#the cafe owner took it as a threat

[stellacaerulea]

He's had one too many coke noodles

[scarletwidowsbaby]

Lover's Quarrel

Summary: A simple few happenstances lead you to two very special women.

Pairings: Omega!Fem!R x Alphas!WandaNat

Genre: Angst, sprinkles of WandaNat fluff.

Warnings: ABO dynamics but no smut. Reader seems a bit depressed.

A/N: This is my first attempt at ABO so pls be nice :)

*credit to owners*

You still struggled to be normal around the brightness of the day. Normally, you’d be holed up in an ex-HYDRA safehouse and hide away from the sun before you would do what you needed, but you were running low on supplies and needed them, now. 

What am I talking about? Oh, sorry, you’re still new here.

You, Y/N Stellaluna Romana, grew up in HYDRA. You don’t remember much of your parents, except for the fact that they sold you for protection. You jumped between what you now know to be HYDRA and the Red Room, but the female-dominated organisation had a much better teaching style for aggressive female omegas. 

Whilst HYDRA was always there as a threat, the Red Room forced your body into labour if you misbehaved. Growl out at an instructor? Stand on your head in the corner for a time limit set by the victimised instructor. Refuse to make a kill? Your dinner is sacrificed to them, but is laced with cyanide, making you fearful of every meal that touches your lips. 

Bite an instructor? You will be beaten black and blue until you pass out, for which some girls wake up and don’t remember who they are.

But enough of that - you were free. You got out. Now, you were just trying to get through every day without your status in the world being revealed. You took your suppressants daily, which you were on your way to get more of, kept your head up and acted confident, which were all the behaviours of an Alpha.

You should know, since you studied them.

But for now, you relaxed slightly, having taken your second last suppressant this morning and now waiting in line for your coffee. It was a truly beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, whilst the wind kept it cool enough for a light jacket.

Speaking of, you were going to have to get new clothes soon. Your daily ‘uniform’ was becoming bland with a simple pair of jeans, a graphic shirt, sneaker and a cap. You paid the seven dollars for your coffee before making your way out of the cafe, down to the mall, and in search of some better clothes.

You strolled through some normal big chain stores like Myer, Cotton On and H&M, and even though nothing caught your attention, that was exactly what you needed. You grabbed three pairs of jeans and four tops, just like the ones you had on, as well as a jacket, a hoodie and some extra socks. 

After paying in cash you found your way towards a shoe shop two stores down, but there were some people standing outside of them, like bouncers. You casually moved to the side like you were checking your phone, but you carefully brushed your hair away from your ear as you listened to a new couple coming in.

“Sir, Ma’am, we need to check your status, please.”

“We’re both Alphas.”

You watched them show some form of ID, probably their drivers licences, which contain both sexes of female/male and Alpha/Beta/Omega. They were then let in, and you saw this with almost all of the other shoe shops.

*Dumb laws.* You grumbled, pulling out your umpteenth fake ID as you made your way to the shop.

“Status, please.” The bouncer asked and you handed the Alpha ID over.

He let you in, but hesitated and you gave him a trained Alpha stare, to which he let you in quickly for. You found two pairs of shoes, almost exactly the same, and quickly made your way back home. 

Once you returned, you quickly dumped your bags and checked outside - almost sunset. Your supplier was going to meet you soon and you had to be there on time. He knew you were an Omega and was a strangely kind Beta, feeling sympathetic for how you acted like an Alpha but couldn’t deny your half-yearly heat and your drops.

You threw on the new set of clothes, knowing that meeting with old clothes led to the possibility of your scent releasing. They were comfy, but they felt new, like how the hoodie’s fluff wasn’t built over time, but stock-standard.

As soon as the sky changed, you eyed the figure coming out of the shadows to your left, his lips curled into a gentle smile.

“Y/N! It’s been a while.” He shook your hand, which led to you handing over half of the money.

“So, you got it, Vladi?” You asked as you walked with him to the truck.

“Oh yeah. I have some strong stuff too if you’ve run out, by the way.” 

You shrugged. “Normal order.” 

“One of everything, coming riiiight up.” He grinned, rummaging through the boxes to find yours. 

You were patient and handed him the other half of the payment before he began to drive away, your whole body tense until you locked your apartment door behind you. You tipped the last suppressant into the new box before hiding it behind the sink drain pipe, keeping the other ones hidden within your belongings. Inspections were random sometimes and you needed to be prepared when hiding your illegal suppressants.

The next day was even more boring since you had nothing to do; no suppressants to collect, no clothes to buy. It was just another day, spinning on the big dumb rock. 

Or so you thought.

You decided to treat yourself and go to the top of the roof for the evening, watching the stars whilst eating your takeaway noodles. It was peaceful and it was the only time you could truly let your guard down, even if that meant no scenting because of your suppressants. 

You leaned back in the sunchair and observed the different constellations, connecting the dots much more easily than the average person. Pegasus was angled slightly down, with Perseus to the left and Capricornus to the right. Hercules was just in front of it, whilst Ursa Major and Minor sat next to each other.

But then you heard the sound of tinkling metal from behind you, as well as the scrapes of it digging into the rooftop. You waited patiently as the almost silent footsteps came closer to you before you stood up and kicked the sunchair back, the mess of blonde hair in a white suit wincing at the hit to her stomach.

“Ow!” She growled, and you could smell the Beta in her.

“Who the hell are you?” You growled back, extending a set of claws.

“Look, I just want to talk. What do you know about the dealing of suppressants around here?” She asked calmly, a thick Ukrainian accent matching it.

One you almost acknowledged. “Those are illegal.” You commented like an Alpha.

She nodded. “Indeed.”

She backed away from you but not without your eyes catching a small vial of red, another grappling hook attaching to the rooftop before a noirette with bright blue eyes came into your vision.

“Yelena! What the hell?!” 

The name only confirmed your suspicions.

“Kate, not now!” She hissed at her, a smirk coming onto your face.

“Lover’s quarrel?” You jeered.

They both gave you a glare and you put your hands up. “I’ll leave if it helps.”

Kate sighed and faced you. “Has anybody moved in here recently? Like, four months?”

You shook your head in a stone-faced lie. “Not that I’ve heard of.” 

Yelena looked you up and down before she pocketed the red vial, to which you watch them leave you alone and head back down their grappling lines. You calmly made your way back to your apartment before you looked at the time - 1:30am.

“Man, work’s gonna be a bitch.” You grumbled, collapsing as soon as your head hit the pillow on the ground.

And it truly was, yet you were only a quarter of your way through it. 

Bartending was a profession most Omegas went into, serving drinks, doing dishes, serving food; it all helped calm down a bit of the biology. Your bar manager, Sophie, was a Beta, which helped mute out the smell an Omega could possibly give off when under stressful conditions. And your restaurant manager, Danny, was a married Alpha who often had dinner with his wife Alura and kids, Raquelle and Jason.

It was a slow start to the night at the bar section, which allowed Sophie to leave you alone and help the kitchen staff with delivering orders to tables. You were what she liked to call a ‘spicy Omega’, which she saw as an Omega who could stand their ground.

At least she didn’t know about your other Alpha-resistance training.

But then you recognised two heads at the front of a group of people, a very recognisable group - the Avengers. You mentally caved and regretted ever having a conversation with the blonde and noirette as they came over to you.

“Nice to see you again.” Yelena commented.

“Not so sure I can say the same.” You smirked.

“What can I get for you?”

“A table-”

“For ten, booked under Stark.” The one and only billionaire interrupted Yelena and you lightly scowled at the only Omega celebrity you knew.

“Your table is over there, but let the lady speak next time.” 

He nodded before guiding the group over with Captain America's hand in his own, your eyes noticing a child and a teenager which led you to grab some crayons and colouring pages for Sophie as she passed by. You didn’t try to listen to their conversation, instead focusing on keeping the glasses and trays stocked and clean. 

Sophie soon came over to you about three minutes later with a large order of drinks. A few cocktails, one for each woman you assumed, whilst a couple of beers would be for the men and the lemonade and apple juice were for the kids.

You also noticed that the little girl was watching you from the end of the booth, propped up on her knees to watch you mix drinks. Now that you had an audience, you were prepared to amaze her.

Flipping the drinks and shakers around, you mixed the drinks up and watched her smile grow as you threw in a few extra flips here and there, gathering a crowd of attention now. You finally laid out the four cocktails and expertly poured straight across, receiving a cheer from the people sitting nearby as well as a loud squeal from the little girl.

You then decided to make your way over to the table, all of the drinks weighted neatly on your tray before you started to hand them out. You were right on all of your guesses, smiling at the little girl when she showed you her messily coloured picture of a scene in Bambi, whilst the teenager was still busy with his Lord of the Rings picture.

“Would you like me to frame it?” You offered her, a couple of surprised chuffs coming from the adults.

“Yes please!” She begged and you took the picture, making your way back to your station before pulling out a picture frame. 

You carefully slid the picture in, making sure it wasn’t dirty, before clasping the frame together and hanging it on your wall. You then took over a couple more menus since you saw them struggling, and put your hands in your pocket to reach your ordering device.

“Alright, is anybody ready to order?” You asked and they all gave each other confirming looks. 

“Would you like to put names on the order or just keep it under Tony Stark?” 

Some raised eyebrows came your way and they decided to do separate names, but only after checking with you that it was okay. You took down their orders and slowly ‘learned’ their names, even if you already knew some of them.

“I-I’m Morgan, and can I have some pizza please?” She asked you sweetly, putting her hands together.

You smiled at her. “Of course. What kind of pizza would you like?”

“Cheese and-and ham! And the yellow fruity triangles!” She exclaimed.

“Hawaiian, please.” Tony clarified, to which you winked at Morgan.

“I was hoping to have the kitchen staff confused so I could make it myself.” 

A few more chuckles came from the group until you took the last two orders from 'Wanda' and 'Natasha', but you noticed how their eyes lingered on you for a touch too long. 

And then you made the mistake of taking note of their scents.

Six of the eight adults were Alphas. Shit, shit, shit.

You gave them a curt nod and tried to not scurry back to the kitchen, needing to take a break even if you were scheduled for one later. Once you were in the back room, you scrambled for your small bag of belongings and saw the extra strong suppressants Vladi had given you.

You chucked one down and took some deep breaths. An Alpha or two you could handle, but six? Might as well shoot you with a tranq dart.

You quickly made your way out when you were done and asked Sophie to manage that table from now until they finished, getting an alarmed look from her but you explained that you were fine, just overwhelmed. 

“I just had a talk with them, sweets. They won’t be doing any more scenting, okay?” Her lovely Southern accent calmed you and you nodded, letting her kiss your forehead before she moved to the back again.

By now there was a steady stream of customers at the bar and you were handling it well, speeding through margaritas and cocktails whilst scotches and vodkas were a simple pour-n-go. However, you did almost have a heart attack when Wanda and Natasha were the last in the line.

“Hey, can we get two more of those cocktails? Just for us.” Natasha asked calmly and you nodded, beginning to make them at a slightly slower pace.

“Morgan likes you, you know.” Wanda added, bringing out a small smirk from you.

“Does she now? Well, you can tell her that her picture isn’t coming down any time soon.” You pointed at it.

They both chuckled. “So we were wondering…”

*Don’t say my name, don’t say my name.* You muttered in your head, but their eyes inevitably flitted down to your nametag.

“Y/N… could we see you outside of this establishment at some point?” Wanda questioned curiously.

“We could just get coffee if you want?” 

You gulped down the Omega in you and shrugged. “What days? I’ve got a busy schedule.” 

“Any time.” Natasha replied.

You looked at the two of them. They were Alphas, you were an Omega, the possibility was there. But were you mates? Did all three of you share marks? Yours were placed just underneath your neck, a perfect hiding spot when coupled with a jacket, hoodie, bartending shirt or even a low ponytail. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t remember my schedule off of the top of my head. Calendar and all.” You chuckled sheepishly, handing over their drinks.

“We can give you our numbers if that’s more helpful?” They both asked at the same time, pulling out their phones.

You were suddenly called to your station and had to abandon the girls, but they were determined. There was something about you, something wrong, yet so right. Dinner came and went, dessert came and went, and as the bill landed in front of them, they made their move. 

You opened the bill to sort the receipt, ignoring the two pairs of eyes on you as they tidied up, and saw a message written on the back. ‘Y/N - hope to see you soon! W&N xx’ 

You hid your blush well but felt a presence behind you, a familiar yet towering one at that. “Hi, Danny.”

“Hi, Y/N. Are you feeling okay? They were giving you some very weird looks.” He commented, watching the group leave quietly.

“I’m okay.” You murmured, but he knew you.

“Go home, Y/N. Take the night off, I’ll still pay you.” 

“Danny, that’s not fair-”

“You made us more than enough profit tonight. Go home.” He put a hand on your shoulder and you sighed.

“If you say so.” You shrugged, grabbing your bag and heading out the back door. 

Yet, those voices were still there. Wanda, Natasha, Yelena, Kate, Tony - you could decipher them all. Some were different and you couldn’t match them without a face, but you steadily followed behind them as you walked home.

You eventually crossed the street, your apartment a few turns away from the Avengers Tower, which drew the attention of Wanda and Natasha. They told the group they’d meet up in the Tower and they followed after you, just making sure you got home safe.

But a group of men were wolf-whistling you, and they watched them crowd around you.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out at this time all alone?”

“She’s not alone.” Natasha growled, the group jumping at the sight of the two Avengers before a man stepped forward.

“Oh yeah? What, is she your little bitch? Keep her on a lead next time, or she’ll be ours.” He grabbed you roughly and pulled you into him, something which you did not like.

You pushed him out, grabbed his right wrist and flipped him over, pinning his arm back in an excruciating hold that had him whining like a pup. “Submit.” You growled, trying to sound as Alpha as possible.

He tapped three times quickly and bared his neck, making your ego inflate at your acting abilities. You looked at Natasha and Wanda for a few more seconds, trying to decipher their objectives, before turning 180 and heading into the building.

Wanda’s eyes glowed as the men turned to them. “Try it, let’s see how you feel being thrown fifty feet into the air before dying on impact.” 

They scattered like prey and it almost enticed them to chase, but they waited until you were inside of the elevator before going back to the Tower.

The next afternoon, having slept away the morning, you sent a generic text to the two Avengers saying hi. They then sent back dozens, asking to meet for lunch or afternoon tea by the shore. You sighed, knowing they wouldn’t budge until you said yes, so you obliged and agreed to meet at 4. 

Now, you were making your way down there, a casual stroll in your step as you came into the sunshine in your simple jeans, top and hoodie. No cap this time as it was shaded, and you smelled the two Alphas at the restaurant before you came to the front door.

“Status, please.” The bouncer asked.

*What the fuck?* You grumbled in your mind, handing over your Beta ID since you saw it on his.

He held it to your face and you took off the hoodie, revealing your ponytailed hair and the rest of your body. He handed it back to you before you walked over to the girls, reining in your scent.

The conversation was light, learning about each other and how they met. You were surprised to hear they were on opposite sides twice, but now that the Sokovia Accords were scrapped, they were okay. 

“How about you, Y/N? Got a partner?” Wanda asked and you shook your head.

“Still looking. Haven’t really had time to look, though.” You shrugged, sipping on your hot chocolate.

“Are you gay or straight or…?” Natasha questioned.

“I like women. Not really good at the labels.” You replied nonchalantly.

“Fair enough.” 

The chatter went on mindlessly for a bit longer and if it wasn’t for your training, you weren’t sure you could have kept it up for so long. The questions were so mundane, so dull compared to your ever busy life. 

But then again, you should really knock on wood when you say something like that. Or an explosion will go off underneath the waterfront.

The ground shook beneath you and people ran for safety, whilst Natasha and Wanda recognised the group of people as HYDRA agents. Wanda’s magic protected some civilians whilst Natasha’s trusty guns fired upon some, a trigger in one’s hand that set off another explosion.

“Y/N, get inside!” Natasha commanded but you ignored the Alpha, moving to help some other restaurant goers. 

“Y/N!” Wanda barked, but watched you help up a lady and her son.

“Go! Get inside!” You yelled, but the ground shook again, almost like the bomb was underneath you. 

You stumbled and almost gained your footing, but the rushing crowd tripped you until you landed face first. It earned you a graze along your cheek, a few scrapes on your arms and elbows, but that was the problem.

Now, there was blood. And blood was not something a suppressant could do anything about.

You looked up and saw the bouncer fall over, his eyes going to you in shock. “Omega?” 

Your face turned ghostly at the status, scrambling to get to your feet. You spun around to see Natasha and Wanda looking for you, but when Wanda saw the state you were in, you knew it was too late.

‘Omega?’ She mouthed to you.

You sprinted faster than you’d ever sprinted in your life. Fear had truly grasped your heart, not letting go until you were in the safety of your apartment. You locked the door before barricading it, doing the same to the window in the bedroom and bathroom. 

Your breathing was still heavy as you slid down the wall of the bathroom, trying to regain your senses as you cleaned yourself up. You had to admit, it was more of a struggle when your surroundings were spinning and you had two Y/N’s to look at in the mirror.

You slowly bandaged yourself up before looking for another apartment, your time here up as not one, not two, but three people had just found out about your status. You scrambled to pack your things, only taking away the barricade when you were completely ready.

But the sight of two Alphas was enough to make your knees wobble.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, Y/N.” Natasha caught you, her touch warm to your skin.

“Holy shit, you’re jacked.” 

You rolled your eyes at that well-known fact for ex-Widows and ex-HYDRAs. They guided you to the bed and helped you sit down, your eyes unable to stay open for very long as pain rang through your head.

“Y/N, you might have a concussion.” Wanda explained, raising her hand up to your head before you grabbed it.

“Don’t touch my head.” You growled. 

She backed off, confusing you. Alphas were supposed to be demanding. Why wasn’t she demanding? Natasha came to try next, but soon there were two of her and two Wandas, sending your Omega core into a state of confusion.

“How did we not smell it before?” Natasha’s voice sounded far away as you stood, but four hands tried to keep you down.

“Get off me!” You growled, pushing them away with the same force of an Alpha.

“This doesn’t make sense…” 

You collapsed as Natasha failed to finish her sentence. Or maybe your ears just didn’t wanna listen. Either way, you welcomed the familiar darkness.

.

.

A/N: Part 2.

[cuubism]

bookstore cryptid dream part 11 -- the kidnapping installment

--

“Whatever happened to that poetry book?” Hob asks one day, sitting with Dream in the living room. He’s not sure why it comes to him.

Dream looks up from his book on the history of chocolate, tilting his head in question.

“The cursed one,” Hob elaborates.

“Ah.” Dream closes his book, looking very serious now. “I locked it away, somewhere safe, suitable for books such as that.”

“Didn’t destroy it?”

“Releasing such magic can sometimes have… unintended consequences.” He shakes his head, as if remembering prior such instances. “Best to simply contain it.”

“How many books like that are out there?” Hob asks curiously. Every day, he learns some new thing about the world from Dream. And how dangerous some books can, apparently, be.

“There are a selection. They are rare. For most books, their power lies in the words themselves. No need for occult spells.”

“Huh.” Hob supposes that makes sense. “But you don’t lock those ones away?”

Dream shakes his head. “No. They can be dangerous, though.”

Hob is still wildly curious about these actually magic books. Not that he’d particularly enjoyed getting cursed, but still, he wonders if any such thing will ever cross his path again. He supposes he should hope not.

It is fascinating, though.

--

Dream is missing.

It isn’t like last time, when The Library itself had been gone. That had freaked Hob the fuck out at the time, but now, he knows what it meant — that Dream had felt The Library itself was under threat, and had locked it for safekeeping.

Now, The Library is still there. The door creaks open, unlocked, as Hob pushes on it, letting him into the tiny foyer and first winding halls of stacks. The selection changes periodically — today’s categories include HOPE & ITS DISCONTENTS, “Libraries” (rather meta, Hob thinks), Books of Emptiness (Hob takes one off the shelf out of curiosity and finds it, indeed, empty), and S P E L L S, most of which seem to be dictionaries, actually? Strange. But then, that is The Library.

This is the third day of Hob coming back to The Library in the hopes of finding Dream, and having those hopes dashed. Hope and its discontents, indeed.

Everything is in its place. But Dream is nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been coming home. His books are still on the nightstand, his cardigan forgotten on a chair in the cafe. His study is the same, too, cluttered with notes and journals, abandoned cups of coffee on desks and side tables.

It hurts Hob’s heart to look at, even more than finding The Library gone. The place feels empty without Dream there. As soon as Hob steps in the front door, he can tell Dream hasn’t returned, simply for how grey everything feels.

He hopes nothing’s happened, that Dream was just called away on some urgent errand in the middle of the day, when Hob was busy, and it’s taking him longer than expected to resolve it. Dream is criminally bad at using his phone, to the extent that Hob sometimes isn’t convinced he owns one, and might just have forgotten texting is something he can do. They’ll have to have a talk about that, because he’s giving Hob a heart attack, but still it’s the best case scenario.

But it’s the worst case scenario that’s swirling in Hob’s head.

Dream has disgruntled customers at times. He’d gotten into a fistfight with one, back when they’d first met. What if someone took their ire even further? Hell, what if the owner of that cursed poetry book came back for it?

Hob sighs, slumping into Dream’s desk chair. Even if something terrible has happened, he hasn’t the first clue how to go about finding Dream. He’s kept an eye out, while exploring The Library, for any indication of what could have happened, but to no avail. He’s well and truly starting to panic. The Library has doors everywhere. Dream could be anywhere.

His eyes land on Dream’s journals, still laid open on the desk. Normally Hob doesn’t pry into Dream’s notes. But these are dire circumstances. Hob’s going to lose it if he doesn’t do something.

He picks up the top notebook and reads the entry it’s open to:

— MG thought destroyed ack. lost 1916? JC report OAM magic picked up Sussex summoning what??

Hob groans. “Dream, could your notes be any more fucking unintelligible?” Apparently, his mind works too fast to write in full words, instead of just shorthand.

He flips through a few more pages of notes, skimming them, but not getting much. Then a few pages in, he finds a letter tucked into the journal. In someone else’s handwriting, it reads:

Dream—

You never use your goddamn fucking phone so here’s a note. You know I wouldn’t have to be so obscure if we could just use encrypted texts? Fucking luddite. Anyway. I found the damn thing. R.B. + Co. Pretty sure we’d know if they succeeded in using it so we still have time. I think I have a way in. If I retrieve can you neutralize it? AND FUCKING CALL ME WE’RE SHORT ON TIME!

—JC

In case you forgot how phones work: 020 9281 5555

Well, that’s something. The same JC from the notes? What exactly are the two of them trying to neutralize?

Hob has no idea. But at least he has a clue now.

--

Hob paces back and forth in his living room as he calls the number for “JC”, absolutely no idea who he’s going to get on the other end. But hopefully, they might know what’s happened to Dream.

“Hello?” A gruff woman’s voice answers the line.

“Hi, I’m looking for…” he doesn’t actually know her name. “…J?”

“What?”

“Look, I’m looking for Dream,” Hob says in a rush. Might as well lay it all out. “I’m his boyfriend. He’s been missing for three days.” Maybe “missing” is overstating it. But maybe it’s understating it. “I found your phone number in his notes and wanted to know if you’d seen him.”

“Likely story, pal,” she says with a scoff. “Dream keeps his boyfriend out of all the occult shit. And good thing, too. I wish I could keep myself out of it. What do you really want with him?”

It’s sort of gratifying that other people in Dream’s circle are also protective of his secrets, even if it’s frustrating in the moment. But, ‘keeps him out of the occult shit’? Exactly how much ‘occult shit’ is Dream dealing with on a regular basis?

“Exactly what I said,” Hob says. “He doesn’t usually disappear like this. His notes said you two were looking for something? Something dangerous?” Did Dream go after it? Is that what happened?

“MOTHERFUCKER!” she screams, and Hob pulls the phone from his ear with a wince. “I am going to KILL HIM!”

“Don’t hang up!” Hob yells before she can do just that. “Will you come meet me? I’ll give you my own address, if it helps. You know where The Library is?”

“The Library’s got multiple doors, mate,” she says, sounding marginally calmer now.

Right. Fuck. He gives her the actual street name this time, and she says—

“Be there in a mo’. Your idiot boyfriend’s got himself in a right mess I expect. Because he’s a fucking idiot.”

Just as Hob feared, then. “Tell me about it when you get here,” he says, and then, when she’s hung up, goes to gather Dream’s journals.

--

A smart, tough-looking woman greets him at the door to the cafe, which Hob’s closed for the time being, an hour or so later. “Johanna Constantine,” she says, sticking out a hand, which Hob shakes. “So you really are the boyfriend. Huh. Hob, right?”

“Yeah.” Hob isn’t sure whether to be touched or alarmed that Dream talks about him with his random occult acquaintances.

“He has a photo of you two on his phone,” Johanna explains. “Not that he uses it, the rat bastard. God I’m going to murder him when I find him.”

“Let’s sit down,” Hob suggests. He has coffee ready, more for something to do to still his restless hands while waiting than anything.

“Right,” Johanna says, as she sits down at a table. She gratefully takes the coffee he offers. “So, I’m choosing to trust you. If you fuck me over we will have a serious problem. Okay?”

Hob raises his hands in surrender. “I literally just want to find Dream. I’m worried sick about him.”

Johanna takes a long sip of her coffee. “Right. So. My business is managing occult stuff, yeah? Exorcisms and the like. Stopping it before it hurts anyone. I’ve been trying to track down this particular book. Spell book. Dangerous stuff. What it can do—doesn’t matter. It was thought lost for ages, or destroyed—wouldn’t that have been great. But Dream and I both wanted to get it off the streets, once it popped up again. There’s no good hands for that book to be in.”

“You two friends?” Hob asks.

“Eh,” says Johanna, “sorta. Mostly work friends, I guess. I first got Dream’s help with a spell book a few years back. He’s the best one to go to for that sort of thing, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Yeah,” Hob agrees, mulling over this whole side of Dream’s business he didn’t know about. It makes sense, though. Dream, the expert on all books. Even this book, whatever it is, must ultimately belong to The Library.

“And now he’s gone after this book,” Hob guesses. “By himself.”

“I told him I would retrieve it,” Johanna says, gritting her teeth. “All I wanted was his help locking the thing away after. But no. Had to do it all himself.” She sighs.

“It must have really concerned him,” Hob says.

“It concerned me!” Johanna exclaims. “All the more reason not to go alone! Idiot.” It’s said with fondness, though.

“So, what are we going to do?” Hob asks.

“We?” says Johanna, raising an eyebrow.

“Listen, I don’t care about the book—”

“You should,” Johanna says seriously.

“—Well, I don’t. But I do care about Dream. If he’s in trouble, then I’m not just going to sit here.”

Johanna looks at him appraisingly, then nods, satisfied. “Good,” she says. “I know who has the Grimoire, so I know where he’ll most likely have gone. How good are you with a cricket bat?”

“How about a knife?” Hob says.

She startles. “Christ. Alright, then. I won’t ask, but good.”

“Just tell me where to go, and I’ll be there,” Hob says seriously, and for the first time, she gives him a smile.

“I’ve been hoping for an excuse to give Roderick Burgess a good thrashing. Guy’s a prick. Alright, Dream’s boyfriend—let’s go get the stupid librarian."

--

It’s decided Hob should be the initial decoy because, according to Johanna, “people always think I mean trouble, and you have this sort of wholesome coffee shop owner thing going on. Knife skills aside.”

Hob’s not sure if it’s a compliment or not.

“He’ll definitely think he can scam you,” Johanna adds. That one’s definitely not a compliment.

So Hob goes to an event Roderick Burgess is hosting, showing off all his antiques. He brings with him an old book from The Library, ostensibly to “sell”. Forgive me, Dream, he thinks, as he pulls Magicks of the World off the shelf. Promise I won’t let him keep it.

It’ll get him in, he hopes. It’ll get Roderick Burgess’s attention, at least enough to let Johanna slip past. The book is proper old, nearly falling apart, and while it may not be actually magic, it at least is about magic. He hopes it’s enough.

“Remember,” Johanna says, as they’re stepping up to the door, “just keep his attention. I’ll search the house to see if I can find Dream, or the Grimoire.”

“You really think he’s keeping Dream hostage in this house?” Hob asks incredulously.

Johanna snorts. “If he thinks Dream can help him decode the thing? Yeah, absolutely. I told you. Guy’s a selfish prick.”

That seemed to be putting it lightly.

Hob isn’t sure he’ll be content with being the distraction if he finds out Roderick actually has Dream captive. But he calms himself for the time being.

--

Hob absolutely hates Roderick Burgess the second he lays eyes on him.

He’s managed to corner Burgess in the sitting room of the old manor house. His book in one hand, drink in the other. The man is fucking seedy. Hob could tell immediately, even if Burgess pretended at gentility.

Hob’s already decided that Roderick does have Dream locked in a room somewhere. Call it instinct.

Roderick gives Magicks of the World a look of cool disinterest as Hob hands it to him, but it shifts to grudging surprise. “This is actually old,” he says. “Unlike the fake crap people keep trying to pawn off on me.”

“I was told you had a discerning eye,” Hob says with false admiration. “1612. Genuine article.”

“Hm. This is of some interest,” says Roderick. “Come to my office.”

Hob follows him, hoping Johanna is having some success finding Dream.

Roderick’s office is much neater than Dream’s study. it feels like the affected study of someone trying to come acrossas a studious gentleman. Hob hates it.

And there on the desk is a thick, leather-bound volume that Hob knows instantly is the book Dream and Johanna have been looking for. He isn’t sure exactly how he knows. He isn’t at all magical. But he just knows. He can feel the eerie energy of the thing.

“I’ll give you six hundred pounds for it,” Roderick says, laying Magicks on the desk.

Hob startles. That’s actually a lot of money for a single book. Sorry, Dream, he thinks.

“Where did you get it?” Roderick asks.

“Old bookshop,” Hob says. “Don’t think they knew what they had.”

“They never do,” Roderick muses.

He hands Hob six hundred pounds, cash. Hob takes it, dumbfounded.

“Tell me,” he says, pretending hesitance. “I only know how to tell the age. How to know if it’s genuine. The magic stuff—that’s beyond me. How do you make sense of it?”

“I have my sources,” says Roderick. He seems to delight in being enigmatic. “There are… certain experts. If one knows where to look.”

Certain experts. Hob grits his teeth. “You willing to share a name? I have a few books myself I’d love to get better appraised.”

“I’m keeping that to myself for now. Trade secrets, you know.” He smiles to himself, meanly. “Valuable sources, those, in this business.”

Hob decides two things. One: he can definitely take down an old man. Two: he doesn’t care if he goes to prison.

He picks up a heavy statue from the desk and, before Roderick can react, cracks him across the head with it.

Roderick drops like a stone, and Hob snatches up both Magicks and the Grimoire, and flees.

Shit. That might have been ill-advised. What if Dream isn’t in the house, and Hob just caused permanent brain damage to the one person who might know where he is? Shit.

Nothing for it now. He hurries through the halls, books under his arm. He turns a corner, then another, and where the bloody hell is he? Then—

He nearly runs directly into Johanna and Dream.

Hob thrusts the books at Johanna, and takes Dream in his arms instead, pulling him into a tight hug. Dream hugs him back, pressing his face into Hob’s neck with a soft little sound.

He looks rough. His hair is a disaster—more than usual—and he’s wearing the same clothes Hob vaguely remembers him putting on that morning several days ago, before he disappeared.

“Hey,” Hob whispers, “I was really worried about you.”

“‘m sorry,” Dream murmurs, clutching at him.

“This was extremely fucking stupid, Dream,” Johanna says, in a tone that suggests she’s said so already. There’s worry there too, though.

“Yes, point taken,” Dream says.

“I love you,” Hob murmurs against his cheek, before pulling away to look at him properly.

There’s a bruise on Dream’s cheek that makes Hob very glad he smacked Roderick upside the head with a statue. More than that, he looks a bit… haunted. Hob will have to get more details later. Right now, they need to get out of here.

“Where the fuck is Roderick?” Johanna demands.

“I might have killed him,” Hob says, not feeling very bad about it. “Not totally sure.”

“No loss,” says Johanna, holding the books tightly.

Hob keeps Dream close. Dream is looking at him in wonder. Like Hob is the last possible thing he had expected to see. Freedom itself.

Hob kisses his forehead. And then they get the fuck out of there.

--

“You should really rest, Dream,” Hob says.

Dream is currently doing something to the Grimoire. Binding the pages. He doesn’t seem willing to let it go until he’s made the thing safe.

He sighs. “In a moment.”

“Dream…”

Dream finally puts the book away in a drawer in his desk, kneels before the desk, and draws some complicated symbol on the wood. Perhaps he had done the same with the poetry book, Hob thinks.

Though Hob suspects that the Grimoire is significantly more dangerous.

Finally Dream stands. He seems… a bit listless, now, having finished with the book. Even in the soft lighting of the Library study, the awful bruise on his face is stark, a deep plum mark. He looks at Hob, hands twisting together, expression vulnerable.

Hob’s heart hurts. He hopes he did kill Roderick. But now, he holds out his hands to Dream.

Dream steps over to him, and Hob brings him into an embrace. Holds him tight. Whatever determination had kept Dream going thus far seems to evaporate, then, and he sags against Hob, trembling slightly.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Hob murmurs against his hair.

“Yes,” Dream sighs.

He locks up the study, which Hob has never seen him do before, and then, once they’re downstairs, locks The Library’s front door as well. He leaves a sign that says, “Closed for the time being.”

Hob leads him across the street, back upstairs to his flat above the cafe, and steers him to the bathroom. He perches him on the edge of the tub as he turns on the tap and lets the hot water fill up.

Dream is still shivering a little. The poor thing is probably desperate for a bath, not to mention food, Christ.

“What did he want with you?” Hob asks, helping Dream out of his jumper. Dream winces as he pulls it off over his head, and Hob grits his teeth. “Did he hurt you?”

“He had been trying to use the Grimoire,” Dream says, as Hob kneels to help him with his slacks. “But there was a symbol he could not decode. My… approach… to try to take the book back was… not as clever as I had hoped, and I was intercepted. He demanded I translate it. When I refused…” he trails off. He’s naked now, and Hob can see a dark bruise stretching up his thigh, another working its way up his back and over his shoulder. “Well, he did not take well to being told ‘no.’”

“Bastard,” Hob swears, and Dream’s lips quirk up.

“Quite.”

Hob kisses the bruise on Dream’s thigh—if only that would do more to actually heal it—and Dream smiles faintly.

“What’s that book do anyway?” Hob asks.

“It’s meant to summon Death,” says Dream, and Hob feels a chill, like the universe itself is protesting that possibility. “I do not think it has ever been successfully used. But the magic is certainly potent enough.”

“Good thing you got it back, then,” says Hob. He helps Dream up, then supports him as he steps into the tub, sinking down into the warm water with a sigh.

Hob strips off his own clothes and follows him, slipping behind Dream and pulling him back to his chest. Dream leans his head against Hob’s shoulder.

“That was all very silly, you know,” Hob says against his cheek, arms wrapped around Dream’s middle. “I was very worried about you.”

“I am sorry,” murmurs Dream. “It was… poorly thought out.”

“Just a bit.”

“But,” says Dream, a hint of wonder in his voice, “you came to rescue me.”

Hob kisses his cheek. “Of course.”

“Hob…” starts Dream. “How may I say this… you are not exactly a rough type I would expect to be performing heists.”

“Hey, you don’t know everything about me,” Hob says indignantly. “Second, you’re a librarian, and you tried to break into the man’s damn house first. Thirdly—”

“And yet,” Dream interrupts, “you still came to help me. Roderick Burgess is a dangerous man. That was ill-advised.”

“Didn’t seem very dangerous when I smacked him in the head.”

“I am saying I appreciate it,” says Dream, with a little chuckle. “All the more so for the danger you put yourself in.”

“You’re my boyfriend,” Hob says. “I love you. Of course I came after you. Don’t be silly.”

He wishes he had gotten there sooner. He chokes up, thinking of Dream stuck in some room, uncertain of any rescue. He tucks his face into Dream’s shoulder, tears beading along his lashes. “Poor darling.”

Dream reaches up and strokes his hair. “I’d be curious to hear about your criminal past sometime,” he murmurs, which has Hob chuckling. “Did you really kill Roderick Burgess?”

“Dunno,” says Hob. “Hope so.”

“My boyfriend is more dangerous than I thought,” Dream observes, lips tugging up. He sounds quite satisfied about it, and Hob kisses the corner of his lips.

“If he comes back I’ll kill him again,” he says.

Dream shivers, leaning more heavily against him. “You’ve unlocked the two keys to my heart,” he whispers, and it’s only partly joking.

“Oh yeah?” Hob says, lips still brushing his cheek. “Violence committed on your behalf is one?”

Dream nods.

“What’s the other, then?”

Dream’s lips twitch. “Scones.”

“I’ll have to fulfill that one in a few minutes then, too,” Hob says, grinning.

“So you shall.”

“Would it make you doubly horny if I killed somebody with a scone?” Hob asks. “Or—?”

Dream turns around in his lap to kiss him, wrapping his hands around the back of Hob’s neck. Hob rocks back with the force of the kiss, leaning back against the tub. “Yes,” Dream declares, and gives Hob another peck on the lips.

“I’ll find someone to kill,” Hob promises. “You have anyone in mind?”

Dream giggles. Joy looks good on him, after everything. He tucks his nose in against Hob’s shoulder again, and Hob holds him close, runs a hand up and down over his back, careful of the bruises.

“I will think of something,” Dream promises.

Hob kisses his temple, and resolves to keep a closer eye on his boyfriend’s supernatural activities in the future.

And to buy Johanna Constantine a drink some time, too.

[xodite]

OC!YANDERE!Rosetta x reader

!! Minors this is 18! MDNI !!

!!This is all fantasy and not real please remember consent is important and you all are valid! All characters are 18+!!

Dom oc x sub reader!

!!Serial killer yandere oc!!

Tw: kidnapping, Stalking, threats, blackmail, forced affection, knife play, gun play, praise, overstimulation, mention of ex visiting reader, bondage and heavy heavy kink!

Please let me know if you want more!

Now let’s get into it my lovelies! <3

———————————

I worked as a small college horror movie writer. I often at a small cafe, did most of my best works and was working on a script for the actors, although I hit major writers block. I let out a heavy sigh, the deadline was in a month and the weeks were flying by, I needed to finish it before the deadline hit or I would for sure be fired. I let out a frustrated sigh of sexual frustration, my ex started appearing more frequently at my apartment to the point it interfered with my already non existent sex life and exhausted me.

I was exhausted due to my ex banging on my door at night, it often happened exactly when I was finally almost asleep. I got no sleep the night before and writers block was kicking my fucking ass.

The cafe was calm and quiet and had a soft calming lofi music silently playing in the back, a absolute hidden gem and one of the very few places my ex didn’t follow me too.

I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes tightly, I had been so preoccupied with the letters I’ve been mysteriously receiving and these odd messages I didn’t even notice the deadline arriving so soon, it was seriously stressing me out.

The lovely barista who was around 6’4 approached me, she was gorgeous and littered in tattoos, her hair was pure black and long and her eyes were a vibrant green and I felt as if they pierced my soul.

I looked at her name tag that said ‘Rosetta’ and smiled tiredly, I was a somewhat regular I’d say and she grown quite found of me, I also had a slight crush on her but how could I not? She was gorgeous. I felt a warm sensation in my pants and awkwardly shuffled side to side in my seat, she smiled seemingly knowingly and blush grew on my face, she couldn’t possibly know could she?

She spoke in a thick deep Russian accent calmly “You know how much I adore you visiting so often but the owners been giving me shit for letting you sit here without ordering” she chuckled and clicked her pen awaiting my order

I melted at her voice, I could just imagine so many sinful things- as I thought slightly on what she did to me she cleared her throat and said sadly, “my dear if you don’t order I’m afraid I have to kick you out” as soon as those words left her mouth I immediately spoke softly “Um a caramel latte please”

She smiled at you and wrote it down quickly “I’ll be out with it soon!”

As she spoke you shrugged softly and payed with a slight generous tip seeing as you were very paranoid about running out of money eventually if you aren’t done the script in time.

It seemingly took you hours to drink your coffee to the point where you were in the cafe from 8am-10:30pm just simply staring at the computer screen too busy slowly sipping your coffee and fantasizing about the barista. You wondered what it would be like if she ripped off your clothes and fucked you in the break room, although you wished you could stay in that trance and shook your head. Then you got up and walked out with your laptop, unaware of the watchful eyes watching you leave the cafe.

You entered your apartment, placing your things down and slowly stripping from your attire from the day to reveal a simple lace set, you were desperate to sit down and watch your favourite movies and finally relax and hopefully finally get some well deserved sleep. After a couple minutes you finally sunk into the couch, relaxing finally and slipping a finger into your cunt that dripped from your little barista crush.

After I slipped my finger in I let out a soft moan and continued to quickly move my finger in and out, as soon as I was about to cum I heard a loud knock at my door and I rolled my eyes and got up, I yelled a loud “Jesus Christ give me a minute!” Then grabbed a robe and slipped it over my body. I opened the door to reveal my ex partner glaring me down, as soon as she opened her mouth I saw a knife rip through her head going through her mouth, I watched as she choked on her own blood and I stepped back. Tears welded in my eyes as I saw Rosetta walk in after throwing the body down into the hallway, fear coursing through my body. She closed the door behind her and I walked backwards away from her, her eyes were soft and crazed. I opened my phone to call for 911 and I was greeted with a singular message that said ‘she won’t bother you anymore’. I shakily took another step back and Rosetta pouted, grabbing my phone and throwing it and spoke “Did you get my message?” I whimpered, a choked whisper of fear left my mouth, as I did so she kissed me, her warm lips meeting mine and I melted in her arms, the fear somewhat leaving my body until I snapped back to reality as I opened my eyes and saw her pull out her knife and slowly cut off my robe. I let out a scream of terror and wrestled with her to get the knife, as I gripped the knife she kicked my knees cruelly as giggled as I fell to the ground

“Goodnight cutie”

Then everything around me went black and I spiralled into cold unconsciousness, at least I get sleep?

———————

Heavy smut! Last warning <33

———————

I woke up chained to a cold floor, my hands tightly bound in handcuffs, thick, heavy duty metal that I had no chance of breaking. I screamed and tears fell from my eyes as I panicked, thrashing around on the cold stone floor. As I screamed loudly I saw Rosetta approach me slowly fear pulsating in my body. I heard a soft hush from her when I began to slowly cry, as she pinned me to the cold ground she whispered “I’m sorry baby but she was bothering you and I couldn’t risk her stealing you from me”

I cried harder as she whispered a soft “let me make it up to you sweetheart”

Fear pulsating through my body as she pressed herself closer while undoing my bra and cutting off my thong, I opened my mouth to protest but she simply shoved my cut up thong in my mouth and duct taped it. I whimpered and attempted to pull my pussy away from her fingers desperately, but it was no use she plummeted her fingers deep into my pussy over and over again while rubbing my sensitive clit.

I felt a deep pressure in my stomach and tears fell from my eyes as I softly moaned desperate for it to stop but also so desperate for the release my body desperately craved from her skilled fingers that with expertise massaged my inner walls and my clit to cumming. Tears sprung to my eyes as I came all over her skilled fingers, I heard giggling as she softly praised “good girll.. can you do one more for me?” As I shook my head violently she pouted and said “oh no you want more then one? You want me to overstimulate you until morning? Okay sweetheart whatever you desire”

She spoke giggling continuing her assault on my sensitive pussy, her skilled fingers not stopping for even a second.

My eyes rolled back and I felt her kiss the top of my head and softly speak “only I can ever have you like this, rest my love.” Then slowly place her chin on my head while whispering sweet nothings as she ruthlessly fucked my poor pussy.

I gripped my thighs around her hand and moaned loudly, as much as I hated to admit it my body craves her and she could tell. as she continued to fuck me I came for a second time, then a third, fourth, sixth..

Oh fuck it I lost count

Then I slowly faded out of consciousness while she still fucked my poor pussy, exhausted from her relentless pleasure. I whined and tried to pull away from her hug and she immediately snapped “You do that and I’ll shot that pretty head off” she said while holding a cold hand gun against my head, tears flooding down my cheek I nodded and moved back closer to her.

She tsked and spoke “next time I’ll make you fuck that gun” then continued to make me cum, then I finally fell asleep, leaving my body to be ruthlessly violated by my kidnapper.

—————

Hope you enjoyed! If you wanna leave me a tip feel free!

Dm me for PayPal (no fee! <3)

[lemonmaid]

Warnings: Fluff? OOC? Bad world-building

(Name) felt strange today, he kept staring at the door, enchanted, almost.

"Um... I'm sorry I asked for a Latte with fire resistance magic? This is-".

"Yeah sorry about that, I'll fix that right away".

(Name) worked at this small Alchemy/Coffee Cafe, why was this an idea? Ask the owner who is never here.

"(Name) please stop staring at the door, you're making me anxious" Kaveh whined.

"Sorry, i'm just makinh sure your mate doesn't come running in ag-". Kaveh put his hands on (Name)'s mouth, shushing the alpha.

"Hey I apologized! How was I supposed to know he took the threat seriously?".

(Name) rolled his eyes, "something is going to happen today, I can just... feel it... oozing from that door".

Kaveh looked at (name) with a deadpan facial expression, "Okay. I'm going to grab the rut supplements from the back".

(Name)'s face turned red, "StOP!".

While the two bicker the door opened.

"Excuse me?"

(Name) and Kaveh looked at the young omegan man that walked in, (Name) couldn't stop staring at him, "Sorry about him, he's...mute! What can I getcha?".

The omega cringed at Kaveh's preppy voice, "Do yall sell love potions? Or-".

"Um, I don't think so- is that even legal? But I can help you with anything else?".

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, making eye contact with (Name), "Oi do you have a problem?".

(Name) looked around, "me?".

Scaramoche's eye twitched, "No the fucking poltergeist that's haunting this place. Of course you".

"What kind of magic are you familiar with?"

"Oh... uh, I don't... I don't really practice magic you know? I rather not get a permit for and all that paper work-".

A purple blast shot near (Name)'s face, "Listen, you're going to get me 1 pound of dries Cherries, 1 bottle of Jasmine and a bag of ■■■■".

Kaveh put his hands up, "fuckinh shit (Name) we are being robbed! What do we do!".

"I don't know! This wasn't in any training module! I thought you would know something since your mate is in the-"

"Hey! Hurry or I'll start blasting!".

(Name) pushed Kaveh to the storage room, "Listen... um...dude? This isn't worth it, we probably don't even carry ■■■■ this person isn't probably worth-".

A purple blast shot the counter, "I don't need a goddammit ALPHA to tell me what i need."

'Kaveh what the hell is taking so long, this guy is loosing it'.

Kaveh walks in with two bags in his hands, "here you-".

The bags are lifted out of the blonde's hands, levitating towards Scaramoche.

"What the fuck is this?" Venom drips from his voice.

"We... didn't have ■■■■-"

The door slams open, magic blasting throughout the shop. Making (Name) and Kaveh take cover. "Was that fucking Al Haitham?!".

"I called him with the backroom phone!".

A blast hit the bar, making the potions from the bar explode.

"Shit!"

(Name) got up from the floor his head dizzy, vision foggy. (Name) felt a touch on his shoulder, Scaramoche was looking at him with love-sick eyes.

'Oh no'

[udretlnea]

A Conundrum at Cotea Cafe

Inspired by @kunichigo (Owner of the Cotea Cafe concept. Go follow them. They're cool...!)

Prompt: A customer arrives at the Cotea Cafe just before closing time, and he brings a message.

A/N: Hey, been a while, though for those following y’all know I'm still active. Fyi btw you can expect more of these shenanigans prompts in the future; I just want to try to write for fun while getting checkpoints on my growth at the same time. Anyway, enjoy.

“Don’t go dimension hopping soon,” he said with utter seriousness. “Or else you'll end up hurt.”

You widen your eyes. Your hands suddenly felt limp as you processed the threat-no, it was a warning.

///

20 minutes earlier…

You relaxed into your seat as your eyes scanned the page in the light novel; it was about a samurai who was thrust into the future where Teyvat was taken over by a demon with a robot army. You pictured the samurai facing off against an army of Ruin machines with nothing but his magic sword. The scene felt so vivid you thought you could see it in your mind.

You turned the page to continue when you heard the bell rung. Somebody had entered the cafe!

You placed a bookmark in between the pages and got up. You stretched your legs, feeling the circulation return. Making your way to the front, you frowned.

Who could be here at this time? Last I checked, the sun was nearly setting…

When you opened the door to the dining area, you expected to see the Traveler and Paimon. A teenager in a white and gray hoodie looked at you with brown eyes. He had black hair and youthful features; he put on a friendly smile while inertinghis hands in his pockets.

“Hello po,” he said in a meek voice. “Is this…a cafe?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Um, are you open?”

You smiled amicably. “Of course! Would you like to look at a menu?”

He nodded, but his hand didn’t fall to the side. “My name is…Aaron. It’s nice to meet you.”

He took a seat at one nearby one of the windows. You grabbed a nearby menu and handed it to him; while he was reading it with interest, you couldn’t help but stare at him. He didn’t appear to be from any of the nations, at least judging from his clothing. It looked like something one might wear at home. Furthermore, he seemed to know about this place despite the remoteness of this location.

“Excuse me, but do you happen to have…peach mango pie?” His question snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Yes! Would you like that?” He blinked shyly and shook his head.

“No. I was just curious,” he clarified. He pointed at a line of words. “I’ll have a halo-halo please.”

“Sure!” You turned towards the kitchen, deciding to pick up your train of thought after making his dish. Ten minutes later you come back with a tall glass cup full of halo-halo.

“Sal-salamat po…thank you.” He nodded to the glass. You set it down in front of him; he takes a moment to silently observe it. A happy smile slowly forms on his face. “Ah, it looks delicious.”

He gave a brief prayer before picking up the spoon and mixing it.

You decided now was the perfect time to leave him and fiddle away your time; it usually didn’t take long to finish Halo-Halo so you went back to the kitchen to reorganize.

You tidied the kitchen up by cleaning the tools you used to make halo-halo. When you just about finished, the sound of the spoon clattering in an empty cup made you look up.

“I’ve finished,” Aaron announced almost proudly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch. He put it next to his empty cup and you heard the sound of Mora clinking; he got up and turned to the door. You made your way to where he sat. The Mora pouch was moderate-sized. A quick calculation told you that he overpaid. You were about to stop him from leaving, but you saw that he was standing a couple feet from you. He looked at you as if he could peer past your mask.

“...Pardon me, but you’re like me, aren’t you.” Aaron put a hand on his hip. “You’re also a...Creator”

You felt the urge to suppress a wave of panic. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Well, they call them Creators. You probably know them as writers. Self-inserts,” he explained. He shook his head. “My apologies for the strange question, and for offending you, if I did. I just thought I finally found someone to talk to. I…can leave if you want. It’s no trouble.”

Rather than tell him to do just that, you waved him off. “It’s fine. Are you one as well?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

You examine his form, searching for anything that could tell that he’s lying. When you found none, you shrugged. “...Sure. Although I’m currently living out my cottage-core fantasy at the moment. I don’t care for the stuffy paperwork that comes with being in charge of an entire continent."

“Same. And cottage-core is cool, but I never can find the time to do that. Not that I-not that I deserve anything good,” A moment of silence passed as they let that information process. Internally, you felt a strange sense of kinship beginning to form in your gut. It was certainly strange to find another being like yourself standing in front of you, but given that he was similar, or perhaps greater in power than you it made sense to desire to travel to other branches of the SAGAU multiverse.

“Well, with pleasantries out of the way, um…I actually came here to deliver a message for you,” he said. He raised his hands in the air as if he thought it would ease the anxiety in the atmosphere. “Not-not from any of the Archons, I mean. From me.”

“Eh?” This suddenly turned interesting. What could he possibly have to tell you? He took a deep breath and stared into your eyes.

“Don’t go dimension hopping soon,” Aaron said with utter seriousness. “Or else you'll end up hurt.”

You widen your eyes. Your hands suddenly felt limp as you processed the threat-no, it was a warning.

Aaron bit his lip. His eyes darted from side to side as if he were engaged in an intense internal debate. After a couple seconds, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of flash cards. He flipped through them until he stopped at one “No, but for your own safety, I advise not traveling to other universes in SAGAU until They give you the signal that it’s safe. That's all. Thank you for your time, and the food. I hope your story has a happy ending.”

He put away the flash cards and turned around. Then, he placed a hand on the door knob. But he couldn’t leave yet, not when your interest was piqued!

“Wait,” you interrupt. He turns his head back at you with a surprised look “This…thing that’s going to happen? Call it intuition, but I can't help but feel like it'll be terrible, especially for you. Are you.. alright?”

Aaron simply smiled knowingly. His eyes were glossy. “Thank you for your concern. No, but I will be soon. Ingat po…goodbye."

He opened the door and stepped outside; just as it shut there was a flash of light. When you opened it again to look for him, Aaron was gone.

Something hung in the air, but you weren’t sure what it was. Was this regret, awkwardness, or ominousness? Perhaps it was a mixture of all three.

With nothing else to do, you took the empty glass back and cleaned it. Then you flipped the sign to CLOSED before making your way to the backroom. You reclined back into the comfy chair, settling into the plush cushion. You picked up the book, opened to the bookmarked page, and resumed reading.

///

The next day you wake up and found posters plastered in front of your door; they informed you that several AUs and ATs were missing and that creator deities had been displaced. Furthermore, it advised everyone to stay calm and continue their routines while this incident was sorted.

Suffice it to say you were grateful when the Traveler brought Paimon, Yae Miko, the Raiden Shogun, Arataki Itto, and Gorou with them. A distraction was just what you needed. They kept you busy, dodging questions and cooking them food. They left and you closed the cafe for the day.

When you woke up, the posters you collected were gone, replaced with a single white sheet of paper with the words, "THE PRIOR INCIDENT HAS BEEN RECTIFIED. THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO FOLLOWED DIRECTIONS." -M.

You wondered if Aaron was alright and if whatever happened yesterday was related to him. It was clear you weren't getting any answers soon. With a sigh, you head back into your cottage to get ready for the day.

[ghostbird-7]

An entirely different work in progress (I’ve decided this isn’t part 3, it’s a different thing, which means I can just pick up from part 2)

Ethan and Benji are work friends. He’d asked him to join him on a week long trip to Bora Bora for a low priority reconnaissance mission, had said it was basically a reconnaissance mission. Benji had looked at him weird, and asked if Luther was away. He wasn’t, which meant he could ask Luther about it during their biweekly session where Ethan and Luther play checkers and Luther tells him all the ways he’s being an idiot. It’s one of his favorite weekly commitments. They meet at the same cafe they have for the last decade or so, it’s painted an aggressively bright mint green and the servers are chirpy and prone to long conversations with their customers. Ethan loves it, Luther preferred their old place, which was dark and he could play checkers. It closed in the 90s and Luther hasn’t gotten over it. He tells him what had happened. Luther asks him why he hadn’t asked him, Ethan apologizes in a brief panic that he was wrong about his friends feelings about Bora Bora. He is not, Luther assures him with a particularly dry look, but humor him. Ethan says I wanted to. Luther squints at him. Ethan looks back. When he thinks about Benji too long he has to go on a 10k run instead of his normal morning 5 to shake the feeling of incumbent threat. He tells this to Luther. Luther decides the whole thing is a problem for another day. He tells Ethan that Benji and he are work friends, and work friends normally don’t invite each other to Bora Bora. All of Ethan’s close friends since he was in the army are from work, apart from the owner of his local bodega who laughs at him for buying so much kale and his general care doctor Gwen who’s still pissed at him for running on a broken leg. Assuring her that had he not everyone would be dead didn’t seem to have the relaxing effect he had assumed it would. Ethan decided the weeks task was to become personal friends with Benji. Luther, recognizing the look on him, handed him a pen and made his excuses. He started by writing down everything he knew about Benji. It took 13 unfolded napkins. He circled possible entry points-video games, opera, Siamese cats (he could get him one? Smuggling a purebred from an underground breeding operation wouldn’t be too hard but he’d promised Luther he wouldn’t “vigilante across the west coast” when he was bored. Nonstarter.). He decided on reading all the books Benji had mentioned liking in passing, getting him opera tickets without a mission attached, and doing preliminary research on the most popular video games of the last decade. The plan lasted around 3 days. Ethan had the books read by the time he saw Benji next, and left one with a bookmark halfway through it conspicuously at his desk. When Benji asked about it he said a variation of what Benji had said about it to him. He’d thought that he’d be pleased that he agreed with him, but he seemed a bit disappointed and the conversation didn’t really go anywhere. He’d seen when he was researching the differences between work friends and personal friends that eye contact helps people build connections. He was proud to say he kept unwavering eye contact, although his eyes were watering when he decided to make a strategic retreat. That was day 1, an all around failure. He decided to drop the book idea, got him two opera tickets for Puccini’s La Boheme. Benji invites him, so he goes after reading some reviews on the show so he’ll have something to say. Honestly, he’s always preferred musical theater, but this is what friends is so he goes. At intermission he says he needs to go to the restroom and paces on the roof until the nervous energy works itself out of his legs. When the show is over he’s using the techniques he learned from being tortured by the Russians to stay awake. He still gives a pretty good review of the show, mixing elements from articles he’d read into something that sounds vaguely like something he’d say. He’s pretty pleased with it, but when Benji thinks he isn’t looking he sneaks a look at him and his brow is furrowed. Day 2 is a failure.

[zapreportsblog]

❝hydra prized creation❞

✭ pairing : various x reader

✭ fandom : avengers

✭ summary : Hydra created a mastermind unlike none other with intellects only the greatest individuals could possess they combined that with their new advanced version of the super solider serum, and thus a ghost was born.

✭ authors note : I’ve noticed that I’ve been doing lots of requests and haven’t had time to update some of the series I’ve always posted on here so here part 9 of this story

✭ chapter 9 : the chase

✭ hydra prized creation masterlist

Life had taken a turn for the better for (Y/N) in the months since she had found refuge within New York. She had managed to keep a steady job at a the cafe, where her warm smile and friendly demeanor had quickly made her a favorite among the regulars. Despite the newfound sense of safety, the shadow of her past still loomed over her, leaving her perpetually wary.

One sunny afternoon, (Y/N) left work early since the owner had left early due to a family emergency, and so she had began the walk back to her apartment. The bustling city streets were alive with activity, yet an uneasiness still clung to her. She felt eyes on her, an unnerving sensation that had become all too familiar. The paranoia was a constant reminder of the hold Hydra had once had on her.

As she quickened her pace, the footsteps behind her seemed to match hers. Panic surged through her veins, and she broke into a run, heart pounding in her chest. The footsteps persisted, echoing in her ears like a haunting melody. She glanced over her shoulder, the fear driving her forward.

"Wait! Hold on!" a voice called out from behind her.

But (Y/N)'s mind was gripped by the thought of Hydra agents pursuing her once again. She didn't slow down, her heart racing, until strong hands gently grabbed her shoulders, halting her escape.

As she turned to scream, her eyes widened, and her voice caught in her throat. Before her stood a man, his blue eyes filled with concern. Recognition struck her like a bolt of lightning—Steve Rogers, the one they called Captain America.

"I'm so sorry if I scared you," Steve said, his voice sincere. "You dropped these." He held out a pair of headphones, a sheepish smile on his lips.

(Y/N)'s heart was still racing, her panic slowly subsiding as reality sunk in. She took the headphones, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I thought... I thought you were someone else."

Steve's expression softened. "I can imagine. I shouldn't have approached you like that."

She nodded, her cheeks burning. "It's okay… I'm still a bit jumpy I guess.”

"I understand," Steve replied, his voice gentle. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

(Y/N) offered a small smile, her nerves beginning to settle. "Thank you for returning these. And, um, sorry for running away like that."

Steve chuckled softly. "No need to apologize. I should have been more careful."

As they stood on the bustling sidewalk, (Y/N)'s tension continued to ease. The presence of someone like Steve, a symbol of hope and protection, had a way of comforting her. She glanced down at the headphones in her hand and then back at him.

"I appreciate it, really," she said, her voice sincere. "And sorry for... well, overreacting."

Steve's smile was warm and understanding. "No harm done. Just glad everything's okay."

With a nod and a shy smile, (Y/N) turned to continue her walk back home. As she walked away, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief—relief that not everyone was a threat.

(Y/N)'s heart was still racing from the encounter, but a newfound sense of calm settled over her as she realized she wasn’t in any real danger. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the city streets.

As she approached her small apartment building, a thought crossed her mind. She had been so taken aback by the encounter that she hadn't properly thanked Steve for returning her headphones. With a newfound sense of determination, she decided to extend an invitation.

"Um, excuse me," she said, turning to face Steve, who was walking a few paces behind her just about to leave and head off most likely towards his own home.

He smiled warmly. "Yes?"

"I know it's a bit sudden, but would you like to come over to my place? I'd like to show my appreciation for, you know, returning my headphones."

Steve's blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "You don't have to do that. But if you're sure..."

(Y/N) nodded, a shy smile on her lips. "I am. It's the least I can do."

With a nod, Steve agreed, and they continued their walk to her apartment building. Once they arrived, (Y/N) led him up the flights of stairs to her small unit. She unlocked the door and gestured for him to enter.

As Steve stepped inside, he looked around the modest space. The apartment was sparsely furnished, with a few basic pieces of furniture and little decoration. His gaze caught a glimpse of the almost empty shelves, and his curiosity got the better of him.

"It looks like you've just moved in," Steve commented, his voice gentle.

(Y/N) followed his gaze, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Yeah, I have. I've been saving up for things to fill the place, but it's been a slow process."

Steve turned to her, his expression sympathetic. "I didn't mean to pry."

She smiled, trying to hide her self-consciousness. "It's okay. I'm just glad I have a roof over my head."

As they stood in the small living room, (Y/N) couldn't help but notice Steve's eyes lingering on the lack of furnishings. She cleared her throat, feeling the need to explain.

"I promise, it's not always this bare," she said with a light laugh. "I'm working on making it feel more like home."

Steve's smile was understanding. "I think it already feels cozy."

(Y/N) felt a warmth spread through her at his words. It was strange, having someone in her space, but Steve's presence felt oddly comforting. She led him to the small kitchen area and offered him a seat.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"Just water is fine, thanks," he replied.

As she fetched glasses of water, she couldn't help but think about how unexpected this turn of events was. She had invited Steve over out of gratitude, but now she found herself hoping that the evening would be a chance to get to know him better.

As they sat and chatted about their respective experiences, (Y/N) felt a growing sense of connection. Steve's presence was easygoing, and he shared stories from his past that made her feel like she wasn't alone in her struggles. The apartment, once bare and empty, began to feel warmer with each passing moment.

As the evening drew to a close, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel grateful for the chance encounter and the unexpected friendship that had blossomed from it. With a smile, she looked at Steve and said, "Thank you for coming over, Steve. You didn’t have too but I appreciate it.”

His smile was genuine, his eyes warm. "It was my pleasure. I'm glad I could help."

As Steve left her apartment that night, (Y/N) felt a newfound sense of hope. Though her past had been filled with darkness and uncertainty, the presence of someone like Steve Rogers reminded her that there were good people in the world—people willing to extend a hand of kindness, and perhaps even become a part of the brighter future she was working toward.

[dahliathederanged]

Kleptomaniac

The unstoppable urge to steal.

Hi, my name is Irene and I’m a kleptomaniac. I’ve been struggling with it since I was a teenager. I would go to local stores and steal whatever I could. Then after the rush wore off, I would dispose of everything I had. I didn’t actually want or need what I was stealing. I just liked the excitement it gave me. I got in trouble for it and my parents immediately sent me to therapy. After years of working on my mental health, I stopped stealing completely.

Then I saw a purse.

I was walking home from work when I saw an unattended purse on a table outside of a cafe. I could see the person’s phone and wallet just sitting there. I don’t know what came over me. I thought I was already past this part of my life. But I couldn’t help myself, I had to take it. I walked over to the table and pretended to drop something. When I was getting up, I deftly took the phone and walked away briskly. The owner of the purse came out of the cafe with her coffee and food and sat down, not realizing I just swiped one of her most important belongings.

God, I missed the rush.

I practically ran to the train station thinking I was going to get caught. I was buzzing with excitement the entire ride. When I got to my stop, I spotted a trash can. I walked over to throw the phone away but somehow I just couldn’t. For some reason, taking the phone wasn’t enough. I had to see what was inside it. I debated with myself for a bit before ultimately deciding to pocket the phone and go home.

You’d be surprised how easy it is to unlock a secured device. All I had to do was Google. After a bit of tweaking, I finally got it open.

The first stop was the album. I started from the very bottom. It contained what you would expect: selfies, food pictures, animals, and memes. Nothing too exciting. I scrolled up a bit and I saw pictures of a guy, probably her boyfriend. I scrolled up further and started noticing something. She had dozens of pictures of the same guy but no pictures of them together. I continued scrolling and saw she had candid photos of him outside buildings, out on the street, in bars, and whatnot. I started feeling uneasy. Scrolling even further, I saw pictures of him through what looked like the window of an apartment. The last picture was of him with another girl. It looked like it was pulled from his Instagram.

“What the fuck,” I said as if I would stop prying.

The next stop was the messages. I scrolled through and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Then at the very top, I saw her texts with a guy named Jared. Or rather, her texts to Jared. She sent him walls of text, proclaiming her undying love one minute and then threatening to kill him the next. He never responded apart from one text saying, “Leave me alone, Meadow.”

To say that I was uneasy is a gross understatement. I was petrified. But my dumb curious ass decided to continue my exploration.

I checked Meadow’s call history. She called Jared two hundred and fifty-six times over the past three days. All calls were missed. Then I checked her email. She had dozens if not hundreds of emails sent to Jared saying more of the same; pledges of undying love and threats of violence. Checking her notes, I found: love spells, boyfriend manifestations (whatever that means), and the most disturbing grocery list of all time:

Knife

Duct Tape

ZipTies

Axe

Plastic Tubs

Hydrofluoric Acid

Not only that, but I found a long, all-caps rant about “Jenny” (Jared’s girlfriend I’m assuming) and how he was cheating on her with Jenny, how Jenny was in the way of their perfect love, etc. Just out of sheer curiosity, I checked her Spotify and her most played song is Keep Awake by 100 Monkeys. Lovely.

Suffice it to say, I was freaked the fuck out.

What freaked me out more was the sudden notification that popped up. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard it. With much trepidation, I shakily opened the notification. It was an email Meadow sent to herself. It read:

“I know you have my phone.”

x

[buttercupkg66]

A woman who was caught at a pro-Palestine demonstration giving the Nazi salute and making anti-Jewish threats has been unmasked as the owner of two kosher cafés inside the Jewish General Hospital in Montreal, Canada.

Mallie Mai Abdulhadi, 39, was shockingly caught on camera giving the Sieg Heil salute towards pro-Israel counter-protesters at Concordia University.

She attempted to shield her identity with a keffiyeh – a traditional Palestinian scarf – as well as a medical mask and sunglasses.

Abdulhadi warned them: 'Final Solution is coming your way. The Final Solution. Do you know what the Final Solution is? Do you know what the Final Solution is?'

Final Solution was the Nazi plan for the deliberate and systematic mass murder of Jews during WWII – it took place from 1941 to 1945 and saw the vast majority of Jewish victims murdered.

[steelbonded]

Forced Integration

After the liberation of Walden base, all soldiers within the liberated base are ordered to be re-educated, retrained and integrated into the victorious Steelbound Republic's army. It was determined that their previous tactical training would boost the army’s numbers.

Base Commanders and high-ranking officers were first to be rounded up, removed and re-educated.  Those who replaced them were hand-selected in the republic’s capital to head the integration of the defeated army. Platoon lieutenants and officers were next with the re-education which was conducted on-site. Those who return from their education are dull and vacant, reflecting the emptiness inside them as they stripe their identity and loyalty to their former nation. Those whose re-education is satisfactory are rumoured to be retrained in the camps next door wearing the same black standard-issue uniform their invaders wore. Training to lead in the ruthless expansion of the borders of the republic.  

Soon, the privates were next, the most numerous but nerveless a valuable assist in the republic’s army. Mark and Stewart are privates in the defeated army, and they have been thinking of defection since the announcement of the re-education and integration program. Since then, they have been locked within the compounds of the base until they are evaluated and re-educated. They know it is a matter of time before they are called in for re-education. The image of him wearing the opponent’s standard-issue uniform fills Stewart with disgust, they pledged to serve the country they loved, not to some other rogue nation.

Mark and Stewart have a plan, to escape the base through the narrow drainage tunnels that they were assigned to maintained before. The pipes are just wide enough for one person to fit and lead out to the sewer. Mark was to first to go at the strike of midnight. If he doesn’t return in 2 hours, it would signal to Stewart that it is safe for him to escape.

Stweart was able to make it to the town next to the base before dawn. He knew the city well as he was stationed here for the past year and a half but navigating it on foot, under the constant threat of capture, was a different reality. He knows this phase is the riskiest. He needs to reach the outskirts of the city where he can blend into the countryside and hopefully evade capture before they know he has gone AWAL. But the next town is at least 50 km away and he will die from starvation or exposure, and he must find supplies before making his way to freedom.

As he tracks across town, shops that were typically bustling with activities were closed, their shutters firmly in place; the cafes were empty, chairs stacked neatly inside. It was as if the city had been frozen in time, waiting for its people to return. The enemy forces had established a rigid order and maintained the city's infrastructure but stripped away the soul of the city. What remains is a cold and eerie place, an oppressive silence that the new order has been established.

Stewart took refugees inside a former restaurant; its doors were left ajar with cracked windows and bloodstains on the door frame. A sign of defiance to the regime by the owner is dealt with swiftly and often unpleasantly. His olive-green camo uniform, a remanence of his former country stands as a sharp contrast to the black urban tactical uniform of the new republic that occasionally patrols the street.

As he recouped his strength in the restaurant, he heard a group of heavy army boots echo outside the restaurant. Tactical lights shine through the window, likely from the light mounted to their service rifle. His cover has surely been blown. As Stewart’s last act of escape, he tried to escape through the restaurant’s backdoor.

As he opened the door, a massive fist, clad in a padded glove, swung toward Stewart’s face. The punch connected with a sickening thud, the force of the blow resonating through the alley. His body crumpled under the impact, legs giving way as he fell to the ground. The world tilted and spun, the rough pavement rushing up to meet him. He landed hard, the back of his head hitting the ground with a dull crack.

Stewart lay on the floor, dazed and disoriented, his vision blurring as he struggled to stay conscious. The officer, padded with the tactical black uniform with the flag of Steelbound Republic who had thrown the punch stood over him. “Stay down, maggot” he growled. The officer placed his boots on Stewart’s neck, pressing him down firmly to pin him down. Another officer grabbed and pulled the Stewart’s arms behind their back, the plastic strips biting into their wrists as they tightened. Stewart struggled as he struggled against the restraints, he heard heavy army boots surrounding him. Four other officers pointed their service rifles toward Stewart while pressing their boots on his back and legs pinning him nullifying any attempts of escape.

“Request for transport, private TS 084-389-3829 is secure for re-education” an officer spoke into his transceiver, his weapon still pointed at the Stewart. He will serve the new republic well.

Soldier in troubles

[dust-devils-sunset-rodeo]

Doctor’s Orders

[ GHOST LOAD ] - obsessive love, manipulation, threats with sharp object, messing with drugs, implied kidnapping, foul language, violence in the form of biting and scratching, cannibalism, major gore

( This is a self-indulgent X Reader with an OC my friends who know him loathe /j. No plans to extend this further… unless? )

( Y/N’s gender is unspecified, but they will go by they/them pronouns )

You were flipping through a book in the cafe, feeling a wave of tiredness overwhelm you, the coffee by your side doing little to placate it. Idling in the cafe was an easy way to wait until it was time for your appointment. It was a simple schedule for this week, as it was always for you. Today, Thursday, was appointment day. Tomorrow you’d be at work overtime, at the bar you always worked at. Glancing at the clock, you sighed. 2.45PM. It was a good time to head to the hospital. You were seeing this doctor for your recent body checkups. Out of the blue, your tests were pretty bad, maybe due to your new job draining your sleep schedule, but the results were concerning enough for you to receive constant medicine from your doctor.

You pulled yourself from your chair, returning your tray as you did, to the cafe owner’s delight.

“Hmm, ‘nother appointment? Hope your body’s getting better, Y/N.” The owner wished you, before you thanked him and left.

Just in time for your appointment, as always. You went to the door, looking up to confirm who you were visiting.

“Dr H. Astran”

Harle. Dr Harle had been seeing you for several weeks— months? You don’t remember. Your memory was hazy too. Your legs barely kept you up too, you’ve been weak for as long as you remember. His pills, at least, prevented them from getting worse.

You knocked at the door, hearing a familiar “Come in.” Opening the door, you saw the doctor seated at his desk, scribbling on a notepad something you couldn’t read from where you stood. He tore the note off, keeping it in a folder, before looking up at you. His eyes were a vivid pink. A strange, but recognisable colour. He wore thin-framed glasses with pink lenses, a strange but bold choice. His brown hair was messy, but kept short, just above his shoulder, with the ends dyed pink. The white coat he wore was clean, crisp. You sat down opposite him, as he looked at you.

“Good afternoon, Mx Y/N, how can I help you today?” He looked up, smiling at you warmly. It was a familiar sight, for a familiar problem.

“Same as always… I’m still tired and… I’m still struggling with carrying heavy stuff.”

“Is that so? Huh, I should probably up your dosage, then.” He mused, frowning at his paper as he scribbled something down, perhaps a note to himself? “Your dosage is pretty high, though. This will have the side effects I mentioned to you, is that alright with you?”

He looked worried, which you were grateful for, but you needed to get out of whatever dump you were in. “Yeah, that’s fine, Harle. I really need to stay awake.”

He sighed reluctantly, the rest of the appointment going as expected. Harle took your blood pressure and checked your lungs, as he did always. His hands were always strangely cold, maybe all that air conditioning was the cause. He took a blood test from you, licking his lip as he focused to ensure he injected the right vein, watching blood spurt from your arm into the vial. After he did that, he gave you a bandage, making sure your testing site was covered.

“That’s all for today, Mx Y/N. Please take your leave, as usual.”

The rest of the day was rather dull, as was Friday. Except when you were busy at work at night…

What was he doing here?

“Oh, Y/N? I’m surprised to see you work here.” Harle chuckled. He wasn’t wearing that white coat. He had a desaturated purple collared shirt, and what seemed to be black or grey pants, the lighting made it hard to tell. “Can you get me a drink? Hm… Perhaps, a Corpse Reviver?”

You hummed in surprise. What a strange drink of choice for someone who hasn’t even started. You started to make the drink, even showing off with shaking the drink by tossing the shaker, catching it flawlessly. You poured the drink for him, smiling. He looked at it, his pink eyes scrutinising the drink before grabbing it, his hand covering the drink before he took a sip, humming to himself.

“May I interest you to trying this?” Harle looked up at you, smiling so warmly and kindly. This man practically helped you for so many months, perhaps this one-time request was fine. Cautiously, you took the drink, sipping it gently. It had a strange taste, but then again, you’ve rarely had alcohol yourself. Sweet and sour, with the punch of gin. You found it refreshing, but it was only a little compared to your ever-present exhaustion. Drats that he came close to closing time too. You would’ve loved… to t…alk… and get to kn…ow this…helpful… m…an…

You almost fainted from exhaustion, sleeping at the counter. The powder that doctor dropped in your drink seemed to work just as fast as he thought it would. A carefully prepared amount. How did a bartender let their guard down about spiked drinks? Harlequinn found it amusing. What a naive little darling. He helped you to your feet, moving your unconscious body to his vehicle. It was easy to sneak someone like you around. Especially with how docile you were, practically melting in his arms.

You woke up groggy in a dark room. It was unbearably cold. The air was stale, but had a disgusting iron-like smell— wait, what?

Your eyes focused on the only source of light, a lamp that seemed to fail every few seconds, flickering. It’s dim yellow light barely illuminated the room, as you scanned i—

Oh my god.

Your doctor was hunched over a human body. He had rolled up his sleeves, and his hand was all over the corpse. His hand dug into the person, ripping something out from it— the darkness gave you the pleasure of not seeing what he tore out— and shoving it into his mouth, a gross chewing sound following as he savoured the taste. Your doctor was eating this man. Harle swallowed, before licking his lips, satisfied. You tried to keep your breaths quiet, but they only turned shallow. You could feel yourself trying not to wheeze in fright. Your doctor— your “lovely” doctor— a cannibal! Your head ran wild with thoughts.

Why did he bring you here?

Why did he go to the effort of kidnapping you?

Are you next?

You gasped for air, unable to breathe properly, and your so-called dignified doctor swung his head to look at you. His pink eyes looked so haunting in the light. His entire mouth was stained with a dark fluid that could only be blood. Blood stained his shirt, from his chin down his neck all the way to his belt. He even managed to grin in the middle of such a depraved act.

“Ah, you’re awake, Y/N. How’s your nap?” His tone was still so warm yet professional, like this was another appointment. You cringed at the smell, struggling to move only to realise you had been tied up. Your ankles were firmly tied together and around your waist, and your hands were tied behind your back. Your back felt a wooden pole, probably tied against it too.

“Wh… what the fuck— where am I?!” You cried out in terror, shaking to see if you could escape.

“Somewhere special, I’m afraid.” Harle chuckled like this was some kind of thing normal people do, kidnap their patient and make them watch him have human sashimi. “Can’t be having fresh meat go to waste.”

His very words made you want to gag, as you tried to look for any loose knots, to no avail.

“F-fuck, please—“ You whimpered, feeling tears run down your eyes. “I don’t w-wanna die, doc. I’ll do anything, just d-don’t kill me!”

Darkness cloaked that horrible image of a half-eaten man from your sight, but not from the sight of flesh and blood dripping from your doctor’s mouth. His canines never looked so animalistic, so terrifying.

You could barely imagine the scene. The pain, having flesh brutally ripped from your body, nails clawing into your skin. The horror of seeing a dignified man turn into a starving savage. The teeth marks, the bones cracked open and emptied of marrow, blood drunken like wine. If he wanted to eat you, he would definitely make it last, make you feel every moment of agony as he consumed you. At least this man was dead.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. After all, I’m the only one who can keep you alive, no?” His words felt like venom. You knew he was, in some warped way, right. He knew your medication down to the hour you had to take them. It would be hard to find another doctor before some horrid symptom kicked in. That raised a question, though.

“Wh…why did you bring me here?” It was a pathetic question, but you wanted some control of the moment. Why? Why did he do this?

He didn’t even give you the luxury of a response. He got up, covered in viscera, and walked to you. He leaned in all the way to your face, while you tilted your head up. You barely missed his face, but you could smell his bloody breath. The smell of death.

He gently moved to your shoulder, humming lowly in contemplation. His pink eyes never looked so focused before, but focused on wh—

A searing pain flooded your body.

“N-NO! STOP!! THAT FUCKING HURTS!” You screamed, squirming with all your might as Harle sank his teeth deep in your shoulder like a starving animal. The force of it must have broken your collarbone. He grunted in response, holding your shoulders while sucking at your blood. Suddenly, he moved his head away, his mouth slick with fresh blood. He licked his lips in front of you, grinning. He looked so much more crazed in this lighting, with his hair messy. He even laughed in amusement.

“Fuck, you taste soo sweet.” Harle’s words sent shivers of horror down your spine. “Can’t be wasting a beautiful, delicate delicacy, now can I?”

“Wh-What do you want from me… Please, don’t hurt me anymore…” You felt your head spin, was your body really that weak? No, you couldn’t fall asleep now- you wouldn’t know if you’d wake up again.

“Shh, just relax, darling.” His voice was overly coated with sweet persuasion. It sickened you. “From now on, you needn’t worry about anything~! You just gotta focus on staying alive. Doctor’s orders.”

You couldn’t fight the wave of exhaustion weighing down on your body. You succumbed to your exhaustion, not even aware if you’d get to open your eyes again.

[dsandrvk]

Friday, August 11 - Vigur Island and Isafjordur

We had a wonderful excursion to Vigur Island this morning. The Quest dropped off Zodiacs at the head of a fjord and we motored in to this small, but vibrant island, while the ship continued on to the dock in Isafjordur in the next fjord to the west. We had a short ride to what appeared to be a desolate, treeless island, but was anything but.

Vigur Island is privately owned, and access is very limited because it is an important nesting site for several species of birds, including Eider ducks, Arctic terns, Black guillemots, Purple sandpipers, and of course, Atlantic puffins. We had a wonderful tour of the small harbor area, complete with windmill (non-functioning at the moment) and the "old boat" (age unknown). Our guide was a volunteer here for the summer from France, and he managed to convey a lot of information with enthusiasm and humor.

There are so many puffin burrows on this small island (at least 50,000) that in many parts the ground is so undermined that it's in danger of collapse. The breeding season is almost over, and most of the adult birds were in the sea surrounding the island. Both parents take care of the single egg and "puffling" until a point where they leave their offspring on their own. Eventually the pufflings get hungry, and are supposedly drawn by the light of the moon, and find their way out of the burrow and to the sea, and then nature takes over. In a few weeks the adults will move on to the middle of the north Atlantic until next Spring.

The Eider ducks, however, are single parent families, and the females raise the ducklings on their own. After laying eggs, the females, aides by hormones, produce a type of down that is extremely soft and airy and has more loft for the weight than anything I've ever seen. The down is harvested from the nests after the eggs are hatched, and cleaning it and preparing it is very labor intensive. It is illegal in Iceland to harm Eiders, so this down is very different from goose down. Vigur Island is the second largest producer of eiderdown in Iceland.

We took a walk through the nesting areas, armed with sticks above our heads. The Arctic terns are still defending their nests and are known to dive-bomb the highest point of the threat (we've had this happen elsewhere), so this is a great solution, even if it looked somewhat silly. We saw several tern chicks, but many more that were almost adult size down on the beach. Arctic terns are amazing birds, and have the longest migration of any bird, as they will shortly leave for Antarctica. We have seen them many times before, but they are always fun to watch swooping around and diving into the ocean.

The new owners (three years) are working hard at maintaining the sanctuary for nature here, with some scientific studies of the puffins, and are also doing responsible tourism, adding a little gift shop and cafe, where we were treated to a wonderful rhubarb cake. The rhubarb grows very large here with the long days - otherwise it is a challenging environment to grow things.

We eventually boarded the Zodiacs for our ride to Isafjordur, looking for whales, but unfortunately saw none, only some sheep on a beach. We had seen seals on rocks off of the island, and are pretty sure we saw another swimming by. We have seen fewer whales and dolphins than in the Pacific, which is common. Overfishing and climate change have greatly affected populations of both birds and mammals, probably more so than in the Pacific.

After a quick lunch on the ship, we headed out to explore Isafjordur. We have been here once before, but at that time we rented a car and headed out to a waterfall, so this time we decided to stay close. We found a path heading up a hill which eventually climbed up onto a huge berm that protects the town from rockfalls. It slopes down more gently on the town side, but is quite vertical on the mountain side, and is reinforced with heavy metal screening and rip-rap. There are trails on top as well as a dirt road in the gully between the mountain and the berm. In various places the berm extends further up towards the mountain and from these points the views of the town and harbor were excellent. At various points there were benches and racks for interpretive panels, but it appears the panels were never installed. The whole thing must have been extremely expensive - maybe they ran out of money for interpretation! At first we had thought it was for avalanche control, but a local gentleman we talked to assured us the snow mostly blows away along the cliffs, but the rocks are the greatest danger.

We also wandered around this small town of about 2,600 people, which is the largest in the Westfjords - the northwest part of Iceland. As in Reykjavik, most houses were glad in corrugated metal with wooden trim, and quite colorful. The little bits of color are welcome in a land of mostly grey and green. Even the playground was multi-colored.

Although our ship was in port until 7PM, the few shops all closed at 5 on the dot, but we had enough time to help the local economy and try some beers at the local brewery, since it was only about a three minute walk from the ship. It was lovely to sit outside on their patio in the late afternoon sun - we have once again been fortunate in our weather. We have had two spectacular days and one pretty good day in Iceland, weatherwise, and that's better than we had hoped for.

Tomorrow is a sea day and we also set our clocks back, so we will catch up on sleep, and enjoy some talks and trivia. Then it's on to Greenland!

[wingwaver]

Now for the grand reveal!

The lie is...

Smokescreen and Bluestreak are split-spark brothers!

Answers 2, 7, and 8 are talked about here.

At OTFCC 2004 a woman named Michelle Carolus voiced a female version of Optimus Prime in a live scrip reading drama that was a crossover of G1, BW, and RID01 written by Simon Furman.

That version of Optimus Prime was likely the inspiration to make a full fledge Prime known as Splendid Yellow Convoy for the Precursor World continuity. Splendid Yellow Convoy is the leader of the Yellow Order, made up of female transformers. She shows up in the Generations Selects Special comics. Here is the link the scrip drama on YouTube!

Lord Imperious Delirious first appearance was in 1998 in The Transformers in 3-D and would later reappear in Beast Wars: Uprising. He was originally created to be a living time capsule memory bank for an entire species, but all of the collective thoughts and knowledge gave him a life and will of his own. He is now the leader of a group called The Destructons, whose main goal is to... well, destroy! If you'd like to read his comics almost all Transformers comics can be found on readcomiconline!

In the Japanese comic strips in the Legends Universe, Starscream from Beast Wars II is the owner of a "little brother cafe"- a play on "little sister cafe"- a type of maid cafe where the staff refers to patrons as big brother/big sister.

Despite being an all male cafe, BWII Starscream hired an amnesiac Windblade from a different universe because he felt bad for her, something Armada Starscream found out when he offered to work in her place after she fell ill. The workers are also referred to with Japanese slang term for gay men. The workers included Archadis, Gas Skunk, Nightscream, and Airazor (who was changed to be male in Japan), who were all gay coded in their shows in Japan. I haven't been able to find the translations of the comics yet but there are full synopsis on the wiki here!

Meet Artemis and Moon! Robots designed by Gaia's inhabitants to keep the planet safe long after they're gone!

Gaia, throughout the show, is heavily implied to be Earth, so humans were the ones to originally build Artemis (the girl) and Moon (the rabbit) and stick them in the moon (the moon) as a failsafe to ensure that the planet would be protected even after humans were no longer on it. It's unclear if the humans in Beast Wars II went extinct or if they simply found other planets to inhabit after the climate became too dangerous for human life on Earth, but we do see remnants of cities from time to time in the show. Artemis and Moon care deeply for planet Gaia and it's creatures and do whatever they can to protect it, even if it means putting their own lives at risk. Artemis is also shown to care for beings that do not originate from Gaia, developing a crush on both Starscream and Scuba, and stating that she cares for both Galvatron and Lio Convoy and doesn't want to see either get killed. Moon is shown to care about the maximals but hesitates to care for the destrons, as he knows they're a threat to Gaia. If you'd like to watch Beast Wars II, here is the entire playlist on YouTube!

According to Vector Prime, The 13 visited Earth a long time ago and ended up in ancient Greece. To better blend in with their surroundings, they took on holoforms to interact with humans as they sat atop a mountain as not to frighten them. The humans still mistook them as Gods, probably because Liege Maximo, the drama queen he is, couldn't resist taking the form of a beautiful woman that emerging from the sea on a giant shell, causing the legend of Aphrodite to be born.

Megatronus, being so full of anger, birthed the legend of Ares, the God of War.

Solus Prime was known as Hephaestus, for all her hard work.

Alpha Trion with his infinite wisdom became Athena.

Prima became Zeus (and as a Greek mythology nerd I have to question what the absolute fuck he got up to) and Nexus Maximus was Hera.

Onyx took form to hunt and was known as Artemis and Autonomous became Apollo.

Alchemist Prime became Dionysus for his delightful concoctions.

Adaptus became known as Poseidon after his lure to Earth's chaotic sea and Mortilus became Hades for his mystery and solitude.

Epistemus became known as Demeter after helping humanity with agriculture.

And Vector himself was Hermes!

Persephone is mentioned too, but she was not one of the Primes, and I'm pretty sure she wasn't even Cybertronian! Apparently, she was the cause of a few arguments between Epistemus and Mortilus.

Here are two links to the Ask Vector Prime archives!

@presidentstarscream @love-the-leaf-shield (I saw you two mentioned wanting to be tagged in the final!)

Ok ok here's another

[psychedelic-ink]

Watercolor Eyes ║ Santiago "Pope" Garcia

a/n: this fic is directly inspired by @prolix-yuy 's absolutely gorgeous series something new I can't recommend this series enough it was such a joy to read, and after reading her headcanons about the other sw! triple frontier boys I couldn't stop thinking of santi <33 thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of this world and write for it! I hope you enjoy 💕

and special thank to my bby @inklore who supports me always and beta'd this fic for me, ilysm 💖

pairing: santiago "pope" garcia x fem!reader

genre: smut with little plot, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: after another day of lack of customers and loneliness, you come across a flyer that might grant you a night of relief and pleasure.

warnings: sex worker!santi, oral (receiving & first time), dirty talking, bdsm dynamics, soft dom!santi, sub!reader, reader showing brat tendencies, brat tamer!santi, piv, use of a condom, squirting, the use of sir, swearing, orgasm denial/cumming on command, soft bondage, dry humping, teasing, begging, aftercare

Watercolor Eyes Masterlist

The neon letters shine loud and bright within the night: Cafe Watercolor. Seeing the pink sign used to make you smile, it was a sign that represented your dreams, your hopes, your future. Now it only symbolizes the harsh truth of reality. You’re a failure. Unable to get your small bakery cafe off the ground. You sit behind the counter, head propped up with your elbow as you look outside with a bored gaze. The air conditioning hisses, mixing with the coffee shop playlist you prepared the day before you opened up your little cafe. The tunes of a melancholic piano overlaps the sound of the air conditioner, the vocals of “The head and the heart” filling the small space. 

Summers in Florida consist of humidity, rain and the burning sun. To you, it’s hell on heart. But as someone who always felt more focused with the pitter patters of raindrops, it wasn’t that bad. With a broken sigh, you watch a couple, hand in hand, soaked to the marrow, running to the bus stop. The pouring rain should’ve been any coffee shop owners bread and butter, people searched for shelter, the scent of coffee and sweets was always enticing enough to beckon them inside. Sadly, they either ran past the shop, much similarly to the couple from before, or took shelter at the coffee shop right across from you. It was brighter, bigger, and had all of those fancy new drinks. Right now your menu is limited, you focus on the baking aspect more, there lays your true passion, but you enjoyed a good cup of coffee as well so you threw that into the mix too. 

And you know it’s good coffee. Those who bothered to enter would be astounded by the rich flavors and the free baked goods you threw in. You just need them to take one bite. After that they came again and again. 

But a couple of regulars isn’t enough to keep your business afloat, not in this economy. 

You could only hire two baristas, and since they were underpaid grad students, you didn’t blame them for not wanting to stick their neck out for the small shop. They were already juggling two other jobs. 

Your family warned you; Don’t do it, they had said, You didn’t waste years of study just to open a coffee shop. Since you were a kid they wanted you to delve into the cruel world of academia. You studied archaeology, it was fun. Obviously. Who wouldn’t like to dig and unravel the remnants of a ruined civilization? But your heart always ached for something else. You didn’t want to waste your life competing with friends and others, you didn’t enjoy your classmates viewing you as a threat just because you got a good grade. You hated always having to look over your shoulder, worrying if the person that smiled at you genuinely meant it or not. It was chaotic, stress inducing. The job itself was fun, but the backstage wasn’t. 

So you quit right after finishing grad school. Sure, maybe you should’ve stuck it to your parents and quit sooner, but you assumed if you actually finished studying they would finally let you go. 

Of course they didn’t. 

Shaking your head, you force yourself to stand up. You might as well close up shop. You don’t need your electricity bill to get even higher. Heart broken, you walk to the large window, the day's special baked goods written on the window. You almost cry when you wipe it off the board, you worked really hard on those croissants, you will have to take them home, again. At least your neighbors were happy about the free desserts. 

The rain had stopped. Lonely water drops sliding down the glass, you see that the couple is still waiting for their bus. When the guy leaned in for a kiss, laughing and wet, your heart breaks a little. How long has it been since your last date? When has anyone ever looked at you like that? No one, that’s who. You had one lousy boyfriend and a couple of bad dates, after graduating your whole love and effort had gone into the shop. Needless to say you didn’t have much time to scroll the endless fuckboys of Tinder. 

Tearing your gaze away from the couple’s private moment, you turn off the neon light, and push back the misplaced chairs. The silver lining is that you don’t have to do much in terms of cleaning. You’ll wipe the counter, pull out the plugs just in case, and that’ll be it. You already left the kitchen spotless after baking, which you’re glad for since now you can just go home. 

Your chest heaves as you pick off the tray of croissants and package them to take to your neighbors. It's like this every night, your need to cry doubling tenfold whenever you take something you make home. You know they’re good. You just need people to give you a chance. You grab the last croissant for yourself and bite into it, dinner is settled. As you chew you moan at the taste of vanilla custard and the berry glaze, the flaky pastry crumbles, it gets on your clothes, sticks to the roof of your mouth. With the back of your hand you wipe your mouth and pat yourself down. Now you can leave. 

Before leaving you take one last look, the passing cars casted their light inside, moving along and leaving the shop in darkness once more. Just like you. But it won’t last like this for long. It can’t. You won’t allow it. 

Locking, and checking by rattling the door, you stuff the keys into your pockets and head home. The rain has faded but it’s still quite windy. The leaves of palm trees echoe and you see the remnants of flyers ghosting across the pavement. You see the silhouette of your bus, your steps pick up and when you realize you’re about to miss it, you run– 

You’ve barely taken a couple of long strides before something sticks to your face, you collapse on the wet ground, mud and water seeping into your clothes as pain spreads across your chest. 

Immediately upon getting up you see that the bus is gone, disappeared into the wind. 

“Shit!” ignoring the state of your clothes you stomp your feet like a child throwing a tantrum. You viciously tear the piece of paper that led to your demise and glare at it. “Fucking– I’m going to curse the company who made this damn…flyer,” 

Your eyebrows rise with curiosity. Looking down, you see a glossy flyer between your fingertips, or rather the remnants of it. The half bottom rips and falls to the concrete with a loud splat. However, the thing that piques your interest is that this particular flyer doesn’t belong to a company. It’s for a very specific service provided for lonely people like you. You drag your gaze across the men that decorate the poster, all of them looking very very handsome. It’s been a while since the color had faded from the flyer but you assume it’s from the sudden rain pour. 

You should really just throw the poster away, walk your sweet ass to the bus stop and head home. 

Instead, your eyes gaze at the number written in a bold font. Lucky you that the number was written on the top part of the flyer and not the bottom. Before the other bus arrives, you hurriedly pull out your phone, also soaked from the fall, and type the number, cursing every time your phone gets the number confused due to your wet fingers. 

When you finally succeed in putting the numbers in, you shove the flyer into your bag to throw out for later and very carefully make your way to the bus stop. 

You’ve been staring at your phone for about an hour. 

You’d taken a brisk shower, gave the rest of the croissants to your neighbors, in which they thanked you, inviting you in and after dodging that bullet, you finally managed to relax on the couch. 

However, what you’re doing isn’t really relaxing. 

The black written numbers start to shake, your eyes stinging from staring at the screen for too long. Are you really going to do this? Are you really so lonely that you need to pay someone to spend time with you? Well yes actually, you are. It’s not like you’re shameful about asking for a service, a couple of your friends had done it, it’s just that you didn’t really know what to say when you called. Did you just say what you want? Do you need to ask for a specific man? Will it be safe? What if you get an STD among everything else? 

With a loud groan, you throw your head back and let your hand fall to your lap. This is iditoic. You’re idiotic. It’s just a simple call. If whoever is on the other line sounds shady you can just hang up and pretend this never happened. Yeah. That’s it. It’s just a phone call. They can’t see you. Or force you to continue to talk. You have the power of the red button, you’ll be alright. 

With a sudden surge of bravery, you raise your head and make the call. You quickly put it on speaker and anxiously listen to it ring. It feels like an eternity until someone finally picks up the phone. 

“Hello?” 

Oh shit. Shit shit shit– The voice that comes from the other line actually sounds good, honestly you were expecting it to be a pervert heavily breathing down the line but this is a very pleasant surprise. 

When the honey-like voice speaks again, he sounds amused, as if you’re the funniest thing that happened to him all day. 

“I can hear you breathing, you know? I won’t bite, promise,” he chuckles, breathy and airy. “I mean, unless that’s what you’re asking for,” 

“Y-Yeah sorry,” you stumble with your words. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to remember the name of the place. “Is…this Pope’s?” 

“It is and I’m Santiago, but since you sound so sweet you can just call me Santi,” 

Your body heats up at his words, this is probably the most flirtatious thing anyone has said to you in months, even if technically he’s just saying that because you’re a potential customer. Your thumb rubs the corner of the smooth surface of the phone, you don’t know what to say next. 

“Sorry, I don’t really know what to say,” 

“That’s alright, I have all the time in the world,” 

You relax at the playful tint of his voice, a soft smile ghosts across your lips. 

“Do you really?” 

“Well no, but you can still take your time. I can also ask you some questions to ease you in?” 

“Sure?” 

You hate how unsure you sound of yourself, but also you don’t think you can hide it. You genuinely feel lost, mind wandering about how others acted during these calls, you bet they knew what they wanted. They most certainly aren’t like you, causing problems by being shy and calling without looking up what to say beforehand. Damn, you really should’ve googled it first. You’re positive you can find a wikihow article about this. 

“Okay let’s start out easy then, why did you call Pope’s?” 

“For…company,” 

“Just for that?” 

You can see his smile through his voice, you bet he has an amazing one. You suck in a breath, chest puffing up as you ponder over what your next sentence should be. 

“No, I would like…you know,” closing your eyes, you swallow. “Sex,” 

You half expect him to laugh but he doesn’t, a soft hum echoes and he follows up with another question. 

“Alright, the follow up questions might be a bit awkward but I need to ask–” 

“Awkward?”

Your panicked tone seeps through the line and reaches Santi’s ear drums. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be holding your hand through it all, cariño. They’re mostly questions about your medical history,” 

You nod then remembering he can’t see you quickly add, “Of course, thank you, Santi,”

When the questions are done, you check your phone only to see that an hour has already passed, much to your surprise, it felt shorter than that. Santi had asked you everything. Even things you never would’ve thought about asking a partner. And honestly it relieved you that he was so detailed with the background checks, just by his voice you can tell that he cares about what he does and for both parties concerned. It was nice. It reminds you a bit about yourself and your own work ethics. 

“Okay I think that’s everything,” he states. “Do you want to continue with this?” 

The uncertainty you feel comes rushing back, an encore, if you will. 

“Yeah, I do. I-If everything's good,” 

“Everything’s perfect,” you hear the gentle tapping of a pen. “And I think I already have the perfect match for you. Where are you? An otel?” 

“Uh…” you look around your apartment. “I’m actually at my apartment…will that be a problem?” 

“If it’s not a problem for you it’s not a problem for us,” he answers, voice a bit more timid than before. “But I will need an address, but if that’s going to be an issue I can look up nearby motels if you tell me which part of the city you’re in?” 

“N-No, it’s fine,” 

As you give out your address the red alarms in your brain screeches at you. It’s loud and mind numbing. Rightfully so. Santi tells you that it’ll take about half an hour for them to arrive and he hangs up, when he does, what you’ve just done dawns on you. You gave your address… to a stranger on the phone. And not just any address, your home address. You really are fucking stupid. 

You could’ve at least taken up Santi’s offer to find you a motel nearby, this is your fucking home. 

“Okay, you’ll get through this. Just deep breaths, take deep breaths…” 

Placing a hand on your chest, you inhale and exhale about five to ten times. Your chest rises under your palm, you can feel your heartbeat. Everything will be alright. You have a pan that’s perfect for smacking people, better yet you have rolling pins of all sizes. You’ll be fine. You’ll be okay. 

You get up and head to the bedroom, it’s a mess, sadly your home didn’t get the same squeaky treatment as your shop. 

Everything will be okay. 

The doorbell rings and your heart nearly jumps out of your throat. After tidying up your room, and yourself; you shaved with hurry, then put on a bra and underwear that matched in color. It’s the little things. You had a couple of toys you enjoyed, if he failed the two of you could always use those. A single woman has needs after all, and after checking the batteries you placed them into the drawer of your bedside table. 

Another ring follows and you hurry to the door. You might be wearing matching underwear but other than that you hadn’t put on anything fancy; your favorite oversize shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. 

Clearing your throat, you call out to the person waiting on the other side. 

“Who is it?” 

“Pope’s,” 

This is actually happening. He’s actually here, and not a minute late, or early. 

You open the door with trembling hands, the man on the other side doesn’t move an inch as you observe him, he only smiles, shooting you a quick nod and a playful wink. He stays there until you fully open the door, even then he doesn’t budge, he waits patiently while your curious gaze rakes his body. His eyes are as rich as the coffee you brew, lashes long, soft looking. You see a bit of gray mixed in his dark hair, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiles at you, lips lush, made for kissing and pleasuring another. For a moment you want to reach out and drag your fingers across his jawline, you wonder if it can actually cut into your skin. His five o’clock shadow will definitely chafe between your thighs and the phantom of the feeling is enough to have your insides clench. The veins peeking above his skin meanders down into his black fitted shirt, you want to see more. 

He clears his throat, smile widening into a grin. 

“Can I come in?”

You know that voice, how could you not when you gave very detailed information about your sex life to that same smooth baritone. 

“Santi?” 

You might be imagining it, but you think his eyes sparkle when you recognize him. His excitement makes your lips break out into a smile. 

“The one and only,” 

Heart thrumming madly in your chest, you move out of the way. He continues to wait, an eyebrow raised as he chews on his bottom lip, he looks you up and down. What was he waiting for? Tilting your head, you answer his gleaming gaze with your confused one. As an answer, he raises both eyebrows, smiles and tilts his head to the other side. 

Oh. OH.

He’s waiting for you to verbally invite him in. 

“C-Come in,” 

His smile never fading, he takes one long stride into your apartment. It’s elegant, graceful, and you can’t stop staring. 

Santi quickly does a once over of your home as he toes off his shoes. Oddly enough, it feels like him being there completes a picture. Maybe it’s because you’ve been lonely for so long but it just seems like he belongs. You push the door as he turns to look at you, if he smiles at you any longer you might melt into a puddle. 

“Should we…” your gaze falls to the floor, and with that see his socked feet; black with colorful polka dots. “Nice socks,” 

“Thanks,” he grins. “It was a gift from a close friend,” 

“You must really like socks then,” 

“Among other things,” 

His lashes flutter, eyes soft like clouds. It takes every ounce of your self control not to swoon, he feels like he ripped a whole out of your dreams and escaped. 

“So, bedroom?” 

Your voice gives away how nervous you are, you almost breathe out a sigh of relief when Santi shakes his head. You still have no idea what to do. And you already feel vulnerable as it is, you’d probably bust a vein if you also stripped in front of him. 

“Loving the enthusiasm but maybe we should talk a bit first,” his eyes linger on the couch. “I still don’t know what you want yet,” 

He sits and you follow his trail, sitting on the armchair across from the couch. 

“I thought I already said it on the phone,” you whine, thoughts swirling. “Please don’t make me say it again, I’m already plenty embarrassed,” 

“Don’t be,” his stern tone takes you by surprise, he leans, arms resting above his knees as he stares you directly in the eyes. “There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed, it’s completely normal,” 

“Really?” 

Santi grins, eyes sparkling. 

“If it wasn’t Pope’s would be closed already,” 

“I guess you’re right,” a faint chuckle falls from your lips and upon hearing the sound he leans back, getting more comfortable. “So what do you want to know?” 

“Things you enjoy during intercourse,” he thoughtfully rubs his chin. “Kinks, fetishes, anything you can think of. If you want to roleplay or not, anything,” 

“Anything?” 

“Well, there are a couple of things I say no to but I don’t think you’re going to say any of them, but if you do I’ll let you know,” 

He winks and your lungs nearly explode. You rapidly blink at him, lowering your gaze, you think about his question. In terms of kinks you actually hadn’t tried out many, you’re curious about a lot of things but never knew how to ask for them. Exhaling, you fiddle with your fingers and look up, your cheeks aflame. 

“I always wanted to try…BDSM stuff but I don’t know if I’ll actually like it,” 

This seems to spike his interest, the curve of his eyebrow reaches all the way to his hairline, lips curling mischievously. 

“Have you tried anything before? Bondage, blindfold, or whatever?” 

“Uh…not really,” you nervously chew your bottom lip, legs squeezing together. “I never really brought it up before and my ex, well, he didn’t seem to be that interested. He tried to finger me, well not really, just attempted to rub my clit from over…my underwear, it kinda hurt actually, hated it. It's fine when I do it but maybe I just don't like it when others do it. So I’m not sure if I’ll even like the things I think about,”  

“Sounds like an asshole,” 

Santi’s sudden change in demeanor takes you by surprise. He seems actually angry, but also, slightly surprised by your sudden burst of honesty. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. You didn’t want to overshare, or upset him. Before you can apologize he cuts you off. 

“We can try the things you’re curious about, we’ll start slow, obviously, and establish a safeword,” he looks you up and down. “Do you know what a safeword is?” 

“I do,” 

“Good girl,” 

Your heart skips a beat or two, a gasp parting your lips, you stare at him wide-eyed. He glows at your reaction, sucking in his bottom lip, he brings his perfect teeth on top of it. 

“You like that?” 

You nod. 

“Alright, I’ll let you pick the safeword,” 

“How about….” your eyes drag back to his feet. “Socks?” 

He snorts, and you grin, “Socks? You’re unbelievable, how about the word for slowing down?” 

“Curtain,” 

Turning his head, he looks at the dark red curtains you own, then shrugs. 

“Fine by me. Do you have any idea what you want to try?” 

“Not really…sorry,” 

“You don’t need to apologize,” his smile grows soft and it seems like he wants to reach out to you but decides against it at the last minute. “What is it that sparked your interest?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know– I guess the idea of someone taking care of me, having control and knowing what’s best for me. I just, don’t really want to think, if that makes sense–” 

“Loud and clear. I have a general idea of what you need, unless you have anything specific in mind?” 

When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you shake your head and he nods. 

“Okay then, we can get started, if you’re ready,” 

When he gets up and extends a hand, you’re sweating buckets, beads of perspiration coating your skin. You look up to see his calm expression, a soft smile and adoring eyes, you take the offered limb and lead him to the bedroom. 

Your stomach still churns with anxiety but as his fingers squeezes around yours, you know that he’s got you. 

“Strip and lay on the bed,” 

You didn’t expect the mood to change so suddenly. His harsh tone sends a shiver down your spine, wetness spreading between your legs. While he isn’t looking at you, Santi starts to unbutton his shirt, and when he notices you’re frozen with a slight tremor to your hands, he walks up to you and cups your cheeks. You lean into his touch, heart stammering as you close your eyes.  

His lips find yours. It’s tender, soft and when he licks your mouth for permission, you greedily open wide for him. A moan seeps into the kiss, taking the opportunity your open mouth provides, he licks your tongue, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Your heart swells. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, and it never felt like this. Santi pulls away, lips glistening and eyes full of understanding.

“Do you still want to do this?”

You breathe out, “Yes,” 

“What’s your safe word?” 

“Socks,” 

He can’t help the way a giggle rattles his chest, the melody reaching your ears. Leaning in, Santi playfully rubs his nose against yours. 

“Strip for me then,” he hums. “I need to rectify a wrong,” 

You want to ask what he means by that, but deciding that you’ll find out soon enough, you head to the bed, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake. Still feeling a bit self conscious, you leave your underwear and bra on. You also have an ulterior motive, you secretly want him to be the one to remove the last articles of clothing. You seem to get your message across. He licks his lips, left only in his boxer shorts, he crawls between your legs. 

You don’t know what to expect when he slides your underwear down your legs and throws it to the floor. You certainly don’t know what to expect when his mouth inches closer to your begging heat, wet and wanting. 

You’ll never forget the moment his tongue languidly slides between your folds. 

“Oh fuck–” 

Your back arches, mind and body confused, your fingers clutch the sheets. His lips close around your folds, tongue deep inside as his hands steady your thrashing. You barely hear him letting out a satisfied hum, the vibrations shooting a jolt of pleasure throughout your body. It’s mind numbing. Amazing. His tongue is pure sin, soft and velvety. You’re lowkey pissed this is the first time you’re feeling so good. Santi relentlessly mouths at your core, lapping up every ounce of slick that makes its way out of you. Your finger finds the back of his head, pulling at the soft curls. He parts for you and you whine, hips wiggling up as you beg for him to go on. 

Disapproving, Santi clicks his tongue. He peels your hand away from his head, and sends you a warnful gaze. 

“Behave,” 

“Y-Yes–” between your lustful haze you gasp out a word you don’t expect. “–Sir,” 

You have no idea where that came from but he doesn’t question it, instead, when you pull your hand back up to your hip, he breathes out a kiss into your inner thigh. He sucks in your clit and flicks his tongue, you let out a sharp exhale, eyes squeezing shut. It’s only been what, ten minutes? You’re about to cum all over him. 

He looks up at you with half lidded eyes, you feel him smiling as he flattens the wet muscle, dragging it around the sensitive bundle of nerves. However, nothing prepares you for his fingers. Your whole body jolts when he traces your entrance with two thick digits, playfully pushing only the tip in. Before you know it, your hand is buried deep in his hair once again. 

This time Santi yanks it away, and before you know it his face is hovering an inch above from yours, both your hands pinned above your head, his lips damp and swollen. You swallow upon seeing the annoyance lingering in his eyes, legs trembling with heat building between them. 

“Didn’t I just say to behave?” he snarls, pupils dilated. 

Something mischievous rolls in your gut, with a sudden surge of bravery, you challenge his angry gaze with your own. 

“So? What are you going to do about it?” 

It’s so minimal, the flare you see in his eyes, slightly widening. If you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it. 

“Don’t tempt me, cariño,” he leans closer, breath ghosting across your burning skin. “Are you sure you want to play this game?” 

A moment of pause. He’s giving you a moment to object, to use the safeword. You don’t. Instead, you wiggle your arms, trying to peel away from his iron grasp. His lips twist into a devious smirk, the tip of his tongue darting out to touch the edge of his teeth. 

“Alright, let’s play then,” 

The air is forcibly pushed out of your lungs when you find yourself flipped over to your stomach. His hands moving across your body, you find your knees tucked under your thighs, hands held behind your back. He shifts behind you, holding your wrists with one hand, he leans off of the bed and scoops something off the floor. You feel the soft fabric of his shirt wrapping around your wrists, keeping them completely in place. 

Santi’s chest is flushed against your back when he whispers in your ear. 

“Look at you, all nicely wrapped, the perfect present,” 

You struggle against the binds, a groan rattling in your chest as you figure you won’t be getting out of them anytime soon. With a huff, you bury your face into the pillows. 

“Not fair,” your voice comes muffled. “It’s not my fault if it feels good, it’s my first time,” 

He coos, and rubs the small of your back, “I know, baby. I know. And that’s precisely why I need you to stay put,” 

His sinful mouth finds you again. Slurps and groans fill the bedroom. You feel incredibly self conscious as he parts your cheeks but it all fades away with his tongue plunging deep into your core. With two fingers, he draws quick, small circles around your clit, making your body sing with pleasure. Turning your head, you attempt to breathe in a bit of oxygen, but all of it leaves you at the same time when you moan out his name, again and again and again. 

“Fuck– Fuck, Santi…” you whine, pushing into him. A warning growl rips from his throat. “S-Sorry it just feels,” you gasp. “It feels so good, I-I think I’m gonna actually cum,” 

Spit dribbles from the corners of your lips and wets the pillow underneath. You want to look at him, watch him eat you out like a starved man but you can’t. The fog lifts only for a moment when he stops, only to press his lips into you again, the bed begins to sway, only a bit, a rocking sensation if you will. You attempt to mouth out a question, but cry out instead. 

“Not yet,” he rasps into you, the rocking of the bed picks up. “Wait for me a bit more baby, just a bit more,” 

Wait for him? What– Wait– 

“Are you–” you’re cut off by your own moan caused by an especially harsh pinch on your abused clit. The pain makes you tingle with pleasure, eyes rolling back, you forget your question. You start to beg. “Please, sir, please let me cum– I need to cum, please please please,” 

“Hold it in,” 

The melodic tone of his voice only electrifies you. Tears build up in your eyes as your cunt flutters around him, slick dripping down your thighs. The pleasure buzzes in your ears, body screaming for you to cum, you’re trying to hold it back, you’re trying to be good, his good girl. Fuck– 

“Cum. Now.” 

Before you can even process the words, your body obeys. 

It’s blinding. Breath stopping. Your body tenses, cunt gushing around his tongue and fingers. Your arms forces against the binds made of his shirt, cloth digging into your skin as your body starts to spasm. Both of your moans mix together, composing the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard. Santi’s eccentric pace becomes slow, sensual. Tongue lazily lapping up everything you have to offer, he eases you down from the high of your ecstasy. You take heavy breaths, head spinning, You breathe out a languid moan, muscles still throbbing with the buzz of pleasure. 

Santi pulls away and you drop to the side, luckily you’re too gone to actually feel embarrassed from falling. You hear his low hum of a chuckle as he crawls closer to you, he unties his shirt from your wrists and gently kneads your biceps. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Y-Yeah,” 

You know that this is just service he provides, but you can’t help but reach out to him, he obliges with a smile and nestles between your arms, kissing your neck gently. A broken sigh falls from your damp lips, he huddles closer, body snug against your own. Mimicking him, you come closer too, your bare thigh grazing against his clothed cock. You still and he looks up to you, brows knitted together. His confusion grows when a grin spreads across your face. 

“Did you cum?” you ask, eyes bright and shiny. 

He clears his throat, lips curling up into an amused smile. Leaning in, he teases your earlobe with his tongue.  

“I might’ve,” 

“Never would have pegged you as someone to be this quick,” you tease, hand sliding between your bodies, you cup his cock, a subtle moan leaving you as you feel how wet he is. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s hot as hell,” 

“Don’t get cocky,” 

He crashes your lips together, large hands cupping your chest and pulling you even closer against the firm frame of his body. His fingers tease your nipples, rolling and pulling them. Your skin tingles, and you whine into the kiss, hips grinding against him. Santi’s lips never leave your own as he lifts himself and pulls you underneath. Your palm still snug against his length, you feel him hardening again. 

Surprised, you break the kiss, a heavy laughter trembling in your chest. With a wide smile, he grins. 

“Told you,” 

“You’re full of surprises,” 

“I am,” he stops for a moment, looking to the side, he looks back at you, seemingly unsure. “Do you want to continue? We can stop if you want to, or if you feel worn out, ” 

“Oh, I’m definitely good for round two,” you purr, brushing your lips against his. “Make me feel whole again,” 

“Fuck, alright– Let me go get a condom really quick,” 

Santi gets up and you realize that you haven’t had the time to properly observe his temple of a body. His back muscles flex as he dips down and grabs his pants, hurriedly searching the pockets for that colorful piece of packaging. The boxers he wears hugs his ass, leaving little imagination to the eye, you’re certain Santi would look good in everything, but right now you think he looks the best naked. He turns on his heel, his chest firm, a bit of fat around his belly but still defined. Eyes going lower, you see his fully erect cock, the darkened tip peeking out of his waistband. You bite the inside of your cheek as you inside clench around nothing, you can’t wait for him to fill you up. 

Before you know it, Santi’s between your legs again, rolling the condom down his impressive length. He’s so thick, thicker than you imagined he would be. Santi notices your gaze, lips playfully pulling up. 

“You think you can take me baby girl? Where’s that confidence from before?” 

“O-Oh…it’s still there just a bit,” you clear your throat. “Shocked,” 

“Word?” 

“Socks,” 

“Good girl,” 

Purring like a cat, you part your arms, allowing him to bury his face into the crook of your neck as he slants himself between your thighs. You adore feeling him this close, his warmth making your heart stutter. He nudges your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your whimpers spiral into moans and he drowns out the noises by claiming your lips. The stretch is addictive, the tingle of being spread wide by someone who knows what he’s doing makes your eyes roll back. Santi inhales you as he pulls back, eyes searching your face. You flutter around him, with the mere sensation of his cock, you grind your hips.

“You good?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Can I move?”

“Please, sir,” 

He growls into your skin, the vibration seeping into your body, it makes you tremble as well. When Santi starts to move, all you can do is hold on to him, nails biting into his skin as he slides in and out of you with precision. He breathes raggedly into your flesh, cock hitting your deepest parts with every thrust. You feel as if you can’t control your body, it arches, bends, curls but your brain is completely mush, only pleasure ringing inside. With your moans and whines growing in volume, Santi starts to slam his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin spurs you on further. You scream his name, breathing and panting curse words without knowing. Your heart swells, he makes you feel so good. His thrusts, deep, lasting. You can’t breathe, eyes squeezed shut as the bed rocks into the wall. Your cunt clenched around him, the coil inside you tightens, ready to burst but he’s still going. It feels like he can go on like this for hours. Fuck– 

You hug him tighter, if possible, teeth finding his shoulder, you bite into him. You don’t even know where you are anymore. All you can feel is him. His scent, his body, his sounds. Nothing else. 

“Fuck fuck– Santi– ‘Love you–” 

Your eyes shoot wide open, you see him staring at you, he doesn’t look mad, or weirded out. But still, the panic overwhelms the pleasure, you flail, tears quickly building in your eyes. 

“You love me?” he mutters, one eyebrow elegantly raised. 

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to– I didn’t–” 

Santi doesn’t slow down, in fact his hips speed up. He sees your glossy eyes and leans to kiss them both, you feel the throb of his cock, and another moan quickly replaces your frantic apologies. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, mouthing the words into your cheek. “It’s normal. Say whatever you want, it only means that I’m making you feel good. You’re not the only one,” 

Your heart feels like it might stop at any moment, “I’m not?” 

“No,” he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses as he dips between your breasts. He mouths against them, tongue playfully licking the salt of your skin. “So just let go,” 

And you do just that. 

Letting your head fall back, you revel at the way he draws a stiff nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around. Your chest heaves with his every shattering thrust, his hand slides between your wet bodies and finds your clit. He rolls the sensitive nub between his fingers. Hallowing his cheeks, he grazes his teeth around your nipple, you chant his name, a string of curses following right after. You have no idea what else you might be saying, you might’ve asked his hand in marriage at this point but you don’t care. You let go. You forget the shop, the insecurities, the loneliness and you just feel. 

It doesn’t take Santi long to wind you up, dangling you off the edge, the heat builds and builds, so much so that it feels like it’s burning. Something besides pleasure swells inside you, something’s coming, you bite back your moans, and slap his back. 

“What is it?” he pants, voice dripping with lust but still full of concern. “Do you want to use the safeword?” 

You furiously shake your head, your lips part with a gasp. 

“It’s– I’m going to cum but– It’s too much, I’m–” 

He presses his lips into your ear, you listen to his breathing, steady and slow, the slide of his cock and move of his fingers rips another groan from you. 

“Let go,” 

Your cunt gushes around him like it never has before, it’s more intense than the first time, it makes you cry, beg. The squelching becomes louder, you’re still coming. He sings a moan into your skin, your cunt throbs at the sound of his voice, it reminds you of the caramel you make. Santi’s movements slow, fast thrust shifting into soft rolls of his hips. Your breath hitches every time his pelvis grazes against your sensitive clit. He pulls you from your dazed state with a soft kiss, both hands coming to lay on each side of your face, thumbs stroking lovingly. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you inhale a deep breath. “Did…did you?” 

A soft chuckle vibrates across your lips, he nuzzles your nose. “I did,” 

You fight the urge to call him back when he pulls away, you haven’t realized how secure you felt under his weight. However, you really need to initiate a war against your inner demons when he lifts himself off of the bed. Carefully removing the condom, he ties the end into a knot and turns to you. 

“Bathroom?” 

“First door on the left,” 

You lay back down as he leaves, hands and arms sprawled above the sheets. Your mind begins to clear, kind of, closing your eyes you can still feel how he felt plowing into you. The fact this is a service is both a pro and a con. A con, because he can’t stay. A pro, because you can call him and ask him over anytime you want to. Well, not really. Maybe once a month, all your money goes to the shop and rent, you wouldn’t be able to hire him. 

You’re surprised at his return, his right hand holding a wet washcloth and the other holding a glass of water. The bed dips under his weight and he grins at your confusion, the towel gently cleaning the mess between your legs. 

“What? Did you think I just left?” 

“I didn’t,” he gives you a look of disbelief and you giggle. “I didn’t really!” 

“Good,” his eyes scan your body, observing every patch of skin. “Does anywhere particularly hurt? Aches?” 

“No,” 

“How do you feel? Mentally?” 

“That’s good too, feel very light,” 

You don’t miss the way he hisses out a breath of relief, “Great,” he checks the watch you hadn’t realized he’s been wearing. “We still have ten minutes,” 

Suddenly you can hear the imaginary clock ticking, maybe you weren’t alright after all. 

“Cuddle?” 

His smile is wide, kind, soft. You swear you melt into the sheets. Letting the used towel fall to the floor, he lays next to you and pulls you into his chest. You listen to his heartbeat, steady, safe. 

“And you thought that you wouldn’t like it when others did it,” he chimes gleefully, quoting you when you opened up about your bad experience with your ex. “It looked like you enjoyed my fingers just fine,” 

The soft baritone of his voice soothes you, your eyes flutter close, a pleased hum parting from your lips. 

“I did,” you smile into his chest. “Thank you, this was just what I needed,” 

“It was my pleasure, cariño. Literally.” 

The last thing you feel is his hand slowly dragging across your body, fingers rubbing your worn out wrists. 

Best money you’ve ever spent. 

a/n: to be notified of future work follow @psychedeliclibrary and turn on notifs 💕

[phenomenalgirl9]

Elder Vampire! Seokjin x Newborn Vampire! Reader: Blood is Red

&lt;;- Previous / Next ->

Part ii

A/n: You need to read the first part before you read this. Idk how this is, its short though. Hope its going good.

(In this AU just the bute doesn't change you, it kills you untill you are provided the blood of an pure blood vampire within a certain time to get turned... my au my rules 😛) There are gonna be mentions of blood and almost death so read with caution.

Summary: Namu clan has always been very strict and secretive as to whom they let into their clan. And go strictly by the rules of the Vampire Community as to never put a threat to their identity. What happens when Jimin finds a girl on the verge of death in an abandoned street.

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"Take this" You noticed Seokjin giving you a box "This is your new calling device, what do you call it.. um.. a Felltone?"

You smiled and said "You mean a Cell phone?"

"Ah yes" he said sitting beside you "How do you feel?"

"I feel..." You trailed off thinking if you should really tell him. Then again, you did feel comfort in Him "I don't really know how to feel Seokjin"

"Jin" he said

"What?"

"Call me Jin instead of Seokjin all the time" he said smiling "and its okay to feel confused but you can talk to me or the boys anytime okay? Isn't it time for your weaponry training?"

"Yeah. Thanks" you said.

"So which weapon do you thing you can master?"

"I feel comfortable with swords. Did fencing when I was very small." You said

"Thats also happens to be my speciality" Jin said.

"Wow then I'll have to fight you to see" you said smirking.

"Are you challenging me?" He asked

"What if I am?" You winked and walked to the training areas.

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

"Do you miss anyone?" Jimin asked.

"I miss my friends Hosu and Ciel, we were in the same orphanage after my parents died. I worked at a cafe but I'm sure the owner thinks I'm dead, which I technically am" you said shrugging.

"Hey! We aren't dead! Well technically but still!" Jungkook said sitting on the rails infront of you.

You both laughed at the bunny boy. These moments that you spend with them after training has become a routine now. They always tried their best to make you feel welcomed, all of them did for the past 2 weeks. You also learnt various new things about the people here.

You learnt that the vampires live in small groups under the clans. Every clan has different leaders and rules but a few basic rules are always maintained that are a few Lords somewhere in Rome. You've also learnt that vampires are not actually different beings but just humans with a bit different condition. Namjoon took a good hour to explain that being a vampire is not being immortal, but extra mortal, the body gets heightened abilities, more durability and the aging process goes very slow, but the body systems are still working and thus the need to feed on blood comes to keep the body healthy. And also so that one doesn't attack random people. A newborn nedd more often feeding, but as time goes the gap between 2 feeds can be prolonged. You've been feeding from blood bags warmed in the microwave every other day.

You've learnt that the one which you're in is the Bangtan house and here resides the Clan leader of the Namu clan, the one which all these people belong to and you too. And there are more houses belonging to this clan around the country. And there are other clans as well. Yes, the clan leader of the Namu Clan is Kim Seokjin.

You also learnt even though he looks young, Jungkook as actually one of the oldest turned Vampire, followed by Namjoon and then Taehyung. Then their were the ones like Jin, Jimin and Jihyo who were born vampire.

You had been better at using your heightened senses, being able to detect things from far.

"Hi Tae" you said as Tae appeared.

"Ah! You detected me! I was so fast!" He said

"I told you my senses were good even for a normal human" you said shrugging.

"Okay. But Jin hyung is calling you downstairs" he said. On hearing the name you felt like their were butterflies in your stomach that your slow heart beat faster, and so many more. Why? You don't know.

"Okay" you said and skipped downstairs.

"Hey Jin" you said, he was in the kitchen, that's when you realised, it was the dine in night of the house and all the members of the house are supposed to be present at dinner tonight.

"Hey! Yn-ah" he said, his voice sounding like music to your ears.

Suddenly you saw something that left you. "J-J-Jin! Garlics!!!! What are you doing!" You shouted.

"Yeah? How else am I gonna make Jjajangmyeon?" He said surprised.

"But! But! Isn't garlic bad for vampires?" You said. And as soon as the words left your mouth Jin burst out in laughter.

"You... Belive.... That?!" He managed to say and laughed again. Strangely, his laughed sounded like the sound of windscreen wiper of your old car.

All of a sudden, you hear a loud sound, you saw Taehyung, Jihyo and Namjoon run in

"We-we're under attack!" Jihyo said.

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&lt;;- Previous | Part ii | Next ->

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