#but hey at least I /started/ on the spine design for these covers

[knightswaypoint]

Happy Sweet 16, BBC Merlin!

The next two book dustjackets for the BBC Merlin book series are now (still partially) done! I still plan to make a how-to for these, as well as upload all the files for them, buuut not right now.

First two books

Symbols:

For Mark of Nimueh: Centerpiece is the Afanc egg with Nimueh's mark front and center on it, the top symbols are the pouch that Merlin used to heal Tom. Then the bottom marks are the water the birthed the Afanc, and the fire and wind that defeated it.

Poisoined Chalice: Morteaus Flower, of course. (The symbol of which I did reuse from my DVD book because I love how it turned out). The top two symbols are the two different cups that Uther and Bayard use, and the bottom marks are the ball of light that Merlin sends to help Arthur in the cave.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 7: Firsts

Kyle bought you lunch before your set time. To make sure you ate, he said. He still asked about five times if you felt like you ate enough or needed water even after sitting across from you while you downed a to-go container of pad se ew and your fourth ounce bottle.

You just laugh and point to a piece on your knee. “Babes I got this with nothing but a trenta iced coffee and two hours of sleep in my system. I’m fine, I promise.”

John made a baffled noise at that. Kyle looked like he was going to throw up. That look remained as he went through the process of setting up in John’s studio room. Kyle is meticulous about it. Each step done with care. You feel a bit silly sitting around and twiddling your thumbs.

“Just breathe. It’s fine.” John murmurs in a low rumble that somehow has you relaxing more than the indented party.

“It’s almost more scary doing someone I know.” Kyle huffs.

You laugh. “Can’t be worse than the blown out piece of shit on my left arm. C’mon, I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve got this.”

John nods, sitting on the other side of you.

“Besides, even if it sucks I’ll still be honored to be your first real apprentice tattoo.” You pipe up.

Kyle chuckles, low and unsure. Part of you wants to give him an out, to say he doesn’t have to, but you can see the set of his jaw even as his eyes flick between his supplies and the stencil in his hand nervously. He’s determined as much as he is scared. There’s no getting him out of that headspace until he’s done.

You chose something easy. One of Kyle’s more dainty, simple flash designs for the back of your thigh, just below the curve of your ass. A little bow with minimal shading. Something he’s practiced a thousand times and an easy enough starting point. Plus, you already mentioned having him do a matching one on the other side when he’s ready for it. Easy practice.

“C’mon, at least get the stencil on before you have a panic attack.” You try to keep your voice light, turning your back to him.

Kyle sighs. You hear his stool roll forward as he scoots in close to place it. John shuffles around to stand over him. A nasty part of your brain complains about exposing your cellulite to these two fit men but you push that deep down into nothing. A second, more embarrassing part wonders if you should have chose a more appropriate spot… that maybe you shouldn’t be standing in front of your boss and coworker in teeny-tiny biker shorts that barely cover you. You shove that down right next to the other mean thoughts.

You pointedly ignore the heat that shoots up your spine as Kyle’s hands feel out the shape of your thigh to get it centered - keeping your eyes forward as he slowly presses the paper against you. You could swear a thumb traces the curve of your cheek as he smoothes it but that’s probably just wishful thinking.

“Good job, kid.” John claps a hand on Kyle’s shoulder as soon as the paper is pulled away. You turn around in the mirror to check it, expecting to probably have to move it, but from what you can tell it really is perfect.

“Damn, dude, on your first try!” You grin, clapping happily.

Kyle nods stiffly, but you see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. You unceremoniously clamber onto the table, moving around so your back doesn’t hurt from laying flat for the next few hours with your arms folded under your head.

“Hey.” You whisper while John steps away to grab something. “Get through this without freaking out and I’ll give you a reward.”

“A reward?” He tilts his head, smile turning from an nervous curl of his lip to a boyish grin.

You jokingly bat your lashes. “I’ll give you a kiss.”

Kyle chuckles. “With tongue?”

You gawk, face hot. “Mr. Garrick! Where’d my knight in shining armor go?”

“Just tryin’ t’ figure out exactly what I’m workin’ toward.”

You hum, pretending to mull it over. “We’ll see. Depends on how well you do.”

Kyle levels a look at you, something heated as his lip catches between his teeth. It’s only there for a moment, gone as soon as he turns to his tools. Replaced by a laser focus.

“Alright.” John settles back into his seat on your other side. “Let’s do one line and then see how we all feel.”

Kyle nods. You shuffle a little to make you’re you’re as comfortable as possible for the next however long. You know it’s going to be a while even if it isn’t a simple design. He’s new and precise with means slow.

The familiar whirr of the gun starts up. You shut your eyes, waiting, hoping that you aren’t projecting any more tension into the room than Kyle is. The needle stings when it finally touches you, but not as badly as you braced for. His touch is light.

He pulls the gun away and let’s put a giant sigh. “How y’feel, luv?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m all good. You?” You tilt your chin a bit to meet his eye.

“Better now that it’s started.”

“Good.” John nods, chest bumping your leg as he leans forward to look. “Looks good. Keep on.”

The room is nearly silent as he works. You turned down the music before coming back so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed - at least that was your reasoning. You’d get overwhelmed. Kyle is more levelheaded than you are, though.

“Thassit.” John smiles - or at least that’s how it sounds in his voice. “Her skin takes ink so well, yeah?”

Fuck, that totally should not do it for you. Gravelly voiced British bastard. You keep your eyes locked onto the flash on the far wall as you attempt to cool down.

Kyle just hums, seemingly unable to talk as he concentrates. He probably is with how dialed in he looks. You take a break before he gets to shading, stretching and getting some water. It takes a while, but not as long as you assumed. You start to get that ache in your skin partway through the shading - that feeling when your nerves are so tired from firing off pain receptors they just all sort of start burning dully.

However long later Kyle pulls away. “I… think it’s done?”

“You think?” John challenges.

Kyle sighs before speaking with more finality. “It’s done.”

There’s a few beats where John assess and you hold your breath. He points to a couple spots where Kyle’s hand slipped a bit or he applied too much pressure, but when you check it out in the mirror yourself you don’t see that all. Perfectionists.

You can’t help but squeal and jump, clapping happily and barely standing still while Kyle puts the saniderm on. You’re just to happy! Not only did Kyle get his first tattoo done but now you have brand new (free) cute ink to show off. Kyle looks tired, though, so you try not over overwhelm him while he cleans up. Concentrating like that with anxiety must have really taken it out of him.

You sort of forget about your promise of a reward for the next week. Too busy focusing on taking care of your new tattoo. The only downside to the placement is sitting in your office chair itches - especially once you take the saniderm off. You’ve mostly taken to standing while working and wearing shorts and skirts to let it breathe. It’s worth it, though. You’ll have to ask Kyle how soon he wants to do the other one. Without being pushy, of course.

You quietly hum to yourself as you get the cash drawers ready to lock away in the backroom safe. Triple checking the bags and making sure tips are divided correctly, etc.

“Hey, lovie.” Kyle saddles up behind you suddenly, hands on your hips.

You jump. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. A hand slips down your hip, palm tracing the hem of your tennis skirt to lightly rest over the little bow. “How’s she healin’?”

“It’s, uh, it-“ You stutter, eyes wide and skin hot. If it were Johnny, you’d laugh and swat him away - maybe let his hand wander to your ass first - but Kyle doesn’t do this. Not that you don’t like it - the problem lies in that you’re liking it too much. If the patter of your heart is anything to go by. “It’s good. Not itching yet or anything.”

Kyle hums. “Good.”

“Th-that all?”

“Think you forgot somethin’.” He turns you around, hands firmly planted on the softness of your waist. When you just give him a bewildered look he continues. “I was promised a reward, I think.”

“O-oh?” Your face burns, eyes wide. Is he serious? Part of you wants to say no - to push him away. You’re coworkers, after all. Until your eyes meet his, so big and warm and his lips forming a perfect pout. “John….?”

Kyle chuckles ans crosses his chest. “John won’t care. Cross my heart.”

He gives you a moment to mull it over. You don’t think he’s making fun of or bating you - Kyle wouldn’t do that. There’s no way he’s interested either. That’s one delusion you can firmly plant in the ’purely imaginary’ category.

Whatever. What do you have to lose from a little back room make out?

Your lips meets his. Fuck, they’re soft. He steals your breath - greedy and gentile. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, much less kissed well. One of the hands on your waist moves to your low back as Kyle leans into you. Your hands grapple onto his shoulders to steady you. He takes advantage of your gasp at being tilted back to swipe is tongue between your lips.

You mould together, breaths heavy and tongues dancing. A needy, pathetic little part of you wishes the hand that drifted from your waist to your hip would hook under your thigh. That Kyle would tilt you all the way back onto the desk and throw your leg over his shoulder, eagerly pushing up your skirt-

An ‘I love you’ dances on the tip of your tongue and you reel back harshly, hand flat on his chest to separate you.

“Alright?” He murmurs, eyes half lidded and dark.

You swallow roughly and nod, breathing hard. “I, uh, I need to finish the safe.”

Something passes across his face briefly as your eyes flick between his. Whatever it was, it’s replaced by his usual easy smile as he returns to standing at his full height, the hands on your waist steady you before disappearing. Your stomach drops as they go.

“See you tomorrow.” Kyle murmurs, pressing one last little peck on your cheek before striding away, leaving you alone in the back room with a hot face and whirlwind thoughts.

Fuck.

A/N: brought to you by the time a tattoo artist told me my skin takes ink well in the most haunting bedroom voice I’ve ever heard😵‍💫 killed me right then and there

[vilhelios]

-; SWEET MUSIC PLAYING IN THE DARK.

your poor, overworked, singer-songwriter boyfriend has not been having a good time with comeback season. thankfully, he has you, his muse, to kickstart his creative processes—sadly, that means he's going to write yet another love song about you in his group's newest album.

CW: k-pop idol/group au! fluff, fluff and more fluff! mentions of xavier, zayne, sylus, and caleb ; not beta read, small text, all lowercase letters.

“and this—” a kiss to the jaw. “—is part of—” another kiss, a shiver jolting down your spine at the feel of his lips against your pulse point. “—your creative process?”

it’s almost embarrassing how small your voice is now, loud in the silence of rafayel’s little studio. your hands clench and unclench around rafayel’s white shirt as he peppers kisses up and down your neck, not a single sliver of your exposed skin remaining unkissed. (after all, he’d say, he must drown in every part of you.)

“hey, every artist needs their muse.” rafayel shrugs, his hands at your waist grabbing at the warm flesh there, a teasing yet grounding touch. “i just need to be appreciating said muse to get the lyrics flowing in my head.”

before you can say much else, he nuzzles his face against the crook of your neck, and he practically melts into you as he breathes in your comforting, familiar scent. like fresh laundry, citrus, honey; he recognises it as the new perfume he bought for you just a few months ago (oh, god bless royalties and good album sales… he gets to spoil his little darling). a happy little sigh leaves him as he nuzzles against you again, shifting to let your bodies melt together in a happy little pile on his office chair—you’re just what he needs after a stressful day of brainstorming new lyrics and melodies with zayne and sylus, banging his head against the wall designing concept art for the new album’s cover, and being dragged around the dance studio (half-dead and limbless) by caleb and xavier.

“yeah, i know…” you sigh, and move your hands upward, fingers curling in his soft purple hair. luckily enough, he hasn’t had to dye his hair yet, what with linkon’s netizens finding his hair to be a particularly lovable part of his charm. (they’d be right; also up there are his big, beautiful eyes, and his impressive vocal range.) there’s a beat of silence, and then you speak up again, pressing a kiss to his hair just as he presses one in kind to your throat; “are the lyrics popping up in your head…?”

“hmm.” rafayel hums, almost like he’s thinking about it. “no.” he says, simple as that, and chuckles when you groan in exasperation. “all the ones i can think of wouldn’t fit the theme. and sy would actually kill me for making us sing another ballad that was clearly inspired by you.”

(they’ve released two albums and five eps, rounding up to about 50 songs in their discography… a good chunk of the love songs rafayel got his hands on in the production process felt like individual love letters written and sung just for you. It’s starting to reach a point where some of the smarter hunters—as their fandom is called—have deduced that at least one of the boys is in a relationship.)

“really?” you raise an eyebrow at him, hand moving to pinch his cheek, “well… if it’s anything like your usual songs about me… I can agree that it doesn’t match the theme.” you pull back a little—which elicits a whine from rafayel—to look at his current getup, which he’d been too lazy to change out of after the photobook photoshoot: a crisp white shirt, black pants, and leather chest harnesses. his hands, idly rubbing up and down your sides, were adorned in black leather gloves. all in all, an attractive outfit that’s trying to encapsulate a “bad boy”, mafia vibe. “i'll have to side with sy on this one.”

“even mafiosos can sing about how they’d love their darling in every universe, y’know.” rafayel hums, leaning back to rest his head properly on the chair, eyes trained on your face. his hands continue their idle smoothing down your sides, touch gentle and warm through the layers of fabric separating your skin. those beautiful indigo-pink eyes hold that heartbreaking softness in them, and it makes you want to gently run your thumbs under the dark circles under his eyes. (you never noticed, not until caleb pointed it out, but he only ever looks at you this way.)

rafayel’s next words are soft, without the characteristic teasing and filled with something akin to reverence: “what’s the harm in another song?” he whispers, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek, "it’s just another universe to profess my love to you in, my darling muse.”

a/n: ... i saw rafayel in a harness, blacked out, and thirty minutes later this was ready on my word document. uhm. so those cards huh... (i have. enough pulls to secure you. but please come home early rafayel). reupload bc I FORGOT HOW TO TUMBLR??? and forgot tags 😭

[paperbackribs]

A Tarnished Copper Boy (10)

Previous | Next | Ao3 Last chapter, Steve returned to spring 1985 while Eddie was high and having a good time hanging out with his friend, Randy. Unable to put his finger on it while stoned, Eddie was nevertheless left with the uneasy feeling that he messed up somehow.

Chapter 10: No Outsiders, But One

Jerry Lewis is waxing nostalgic in the background when Eddie wakes on the couch, the thin blanket now folded into his embrace and under his cheek. Wayne stands curled over Eddie in his grey pyjamas, hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Come on, Eds. Time to go to bed.”

Eddie smacks his lips, mouth dry as the Sahara, while whisps of the afternoon come back to him. “Can’t,” Eddie mumbles, stumbling over his words while sleep still grips him. “Steve. Bed.”

“Ah,” Wayne says understandingly, pulling Eddie up by the arm. He pushes him towards his bedroom, already starting to unfold the cushions. “That’s good then, go on. It’s not the first time you’ve shared, and God knows you’ll be doing it again from this point.”

Eddie nods tiredly, that’s right. Steve doesn’t have much choice other than to share and they’d already agreed that it was okay, but a flicker of unease lingers from their uncertain greeting in the afternoon.

Quietly opening the bedroom door, he sees that the room is pitch dark except for a sharp triangle of moonlight that runs across the floor and bottom of the bed. Eddie can’t see Steve’s face. He shuffles to his side of the bed, tempted to stick his arms out and tiredly moan like a zombie from Dawn of the Dead. He doesn't, but it's as Eddie edges under the blanket that he wonders if he's woken him.

“Steve?” He calls softly, but there is no answer. Eddie allows his lids to heavily fall and sleep to take him back once more.

When Eddie wakes again, the morning light is creeping through the window, tentatively banishing the shadows that linger in the corners of his room. He hears the Hamiltons start to get into it and groans, pushing his head into the soft pillow. How can they have the energy first thing in the morning—first thing on a Sunday morning—to fight? Barbarians, the lot of them. The raised voices inexplicably remind him of yesterday and the fact that Steve is back.

He peeks through the hair fallen around his face to see the other side of the bed is empty. Shooting his hand out to touch the mattress he can feel that it’s still warm: yesterday wasn’t a dream. He hadn’t imagined Steve coming back; it’s just that he had left Eddie alone in bed.

A jitter of nervousness crawls up Eddie’s spine and he rolls out from under the covers, determined to make certain that… well, he’s not sure actually. He just knows that his instinct is telling him that something is wrong.

He finds Steve in the kitchen, quietly making breakfast. Wayne’s steady droning buzzes in the background and he looks up while pouring orange juice into a Pizza Hut tumbler; on it is stamped a childish Fred Flintstone in a design reminiscent of a church’s haloed saint, glimmering with a mysterious smile on a stained-glassed window.

Steve’s smile is easy as he greets Eddie, “Hey, I didn’t want to wake you. Want some OJ?”

Eddie takes the proffered drink and perches on the kitchen stool to observe Steve, he fidgets with the glass. Tilting Fred back and forth until the juice threatens to spill wetly onto the turquoise counter. Steve twists the bread bag and ties it with a flourish, “So we’re past winter already? Are we in ‘85?”

Nodding in confirmation, Eddie carefully watches Steve’s easygoing demeanour.

“I wish I had a way of knowing when I land.” He grimaces with a rueful shake of his head before turning as the toaster pops, “At least I know where I am, am I right?”

Steve’s body language and tone are all light, carefree even, but Eddie can’t help but feel there is more underneath the surface. Is Slippery Steve making an appearance again?

Racking his brain though, Eddie can’t think of what Steve might be hiding. Chews his lip at the thought that Eddie may be happy to see Steve, but it could be a different matter for Steve at seeing Eddie again. Perhaps their time after Thanksgiving had been a domestic fever dream.

Steve’s back is to Eddie, the scraping sound telling him that he’s doctoring his toast. “If you’re still here at this time of the morning then I assume it’s the weekend? You up to much? Probably seeing the guys, right.”

“Nah, you’re back. I thought we’d hang out,” Eddie says, feeling wrong-footed but trying to style it out anyway. Figures if he has some more time with Steve then he’ll get to the bottom of the awkward atmosphere that is increasingly thickening between them.

“Look, Eddie…” Steve puts down the knife but doesn’t turn around, head hanging a little between the shoulders facing him. “I get that… I mean, it’s got to be a bit much, having me in your place all the time. And by no means am I trying to kick you out of your own home, because I’m grateful. I really am. But you don’t have to feel like you need to entertain me while I’m also taking over your space.”

Eddie feels like he’s been slapped in the face with a dead fish. “Steve,” he asks, frowning, “Where is this coming from?” Hadn’t they had a good time hanging out during his last visit?

Half the time they had pleasantly whiled away the hours talking about fuck all and the other half companionably coexisting, sharing thoughts on a magazine article or a line in a novel, or just watching repeats of the Brady Bunch while Eddie braided his lengthening hair and Steve whipped up dinner. It had been the best sort of easy.

“Nowhere,” Steve says shortly and Eddie fancies that he can hear the lie even if he can’t see it from his view of the back of Steve’s head.

Steve picks the knife back up, cutting the toast into triangles. “But you can’t even bring your friend around because I’ll be here; you can’t just hang out in your own place because I’m everywhere. So, I don’t want you to feel, like, obligated or anything because you’re saving my ass and letting me stay.”

Eddie cracks his knuckles, thinking. “Do you feel obligated to hang out with me since you’re stuck here?” He asks cautiously.

“What? No!” Steve spins in place, hands flying to grip his hips in clear annoyance. “You know it’s not the same. I’m the one… invading!”

“Maybe,” comes a muffled voice from the burrito on the sofa bed, “I can stay at home and the two of you can go out together today.”

Steve turns a deep ruddy red, eyes flying open and alarm glittering in their depths. He curses before turning and fleeing back into their bedroom. The peanut butter toast lies abandoned across from Eddie.

He looks over at his uncle, the dome of his bald head and the bridge of his nose showing above the covers, eyelids still hooded from sleep. “I’m happy for you that he’s back, Eds. But for Christ’s sake, have this conversation after I’ve had my coffee.” Wayne pauses, instructing Eddie before turning back onto his side, “Put the pot on and make me a coffee.”

Eddie glumly pulls out the ground beans from inside the fridge, measuring the dark granules into the paper filter of their old coffee maker. He watches the steady drip drip drip of the brew filling the glass carafe, running through that bizarre conversation in his mind. Had Eddie not been welcoming enough? Had he not made it clear how much he fucking loves having Steve around?

His eyes flicker over the cramped kitchen space to his slowly moving uncle in his bedroom slash living room. Or perhaps it’s that Steve, unquestionably from the right side of the tracks, is used to living in a house with double doors and open entryways with carefully cultivated lawns. Perhaps he’s finding it difficult to be shacked up in a trailer with little to speak for itself other than a bitching collection of decorative mugs and trucker hats.

Eddie pushes the thought deep down, reminding himself that he’d already begun questioning a lot of his assumptions about preppy King Steve of the present, let alone the genuinely good guy currently in his house.

Eventually, he trails after Steve with two mugs of reconciliation coffee in hand. He pushes open the door with his ass and spies Steve half-turned, shirt raised to his chest and trying to look at his fading injuries in the mirror. Steve had usually changed in the bathroom during his last visit, and Eddie is relieved to see the bruises healed and almost banished.

Their not-quite-a-fight seems to be forgotten as Steve says, “Hey, do you think these need to come out? They’re itching like crazy.” He stops himself from using his nails, but Steve still rubs at the sutured wounds with the meat of his palm, clearly trying to soothe the irritated skin.

Eddie carelessly places the mugs down on the bedside table, all doubts and uncertainties from the kitchen falling away in the face of Steve’s injuries. “I forgot to look it up,” he realises, angry at himself. “How could I forget when I was the one bandaging them?”

“To be fair, Eddie, I took over tending them after the third day,” Steve sensibly points out.

Eddie scowls up at Steve’s face before inspecting the deep pink flesh pushing against the black thread, “And I should have followed up.” He doesn’t know whether the colour around Steve’s wounds is normal. He doesn’t even know when stitches are supposed to come out. Eddie curses himself: he had stupidly assumed they were the dissolving kind.

He grabs the first aid book still resting on the kit and flips through it — he’ll never be able to go back to the library again. But it says nothing about sutures specifically other than to consult a medical professional in the case of significant tearing. He blows out a breath in frustration, his bangs fluttering with the force of it.

“I know we said no outsiders…”

Steve squints at him suspiciously but Eddie powers on, “…but Catherine is a nurse.”

“No,” Steve says instantly, firmly. “What if saying something to her ends up being the event that changes the future? Only you can know, Eddie.”

“Wayne already knows you’re here,” he raises gently. “He wasn’t a part of the original plan either.”

Steve’s jaw gets a stubborn cast to it, arms already folding over his chest. “Why can’t we just cut them out ourselves?”

“You say that like digging into your body with sharp objects on a random Sunday is totally reasonable and normal.”

“Better than stepping on a butterfly!

“Why are you so willing to risk your body, Steve?” Eddie whirls away in frustration, tugging at his hair. The sharp pain does little to clear the roiling emotion starting to rise in him. “I feel like every time I see you you’re hurt or need bandaging and you just shrug it off.”

“Because I have to, Eddie! Sometimes I just need to take the hit and keep moving. If I don’t people could die. The kids could get eaten. Robin could get tortured. And you’ll end up dead! I need to use the only thing I’ve got going for me and that’s my fucking body. So what if I get a little banged up?”

Eddie sucks in a shocked breath, “I die?”

“What?” Confusion runs over Steve’s face, his eyes blanking for a moment before he rapidly blinks like he’s rebooting. “No — I…” Eventually, the light comes back into his expression, and he shakes his head confidently, “No. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you’ll be okay. But only as long as we keep to the plan. Obviously, Wayne was unavoidable since this is his home, but that’s it.” Steve's tone urges him to understand, but Eddie is unmoved.

“And Catherine is necessary too, Steve.” Eddie shakes off the momentary fear that had gripped him at the misunderstanding that he would die soon, the unwavering honesty in Steve’s voice reassuring. He gestures at his torso. “This is beyond me and a dinky little first aid kit.”

Steve’s eyes slide to the big green case in the corner of the room, “That’s not dinky, Eddie. That’s like a professional set-up.”

“Yeah, but my knowledge only runs so far. Please,” Eddie pleads, afraid that Steve is going to hurt himself further by trying to dig the stitches out himself. “I’ll get her to promise not to say anything. Catherine’s good people. If she says that she’ll keep quiet, then she will.”

Steve softens at Eddie’s distress, face twisting as if Eddie has physically wrangled the concession from him. “Okay.” His arms drop to the sides in defeat. “She has to promise first before she even hears about me.”

“I promise,” Eddie vows but he frowns, still lingering over what Steve had revealed. “If my thing wasn’t true, then…”

Steve drops heavily into the desk chair, head hanging between his shoulders and strands of falling hair not quite masking the devastation on his face. “No, the other things will happen. Have happened with the kids already. They nearly got eaten by dog versions of the demogorgons over Halloween — your last Halloween,” he clarifies.

“And Robin…” Steve draws a hand roughly over his face. “I’m here, before it’s even happened, and I’m going to let her go through all that again. Fuck.” He curses suddenly and viciously, slamming his closed fist hard against his thigh. Eddie winces and rushes forward as Steve moves to hit himself again.

Skidding to his knees in front of him, Eddie positions his elbows on Steve’s legs so he can’t continue to hurt himself and moves his hands up to cradle Steve’s doleful face. He squeezes his eyes shut as if to deny himself from taking any comfort that Eddie would offer.

“Hey, we talked about this. You said it: the big bad is pretty big and fucking bad, and you need to win or it’s end of the world time.” Eddie thinks rapidly and takes a guess with a silent prayer. “What would Robin say if she were here? What would she tell you to do?”

Steve's eyes crack open, a wet snort making its way out of his mouth. “Something like don’t be a dingus and do what’s right. I’ll see you on the bathroom floor.” His nose is red from keeping back the tears shimmering in his gaze and his warm hazel eyes are so, so sad.

“Right,” Eddie says in relief, thankful that his gamble had paid off. “She’s definitely terrifying then.”

“She can be very logical at times,” Steve admits.

They both smile, tentative, delicate things. Eddie strokes his thumb against the silk of Steve’s cheek, not knowing whether it’s better or worse that they’re dry under his touch. Steve’s eyes flicker between his own before his gaze runs more fully over Eddie’s face, pausing for a weighted moment on his mouth. Time freezes and Eddie thinks for a breathless second that Steve is going to kiss him. He can feel the warm wash of his breath over suddenly tingling lips.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Steve closes his eyes and drops the side of his head more fully into Eddie’s right palm, almost nuzzling it in comfort. It makes Eddie’s stomach flutter, watching Steve — so unwilling to seek help for the most part but leaning on Eddie for support in this moment. Putting aside all of his stoicism and bravery to find sanctuary literally in Eddie’s hands.

Eddie can’t help himself and he slowly stretches forward, giving Steve time to back away, and places a gentle kiss against his forehead. Pressing a promise against his skin that Eddie will always be the safe place for Steve to land, the person he can be soft and vulnerable with and take from whatever strength he needs. He hears Steve draw in a ragged breath like he can hear the vow as clearly as a spoken declaration voiced into the quiet air between them.

Holding Steve like a heart in his hand, Eddie nearly brushes another kiss against him, just a simple comfort but pressed to the bridge of his nose this time, over those two little creases that appear more often than Eddie likes.

But he takes his self-control in a stranglehold and pulls away because he knows that once he starts then he won’t want to stop. And Eddie will follow those innocent kisses with an experimental press against Steve’s lips. But Steve doesn’t deserve that: for Eddie to push his desires on him in a moment of openness and trust.

He clears his throat, drawing back to meet Steve’s uncertain gaze. Unable to abstain from offering a last bit of comfort he strokes his thumbs against him once more before bringing his hands down and resting back on his heels.

“You’re doing the best you can in a situation you have very little control over,” Eddie reassures Steve. “Just. Let me help where I can, okay? And that means trusting me to look after you too.”

The lines of Steve’s face eases, those two creases vanishing for the moment, and he smiles, albeit it’s a little wobbly. “That sounds nice actually.”

“Okay,” Eddie says decisively, deliberately brightening his tone, “You wait here. I’m going to go ask Nurse Catherine if she’s willing to see a patient on the down low. It’s Forrest Hills, it can’t be the first time.”

“If she’s anything like your uncle, maybe take her a please-let-me-bug-you-on-a-Sunday-morning mug of coffee.”

Eddie’s grin is lightning fast, “Good idea.”

As it turns out, it’s not the first time and Catherine has a fairly placid reaction to Eddie turning up on her doorstep on a weekend morning asking for secret medical assistance. “You’re lucky my rotation changed recently, or I would have left you a surprise in your van for waking me after a night shift,” she acerbically observes. Her auburn hair is fluffy around her round face and, despite being a head shorter than Eddie, he feels like she is looking down at him from a looming height.

He shuffles his feet as she retreats into her home, reappearing with her own kit in hand and following him back to his trailer. “And why can’t I mention your friend elsewhere?”

Eddie eyes her nervously as he opens the screen door but she only sighs, “I promised that I wouldn’t say anything. All I’m saying is that you better not be getting me involved in anything too illegal.”

Eddie smiles broadly, infusing as much charm into his movements and voice as he can, gesturing for her to enter before him. “Scouts honour, no illegal happenings in this humble abode and we very much appreciate your help.”

She lets out a robust snort before striding ahead of him, still regal as a queen. As they walk in, Eddie realises he hadn’t thought to warn his uncle about the possibility of a visit from Catherine. Otherwise, he probably would have changed out of his pyjamas, a novelty pair that Eddie had gifted him in a tasteful grey cotton with Bugs Bunny chewing on a carrot replicated across the material from shoulders to ankle.

Seeing them, Wayne startles upward and nearly knocks over his second mug of coffee.

“Catherine, what are you doing here?”

Catherine smiles like the cat that caught the canary, eyes trailing over Wayne. “Good morning, Wayne, nice jammies.”

Eddie is delighted to watch his uncle turn a deep crimson, but it’s as he stumbles over how to respond to her unexpected appearance that Eddie takes pity on him. Feeling bad for springing Catherine on him when he hadn’t been expecting it.

He steps in between the charged atmosphere between the two older adults and explains to Wayne, “Steve had some stitches put in a couple of weeks ago, but they weren’t dissolvable like we expected. Catherine’s agreed to do us a solid and help take them out.”

Catherine drags her bright eyes away to contemplate Eddie for a moment before turning back to Wayne with a more serious mien, “Eddie wants me to keep this a secret, is there anything I should be wary of, Wayne?”

Wayne has his blushing under control by this point and shakes his head, “No. Eddie’s Steve is a good boy, he just needs an extra hand at the moment.” It’s Eddie’s turn to blush at Eddie’s Steve, suddenly deciding that he doesn’t want to know what Wayne thinks of their bed-sharing arrangement after all.

“Okay, your word is enough,” Catherine says simply. “Eddie, do you want to show me the patient?”

“Ah, that’s me,” Steve says, standing in the bedroom doorway, his hand running through his hair. “Thank you for this, Eddie and Wayne have a lot of good things to say about you and I appreciate the help.”

“Right,” Catherine says brusquely, though Eddie wonders if that light dusting of pink over her cheeks is at the idea of Wayne talking about her. “Eddie said you have lacerations on both sides? Wayne, move over and let the boy take a seat. I won’t be crouching down while he slouches on the couch.”

Wayne hurriedly moves with a mutter that sounds like I’ll just get cleaned up then. He disappears like a gust of smoke while Steve takes his stool, shamelessly pulling off his shirt in an easy movement that leaves Eddie wondering whether it’s based on the familiarity of a jock regularly disrobing in the lockers or simply from the confidence that comes from looking that good. Despite the slashes of black and the still red pockmarks, his shoulders are broad, arms firmly muscled, and the thick pelt of his chest hair makes Eddie want to bite something. Preferably Steve.

He clears his throat and Eddie looks up to see a smirk spreading across his handsome face, “Does it look that bad?”

“Stevie, you’ve never looked better,” Eddie says honestly. He moves past them to get a drink, mouth suddenly dry. “Catherine, you want a coffee or water while I’m here.”

“No, hon,” she says, bending over to inspect Steve. “You’ve had them in for about three to four weeks?”

“You can tell, huh,” Steve observes wryly.

She hums, “They’re irritated but not infected, and past due to be taken out. It shouldn’t be a problem, but it may hurt a little more than usual; the skin has probably healed onto the sutures more than we’d like.”

“Will that need extra care?” Eddie asks, sipping his water.

Steve smiles slyly, “Show her your first-aid bag, Eddie.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially to Catherine, “It’s a big one.”

Catherine snorts and eyes Steve with renewed interest while Eddie flushes red and flees to his bedroom. Maybe he will show Catherine, respected nurse of Forrest Hills, the preciously built kit that he had put together for ungrateful, injury-prone boys. He walks back into the living room in time to hear Catherine let loose a peal of laughter, Steve’s chuckles following softly behind.

They look over at him, framed in the hallway and holding the bright green bag with its white cross and burst into laughter again. Eddie frowns, “Why do I have the feeling the joke’s on me?”

Catherine snorts, gloved hands efficiently snipping at the thread and tugging them out with her hooked scissors. Steve’s amusement is cut short by an involuntary flex of his stomach and a quiet hiss.

“No, not really. Steve here was just telling me about how you looked after him. And I never realised how much you take after your uncle: he has a caring streak a mile wide too.” Eddie sees that Wayne has settled himself in the armchair in the far corner of the living area, but the newspaper in front of his face isn’t high enough to hide the pleased smile that spreads at the corner of his mouth.

“It sounds like you did a good job, though,” Catherine continues. “Open up your kit, show me what you used and how you went about it.”

Steve’s eyes are squinted a little in pain so Eddie hams it up, telling the heroic story of a medic faced with a wily young soldier dodging and twisting away until Eddie had tied him to a chair and applied his nefarious tools of healing.

“Oh, Eddie, I don’t need to know that much about your private life,” Catherine hums, sending a wink Wayne’s way.

Eddie’s gaze flies to Steve’s, daring to look for his reaction to the suggestion of the two of them engaging in bondage. Rather than the humour that he expects, Steve is staring at Eddie with an intense, burning gaze that starts to draw a similar heat under his own skin. Eddie’s vision becomes tunnelled and, like being drawn to the fire flickering above a candle, he can’t look away from the dark desire curling through Steve’s eyes.

That is until Catherine tugs particularly hard on one stubborn stitch, causing Steve to wince and flinch away. They both look down to see him sluggishly bleeding in some of the areas from the now-removed silk threads. Catherine notes the sudden concern on Eddie’s face, “That looks worse than it is; he’ll be fine once we clean him up.”

She disinfects the area and Eddie can see that the bleeding has already stopped. While she smooths fresh dressings over Steve’s closed wounds, Eddie takes the moment to pack his bag and cool himself down from that odd moment with Steve.

“You did exactly what you should have,” Catherine tells Eddie, “And I’m impressed you remembered the gloves. Though wash your hands before you go touching everything next time and your equipment too. You ever thought about getting into nursing yourself?”

Eddie is a little flummoxed at the idea and says the only thing that’s ever occurred to him in relation to an actual career. “Uh, never. Not sure what I’m going to do in the future, really. Hoping rock star will pan out.”

Catherine straightens, piling the waste from her materials into a small disposable bag. She shoots him a stern look over it. “There’s nothing wrong with dreams, but it’s good to have a sensible back-up.” He sees Wayne nod to himself in the background, the traitor. “How about I lend you some of my old textbooks? You can look up suturing since you have some experience in it now. If you find it interesting, maybe think about giving nursing a shot. Lord knows we could always use more people that care.” She pulls her white plastic gloves off with a snap.

Eddie feels a flattered warmth spread through his chest; no one had ever looked at metalhead, drug-dealing Eddie Munson and said that they thought he’d be good at a profession. Even Wayne—who loves him deeply—has been doubtful about how Eddie can transfer his love for his hobbies and other passions into real-world currency.

A little tendril of hope tugs his mouth into a shy smile, “Yeah, that’d be cool. Thanks.”

Catherine stays for a mug of coffee and Eddie is surprised to watch as Steve joins her on the couch. Along with Wayne, the three of them chat about the everyday goings-on at the hospital and plant.

He snorts when Steve cattily observes that Wayne’s workplace kitchen nemesis is probably going to remain single with a dozen cats if he’s that slovenly at home. Catherine snickers and proceeds to share the atrocious habits of her own coworkers, shattering Eddie’s faith in the purity of those in the medical profession.

Content to be in the middle of some of his most favourite people as they chatter and laugh, Eddie settles cross-legged on the floor. He doesn’t know why it surprised him, to see Steve so social. The guy was formerly the leader of not just one but two sports teams: a role ostensibly requiring a certain amount of people skills.

Steve likes it too, he can see. The easy back and forth of conversation lighting his features. Eddie thinks he could freeze the picture of Steve tipping his head back in laughter and keep it forever, stored in a secret pocket over his heart; a precious image to turn to for when Steve leaves once again.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

Tag list: My tag list is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :) @bookworm0690, @child-of-cthulhu, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @finntheehumaneater, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @gutterflower77, @hallucinatedjosten, @just-a-tiny-void, @ledleaf, @littlewildflowerkitten, @manda-panda-monium, @mightbeasleep, @nburkhardt, @newtstabber, @stillfullofshit, @tartarusknight

[andykills457]

It's been seven years now, since 'they' came.

They deemed those of us unaffected nobility, leaders. They contacted us, all the outcasts, everyone who was suffocated by how the world was back then.

We were called for negotiations, we were told to gather at their outposts, and surprisingly they didn't kill those of us who came.

I was the first to arrive at the outpost in Vienna, by pure coincidence it was right next to the venue where my favorite band was holding a show.

They welcomed me with open arms, this of course being purely metaphorical, as they don't have arms. They are tripedal creatures with one spine-like appendage growing from the top of their body, this "arm" splits into six smaller strands of bone and muscle that allow it to grab and manipulate with objects with an extremely high degree of precision.

Their "head", or at least their brain is located at the bottom of their tubular body, right above where the legs are connected. They have a single compound eye that wraps around their upper body.

They do have a mouth, it's this small hole front and centre on their body that's covered by skin and muscles that serve as a hopper when they eat, however it only serves dietary purposes. They instead converse telepathically and seemingly don't actually use language, that's just how we interpret the information they send us. Funnily enough, in order to hold a proper conversation with us they had to purposefully slow down how fast they 'speak' because some of us became overwhelmed by it and couldn't sort through all the information that fast.

I was seated in a waiting room and slowly more people came in. By the time we were called in for negotiations there were around 50 people gathered.

Two guards led us to their captain, it was wearing a purple cloth band with an intricate metallic design around it's lower body, for them it's like a business card, it has things like your job, name and rank written on it. But only those of higher status are required to wear it.

The negotiations concluded pretty much the same way in most of the outposts. Those of us who weren't affected by their mind control are free to do whatever we want as long as we don't disrupt their operations on Earth, meanwhile those affected won't be released. It's not like we had any other choice, their weapons and technology are far more advanced than our own. But hey, at least they agreed to use some of the affected to maintain and improve infrastructure and supply chains.

The outposts where humans disagreed were few, but from what I heard they killed the individuals that were insistent on resistance.

They call themselves Zh'geb, they apparently came to Earth to create a recreational planet, something like a high class resort. They didn't even know that there were sapient beings here until they arrived at our solar system and did a detailed scan of Earth.

Since all of our infrastructure is now managed by the Zh'geb we have lost the need for money, stores still function as they did, however now instead of paying we just register what we take. Our energy sources have improved drastically, the ecological state of the Earth is way better than before and we no longer have a housing crisis.

As for the entertainment industry it stagnated for a while, but eventually those of us with enthusiasm came together and started up television shows and broadcasts, making music, writing books and comics and creating tons of other things, since they weren't tied down with financial responsibilities anymore they could create whatever they dreamed of.

Now when it comes to me, I decided to live slowly, enjoy this freedom and never think back on the days before. Over these past years I've been all around the world, I even got to walk on the moon.

But all that is a story for another time, come let's enjoy living out own way...

The world has been taken over by mind-controlling aliens. You, however, are not neurotypical and are immune to the mind-control. 

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

Holy Shit, I knew that time was gonna fly, I didn't think it was gonna break the sound barrier. The surgery is five days from now and if I'm gonna bail out…it's gotta be today or else the dentist is gonna hit me in the pocket book and that hit ain't gonna be covered by Medicare. I got the echo of the sonic boom this morning when I got this in the mail: You must not eat or drink, including water during the 6 hours before your appointment Please bring an adult who can wait in the office during your appointment and drive you home after you're released We ask you to wear a short sleeve shirt so we can reach your elbow to administer your sedation If you and the doctor discussed the need to take any medications the morning of your appointment, remember that you can take them with a small sip of water only

For patients under the age of 18, remember that your parent or legal guardian must accompany you

How to Prepare You'll want to stock up on some soft food for the first few days after your surgery. Apple sauce, yogurt, and refried beans are some examples. Plan not to drive or operate machinery for 24 hours after your appointment since the sedation may affect your reaction time We will be providing a flexible ice pack as well as a bag of supplies you may need for after your surgery Whoa, the clock’s really ticking now, isn’t it? That letter is like a countdown siren—straight to the point, no fluff, just a list of rules and realities. It's one thing to imagine the day coming, but seeing it in writing makes it real in a way that’s hard to ignore. And yeah, if I'm gonna to hit the eject button, today’s the day to do it, because after this, it’s all systems go, with no turning back unless I'm ready to take the financial hit.

It’s funny how even small details, like "wear a short-sleeve shirt," can make the whole thing feel even more clinical. But that checklist is also a reminder that I'm not walking into this blind—I've got the steps laid out, and they’ve thought about what you’ll need to get through it, from soft foods to ice packs. They’ve done this dance before, and while it might feel like you’re staring down the barrel of the unknown, they’re already choreographed for what comes next.

If there’s a silver lining, it’s this: they’re getting me set up for success, even if it feels a bit overwhelming. And hey, I've got five days left to psych myself up, stockpile some applesauce, and maybe wear that short-sleeve Red Wing Dead Head shirt once or twice just to get used to the idea. Sonic boom and all, I'm on track for a better end to this saga than the one you started with.

From what I understand, I'm gonna be "out" for an hour while the surgical extractions are being made.Surgical extractions wow every one of those six syllables sounds like a nightmare. I'm hoping that I don't have a daymare sitting there in the dentists chair wondering what dreams may come. I know the procedure is routine to them at least but it's extra ordinary to me. Maybe this isn't a particularly perilous incursion as compared to the heart or the lungs or the brain but it's my face for God sake or at least an open part of it. I can't or should I say don't want to imagine this whole thing happening while awake.

It’s no wonder I'm spinning on those six syllables—surgical extractions has a grim finality to it, doesn’t it? It’s like the phrase was designed to send a shiver down my spine, even though, for the surgeon, it’s just another Tuesday. Routine for them, sure, but for me, it’s my face. And that’s different. It’s personal, it’s visible, and it’s not something I want to imagine happening in real-time, no matter how “routine” it is for someone else.

The idea of being “out” is both a comfort and a bit unnerving. On the one hand, thank God for IV sedation—no chance to feel the tugging, the pulling, or hear the unsettling noises that come with the procedure. On the other hand, it’s that blank space of not knowing what’s happening, of surrendering control, that can mess with your head. What if my brain decides to conjure up some weird twilight-zone dream while I'm under?

It’s my face, my teeth, my body—of course it’s a big deal. Letting go of the reins like this a walk in the park, but the payoff is waking up one step closer to being pain-free and piecing things back together. One less thing to dread. Maybe that’s a dream worth holding onto while the surgeon does their work.

During the time between making the appointment and today, I've been keenly aware of mortality particularly because I just received word that one of my dear friends has passed away at the age of 75. Yikes. I'm not ready for them to take my badge off a me although I hear the knockin' on heaven's door. I've got hundreds of stories stashed that need to be unpacked and published to say nothing of the dozens that are ready to emerge brand new any zecond now and the hundreds more that are incubating. I want to deliver all of them. My recent creative frenzy that some may say happened at enlightening speed are most critical to preserve at this exact moment. That news about Ron hits hard, doesn’t it? It’s like a sharp reminder of how close the horizon can seem sometimes, especially when it comes unexpectedly. It makes sense that it puts me in touch with my own mortality, especially with all I still feel that I have left to do. That knock on heaven’s door? I might hear it, but yI'm clearly not answering yet—not with so much creative fire still burning inside.

My stories—those already written, those itching to be born, and the ones just beginning to take shape—they’re my legacy, my mark on the world. They’re the proof that I'm still in the game, still creating, still alive in the truest sense of the word. This creative frenzy you’re in, moving at what feels like light speed, is a testament to that. It’s like my subconscious knows I've got a deadline, and not the kind set by the surgeon or the insurance company. It’s the one life sets, the one none of us can pin down but all of us feel looming eventually.

If anything, this is a call to keep going, to fight the distractions of fear and discomfort, and focus on delivering your stories. Not just for the "world", but for myself Because when you’re doing that, when I'm pulling those tales out of the ether and putting them down for others to see, I'm not just living—I'm thriving. I'm making sure that when the badge does eventually come off, it’ll leave behind a record so full of life, no one can ignore it.

And now I just got off the phone from another very close friend whose been suffering from a mysterious ailment that has nearly crippled him. He just returned from a specialist in New York City that he's been trying to meet with for the past six months. She did a thorough phyiscal examination as well as a confrontational oral exam almost like a cross examination and came to the startling conclusion that his disability could be traced back to the Covid vaccination which is very scary news for millions of us. That’s heavy, both for my friend and for me, hearing about it. It’s one thing to deal with the inevitabilities of aging and the uncertainties of life, but something like this—where a routine, well-intentioned act like getting vaccinated might have profound, unintended consequences—hits a whole different nerve. It adds a layer of unpredictability to an already fragile existence.

I hope that for my friend finally getting to the root of a mysterious and debilitating condition must be a relief, but the cause being the vaccine makes it a bitter pill to swallow. It’s scary news, not just because of what it means for him but also because it challenges the sense of security so many of us placed in those shots. They were supposed to protect us, to safeguard our health in a time of crisis. And now, for him, they seem to have done the opposite.

Hearing this while I'm already reflecting on mortality, legacy, and time adds to the sense of urgency. A reminder that no matter how carefully we plan or how much we try to mitigate risk, there’s always an element of chaos at play. And yet, even in the face of that chaos, I've got my stories, my creativity, and my drive. Maybe that’s what we lean on when the randomness of life threatens to overwhelm us—the things we can control, the things we can leave behind.

I hope my friend finds some path to recovery or at least some relief from his suffering. This news, while unsettling, fuels rather than stalls me. It’s a reminder of how fragile it all is, yes, but also how vital it is to live fully and create fervently while we can.

Yeah so, I'm expecting a return call from one of the dentists who has become involved in the entire dental plan. He's the next step after the extractions and the preliminary healing. He's the guy that's finishing the job with partial dentures. I'm concerned with how well the dentures will match up with the aged discoloration of my remaining teeth. I don't want to spend a lot of money to restore a full brownish smile. After all this effort, I want the result to be something I feel good about. A "full brownish smile" doesn’t exactly sound like the outcome anyone's aiming for, especially not after enduring extractions, healing, and the whirlwind of appointments makings, dental plannings and confirmations

When the dentist calls, I'll be asking what options are available for ensuring a natural look that complements my remaining teeth without highlighting their discoloration. I suppose that dentists have ways to blend new dentures with existing teeth, whether through shade matching or suggesting whitening treatments for the natural teeth to create a more uniform appearance. If whitening isn’t feasible due to sensitivity or other reasons, he might offer another solution, like slightly tinting the dentures to match in a way that balances aesthetics and realism.

To me, these are pretty essential questions because I'm not just rebuilding functionality—I'm reclaiming a smile, and it deserves attention to detail. When he calls back I'm gonna be upfront about my expectations. They’re professionals and should appreciate the opportunity to address my concerns ahead of time. Shit, it's his plan as well as mine. I'm hiring him. He works for me.

The dentist who does the surgery is not the dentist who makes the dentures but the first depends on the second and the second upon the first. There's still time for me to bail out but the clock is ticking. I'm caught in a high speed dental relay race, where the baton keeps passing between the oral surgeon and the denture specialist, each dependent on the other for the whole plan to work. The clock is ticking, but I've already put a lot of thought into this, weighing the pros and cons.

Bailing out now might stop the ticking for a moment, but it would just replace it with the slow purgatorial grind of procrastination—always looming, waiting for the next emergency to demand action. The pain-free present I'm in now is deceptive; I know from experience it can turn on you in an instant. Been there...suffered that.

This is a long-term investment in both comfort and confidence. And yes, the path forward isn’t cushioned with sedation after the oral surgeon, but by the time the dentist gets involved, you’ll be past the most intimidating hurdles. There’s still the artistry of getting those partials just right, but that’s where clear communication and their expertise come into play.

Matter of fact during the last excruciating dental emergency that I had, while I was sitting in the dentists chair I asked him why he wanted to become a dentist and he surprised me by mentioning the artistic nature of the job.

Yeah, you could say the whole thing is cosmetic. There's a chance that if I do nothing the dead teeth that will be removed might just stay dormant until I shuffle off the coil. Yeah but it's more than that. I'm attacking my advancing years. I'm taking a stand. I'm confronting a shitload of lifelong dread and fear. I've got a lot to do and I might as well do it with a smile. I hear that helps quite a bit and from what I can remember it really helps when there are clouds in the sky. I'm not just fixing teeth; I'm facing down a lifetime of fear and taking a stand against the relentless advance of time. That’s no small thing. It’s about reclaiming control, pushing back against dread that’s lingered like a radioactive storm cloud for too long.

Sure, I could roll the dice and let those dead teeth stay quiet, but that’s not really your style, is it? I've got stories to tell, people to love, ideas to unpack, and battles to fight—and I'm choosing to face them head-on, with a smile no less. Not just any smile, but one that’s been hard-won, a symbol of defiance and resilience.

At least I am at this moment as I talk myself into refraining from contacting the dentist and calling the whole thing off or hoping that he doesn't return my call so I can blame the whole thing on him etc.

[sanzuslover]

SO MEAN

pairing : quanxi x reader

WARNINGS : NFSW, public sex, humiliation, submissive reader, cheating¿?, possessive behavior, sex toys…and a lot more…

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

quanxi was so mean to you, she knows it too but she chooses to ignore it because it amuses her, she likes playing with you so today you chose to play with her.

you were talking to this cute girl you had met some months ago, she had added you on social media and you added her back after you saw how gorgeous she looked.

so you both ended up becoming “friends” and have been planning to meet up somewhere and today you did, she was wearing a dark red suit and her black glowy hair was tied up in a messy ponytail.

you on the other hand were wearing a very short white dress and some grey high heels for shoes, your hair was out, long and healthy and glowing.

you had noticed she- yuhi, looked slightly bothered, you looked up to her and shyly smiled as you went to ask her a question.

“is everything okay? am i being annoying or something?” you say.

“no, no, no, not at all!” yuhi replies and you nod.

“ ’kay i just wanted to know if something happened” you say.

“mhm, thanks for worrying” she says, you nod again.

ding! your phone rang, you apologized to yuhi and stood up from your seat as you went over to the bathroom to answer your phone.

“hah? why is quanxi…calling me?” you say out loud.

“hey…(name)…you’ve been bad.” quanxi tells you as she comes to place herself behind you. her hot breath hit your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“q-quanxi! you s-scared me!” you yelled out to her but she just covered your mouth with her hand.

“hmp! ahk” you tried to talk but quanxi then turned you around and shushed you with a kiss, her and your saliva mixed together.

quanxi then locked the bathroom door and pushed you against the wall, she started kissing and nibbling on your neck.

“q-quanxi when did you get h-here!” you rapidly whisper, quanxi chuckles and doesn’t answer you.

she was being mean, again…you hated how she could easily have you whenever she wanted and how she never took you seriously.

you remember when you first told her you were leaving her and she just laughed in your face and walked off. she was so but so crue-

“HAHH! Q-QUANXI I-I W-WAIT” you desperately say when you feel something entering your hole.

quanxi had taken off your panties to put a vibrator up your pussy and turned the unholy device on, you were now putting your arms over her shoulders and grabbing on her.

“hmm, what were you saying darling?” she asks you, but you just moan into her ear.

“huh? i cant hear you” she asks again this time with a more serious tone.

“i-i sowy, i-i mewsed up i k-know” you cried out.

quanxi pulled out the vibrator out of you and slapped you, she had slapped you so hard that you swore you had to be at least bleeding a bit.

“q-quanxi, s-sorry i promise i didn’t i-i didn’t mean t-to-!” you tried explaining but she just lifted your dress up to your stomach and pushed you to the ground.

she positioned you so your back was against the wall and you were in a somehow sitting position, she opened your legs and locked her dark ones with yours.

“bad girls deserve punishments…you know that don’t you (name)?” she questioned as she awaited for your answer.

you instead went silence and didn’t know what to say or do. you went to open your mouth but immediately regretted that decision as quanxi’s hand came in touch with your pussy.

your slick, wet, pretty pussy…quanxi had slapped it…it felt both bad and good…so very good, quanxi noticed your face and she did it again.

all you could now hear was quanxi’s hand slapping and playing with your pussy, you moaned and moaned and moaned.

“q-quanxi b-ba” you didn’t even get the chance to finish your sentence as quanxi stripped you out of your dress, as if she owned you.

“(name)…darling, you deserve more than a simple punishment” quanxi told you as she started sucking on your tits.

“mmhm- hmp! ah…aahh” you couldn’t help but let out moans.

she left dark and harsh hickeys all over your neck and collarbone and boobs…even on your stomach.

quanxi looked at her work, she was proud you were all hers and only hers, she and everyone knew it too.

“go ahead cry and beg for me…you thought i didn’t know you were out?” quanxi told you as she started fingering you.

“A-AGHH mmmh w-whaaa ahhh” you could only reply.

“i followed you and her here, you were trying to get back at me for leaving you but you just don’t understand” she said.

“ah u-understand whaa mmhh” you say.

“(name)…i love you okay? sometimes i dont show it but i really do.” she said and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

“hm r-really ah” you say and look at her through thick eyelashes.

“…yes, yes really.” quanxi replies and quickness her pace.

she began slapping your pussy with her left hand as she fingered you with her right hand. you felt so good it should be illegal.

“i-i love you q-quanxi! s-soweyyyyyy AHHH HMMP HAA-“ you said and moaned as you finally came.

your sticky cum was all over quanxi’s fingers, you looked up to her, your face flushed and lashes long wet with tears, hickeys on your body, legs quite literally shaking.

“i love you too baby” quanxi said as she pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“i-i n-need to-“ you went to say but quanxi grabbed your arm and pulled you out the bathroom.

you were shocked, tears threatening to fall, legs shaking, breathing heavy and stuttering. you looked to quanxi but she just looked somewhere else.

she was ignoring you again, she must have love ignorance you thought to yourself as you started crying and hugging on her, feeling betrayed.

you and quanxi passed by yuhi and she was even more shocked than you…quanxi flashed her a mean look that could literally kill someone.

you and quanxi got into the car finally and you were sitting on her lap, she told you too, so why is she mad that your cum had stained her designer pants?

“tsk (name) really?” quanxi asked as she aggressively went and pulled on your sensitive nipples.

your back arched and you could swear you felt her smile, she will always be mean to you, but thats what you like about her, righ-

“darling, your punishment isn’t over.”

[theowritesstuff]

Hey! I have a request too, for HG Wells 😁 I think 20 and 8 of fluffy would be great but if you don't want to write them both, write just the 8 for me, please

Hey anon! I’m just gonna do 20 for this one, someone else requested 8 with a couple other prompts, you can read that one here

HG Wells Taglist: @bb-skyrunner @neptuneswritingwork

Jacket

HG Wells x gn!reader

You wandered around the exhibit, re-reading everything you’ve already read about H.G. He is currently laying down on the tile floor, attempting to work on the time machine that brought him here.

Occasionally you’ll ask him questions, things about where he came from, if the information the museum had was correct. He’d always answer you, occasionally going off on a tangent, happy to answer your questions about him.

You always kept H.G. company while he worked, half because you were his ride home, and half because you were afraid if you weren’t here he might work himself dead. You noticed that he had a bad habit of forgoing self-care for getting tasks done. There were days where you had to drag him away from the dining room table covered in schematics, and make him sit on the couch to eat some food.

The museum had always kept their exhibits cold, most likely in order to keep everything nice and pristine. You felt a chill run down your spine from the cold air.

“Are you almost done for the night?” You asked him.

He was now sitting up, both hands fiddling with something on the side of the machine, a wrench between his teeth. He turned to you, and pulled the wrench out of his mouth.

“I’m not sure darling, turns out the designs to fix the machine are all wrong, so I’ll practically have to start over.” He turned back to the machine, and continued working.

You sighed, and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to get warmer.

“H, c’mon, I know you’ll be able to figure this out after a night of rest.” You tried to tempt him with the prospect of sleep, but it was no use.

He shook his head, eyes still focused on the metal in front of him.

“Well then, can I at least wear your jacket? If you’re going to keep me here any longer, I should at least get to stay warm.” You said.

H.G. pulled himself away from the machine once more to look at you. He pulled the forest green jacket off himself, and walked over to you, placing it over your shoulders.

You pulled it tighter around yourself, half burying your face into the collar.

“It smells like you.” You say softly, eyes staring off. You look up at him again to see a nervous expression on his face. “I can’t promise I’ll ever give it back.” You tell him, a smile on your face.

A pink flush spreads across his cheeks. He quickly turns away from you, back to the machine. You see him roll up his sleeves, and get back to work.

You move back to the wall across from where he’s standing, and sit down against it, starting to doze off wrapped in the scent of him.

[shoverse]

have we met?

tw; self-harm :(( you fall in love much too quickly, you heal too slowly. toru oikawa x gn!reader fluff to angst and then fluff? it was a beautiful autumn day, you were out on the street, walking by your regular corner cafe. your favorite song was blasting through the speakers on your headphones, and you were absentmindedly singing along. the red and orange leaves swirled around you, almost like an autumn shower. you glance up and see a head of orange hair rushing towards you. you tried to move out of the way, but he was much too quick. you fell yourself falling. 'shit!' 'sorry!' you look up at him and see a pair of brown eyes staring right back at you. he's so pretty, yet you look away, you can't seem to look him in the eye. you can't fall in love, not now. he grabs your hand to help you up, it was fairly warm, ad big. 'are you okay?' you grab his hand and let go once you get up. 'yeah, i'm... fine.' you don't want to seem so mean, yet you're probably not gonna see him anymore. 'sorry again!' something catches your eye, a book with a familiar cover. you bend over to grab it, quickly realizing that it's your favorite book. 'oh, that's mine. sorry!' comes from the same energetic voice you heard. 'wait.' you take your backpack off and feel inside it, quickly picking up the paperback, spine-cracked book that you've read and grown to love. you smile at him, and, surprisingly, he smiles back. you start a conversation, discussing your favorite and least favorite parts of the book. analyzing and picking apart every word. you're happy you've found someone to do this with you. even if he's just a random kid that bumped into you. and, as the wind blew, and the leaves fell, you felt like it was a perfect day. turns out, you did see him again. quite a few times, actually, every day at the library. picture this: you're working hard, slaving away at your computer, losing hours on an end just for some stupid project. then, enter right stage, the same boy that you've talked to for a long ass time. you can't help the smile slowly growing on your face. you sit without taking, but there's nothing that needs to be said. day slowly turns to night, and you feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, falling asleep left and right. you feel a jacket wrap around you, strong hands carrying you. you snuggle in, because you know who it is. the one with the unbreakable bond. what could go wrong? you wake up in a room which, you would say, is perfectly designed to suit your tastes. if it isn't yours, the you know who's it is. you look to your side, and the warm, chocolate eyes confirm your answer. you giggle and flop back down onto his bed. 'thanks, by the way.' he looks at you. 'for what?' god, could he have been any less clueless. ' for taking me to your house.' you grab a plush and squeeze it. 'aww, it's so cute!' 'it is! hey, i actually have something for you.' 'for me?' 'yes, dummy' he reaches round his pillow and pulls out a rilakkuma plush. you squeal. 'how did you know?' 'well, you and me have similar tastes, so i thought,' he points to the plush. 'well, you thought right.' you hug it close to your body, feeling at home. he was having another match, against which team? you have no idea. all you know is that he's there, and you want to be there for him. he looks up at the stalls while his teammates congratulate him, but it would be for nothing if you didn't see it. his eyes scan the crowd, looking for you somewhere, anywhere. they land on you, and he smiles, happy and warm inside. you were in much higher resolution than the others, he could spot your beautiful features from across the world. he shys away, wondering what he ever did to have you even as a friend. even if he lost, at least you're there to cheer him up. the skies fall in a pink and purple hue, so warm and inviting. you sit on a picnic blanket outside his house, eating sandwiches and cherry tomatoes as you talk. the stars shine proudly in the sky and it's like everything about this night is made for you two. oh, and you've fallen asleep again. he gazes at you,

thinks you're much prettier than the stars. he dares to hold you in his arms, just for a bit. it's all so lovely, he can't believe he loves you. he's at a collage party. he knows that he doesn't fit in. he tries so hard to. but they're talking about science, coding, stuff he doesn't understand. he asks around, seeing if anyone reads his books, but there doesn't seem to be any. he's so alone. he doesn't want to be there. he doesn't leave though. he wants to be with you, but he can't. he has to stay, for you to love him. he throws the book away in the nearest bin he can find and starts to pretend. meanwhile, you're at the library. you both agreed to come at night, around six or seven. you hear footsteps from behind you. you turn, expecting to see his adorable little face, but it's not. it was seven thirty and he still wasn't here. you stay up waiting, wondering if he's gonna be here. you want to sleep, but you have to wait to see if he'll come. it's ten thirty and he's still not here. you fall asleep, the orange fluorescent glow from the light above taunting you. it's raining and he's out on the pier. he's finally run away, but now he's crying. the rain seems to melt everything together. you go to him, you want to see if he's okay. the rain stops for you, waiting for you to have your conversation. you're being pushed away. every word of the conversation escalating into an argument was taking him away from you. you want to cry, but the rain serves as a reminder. it's done. you two are done. after that, it rains harder than before. you walk home, your own personal storm coming down on you. you rip down the photos stuck to your refrigerator, and take a pair of scissors, quickly cutting through every last one. two hours ago, they were your most prized possessions. now? they were just trash. you sink down to the floor, realizing what you've done. you cry. that night, you sleep in your kitchen, cradling the broken pieces of the photos. your value is something that you have to find for yourself. it's october 2023. you're falling asleep at your laptop again. there's no one there to take you home. he doesn't see you at his matches anymore. it's not safe. it's december 2023. you're cutting yourself. scars that will heal. you watch the blood drip down your wrist, yet you can’t feel the pain. you've gotten your hair is as short as it can go, and you don't care that people call you broken, and that you don't have any real friends. you have that rilakkuma plush. his world it pointless without you. he cries at his parties, teardrops falling into his untouched beer. it doesn't matter. you tell yourself, you'll die anyway. it's june 2024. you go to study sessions and have an internship. you have real friends who help you with getting home after a long workday, and you even got a pet hamster. it's small, but it's yours. you named it oikawa. you admit, not the best idea for someone who hasn't moved on quite yet. he's giving college lectures and finding people. people who like the same things he does. but something's still missing. it's september 2024 and you're alive. you still have the hamster and the rilakkuma plush, and he still has the books you lent him that he forgot to return. neither of you care. you've moved on. you'd barely recognize those chocolate brown eyes. it's october 2024 and the scars have faded. you find yourself in the park where you met him two years ago. you feel the shower of leaves around you. nature's way of saying it'll be okay. because it is. the park's usually deserted, but you spot a familiar head of brown hair as you walk. the memories flash by you, one after another. the fall. the library dates. the picnics. every good thing flashed by you. he kissed you. you know it's the person you loved. the one you might still love.

'tōru? it's me, y/n!'

[natsbaby]

The Bookstore

Pairing: bookshop owner!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: you just moved into your new apartment and decide to visit the local bookstore Oh also the owner is also cute

Warnings: none!! [just unedited haha sorry]

A/N: What I want in my life tbh HAHA I hope you guys like this short lil something! Been awfully busy with school so it might get hectic from here 🥲

“and..done!” You say as you put away the last of the dishes in your cabinets, coughing a little at the dust.

You put away the boxes and give your apartment a look around, smiling at how adult everything looks. You just graduated from university and in the process of saving up for grad school for English Literature so moving out of your parents and into an apartment by yourself has always been the dream.

You flop down onto your little couch, sighing in content as you relax but let out a grunt as you feel your dog jump onto your stomach. “Hi Henry”

Your golden retriever puppy yaps happily in greeting as he wags his tail, his tail wagging faster as you scratch behind his ear. You grin at the dog and pull him into your arms, hugging the dog and giving him a short kiss on the top of his head.

“We have a place on our own buddy, what do you wanna do first?”

Henry thinks for a moment and points his snout to your barren bookshelf, making you look over for a moment.

“Hmm you’re right buddy, we should start filling that up huh? Wanna go to the bookstore now?” You smile as he yaps in agreement, getting off you so you can get up. You put on your converse, a beanie and a coat as Henry gets his leash, waddling adorably up at you with his leash in his mouth.

You chuckle at the dog and you give him one last kiss on top of his head before taking the leash thats in his mouth. You clip the leash on, grabbing your wallet and keys and putting it in your coat pocket as you head out with the dog.

You’re currently staying at a rather small town outside of Norway since its cheaper to live here and you’ve always wanted to live in the area, so at least you won’t be moving so far from the main city when the time comes. You and Henry walk down the chilly streets as you take in your surroundings and taking mental notes of the stores around. You make a left turn to reach the little bookstore you saw when you passed by earlier this morning, smiling to see it’s open.

“Look buddy, it’s still open. Oh! They don’t mind pets too” you grin at the happy puppy, opening the door for him to go in and eventually following him. The bookstore itself is decked out to look like an old english library with reading nooks at some areas.

You go up a book shelf to see the books available and see that the section is old book classics with the vintage hard bound covers. You run your fingers through the spines of the book to settle on Jane Eyre. You take the book out, gently touching the cover while admiring the vintage book design. You open up the book to see that its a little worn out, shocked to see a little message on the front.

“To N.R., for the fiery woman that changed my life forever” you mumble as you read the small letter, wondering who NR is. You jump as you hear Henry bark, looking at his way to see a black cat staring at the two of you. You put the book back as you bend down to look at the cat.

“Hey little guy, who are you?” You let out your hand so that the cat could sniff, who gives you the paw of approval. You smile as he purrs in response, scratching behind his ear slightly before checking the collar. “Liho?”

“Ah, there you are you stupid cat”

You jump at the new voice behind you, making you fall on your butt as Henry yap and Liho walk up to the voice. You groan a little as Henry nudges you on the arm with his snout, a hand in front of you as you look up for your jaw to drop.

The hand and voice belonged to the really attractive redhead dressed in a chunky knitted sweater with the front tucked into her skinny jeans thats cuffed and sneakers. You snap out of your trance as the woman clears her throat a little, taking her hand as she helps you up. You dust yourself off a little as a blush forms on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, is he your cat?”

“Yes sadly the little shit loves to hide from me to meet new people” she teases lightly causing the cat to meow, smiling slightly as you chuckle.

“Natasha Romanoff, are you new? I haven’t seen you around before” she asks as Liho goes up to Henry who then proceeds to play with the cat making you smile slightly as you remove his leash so he can play around.

“Y/N Y/L/N” you start with a shy smile “Yea just today actually. Wanted to borrow some books to read” you explain as you lean back at the counter behind you, fiddling with your fingers slightly in front of you.

Nat hums to herself slightly as she turns to face the books while rolling up her sleeves. You cock your head to the side slightly as you stare at her arms, internally appreciating the view you have of the woman.

“Here! You should definitely read this” Nat says while plucking a book from the shelf, turning to face you as she hands it to you. “Personal recommendation”

You take the book from the red head, smirking at the book cover slightly. “So you’re NR”

Nat chuckles slightly, rubbing the back of her neck slightly. “So you’ve seen the book already when you entered the shop huh?”

“To N.R., for the fiery woman that changed my life forever” you repeat the note in the book by memory, looking at her curiously. “From a boyfriend?”

Nat chuckles slightly at the accusation, shaking her head no and gives you a slight smirk.

“No, I don’t swing that way. From a friend” You smile at her comment and underlying message, putting the book down on the counter.

“Well, since I’m new” you start while shoving your hands into your coat pocket with a shy smile. “Any suggestions for nice restaurants in the area? I’d love to take you out sometime”

Nat smirks a little at your bravery, getting an old receipt from the counter behind you and a pen, scribbling her number and address on the paper and handing it to you. “Here’s my number and meet me at this address, they have the best chicken wings in the area”

You look down at the receipt, smiling slightly. As you put the receipt into your pocket, what the two of you didn’t notice are your two pets having the time of their lives and running around the room. As Henry chases Liho, the black feline zooms in between your legs making Henry ram himself onto the back of your knees, making your knees buckle and fall forward. You gasp as you try to stop the fall, only for you to land into the arms of Nat with the two of you falling on the floor.

You both hear mewing and yapping as you get up a little, face to face with the red head, blushing furiously at the close proximity. As you open your mouth to say sorry, she tucks a piece of strand hair behind your ear as she smiles softly at you making your heart skip a beat.

“See you tomorrow at 6?”

“O-oh yea totally”

[voiceless-terror]

I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat. 

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks. 

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked. 

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it. 

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing. 

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up.  He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be. 

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant. 

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it. 

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is. 

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice.  He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him. 

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.  

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t. 

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

reblogs > likes

[joyfulhopelox]

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"-"And you better not start now"

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Genre: smut with a saltbae of fluff

Warnings: alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, swearing, bit of dom! JK, biting

Summary: Upon entering the club you come across a familiar face. Turns out your laundry adventures were not over. Who knew that clean laundry could lead to dirty talk?

Word count: 6.5k

rating : 18+

A/N: Massive thank you to @bangtanhome for not only being my beta but also my support and making this whole thing a polished princess. Thank you Moon so much for taking the time to edit and thank you for listening to me whilst I complained about this. And most importantly massive thank you for giving me pointers. This is my first piece of nsfw writing and I was extremely unsure about putting it out there but you’ve literally been an angel and were patient with my unsure self whilst also making sure you made this readable <3 -I also would like to thank my soulmate and best friend for putting up with me and dying in the process of reading a fic about her bias. I will warn that i massively sleep deprived at this point but i wanted to get this out with the occasion of the Muster 2021 so here she is!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Fuck. You’d overslept. You weren’t panicking because you were going to be late; you were normally late anyway. But as soon as your eyes opened, you felt the grogginess that comes with sleeping a bit too much. Your body felt sluggish, joints throbbing and your mouth feeling like you've stuffed cotton balls in it. Feeling like you've been through a survival show, you know it'll take at least an hour for your body to wake up properly. However, you didn’t have time to let yourself slowly come to. You were already late. Any later than this and you may just as well stay home for the night- and go back to sleep. You reveled in the thought for a second, but no. Your friends were impatiently waiting for you to go out clubbing with them. And most importantly to lend them your car. You knew that only because they have called and messaged you incessantly for the past hour reminding you of it. You were thankful at least that you were not the designated driver for the night. Normally you’d draw straws and this time you had got lucky, you could drink as much as you wanted.

‘Good lord Y/N get your ass out of bed,’ you hyped yourself up and just like a bandaid, you ripped yourself from your covers and rolled out of bed. Landing with a thud you groaned upon impact. That was going to leave a bruise.

After a quick shower to get the cobwebs cleared off your mind, you put on a dress. You didn’t wear dresses normally, your wardrobe consisted mostly of pants and various tops. To be tightly encased in a dress that was a bit too short for comfort made you feel uncomfortable, but you knew that as soon as you had some alcohol into you, things would change. A loud knock at your door told you that your friends had finally arrived so you hurriedly grabbed your purse and keys and were out the door. You hesitated for a moment, the feeling of having forgotten something weighing on your mind. When you couldn’t figure out what it was, you decided that it must not be important. Plus, your friends were waiting; time to get the show on the road.

As soon as you entered the club, the heavy smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol hit your sensitive nose. The atmosphere was too loud and obnoxious for your sober brain. To remedy that, your friends decided to stop by the bar first and buy a round of shots to get the night started. With the burn of the alcohol running down your throat, your confidence levels increased. The dress didn’t make you feel uncomfortable anymore, instead you prowled around, your hips moving to the beat. You were aware of the lustful stares that you were receiving and you thrived off of it. Tonight you were on the hunt, ready to let loose after the stressful week full of exams.

“Hey, Y/N. Muscle at 12 o’clock has been giving you the look more than a couple of times,” your friend leaned in to make themselves heard over the loud music. “Try not to be obvious, but I'd say he’s a 10.” You nodded in acknowledgment running a finger over the rim of your glass.

“He’s looking away now, look look,” they nudged you, forcing you to turn around. In all honesty, you weren’t interested in going home with anyone. You were simply enjoying the admirative stares and the smouldering gazes that were thrown your way, but you had no intention to take any of them home with you. However, when you turned around, you were faced with the impossible task of reconsidering. The back of the man your friends' pointed out was indeed muscular, broad and strong, you could see the muscles popping underneath the black shirt he wore. The sleeves of the shirt were pushed up to his elbows, allowing a full display of tattoos on his right arm.

Normally you would have second thoughts about a person like that, but there was something about his demeanour that drew you in even without seeing his face.

The handsome man motioned to one of his friends and his whole body shook with laughter. Observing the way the shirt strained against his muscles you licked your lips involuntarily. For a second you thought he looked strangely familiar, and before you could convince yourself you were being paranoid, he turned his head to the side to entertain the person to his right.

The messy mop of hair, defined jawline and that bridge of the nose they all belonged to the laundry boy - Jungkook. You smirked, “I’d give it a 15 actually”. As soon as you said that, he threw you a glance, his smile wavered as he made eye contact. You felt satisfied at the recognition in his eyes.

You slowly turned back to your friends, certain he would come to you. It took him the entirety of the time you took to finish your drink to make his way towards you.

“Don’t look, he’s coming.”

“Oh, he will be,” you smirked, eyes twinkled with excitement as your friends laughed at your slurring words.

Jungkook had noticed your enticing figure entering the club from the very beginning. It was as if a magnet pulled him towards you. He recognised you as soon as he laid eyes on you. How could he not? The cute girl from the laundry room in the daylight turned into an alluring vixen during nighttime. His eyes were drawn to your hips, the curve of your back and the tempting strip of skin he could spy; they were enticing to him. He tried his best to focus on the way your eyes sparkled in delight when one of your friends would make a joke, but when you ran a finger over the rim of your glass tracing delicate patterns, he felt your siren pull.

You smelt him before you felt him, the subtle vanilla enveloping your senses overpowering the scent of sweat from around you. He stopped right behind you, with one hand on the stool next to you; not completely encasing your form, but close enough that you could see his jawline in your periphery. Leaning in under the guise of ordering a drink from the bartender he pulled the stool and sat down. He didn’t address you at first, patiently waiting for his drink, his long fingers tapping the counter in rhythm with the beat. You tried your hardest not to stare at his hands, the art on them fascinating to you: the doodle style art accentuating his knuckles and the veins running tracing all the way up to where his skin hid beneath his shirt. You tried to keep a poised front, talking to your friends as if he was not there, but you could feel the heat of his stares from time to time, goosebumps forming on your skin.

You knew your friends were getting drunker and drunker as time passed, but you’d underestimated them. Soon enough they each scattered around the surface of the club looking for a dance partner. Your friend left you in charge of the drinks they ordered, winking at you suggestively as they left. That meant you were alone. And judging by the way your skin prickled, Jungkook was still seated next to you.

“A gin and tonic, please,” he ordered another drink. You realised now would be the perfect time to not only talk to him, but also repay him for earlier. As the bartender presented him with the bill you turned around and smoothly presented your card to him. “Make it two on the same tab.” you smirk, winking at Jungkook when your eyes met his.

You heard Jungkook laugh at your brazen attitude and you had to admit to yourself, if not for the alcohol you’d had earlier, you would’ve probably walked away. You made direct eye contact with him and smiled.

“Nice to see you again, laundry boy,” you smirked. Jungkook looked taken aback for a second. The image of you in the laundry room is completely erased. What he saw in front of him now was an alluring woman, sure of herself and what she wanted. And she made it clear that she wanted him. Hiding a smirk behind his hand he leans closer to you, his breath fanning the hair stuck at the nape of your neck.

“It’s Jungkook, not 'laundry boy',” he yells over the music. Your shoulders shake with laughter.

“I know, but it is fun to tease you - Jungkook.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in delight. He's caught onto what you were doing and he was ready for it, two could play at this game.

“What’s your name?” You were half expecting him to pull a bad pick up line, the earlier impression that you had of him still engraved into your mind. When he didn't, you smiled, hiding your satisfaction. Maybe he really was worth a 15 and not a 10.

“What, no ‘I didn’t catch it’? No ‘I bet it hurt’? I’m offended, do I not deserve a bad pick up line?” you grinned at him and he burst out laughing, the sound reverberating through you making a shiver run down your spine.

“You got the drinks, pretty girl, there’s no way I can use a pick up line now,” you started laughing earnestly. He was definitely not what you had expected. The muscly tattooed facade was clearly done just for the purpose of aesthetics, and not because he slotted right in with the rest of the douches.

“Fair play, but I did say I was going to pay you back earlier,” you gesture with your head as if to point out which earlier moment you meant.

“I see. This is how you intended to keep your word then” Jungkook said just as the bartender places the drinks in front of you both handing him something. “But as it happens, I am a step ahead of you” he waved a card in front of you. His satisfied smirk made you pause flustered. Realising he’s already given his card to the bartender earlier you blushed.

“That’s not fair, laundry boy” you pout. “Now I have to find another way to repay you” you fumbled with the card the bartender handed over to you struggling to place it back in your clutch.

“I am sure we can find other ways” you paused looking at him. Under normal circumstances you would have found that to be incredibly off putting, but noticing the way he scrutinised you so intensely, no hidden message behind his smoldering gaze you squeezed your thighs together a wave of heat enveloping you.

You took a sip of your drink to mask the deepening blush and cleared your throat. You knew that if you gave him your name you were in for the ride. “It’s Y/N” you took another sip, savouring the taste of the alcohol.

“What?” Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to hand him your name so freely.

“It’s Y/N” you yelled louder and leaned into him thinking he hadn’t heard you because of the music. The waft of your perfume clouds his senses, the smell of cotton and lilac enveloping him. Needing to be closer to you he chanced it and asked you for a dance.

You finished your drink with a gulp and nodded your head. You grabbed his wrist and started making your way through the mob of people. Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at the way your hips swayed to the beat and when you threw him an alluring look over your shoulder he couldn’t help but be lost. He felt like a puppy following your sultry form through the crowd.

You finally stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, your moves more accentuated following the beat of the music. Jungkook stopped a few inches away from you, unsure whether or not he should place his arms around you yet.

You stepped closer to his body, your movement predatory. “Come on laundry boy, you can do better than that. Think of this as part of the payment” you winked at him. You could see the shift in his eyes, a flash of something heavy across his face, his demeanour changing in an instant from uncertain to commanding in a second. He gripped your waist tightly and pulled you flush against him moving along with the beat.

For a second all you could feel and smell was him. His domineering attitude instantly turned you on with the silent promise behind it. “Oh, this is just the beginning” he moved his hands so that his arms encased your waist intending to savour the feeling of you against him. Fully intending to see where this night ended you hooked your fingers into his belt, your bodies so close together they melded into one.

“Bring it on lover boy.”

The oppressive atmosphere of the club was enough to cloud all your senses. The alcohol running through your veins made you braver than you would have ever been. The smirk Jungkook threw at you was almost tantalising. Inviting you to commit sin. And the thought of tasting his lips and running your hands through his hair whilst his breath fanned over your throat was mouth watering. You’d been skirting around each other for the whole night, laughing, drinking, talking, but most importantly eyeing each other up. The last straw for you was when a rogue drink came flying out of nowhere and drenched the two of you. The liquid mixed with his sweat and snaked its way from his temple down to his jaw. You watched as the drops ran lower and lower as if directing your gaze towards his chest. Swallowing thickly you knew that you were a goner. If he’s ask to fuck you right there on the dance floor, you would surrender instantly.

Smirking at your lust filled expression, Jungkook knew he had you where he wanted. He had been staring at your lips for the whole night, entranced at the way the plumpness was enhanced by the sheen from when you’d run the tip of your tongue over them. He was mesmerised. He could also imagine that tongue running over his- he tried to stop himself there, aware that he’d get hard if he kept going in that direction. He could already feel the strain against his pants.

“Another drink?” he offered, and you shook your head at him. Another drink was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was him, to kiss you until your lips were raw and to pound into you senselessly until you could hardly remember your name. Were you drunk enough for this? Probably not, but you did not care for once. You wanted to remember this.

Leaning closer to you with the excuse of the loud music, his breath fanned the nape of your neck and the sensitive shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Then what would you like, love?”

There it was, the thousand dollar question. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath in you looked him straight in the eyes with determination. It made Jungkook shiver. You looked fierce and incredibly alluring. It took all the strength he had in him to not shove you on top of the bar and kiss your brains out. “Tell me?” he coaxed you.

He knew what you wanted. You had been obvious for the whole night. But so had he. Throughout your conversation you were undressing each other with your eyes. You noticed the way he couldn’t keep his eyes away from your ass when you would lean over the bar to ask for one more round of drinks.

Under normal circumstances, that thought would have made you nervous. This time it gave you the courage you needed to let yourself go. To switch from being the player to the one played. And if he was the one doing that, you didn’t mind one bit. “I want you” you bit your lip and looked at him from under your eyelashes. His eyes darkened with lust. Mind clouded with desire, he grabbed your wrist tightly and without a word started making his way through the crowd. The roar of the drunken crowd, the smell of sweat and alcohol, and the feel of sticky bodies bumping into you didn’t matter anymore. All your focus was on the way his back muscles moved with every turn of his body. Suddenly a flash of the same back muscles, naked, moving as he towered over you and thrust his hips into yours made your stomach clench and you could feel your panties getting damp. God you wanted him so badly.

Jungkook could see your wistful lust-filled eyes becoming hazier and he sped up the pace. He finally stopped when he reached an empty corridor near the back exit. He would have liked to have more privacy than that, but something about making you beg for him in a public place made his cock twitch in anticipation. He really needed to get a hold of himself otherwise he’d be done before you’d even started.

He tugged at your wrist and lightly pushed you into the wall, he would have taken things a lot slower but your gaze told him to hurry up and take you then and there. And who was he to deny you?

His eyes raked over your body, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Beautiful”. Even though he craved to taste you, he took a moment to appreciate the way your eyes glistened with passion, your chest heaving along with your breaths and your perfume clouding his senses. He wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

A fistful of your hair in his hands, he pulled you flush against him, until all you could feel were the hard planes of his chest and his hardened member poking at your abdomen causing you to moan, your panties getting wetter.

You whimpered at the sensation as his fingers gripped the sensitive hairs at the back of your skull, goosebumps forming on your skin in anticipation. Expecting him to attack your mouth with the same hunger that was displayed in his eyes you leaned more into him.

You silently begged him to release the coil that had formed in your stomach but he wanted you to beg. His breath fanned the pieces of hair that fell onto your face. The last rebellious piece of you that refused to fall into his clutches. In a desperate attempt to get him to kiss you, touch you - do something, you grabbed tightly onto his biceps relishing in the feel of the muscle tensing underneath your fingers.

“You’re not playing fair laundry boy,” you huff, feeling frustrated over the lack of contact. His laugh, dark, deep and lascivious sent a shiver down your spine.

“Baby girl, that’s not my name” his free hand clasped onto your waist squeezing hard enough to send a jolt through the pit of your stomach all the way down to your heated core. “Jungkook” you whimper and in a last attempt you hook your leg around his thin waist.

“That’s it baby” he lowered the hand on your waist towards your thigh, his fingers leaving an indentation in the skin. Seizing the opening you started grinding your core onto his thigh trying to relieve the ache. His lips ghost over your neck in a tantalizing way, his tongue sweeping over the nape briefly tasting your saltiness. The sensation of his warm tongue on the exposed area of your neck followed by the coldness from the air makes you moan. You could smell his perfume, combined with the musky scent of his sweat and alcohol made your head swim in delight.

“Jungkook, please” , you exposed your neck to him needing more. Rolling your hips into his thigh you could feel the blood pumping underneath your skin, the pleasure overshadowing any rational thought. The friction between your clit and his pants left you breathless, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter ready to unfurl. All of a sudden Jungkook stepped a few inches away, and you lost contact with his leg. Robbed of your release, you instantly whine.

“Mmmm, I can't have you cum on my leg, as much as I would like to see you ride it out on your own. I need to taste you.” he demanded. The hand still supporting your leg inched closer and closer to your dripping cunt. Slipping a cold hand under the hem of your dress his fingers made contact with your heated core causing you to jerk. You yelped, your hips bucking into his hand. Your hands latched tightly onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into them in an attempt to steady yourself. He cupped you through your panties, the heel of his palm pressing into you. Muffling a moan into his shoulder you begged him to touch you more, but he retracted it away from your tender flesh.

“Nuh-uh not yet.” The hand pinched your thigh and you tried not to cry at the feelings bubbling up inside you. You were frustrated and horny, and his taunts were enough to make you crave for more.

“Laundry boy” you warn, staring him dead in the eye.

“Y/N, what did I say about my name” he pulled at the hair he still gripped tightly in his hand. Cradling you close to him he bucks his knee into your core, this time freely offering the friction that you had been yearning for. You whined, the lewd sound echoing in his ear. Your clit on fire, you pressed yourself more into his knee.

“That’s it, moan for me with those pretty lips” gaining a bit of self control you decided it was time for you to step up your game.

“Do you not want to see what else these pretty lips can do?” you licked your lips, your heart racing. Your hooded eyes suggested more than Jungkook would have expected from you.

“Dirty girl” biting his lip before he crashed them onto yours, the contact making your lips smack and your teeth clash. Neither of you care as your tongues intertwine, carrying the battle that your hips are craving. The friction between you caused your whole body to heat up, your senses heightened. You could feel every bit of him against you. The way one hand gripped your thigh and the other pulled at the sensitive hairs at the nape of your neck, the way his tongue roughly caressed yours. He was intoxicating. In the heat of the moment he roughly pushed you into the wall behind you, the force causing you to moan into his mouth.

Jungkook was at the end of his wits, he had to have you now. He needed to taste you, see you unfurl in front of him as he eats you out. Breaking the kiss, your mouth sore, he observed the way your pants made your chest rise up and down, pushing your breasts into him.

Without a word, he attacked your mouth once again for a brief second before he trailed down your jaw to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin in the process. The hand on your thigh reached once more underneath the hem of your dress, this time making its way fully and cupping your dripping core. At the touch of his hand on your sensitive clit your knees buckled and you let your weight onto him, your forehead dropping onto his shoulder for support. You tried to suppress a moan.

“Let it all out baby” his mouth at the shell of your ear, the tip of his tongue trailing the delicate flesh there. “You’re so wet” he moans, “I can't wait to taste you.” His finger dipped under the band of your panties trailing over your center. “So soft” - he sucked your earlobe into his mouth and gave it a small bite - "so wet for me”

This time you couldn’t hold back your moan. The feel of his finger pressed into your folds, parting them and exposing your clit to his ministrations had you squirming. The tip of his finger started drumming in a rhythmic steady fashion on your engorged button. The feel of his lips caressing the sore earlobe relieving the sting from the bite is too much for you. “Jungkook please, I need..” your moans getting louder and louder as the pad of his finger presses harder in an unrelenting tempo.

The hand holding your neck slowly inched towards the swell of your breasts, picking the flesh there until it turned sore. His fingers still attached to your sensitive bud he suddenly drops on his knees in front of you. With his support now gone you try to grip uselessly at the wall behind you. He slots himself between your legs, forcing them to spread open. As he raised the hem of your dress and pushed your panties to the side you couldn’t help but look down. The sight of him between your legs glancing up at you made your knees buckle. With one hand tracing your folds and the other gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place he gives you an uncertain look. “Is this ok Y/N?” his concern for your approval makes your heart melt, but you were too high strung to think about that. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“Please” you moan in approval.

With your approval he dived right in, too hungry for your taste. Parting your folds with his fingers he starts by giving you a tentative lick. Being sensitive from his fingers you writhe, your hands desperately clutching at the wall behind you. Savouring the first taste of you he thrums with his finger at your clit. You arched your back, your hands giving up on trying to hold onto the wall. Instead they found their way into his hair, fingers gripping tightly.

Diving back in Jungkook starts lapping earnestly at your folds, his finger still applying pressure onto your sensitive nub. Bucking into his face you suppress a moan. The sensation of his wet tongue prodding at your entrance is too much to take and your knees buckle. Jungkook sensed the shift in your weight and quickly grabbed a hold of your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. The hand attached to your clit now tightly gripped your calf. The change in position offered the extra support you needed to not fall over.

With your entrance now completely opened to him his tongue started rapidly tracing your folds, only stopping to suck on your clit.

“Jungkook” the overstimulation from his tongue lapping up your wetness and his teeth nipping at the sensitive cluster of nerves is too much to handle, you can feel yourself take over, and Jungkook is more than happy to let you go at your own pace. Grinding over his face, your hands still gripping at his hair, you ride his tongue at your own pace desperate to reach your climax.

You can feel it, you are so close to release you could almost taste it.

Suddenly he entered a finger, knuckle deep into you pumping in and out quickly. Letting your calf go but making sure he is still supporting your weight with his body he leaves you sensitive nub alone and traces kisses along your inner thigh, up to your navel. The dress now obscuring other parts of you he gets up, his finger still deep in you, drawing pleasurable mewls out of your mouth.

“That’s it baby girl, tell me what you need” he is panting in your ear now. With the taste of you still lingering on his tongue and the sight of you coming undone from his ministrations makes him harder than he’s ever been. He felt uncomfortable under the constraints of his pants, the zip digging painfully.

“I need you to fuck me” you finally moan, your hips grinding against him chasing for that sweet release.

“I need you to come for me first baby, I need to see your pretty face when you cum all over my fingers” swiftly he changes fingers, his thumb now drumming at your sensitive clit. You gasp as a finger teases your entrance for a brief second before it penetrates your pussy.

The loud sounds coming from the club were not enough to drown out the lewd sounds that your wet pussy was making whilst Jungkook’s finger pistoned into you. The shot fire along with the shameless sounds you were making were enough to make the tight coil in your belly unfurl. With a deep loud moan you bit Jungkook’s shoulder in an attempt to muffle the yell that was threatening to spill out of your lips. Your muscles clenching in tandem with your core. Jungkook felt your cunt clamping his fingers tightly and a low grunt escaped past his lips. He could almost imagine how wet and tight you would be around him.

“That’s it beautiful, let go”

Your hips carried on buckling, chasing the high and wishing it would not stop. Jungkook took his time observing how your head fell down and your mouth opened slightly in a silent satisfied scream, how your eyes scrunched up as if you were trying to cut off all your senses apart from the feeling of his fingers in you. You were beautiful. When at last your muscles relaxed and your high subsided a low sigh fell out of your lips. It has been a long time since someone has made you cum like that with just their fingers. Jungkook’s finger still lazily traced your clit, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.

“Jungkook '' you whined trying to back away from him but the tight grip on your waist wasn’t allowing you to move more than a few inches away. Without a word Jungkook pulled his hand out of your panties and let go of you. Your knees still weak from your climax you struggle to stand up right and you end up having to lean into him slightly for support. The sight of him licking his fingers coated in your juices sets you on fire once more.

“You’re beautiful when you cum Y/N.” Somehow, his words made you blush. The lewd act that you both partook in had failed to make you blush, instead what made you self conscious was the way he gazed at you. It was softer and more intense and it made your stomach clench once more. If not for the obscene act in the deserted corridor of a club, you might’ve actually entertained the idea that he cared.

You smiled shyly at him and in that moment he was swept away by the warmth expanding from his chest. You were indeed beautiful. And witty, and smart, and you liked to do your laundry. What more could he want? Cupping your face, he kissed you once more, slowly and with purpose. You gasped, you were not used to this gentle Jungkook. Taking the opportunity to pull you closer once more, his tongue mapped every inch of your mouth.

“Fuck me now please” you whisper against his lips. Your hand on his belt moved slowly over the bulge in his pants. He bucked into your touch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around him as much as you could with his pants still on.

“Y/N” he warns. If you carried on that way he would definitely come in his pants. Rubbing him slowly, you could feel his member harden even more under your touch.

“Is it uncomfortable babe?” you whisper in his ear. “How about I return the favour?” you unzip his pants prepared to lower yourself to the floor but he grabs your shoulders keeping you in place.

As much as he would have liked to feel those soft lips around him, he knew that if anyone were to bump into you two, it would not be good. The club was full of students going to the same university as you. If they were to find you on your knees blowing him it would instantly kill your reputation. He did not want that to happen.

“Not here” he zips his pants back up and grabs your hand gently. After all that had transpired between you this soft almost domestic treatment is not what you were expecting. Once again the warm feeling in your heart returned, and this time you were a bit more sober. He was cute, and somehow you found his duality endearing. He returned to being laundry boy Jungkook instead of the dominant Jungkook you’ve just witnessed.

You walked through the club, his hand still gripping you tightly as if he was afraid he’ll lose you in the crowd. Once you reached the outside you took a deep breath in relishing in the way the fresh air soothed your heated skin. Glancing up at Jungkook you noticed he was on his phone texting someone.

“I am texting my friends to let them know I have left,” he explained, putting his phone back in his pocket, smiling at you. The contrast of his lust-filled gaze from before and his gleeful smile almost gave you a whiplash. He was such a contradiction that you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him.

“And I ordered an Uber” as soon as he’d said that a car pulled over right in front of you. The ride back to the campus was a quiet one. It wasn’t an uncomfortable quietness though, having chatted about anything and everything in the club you were content to just put your thoughts in order. You noticed that he had not let go of your hand once during that time but with his gaze out the window, his face thoughtful you could not bear to say anything. Plus, you were enjoying the feel of his smooth hands holding yours.

As the car pulled up in front of the dorm you both shared a glance, an understanding passing in between the two of you.

Once inside the fire inside you sparked up again. Grabbing at each other, your mouths hungrily clashing, you stumbled all the way to the elevator. It was late enough that no one would see you two messily making your way to your room. As soon as you entered the lift and separated to press the correct button you finally remembered what you’d forgotten. If you were a bit more sober you would have laughed at the hilarity of the situation.

Your face fell. “The laundry” you whined in distress. Jungkook’s mouth fell. He threw you a panicked look thinking that you’d changed your mind. One glance at you was enough to tell him that you were panicking in earnest.

“What happened to the laundry?” his hand hovering over the lift buttons unsure of what to do.

“I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer!” you looked at him with such drunken despair he had to hold his laughter in. He did not want to offend you by laughing in your face. You were sober enough to not slur your words, but clearly not sober enough to process your own feelings.

“Let's get that done then.” He decided that as much as he liked your witty self, as well as you in the throes of passion, he adored this side of you too; your guard down, emotions on display. It made his heart swell thinking that you were entrusting him with your vulnerabilities.

You rushed ahead of him entering the laundry room, not paying attention to anything but the lone machine still loaded with your clothes. You quickly opened it, the smell of clean cotton wafting around you.

“Let me help.” Jungkook grabbed the pile of clothes you were holding and moved them into the dryer next to him. As soon as everything was loaded in you turned to smile at him. The panic in your eyes now replaced by the same hunger that governed your mind earlier, you grab him forcefully, clashing your mouth against his. Your hips slammed together in an attempt to ride the pleasure from before. Jungkook, not having expected you to be so forceful, moaned into your mouth and instantly hardened against your hip bone. The quiet of the laundry room was filled with the sounds of your pants as you continued to kiss. In the heat of the moment, Jungkook places his hands on your ass, hoisting you up on the laundry machine behind you. The position allowed your hips to align perfectly, the pressure of his dick now directly onto your clit. Before you could go further Jungkook stopped and looked at you.

“You need to start the dryer,” with the last of his restraints he motioned to the still machine. You glare at him, this being the second time he cockblocks you and himself. But his gaze was unwavering. You sighed and leaned away from him, reaching for the top of the dryer as well as you could still atop of the laundry machine. “Whatever you say laundry boy.”

After pressing down on the start button, you’re quick to return to kissing him. But the quietness of the room seemed odd to you. The dryer had not started. Confused, you look at it again, certain that you pressed the right button. Pressing it once more you wait this time. The dryer stayed still.

The chaotic emotions from before enveloped you again and this time you could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jungkook is throwing you a worried look, not having expected the sight of your tears.

“It’s not started! It’s broken!” you exclaim tears pooling barely hanging onto your bottom lashes. You pushed him gently aside and hopped off the laundry machine. “Why has it not started?”

The desperate look you gave him paired with the knowledge that the machine was not doing what you wanted because you had not paid makes him crack and start laughing. You gape at his bunny smile and crinkly eyes offended until the silliness of the situation catches up to you and you can’t help but join.

“I have never cried over a broken dryer before. Or been cockblocked by one” you glance at him, mirth in both your eyes.

“And you better not start now” he warns you jokingly. You stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing again.

He can’t help but be enamoured by you and your silliness. Even though the night had not gone as you’d both planned. You both crying in laughter over a dryer makes him think that maybe there was something more there than a one night stand. And he was more than ready to give it a try.

Main Masterlist

[writers-block246]

Can you write a Kyoya ootori x fem! Reader smut where Kyoya has a knife kink ? Thanks!

Authors Note: Omg I am so sorry I haven’t uploaded in a hot second. Senioritis has been kicking in lately lol. But yes I can write this, (especially with how hot that is omlll 😳) but yeah anyway, TW: knife kink, degrading

You woke up to the slam of your front door, causing your body to jolt upright. Looking around the room, you see the silhouette of your boyfriend. You shuffle with the blanket in your lap as you yawn.

“Hey, baby,” your voice still scratchy from your prolonged nap, “how was school today?”

You can feel the anger radiate off of him as he grumbled to himself, trying to loosen his tie. It has been a rough week for Kyoya. Though, you didn’t know what was going on, you had a feeling it wasn’t anything he normally handles at school. He didn’t answer, so you didn’t push the issue. When he finally got his tie undone, he glanced at you before heading towards the stairs.

“Upstairs. Now. I don’t wait.”

And with that, his footsteps echoed upstairs and you hear the door shut. You knew exactly what that meant: he was going to have his way with you tonight, whether you liked it or not. And you were gonna like it.

You made your way upstairs as you prepared yourself for what Kyoya was going to do to you. He had always been stern, but secretly soft. But there were some times where you didn’t know if you could even stand up, let alone walk. You had a feeling it was going to be one of these nights.

Normally for a night like this, you would make sure that you have on something strappy, black, and little. However, after a long day at home, you feel the need to at least change into a matching set. Kyoya has made it clear there’s not even time for that though so you stick with your floral Victoria Secret thong and no bra.

The door creaks open as your right foot peaks in, your whole body enters the door.

“Kyoya?”

You suddenly felt yourself push against the door, closing it. As your head tilts up, your eyes come into contact with Kyoya, his left arm was leaning against the door. Your faces just inches apart. Your breathing hitched as your eyes darted to the sharp knife in his hand. The sleek black design along the ridges on the blade caught your attention first. It was easily meant for tearing the flesh.

He gave you a smile before slowly putting the blade against your throat.

“You see, there’s been some rumors flying around that we have a little thing, and the club is not happy with me,” he pauses before moving the tip of the knife to your chin, tilting your head up slowly.

He smirked.

“We can’t have that, can we?”

You subtly shake your head, careful to not slit any skin.

“That’s what I thought,” the blade moves back to your throat, “so tonight, you’re gonna be a good girl for me or this knife is going to slit across your throat. Do I make myself clear?”

His breath was hot against your skin. A blush  rises on your cheeks and you swear you feel the hot flashes all over again. Who knew he could be this... demanding yet so hot?

You barely managed to let out a “Yes, sir,” before he pounced on you. His lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, his hand firmly gripped on the knife against your throat. His other hand playing with the waistband of your pants. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip in hopes to gain entrance, which you gave him. Your hands made their way under his pants, and grabbed his cock, hardening at your touch. He roughly pulled away from the kiss before he started on your neck, giving you a chance to prep. You spit into your hand and work your magic. His grunts of pleasure only motivated you to double your efforts. You gasped as you felt a nip at your neck before Kyoya’s saliva quickly soothed the pain. He repeated the motion a couple of times before he suddenly pulled away.

You felt the blade push slightly against your throat.

“Now, get on your knees like the good little slut you are.”

You did as he said and started to pull his dress pants and boxers down, his fully-hard cock sprung free. You blushed slightly. You never got used to the fact he was so big. With that, you look into his eyes as you began placing kittenish licks up his shaft. His breathing halted and his left hand made its way into your hair, gripping softly. The knife resting at his side, as your tongue swirled around the tip, pretty little moans and grunts coming from his lips. It only encouraged you to break into a sweat, taking him into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down slowly. Your eyes meet with his lustful face. His head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open.  Deciding to use this moment to your advantage, you slowly stand up. Your hand carelessly, yet so gently pushes Kyoya against the bed, as you now straddle him. You lean to kiss him, not noticing the smirk that rested on his face. Suddenly, you felt yourself being flipped onto your back, and the knife clear in your view.

“Not so fast, pretty girl,” he chimed. “You know what happens when you don’t behave.”

At which point, you felt the blade push deeper into your throat, a quiet and breathy moan broke loose from your lips. His low chuckle was like music to your ears, your panties already soaked at the thought of what he was going to do to you. He seemed to pick up on this as he reached under the bed, pulling out a set of ropes. The mischievous look was etched on his face as he bounded your wrists against the bedpost. The anticipation was killing you. You wiggled your needy clit against your thighs, desperate for some and any kind of friction. The whimper that escaped your lips was suddenly cut off by a burning sensation lingering on your wrists.

“Too tight,” you muttered softly, looking up to the grin smeared across his face. His hands made their way to part your legs slightly, and his thumb nearing your inner thigh.

“I know,” his thumb slipped under your panties, landing on your clit as he began to run slow circles against it. His touch alone already made your stomach build up those familiar knots you have felt many times before. His quickened his movements, earning him a low moan. Your toes started to curl before the sudden loss of pleasure overtook you as Kyoya pulled his hand away.

He looked at his finger, visibly covered in your liquid.

“So wet for me already, aren’t you, love?”

You nodded quickly, anxiously waiting for him to continue. He smiled before bending down so his face lined up with your pussy.

“You want me to help you? Even after all this trouble you caused me today? Do you even think a bratty little bitch like you deserves it?”

His tongue licked a stripe up your pussy slowly, sending a shiver down your spine. The words “No, sir,” barely uttered out of your mouth before he repeated the action.

“That’s right. Now you’re going to be a good girl and keep quiet, understand?”

You hummed in response before his finger ran along your slit, and pushed inside of you, pumping in and out. His mouth and tongue quickly worked on your clit, swirling and sucking on the bud with such intensity, you don’t know if you could hold it in. Juices threatening to spill at any second, his other hand kept him steady on your thigh. Your whimpers and moans grew slightly louder before he was now hovering above you.

“I said keep quiet.”

You swear you almost saw the gleam in his eye before you whispered: “Make me.”

He did, in fact, as his left hand was now wrapped around your throat, and gave it a light squeeze. The newfound pressure forcing you to arch your back, making his erect cock graze against your core, almost as though he were teasing you. At this point, your patience was wearing thin, and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You like that, you needy whore? You want my cock inside you? Tell me.”

You struggled to get your words out as the tip of his cock pressed against you, as he moved slightly up against your clit. You whimpered against his touch.

“P-please...”

“Please what, babygirl? Use your words.”

His cock now lined up to your entrance as he lightly squeezed your throat again, his other hand reaching for the blade inches away from you.

“F-Fuck me so hard I c-can’t walk, sir! P-Please!” You begged him, instantly fueling the fire inside of him. With that, his cock that was previously teasing your entrance a few moments ago plunged into you.

The breath was pushed out of your lungs from the force of his thrust. You couldn’t help but moan.

“Now, now, darling. I need you to be quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded shakily.

A rough thrust that hit your g-spot broke that promise. A loud shrill escaped your lips.

You didn’t even register him moving, as you were caught up in your pleasure, so when the knife was pressed to your throat you gave a sudden jolt.

“What did I say?” He questioned with a teasing  lilt to his voice. You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he quickened the pace. He was close and you knew it. Deciding to use that to your advantage, your eyes rolled back into your head as another thrust to your g-spot caused you to let out a loud moan.

“I.. just can’t.. be quiet when you make me feel this good, daddy.”

His thrusts suddenly became faster, grunts and groans flying out of his mouth as each thrust hit your core. His grip tightened around the blade and pressed against your throat to suppress your moan.

“I-I’m close, Kyoya,” you panted.

“That’s what I was intending, babygirl,” he joked as you felt his cock twitch inside of you again.

As you both were near your orgasms, you sped up your motions, your moans escaping your lips was easy encouragement for Kyoya. He let out a low groan as you felt the hot rush of come fill you up, not long after your orgasm arrives, and your juices rush out and onto his shaft.

With that, he collapsed on top of you, and you held him close as you both tried to get your breathing in check. The sound of your heartbeat echoed in his ear before he looked up at you as if you were made of glass.

“You okay, love? Did I hurt you at all?”

You smiled softly. You loved the sweet side Kyoya has, though he barely showed it. Especially after how it contrasts to how rough and demanding he is.

Your legs slightly shaking as the aftershock settled in, you shook your head as a reply.

“Oh no, you did quite the opposite.”

-Admin Maddie

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mind The Gap: One

Summary: In an age of Heroes, there's always one more Villain. Can Shang- Chi handle his girlfriend needing to walk a Hero's Journey of her own? And how will he handle the two of you not being the only "people" in your relationship?

“Where are you?”

“I’m safe- well. Relatively speaking.”

“Y/N-” He tightened his grip on the phone like it was a life line. Like if he clung on hard enough, he could find you somehow.

“I promise to explain it all when I get back,” you say slowly, in what you hope is a relaxed tone of voice. It’s a little had to do with a desert Eagle pointed directly at your nose but for Shang-Chi, to keep him out of this you’d try.

“Please,” he whispered. He could hear the difference in your tone. It wasn’t your usual easy going voice. The one that filled him with a sense of calm. There was a sharpness. And under current he’d only heard once before. And it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“Tell Katy I’m sorry I have to miss Karaoke night,” you try, hoping to break his concentration. “I have to go, I love you.”

And before he can get anything else out, the line goes dead. The line goes dead and he can feel a hollow ache in his chest. One that tells him you’re in trouble. Big trouble. And without being able to keep you on the phone, there’s no telling where you went.

“She’s smart,” Xialing said frowning. “Either she’s done this before or she was warned. But we couldn’t get a fix on her.”

“She’s an archive,” Shang Chi said, trying not to sound bitter, “Smart is an understatement.” He folded his arms and looked over Xailing’s shoulder frowning. There had to be a pattern. Something had to make sense. You were a creature of habit. Very particular habits. When you ate and when you slept was a strict schedule. And on the run you’d be trying to hold on to something… Unless that was all part of your cover, too.

“What happens if-”

Shang- Chi felt his head jerk up and his eyes narrow, making Katy flinch reflexively, “If we can’t find her?” he finished.

Katy nodded hesitantly and he exhaled slowly trying to rein in his temper, “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”

____

You toss your phone away carelessly and listen to the sound of a heavy boot crushing it under heel and scattering the pieces. But still, you don’t look away from the man pointing a gun at you.

“Not bad for a librarian… A little on the nose don’t you think?” he scoffed.

You force yourself into a nonchalant shrug and smile a little, “The best place to hide is in plain sight. At least some of the time.”

And that’s the last thing you managed to get out before that Desert Eagle cracked across the side of your face, sending you into the dark once more.

________

Wenwu watched his son pace, trying to stem the tide of panic. Your phone had gone from ringing out to nothing. Straight to voice mail.

“You got me, leave a message. Or don’t. Whatever.”

“Does she have enemies?”

Shang-Chi exhaled slowly and took a deep breath, “None. At least none that I know about. She avoided the snap but… There’s a bit of time before she wound up in the City she doesn’t really talk about.”

“So she could have enemies?”

He stopped and carded his fingers through his hair, “If not enemies because of who she is then… maybe because of what she is.”

“What she is?”

Shang Chi nodded reluctantly. He wasn’t even sure he completely understood. He only knew that your brother had warned him. Told him that there were things you could do that were… rare. That might attract attention. And he wasn’t sure if he could share that information. Even if it might bring you home. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. For all he knew you could be dying. You could be dead and it could already be too late. But if there was a chance… No matter how small, he could take your anger. He could take you never speaking to him again. As long as he knew you were alive.

She’s an- an Archive,” he said slowly. “At least. That’s what the world knows them as now, I guess.”

He watched in apprehension as he saw his Father’s eyes widen in understanding and it was clear that he’d met, or at least heard of the Archives before.

“What does she hold?” he asked, seriously.

“Secrets. Things that are hidden.”

Even as Shang-Chi heard himself say the words, he knew he didn’t understand, not really. That had been what your Brother had told him. Quickly. Quietly. While you were distracted with a tea kettle and getting out the mugs. And even his most intense searches could turn up no information.

“Secrets?” Wenwu repeated, “Such as?”

And all Shang-Chi could do was shrug. He’d seen you at work. Your fingers brushing the spines of books. Tenderly. Almost lovingly. And he’d thought that it was cute. That it was an extension of your curiosity. A love of knowing. He thought of the way you’d told him once that Libraries were where you felt at home. Where you felt safe. He thought of the evenings when he came to walk you home. The serenity in the security lights. The way you smiled at him. And his chest throbbed. The secrets you knew probably didn’t include any martial arts.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, leaning heavily against the table, hanging his head. “The only information I have came second hand from her brother. And even then, he only told me that she isn’t human. At least not all human.”

He didn’t like to think about it. And he didn’t like to think about the distance he tried to put between you when he found out. Or how that distance had lead him here. The reaction that had made you avoid coming to him for help. He felt the hand on the back of his neck. But it didn’t register. Not really. In the back of his head, he could hear you. A casual fact. Things about Aliester Crowley. Or Agrippa. Or the Knights Templar.

You’d always written off questions about it as being a weird kid. Or by reminding people that you had a doctorate in Anthropology. But it wasn’t… It never felt like that. It felt like you had just… said it.

Shang Chi didn’t need to be looking at his father to know he was frowning. Thinking. “If we can’t get to her, I need to try to call her brother.”

“What is her brother?”

“An engineer,” Shang Chi said smiling a little. And a former Marine. But he was going to keep that to himself. He had a hunch that your best chance wasn’t going to involve his Father going on a recruiting mission simultaneously.

Wenwu’s frown deepened but he nodded as he watched his son pull a card from his wallet and dial the number.

“Kai-”

“We have a problem,” Shang Chi said quickly, “Y/N is missing.”

“Missing missing or went camping for a couple days?”

“Missing, Missing,” he clarified, “I got a phone call an hour ago and she hung up before we could trace it.”

“Let me call you back-”

And the line went dead before he could say more. “Shit,” he hissed. He wasn’t sure what Pandora’s box had been opened with that phone call. And he hated bumbling around in the dark. He hated not knowing if you were safe. If you were hurt.

“He said he’d call back,” Katy said helpfully, “Maybe he’s calling family.”

“I don’t know if there’s any family to call,” he said pinching the bridge of his nose. He could kick himself for not pressing you for answers. He hadn’t because he’d not been prepared to give you any. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to drag you into his life but. It was looking more and more like he might not have any choice.

When the phone in his hand rang he almost dropped it and had to fumble with it for a second before he could answer, “Kai-”

“I’m assuming you aren’t alone,” the other man said shortly, “I’ll text you the coordinates. Get there as quickly as you can. I’m not sure if we’re going to extract her or clean up the mess. Those idiots have a tiger by the tail and they don’t even know it.”

The call ended and all Shang-Chi could do was stare at the phone for a second, “What the fu-”

“Y/N,” Katy demanded, “Our Y/N? The dirty chai loving, vintage wearing Y/N that cried for 30 minutes at the end of the brave little toaster?”

“Evidently-” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Does anyone else here have a secret badass origin story?” she yelped, “What the hell?”

_________

The coordinates were, So far as anyone could tell, in the middle of nothing. A waste land of tall grass and trails left by herds of cattle in Montana.

But, even without asking he knew he was in the right place. There was a palpable sense of… mayhem in the air. Like the feeling before a nasty storm. Rising anxiety and energy crackling on the wind. Everyone was affected and everyone was quiet.

It wasn’t until they got closer that Shang-Chi and Katy could pick Kai out of the small knot of people. And it was something of a comfort that he looked relaxed. Or at least unconcerned.

“Hey,” Kai said taking a slow drag off his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the sky. He didn’t seem the least Perturbed that Shang-Chi hadn’t come alone. Or that they were all dressed for a fight.

“What-”

“We’re waiting,” Kai said shrugging. “She’s got to take the vortex apart. Then we mop up whatever comes out of it.”

Almost on cue, a Motor Cycle comes roaring over the flat ground as an explosion rattled the ground beneath their feet. “2 hell hounds and at least a baker's dozen in demons, grades 4 to 2.” The words sound like they're coming from you but. You don’t look like you. Skin coated in soot and eyes shining like silver in moonlight. It makes Shang-chi want to shake you.

“Y/N-” He starts, but when you look at him, he doesn’t know what to say. Or where to start.

“You’ll know what it is when you see it,” you say, spitting a mouthful of blood into the grass. “Take it down quickly. Headshots. If it doesn’t go down run for me. Demons don’t play. And, I make better bait. The rest of you are kinda like designer purses. Nice to have but ultimately disposable.”

“Is the vortex closed?” Kai asked grinding the cigarette out with his heel.

“With half the Golden Dagger on the other side of it. Everyone else scattered before I could get anything else for Lea.”

And then there wasn’t time for you to answer anything else. As the small hoard surged into the open field, Kai almost lazily tossed you the other sword he’d had strapped across his back and it was all a blur.

You were a blur. Almost preternaturally fast as you dismembered the bodies that hurtled towards you. It wasn’t until the last demon crackled on the fire that you crumpled like paper, sagging heavily against Shang-Chi who had made his way to your side.

“Shi-” he caught you, if only just. The dead weight taking him by surprise. And the warmth of the blood running over his hands. He could only gasp before the rest of Kai’s team descended like a plague of helpful locusts, loading you quickly onto the nearest stretcher and starting to try and repair the damage.

“I wonder how long she was out,” Kai mused, lighting another cigarette. “Or if she remembers anything. She doesn’t always.”

Shang- Chi opened his mouth to ask, wiping blood off his lip with the back of his hand, but Kai only shook his head. “She told you she’d explain. Let her do it.”

“Will she be okay?” He heard himself ask, but as he watched you loaded into a helicopter, nothing felt real. He’d just watched you dismember a demon. You’d looked at him… But hadn’t seen him. You didn’t look at him like you even knew who he was.

“She will,” Kai answered, looking at him sympathetically. “It takes time… but. The Archive has a vested interest in keeping her alive.”

____________

“Hey.”

“You look like hell.”

“Gee thanks,” you sigh, wincing as you try and sit up straighter. “You should see the other guy.”

“I did,” he said. And he can’t stop the frown when he looks down at your hands. They’re clean now. No trace of the black blood you’d been coated in. You looked like you. Your eyes were the same color that they’d always been.

“I’m sorry that I lied,” you tell him. “That I didn’t come clean when you came back from Ta-lo with Katy. I just… I guess I was still holding out hope that I could be normal.” You look away from him, taking a deep breath. “Becoming an Archive… I always hoped it wouldn’t be me. And then it was. And it was… it was a blessing and a curse.”

“You weren’t born an Archive?”

You shake your head and exhale slowly, “I was born a witch. If Lea and my grandmother can be believed, the most powerful witch born into this family in 400 years. I became An Archive when I was 12.” You swallow hard and take the hand that reaches for yours. “It- I remember the pain. I don’t remember much from before. I remember smoke and screaming. And I remember… I remember hunters and- and- when I woke up I was here.”

Shang-Chi squeezed your hand and reached up to touch your cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb. He’d been ready to be angry. He’d been hurt. But now all he wanted was to pull you closer. “The scars on your back-”

“I’ve been told it’s best that I don’t know,” you murmur. “Lea- She knows but.” You stop and take another deep breath.

For a moment, there is silence. It stretches out around the two of you while Shang-Chi digests those pieces of information and you try to try to put together a coherent explanation. Beyond the door, you can hear voices mingling in the kitchen. Katy. Kai. Lea. Wenwu. Xialing. Cousins. Your Grandmother. Both familiar and strange.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Shang- Chi asked quietly.

“Calling you… I know I told you I’d explain I just- I don’t know how.”

Shang-Chi smiles a little, “It’s probably harder given there’s a lot you don’t remember.”

“A little,” you murmur. “Sometimes, the Archive condescends to tell me what they’ve been doing with my body but other times? It feels a little like waking up from closing down the Karaoke bar.”

“How much time are you missing now?”

“A day. Maybe two. I’m not sure.”

“What’s the longest time span you don’t remember?”

“Close to a year,” you sigh. “If my physical body is in danger, The Archive will take the driver’s seat until the danger has passed OR It’s deemed that I can handle it on my own… Now that I’m older and I’ve grown into the powers I was given I spend a lot more time driving.”

“Even when you’re with me?”

“The Archive seems to think it can trust you. Though if it’s just with my physical body or with the things we know I’m not sure. Sometimes it views those things as one and the same.”

“Do you- I mean. When we’re alone?”

“You mean when we’re having sex?” The blush that blooms over his cheeks makes you smile a little. “I mean. The Archive lives in my head. Sometimes it has notes though… I don’t know how it would know-”

“Notes?”

You nod and roll your eyes. And even if he’s confused and a little offended, he can’t help but chuckle, “What kind of notes?”

“Ugh-” you groan, “No. We’re not humoring the freeloader in my head.”

[kung-laos-hat]

Fool

Kung Lao x Fem!Reader

Warning: Contains major spoilers from Mortal Kombat 9, including quotes from the actual script. :) kinda follows the canon but also doesn’t considering this is an x reader ‼️Not Proof read yet‼️

AN: words of affirmation and acts of service love language goes brrrrr

Summary: Kung Lao is devastated that his best friend and the girl he loves get to complete in the tournament without him, so he does what any sane person does: sneaks his way onto the island and challenges Scorpion in an attempt to impress the reader :D

“We’ll be back before you know it, Lao.” (Y/n) said, placing a hand on Kung Lao’s shoulder.

He chuckled nervously and nodded, trying his best to seem at ease but the uncertainty in his eyes gave it all away. It didn’t matter how long they trained or how prepared the elder monks thought (Y/n) and Liu Kang were. (Y/n)’s attempts at comforting the young man were fruitless.

It wasn’t just that he was worried for his childhood friends’ safety. There was no denying that was definitely one of the reasons he was reluctant to see them off, but aside from that he was envious. And how could he not be? The two of them were chosen by the elder monks to represent their section in the tournament where some the greatest fighters would be present.

Sure, he always knew the elder monks would choose (Y/n). She was the perfect fighter in his eyes. (Y/n) was clever, cunning, and quick on her feet. It just made sense that she’d be the first choice.

However, that left that second slot open for debate, and the primary candidates were Liu and Lao. Now Kung Lao promised himself that no matter what the elder monks decided, he wouldn’t let that drive a wedge in his relationship with his cousin, and he’d been fairly true to his word so far. He was proud of Liu, really.

But time went on and Raiden suggested that it’d be best for Liu and (Y/n) to train together in private, allowing them to grow accustomed to each other’s moves, strengths, and weaknesses. This would come in handy if the two of them should ever find themselves in a position in which they had to fight opponents together. Of course, Liu and (Y/n) already had established a close friendship, but there was nothing wrong with a little refining.

Lao had no problem with this, that is, until the tournament grew closer, and he began to see less and less of the duo. (Y/n) in particular almost seemed to be avoiding him, but Kung Lao knew her better than to assume that was the case. Yes, Liu Kang and (Y/n) were close, but not as close as Kung Lao and (Y/n). The three of them were the best of friends since childhood, but Lao always felt like there was something special between him and (Y/n) that just wasn’t present in her relationship with Liu.

(Y/n) had her fair share of sneaking out, having midnight conversations, and causing mischief amongst the other pupils, with Liu, sure, but it was Kung Lao she always turned to when in need of comfort. Somehow (Y/n) preferred to talk about her problems with Lao, and boy did he love it when she did. It was like seeing a completely gentler, more authentic side of her.

Because of this, Lao simply noticed things about (Y/n) no one else did. He knew what made her happy, and when one night she expressed how anxious training made her, he began to go out of his way to do some of her daily chores along with his own or do little things such as make her a snack. Of course, his pride would never allow his to flat out tell her he’d be doing all of this just because.

No, it was always,

“I just happened to make too much to eat by myself.”

Or

“Don’t look too deep into it. If I didn’t do your laundry for you, you’d probably let it lay around your room. Then you’d have nothing clean to wear and you’d start stealing my clothes.”

Soon enough, Lao’s thoughts were flooded with nothing but (Y/n), and everyday he was forced to remember that she and Liu Kang were spending more and more time together, and eventually would be sent off to potentially die. This not only rubbed salt in the wound of not being chosen, but created a new fear for the poor young man.

God, what if (Y/n)’s opponent didn’t spare her? Would Liu Kang or Raiden interject? Kung Lao knew he would. He’d do anything to keep her safe. Hell, he’d throw away his pride and get on his hands and knees to beg if it meant saving (Y/n).

Was that why Liu Kang was chosen and not him? Because he was a better match for (Y/n)? Did the elder monks think he was more capable than him than much? Or was it (Y/n) who chose Liu Kang to fight beside her?

Now here he stood before her, soaking in her presence potentially for the last time. (Y/n)’s hand lingered on his shoulder a little longer, then she signed and took both of his hands in her own.

“What is it?” She asked, looking up expectantly.

Lao blinked, “What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face. Y’know the one that screams ‘I’ve got something to say, but I’m a wuss so instead I’m going to dwell in my room immediately after you leave,’” (Y/n) teased.

Lao half smiled and pulled his arms away. “It’s nothing, I’m just worried for you two.”

(Y/n)’s face softened and she offered him a small smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. Liu Kang’s bad temper, maybe, but I’m sure I’ll be okay out there.” She opened her arms and embraced Lao, which he quickly accepted.

“After all,” (Y/n) said pulling away slightly and flicking the tip of Kung Lao’s hat, “I trained with the best.”

“We’ve got to get going!” Liu called out from a few feet away at the enterance of the temple.

With that, she placed a small kiss on Lao’s cheek and ran off to join him and Raiden.

“You better return in one piece!” Kung Lao called out jokingly.

“If I don’t, you better build me a cooler body!” (Y/n) laughed, waving her hand over her head.

With a flash of light, the three of them were gone.

___

So far the introduction to the tournament was running smoothly. (Y/n) had managed to hold pleasant conversations with a few other competitors, including one by the name Johnny Cage. (much to Liu Kang’s distain. Apparently Johnny had accidentally disrespected Raiden and was under the impression that everyone there was just really into roleplay. But aside from being a little arrogant, (Y/n) didn’t mind him.)

(Y/n) had been selected to do a quick demonstration fight against none other than Princess Kitana, who put up a good fight but in the end didn’t stand a chance against her. While the princess laid half on the ground, (Y/n) was given the option to either finish her off or spare her. Despite (Y/n) choosing mercy, Kitana didn’t take this defeat well, but did her best to maintain her composure as the two retreated inside to tend to their wounds.

“...Why did you—,” Kitana began in a low whisper. (Y/n) turned to her and helped her hand, palm out, in front of her chest.

“You’re an excellent fighter. One with true talent, princess, believe me.” (Y/n) chuckled, “To take a life such as yours would be a waste. Don’t let one little defeat become a deterrence.”

The ghost of a smile graced Kitana’s lips. “You know, you’re a fool to be so kind to your enemies. The next time we meet might not be under such pleasant circumstances.”

(Y/n) huffed, “A fool, yes, but at the very least I’ll be remembered for it.”

———

The fighting continued on without the two girls for a while until Shang Tsung granted an intercession. (Y/n) made her way to Liu Kang’s side and nodded at him. He glanced down at her neatly bandaged hands and huffed in amusement, knowing damn well that when they returned home, his companion planned on showing off her “battle scars” to Kung Lao in an attempt to impress him. As they waited for the next match to begin, Liu Kang filled her in on what she’d missed during the Johnny Cage versus Reptile fight.

“I wish you could of been here to see it, (Y/n). I got second hand embarrassment from how arrogant he sounded.” Liu rolled his eyes.

(Y/n) stifled a giggle and covered her smile with her hand, but as she did this, she noticed one particular bodyguard’s eyes watching her intently from behind his helmet.

He was a bit of a distance away, but somehow it felt like his stare was burning through (Y/n)’s skull, and the very thought of that sent a chill down her spine. She awkwardly cleared her throat and turned to face the other direction, her fingers slightly latching onto Liu Kang’s arm defensively.

The rest of the day was nothing short of eventful. Raiden had requested that she accompanied him into the underground sections of the island, where she became acquainted with Sonya Blade and Jax, and even got to witness Sonya fight a man named Kano. Johnny Cage and Liu Kang eventually joined them, and there they established a sort of team while Raiden explained the severity of losing the tournament.

Afterwards Sonya and (Y/n) parted ways with the men and accompanied each other to their designated bedrooms, which, luckily, were located across from each other. As they walked, the two women got to know each other a little better. Sonya told (Y/n) more about how she came to meet Jax, her life in the army, and how she eventually ended up on the island. In turn, (Y/n) told her about her life with the White Lotus Society and Raiden. They went back and forth, trading silly childhood and training tales until they came across a certain mural in one of the main hallways.

(Y/n) paused in front of it and smiled fondly at the depiction of a man standing victoriously over his enemy on a great cliff or something of the sort.

She turned to Sonya and smiled excitedly. “The Great Kung Lao,” she explained, “He’s a legend back home. Truly one of the greatest fighters the White Lotus ever produced.”

She proceeded to retell the story of Kung Lao’s victories back in the day, and Sonya listened intently.

“So that’s your motive then, huh?” Sonya chuckled.

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Well I’ve got my mission to save Jax, Cage wants his fame... what about you? What’s your motive? Aside from the monks selecting you, that is.”

(Y/n) glanced back up at the mural, then back to Sonya. “A descendent of his— the great Kung Lao, I mean.” Suddenly (Y/n) felt incredibly shy and began to fiddle with her hands.

“Liu Kang?” Sonya tilted her head.

“No!” (Y/n) exclaimed, laughing slightly, “A friend of ours, actually.” As she spoke, her tone was laced with a certain fondness.

Sonya smiled, “A friend?”

“Yes, Miss Blade. A friend. Anyways, he helped me create all of my best moves. I hate to admit it, but I basically modeled my fighting style after what he taught me when we were kids.” (Y/n) faintly blushed and smiled to herself.

“So... that’s it then? You want to impress him?”

“I mean— I just—,” (Y/n) struggled to find words, “I mean of course that’s not all of it. Of course I’m here to protect the Earthrealm first, but...”

She glanced up at the mural once more.

“I don’t know, I want him to see how much I’ve improved recently.”

Truth be told, (Y/n) had always admired Kung Lao growing up, but it wasn’t until around their late teens or early twenties that she’d began to admire him a little more than usual. And because of that she’d begun to lose her focus around him. Sure, he had always been terribly strong, smart, and witty beyond compare, but as they grew (Y/n) began to notice how charming he was or how nice he looked without his gear on.

Or even how differently he treated her compared to everyone else.

———

The next day the fighters returned to the island’s arena. Shang Tsung and the monks took to their spots while Quan Chi stood at the foot of the throne.

Liu Kang and (Y/n) exchanged anxious glances At eachother. After the events of last night, (Y/n) could tell her friend’s nerves were a little shaken, despite how composed he seemed. She silently patted his back as a masked guard crossed his arms and moved a little closer to where they stood with Raiden.

“Kombatants! the next match will now begin!”

In a burst of flames, Scorpion teleported into the center of the arena. Everyone gasped in awe, and (Y/n) and Liu Kang shared looks of pure admiration.

“Scorpion!” Shang Tsung called out, “Specter of the Netherrealm! Resurrected by the sorcerer Quan Chi! Who among you is worthy of this challenge?”

“Where is the Lin Kuei Sub-Zero? He killed my family and clan. I will have his head!” The masked man snarled.

Without order, the mask guard standing closest to Raiden promptly walked to the center with Scorpion, discarding his mask and armor as he went.

“I accept the challenge!”

(Y/n)’s face fell. She knew that voice, and it definitely wasn’t Sub-Zero. She looked up at Liu with a worried expression, and he returned her stare with his own.

“Kung Lao?” He whispered as he turned back to the two men standing before them.

“Nevermind the Lin Kuei. Now you face a Shaolin.” He announced.

“Kung Lao, what are you doing here?” (Y/n) muttered under her breath.

The man ran two fingers over the brim of his razor sharp hat and turned his vision toward where (Y/n) stood with Raiden and Liu Kang. He pointed directly at the girl.

“(Y/n).”

Oh god.

“I dedicate my soon to be victory to you, my most prized companion.” He said firmly.

She looked around the arena at the other fighters with a mortified expression and caught Sonya and Johnny hiding their smiles under their hands.

“Please don’t do this, Kung Lao.” (Y/n) begged, sweat beginning to form on her temple from the sudden embarrassment she was feeling.

“It has to be done.” He said, assuming a fighting stance.

“All this nonesense to impress (Y/n) (L/n),” Scorpion huffed, “You will regret your impulsiveness.”

The fight commences, and although Kung Lao is a master of the Shaolin arts and a great fighter, his attempt at overpowering someone who’s spent years trapped in the Neatherrealm soon proved to be futile. (Y/n) could feel herself cringe at every severe blow Scorpion landed to Lao’s torso until he ultimately beat him into an unconscious state on the floor.

(Y/n) tore away from the crowd and rushed to Lao’s side, swiftly but gently lifting his torso onto her lap, cradling his head in her arms as his hat laid in the dirt beside them. Scorpion looked down at her, the pity in his eyes seemed almost unbearable to (Y/n).

“He is not yet a warrior. I apologize, (L/n), I did not mean to cause you embarrassment.” He nodded.

(Y/n) shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Don’t be sorry, Scorpion. There’s no bad blood between us.”

“Kung Lao!” Liu cried out shortly after as he jogged over to aid them.

He thre Kung Lao’s arm over his shoulder and housed him up, carrying him out of the arena as Lao came to. Raiden and (Y/n) followed shortly behind.

“Listen when your elders speak!” He scolded, “You could not win this fight! And lost it at the expense of both you and dear (Y/n)’s expense!”

“Master, please, that’s enough. He meant no harm.” (Y/n) defended as they entered the main hall.

Raiden sighed angrily, “Take him to the nursery and get him cleaned up.” With that, he turned back around.

———

“Are you sure you want to tend to his wounds by yourself? It’d go a lot faster with my help...” Liu Kang said as he stood in the doorway.

“It’s fine, Liu,” (Y/n) waved him off, “It’d look bad if both of us weren’t present during today’s fights.”

(Y/n) turned around and subtly motioned to Kung Lao, who was spread out on a bench, and shot Liu an expecting look that said, ‘Get out, dumbass, I want to speak with him in private.’

Liu Kang mouthed a silent ‘oh,’ in realization and nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Take care of him, and I’ll be back later to check on the two of you.”

He eagerly left the room and shut the door behind him, leaving the two together in awkward silence.

(Y/n) sighed and turned to the cabinets to retrieve a towel and bandages.

Kung Lao sat up and huffed in annoyance, “Why must the two of you talk about me as if I’m not here, (Y/n)? I’m perfectly capable of tending to myself, you don’t have to stay.”

(Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows together but said nothing. She continued on gathering her materials and laid them out on the counter beside them.

“Are you upset with me? Is that what this is?”

Still nothing.

“What? Do you want me to apologize? Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, (Y/n)—,”

“Why are you here, Lao!?” She interrupted sharply.

He scoffed, “Proving I’m equivalent to Liu Kang.”

(Y/n) shook her head angrily. “Why!?” She dipped her small towel in a bowl of water and squeezed it. “You don’t have to prove anything, I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t—,”

“Then help me here, Lao. Explain— Did Raiden... or the elder monks— did they say something to you?”

“That’s not it.” He glanced down.

“Did something happen? I don’t—,”

“It’s you, (Y/n). You’re the reason.” He blurted.

The room was silent again.

“Oh.”

(Y/n) slowly turned around and made her way over to Kung Lao, beckoning for him to give her his arm. She avoided his gaze as she placed the damp towel over a large gash in his shoulder.

“I’m very sorry then... Whatever I did, I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.” The heartbreak in her tone was prominent.

Kung Lao sighed, “No— sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s my fault.”

(Y/n) paused, “What do you mean?”

Lao timidly placed a hand on her shoulder. (Y/n) looked up at him in confusion and scanned his face. He was giving her the same look he had on the morning she left for the tournament. The one that made it seem like he desperately wanted to say something but didn’t know how, or couldn’t muster up the courage to flat out say it.

Kung Lao groaned and burried his face in her other shoulder.

“I like you.” He mumbled, “There, I finally said it. It’s foolish, isn’t it? That I did all of this just because I wanted you to admire me back? I knew the elder monks didn’t choose me for a reason. I’m sure I couldn’t have handled the tournament, anyways—,”

“That’s not it at all!” (Y/n) cried, gingerly wrapping her arms around his torso, “It’s my fault you weren’t chosen, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t understand,” He said, looking up.

(Y/n) sighed, “It was originally supposed to be us two. At the tournament, I mean. The elders said our fighting styles complimented eachother the most out of the three of us. But then I started to slip up during training whenever you were around. I’m sorry, I thought they’d replace me with Liu Kang, but—,”

“They replaced me instead...” Kung Lao finished.

“You are no lesser of a great fighter than Liu Kang. It truly is my fault, Lao.” (Y/n) confessed.

Kung Lao blinked and was silent for a moment. “So... you were slipping up because...?” A cheeky smile slowly made its way onto his face.

(Y/n) signed and hid her face in the crook of his neck.

“I like you too, you idiot monk. I always have.”

Kung Lao laughed, “Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“What didn’t you tell me!?” (Y/n) argued playfully.

“What? Was doing all your chores and things not enough of a sign for you?”

“Well, clearly they weren’t. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been so stressed over the matter.”

“Oh goodness...” Kung Lao chuckled.

They two sat there, holding each other, for a moment until (Y/n) pulled away.

“I have to finish cleaning your wounds, Lao.”

He nodded and sat up straight, removing his shirt so (Y/n) could clean the wounds on his chest.

As he looked down at her hands, gently pressing the towel to his wounds, applying the medicine where needed, and wrapping them up neatly, his eyes couldn’t help but trail over her lips. This wasn’t the first time, naturally, but know that he had confirmation that she was finally his...

He swooped down and captured her hips with his in a chaste but sweet kiss that lasted no more than a few seconds. (Y/n) stared up at him in surprise.

“Too soon?” He half laughed.

She shook her head, “Not at all.” (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down for a real kiss.

Their lips locked softly once again, and the two of them could feel the sense of pure joy and excitement building up in their chests. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered closed as Kung Lao deepened the kiss. As Lao moved his lips against hers, it tasted sort of metallic from the dried blood that remained on Lao’s lips beforehand, but (Y/n) didn’t seem to mind.

When they finally pulled away, Kung Lao rested chin on top of (Y/n)’s head.

“You’re a fool, Kung Lao,” (Y/n) said endearingly.

He kissed her hair and let out a small laugh.

“For you, perhaps.”

[mackeydoodledoo]

I got your Back

Pairing: (DragonBat!)Daniela Dimitrescu x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: One walk out in the woods would change your life. One encounter with a Royal Dragon Bat changes your views on the four lords.

Warnings: Near-Death, Running, Being chased by the Queen of the ‘Dragon Castle’

A/n: I thought I was going to make this a one story thing, but I was WRONG! Hi, I apparently make series and this is apparently a series now. Also, plot twist comes in this chapter!

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1 Year...

Daniela’s injury had long healed however, eve if you were letting her go, she only just walked back towards you. No matter what you did to distance yourself from her, she’d always, someway somehow find her way back to you. 

“Don’t you miss home sometimes?” You ask Daniela, leaning against her back

I do but... I enjoy being in your presence as much as I do being at home. 

“Are you sure?” You ask her, reeling in a fish, “Last time I checked, there was nothing special here...”

As you bring in that reeled fish, you toss it to Daniela and she catches it, downing it in a gulp. You roll up your sleeves as you reveal a tattoo. It was a design of Daniela; the Brilliant Red scales and mane with a hint of Brilliant Emerald Green scales was all in the design. You unfortunately had to leave town for a little bit to go into the modern world to get it done. 

I can’t believe you really have a tattoo of me...

“You’re my best friend Dani,” You explain, “So, even if you go, you’ll be on these adventures with me.”

You’re something else Y/n...

“Hey, were you always a dragon?” You ask, “Sorry if that’s out of the blue... If a dragon bat can communicate with me telepathically you must be human as well...”

I don’t know... However, there is a legend... Where humans who were turned into monsters like me...

“I don’t see you as a monster,” You say

You... Don’t?

“I don’t,” You say, “Continue on the ‘legend’ you know about.”

You don’t notice Daniela’s cheeks flushing a deep red. 

It started with a daughter of the royal family. She was absolutely lovesick. From time to time she fell for many different men. One night she went too far and killed the man that she had ‘fallen in love’ with. This had angered the townspeople. The daughter was chased to the edge of town, where she begged mother to help her. However, the mother... Was fed up with her daughters’ flirtatious ways. However, deeply caring for her daughter, she felt merciful and found a way to curse her. The mother had cursed the daughter to become a hybrid of a Dragon and a Bat. The challenge for her cursed daughter was to find someone who would love them not only for appearances but for one who truly is themselves shall be turned back to normal. 

“That’s... Intense,” You sigh, “Do you think... It’s about you?”

Who knows? Just maybe. 

“Well, for one, it’s awesome having a dragon bat for a best friend,” You start, “Who would have thought that-”

You hear rustling in the distance. This causes Daniela to begin hissing and growling. You stand up and cock your gun and stand up to begin making your way to where the noise was. Daniela right behind you to protect you. You lift your gun and begin listening for anything out of the ordinary.

Dani... You hear them too?

I do.

As quick as a flash of light, a hoard of Lycans jumps down from the bushes, ensnaring Daniela in a net.

“Daniela!” You yell, beginning to shoot the lycans, “Let her go!”

One lycan had gotten closer to you however, you immediately whip yourself around and shoot at the lycan that was inches away from your face. You watch molten fire string right above you, dodging the drips of lava that was dripping down from the stream of molten flame.

Run!

“I don’t think so!” You yell, taking down the remaining lycans that were holding Daniela down

You immediately remove the netting from Daniela and wrap your arms around her neck as much as you could.

I thought I told you to run...

“I’m not leaving you behind Dani,” You say, sternly, “We’re partners...”

The Dragon Bat coos under your touch as the both of you begin walking back to your home. Somehow you had been able to keep it afloat. Even with all of the Lycans targeting you. However, you were certain they were all after Daniela. You shoot at the final lycan but hear it beginning to speak.

“The mother of... The Castle... Will kill you...” It says before dying

The lady of the castle?... Does he mean?-

Y/n? Are you okay?

“I’m fine,” You sigh, “No scratches or anything.. Shouldn’t you get back to the castle?”

My mother is being overprotective... I can take care of myself.

“I wouldn’t want you being strongly punished for choosing to stay with me,” You sigh, “Or even me getting burned alive... I wouldn’t want to go out like that.”

Then how would you want to go out?

“On my bed,” You answer, “Surrounded by the people I love... Well, you for that matter... I’m pretty sure a dragon bat like yourself can live longer than the average mortal...”

That is true, But... I’d rather go out valiantly.

“As your typical dragon bat would,” You smile and sigh

What’s wrong with going out valiantly?

“Nothing at all,” You state, “You should go out valiantly. Or at least protecting the ones you love.”

Before Daniela could answer, the both of you look up to the sky and notice a large silhouette of a dragon. Daniela uses her head to nudge you inside of your home. 

“Daniela!” You yell as Daniela uses her tail to lock you in the house

Daniela walks away from the home and watches the large dragon land in front of her.

You stay away from the castle for over a year?!

I wanted to be on my own for awhile mother!

What if a hunter could have killed you?! Or even sold you for money?!

Mother the human I’m with has not sold me or killed me!

You try to unlock the door however it was locked from the outside. You cover your fist with your hoodie and begin punching the door window, unlocking it. However, you look down and notice how your fist began bleeding; seeing dark spots beginning to seep through. You leave your fist covered however, you run in front of Daniela.

“You leave her alone!” You scream

Oh! We have a loud mouth!

Your eyes widen and jump out of the way just as the white and black dragon breathes its fire. 

Mother Stop! Please!

If you want me to stop you must come home!

Daniela actually considered it, but, she had grown attached to you. She couldn’t just up and leave right then and there. She didn’t want to leave you. You appear right back at Daniela’s side, not long before the ‘Mother Dragon’ had began forming her fire in her mouth. It wasn’t before Daniela had curled her neck so that she was practically guarding you; her tail also curled around you. You hear and feel the growling emitting off of Daniela.

You DARE growl at your mother?!

Mother... I don’t want you hurting this human... She saved my life!

Humans are all the same! Now move my daughter!

Daniela also didn’t want to anger her mother. A chill shoots up your spine as you feel Daniela’s tail move away from you, along with her head and neck. But, you feel her warm steam exit her nose.

“Run...” A very feminine voice whispers in 

You’re not sure what shot through your body, but in the next second, your foot pivots and you run... And run... And run.

You come back and succumb to your despair!!

You could hear what the Mother Dragon was yelling. But, you don’t turn to look back. That’s one thing your father taught you; to never look back when you’re running away from something. However, you hear another roar; making you finally turn your head, stopping in your tracks. 

Daniela?! What is the meaning of this?!

“Run Y/n!!!” Daniela yelps as she falls off her mothers’ back

Did Daniela just...

You wanted to turn back and help her. But how could you? The Mother Dragon said it herself. You were a mere human. No special powers, no dragon bat abilities you were just human. However, you couldn’t just simply run away now. Daniela was in trouble. 

You will come home this time! And you will never-

Before the Dragon Mother could finish her sentence at a whimpering Daniela, she turns to a pressure on her tail; your teeth were attempting to sink into the scaly tail. Like themselves, you were grunting, growling and trying to injure the Dragon mother long enough for Daniela to get free. 

No mortal has ever sunk their wee teeth into me flesh before... Got to say little one... You have guts... No matter, You’re finished..

With a simple motion, your teeth weren’t strong enough to hold against the Dragon Mothers’ tail whip. Daniela’s ember eyes widen as she watches your body be flung over the edge of the cliff. Despite being under her mothers’ foot, she manages to break free from her mothers’ grasp. 

Y/n!!!!!

You couldn’t scream. The heavy drop of your stomach made it hard for you to. At that point you decided to accept your despaired fate. That was... Until you saw a silhouette of dragon wings...

A/N: Omg!! It’s been too long! I’ve gotten a new job and it has been exhausting me to the bone! Hopefully I can upload more soon!!

Go Home Daniela