#if anyone wants to flesh this out be my guest lol

[what-yadoking-likes]

Future B I G B R A I N post

Vlad gives Locke a cookie with truth serum.

Locke eats it.

Locke is helping the crew through a heist.

C h a o s ensues.

[angrelysimpping]

lol, meet my newest oc, Danny.

(picrew)

hes semi possessed and not thrilled about it

some porn of him uwu

(noncon touching; forced mastrubation; possession; talking about murder; anal fingering; uuuuuh, i think that's it?)

Someone had been killed here. 

Murdered, right in this very bed. It's something Danny knew from the moment he stepped into the shitty little motel room. He didn't even have to think, didn't have to ask anyone, or try researching it like he used to. No, not now. Not after he killed someone himself, felt their hot blood on his skin, watched the life fade from their eyes, and…changed. Now, he felt it in the air, could almost see how it all happened if he bit his lip and focused. 

Still, that didn't stop him from flopping back onto the thin mattress fully clothed. The rough sheets and lumpy pillow might have bothered others, but Danny couldn't give a shit about things like that anymore. 

Sleeping on a prison cot for the better part of a year does things like that.

Unfortunately, his stint in prison didn’t help with his inability to fall asleep.

Danny isn’t sure how long he lays there, willing his mind to shut down, his body to rest. Eventually, he feels it creeping over him. His body lighter, fingers twitching keeping him present just a little longer before he can finally drift off. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy to murderers.

Danny sighs deeply as the thought floats through his half-awake mind, unsure if it’s even a thought from his own brain or…from it. The thing that clawed its way into his body, had twisted its essence into his soul by mistake and was now stuck with him. He hopes it was from his own mind, not wanting to deal with his uninvited guest just as sleep was starting to seem like it would actually envelop him. 

Of course, it’s not that easy. Nothing has been since the night he agreed to that stupid ritual. Sure, he didn’t have any qualms killing the man, had even enjoyed it really, but now he has to deal with some fucker in his head all the time. Like now. 

It’s with a jolt that Danny feels his hand move at his side. Not a half-asleep twitch but move. On its own. Or, by someone else’s will. 

“Knock it off,” he mumbles, tongue heavy and eyes still closed, begging silently for sleep to take him.

It doesn’t listen.

His hand comes up, scared palm slipping under the fabric of his tattered jacket and gliding across the plane of his stomach. It feels…odd. It’s his hand but it doesn’t quite feel like he’s touching himself. But, well, it’s not bad, really. Just…disconcerting that he’s not the one in control of his own limbs.   

Oh. Wait. No. No, that’s bad, wasn’t it? He wasn’t in control. The entity was. The thing that had tried to steal his body. The thing that had let that young prison guard get ripped to shreds. 

Danny struggles to sit up, more than sleep making his thoughts and movements sluggish. It’s weighing him down, trying to push him back into that horrid subconsciousness that had paralyzed him when the entity had yanked the controls of his exhausted body from him to save both of their lives.  

“Fuck off,” Danny wheezes, chest heavy, full of lead, as he manages to prop himself up against the headboard. 

Relax.

Not his thoughts, then. Not his at all. 

His hand travels up, tracing along his sternum before resting across his heart. What now? Was it going to try to rip his heart from his chest like some kinda B horror monster? Was-

Danny’s thoughts sputter out as the pad of his thumb grazes over his nipple, slowly rolling the soft bud until it stiffened. 

“What are-” he cuts himself off, biting down on his bottom lip as his own nails scrape across his chest. Fingers latch onto his other nipple, tugging at the piercing more than teasing the flesh like it had with the other. The taste of copper fills his mouth, sharp teeth piercing the thin skin of his lip. Laughter fills his head as his other hand springs to life and starts to snake under his jeans. 

“S-stop it.” He wants to die. He wants to die and take this thing with him. He hates it. Hates how his voice breaks and how heat is starting to pool in his gut. It feels like eons since the last time he was touched like this, even by himself. Too much to do, too stressed, too exhausted. When would he have had the time to jack off? Maybe he should have made the time because now his cock is twitching to life even as Danny tries to fight off the thing giving him pleasure in the first place.  

Worst of all, it knows what it’s doing. Knows just how he likes to be touched. Feather-light teasing of fingertips across his thighs. Harsh squeeze to the balls before lovingly stroking over the soft skin. Ghosting over the piercings on the underside of his cock, barely touching them at all.

Then it’s gone, retreating from his pants, and there’s a glorious moment of hope where Danny thinks the thing has decided to stop. Or, maybe, hopefully, he succeeded in taking back control of his own body.

Alas, it’s a short-lived moment, jeans roughly pulled down over sharp hips. 

Relax, Daniel.

“Go to hell, fucking- shit!”

Hate. Hate is what’s burning through him as his own fingers seek out his rim, breaching the tight ring of muscle with no warning or prep. Hate and nothing else. Nothing that would make his cock jump to attention, nothing that would make a fat bead of precum swell at his tip. 

So stressed, poor little vessel. 

“Not a - ah - a, a vessel.” God, he hates himself for moaning. It’s not his fault, his body reacting as another finger is forced into him, but that doesn’t stop the shame burning across his face. 

Especially not when that spot is hit inside him, that bundle of nerves that makes his whole body light up in pleasure. 

Danny doesn’t think, partly him and partly the entity forcing thoughts from his head. If he doesn't think, he won’t have to face the fact that he’s hiking his leg up, giving better access for the fingers pressing inside him. He won’t have to think of the small sounds leaving his throat, the whimpers and whines that make his ears burn. 

When was the last time he was touched like this? Some dirty-mouthed redhead with bright eyes and a wicked tongue. There had been laughter then, hot kisses on his neck and a rough hand between his legs. Strong thighs pressed to his sides as a tight heat devoured his cock, sucking hickies to their broad chest. If Danny just closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was back in that field, back pressed into soft grass and with a firecracker of a one-night stand instead of…of…here, getting fucked on his own fingers in a run-down motel by some backstabbing bastard. 

Fingers moving inside him, fingers targeting his prostate with a seeming laser focus, teasing his chest, he can’t help but let his head fall back against the headboard with a dull thud. He must look a mess, panting pathetically, sharp teeth stained red from his attempts to silence himself by biting into his bottom lip or the inside of his cheek. Too much red. Too much blood. The cuts on his right side, stretching from his hip to shoulder, burn. The being that meshed their soul with his feeding off his blood, making him writhe even more as pain laces together with the pleasure thrumming through him. 

The hand on his chest migrates, nails dragging, until it finds the edge of the cuts, the intricate fucking symbol that ties him to whatever that fucking entity is. It’s almost gentle, loving, the way it touches the mark. Really, if he just let himself enjoy it, if he just pictured that redhead instead-

Danny screams as his fingers press into the cut, digging into his side and alighting every nerve with blinding white pain.

Stay with me, Daniel.

It presses down on his prostate, moving in tandem with the fingers digging into his side. Danny’s eyes go wide, mouth agape as all his senses are overwhelmed at once. It’s a blinding mixture, pain and pleasure coursing through him in waves. Tears well in his eyes, quickly slipping free and streaking down his cheeks. As the entity pushes him closer to the edge, tortures him by prying open the marks on his side, it gains an even greater foothold in him. Eyes shifting, turning from a deep brown to purple, the whites going gray than black. If he were capable of any thought at the moment, he’d worry about the horns sprouting, getting stuck in that form and being unable to make it subside. Or, maybe he’d worry about the tingling at the base of his spine, the itching that would surely sprout a tail. 

He can’t though. There’s not a thought in Danny’s head that isn’t about the force inside him. The one controlling his hands, the one fucking him open and ripping him apart at the same time.

It takes a monumental effort, but, eventually, Danny’s voice returns enough for him to get out a broken “Please.” 

Please?

It’s a leading question, one that demands Danny answer but he’s already lost his ability to speak again, head lolling to the side, tongue hanging past his lips. His tongue stud glints in the dim light of the room, drool dripping softly to the sheets below as his body is pulled from one extreme to the other. Well and truly lost, cum leaks freely down his cock, pooling under his ass and staining the sheets. 

He wouldn’t know how to answer anyway. 'Please stop?' ‘Please more?’ 'Please let me cum?' All were equally viable answers. All were begging, deferring to the entity. That was enough for it to decide to let the human rest. 

Danny’s eyes roll back, a silent cry trapped in his throat as he cums, cock untouched, painting his stomach and chest with white. Blood from his side mixes with the tacky substance, staining his skin pink. 

The moment he cums, everything stops. The pain in his side recedes, the fingers abusing his hole slide out. He lays limp, dark hair matted to his face with sweat, chest heaving, jacket hanging loose from his shoulders. Dimly, Danny becomes aware of himself enough to close his mouth, idly wiping the drool and blood off his chin. He can’t stop a groan from slipping free as he shifts to lie down, trying to get comfortable in his now damp sheets. 

Goodnight, little vessel. Sleep well.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles back, even as he settles down into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

[moistvonlipwig]

fic ask please!

bullet in the proof - 8, 20, 26

laid in thine enemy's grave? - in truth, i dig it - 7, 20, 26? :D

bullet in the proof

8. What inspired the title for this fic? Is that usually how you choose titles?

it's from the dessa song "i already like you"! which i wouldn't say i associate Strongly with guardiancorp but it doesn't Not fit. (although genius.com is now claiming the line is "i'm your bullet AND the proof", which....may indeed be the real line but it makes less sense as a line because presumably the line is riffing off of "pudding in the proof". but ok.) i really had no idea what to call this fic but i like this line and it works with james taking a bullet for her. honestly how i choose titles in general varies a lot. currently i don't have any other published fics with song lyric titles though.

20. What is something you wish more people noticed about this fic?

well to be fair i haven't gotten very many comments on this fic lol so i'm not sure what people have noticed. but one detail i sprinkled in there is that james does aikido; IIRC it's never revealed what martial art he has a black belt in but i decided to give him aikido because (a) i do aikido lol and (b) it's a purely defensive martial art and i like the idea of a guy whose superhero weapon is a shield doing a defensive martial art. oh and also i included a bit about eve where i kind of 'foreshadowed' that she is being blackmailed by leviathan to spy on lena for lex but she doesn't want to because she does genuinely like lena. i like writing limited 3rd person POV fics where i have other characters say/do things that the POV character doesn't at all understand the implications of but the audience does.

26. Wild Card! I’ll tell you a fun fact about this fic!

hm not sure if this counts as a fun fact/trivia but the reveal in s4 that lex tortured james and gave him 16 scars was really one of the first things that made me super interested in guardiancorp (reminder that i watched this show spoiled & out of order lol) because i was like. ok how does he get to the point where he can see past his own hurt to who lena actually is? and part of that was thinking about how growing up with lex left its own psychological scars on lena and how i think james probably came to see that and understand that it wasn't him vs. the luthor siblings, it was him and lena vs. lex. so this fic was in large part an attempt to flesh out the crumbs of guardiancorp we got in 3a to include james's evolving thoughts on that aspect.

laid in thine enemy's grave? - in truth, i dig it

7. What inspired the idea for the plot?

well as i said in my author's note i owe a big debt of inspiration to the OUAT fic "The Long Con" by lostlilsnail. i actually kind of worried while writing it that it was Too similar? then i was like, no, the characters are tackling a similar plot from a different angle because they're different people with different motivations from a different source material. honestly i'd love a third party reality check though!

20. What is something you wish more people noticed about this fic?

now this fic does have a lot of comments so i guess i will just quote some lines that i haven't seen anyone mention that i was particularly proud of:

Lena knows all about the greater good. It’s the thing you kill brothers for.

&

Kara took Kara from Lena, and that is unforgivable.

& a moment i thought was funny:

Even Lillian comes. She sits next to James and occasionally leans over to whisper in his ear, and from the deer-in-the-headlights look that keeps crossing his face, Lena infers that her mother is probably trying to flirt with him.

26. Wild Card! I’ll tell you a fun fact about this fic!

i almost included a line about how kara & lena considered inviting oliver & felicity to the wedding but decided not to because barry & iris warned them that they were bad wedding guests LOL. but i decided against it in the spirit of not making the fic hostile to olicity fans.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Mine Again - Harry Styles

a/n: this is something i just thought about after my nap today lol, so enjoy this treat, a classic exlovers to lovers fic!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

Seeing an ex is never easy. Whether it’s by your choice or not. Working together with an ex is even harder and now you brought a situation on yourself where this is your reality.

Arriving to the studio of The Late Late show you immediately get escorted to your designated dressing room where a hair and makeup artist are already waiting for you. Today you are here to promote your new movie, Don’t Worry Darling with your onscreen lover, Harry Styles, however, what no one else in the building knows is that once the two of you were real life lovers.

Your romance blossomed during filming, having spent so much time together on set, it didn’t take long for a relationship to form between you and him, the chemistry you shared was immense and undeniable, anyone could see that and you felt like you were burning in a bonfire of the most intense feelings you’ve felt for any man. It was passionate and intoxicating, it felt like something that could only happen in movies, but it was your reality.

However filming ended and you were forced to go your separate ways, you both tried hard to keep what you had and though your feelings never changed, distance brought the worst out of the both of you. Six months after you became an item, you mutually agreed to break it off.

You haven’t seen him since then, meaning that it’s been five torturous months without having any contact with him and now that promo has officially kicked in, you are forced to travel around and make appearances with the man you love, yes, still love more than anyone on this Earth. Not even five months and absolutely no contact could change your feelings for him, however he might already be over you at this point, having forgotten about feelings and memories you still hold close to your heart.

How has he been doing? What is he like now? Has he been thinking about you? Does he miss you? What is it going to be like to see him for the first time?

The questions flood your mind as you sit in the chair and let the professionals work their magic on you, covering up the dark circles under your eyes that formed due to the sleepless night you had the day before, nonstop thinking about Harry and what it’ll be like to see him for the first time again.

After careful elimination, you choose a dress for the appearance, it’s tight and short, the fabric is covered in glittering sequins down your body and the long sleeves as well and while the dress covers a lot up from the waist, it makes up in the lack of length on your legs as the end of it barely reaches the upper part of your thighs, ending it black feathers that tickle your freshly shaven legs. The nude heels add even more to them, making you appear like you could hit the runway any moment when in reality you are not high enough to be a model.

There’s still some time until the taping starts, James drops by to say hello and tell you how excited he is to have you and Harry on tonight and you chit-chat for a little before you go to take a quick business call outside. When you’re done with that, you head back to your dressing room to take a few quick photos to post later, but right as you near your destination, a door swings open down the hallway and Harry steps out, wearing a black suit, of course, head to toe Gucci. The crispy grey shirt’s first few buttons are left undone, allowing you a glimpse of his toned chest and his necklace with the tiny cross pendant on it.

He looks good. No, he looks absolutely stunning, just like he always does and just the sight of him takes your breath away, forcing you to stop in your tracks when you lay your eyes at him. He spots you as well, stopping to take a look at you before you see a small smile on his perfect pink lips.

“Y/N, hi! You look… gorgeous,” he speaks up lowly, his eyes raking your body up and down.

“I, uhh—Thanks!” you breathe out, feeling already flustered. How are you gonna survive the interview, sitting next to him, talking about what it was like to play a married couple?!

His hand moves a bit and there’s a moment of awkwardness, neither of you really knowing what to do, last time you saw each other you kissed as your hellos, but now it’s not an option, obviously. At last, he moves forward and goes for a hug.

He envelopes you in his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, the warmth of his body bringing you a sense of home and it hits you hard how much you’ve missed him in these five months.

You swear he holds you just a second longer than what would be appropriate before his arms fall from around your frame and you force yourself to let go of him, though every fiber in you is protesting against it.

“How—How have you been?” he asks, his beautiful green eyes finding yours.

“I’m good. I’m good,” you nod. “What about you?”

“Same. Just the… usual stuff.”

“Writing music?” you ask with a soft smile. You still vividly remember those nights you spent together after a long day of filming, crashing at either his or your place and you often found him strumming his guitar in a corner, scribbling words down into his notebook. Sometimes he sang you the songs he came up with, sometimes he kept them to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve been writing a lot lately,” he admits with a shy smile.

Someone calls his name down the hallway and his head snaps up before looking back at you.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, stepping aside so he can walk past.

“And you really look amazing, Y/N,” he calls after you one last time before jogging down the hallway.

You walk into your dressing room and shutting the door you lean your back against it, huffing heavily as you try to recollect yourself. Somehow, this encounter went really well, because the two of you were civil and respectful, but it was also a painful shock to see him in the flesh again. It was one thing to see pictures of him here and there, but actually meeting him, hugging him, talking to him… you need time to process it all.

Unfortunately, you don’t have much of that. Twenty minutes later you are walked to your spot behind the curtains from where you’ll walk out when James calls your name. Just as you arrive Harry appears as well, casually talking with one of the camera guys, having a laugh and just as he sees you, his eyes fall down your body again and you swear you see him gulp hard before turning his attention back to the man.

“Ready?” he asks upon walking up to you, a hand coming to rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder you look down at his hand, lips parted at the feeling of his welcoming touch. He sees your glance and pulls his hand back quickly. “Sorry, it’s a habit, I guess,” he mumbles, blushing softly.

“It’s fine,” you smile. Of course it’s fine, for what you care, he could throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and run out of the building, you wouldn’t say a word. You want his touch on your body, you’ve been craving it since the moment you last saw him, but are you even allowed to admit it? You have no idea what he is thinking or feeling, you can’t just come right at him like that.

Harry fixes the lapels of his suit jacket, but what he doesn’t see is that the collar of his shirt is kind of stuck under the jacket.

“Your shirt is… let me fix it,” you breathe out and he turns to face you, letting your delicate hands fix his outfit, perfecting the look to the tiniest bit. “There, you look great,” you smile, your hands sliding down his chest before they fall to your sides again.

“Thank you,” he nods smiling back at you before offering an arm that you take gladly. He knows how much you hate high heels and that you are always scared of tripping and falling and being the gentleman that he is, he’ll be the support you need.

The taping soon starts and the two of you stand patiently behind the curtain as James introduces you.

“And now, please welcome the stars of the upcoming hit movie, Don’t Worry Darling! Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles!”

The crowd starts clapping and cheering as the curtain moves and the two of you walk in, arms linked and Harry makes sure to slow down when you walk down the few little stairs. James welcomes the both of you with two kisses before everyone takes their place, James behind his desk, you and Harry sitting on the couch.

“Thank you so much for dropping by tonight, guys!” James smiles at the two of you.

“Thank you for having us,” Harry nods with a soft smile.

“You both have been guests on the show separately, but tonight you are here as a pair, since your latest movie, Don’t Worry Darling is hitting the theaters this weekend. How are you feeling about that, excited to see the film finally?”

“Very excited,” you nod with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the final version, because obviously we only know the version we envisioned while filming, but the actual movie is going to be something else.”

“Y/N, your role in the movie was originally handed to Florence Pugh who had to step back because she broke her arm,” James points out and you nod.

“Yes, I stepped in her place just about a week before production started and if I’m being honest I was scared that people would prefer to see her in the role, but I had a talk with her actually and she said she helped Olivia, the director to pick out the person to take her place and she said she instantly knew I would be perfect for it, so I trust her.”

“That’s amazing to hear, that the two of you didn’t have any rivalry going on,” James enthuses.

“She actually visited set a few times,” Harry chimes in and you nod.

“Yeah, we had a great time together.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun, the three of you together,” James chuckles. “So, the two of you play a married couple in the film and if I’m not mistaken you didn’t know each other beforehand. Was it hard to get into the roles with not much background on each other?”

“We met up a few times before filming started to get to know each other more and I think we hit it off right away, so it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry speaks up and you nod along.

“It was obviously a little different situation than when you meet someone and become friends, because as we got to know each other more, we had to go through scenes that were meant for a couple that was already years into their relationship, but I think it strengthened our friendship,” you answer, hands laid flat on your bare thighs.

No lie has been told, everything you said was the truth. You just left out the part where you become real life lovers and started dating a month into production.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting for a while now, have quite a few roles under your belt, what did you think of Harry’s acting?”

“I think that he is a wonderful actor and I hope people will give him his much deserved credit for it. He is often still seen as just a silly singer from a former boy band and they don’t take him seriously when he really is a very talented man. You’ll see in the movie as well, his role was a tough one, needed a lot of work and a wide range of emotions, but I think he did an amazing job.”

You dare to glance at him at the end of your little speech and for a moment you forget about the audience, James and the cameras. He is looking at you with so much gratitude and thankfulness. You remember every talk you had where he opened up to you about wanting to be taken seriously in the acting business, that he is not trying to be just a joke and another failed attempt of a singer to try himself out in movies. He told you how scared he is of not being good enough when you saw him every day on set and you were blown by his eternal talent and special take on his role. He deserves to be praised, he deserves every bit of it.

“It was easy, I had a great partner to learn from,” he smiles softly and you feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“You two really have the chemistry we’ve heard so much about, I can’t wait to see it on the big screen!” James sighs. “Tell me a little about what it was like to film? You guys spent a lot of time together, must have made a lot of memories.”

You take a deep breath as all those memories mentioned flood your mind. You had the best time of your life not just with Harry, but with the whole crew. Leaving after production was wrapped really broke your heart.

“It didn’t even feel like working,” Harry starts. “We always joked around, had lunch or dinner together, we were like a big family. It was so nice to have so many amazing, talented and hard-working people around you all day.”

“The jokes never stopped,” you add chuckling.

“I wish I could have been on set!” James laughs wholeheartedly. “That didn’t happen, but we have a little something. The crew has put together a short BTS video of the filming, so let’s have a look at that,” he announces and the video starts playing on every screen in the studio.

It’s a short little montage, but it captures the vibes of filming just perfectly. Clips shown from set are not just of you and Harry, but all the other cast and crew members. Goofing around, having lots and lots of laughs, dancing on set, which happened quite often and just all of you having a great time. Some of the slips however pain your chest, the ones of you and Harry.

This was very early into your relationship, no one on set even knew you were together, but seeing yourself on the screen you can’t deny the sparkles in your eyes every time you were around him.

A clip shows the two of you between two takes, doing a goofy dance in the kitchen of the home that was used as the set of the house of your characters, you are both wearing your costumes, Harry looks great in his suit and your long retro dress is flowing around you with every movement you make. He grabs you by your waist and spins you before you end up in his arms laughing crazily, you were so happy, so carefree. You wish you could go back to that moment…

Another footage was taken in your trailer when Harry took the place of Clare, your makeup artist and tried to do your eyeliner but miserably failed. In the video, he is gently clasping your chin, angling your face for himself as his other hand is working on the line, but it’s wobbly and way too thick, so you both end up just laughing when you check yourself in the mirror.

And there are some small moments of the two of you, moving around on set, lying in bed between takes, sitting in your chairs while eating, just tiny memories you still cherish so much and wish to live through again, but it’s the past. And it wouldn’t hurt this much if you knew Harry from the video was still yours.

When the video ends you need to blink a few times as your eyes have watered a little. You catch Harry’s gaze and he looks worried, he clearly wants to ask if you’re okay, make sure it was just the sentimentality of the moment, but he doesn’t have the chance, the cameras are still rolling.

“That looked like so much fun! Next time make sure to invite me on set too!” James jokes and you force a laugh out of yourself.

A few questions are asked about future plans and just generally about your careers before the taping finally ends. You thank James for the invite again and a photo is taken of the three of you, you standing in the middle with the two men on your sides. When everything is settled, you head to your dressing room, using the chance to slip away silently while Harry is still chit-chatting on the set.

In the comfort and silence of the dressing room, you lean onto the vanity, staring at yourself in the mirror, finding it ironic that on the outside, you look perfectly fine, healthy and pretty, but on the inside… you could scream. You miss Harry so much, you hoped that your feelings for him have toned down a little over these five months, but it was just the same if not even worse.

A faint knock is heard on the door and you quickly fix yourself before calling out to the person outside. The door opens and for your surprise, Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you disappeared so fast,” he softly says.

“Yeah, I’m just… a little tired,” you lie, though you know exactly he can see right through you.

“Y/N, I saw that look in your eyes after the video…”

“What look?” you ask with a huff. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“The truth,” he answers. “I’m not James, don’t bullshit me.”

“You want the truth? I’ll give it to you, but don’t blame me if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you chuckle bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “I’ve been miserable, Harry. I miss you so fucking much, seeing you today was like Hell. I really thought it would be easier, but now I’m stuck with going from one interview to the other with red carpet events all around the world, seeing you every day when I terribly miss you and it fucking sucks, because you might not even feel the sa—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry crosses the distance between the two of you, his hands grab your face and pulls you into a hard and passionate kiss. His lips move perfectly against yours and it feels like he is trying to squeeze every missed moment from the past five months into the kiss, making you melt into his arms completely.

He is everywhere. He is all you can taste, you breathe him in, his hands are everywhere on your body and your chest is pressed tight against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into your embrace. Your tongues dance, teeth tugging and pulling on lips, it’s a whole mess, but it’s the most perfect mess you’ve ever been. He takes your breath away completely and you don’t even want it back if it means you can’t have him.

Harry pulls away first, both your chests heaving wildly from the heavy make-out session and he looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“If you think I haven’t missed you like crazy… you can’t be more wrong, baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to call you a thousand times and beg for you to come back to me, but I thought you already moved on.”

“Moving on?!” you huff with a tired smile. “Harry, I could never…”

“Alright, then I’m not letting you go again. No way you are walking out of this building without being mine again.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words as you pull him down for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on yours.

“I never stopped being yours,” you whisper against his lips and he moans weakly before crashing his lips against yours again. 

-

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[zaffrenotes]

To Ruined Friendships

Fandom: Westworld Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader Rating/Warnings: PG-13; spicy language, alcohol consumption, heavy smoochin Author's Note: This entire thing was inspired by a dream I had about one black hat cowboy who cannot for the life of him consume a drink without looking like he's going to inhale it. I tried to work on my other WIPs for an entirely different fandom, but my brain refused to focus on anyone other than Logan Delos. I don't have the energy to create a sideblog for this, so any Logan fans who happen to find this from the tags, please don't judge me for the other fandom(s) I'm in. I already know, lol. Word Count/Reading Time: +/- 2600 words (10 minutes reading)

hell if I know who to tag for this...if I ever write more and you want to get an update, leave a comment, I guess?: @the-blind-assassin-12 @ao719 @the-soot-sprite possibly @ofpixelsandscribbles @burnsoslow

Another night rubbing shoulders with the elite in a penthouse, and all you want to do is retreat into one of the half dozen empty rooms to rest your feet. Beauty always has a price, and tonight your feet were being sacrificed to the stiletto gods in the name of fashion. As a waiter weaves between guests, you deftly trade the empty crystal flute in your hand for a fresh one off their tray, the slim glass chilling your fingertips.

A tiny, imperceptible sigh slips past your lips as you look out at the wall of windows, city skyline twinkling in the distance. Glancing through the crowd, you try to find a familiar face of one of your girlfriends, when you feel someone’s fingers on your back, ghosting over the ink at the base of your spine. Over your shoulder, a warm, though somewhat world-weary voice makes your body tingle. “Hey gorgeous, I was wondering if I’d see you here tonight.”

You know he’s grinning before you even turn your head; a sly smile spreads across your painted lips when you see you were right, and you lean in to press your cheek to Logan’s in greeting. His beard tickles your face, and the movement is small, but you feel him pull you closer to him, pressing his fingertips into your smooth skin. “You know me,” you reply, gently squeezing his bicep for balance, noses nearly touching as you both move to kiss the other cheek. “Any excuse to squander part of my father’s fortune on a party dress.”

His cheek twitches up as he grins wider, and once more, the grit in his voice makes you want to find a dark corner and do unspeakable things with him. “Only you could make a napkin’s worth of fabric look like couture,” he teases, stepping back to admire your outfit. “I own pocket squares larger than what you’ve got on!” His gaze lowers appreciatively, taking you in, before settling at your feet. You shift your weight from one hip to the other; tilting your head back to take a sip of champagne, you’re surprised to see his dark eyes on you as you swallow and lower the glass. There’s a hint of something there, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Been here long? Why don’t we find somewhere quiet to catch up? You can let your hair down, along with… anything else, to get comfortable.” Were it not for the playful expression in his eyes, his proposition would warrant throwing the remainder of your drink directly into his exquisite face.

But you know Logan. You’ve known him too long for the invitation to be anything but amicable, much to your dismay. You’re well aware of the caliber of women he’s taken to the bedroom, and while you consider yourself attractive enough for the circles you keep, there’s no way he would ever see you as more than just a family friend. Knowing that doesn’t keep you from stroking his ego and taunting him at every opportunity, though. “My hair’s already down,” you tease, grinning as you roll your eyes at him.

“You know what I mean,” he replies, brushing your tresses over one shoulder. His thumb lingers on the strip of silk there, slipping between the material to rest on your skin, before pulling away. “We’ve known each other for years now, you’d think there would’ve been one night of indecency.” Before you’re able to respond, he glances up, noticing one of the other guests. “To be continued,” he says, raising his brows to you. He’s already begun to walk away.

“As always,” you reply, raising your glass to him.

-

You catch his eye more than a few times as you both make the rounds, catching up with friends and being introduced to new acquaintances vying for a way into social circles and business ventures. He winks at you before throwing back a drink, appearing as if he’d take a bite out of the glass to get every last drop of liquid from it. You nod as you pass by him while he converses with another guest, your arm linked with a friend’s as you walk off to powder your noses. You even catch him looking at you from across the room like he wants to ask you something, but the moment disappears when he pulls his phone from his pocket to take a call.

The evening goes on much longer than you anticipated. Even with windows of interesting conversation to pass the time, you begin to grow weary of the company, drowning out a discussion around you while you stake a claim on one of the pristine white couches. Your legs are crossed in front of you, one foot dangling in the air, while the one closer to the floor looks like it’s about to snap away from the rest of your leg. You’re balancing the weight on a sliver of one side of the heels, and you gaze out at the outdoor pool, wishing you could sit by the edge and dip your feet in the cool, chlorinated water.

Scanning through the guests once more, you notice Logan at the bar. He’s in the middle of a conversation with two gentlemen, but he catches your eye, glancing over long enough to notice your legs again. He flicks his eyes upwards to the rooms, tilting his head at an angle in silent question. You scoff and shake your head, blinking slowly to dismiss his invitation, and give up your position on the couch to go to look for the bathroom. He simply smiles as you cross the room, before returning to the conversation at the bar.

-

You’re outside on one of the balconies, forearms resting on the brushed steel railing as you lean against metal and glass, absentmindedly staring out at the city. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin, now warm and flushed from too much champagne and not enough food; there’s never enough food at these things, and you would sell your soul for a plate of loaded nachos or even a tiny slider. Behind you, there’s a click and a hiss from the plate glass door opening. Jovial music and conversation from inside filters through the temporary break, and you sigh to yourself in preparation of putting on your party face to make idle conversation.

“That is one hell of a view.” An all too familiar voice fills the air after the door hisses shut. Logan.

You respond without turning around to acknowledge him. “Your family sure knows how to pick a party venue, I’ll give you that.”

“We do, but that’s not the view I was talking about.”

Body warming at his suggestive tone, you turn around to see Logan’s eyes fixed on your backside, unashamed of his blatant ogling. There’s a glass tumbler in his hand, with barely a sip’s worth of what looks like whiskey in it. “There you go again, getting a girl’s hopes up,” you tease, fidgeting with your hair.

“You know you’re fucking gorgeous, especially in that dress tonight.” His voice travels as he walks over to a darker part of the balcony, swirling the remnants of his drink.

Emboldened by the alcohol still coursing through your system, you play along, walking slowly towards him. “Let me guess, next you’re going to tell me it would look even better in a pile next to your bed.” You roll your eyes at him, but your heart begins to race at the idea.

He grins warmly at you, a tendril of hair knocking loose when he tilts his head and shrugs. You want to reach forward and smooth it back in place, and run your fingers against the side of his scalp. His hair’s longer than it was before; he’s been away at the park for a longer visit this time around. His unnervingly dark eyes are practically black in the shadows, eyeing you like prey. Extending a hand towards you, he reaches for the strap on your shoulder again as if to adjust it, but instead he lifts it and lets it fall off the slope of your skin, staring at the unblemished swath of flesh before him. You feel the material fall until it rests in the crook of your elbow, thankful to be holding up a glass to keep the silk from falling away any further off your body. “A dress like this? I’d have the decency to hang it up first.” He tugs at the fabric again, pulling it up over your shoulder to return your modesty.

“Keep saying shit like that, and one of these days I might believe you.”

“Should I keep talking then?” He chuckles.

You exhale, shaking your head with disbelief. He takes another step away from where you can be seen, and you follow him. “I’m not drunk enough to take you seriously,” you scoff, looking just beyond his gaze.

Logan reaches forward again, fingers landing on the base of your glass, and he pushes it up towards your mouth. “Then by all means, take another sip,” he grins.

“Bullshit,” you utter through a nervous smile, though you don’t stop yourself from tipping the edge of the flute to your lips and tilting your head up, downing half the contents in one gulp.

“Fuck it,” he whispers.

You swallow, and effervescent bubbles tickle the length of your throat so much that it takes you a second to register feeling Logan’s lips at the juncture of your jawline and earlobe. The way his beard brushes against you as you pull the glass away from your lips makes you lose your grip, and the flute falls to the ground, shattering near your feet. You gasp with surprise, unsure if it’s from the shock of dropping the glass or from the fact that Logan fucking Delos just kissed you.

In one swift movement, Logan wraps his unencumbered hand around your waist to pivot you away from the broken glass. His drink-laden hand blindly stretches out to set the glass on the thin metal railing, and he kisses you properly this time, impossibly soft lips on your open mouth and both of his hands are on your waist. He tastes sweet, smokey and woody from the whiskey, setting your lips on fire as he kisses you. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping at his suit jacket as he leads you both towards an exterior wall. The shock of the cool wall against your exposed back makes you gasp again, and you push Logan away. “What’re you doing?” Your head is swimming, blood pulsing from the alcohol and the rush of emotions as you search Logan’s eyes for an answer.

“Might be ending our friendship,” he laughs wryly. His eyes land on your lips, before looking up to meet your gaze. “Want me to stop?”

The look in his eyes is intense; two black pools stare into you, daring you to continue. You tug the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close as your pelvis tilts forward to meet his. “Finish what you start,” you whisper, Cheshire-grin giving away your desire. He kisses you again, grabbing hold of the back of your thighs as he lifts you. You spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he presses you up against the wall, the pair of you kissing each other like it’s your last night on earth. There’s an urgency in your actions; if there’s a moment of hesitation from either of you, the spell will break, so you ignore the burning in your lungs to kiss him again. When you feel how hard he is pressed up against you, you tilt your head back and let your eyes flutter closed. He takes it as an opportunity to swirl his tongue against your neck, and you think about feeling his tongue elsewhere on your body.

Your back presses against the wall even more, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist tighter, pinning you in place. As you utter curses of pleasure into the night air, your feet feel relief for the first time all night, weightless as you destroy any propriety that existed with Logan Delos.

-

You can feel the sun against your eyelids, and the soft sounds of someone typing away at a keyboard. Between the dull ache at the base of your skull and your throbbing temples, you smack your lips together a few times, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth. You turn your face into what you think is a pillow, but determine to be a fleece blanket due to its soft yet formless design. There’s a faint aroma of coffee in the air, and you hope your roommate left some in the carafe. “Dear god, don’t let me drink that much ever again,” you groan, voice strained and scratchy from dehydration. “I made a complete ass of myself in front of Logan.” A minute passes without your roommate’s usual prodding; all you hear is typing now and then. “How’d we get home?”

You’re met with more silence, but your level of irritation is nothing compared to the hangover headache growing with each passing minute of consciousness. You’re about to ask for Tylenol, when you hear the click and hiss of a glass door opening, followed by the sound of someone splashing in a pool. The apartment you share with your roommate has no access to a pool, let alone a back door made of glass. Opening your eyes feels like peeling apart pieces of tape, but with effort you blink slowly and allow your eyes to focus, trying to ignore the glare from the midday sun. You realize the fleece blanket you were resting on was your arm, nestled in the sleeve of a plush bathrobe. It was the kind of robe often seen hanging in the bathroom of high-end hotels.

“That was a side of you I haven’t seen before. Good morning, sunshine.” The voice is distinctively, impossibly Logan’s, with a new note of lightness to it that wasn’t present during last night’s party. “Care to see something interesting?”

You push yourself off the sofa slowly, adjusting the robe on you - apparently you fell asleep wearing it, and you have no idea where your dress or shoes are - and sit up. Logan’s dressed casually in black, seated at a desk a few feet away, with multiple monitors in front of him. One looks to be running code or tracking stock market activity, but he disconnects the laptop in the middle of the desk and carries it over to the couch, taking a seat next to you. There’s a video clip paused on the screen, and he waits to make sure you’re alert enough to watch, before letting it play.

The video shows a clip from the hotel’s CCTV cameras, pointed at the infinity pool. The only lights are coming from the pool walls, and the timestamp reflects it was the middle of the night, long after the party would’ve ended. There’s a naked male figure treading water matching Logan’s build, and then an undressed woman appears from the bottom edge of the frame, preparing to jump into the pool with him. You gasp, covering your mouth with one hand, making out a tattoo on her lower back - your tattoo - before cannonballing into the pool and making out with Logan just before dipping under the water’s surface.

Logan pauses the video, beaming an annoyingly adorable smug expression across his face as he resists the urge to tease you right away. Instead, he leans over, pecks your cheek, and eyes the glimpse of cleavage availed to him between the folds of your robe. “Lady’s choice - I could fuck your hangover away, or there’s coffee in the kitchen. What’ll it be?”

[burnedbyshoto]

good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose. 

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas. 

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

.

..

.

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones. 

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him. 

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too. 

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him. 

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders. 

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation. 

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement. 

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

.

..

.

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped. 

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

.

..

.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be. 

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits. 

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!” 

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined. 

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you. 

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet. 

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees. 

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see. 

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you. 

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room. 

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars. 

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal. 

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas. 

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you. 

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips. 

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you. 

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

[legends-of-apex]

‘Close Encounters of The Soft Kind’ - Bi-Han/Sub-Zero x Reader (fluff)

Summary: Shang Tsung asks you to tend to Bi-Han’s wounds after the fight with Jax.

A/N: Thank you all so much for your interest in this idea! Here it is! Hope you all enjoy :D Was so excited to write for Bi-Han as he’s such a great character! Hope you enjoy a softer side of him lol. TW for slight injury detail and the reader (GN) being a servant of Shang Tsung

Word Count: 3,500

Part Two

Tagging: @nyxdjarin @dragon-chica (if you’d like to be tagged in future fics please let me know!)

“You have returned, my champion! Were you successful?” Shang Tsung’s voice boomed as Sub-Zero made his way towards the dark, looming throne. The setting sun created a brilliant orange glow that bloomed behind it. He shook his head in reply, clenching and releasing his shoulder muscles in an attempt to release some of the aches and tension built up in the aftermath of the fight with Jax.

Shang Tsung let out a frustrated sigh through his teeth and cracked his neck, “You will have ample opportunity to succeed, I can assure you.” He was disappointed at his failure but he knew he had to keep Bi-Han on his side and sometimes that meant not letting his pride get in the way. He had to treat him well and keep him happy to retain the allegiance of someone so powerful. “You are injured?” Sub-Zero looked up at him, confused but saw that some of the blood had leaked through his armour on his forearm. Most of it wasn’t his but he truly couldn’t be bothered to explain as much.

Shang Tsung called your name then and you carefully stepped out from beside his throne, leaving the all too comfortable darkness. “Tend to our guests' wounds. And see to it that he is comfortable.” You bowed quickly before him, walking swiftly past Sub-Zero, your eyes cast straight at the floor. You turned briefly to see if the man was following you and you saw that he was, slowly, his eyes dead set on you. You caught his bright eyes for a moment and then turned your attention back to the ground as you walked towards the nearest free room in the castle.

The man’s footsteps were silent, the only sound following him was the occasional clink of his armour as he moved. When you reached the closest empty room you opened the door for him and stood to the side, avoiding his bright gaze at all costs. He took a cautious step inside, but he was too tired to care at this point if you were leading him to his death. He just wanted to sleep.

You closed the door behind you and started searching one of the many cupboards within the room. It was lavish, with all kinds of expensive furnishings and fabrics that Bi-Han hadn’t had the time to enjoy for a century. The room was warm too, but he would soon fix that if he needed to. He noticed the faint flickering of the candles on the wall, the room was clearly well prepared.

You approached him with a bundle of supplies in your arms and he now noticed the tatters and tears on the hems of your clothing. He wondered exactly what you were to Shang Tsung. If you were a lover or a concubine he was sure you would have been kept in better dress. You seemed far too shy for that anyhow, you wouldn’t even look him in the eye but that wasn’t usually an accurate indicator of anything. It was rare for anyone to counter his gaze.

You dumped the supplies on the bed and a quick flicker of your eyes up to his signalled for him to take a seat. He did, chin tilted towards the sky as he looked at you over his nose. He sat at the edge of the extravagantly large bed in the centre of the room, moving to undo his bracers but stopped when your hand shot out to stop him. You lay his large hand out over his lap and carefully undid the first buckle, then the other before sliding the piece of armour off his hand and placing it on a nearby dresser. He thought it was adorable how you cradled the piece in your arms as though it were made of gold.

He watched your face the entire time, brows knitted together as he studied you. He was trying to figure out what your intentions were in Shang Tsung’s castle, why you were here. You were beautiful, he didn’t mind admitting it. He knew beauty when he saw it although it was rare that he stopped to notice it. He couldn’t help but wonder exactly what such beauty was doing here of all places.

As you slipped the other bracer from his wrist, your finger brushed against his skin and recoiled slightly from the cold. He didn’t really notice, all too focused on the feeling of the touch of another on his skin. It was such a foreign feeling that he found himself frowning at it. You moved around him, undoing the straps that held his shoulder pads in place before setting those aside as well. His eyes burned into the back of your head as you moved around the room and you caught them with your own when you turned to face him again.

“Do you- Would you like your mask removed?” You asked, eyes flickering between him and the floor. He contemplated the question for a moment. Did he want you to see his face? He wasn’t sure. It had been at least a decade since anyone had. But your kind eyes and soft touch outweighed any concerns he had. Your voice was kind too, but worrisome in how you stumbled over your words. He hated to think why you were afraid to speak. A strange pang of concern drummed through his stomach as he contemplated the reason. Perhaps you were just afraid of him? That’s what he would usually put it down to but it wasn’t him you seemed afraid of.

He nodded his head once and went to undo the strap at the back of his head, pulling the helmet off, taking the mask with it. You couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. He was human. Or at least he looked human. If it wasn’t for his eyes and his slightly busted lip then he could’ve been any normal man you’d see walk by on the street. But he wasn’t and you knew that. You’d heard the whispers of his brutality, his callousness echoing through Shang Tsung’s castle. But now, as you gazed upon his handsome face, the faintest ghost of a smile gracing his reddened lips as he looked right back at you, he almost could’ve fooled you into thinking he wasn’t any of that. 

The way you looked at him now was hilarious, he couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps you were expecting some gaping maw for a mouth and not the face of what appeared to be just a man? A very handsome man. He hadn’t had anyone look at him like that in so long, you were almost admiring him. He suddenly felt a little nervous under your stare, he hadn’t the faintest idea why. 

You extended both your hands to him and he placed the mask and helmet into your palms. 

When you return back to him, you help him shrug off the rest of his armour and he felt the weight that left with it deep within his very bones. He needed a rest, not that he would ever admit it. You searched his body for a clasp to undo his chest plate, frowning slightly when you couldn’t see any. He liked your frown, he decided. It looked so out of place on your features.

Your breath hitched when he took your hand in his. His skin was so cold, colder than any living person’s flesh you had ever felt. He guided your hand to the side of his ribs then and you felt the clasp beneath your fingertips. He knew you weren’t going to let him do it himself but his hand didn’t leave yours, neither did his eyes but you were too focused on undoing the armour to truly notice the extent of his stare. 

Once shed of his chest plate, the only thing standing between you and his injuries now was his black undershirt. You didn’t need to ask him to remove it. He reached back and grabbed the hem of it at the base of his neck, pulling the ruined material over his head and into his lap. You bit the inside of your cheek at the sight.

His shoulders were broad, as was his chest, the muscle thick and skin scarred. In a way it looked like someone had ran a jagged paintbrush over his skin, it was certainly a better alternative than the tool that was actually responsible. His arms were well worked too but you had to stop admiring him when you caught sight of his wound. 

With a shaky hand, you placed a finger on either side of the gash on his bicep. It wasn’t deep but it would need stitches. Every other mark and bruise paled in comparison to that gash so you would deal with it first. His gaze almost softened as you touched his arm, he could’ve closed his eyes at the feeling of such intimacy. Your fingertips were so warm, so soft. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve mistaken you for someone who cared about him.

You moved away from him to grab a chair to pull up beside him and filled a bowl with water so you could clean the wound and his other grazes. You had never thought that you of all people would be the one to see Sub-Zero without his armour. It was a daunting thought. You knew of the work he did for Shang Tsung, you knew he was a monster. But the way he looked at you now was less like he wanted to hurt you, and more like he was savouring you and your presence. You didn’t mind being so close to him now either. He wasn’t harsh, in fact, he was anything but. Any move he made was slow, almost as though he was afraid of scaring you. 

You dipped a cotton ball into the warm water, lifting it and squeezing some of the liquid out before bringing it to his wound. You dabbed at it gently, wiping away any crusted blood or debris you could find. His gaze was still locked on your face then but it was soft, studying. 

He liked watching you work. He admired how gentle your touch was despite you having no relation to him at all. Did you treat everyone with such kindness? Either way, he savoured the inherent intimacy of what you were doing. You could’ve nearly been a lover then, he thought. A lover painstakingly tending to him after a hard day. Your touch certainly could have been that of a lover, so gentle and careful not to apply too much pressure to his skin in case you hurt him. It had been a long time since he had let anyone touch him in such a way, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared for.

He knew you weren’t a lover, of course. But he let himself relax as though you were. He trusted you, not finding a single ounce of malice in your presence. You seemed grateful when his shoulders slacked a little, knowing he wasn’t too on edge now. In truth, he was relaxed. Having forgotten how calming the touch of another could be, even if you were just wiping away dried blood. 

Once that wound was cleaned, you turned to the stray scratches that littered the rest of him. He hadn’t the heart to tell you they would heal in no time. As you looked over his chest, a frown graced you as you noticed a particularly wretched-looking scar that zig zagged across his abdomen. You examined it between your fingers, gently stretching the skin to get a better look. You were frowning again, and you took in a breath like you wanted to say something but bit your tongue.

He cocked his head to the side, silently asking you what it was you wanted to say. 

“This hasn’t been stitched up very well.”

And he laughed beneath his breath. That was such a strange sound. You looked up at him, finding the amusement in his brilliant eyes. You raised your eyebrows in question, wondering what on earth he found funny.

“Healing techniques weren’t particularly precise when it happened.” That scar had come from Hanzo’s blade, stabbed him right through a gap in his armour.

“Oh.” You continued to look it over, examining just how badly it had been taken care of. You were doing literally anything you could to distract yourself from how nice his voice was and how seemingly privileged you were to hear it. “When did it happen?”

He smiled, weighing up whether or not he should tell you. “1617.” 

You pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. You didn’t look afraid, you just looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he’d just told you. With a shake of your head, you returned to cleaning the rest of his wounds. You looked like you wanted to say something but held your tongue again, he longed to hear what you had to say about the matter. Or anything else really. 

As you dabbed at the specks of blood on his chest he found himself relaxing more and more, his shoulders slumped forward slightly. Your touch felt like heaven, warm fluttering fingertips on his skin.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying.” You cleared your throat, “You don’t look a day over a hundred.” You smiled up at him then. A brilliant smile that he couldn’t help return. You were joking with him, and he loved it.

Once his wounds were cleaned and his skin held a glistening sheen from your moistened cotton wool, you sat up and grabbed a needle, holding it over a candle for a moment before threading it. When you returned to him, he held his injured arm out for you, not shying away from the red hot needle at all. You were careful with your stitches, not that he had high standards for your needlework. But you noticed how he didn’t even flinch. Not once, in fact, he only moved to turn his arm slightly so you could see the wound better. What a strange man he was.

When you were finished you grabbed a bottle of ointment for him. The herbs smelt wonderful, a refreshing change to the smell of blood. You coated your hands in it then and set about rubbing it into his gashes and grazes. You’d be lying if you said your fingers hadn’t lingered longer than necessary on his torn skin. He didn’t seem to care. Your fingers rubbed in circles, slow and gentle. The cold radiating off of him didn’t seem to bother you now, in fact, his skin warmed slightly beneath your touch. 

When you were finished, you stood but noticed a single droplet of dried blood on his temple.  Instinctively, you reached forward to find the source. Your nails dragged over his scalp as you parted his hair to find the gash, and he swore he’d never felt a sensation so wonderful. 

“You hit your head.” You noted, more to yourself than him it seemed. The gash was small, only a graze really but you cleaned it anyways. Any head injury was concerning no matter how small. “Do you need some ice?” You asked and he looked up at you as if asking if you were joking.

You had no idea why he’d had that reaction. Maybe it was because it didn’t hurt at all? 

Sensing your confusion, he extended his hand towards you, his palm turned towards the ceiling. Specks of blood appeared in the centre of his palm, shortly followed by small ice crystals. The crystals swelled and grew until in his hand he held the most perfect sphere of solid ice. You blinked rapidly, looking between his face and the ice.

“A cryomancer?” You asked, excitement evidence on your face as you cupped his large hand between both of yours, admiring the ice. “I didn’t realise there were any of you left.” You whispered to yourself but he heard. “I’m so sorry. Please excuse my excitement. I’ve just never met anyone like you before.” Your voice was timid now, almost sheepish as you straightened your posture and regained your composure.

“Please, there is no need to apologise.” His voice was low, and he swallowed thickly after he spoke. Like he wasn't too used to speaking anymore.

You took the sphere from his hands, cradling it as though it were some precious gem. You wrapped it in a cloth then and held it carefully to the side of his head. “For the swelling.” You confirmed, daring to sneak a glance at his face again. His eyes were like pools, you could stare at them forever but you forced yourself to break away from his gaze and focus on why you were here. “Have you any more injuries?” You asked him and he shook his head in reply, placing his hand over yours to support your makeshift ice pack. You left your hand there for a moment, biting the inside of your lip at the touch before letting your hand drop to your side.

You began to gather your things together, “It was wonderful to meet you…” you trailed off, realising you didn’t know his name,

“Bi-Han.” He didn’t know why he said it, as freely and openly as he did. 

“Bi-Han.” You confirmed and he decided then that your voice was the only one he ever wanted to hear saying his name. “It was lovely to meet you, Bi-Han. If you need anything, there will be servants passing through the halls all night.”

“Is that what you are?” He asked, silently hoping that wasn’t the case.

“A servant?” You sighed, “I suppose you could call me that.” He didn’t like that answer.

“Are you here of your own accord?”

“No.” You shook your head, sadness evident across your beautiful face, “I should be going.”

His eyes closed. That was exactly what he was afraid of. You were a prisoner here. No wonder you were so nervous. Shang Tsung was a bastard, to be fair so was he. But Bi-Han was always a bigger fan of quick deaths rather than prolonged suffering or servitude. He was only here to end Hanzo’s line, the only one who offered him the chance to do so was Shang Tsung but that didn’t mean he held any semblance of loyalty to the man.

He wasn’t sure what to say then. He couldn’t really offer any comfort. So he gave you the one thing he could. You saw the ice begin to sprout from one hand, and he shaped it with his other. You looked on, curious as to what exactly he was doing. When he held his hand out to you again, a dagger made of solid ice sat within it. He grabbed the hilt between his fingers and twirled it towards you. You took it with a shaky hand, unsure of his intentions.

“Should you need to defend yourself.” he clarified, “It will not melt.” Not with how dense he had made it.

You threw your arms around his neck then, something he truly wasn’t expecting. When you pulled back your eyes were teary.

“Thank you.” You spoke with such sincerity and vigour that he felt some foreign emotion stir within his chest. It seems like it had been a while since you had been shown any kindness too.

He admired how you stared in awe of the dagger, pressing it flat against your chest as though it was the most precious gift you had ever received. “Thank you, Bi-Han. Whatever can I do to repay you?” You looked to him for an answer. He was about to shake his head, tell you that you’d already done far more for him than he could ever hope to explain. But then he had a thought. 

“Your name. All I ask is your name.”

You told him without hesitation and he extended his hand towards you once more. You took it, surprised when he turned your palm around and brought your knuckles to his lips, his eyes dead set on yours as he did.

“Thank you,” he told you with all the sincerity in his heart, you assumed it was for patching him up but he meant it for much much more. The kindness you had shown him was truly something else, he felt truly blessed by the gods to have met you. He released your hand then and you stood frozen for a moment before shifting the dagger into the bundle of supplies and gathering them back in your arms.

You shook your head as you walked towards the door. “No, thank you.” You offered him a final smile then, “Good night, Bi-Han.” With that, you were gone. He silently cursed himself for not wishing you a good night as well. He decided then and there that he would speak with Shang Tsung about you in the morning. There was no way in hell that he was letting him keep you here without your say so and he didn’t care what he had to do to get you out of that place.

Part two

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you get me” (famous!y/n x harry)

Famous!y/n x Harry Styles

First Harry fic so please be kind, but feedback is SUPER appreciated

Initially inspired by the picture of Harry leaving the Gucci store with 15 bags but barely has anything to do with that lol

Definitely thought of Ellen for the interview idk why tho - also I struggle with writing Harry’s dialogue because I really want to get it right, but hopefully the more practice I get, the better/more natural it will sound. ALSO i have like no music or music industry background lol. Somewhat proofread, but its 2:30 am so it could be shit

Fluff!

Warnings: maybe some angst over being famous per say, past loneliness

Word Count: 3.7k literally howwww, i’m going to do a pt. 2 though because it was kind of a long set up and feelingsssss

---

Interviewer: Please, welcome our next guest, a woman who’s sure to have her name written up beside the music greats someday, Ms. Y/N L/N!

You can’t contain the grin that spreads to your face as you carry yourself out onto the stage and see the audience cheering for you. It was your third big interview since your first album had been released and you’d seen your fame skyrocket over night. This being the third one this week meant you’d gotten comfortable getting asked questions, but you also weren’t bored of it yet. It was exhilarating being the center of attention, especially for something that had been your life’s work up until this point. You always had to fight for whatever you got and the recognition you were starting to have was reassurance that you hadn’t been a fool to risk a safe and certain life for your dreams.

The interview begins as the rest had, a few pleasantries, how you were feeling, and then the introduction of the album. The host asked you what your inspiration was for some of the songs and the album name and cover. You loved to talk about the music, it was the whole reason you were there. The meaning, the sound, the name, it all meant so much to you and you talked about how music can be interpreted differently by everyone and even the shifts in someone’s mood can change a song’s meaning, but what it meant to you at the time of writing was always something specific. You practiced those answers in the mirror before the interviews because they were important to you and you didn’t want your words on your art to ever be misconstrued. The host then complimented your style and you were at the point where you thought your interview should be wrapping up when they asked you one more question, and it threw you for a loop.

Interviewer: So Y/N, we’ve been hearing some rumblings around, about you and another famous musician, Mr. Harry Styles. Anything going on there?

Your face heated up, you hadn’t been expecting a personal question about possible relationships. Nothing like this had been asked of you at your previous interviews. It’s about the music, the art, and who you were, it’s always about that and nothing more. To be honest, you were a bit annoyed the host had chosen to stray from those topics. You didn’t care for the celebrity side of being a famous musician, the lack of privacy, the prying eyes of media and the general public. They saw enough of you through your art, you bore your soul through music why did they want to peak into your heart as well?

Y/N: I don’t know if I’d rather be with Harry Styles or actually be Harry Styles. Like, he’s literally such an icon, I want to be able to walk out of a Gucci store after spending hours there with 15 bags full of my purchases and helpers to carry it all out c’mon… He’s also an amazing songwriter, musician, and performer, of course. Didn’t mean to sound superficial, but I’d also love to own even half of his closet.

You hadn’t really answered the question, but the audience laughed and the host obviously got the hint that you weren’t interested in fanning any flames of romance with Harry Styles or anyone else. For one, you didn’t even know the man, but you had always been a loving fan of his. You cited him as one of your role models when you were first starting to try and break into the music world. Second, if you did know him, that wouldn’t be an appropriate topic for your album press junket going on, even if it meant more publicity because of Harry’s big celebrity status. The host decided to qualify their original question with a final sentiment.

Interviewer: I totally feel the same way! I only ask because the outpouring of support you’ve received seems to be from similar groups who also follow Harry. Many have been comparing your sound to his solo career work.

Y/N: Ah...well that’s very kind of people to say. He’s definitely a big inspiration, his creativity and drive is incredible. I’d love to be as successful as him someday.

The interview ended. You and the host shook hands and you waved and sent kisses to the crowd before retreating backstage. You were exhausted, but happy. You hoped to avoid anymore stressful interview questions that didn’t truly revolve around music. Of course, life is never that simple.

-

One month later

You had done countless more interviews and talk shows as promo for your album and the buzz around it had continued to grow. Your fame continued to rise as well and that one question you had dodged at your third interview had come back around to bite you, naturally. Daily Mail’s dumb headline read: “Y/N can’t decide! Date Harry Styles or Steal His Closet?” The Sun was also running with your response and miscontruing it completely, something about how you were madly in love with Harry but jealous of his designer partnerships, you couldn’t even stomach reading the garbage. This was your worst nightmare. Not only was it taking away the focus from your album, but you were also sure this dumb gossip had reached the very set of ears that the gossip was allegedly also about.

You had signed with Columbia Records for your first album, the same record label as Harry Styles, so managers had been in contact with one another about the whole fiasco trying to get the actual truth - which was that the two of you didn’t even know each other and there were no problems whatsoever. Your manager also brought along the good news that Harry had actually listened to your album and loved it, “He said ‘Congratulations’ by the way, loved the sound. Said he’d heard you were very music focused and be open to do some mentoring on songwriting and vocal specifics, if you wanted. It’d have to be in private though, obviously.” She had added the last bit, but you understood why. To have the opportunity to discuss your music with one of your longtime role models, heroes even, was beyond anything you could have imagined coming from your album’s success. And it made the drama all the more palatable because now you at least got to talk to Harry like the media was so adamantly saying you were doing already.

You nodded quickly and agreed, while trying to keep your teenage fangirl excitement hidden below your mature now-famous musician facade. Like you said, Harry was your hero, he’d been your hero since you were in middle school and had Up All Night downloaded on your iPod touch, blasting it as loud as possible, sound hitting your poster-filled walls. You weren’t the same girl as you were then, obviously, you had grown up to be a strong, independent, and confident woman. But, you still smiled at the thought of your younger self with your baby face squealing in the nosebleeds at the Take Me Home Tour (where you swore Harry had looked straight at you) and her seeing you now, dressed in a sleek outfit setting up an appointment to meet with Harry to discuss your first album, a success.

-

The next Thursday evening

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your pursed lips. You were anxious and excited at the exact same time. Your meeting with Harry was tonight, right now actually, and you hadn’t been able to think about much else since your manager had confirmed the meeting last week. She got you the details a couple of days ago, the location: his house in Malibu, the time: 5:45 P.M. You had brought along a copy of your album on vinyl because you thought it sounded best this way, second only to performing it live.

Choosing your outfit for tonight was probably the toughest decision you’d ever made, harder than choosing between an education and following your dreams, harder than choosing your favorite Beatles song. You didn’t want to worry so much, this wasn’t a date you kept reminding yourself, but everything you tried on earlier kept having something wrong with it, too dressy, too boring, too ‘not yourself’. You had settled for these blue high-waisted pants that you’d worn to your first ever podcast interview, a thin black long sleeve, and a brown leather coat that fell below your hips with vans sneakers, casual, simple, yet still true to you and your vibe.

You raised your free arm and formed a fist, hesitant to knock, as if you’d damage Harry’s seemingly perfect Malibu beachfront home by knocking too hard on the wooden front door. You waited a few moments and could here some shuffling behind the door, some incoherent words were seemingly said, but the walls muffled them before they could reach for ears. Soon enough, Harry Styles in the flesh was before you. He beamed down at you, huffing, slightly out of breath as if he had been clear across the house when you knocked. His strong figure towered above your far smaller stature. He was hanging onto the door since he had opened it only slightly. “Hello, Y/N?” he greeted and questioned simultaneously. “Hi,” you responded and extended the same hand that had just rapped against his now open door. He gripped it, ushering you into his home, “Come in, come in, it’s nice to meet you, don’t want you to catch a cold now do we?” He took note of your strong handshake and ring clad fingers.

He walked you into an area between the kitchen and a sitting area. The kitchen was open aside from a bar high top between the two rooms. You sat down at his prompting and made yourself comfortable. “I brought my record on vinyl, sounds best in my opinion, otherwise I’d recommend seeing it live,” you laughed as you handed the vinyl to him and took off your coat. “Technically, y’know, I could hear it live right now, if you were willin’ f’course,” Harry had responded over his shoulder as he placed the vinyl by his idle record player, “Anything to drink?” “Just water for me, please.” His accent was even stronger in person, especially since he had moved back to London and seldomly stayed in California, except for business and quick trips. As far as you knew, he had already been here on business for the week and was able to pencil you in.

You two settled in, with your waters, seated at the bar top beside each other, but swivelling the chairs to face one another more. Again, you were overwhelmed with the reality of the situation, sitting beside Harry Styles as professionals, peers even. He had heard your work and liked it enough to want to discuss it with you. It was a day you never thought would come to pass. He started off not by asking about the music right away, but about how you were doing with the whirlwind that stardom is. “How are you, Y/N? It’s been somewhat of a out of the frying pan into the fire kind of moment for you?” He stared at you intently, caring to hear your answer.

You couldn’t help but chuckle again and contain your smile, “Thank you for asking, Harry. Yeah, its been definitely stressful, but it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more so the good is still outweighing any bad. Definitely, fucking exhausted though, dunno how many more interviews I can do before my jaw goes completely rigid from talking so much.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh, his eyes shone with intrigue at what you said and how you said it. You were gorgeous, but it was how your hands helped you through what you were trying to say and the small laughs you tried to keep in while you amused yourself with your words that really made him want to hear you talk all night long.

He agreed about how the promo junket for an album can get tedious and tiresome, but also the absolute fulfillment you get from people loving the music you’ve made. The two of you chatted about surface level personal matters for a little more, but quickly moved to the music. “I took a listen a couple weeks after the album was released. I especially loved the last track. It reminded me so much of a song I never released, actually…” he trailed off.

Your final track had been a ballad, an homage to George Harrison with your use of guitar and sitar, but the lyrics were a story based off of a poem you had written one night in high school. It surrounded a girl never feeling quite good enough for the person she wanted to be with and how it happened everytime, everytime she was ready to giver herself to someone, they were always closed off. Of course it held some truth to your own life and feelings, but you wrote this girl as someone with a seemingly perfect life - when yours was obviously far from any semblance of perfection.

You wondered what Harry’s song would have sounded like, had it been about a seemingly perfect girl or a guy with a seemingly perfect life, always giving himself to the wrong person and getting destroyed by that very fact because he was impatient as the girl in your song had been. “Can I ask, how so? How’d it remind you of your own song, the words or the music?” “Oh, the story, I felt like that for a time in my life and I like to be vulnerable in my songs because it helps me process, but listening to it back has always been too painful. Could never release that or perform it, it’d wreck me.” You nodded, you completely got where he was coming from. You noticed his downcast eyes and his somber tone, you knew not to push it any further.

It was quiet and you decided it’d be okay to take his hand resting between the two of you. “Harry, I understand,” your sincerity spilled into the words, filling the quiet house, “It’s not easy. Feeling that way. Thinking you’re the only goddamn one and why the fuck does it always happen to you? I used to ask my ceiling ‘why me?’ every night of high school” you smiled then. “But you know how it is,” you rubbed your thumb over his large warm hand and he lifted his head, “it gets so much better - c’mon look at us now! It can get hard, too, all this, I’m sure. But our lives? They’re amazing!” He beamed as he had when he had first seen you at his door and when you’d first really spoke. He moved his hand from under your palm to weave your fingers with his, both of your hands with covered in rings and they clinked to fit together, finally resting perfectly fitted. He shook your two hands up and down, “God, you’re so right! That damn song, m’sorry always puts me in a mood,” he shakes his head, “not yours though, f’course, s’lovely, better than my sodding song” he finishes quickly.

After that, the mood lightened right back up. It filled you with such appreciation for Harry that he would trust you so much with such a personal detail since you two had just met. But maybe, he had trusted you because he had felt that same spark between you. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic spark, but it was obvious the two of you were kindred spirits. Besides your album, the two of you talked about everything. You loved the same bands, movies and books, you both loved to cook and had similar fashion taste, you even had the same person type - something you found out late into the night.

At the end of the Side B of your album, Harry switched to a Bill Evans record that had ‘Peace Piece’ on it. You loved that song. So did he. “So...planning to raid my closet?” Harry raised his brows from the record player and walked back to you. You almost sputtered the water in your mouth. Luckily, you got it down. “Pardon?” “All that bad press the two of us have been getting...I watched the interview that kind of ignited the tabloids. You’re obviously not used to those overstepping personal questions.” You nodded. “It’s fine, even if you’d completely shut it down, the tabloids probably would have picked it up still, they snap up anything and everything, true or not.” You softened at his reassurance. You hadn’t expected Harry to bring the interview up, but you were sure he wasn’t happy about it, he was so private, especially about his love life. “Thanks, I’m sorry I tried to laugh it off, kind of made it worse, didn’t I?” “No! Thought it was hilarious and I totally appreciated the sentiment. Little ol’me, an icon? And an amazing artist? All I gotta do is watch that clip and I’ve fed my narcissistic side for the week!” You giggled and replied slyly, “So does that mean I can raid your closet? As compensation, of course.” Harry threw his head back in an all consuming laughter, when he’d composed himself he looked in your eyes again and said, “You just...God, you get me.”

Harry had continued to put records on throughout the night, diligently flipping sides and asking for requests, he of course had an extensive collection. The two of you had moved onto his plush couch that looked out his french doors to the beautiful ocean view. Finally, your exhaustion caught up to you, mid-Harry describing his latest travel fiasco, you glanced up at the clock. You gasped. Harry stopped. “When did it get to be half 12?” you questioned almost incredulously, “I’ve gotta get home, Harry, but this has been truly amazing, more than I could have asked for, so thank you.” Your speech began to rush as you started to get up and gather your things, that had slowly scattered as you’d gotten more comfortable, jacket by the table, shoes around the back of the couch, your phone forgotten somewhere in the couch. You couldn’t believe you’d spent almost seven hours just talking with Harry Styles.

Harry quickly stood up from his relaxed positioned on the couch and asked if you were alright to drive this late. You scoffed, “Oh please, I’ve driven around at 3 am before, I just have to turn up the music and I can cruise.” He smiled, “This was great, Y/N, I know we didn’t really go super in depth into your writing process, but I’d love to write with you sometime or just hang out again f’course. Your seriously talented and obviously a wonderful person.” He didn’t include that he felt like he’d never met anyone like you, never met someone so perfectly matched to himself, in passions but also in work ethic and demeanor - compassionate yet confident. He felt like you got him perfectly and he got you. You had stopped your scramble to gather yourself and now you were both smiling at one another.

This had really been an unforgettable night, you couldn’t believe how well you two had meshed, like childhood friends reconnecting after years apart. “Can I give yeh a hug before you go?” Harry’s voice had grown raspier as the night had progressed. He had grown rather tired an hour ago, but had pushed through because they had been having so much fun and you hadn’t noticed his physical fading or the time, obviously. You stepped toward him and his large tattooed arms enveloped you into his body. His body truly dwarfed yours now as he held you to his chest. You both were warm and soft. He tucked his head on top of yours that rested on his chest. Your arms were loosely resting where his back met his waist because you would have had to strain to get them to encircle him. His arms rested around your small frame. “Love your jacket,” he mumbled into your hair. His rough voice was quiet, but the house was silent otherwise, Tusk Side C had finished around when you had noticed the time. The embrace lasted long, but it felt so amazing you had a hard time pulling yourself away, but you had to get back home.

“G’night Harry” you said softly at the threshold of his home. He had insisted on walking you to the front door at least, since you had declined his offer to walk you out to your car on the street. “G’night. Safe travels.”

You got in your car and headed to your apartment in the city. You didn’t bother digging for your phone so you turned on the radio and drove home singing whatever came on, including your own song at one point. The whole time you drove with a grin. Harry was the nicest person you’d ever met and you were confident that the two of you were friends now. As you pulled into your parking garage it dawned on you why you hadn’t connected your phone immediately when you got in your car. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you put the car in park and rested your palms in the depressions of your eyesockets, over your closed eyelids, and rubbed hard. “Fuck!” It was far too late to drive back out to Malibu for your phone and you obviously couldn’t text Harry that you’d left your phone at his place, despite the two of you exchanging numbers during the night for future hang outs, so they didn’t have to be arranged through your managers, like playdates. Even if he found your phone between the cushions, he couldn’t drop it at your place in the morning because he didn’t know your address. This was a whole mess, you thought. You’d have to drive over in the morning and hope he was still there or email your manager from your computer. The former meant you got to see Harry sooner and likely your phone, too.

part 2

-

@berrynarrybanana​

[ashesofangst]

May I request some Marvelsepticeye? What about Jackie getting kidnapped by Anti? At first, Jackie is mostly okay with it as long as no one else gets hurt, but a certain magician makes a surprise visit. Jackie can be let go, but Marvin will have take his place.

Finished just in time for Jackie’s birthday.

Kidnapped

Trigger Warning: Implied Kidnapping; Character Death; Knives; Blood; Bruises; Carving into flesh; Cuts

Pairing(s): Marvelsepticeye (Jackie x Marvin)

Characters: Anti, Jackie, and Marvin

Summary: Above ⬆️

7/10/21

__

Anti pushed Jackie into the basement, the hero's body making it to the bottom with a loud thump. "Aww isn't this just fun, you and me in this dark and desolate place." The demon began to walk down the stairs. "Just us, away from any doctors, any dads, any puppets, and especially away from any magicians," He grinned with a sick a look in his eyes. "Though, I don't think I'd mind bringing Marvin here and hurting him instead." He chuckled before looking down at the hero.

Jackie coughed up a bit of his own blood, looking up at his kidnapper as he tried get back up. He had enough of this. "Fuck you," He yelled at the glitch. Unfortunate for the hero, his only reply was a kick in the face. The red-and-blue-colored ego groaned before he was rudely lifted to his feet only to be thrown at a wall.

More blood came out of him through his coughs, beginning to lose too much of it. He needed to surrender, even if he didn't want to. He glared at Anti and would of yelled some more but stopped.

"Ah finally! You learned to be quiet like a good dog," The demon joked, which earned a growl from Jackie. "Anyway, I thought about playing a little game with you."

Anti then pressed his foot against Jackie's throat, pulling out his knife. The hero immediately shook his head and tried to say no, but he couldn't due to the foot. "Ah I thought you wouldn't mind," He said with a dark chuckle. He let go of Jackie and pinned him against the floor.

"You know, this be fun- For me, not so much for you." Anti held Jackie still and ripped off part of the hero's shirt sleeve. He slowly plunged the knife into Jackie's arm.

The hero screamed and struggled to escape the glitch's grasp. "Let go of me," He yelled at the top of his lungs. He knew no one would hear him nor be there to help him. Maybe going after the glitch alone wasn't a good idea.

Anti didn't listen as he started to write something into the ego's flesh, not caring how much the hero ego begged for him to stop. Eventually, he finished carving "ANTI" in his arm, blood beginning to spill out of the wound. "Ah there we go. Now people will know I was the one who hurt you," He expressed as he chuckled darkly.

Jackie glanced at the carving and grimaced. He didn't like this, and he certainly didn't want that carved into his arm. He looked at Anti as tried pushing the ego away.

The attempt failed, and his head was slammed against the floor as punishment. He groaned, eyes closing as they held onto every ounce of life. Oh what he could give to go back and ask someone for help.

His thoughts were interrupted when something cut his cheek open, blood beginning to pool out of his cheek. He winced, trying to get free once again. "Please.... Anti, let me go...."

The glitch shook his head, tightly gripping onto the hero's arm. "No. I'm not going until you have a mark for every person you couldn't save," He planned out loud. "And I know that's a long list." He let go of the others' arm, a bruise beginning to form.

Anti was about to stab Jackie with his knife when he heard the sound of a door opening upstairs. "Jackie? Are you here," a voice that only belonged to the magician called out. "I got your text, where are you?"

The demon worse a sinister grin and covered the hero's mouth; He made sure to keep Jackie's lips closed, so he couldn't scream. "Seems our guest is here. Now be quiet, I don't want you to spoil the surprise," He demanded.

After a few minutes of Marvin looking around- which felt like hours to Jackie- the footsteps stopped at the entrance. Slowly, the cat-masked man headed downstairs.

Jackie kept squirming and even tried to bite his kidnapper's hand. All attempts to escape were useless now, and he knew, but he could at least warn his boyfriend.

Marvin's feet reached to middle of the staircase and peaked his head underneath. Upon seeing Anti and Jackie scared up, he went to do a spell. He only made it to the second work when Anti pinned him against the stairs.

Marvin looked at the glitch, fear in eyes as Anti knelt down to him. "Here's how it's going to be, furry boy. Either Deadpool ripoff dies or you stay here and take his place as he goes free," He told the other. "Your choice."

Jackie looked at Marvin and shook his head immediately. "Don't.... Don't trust him!" Anti was a liar and never gives anyone a choice in anything. Jackie may be dumb, but even he knew that.

"Shut up! His decision, not yours! Now, shh," The demon demanded. He stared back at Marvin, who seemed to be scared for not only his safety but Jackie's as well. He wanted them both to get out.

"Jackie.... I chose for Jackie to go, I can stay here for him," Marvin chose. He wasn't letting Jackie die here; Not now, not ever.

Anti slowly got off of Marvin. "Alright.... One thing I need to do really quick," The glitch stated as he grabbed his favored knife. Slowly, he approached Jackie.

Jackie tried to get away, but you can only do so much blood loss. Soon, Anti had him and pulled him to his feet. "Oh you're already dying. No need to stab you now." The glitch dropped him. "I change my mind, get out before I come back." He teleported away, not wanting to kill Jackie now. He had his fun and revenge.

Marvin headed to his boyfriend, crouching and pulling his lover into his lap. "Oh my god, Jackie.... I can fix this, I know healing spells, just hold still," The macian told his boyfriend. He went to say a spell, but Jackie interrupted him.

"No.... Get out of here and.... And warn the others.... They need to know," The superhero told the other. "You don't.... You don't need to waste your magic." He chuckled before coughing. He didn't need saving, even if he was dying. “I love you.”

“I-I love you but I….” Marvin shook his head and begin to do the spell again, but it seemed he was too late. The hero gave him final breath, and the magician weeped. __ Lol Jackie dead

[songofclarity]

You're one of the very few Wen Ruohan fans I've encountered! I am super curious as to your thoughts on how your version of Wen Ruohan (polite, restrained, incredibly powerful but misled by those around him, ruthless but not outright evil) correlates with some of the novel passages about him being cruel, fond of torture, etc. (1/3)

(Passage 1) The QishanWen Sect’s leader, Wen RuoHan, had a moody, violent personality. He loved the sight of blood and sometimes took enjoyment in torturing those that offended him. Jin GuangYao was only able to capture Wen RuoHan’s interest by catering to his needs, making all sorts of cruel yet amusing devices (Passage 2) The “Fire Palace” was Wen RuoHan’s playground. It was where he collected thousands of torture devices for tormenting people (2/3)

At least for me, those passages were the basis of my reading him as being fond of torture and hurting people and such, so finding your contrary view was really cool. Is your view that those are biased descriptions, given that the novel is told from close-point-of-view for Wei Wuxian (who obviously had reason to dislike Wen Ruohan!)? Or do you incorporate those aspects into Wen Ruohan in some other way? I love your fics & meta a lot; if you don't want to answer, feel free to ignore. Thanks! (3/3)

No one is more surprised that I became a Wen RuoHan fan more than me, Anon!! Thank you for the ask, it makes me really happy that you’re curious about it and that you’re giving me an opportunity to talk about him LOL Although I do politely protest to it being called my version of Wen RuoHan...! I promise you, I'm not trying to make this characterization up out of thin air to suit my whims. The reason I've grown to like him is because I started paying closer attention to him and what I found made him rather more interesting and likeable compared to when I first read the novel with a focus on Wei WuXian and co.

MDZS is all about differentiating between what we see and what we are told. Spoken rumors vs recognized truths are important plot devices. We are told at the very start of the novel that Wei WuXian, the Yiling Patriarch, was this horrible and monstrous person who slaughtered thousands without any remorse. He was a terrible, dastardly demonic cultivator and the entire cultivation world breathes with relief now that he's gone, because what a terror that man was! How sad for his poor Shijie and Shidi that they ever met him! Mo XuanYu summons him with the explicit belief that Wei WuXian is indeed this malicious, heartless ghoul who will torture and slaughter the Mo family in cold blood for his revenge.

And what's Wei WuXian's response to that? "You've got the wrong person..." (Ch. 2, ERS).

Now, we see firsthand evidence that shows why people would think Wei WuXian is this kind of monster. We see him torture and mutilate Wen Chao, we hear about the leagues of corpses he raises to fight in the Sunshot Campaign, we see the violence that erupts both times at Qiongqi Path, and we see the massacre at Nightless City when he goes off the rails. His motivations and circumstances aside, this is the work of a villain. He’s terrifying! Taking his motivations and circumstances into account, however, I don't think anyone would accuse him of being moody and violent and loving to torture even though we see him being moody and violent and torturing his victim with a lot of malicious satisfaction. It takes a certain kind of someone to force their victim to eat their own flesh, after all.

By comparison, we never even see Wen RuoHan being violently moody or enjoying the sight of blood or even engaging in torture. I wrote several paragraphs going scene by scene that made this reply a mile long that I have cut out, because the short explanation is that what we have here are descriptions of a person we never encounter, not even when he has his son's murderer under his foot and at his mercy. By all means, like Wei WuXian to Wen Chao, Wen RuoHan is at least justified in killing Nie MingJue for killing Wen Xu. Wen RuoHan even asks to confirm that he has the right man (and would someone who likes torture and blood even care?). But then he... doesn't kill him. And then he turns down an offer to torture Nie MingJue as well. Considering Wei WuXian hunted Wen Chao down for the opportunity to torture him, Wen RuoHan not even wanting to take what is offered him on a silver platter is in direct conflict with the report that torture is his favorite pastime.

And this conflict isn’t accidental. It’s done on purpose for a specific reason.

What's interesting about those two passages you picked is that they are both post-Sunshot condemnations of Wen RuoHan's character. Wen RuoHan is very dead and unable to defend his reputation after the Sunshot Campaign. His Wen remnants are very much being tortured and abused by the Jin who sing about how they are the good guys even as they beat Wen Ning to death. Jin GuangYao has all the reasons in the world to turn Wen RuoHan from a basic antagonist into a sadistic monster in order to cover up his own crimes, because there is no rational way Jin GuangYao can possibly reconcile saying, “I had no choice” with Wen RuoHan telling him, “Do as you please” (Ch. 49, ERS).

Because those two passage you identified which characterize Wen RuoHan are provided by the only person who survived Nightless City and is given a voice: Jin GuangYao. Jin GuangYao who used and murdered Wen RuoHan for political gain in order to get fame and his father’s attention. Jin GuangYao has no reason or desire to let Wen RuoHan have a fair trial, and certainly the cultivation world is not interested in a sympathetic take of the man who led the Wen Sect.

The mural painting Jin GuangYao has done on the stairs at Koi Tower show him murdering Wen RuoHan. Note how it’s the expression on Jin GuangYao's face, and not anything to do with Wen RuoHan, that makes Wei WuXian feel uneasy. It's because the Wen Sect as a whole are demonized that the Jin Sect is able to get away with becoming far, far worse. Jin GuangYao depicts himself as a hero slaying a monster, and it is in that manner he is able to go over a decade becoming a true tyrant whose crimes dwarfed any of Wen RuoHan's misdeeds.

Rather than only listen to Jin Sect, who had a very obvious complex toward the Wen Sect, we should at least pay attention to the people who actually treated Wen RuoHan like a person rather than like a stepping stone. In which case we must look to Wen ZhuLiu!

[Wen ZhuLiu] was protecting Wen Chao under Wen RuoHan's orders. He'd never liked Wen Chao's character to begin with. Yet, there were no worst circumstances, but only worse circumstances. Wen Chao ordered him to come protect Wang LingJiao. The woman was not only shallow and conceited but also cruel at heart, gaining much dislike from him. However, no matter how much he didn't like her, he couldn't go against Wen RuoHan and Wen Chao's orders and kill her. (Ch. 58, ERS)

Look at the personalities Wen ZhuLiu does not like. Wen Chao is arrogant and lecherous. Wang LingJiao is, explicitly stated, conceited, shallow, and cruel at heart. Wen ZhuLiu dislikes Wang LingJiao so much that he would kill her if he could!

Remember that Wen ZhuLiu picked following Wen RuoHan on his own. He picked his own master because he liked him in some manner. Before the Wen Sect fell, it was hugely popular with guest cultivators and Wen RuoHan is at the center of all that. Would Wen ZhuLiu pick a heartless master who behaved like Wen Chao or Wang LingJiao? All signs point to no. So it's safe to say that:

Wen RuoHan is not arrogant or lecherous

Wen RuoHan is not conceited or shallow.

Wen RuoHan is not cruel at heart.

And if Wen RuoHan is not cruel at heart, he wouldn’t be so cruel as to enjoy torturing people like the rumors say. And I think we have more reasons to trust Wen ZhuLiu than Jin GuangYao or the Jin Sect on this.

[sweetestlamb]

Stronger Part 4 (A New Day Has Come)

Summary: Mun-yeong spends some time with someone important and a gets a surprise.

Author's Note: Got an annoying comment on this story yesterday and it motivated me to write lol so thanks! Hope you guys like and comments, that motivate me even more 😉🥰 nothing like love to drive out hate! The story is coming to an end unfortunately, I'm thinking 2 more chapters maybe three. If I had time I would drag it out for 9 😂😂 but schools start Monday so there goes my life. Happy reading y'all.

Solitude gripes at her insanity, tearing her apart until she succumbs to the thoughts that plague her mind of her inadequacies and how insignificant she is to those around her.

Being around Sang-tae oppa fills a portion of the void in your chest but his presence only reminds her further of another that she's dreadfully missing, his messages overflow her phone now. Taking a swift turn from condescending to something sweeter and more pleading. It takes every ounce of restraint in her body not to open them, relying on the bits she can see in the previews. Fully turning a blind eye to him is beyond difficult for her, every atom of her being is calling out for him.

She has dragged herself from the car too many times, desperate to run to him and soothe his pain, eager to see what he wants to talk about, maybe just maybe he's ready to apologize and unclench the clamp he placed on her heart that day on the beach.

But.

What if he isn't? What if he wants to share more of his past with her in the hopes that she'll overlook all that came before. In the past that might have been the case, she had been ever forgiving, something that only he was privy to. But his words ring in her ears- one time event, get lost- invading her dreams and taking the place of her mother's floating figure terrorizing her nightly.

Somewhere along the way she realized that she puts him first, his emotions and comfort have taken precedent over her own and when she'd searched what exactly that meant the answer made her head spin.

A four letter word that most humans will experience except Ko Mun-yeong.

She's much too selfish and destructive to be ever love or be loved by another, she knows that know. When he'd finally opened up to her, there'd been a plethora of emotions that clawed to the surface and vengeance had been one of them, it wasn't enough that he was sharing his darkest secrets because of everything she'd been through to get there. It was as if he'd stabbed her in the chest, left her bleeding only to return and patch up her wounds, too much had occurred and the scarring remained.

So she left in the middle of the night, abandoned that godforsaken place, stuffing expensive fabrics in a vintage Louis Vuitton luggage set, eager to escape the dead silence that rang out in the castle without the Moon brothers pumping life back into it.

In the end she didn't go far, finding a guest house that reminded her of that brief getaway with him, she paid for the week and turned off her phone fielding persistent check in calls from Sang-in. Gang-tae hadn't tried to call merely texting that they should talk and it was almost laughable that despite his seeming desperation he still seemed reluctant to go the full mile. Only her deep rooted sadness stopped her from chuckling at her circumstances, what a tragic mess.

She didn't let his current persistence fool her, fool me once shame on you fool me twice, well everyone knew the rest. It was time she stopped looking like a fool. Regardless of what she felt for him she knew that that this couldn't be, he'd been right all along.

I hope I never see you again.

So much heart ache could have been prevented if she'd heeded his warning. So she was doing it now, her anger had fizzled off tempering into bitter acceptance.

He would give up soon enough, that was his style.

The woman in charge of the guest house steers clear of her and the first day she lays carelessly on the bed roll, not even bothering to comb her hair. Simply, being. It's intoxicating and new, her phone remains turned off tossed to the side as she thinks about nothing- ignoring the way that nothing something has deep sad eyes and a bowl hair cut. She's trying to think about nothing and that's what counts.

She has food delivered and it's strange to eat something that isn't a Subway sandwich after all the food Sang-in as been bringing her and temporarily guilt forms in the pit of her belly, he's probably going crazy trying to locate her but she's just not ready. She's still tired. Bone chilling fatigue.

The next day she walks down a dirt road, her long white dress dragging on the ground, dirtied but the thin material allows a passing breeze to wash across her body and she's content, staring at the sky and thinking of nothing. She spots a lone bird sitting in a tree and wonders if all the other birds have left it behind, whether it has nowhere to go and no one to see. Then she berates herself for worrying about a bird, all this time alone is pushing the limits of her sanity.

The days bleed into each other, dawn folding into dusk with watercolor skies and earthy morning dew.

She tries to write but it's hard to get any words down that aren't depressing and she can't think of any morals or lessons besides don't let anyone in.

Then she tries her hand at drawing, a portrait of her twisting a deer's neck.

The guest house keeper asks her if she hates bears the next day and that's the end of that endeavor.

The week is coming to an end and she's no where closer to knowing what to do, maybe it's time to go back to Seoul, leave this all behind like a bad dream.

When she finally deems herself mentally prepared she turns on her phone, pinging and vibrating from all the forlorn messages, sputtering in her hand as she watches in shock. As expected Sang-in has called and messaged and threatened, she smirks at his empty threats, heart slightly warmed.

Ju-ri, Seung-jae, Sang-tae, and him. All their names flash on her screen. Surprising her, as she'd never expect them to notice her disappearance. Much less reach out to her. Strange. But she writes it off, maybe Sang-in had roped them all into it. With trepidation she opens her messenger and responds to one, keeping a promise, with a few presses and a selfie she sends the message and closes the phone with a sigh.

Done.

The next day the clouds are smoggy ash grey in the sky, darkening the skies into something fierce and she pulls on a sweater and forgoes an umbrella welcoming the storm. Electricity swelters in the thick air causing a sheen of sticky perspiration to cling to her skin. She dons a simple sleeveless mini dress and sandals, trekking to the familiar dirt road.

She walks for hours, aimlessly without a care or worry in her head. Thoughts of him still push their way in at times but she's come to accept that as her baseline, once she returns to Seoul he will be nothing but a faint memory of the time she dreamed too big.

The first drop of rain on her skin makes goose pimples explode across her flesh, fat and chilled as they cascade from the atmosphere. Turning her head up towards the heavens she grins bitterly at nothing, her whole life has been nothing but rain, the moment is oddly fitting.

Mud splatters to her feet coating her toes in sloshy brown that slides between her toes, drenched from the downpour she slowly walks back no haste in her movement, steady footsteps despite the speed of the rain as it pelts against her.

The guest house comes back into sight as she meanders to the gate, vaguely remembering that she'd pulled it shut yet the doors now swing open. Blaming that on the rain she steps through, pulling it shut behind her continuing to stride to the steps.

As she hears the sliding door she eyes catch a figure blurry through the watery sheet in front of her eyes, the voice calling her name stops her in her tracks, no longer able to pretend that it's a mirage.

Her eyes aren't deceiving her, there he is. Once again finding her in the rain, except this time she doesn't need to be saved, she'll be the one doing the saving. For them both.

She takes him in, the rain soaking his hair flat onto his face, clothes plastered to his body as he stands eerily still, dark pools intensely taking her in as well.

After the slight hiccup, she continues walking taking off her sullied sandals and tossing them to the side and then she places her hand on the door, prepared to enter and forget what she saw. Ignorance is bliss.

"Mun-yeong."

All he has to say to get her heart pounding like a drum, she screams in her mind. That time spent apart should have made this easier, why didn't this feel easy? All the fatigue that she'd been running from hits her like a freight train crashing through her passive wall.

"Get lost."

He moves to block her way and her rage simmers below the surface.

"I've been worried about you. We all were so worried. You can't just leave like that, why did you go without saying anything?" His voice is wavering between anger and something softer, more human that makes his voice crack on the last syllable.

"Move."

She's not ready to assess what his being here means, what his voice and his concern mean. None of it makes sense and she's going to file it all under: unexplained phenomenon.

"Can't we talk first, please?"

"I don't want to talk." She sidesteps him, reaching once more for the door.

"Mun-yeong let me explain, let me make this right. I'm sor--"

"Shut up. I said I didn't want to talk. Go back you saw me, I'm alive you don't need to say anything more."

She's not sure she'll be able to contain herself if he says anything else, she's already dangling off the cliff. She can't allow herself to fall and burst apart.

"No! Why are you pushing me away? I need you! I told you I needed you I meant that, you can't just run away damn it."!

She stares blankly before her throat croaks and laughter tumbles from her lips. Deep belly chuckles that shake her body viciously.

Then quick as a switch the laughter stops.

Diamond hard gaze locked on his bewildered face before she speaks, "You think you're the only one who wanted? Do you? I wanted you to stay. I wanted you to fight for me, to let me in. I wanted you to see that I was hurt and apologize and mean it. You think a kiss is enough, you think telling me everything is enough after you break my heart? It's not!" Her voice pierces through the cacophonous drone of the rain beating the world, crying its heart out.

He jolts at her pained cries, fingers reaching for her but she immediately moves out of reach feeling naked and raw under his stare.

You broke my heart.

She's shown too much of her cards already, it's too late to bluff.

So she'll take a page from his book.

Throwing the door open and slamming it shut, holding it tight.

He doesn't try to open it. She sighs in relief leaning back against the hard wood, feeling all the fight evacuate her body.

He's probably gone. You pushed him too hard. Who are you to reject him? No one else will ever tolerate you.

Her thoughts don't scare her, just like Gang-tae had chosen his brother and the life he knew she was doing the same, choosing herself and the loneliness she'd grown accustomed to. Why give him another chance to throw her away he was clearly capable of it, it was only a matter of time she wouldn't change. Couldn't change. Immovable object.

The rain falls and falls, washing everything away and making the world anew. She lays on her back wondering how far he's gotten in this downpour. How had he even found her? All questions she'll never get the answers to.

Sleep tugs her eyelids shut as her thoughts swirl until they too fade to black.

Hands held high over her head, she pulls her tired bones feeling the tension melt with each stretch. Gathering clothes to take a much needed bath she carelessly tugs the door open only to jump back when he almost tumbles into her room.

What.

"What? What are you doing here?" She shrieks, avoiding collision by the barest inch.

"Waiting for you."

She blinks at him, taking in his drenched clothes-noting his shivers- and the dark circles that sink into the skin beneath his eyes, resembling a raccoon.

Had he slept outside all night? And if he had was he insane, why didn't he go back home?

"Why didn't you go back? Are you crazy? You can't sleep outside in the rain!"

She blushes at her outburst, slapping a hand over her traitorous mouth. He merely looks at her, she overlooks the tender glint in his eyes.

Stepping forward he grabs her hand, she fights to pull her appendage away but he tightens his grip which contrasts immensely with the softness in his eyes.

Voice like warm honey he answers, "Because you're here and I.....need you. I'm not going anywhere."

The sun shines brightly outside as a new day rises somewhere in the distance a lone bird's call is answered by another.

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

While it will likely never happened. But because I was looking up Soul Calibur 4 on YouTube and I’m listening to an extended version of the menu theme right now. An extended version of it. Gonna reveal this, Soul Calibur 4 was my first PS3 game that I think I played maybe.

I just wanna make some intro quotes if Vader ever did guest star in a Mortal Kombat game. I’m just hoping I can keep him in character considering how the Star Wars universe is. The Scorpion ones are likely gonna be the best ones.

Darth Vader: You were a slave of Quan Chi?

Scorpion: I am no longer under his control.

Darth Vader: I envy you. 

-

Darth Vader: Quan Chi reminds me of a friend of mine.

Scorpion: How would you describe your friend?

Darth Vader: More worse than Quan Chi can ever hope to be.

-

Darth Vader: Give into the dark side Hanzo Hasashi.

Scorpion: I am no longer bound by vengeance.

Darth Vader: You can’t resist.

-

Darth Vader: Be grateful it wasn’t you that killed your family

Scorpion: Why would you say such a thing?

Darth Vader: Because at least they weren’t killed by someone they loved.

-

Scorpion: The Empire will never take Earthrealm.

Darth Vader: Then you know nothing of the force.

Scorpion: Then show me so I can show you how meaningless it is.

-

Scorpion: My Hellfire will burn you alive.

Darth Vader: I don’t care, as I’ve suffered already.

Scorpion: Then I’ll make sure you won’t survive this burning.

-

Darth Vader: Sub Zero will betray one day...trust me.

Scorpion: Our truce is strong. You know nothing.

Darth Vader: Believe me. I do know what brotherhood was.

-

Darth Vader: Your brother betrayed you as well?

Sub Zero: Bi Han was corrupted, and not himself anymore.

Darth Vader: I’m sadly reminded of a scenario with someone.

-

Darth Vader: The Lin Kuei would be excellent help for the Empire.

Sub Zero: The Lin Kuei will never join your tyranny.

Darth Vader: Then you will die as I take over your clan.

-

Sub Zero: Your suit will freeze Vader.

Darth Vader: My lightsaber will go through your ice no matter what.

Sub Zero: You’re too confident in your skills.

-

Darth Vader: Did you ever see your mother again after you were taken?

Sub Zero: Sadly no, but why do you ask such a question?

Darth Vader: I’m just...reminded of something.

-

Darth Vader: You remind me of the Jedi.

Sub Zero: The ones you helped exterminated?

Darth Vader: And you shall join them.

-

Darth Vader: Join me Sub Zero, and I can teach you the dark side of the force.

Sub Zero: I will never join a tyrant like you.

Darth Vader: What a waste of skill.

-

Sub Zero: You do not dare besmirch Hanzo.

Darth Vader: Scorpion will betray you. Trust me, I know.

Sub Zero: Whatever happened to you, doesn’t excuse all you’ve done. 

-

Darth Vader: There’s one thing the Elder Gods don’t fully understand Raiden.

Raiden: And what is Vader?

Darth Vader: The power of the force.

-

Darth Vader: Your power means nothing to me Raiden.

Raiden: You think you can survive against the god of thunder.

Darth Vader: Your powers are nothing compared to what I’ve suffered you waste of flesh.

-

Raiden: I know who you are Vader.

Darth Vader: You know nothing false god.

Raiden: Say that again Anakin Skywalker.

-

Darth Vader: So you’re a bounty hunter?

Erron Black: Yep, why you saying that.

Darth Vader: I’m just reminded of other bounty hunters I’ve met.

-

Darth Vader: The Empire can offer you a great reward for your services.

Erron Black: Then why are you challenging me?

Darth Vader: I want to see if you’re as great as the likes of Boba Fett and others.

-

Darth Vader: Another princess again.

Kitana: I am Kahn now Vader.

Darth Vader: I don’t care.

-

Darth Vader: The Empire will take Outworld.

Kitana: You can try Vader.

Darth Vader: You sound like princess Leia and her rebels.

-

Darth Vader: So you’re the chosen one in this universe?

Liu Kang: Why do you ask Vader?

Darth Vader: Be wary of the burdens that come with it.

-

Darth Vader: You don’t know the pain of what it be as the chosen one.

Liu Kang: What makes you an expert?

Darth Vader: I knew a man who fell and hates himself for his downfall.

-

Liu Kang: I know what happened to you Anakin Skywalker.

Darth Vader: Anakin Skywalker is dead. I killed him. 

Liu Kang: That’s not what Raiden told me.

-

Liu Kang: I know how you fell Vader.

Darth Vader: You know nothing about me child.

Liu Kang: Says the chosen one of his universe.

-

Darth Vader: Because of what of Kronika has been doing. I remember every timeline.

Geras: That’s impossible.

Darth Vader: I remember EVERYTHING.

-

Darth Vader: Take me to Kronika and I may spare your life.

Geras: Nothing will save your mother and Padme.

Darth Vader: Her power is the only chance that could restore EVERYTHING.

-

Geras: You remember all the timelines of your universe?

Darth Vader: Many, and it haunts me. Erased memories and other things. Why?

Geras: I think some sort of mouse touched your universe years ago.

-

Geras: I’ve met Jedi and Sith before.

Darth Vader: So the stories about you are true. Even the one with Darth Revan?

Geras: Revan was shocked that I couldn’t die.

-

Darth Vader: Kronika’s plans are horrific.

Cetrion: They will restore balance.

Darth Vader: Does that include me killing Padme over and over again!?

-

Darth Vader: Your mother is responsible for so much pain.

Cetrion: You think killing her is going to fix your life?

Darth Vader: I’ll start by killing you first you witch!

-

Darth Vader: Out of my way you pathetic excuse for a god.

Cetrion: The force means nothing to an elder god.

Darth Vader: Then I will rip out your spine with the force!

-

Darth Vader: A fellow soldier who lost his limbs too.

Jax: That bother you?

Darth Vader: Let’s just say I know your pain all too well.

-

Jax: You a robot or something?

Darth Vader: I’m sadly more machine than you Major Briggs.

Jax: Well that sucks to hear.

-

Darth Vader: Burnt alive and breathing problems I see

Kabal: What? You can relate?

Darth Vader: Let’s say I know all too well being in your position.

-

Johnny Dude: Dude, you look very familiar.

Darth Vader: I’m not interested Mr. Cage.

Johnny Cage: You look like out of some well known franchise I’ve seen before.

-

Darth Vader: Another so called cocky hero.

Johnny Cage: I remind you of someone? Maybe not as good looking as me?

Darth Vader: You remind me of Han Solo...yet he’s more impressive than you ever will be.

-

Darth Vader: Please stand aside child. I’d rather not hurt you.

Cassie Cage: Pfft! Why’s that?

Darth Vader: Or I’ll cut off your hand like I did to my own son.

Think I’ve done enough for now. Trying to make a lot of Star Wars reference. And I remembered when first doing the Geras one. My ideas for Darth Vader’s ending...honestly, the ones with Cetrion are indeed the best. And I’m just listening to this piece of soundtrack from episode 3 lol. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yS4sTIracJ0

And if anyone notices with those lines with Geras...oh boy...the potential with MK11′s storyline and this affecting the Star Wars universe...oh man. XD Damn, it’s 8:15 am.

[vs-redemption]

Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch.26)

Chapter Twenty-six: Dabi (HawksxGN!Reader)

From Cindy: My intention was to never have Dabi in this story, but now he’s here. lol He wanted to add a bit of spice.

Plot summary: As a quirk geneticist, you never really imagined yourself getting involved in hero work. Of course, you never imagined catching the eye of a pro hero either. What starts as a great career opportunity turns into a relationship built upon mutual secrets and trust.

Warnings:

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

Tag List: @gayforkeigo @marshmallow-witch @redflannel @toyo-shiro @elsasshole @astronomyturtle @iambashfulperson @omiwashere

Next Chapter : Chapter Guide

Returning to work and getting back into a routine after having a vacation was always a little difficult. That was especially true when you worked for a mad doctor who created super villains in the basement of an otherwise mediocre municipal hospital. But after reconnecting with friends from your hometown and having some much needed quality time with your boyfriend, you were feeling refreshed and ready to face the last stretch of your dangerous journey. The spark of cautious optimism was stomped out almost immediately when you stepped into the hospital lobby and saw the expression on Dr. Garaki’s face as he greeted you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask before any pleasantries can be exchanged. A list of worst case scenarios begins to compile in your brain as the doctor tries to force the smile on his face to appear more genuine. If something urgent had popped up, you knew he would have gotten in touch with you, so it was hard to predict the situation you were coming back to. You couldn’t discuss anything about Shigaraki in the main hospital though, so you’d have to endure the suspense until both of you were safely out of sight in the underground lab.

“You look well rested,” Garaki comments as you make your way to the secret elevator. Your nervous jitters made the walk seem much longer than usual. “I guess taking a few days off was a good idea.”

“I appreciate you giving me the time,” you tell him since it remained to be seen whether taking a break from your duties had been a good idea or not.

“We’ll be having a guest in the lab today,” the doctor finally reveals a sliver of information after all your personal belongings had been put in a locker and he’d run a metal detector over you to check for bugs. You were used to this process by now, but the knowledge that you’d be meeting what you assumed was going to be another villain made you feel incredibly uncomfortable. You couldn’t imagine what more the villains could need you for, unless something horrible had happened to Shigaraki while you were away and it was time to face the consequences. It made no sense for them to kill you there in the hospital though, so you did your best to keep your fears and imagination in check.

You summon as much confidence and courage as you can as Dr. Garaki finally takes you into the lab where your mysterious visitor was waiting, but you can’t help but falter for the second time that day when you come face to face with a man with charcoal black hair, intense sapphire blue eyes, and skin covered in horribly discolored burn scars. The scent of burnt flesh wafts through the air, making your eyes water and stomach churn.

“So, you’re the little scientist I’ve been hearing so much about,” he approaches you slowly like a predator, the sound of his boots on the cold cement floor making him that much more intimidating. His voice comes out slow and gravelly, the complete opposite of Shigaraki’s anxious, whiny timbre.

“And you’re Dabi,” you reply, trying to match his level of lazy calmness. Shigaraki’s reckless need for destruction was terrifying to be sure, but the calculating way Dabi met your eyes made you feel like he was peering right into the deepest parts of your mind where everything you’d been trying to keep secret was hidden.

“Sorry for springing him on you like this,” The doctor speaks up, still with a tense look on his face. “I just thought meeting him here would be preferable to his original plan to wait and jump out from a dark alley.” You scrunch up your nose at the image while sending an incredulous look at the villain.

“Charming,” you deadpan and Dabi rolls his eyes.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” he replies flatly while lifting a hand to pick at one of the many shiny silver staples on his face that seemed to be serving the purpose of holding his damaged skin together. “If you’re working with the PLF, it shouldn’t matter when or where I show up.”

“PLF?” You feign ignorance and Dabi curls his lip in annoyance. He wasn’t going to get you to screw up that easily. Hawks had told you about the whole “quirk liberation” movement, but you weren’t supposed to know that the League of Villains had joined forces with the devoted followers of that ideology. Dabi took another aggressive step forward, but you held your ground.

“If you’re willing to help Shigaraki,” he reasons, “I think you can afford me the same curtesy since he and I are on the same side.”

“I think that depends a great deal on what you need from me,” you say boldly “Because I don’t recall ever claiming to be on anyone’s side.” You hated how close Dabi was standing to you. You knew he had a powerful fire quirk, even without the uncomfortable waves of heat radiating from his skin. You felt a small pang of sympathy knowing that the burns covering his body were a result of the destructive blue flames he’d been born with. One day, you hoped your research would prevent anyone from falling victim to their own biology the way he had. Dabi had only himself to blame, however, for choosing to use his quirk to take the lives of others. Like Shigaraki, he had plenty of blood on his hands.

“I need you to tell me everything you know about that giant chicken your dating,” Dabi says simply, a challenging look in his eyes. You shake your head and take the chance to move away and get him out of your personal bubble.

“Nope,” you reject him right away. “I won’t do that.”

“Why? There’s no way you actually love him,” a dry laugh escapes from Dabi’s lips. “He’s a hero isn’t he? You’re already betraying him by helping Shigaraki.”

“First of all, how I feel about Hawks is none of your business,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Second, helping your creepy boss and the doctor is beneficial to my career. Divulging secrets about my boyfriend is only beneficial to you. I’d get nothing out of it.”

“Are you trying to make an enemy out of me?” Dabi asks, his voice coming out casual despite the threat of his words.

“No,” you shake your head, “but I’m not trying to make an ally out of you either. If you want to go after Hawks, I’m not going to oppose you. In fact, I’ll even point you in the right direction. If you can find someone from the Hero Commission to terrorize, I bet you’d learn a whole lot of juicy tidbits.”

“It’d be easier to learn them from you,” Dabi sniffs, his increasing irritation was becoming palpable. The tension in the air, not to mention the suffocating heat of his quirk seemed to grow thicker by the second.

“As Shigaraki liked to tell me, there are still a lot of things I don’t know about my boyfriend,” you confess. “But I know enough about him to realize he wouldn’t put up with as much of the commission’s crap as he does if they didn’t have something to hold over him. I’m sure you could figure out what that is if you were motivated enough.” Dabi moves to step into your personal space again, his hooded eyes widening in anger, but the doctor jumps back into the conversation.

“If we could wrap this up soon, I’d appreciate it,” he puts up his hands as a sign of neutrality before looking at you. “There’s a lot I wanted to get done today, and I need help your help administering the next dose of Shigaraki’s serum.” Dabi ignores Garaki completely and continues to stare you down.

“You really think you’ll be able to continue riding the fence from the position you’re in?” he asks menacingly. “You’re worse than the heroes if you stand for nothing.” You eye Dabi for a moment, wondering once again what horrible circumstances life had to throw at someone for them to end up so dark and hateful.

“I’m sure that your motivations, whatever they may be, are valid,” You tell him. “I know Shigaraki mentioned a few of his concerns about our flawed hero society to me before, and some of what he said actually made sense.” You pause to see what Dabi would say, but he remained silent.

“Look,” You continue with a shrug. “I don’t fault any of you for standing up for what you believe and pushing for change. It’s just your methods that I can’t get onboard with. That’s why I can stand aside and let it happen without feeling obligated to get involved myself.”

“And you’ve made your position on this matter clear from the very beginning” The doctor backs you up. You weren’t going to mistake his words for some kind of allegiance though. He had only allowed you into his lab because he needed your quirk and expertise to complete his Shigaraki project. None of these people would ever trust you completely, and you could never trust them.

“You might come to regret this conversation in the future,” Dabi says with an ominous tone that sent a shiver up your spine. “Bad things tend to happen to people who waste my time.” You wanted to tell him that he had been the one to waste his own time, but thought better of it since you knew from watching the news that he had no problems with making good on his threats.

Before things could escalate further, Dr. Garaki sent Dabi through the hidden tunnel that led to the second lab so that you two could finally get to work on Shigaraki. Once the door was shut, the doctor apologized for the villain’s rudeness but then carried on like normal. He filled you in on Shigaraki’s progress over the days you’d been gone, and helped you administer the next dose of the serum. Shigaraki still had some intense reactions to his DNA being modified, but the severity seemed to be decreasing along with the frequency. You wanted to worry more about the outcome of the procedure, but now you had a second danger looming over your head in the form of Dabi.

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 20

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), all the fun stuff that comes with smut lol, fluff, I think that’s about it!

Word Count: 1881

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERSLIST***

You stood in the kitchen, pulling tonight's chicken from the oven, and placing it on the counter. You had gotten home from California pretty early, and as soon as you got home Jensen said he had to go and take care of some things in town. 

That gave you some time to get a home cooked meal in the oven and cooked before he was due to arrive home. This was something you felt  you didn't really do enough for him, not in the way that you felt you should, not really in the way you feel he deserves, especially with it being Christmas Eve. You thought it might be nice to have a good home cooked meal for him to come home to for once.

While the chicken was cooking you had cleaned the entire house, making it perfect and spotless for him. Now that the chicken was done you plugged in the Christmas tree he had wanted to decorate so badly, then finished the sides to go with your meal. 

For the first time since you had moved into this house, it felt like a home. It was clean, there was a fresh dinner being put together, and the Christmas tree was shining in the corner. Everything felt perfect.

Everything was finished just as the sun went down behind the trees, and you heard Jensen coming through the front door. You heard a "wow" come from his lips as he made his way through the house, and you had to bite your lip to hide the proud smirk that he'd noticed your work while he was away.

"Baby? Where are you?" you heard him call from the living room. 

"In the kitchen!" you yelled back. 

You could hear his heavy footsteps making his way closer to the kitchen before he stopped right behind you. You could literally feel the heat radiating off his strong body. He was so close to you, before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly to his chest before placing a soft kiss on the top of your forehead. 

"Sweetheart, you didn’t have to do all of this!" he said, looking down at the small feast you had created for the two of you, eyes wide and mouth opened slightly.

Turning around in his arms, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his lips closer to yours, and giving him a soft kiss before pulling away. 

"I thought we could use some food that wasn't processed, or come from some fast food place. We've eaten out all weekend." 

You ran your hand across his thick chest and watched the shiver leave his body as he pressed closer to you.

"You know I don't deserve you don't you." he said, holding onto you. His green eyes were boring into yours, like he was trying to transfer all the things he was feeling that he couldn't say to you. 

"Actually I'd say that was the other way around. I really don't deserve you." you tell him, putting your head against his shoulder, feeling his arms tighten around you.

"That's bull.You're everything I've ever wanted, don't you forget it either." he said, kissing the top of your hair. 

After the two of you had eaten, Jensen wanted to help you clean up the kitchen. He refused to let you do it alone. He complimented  you over and over again, barely even letting go of your hand while the two of you ate, like he just wanted more than anything to be closer to you.

"Why don't you go and get a shower sweetheart, and I'll go and set up everything in the living room, and we'll binge watch (your favorite show) and cuddle." he said, nuzzling into your neck,making a warm heat pool through you. 

Giving him a quick peck on the lips, you made your way to the shower, and as quickly as possible did what you needed to do, pulling your hair up into a messy bun, and drying and dressing quickly. This is what you wanted more than anything. To be alone, wrapped safely in Jensen's arms. Just the two of you.

When you stepped down into the living room all the lights were off, the Christmas tree was lit, and Netflix was paused, and waiting for you. Jensen had obviously jumped in the guest shower and gotten into his PJ's too. He was sitting on the floor, surrounded by pillows and blankets,waiting for you with a bottle of wine on ice, and two empty wine glasses. 

When he heard you come in, he smiled at you and patted the floor next to him. No matter how many times you saw that smile it took your breath away. Staggering over to where he was waiting, you sat  as close to him as possible, watching him pour wine into the glasses. He handed you one and pulled you as closely to him as possible,reaching over and turning on the TV, but keeping the volume low. 

"I got something for you." he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small black box from his pocket with a little red bow on it. 

"Oh Jensen, you shouldn't have gotten me anything! I didn't get to go to get you anything." you tell him as he takes the box ,and places it in your hands, pulling you tight to his chest. 

"You've already given me everything sweetheart. Some things I didn't even know I needed. I'm sorry I wasn't there when I should have been, but I'm going to make it up to you now. I love you so much." 

He pulled your lips to his in a soft, yet passion filled kiss. 

"Open it!!" he said, bouncing in his spot, looking more childish and cute than a grown man should ever have the right to. 

Pulling the little red ribbon tied up around the box, you opened it slowly. Opening it you saw the most beautiful victorian wedding set you had ever seen. Your jaw hit the floor.You loved vintage things. Especially the Victoria error. You didn't think he knew.

You never had a wedding ring. Your wedding was so untraditional, and you never paid it any attention until now. A tear fell from your eyes, and he gently wiped it away, drawing your attention back to him. 

"Oh Jensen it's gorgeous!" Was all you could stagger out, your emotions choking you. 

He gave you a soft smile, brushing the loose hair out of your face. 

"It's nothing compared to you." 

Pulling you into yet another passion filled kiss, he slipped the ring from the box and took your left hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. 

He turned your hand over in his hand,looking at your rings on your finger. You only just noticed that he wore a solid gold band on his left hand as well, something he hadn't done since he had gotten married to you. 

His lips were on you again in an instant, this time hungry. He licked your lower lip, begging for entrance which you happily granted. You wanted nothing more than to feel him. To be close to him.

Laying you down on the makeshift bed he had made on the floor his hands slowly started to roam your body. His mouth never leaves yours as his hands made little trails over your skin. 

He ran  his hand up your shirt feeling the soft skin of your sides and stomach, before coming in contact with your bare breast, a moan falling from both your lips. His fingers were gently massaging and playing with the sensitive flesh of your nipples.

"I need you sweetheart. I want to make love to you."

Your voice was caught in your throat. You couldn't answer, and to be honest he didn't really give you much time to do so before his mouth was on yours again in a heated, passionate kiss. breaking it to shed the two of you from your shirts.  He made quick work of shedding his bottom layers, then yours, kissing a trail all the way to your hips then back up to your breast. Taking them in your mouth one by one, his tongue lightly traced the peaks before moving back down your stomach. Your body felt like it was on fire, arching into him.

Jensen kissed you down to your knees, then back up again, leaving little kisses on the inside of your thighs. When he saw you were completely lost in what he was doing to your body, eyes closed, head back he made a gentle trail with his tongue through your already wet folds,causing a gasp to fall from your mouth. 

Looking up at you, you still had your eyes closed, so he again started his assault on your clit. His tongue lapping at your center like a man starved, increasing speed, then gently again,his sinful mouth driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You could feel the heat begin to pool in your lower belly, the coil tightening in your lower stomach quickly ready to snap. Then he added two of his long, thick digits, pumping them slowly into you. 

That was it, that was all it took for you to fall to pieces around him, your vision spotting in front of you, a deep gasp falling from your lips as you pulsed around his fingers. 

He gently slowed his ministrations until you came completely down from your high. His other hand was stroking his hard length. 

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from you, you whimpered at the loss of contact, but he didn't leave you empty long, sliding his thick length into you while you were still a little high from your orgasm.

You moaned at the stretch he had created in you pumping himself into you slowly,never pulling out all the way, grinding your bodies against each other. 

His name fell from your lips  as he continued to drive both of you closer and closer to your release. 

"Your so beautiful sweetheart." he mumbled through moans, kissing you deeply as he continued to drive your bodies together. You could feel the coil tighten again in your lower belly.

"Jensen… I'm close...'' 

He picked up his pace just a little, still keeping your bodies held close together. 

"I know sweetheart, me too." 

Sliding his hand down between your two bodies he slowly started to circle your clit with his fingers in time with his thrust. Before you knew what was happening you were falling over the edge again, his name a prayer on your lips. You felt for a moment like you were going to pass out as you felt him spill himself deep inside of you, kissing your neck and grunting deeply.

Finally when both of your bodies had stilled, Jensen slowly removed himself from you, and pulled you closer to him, laying your head on his chest as his strong arms wrapped around you. 

"I love you so much Y/N" he said again for what felt like the thousandth time today, but you didn't think you'd ever get tired of hearing it.

"I love you to Jensen."

Both of you drifted off to sleep on your makeshift bed under the light of the christmas tree,Netflix forgotten  in the background.

You didn't ever think Christmas could be this good, or that you'd ever be this happy; yet here you where.

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Tag List: @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​ @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​

[thegayemu]

The team at your neighborhood Oxenfurt Target hopes you had a pleasant Halloween, and everyone’s favorite Guest Service Advocate is having fun spinning tall tales for the kiddos. 🎃

As promised, more Target!Witcher content. After some hemming and hawing I decided to set the store in Oxenfurt (I considered Rivia, a la “Geralt of Rivia Target speaking” but Geralt needed a last name lol). So I will tag relevant posts as #OxenfurtTarget.

This was an ambitious project for me, and my first actual comic, so any comments or constructive feedback is welcome. I hope y’all enjoy. And as always lmk if you want more of this nonsense. :)

(P.S. if anyone is an essential worker, particularly in retail, and have any work stories they’d like to see translated into an illustration feel free to send an ask or DM. Or if anyone else has any headcanons to flesh out their personalities a little more drop an ask. I’m having fun with this.)

[ID under the cut.]

A five-panel modern AU fan comic of the Netflix series the Witcher, set at a Target store. All panels are digitally painted.

Panel 1: An exterior shot of a Target store at night. The sky is dark and cloudy and there is a full moon. The bottom half of the building is tan and the top is red, with a glowing white Target sign. There are a few benches and islands with shrubs and trees. The sidewalk slopes into the street. White text on a black rectangle reads, “legend has it the store is cursed.”

Panel 2: Looking down the freezer aisle. The floor is an off-white color and the walls are red. The freezers, which are steel on the  outside with large windows looking into a white interior, are empty. Yellow caution tape stretches over the freezers. White text on a black rectangle reads, “from the gas leak, to the power outage”.

Panel 3: An exterior shot of a Panda Express. The building is varying shades of tan and orange with a black and red sign and a red overhang. There are large black-tinted windows on either side of a glass door. The sky is blue with white clouds. In the foreground there is a bush on fire with smoke rising from the flames. White text on a black rectangle reads, “the guy I thought was dead in the parking lot, to that bush that caught fire outside the Panda Express.” 

Panel 4: A close up on Jaskier’s face, a white man with medium brown hair and blue eyes. He is wearing a gray face mask. He is cast in harsh red shadows and lit from below. The background is a red gradient that fades from dark on the top to light at the bottom. White text on a black background reads, “Some say it’s a curse. Others say it’s haunted.” Black text on a white rectangle reads, “what about you, mister? What do you think?”

Panel 5: a low shot of Jaskier squatting on the ground with his arms folded on his knees. He is wearing a red t-shirt, gray face mask, and khakis cuffed at the ankles with a brown belt and black Converse high-top sneakers. Across from him stands a child and a toddler. The child, a Black girl with dark brown hair pulled into two afro puffs, is wearing a light pink face mask, a BatGirl dress in black with yellow accents, gray three-quarter length leggings, and pink and white sneakers. She is holding the toddler’s hand, a Black boy in a green dinosaur onesie with orange spikes up the back and hood of the costume, with the hood over his head, and red, blue, and white sneakers. The floor is an off-white and the wall behind them is red, with a black baseboard. White text in a black speech bubble leading from Jaskier reads, “Me? I just think this is a store run by idiots.”

[hyunderwater]

sweet as sugar 05

pairing: felix x hyunjin

genre: angst, romance, mild fluff

summary: meet the parents! except they kinda suck lol

wc: 1.6k

a03 link<-

01-02-03-04-05-06-07-08-09-10-<3

Felix felt the eyes boring into him like cold daggers buried in his flesh, but he kept his head up high, subtly whipping out his phone in an attempt to remind the people in the hallway that if they touch him, they’ll find themselves waking up the next morning covered in bruises. In the couple weeks since his relationship had been revealed to the school, his boyfriend's reputation acted as a barrier between him and the fists that always seemed to be drawn to him, and Felix was reveling in the freedom.

Hyunjin’s voice felt like a security blanket, and Felix walked a bit more confidently. “Hi Jinnie!” he chirped into the phone. “Hey cutie! You using me to intimidate people again?”

“Yup. By the way babe, I’m free after school today, grandma gave me the day off.” Felix ignored the disgusted looks shot his way at the word “babe”, choosing to focus on his boyfriend's voice rather than the whispered slurs and insults. “Is that your extremely subtle way of telling me you want to see me later?” Felix scoffed into the phone. “Actually, you know, you could meet my parents tonight if you want.” Felix froze, mouth open in shock. At the silence, Hyunjin panicked. “I-I mean I already met basically all of your family from every time we went to the bakery together, and I just figured that maybe you would possibly want to meet mine? Was that too forward?” Felix let out a small squeal of happiness, shaking his tiny fists in excitement. “Jinnie, I would love to meet your family! I was so nervous you didn’t want me to meet them, like you were embarrassed of me or something!” Hyunjin sighed softly. “Well, you’re partly right. I didn’t want you to meet them, but it’s not because I’m embarrassed of you. It’s because I hate them, and they don’t care about me. Not to mention I… haven’t really come out to them yet. But I’ll do it tonight!” Felix slapped a hand to his forehead. “Hyunjin. What. The. Actual. Fuck.”

“I’m sorry. If you don’t wanna meet them now that’s fine...”

“No, no, honey, it’s just that that’s a lot of information to drop on me at once. Are you just going to go up to them and say ‘here’s my boyfriend! Oh and by the way, I like boys.’ This seems like a plan you didn’t think about much.”

“Trust me, it’s going to be fine.” Hyunjin’s voice oozed confidence, but it did nothing to ease the tight knot of anxiety forming in Felix’s stomach.

The crickets chirped happily in tall grass surrounding Hyunjin’s house, a stark contrast to the worry pooling in Felix’s gut. His breath puffed small clouds into the air, every exhale an attempt to calm himself a bit more. Finally working up the nerve, he poked a finger into the doorbell tentatively. Nothing happened. Felix rang again, wondering if he hadn’t hit the bell hard enough the first time. Finally realizing the bell was broken, he knocked on the door. Hyunjin yanked the door open, greeting Felix with a tentative smile, a blanket thrown over the mess of his emotions. Felix picked up on it immediately, tilting his head to the side and placing a small hand on Hyunjin’s arm. When his hand came in contact with bare skin, he quickly realized Hyunjin was wearing a sleeveless top. He gasped, a small blush setting his face on fire. Taking the time to scan Hyunjin down, he realized he had dressed to impress, wearing a black sleeveless band tee that dipped down to show off the sides of his chest, and a plain pair of black jeans. He glanced self-consciously down at his own soft, worn white t-shirt and ripped, baggy jeans. “Like what you see, babe?” The words were whispered into his ear; in his reverie, he had not noticed Hyunjin leaned closer. A violent shiver tore down his spine at the words. “I-” He was cut off by sudden movement. “Hyunjin, don’t be rude! He seems cold, and we don’t want anyone thinking that we’re rude to our guests!” Hyunjin’s back went stiff, and he muttered under his breath, “No, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Did you just talk back to me, boy?” Felix could almost hear his eyes roll. “No ma’am,” Hyunjin groaned. He stepped back to invite Felix into his home. Felix padded into the hallway, eyes wide as he took in the place his Hyunjin had grown up in. After removing his beat-up sneakers, he was gently tugged toward a small table that was set with four plates and a large, steaming pot of pasta. Seated at the table was a small woman and a stern-looking man. Although one could definitely tell where Hyunjin got his good looks from, their expressions lacked the familiar warmth that their son always managed to give off. Felix had barely taken two bites of the pasta when the interrogation began. “Are you another one of those dirty delinquents that he likes to surround himself with?” Felix nearly choked on his pasta, eyes blown open wide at the absurd question. Regaining his composure, he answered her. “Well, I’ve actually met a few of Hyunjin’s other friend’s, and they seemed fairly ni-”

“I heard rumors that some of those boys are... ” Hyunjin’s mother leaned forward conspiratorially. “...gays.” Felix stiffened noticeably at the use of the word. “They’re very nice.” he gritted, teeth clenched to conceal his anger. “I wonder how embarrassed their parents are of them, I couldn’t even imagine having a child like that!” Felix’s hand found Hyunjin’s thigh under the table, and he squeezed it comfortingly. They could make it through that suffocating dinner, no matter how much it hurt. As the minutes stretched on, Felix could feel Hyunjin tensing more and more under the table. Finally, his parents seemed to have tired themselves out for the time being, and they shooed the two out of the house to go on a walk before dessert. After turning the corner, Felix turned and looked Hyunjin deep into his gorgeous eyes. “Is it like that every day?” For just a second, Felix swore he could see Hyunjin shatter into a billion pieces. A single glassy tear, so small he could have imagined it, traced a glistening path over Hyunjin’s cheek. Slowly, Felix raised a tentative hand to wipe away the tear, taking his time in ruining its glowing path to remove the traces of pain from his angel’s face. “It’s okay, my love. It's okay to hurt.” Hyunjin shook his head back and forth, more tears turning his eyes glossy. “No, not for me. I have everything I need, isn’t it selfish to want more?” Felix frowned. “Who told you it’s selfish to want a healthy, happy life? Just because others have less doesn’t mean you have everything you need. Honey, it isn’t selfish to want to have people in your life that accept you, all of you. It isn’t selfish to want that because you also need it.” Hyunjin nodded dumbly. “I just… I hate them so much for caring more about their reputations than me. I hate them for not caring about me at all. For just one second, I want them to feel the pain and betrayal I’ve been feeling all my life.” Pure anger descended on Hyunjin’s face, and Felix shrank back a bit. “I want them to hurt.” The statement sent fresh tendrils of fear deep into Felix’s belly, and suddenly he had the ominous feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong.

They re-entered the house to small tubs of ice cream adorning the table. Felix noted the way Hyunjin dug into the ice cream like it had tried to hurt him first, stabbing it harshly with the scoop. Something was about to happen, but Felix wasn’t sure what. All of a sudden, it clicked. Hyunjin was a grenade, ready to go off, and everything his parents did came that much closer to pulling the pin and causing mass destruction. His parents, blissfully unaware, had gone back to their interrogation. (So, you go to the same school? Yup, we met in the nurse's office) Felix watched as Hyunjin’s jaw got tighter and tighter, until his leg started bouncing with pent up rage and anxiety. At last, his mother pulled the pin. Leaning across the table, she said, “So, Felix, are you and Hyunjin close friends? I’d like to think that you were his best friend, instead of those delinquents I’ve been hearing rumors about.” Hyunjin abruptly pulled back from the table, standing up and slamming his palms down on the wood surface. “And why, pray tell, would it be simply horrible for me to be friends with those ‘gays’?” His mother recoiled in surprise. “Well, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it, it’s just that I don’t want you to interact with people like that! Who knows what th-”

“What if I told you I was one of those people? What if I told you that Felix is my boyfriend, and we kiss and hold hands and do EVERYTHING you think two men shouldn’t do, and-”

“We just care abo-”

“No, no, you don’t get to say anything right now. You two don’t care about me, you never did. All you care about is your stupid precious reputation. Well, I’m done. You were happy to stop referring to me as your son in public once I started hanging out with ‘those gays’, I’m sure you’re simply jumping for joy to kick me out once and for all. Come on, Lixie, we’re going.”

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