so you went to the door with your heart pounding in your chest.

Still scanning the hall, you patted yourself down in search of your keys. You couldn’t tear your eyes away just in case someone unwelcomed showed up.

You fumbled for your keys, too fearful of the unknown to search for them properly. The thought of someone or something popping out of nowhere took all your attention, the fear forcing you to scan the hall again and again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw something in the shadows.

Whipping your head around to get a better look, your eyes widened as if they were trying to soak in as much of the area as possible. The possibility of your ex or his lackeys being right around the corner froze you in place. One of your hands gripped your keys while the other stayed tensed on the doorknob of your flat.

Quietly, you breathed and tried to calm yourself, but kept your eyes wide open. As you concentrate on your breathing, knuckles paling, your shaky, uneven breaths become even again.

It was just your imagination, your mind playing tricks on you. That was all. No one was there. No one at all. You were safe. He couldn’t get you here.

Eyes still glued to the shadows, you yank open the door and rush inside, slamming the door shut. Once inside, You pressed your body against the door, just in case someone tried to push it open, and deadbolted it as fast as you could manage without looking at the locks. The shadows did not move as you stared at them through the peephole on the door.

Stepping away, you take a few gasping breaths, shoulders and jaw tensed. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest.

Every time you left the flat there was a risk that your ex would find you. Any reasonable, sensible person who knew your ex would tell you leaving your flat was a stupid idea, that there was too much of a risk in leaving. But, you couldn’t stay inside all the time just because he terrified you. You had to live your life, not live in fear. There had been far too much of that.

You looked around the small flat and moved toward the windows, unlocking and relocking the windows.

Placing a hand over your heart, you breathed deeply in and out. You’d found it to be the best way to calm yourself over the past few months. Now, within the safety of your home, you could relax.

Turning, you found your way to the sofa and fell upon it.

The flat’s door stood opposite of you and you stared at it, expecting someone to start banging or barging in at any moment.

A backpack filled with your things lay next to the sofa. Not much was in it. Just some clothes, toothbrush and paste, and other such necessities. No unnecessary items.

The fridge sat mostly empty and the bedroom lay unbothered as if no one had entered it since the last tenant, and even the bathroom had little in it, just a bar of soap that hadn’t fully dried yet and its bag. The flat had barely been lived in. Hopefully, you’d soon have the courage to change that.

After many hours of paranoia, you fell into a restless, fitful, nightmare-fueled slumber. Even as you dreamt, he did not let you be.

•

A loud knocking woke you from a nightmare you couldn’t remember after you got up from the sofa.

At that moment, as you walked over to the door still dressed from the day before, things almost felt normal. It was as if the last 6 years hadn’t happened and you weren’t terrified and paranoid he’d find you.

Every last shred of that feeling dissipated after you looked into the peephole.

There, on the other side, stood two men in black and white suits. Both had an earpiece and sunglasses. They looked straight out of the Men in Black movie you remember watching when you were younger.

Your mother loved that movie. As did you.

Sadly, they were not the Men in Black from the movie. They were a different sort. The men who worked for your ex, Mr World.

Stepping away, you blinked as your heartbeat and fear steadily rose. Your breathing became shaky.

He’d found you.

“Mx L/N, we know you are in there,” one of the men said. “We just want to talk. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Instead of responding, you ran to your sofa and threw the backpack on.

Outside, the two men had a conversation.

Your flat was on the first floor. It would be a quick two-story drop.

Scrambling to the window opposite the kitchenette, you opened it as quietly as you could.

The men knocked again. “Mx L/N, please open the door.”

Remembering the bar of soap in the bathroom, you stepped inside and grabbed it. You slipped the bar into the bag and stuffed it into your pocket.

It seemed completely asinine to grab it, but you didn’t want to leave anything behind. Especially not a brand new bar of soap.

You lifted yourself up the window so you could get out feet first. Going headfirst at any height could lead to serious injury, or, ya know, death.

“Mx L/N?”

You looked back at the door breathing heavily before looking back at the window.

For a moment, you thought about just giving in to him. Letting him keep you locked away and make you live in fear of him for the rest of your life. It would be so much easier. That or just killing yourself.

But you couldn’t do that, not when you had come so far. Not when you had almost enough to get out of the country and never see him again. Not when you could be free of him and the U.S. as a whole.

You didn’t know what had so attracted him to you, but you wished that whatever it was would stop existing.

“Mx L/N, please open up!” The man sounded more urgent now like he knew what you were doing.

Gripping under the window, you pushed yourself out. Instead of letting go immediately, you hung on. You dropped a little so you could get a better grip on the bottom of the windowsill. Swinging side-to-side, you set your sights on a nearby balcony.

Even though the sound of your heartbeat flooded your ears and the fearful doubts filled your mind, you could still hear the shaky, unsure breaths you were breathing. You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, closing your eyes, before swinging to the neighbour’s balcony and letting go.

The balcony was situated over another tenant’s old sofa. They’d put it out a few days ago and had yet to throw it away.

You landed with a forceful thud onto the sofa, even moving it a bit. It didn’t do much but it was better than concrete.

You pushed yourself up and turned, only to find a man in black with his gun out. Looking the other way, his partner came around the corner, his gun also raised.

“Mx L/N, we were given instructions not to hurt you, but we will if we have to,” one of them said.

You looked between them, warily.

They seemed to be twins. Everything down to the last detail was identical. Must have joined together and gotten paired up. Who better to trust in the field than your brother?

There was nothing but woods behind you. If you made a break for it, the best they could do was shoot an arm or leg, maybe a shoulder if they were brave. It’d slow you down and you’d need medical attention, but you’d live if you didn’t bleed out first.

One of the twins put his gun away and slowly approached you. “Please, we just want to talk.”

It was obvious he was trying to get you to trust him, but you wouldn’t fall for that again.

You took off running.

The other twin aimed but his brother chastised him.

•

After running through the woods for a while, you climbed up a tree, out of sight. If the men tried to follow, they, hopefully, wouldn’t look up.

As you fell into the almost bowl-like middle of an old oak, you breathed heavily and tried to relax.

You knew he wouldn’t leave you alone for a while. But it had been months. Months. Why was he still chasing? Was it because you knew what he was? Who he was? He had told you many secrets that he probably wouldn’t want anyone else to find out, usually when he wasn’t who he told all the others he was and was, instead, himself. But, you didn’t want anything to do with him or his world. You wanted a new start, a new life.

You waited in the tree for hours, thinking about him and the new life you’d start somewhere else in the world. Maybe Canada, Scotland, or New Zealand. Someplace like that. Somewhere that wasn’t the U.S.

Slowly, you fell asleep.

•

When you awoke, it was late. The full moon was at its peak and the stars were out bright in the navy sky. They all had much to show the world. But, more importantly, it was light enough for you to leave.

You couldn’t go back to your flat. It was too dangerous. You’d have to just pick a direction and keep moving. Hopefully, you’d find someplace then.

•

You had to admit, this was the first time you’d ever come out to these woods since you’d started renting here. It was definitely pretty.

The brown leaves littered the forest floor, but not in an ugly way. It was rather beautiful. The leaves almost looked like rich, dark soil in the night’s late hour. If it weren’t for the fact that you knew they were leaves by their crunch, you would have thought the forest floor had no grass. The leaves reminded you of a time long past, a time of innocence you no longer possessed.

With a smile, you jumped on a group of leaves making them crunch slightly. It was rather satisfying. Sadly, you knew you had to keep going and playing with the leaves just wasn't an option, so you trekked on.

Despite knowing you had to hurry to find safety, you still allowed yourself to enjoy the moonlight as it gave the forest an almost otherworldly, effervescent glow. Funnily enough, it felt more familiar than the word of concrete and metal you came from. It felt safe and comforting.

Twigs snapped beneath you every once in a while as you walked. You gripped your backpack’s straps tightly, occasionally looking behind you.

A part of you wished for this to be over, to be safe and sound elsewhere. Not awake in the middle of the night, walking through the woods on an empty stomach.

While looking behind you, you took a misstep and fell.

You groaned. Leaves stuck to your now dirt-covered hands and you pushed yourself up.

As you looked up, someone came into view.

A new stint of fear shot through you as you scrambled backwards.

“You do not need to fear me,” the person said. “I mean you no harm.”

As the moonlight cast down upon her, you studied the young maiden. What seemed to be a golden wreath of sorts sat upon her head, like a crown.

“I heard your prayer for safety, young one. I only wish to guide you to it,” she said, nearing closer.

Despite her soft words, you doubted her. You knew what she was and, in your experience, their kind never gave anything without wanting something in return.

She knelt in front of you. “My name is Soteria. Will you let me help you?” Soteria stood and offered you a hand.

Unlike other gods you’d met, she seemed kind. She didn’t have the same feel as the others. No malice or anger or lies.

Even though your paranoia screamed no, you couldn’t help but take it.

She lifted you up and gently touched your cheek, looking deep into your eyes. It was rather uncomfortable really. Her hand fell.

“Travel straight that way,” she said, pointing to her right. Her gaze followed her arm. “And you will find safety.”

You nodded, gratefully.

“Young one,” she said, turning back to you. “No harm shall fall on you if you keep this with you.” The goddess took your hands into hers and placed something in them. “You will survive and you will persevere.”

“How do you know?” You asked.

“Believe it and it will be so, my child,” she said, cupping your cheeks with a smile.

•

You pushed yourself off the forest floor and shakily rose to your feet.

“Must have really hit my head,” you mumbled to yourself.

You hadn’t realized you were tightly gripping something cold and sharp in your hand until it began to cut into your skin.

Taking a look at the foreign but familiar object, your sight is met with a metal circle hung from a chain, the face of Medusa filling the frame. Moonlight glinted off the metal, shading her horrific, severed head. Running your thumb over the pendant, you noticed her snake-like head raised from the circle. You could even feel the raised blood falling from her stump and the fangs of Medusa and her snakes. Said snakes had minute scales engraved into them. The gorgon's mouth hung wide open like a snake’s with flesh between the top and bottom at the corners of the mouth. She hissed, baring her fangs, at an unknown attacker along with her forward-facing serpents. Her slit-pupilled eyes spoke of the fear and anger she held before Perseus cut her head from her body. On either side of the pendant, golden laurel sprigs created a sort of half-wreath. You ran your thumb over the gold as well. The detail of the leaves was incredible. Tiny, minuscule veins wound through them. Small gems you didn’t know the names of decorated the sprigs, clustered together to resemble flower buds. It was a beautiful, albeit peculiar, necklace.

Upon remembering what Soteria said, you put the necklace on and gripped the pendant tight. It was strangely comforting.

You took a deep breath, turned to where the goddess had pointed and marched on with a strange, newfound confidence and determination. Knowing that a goddess was behind you and the Roman Medusa hung around your neck renewed you.

He wouldn’t get you. You wouldn’t let him.

•

You didn’t know how long you walked, but the moon had set and dawn had broken.

Birds, the noisy things, squawked and sung and annoyed the ever-living daylights out of your tired self.

Still, it was a better sound to be around than the New Gods and the shite they were always talking about.

The Technical Boy in particular. Him and his talk of being better than the Old Gods. But, he seemed to be the best of the bunch. Sadly, that’s not saying much.

Media was a snake who told you the prettiest lies and World, despite saying he cared for you (never love, only care), preferred a pretty lie over the ugly truth, telling you whatever would keep you the happiest and controlled by him. It took you a long time to admit he was manipulative, but once you settled that with yourself (not an easy task) it was slightly easier to see his lies and manipulative tendencies.

The Technical Boy didn’t give two shites about you, and, thus, didn’t care to lie. He always told you exactly what was going on. He was also, usually, really fucking blunt. The dude had no filter.

Eventually, your tired legs and sore muscles screamed at you to take a break. The dryness in your mouth and rumble in your stomach asked the same of you.

But you couldn’t. Not yet, at least. Your mind told you to keep going, that relief was just around the corner. And, you believed it. Besides, if you passed out now, who’s to say the fumes wouldn’t run out while you were resting? Or worse yet, someone aligned with World would find you.

A car rushed by, a flurry of leaves trailing behind it.

You clambered up the ditch, mud and leaves furthering to dirty your clothes.

Not to say they were clean before your escape. Too much could happen in the time it took to clean a load of laundry.

You walked along the road. Cars passed you occasionally, but it was far too early and the road was probably a ways away from the complex. That complex was also pretty far from any city.

•

Exhausted, thirsty, and hungry, you prayed you’d be able to stop soon even just for a minute or so.

As you walked, the faint outline of a building stood up ahead.

You sighed in relief.

Maybe there will be people there. Ones not attached to him.

All you could do was hope for that and maybe some water, that’d be nice, too.

•

As you got closer, you realized it was a motel. A Motel America with its neon blue and red. It, faintly, reminded you of the U.S. flag. That was probably the point of it.

You stumbled to where an attendant sat behind a desk. They didn’t notice you.

“Hello,” you said, voice raspy. “How- How much is a room?”

They looked up and their jaw dropped. “Are you okay?”

‘Must be worse off than I thought,’ you thought.

The floor under you swayed and you struggled to keep your footing.

“Mx? Are you okay?” the attendant asked again. “Do you need an ambulance?”

You shook your head. “No. Just- just a room. Please. Please don’t tell anyone I’m here.”

They nodded and grabbed a key, handing it to you.

You fumbled for your bag and tried to pay, but the attendant shook their head.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Just go.”

You mumbled thanks and stumbled away, rubbing your necklace.

“Call if you need anything,” they shouted after you.

A bout of relief spread through you and you thanked the attendant in your head. You also thanked Soteria. She was probably the reason you’d even got here.

•

The smooth, clean blankets covered you, wrapping you in their warmth. It didn’t matter that you were still wearing dirty, grimy clothes and hadn’t taken a shower in over three days. For once, you felt clean, and most importantly, safe.

Your muscles ached as much as your stomach growled. The emptiness of your stomach reminded you of your current lack of adequate resources. Sure, you had some cash stuffed away in your backpack, but not enough to last long.

Someone gently shook you awake.

With a groan, you buried your face in a pillow.

The person shook you again.

You turned to them, only to find the attendant from last night.

“Morning,” they said. “My shift’s been over for a while, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position with more effort than you should need. “I’m fine.”

Your growling stomach betrayed you.

The attendant looked down to your stomach then back to you. “Sure about that?” They asked, eyebrows raised. “I got an extra sandwich in my bag. Want it?”

You nodded but refused to meet their gaze.

It wasn’t that you wanted to take advantage of their generosity, but you were starving.

The attendant slowly backed away like you were a wounded animal. They pulled something out of a bag and tossed it to you. “I’m Sammy, by the way.” Sammy pointed to the bathroom. “There are cups in there if you need them.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I won’t stay much longer. I have to keep moving.”

Sammy nodded.

You got the feeling they understood your position. Maybe that’s why Soteria had directed you here.

•

Night had fallen and the waning moon filled the sky with her beauty as her beautiful wives twinkled with her, though they did not shine with her same might.

You stepped outside your room onto the concrete walk, fiddling with the gift from Soteria.

Though you may not have been able to wash your clothes, a nice shower, some food, water, and rest did you wonders.

Sammy peeked out of their place and waved.

You waved back before setting out on the road.

There was a long journey ahead of you.

•

A fluttering of butterfly-like creatures caught your attention. Turning to the sound, a box sat with the creatures hovering above it. They disappeared when you saw the box.

You had been looking out for one of those.

World and the others had a particular fondness for them.

Your breathing quickened and you slowly stepped away before you started running down the road, your backpack bouncing up and down as you went. Though your muscles still ached, you pushed through the pain.

You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t go back. You couldn’t be trapped with them again, with him again. You had to keep running. You had to get away.

In a foolish move, you looked behind you only to see it gone.

When you looked back, headlights blinded you, stopping you in your tracks. You covered your face, wincing from the bright light. Stepping back, you realized it was Technical Boy’s limo. As you, again, stepped back, you knocked into something. Slowly, you turned around and looked into the faceless thing the New Gods called one of The Children. It grabbed you by your arms, holding you still.

Instinctively, your hand went to the necklace as you panted, staring at the Child. It had barely been a day and you already clung to it like a koala on a tree.

A flood of light and smoke came from the limo, bringing your attention back to it.

The door opened and someone, no, two someones stepped out.

A scowling Technical Boy and a pleasantly, fakely smiling Media stood up and faced you.

“Y/N, darling,” Media said, flourishing her arms out. “It is so good to see you again.” She wagged a finger at you. “You’ve been very naughty. Running away like that and all.” The goddess smiled at you. “Mr World has been very distraught over your absence. Oh, how he loves you so. The two of you are like Cesar and Cleopatra.”

Technical Boy snorted. “You mean World’s a creep and helped create a false narrative surrounding--”

Before he could complete his sentence, Media slapped him upside the head.

“Hush,” she hissed.

The boyish god winced and rubbed his head.

Media approached you, still all fake smiles and pleasantries. “Darling, Mr World really does miss you terribly. I’ve never seen him quite so distraught! Please, come home. We, well, Mr World, can take good care of you. You can be happy again. Just come home.”

“He wants me back?” You asked.

Media readily nodded.

“Then he should come get me himself.”

A smirk crept on Technical Boy’s face but he pushed it away. “Look, I admire your determination and tenacity, I do, really, but come on. He’s making life a living Hell for us. Just come back. I’m sure he’ll do better by you or whatever,” he said.

Your gaze shifted to him, eyes shining. “You know nothing of a living Hell,” you said, your voice breaking. Tears threatened your eyelids at knifepoint.

“Not helping,” Media sang with a strained smile at Technical Boy.

He looked down and rolled his eyes.

“Look, darling, I know Mr World can be difficult--”

You cut her off. “Difficult? Difficult!? You think he’s difficult?” You asked. “No, he’s fucking insane and manipulative. I want nothing to do with him or any of you. Just leave me alone.” Your tears cut through and spilt down your face.

Media opened her mouth to say something but closed it, not knowing what to do.

Technical Boy made a dismissive wave at the Child and it stepped away, letting you go. He carefully stepped toward you.

“I don’t like you,” he said. “I don’t know why World does. I don’t get what he finds so fucking interesting about a pathetic, squishy, easily killed human. But I know he wants you back and has spent every second he can trying to find you.” The god stopped in front of you. “He’s obsessed and, yeah, he’s manipulative and probably insane. That’s World for ya.” Technical Boy placed a hand on your shoulder. “Just come back, maybe punch him in the face, demand some shit or whatever. I don’t care. But World is fucking riding us like you used to ride him. He is up our fucking asses all day and it’s driving me insane. Please, for the love of fucking God, just come back before I lose my shit.”

You wiped away the tears and looked the arrogant son of a bitch in the eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Technical Boy.”

His hand fell from your shoulder. He turned back and shrugged. “I tried.”

It was obvious, even to the most socially inept, that he didn’t really care about you.

In the distance, a man struggled to maintain a straight line as he drove. Liquor bottles clink against each other in the backseat, and the passenger seat and floor.

Media stepped forward. “I understand your uneasiness, Y/N, but things can be different.”

The car got closer, swerving around. No one seemed to notice.

“No, they can’t,” you said. “He will never change.”

Technical Boy, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up. He spotted the car and straightened. “Um, guys…”

“Not now,” she said, raising her pointer finger behind her at him.

Technical Boy slipped his phone away. “But--”

“I said, not now!” The goddess turned around to glare at him.

“Yeah, but there’s a fucking car!” Technical Boy said, pointing at the oncoming car.

You swivelled around, taking a look around the Child. Headlights filled your gaze, and, for a moment, you understood what it felt like to be a deer trying to get across a road. By the time you recognized what was happening, it was too late; you couldn’t get away.

The last things you felt was the Child’s body slamming into yours and the distinct feeling of dread.

You were going to die.

There was also a sense of relief, knowing that you would die free and not chained to him.

•

The sound of beeping woke you. The feeling of another warm body against yours was unsettling when you did wake. As you opened your eyes, your blood ran cold.

World was holding you, partially on the bed with one of his legs hanging off.

“Hello, my dear,” he purred. “It’s good to see you awake.”

You pushed him away and tried to sit up.

“Oh, no, no, no, we will be having none of that now, my dear. You are far too injured.” The well-dressed god pulled you back toward him, but you did not relax.

Slowly, he pushed you back into a lying position and kissed your forehead like a child. He even dared to pull blankets over you. World sat onto the bed and faced you, gently reaching out and stroking your cheek.

Some part of you wanted to react, to vomit or push him away, but you couldn’t. Every fibre of your being told you not to do anything to make him mad. After 6 years of that keeping you alive, the idea had become ingrained.

“I almost lost you, my dear,” World said, quietly. “The thought of never seeing you again was unbearable. I’m so glad to have you back, safe and sound beside me.”

Though he seemed to actually mean it, with shimmering eyes and kind movements, you couldn’t trust him now any more than you could any other time. It was all a facade, a carefully crafted one at that. He had manipulated you before and would do it again. This time, though, you wouldn’t let him, no matter what he did. This snake would no longer charm you.

Despite it being a majorly bad idea, you had to ask the question that had been running through your head since you’d run the first time.

“Why?” You asked, quiet as a mouse. “Why do you want me so badly? I don’t understand it.”

His hand traced a path to yours. “My dearest, you know better than to ask something like that. A partner like you best kept with their mouth shut and a pretty smile on it.” With his free hand, he tilted your chin upward, possessively smiling down at your frowning face with malice.

“That’s not an answer,” you said.

World’s smile became strained as he tried to hold back the urge to smack you. You could tell by his eyes that’s what he wanted. There was dark anger behind them. Instead, he chuckled lightly before roughly grabbing your jaw and bringing you in close. “It’s the only one you’re getting, my dear.” He leant in close, any semblance of a smile falling away, and looked into your eyes. “If you ever,” he said, trembling with rage. “And I mean ever, leave like that again, I will not be so kind as I am now. Do you understand me?”

Against his hand, you tried to nod, any form of confidence fading from you. In his hands, or hand more like, you were like a tiny, weak child all over again.

He roughly shoved your face into the pillow and it stayed there as you were too afraid to look back at him. You bit your lip and screwed your eyes shut, trying not to whimper or cry.

World stood. “Technical Boy,” he said.

The tech god slowly walked in, keeping his eyes on the ground. Even he was somewhat afraid of World. Technical Boy stood near the door, not daring to walk in any further without permission.

“Wassup?” He said, popping the p.

World glared at him, disapproving of his casualness, from the opposite side of your bed.

Your head still firmly placed on the pillow, you opened your eyes to look at Technical Boy.

He had a rather odd style choice that you’d become fond of over the years. Today was no different.

Today, he seemed to have a hard-on for neon. Neon yellow and orange shoes with shiny spikes around the soles. A multi-neon-coloured jacket that looked like someone took a paintbrush and just started painting diagonal lines in a thousand different neon colours. His pants were awful, too. Every type of neon colouring on it, just like his jacket. Neon pink suspenders hung from his trousers and a neon blue t-shirt with a giant, pixilated, neon green thing on it. It was one of those spaceships from Galaga Shooter from back in the 80s or whenever. You couldn't remember what they were called exactly. Maybe it was just spaceships from Galaga Shooter.

His hair was, much like his clothing, a weird story. Along the pulled-back sides were two metal pieces on both sides, going from the front all the way back. Maybe they connected around the back of his head. The top had pieces wrapped into little bowls all the way down the middle. On his shoulder was a braid pulled out from the back. More neon stripes decorated his hair, from bowls to braid.

World looked to you. “Technical Boy will be looking after you until you’re all better and you can come home properly.” There was plasticity to his voice that you’d only become recently aware of before you’d run from him. World walked around your hospice bed and stopped next to Technical Boy on his way out. He turned slightly, the tech god mirroring his action, and whispered something you couldn’t hear before leaving.

As World left, you watched the tensed Technical Boy with curiosity. He looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours.

“I guess we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” he mumbled. The god looked around and found a chair.

As he pulled the chair to sit next to the door, you struggled to sit up.

“Don’t even think about trying to run,” he said. “I ain’t like the Spooks or the Children. I’m not stupid nor easy to manipulate or overpower. You running will only hurt yourself and piss World off.” He sat down and leant back into it, staring at the ceiling. “Why the fuck is he so fucking interested in you, anyway? You’re not that special. Don’t get me wrong, you’re attractive in a simple, human-ey way, but you’re not, well, you’re not geometrically perfect, or close to it, like, say, Jensen Ackles.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said, finally in a sitting position. “I know there’s no point now.” You wryly chuckled, tears slipping from your eyes. “Fuck,” you mumbled.

Technical Boy watched you, uncomfortable. He wasn’t good with emotions, especially not others’. “You good?”

You wipe away your tears before looking over at him. Deftly, you flip him off. There was nothing Technical Boy could do to you that would hurt more than knowing you were, once again, trapped under Mr World’s thumb.

The god rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well play some games.

You look around the room, crossing your arms and rubbing them. It was a plain, white, rectangular room with your bed, a chair, and a nightstand. Otherwise, it was barren. The most interesting and colourful thing here was Technical Boy’s awful outfit, which looked, strangely, stylish on him, and the blankets on your bed. Their colours were stark in contrast to your hospital gown with the polka dots and barren room. The top blanket looked like a hand-stitched quilt with an array of warm colours and black decorated with images of cats and witches and other things like that. The others were larger child-like blankets with Bob the Builder, Care Bears, and other things like that on them. You ran a hand over the top one, enjoying the stitching and cloth running under your fingertips.

“World had those brought for you,” Technical Boy said, not looking up from his phone.

Your blood ran cold and your hand froze where it was. Slowly, your hands receded and you pushed the blankets away. Knowing that, even now, World was, in a way, touching you freaked you out. You needed to get away from it. You needed to get away from him. Barely registering what you were doing, you kicked the blankets over the edge bed and pushed yourself away from them and into the pillow behind you.

The quilt and childish blankets cascaded to the floor, unceremoniously falling into a heap.

The tech god looked up from his phone and stared at you as you curled up and hugged your knees, staring wide-eyed at the blankets. He continued to watch as you began scratching at yourself, trying to get the feeling of World off you. Technical Boy didn’t intervene until he noticed you bleeding.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, the god got up and walked over to you. He sat on your bed and grabbed your hands.

Out of pure instinct, you thrashed in his grip as he tried to calm you down. You could hear someone calling for you but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was here and he was going to hurt you.

“Y/N,” Technical Boy yelled over your panic. “Stop it. You're hurting yourself.” You continued fighting against him, kicking and thrashing. “Fuck’s sake, I need someone in here!”

Nurses came in and held you down before one stuck a needle into your arm and you passed out.

•

A year and a half ago

You lay in bed, texting a friend, one of the few World let you have. Smiling at your phone, you pulled a blanket over you, a quilt with sock monkeys on it.

World entered and took off his blazer, setting it on a fluffy chair. He rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. “Hello, my dear,” he purred, watching you.

You looked up and smiled. “Hi, bossman.”

He smiled, leant over you, and kissed your forehead. “Have you been good today?” He asked.

You shrugged and took one of his hands into your free one. “I did what you asked if that’s what you mean. I haven’t been out all day.”

“Good, my dear. Good,” he said before sitting on the bed and caressing your cheek. “I don’t want anyone else taking you away from me.”

“I wouldn’t want them to, love.” You smiled, gazing into his eyes.

As World started to say something, your friend texted you back a meme. Because of the addictive nature of technology, your head snapped to your screen. You laughed.

World’s eyes hardened. “Who are you talking to?”

“Just a friend.” You shut your phone off and tossed it to the side. You could worry about responding later.

“Just a friend, huh?” He asked. “A friend that makes you laugh?”

His sudden change in attitude threw you off and you sat up more. “Well, it was less my friend and more a meme he sent me.”

“He?” World growled.

He seemed to grow bigger, or maybe you were just pushing yourself into the bed more.

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered out. “I thought you said he was okay to talk to.”

World gripped your wrists, kneeling on the bed, and pushed you down. “I told you not to leave the house.” He jerked you off the bed and began to drag you out of the room in your underwear.

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I was just talking to him,” you pleaded as you tried to stand. His grip tightened and began to hurt. “World, love, please, stop. You’re hurting me.”

Just as you had managed to get in a crouching position to stand, World yanks you down. You land with a thud on the cold, wooden floor.

“Hurting you? Never, my dear. No, I’m just punishing you for disobeying me.” He stood over you, his fists clenched.

“I- I didn’t. I didn’t go outside.”

That only seemed to piss him off more.

“I said not to leave the house. That means technologically as well. You disobeyed me, my dear. I really didn’t want to do this, but you’ve given me no choice.”

•

Present Day

You woke up in a fetal position in bed. Clenching your fists, you willed yourself to forget about the nightmare. Shakily, you pushed yourself up, blankets falling off you. A part of you expected, when you looked at them, you’d find the ones World had gotten for you. Instead, you were greeted by a different set, the top one with a close-up of a bunch of wolves perched atop a cliff with a forest in the background on it.

“I had one of the Children get some other blankets from a nearby store,” Technical Boy said, glued to his phone. “I didn’t tell it any specific type of blankets to get, so it just grabbed some. Hope you like wolves.”

Assured in the knowledge World hadn’t had a hand in getting these, you laid back down, pulling the blankets over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing heavily, and curled back into a fetal position.

•

Weeks passed and you slowly healed. The Child that you had been in front of when the car struck had partially protected you, so you were better off than if it’d rammed into without any sort of cushioning. Still, rehab was fucking painful.

Technical Boy mostly said nothing, preferring his tech to others, particularly you. When he did speak, it was sarcastic and filled with a feeling of superiority. It tended to get on your nerves. But it was better than the alternative. Occasionally, he’d get a text and he’d be out the door faster than the Flash going at light speed. It was rare but still, you dreaded those texts because he’d always leave one of the creepy Children behind, or several depending on how he was feeling.

You’d talk to Technical Boy, of course. Well, not specifically to him, but you’d talk aloud to kill time. It was mostly rambling about one thing or another. Sometimes you’d talk about your parents and family, other times you’d talk about random things you’d learnt over the years. On very rare occasions, maybe once or twice, you’d talk about World and what it was like with him. It was nice, just talking without anyone listening but someone still being physically there. You knew he didn’t care and he probably wasn’t listening, but that didn’t matter to you. You just wanted to talk. Sometimes, he’d stop scrolling or playing a game for so long you thought he was listening. Thankfully, he was just reading something when that happened. Talking “to” Technical Boy was like talking to a brick wall in the best way possible.

Now, you laid in bed, throwing things at the ceiling, head relaxed against the headboard. You closed your eyes, groaning.

Out of pure boredom and nostalgia, you remembered a school play you’d been forced to do; The Wizard of Oz. You had played the Wicked Witch of the West for the second half of the play. Despite the rather enjoyable performance, you did hate the green face paint you’d had to wear. It didn’t feel good against your skin. As you remembered the play, you began to think about the song Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead that your Mum had always teased you with. That and the whole “I’m melting scene”. The song rang through your head as you tried to remember all the words, but the same lines repeated over and over again.

“Ding-dong! The witch is dead. Which old witch? The Wicked Witch! Ding-dong! The Wicked Witch is dead,” you sang, very much off-key but with a childish enjoyment.

Technical Boy joined in with his eyes still glued to his phone. “Wake up, ya sleepy-head. Rub your eyes, get out of bed.”

“Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead!” You both sang out, Technical Boy was much quieter than you.

Your head fell forward and you giggled to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. Technical Boy, unused to the sound, looked up at you, the edges of his mouth twitching up. But, when you looked at him, he looked away, his lips straining into a white line as he tried to cover up the smile. You curiously watched him for a while like you were waiting for him to do something. Upon deciding he was too boring to do anything of note, you started humming Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead to yourself. The song had ingrained itself into your brain.

Technical Boy typed something into his phone before speaking. “I can play it out loud if you want.” He showed you his phone’s screen.

You couldn’t tell what was on it as it was too far away, but you assumed it was Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead. “Sure. If you want.”

He pressed play and turned up the volume, but the noise was minuscule. Technical Boy gave it a confused look, frowning, and mouthed a “what the fuck”. For a few minutes, you watched him fuck around with his phone, trying to solve the problem.

Eventually, he turned to you. “Sorry. Volume isn’t working as it should. Must be some sort of hardware issue. I’ll take a closer look later.”

You considered, for a moment, that maybe Technical Boy wasn’t as good with his tech as he liked to boast. Then you remembered that TECHnical Boy was a TECH god and this is probably happening because he wants it to, on some level. You internally laugh at the thought.

‘Maybe he really hates that song,’ you thought.

“It’s fine. Maybe we’ll both be able to hear if you get closer,” you said with a small smile.

You could have sworn he was blushing at that moment. That was definitely peculiar. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you.

Technical Boy scratched the back of his neck, looking away from you. “Yeah, sure. That- that could work.” He got up, shuffling his sneakers along the tile.

As he neared your bed, he rewound the video and started playing it. Instead of sitting on the bed, he awkwardly stood there, holding his phone closer to you.

You laughed lightly before patting the bed. “You can sit down, you know that right? I’m not as easily broken as you might think.”

“I don’t think you’re easily broken at all,” he mumbled as he sat down.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Technical Boy drug the timer back to the zero second mark, replaying the video.

You shuffled around, listening to the song, before getting closer. Your chest pressed against Technical Boy’s back as you rested your chin on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he was very warm.

You’d expected him to be like his domain, cold and calculating, but, you supposed, he’d always been very angry and loud, just like the other part of his domain. You smiled softly, recognizing the duality to him. The angry, emotional, loud human-dominated Internet and the cold, logical, data-processing technology-dominated, well, tech. Then, you remembered how phones and computers were. It had been so long since you’d had one, it was like a far off memory. But, all technology tended to warm up as they were used and cooled when they weren’t.

You nuzzled into his strangely soft sweater, your cheek pressing lightly against Technical Boy's neck. Blood rushed up to his neck as his heart beat heavily, you could hear it more than you could hear the music. It was very calming. Though the rapidness of the beat was slightly concerning. Usually, humans have really fast heartbeats wasn’t a good sign, but he wasn’t human so maybe it worked differently.

Technical Boy glanced down at you, trying not to disturb you. A soft smile spread across his face. A blush did the same thing over his cheeks and his ears tinted pink as your hands found their way to his side.

You sighed, content, as you relaxed.

You hadn’t meant to get so physical with Technical Boy, but it felt nice to feel someone else’s warmth for once. To even be near someone again without fear of getting hurt was a huge relief. Though you knew if World ever found out, he’d kill you both or worse.

At the thought of the cruel god, you reached for where your necklace used to be. Instead, you grasped at nothing. The reminder that World had taken your necklace made you feel empty and cold even with the heater named Technical Boy letting you hold onto him. Your eyebrows knitted together as sadness filled your heart, weighing it down. Still holding nothing, you pressed your face into the tech god’s shoulder.

Technical Boy gently reached for the hand still on his side. He grasped it and pulled it around his stomach, gently rubbing your knuckles. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, just as surprised by his own concern and gentleness as you were.

If it had been anyone else, he would have pushed them away, but this was you and, after all the weeks you’d spent rambling, he felt like he knew you better than World did.

To be fair, most people probably knew you better than World did.

Still, Technical Boy had started to understand why World wanted you so badly. You were so human and so sweet, laughing at your own jokes and, in a way, treating him like a pet like always humans tend to do with technology. The way you so easily spoke to him about whatever was on your mind and the way you smiled even when you weren’t doing anything, was so human and he found that, despite how he had always viewed humans, he liked that about you. He wouldn’t say he felt anything stronger, but he did like it. Maybe more than he should.

You tiredly looked up at him, lips grazing his sweater (Technical Boy found himself wishing he wasn’t wearing one) and gave him a strained smile.

“I’m alright, I suppose,” you said. “I’m just wishing I still had my necklace. It helps calm me down.”

Technical Boy nodded, his phone turning off.

You didn’t know if he did that or it did it by itself.

“What’s it look like?”

His gaze seems to drop to your lips before darting back to your eyes, but you can’t be sure of yourself.

You shrugged. “Head of Medusa and gold sprigs of laurel shooting out from the pendant.”

Technical Boy nodded, mentally putting a yellow sticky note on a rough image of the necklace he had in his head with “find” written in red on it. “Sounds cool,” he said, meaning it but sounding rather casual about it. He mentally facepalmed.

You nodded, still touching the place the pendant once hung in front of.

Technical Boy noticed your despondency and put the yellow sticky note and the necklace under important.

You trailed your free hand down Technical Boy’s back, nails sending tingles all over his body.

This was something you both needed, but both rarely got.

Physical touch is the hardest thing you’ve ever come by, especially after meeting World.

As for Technical Boy, he was a lonely god surrounded by cold fellow New Gods and unfulfilling worship. Though he was necessary for the U.S. to function, the people’s belief in him wasn’t really belief IN him. It was a belief that technology is going to solve everyone’s problems. They do not view him as a deity and they do not know he even exists. It’s a sad thing for a god to be worshipped but not known truly within their worshippers. If that wasn’t bad enough, the other gods like Media and World didn’t really like him and they did nothing to hide it.

He glanced at you again. You caught it and smiled softly, wrapping your other arm around him, enjoying the warmth of him and the feeling of another being. The god leant into you, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. His hands found yours and he absentmindedly rubbed them.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Technical Boy snorted. “Why? You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“It’s just-- You’re Technical Boy. You don’t like humans, so you probably aren’t the biggest fan of this.” You shifted slightly but still held him close.

He turned to look at you. “If I wasn’t okay with this I would make it known. I tend to do that.” A slight, itty bitty smile surfaced. “I can show you if you want? Trust me, I can be really loud and annoying.”

You pulled away, covering your mouth as you laughed.

Technical Boy’s smile widened and there was a strange light to his eyes as he watched you.

You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Ya know, I’m really touch-starved, so, trust me, I’m enjoying this,” he said.

Silently, you reached for one of his hands and held it in your own. “So am I, to be honest. World was never really one for touching. I was often pretty lonely…” You trailed off, eyes wandering. “It’s not much like that now, though. Even with him looming over me, at least you’re here.”

“Yeah, I am,” he said. Part of him wanted to kiss your cheek, but his far more logical side decided that would be a dumb idea. Instead, he squeezed your hand and smiled. “Don’t think I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

All you could do was smile.

•

The Child sat there in Technical Boy’s chair like an action figure not in use.

Laying on your stomach at the end of your bed, your head sat on your crossed arms as you watched the empty, motionless creation.

Technical Boy had gotten one of those texts and had to leave. One of the Children had taken his place.

Ever since that conversation a few weeks or so ago and all the touching that happened, the tech god had opened up a little more, willingly joking with you and talking. You’d finally gotten to know more about the god. Turns out he was moderately decent sometimes.

You continued staring at the Child, your head falling to lay down. Blowing out a breath of air, you flipped over and stared at the ceiling.

World, thankfully, had been too busy to stop by in ages.

Sometimes, you’d learnt, you were fine with his name and existence being mentioned. Other times, you weren’t. Sometimes, you were scared, but his presence didn’t make you freak out. Other times, it did. The whole thing was pretty inconsistent.

You’d missed Technical Boy. His presence had a calming effect on you to a degree you didn’t understand. Still, when he laughed, you smiled with pride. When he smiled at you, your heart clenched in your chest. And, of course, when you caught him stealing a glance at you, you could practically feel the blood rushing to your face.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening made you jump and you quickly turned to see who it was.

Silently, you hoped it was Technical Boy and feared it was World.

A familiar face walked in with something in his hands.

“Tech!” You smiled and sat up.

He grinned at you before slipping whatever was in his hands behind his back and walking in. Realizing the Child was still there, he gave it a look and it got up. It left and shut the door behind it.

“I got something for you,” Technical Boy said, turning his attention back to you. “I think you’re really gonna like it.”

Head tilting with curiosity, you look at him. “What is it?”

He chuckled and sat down on your bed. “You’ll have to open it and see,” he said, pulling a small box from behind his back. He handed it to you.

Gently, you took the box and opened it. Inside sat a shell-shaped compact mirror. Though definitely disappointed, you were more confused than anything. You took it out and examined it.

“Why did you give me a mirror?” You asked.

Technical Boy’s grin grew. “Cause, without it, you wouldn’t be able to see what I’m about to give you.” He slipped behind you on the bed and opened the mirror over your shoulders, placing it in your hand. “Now, close your eyes and don’t open them till I say,” he whispered into your ear.

You leant back into him, enjoying the closeness. Though you were reluctant and a little confused, you closed your eyes anyway, deciding to trust Technical Boy.

You listened as shuffled around. A sudden and strange, though familiar, feeling of something settling around your neck made you tense, but that tension faded quickly.

“Okay,” he said. “Open ‘em.” Technical Boy’s head settled on your shoulder and he wrapped his arms around your waist, watching you in anticipation.

Just as you began to open your eyes, he stopped you. “Wait, hold up.” You felt one of his hands cup yours as he adjusted the mirror. “Okay, now.”

You opened them, greeted by a view of your necklace shining in the bright, artificial lighting. Your jaw drops as you stare at the terrifying face of Medusa. A warmth finds its way into your heart as your open mouth turns into a grin. Gently, filled with disbelief, you reach up and touch the pendant. Realizing it was truly there and not an illusion or something, a weight lifted off you, knowing you hadn’t lost it. You sighed in relief and clutched the pendant, closing your eyes.

Out of excitement, you turn around and wrap your arms around Technical Boy, hugging him tightly.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do. He knew you’d be happy but he hadn’t anticipated this. Remembering all the fanfics, posts, shows, and movies put on the internet, he realized hugging back would be a smart option. That would definitely help with keeping his blush hidden. He hugged you back, nuzzling into your neck.

As you pulled away slightly, you looked at him, still smiling.

He shyly smiled back.

You knew he blushed rather easily, but the sight of his face so flushed and ears so pink was a little shocking. It was still cute, though.

You fell back into him and rested your head on his chest.

Technical Boy squeezed you tight, resting his head against yours. He closed his eyes, finding himself able to relax with you.

A few seconds of silence passed before you decided, on a random whim, to kiss Technical Boy’s cheek.

He froze.

If he was pink before, he was Hot Tamale Red now.

You giggled lightly before beaming up at him.

Honestly, you couldn’t say why you did it. All you knew was that it felt right.

The door to your room slammed open and World appeared. Both you and Technical Boy snapped your heads to look at him, eyes wide.

You scrambled away from Technical Boy and off the bed, eyes going wide at the sight of your terrifying ex.

"And what exactly is going on here?" World asked. He stepped into the room and glared at you

The tech god got off the bed and put himself between the two of you, pulling World's attention away from you. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt, especially because of him. He didn't care if he got hurt. Technical Boy was a god; he could handle it. You were human and World had already done enough.

"Nothing much," he said. "Just talking."

World got closer.

Your heart pounded against your chest. The familiar fear of his presence shaking you to your core.

The way he approached reminded you so much of how he used to right before he laid into you, all height and glaring. He was going to hurt you again. Or Technical Boy.

Gods, Technical Boy. You didn't want him hurt. He'd been so kind to you over the last few weeks and had really come out of his metallic and rude shell. The thought of him regressing and being cold to you again sickened you.

"It seems as though I've caught my beloved and you doing much more than “talking”," World hissed.

Out of pure fear, you hide more behind Technical Boy, placing a hand on his bicep.

"Y/N hugged me," the god said, maintaining eye contact with World. "That's it. They were thanking me."

World took off his fedora, his long coat hanging off his shoulder. "For what?" His head jerked unnaturally.

"For being here when you weren't and for getting them their necklace back," Technical Boy said.

You hadn't noticed how tense he was until World was nearly on top of the two of you. He was just as scared as you were. Technical Boy breathed heavily through his nose but refused to flinch.

World pointed at your necklace and growled, "You shouldn't have that."

Your hand shot to your necklace, clutching the pendant in shaking fingers.

"And who are you to dictate that?" Technical Boy asked.

World, angered by Technical Boy's insubordination, walked to him and looked him in the eye. "You will leave if you know what's good for you, Boy," he said unwaveringly. "And, if you know what's good for them." World turned away, his fingers trailing across the end of your bed. "Unless, of course, you want them to receive the worst possible treatment for their injuries."

Technical Boy's eyes went wide and his jaw tensed. He looked to you.

You didn't want him to go. You didn't want to be left alone with World. You didn't want to left alone at all. Despite that, you also didn't want to end up in a dark room to die and you didn't want Technical Boy to feel guilty if that happened.

Turning to the tech god, you nodded toward the door, mouthing the word "go".

He hesitantly tried to say something, eyes glistening with sorrow and guilt, but didn't, defeated.

As he left, his heart heavy, you gave him a pained smile and wave. Once he walked through the doorway, your smile fell and you wrapped your arms around yourself. You already knew what World was going to do.

He turned to you, scowling.

•

Outside the room, Technical Boy stood, already hating himself for leaving you to deal with him alone. The number of times World had hurt him because he wasn’t perfect or didn’t do what World wanted exactly as he wanted it done and had the shite beaten out of him for it was astronomical. He’d always wished Media had done something about it when it happened, but she never did. Now, he had done the same thing to you.

He heard you yelp and the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor. Your cries echoed in his ears as World beat you. Though the door was shut, it did nothing to mask what he was doing to you. Technical Boy could faintly hear him saying this to you. He couldn't fully make them out, but he knew, in his heart, they were as vicious and violent as he was.

It took all of the tech god's self-control not to rush back in and protect you. He'd shield you with his own body if he had to.

Sadly, the god knew you'd only be worse off if he did. So, he sucked it up and walked away, fists clenched.

He had to figure out a way to get you out of here before World made sure you'd never go anywhere again.

•

You laid in bed, curled up with the blankets Technical Boy had gotten for you. The cloth felt soft and strange against your skin like you weren’t used to the feeling of safety and warmth around you. Even though you’d been using them for months at this point, the blankets still felt foreign. They were better than any World could force on you, at least. And, they reminded you of Technical Boy.

Since the day you told him to go, you hadn’t heard a peep. It was like he vanished from your like.

Honestly, you were worried about him and thought about him a lot. You had no idea if he was alright or not. Unfortunately, you'd experienced just how cruel World could be when he was angry; your face and body were plenty of evidence of that. Though Technical Boy was a god and World couldn't kill him, you feared for Technical Boy's safety. Over the years you'd been with World, he showed an apathy toward Technical Boy, if not hatred for him. He'd been violent with the tech god before. You knew he would be like that again on a whim. That's all it ever took; a whim.

The door to your room opened.

Tensing, you pulled your blankets closer. You shook slightly, closing your eyes and letting out a fearful breath. A free hand laid where the pendant of your necklace should be.

You'd been expecting him to come back to teach you another lesson. World had come every day since he's taken Technical Boy off "Y/N duty".

Slowly, you steadied your breathing and opened your eyes. A part of you hoped he'd find no joy in it today, that he'd grow tired of you and toss you aside. Even if you ended up dying, it'd be better than living in fear of World for the rest of your life.

"Y/N," a familiar and gentle voice said.

You wiped the blanket off and turned to look at the speaker; Technical Boy stood there with bruises on his face. They didn't take away from how happy you were to see him.

The corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile, but his eyes screamed of pain. "Hey."

Of course, World had hurt him. You knew he would. It was World. But, that feeling in your chest, the feeling of your heart squeezing, the feeling you'd felt when World showed up randomly early on, the feeling of relief and love filled you as you looked at the tech god.

Without hesitation, you pushed away from the blankets and scrambled off the bed, not even thinking about them falling to the floor. You didn't give Technical Boy a second to breathe as you pulled him into a tight hug. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you screwed your eyes shut and breathed him in.

After the initial shock, Technical Boy slowly hugged back. He tested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. "Are you okay, Y/N?" He asked, pulling away and cupping one of your cheeks. His soft eyes searched yours.

You chuckled, tears of joy pooling at the corners of your eye. “I’m-- I’m better now,” you said with a smile.

Technical Boy relaxed a little, but still, his eyes stayed trained on your face. His fingers ghosted over your bruises and split lip.

It made you wince.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Did he do this to you?”

You looked away, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes. "He cause those?" You asked, turning back and gesturing to Technical Boy's face.

For a beat, there was silence. Without having to say a word, both of you knew what happened.

You pulled him into another hug and he quickly reciprocated.

"I can't stay long. World doesn't even know I'm here right now. I hope he doesn't, anyway." Technical Boy pulled away and smiled at you. "I'm going to get you out of here, and soon. I promise." His eyes drifted to your chest, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion before turning into anger. "And I'm going to get your necklace back from World."

You looked down, putting a hand over where your necklace should be. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a necklace.”

It wasn’t, in fact, just a necklace. It was a gift from someone who actually, selflessly cared. Though you hadn’t talked to Soteria since you’d gotten the necklace, you knew she had been watching and trying to keep you safe. You knew it in your heart of hearts, in your essence, in your very soul itself. Maybe it was a want to have someone on your side or blind stupidity, but you had an unending faith that she was with you, that she was protecting you and guiding you even now. It was that faith you clung to when World would come in. It was that faith that kept you sane. Even before Technical Boy had been sent away, it was that faith that helped you get through even the worst days where your mind would plague you will horrible memories of World and your life with him.

Technical Boy shook his head. “It’s not just a necklace. It’s your necklace. It belongs with you, not him.”

You smiled softly at him, relishing in his gentle touch.

“I’m going to get it back for you and I’m going to get you out of here, so be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, okay?” He asked, looking into your eyes.

You nodded before hugging him again.

Real, genuine, caring contact with another being, no matter how artificial, is the only thing you wanted at the moment. Everything else be damned.

•

The door to your room opened in the night. No light shone in as all was quiet. It was past midnight. Of course, all was quiet. It’d be weird if it was loud and noisy.

Laying in bed, you slept as soundly as you could with the constant threat of World looming over you and plaguing your scarred mind.

Technical Boy looked back into the dark, empty hall before slipping into your room.

His own fear and doubt squirming through his mind and infecting him. Around every corner, his heart had beaten loudly in his chest as he could never be sure someone was just around the corner. Though the god knew how to manipulate technology, even recreate and control it to a certain extent, he was still afraid that World would pop up while Technical Boy had blinded himself by taking the cameras offline. It felt wrong to not be able to see everything through the cameras. It was too late to take it back though.

“Y/N,” Technical Boy said as he gently shut the door. When you didn’t respond he got close to your bed and nudged you. “Come on, wake up. We need to go.”

You groaned quietly and tried to pull the covers over your head but Technical Boy stopped you. He pulled them off the bed and stared at you.

You whined, trying to curl up, but the god wasn’t having any of that.

“Y/N, get the fuck up or I swear to God I will throw you over my fucking shoulder,” he said putting his hands on his hips.

You groaned again and flopped to your back. “It’s late.”

“I know,” he said. “Now let’s go.” The tech god pointed at the door.

You sat up, back stiff, and stretched. “Outside?”

He nodded. “I said I’d get you out of here, didn’t I?” Technical Boy smiled before offering you his hand.

The two of you shared a smile. Just as you reached out to take his hand, you remembered World and froze.

“What about--”

“Don’t worry about him,” Technical Boy said. “I’ve got a plan. Right now, we need to go.” He grabbed you and pulled you from the bed.

•

Outside the compound World had been keeping you in, you stared at the night sky. The beautiful blues and blacks melting together, and the points of white stars twinkling high above. You never thought something could be so beautiful. The stars danced in your eyes.

Technical Boy, holding the door to his limo open, stared at you like you stared at the sky.

Feeling his eyes on you, you looked to him and gave him a soft smile.

If it wasn’t so dark, you could have been sure of whether or not he was blushing. Instead, the darkness hid his embarrassment for him as he turned away from you.

“Get in,” he said, gesturing to the limo.

You nodded and walked over. Before you slipped inside the bright automobile, you gently kissed Technical Boy’s cheek.

He stood there for a moment, stunned as the tips of his ears turned pink. Swallowing hard, he gets into the limo, sitting next to you.

•

Standing in the busy airport, you looked around, clutching the carryon bag Technical Boy had packed for you.

Patiently, you waited for the tech god to appear. He had to get some things in order before your departure.

When he did appear, he seemed nervous, scanning the crowd with fearful eyes. He stopped in front of you, still scanning.

You understood his fear. It was a similar kind to what you had felt when you’d run from World.

Gently, you touched his arm, tearing his attention from the crowd. You gave him a gentle smile.

The god softened and weakly smiled back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Technical Boy shrugged, looking down. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is to me.”

•

On the plane, a child kicked your seat from behind and the man at the end of the row was talking loudly on the phone. You felt bad for the grey-clad man sitting between the two of you. He was getting it far worse than you.

Looking away from the commotion, you watched the people outside the plane scramble around and grasped the necklace’s pendant.

You were so close to freedom. Close enough to taste it. Or maybe that was just the aeroplane smell.

Despite still being in the U.S., you smiled. Even if the plane crashed, you wouldn’t be stuck with World. Even if the plane gets redirected somewhere or there’s a storm and the plane has to make a landing, you could still stay away from World long enough to get another ticket out of here. It would be a terrifying ordeal, but you could do it. Even if, worst comes to worst, World finds out and finds you again, you knew you could find a way out of his grasps again.

And if none of that comes to pass, you leave the U.S. for good, and never see anyone here again, you knew you could be happy. Maybe find someone to settle down with or get an animal or something. Maybe find a good job that you can mostly enjoy that isn’t totally soul-crushing. Maybe, if you’re really lucky, you can get a few hobbies that bring you joy like nothing ever could.

If you’re lucky that is, but you’ve never really been that lucky. Who knows? Maybe that will change.

[pokeasleepingsmaug]

my seat’s been taken by some sunglasses asking about a scar

For a request. Male reader x Technical Boy, being a jealous asshole when a girl flirts with reader. 

CW: None. 

You almost lean instinctively into him when he slides back into his seat, but something stops you. The presence in the seat next to you doesn't feel like his: doesn't have that edge of wild energy, like electricity crackling. It feels calmer, and that immediately puts you on edge.

You turn to face the one who isn't him, and find yourself face to face with a pair of smiling brown eyes beneath a mop of curly hair, full lips turned into an easy smile. She would be pretty, if you had eyes for anyone but him.

"What's the point of coming to a place like this if you aren't even going to dance?" She asks, raising her voice to be heard over the thumping bass.

"I was dancing earlier," you lie, flashing her a smile. "Must have just missed you.

"Come dance with me now, then," she challenges you, raising her brows, and it's so tempting to rise to the bait.

But you can feel the crackling presence of him as he comes up behind you, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, squeezing possessively. You don't even have to turn around to picture the look on his sharp face: tight-lipped smile, hard eyes. The thought is damn near enough to take your breath away.

His sulky voice breaks the silence. "Yes, Y/N, why don't you go dance with her now, then?" His hand tightens on your shoulder. "Such a pretty little thing, I'm sure she would show you a good time."

Her lips quirk into a smile as she looks at him over your shoulder, her eyes flicking to the position of his hand; his fingers are digging into you so hard his knuckles have to be close to white.

"Better than you trying to rip his shoulder off," she notes, wry, and you can't stop yourself from finally turning to face him.

You've often thought he's at his most handsome when he's angry, although it isn't purely a physical thing. There's something about that energy of his that just fits with yours, the way his jagged edges match perfectly with yours and make you feel at home.

You can already imagine who he'll be when you get to the car: how hard he'll kiss you, the way you'll rise to meet him. He's a tide that it's easy to get swept away in, but you've always reveled in swimming upstream.

His fingers loosen, his hands sliding to trace the edge of your jaw before they trail down your neck. You gasp and lean your head back for him. "Sure about that, sweetie?" He asks, smug, and the girl takes off with a roll of her eyes and a toss of her hair. "Let's get out of here," he says as soon as she's out of earshot.

You're more than ready to leave anyway; the loud music has been fraying your nerves from the moment you got here. Tech likes the chaos of clubs, though, so you stomach it for him sometimes. The cool night air cools your overheated face as soon as you step outside, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you hit the button to unlock your car.

You're already anticipating how stormy he'll be, starting to grow hard at the thought of his demanding lips on yours. You both climb into the car, and you slide your key into the ignition but don't bother to turn it. You lean over the center console for a kiss, but he leans away. "Tech," you call softly, and his eyes reluctantly meet yours. "What's up?"

"Would you have danced with her if I hadn't come back?"

"What?" You yelp in disbelief. "Of course not."

"Only because you don't dance," Tech pouts, his cheekbones sharp in the neon light from the bar sign.

"Only because I'm with you. I don't want anyone else, you know that."

He hums, like he might need a little more convincing, and you reach over to cup his jaw and hold him still, your thumb stroking slowly over his cheek. "Let me prove it, then," you murmur, leaning closer.

You pause when your mouths are barely a whisper apart, and you feel more than hear his breath catch in anticipation. He doesn't pull back this time, so you press your lips to his as softly as you can, feeling him melt into the kiss, tasting his metallic breath. There's never been anything sweeter.

[imagines-everyfandom]

[multifandom--imagine]

VERY IMPORTANT

so since I received really many requests on technical boy I decided that from now (6 July 8:50 am) the requests on this character are CLOSED. I hope you will understand dear readers, I would also like to try other characters and not just one.

[the-moon-queen]

ITS UP, ITS UP!

Chapter 3 of Knowledge and Desire is up! Finally! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 

I hope you all enjoy it! 

It kinda got away from me but here’s hoping its still decent! 

[justawriterofthings]

Those Stars?  It Was Just A Little Magic

Requested: Okay so my idea is that Mr. World and Media send Tech to recruit someone. Sort of to redeem himself from the embarrassing jail scene. Well he is sent to find a very powerful Kitsune. One that is flawless in her illusions and magic, also one that is damn near impossible to pinpoint in one location. He succeeds and finds her in a techno rave like club. She is actually the DJ there, using her powers to create amazing shows and allows her ears and tails to be shown as most think it is just part of the act. Tech would enjoy himself, watching her and smirking when he would catch her smiling at him mischievously. After the club he would approach her and offer the deal, something she has heard many times in the past months. She agrees on one condition, that she gets to have him all to herself for one evening. And if he's lucky any other time as well. I think Tech would a bit taken back but would agree and boom sexy smutty goodness with a hot technical god and a sexy fox demoness.

Warnings:  Swearing, Smutty Smut

Word Count: 3,789

Author’s Note:  I think my hand slipped a little.  This turned out to be one of my longer one-shots. Sorry about that.  I do hope you enjoy though!  

Tech was replaying the events of the previous day in his head over and over. Just a loop of embarrassment and pain. He’s better than that and sure as shit more powerful than they could ever dream of being.  He was the god of technology for fucks sake.  Technology was the world now.  But he had to mentally hit himself.  That kind of cockiness is what got him into trouble in the first place.  He had to be better than them, that included him being able to accept he made a mistake. He also had to listen to them now, and that meant he had to go find some fox lady that could help them out.  He scoffed at the idea of being their errand boy. Especially since the creature they wanted him to find was almost impossible pinpoint.  He exhausted the majority of his contacts but he finally got a lead after what felt like an eternity of searching.  In reality it could have been an hour or an entire week, he would never know though, since he had gotten lost in the waves of information.

After he got the information he wanted, it taking more persuasion than he cared for, he headed to her city.  The whole time he was just hoping he wasn’t wasting his time.    

 You walked down the crowded street of Chicago and took in the energy around you as you headed to work.  It was hard for you to tell what the night brought you, but with the club’s energy lately, you knew you were in for a treat.  You rented an apartment close to one club, so there was less of chance for you to be noticed walking back and forth.  

The kids who showed up to listen to you had come up to you after your shows and said you were as good as some guy who named himself after a rodent. Apparently the rodent was famous so you took it as a compliment.  These were the kids who practically worshiped you after all, so you showed a lot of gratitude towards them.  They kept you going, and you always gave back to them.  You kept an eye on the more troubled ones, helped them when the needed you most; and they remembered your kindness and kept coming back to your shows.

But the kids talked.  Your shows were getting more crowded as the weeks went on.  Your low profile was getting compromised and that’s when you decided you needed to hop from club to club.  To make things harder for the people looking for you, you never openly said which club you were playing at.  Tonight you would be at the one closest to your apartment.  Just because you were tired.  

When you walked in though, all of your tiredness faded and was replaced with the electric energy in the air.  Something was different.  The lights were brighter, the air around you was thick with excitement, and you could feel eyes on you as soon as you walked in.  Your world was changing before your eyes.  You had to adapt.  You took in a deep breath when you saw the owner was walking up to you.  

“Chad, good to see you.”  You greeted him with a smile, though you closed your body off from him and crossed your arms across your chest.  Your weight shifted to one leg.  

“Y/N, nice to see you too.  Thought you’d be at Titan tonight, what with your usual flip flop.  You don’t normally play the same place twice in one week.” He was surprised to see you, though he tried desperately to not seem put out at your sudden appearance.  

“It’s called flip flopping for a reason, Chad.  You know I’d prefer to play one place, but given recent events, it isn’t an option anymore.”  You responded, your grin never faltering, even though he managed to make your skin crawl. In the thousand years you’ve walked this earth only a handful of people had managed to make you feel this uneasy. Chad ushered you to the back, where you normally got ready for your shows.  Tonight he was touchier than he had been in the past.  He hand was placed at the small of your back as the two of you walked to the small room.  With the flick of your wrist though, his arms was thrown away from you with a loud crack. You turned to face him with mock horror. “What happened?”  You asked the man who was now doubled over in pain holding his arm.  When he looked up at you, you could see the faint glistening of tears in his eyes.

“I-I- I don’t kn-know.  I’m s-s-sorry.”  He managed to get the words out, though you could see it took a lot for him to do so.

“Maybe you should go get that check, make sure nothing’s broken.”  You tried to sound as sincere as possible. You knew you could do better, but he seemed to buy it.  Still holding his arm, Chad left you alone to prepare for your show.      

 Tech stood outside the small club with a scowl on his face.  His source told him that the creature would be here tonight, but they weren’t sure when.  He had better things to do than sit in a cruddy techno club all day and wait for someone who might not even show up.  “I’m so much better than this.”  He sighed, but walked in anyway.  He had to redeem himself.  He had to show Media and Mr. World he was better than what they thought of him.  He could admit he had a large ego, but that wasn’t his fault.  He was the god of what drove people today, his large ego was inevitable.  

He walked in and, if it was possible, the scowl on his face would have grown.  It looked like it had on the outside, run down and overused.  The few people inside looked as young as he did, some of them even younger.  There were a few older looking people behind the bar, but that was it.  It was still relatively early though, so there was a chance more people would show up.  “It probably looks better in the dark.”  He commented, heading to a secluded booth to wait.  

While Tech sat there, there had been a few people who came up to his booth and offered to buy him a drink.  He wasn’t interested now.  He was working.  Any other time though, he would have at least given them a thought.  But right now he was working and they were all distractions.

It was getting late and he wanted to leave.  Just as he was half way to the door though, the atmosphere changed around him. Slowly the lights switched so the room was darker and had a golden glow.  The people around him started to crowd towards the front of the room, but the sense in the air was almost calm.  Tech made his way back to his seat, he would be out of the crowd there, but he still had a perfect view of the make shift stage.  There was a bass that started to move the club; the lights soon pulsed along with the beat slowly shifting from the calming gold to various other colors as well.  Now he actually believed he was in a techno rave club.  The cruddiness from before, barely noticeable now, in the pulsing technicolor lights.  

 You appeared on stage just as the beat dropped.  Your audience though you had come up from the floor, but that was because they didn’t know better.  Your ears and tail were out, but that was your signature.  They all thought it was a costume.  As the lights pulsed your golden fur almost shimmered.  You let the music play on, occasionally adding slight changes to the mix.  You were just starting your show after all.  As you looked into your audience, a young man who had been sitting in the back, though he had picked a spot that was directly in front of your sight line, was smirking at you.  You immediately had the gut feeling he wasn’t a mortal, and he wasn’t here for the show. But he was a cute one so you decided to work your magic on him.  You locked eyes with him, not being able to help but returning his smirk with a devilish grin of your own.  It was then when you locked eyes you knew what he was here for.  Even the gods had a way with showing their emotions behind the eyes.  

Your music moved through them.  Touched their souls and they begged for more.  With every beat their hearts matched the rhythm you set and then they were yours.  You could feel their energy flowing though you.  Their love and adoration is what allowed you to perform so well.  With every flick of your tail, every twitch of your ears, new sights fell before them that made them want you more.  You dimmed the lights with the twist of your tail; the golden glow flooded the dance floor.  Then you faded into the next song, it was a slower number you picked out to really let your light show stand out.  With one of your hands raised, you flicked your wrist slightly and stars started to appear on the ceiling.  You made the club seem roofless with the way you showed the night sky.  All of the kids just thought it was fancy lighting and technical effects.  The stars started to dance with the beat now.  They grew brighter as the tempo increased, and faded as it slowed down. You decided now that you had their attention on the stars you would switch the song.  You had enough practice now to know how to seamlessly change songs, your timing was perfect every time.  The beat turned more seductive and your stars took the hint.  

You looked over to the man sitting down, his smirk grew even wider as he watched you perform.  But you had a few more tricks up your sleeve to really impress him.  Your hips started to sway with the music, and it was then that you started to conjure up some figures made from pure star light.  They took their shapes among the crowd and moved with the masses.  You looked back up to see the man was no longer smirking and his mouth was slightly open.  “Perfect.” You hummed.        

All light tricks and illusions in their conscious mind, but in the moment it was magical.  The lights formed pulsing figures, moving along with the crowd.      

The rest of your show went on like that.  Similar magic with the lights, but anything more would have seemed too suspicious.

After the show you disappeared to the back room.  You were wondering where the boy had gone, since he had left before the end of your show, but that question was answered when you found him sitting in front of the mirror across from the door.  “How, may I ask, is it that you have found me?”  You questioned the man who had yet to look at you.

“I have my sources.  And you aren’t so inconspicuous these days.”  He motioned to your ears and tail and then to the room that was chanting your name for an encore.

“We all have our forms of worship.”  You shrugged, finally walking in and shutting the door behind you.  He was fully looking at you know, you could feel him trying to figure you out.  “Let me guess.  Media has sent you.  She has been trying to get me for years, you know.  These last few months she has been more of a pain in my fucking ass.  But I continue to tell her that I am doing just fine on my own.  There are ways to adapt to the advancement of mankind.  You.  What is it you do?”  You stood before him with your hands on your hips, tail swishing as you spoke.  

“I-I am Technical Boy.  You know that new thing the Internet?  I do that.” He grew more confident with every syllable.  You couldn’t help but smile and quirk up an eyebrow.  

“You do the internet?  Tech. Do you mind if I call you tech?” You didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, even though you could see him open his mouth to protest.  “You are new.  You have yet to see what life is like being a god.  Though I suppose life for you will be much different, seeing as how you must evolve and adapt daily.  I have only had to do that every few hundred years or so.  But we have that in common, Tech.  We adapt.  We find ways to get their minds to love us.  We must stay relevant or we will be forgotten.  I do agree with Media on this idea.  But I do not need her.  I will not join her fight against the old ones, for they are my people.  Tech, do you see where I’m going with this?”  You finally stopped speaking to see he was completely and utterly focused on you.  When you went silent he shook his head to almost snap himself out of his trance.

“Media has told me to offer you, this.”  With the wave of his hand you were standing in a pixilated stadium, the faceless people chanted your name and it was like you were actually standing among thousands. You blinked and faced him, the illusion disappeared and you could see the shock on his face that you had managed to make the scene disappear.  

“I’m aware of Media has to offer.  What do you have to offer?”  You asked, sauntering over to him, seeing his face immediately flush red.  

“You’re joking right?  Who do you think I am?”  He was downplaying all the emotions you could see behind his eyes and managed to only look slightly flustered and aggravated.  You could see he wasn’t used to this type of interaction and it showed.  He was either the one doing all the talking or he was with his fellow new gods.  This was something else entirely.  

“I think you’re a very powerful man, in a very powerful position.”  You flashed him a flirtatious smile and wrapped your arms around his neck.  

“What do you want from me?”  He searched your eyes for anything, but after your years of practice the only thing you let show behind them was mischief.  

“One night.  That’s all I ask from you is one night.”  You made the proposition sound so easy, the words slipped right off your tongue. Your tail was now caressing the back of his leg as you stared into his bright blue eyes.  You could feel his hesitance; it consumed him as the wheels in his head turned to sort through his options.  “I can see your power, Tech.  I can feel you’re under appreciated.  I’ll appreciate you.  Everything you do; and everything you say.  You have influence over their minds.  You have control over their lives.  I can see that.  But they, your fellow new gods, can’t.  Can they?” You asked, and while you were talking you managed to get him seated in the chair behind him and you were straddling him now.  “One night, Tech.  That’s all I ask.  Then I can help you.  I can help you show them what you’re made of.  And as I result, I suppose I’ll help your fellow gods so they can see that you are worthy of being their equal.”  You gave him a lopsided smile.  

He was looking at you and you weren’t sure what he was going to say.  But, he made no move to get you off of him so you saw that as a good sign.  “You better not be fucking with me.”  Was all he managed to say before you brought your lips down on his.  

And for a moment, as you tried to deepen the kiss, he was unresponsive. You pulled away, puzzled.  “You can have your one night.”  He finally agreed, and you held out you hand to seal the deal.  He was hesitant at first, but took you hand in his and shook.  Then he was the one who pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours.  

Tech was gentle at first, which surprised you since the energy he put off when you had first seen him was that of an arrogant man.  The arrogance, from your experience, did not make for gentle lovers.  After a few minutes, you decided you wanted more.  You wanted to see the man you made a deal with.  So you pulled away, and slipped out of your shirt, tossing it to the floor beside you.  You waited for that energy again, peering into his eyes and challenging him.  

He was staring right back, and you could see he searching for something in you as well.  What he was looking for, you had no clue.  His hands did, however, find your chest even while staring into your golden eyes.  You ground your hips down on him, you broke eye contact and instead kissed his neck.  “How did you make the stars?”  He asked, his head fell back.  

“Magic.”  You moved up and whispered in his ear.  

Tech moved his head up now.  You looked up to see him searching the room for something more comfortable than the chair the two of you were sitting on.  “My place is just down the street.”  You offered. He nodded his head and the two of you were on the front step to your apartment building in an instant.  He was surprised you managed to do that, since it was something he hadn’t seen from anyone like you before.  Not that he could say he had met anyone like you before. “This way.”  You grabbed his hand and led him inside the building.

The rest of the trip to your apartment and into your bedroom was a blur and the next thing you knew he was pushing you down on to your bed.  The pair of you had managed to strip down to nothing from the time it took you to walk in and get to the bed.  You quirked an eyebrow up and his and took your bottom lip between your teeth.   His hand made its way between your thigh, the whole time he was watching you.  At first he was unsure but it wasn’t long before his smirk matched your own.  Tech was growing more comfortable in your presence.  He watched you closely as he flicked your pearl of nerves.  He ran his finger through your folds and your back arched on the mattress.  

He slipped one digit inside you, and almost immediately after he was plunging a second one into you.  The gentleness from before was gone now.  He was cocky and aggressive.  Tech didn’t wait before he was satisfied you were ready for him.  He pulled out his fingers rather abruptly, looked to you for an okay, and when you nodded he thrust his member into you with some force. Your claws out now, dug into his back. He winced slightly, but you digging into his back only caused him to move faster.            

Tech gripped your hips and pulled you closer to him.  The two of you occasionally letting out moans of ecstasy as he moved himself deeper into you.  One of his hands moved from your hip and he started to rub the pearl of nerves between your legs, still keeping his pace.  You started to feel the pressure build up inside you.  Tech felt your body start to shake beneath him and slowed down. His fingers expertly worked your core as his member filled you up with every agonizingly slow thrust.  “Tech, fucking move.”  You growled, pushing your hips down on him.  He obliged with a grunt, though you could see he wanted to make this last longer.  

It wasn’t long before he had you quivering beneath him again.  You felt the pressure building once more.  Then you were seeing stars.  Your body tightening around him, the crashing wave of bliss making you lose control.  There were stars around the two of you now.  Tech looked around you with awe, and when you were coming down from your release he pulled out of you.  Still hazy, you managed to grip his member and work him with your hands.  Then you sat up and took him in your mouth, it was long before he was tensing up from your touch and you could feel him wanting to let go.  “Go ahead, baby.”  You had taken him out of your mouth and urged him to let go.  He did with a grunt and you could feel his hot seed on your chest.

You moved him so the two of you were lying on your backs and your head was rested on him.  “We should-“ You started but he stopped you.  

“I would like to see you again.”  You could hear the insecurity in his voice.  “If that would be okay.”  He added.

“We should.  I would love that.”  You agreed, looking up at him and seeing his face was flushed red.  “We certainly have all the time in the world.”  You smiled.  He looked down at you when you said that.  Not realizing, for a moment that you two did have a lot of time ahead of you. He had just assumed you would want the one night and then you would be done with him.  That you would be off with Media and Mr. World, and he would be back to where he started.  But now he was sure you were good on your word and you would help him.  

He saw a future with you by his side.  The two of you could be powerful together.  But he also felt content at the idea of you helping him and then leaving. You were a once in a lifetime experience.  He knew he would never meet another being like you but the thought of losing you didn’t bother him.  He just knew somehow that that’s how you were.  So he would take every day he had with you and cherish it.  Praying for another moment with you, and hoping it would be just as magical.  

“You aren’t going to be rid of me just yet, Tech.  So you can save those thoughts for distant future.”  You snickered up at him.  He looked down at you with shock.  You were in his head, and he didn’t care.  He was a completely different person with you.  Which could be a good thing, right?          

[nellycanwrite]

A Limousine Ride

Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x Filipino!Reader

Summary: After a long day at a concert, Elvis offers you and your son to ride with him back to his hotel.

Words: 1375

Rating: PG (13+)

TW: Mild Angst.

This is Part 2 of the Austin!Elvis x Filipino!Reader blurb. Part 1

It has been a long day.

You had gone through your day left and right in high heels and a tight—almost suffocating—suit whilst you dealt with all the backstage affairs of Elvis’s concert; stray wardrobes here, broken technical there, missing choreographers, back-up dancers, and all other things that Elvis needed for a successful performance was dealt by with you. You were his personal assistant, his secretary, and quite frankly, the whole crew knew you as someone who came to be Elvis’ ticket to a seamless success. 

Boy, did that make the Colonel fume. He never liked you in that regard; a colored immigrant Elvis picked up from an island of the Southeast suddenly becoming his closest assistant? Why, he’d never even thought of such things before Elvis decided to introduce you as his closest aide. However, your skills in management were unmatched. Of course, being the daughter of a resort owner in the orient south did give you the perks of a business mind. That’s how Elvis met you in the first place. You were a valuable asset in the team, and God forbid you would suddenly resign and the whole foundation of Elvis’ shows would collapse. 

It might seem that you were an unbeatable woman; stoic, poised, and—despite being of Filipino descent—you were respected as Elvis’ most competent assistant. There were raised brows of your…origins, but they were all shut down after a few conversations with you. It was hard to keep up with the demands, especially when you had a three year old boy prancing around at your feet and cheering as loudly as he could for the man who shook the world on stage. He had an incredible likeness to the King of Rock ‘n Roll, and you knew exactly why.

Elvis’s secret son, Enrique Dallas. The result of your passionate love one night in California. Elvis loved you—loves you—in every way, shape and form. Even when he had married Priscilla, even when Lisa Marie was born, he still loved you. And you loved him.

But you remained his secretary. You remained a colleague, an assistant. You had no right to even look at an American the way you did Elvis, let alone even dare think of starting a life with him in the peak of stardom. You dared not share the limelight for your son’s safety, even if it meant he did not know his father. Even if it meant that he would call his daddy Uncle Elvis.

By the end of the show, with your body tired from keeping up with the demands of his staff, the raging fangirls that would hound their way up the stage, and your son’s boundless energy, you resigned yourself near the exit where Elvis was due to come out. Enrique—or Ricky, some preferred—was by your side, equally as spent as you.

That short rest wasn’t gonna last with your busy life as a secretary.

When you heard the raging crowd go into a decrescendo, and the flashing lights drawing closer, you stood up straight and hoisted the tired three year old up your waist and waited for your boss to appear. And lo and behold, not just a few minutes after, Elvis comes out with his brows covered in sweat and his costume still fixed onto his body. You managed to expertly weave through the plethora of people surrounding him and walked side-by-side. Albeit rushed given the circumstance, but you were used to this pace.

“Towel, sir?” You handed him a towel with your one free hand. Elvis said nothing and plucked the cloth from your hands whilst you made your way towards his 1969 Mercedes-Benz limousine. 

You kept your poise and patted Ricky’s back as he dozed off. He always had a knack for sleeping through the chaos. “We have to go back to the hotel and prepare for your next flight tomorrow. Priscilla and Lisa Marie will follow just behind. You still have to meet with the Colonel after this, so expect him in your room right after,”

You noticed the subtle shift of Elvis' jaw as you said that, so you added, “...I’ll make sure to let him in two hours after we arrive. That’s the best I can give you.”

He gave you a miniscule smile as thanks. It shot butterflies on the pit of your stomach, but you swallowed them down and continued forth without a stumble.

Elvis went in the limousine first and waved to his adoring fans and media. You vaguely heard the distinct words of ‘godchild’ and ‘secretary’ amongst the crowd. You were undeterred by the comments, but you made sure to hold Ricky closer to you and hold his head down whilst he rested in your arms.

“I’ll see you in the hotel, sir. I’ll ride with your wife and attend to you as soon as I can.”

Before you could walk away and disappear into the crowd of media, Elvis took hold of your arm. It was firm, reassuring. It held a gentleness to it that would have sent a wave of affection through your chest, but in the middle of all these people, it only served to terrify you. When you turned to look at him—to give him the sternest look that you could muster—you found yourself stopping when he looked at you. No, he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at your child.

His child.

“...Go ride with me. The lil man looks like he needs the rest.”

You looked around, unsure. The cameras were all flashing and that just heightened your fear. “I don’t think that would be necessary, sir. We’ll follow you right after, so we’ll be right in the hotel in no time.”

“I insist,” he urges. He sat up straight and stared at you right in the eyes, “I don’t want my godson spendin’ another minute outside while he’s out cold. Besides, we can talk about work on the way.”

With not much of a choice, and your weariness of the cameras that pointed at your face, you sighed and hopped in the limousine right after Elvis, Ricky now passed out in your arms in a pleasant slumber. The car revved its engine and slowly weaved through the crowd of fans as they swarmed the vehicle. They tried to get a glimpse of the man beside you, yet they couldn’t see even a speck of his charm through the tinted windows.

With all facades down, and the energy winding down to the pits of exhaustion, Elvis finally released the tension from his shoulders with a long sigh. You looked at him a second longer than intended, your face flushing and your mind running with pleasant memories before Elvis’ rise to fame. But you pushed them down and let Ricky get comfortable on your lap. The man beside you gave you a sideways glance before plucking Ricky out of your arms and making him rest in his own lap instead. You stared at him, jaw albeit slacked, but you weren’t surprised.

“I’ll let the lil man sleep on me. You catch up on some rest.”

"...this isn't really necessary, sir," You say while you gaze at Ricky's sleeping form. He was curled up into a ball in Elvis' lap, his face in a peaceful slumber. You weren’t surprised that he'd become tired after the show; he was trying to imitate his daddy's—uncle's—moves while he let the music overtake him. You didn't have the heart to stop your son from dancing so merrily backstage, "I can take care of him just fine."

"Relax, lil momma. No one's gonna see us," Elvis tucks a stray strand of hair from Ricky's closed eyes. He shifts his gaze towards the tinted windows; your only means of privacy, "just let me coddle my son for once."

"It's Y/N, sir," you sit straight and sigh, "and Ricky's your godson."

"I know that, I really do. But just...I just wanna treat him how I shoulda treated him. He's still my lil man, after all."

For once, you agreed. 

And for once in your life, as you scooted closer to Ricky and caressed his little cheek, and as you surrendered yourself to the look of pure adoration on Elvis’ face, you pretended you were family.

[dragon430]

~Technical Artistry~ Prologue: To Be A Goddess

Summary: After an early afternoon filled with errands and burning stares, you decide to take a little break, only for your brief relaxation to be rudely interrupted by some unwanted guests.

Warning(s): Swearing Word Count: 5,317

Authors Note: This story is intended to be inclusive of all readers, regardless of their race and physical features, but please let me know if you find any mistakes as I am not perfect and sometimes don't realize I write them.

Being a Goddess is not all sunshine and rainbows. Most would think that having the role of a deity means you get adored by all, people willingly falling at your feet to kiss the ground you walk on. And you can thank movies and tv shows for planting that untrue belief in people's minds. ‘Cause newsflash, that is not how it is nor how it ever has been.

Sure, when you first came into being, you were praised and loved by your people. The great Artisa, the Goddess Of The Arts and mother of creation. But you only got to feel that love for a short amount of time. First, it was because humans didn't want to correlate you with their success in art, preferring to only thank themselves even after having asked for your help. 

And while that was disheartening, you were still able to get by with the number of people who dedicated their lives to the arts. Those who may not have worshiped you but who lived for everything that you are. And at the time, that was enough. But all too soon, you felt the dwindling of imagination.

The damage of people not believing in you was immense and tragic, but you didn't think it would have gotten any worse. Sadly, you were wrong. Humans started turning on each other, all with their own beliefs and views that they tried to force down the throats of others. And, as the strong trampled over the weak, differing artistic thoughts were more likely to be discouraged than praised. Slowly dimming any worship you were getting until you nearly flickered out of existence, like a candle's flame being snuffed out by the ferocious wind.

Fortunately, you were able to hang on but only by the skin of your teeth. You stuck around and whispered in the ears of the privileged how a portrait or statue of them would make everyone jealous. Encouraged the less fortunate to channel their talents into something that they could support themselves on. Willed the unique to proudly present their differences to the whole world. Because while some may sneer and turn away, mocking those who don't follow the same path. There would be others who were charmed and fascinated by something new and exciting that they wish they had the skill or freedom to do themselves.

Truth be told, you wish that your meddling was always well received, but in the olden times, it very rarely was. Those with different views were subjugated and looked down upon by the humans who were too full of themselves to even think that the world didn't revolve around them. But despite the hardships that those special few had to go through, you did it all in the name of the arts. And for the progression of man and womankind, you would do it again. After all, the beauty of one's creativity isn't meant to be locked away.

As the years progressed, so too did people's thoughts towards expressing themselves through acts of creation like drawing, music, plays, and so much more. And thankfully, your meddling worked because as time moved on, the shackles of censorship slowly rusted, the years passing chipping away at the chains until they crumbled.

The people were able to finally do as they wished with their creativity, given their freedom to create whatever they could dream of. And while you were happy with the outcome, the slow growth of interest in the arts had you a bit worried. Yes, people were given the right to express themselves as they wished, but it was a slow-going process for humans to step out of their repressed comfort zones. And since no one was worshiping you by name and instead what you stood for, you needed that much more to stay clinging to life. 

For a while, you were able to live a bit comfortably. Granted, far away from humans lest you get murdered and not have enough worship to be resurrected. And while it was still a bit of a struggle at times, you were able to make it by with the minuscule amount of worship.

Then the twentieth century came along.

In the beginning, you would have never thought that you would be thankful for the progression of technology. But soon, you found that people could share their creative passions in a way they never could before. And because of how easy it became to create things, many more people were doing it. So, while people still might not believe in you, the pure amount of artistry out there gave you more than enough worship to make up for it.

And as technology grew and went through numerous upgrades, it made art that much easier to share and create with it. Giving you the power and security to live amongst the humans you longed to interact with. As, in your long years of life, you always wanted to be able to do more for those who worshiped you. But your fear of getting killed and not being able to come back always won over your yearning to connect with the humans who had unknowingly supported you.

But upon getting upgraded with the use of technology, your dreams finally became a reality. Though, as nothing ever comes easy, the new development also brought forth a lot of new problematic dilemmas. Your ability to upgrade being the main focal point of the troubles.

You see, you are an Old God, but one, unlike most others. It isn't rare for humans to create a new story for an old god or move to a different country with their beliefs in tow. And when that happens, a new version of that god is created. But that was never the case for you. 

Everyone in the world has creativity and the ability to master some type of expression through art. So, when you came into existence, you were the soul goddess who governed over the arts. Because, unlike any other god or goddess, what you ruled over stemmed from humans everywhere. And you were "born" from artistry all over the world versus the typical deity only being believed from one culture and carried to other places with them.

Then, with the never-ending changes the world went through, you evolved over time. You started to become integrated with the technology and media that came into existence, as most of it was only made possible through the arts. And in turn, the arts were only able to prosper because of them.

It wasn't long after that when you found a strange kinship with the new deities. An odd understanding grew between each of you where you knew the importance you all held for each other. Because of that, you were able to connect with one another in a weird way that kept you all linked together. And despite not interacting with them as much as you would with the old gods, you still thought of them as your kin.

And somewhere along the way, without notice, you no longer considered yourself an old god in anything other than age. But at the same time, you never fully fit into the category of New God either, as the arts were essentially the building block that brought many of them into existence. Because of this self-revelation, you are placed in the neutral zone between the old gods and the new. Though with the whisperings of war you've been hearing, you feel the decision to pick a side will be forced on you sooner rather than later.

You sigh at your last intruding thought, clearing the wisps of it that linger to distract you by standing to throw away your empty disposable cup. The little bell above the café door chimes, signaling the end of your reprieve for the day as you make your way into the cool outside air. Breathing deeply, the rush of wind fills your lungs, and goosebumps rise along your arms from the chill leeching away the warmth of your skin, waking you from your relaxed haze to get a start on the day, well…afternoon..

Sticking your hand in your leather jacket pocket, you pull out your to-do list. Your eyes glance across the page, taking stock of what tasks are close together or can be combined into one to be accomplished in the least amount of time possible. Once you have a general plan, you redirect your eyes to the top of the page before sticking it back in your pocket. And with your next task in mind, you stroll down the sidewalk.

Letting your feet guide you to your destination, you close your eyes, focusing on the noises in the area. You listen to the muffled chatter of people shuffling their way around, to the laughter and crying of children, and the speeding of cars down the road. And if you really strain your ears, you can make out the softest singing of birds among all the commotion of the humans.

Smiling, you idle at the crosswalk and wait for traffic to stop. Once the coast is clear, you go to take a step away from the safety of the curb. But even before your foot can hit the pavement, you pause, your grin dropping from your face just as quickly as it had appeared.

You look around to find where the sudden feeling of being watched is coming from. The intense burning of someone's eyes on you causes goosebumps to once again flush across every piece of skin, little hairs standing at attention as if ready for battle. You're probably just overthinking it, your earlier thoughts of war putting you on edge.

Normally, feeling someone's stare wouldn't cause this reaction. After all, it could just be someone checking you out as they walk down the street, eyes lingering a little longer than they should. But there's this odd sense of...not hostility per se. It's more like aggressive impatience as if someone is waiting to approach you but is being held back by something. And while you try to convince yourself that the gaze is completely harmless, it still frays at your nerves, pulling on them like how a child tugs on a loose thread.

Your eyes dance along the street, keeping in rhythm with the erratic staccato of your heart drumming against your ribcage as you try to spot your alleged stalker. From dark and damp alleyways to well-lit building entrances, behind trash cans, and even around telephone poles, as ineffective as that hiding spot would be. Your gaze skips about, trying to find the person who's still pinning you under their intense stare, only to find nothing.

You thought you would feel better if you didn't find anything, but your jumbled nerves war against your assumptions. If anything, not knowing where this person is, has a chilling anxiousness flooding your system, freezing your muscles to keep you immobile. Your eyes rescan their path once and then twice before you will your legs to move, to get some distance from this spot before you panic.

After all, who knows, maybe it's just some weird coincidence, and when you leave, the feeling will vanish. Or, if it follows you, you'll at least have enough time to make it somewhere safe to think about how to get out of the situation.

Sealing your fate with a calming breath, you resume your trek to the other side of the street to continue your tasks. You attempt to ignore the sensation as it seemingly follows your every move. Unease chills you to the bone, warring with the burning feeling of the stranger's eyes and threatening to send you into flight mode. But as your shop comes into view, you sigh a breath of relief, quickening your pace as the feeling alleviates the closer you get to it. And upon entering your photography and art store, lovingly called 'Sketches and Shots', a sense of safety washes over you, protecting you from the stare like a blanket does from a chill.

You take a quick glance outside from the shop's window, slightly ducked to the side to remain unseen by anyone that may be watching. With no shady figures staring menacingly at where you entered the store, you allow yourself to relax for the time being. Nerves mend their frayed ends back together as your heart reigns in its pounding beat to a mellow thrum. After all, it would be stupid for someone to try anything in a store with people milling about. So, at least while you're inside, you're perfectly safe, basking in the cozy and comforting aura your shop provides. 

No longer needing to be vigilant, you find your attention wandering to the walls. Painted canvases are strung up by fairy lights, the soft glimmer reflecting off the paints and leaving an enchanting glow that brings the art to life. As if you could reach out and be sucked into the image portrayed there, ripped from a reality so cold and dull to live in one of vibrant joy.

The next aisle houses pictures that even the best of the best wish they could capture. Striking portraits illuminated by golden light that makes one's features purely angelic, bringing forth not only the perfection but the divine flaws that make the subject so beautifully unique and human. Scenes at the circus, trapeze artists somersaulting through the air as their outfits sparkle from the flames of the fire-breather below, all eyes transfixed on the stunts, stuck in the same trance the exotic snake dancer holds her reptiles in. Even dark and haunted forests are transformed into something that can be described as nothing less than ethereal by the slightest sliver of glittering moonlight that fireflies dance through, waltzing to the sounds of the wind rustling through branches, the swaying releasing leaves that the trees shed from their applause.

Customers peruse the aisles just as awestruck as you. No matter the amount of art you've witnessed, to see it so lovingly created, used not only to capture a person or a setting but to portray the pure emotions of its creator, is something that will always leave you in astonishment. For art is an extension of those who use it, supplying them with the dreams they wish to achieve, places they hope to run away to, memories that they desire to last forever, and so much more.

And to be willing to share that talent with others, despite the contrast in interests that most humans have, is something utterly spectacular. Artists can be constantly pushed to the edge with hurtful comments from people who live to prey on others' insecurities through what they love. But creators will clutch onto the edge of that cliff with all their might, empowered by the kind words of those who appreciate their hard work. Truthfully it reminds you of your existence as a goddess, teetering on a scale of negatives and positives that can tear your life apart when the bad outweighs the good.

But that's why you created Sketches And Shots. It was made to be a shop that would take in art from struggling artists crumbling under the boulders of self-doubt from poisonous, and frankly uncalled for, criticism. Where others, who enjoy the art, would help lift that heavy burden from crushing the beginnings of a great talent. And you really have found the best art enthusiasts out there, free of judgment and filled with intrigue about any new piece that makes an appearance.

Smiling, you wave at people you know as regulars, the ones who show so much support that it actually makes it hard to keep your shelves stocked. A wonderful little paradox that causes Louis a bit of stress when he has to rush to supply the store with paintings or pictures when pieces from other artists aren't in yet. But no matter how much he'll complain about it, it's nearly impossible for him to keep a smile off his face at the revelation of how wonderful the situation really is. Though speaking of the grumpy ravenette, you should track him down to see what he needs from the store instead of wasting time in your thoughts.

It doesn't take long for you to find your prey in the Painter's Room—his usual hideaway. You watch him for a moment, intrigued with what he's creating with his delicate strokes, his movements just as beautiful as they are well-articulated. Every painting he does is more reminiscent of a photograph with how accurately he captures his model.

And while it may take him a few days to finish a piece, the wait is well worth it. Even watching the actual process of its creation is enough to leave you in awe of his work. From every stroke of the brush, a smear of color, the scratch of charcoal, it's all enough to keep your gaze locked on his form, so focused he didn't even hear you enter the room. Seeing him so calm in his craft, so absorbed as he channels every flicker of emotion into the painting, almost persuades you to leave him in peace. 

And you would have if not for the devious idea that forms in your mind. Smirking, you sneak up behind him, careful to creep around paint buckets and crumbled pieces of paper to be as silent as possible. When you're within a breath's distance away from the man, him still being too caught up in his work to notice, you launch your hands on his shoulders. With a yelp that reminds you of a scared kitten, he jolts into a standing position and whips around to face you. With a shaky hand, he brandishes his paintbrush like a mighty sword.

Only for you to smile once seeing his choice of weapon. "Oh no. I'm so scared, Lu."

His shoulders sag with a sigh, paintbrush still being pointed threateningly at you, "You should be. I could ruin your favorite jacket, you ass."

A laugh bubbles past your lips as you ignore his comment and crouch down to look at his painting. "Sorry, but you know I can't help it. I was just stopping by to see if I needed to get anything for a restock."

He straightens, paintbrush loosening in his hold to dangle precariously from his fingers as he walks to a bulletin board hung on the wall. Your eyes follow him as he unpins three sticky notes and rejoins you to hand them over.

Standing from your bent posture, you take the notes and read over the scribbled words.

"There's more on the back," Louis says while sitting on the stool in front of his work again, rolling his shoulders back before pressing fine bristles to the canvas.

"I will never understand why you can't just find bigger pieces of paper to write your lists on, but whatever. I'll go get this stuff and lug it back." You go to walk out of the Painter's Room but stop at the threshold. Turning back towards him, you shoot a smirk over your shoulder, "Also, just for future reference, I'm better looking from the right side." You point at his easel, featuring an unfinished painting of you in its early stages of color.

Your comment is met with a flash of an exasperated glare before he turns back to his canvas, no doubt grumbling curses under his breath. You ignore his colorful words in favor of throwing a wave over your shoulder at him, shutting the door behind you. Your eyes quickly glance over the papers to try to get an estimate of how much you're going to be spending as you walk out the shop door to collect the stuff listed.

Strolling down the sidewalk, you make your way to the closest art supplies store. But the feeling of being watched returns soon after you are a few steps away from the shop, making you curse yourself for forgetting about it in your attempt to relax. The stare burns hotter than before as if admonishing you from leaving your safe space, and you're almost tempted to rush back to it. Almost.

As your arms are blanketed in goosebumps, you try to scan the area discreetly by lifting the sticky notes to your face to peek over the edges. Only to sigh in frustration upon, once again, finding nothing of your apparent stalker. 

You're ready to accept the fact that this might be a permanent occurrence for today. And as much as the seemingly endless gaze unnerves you, you try to calm yourself down. After all, if they're staring from a distance, no harm will be done as long as you stick around the busy streets...hopefully.

So, deciding to ignore the feeling for your sanity's sake, you look down to fully read the papers instead of just skimming over them. Though upon looking over the lists of what to get, you groan, the sound rumbling through your throat as you throw your head back.

This is going to take a while.

After two hours of shopping, you finally return to Sketches and Shots with an armful of bags. Stepping to the entrance, you precariously balance on one foot to gently knock on the door with the other. You learned your lesson earlier that trying to put all the bags down isn't the best decision when half of them slid out of your arms and scattered across the street while still at the supplies store. So instead, you wait outside the glass, hoping for someone to open the door to save you from said embarrassment happening again.

Thankfully after another patient tap to the glass, Dave, one of your regulars, comes to your rescue and holds the door open for you, "Hey, there. Do you need any help with those bags?"

"No, I'm fine. I just couldn't get the door. Thanks, though."

"Of course! I can't let a pretty lady struggle after all." The man gives you a bright smile that you can just see from a space between your mountain of bags.

You return his grin with one of gratitude, hoping that he can at least hear it in your voice since he might not be able to see it. "And that's why Beth loves you. Tell her I said hi, will you?"

"Sure! She's actually planning on stopping by next Friday for the painting lessons." At the sound of his wife's name, you don't have to see his face to know that he's beaming at even the mere mention of her.

Honestly, he worships her more than most people worshiped gods and goddesses in the old times. And it's really cute. Not only to see those two in love but to know that your shop had a hand in the start of their love story and is still a constant part of their lives. Something that fills you with pride that what you reign over can bring two souls together in such a pure and loving way.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you mentally return to the conversation. "Oh, nice! I'll be sure to hop in and see her then. After all, I still have to go over all your guy's anniversary pictures with her to see if she wants anything edited."

Dave makes a playful sound of dismissal with what you guess is a wave of his hand as the slight breeze caused by the movement hits your arm. "I wouldn't even worry about that. After the wedding pictures, she trusts you with any decisions you make. I'm pretty sure you could send her a blurry picture, and she'd still love it." 

You can't help the laugh that slips past your lips at his truthful comment. "Well, you're not wrong. That woman just loves to have everything cataloged, no matter the quality. As long as the photos showed how happy everyone was, she would buy them."

"Exactly my point. Now I should probably let you get that stuff put away. I'll see you on Friday if she doesn't send me in sooner."

"Alright, I'll see you later, Dave."

With a wave goodbye, he vanishes into the landscape photos, most likely picking something out to decorate his and Beth's new home.

Resuming your trek, you stride over to the Painter's Room. Peeking through the door’s stained glass window, you see Louis teaching today's class. As silently as you can, your elbow pushes the handle down to open the door, and you quickly move to the back corner, placing down all your bags. Not wanting to interrupt the lesson or distract the students with the rustling of plastic as you try to put things away, you leave the bags against the wall. Once again, you quietly venture across the room. This time, placing a gentle pat on Louis' shoulder on your way out to signal your delivery.

And with one more exit from Sketches and Shots, you're on to your next task. It doesn't take long to make it to the music shop you own about a block away. You'll be there just long enough to check how things are going before continuing with your to-do list. Maybe with a tiny break mixed in to soothe your aching arms from lugging all those bags around.

The vinyl record sign comes into sight first. A child excitedly walking out of the shop with a new mini guitar coming second and causing a smile to spread across your face. You step past the boy chattering happily to his parents and make your way inside, beaming at the people looking around or playing instruments.

Strolling over to the speaker section of the store, you enter the command passcode before changing the current pop music to an AC/DC mix. Some of the musicians fall silent at the change, glancing up to the radios embedded in the walls before starting to play again, mimicking the song flowing through the speakers. 

"HEY! HOW DID YOU—Oh Melody, I didn't see you come in. I thought some punk hacked into the system again."

You can't help but snicker at Jake's outburst, "Don't worry, it's just little old me. How have things been today?"

Squaring his shoulders and puffing his chest out, Jake points to himself in confidence. "Well, I sold two guitars, three basses, one drumset, and multiple CDs and vinyl records!"

Quirking an eyebrow at him and smirking playfully, you tease, "And how much has your arch-rival sold?"

"Uh—" His confidence deflates, arms crossing against his chest as a pout surfaces on his face, "I don't want to talk about it."

Laughing, you walk past him, leaving a comforting pat on his shoulder on your way to the front counter. Upon reaching it, you lean forward, laying your crossed arms on the surface. Seeing Anne, aka Jake's arch-rival, reorganizing the shelf, you smile and call out, "Hey, beautiful, how's work been treating you?"

Jumping at the sudden voice, Anne whips around with a pissed-off look before her eyes land on you. Instantly she lets out a relieved sigh, her steely gaze softening as it holds your own, "I am so happy it's you, Mel. I am sick of people flirting with me today."

"Who says I'm not flirting with you, huh?" Your smile turns into another devilish smirk, brow quirked up at your question.

Matching your grin, she braces her hands in front of yours, whispering so just you and Jake can hear, "Well, your advances are completely welcome." She finishes her sentence with a flirty wink directed at you.

There's a moment of silence, your eyes locked on each other's while a familiar pair burns into the back of your head. You try to hold onto the flirtatious look, but the moment your gaze catches the wobble of her lips, you fail to keep it together, and you both burst into laughter.

"Ugh, I think I'd prefer it if you didn't hit on my girlfriend, thank you very much," Jake grumbles and walks out from behind you to stand next to Anne.

You straighten up and place your hands on your hips, a few more chuckles slipping past your lips at his remark. "Calm down. We're just playing around." Your words are followed by an air kiss blown to Anne and a mischievous smirk directed at Jake.

With a groan and an exaggerated eye roll, Jake throws his hands in the air, "You are impossible!"

Keeping your smirk, you leap over the counter between the two, an arm laced around each of their shoulders. "Well, I'm just here to check up on you guys and make sure nothing bad has happened."

"No, it's been a pretty quiet day," Anne comments with a relaxed smile, leaning into your hold to most likely take some of the weight off her feet.

Jake nods, copying his girlfriend's action of leaning into your side as he cups his chin in thought. "Yeah, the worst we've had was some kids putting a bunch of stuff in the wrong places, and as I said before, someone kept switching the shop's music."

"Well, that's good. Do you guys want anything for lunch? I'm going to our favorite BBQ place right down the road in a bit," you ask while moving out of the way for Jake to ring up a customer.

A look of thought passes over Anne's face, and you take the time to crouch below the counter. Unlocking the safe there, you take out the money drops for the day and put them in a bank bag, securing them in your jacket’s zip-up pocket to deposit at the bank before coming back with lunch.

Once the safe is locked again and you return to your previous standing position, Anne answers your question. "Well, I want that pulled pork sandwich from last time, and I think Jake brought up wanting to try that new brisket grinder."

"Nice, I'll bring those for you guys in about an hour." You walk around the counter, making your way towards the entrance with a wave to the two.

"Thanks, boss-woman," Jake calls out as the door closes behind you.

Throwing a thumbs up over your shoulder for him to see through the glass, you make your way to your next and most tranquil location. After a short walk, which you're grateful for or else you probably wouldn't have time to go, you're greeted by the serene atmosphere of your favorite park.

Sitting on your usual bench, you gaze out at the people around you. The giggles of playing children, the softhearted scolding of parents, and the teasing of couples fill your ears. A smile graces your face at the serenity, no shoving down a crowded sidewalk, no honking of people with road rage, and most importantly, no burning stare able to penetrate the peaceful atmosphere.

Closing your eyes, you take in a deep breath, floral scent tickling your nose as the smell of wildflowers mixes on the gentle breeze. You can feel the warm sun rays upon your skin, chasing away the slight chills of the afternoon wind that tried to seep through the layer of warmth your body provides. Here you're able to relax, to just admire your surroundings with no responsibility lingering over your head. The perfect spot to take a break and just forget about everything, if only for a short amount of time.

Two people rest on either side of you, and while this normally wouldn't bother you, their presence causes your stomach to sink without you even having to look to see who they are.

"Hello, darling~" You hear the unmistakable voice of David Bowe to your right.

Sighing in frustration, you realize the exact reason slight unease made itself known to you as they sat down. Tilting your head on the back of the bench, you can't help but let out a quiet, "Fuuuuck."

Technical Artistry Masterlist

Next Chapter- Chapter 1: The Offer

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[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 903

Gif NOT mine. (Found on Pinterest.)

If this gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me know, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2021

----

"Excuse the fuck outta me, but how do you know about that!?" (Y/n) asked Tech, who had just mentioned something she loved, but never talked about. "Uh you mentioned it before?" He tried. "I sure as shit did not mention it ever, that's a secret I indulge in strictly on my phone." She thought to herself for a moment while the young God attempted to back out of the room subtly. "You little shit, you've been tracking my activity on my phone haven't you!?" (Y/n) accused, the look of being caught red handed washing over Techs face. "What else have you been doing on my phone?" (Y/n) hissed at him, suddenly wondering if the feeling of being watched lately was because of him. "W-well I um." He stammered over his words, confirming her suspicion. "You mother fucker!" (Y/n) yelled before straight throwing her phone at him as hard as she could. Tech was quick to doge it however, resulting in the delicate piece of technology to smash when it slammed into the wall. "Asshole!" (Y/n) hissed before storming out of the room, leaving Tech standing there feeling guilty.

[sugar-petals]

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house. 

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like. 

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine. 

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship. 

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like. 

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that. 

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same. 

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket. 

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching. 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[imaginethatneathuh]

The Chariot: Technical Boy - American Gods

Technical Boy x partner!reader, romantic

Technical Boy loves you and needs to hear your voice. You think you've lost him when he doesn't come home for months.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop.

TW/CW: Perceived death, fear, loss.

Word count: 1.7+ K

•

The young god sat on the steps of Xie Comm. His phone turnt on, displaying your number in his contact list. He hovered over the call button.

It had been a week since you had talked to each other. He’d been ignoring you and when you brought it up, he snapped. He'll admit, he shouldn't have, but World had been pressuring him and the war was just fucking everything up. Before Wednesday decided on war, the tech god already had a strained relationship with World. After, it only got worse and that did nothing to help your relationship.

Technical Boy pressed the call button and held the phone to his ear. He needed to hear your voice, even if you were still rightly upset.

It rang. Once, twice, thrice. You didn't pick up.

At home, you were playing music on the telly and cooking. The phone rang in the living room, but you didn't hear it.

"If it isn't important, go away. If you're T or an employer, leave a voicemail."

He chuckled.

It wasn't you, just a recording, but it was enough to give him a little morale boost.

"Y/N, hey. It's me, um, T. I wanted to say I'm sorry for snapping at you and ignoring you. It was a dick move. I love you, baby. A lot. I, uh, I need you to know that. If I'm still around by the end of this, I'm gonna come home to you. I'll bring you your favourites and we can do whatever you want. If I'm not there by 9, tonight, I'm sorry. I love you. *chuckles* I haven't said that enough but I really do. You're my heart. You keep me sane and I love you for that. I'm confident I'll see you tonight and when I do, I'll apologize properly."

He hung up, breathing heavily.

He would see you tonight. He would apologize. He would tell you to your face how much he loved you.

Putting his phone away, Technical Boy looked at the infinity symbol-shaped behind him and sighed.

He would come back to you.

•

Panting heavily, the god took a moment to catch his breath. His back was pressed against the cold wall, eyes closed. The soft buzzing of his phone in his pocket pulled him out of his head. Quietly, he prayed it wasn't New Media calling to taunt him about his failure.

When he pulled it out, he stared.

It was you. You were calling him back.

He answered and listened for you.

"Hey, T? Are you there?" You asked.

After he regained his composure, he smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here."

"Love, are you okay? You sound out of breath. And your voicemail- It scared me. Is everything okay?"

"I love you." It's all he could think to say. He needed you to know that more than anything else.

"I know, love. You made that pretty clear in your voicemail," you said, picking at your lips. "I love you, too. But, are you okay?"

"I don't know if I'm going to make it home to you. I’m sorry," he mumbled. Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. A flash of New Media. "I've got to go, baby. I love you so much. No matter what happens, I always will."

"I love you, too. But-"

Not allowing you to finish, he hung up and started running again.

He had to get away from World and New Media. He had to get away from this building. And, most importantly, he had to get home to you.

But, as soon as he saw that box next to the stairs, he knew he wasn't going to make it back.

His last conscious thought was of you. It was of knowing you would be up late, waiting for him, terrified for him. It was of your tears and mourning. It was of you, eventually, knowing he wasn’t coming back and that you lost him and he lost you.

•

You stayed quiet, your phone still pressed to your ear.

He hung up on you. If you weren't so worried about him, you'd be mad.

Over the several years you'd been together, he only hung up when it was important or he was pissed. The fear in his voice, the heavy breathing, the way he spoke and what he spoke about. Whatever World had done was bad. Or maybe it was what he was going to do. Either way, you couldn't help but feel dread, knowing that if -- no -- when Technical Boy came back, something would be wrong. Maybe he would be injured or afraid. Maybe he'd even be half-dead.

Quietly, you tucked your phone away and walked to the living room.

It was quiet now. You'd shut the music off so you could talk with your partner but that didn't take as long as you thought it would. It felt eerily silent like a phone line going dead. That dull, constant buzzing in your ear but instead of that, there was simply nothing. The silence was somehow worse.

The window that faced the street let light in and the heater was on, but it felt darker and colder than it should. You sat on the sofa under that window, staring out. You'd wait as long as you had to to see him again. He'd come home eventually. He had to.

•

Months after he was supposed to be back, you still waited for him. Always to 9, like clockwork. Sometimes, you'd wait longer. Hoping, praying, for your lost love to return. You didn't let it interfere with daily life, but the thought of him never left you.

Now, you laid on the sofa, the one under the window. It was almost 9. Almost time to go to bed. Almost another day without him. Something told you to stay a little longer tonight. That something had pestered you before, but now, it screamed.

Pushing up to sit, you laid your arms on the top of the sofa and laid your head on top of those.

The soft, orange lights of the lamp posts flickered before shutting off. Which was strange since it was almost nine at night without a sliver of the sun to be found.

You straightened, head tilting to the side.

Technical Boy crossed your mind. But you pushed the hope aside. It had been months of silence. If he was okay, he would have shown up far sooner. It was probably just a technical malfunction or something. Still, your mind wandered to him, to his smile and laugh, to his silly hair and eccentric clothes, to the way he held you and the way he'd snuggle up to you when he needed to, to the way you'd bicker about silliest things but always talk about the big ones.

The thoughts of your love hurt, crushing your heart as you remembered all the good, the bad, and the ugly of being with the tech god.

You hadn't noticed the tears streaming down your face until they fell almost all the way down. You wiped them away, sighing.

He was gone, likely for good, and you were finally weeping for him and what you had lost. After months, you'd realized he wasn't coming back to you. That he couldn't. That he was gone for now and forever.

•

Shutting the curtains, you wiped more tears away. The soft cloth of the sofa enticed you to stay. You didn't have the will to say no so you pulled the blanket from the top and wrapped it around yourself. In a way, it was like you were still waiting for him to come home.

Just as you'd gotten comfortable, a knock came to your door.

Your first thought was to ignore it. Whoever it was was probably a creep. Come on, who starts knocking at doors at 9 at night? Serial killers, that's who.

But, the person was insistent so much so that you tore away your blanket and got off the sofa.

"I'm fucking coming, alright. Jeez," you said, storming to your front door.

You threw it open, ready to give whoever it was a good, stern talking to. But, maybe you shouldn't have if it was a murderer.

All your anger dissipated at the sight of the knocker.

It was him. It was your Technical Boy.

•

You gawked before covering your mouth.

He smiled, pained. "Hey," he said.

You stepped out, not believing your eyes.

Was it really him? Was he here now? Was this really your Technical Boy?

He shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me this long to get back to you. I didn't mean--"

You cut him off with a tight hug, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

He froze in shock.

The god had expected many things. Yelling, hitting, you slamming the door in his face. But, he hadn't expected this. When he calculated the probability of various reactions, hugging was very low. A 0.82% chance, to be exact. It was higher than a kiss but still incredibly low.

Finally, he settled his arms around you, holding you as tight as he could. It was like he was afraid you'd slip from his grasp.

You breathed his scent in, a mix of his cologne and vape. Over the last while, you'd forgotten it. You'd forgotten a lot. Like how big he was, how soft his skin was, and how warm he was against you. You never wanted to forget any of that ever again.

Your own heart thudded in your chest.

This was real. He was real. But you had to make sure. Maybe you had fallen asleep and this was just a dream. A cruel, cruel dream.

You pulled away, tears falling.

"Hey," he whispered, brushing away your tears. "Please, don't do that. If you cry, I'm going to start crying."

You laughed and smiled at him.

It couldn't be a dream. Dreams never made sense. They were never accurate for you. But this, he was. Maybe his hair was shorter and his clothes screaming a little less, but it was him. It was your Technical Boy.

You reached for him, cupping his cheek. "T?" It came out like a sob.

His hand held yours as he nuzzled into it, kissing your palm. "It's me. I promise."

Overwhelmed with joy, you kissed him, placing your other hand on his other cheek. It's forcefulness left your lover stunned but he quickly reciprocated, bringing you closer.

You panted hard as you broke away, pressing your forehead against his.

"I love you," you said.

He grinned. "I love you, too."