#at least the staff here are masked up. thank god for that

[naomiknight-17]

Sitting in a waiting room with Mom cuz she has a doc's appointment

There's a sign on the door saying masks are STRONGLY encouraged

Only Mom and I are wearing masks

There are over a dozen people waiting

The fact that I haven't massacred the whole room is a testament to my incredible self-control

[privategurlsblog]

Expect Nothing At All - A.T

Not suitable for minors. 18+

Warnings: smut. public. piv. oral (m receiving).

PLOT: Y/N has lost her lust for life. Luckily it reforms in the shape of a confident, witty man she meets in a bar.

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

You were sat at the bar, drowning your sorrows with a double vodka lemonade and a cigarette. You'd have loved it in here twenty-four hours ago. People were dancing around, the blue led lights making them all look interesting despite the fact they probably weren't. You loved when coloured lights masked flaws that normal lights couldn't, you thought it was like breaking the fourth wall and being in some interesting TV show. It had gone two in the morning, the only reason you remained here was because you had nowhere else to go and so the excitement of the place had faded sometime around midnight.

You felt as solemn as you probably looked with your chin resting in your hand and your legs lazily kicking the bar. You were the only person sidled up to it on a stool, everybody else was dancing, drinking, having fun. At least you've got one of those things down to a T, you think, as you knock back the rest of your drink and hail down the bartender for another.

You loved Germany, you always had. When you were younger you went there on a school trip to Berlin and you'd fallen in love with the greyness, with the old buildings, the history. When you and your boyfriend, now ex boyfriend, had been planning travelling around Europe, you'd insisted on spending an entire week travelling the country.

Your lips upturned and then fell just as quick as the bittersweet memory of your late night Duolingo sessions to learn the language plagued you. Once a fond memory, now tasteless. Thank God for the new drink slammed in front of you.

"Easy there love, you might find yourself drunk."

You heard an English accent, northern to be specific - but you weren't familiar enough with that part of the country to know exactly where. You'd travelled a lot, but admittedly, not in your home country. Everything was too close, everything was too personal. You loved escaping. You could never escape there.

As you looked round to the source, you caught sight of a bloke with a smarmy smile and wild bouncy hair. He looked familiar but you couldn't place him for he was right - you were getting drunk. You squinted at him, the lights didn't offer much in terms of his appearance - like you'd said, he could have no teeth and eight cigarette burns adorning his cheeks and they'd disguise it somehow.

But at least he smelt good - old spice. You recognised it because your father had always worn it, you liked the smell for nostalgia, for anything else it served no purpose.

"Maybe I want to be drunk," you replied. You'd probably cringe at the slur in your voice, at how bored you sounded despite it, if it wasn't for the fact you were too miserable to care. His lips upturned to a little smirk, eyes sparkling with amusement. You didn't fancy being mocked, so you looked away.

"Perfect place to do it then," he said, his own hand waving out toward the bartender. He ordered something, you couldn't hear what, you didn't care to. As the staff member sauntered off to comply to his request, his attention returned to you.

"You look like you've just been broken up with."

This irks you. Your blood boils as well as your cheeks, you don't grant him your gaze before scoffing. Does he have to be right? The fact you're emitting those vibes is enough to down the other half of your drink. You don't care if you stumble around the streets like a mad woman singing Oasis or something - it's not like you've got anywhere else to be.

"I'll take that as confirmation then."

"How about you take it as fucking off?" You sneer in return. You don't want to rise up to it but at the end of the day you're drunk, pissed off and yeah....recently single. You look around to him, the leather jacket and expensive shirt beneath it speaks for itself. He looks young when casted by the light but dresses like a Grandad. Whoever told him that was attractive?

"Nah, I reckon I won't. If I leave and she brings my drink, it'll be gone in a second with you around."

Okay, so that was funny. You spare a little chuckle and his smile grows wider. You shake your head, letting your lips fall back into their thin line, repressing them to the misery inside your head. Whoever said smiling makes you happier was lying, to you it feels like an Olympic sport right now, you definitely don't feel better for it.

"You're good looking," he leans in further, his voice taking a flirty approach now rather than the lighthearted, slightly drunken teasing it was before. You can't tell whether he's drunk or just northern, you settle for both, but he's nonsensical to you. His words process in your mind for a few seconds and in that time, the bartender returns.

"Thanks."

"Don't want to have a gander at me then?" He retorts, making no move to leave. He angles his body so he's facing you, finger rimming the cup of some kind of liquor. Two cubes of perfectly shaped ice sit in the middle of the glass. It looks expensive, he looks expensive. You briefly wonder if he thinks you're some kind of whore, waiting for someone to pay to have their way.

"I've seen you. You're alright. But you dress like an old man."

He chuckles, "so I'm told. What's wrong with being a little classical?"

"You'll be sorry when you're old and that's all you can wear," you clap back and he laughs again, throwing his head back, brown waves bouncing as his body rumbles. Maybe it's the alcohol making him more giggly, but either way your ego is dragging itself off the floor. Not strong enough to stand on two feet, but maybe at least strong enough to sit on its arse.

"So you don't wanna fuck in the bathroom then?"

You raise your eyebrows, his forwardness throwing you off. You eye him warily now, embarrassingly so - enough for him to probably think you are interested.

"I don't even know your name."

"Alex."

"I don't know your....you could be like eighty for all I know," you're searching for excuses that aren't necessary. A simple 'no' would've sufficed but admittedly, you're enjoying the banter.

"Thirty-seven."

"Still old."

"How old are you then?"

"Younger than you."

"It would be helpful if you disclosed," his voice becomes a little rougher after he knocks back his drink, you assume from the burn of it. It reminds you to order another.

Alex ends up joining in on your order, pulling free a card that you can tell only rich people get. American Express. Good for him. Your little bog standard bank card works wonders. But each to their own successes, right?

"Twenty-three."

"Hm, young but old enough."

"For what?"

"A shag."

You scoff, shaking your head though your smile is growing more and more by the second. You look around to him, finally granting him some of your time by angling your body towards him.

"I'm not an escort."

"Did I suggest you were?" He wonders.

"No but you paid for my drink and offered to fuck me in the bathroom," you point out. He laughs again, it's higher pitched than his voice and seems to echo off the walls despite the techno music vibrating through them.

"Simple courtesy for a sad looking girl."

"Hm, so you're a slut?"

"Just interested."

"Well uninterest yourself. I'm done with men," you wave off, Alex doesn't seem detered just settles with a small smile.

"How old was your boyfriend?"

"Same as me," you grunt, not gauging why that's relevant.

"That means you're done with boys - not men," Alex retorts. You quirk a brow, you have to admit he's piqued your interest. You've never been approached like this before, you were with your ex for eight years - started off on a school trip to Germany and ended in the depths of Germany. The irony.

"That would make me just a girl," you fire back.

You'd crossed a leg over the other, leant in a little more. You hadn't realised it yet but you were flirting back, playing into his fantasy the more drinks that plagued you and the more interested you got. Alex's lips remained upturned with that teasing smirk as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. Even the lights couldn't disguise the darkness of his gaze, the brown of his eyes. Though in this setting, you couldn't tell if his eyes were naturally massive or he was on something.

"I reckon there's a whole lot of woman under that dress," he gestured to your outfit. It was the anniversary dress you'd bought for the occasion that had since passed. You wore it almost like a punishment, a reminder to yourself that you weren't good enough, no matter how good you looked. You glanced down at it now, it was blood red and ribbed and showed off a lot of your cleavage, to which Alex's eyes were driven to.

"You're not much of a gentlemen, are you?"

"I can be, when the time is right."

"Give me a nice line then," now it was you circling your finger around the rim of your glass, your feet tapping along to the beat. Momentarily, your sadness had faded and been replaced with playfulness. If nothing came of this, at least you'd smiled for twenty minutes of the day. It's the small things, right?

"Hello darling," he started, moving closer to you as a flurry of girls approached the bar, loud mouthed and squishing up against him. They all looked good but he paid them no mind, eyes driven to you, "couldn't help but notice you over here looking all sad. Fancy a pick me up?"

You snorted a laugh, "that's shite."

"You put me on the spot," he holds his hands up but melts into a puddle of giggles soon after that you can't help but join in with.

"You know I was with him for eight years. I've literally had sex with one person my whole life," you say this to allude to the fact that you likely aren't good at it. Alex doesn't seem to care, though he does raise his eyebrows.

"Eight years at twenty-three? What a waste of time," he knocks back his drink, sliding the glass to the other side of the bar and he doesn't seem to care for ordering another.

"Tell me about it," you grumble, the depression returning in full force.

"Why don't you let me fuck you then? Can show you what you've been missing," Alex drawls. He's so close to you now that you can smell the mint off his breath, mixing with the whiskey and a faint hint of smoke. You can feel the heat of his body protruding over you, glancing down to his crotch without thinking much about it. It doesn't give much away, his trousers are loose, held together by a thin belt. They're very Sinatra like, you think. But you don't say that. Now isn't the time to discuss interests - clearly.

"How big is your cock?" You quirk a brow.

Alex laughs, "big enough."

"If it's under six, tell me now."

"Six? Your expectations are a bit low love," he smirks.

"Hm, you gonna exceed them?" You flirt, watching his gaze resolve from humour into something darker. The sparks fly between you both and charge the air with electricity. It's probably been charged all night but you'd been sat flat, now you felt it too.

"If you'll let me," he shrugs, acting nonchalant for the first time this evening.

"Hm."

You swing your legs over the stool, draining the liquid in your cup, mainly for confidence. You don't feel too plastered, you're making sense and you know what you're doing. Perhaps the sadness has driven you to madness because it isn't something you'd usually do. Alex seems baffled, his mouth hanging a little low and his brows raised. Fear crosses his eyes and it's clear he thinks you're abandoning him. But you bend a finger and gesture towards the bathrooms and it's soon replaced with shock instead.

"You're actually going to fuck me?”

"Maybe," you shrug, leading the way. He chases you like an eager puppy. The crowd parts for you and you're pleased with yourself; the sad, timid girl from at the bar is merely a pastime. Now you felt enlightened with flirtation, you were desperate to prove to yourself you had one ounce of fun left in your body and it was working in this sordid place.

You reach the toilets, they're gender neutral and seedy looking. A man stands in the corner with a tray of perfumes he's selling, he's busy pitching to two girls endorsing it for the hell of it - you're busy ducking into a cubicle that Alex follows you into.

He locks the door behind you, now the yellow low lights gave you more insight into what he looked like.

"Why do I feel like I've seen you before?" You wonder, letting your gaze trail over his sharp jawline, dark brown eyes, sharp edged nose. He's good looking, you have to admit. Definitely a full set of teeth and no cigarette burns on the face - so a plus, if anyone were to ask you.

"I'm in a band," Alex moved you so that you were the one with your back to the door. The toilet lingered in the background, a harrowing reminder of this dirty endeavour but you tried to keep your eyes on his face so you didn't have to think about it.

Days old stubble dotted his chin and face. He clearly struggled to grow a beard. In the light his hair looked even more unkempt.

"So? I don't know every band in the world. You'll have to be more specific."

You were bratty and that thrilled him. You could see it in the way his eyes lit up everytime you threw a comment at him, the smile on his lips growing. Momentarily it wasn't flirty, instead a bit boyish. He looked cute, you had the urge to pinch his cheeks but figured that might kill the mood.

He leaned into you, one palm landing against the cubicle door, the other taking place on your hip. You bristled at the touch, it made you painfully aware of what you were doing. But you weren't uncomfortable. Isn't this what single people did all the time? You'd have to get used to it if you ever wanted to fuck.

"What if I tell you and you faint?" He murmers, now his eyes stick to your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own, swelling in the anticipation of a taste of you.

"So you are the long lost member of one direction then?" You gasp, feigning an excitement that makes Alex chuckle, endeared by your wit.

"You caught me."

"I'm not going to faint Alex, you're hardly Liam Gallagher."

"Disappointed?" He wonders and you shrug, you move your hands under your bum against the door, levitating your hips upwards to meet his. The slight grind makes your breath hitch and his smirk grow. You're feeding into his ego but he's picking yours back up - it's transactional at best.

"Maybe. I do fancy him."

"Aren't you a bit young for him?"

"I'm a bit young for you, but here we are," you retort and he chuckles. Moving his body now so it's flush against yours, his lips a mere pucker of the lips away but you let the tension build, seeing it in his shoulders, feeling it in the eager fingertips he has grazing your thigh over your dress.

"Arctic Monkeys."

"Yeah, what about them?" Your voice fell shaky now, his head had dipped and his breath fell against your neck. Goosebumps littered your skin, heat endorsed you.

"That's my band."

"Bullshit," you called out, "I know who they are. Didn't they write that track that's all over TikTok?"

"Don't start with that," he groaned, pressing his hips further to you.

"What? Sad your rock band has reduced to the mundane hm?"

"That's life sweetheart. It moves faster than you do."

"Maybe you really are Alex Turner, you sound like him."

"So you know who I am?" He wonders.

"You're not him. You can't be," you gawp, "he has slicked back hair and screams 'I'll bend you over'!"

"Okay, what's this version of me telling you then?" He speaks against your neck, the hairs standing to attention under his lips. He leaves a chaste kiss there and you embarrassingly moan out.

"You stopped listening to Elvis and started listening to Sinatra," you joked and he chuckled against your neck.

He pulled away, his gaze piercing into you. One of his palms moved to squeeze your neck, your throat bobbing as you swallowed. The pit between your thighs began to ache the more he looked at you, hungry eyes devouring you in his mind.

"I really am him, you know. In case you wanted bragging rights."

"What makes you think anyone gives a fuck?" You clap back. You hadn't known this was him, the version that stayed in your mind was that LA based rockstar who went out with that tall girl from Love Island. This man seemed far removed from that image. You didn't care either way, you just wanted him to fuck you.

Your legs spread involuntarily, his body sunk deeper into the curve of you, his crotch giving away his arousal even though you'd barely done anything.

"I like you," his lips upturn again, soft laughter lines forming at the sides of his mouth. He doesn't look old, but he's older than you. You're desperate to know if it makes a difference. You grind your leg subtly against his crotch, hearing his breath hitch.

"Ready to fuck or do you fancy obliterating me anymore?" Alex clasps your waist, he's holding back, you can see it. He doesn't care for the conversation now so you shrug.

"Have your way with me," you answer, coaxing a glint in his eye.

His head dips to kiss you, his lips warm and sweet from the liquor. You've never kissed anyone but your ex, but this is different. Alex is firm, he starts off slow but that lasts all of one second before his tongue swipes the seam of your lips, his fingers moving to pull your dress up over your hips.

You feel reckless, for once as young as you are. You find comfort in the fact there won't be a proposal you're waiting for, there won't be an expectation for him to cuddle you after. You're both in here for one thing, both expecting nothing at all.

"Hm, what a nice arse," he drawls, his palm softly caressing the supple flesh before you feel the sting and hear the sound of his palm slapping against it. He watches it jiggle, emerged in the moment. You look around expectantly.

"You want this yeah? Don't feel too drunk or anything?" He confirms, moving his digits over the damp of your panties. Admittedly, you were wet. How couldn't you be with his teasing? And he was hot, you had to admit. The lights had confirmed it and you had all but gushed then and there.

"If I didn't want it, I'd probably kick you in the bollocks."

He laughed again, and then swiftly pulled your panties down. There's no time for foreplay, you hear the zipper of his trousers before the sound of them hitting the floor, belt clanking against the linen. It's probably dirty, but he doesn't seem to care.

His hands caress your waist, thumbs spinning a slow motion against your sensitive skin. Then he angles your hips upwards, you clasp the door tight hoping your heels will hold you up throughout whatever might happen.

"Ready?"

"Mhm."

"Right I'm gonna fuck you now. You're definitely wet enough," he chuckles, his palm reaching round to clasp the front of your neck again and angles your head to the side to look at him.

"Don't flatter yourself," your shaky voice gives you away. Alex's eyes glint with amusement before he enters you in one swift motion.

"Fuck!" You gasp, the searing pain unexpected. Your eyes squeeze shut and Alex halts inside of you as you try to relax, but your pussy is clamping him tight, telling him off for the sudden intrusion by refusing to let him go. Alex groans, his head resting on your shoulder.

"You're very tight," he announces in your ear, you clench again just to tease him and his grip on your neck tightens.

"You're very big. Guess not all men are liars."

"Tell me when to move, I don't want to hurt you."

For the first time, he sounds genuine. For the first time, your romantic heart flutters. You berate yourself for it, nearly growling at how you make everything into something it isn't. You'd worn rose coloured glasses for eight years, now wasn't the time for making it cute.

"No," you gruffly speak, "fuck me. As hard as you want. Fast as you want. I want to feel defied by you."

Alex groans, the shock even present in his call of pleasure. He twitches inside of you, liking the idea of having control.

"However I want?"

"Yes. Whatever you want Alex."

His name falling off your lips made his resolve snap. He pulled out all the way, shoving himself back into you with twice the drive. You gasped at the burn, the stretch. But the pleasure simmered beneath, you knew you could wait it out.

Alex grunted in your ear as your tight heat enveloped him, the wetness squelching and tainting the air with the sounds of your passions. Neither of you cared who heard, in the very depths of Germany, what did it matter?

His hips snapped against yours and your walls fluttered at the feel of the ridges and veins of his cock. Your head fell against the door, your moans proceeding your thoughts as they empty into nothing but him.

Alex was equally affected, something you appreciated. You shouldn't compare but when there's only one other comparison, it's hard to blur out the thoughts. But your ex was a silent lover and had you wondering half the time whether he enjoyed it or it was just monotonous after the first few years. Alex, however, made his pleasure evident in his deep groans and harsh breath in your ear.

"Fuck," he grunted, "your cunt is perfect."

You whined at that, your wit momentarily halted. Your head clouded in pleasure, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of him pushing in and out of you. He only seems to go harder and faster with each thrust. His hands reach around your body, searching for your chest, he roughly pulls down the top of your dress.

You were braless underneath, it was the sort of dress the straps would show if you wore one. Alex seemed to appreciate that, humming at the bareness of you before cupping them in his hands. His touch was rough, demanding your body to respond to his attention. The rough pads of his thumbs swiped over your sensitive nipples that had hardened with your arousal, pinching them between his thumbs and forefingers, twisting and tugging enough to have you mewling.

"Perfect tits as well. What's the likelihood of finding such a class bird in this place hm?" Alex dotes, his assault on your nipples lessening in light of his hand trailing down your front. He's not once stopped his movements, his stamina impressing you, though you don't have the charm to tell him that with your head pressed against the cubicle wall and your mouth full of drool.

His nails scratched your skin lightly, making you buck back into him and him groan. One of his hands moves to your shoulder so he can pull you back against him, the new angle making him hit a spot previously unattended.

"Oh fuck!" You mumble, the pleasure exploding like sparks in your stomach. You feel so close from barely anything, he hasn't even touched your clit yet, though he's making his way there now - teasingly of course.

"Hm hit your spot have I?" Alex chuckles, his lips trail fire up your neck, a cool trail of spit left in his wake. He licks a trail from your neck to your ear, biting down on your earlobe, you shiver, bucking against him again.

Angling your jaw towards him, his head hovers over yours, eyes brimming with lust, beads of sweat forming from the intensity. He looks even better like this, raw and flushed red, all the teasing faded into something far more sordid.

"Open wide darling," he ordered. You didn't understand what he meant but opened your mouth nonetheless, "stick that tongue out," once again, you complied, watching as he puckered his lips. Your cunt clamped around him as the string of spit from his lips released into your open mouth, a gurgled moan releasing from your throat at the dirtiness of it. You'd just met him and now he was spitting in your mouth? It was filthy - you found yourself loving it.

Alex pulled out of you swiftly with a gruff noise falling from his lips. He tapped the back of your thighs and you jumped up, barely present with how much pleasure clouded your mind. The intoxicating heat of him surrounded you, making the cubicle feel even smaller, even more intimate than it already was. He barely had room to move and yet he was still managing to make you feel this good.

He entered you again swiftly, hands clamped over your arse as he pushed you down on his cock. Your head crashed against the door, your neck and nape flushed a deep red and covered with sweat. You felt in a blissful haven like this, the ridges and contours of him scraping your sensitive walls. You were so close now, Alex could tell.

"Touch yourself. Use your fingers for me," he demands, forcing your eyes open. Your shaky hand left his shoulder to find your clit, rubbing tight circles on it immediately. Alex looked at your movements, his cock twitching at the sight, your painted nails matched your dress, your slender fingers so little compared to his but you were clamping down on him nonetheless.

"Look at me," one of his hands left your arse to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to fall on him. Your mouth fell ajar, silence replacing your moans as the pleasure became too overwhelming for any noise, "I want you to cum around my cock darling. Come on now."

You lost it. The intense feeling of your hand on your clit, the fullness of him buried deep inside you, his consistent hard thrusts hitting that same spot he striked that you never found in yourself - it became too much. Your pussy tightened, you gushed around him and your body convulsed from the sensation. You'd never felt anything like it, wave after wave of pleasure that lasted far longer than you'd ever felt before.

Your hair stuck to your skin, sweat slicked body sticking to the vinyl of the door. Alex smirked, pleased and equally aroused by your orgasm.

"You've never had one of those, have you?"

"Yeah....just....not like that," you struggled through your deep breaths. Alex chuckles, softly bucking into you still, still hard as a rock. You wanted to make him feel as good as he did you.

"Want me to suck your cock?"

"Not opposed," Alex shrugged, a smirk growing on his lips. Your legs were shaky as he let you down, you crumbled to your knees but figured that's where you should be anyway. The stickiness of the toilet floor was lost in your mind. You were probably knelt in remnants of piss and spilt drinks but you didn't care.

Finally, you saw his cock in all its glory. It was hard, throbbing, glistening with your wetness. You salivated at the sight of it, so big and ready for you. Alex twined his fingers into your hair and nudged you forward. You got the message, taking him into your mouth all the way, even if you did splutter, you kept at it.

Alex moans, his hands smacking against the door as he leant over you. He let you control your movements for now, your swirling tongue and hot mouth felt good, it wasn't quite your pussy but it was good all the same.

"Fuck that feels good. You telling me you've only sucked one cock?" Alex wonders, you gaze up at him through your watery lashes, giggling around him. He smiled at the cuteness of it all, running his hand through your hair until his head threw itself back when you swirled your tongue over his tip.

"God that feels good," he bucks his hips into your mouth now, patience wearing thin as he began to twitch and throb, his impending release imminent.

"Mmmmm," the vibrations of your mouth sent him spiralling. He looked at you with desperation, for what he didn't know, you were already giving him your all. Perhaps for permission. You glanced at him with eyes full of lust, another moan leaving your lips at the sight of his parted ones, flushed cheeks, sweaty hair falling over his forehead.

He came without warning. He twitched once at the back of your tight throat, and then he thrusted deep as his cum started spurting into you. His hand pulled harshly at your hair, hisses and expletives leaving his lips as his hips kept jolting, his release still spilling into you.

Eventually he stilled, his chest heaving, hand pulling through his own hair now. His eyes had glazed over, like icing on top of a bun and he looked content as he helped you off your knees, pulling your skirt down and the top of your dress up to cover you.

"That was good," you say, the release burning your throat making your voice croaky. You swallowed, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. Alex looked at you in amusement.

"Good is an insult in this day and age."

"Magnificent?"

"Overdoing it," he mused.

"Oh well, can't please 'em all," you cracked and he laughed, sorting himself out.

Now that the tension had been broken, you both stood there a little unsure. He was probably far more used to this than you, you had no idea what to do.

"That's it then. Guess we've fucked."

"Hmm, reckon so," he shrugs, still teasing you. You rolled your eyes, left the bathroom and avoided looking at the perfume man as you fixed your hair and makeup. Suddenly, your future became clearer as you stared at your reflection. You were free.

Your perspective had changed. You could do whatever you wanted. You could walk out of toilet stalls with a burn between your legs, you could have messy hair and makeup smeared across your lips. No one would question you. You could do whatever the fuck you wanted.

The relief surged through you, replacing the sadness. You'd wasted eight years of your life, were you fuck going to waste anymore. The bleak future brightened up, imagining various nights of fun, random events, random meetings with random people.

It was probably momentary. Your reality was far worse, you had to find a place to live, decide whether to keep travelling, you didn't even have a job. But in light of this evening, you felt okay, even if just for a moment. That was a win.

Alex exited the toilet with an equally relieved half smile, still carrying that lazy post orgasmic look. You smiled at him in the mirror, clicking the end of your lipstick tube back on with a cheeky grin.

"Never got your name," Alex whispered as he came up next to you, pumping some soap into his hands.

"Does it matter?" You shrug, the new version of you squealing in excitement at his nonchalant you sound.

"Does it not?" He quirked a brow.

"No, I don't think so," you wiped your hands with a paper towel, swinging your bag onto your shoulder, "I expect nothing at all from you."

Alex smiled, his relief flowing the same way that yours was. You'd both needed a fuck and now it was over. You'd never see him again, but you'd always remember him. And him you, the nameless sad-turned-seductress girl sinking double vodka lemonades at the bar - drowning her sorrows.

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

A/N: barely edited (lazy at the moment 🙂‍↕️). I liked this one considering I started it at 4am. Enjoy x

(If anyone has any ideas - please chuck them my way. I love to write.)

[caesariawritesstuff]

Be Quiet

Summary: As Jonathan Crane's therapist, you're required to have weekly sessions with him. Good thing for you that those sessions involve more than talking.

Content Warning: Therapy Sessions, P in V Sex, NSFW

Word Count: 2.2k

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ● Masterlist ●

You walked the halls of Arkham, a clipboard tucked tightly to your chest. Your heart hammered furiously against your ribcage, and you bit your lip. Anxiety twisted in your belly, a desperate ache pulsed in between your legs. The Arkham guard escorting you was completely clueless to the utter desire coursing through your veins. You snuck a quick glance, studying him head to toe: he was dressed in the traditional black and blue uniform of all the Arkham security staff; his expression was stoic, and one hand wrested at his side, near his taser.

You frowned; Here you were, dressed in a short skirt and blouse, a long, white doctors coat hanging down to your knees. As a therapist in Arkham, you never thought you’d be in the position you were in now: falling in love with your patient, Jonathan Crane.

God, just the thought both filled you with arousal and shame. Who did you think you were? Harley Quinn? And everyone knew what happened to her. Her fall from grace as she became the Joker’s sidekick and lover. At first, you’d judged her. Didn’t understand how she could fall for such a maniac. At least, not until you began your sessions with Jonathon almost three months ago.

And in those three months, you’d come to learn just exactly how a therapist in Arkham could fall in love with their patient. At first, your sessions with Jonathan had been less than productive. He danced around the idea of fear, spouting his theories and philosophies on the very basis that people did what they did because they were driven by fear. And you were desperate to prove him wrong. To show that he was incorrect. That people didn’t always do things out of fear, and for other reasons entirely – money, lust, power. Fear wasn’t a motivator for everyone.

And yet, he always had a counter.

“You crave money because you fear what it’d be like to live without,” he’d said. “You crave sex because you fear a life without intimacy. You want power because you fear losing control of your life and the people in it.”

Each time, his conversations had not only left you speechless, but wondering what you could do to get through to him. And slowly, over time, you began to fall in love with Jonathan Crane.

You’re not even sure how it happened, exactly. Not sure how, as he slowly opened up about more of his theories, he had come to ensnare you under his spell. But he had, and now here you were: heading into another therapy session with him, one that wouldn’t actually consist of much therapy at all. You sucked in a breath as you reached the room, where Jonathan awaited. The guard unlocked and opened the door, staring at you with stern, serious eyes.

“Thank you. You may go now,” you said. Your cue that he didn’t need to stand there and listen in. The guards knew your rule by now: their presence was unwanted and unnecessary, and only served to upset the patients. But, he nodded and waited until you were securely inside before he closed the door behind you.

It shut with a heavy bang, and you slowly turned your attention to Jonathan, sitting there at the desk. Wrapped in a straitjacket, his cold, steely eyes studying you. His mask-like face was unreadable and unrelenting. You were never sure what he was thinking. The room was cold, sending a chill across your flesh. You waited until you heard the guards’ footsteps drift down the hall and out of ear shot. When you were certain he was gone, you didn’t hesitate to walk around Jonathan and begin undoing his straight jacket. It was custom now, between the two of you. And he hated having his limbs confined and restrained. When it was off enough for him to slip his arms through, he flexed his fingers and rolled his neck.

“Better?” you asked, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Much,” he answered, his voice cold. Emotionless.

You wandered back to his front. The straitjacket hung off just enough at his waist that in case you needed to quickly secure it, you had easy access. But your hands were trembling, and you clenched your fists at your sides, trying not to show your fear. Heat crept across your cheeks, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

He noticed, his eyes dropping to your fists. “Trembling already. You’re not afraid, are you?”

“No,” you answered quickly. Perhaps too quick. Like a child pretending they were confident in their own emotions.

He studied you, his eyes examining every inch of you. Today, you’d chosen an especially short skirt and more revealing blouse that exposed even more of your cleavage. Your intentions were fully on display: what you wanted. What you wanted him to do to you. Jonathan Crane was not a stupid man, and the very subtle hint of a smirk appeared on his mask-like face. He rested one hand on your waist, and the other snaked up to grab your chin. You gasped as he pulled you on top of him so quickly that you had no choice but to straddle him. You rested both hands on his shoulders, locking eyes with him.

“I can practically smell your fear,” he whispered lowly, bringing your mouth to his. He kissed you gentle – but his lips were rough. Patchy. You didn’t care. The feel of his tongue on yours made you relax into him; you pressed your body further into his. His hand tightened on your waist and his other hand fisted at the back of your lab coat, before tangling in your hair.

You kissed him harder, fiercer. Desperate to taste him. Wetness pooled in between your legs, and you moaned into the kiss. You grinded your hips into his, feeling the erection confined in his white, prison suit. You reached up, tangling your hands into his dark hair, tugging slightly on the strands. Massaging his scalp. He groaned and pulled away, staring at you.

“On your knees,” he said. One simple command. He didn’t need to elaborate.

Your entire body was on fire as you crawled off him and lowered to your knees. Your heart beat so hard you could hear it thrumming in your ears. Slowly, you helped his cock free of its constraints. Swollen hard, precum leaking from the tip. The head bright red with blood and desire. You glanced up at him once; he still gazed at you expressionless, but his eyes were full of need and want.

You smiled and leaned forward, darting your tongue out to lick at the tip. His breath suddenly hitched, his cock twitching in your palm. You smirked, satisfied and absolutely turned on you. Slowly, you continued the slow, teasing movements of your tongue. Up and down his shaft, swirling around his cockhead. Above, his breathing grew quicker, in a way you hadn’t heard from him before. But, you leaned forward and took him fully into your mouth. He tasted of sweat and salt and skin as you leaned forward, taking him even further. A low, guttural groan escaped his throat, and he twisted his fingers into your hair. You rose up, then back down, repeating the bobbing motion with your head. You sucked harder, feeling a wetness in between your own legs. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft and pumped slowly in tandem with your sucking.

“Stop,” he said, his voice curt. Quick. A command.

You immediately did as he said, pulling him from your mouth. By the tone of his voice, you had a feeling he was close. But you smirked and licked your lips. He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression just as emotionless as before.

“So obedient,” he said. His fingertips lowered from your temple down to your cheek, slowly stroking your skin. “Turn around.”

You nodded and stood, doing as he said and spinning on your heels. His chair scraped backwards as he stood; carefully, he grabbed your shoulders and lowered you down onto the metal desk. You grasped it carefully, heart hammering against your ribcage. Slowly, his hands wandered downwards, until they reached your ass; he caressed your skin softly, before they wandered further downwards – further, further – until his fingers brushed against your slick, warm wetness. You whined slightly, biting your lip, anticipation building in your stomach.

Then, he pushed your panties aside and sunk two fingers into you, and you groaned as he pumped them in and out, slowly. Carefully, as if studying every reaction you gave. The soft moans that escaped your lips as his fingers filled you and pumped in and out, a vulgar wetness filling the room. You rested your head against the table and closed your eyes, drowning in the feeling.

Suddenly, he removed his fingers, and you whined at the absence – but before you could protest further, he sunk his cock into you. You gasped at the intrusion; the feel of him against you was like heaven. He filled you completely, stretching out your walls. You moaned as his hands placed themselves on your waist, nails digging into your flesh, and he began to thrust.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath. His hips slammed into you, his balls slapping against your ass. You gripped the edge of the table until your knuckles turned white. Soft mewls of pleasure escaped your lips. You gasped with each thrust, your voice growing louder, lewder.

Suddenly, his hand snapped forward. He leaned forward, his powerful body overtaking yours. His hand snaked forward, and he wrapped his fingers around your throat, forcing your face upwards.

“Be quiet,” he hissed into your ear. His rough skin was scratchy against yours. His tongue snaked out, licking at your earlobe and you gasped again, trembling against him. “Ssh…you don’t want them to hear us, do you?”

No, God, no. You were already balancing on a dangerous line. Your job was already at stake. Being caught with Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, fucking you would absolutely destroy your career. You shook your head in answer.

“Good girl,” he whispered. But he didn’t release your throat. Instead, his lips traveled down your jaw, across your flesh, teeth nipping at your flesh. His thrusts increased harder, faster, quicker. His cockhead rammed right into your sweet spot, and you gritted your teeth, trying hard not to cry out in ecstasy.

You closed your eyes as the ultimate pleasure built in your core. In the center of your womanhood, building higher and higher until you were seeing stars. You bit your lip, and slowly reached downwards, rubbing your clit. The heightened sensation was just enough to send you over the edge and a loud gasp escaped your mouth as you came. Your climax wracked through your entire body, spasming every muscle, every part of yourself. You moaned and writhed as Jonathn snapped his hips once more and groaned, spilling himself inside of you. His cock twitched and pulsed, as you felt his seed fill your insides.

For a moment, there was nothing but your heavy breathing in the room. He released his grip on your throat and you fell onto the desk, exhausted, clit still aching with pleasure. He pulled out of you, and his cum dripped down your thighs. You swallowed, trying to gain your composure, and spun back around to see him tucking his cock back into his pants. Your own panties were soaked wet; you were glad you’d stuffed an extra pair into your purse just in case.

You ran a hand through your hair and glanced at the clock. Shit – time was almost up for your session. You had about ten minutes until it was over, and you needed to make yourself look presentable.

“That was…” you couldn’t even say the words. When was the last time you’d had sex so good?

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within his throat, but, he sat back onto his seat. You wandered behind him and began strapping him back into his straitjacket. “Sorry I have to do this,” you whispered, voice low. When he was securely fastened in, you walked back to his front.

“Jonathon—” you started to say, but stopped. How could you tell him how you were feeling?

He studied you carefully. “Speak. Whatever you fear, you can tell me.”

“It’s not what I fear,” you said. “It’s what I don’t. Because I don’t fear you. I love you, Jonathon.”

If he was surprised by your declaration, you couldn’t tell. Not with his mask-like face. But he looked you up and down and said, “My dear. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

You smiled, heart thundering in your chest. You were desperate to kiss him. Desperate to throw yourself on him, take his face in your hands—

But suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hall. You hurried back into your seat and flipped open the file in front of you, pretending you’d been taking notes. By the time you were settled, the door swung open.

“Time’s up, doctor,” the guard said.

“Very well,” you sighed. You didn’t need to feign your irritation. But, you gathered your things and tucked them under your arm. “I’ll see you next week, Jonathon.”

He nodded, and you followed the guard out into the hall, a giant smile plastered on your face.

You couldn’t wait until next week.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Happy holidays! I hope you have a good time with your family, friends, etc.

Thanks for writing about Hiccup, there are few tumblrs that write about him and I appreciate it <3

Castoff pt 4

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,279

You have no pick nor savior so, in typical fashion, you use your words instead. It turns out that they can be just as sharp as any weapon.

Tags: Angst, fem!reader, heartbreak, villain reader, unresolved insecurity, anger, canon divergent, RTTE, Httyd 2, dark content, Angst, kidnapping, spiraling

<Previous

You caught someone in the eye, you were sure. At least somewhere under the brow. You hoped he went blind. 

Your eyelids fluttered as you struggled to stay awake, back in the hull, crusted blood marking a worn trail down your forehead.

You had your knife, still, which you clutched close to your middle at all times. You were sure they could wrench it from your hands if they really wanted.

Maybe it was the pity which kept them from taking it from you, or the fact that they remembered how difficult it was to get you here in the first place, lashing out like an animal, kicking and clawing as they threw you back into the cage. 

Maybe it was because they had scant time nor regard for anything else but their eager need to nurse their own wounds.

It meant very little, trapped back in the hull as you were.

You lived that moment over and over in your mind.

How you carried the burden of guilt on your shoulders, you wanted to beg and plead like you were kneeled before the altar of a broken God. You were ready to repent, and in that moment the smoke smelt like nothing more than forgiveness.

How at that time, you weren’t the one holding the knife. This time you were the beast at the sharp end of a masked figure’s staff. You were the one who begged and pleaded and writhed. How even before the mask figure could move, you knew the answer they would give, just as you knew the way flesh felt under knife.

Even the Vikings on Berk held honor, none willing to take a slave, none willing to turn an unwillful hand, none dishonorable enough to slay a man, none cowardly enough not to own up to it.

As a soft soul, you’d vowed albeit unconsciously to never draw a lick of blood.

You stared at the slowly shifting body of a small terror, chained and beaten and scarred so bad it could barely move, laid still and sad in its own waste.

It had driven you mad, constant whining and hacking filling the hours you should have spent sleeping with strife and restless shifting. Your neck ached from the hard floor even now, and you’d not a moment of respite to show for it.

You weren’t the dragon with the large yellow eyes. You weren’t the trapper, fallen to the knife.

You hated it; just as it was bound, so were you. You seemed to reflect each other, two sides of the same coin, neither the wielder, both the bearers of the sharp end of the knife, slaves to a much crueler fate.

It was a mockery.

And as a child, you’d kept a bird, wings torn and chest kicked in, picked up from the road and stowed away in a wooden box filled with hay. You had been too young to recognize that it had been long gone and so you took to it with the passion of a child bound to be disappointed.

You watched it all night, by the fire as its chest rose and fell gently, alone.

You fell asleep to an empty hearth and woke to a cold, still body.

When your friend, when a small Hiccup had come to you with his own bird, showed it to you, cradled and swaddled with all the fine cloth the son of a Chief could afford, when he had found success where you did not and whose hands healed when yours couldn’t.

You listened to his stories, you watched with a bitten tongue and a held breath as he cared for it, wrought with a sympathy and a grief you’d never voice. You hadn’t anything but sadness, then, and, in a way, a measure of happiness. You were happy for his success.

You had wondered for so many nights what you had done wrong.

You thought that made him greater.

You imagined it dead, run over by the wheel of a wagon, perhaps begging for scraps yet only facing the hard hearts and shoulders of Vikings who had better things to do than entertain the whims of a small bird, unfamiliar to the cold world, the only life it had known being wrapped warm as a fire and soft as fur.

Lost to the cruel grip of nature.

You glared at the man before you. 

You wanted to tell him to shovel his eyes out, to cut open his chest, to suffocate on his own spit and blood. You held your tongue.

Was there something cruel in that, too; leaving something so weak and frail to live when it begged for nothing but reprieve? To leave it alive, choking on its own spit and filth, driving you mad with anguish and irritation and then rage, until you had wanted nothing more than to have seen it tossed overboard?

Was that what everyone else knew when they looked at you with those eyes and blocked you off with sturdy shoulders, filled with unease and love and companionship, laid just outside your reach?

Eret grit his jaw.

You blinked away the heavy weights of sleep which held down your eyes as you slept, and though you had the urge, you did not rub your lids.

Instead, you laid still, turned away from the entrance. The light.

It smelt terribly.

As the hold once again filled with dragons, they kept to the far side of their cages, away from the small terror- the lizard, that was slowly but surely beginning to rot, torn apart by the desperate, fearful midnight scrabblings of a rat. Starving, just as you were, but freer than anything above or below deck.

By the sound of it, you knew exactly who. Eret wasn’t your only visitor. No, you got others. This one, he sounded like one of the kinder ones, the one who brought you your meals. Who kept you from starving. The others, they visited with nothing but sharp, metal-toed boots and fists burning with all the rage of a man trapped, ready and willing to rip and tear.

You were under no illusion that he had done it of his own free will, and yet he carried a sort of hope during the exchanges you shared, the passing of food between the bars and into your small jail, waiting as you turned your back, sighing with heavy emotion and moving with heavy steps.

You kept your breathing slow and shallow, rocking with the rest of the boat, rain and water pounding against wood as the ship was tossed around. It would soon get too violent for you to stay still, violent enough to make you sick.

He probably had a family back home. A wife and a child. Or a brother, maybe; a family, something to hold him in the delusion that what he was doing was right. That motivated him to try and rise above the others, that allowed him the belief he had the right to turn the other cheek as both dragons and Vikings alike were beaten and bruised and tortured by his hand. That he wasn’t nor would ever be as bad as the rest of them which, in your eyes, ultimately made him worse.

It made him selfish, more than anyone else on this vessel, who took and beat and robbed as they pleased.

He had a very unique helmet when most of the others on this ship did not; something that covered most of his face the same way Dagur’s helmet did, with horny curly enough to match any Jorgenson.

“It’s not like you have a due date, do you?” You coughed viciously, teeth violently catching on the tip of your tongue, causing you to wince.

“How we operate is no business of yours,” Eret grit his jaw, arms crossed, legs crossed. A line of sweat ran down the side of his face.

“You won’t be able to keep this expedition going forever,” You mumbled, voice raspier than ever before, “You need my help.”

“Tell me what you know.”

You laughed at him mockingly, though your stomach sank.

Would you succumb just as it had, or would you rise above it?

Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was desperation. Maybe you were tired of listening to the crew members above deck, maybe you had a death wish.

You gave in.

You started small.

“Rub it under the chin,” You looked up at him, a sharp, tense grimace on your face, “The spot where the jawbone turns to soft meat, scratch it with your fingernails.”

“You didn’t come up with that,” Eret glared.

“No, I didn’t,” You rasped. The rough uncured leather hide of your muzzle dug into your jaw, the flesh there searing and surely wet with puss after you’d made a very passionate effort to bite one of the crewmates in another escape attempt.

You didn’t need to say anything fancy; it didn’t take much convincing. It wouldn’t.

It made it very difficult to speak, keeping your jaw nearly stuck in place, “But I know it, and that makes me better than you. Just try it.”

You dared him with your eyes, both embodying the hypnotic gaze of a snake, and speaking the vying notes of a charmer.

You taunted, “You’re not still behind, are you?”

“We’ve gotten... Farther, with your help,” Eret conceded. 

Behind him, a green thunderdrum struggled, mouth bolted shut with a muzzle made of leather and metal not unlike your own, a set of chains binding its wings in the upwards position. 

There were three men on its back and two more on each size, wrestling it down as it struggled, trying and failing to scream.

They had no trouble, with all the room they needed to swarm the beast and pin it down, your small hull and a large pull-down metal door opened to reveal another, larger chamber.

“Is it enough?” 

“It has to be.”

“Are you willing to take that risk?” You learned to live with it; the stuffiness, the rattling, the pain, and as the nights grew colder and as the hold filled with the scraping and screaming of beasts, you slept sounder. 

Eret was silent.

“There's grass,” You started, picking at your fingernails, short and bloody, with your knife, “It grows plentifully deep in the islands on the southern end of the archipelago. It should be around here, wherever we are, too.”

“The dragons like it?” Eret asked stiffly.

Like picking bits and pieces off a corpse, like a scavenger picking over carrion, you took old phrases and sullied comforts and wove them together to make a convincing argument. You tempted and you beckoned.

Hiccup would say it was all about trust. You said the same, once upon a time. But you knew better now.

“Well enough to bow,” You smiled.

“Unshackle me.”

“What if I chained you up and dropped you in with the beasts?” Eret shot back, “Everything you have, I fought for. You’re still alive by my good graces and mine only.”

You were the smaller animal, but the frustration, the raw injustice drove you mad. Once again, you wanted to gouge his eyes out, you wanted to fight and struggle and scream, but you held off.

You hesitated, and looked away, a tenuous expression kept neural only through sheer force of will, the broiling in your gut and the foul words resting on your tongue making you want to do nothing but spit fire.

He would regret that.

“A Whispering Death,” You croaked, trying to suppress the vicious wrinkle of your nose, “Pull it’s top spine, press just under the point, really dig your fingers in.”

“Where are we now?” You asked.

“Someone is dead,” Eret ground out, fists shaking, “A man is dead because of you.”

He threw something on the floor, which clattered loudly in front of your dim cage.

You recognized it. A helmet.

“And?” You let out a short laugh.

“And? And?!”

“Let me out.”

“You don’t deserve that,” He spat.

“Don’t I?”  The irony was not lost on you. And so you laughed again, but much louder this time, with force enough to clutch at your stomach, to pull taut the your loosening muzzle.

You felt at your wrists, newly freed, and shook out your legs, donning a new pair of boots. Your clothing was still torn, ragged, stained, though you were certain you would be able to fix that soon.

You wore a helmet, weighty but fitting on your head, long and covering, secure, with large curly horns. It was patched and in parts covered in blood, thick and dried and congealing where there were dents. 

You knew now that what you once called kindness had just been a veil, a sweet lie to cover what everyone else already knew.

You were a cruel, evil person.

A liar, to hold things with delicate hands and whisper hopeful words when there was only one result, to follow teachings and old sayings that would never work for you again.

And the sweetest lie was the one you told yourself; the one that kept you from the truth and told you that you weren’t.

There was no forgiveness here. Not for you. 

Only condemnation.

You stretched your mouth open wide, worked your jaw where your muzzle had left a heavy mark, ignoring the desperate scrabbling and screeching of a dragon and the men behind you pulling, dragging it with fist and chain across splintered wood into a new cage.

You breathed in the fresh sea air, taking in the light of day for the first time in a long while.

And you reveled in it.

[yourheartonfire]

"Well, isn't this a pretty picture."

The protagonist jolted up to - oh no. Jolted up from where they'd fallen asleep on the floor of the backshelves, books and notes scattered around them like some kind of nerd bomb had gone off. And the antagonist, their old rival, was standing over them, lamp in hand and that same stupid sneer on their face.

"Shit. I mean..." The protagonist shook their head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here now," the antagonist said with narrowed eyes. "Which you'd know if you bothered to keep up with changes in your staff. The real question is what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be throwing a diplomatic reception or issuing royal commands or snoozing in the royal sheets?"

"You want a command?" The protagonist pushed themselves up. It was easy to put on the imperious mask when they were so tired and so irritated. "Help me clean this up. Then forget you saw me. Think you can handle that, Second Aide to Librarian?"

The antagonist's face was a study. But they put down the lamp with only a small whunk. "Yes, Your Majesty," they said and started scooping up books into a pile. The protagonist choked back a yawn as they sorted their scrawled pages of notes into piles. For a few moments they worked side by side in silence, the protagonist ignoring the looks the antagonist kept directing to the back of their head.

"I'm sorry... for your loss," the antagonist said stiffly. "I know you were close to Dax."

"Thank you," the protagonist said. It was a rote response now.

"The kingdom of Sterztan?" the antagonist said, rather more tentatively as they glanced at the title. "Don't you have people now to be experts for you?"

"Oh yes." The protagonist folded their notes into a neat stack. "The ambassador to Sterztan is one of my greatest allies on the council. And this morning she looked us all in the face and assured us that Sterztan would never pose a challenge to our metals imports."

The antagonist's brow wrinkled. Their fingers twitched towards the pages in their hands. "But... half Sterztan's economy is based on their silver trade."

"I know." The protagonist rubbed. "So my ally is either an idiot or a liar. Not the kind of research I can outsource to a secretary."

"Ah." The antagonist put down their books on a an empty shelving cart. "So of course you became hyper-obsessed over this and snuck off to waste a night researching something you already knew about Sterztan's economy."

"I didn't sneak anywhere," the protagonist snapped. "I am the crown-"

Abruptly the antagonist moved. Suddenly the protagonist found themselves crowded up against the shelves, the antagonist towering over them. "The crown," they said, "without their guards."

"How dare you!" The protagonist shoved the antagonist back. "Are you insane?"

"Are you?" The antagonist grabbed another book off the floor angrily. "You're our ruler now. I expect you to at least make better use of your time."

"But this is the only thing I'm good at!" the protagonist wailed. The antagonist froze in a half-crouch but the protagonist couldn't stop. Exhaustion and the unfairness of all it was too much. "I'm not supposed to be ruling anything; I was supposed to be here, doing research for Dax while he dealt with all the politics and rituals and lies-"

"Hey, hey, hey." The antagonist was crowding up against them again. But this time it felt... supportive? A warm hand on their back as the protagonist gasped for air through the panicked sobs. "You've got this."

"I really don't," the protagonist moaned. "God, I wish I were you. No that's not true. But I wish I had your job."

"There you go, that sounds more like you." The antagonist tugged at the protagonist's arm insistently, until the two were sitting side by side on the floor. "Okay. I'm going to write you a report."

"I already figured out the Sterztan thing," the protagonist sighed.

"Not about that. About every stupid mistake every great sovereign we've ever had made in their first year as the crown."

The protagonist wiped their nose on their sleeve. "That sounds horrible."

"It will be. But," the antagonist scooted closer. Their hand was still rubbing circles into the protagonist's back. It was weirdly soothing. "My point is that every great sovereign starts out green."

"Green like inexperienced, or green like constantly feeling that you're going to throw up?" the protagonist muttered.

The antagonist grabbed their hand. "I'm saying that once you compare where you are now against where our other sovereigns were in their first year, you're going to see that you're actually doing all right. I'm not going to lie, you're doing a lot better than I thought you would be."

The protagonist huffed a tired laugh. "That sounds... like a nice theory. Got the data to back it up?"

The antagonist quirked their lip. Not quite the same sneer. "Are you ordering up some midnight research?"

The protagonist hauled themselves to their feet. "Nope. You volunteered. I'll expect that report on my desk by tomorrow. That is, tomorrow tomorrow," they added. "Not in - oh, god, in six hours."

"Go to bed," the antagonist said, picking themselves up too. "Good night."

The report was on the protagonist's desk in 10 hours.

[honeyynymphh]

I had a thought for a fic and bc I love ur writing…

copia x mile high club

first of all, thank you so much!! mile high club certainly is not something I would have ever thought of but it did give me an idea so here it is! Inflight Meal Papa IV x FemReader rating: E words: 2600 tags: dom copia, cunnilingus, sex, fucking on the job, drinking on the job, dirty talk, cheesy af, there is no resemblence to canon like anywhere in this story lmao AO3

summary: as an air hostess you are used to strange people, especially when they have their own private jet. but this was definitely the strangest one.

also Copia still has his moustache because I said so! I know nothing about flying, this is pretty silly and it is not checked so sorry for any mistakes!

Straightening your skirt you stand waiting for the passengers to board the plane. Last minute you’d been called in to help on an overnight flight to Italy by Jack—the usual pilot you flew with. Apparently, some priest was travelling back to his hometown for an important ceremony and his crew were short a few staff members. You would have refused at such a late request, especially as you had to wear a completely different uniform. It wasn’t the airlines—apparently the priest had insisted all the crew fit in with the rest of his staff.

What an arrogant prick. 

But the money had been way above the norm and you rarely were asked to do private flights. And the uniform was not much different than your usual skirt and jacket. Except it was cerulean blue with little embroidered golden details—and a strange inverted crucifix emblazoned on the chest. You were just grateful it wasn’t a nun's habit.

You heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to board and straightened your back, plastering on the practised smile. Many a jerk you’ve had to deal with and today would be no different—no matter how fancy an aircraft it was. You’d had a little snoop before. The whole aircraft was dark wood and detailed with the same shade of blue and gold. The jet was fitted with a main bedroom, kitchen, office and then the main seating area. God must be real generous, you think with a roll of your eyes.

The first person aboard is an older woman, her blonde hair styled to perfection and wearing a severe yet fitting suit jacket and skirt—all in black but detailed with the same hints of blue and gold as your uniform. She smiles at you and you gesture for her to enter, giving her a welcoming smile as you bid good evening. Next is a man…at least you think it’s a man. The smile on your face falters a moment before you right it again on your perfectly painted lips.

His dress is fine. He���s dressed all in black—though his jacket has the same little crucifix on it as yours—it’s the mask he wears that throws you. It’s silver, demonic and completely obscures his face.

Weird. But you were here to serve drinks and food, not care about the passengers and their odd choice of attire. The…man walks past you without a glance and settles into a chair before pulling out a rolled-up magazine from his trouser pocket.

You’re too busy still looking at him when a voice says, “Buonasera, Signorina.”

When you turn towards it, you’re met with a pair of mismatched eyes set in a face painted like a skull. But despite it, it’s still an attractive one and the man’s voice is pleasant—the Italian lilt to his words makes your smile genuine, if not a little bemused. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, way too tightly fitting that it’s almost indecent.

He takes your hand, the soft leather that encases his hand is buttery soft and warm. He kisses your hand, moustache tickling your skin. He introduces himself as Papa Emeritus the Fourth before he gives you a smile and heads into the plane. You watch, bemused, as he greets the other two—the woman talking quickly and hovering around him like a mother hen. He waves her off with some words in Italian and disappears down to the back of the plane.

That cannot be a priest, you think. Maybe Jack got the information wrong. He looks too…you don’t even know. You rub at your hand. At least he didn’t seem like a complete asshole, nor had he started preaching—and really, that was all you cared about. You kept staring off down towards the back of the plane, mind still fixated on the mysterious man.

“You ready?” says Jack, ducking out of the cockpit.

“Huh?” you say distractedly, head snapping to look at the pilot. 

Another crew member has appeared, she’s wearing the same uniform as you and she’s standing there patiently waiting for you. You had only briefly spoken to her earlier, she had said her name was Sister Hayley you think. A nun. Not that the woman looked anything like a nun.

“Arm and crosscheck?” he says.

“Oh, yes, right.”

When miles above ground and flying somewhere over the Atlantic ocean you’re giving out drinks. The man in the silver mask declines anything, choosing instead to lounge on the plush seating like an overgrown cat while the woman—who had politely introduced herself as Sister Imperator—sat in one of the comfortable chairs at a small desk. You’d given her a drink—a gin and tonic—and then headed down to go find the enigmatic Papa Emeritus.

The office is empty and so you head to the bedroom, the door is closed and you knock politely before sliding it open. You find the man propped up on the bed, book in hand and a pair of glasses perched low on his long nose. He glances up at you and the darkly painted lips quirk into a pleased smile. It makes your stomach flip.

“Sir, would you like a drink?” you ask, standing there with your hands clasped in front of you. “Or something to eat?”

The man gives you a smile, easy and smug. Again you wonder why he was wearing such tight trousers. What the hell kind of church was he from?

“Si, wine, per favore. Anything from the stock in the kitchens. Pick something.” He gives you a long look. “Two glasses.”

“No problem, sir, anything to eat?” you ask. Fuck you wish he’d stop looking at you like that.

His painted lips quirk but he shakes his head. “Just bring the wine, signorina.”

You head to the little kitchen and randomly grab a bottle, simply picking one based on the label. You grab two glasses and then walk back towards the suite. You smile politely as you enter and place the glasses on the little table next to him.

“Is this to your liking, sir?” you ask, holding out the bottle for him to inspect. 

“Papa,” he says, leaning over to peer at the label before he nods. “Not ‘sir’.”

You pour him a glass and place the bottle beside it. “Is there anything else?”

He closes the book he is reading a throws it on the bed, you catch the cover—it’s in a different language but it has a picture of a goat and a pentagram on it. He waves a hand at the other glass.

“Pour yourself one as well, signorina.”

You frown at him. “That is kind of you, but I am working.”

The man winks at you, grabbing the bottle himself and pouring out a measured amount. You watch the liquid slosh in the glass.

“I promise I won’t tell,” he says, extending it out to you.

You take it and hold it awkwardly, the smile on your face fixed. You did not want to get in trouble with Jack and lose your job. But a glass couldn’t help and you’d attended to everyone. You sip it and Papa smiles.

Somehow you end up two glasses deep. It’s not enough to make you drunk but damn it’s enough to make you feel far too relaxed. And you’ve somehow found yourself sitting next to him on the bed. You really should go back though. But it’s been lovely chatting to him, he talks of his flock with affection and mentions Sister Imperator fondly.

“This might be a stupid question,” you ask, the wine having loosened your tongue, “but what exactly are you a priest of?”

He laughs and it’s such a pleasant sound that you can’t help but smile. You’ve grown used to his strange face and it’s somewhat endearing to watch the lines on his face move as he chuckles.

“Not a priest, dolce,” he says. “Once upon a time, si, but now I am Papa.”

“You say that like I should know what you mean,” you reply.

“Like the Pope.” He grins. “Less preaching about the good of man and much more sinning.”

You cannot help but laugh, it sounds ridiculous. “I thought god said sinning was bad.”

“We do not worship a false god of fabricated mercy,” he utters, voice low. You stop laughing at the serious expression on his face, but it melts away when he adds. “We worship the lord below who relishes in sin. We are human, si? So we should take comfort in the pleasures it provides.”

“You’re telling me you worship the devil?” you ask, breath hitching when he leans in a little closer.

“Si,” he says, eyes fixed on you. “And I fear I have not worshipped in his name today at all. Perhaps you can help me, dolce?”

Suddenly his mouth is on yours. You freeze a movement but when you respond, his hands hold your face and pull him flush against him. His mouth is urgent and hot against yours, tongue delving into your mouth while your legs tangle together. Your lipstick is smudged red over his face and you’re certain he’s covered yours in black—you can taste it on your own lips but it doesn’t matter. He kisses like he is worshipping, hungry and possessive. It makes your head spin and you completely forget that this is certainly a breach of conduct. Especially when he’s flipping you onto your back, dragging your legs to the edge of the bed as he pushes your skirt up to bunch around your waist/

“Sorry, dolce, but now I’m feeling rather hungry.”

You hear the snap of your garter belt and feel the tension ease around your stockings so he can pull your knickers down your legs. Before you can draw another breath his face is between your legs, his breath skating over your wet folds before his tongue is flicking against you. You moan, hands instantly grabbing tufts of his peppered hair between your fingers as he works some sort of ungodly magic on your aching cunt.

Fucking hell.

Your back arches as he draws the tension out, leaving you panting on the edge of delirium. His arms move under your thighs and pull you closer to him as he devours you. You pull at his hair and grind against his face, unable to stop yourself from seeking more glorious threads of pleasure to wind tighter around your core.

His mouth breaks away as he can come up for air. You stare at him with a heavy-lidded expression, taking in that wicked mouth all glistening and smeared with paint by your own slick. He looked like the fucking devil and you were more than willing to sell your soul if it meant he wouldn’t stop.

“Cazzo, your pussy is delicious, dolce,” he breathes, nipping at the inside of your thigh.

His face returns to press against your cunt. And that nose! It’s pressed against your clit, mouth wet and tongue searching while his moustache tickles your skin. You arch back and your hands grip the sheets as the plane suddenly rocks—turbulence. Fuck.

Jack’s voice floats through the plane’s intercom system, certainly a mood killer, but Papa doesn’t stop. 

“Please return to your seat, we are experiencing some mild turbulence.”

The craft rocks again but your eyes are too busy rolling into the back of your head as he eats you out like he’s on death row and you're his last meal.

You moan when you feel fingers, leather-clad ones, pressing into your pussy and stretching you. You bounce on his hand when you hit another pocket of turbulence, and his grip on your thigh tightens while the other hand is busy pumping into your wetness. Another pocket and another moan have you on the edge and trembling.

It doesn’t take much to have you rocking along with the aircraft as you come. You try not to moan too loudly and shove your fist in your mouth but Papa leans up and pulls your arm away from your face, that devilish visage hovering over you.

“Don’t silence such pretty sounds, dolce.”

You sigh, luxuriating in the waves that still ripple through you while the plane rocks again. Fuck. You feel his body move away from yours and you sigh. Your eyes had fallen closed as you relaxed but they snap open when you feel him crawl on top of you. He’s rid himself of some of his clothes—well, most of them. A heavily unbuttoned shirt was the only thing on him. You can see the hairs on his firm chest and when you feel his cock pressing between your legs you immediately spread them for him.

When he sinks into your welcoming pussy you moan. The stretch feels incredible and you desperately tilt your hips so he can sink in further. When he bottoms out, you both sigh. Papa has removed his gloves, and his large hands hold your hips, creasing the fabric of your uniform even further as he starts to pump into you.

You’re already so worked up and sensitive that you are already ready to come again quickly. Your walls are squeezing him and the sounds it draws from his lips are downright demonic. Your hands reach up to grip his shoulders so you can thrust up to meet him, both of your movements becoming hurried in your desperation for release.

“Do you want my cock so badly, signorina?” he growls, leaning over you and thrusting into you roughly. Your pant out a yes, or something that was meant to be a yes and only comes out as a string of incoherent nonsense as you nod your head fervently. “You have to come for me first, dolce.”

A hand moves between your bodies and he's rubbing at your swollen and sensitive clit. You cry out, not giving a single fuck that the entire plane can probably hear you. The plane rocks one last time and you hear the seatbelt sign turn off. But you are barely paying any attention to anything else except his cock buried inside you.

The tension in your core tightens again and with another deep thrust he has you coming apart for him. Your eyes shut as it crashes through you but he doesn’t stop. Your hands are gripping feebly at his shoulders, then the nape of his neck, his hair and then fistfuls of the front of his shirt to bring his mouth against yours.

You feel his cock swell within you as he growls against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lips as his hips jerk. You feel him come, painting the inside of your cunt as he continues to thrust into you while his tongue does the same to your mouth. It’s desperate and you’re sweating in your uniform but you don’t care. It feels far too fucking good.

When the high finally eases and he rolls off you to lie beside you, you sigh in relief. Fuck that was something, you think.

“You call that worship?” you pant, turning your head lazily to look at him Your makeup and hair must be absolutely ruined because his is completely ruined. He looks deranged with his hair falling in his face and his paint all smeared.

He hums. “Si. My lord believes in the power of the female orgasm. Is there anything more divine than pleasure?”

You shake your head, mind still foggy with bliss. You utter the only words you can think of. 

“Did you still want your inflight meal?”

He grins at you. “Maybe in an hour or so, signorina. I just ate.”

[dark-raven-666]

*breaks the wall*

I came here to request SCP 035 having a crush on the reader

*poof*

Scp-035 having a crush on reader

Wanings: angst, unrequited love

GN reader. He/it 035

///////////////////////////////////////////

Walking past its cell I see the shimmering eyes of the mask. It had been granted a D-class host for this interview

"Hello there! Paying me a visit I see! " it says with that rather creepy smile it holds.

"Hello" I give it a smile and sit on the chair facing it. This interview is two hours long. My instructions were clear. Get it to speak as much as possible and it will slip and give information.

I doubt many would like to spend two hours with a mask that oozes with something acidic. While I'm stuck here I need to remain on its good side.

"How is it going? What about my request? Will I be granted my own theater? " It blabbers with question.

"One at a time dear. First, everything is going great thank you for asking. Second your request for a TV was denied unfortunately. Third, I managed to convince them to build you a small theatre in your cell. If you behave well you get to keep it and if you don't it is taken from you" I answer the masks questions.

"Ahh a theatre! How wonderful! But we all know a theatre comes with an audience! Who shall be my audience Mia Signora?!" He seems happy saying this.

Mia Signora... Always with the Italian nicknames. He only calls other staff by their names... I think to myself yet keep smiling and respond.

"Unfortunately you don't get an audience yet I may be able to come see your acts on my breaks" I try my best to cheer him up.

The mask's face turns into a frown in a matter of seconds "oh no" I think. It did not like that...

Suddenly the frown turns back into a smile. "Well.. I can't complain! At least I will have an audience" he exclaims lifting his arms, well someone's arms into a shrug.

"Come now bella, I shall show you an act" he gets up from the chair and says.

To say the least the two hour so called interview gave no good results.

I put my mug of coffee down. A week has passed since the interview and I have what seems to be an hour of nothing. I could go out but once again, I promised the mask to watch it perform.

"Cara Mia! You've come to visit! I was exctatic the moment they gave me a host! I knew it meant I was getting a visitor!" It seems to cheer in happiness.

I walk and place a chair in front of the small stage and watch the mask get up there and act suddenly it reaches a hand into the audience. "bellissimo canarino! Sing with me!" He says rather dramatically and I take his hand and stand on the stage with him. And try my best to sing the song from the act "the phantom of the opera".

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime" he sings and I sing with him. By the end of the song he gets on one knee and sings "Y/N I loovvveeee youuu~"

The music plays from the CD and I stare at him surprised. This whole act he was the phantom and I was Christine. Why would he say MY name now. I think to myself until it hits me.

"Oh god..." Is all I can muster up.

He chose this act not only because it is my favorite but because he wanted to confess his love for me through it.

We all know how the play ends though, and it seemed deep down it knew we would end up the same.

"I'm sorry.. Dyo.. " I use its name. He has to know that now it is not a researcher and an scp but a person and a mask that is in love.

Its head ducks down and he hands me a ring for me to give back and continue the act.

I hand it the ring in its hosts palm and slowly walk backwards and off the stage. Looking back at it every step.

Tears flow down my own cheeks. I feel guilty and wish I could love him back.

Its head is still low and it is still on one knee. It seems devastated. Then I see something in the hole that is its eye. A tear. Not the regular black ooze. An actual tear. The face of the mask is smiling yet tears flow down its face...

It was a beautiful act. One that was filled with real feelings. One that would surely break one's heart.

/////////////////////////////////

As punishment for breaking the wall this story was angst <3

Forgive me dear this took forever but I finally got out of the author's block <3

[blueberrynai23]

The Hour Of Joy

WARNING! BLOOD, MURDER MANIPULATION, GORE AND GRAB TISSUES!

Zuri looked up at her father, with so much hate in her eyes that the hanged king didn't care. He looked down at her as he smiled wickedly a sadistic grin

Howdy:"look at you...so small and defenseless as you were as a child .." the king said coldly as Zuri was all beaten up she kept her guard up not wanting to be weak and vulnerable to her father

Zuri:"...I...am NOT... defenseless!-"

She yelled as she was met with a kick to the gut...she winced in pain...but she never gave up... Howdy held Zuri up by her throat as she glared down at him as her tears spilled down her cheeks

Howdy:"poor poor Zuri ..weak and frail like your sad excuse for a daughter like Akasuki"

He mocked as Zuri exploded

Zuri:"...I may be weak and defenseless....BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN IM NOT A COLD HEARTED BASTARD LIKE YOU!"

She continued

Zuri:"AT LEAST IM HAPPY THAT MY NIECE IS HERE WITH ME! AT LEAST I TOOK MY WHOLE LIFE TO SEE MY BABY GROW UP TO BECOME THE WOMAN WHO SHE IS!"

With anger and rage...Howdy killed her in an instant as Zuri's lifeless form falls...

Site 74 pony station

The commander of the mobile task force, stuck in a heavy containment breach as the staffs went berserk and haywire. Since they were all given scripts of each line and play they acted different...in which is where they are at now attacking and killing one another

Eric being stuck in the mix called for back up

Eric:"GUYS I NEED BACK UP AT SITE 74 PONY STATION!-"

Just then...Eric dropped the phone and held his head in pain the reality around him began to warp...his adrenaline started to rush as he got up and made a run for it he doesn't know where he's going, what felt like an hour...felt like an eternity and forever...Eric never stopped running....he didn't look where he was going...

....he didn't know he ran into a restricted area...

???:"Big bro!-"

He froze...

Eric:"...what?-"

???:"ERIC!"

....Nai....

Eric:"NAI LIL SIS!-"

'Nai':"BIG BROTHER!-"

Eric looked around aimlessly like a chicken with no head...

???:"ERIC!"

???:"ERIC OVER HERE!"

???:"ERIC!-"

As he ran to the different voices...he began to panic and started to sweat badly his eyes blood shot. Slowly with every 2 minutes he was starting to lose the reality around him...he started to hyperventilate and clenched his chest tightly trying to calm his racing heart...then...in the distance...was Nai... aimlessly his steps were slow....he can't tell if his little sister is there or not...as he got there...getting a closer look...

A rope yanked him up by his neck as he struggled and kicked in the air...the rope tightened as his face turned blue... There in front of him...is the Ambassador of Alagadda...

His eyes grew wide in fear...slowly...losing consciousness...slowly....losing air...slowly...and steady....he closed his eyes...

But what fell out of his hand...a bag of flower seeds for Nai and his mother....

Site 19

Callia opened her eyes...as she looked around...she was in the hospital still trying to process what happened....Maria spoke up

Maria:"thank God you're awake...I thought I lost you for a second"

Callia:"Maria...are the others okay?"

Callia asked her...the general stayed quiet...she doesn't know how to say it...she doesn't know where to begin...or where to start...

Meanwhile Makaila and her father SCP 049 waited in their containment cells...

Makaila:"Father for how much time do we have left?-"

049:"soon my dear...soon..."

Then the alarms went off...one of the SCP's caused a containment breach without hesitation they broke out of their cells and dashed off. As they ran...Makaila had a bad gut feeling in her stomach feeling a knot...it cannot be the fish with fried vegetables...it was different...

049 noticed as he quickly stops

049:"my dear are you unwell?"

Makaila shook her head...it wasn't the pestilence affecting her...

Makaila:"father...it's too late..."

She said with tears down her beak mask

Makaila:"father I feel it crystal clear....Zuri and Eric are gone..."

Her father pulled her into a tight embrace since Makaila had a broken heart...it was hard for her to keep herself up...all she has left is...her husband and father....

Heavy containment zone

Lola continued to run...she ran down the halls as her life depends on it...her legs ached for her to stop but she never did...

In the shadows she felt like she's being watched...

The Black Lord smiled...

The yellow Lord glared

The red Lord held out his weapon

The white Lord only stared until it was the right moment...

Sally:"now" said the Black Lord as Eddie triggered off the Tesla...

As Lola ran the Tesla shocked her as she fell to the ground...the effect of the electricity is killing her slowly... The yellow Lord glared

Frank:"it's no wonder humans like her are so weak..."

The white Lord spoke up

Julie:"huh...you don't say Frank"

Said Julie as she electrocuted Lola again...as her heart stopped...worst case is seeing the world pass by with her eyes open....

Sacrifice of Sin

Nai sat in the small room...her eyes dull with no light...her skin was no longer peach but pale as a ghost...

She held herself close...the only reality is the small window....with the moon light only...she sighed ...

Zuri said that she'd visit her again...she never showed up ...

Eric said the same thing...never came back...

Callia said the same thing...never came back...

Maria said it too...but never came back...

So did Lola...she never came back....

Lastly...her fiancé....he never came back....

Did they all forget about her?...was she not that important?....

Nai sighed...the loneliness is eating her alive...she had lost her smile...

???:"Nai"

She shot her head up

???:"hey lil sis-"

Nai:"...guys...?"

She had tears in her eyes

???:"hey sweetheart how are you?"

???:"it's been awhile hasn't it?"

Nai:"yes it has...it's been 4 months..."

She choked on her tears as Nai began to cry

Nai:"you guys said you'd come back why did you leave me alone-"

???:"oh sweetie I'm so sorry..."

Nai:"guys I'm so scared-"

She began to cry nonstop and she couldn't control her emotions...

He held his hand out, Nai looked up....

Nai:"...Walter?-"

Her fiancé

Walter smiled as he pulled Nai to her feet. As before Nai saw his genuine smile his kind soft ocean eyes...his tan skin...she missed him dearly...gently Walter caresses her cheek as if Nai is a delicate rose...he kissed her forehead and embraced her in his arms as she hugged him back...

But Nai felt a pain in her chest... Her eyes grew wide as she looked up at him...it wasn't her fiancé....it was the Hanged king...

Nai:"....n...n...."

Nai choked on her own blood as she looked up at Howdy...who had a blank stare....the 4 lords of Alagadda...stood around them... As Howdy took the blade out...he stabbed her heart again as Nai fell to the ground....she spat up her own blood as she looked up with painful eyes....

As she took her last breath.... everything...stopped....

....I serve my king with my blood... blissful suffocation.... sacrifice of sin....

HELLO!!!

You have reached the end of this twisted tale! I am so glad that you all enjoy my story so far! Despite being a small au story! No words can explain how happy I am!

I am super happy that this au went out as planned and have reached the reverse end of this tale!

But over all, my au wouldn't be done if it wasn't for the support of my friends and family! I appreciate them dearly as they are my family no matter if we are blood related or not! They supported me along the way in my journey up to now!

Even though I went through my ups and downs, losing sleep to make this lore right as possible THIS IS WORTH A SHOT!

Remember kids!,

"set your heart ablaze! Know your limits!"-Rengoku Kyojuro

Cast:

Doctor Zuri Saelee @i-ate-your-dog-srry

Captain Maria @littlesiren79

Commander Eric @ericvelseb666

Doctor Callia Snickets @buenos-diaz

Doctor Lola Collins @extracted-distracted

Senior researcher Nai Saimori Ridgewell @blueberrynai23

The hanged king: Howdy Pillar @partycoffin

Black Lord: Sally Starlet @partycoffin

The Yellow Lord: Frank Frankly @partycoffin

The Red Lord:Eddie Dear @partycoffin

The White Lord: Julie Joyful @partycoffin

The Ambassador of Alagadda: Sunny @partycoffin

The Tragedy Queen: Akasuki Saechin Kocho @blueberrynai23

SCP 049-K: Makaila Guillibeaux @blueberrynai23

Genevieve: @silky-silks

Pao, Ay and San: @blueberrynai23

Films that inspire my au:

Incantation

Emesis BLU: Fortress Films

The conjuring 3 the devil made me do it

Games that inspire my au:

SCP secret files

The last of us part ll

In loving Memory

Maria Angelica Archuleta

Ying Saechao

Tachan Saechao

I'll see you on the flip side!

[vosh-rakh]

When she enters the door, all she sees is blackness, accentuated by dim red candles. His mask she sees first, the gold’s curves bouncing back arcs of crimson light. Then a figure emerges from the shadows, tall and lean, and she recognizes him immediately - she’s been dreaming of him ever since she returned to Morrowind.

Dagoth Ur’s arms are outstretched as if expecting a running embrace, his hands punctuated by red-black claws that were ambiguously either his nails or his exposed phalanges. His body has the same too-perfect physique that Vivec had had, but perhaps even more ethereally beautiful. And whereas Vivec was outrageously perfumed, a rotten smell wafts off of Dagoth Ur in gusts of pungent corruption.

“Greetings, Nerevar, my old friend,” says the Sharmat, his voice booming just like it had while he taunted her throughout this facility. “Please, take off that ridiculous helmet. I want to see your beautiful face.”

Ku-vastei, unsure how to respond, hesitates. But gradually she obliges, removing the dreugh helmet and obscuring her sight-line on the fallen god for but a second. In that second he has crossed the room to be mere feet from her. Her tail stiffens behind her.

“Ah,” says Dagoth Ur, surprise in his voice, “haven’t we met before? I don’t mean all those years ago when we were allies. More recently than that.”

Suddenly Ku-vastei remembers. “You were the one…and this was the place. The Staff of Chaos.”

“A paltry artifact compared to what you now carry with you,” answers Dagoth Ur. “I trust you have brought the tools? Keening, Sunder…” He stares at Ku-vastei’s begloved right hand. “Wraithguard.”

Ku-vastei drops the helmet and readies her spear.

“Do not be so quick to fight, Nerevar. Or do you call yourself by some new name?”

Ku’s lips are dry as she mutters, “Ku-vastei.”

“Tell me, Ku-vastei: are you truly Nerevar reborn?” The Sharmat’s sharp fingers dance at his sides.

Again, Ku hesitates. “What does it matter?”

Dagoth Ur places his hands on his hips and utters a hearty laugh. “It matters the world, my old friend.”

“I don’t know,” Ku-vastei whispers.

“Is that Moon-and-Star I espy on your other hand?” he inquires, shifting his gaze. “Then at least Azura hearkens to your claim.”

Ku-vastei removes her left hand from her spear’s shaft briefly to glance at the ring, with its entwined star and crescent. But quickly she returns to her fighting stance, keeping her eyes on Dagoth Ur.

“Another question, then: What are your plans for the heart if you manage to defeat me?” He grips the chin of his mask and tilts his head back, as if in deep thought. “Will you follow the Tribunal’s example, and establish a new thearchy? Or perhaps you will complete my divine mission, finishing Akulakhan and driving the mongrel dogs from Morrowind.”

Ku-vastei shakes her head furiously. “No. I have my own plans.”

Dagoth Ur waits for her to elaborate, but eventually nods when she doesn’t. “Very well,” he says. “Perhaps you may surprise me yet, Nerevar. Or perhaps you obscure your ambitions on principle.” He levels the three eyes of his mask with hers. “Or perhaps you are an instinctive bluffer. No matter.

“I have one final question for you to entertain,” he continues. “If I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered the tools to me to seal your oath?”

“No,” Ku-vastei says immediately. “I would never join you.”

“Thank you for the forthright response,” Dagoth Ur acknowledges. “Here I allow you to ask any questions of your own. Otherwise, you are the challenger. I grant you the opportunity of first blow.”

Ku-vastei pauses for a moment, trying to come up with suitable questions. She thinks suddenly of the Archmage Trebonius, and asks one question. “What happened to the Dwemer?”

“I have no idea what happened to the Dwemer,” Dagoth Ur answers plainly. “I have been denied the opportunity to study Wraithguard, and I am not sure how much of Kagrenac's lore was invested in her tools, and how much in her own sorcery and mastery. I have long studied Kagrenac, and have come to admire her wisdom and craft. Someday, after the campaigns of the Sixth House are secure, I hope to have time to dedicate to this mystery.”

Ku-vastei nods, disappointed.

“Have you no other questions?” Dagoth Ur asks. “I had assumed you would be more curious about your past life.”

“I don’t really care,” Ku-vastei says. Then she leaps forward, her tail spiraling behind her as she thrusts with all her might, piercing Dagoth Ur’s bare chest all the way through with uncanny ease.

“Oh!” Dagoth Ur exclaims, the sound accompanied by a burst of blood. “I did not expect to be so…easily bested.” He wraps his hands around the spear’s shaft, pushing back against Ku-vastei until the bloody tip reemerges from his chest. She tries to resist his force, and attempts to launch a new attack, but before she can, the Sharmat’s grip on the spear fails and he crumples to the floor.

There is a long silence in that room, where a devil has been vanquished. Ku-vastei keeps her breath held for a very long time. Finally she exhales, her lips blowing open. She tries to summon a feeling of victory, but fails.

She takes in a breath through her nostrils, but is again assaulted by the smell of rot. She takes a deep breath and holds it again as she approaches the corpse. Shakily she extends a hand towards the mask, and tries to remove it. She finds an incredible resistance, as if the mask were melded to his face. She sets aside her spear for a brief moment and commits both hands to the effort. Finally she tears the mask away, and -

She sees the face of God for only a brief moment before the body collapses into gorey ephemera, like the implication of rabid maggots feasting at heightened pace. Then all that’s left is the mask, dropped clattering to the floor in her shock, and a bloody stain in the shape of a man.

She does not let go of her breath until she is on the other side of the room, retrieving her discarded helmet. She dons it and turns back towards the fleeting remains of the body. For a moment, she fears that grace cannot truly exist in such a world as this. But then she resolves herself to finishing her task. She opens the door on the far side of the room.

Again she is confronted by the face of God, this time enormous and brass, staring down at her sparklessly. Its face takes a similar shape as the Sharmat’s mask, but more imposing. This, she remembers, is her true goal - to deny this God its terrible birth.

Then she looks away from the massive face, and down. Before her is the Sharmat, hands on his hips, laughing.

“What a fool you are,” Dagoth Ur bellows. “I'm a god. How can you kill a god? What a grand and intoxicating innocence. How could you be so naive? There is no escape. No Recall or Intervention can work in this place. Come. Lay down your weapons. It is not too late for my mercy.”

Ku-vastei sighs and brandishes her spear once more.

“Very well, Nerevar.” Dagoth Ur sprints towards Ku-vastei, giving her barely time to react, and lashes out with his accursed claws. She manages to put up a weak parry, but the force of the blow pushes her back. She glances at the new scars in the shaft of her spear - not just any spear, but an artifact of a god - and momentarily panics. In her fear she swings wildly, hoping to knock Dagoth Ur aside, remembering the ease with which she impaled him before. But the spear nearly bends around the Sharmat before bouncing back to shape, rattling Ku-vastei’s entire body. God laughs at her impudence.

Ku-vastei realizes there is only one option: run.

She jumps to the side, narrowly dodging another slash from Dagoth Ur, and sprints down the stone path ringing this massive chamber.

Dagoth Ur laughs, his voice filling the space and Ku-vastei’s ears, as though he were right behind her. “Hah-hah-hah-hah. Oh, dear me. Forgive me, but I am enjoying this.”

Something wizzes past Ku-vastei’s ear. She leaps to the side, fearing another shot, but lands right in its path. Her entire body burns without fire, her muscles and bones screaming out in pain, and she falls to her knees for the briefest of moments.

“Omnipotent,” the Sharmat’s voice echoes, “Omniscient. Sovereign. Immutable. How sweet it is to be a god!”

The feeling evokes the sensation of the Corprus spreading throughout her body; the memory triggers an association, and Malcius’ bloated face flashes before her eyes. Her aggrieved determination refreshed, she quickly climbs to her feet and keeps running, making sure to zigzag out of Dagoth Ur’s line of fire.

She clutches at her waist, where she has the tools fastened. As she fumbles for Sunder, she almost runs headlong into one of Dagoth Ur’s minions. Without thinking she crushes its skull with the enchanted hammer, leaving behind a horrifying dent in its head as it falls to the ground.

Ku-vastei sprints and dodges her way down to the ribcage of the nascent God, clobbering Dagoth Ur’s workers as she goes. Finally she glimpses the Heart, a red crystalline stone suspended amidst the ribs on the other side of a bridge. She nearly trips as she begins to cross it, and clambers her way to the Heart. Sunder nearly falls upon the Heart by accident before Ku-vastei can properly strike it.

Upon Sunder’s contact with the Heart, an enormous sound floods the chamber - not identifiable as any particular noise, but pure tone, fundamental and absolute. Knowledge forcibly enters Ku-vastei’s brain as if by telepathy from some unknown source: The God-tone.

Suddenly, Dagoth Ur’s laughter stops, drowned out by the sound.

Ku-vastei reaches now for Keening, returning Sunder to its place on her belt. She strikes the Heart again, slicing into the stone like through scrib jelly.

“What are you doing?” Dagoth Ur asks calmly.

Ku-vastei strikes the Heart a second time, and she feels the power reverberating around her, and she feels a tingle in Wraithguard.

“What are you doing?” Dagoth Ur shouts.

Ku-vastei strikes the Heart a third time, and the feeling in her hand becomes more pronounced, almost identifiable as pain.

“Fool!”

Ku-vastei strikes the Heart a fourth time, and her hand is suddenly aflame with agony. It takes all of her remaining willpower to maintain her grip on Keening.

“Stop!”

Ku-vastei hears Dagoth Ur on the wooden boards of the bridge behind her as she strikes the Heart a fifth time, her hand clenched by pained spasms around Keening’s grip. Just as soon as the sound completely evaporates, so does the Heart, completely vanishing from its hold within Akulakhan.

“This is the end,” Dagoth Ur mutters in the newfound silence just behind her, “the bitter, bitter end…”

Suddenly the sound of crumbling stone fills Ku-vastei’s ears, and she knows she must go. Tears in her eyes, she turns around, barreling past the now powerless Dagoth Ur. Just as she finishes crossing the bridge, it collapses, the rest of Akulakhan soon following, crashing into the lava below, its master along with it.

From her knees, Ku-vastei watches the spectacle in wonder until the dust has settled, and she remembers the pain in her hand. She attempts to remove Wraithguard, but all she earns for her efforts is more pain.

Slowly she rises and climbs back up the spiral pathway to the room where she first met Dagoth Ur, so as to escape the facility completely. Once she opens the door, she encounters God yet again.

She speaks: “You no longer bear the burden of prophecy. You have achieved your destiny. You are freed. The doomed Dwemer's folly. Lord Dagoth's temptation. The Tribunal's seduction. The God's heart freed. The prophecy fulfilled. All fates sealed and sins redeemed. If you have pity, mourn the lost. But let the weeping cease. The blight is gone, and the sun's golden honey gilds the land. Hail savior, Hortator and Nerevarine. Your people look to you for protection. Monsters and villains great and small still threaten the people of Vvardenfell. Enemies and evils abound, yet indomitable will might rid Morrowind of all its ills. For you, our thanks and blessing, our gift and token given. Come, take this thing from the hand of God.”

Her hands are outstretched, and between them floats a ring. Ku-vastei stares blankly.

Azura sighs. “Must I always repeat myself?”

Ku-vastei reaches with her Wraithguarded right hand, but winces.

“Ah,” Azura says, glancing at Wraithguard. “This I did not foresee. I am afraid this legacy of the Dwemer architect Kagrenac will be bound to you until you perish. The powers at play with the Heart were too much for your mortal shell to withstand.”

Ku-vastei opens her mouth to complain, but closes her eyes and takes the Ring of Azura with her left claw.

“Very well,” Azura says with a smile. “Be at peace, Nerevar.”

[convexicalcrow]

Sausage walked into the Cathedral to find Scar and Cub waiting for him. They'd called him here and asked him to bring his staff, which wasn't a problem, he always carried it with him anyway.

Sausage hesitated; the power of the Vex filled the Cathedral in a very different way to how Santa Perla or Saint Bdubs did. They were both very sunny and warm gods. The Vex, on the other hand, preferred things cold. Sausage had learned to wear a cloak when he came to the Cathedral now to keep himself warm.

But then, Sanctuary had become cold as well. Long gone was the tropical jungle air. Now, it was cold, a wet, rainy, icy winter. The colours muted, the people preferring to stay inside. The Latin music still played throughout the city, but somehow, it sounded quieter, more melancholic. Even the sunflowers seemed to droop their heads, as if they knew what Sausage had done. He'd stopped looking at them once he'd noticed, not wishing to be reminded of his pact with the Vex, and how he'd turned his back on his sunflower goddess.

Scar and Cub were in Vex form, as Sausage had come to know it as. Their skin was blue, they had Vex wings, and their faces were simply masks, with impenetrable white glowing eyes and mouths, their fingernails now sharp claws that could rip his flesh with ease. Which they had done on at least two occasions. He still had the scars on his arms to prove it.

Sausage knelt before the altar, where they were both sitting, gazing down at him with their cold eyes. "You wished to see me, masters?"

"Of course, of course. We did promise to help you control your dimension jumping, didn't we? Well, the time's come. We can add some magic to your staff to help you with that. So you can go wherever you please," Scar said.

"Oh, yes, you did say that! Thank you! It's been so awful being pulled into somewhere else like that. I'd love to be able to control it better," Sausage said.

"And is our pact still unbroken? Whispers reach us, Sausage. Whispers reach us of Santa Perla. Pleas for warmth and courage. Don't tell me you've forsaken the Vex, the ones who have sworn to help you," Cub said.

Sausage swallowed and bowed before them, hoping they wouldn't see the guilt on his face. "It's-it's nothing, I promise! Just old habits! We're not used to the cold here in Sanctuary, that's all, I wouldn't dare betray the Vex, I promise."

Scar yanked Sausage's head up, grasping his hair tightly. Sausage froze, and did his best to look appropriately submissive. A sword lifted his chin and Sausage saw straight into Scar's eyes, the light coming to be all-consuming as Vex magic paralysed him. He could taste it on his lips.

"The Vex know everything, Sausage. They see everything. They are everything. Nothing escapes Their notice. They see the old gods burning in your heart. Must we kill them before you in order to secure your obedience?" Cub said, pressing the tip of the sword gently against Sausage's skin.

"Nonononono, please, there's no need to resort to that, I swear, it's just-"

"It's just what, slave?" Scar said, pulling his hair harder.

"N-nothing, nothing. The Vex are my true masters, I swear," Sausage pleaded.

"Give us the staff," Cub said.

Sausage handed over the Staff of Sanctuary without question, and without a word. Compelled by the mesmer in Scar's eyes, Sausage had no will to disobey, not anymore.

Cub took the staff and ran his hands over it. "Very powerful. It's been crafted well. The magic here is strong. It can handle the magic we wish to give you."

"Don't overuse it, though. You can really mess things up if you keep hopping between the worlds you remember," Scar said. "Nevertheless, we accept your obedience, and your request will be granted. Cub, give the magic to the staff."

"Just needs a little Vex magic crystal to activate it, it won't take long," Cub said as he held a hand open to the air as a Vex magic crystal materialised in his palm. It was a blue colour, glowing softly in the light, though it seemed to have a mix of blues and whites and silvers mixed in, colours that swirled hypnotically that Sausage couldn't take his eyes off.

The crystal was attached to the amethyst, bound with some kind of thin membrane. Cub whispered to it, and runes and enchantments appeared on the wood, glowing with a soft blue light. Sausage had no idea what Cub was saying, just trusted them to do their jobs and hold up their end of the bargain.

And just as he felt he was about to sink into the soft white light of Scar's eyes, suddenly, he was shoved back onto the floor of the Cathedral, the spell broken, and his staff pressed into his hands. Scar and Cub slid off the altar table, and looked down at him.

"You have what you need. Now, go. We'll call you when we need you," Scar said.

"Yes, yes, of course, thank you, thank you so much," Sausage said as he scrambled to his feet and hurried out of the Cathedral.

-

"You made sure it could get to the right world, didn't you, Cub?" Scar said as he observed a dying sunflower outside.

"Of course, of course. I know the plan," Cub said. "Speaking of, perhaps we should go make sure he's still there."

"Good idea. Better make sure he's still obedient too," Scar said.

-

Supreme noticed the Vexes floating in the middle of the summoning circle from the top of his tower, and knew who had come to visit him. Beings who had promised to get him out of here and back to the place where the old Emperors lived. Oh, he'd dreamed about this for so many years, searching for the magic that could get him there. Things were so close now! So close! He ran down the stairs and headed over, kneeling gladly at the feet of the Vex. He would kneel for no one except them, until they had fulfilled their usefulness, of course. Then they would be consumed along with everyone else.

"Ah, there you are! Eager little thing, aren't you?" Scar said as he saw Supreme offering his deference.

"Masters, it has been one thousand years of torment, I need this. I need to escape. Help me out of this prison!" Supreme said, daring to look at them.

"Oh, we won't help you do that. Sausage will. He'll open the pathway you need to get out of here. But it's our magic he's using. You'll have your revenge," Scar said.

Supreme laughed; laughed and giggled and clawed at the earth, feeling his teeth sharpen in anticipation at all the chaos and death he would cause once he got there.

"I will have all their heads! All of them! Their souls will be mine to consume!" Supreme proclaimed.

Cub lay a hand on Supreme's head, and Supreme froze, going very quiet as Vex magic flooded through him. God, he hated that there was magic more powerful than his own! How could he get it? Consume these silly little Vexes? Is that how? How could he take this power for himself, so he didn't need to hold up his end of the bargain?

"There will always be more Vexes than you can consume. We are infinite. We are everything. You are simply a tiny speck of sand in our cosmos. The tool we need to bring that server under our control. No power you find there will ever break you free from our grasp," Cub said, his voice resonating through Supreme's body.

Supreme laughed again, hands clawing at his head. He never acknowledged the collar around his neck, hiding under his clothes. It contained magic vastly more powerful than he could comprehend. Magic that was documented nowhere else but in the land of the Vexes, a land he was unable to cross into, in spite of the many times he'd tried.

"Ohh, let me go, let me go now, masters, please," Supreme said, hungering for the carnage that was just out of reach.

"If we simply let you go through, what would we use against Sausage then? No, it's better you wait for him. He'll come. He has power he has wanted for a long time, and memories that will make him come here. You'll find him. You'll get your way back," Scar said.

Supreme smiled. Grinned. Wore a manic expression on his face at the thought of Sausage coming here and opening the gateway he needed to get free. Get the guard to set him free, that was perfect. He understood. He would cause so much pain with that.

Supreme laughed. Didn't notice the Vexes leaving. Didn't notice the blood sheep looking at him strangely. Didn't feel the skulk veins winding around his arms. Only felt the power pulsing through the earth towards him. The summoning circle had a heartbeat, and Supreme knew it well. Soon. Soon. Soon, he would be free.

-

Vexspace was singing. Laughing, really. Scar and Cub watched their charges, weaving their fates with precision. This had not been the initial plan, but once they found out about this evil version of Sausage, well. An insane demonic-possessed man trapped in a pocket dimension seemed like just the sort of chaos the Vex loved. Let him tear through the Empires. That will delight the Vexes. They will feast well once the slaughter is done.

[lindtluirae]

SakuAtsu | dressing you ft CEO Atsumu and Assistant Omi | Rated T

Atsumu’s day starts with coffee, and one of his brother’s onigiri if he’s lucky enough to have a few minutes to spare.

Except, today of all days, he accidentally sleeps in, and wakes up less than thirty minutes before his morning meeting with his staff.

And what kind of CEO would he be if tardiness is the example he’s setting?

Not that coffee is negotiable. Never.

Atsumu without coffee is not something he’d like to inflict on society before 9 a.m., he values his reputation, thank you very much.

Luckily, there’s a Starbucks two streets across his company where the staff are friendly enough that he’s certain they’ll make an exception when he cuts through the queue in a hurry.

But perhaps the gods have marked this day as a ‘fuck you Miya Atsumu’ holiday for their enjoyment. Because as Atsumu strides directly to the cashier, he’s smoothly derailed by a tall, dark haired man who glares at him over his mask.

He’s dressed in a crisp dark suit, his curls immaculately styled. The man clears his throat as he points a condescending finger over his shoulder. “Perhaps you can’t see, but the queue starts there.”

Atsumu ignores him. Even though it’s undignified. “Hi, Sho-kun. I’m late for my meeting, can I get my usual? Put it on the company tab.”

Then, as he stares the other man down, he pulls out a fifty dollar bill and slips it to the orange haired barista. “For your troubles,” he says sweetly. “Put his coffee on the tab too.”

He leaves the handsome, dark haired stranger to stare in stunned silence at his retreating back.

Atsumu receives his coffee in less than five minutes, and is on his way without further incident.

He has about three minutes to spare as he dashes to his office.

“Morning Yachi-san!” he throws over his shoulder, slipping into his office to grab his presentation notes.

Yachi is waiting for him at his office door to hand him a folder. “Your new assistant starts today, make sure you meet up with him after this meeting.”

Atsumu barely has time to glance at the resume now that he’s run out of time.

He makes it at 9 a.m. on the dot, and ignores his twin’s quiet snort at his undoubtedly harried expression.

Atsumu clears his throat, tweaking his tie and gathering all the dignity he has left to greet everyone. “Mornin’ boys and girls, I’ll keep today’s meeting short, I know ya’ll have deadlines.”

“What’s this, ninth grade?” he hears Suna mutter under his breath.

“Since some of you are ever so eager,” Atsumu snarks, eyes sliding to Suna. “Why don’t we start with ya, Sunarin?”

The dirty look Suna sends him improves his day by at least 20%.

*

Atsumu has nearly forgotten about meeting his new assistant, which is why he stops in his tracks upon entering his office to find it already occupied.

There’s a man shuffling the papers on Atsumu’s desk.

“Whoa, ya wanna steal from me over a coffee?”

The stranger from earlier stiffens, and straightens with a look of mild horror in his dark eyes. “I—what—no—?”

“Lemme guess,” Atsumu laughs, realisation dawning on him. He opens the folder in his hand to glimpse the photo of his assistant—the same man that now stands before him—with an impressive list of past accomplishments. “Ah. Yer indeed my new assistant, Sakusa Kiyoomi?”

Sakusa is silent for a moment. Atsumu watches him go through the five stages of grief in a record time of thirty seconds. “… you only just looked at my CV?”

“Hey, try bein’ as busy as me,” Atsumu huffs, shutting the file and casting it aside.

He unbuttons his suit jacket to hang it on his clothes tree stand.

When he faces Sakusa again, the other man seems to have arrived at some stage beyond acceptance that Atsumu has no name for. Resignation? “Am I fired?” Sakusa finally asks, looking him in the eye.

Atsumu’s eyebrows shoot up. “Uh? Ya just got here.”

“But before…”

“Ah,” Atsumu laughs again. “Don’t be silly. I ain’t that petty.”

He thinks he hears Sakusa let out a relieved exhale. “Okay… well. I was just organising your desk.”

“I dunno Omi-Omi-san, looked like ya were intent on setting my things on fire earlier,” Atsumu jests, watching with gleeful satisfaction the way Sakusa bristles at the nickname.

“What did you just call me?”

“Omi-Omi-san? Sakusa is a mouthful, and as ya can see I’m a busy man. Gotta keep it short. Now, grab those notes and follow me. We got much to cover my prickly assistant.”

He doesn’t wait for Sakusa to express any further indignation, breezing out of his office with an air of satisfaction. Take that, vengeful gods. It’s a ‘fuck you, sincerely, Miya Atsumu’ day.

*

If Kiyoomi is trying to get fired, Atsumu won’t give him the satisfaction.

Even as he chokes on a mouthful of battery-acid coffee. “ACK—the hell is this?!”

Kiyoomi is the picture of innocence. “Coffee, of course.”

“This ain’t coffee, this is expired diesel,” Atsumu hacks into a crumbled tissue. “Are ya trying ta kill me?”

Kiyoomi widens his eyes. “Miya-san, I could never.”

“It’s Atsumu. At-su-mu, how slow are ya? It’s been two months.” He narrows his eyes at Kiyoomi.

“I have gotten quiet forgetful,” Kiyoomu muses, as if tempting Atsumu to terminate his contract. “It’s gotten very busy around here.”

“Perhaps I should write it on a sticky note and glue it to yer forehead,” Atsumu says blithely, reaching for his sticky notes in warning.

Kiyoomi raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, Atsumu-san, got it.”

“Thought so,” Atsumu huffed, reaching into his drawer to pull out his car keys. “Catch.”

Kiyoomi does, quite easily, but his eyes widens when he sees the Bentley logo. “Uh?”

“Yer driving today,” Atsumu says. “I have to tweak the presentation on the way. Then we’re getting ya a respectable suit for tonight’s gala.”

Kiyoomi looks down at his attire, brows furrowing attractively. “What’s wrong with this one…?”

Atsumu gives him a weird look. “I’m not taking ya to a gala wearing a 200$ rip off Armani suit, Omi-Omi.”

The look of surprise on Kiyoomi’s face is hilarious. “You could tell it’s an Armani?”

“A copy design,” Atsumu emphasise. “And of course I could, who do ya take me for?”

Honestly, what kind of boss does Kiyoomi think Atsumu is? He interrogates him on his way to their meeting. “What salary were you offered?”

“Excuse me?” Kiyoomi glances at the rearview mirror in surprise. “… don’t you decide these things?”

“I leave the details to Yachi,” Atsumu says dismissively. “We have a set range though.”

Kiyoomi is silent for a moment. “I was offered a 75,000$ per year contract.”

“Mhm.” Atsumu makes a noncommittal noise. “Explains the suit.”

He ignores Kiyoomi’s narrowed glare, finalising his notes.

Later, as Atsumu directs Kiyoomi to their next destination, he emails Yachi to get a new dress on the company tab when she responds with what she’s planning to wear, and Atsumu discovers it’s a dress she donned last year.

They’re a respectable company, goddamn it. There’ll be media coverage, and Atsumu won’t be caught dead with his assistances in unfashionable or outdated outfits.

Not when almost half of his income comes from the occasional modelling shoots he does for famous brands.

Kiyoomi trails him silently into one of the Tom Ford branches Atsumu frequents for his events, beginning to look slightly nervous the deeper into the shop Atsumu leads him. “You look like an all-black aesthetic type of guy,” Atsumu muses, glancing at some of the displayed suits.

“Ah, Miya-san!” One of the store’s attendants perks up, and Atsumu smiles beatifically at the familiar face, discreetly glancing at her name tag. “Kiyoko-san, lovely to see you again.”

She’s wearing a polite smile. “How can I help you?”

“I would like to get my assistant outfitted. Classic dark overalls, preferably a Shelton tuxedo.” Atsumu takes a thorough look at Kiyoomi, allowing himself for the first time to note his slender frame, the elegant stretch of his neck and the delicate paleness of his skin. “I’m thinkin’ with a rollneck sweater and leather loafers. I’ll be pickin’ the accessories.”

“Excellent choice, Miya-san,” Kiyoko says as she too, surveys Kiyoomi.

A blush creeps over the edge of his mask at their dual perusal.

“And what would you like for yourself?” Kiyoko turns back to him.

“I’m thinking of slim-fit navy velvet,” Atsumu decides, trying not to smile as Kiyoomi shuffles discreetly, looking more and more reluctant by the minute. “Preferably a Shelton. A double-cuff shirt, and a silk pocket square. I’ll leave the rest to your expertise.”

Kiyoko calls another employee to take over outfitting Kiyoomi.

“Your dressing room will see you now,” Kiyoko tells Atsumu, leading him in over chrome and thick-ply carpeting to the second floor.

It takes them about an hour, with Atsumu making adjustments to his apparel and checking on Kiyoomi.

Every time he sees him, Atsumu’s mouth dries a little. He’s tempted to forget about the gala just to play dress up and doll Kiyoomi up with every style of tux he can think off.

The all-black suits him immaculately. He looks even taller than his 190 centimetres, intimidating in a serious business-manner. And most importantly, it’s striking enough against his skin that he catches the eye without trying,

Subtle and classy but screaming expensive, just like Atsumu likes it.

Kiyoomi looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself as Atsumu makes him turn around and check the fit.

“Gorgeous,” Atsumu remarks, smoothing out the lapels of Kiyoomi’s jacket and relishing in the bright blush that burns over his now naked face.

It’s a crime, Atsumu muses, to hide such beauty from the world.

Kiyoomi clears his throat, lowering his voice. “Isn’t this a bit much?”

“Nonsense,” Atsumu says, then turns to Kiyoko. “We’ll take it.”

Kiyoomi’s breath catches as Kiyoko leaves. “Um. Miya—Atsumu-san. How much—how much is that suit?”

Kiyoko’s assistant pipes up from behind them. “That’ll be 9000 dollars with the loafers.”

To his unadulterated amazement, Kiyoomi looks three shades paler as he hisses. “I—what—that’s—that’s more than an entire month’s salary!”

“Hey, hey,” Atsumu laughs. “It’s on me my prickly urchin, relax.”

Kiyoomi is shaking his head. “It’s too much, I can’t possibly accept—“

“Are you saying no to your boss, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu raises a challenging eyebrow, and Kiyoomi falls silent.

Finally, he says, quietly, “why?”

“I told ya, I won’t be caught dead with a fake suit, Omi-Omi.”

“Still…” Kiyoomi protests, looking down at his suit again. “It’s just…”

“Eh, I can afford it,” Atsumu shrugs. “Sides…” he lets his eyes trail down Kiyoomi’s body. “It’s fun to dress ya. I should do it more often.”

Kiyoomi’s face goes red, and Atsumu laughs again.

He has an inkling that he just acquired a new favourite hobby.

[aggressivelyaverage21]

Iron on Bloom Chapter 3: Fire Bites

Shannon worries about her dad and gets her burn treated. BUT … not without being stubborn first. Something about apples and trees. She takes a nap and had the hardest conversation of her life.

“Let them take you back to surgery.”

“No.”

God damn stubborn as ever. “Shannon.”

“It’s my decision.”

“Okay.” Jo nodded, looking to Maggie for any guidance she might be able to offer and finding none whatsoever except for a look of pure sympathy. She rested her hand heavily between Shannon’s shoulder blades hoping it would ground her. “Okay, just breathe for me. Keep breathing for me.”

It hurt, and Shannon was consumed by it—something like putting blinders on a horse, the pain was all she could see. Her frame of reference shrunk to the sharpness of the doctor working on her burn, the mask pressing uncomfortably into the bridge of her nose and the sides of her cheeks, and the warmth of Jo’s leg against her chest through her sweatpants. Occasionally she felt the hand between her shoulder blades steady and solid. She could even sometimes hear Jo’s voice at the fringes of her awareness, not that she was able to make out her words, but it did help. Even if only a little.

By the time he finished Shannon’s chest was heaving through the pain. It doesn’t help. Her throat still ached. Her lungs were still burning even with the humidified oxygen. Swallowing made her throat feel almost as raw as her back did. She’d stopped taking full breaths, even with Jo’s coaching.

Shannon’s heart rate was just shy of what Jo thinks the hospital staff might have set the alarm to and her O2-sats were creeping lower. “Shannon, you have to breathe. All the way in, mija .”

Maggie stepped around the other side of the bed and adjusted Shannon’s mask, explaining that the albuterol should help. There was an uncomfortable warmth in the back of her hand where the IV port was as the doctor called for hydroxocobalamin, another round of morphine, and the start of a powerful antibiotic.

By the time the doctor finished laying a healthy layer of bacitracin and non-stick bandages over Shannon’s wounds, the girl was asleep in her aunt’s lap. The morphine helped for sure, but Jo was a little worried Shannon might have been in enough pain that her body decided to just… shut off for a little while.

The ruined shorts lay on the bed under Shannon’s hips, along with the rather crunchy looking melted parts of the spandex shorts Shannon liked to wear when working out. Maggie laid a sheet over her lower half to cover the freshly bandaged burns. She also placed a pair of the cotton hospital shorts folded on the chair with a silent pat. Jo mouthed a ‘ thank you’ at her as she ran her hand through Shannon’s hair. The doctor nodded to her as well as he pulled his gloves from his hands before tossing them in the trash can.

She sighed again as she ran her hand over Shannon’s soot-coarse hair. “My brave girl.” Jo dropped her head back against the tilted mattress for the briefest of moments of respite when she remembered Lucky had to also be somewhere in the room.

Lucky, ever the perfect dog, had just laid in the corner watching carefully. Jo was just thankful he hadn’t tried to protect Shannon like he had been known to do on occasion. “Good boy.” She mumbled looking at him, his tail tumped once, twice, against the cold tile before he stood in that way he’d started to. Slow and careful of his old hips.

Jo sent a silent prayer up for God to allow that dog to stick around for at least a little while longer. She wasn’t sure Shannon would be able to handle losing both her dad and Lucky. Hell, Jo didn’t think she would handle it either. “Come here, buddy.” She patted the side of the bed for him to climb up now that Shannons burns were covered.

He hopped up with a little tug from her at the back of his collar, and curled next to her other hip with plenty of room. His chin rested against Shannon’s back too as he gave a small wine, the first noise he’d made since she’d heard his barking when Shannon was running back toward the fire to get to Sean. “She’s going to be okay,” Jo scratched between his ears, not daring to look into those strangely understanding eyes.

Lucky, ever the empath, turned his head to lick at Jo’s hand before nuzzling against Shannon’s back. Jo lifts the sheet with careful flingers glancing down at the bandaged skin. It was large. It would scar, too, probably pretty badly. She needed to talk to the Doctor about what the next steps were going to be, if there needed to be any. Surgery. Maybe an attempt at a skin graft.

She replaced the sheet just as the machine next to the bed beeped with the release of a fresh dose of pain medication for Shannon. She was certainly going to need it. That burn… Jo couldn’t believe she’d advocated for Shannon running into that fire. It felt okay at the time. The fire didn’t seem that serious, and the firefighters should have been there any minute. And the kid had done well. She did so well. But she wasn’t a firefighter. And this wasn’t a risk she should have taken, or encouraged Sean to take.

Shannon would need to call her coach at Notre Dame. The trip to Ireland was going to be tough with that kind of burn. Shannon certainly wouldn’t be able to play. God, she was going to be so upset. Shannon hated missing games. And growing up, she hated it more when Sean or Jo had insisted she take a game or a practice off to let herself heal.

Jo wasn’t tired. She needed to move. To get up and walk around. Be distracted by something other than Shannon being hurt like this too. Ben was good at that. So were a lot of the other guys. Even Sean would be too, if it was just Shannon hurt, and if Shannon had been the one wheeled to surgery like she should have been.

They were going to have a serious talk about that later. The potential that Shannon was punishing herself for something, for not helping more in the fire or something equally as stupid was probably pretty high. Though it was also just as likely that Shannon was only aware of not wanting to be gone if anything did happen with Sean. She adored her dad. She absolutely adored him.

This was going to crush her if it hadn’t already.

A knock on the door pulled Jo’s attention from smoothing the crease of Shannon’s brow, furrowed even in her sleep. It’s a different doctor this time, one Jo recognized from the ER—Adams? Anderson? Something like that.

His eyes shifted down to Shannon, a small, sad smile turning the corner of his lips before he turned his attention to Jo. “You’re the power of attorney?”

KEEP READING

[fancoloredglasses]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Who knew this concept would be successful?)

(Thanks to TMNTPedia)

[All images are owned by Mirage Studios and Nickelodeon. Please don’t sue me] 

Depending on your age, what you think of when hearing the letters “TMNT” could range from this...

...to this.

(Thanks to Fandango)

(and I am SO sorry if the latter is the case for you)

Now, I will not be reviewing Michael bay’s destruction of my youth (gods, you already destroyed Transformers! LEAVE MY CHILDHOOD ALONE!) or the various series by Nickelodeon (never saw them, sorry), but rather exploring TMNT’s origins back to the mid-80s.

Now, I wasn’t on the ground floor for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, as the series was already a couple of years old be the time I’d heard of it (too bad, a copy of the first printing of the first issue is worth of $15 thousand!), and even then I thought the concept was ridiculous! I mean, 4 giant turtles who were ninja and named after famous painters?!

Then I read the comic and was hooked.

Kevin Eastman and Brian Laird had made a silly concept and turned it into something epic (and definitely not for kids, as the turtles didn’t pull punches!)

Now, depending on what version you grew up with, the origin varies. Therefore, here’s the original origin, and why it’s never been fully duplicated...

The part that never changes is the turtles and their master (a rat named Splinter, more on him later) were covered by a mutagenic ooze that evolved them physically and mentally. But the part that was removed was it’s ties to a certain Marvelous hero...

(Thanks to comicbook.com)

Observant fans will recognize this as the origin of Daredevil. I’m not certain why Marvel’s lawyers didn’t descend on Eastman and Laird within an hour of issue 1 hitting comic shops! In any event, for obvious reasons this bit is never mentioned again.

As for Splinter, in the comic he was a rat who mimicked the actions of his owner, a ninja named Hamato Yoshi. In doing so, he mastered the art of ninjitsu (hey, stranger origins have happened!) When Splinter rescued the turtles from the mutagen (or, as the comic and future versions called it, “ooze”), he also gained size and intelligence. When the turtles had evolved enough to walk on two legs and speak, Splinter taught them ninjitsu (or at least the moves. It’s unclear how much of the meditative aspects of martial arts he picked up). I have no idea why they needed to wear the masks. It’s not like they’ll be mistaken for all the other 5 foot tall bipedal turtles in New York.

As to how Splinter wound up in the sewer to rescue the turtles, it was revenge. Yoshi was disgraced and exiled from his clan, the Foot (another jab at Marvel and Daredevil, who deals with a ninja clan known as “The Hand”) after killing his rival, Oroku Naji, while defending his wife from Naji. Years later he would get a visit from Naji’s brother...

(Thanks again to TMNTPedia)

...Oroku Saki (now the head of the Foot clan and going by the name “Shredder”), who murders Yoshi. One other deviation the comic has to every other version of the franchise...

(Thanks to The Brotherhood of Evil Geeks)

...SHREDDER IS KILLED IN ISSUE 1!

The turtles are, of course...

Leonardo The leader of the group and devoted disciple of Splinter, wielding twin katanas (though a katana is a samurai weapon. Leo should be wielding a pair of ninjato)

Donatello The awkward tech expert, Don (or Donny in some interpretations) wields a bo staff

Michaelangelo Mike (or Mikey is some interpretations) is often characterized as almost a stoner, but in the comics he was simply the more free-spirited of the bunch and the most likely to want to goof off. He wields a pair of nunchucks.

Raphael Raph is the loose cannon of the group, most likely to not follow Leo’s lead or go it alone. He wields a pair of Sai.

There are, of course, other members of the comic (such as April O’Neil, Casey Jones, Baxter Stockman, and the aliens with the brains in their stomachs (yes, there are more than one in the original comic)), but they’re not central to the story.

Now, a concept as bonkers and successful as TMNT is bound to get a few imitators, and none were more notorious than...

(Thanks to MyComicShop)

...and I know nothing about the series other than the title.

A few years later, The Boys in Green would hit the big time and an image upgrade (no doubt so they could sell more toys) by getting different color masks.

(Thanks to Jopz Valentine Frani)

And immediately you can see the changes that were made for the kids in addition to the marketable makeover: Hamato Yoshi became Splinter (at least we know they’ll learn meditation) and the Shredder (who became Hamato Yoshi’s rival, with Naji written out of the origin) was never killed, becoming the turtles’ main nemesis. This is also where the turtles got their love of pizza.

And we know these days, it a TV show is successful enough, someone will want to make a movie out of it.

(Thanks to Michael Unwin)

The first movie did a decent job of folding the comic into the cartoon. The marketable outfits were there, but there was a bit of PG edginess to it. The second...ehhhhhhhhhh, not so much. And don’t get me started on the third!

As always, if anyone would like a review of an episode (or film), let me know!

[queenclaudiabrown]

Living Legend | Chapter Eleven: United

Content warnings: uncensored cussing; canonical events; canon-typical and story-typical violence and injuries; Media: Moon Knight S1E6 “Gods and Monsters” Word count: 4,107

     Flying was… breathtaking.

     Once they’d gotten out of the pyramid, slicing through rubble and shielding themselves from more of it with their armored wings, they had merely needed to obtain enough altitude and then throw themselves into the air with their arms spread.  It was all physics and aerodynamics from there, and despite their weight and the small size of their wings, the Avatars of Taweret found themselves flying through the Cairo sky, under the Moon and stars.

     “I see purple!”  Layla called.  She shifted her arms, altering her course, and Sarah followed her, hoping it was Harrow.

     They came to land on the rooftop of a random building along one of the streets.  Harrow was easily recognizable, his grape-clad form (apparently he didn’t get any costume upgrades, what a shame) standing over someone on the ground, bright purple light bursting forth from the head of the empowered staff he held as he prepared to wield it mercilessly against the figure at his feet.

     A familiar figure- a man, clad in a grey cloak and bandage-like suit, with glowing eyes and a crescent on his hood and chest.

     Moon Knight.

     Marc.  Steven.

     Sarah’s heart jumped, throat constricting, but Layla acted first, jumping into the air from the edge of the rooftop.  Her wings carried her, and she soared in an arc directly toward Harrow, colliding with him feetfirst so hard he went flying away as Layla easily landed on her feet.  Sarah cheered, holding up two fingers in Harrow’s direction as she stepped forward, mentally calculating how to fly down to her friends without kicking Layla away.

     All logical calculations disappeared as Harrow got to his feet.  Sarah threw herself off the roof as fast as she could, arms and wings close to her side as she flew like a missile on an intercept course between Harrow and Layla.  Half a second before she reached her target, she brought her legs forward and threw her arms up in front of herself, crossing her wings into a shield before her feet had even hit the ground.  The violet beam struck her with a greater force than she’d expected, but her armor reflected it back at its wielder, and Harrow was thrown even further backward with a pained cry.

     Sarah relaxed infinitesimally, and her wings retracted as she lowered her arms.  She swiveled on the spot to see Marc- now maskless- getting to his feet.  “Layla.”  He uttered in adoration and relief, rushing to meet her halfway.

     “Marc.”  Her voice mirrored his as they hugged each other tightly.  Sarah felt a bit like an outsider, but her relief to find at least Marc alive overpowered her awkwardness.

     “Oh, baby.”  He drew back just a little, holding Layla’s face in his hands like she was the most precious thing in the world (to be fair, she probably was to him).  “Thank God you’re okay.”

     “How’d- How’d you get back?”  Laya asked what was on Sarah’s mind.

     Before he could answer, his garb shifted in a flash of bandages into the odd three-piece suit Steven had worn, again sans mask.  “Wow, you look amazing!  What are you wearing?”  Steven questioned.

     “Wait, you’re both back?”  Sarah blurted.  “And can shift back and forth without mirrors?”

     Steven and Layla’s heads swiveled to look at her.  “It’s a bloody long story, love.  Tell you all about it later- come here.”

     Sarah rushed forward, into his embrace without hesitation.  It was like coming home.  “I missed you so damn much.”  She said into his shoulder, tears blooming in her eyes.  “Nope, nope, I’ll cry later.”  She reluctantly pulled away from him.  “Layla and I are fine, we’re Taweret’s temporary Avatars.  The four of us are gonna have a big chat later, though- don’t think you’re getting out of that.”

     “Wouldn’t dream of it.”  He replied honestly.

     “Uh-oh.”  Layla spoke, and Sarah and Steven turned their gazes to see Harrow standing once more a mass of his followers around him and wielding weapons.

     “I’m really jazzed about showing you two these new skillsets we have.”  Steven said excitedly.

     “Alright.  Show us what you got.”  Layla replied as Sarah stepped out of Steven’s way.

     “Yeah?”

     “Hell yeah.”  Sarah confirmed, shooting him a supportive smile.

     His mask- his mask, Steven’s, the one with the ugly seam down the front like a crack- reformed over his face, eyes glowing once more, and he sprinted forward.  Layla and Sarah both took a short running leap, wings bursting from their hiding places once more and allowing them to glide either side of Steven.  Sarah lost track of them as she spread her wings wide, plowing through several cultists and knocking them down.  Landing once more, she caught sight of Steven again as he engaged several others in physical combat, both with fighting moves and what appeared to be small batons.

     “Sarah, we have swords!”  Layla called, voice tinged with giddy excitement.

     Sarah frowned in confusion, attempting to mentally summon them.  Her wings vanished once more, but the largest primary feather of each slid into its corresponding hand, morphing into one-edged swords of medium length.  She got back to running, once again on Steven’s side opposite Layla as she fought her way through the cultists.  Becker and Abby’s training came back to her as she tried to primarily use blunt force to disarm her opponents, doing her best to only hit with her swords.  She was a blur of swinging, twisting movement, her ebony braids flying out around her in tandem.

     A beam of amethyst was narrowly dodged by Steven, and she managed to bring her gaze to him once more in time to watch him chuck a baton toward Harrow, who deflected it.  Yet in the few moments that it ricocheted, Steven flawlessly switched back into Marc, his jacket shrinking down and Marc’s magnificent cape flowing out of apparently nowhere, the hood of it forming over his head half a second before his hand flung out and caught the baton, which he immediately struck a nearby cultist down with.

     There was a moment of pause, and all three of them looked to Harrow, who stood calmly a few meters away.  “I was gonna shove that scarab up your arse, but I think I’m gonna use a sword now.”  Sarah spat.  She glanced toward Layla, who gave her a brief nod.

     The trio bolted for Harrow, and as a cultist between them and him raised his gun, Sarah begrudgingly slashed at him, not so much as slowing down as he crumpled to the ground.  Her eyes were on the target- Arthur Harrow.

     She reached him first, somehow, and greeted him with a swing of one sword, which he blocked with his staff.  She brough up a leg and delivered a Spartan kick to his stomach, earning a grunt from him.  Layla joined them at that moment, spinning through the air and attacking with her own blades.  Marc came between the women again, mercifully not in the usual sense, and the three of them rained attacks on Harrow.  The bastard somehow had seemingly gained enhanced reflexes, dodging their blows or parrying them with his staff, which he swiped and struck back at them with.  The amethystine head came swinging in Sarah’s direction, and with it came a surprising sensation- fiery heat and paralyzing cold at the same time.  It didn’t hit Sarah, but left her feeling very unsettled for a short moment as the feeling faded.

     That moment of disorientation cost her, and before she could do any further damage to Harrow, he had shoved Layla away somehow and managed to strike the ground with his staff.  A pulsing bubble-like blast of the power within his staff surged outward, blowing all three of them back.  Sarah’s back impacted the wall of a building and she hit the ground, nauseated even worse than she had been moments before.

     The worst was not over.  Harrow advanced on her, being the nearest target, and she desperately raised one arm to shield herself as he brought up his staff to strike at her like an overpowered mystical axe.  A wing burst into existence, blocking his strike, but the sheer physical force of it drove her arm down.  Frantic, she rolled onto her back to free up her other arm, but before she could use both to protect herself, Harrow’s foot came down on her stomach in a harsh stomp.  A cry escaped her mouth before she could stop it.  Stooping, he seized her by the throat, squeezing hard enough to choke her debilitatingly (not that it took much in her state), and hurled her down the street with inhuman strength.  She skidded across the ground past Moon Knight, and her unarmored head banged against a vehicle.  She watched helplessly with double vision as he targeted Layla next.

     But he had barely gotten a single blocked attack in before being tackled by Steven, and the pair vanished from view.  Layla whirled around, eyes landing on Sarah, who didn’t see the look of horror and concern that flashed across her pretty features upon glimpsing her state.  “Are you alright?”  She gasped, pulling her sister in arms to her feet.  “This shouldn’t be happening; Taweret’s protection should be doing a better job.”

     “I asked Taweret to give you more.”  Sarah confessed, leaning against Layla.  “If her power couldn’t be given evenly to both of us, I wanted you to have more.”

     “Stupid girl.”  Layla chastised, but Sarah could tell it was spoken out of genuine worry.  Marc abruptly appeared in the street again, face-to-face with Harrow.  Their gazes snapped to the two Avatars, and Layla spoke quickly: “Taweret if you can hear me, share your power with Sarah and I equally.”

     Before Sarah could object, that same feeling from earlier washed over her again, and her soreness and disorientation ebbed away, vision clearing.  “Whoa.”  She breathed.  Nodding briefly at Layla, the pair dashed toward Khonshu and Ammit’s Avatars.

     Harrow swung his staff, but Layla caught it from behind before he could get very far and shoved him against the wall.  Sarah let loose and sent an uncharacteristic punch directly into Harrow’s face, feeling the satisfying pop and snap of his nose breaking under her knuckles.  Marc came in from the side, his arm combatting Harrow’s free one.  “Duck!”  Layla ordered Sarah, producing one wing and swinging it toward the staff as Marc attacked with a crescent blade.  Before Sarah could process it (having done as Layla commanded), Harrow had gotten away from the wall, but Marc and Layla were still on him, and as she joined in the three of them all laid hands on his staff, fighting to pry it from his hands as the four stumbled and slid down the street.

     “How the hell are you this strong?”  Sarah grunted.  “You’re too old to be this bloody strong.”

     “Get into the van!  Go inside!  Get in!”  A man shouted in Arabic close by, and Sarah’s gaze moved from the expanding violet glow of the staff to a group of civilians climbing inside a nearby van in horror.

     Sure enough, a beam erupted from the crocodilian head of the staff, railing against the van.  Screams came from its passengers as it rolled onto its side, and before Sarah could do so, Layla had disengaged from the group and started flying toward it.  Reluctant to leave Marc but knowing Layla needed more help, Sarah let go of the staff as well, spreading her wings and kicking off Harrow’s knee (a move that was more pettiness than strategy) to intercept the purple beam.

     And intercept it she did.  Bracing herself, she cut into the beam, using her body and armor to interrupt the constant flow of energy and give Layla an advantage in however she was handling it out of Sarah’s field of vision.  Sarah landed at the front of the van, wings retracting as she spotted Layla behind the van, hands braced against its roof and further killing its perilous momentum.

     “Are you Egyptian superheroes?”  A young woman standing a few feet away asked them in awe.

     “I am.”  Layla replied.

     “Not exactly.”  Sarah admitted.

     They rushed to tear off one of the van’s doors, both of them calling out to the terrified passengers in Arabic.  The moment they were all out, the women moved again, immediately being met with the sight of a gun-wielding cultist.  Layla, in front of Sarah, deflected his shots with her wings, dealing with him as Sarah knocked unconscious another man with her own wings.  A third came at them from another angle, and Sarah somersaulted forward, flinging her wing out to nail him in the groin with feathers of metal.

     “You good?”  Layla asked.

     “I’m fine; we need to get back to Marc.”  Sarah answered, but before they could do so they were set upon once more.

     Half a dozen cultists later, the two women caught sight of Marc being bombarded by violet.  “Marc!”  Sarah shouted as they ran to intercept, but a moment later one of his crescent blades caught Layla by the wing and pinned her to the undercarriage of the van.  Sarah, though missed by the crescent, skidded to a stop, unsure if she should go to Marc’s aid or Layla’s.

     With a shout, Harrow threw Marc to the ground with a blast of amethyst, the last vestiges of which hurtled toward the women.  Sarah sidestepped quickly, placing herself in front of Layla and bringing up her wings to shield herself.  The blast struck, but the assault quickly faded, and she lowered them once more.

     Marc lay apparently defeated on the broken ground, mask gone as Harrow advanced on him once more.  Behind the Avatar, Ammit brought Khonshu to the ground with his own staff.  Sarah’s heart faltered, lurching in her chest as a pit formed in her stomach.  Was this it?  Was this the end?  Was Ammit about to win and eradicate free will and thought from the world, slaughtering those she deemed unworthy of life?

     Sarah was torn.  Should she come to Marc’s aid and fight Harrow, or throw herself into combat with forces far more powerful than Avatars?  The thought of kicking Harrow’s ass was appealing, and Marc and Steven were clearly in need of help, but none of the fighting on the ground would matter if Ammit won.

     Sarah swallowed hard and made a choice.

     She sprinted back to Layla and wrapped her hand around the crescent trapping Layla in place, jerking it out and hurling it toward Harrow with a furious yell.  The Avatar briefly lifted his staff to swat it away, then returned to attacking Marc.

     “Give me a boost.”  Sarah instructed, and Layla nodded, crouching down and bracing her wings together like a platform.  Sarah quickly climbed up onto them, and after a confirmatory nod, Layla flung her arms upward, launching Sarah into the air.  She spread her own wings before gravity could take over again and twisted herself in the air, resolutely flying toward Khonshu and Ammit as machine gunfire erupted on the street once more.

     Sarah took her perch on the capstone of the Great Pyramid of Giza.  “Oi, weird crocodile lady!”  She shouted.  The crocodilian deity threw Khonshu to the ground and turned, eyeing Sarah critically.

     “And who are you who defies my justice?”  Ammit demanded.

     “I am Doctor Sarah Page, Egyptologist, Avatar of Taweret.”  Sarah answered, head held high.  “I have crossed worlds and escaped death, and you are not the first monster I have faced.”  She tilted her head.  “Perhaps not even the worst.  But even so, I cannot allow you to win.”

     “Your scales lack balance; you have no place in my world.  Your soul must pass on.”  Ammit told her.

     “I honestly don’t give a shit if I pass your magic test or not.”  Sarah replied bluntly.  “Of course I’m going to fail the test when I’m judged by unfair and immoral principles.  I’m not perfect, and I don’t need to be.”

     “Enough of this drivel.”  The demon goddess sneered.  “Judgement awaits you, child.”

     She swung at Sarah with Khonshu’s staff, but Sarah jumped and took flight before she could be hit.  She soared over the crocodilian’s head, arcing down behind her in a course toward her throat.  With a flick of her wrists, she conjured both her swords, and she twisted herself as she sailed under Ammit’s chin.  The sharp edges of her weapons sliced the thick flesh of the demoness’ throat, but to Sarah’s chagrin they seemed to wound about as much as a papercut.  With an annoyed growl, Ammit swiped with her own hand (paw?) at Sarah, who narrowly avoided being hit.

     She landed at Khonshu’s side.  “Khonshu?  What do I do?”

     “You do not have the power to defeat her, little bug.”  The avian deity rumbled.

     “Then help Marc and Steven and Layla, and I’ll keep her occupied.”  Sarah responded through gritted teeth.

     Abruptly, Khonshu thrust his hand out, above Sarah’s head.  The Egyptologist flinched and looked up, seeing Ammit’s foot positioned directly above her but blocked by Khonshu’s quick thinking.  “Thanks, but go.  I’ll handle her.”  Sarah reiterated.

     She took flight once more, and Khonshu vanished in a whirlwind.  She circled above Ammit for a few moments, wondering how best to attack.  Deciding to be petty, she dove down again, swooping out of reach of Ammit’s swatting hands.  On her downward pass, she wrapped her hands firmly in the end of the thick braid of hair that hung down Ammit’s back, and flew away with all her strength while still holding tight.  Ammit yelped as she was unbalanced, and Sarah dropped the hair (even with her Avatar-enhanced strength, it was absurdly heavy and her arms were burning like she’d never felt).

     She flew away again, but not fast enough, and moments later Ammit’s giant, meaty hand wrapped around her, crushing Taweret’s beautifully-crafted wings of armor around Sarah perilously tight.  “What is it Khonshu called you?  ‘Little bug’?”  Ammit taunted.  “It would only be fitting if I crushed you.”

     Gasping for breath even though she knew it was futile, Sarah shut her eyes.  All she could hope now was that the others would succeed in defeating Ammit and she herself would find peace in the afterlife- preferably with Taweret guiding her- and that she could perhaps be reunited with Professor Nick Cutter.  It would be nice to see him again, even beyond the grave.

     And then everything changed.

     “No.”  Ammit breathed in disbelief.  She threw Sarah aside, and the Avatar’s head spun with the rush of oxygen.  She threw her sore arms out desperately and the crumpled wings were restored in a moment, catching the air and saving Sarah from a painful death.  She swung around to see Ammit’s eyes fixed on the ground where she’d left Harrow, Marc, Steven, and Layla.  Khonshu rose up and socked Ammit solidly in her protruding face, causing the demon to stagger backward.  Taking advantage of the distraction, Sarah headed down to the ground to see what had happened.

     She found Marc kneeling on the ground, sans mask, holding Harrow by the collar.  The axe-like head of his own staff rested against the latter Avatar’s forehead.  And then, as if it couldn’t get any weirder, Marc’s eyes rolled back and he shuddered, and his expression shifted from murder to confusion.  Panting, he turned his gaze to Harrow, and he dropped both the man and the staff.  He got to his feet.  “That wasn’t you, was it Steven?”  He asked.

     He shifted into Steven, who looked equally disturbed.  “Not a chance, mate.”

     A few moments of observing the dead bodies later, he returned to being Marc.  “Marc?”  Layla questioned warily, as surprised as Sarah as she jogged toward them.

     “Yeah?”

     “What the hell was that?”

     “I blacked out.”  He admitted, a foreign note of terror in his voice.

     “Are there three of you or something?”  Sarah asked, coming to a stop.  “Because if that wasn’t you or Steven….”

     She trailed off, and noise from behind them drew their attention.  Khonshu had been defeated again and was limp, and Ammit was dragging him away in victory.  He evidently wasn’t dead, since Marc still wore the Moon Knight armor.  Perhaps Harrow’s incapacitation had given the demon the strength to overcome the moon god again.

     “Get Harrow.  We know how to stop Ammit.”  Layla took control of the situation.

     “Allow me.”  Sarah spoke darkly, moving quickly to grab him before Marc could.  She gripped him by his hair and yanked him upright, then fisted his collar and let him drag on the ground, her pace matching Layla’s.

     Maybe she couldn’t shove a scarab or a sword up his behind, but she wasn’t going to treat him gently either.

     Arriving back in the Chamber of the Gods was a wholly different experience than entering it the first time.  Now an Avatar, Sarah could feel the sheer power of the chamber, amplifying what Taweret had placed inside her.

     Sarah threw Harrow down onto a slab of stone. “The power of this room will help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body.”  Layla explained.  “Quick, grab my hands so we can start the spell.”

     Sarah and Marc each took one of Layla’s hands, and Sarah focused herself on the power within her, Taweret’s presence still felt inside her being.  Her body jolted as that presence and power seemed to amplify, and the words that came unbidden to her mind spilled from her lips.  They chanted in Ancient Egyptian repetitively as a purple light- not quite the same shade as what came from Harrow’s staff and definitely not the same feeling- flowed from her and Marc and Layla’s hands, extending outward to penetrate the Ennead statues throughout the chamber and form a ring around Harrow.  His body shook and jolted, and from above a swirling purple cloud descended, entering his body through his mouth.  Ammit was being caged, and it was better than merely imprisoning her in a stone ushabti.

     It was like standing against a powerful gale, dragging a demon goddess’s soul out of her form and cramming it into mortal flesh that was tiny and weak in comparison.  But the electrifying feeling wasn’t frightening, it was elating, and all her weariness and pain melted away as her very soul seemed to lift.

     Their chant finished as Ammit was fully caged.  “You can never contain me!”  Harrow’s mouth spat, his voice overlaid by an unfamiliar feminine one that Sarah assumed was Ammit’s.  “I’ll never stop.”

     Before Sarah could issue a witty retort, that feeling faded from her body, and the three of them found themselves free of that incredible power.  “Finish it, and leave neither of them alive.”  Khonshu commanded, appearing at a much more reasonable height within the chamber.

     Looking labored but determined, Marc stepped up onto the stone that Harrow and Ammit’s shared body lay on.  He jerked a crescent blade from his chest and seized Harrow’s shirt, pulling him upward.  But even as Marc drew his arm back, coiled like a snake waiting to strike, a punch waiting to be thrown, he hesitated.  Sarah watched him shake with wide eyes.  “While he lives, so too does she.”  Khonshu reminded.

     “I have to finish this.  If not I’ll never be free.”  Marc said, as if convincing himself of that to justify killing an unarmed man.

     “Marc!”  Layla stayed his hand with a single word.  He paused, lowering his arm and turning his gaze to her.  “You have a choice.  You are free.”

     “The choice is vengeance!”  Khonshu insisted.

     “Oi!”  Sarah snapped.  “I want Harrow dead, believe me, but Marc’s conscience and liberty mean more to me than personal vengeance.  But he and Ammit need to be stopped or this whole nightmare will begin again.”

     “We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out.  She will kill again.”  Khonshu pressed.

     “Now you sound just like her.”  Marc muttered lowly.  Decisively, he released Harrow.  “You want them dead?”  He threw the crescent aside.  “Do it yourself.”  He dared the moon god.  “Now release us.”

     Sarah waited with bated breath, watching as Khonshu briefly turned his eyeless gaze to both her and Layla.  “As you wish.”  He conceded, vanishing in dust and smoke.

     And as the Moon Knight armor receded from Marc’s body, peeling away in scrolling strips of grey, Sarah found herself smiling, optimistic that with the end of his service, all four of them- Marc, Steven, Layla, and herself- would begin a new chapter in their lives, united and with no more secrets.

     She would tell them about her past and the ARC, she decided.  Family should be honest with each other.

END OF ACT I

[wellthebardsdead]

Gateway {Hanzo Shimada X Fem Reader}

I’m probably going to re-write this fic at some point because I’m just not happy with it.

{Edit: also for this I know Hanzo doesn’t actually have prosthetics he just got dainty ankles but dammit I love the tortured possibilities the head cannon gives him as a character so I’m doing it dang it!}

Enjoy!~Bambi

The bustling of the convention floor echoed on every wall and through every hall, BlizzCon was in full swing, and you along with a selection of guest cosplayers had a front seat row to it all.

To say it was a dream come true would be an understatement. To think a year ago you were just a collage student, and now you were a rising star amongst the cosplay community, more specifically, the overwatch community in general.

You initially bought the game to play with friends in your free time, and you fell head over heels in love with the characters and their designs. One character in particular though stole not only your attention, but your heart. Hanzo Shimada.

His hair, his costumes, his tattoos. Everything about him was breathtaking to you. You found yourself analysing piece by piece of his look until eventually you scrimped and saved enough to go out and buy the materials needed to make it for yourself, a feminine variant of it at least. Your main was your very first cosplay, and the one that sparked your professional career.

Upon wearing it to a small local convention you bumped into several well known cosplayers who were chasing the con season for all its worth. They fawned over your craftsmanship and when you mentioned setting up an Instagram for your work they begged you to do so so they could follow you.

You uploaded a single photo, that was all it took. From there your career spiraled up the ladder and your follower count rose drastically. And now here you were, a renowned artist with a lineup of supporters waiting for their photo with you.

You stood at your booth dawning your latest creation, cyber ninja Hanzo. It wasn’t your most comfortable cosplay, it was an exact replica but it was rigid, hard to sit down in and impossible to go to the bathroom in. Still blizzard paid you a pretty penny to make and wear it, plus, you had thousands of people lined up just to see you, who were you to complain.

A beaming smile spread across your face as your next fan approached, although it was hidden by your mask. You gave them a hug and thanked them for their support before the photographer snapped a pic. Hug, thanks, photo, bye. Hug, thanks, photo, bye... hug... thanks... photo...

...“god you smell so good in person my sweet dragon girl, I finally get to hold you, I finally have you.” ...

You felt the strange man press up something against your hip... it was wet...

“LET GO OF ME!! HELP ME PLEASE!!!!” You screamed.

You don’t recall what happened, just con security running off after that creep, and a number of staff and convention officials crowding around where you lay on the floor sobbing in panic...

...

That was a month ago now....

...

A loud knock at the door startled your attention away from your work, a sharp pained gasp escaped your lips as you accidentally pricked your finger with the sewing needle. You quickly set the silk down before wrapping your finger in a bandaid. This fabric was too expensive to be ruined.

The sub emote on your twitch drew your attention to the screen. Several comments asking if you were okay, others saying to have your phone ready when you answer the door. “Thank you for the subs guys... y-yeah I’m okay.” You smile sheepishly before standing up from your desk and walking out of your craft studio.

You cautiously crept through the hall being mindful of all the packing boxes stacked along the wall. You’d moved into this apartment after the incident at BlizzCon... When you arrived home after the weekend you found him waiting outside your front door with a bouquet of roses in his hands... you called the police... he got away before they could arrive.

...You had a stalker...

Immediately they had you pack up your belongings and you had no choice but to move across state for your own safety. You closed your fan mail P.O. Box and didn’t dare reopen one in case he figured out your new city... but you weren’t free of him... no, he wouldn’t leave you alone...

He flooded your emails, your comments on every post, and every stream with his deluded sick ramblings. Outright demanding you be his wife, calling you a slut for sharing more provocative cosplays with anyone else but him, sending you links to articles of clothing he wanted you to wear, to begging you to give him your address so he could deliver you ‘gifts’ in person...

Each time you blocked him, and each time he came back with a new number, a new email, a new account. The police couldn’t track him, and he openly admitted he loved how afraid he’d made you feel, saying he felt like a real life yandere... and you were his darling...

Needless to say, it had taken an aggressive toll on your health. The high levels of stress you were experiencing left you neurotic, you were afraid to leave the house and each time you did you felt like you were being watched, even a short trip to the corner store felt impossible without a disguise and at least one other person with you.

And to say it had affected your physical health as much as it did your mental state was an understatement at best. Constant stomach aches and bouts of anxiety left you without appetite and unable to eat more than a few bites most days, and nothing at all on others. You’d lost a lot of weight, too much weight... Your skin was palled and you looked like you were trapped in a constant sleep like state of forlornness within your own home, your mind, and your body...

Another knock sounded at the door, louder this time. Your fingers felt like ice, your palms were sweaty and your chest felt tight, you held your breath as you approached.., you peered through the peephole and smiled releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding...

...

The stream sparked with comments as suddenly you returned holding a large box of pizza and a bottle of soda along with your nightly medications to help you sleep without fear and try to get your anxiety under control. “False alarm guys! All safe! It was just the pizza guy!” You chime as you began to eat. Heartfelt comments of relief bubbled up before your eyes. All saying how happy they were that you were safe and that they were glad to see you eating something filling even if it wasn’t the healthiest.

A few others caught your attention amongst the praise and concern, ‘are you going to be attending BlizzCon again after what happened?’ It was a pretty common question these days, but one with good intentions. “Thanks guys... and Yeah I will, just... no more hugs or photos for the foreseeable future, just autographs... I’m sorry...” you frowned as you finished another slice before taking your medicine.

“But the good news is I’ll be debuting this cosplay there!” You smiled holding up the fabric carefully showing it off for your audience. Custom woven silk youd had handmade to look just like Hanzos original haori pattern, it was a highly expensive brocade, and one you were extremely proud of. You decided remaking your first ever costume would be a great idea to celebrate your careers anniversary.

You smiled seeing the comments flood in over how excited they were to see the finished look. You continued eating your dinner before swallowing the last of your medicine. Your blood turned to ice in your veins as a huge red flag popped up in your stream...

‘Such a good girl swallowing your medicine~ id love to drug you and tie you up my little dragon girl~

Immediately your moderators jumped in and kicked the user from the chat as they saw the visible distress they’d caused you... Your community rallied together sending comforting words through the screen for you, “I...I’m okay guys... I-I’ll be okay.” You sighed folding the box shut... only 4 slices but... at least you ate something today. You forced a smile despite the huge knot forming in your stomach, you felt so sick, “any suggestions for music while I w-”

‘-Teleporter online...I have opened the path.-‘

You blinked looking at the screen for a moment thinking you had an open tab or maybe that was an emote you set and forgot about. You watched in shock as the stream went wild flooding with comments and subs so fast the server began to lag. All of them screaming for you to turn around and-

“Look ou-” You were struck hard on the back of the head by something blunt and hard before something or someone, stocky and heavy slammed into you sending the garment flying from your grip, and you tumbling from your chair.

You flogged your head hard on the corner of the desk splitting your scalp open as you fell to the floor... You lay there, the room spinning like a teacup ride... you could hear gunfire but... where from?... you looked around trying to get your bearing as blood coated your vision. You saw what you could only describe as a giant portal on the wall adjacent to your desk... And through it you saw an all too familiar, tall, purple, sniper. Striding right towards you with her gun drawn....

Widowmaker...

As she moved to pull the trigger a loud blast sounded knocking her back from the gateway... was she after you?... Another explosion erupted through the portal and shrapnel flew through the opening right towards you. You couldn’t move, you closed your eyes and prepared for your death... but instead you heard a pained cry and felt a strong body clamber over top of of your own, shielding you from the potentially fatal blow...

The gateway closed... you looked up blinking your eyes trying to see with the blood coating your vision... so much blood... You couldn’t make out much, but what you could showed you exactly who this person was... Was this a dream? It had to be... were you dead?... possibly... Midnight black hair tied into a bun with a neat undercut, tidy facial hair, a pierced nose bridge and ears, and a beautifully ornate tattoo stretching from his neck down his muscular well toned arm... Hanzo Shimada...

You looked up at him in disbelief as your vision began to tunnel, this was a dream, there was no way this was real and yet... you reached up your delicate and soft hand placing it on his cheek, you could feel stubble from where he’d shaved, feel how smooth his skin was... he looked at you confused, you let out a soft gasp as your eyes met his... those sharp, beautiful eyes... this was him... this was your main.. your archer... your...

“H-Hanzo?...” you whispered. His eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly agape as he tried to fathom how you knew him or how to even reply... “Nani?...” he whispered. His voice, oh god his voice... this was him... you couldn’t help but giggle in repose before letting out a fragile whimper as unconsciousness finally took you.

He let out a panicked gasp thinking you’d suddenly dropped dead... he felt your pulse and was relieved to find you were still with him... he let out a pained grunt as he sat back on his knees trying to catch his breath, just for a moment... he looked to the wall where he’d come from seeing the portal was gone... He was stuck... “-oh god... ohhh my god what do I do?!-” he thought. His side hurt, he definitely had at least one broken rib and upon inspecting his armour he could see a number of metal and glass fragments sticking out of the bullet proof material... He only had one med pack on him but... He looked at you and frowned... he couldn’t just use it on himself when you were in this state...

As he moved to pick you up he paused hearing a noise above the desk... he stood and blinked seeing the twitch chat going insane typing his name... He watched as comment after comment flooded in fawning and fangirling over him, one however caught his keen eye as it passed, ‘who the hell are you?! How could she cheat on me?!....’

A million questions filled his mind... but right now it was clear he’d have to wait for them to be answered. He reached out and pulled the cord... He sighed and turned his attention back to you. He was an assassin, a killer... but he had a good heart. He’d never leave a civilian in a state like yours, plus... it was pretty obvious you knew who he was and... you were very cute...

The archer immediately looked around for something to wipe up the blood.. and the silky blue fabric strewn onto the floor seemed like a perfect option... he grabbed it without hesitation and held it to your wound as he lifted you up and carried you out into the hall in search of the bathroom... You felt far too lite even for him...

...

After patching you up and washing the blood from your face and hair Hanzo found himself in the awkward situation of having to change your shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and looked away as he pulled the bloodied cloth from your body... now to get the clean one on...

His face was bright red as he peered his eyes open casting them nervously in your direction... Immediately his apprehension melted away as he saw how sickly you looked... Pale, skinny, so fragile looking he thought it was a miracle he didn’t hurt you just by picking you up... he carefully guided the loose shirt over your delicate body before scooping you up as if he was handling a baby bird...

He carried you back into the hall and after opening several doors and tripping over boxes he managed to find your bedroom. Just a bed and a nightstand with several boxes stacked everywhere. It was clear you’d just moved in, or you were planning on moving out soon. Either way, it’d do....

After navigating around the boxes he gently lay you on the plush bedding tucking you in with care. Swaddled in the soft pillows and blankets you looked so sweet and delicate. He couldn’t stop his heart from thudding hard against his chest.

He took a moment to admire you, the archer had always had a taste for the finer things in life, and he couldn’t help but stop and admire things he found beautiful. And you were one such thing...

A radiant blue light began to wisp from his tattoo as two serpent like ethereal beings swirled from the inkwork and took on physical forms as they perched at your side. His two beloved dragons. Tomo and Mochi. They sat about the size of two large house cats. Dainty paw like claws, glistening cerulean blue top scales, silky ocean blue fur, and soft peachy pink and yellow underbellies. Along with a set of floppy ears and the most boopable noses in existence they truely were a majestic and yet the most adorable sight in the world.

The two chirped and preened at you curiously, tails swishing and whiskers twitching as they inspected you. “Pretty isn’t she?...” Hanzo whispered. They both looked up at their master and whistled approvingly at him before turning their attention back to you... they both whimpered spotting the wound before taking note of your sickly appearance...

“Hurt... frightened... frightened... scared... help...” mochi whispered. Her voice so soft and melodic.

“Bad man... bad man... protect... protect...” tomo growled curling up on your chest. His voice sounded like the crashing of tides during a violent storm and yet.., still so calm. Hanzo looked at them both before patting them and looking at you... “bad man huh?...” he whispered adding two and two together. Someone was causing you distress, and chances were it was related to your poorly appearance. “You want me to protect her from the bad man?” He asked.

The two nodded before proceeding to kneed the blanket like a cat would. They really were just scaly cats. He smiled and sighed gently stroking your hair. “Alright... I’ll look after her...” he whispered. He’d forever trust their judgment. They didn’t just manifest physically for anyone, and The last and only time he ever went against it resulted in the ‘death’ of his little brother Genji.... “Genji...” he gasped, panic surging through him as he remembered his brother was in that battle...

He had to get back, he had to find another gateway, something, anything, “Safe...” mochi suddenly chimed looking up at him. He paused looking at the large blue lizard. “Safe?... is Genji?...” he whispered. She nodded and hummed, “soba... Genji... Safe.” She purred. The archer sighed with relief, his little brother was alright... He could rest easy for now at least...

As Hanzo inhaled he felt a sharp pain sting his side... he was still wounded... he looked at you... then at the dragons... “please come get me if she wakes I... I need to...” he said gesturing to the wounds. The dragons nodded and whimpered with worry seeing their master was injured. “I-I’m alright you guys... really.” He smiled patting them both gently. They nuzzled his hands and chirped sweetly as he walked off to the bathroom to wash up and tend to himself...

...

Hanzo sighed contently as the hot water poured down his perfectly toned body. His muscles ached like all hell, and the warmth stung his now freshly stitched wounds, but it felt good. So nice to be clean, out of danger... Even still.... he looked down at his legs and sighed seeing where his prosthetics met what was left of his shins... He was in an unfamiliar place, he had no clue if it was even truely safe here... he was so afraid to take them off he even bathed with them just to be safe, they were waterproof anyway... a little longer wouldn’t hurt...

He thought about the battle, how it all went wrong so quickly, if they had of just listened to Genji it wouldn’t have happened but they didn’t.. and it did... And then the portal opened, he was so busy avoiding Widowmakers gunfire he didn’t even see it and he stumbled right through injuring you as he did so... He sighed... He felt like no matter what he did, even when he was trying to do good, he’d always end up hurting someone...

Your face sparkled in his mind, so sweet, so fragile... And he’d hurt you, unintentionally yes but still... He furrowed his brow remembering your gentle voice whispering his name, the comments on that screen typing it frantically as if they knew him... How did you know him? How did they know him?... Who was that commenter? Why did they think you were... cheating, on them?...

He sighed turning off the water and stepping from the shower... right onto the bloodied cloth... he leaned down and picked it up before pausing as he observed its shape, and the albeit bloodied but distinct pattern... It looked exactly like a slightly incomplete version of his traditional garb... “what... the fuck is going on here?...” he muttered to himself before setting it down and drying off...

...

After applying some disinfectant and the few remaining patches he had to his wounds he pulled on his trousers and stepped out carting they dirty laundry with him, The cloth included. He peered back into your room relieved to find you still asleep, and it seemed the dragons had decided to join you in a much needed rest.

He found himself exploring your apartment, mostly in search of the laundry. After putting the load in the washing machine he went about inspecting the rest of the building. It was pretty empty minus the boxes so there wasn’t really much to find. Eventually curiosity got the better of him, he thought maybe he could find you some comfier clothes to wear, or an extra blanket amongst the many boxes scattered throughout the home... He wasn’t expecting to find Mccrees hat... or Soldier 76’s visor... Or... “EEEEEK!!!!” He shrieked stumbling back out of shock....

He held a hand to his chest feeling like he’d just experienced a heart attack. He cautiously crept back to the box and pulled out its contents... He sighed with relief seeing it was an exact and thankfully empty replica of genjis helmet... The questions just became bigger and bigger with each box he opened. Even more so after finding an exact double of his stormbow, and multiple different outfits that looked far too similar to his own to be coincidental... Wherever he was, it was clear you knew him, and who overwatch and talon were for that matter too...

Unable to handle another possibly death inducing fright he decided it’d be best to look for something to feed you. If he was going to be stuck here he’d have to look after you, especially after clubbing you over the head with his bow... he set off to the kitchen.

Upon searching the pantry he found the usual suspects, sugar, salt, a bag of flour. But in terms of food that didn’t require much prep all he found was a bag of rice and an unopened pack of instant noodles. He grimaced remembering his life on the run from the clan, he’d eaten so many instant meals the thought of doing it willingly made him feel sick. He turned his attention to the fridge instead and blinked in confusion at first seeing it was full of food... but most of it was well past it’s expiry... Youd obviously bought it with intent to eat it but something had upset you enough that you couldn’t bring yourself to stomach it.

He got it... he really did. He’d suffered with anxiety his whole life and during the worst bouts of it he couldn’t even eat a few mouthfuls of rice never mind eat enough to maintain a healthy weight. He sighed and began to sort out the items tossing the expired food in the trash, if he was going to be stuck here, he’d be making some changes to your lifestyle real quick...

...

It was around 5am when he’d finished tossing out the garbage... The sun was beginning to rise and he had a beautiful view from your kitchen balcony. He yawned tiredly, he wanted so badly to just lay down and faint, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t just leave you unsupervised and chances are if he fell asleep now even the dragons clawing at him wouldn’t wake him up until he was rested.

“H-ey ar-...eey arch-er!! Ha-anzo can you h-ear me??” A familiar Latina voice sounded through his com earpiece. He’d put it back in his pocket after getting out of the shower. He almost didn’t hear it at first. Once he did though he fumbled with it clipping it back onto his ear and flicking the mike. “Sombra? Is that you?” He said sounding more hopeful than he intended to.

“Yeah it’s me! You’re alive!!” She laughed. “Yo guys! It’s all good we got him!” She cheered to somebody in the background. He could hear different members of overwatch cheering and sighing with relief... did... they miss him?... he couldn’t help but smile at the idea.. he was on good terms with all of them but still, he couldn’t help but feel there was some underlining hatred over the incident with Genji...

“Genji... is he? Is he alrig-” He tried to ask before a soft almost robotic voice cut him off. “I’m fine Anija, I’m just fine. Are you okay? The last we saw of you Widowmaker had you cornered and then you just... disappeared...” Genji said with worry heavy in his words.

“I’m okay..” Hanzo whispered feeling so relieved just to hear his brothers voice and know for certain that he was alright. “Are you sure Anija? You sound upset?... where are you? We couldn’t find you on location...” Genji frowned. Hanzo sighed rubbing his brow fixing his nose piercing as he did so. “I... I sustained a few injuries but I’ll survive... Is symmetra there? It... was one of her portals. It malfunctioned and when I fell through I... I may have injured a civilian...” he said anxiously.

“Are they alright?” Genji asked sounding calm as ever. “She’s unconscious, she hit her head but I’ve got it under control, it was an accident I swear!” He said panic rising in his voice. Genji smiled listening to him, Hanzo had such a gentle heart. He could tell by the tone of his voice alone he felt immense guilt, “Shh, Shh it’s alright Anija... if you got it under control and she’s alright that’s all that matters.” He whispers comfortingly, “just breathe.”

Hanzo sighed taking in a deep breath as he was told before exhaling. It fogged up in the cool morning air, “you’re right... it’ll be okay... Things are just... really weird here Genji...” he frowned. Suddenly sombras voice chimed in over the com, “while you two were having a heart to heart I’ve locked onto the signal location. I’ve informed Satya and Winston and they’re working on a fix now. I can’t keep this call active much longer before reaper gets suspicious so if there’s something you need hurry up and ask.” She said sounding urgent but there was an underlining tone of concern to her words.

Hanzo thought for a moment, “can you see if I can access my funds from here?...” he asked shivering slightly having forgotten he was shirtless. It was quiet for a moment, if it weren’t for the tapping of sombras fingers on her holopad he’d of thought the call had cut out. “All good to go, anything else?” She said sounding a bit more urgent. “No... thank you miss colomar.” He sighed, “Genji just... promise me you’ll stay safe...” he said looking down the street as the sunlight peered over the buildings.

“I will Anija... I promise.” Genji smiled. “Promise me you’ll do the same?...” he asked. Hanzo chuckled and smiled, “I will sparrow...” He said softly. Sombras voice chimed in again. “Good luck Robin Hood, we’ll get you back as soon as we can... Sombra out.” And with that the call went dead...

Hanzo sighed turning the com off, at least everyone was alright... the worst of his fears were taken care of.. he turned to head inside before blinking as he saw a hooded figure duck into an alleyway down the street... He’d always had a good sense for people... and he got nothing but bad vibes from that individual.. ‘-bad man... bad man...-’ the dragons words repeated in his mind.

He stared at the alley quietly waiting to see if anything or anyone would come creeping out... after a moment or two of nothing he sighed and headed inside, he was a patient man, but you’d undoubtably be waking soon and he wanted to have breakfast ready... plus his nipples were freezing.

...

You woke to the scent of bacon sizzling from down the hall, along with the smell of toast and pancakes?... as you moved to sit up you blinked feeling a sudden weight appear on your chest keeping you pinned and from moving your head... you managed to glance down just enough to see two Labrador sized... dragons... Laying there... looking at you...

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!”

*crows flying away*

Hanzo was in the middle of dishing up breakfast when your ear splitting scream shook the apartment complex to its foundation.

He flew into the room, his bow drawn with an arrow knocked and ready only to see... you giggling and squealing in delight as the dragons tickled you... he blinked and lowered his weapon as he stared at you with a look of utter confusion on his face... you weren’t scared?

“That’s enough you two...” he said sternly and immediately the dragons backed off returning to a cat like size as he approached. You looked up at him bleary eyed... “a...am I dreaming?..” you whispered... “o-or am I dead?...”

He frowned and kneeled down gently checking your wound. It was already healing beautifully, Angela’s medicines never failed. “Neither..” he whispered as he gently pat your hair. “You’re... not... afraid?..” he asked confused.

You could remember last night fairly clearly, and despite the concussion the medications you were on surprisingly numbed the pain. You remembered the stream, the portal, hitting your head, Hanzo saving you... touching his face... feeling his presence... “why would I be afraid of you?...” you whispered smiling up at him.

“Because I’m a stranger in your home and I’m a lot more dangerous than I look.” He said frowning. “Oh... no that doesn’t sound right. I know all about you, you’re a 38 year old marshmallowy dorky Robin Hood knockoff disguised as an edgy cactus cosplaying as the green arrow who killed his brother and was emo about it for 10 years before putting on the best drama performance known to man since les Miserables once you found out he was alive. And you have two blue noodles... so scary.” You giggled.

He blinked before scowling and narrowing his gaze... he was naturally intimidating simply with his face at rest... but this... you felt genuinely unnerved by how dark his eyes had become... he suddenly smiled and began to laugh. Immediately all apprehension melted away, he had a beautiful laugh.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” He chuckled before standing up. Your face went bright red as you realised he was standing before you completely shirtless... Your embarrassment faded quickly though as you spotted the number of patches and bruising riddling his sides. “Y-you’re Hurt!” You say trying to sit up. He gently lay you back down tucking you in as he did so. “I’m fine... believe me when I say I’ve had worse.” He frowned feeling his legs ache... he’d left them on far too long... But you were awake... he’d have to deal with it...

You frown and reach up gently touching his cheek making him recoil slightly. “D-don’t be dumb...” you whisper. “Y-you’re hurt... you... you shouldn’t push peoples concern away when you’re hurt...” you mumble shyly. He tilted his head a little before leaning into your touch. “I know... but believe me. I’m fine... Right now I’m not the one with a concussion.” He whispered gently taking your hand from his cheek and squeezing it slightly.

You blushed feeling his rough skin on yours. His fingers were calloused in places from a life time of fighting and drawing back arrows. So coarse but... so gentle. “I’ve made you something to eat...” he said looking at how thin your wrist was, “Do you... have the energy to eat it or would you prefer I assist?”

If your face was pink before it was neon red now. “W...Wah?” You say shyly. He chuckled a little before stepping out. After a moment he returned with two plates and a bowl. He set the bowl on the floor and immediately the dragons leapt down tucking into whatever he’d prepared for them. He set the plates on the nightstand and immediately your mouth watered at the sight of what he’d made.

“it’s not much, just what I could find in the fridge that wouldn’t give you food poisoning... I’ve already caused you enough grief.” He sighed as he propped you up carefully amongst the pillows. “I-it looks so good...” you whisper feeling your stomach growl. In his presence any and all anxieties you had seemed to just... melt away like the pat of butter on those pancakes.

He suddenly held a forkful to your lips and you shyly nibbled at it until it was gone. “May I ask your name?..” he said as he fed you another bite. After swallowing it you blinked realising you knew so much about him, and yet the poor thing didn’t have a clue who you even were... “y/n... I’m... im y/n l/n.” You whisper. He nodded and continued feeding you seemingly satisfied when in reality he didn’t want to bombard you with questions when you’d just woken up.

As he finished feeding you he blinked as you began to sit up fully. “Nani? Stop that.” He scolded gently laying you back down. “I I need to have my morning medicine, and my morning stream starts at- o-oh god no! The haori!! What happened to it!” You say trying to get up but he wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t even have to struggle to keep you pinned under his palm.

“Y/n.” He said calmly and clearly. Immediately you froze as his eyes locked with yours... “Everything is alright...” he whispered, “I’ll go get your medicine for you... the haori is hanging up to dry... and... stream? Is... that a woman thing?” He asked confused.

You looked at him baffled for a moment before giggling, “no... I mean a live stream... I’m a cosplayer, I show my followers the process of me making my pieces... I... I was working on one of you actually...” you whisper. “You’re... a video game character here, i in fact all of Overwatch and talon are too.. it’s all just a video game franchise here.” You say trying to avert your gaze thinking he wouldn’t believe you...

He sat on the edge of the bed and hummed. “Well. That... actually answers most of my questions.” He chuckled. “Just so you know I nearly dropped dead from horror upon opening a box to find my brothers head. I’m amazed my screaming didn’t wake you up.” He snickered. He had such a mischievous grin, one you’d only ever pictured Genji wearing and yet... Hanzo wore it so well.

“S-sorry... I hope you don’t think I’m weird for it...” you whispered. Hanzo gently lifted your chin to face him before pointing at the dragons as they licked the bowl clean. “I have them, my brothers a cyborg, I come from a world where Im employed by a genetically enhanced gorilla and I fell through a portal in your wall after being shot at by a brainwashed ballerina made purple sniper... What part of me isn’t weird?” He says tilting his head.

You blinked up at him before laughing, you’d never expected him to have such a sense of humour, “I suppose you’re right.” You giggled before yawning. He smiled feeling his heart flutter, you had a beautiful laugh. He tucked you in once more as the dragons both jumped back up onto the bed, “I’ll go get your medicine...” he looked at the noodles as they began to kneed the blankets before getting comfy. “Don’t let her get up.” He smiled. They both nodded, you pouted.

As he left the dragons turned their attention to you... you booped their noses. They blepped.

He stepped into the kitchen and picked up the meds, as he went to fill a glass with water he paused hearing a ruckus... not from up the hall... but from outside the balcony.... he quietly crept closer to the sliding door and opened it as silently as he could before stepping out. He peered over the railing to see that hooded figure stumbling to his feet.

It was clearly a man, though he couldn’t see his face to confirm it he could hear him muttering and swearing. Beside him a number of over turned trash cans lay scattered about and busted as if he’d tried stacking them to climb up... After a moment of dusting himself off he turned around to pick them up and paused seeing the archer watching him...

He dropped the trash can and bolted for it... immediately alarm bells rang off in Hanzos mind. He stepped back inside and locked the balcony door, he locked the screen one to be safe as well before drawing the curtains... What should he do, call the police? No then he’d have to let you know, you were already distressed and he’d only just managed to get you to eat... He’d have no trouble protecting you himself anyway, and worse comes to worse... the dragons aren’t above eating human flesh...

He sighed and returned to gathering your meds, thankfully you’d had them all labeled but... so many different ones... You really weren’t well.

After getting a glass of water he returned to your room and paused seeing both you and the dragons were missing, ‘-she’d better be using the bathroom..-” He thought as he placed the medicine on your nightstand before going in search of you...

After checking a few rooms he finally located you in your little studio, wrapped in your duvet as you picked your chair up off the floor and climbed into it. The dragons both tugging frantically at you to get you back to bed. As you went to reconnect the power board you paused as a strong pair of arms lifted you up and swaddled you in your blanket, “what do you think you’re doing?” He asked as he carried you out.

“I-I have to start my morning stream! I-I’ve never missed one not even when I’m at a convention! I have to edit footage for a tutorial t- oh god the footage!! The stream last night they saw everything!! I have to let them know I’m al-” he gently placed his thumb to your lips silencing you. “That’s enough. You can afford to have a day off. You’re not well y/n...” he whispered as he placed you back into bed.

He didn’t offer you a chance to protest, as soon as you opened your mouth he gave you your medicine. You could only blush and comply. After taking the last one he made sure you drank the rest of the water too. In your current state you needed it more than ever. He waited until you were done before setting the glass down and making sure you were comfy. “Now, go back to sleep...” he said as the dragons climbed back up to snuggle with you. They both changed size again, now they stood about the height of two large dogs.

“B-but....” you tried to argue but one steely eyed gaze from the archer silenced your pleas, you knew he was right, but you were just as stubborn as he was. Even still, you did as you were told feeling far too tired to argue. You relaxed into the pillows and sighed, “okay..” you mumbled. He nodded and gently pat your hair checking on the wound one more time. It was healing far quicker than he’d expected. He blinked as suddenly Tomo leaned in close sniffing at the cut before licking at it. As he did so it healed over a bit more... “well... that explains that then.” He chuckled patting the dragon, “good boy...” he smiled before standing up.

“I’ll wake you around lunch time. If you need me I’ll be close by, I promise.” He smiled back at you from the doorway before stepping out. You watched him go before sighing happily and cuddling your pillow as the dragons curled up around you protectively. If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up...

...

True to his word Hanzo woke you around noon. He’d spent the morning mulling about your apartment, tidying up the place a little, preparing lunch with the little food you had left, and literally sewing himself a new shirt given his other one was well and truely torn up to all hell, and walking around in his battle gear in public didn’t exactly sound pleasant or smart for that matter. It wasn’t perfect, but he’d learnt enough during his time on the run that it would do.

He quietly opened your bedroom door and smiled at the sight that greeted him. You fast asleep and the dragons watching you adoringly. They both lifted their heads greeting their master as he entered, well, either because of him or the food he was holding he wasn’t sure.

You suddenly stirred from your short rest, your eyelids fluttered open and you yawned stretching a little before smiling as the archer approached, “sleep well?...” he whispered as he sat beside you again. You nodded rubbing your eyes in the most adorable fashion, “mhm..” you hum as helped you sit up right.

As if out of reflex he immediately held a mouthful of food to you, he’d spent his whole life looking after others, and it seemed that even after 10 years on the run those needs and habits hadn’t left him. Besides, he quite enjoyed looking after you.

You blushed and opened up for him gladly, who were you to argue? Your main had appeared from thin air and was doting over you on his own accord without hesitation, it was a literal dream come true.

Once he was done feeding you he set the dish down letting the dragons have the remnants, he wasn’t planning to but the guilt trip they were pulling gave him little choice. They both pounced on it in a comical manner making you giggle, it was music to Hanzos ears, you had a beautiful laugh.

He leaned in closer seeing your wound had closed over, while it was still bruised it looked almost completely healed... he smiled and gently took your hands in his. “I think you’ll be alright to get up now.” He whispered as he gazed into your eyes. You blushed and nodded cutely up at him, “th-Thank you.” You said shyly.

It wasn’t hard for him to help you up, though he did hold you a little longer than expected out of fear you’d faint or get dizzy but amazingly you were fine. You looked up at him before awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Can I?... st-” he cut you off by picking you up to put you back into bed. “No,” he said sternly. “Okay! Okay! Can I have a shower then p-please?” You blushed up at him.

He thought for a moment before nodding. “Okay but first... is... there a store nearby here?” He asked. The question confused you but you answered anyway, “yeah... why?” You blinked. “I’ll need to get some more disinfectant for your wound... and my own ones for that matter too. The med packs are only designed for one use until a medic can find you.” He sighed, “plus I need to get some new clothes if I’m going to be here for a while, and I don’t have enough ingredients to make dinner...”

“ohhh I see.” You smile. “There’s one a short walk from here but...” you looked down worriedly. He placed his hands on your shoulders and smiled. “Go have a shower and get dressed, you can come with me... I can’t exactly leave you unsupervised and I don’t trust those two on their own.” He chuckled making the dragons pout. Your heart fluttered slightly, while the idea of going outside terrified you, the idea of being alone was even worse, plus... You felt safe with Hanzo... he’d keep you safe...

You nodded and smiled up at him, “okay!” You chirp before shuffling to one of the packing boxes and pulling out some clothes before heading ro the shower. After clicking the door shut you blinked seeing Hanzos armour folded neatly on the vanity, he vest cut up, the chest plate cracked... why didn’t he gave any boots or... where were his grieves?... was he still wearing them?... why?...

...

After a quick shower you applied a little makeup to look less like a corpse before doing your hair up in a messy bun and getting dressed. A simple but cute look. You stepped into the living room in time to see Hanzo absorbing the dragons back into his tattoo. They both spiralled around his arm returning to their places in the inkwork masterpiece. He turned his gaze and smiled seeing you. “Ready?” He asked. You nodded and walked to his side jumping a little in surprise as his firm hand slid around your waist, “if you get tired or feel any unpleasantness let me know...” he whispered.

You felt your heart beat a mile a minute as he pulled you closer, holding you so gently, so protectively... you felt so safe, you nodded and looked up at him shyly, “I will.” You smile sheepishly. He looked down at you and smiled before seeing your feet. “You can’t go out barefoot...” he says sitting you down at the dining table before fetching you some sneakers. He kneeled down and you heard the soft hiss and click of the pressure locks on his legs... were... they just grieves?...

He took his time sliding the socks onto your feet, he couldn’t resist sliding his hand up your delicate legs as he did so, the bold action made you shiver in delight... He slid your shoes on and tied them in an unusual but pretty criss cross bow before helping you back up. “There.” He smiled.

“I-i could have worn sandals.” You blushed. “They’re not the best shoes for walking... though granted I haven’t had to wear them for a long time.” He sighed slightly as he took your hand in his. “Let’s go.” He smiled glancing at you as he lead the way. ‘-what did he mean by that?...-’ you thought before following after him obediently.

...

The walk to the store was pleasant though it did take some coaxing on Hanzos part to get you further than the street corner. When the archer offered to carry you instead you gladly accepted. He lifted you onto his back with no trouble though the way his knees buckled slightly caused you worry. He didn’t seem bothered though so you tried to ignore it as best you could, but it made you feel guilty nevertheless... He was hurt and hiding it for your sake...

You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as he sat you in the cart and proceeded to push you around the store like that, “comfy?” He asked as he looked for a decent loaf of bread. “E-everyone’s staring.” You whisper. He looked at you and smiled, “Aren’t people allowed to look at beautiful things?” He paused realising he’d said that outloud.

The two of you stared at each other in awkward silence before you reached over and grabbed a loaf of bread to hide your reddening face. He couldn’t help but chuckle, he plucked it from your grip and replaced it with a better brand, “well, I’m not lying.” He smiled swallowing his fear as he proceeded to push you along.

You looked up at him stunned before throwing the loaf of bread at him. His hand swung up faster than anything you’d ever seen catching it with ease, he looked at you and winked. Your heart almost exploded. You hid your face and squealed intangibly. He shook his head unable to contain the grin spreading across his face.

After grabbing a few more things including some snacks you liked he pushed you through the checkout and paid. The girl behind the counter looked so envious of you, thinking Hanzo was your boyfriend by the way you two were behaving.

It wasn’t until you two left the store you realised the archer had paid for your groceries. “H-hey wait a minute! How much was all that?!” You blurt out as he hooked the bags over his shoulder and lifted you from the cart, “Not much why?” He said taking your hand and walking towards a clothing store across the street. “S-so I can pay you back! You didn’t have t-” your words died in your throat as he turned on his heel and planted a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That’s enough. Help me pick out some clothes, or I’ll have no choice but to go naked.” He winked playfully before leading you inside.

You didn’t know how to respond, your face was bright red, it felt like it was on fire. Did this mean he wanted you? Wanted to be yours? Did he do it just to shut you up? Had he been flirting with you this whole time? You could only manage a meek little whimper in response as you followed him into the store.

...

It was pleasant inside the little shop. You’d never been in here before but it was nice, the clothes were mostly band tees or alternative styles, you were surprised with how quickly Hanzo chose what he wanted. He knew what fit him and what he liked and stuck with it.

You sat patiently on one of the sofas they had for customers to rest on and waited. The music was nice, the atmosphere was peaceful. Part of you had begun to feel silly for letting fear keep you from the outside world until.... you looked out the window... You saw a hooded figure standing across the street with their phone raised in your direction. You felt panic begin to rise within your chest, they were the right height but you couldn’t see their face, maybe it was someone else? It had to be! Maybe they were taking a selfie? Or a photo of the street for Instagram? There had to be an explanation.

“Y/n?...” Hanzos deep voice cut through the anxiety clouding your mind. You jumped realising he was holding you now... you looked back out the window to see the man was gone... “y/n...” he said again making you look at him. The dragons were snarling and roaring within his mind... “I saw him too....” he whispered and your blood ran cold...

You don’t remember the walk back, you spent it clinging onto the archer for dear life sobbing uncontrollably until you reached home. As soon as you were inside he dropped everything and hugged you tightly to his chest. “Breathe now....” he whispered. “Tell me 5 things you can see....” he said as he began to ground you...

“Th-the” you hiccuped out as he carried you to the sofa, he laid down and held you close letting you rest against him, “take your time.” He crooned. “The tv... the groceries, the kitchen, the table, y-... you” you whispered. He nodded, “now 5 things you can hear.” He said as the dragons suddenly emerged from his arm, they instantly flocked to you sensing your distress.

“I can hear... the t-traffic outside, the dragons, they make very cute sounds...” you sigh and cuddle them close as your breathing steadied, they licked at your cheeks cleaning up your tears before gagging as they tasted your makeup. “Sorry guys.” You whisper patting them. “Anything else? It doesn’t have to be 5.” Hanzo whispered. “...your heartbeat... it’s so... soothing.” You hummed as you finally calmed down.

He smiled and leaned down kissing your hair before realising... the wound was gone... He blinked looking at the small scar before chuckling slightly, “I knew the dragons had healing powers but... They never fully worked on me. It seems on you though, they tried their hardest to help you.” He sighed with relief, “your wound is all better now.”

You looked up at him confused before feeling your scalp. It was gone... you turned your attention to the dragons who were still looking at you with such worry in their eyes... you hugged them both tightly and smiled. “Thank you guys.”

“Welcome... you’re welcome.. happy? Happy? Safe....” they hummed. You blinked. “They can talk?” You asked. Hanzos eyes nearly popped out of his head in shock, “you can hear them?!” He said looking at them as they rolled over displaying their bellies for tummy rubs of which you gladly supplied. “Yeah... I mean... I think?” You said patting them, “in my head?” You say looking back at him.

He looked at the dragons who nodded at him approvingly... he gently placed his hand on your chest. “In your soul... Theyre spirits after all... they can not communicate the same as you and I would... for... whatever reason they’ve deemed you worthy of hearing them.” He whispered...

You blushed gently placing your hand on his trying to keep your heartbeat steady and failing. “Hanzo...” you whispered. He looked at you so fondly, “yes y/n?..” he whispered. “Do you?... like me?... is that why I can hear the-” you froze as he pressed his lips to your forehead again, “does that answer your question?...” he sighed, “I’m sorry if I’m too forward I...” he paused as you pecked him on the cheek in response.

His face went bright red and he cleared his throat looking away suddenly very shy. Displays of affection were uncommon for him, and he honestly was expecting you to reject him. He definitely wasn’t prepared for you to return his affections... “does... this mean?” He asked sheepishly. You nodded and smiled slightly, “yeah, if... if you want me I mean...” you hid your face in his chest, “I-I’ve been crushing on you for so long and I I’d really like to be yours!!” You squeal your words slightly muffled by his shirt.

He blinked and smiled looking at you then the dragons who both nodded eagerly for him to seal the deal... he gently lifted your chin and locked his eyes with yours, “in that case...” he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes fluttered shut leaning into the kiss... He pulled away after a moment and smiled, “Will you be mine?...” he asked shyly. You nodded maybe a little too eagerly in response. He smiled and pressed his lips back to yours in another chaste kiss.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, his strong hands pulling you flush against his body and your soft lips nibbling playfully at his wanting further purchase of his mouth. He smiled pulling away softly as his brow furrowed, a number of burning questions in his mind forming on his tongue. “Now then... before we continue any further.” He sighed. “I need to know... who is that man?.. why are you so afraid of leaving your home?... and why did he set you off?...” he frowned.

The colour drained from your cheeks slightly and you buried your face into his neck... “he... I don’t know if it was him... it can’t be... I moved so far away, I was so careful... the police promised he’d never find me...” you whimpered.

“Y/n...” Hanzo whispered lifting your chin to face him, “answer me... please... I promise if he’s a threat to you I’ll protect you..” he said looking into your eyes. You stared up at him before letting out a shaky sob.. “remember how I told you I was a streamer?... well.. I... I have a lot of fans...”

...

It was sunset by the time you were done recounting your story to him, he held you tight through all of it, he listened intently to each word and dried your eyes as you cried. He couldn’t bring himself to mention his previous encounters, that’d only upset you further... Instead he resolved himself to comforting you with intent on telling you later...

The two of you lay there with the dragons snuggled beside you. Hanzo gently ran his fingers through your hair, smiling tiredly at you as he did so, the battle, the long night, and the even longer day were clearly taking their affect on him but he was determined to stay awake for you. “Would you like to help me cook dinner?” He asked stifling a yawn. You nodded and hummed in response before getting up.

The dragons both slid off the couch after you stretching before waiting for their master... Hanzo stood and as soon as he did his knees buckled in pain. He managed to grab the coffee table saving himself in time from hitting the floor. “H-hanzo?!” You gasped grabbing hold of him as he stood up right. “I...I’m fine.” He grimaced, “just... a little more sore than I was expecting...” he sighed.

You looked up at him seeing the pain in his eyes... “but..” you tried to press him further but he simply patted your hair and walked to the groceries... or rather... limped to them... how long had he been limping for?... You frowned and followed after him stepping between him and the fridge as he tried to put the groceries away. “L-let me see your leg!” You demanded. You weren’t expecting his face to go so pale at that question...

“No... I told you.. I’m fine..” he sighed before lifting you out of the way but not before planting a kiss on your forehead. You frowned getting upset that he wouldn’t let you help him. “I told you not to be dumb!!” You suddenly shouted making him freeze and look at you. “I-I told you, you shouldn’t push peoples concern away when you’re hurt... and you are hurt aren’t you! That’s why you’re limping!! Please let me help you!” You scream as you began to tear up...

He looked at you for a moment before proceeding to put the last of the groceries away... He frowned glancing at you again before walking to the kitchen table and pulling out a chair to sit down so he could face you. “I suppose... if were to be in a relationship I shouldn’t hide this from you... no matter how much the memory alone hurts me.” He sighed as he sat.

You looked at him confused as he pulled up his trousers over his knee revealing his leg... Youd always thought they were grieves, everyone did, everyone in the Overwatch community was told he just had dainty ankles, that he was designed that way... Your eyes widened as he clicked the pressure lock release. A click, a hiss of steam, and the limb literally dropped off revealing a stump... covered in dried blood...

He frowned looking at it, “I left them on too long again.” He sighed, “the skin gets irritated after a while with all the friction and movement... and.., if I leave it on too long, it’ll ble-” he froze as you suddenly placed a wet cloth over the stump... The haori fabric you’d been so worried about damaging... The skin needed something soft and smooth... To hell with the cost, he needed it..

The archer sat there in stunned silence as you cleaned the dried blood away before applying moisturiser to the inflamed skin. You clicked off the other leg without warning and he grabbed hold of the limb clicking it back on, “NO!!” He shouted a lot louder than he’d intended... “please no...” he whimpered meekly looking away from you... you jumped a little in fright but you obviously felt no where near as frightened as the archer did... You carefully put the other leg back onto him clicking it back into place before climbing into his lap and cuddling him... “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to scare you...” you whispered.

He sighed and pulled you closer hiding his face into your neck, “i...I just..” he forced out a shaky breath, “I hate how vunerable I feel without them...” he whispered. “I understand... it’s... like how I feel right?... the fear you’ll be caught unawares by someone after you?...” you cooed as you untied the ribbon holding his hair so you could run your fingers through it. He nodded slightly. “Exactly like that...” he frowned. “I’m sorry I... I had no right to raise my voice at you blossom.”

You blushed at the sweet little pet name and smiled hugging him tighter, “its okay.., I should have asked, I only wanted to check it.. I promise.” You hummed. He nodded, “I know you did I... I...” he croaked. “It just scared me is all...” he whispered. You smiled patting his hair, you’d only ever seen Hanzo displayed as this cold hearted warrior, to see him so vunerable and fragile like this... it made your heart both melt and ache at the same time. “Let’s cook dinner okay?.. then...” you paused and blushed. “We can shower.. together... and I I can repay you for looking after me by... looking after you.” You smiled shyly.

He sat back and looked at you surprised, “I... what? Are you serious I mean.. I-I’m not complaining I but-” he stammered now very flustered. You giggled and kissed his forehead again before standing back up, “will... you be okay to stand?” You asked with worry in your voice. He nodded and grunted as he stood up, you frowned hugging him tightly in an attempt to support his weight though even if you weren’t so skinny it wouldn’t have done much. He smiled and hugged you back, “I’m alright... now... give me back my hair tie so I can see.”

You looked up at him and started laughing seeing his hair was covering his eyes, “here lemme fix it.” You giggled reaching up to tie his hair out of the way.

...

The evening carried on at a pleasant pace, the two of you made dinner, Hanzo both impressed and terrified you with how fast he could chop vegetables, and he amazed you with how good of a cook he was when he had a wider variety of ingredients to work with.

You both ate and conversed all the while feeding bite sized pieces to the dragons as they begged for your food. Occasionally Hanzo would feed you a bit of his, and in turn youd give him some of yours though he was intentionally ‘missing’ your mouth so he’d have an excuse to lick it off~

He insisted on doing the dishes despite your arguments. It resulted in him sitting you on the bench by the sink and giving you the title of supervisor, he proceeded to clean up while you got to sit and relax, pouting that he’d gotten his way.

Once he was done he turned to you and smiled lifting you from the counter and into his arms. He looked so nervous... “ready for that shower?...” he whispered. You nodded and smiled, “I promise I’ll be kind...” you hummed. He chuckled slightly and nodded, “thank you blossom...” he smiled kissing your chin before carrying you to the shower. He placed you on the vanity and continued to nibble at your neck as his deft hands slid your shorts and panties down in one go.

“H-hanzo..” you gasped shaking slightly, how long had it been since you’d had this? Anything like this? He looked at you curiously, a hint of worry in his eyes. “Too fast?...” he whispered. You shook your head as a deep blush coated your cheeks, “n-no I... I just... I’m nervous.” You whisper. He smiled and planted another gentle kiss to your lips, always so gentle, “don’t worry, I am too...” he sighed.

You looked at him and smiled sheepishly before gently tugging at his shirt wanting to take it off. He smiled and lifted his arms helping you slide it over his broad shoulders revealing his well toned torso to you. You’d already seen it before, plenty of times if you counted him in the video game! Why did it feel so different now?... You looked away shyly and he hummed turning your chin back to face him as he tensed and flexed his muscles for you a little. “Oh gosh.” You say feeling like your face was on fire.

He chuckled and gently placed his hands on your sides sliding them up and slowly lifting your shirt over your head before dropping it to the floor and admiring your body now only dressed in a cute lacy bra. “Still so thin... don’t worry koneko-chan, we’ll get you better in no time.” He smiled before making short work of the clasps and removing the delicate garment leaving you exposed all for his viewing pleasure.

You shyly hid your face in his chest, “h-hanzo...” you whispered timidly. He practically purred in response as he lifted you into his arms, “yes?” He paused feeling you tugging on the waistband of his trousers, “eager are we?” He teased playfully before untying the ribbon letting them fall to his ankles... he sighed and set you in the shower, you could see the anxiety forming within him as his body grew more and more tense... He stepped into the shower and sat down before removing his legs and setting them out, you’d never imagined you’d see him like this, so vunerable...

A gentle smile crept onto your lips as you turned the steamy water on, you sat down between his thighs and began to help him bathe, “I think you’re still handsome.” You coo. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious what happened to him but... Right now it was best not to pry.

He smiled and gently pulled you closer as he rested his head against the wall, “Thank you blossom...” he sighed closing his eyes as you began to wash his hair, “I can do that myself kitten.” He hummed. “And I could feed myself but you did that for me.” You chirped. He snickered in response, “touché.” He smiled.

Up this close you could see how tired he really was, his eyes looked heavy with sleep and his tense muscles were growing more and more relaxed by the second. His strong hands suddenly slid up your back as he began to bathe you too, he blinked as you gently grabbed his wrists stopping him. “N-no... y-you can wait until I’m done looking after you!” You pouted. He blinked before laughing softly and sitting still once more, “very well.” He sighed.

You smiled triumphantly and continued to clean him being mindful of his wounds, though you had to admit you were getting very distracted by the archers muscles... and as your eyes drifted down his torso and beyond you froze seeing the heat he’d been packing, he was slightly longer than average but, thick... he was so thick. Your face went bright red and you looked up to see him looking at you with a playful smirk and a raised eyebrow, “took you that long to notice? I’m hurt~” he snickered.

“I! I! I didn’t mean I! I’m sorry! I wha?!” You stammered out and covered your face now extremely flustered. He smiled taking your delicate wrists and removing your hands from your face, “I think it’s my turn to wash you now don’t you think?” He whispered. You nodded shyly closing your eyes, “o-oka-....” you paused hearing chirping and whimpering...

The two of you looked up to see the dragons trying to climb over the lip of the shower screen, behaving like pets worried their owners were drowning. “Oh stop it you pair we’re fine!” Hanzo groaned. You laughed as they slid down into the water before panicking as they tried to get out.

...

After managing to wrangle the worried noodles out of the bath you finished bathing and helped Hanzo reattach his legs but not before applying some of your moisturiser to the inflamed skin. After helping him reapply the patches to his wounds the two of you spent a good 30 minutes just standing and holding each other in a fluffy towel, no talking, no worries, the whole world melted away and it was just the pair of you.

Changing the bedsheets was an interesting endeavour with the dragons snaking their way under the blankets every 5 seconds. No matter how annoyed Hanzo seemed to get with them they refused to listen, only because they loved making you laugh.

Eventually though, the pair of you got settled beneath the sheets, your head resting against his chest, and the dragons curled up inbetween your legs. You’d managed to convince the archer to keep his prosthetics off for the night. He was hesitant but agreed nonetheless, he set them close by in case... right next to his stormbow. Old habits die hard...

He held you close smiling as he felt your heartbeat against his body, “I certainly wasn’t expecting this when I boarded the dropship for that mission... but I’m not complaining.” He yawned as he rubbed your back. You hummed in response as your eyelids grew heavy, it was a long day and you were both exhausted, granted the archer was probably struggling to stay awake more than you right about now.

You leaned up and kissed his chin as you closed your eyes, “I’d never even thought it possible and yet my wildest dream came true.” You whispered. He laughed softly and nuzzled your hair loving the scent of your strawberry shampoo, “I’ve been called many things in my life, that’s definitely a new one to add to the list.” He whispered. You giggled and yawned in response, “mhm~”

He smiled down at you before kissing your hair where the little scar remained, “goodnight blossom...” he whispered, “night...night... Hanzo...” you yawned as you drifted off. He gently patted your hair before flicking off the lamp and snuggling up with you for a well deserved rest...

...

‘-...Bad....Man...’

‘...Bad...Man....Outside...Outside...’

‘Danger.... kill...Kill...KILL!!’

Hanzo woke with a start and frantically looked around the room, it was early in the morning and the sun had yet to rise... He rubbed his eyes tiredly seeing the dragons both guarding the bed and staring at the hallway with teeth bared into vicious snarls... He looked to his side and paused seeing you there... sleeping so serenely... He’d never let anyone terrorise you again... The cause of your anxieties and fear ended now...

He planted a soft kiss to your cheek before clicking on his legs and grabbing his bow and quiver... He looked at the dragons who stared back at him awaiting a command... he nodded and they both faded back into his tattoo to guide him.

The apartment was dark but there was a faint glimmer of moonlight shining in from the windows... and the now very open balcony door. The archer had always been a master at hiding in the shadows. He’d taken down countless targets under the cover of night, murderers, rapists, human traffickers, and drug running kingpins... But none had made his blood boil as much as this creep, dragons were extremely protective entities, and this monster had harmed his princess...

He knelt down and allowed his eyes to adjust to the space scanning for any movement... He saw a figure creeping out of the laundry and into the living room holding something... your underwear... The archer drew an arrow and knocked it into his bow, he intentionally made a sound doing so... He wanted to play with this rat...

The hooded figure jumped slightly and looked around for the source of the noise... He stuffed your panties into his pocket and began creeping towards the hall clearly not seeing the number of boxes you’d left stacked in the way. He tripped and staggered forward landing on his face with a loud thud. “Ugh fuck!” He blurted out. He clearly wasn’t afraid about getting caught, he was parading around like he owned this place.

He stood up and groaned before kicking the box over scattering its contents out, it clattered loudly and from down the hall Hanzo heard you stir... he had to protect you, he had to keep you safe. He backed up down the hall, slowly standing upright as he did so. The silicone padding on the bottom of his feet allowed him to move silently. But right now, silence was not what he wanted, he wanted to lure him closer, he wanted to be sure there was no chance of him escaping.

The archer tapped the toe of his prosthetic against the hardwood floor making your stalker turn his attention to the hall, “y/n?... is that you my love?” He called out approaching slowly.

‘-closer... just a little closer...-’ Hanzo thought as he drew back is arrow taking aim. “Babe?...” your sweet soft voice sounded from the bedroom and the creeps eyes seemingly glistened from under the hood as he started rushing down the hall towards your room, “yes my love! It’s me! I’m here! I-”

He froze seeing a brilliant blue light glimmer from the darkness and a war cry that echoed like the thunder of a raging storm assaulted his ears. Hanzo stared him down and released the dragons.... “ryuuga wagateki wo KURAU!!!”

...

As you stepped out of the bedroom you immediately staggered back in as a blinding blue light flashed through the darkened corridor and the screaming of a man mingled with the howling roars of two great beasts...

After another moment it was completely silent, and a light turned on in the kitchen. You rushed out to see Hanzo having a glass of water, the dragons both lounging on the counter looking pleased with themselves. The balcony door was closed, and the box neatly packed back up. The archer glanced at you and smiled adoringly, “did I wake you blossom?” He asked.

“Wh-What happened?” You whimpered rushing into his arms. “Nothing to worry about blossom...” he crooned hugging you close. “Just took care of an unwanted pest... Go back to bed I’ll be right there in a moment.” He hummed. You looked up at him confused then at the dragons as suddenly mochi started heaving. After a few seconds she spat out your underwear... And a cellphone...

You picked it up and shook it to get the dragon drool off of it before freezing as you saw the phone screen... A photo of you sitting in a clothing store... taken from outside... across a street... you dropped the phone before looking up at hanzo. The archer looked at you sheepishly as if he was afraid he’d upset you, or that you’d hate him for what he’d done.

You smiled as tears pooled in your eyes... A weight rose up from your shoulders and the air felt so crisp in your lungs as in that moment you felt like you could finally breathe. You couldn’t contain your emotions any longer and you started to sob openly, free, you were finally free from this nightmare. “Y/n d-dont cry, I’m s-” Hanzo tried to apologise thinking you were upset, you hugged him tightly cutting him off mid sentence. “Thank you...” you cried nuzzling into his chest.

He stood there confused beyond words. He looked at the dragons who both tilted their heads towards you. He smiled and hugged you back lifting you into his arms. “It’ll be okay now...” he whispered as he carried you back to bed. He pulled back the covers and rested you in the plush bedding planting a loving kiss to your lips as he dried your tears, “Shh now, no more crying.” He whispered as he huddled over you to pepper your cheeks with kisses.

You’d never expected him to be such a passionate or affectionate man, and yet here he was comforting you with innocent and loving kisses, it was so strange but so lovely to see this hardened assassin you once thought you’d only ever see on a screen be so soft and gentle. And all for you. “H-Hanzo...” you hiccuped as you tried to settle down.

The archer just smiled and pressed his forehead to yours, “Shh take your time. Breathe now.” He cooed softly, you nodded slightly looking up into his eyes. “Thank you...”

...

A couple weeks passed by, when the topic of staying or returning with Hanzo was brought up it wasn’t a difficult decision for you. You wanted to be with him, and you’d get to live with him in a world you’d only ever dreamed of living in. Plus, you didn’t really have to pack anything given you never really unpacked to begin with.

In the short time period together your relationship with the archer had flourished, he made a habit of taking you out of the house each day, and each day he’d take you somewhere different, somewhere further from the safety net of your home. Although your stalker was gone the fear he’d instilled within you lingered, itd be a while before you would be better, but that was okay. In both your mental and physical health Hanzo swore to be at your side each step of the way.

Your streams had become less frequent as you explained to your followers you were moving again and would be gone for a while, you hoped they’d just forget about you and move on... life’s more interesting with mystery and so forth.

Despite your best efforts in trying to explain away that fateful night to your followers all of your livechats were filled with comments about the ‘strange man’ whose resemblance with ‘the real’ Hanzo was uncanny. You’d initially tried to say he was a friend not wanting to reveal too much of your now unbelievable personal life. That flew out the window during a gaming stream when the archer casually walked in and hugged you from behind in only a towel.

Hanzo found it nearly impossible to keep his hands off of you, he’d never loved anyone as much as he did you. Each time he looked at you he couldn’t help but smile, and in only a few days you’d brought him out of the prickly shell he’d surrounded himself in for so long.

You made it your life’s mission to make him laugh at any opportunity after you made him literally snort and cry from laughing at a silly joke. You made him so happy in ways you’d never fully know, and if only he knew just how much you loved him, how greatful you were for him.

...

You yawned and stretched as you woke, it was morning.. and the spot next to you was mysteriously empty... but you knew where your dragon man was.

Sure enough after a moment the door creaked open to the dragons scampering in and jumping onto the bed for snuggles. And Hanzo followed them in holding breakfast.

You smiled and hummed drinking him in with your eyes, he was a vision in the morning light, his long black hair draped elegantly over his shoulder, his bare chest exposed, and the only thing covering him were a loose pair of sweats. “Good morning my darling blossom.” He smiled walking to you.

“Mmmorning love~” you hummed as he set the plates down on the bedside table, “it smells nice, did you sleep well?” You asked as he helped you sit up, you were a lot healthier now but it had become pretty clear by now that he enjoyed pampering you, his beloved deserved only the best after all.

“Mhm.” He smiled looking at the food before looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I think I want a snack before breakfast.” He purred lowly. You blushed and rubbed your eyes in an adorable fashion, “oh? But won’t that spoil your appetite?~” you giggled and without warning he pounced pinning you into the pillows and nibbling at your lips with hungry passionate kisses that stole your breath away and left your lips pink and swollen.

His hands began to trace under your shirt as you clawed at his back, he was a beast in bed, and you loved how wild he could get in the throws of passion. He began to slide off your pyjama shorts when suddenly-

‘-Teleporter online, I have opened the path-‘

You both turned your attention to the wall next to the bed as a huge portal opened and a tall and very familiar woman entered. Symmetra, “Hanz-Oh my.” She paused looking at you two, “pardon my intrusion I’ll come b-” she was cut off as another familiar face stepped through..

“Anija!!.... OHHHH MY GOOOOOD!!!!” Genji screamed before bursting into a fit of excitedly happy laughter. “YOU FINALLY GOT LAID!” He cackled. Hanzo grabbed one of the plates and threw it at him red faced with either embarrassment or anger. Either way you couldn’t help but giggle.

It didn’t take long to get your stuff through the gateway, immediately d.Va was all over you begging you to let her hook you up as a streamer. Genji was swift to jump in and get to know you as well, he couldn’t keep from teasing his older brother about when you two would be getting married. It took Mccree having to carry him away to get him to stop.

You took one last walk through your empty apartment before sighing as you spared a final thought for your old life and the journey ahead. You smiled feeling an ever present hand wrap itself in yours. You looked up and smiled as Hanzo smiled back, “ready?” He asked squeezing your hand slightly. You squeezed back and nodded, “ready.” You hum. He nodded and picked you up holding you tight and kissing you gentle as he carried you through the gateway...

The only thing you left behind was a bag of trash in the bin, and in it... the bloodied remnants of an unfinished haori... and a cellphone...

[smoooothoperator]

Red Lights (L.N.)

a/n: my Requested my ask box is open if you want to send me a request 💕💕

Monaco. The fanciest and most wonderful place someone could imagine. Full of expensive cars and yatchs, parties and clubs, stores of the most famous brands of clothing and jewellery. And place of one of the most exciting races of the Formula 1 season.

The day the Grand Prix took place on the city was the same day of my birthday. I worked as one of the designers of the Ferrari fashion brand and got VIP tickets gifted by Ferrari as a present for my birthday and a way to thank me the work I did last month. So that was a wonderful way of spend a birthday morning with my best friend who already is a fan of the motorsport.

"Do you have at least an idea of how F1 works?" she asked me when we walked into the paddock and placed the cards on the ID reader. "A little". We walked between other people, some of them where celebrities that came as guests from other teams or fans that were that afortunate to get a pass to met their idols. "Oh God, someone is playing the Spiderman theme somewhere!" I laughed, searching for the music. "I think Tom Holland came here, I saw his Instagram" my friend laughed.

"Oh, hey! Olivia!". I turned around and found Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerd calling me, their red Ferrari shirt standing up between the people. "Carlos! Charles! Hi". "Happy birthday!".

Carlos, Charles and I met during the show of the new collection, both of them congratulated me for my job and I promised them that I would go to watch one of their races. That's how I got my VIP pass, they were the ones that sent them to me with a a hoodie of the team.

"Guys, this is Evelyn, my best friend" I introduced her to them. "Congrats for your pole position, Charles" she said to him, but his faces dropped down. "Yeah... but I damaged the car after crossing the finish line". "Oh..."

They guided us around the paddock, talking with some drivers and staff from other teams and meeting the famous Kym that made photos of the four of us. Charles showed us his garage and explained how the mechanics worked on his car. After that, Evelyn and I walked with Carlos in front of the garages.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" Evelyn stopped me grabbing my arm. "What?". "The McLaren garage! With the new livery! Oh this is a dream come true!" she exclaimed doing little jumps and clapping her hands. "Do you want a photo?" Carlos asked her and her eyes started to shine. She shook your head nodding with excitement and Carlos smiled walking inside the garage and after a few seconds he came back with both drivers dressed with white and orange suits.

"Lando, Daniel. Let me introduce you to Evelyn. A big fan" my friend laughed and shook hands with both of them, smiling nervous and looking at Lando. "Can you do a pictures of the three of us, Oli?". "Yeah, sure!".

I nodded and took my phone between my hands, opening the camera app. I looked at the image on my phone, where Evelyn stood between the two drivers with smiley eyes and a big smile on her slips that could be seen despite the mask. The tall driver, Daniel, was doing a horn gesture with his hands behind her head and his smile was present on his eyes and mouth. But the other driver wasn't looking at the camera neither was smiling but his cheeks where getting redder as seconds passed by.

"Thank you so much guys!" Evelyn smiled to them and Daniel hugged her and after that she walked next to me. "That Lando kid was a little grumpy? He wasn't smiling" I whispered to her showing the picture. "Oh..."

xxx

He knows when he is nervous, anxious, happy or relaxed. This last two years allowed him to learn how his non-verbal language worked, how he used to hide behind him when he was having an anxiety attack, or how he touched his lips with his fingers when he was concentrated on what the engineers when saying to him.

"Lando?" he called him, making the younger driver turn his head and look at him. He saw how he reacted the moment he walked with him closer to Evelyn and Olivia, how his cheeks started to get red or how he stopped blinking. "I'm alright".

Daniel saw how ke talked with his teammate and walked closer to him when he saw that Lando went back to his garage.

"Did you noticed that too?" He asked him, looking at the young man talking to his mechanics. "The heart eyes? Yeah, way too obvious" Daniel laughed. "Should we do something? I mean, I never saw him doing that with a girl he just met and didn't exchange words before" he asked him and the Australian man laughed. "Does he even know how to flirt with a girl?"

The red driver laughed with Daniel and searched the two women. He smiled, remembering the soft gaze his friend had when he met eyes with her, and started forming a question for them.

"Hey! Girls! I was wondering if you two wanted to come to the party after the race, it will be at night" he asked them and they smiled to each other, nodding and walking with him to the Ferrari motorhome where they will be watching the race.

xxx

The race was intense and exciting. He worked so hard and had his recognition finishing third on the race, behind his best friend.

He had two things on his mind while driving those streets: the first one was win, give his everything to the car and end the race; the second one was her, the unknown woman that was wearing a Ferrari cap and a VIP pass on her neck.

When he jumped out of his car and ran to his team, jumping on them and receiving kicks on his helmet, he wanted to see her. And he didn't know why. He was hoping that she and her friend were watching Carlos take his trophy but they weren't there.

"Man, are you sure that you are alright?" Carlos asked him, patting his back and taking him out of his own mind. "Yeah, yeah. I little shocked".

He called his mom, surrounded by his team mocking him saying 'Mommy, I did a thing!'. He called his bestfrind Max, who was reunited with his friends from Quadrant that were screaming on the phone excited after he won a trophy.

He took all his things from his room and walked to the parking lot, searching for the motorbike he rented and drove to the Hilton hotel he was staying at, mentally preparing himself that the next hours he will be doing videocalls with the sponsors, media and some fans.

He tried his best to keep the focus there, but his mind was flashing images of her hair and eyes, the rings of her fingers and the necklace decorating her chest, her sweet voice that was stuck on his ears even if she only said two words. The moment he walked outside of his garage after Carlos called him all he could see was her.

"Will I ever see her again?"

He sighed and stood up from the chair, searching the outfit he will wear to the party and dressed up, spraying his favourite cologne on himself and looked at the mirror.

"Let's pray"

He walked out of the room, looking at the reflection of the mirror that is inside the elevator and searched for the car that will drop him into the club.

"Lando!" Jon was laying on his car smiling and well dressed. "Are you going to be my ride?" He laughed and opened the door of the McLaren, sitting on the passenger seat and sighed. "Are you alright, Lan?". "I don't know. I mean, I'm excited for the trophy and today was an amazing day but...". "The girl from Ferrari, right?" Jon interrupted him "How the hell you know that?". "When you came back after Carlos called you were distracted and a little bit red. I mean, I saw her too, she's a beauty". "I won't see her ever again".

The rest of the journey was silent, only the music could be heard inside the vehicle and when the arrived to the club he saw all the cars, and a Ferrari parking in front of it.

"Are you sure you won't see her?" Jon asked him and signaled to the car in front of them.

There she was. Stepping out of Carlos' car with her friend, dressed on a lace red dress that hugged her body perfectly. The air left his lungs and he wanted to jump out of the car to follow her. Jon laughed as he watched hoe he opened and closed his mouth line a fish.

"Go on, I'll park" he laughed and Lando mumbled a 'Thank you' and stepped out of the car, trying to calm himself as his heart was beating hard on his chest. He caught Carlos looking at him with a smirk on his lips.

'She is here. She is here. She is here. But why she is with Carlos? Why did Carlos smirked to me?'

xxx

The club was amazing. A lot of the drivers ere inside drinking and dancing. Carlos walked us to a table where we met Charles and his girlfriend, who welcomed us with a smile and a hug.

"Happy birthday, Olivia! Charles told me" she smiled to me. "Thank you!"

The three of us drank from our glasses and laughed, enjoying the people and the place. We walked to the centre of the dance floor and danced, enjoying the music. Looking behind Charlotte's shoulder I saw that Carlos was talking with a men, one of the men I met this morning and that took a picture with Evelyn. The smiley one. They were looking at me and then somewhere else, smiling.

"Hey" someone called me on my back and I turned around surprised.

When I looked at him, Evelyn was smiling wide, signalling me that I should talk with him. She thinks that the reason of why he wasn't looking at the camera was because he was looking at me.

"Hi". "I'm Lando" he introduced himself with a shy smile. "I know" I smiled laughing. "I'm Olivia". He smiled to me again and my heart started to beat faster. "Want to have a drink?"

I nodded and looked again at Evelyn and Charlotte, who were making signal with their hands saying that I should go with him. I laughed and followed Lando to the drink bar, looking carefully to every movement he made.

"You know that you are really bad at flirting and hiding your blush, right?" I sighed and he chocked on his drink. "I'm not!". "Oh please, I have proofs of your blushing on my phone".

He sighed and looked at his drink, smiling and looking again at me. On his mind were a lot of things, I'm sure, and I laughed.

"I have been thinking about you since the time I saw you. You were on my mind at the race and all I could think about is if a were able to see you again". "Well, I'm here" I smiled and he mirrored my action. "You are so beautiful, Olivia" he sighed and I laughed. "See? You don't know how to flirt!". "I wasn't flirting! I was telling the truth. Plus, you would look better on a dres with the McLaren color". "Papaya? Hm... I don't know".

I looked around us and my eyes landed o Daniel, Charles and Carlos. They are looking at us smiling and laughing. They settled this up.

"Want to come outside? I need fresh air" I asked him and he nodded. I took his hand, feeling butterflies on my stomach and walked at the balcony. "Are you cold?" He asked and the next second I felt his jacket on ny shoulders. "Today is my birthday, you know?". "Now I know. And I remeber it for the next time". "Next time?". "Do you believe in love at first sight, Olivia? Because I started to believe on it this morning". "Maybe I do believe on it".

He smiled and stepped closer to me, knowing too well what's coming next. His lips on mines with a tender touch waiting for my reaction.

"Come with me and I'll show you that papaya looks good on you" he whispered brushing his lips on mine and I smiled. "Let's see, maybe I'll change who I work for and I'll start working as the clothing designer of McLaren".