#but then he kept needling and i finally caved

[cinematicnomad]

I EXCHANGED NUMBERS WITH MY CRUSH!! AND!! He joined my and 2 friends/coworkers for dinner after originally turning us down. And the way he decided to join us?? Was by calling me and asking if we were at the bar we’d mentioned and if it was ok for him to join 🥰🥰

[jasmines-library]

Needle and thread.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 19. Prompt: “no anaesthesia.” Fandom: Batfamily

Summary: Dick is forced to carry out a life-saving emergency surgery when you are too far away to reach help before it becomes too late.

Warnings: Impalement, blood, gore, stitching, needles.

Word count: 1k (short but sour, I had to do this quickly sorry.)

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dick Grayson would never forget your blood curdling scream the moment the rebar punctured your stomach, ripping up skin and muscle as it forced its way through your back.

You had been flung sideways by the villain you had been fighting. The force of his throw has caused you to topple over the side of the scaffolding and sent you plummeting to the ground. Unluckily for you, you happened to land on the scrap metal.

He cried out, cursing as he fought to get to you. It was only supposed to be a simple patrol, but he was outnumbered. Dick fought hard, landing kick after kick and blow after blow with his sticks to reach you. When he landed heavily on his feet beside you, he could already see the puddle of blood below you. It gushed freely from your body. Raw and red and beautiful.

Your mouth was agape, panting against the pain. Your eyebrows upturned behind your mask as your face contorted in agony.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He was stuck still staring at the blood stained steel. Your muscles clenched around it as you writhed.

“Y/n.” He dropped to his knees beside you when reality hit him like a ton of bricks. “Fuck.”

“Dick…”

His hands hovered over your body; he was too afraid to touch you as if touching you was going to break your fragile body more. He was wide eyed, mind running at a thousand miles a minute. He knew he needed to move you, but the rusty metal bar was the only thing preventing you from bleeding out completely. He had hit the emergency signal on his suit, and he knew help was on the way, but he had no way to gauge how long it would be before they arrived.

“Okay…” he breathed out unsteadily. His hands trembled as they moved around your body, coaxed in your blood. “I have to move you.”

Nodding, you clenched your eyes shut and gritted your teeth. Dick wrapped his hands around yours to haul you off of the bar. You howled, muscles twitching as it was ripped through you again. Your vision blurred as he lay you back down on the ground, applying pressure hard to the wound.

“Come on, Y/n. Just stay with me a little longer. Help is coming.”

“Dick…” you forced out through wet coughs. “You have to do it.”

He shook his head frantically. He hated doing it. It was something that was only supposed to be a last resort. “No. No, I can't do that to you.”

He turned his head, desperate to spot the red and green suits heading his direction, but all he could see for miles were the lights of the city.

“Robin, where are you?” He asked into the coms.

There was a crackle before he replied. “I‘m going as fast as I can, but I’m about 10 minutes out.”

He cursed. You were too far out for him to reach the bat cave and Damian was still too far away. 10 minutes and you would have lost too much blood.

“Do it.” Yo pleased. “Dick. Please.”

He took a deep breath and turned his head away, before pulling out the needle and thread that was kept in the small Medkit you carried in your suit for emergencies. Dick struggled to thread the needle with the way his fingers shook. But after finally sterilising and threading the small tool, he positioned it above the wound. It was still bleeding heavily.

“I’m so sorry.” He muttered as he made the first stitch.

You bucked forwards, contorting at the stabbing against your skin. He tried to be quick, but that did nothing to stop you feeling every stitch as the thread tugged against your skin to close the rift. You had almost blacked out by the time he had rolled you over to stitch up the entry wound. Every second was nothing but torment that seemed to replace the blood you lost.

By the time he had pulled the last stitch closed, you were a whimpering mess. Your face was stained with tears and your hair was a mess. Your whole body felt like one giant bruise; everything ached and your joints felt like a hinge that needed to be oiled.

Dick had tried his hardest to keep you awake, whispering sweet apologies into your hair as he rocked you back and forth in his arms, though you weren’t 100% sure who he was trying to make feel better; you or himself.

Your body had slowly begun to go numb after a while as you waited anstily for Damian to arrive. A chill had begun to set into your bones. By the time he had finally arrived, the pain and your senses had dulled into almost nothing at all.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 18 ⛤ DAY 20 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[arcielee]

Hazy Shades of Spring

Summary: A professor runs into one of her students.  Paring: Modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader  Word Count: 3483 Warnings: Nothing too spicy, so please don’t report. ♥ There will be a part 2 though for the smut.  Author's Note: This is for the poll you all voted for. I hope you enjoy and a huge thank you to @sapphire-writes for your read over/feedback, your modern Aemond has definitely set the bar (for me anyway).  Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon​

It was the fourth walk-by from your waitress when you decided to request your bill and just accept that you, in fact, had been stood up. 

You were single and freshly thirty and dating had seemingly become a monstrous thing to attempt. You kept your humor with dating apps, but you also held a mild regret that curled in your abdomen that you ended things with Cregan; as amicable a break-up as it was, you were beginning to believe that complacency might have been the best option. 

Now you only had yourself to blame because you finally caved to the incessant needling of your colleague, Johanna Lannister, when she cornered you, again, and pressed her suggestion of a blind date with her husband’s brother. 

“It’s his twin brother,” she added to her attempt to make her point. “So you know he’s handsome…”

Your nose involuntarily scrunched with her closing statement, but you decided to set aside your judgment and agreed to it, if anything to shut her up.

Numbers were exchanged and you texted back and forth a bit; he was amiable enough with some wit to him, though not enough to laugh out loud, but it was enough to agree to meet for dinner. The semester had ended and you had submitted your grades, allowing you several weeks of freedom before the spring semester would begin. 

He suggested and seemed adamant about the new upscale restaurant that opened up downtown, which was an old theatre that had been purchased and repurposed for fine dining. When you arrived, its renovation was breathtaking: the inside arched upwards and there was a new mural of brilliant colors on the ceiling, with marble columns that led to a grand staircase and red carpeting that was a walkway over the polished floors. 

You knew it would be ritzy and opted for a black, flitted dress that complimented your figure and cut off just above your knees, with tights that showed a definitive black seam centering the backside of your legs and a heel with a clasp. You removed your cardigan before you approached the hostess, checking your phone to see the text, running late, be there soon.

Your grip tightened on the phone, with a fleeting moment to retreat homeward but you had put effort into your look tonight and you ignored the call of comfort for a baggy shirt and sweats. Instead, you get a table and order a glass of red wine while you wait. 

The time rolled away and your glass neared empty; you checked your phone to see that the courtesy text you sent to see if he was still alive had been left on read. It sends a bolt of vexation in your chest and you finish the wine; you were nettled by the inconsideration being shown by the damn Lannister twin.

An annoyed sigh leaves you and you can feel the pitied look of your waitress. “We do have a bar upstairs,” she offers with a small smile. “It isn’t as crowded as down here.” 

Fuck it. You tip her well and decide to climb the grandiose staircase, to make most of your night out as well as escape the music and murmur of the dinner crowd. The lighting was not as harsh and you seated yourself at the end of the bar, ordering a second glass of wine and retrieving a small notepad you have tucked into your purse. “Do you have a pen?” You asked the bartender and he is polite enough to retrieve you one. 

You allow the new scenery and your new muse, the feeling of absolute annoyance, to help create something for your editor; lost in your scribble and half a glass later, you are interrupted with a question.

“Professor?” 

Your hand stilled on the glass stem, your grip so tight you would think it would crack under the  pressure. 

Living centrally downtown did mean you would often run into students, present and sometimes past. You knew you were not as old and dusty like some of the other professors, but you kept your reservation with social interactions, giving a tight smile when they acknowledged you and looked for a segue out of any pleasantries they attempted to exchange. 

It wasn’t that you did not care for them, it’s just that you did not want to be reminded of your occupation outside of your working hours. 

This voice was familiar, with a distinct, low hum from the chest.

Aemond Targaryen. 

He was one of the top students at the university; he was never late with assignments, would always push for extra credit, and would meet any opinion with his own educated intellection, which often led to heated debates in business law. 

In the beginning, you struggled with your prejudice when he entered your classroom; you noted his gait and composure, how he held himself with an eerie elegance as opposed to his brother and his frat boy persona. Aegon had been a handful, often showing up under the influence of something and once making a crude pass when he asked about extra credit. 

You halted the attempt immediately and pushed him from your office; the thought of fraternizing with a student never crossed your mind.

That was until you had Aemond.

His family was known in King’s Landing, their family empire owning most of everything and their standing revered, with a hand in everything within city limits. Aegon only had passed your class, begrudgingly by you, due to the family’s repeated and generous donations to the university, though he hardly deserved the lowest grade you gave him. 

It was why you were not surprised when Aemond followed the same academic route, as it was expected for him to get a business degree of some sort and contribute. He had a different drive than his brother, he was present and moved with a determination, some unforeseen drive that pushed him and it gave him an almost arrogant air. 

The interactions you shared throughout the semester was a stark contrast to his stern demeanor; his voice was low and commanding, with a genuineness to his tone. He was never inappropriate and you found you actually enjoyed the interactions shared. 

He is also so very handsome, you cannot help but admit to yourself, your cheeks flushed when you turned to see him standing and watching you. 

Despite the scar that marred his face, a childhood accident was all he shared with you, his mien was still breathtaking. It was apparent he came from old money with the sapphire stone chosen to replace his missing eye and you could still see the gash that cut through from above his brow into the sharp contours of his face. His lips were curled, his head with a slight tilt as he peered at you. Tonight, he wore dark, fitted slacks and button up shirt, with a cashmere sweater and dress jacket. His silver chain peaked underneath his collar and his long, silver hair was not knotted back in his usual low, messy bun, but instead was draped over his broad shoulders.

“Oh, hello, Aemond, how nice to run into you,” you are quick to tuck the notepad back into your purse. “What brings you out tonight?” 

He always had this damnable, perpetual smirk that played at his lips, like he is aware of the effect he has on you. Aemond moved to take the seat next to you and you notice how the bartender is quick to serve him a drink. “My father insisted I help my uncle with the grand opening,” he explained, touching the glass but not drinking it. “I am shadowing the ordeal.” 

Of course they own this restaurant, your cheeks burning with the realization, but before you could excuse yourself, he instead asks, “You look lovely tonight. What brings you here?” He looks around, “Were you meeting with someone?” 

You fidget with your glass, clearing your throat. “Um, I was supposed to meet for a date and…” you faltered on the lie prepared on your lips and instead admitted, “I was stood up.” 

His expression is unreadable and he shrugs. “This seems to happen to the best of us,” and he finally lifts his glass to you. “Cheers to the best.” 

You give a small smile and the cheers allow you to finish your drink. Aemond gestures for a refill, but you push to stand. “Thank you, but I should probably leave. You are a student, I’m your professor…” 

“The semester is over,” his voice is low, his expression almost amused and you note how his eye takes in your form when you stand up. You pull your cardigan on, but it does little to cover your black dress and you burn from his steady gaze. “I’m hardly a student, except for a few filler courses this spring, but then I will be done. And besides, I already turned in my paper and you, actually, already submitted my grade.” 

“Oh, did I?” Of course I fucking did. 

Aemond hummed. “Yes, in fact. I appreciate the good score.”

The bartender rests the new glass in front of you and you lift it, “Well, it was well earned. And cheers, then, to the semester ending and good grades.”

The soft plink of glass and you see his perpetual smirk playing on his lips again. “You do look lovely tonight and I am obligated to be here. Enjoy your glass of wine and keep me company until it’s finished.” 

Since you had not eaten and were on your third glass of wine, it makes you agreeable to accept his company; you know your cheeks are rosy as you are swept up into conversation with him. Aemond always had a wit that would make you laugh, or maybe it was the wine, but either way you found you were enjoying yourself. 

With your third glass almost gone, your eyes catch sight of the cigarette case he placed on the bartop; the embossed design glinted under the lighting. “It’s a family insignia,” he explains, pushing it towards you. 

You pick it up, your finger trailing the dragon design. “This is in the mural in the lobby,” you muss and he nods. There is a satisfying click when you open it and the waft of cinnamon reaches your nose, which crinkles with your smile. “Clove cigarettes?” You cannot help but giggle with the discovery. 

He narrows his gaze on you, but his lips are still curled upwards as he leans over to take it from your hands. “It is my guilty pleasure, a treat when the semester ends,” he closes it. 

“We all deserve a guilty pleasure,” you agree, your attention falling to the empty glass in front of you. “I will have to ask for one, though,” you gestured towards the case. “I feel I need to indulge just a bit more, on this night in particular.” 

Aemond stands up and pulls your chair back, his hand offered to you so you can find your balance on your heels. You look up at him through your eyelashes and notice that even with your heel, he is taller still. 

He is gentle to take your hand in his own, his other hand on your lower back to guide you as you weave through the few patrons and staff. You eventually slip through a threshold that leads out to a secluded balcony that is decorated with lights, giving a golden hue. 

With the approach of spring, the night air is crisp and you wrap your arms around yourself and your thin cardigan. “Oh, this view,” you cannot help but smile, despite your shiver. 

Aemond hums his agreement, pulling off his dress jacket and handing it to you. You try to decline, but he insists, “I run warm. It’s a family trait.” 

You pull it on, engulfed in the fine fabric and his scent, a mixture of clean laundry with an expensive cologne. He walked towards the ornate balustrade that stems around the balcony and leaned his elbows on top; you followed him, the soft clicks of your heels on the stone and rested on his visible side, peering out towards King’s Landing. 

He pulled out the case and retrieved a black clove cigarette, lighting it and passing it to you, smoke pouring from his smile as your fingertips touch to take it. The drag is a mixture of the best and worst feeling; you allow your exhale to snake over your features and lick your lips to taste the cinnamon on them. “I haven’t had one of these,” you blush again. “It has been a while, but thank you, this is just what I wanted.” 

You watch him pull another and balance it between his lips. Wordless, you tuck yours into the corner of your mouth and place your hands to cup the flame as he lights it. With his exhale, he says, “Thank you.” 

The silence allows a moment to enjoy the city bustle below, but the sound of him clearing his throat brings you back to the balcony. “What about you?” You tilt your head to look at him, your brow quirked and he clarifies, “I had answered your questions and shared about my interests outside of my degree, but what about you and your passions?” 

You take another drag to mull over your reply. “Perhaps teaching is my passion,” you reply, your brow raised at him. 

He hums a moment. “I don’t think so,” his voice is so low that you need to turn to hear him, facing him and leaning one elbow on the bannister. His brow is cocked and his perpetual smirk playing on his lips. “I saw passion when you were focused on your notebook earlier, you had a glow with your penning.” Aemond blows the smoke above his head, “You do not have that same expression with your lectures.” 

You turn away and focus straight ahead, hoping the city lights would wash away the embarrassment that rushed to your cheeks. He makes almost an aha noise and steps closer towards you, peering at you. “I am correct about your passion outside of your teaching,” his tone is teasing.

“Well, yes,” your mind is buzzing from the wine, the cigarette amplifying it ever-so-slightly. He graduates after the spring, you reason and then decide to share, “I enjoy writing.”

This confession breaks the levy and your passion spills as you babble about your love for science fiction and how your interests were piqued by the classics like Ray Bradbury and Kurt Vonnegut, plus his pseudonym. Then you stop, your hand covering your mouth. “Sorry, I am rambling,” you blush again. 

“It’s cute,” he encourages. “Please, continue.” 

You sigh. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much else to add. Science fiction does not have the same audience  it once did and it definitely isn’t what sells as far as digital books,” you finish with a grim smile. “What sells then?”

You focus your eyes on him and cannot stop the fit of giggles that spill from your lips; he peers at you, his cheeks dimpling with a pursed smile of his own. “Smut, mostly,” you confess and he chuckles. “It is all,” you wave your hand flippantly, “porn with plot and I happen to have a knack for it. Plus, I am very fond of the residual income from my sales,” you finish your cigarette. 

“A knack for it?” His tone is still low and he flicks his own cigarette over the edge. “Like, the ability to incorporate it into any situation…?” 

“I mean, within reason,” you are unable to hold his gaze, feeling almost childish in his large jacket, your fingertips playing with the button stance. “It depends on the ratio of porn to plot, really. It kind of comes down to a science with the method.” 

“Oh?” He sounds amused and shifts himself, edging closer still, his gaze still locked on your face. “Enlighten me.” 

“Well,” you hem for your words, your wine-addled brain unable to stop them from leaving your mouth. “Obviously, as a writer, you wish to set the scene for your reader, the build-up to the moment, but you also don’t want clutter it so much when they are obviously looking for one thing-” 

Your words are stopped by the soft press of his lips to your own, his hands covering your hold on his jacket and bringing you against his chest. Your eyes widen for a moment before you relax against him, enjoying his taste, the mixture of clove cinnamon, smoke, and whatever whiskey he had at the bar.  

His large hands move to your hips, pulling you closer with a soft squeeze and you moan into the kiss, your fingers curling around the back of his neck and tangling in his hair. Aemond presses against you and your back against the bannister; you can feel him through his dress slacks, your own body betraying you by the warmth pooling between your thighs. 

“Wait, wait,” you break the kiss, your eyes wide again and looking him over.

The pupil of his eye is blown, almost black with his stare, and his lips curl upwards. “We should do this somewhere else,” he suggests, his tone velvet. “Take me home?”

You bite your bottom lip with your pregnant pause before nodding. You feel his finger curl beneath your chin, tilting your head to meet with his gaze. “I require verbal consent,” his tone still teasing you. 

“Yes,” you say, your cheeks are red, and his usual stoic expression brightens slightly. He takes your hand into his and you follow, Aemond pulling his phone and texting, his grasp tight as he helps you down the stairs. You avoid the looks of the staff and follow him to exit the restaurant. 

Out front is some black luxury car idling and Aemond moved to open the door for you, helping you seat yourself before closing the door and walking to the other side. Your eyes burn into the back of the driver’s seat, who turns and offers a smile, asking for your address before he closes the partition. 

You can feel the shift in the back seat as Aemond sits next to you, his expression unreadable once again. A beat of silence follows as the car begins to drive and only then does your liquid courage take its hold. You reach to pull him towards you and his mouth finds yours. His lips are so soft, so warm against your own, his tongue moving into your mouth and yours meeting with his languid movements to continue to taste him. 

He pulls you to straddle his lap, your dress bunching around your hips and his large palms are warm as they grab into the softness of your thighs, pulling you slow to grind against the growing bulge of his pants. A soft moan spills from your lips with the pressure and his mouth falls to your chest, his tongue following your clavicle and closing on the junction of your shoulder to your neck. You mewl when you feel his teeth bite into you, moving your hips against him which elicited a guttural groan from the back of his throat. 

You had forgotten how much fun kissing could be, the intimacy of hands pawing with purpose and the soft pants from the passion. The car stops and when you realize it is parked in front of your apartment building; you break the kiss and fall into your seat, your hands moving to righten your skirt. 

Another beat of silence follows and he finally says, “Is this your place?” His voice is gentle. 

You nod your head yes, you mind whirring with what had unfolded this evening and your eyes falling to his hands; you watched his slender fingers slowly drum the leather seat between before moving to palm your hand, his thumb gentle to run the length of your knuckles and back. “Nothing more needs to happen,” he offered you an escape. “But could I ask for a kiss goodnight?”

Your eyes lock onto his, your tongue wetting your lips and leaning to find his mouth once more. His lips fit so perfect against your own, his tongue trailing your bottom lip with a soft nip before he pulls back. 

You open the car door and climb out, hearing him shift in his seat to lean forward. “Goodnight, professor-”

But you turn on your heel, leaning over and well aware of your cleavage in this little black dress you wore tonight. “Aemond,” your eyes rest on his face, your cheeks growing warm once again. “Would you like to come up?” 

With the familiar curl of his lips, he tells the driver to go home. He pulled himself from his seat and reached again for your hand. Your cheeks burn with the feeling of how your hand fits in his own and you lead him inside. 

[captainsophiestark]

Not A Doctor

Bones McCoy x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Star Trek

Summary: Bones' SO hurts themselves on an away mission and has to stitch themselves up as well as they can to buy time for a med evac to the Enterprise

Word Count: 1,533

Category: Fluff, Humor, a little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Shit," I hissed, pressing a hand to my side as I slid down the wall. When I finally got up the courage to pull my hand back and look, it came away with a lot more blood than I'd hoped to find. I'd fallen pretty far and managed to avoid any broken bones based on my pain levels, but the wound in my side was gaping and looked concerningly serious.

I could practically hear the extended bridge crew chorusing "I told you so" from here.

As if on cue, my communicator beeped. I grimaced, but managed to take it out of my bag and open it to respond.

"What's up?" I groaned.

"Y/N, where are you?" came the voice of Jim Kirk, one of my best friends and the captain of the Enterprise. "Scotty's reporting he can only find two targets to beam up."

Dammit. That figured.

"I'm... not totally sure. I was trying to follow the signature on my tricorder to that plant I've been looking for when the ground just gave way under me. I'm not sure how far I fell, but I hit something pretty hard on the way down and I've got... quite the gash in my side."

Silence on the other end for a few moments, then:

"Hang tight. We're coming to find you."

The communicator hung up with a click, and I sighed, ignoring the flare of pain in my side. I had faith in Jim's determination and ability to find me, especially with Spock here helping him, but I still needed to do something if I wanted to be alive when they found me.

Thankfully, I'd watched my boyfriend, Doctor Leonard McCoy, stich people up often enough that I felt fairly confident I could do a passable job on myself. I dug some sewing supplies out of my bag that I hadn't removed from my last away mission misadventure, and pulled the hem of my shirt up to get a better look at the wound.

I grimaced, gritting my teeth and trying to prepare for this. I'd been so excited to join Kirk and Spock on this away mission. This planet was supposed to have one of the rarest plants in the galaxy, and I'd been looking forward to finding it since I'd first heard we'd be coming here. And now, I was at the bottom of this pit or cave or whatever, slowly bleeding out, without even a picture of the plant to show for it.

Ugh.

I tried to focus on my breathing as I threaded a needle and put it to my skin. I knew the wound needed to be disinfected before I totally closed it, but I didn't have anything on me to do that with, and I knew Bones would be able to take care of it for me if I could manage to get back to him.

I took a few deep breaths to steel myself, then stuck the needle through. I swore loudly and kept up a steady stream of expletives as I sewed up the wound. I pulled it closed as tightly as I dared, then held my jacket to my waist to try to staunch the remainder of the bleeding.

I sighed, long and hard, then leaned my head back against the wall of whatever hole I'd fallen into. I had no idea how long those stitches had taken me, but it certainly hadn't been quick. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too much longer before I heard Jim and Spock stumbling down some passage towards me.

I focused on deep breaths as the pain continued to throb in my side, completely zoning out to the time and environment around me. Finally, I heard some shuffling movement from a slightly more gradual incline up ahead of me. The voices of my friends echoed out, curious and searching.

"Y/N!"

"I'm here!" I called back, my voice a little weaker than normal. I cleared my throat, then tried again. "Here!"

A moment later, my friends came into view. Jim grinned at me as Spock started scanning the space, probably trying to decide on the best way to get me out of here.

"How're you holding up?" asked Jim. I forced a smile.

"Living the dream."

He scoffed, then moved to crouch beside me and put one of my arms over his shoulder.

"Spock! Come help me."

"We'll need to get around the corner and most of the way back up the incline we came down to reach a spot where Mr. Scott can register us," said Spock as he joined us. "There seems to be some property of this rock that's prohibiting the transporter signal from reaching us."

"Great," I huffed, grimacing as my friends pulled me to my feet. Even resting most of my weight on them, I was still seeing spots. "This is gonna be great."

Between the three of us, somehow, we managed to get back into transporter range. I almost lost consciousness at one point, but we'd paused, and I'd managed to pull myself back from the brink. When the Enterprise's transporter room finally materialized before me, the relief was palpable, not least of all because Bones was waiting for me.

"Y/N," he said, jumping to attention and rushing onto the pad to replace Jim at my side. With Spock's help, we started moving immediately for the Med Bay. "What happened?"

"I was following the signature of the plant I was looking for on my tricorder. Then all of a sudden, the ground gave way underneath me. It wasn't a straight drop, I don't think, but I fell a pretty long way, bouncing off the rock slide and the walls of the cave I fell into on the way down. I'm bruised, but I don't think it's anything bad besides the cut on my stomach."

Bones nodded. "We'll get you to Med Bay and make sure."

Luckily, my boyfriend was very good at staying calm and focused in a crisis for his patients. He was completely in the zone as he and Spock helped me into a bed once we reached Med Bay, and then Bones started checking my vitals and assessing my injuries. I watched him carefully for any break in his usual bedside manner to tell me if I needed to be worried about something, but none came.

Hopefully that was a good sign, and not just because he was an incredible doctor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to me, Bones returned from his testing and reappeared by  my bedside. His hands were on his hips, but he seemed calmer, and definitely out of intense doctor mode.

"Alright, the good news is you'll be just fine. But I'm still gonna need to disinfect the wound and stitch you up," he said. I gave him the best smile I could muster.

"Sounds like a plan."

He sighed, then gently lifted my shirt high enough to give him access to the gash in my side. The light touch of his fingertips sent goosebumps along my skin, but I did my best to ignore them, especially as Bones frowned.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" he asked, not looking away from his work on my side.

"Uh... I slammed into a rock. We covered this already, remember?"

"No, I didn't mean your injury." Bones paused and looked up at me, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. "I meant these stitches. Yikes."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, making Bones chuckle as he got back to work.

"Okay, whatever. I'm a biologist, not a doctor, dammit. I think I did a pretty good job, considering the circumstances."

"Mm, I guess so. Barely."

"Hey!" I laughed, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. "You better knock it off or I'm gonna start practicing my stitches on you."

Bones snorted, but I could see the smile on his face as he continued working. Thanks to the medical facilities of the Enterprise, it barely hurt as he undid my messy job and redid it with a much better one of his own.

"So... what are you doing after this?" I asked after a few long moments of letting him work in peace. He paused to look up at me again, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't tell me you're hitting on your own boyfriend after only the low-level painkillers I gave you?"

"I can and will hit on my own boyfriend whenever I want, no painkillers required. But I was mostly asking if you had other patients to deal with after me, or if you'd be free to come cuddle on the couch and eat junk food with me. I think it'd really help speed up my recovery process."

Bones' mouth quirked into a smile again as he put the finishing touches on my stitches.

"Well if it's for the wellness of a patient... I think Nurse Chapel might be willing to take over from me for the rest of the day."

"Thank goodness for Christine."

Bones and I shared a smile, then he returned to his work and I watched him contentedly. Obviously, life and death situations on away missions were never ideal—but I couldn't really bring myself to be upset about how this one had played out, even if I hadn't managed to get my plant in the end.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[flowersbane]

As someone who is seriously thirsting over Joshua Rosfield, I would not object to seeing more fanfics of him with a reader... >>; *coughpleasefeedmyaddictioncough*

I have been thinking about what to write for more Joshua content (since ppl seem to be on board for it) when I heard a song that inspired me to write this piece, which I now dedicate to you. Lol, I would gladly help a fellow fan satiate their hunger for more fics!

(=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)

Light A Fire

Joshua Rosfield x Reader

You and Joshua are caught in a sudden storm during your travels. As his sworn protector, you guide him to shelter, but on the treacherous path, you both lose your torches. Inspired by the song Light A Fire, by Rachel Taylor.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags: Dangerous Travels, Sworn Protector/Sworn Protectee, Hugging, Hint Of True Feelings, Comfort, Cuddling For Warmth, Unedited

Cold winds beat down on the two of you. Snow swirled with the air and cut any exposed skin like a thousand needles. Joshua kept an arm over your shoulder to help you through the storm. He wasn’t coughing, but if you didn’t find shelter soon, he would start to.

In the thick of the storm, there was little your eyes could make out. You kept your hand on the stone of the mountain as you followed the treacherous path. Careful with your steps, you made it onto the mountain pass.

“Is that a cave?” Joshua’s voice was barely audible over the winds and your heavy clothing.

You followed his gaze until you caught sight of what he was looking at. Relief washed over you, but it is short lived. The path to the cave was narrow, even more so than the one you had just made it onto. One wrong step would send either or both of you tumbling down the mountainside.

You turned back to him and held out your hand. “Take things slow,” you instructed.

He nodded, taking your gloved hand in his. You led the way forward. The winds picked up. You pushed through them. Every step was as slow as the last. Though the cave wasn’t far, it could’ve been miles away with how difficult the path was. Your boots threatened to slip, but you kept them firmly planted on the ground.

By the time the two of you finally reached the cave’s entrance, you were breathing heavily. The cold air burned your throat, but there was little to do about that. The stone guarded you from the wind as soon as you entered. You glanced back at Joshua. He was clearly exhausted, but by Greagor’s grace, he hadn’t started coughing yet.

You pulled out the torch from your bag. Joshua did the same. He lit his own with a wave of his hand and touched the end to yours to share the flame. You nodded your thanks before continuing further into the cave. Even with two torches, your surroundings were dark, as though brought on by some enchantment. You continued with as much caution as you had on the cliffside.

“We shouldn’t wander too far,” said Joshua. “We don’t know what creatures may have also taken shelter in here.”

You agreed.

“And stay close to me.”

Despite the cold, a warmth blossomed in your chest. “And you to me,” you reminded him. “I am your sworn protector, remember.

He agreed, but only after a moment’s hesitation.

The two of you didn’t travel much further before the floor gave way under your feet. A loose rock or a faulty foundation, all you knew was that one moment, you were standing, the next, you were falling. A cry escaped your lips. Your torch tumbled from your grip. Your hood fell from your head.

Joshua reacted immediately, catching your hand before you could follow the torch into the dark abyss. In his haste, he placed his torch down, only for it to tip over the edge as well. He whispered a curse, but wasted no time in pulling you back up. You fell into his chest, heartbeat still thunding from the sensation of being suspended a hundred yards above solid stone. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close enough that you could hear his heartbeat and feel his breath.

You stayed like that for longer than you needed to. You began to relax, but he didn’t seem to. His hold didn’t loosen. His breath didn’t slow.

“We should–”

“No.” His voice took on the commanding tone you knew he didn’t use unless his emotions were running high. He seemed to catch it as well, for his tone changed when he spoke next, heartbeats later. “Please. Not yet. Just a little while longer.”

You didn’t refuse him.

He held onto you as though he were afraid you might evaporate into the air if he did not. Several minutes had passed before he was willing to let go. “Let us continue.”

You nodded.

Your travels led you to a small area, hidden from the main tunnels, but not too far from the entrance. Your supplies were soaked through from the storm and both of you had lost your torches.

“I’m sorry. If I had been more careful then–”

“Do not shoulder the blame on your own. The same could be said for my own failings.”

“I would never say–”

“Then do not speak of yourself in such a fashion.” Your jaw snapped shut. His tone offered no room for argument. “It is pointless to concern ourselves so deeply with things that we cannot change. For now…” He raised his hand. A ball of flame burned to life in the palm of his hand. He suspended it in the air. “This will have to do.”

“But it will drain you–”

“It will have to do,” he repeated, more firmly this time.

You chewed on your bottom lip, torn between your respect and your concern for him. He spoke before you could decide on what to say.

“Come here. We will have to stay close to keep warm.”

He took a seat against one of the cave walls and held open his arms. You flushed at the prospect, but knew there was no better way of keeping warm. “Do I…?”

He reached up, took hold of one of your wrists, and pulled you into him. You landed between his legs and your face suddenly did not need his proximity nor his flames to warm. “I will keep you warm.”

“What about you?”

He chuckled. You felt the sound vibrate against your skin. “The Phoenix does not fold so easily to the cold.”

You looked up to gaze upon his face. He was still mostly hidden by fabrics, but your eyes found his. In that moment, you saw through his saintly exterior. You saw the young man that harbored the flames of the Phoenix. “You would have me believe you are invincible. You might very well be. But even if you are, that does not mean you must shoulder every burden on your own.”

A flicker of surprise lit up in his azure eyes. “I–”

You do not give him a chance to argue with you. Instead, you adjust to lean into him, pressing the side of your face against his chest. “Good night.”

You could hear the way his heartbeat quickened, even through the many layers of clothing. Joshua shifted beneath you only a little before quickly settling down.

As exhaustion began to claim you, his arms tightened their hold on you. Through the haze of unconsciousness, you weren’t sure if your ears heard correctly when you heard him say, “for you, I would.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

with al being in the st play and no mention of wayne, i'm going to throw out my own modified hc for the munsons and how eddie came to live with wayne:

i still like eddie coming back to hawkins in middle school, so in my head al left hawkins as soon as he graduated/on some scheme, or just good ol' wanting to get out of his hometown.

his older brother wayne had dropped out of high school to go out on the road. their own dad being absent, someone had to provide for them...so wayne has been driving cross-country in a big rig, collecting mugs, sending hats back for his nephew from all the places he visits.

anyway! al left town, meets eddie's mom, she gets sick, al gets locked up, wayne takes eddie back to hawkins after eddie's mom dies.

he takes a silent eddie home to the one-bedroom trailer (why would wayne have needed more than one? he was always on the road), with nothing but a dufflebag and a single cardboard box tucked under the kid's lanky arms.

wayne gets a job in town at the plant, gives eddie the bedroom because of course he's going to, a boy needs his space after all.

he comes home early one morning to find the lights on in the bathroom, and the unmistakable buzzing of the clippers floating down the hall.

he comes around the doorway quietly to find eddie, his head of curls shorn clean off, tears in his eyes, but a soft smile on his lips as he watches himself shove a hat onto his head in the mirror above the sink.

he takes the cap off, turning to the box wayne can now see balanced on the edge of the tub, and returning with a different one, sliding it onto his unevenly stubbled scalp.

"What've you been up to, boy?" wayne says, surprising his nephew.

he forces himself to keep the smile on his face when eddie's horrified, startled expression jumps to him.

"Way--Uncle Wayne, I'm sorry, sorr--I just. I wanted--I just wanted to--" Eddie cuts himself off when wayne steps close, picking up the clippers and standing behind the kid.

wayne slides the cap off eddie's head and puts it on his own; it's one that he sent eddie back from that weird cave/lake place he stopped at down in tennessee, "Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"

eddie nods warily up at wayne's reflection, and he gets to work, cleaning up the bits of hair eddie couldn't quite reach.

wayne gets it, he does. did somethin' similar shortly after realizing it was going to be him that'll have to step up for al and their ma. got a shitty tattoo of a star on his shoulder by a shitty friend with a shitty needle.. just to feel like he had control of one thing in his own life...before everything he did was all for someone else.

he doesn't mind it all much anymore; he wants to be the person here for eddie. he wants to do everything he is physically capable of doing--and more--for his nephew.

eddie wanted the same thing. wanted control over one thing in his life. one thing that he did cause he wanted to, and not because of everything that's been happening around him (and to him) outside his control.

once finished, wayne clicks off the clippers, brushes some of the hairs from eddie's shoulders and head (scrubbing a little too hard just to see the kid smile and try to bat him away), finally placing the 'Lost Sea' cap back on his head. "There. All cleaned up now." he says into the mirror, resting his hands on the kid's shoulders. "Glad to see you kept all'a them." he says, tilting his chin to the box balanced on the tub.

eddie glances at the box full of hats and mumbles out a "Of course I did, you got them for me."

wayne's eyes start to burn, and eddie continues, not seeming to notice. "Hats aren't really for me, and my stupid hair always got in the way of me wearing 'em anyway but--" he cuts himself off, looking down at the curls of hair still lounging around in the sink. "But, you got them for me, and..and I wanted you to know I appreciate them and..my stupid brain and stupid hair started reminding me of mom..."

a few tears slip off his cheeks

"Hey now, no worries kiddo." wayne says, soft as he can, as he comes to crouch down at eddie's side instead, turning the kid to face him. "Makes this old heart'a mine feel all warm and fuzzy knowin' you kept 'em all, but'cha don't gotta wear 'em on my account if you don't like 'em."

eddie finally looks up at him, blinking a couple more tears away.

wayne holds up a hand, "Honest truth. We'll head down to the hardware store in town and getcha some hooks instead. You can hang 'em up wherever you want."

eddie sniffs, but smiles just a bit. "You couldn't've told me before I hacked all my hair off?"

lmao this got away from me but @withacapitalp and @stevesbipanic stared saying things in the discord and i HAD to write it down 😅

[yoonrambles]

Neverending Dreams

Lovebrush Chronicles AU story !

Summary:

Clarence pondered about the mystery behind Professor Heinrich's disappearance. Every time he came to a logical point, it seemed futile a while later – with no evidence left behind, the authorities closed the case. But, Clarence was stubborn; he was adamant to find out about the truth. That night, a strange dream brought him to a land surrounded by snow.

Word count: 1780 words !

Ao3 link: here !

Thank you KaiyoAzuma for collaborating ! <3

Chapter 1: Dream of a

Bygone Past.

Clarence sighed at the investigation report in front of him. Despite hoping for a definitive conclusion to what had happened in the cave with MC and Headmaster Heinrich, the investigation came up with nothing new.

Headmaster Heinrich was dead, MC was involved somehow (the investigators didn’t know that and his mind kept needling him with the consequences of “obstructing the law” and “withholding evidence”), Headmaster Heinrich had been dealing with some sort of astronomy-related contraption, and after all of this, Professor Anselm decided to take an “extended business trip” for “overseas research”.

All in all, it was a headache for the Student Council President.

Regardless, nothing could be done about it. The investigators called it a cold case, and a new Headmaster, named Liore, was being called in to replace Heinrich. Rumors ran rampant among the students, but without a definitive statement from the administration beyond “We are sorry for the unfortunate passing of our Headmaster…”, they remained just rumors. With any luck, they would die down and the students would chalk it up to some health complication and move on with their normal lives.

Clarence packed up the files and moved to turn off the lights in the Student Council room. It was late, going early morning, and once the room plunged into darkness, the moon and the stars shone brilliantly through the window. The work of the Student Council couldn’t be put off, but the classes of St. Shelter never stopped either. He needed to go to sleep now if he didn’t want to rely on caffeine to get through the next day.

The walk back to his dorm was quiet. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves in the wind and the click of Clarence’s shoes on the stone pavement. The wind brought a slight chill as it ruffled Clarence’s hair, but it wasn’t unbearable.

Soon enough, Clarence arrived back at his dorm. He went through the motions of preparing for bed - showering, brushing teeth, winding down - the fatigue of the day finally wearing down on him. He took off his glasses and set them down gently on the nightstand, settling in under the blankets. In the wake of everything that had happened over the past few days, sleep took him quickly.

***

The dream he had that night was rather peculiar. Clarence remembered dreaming of a snowy landscape; snowflakes drifting down as he stared into the horizon. He subconsciously moved forward, towards the small village between the mountains. The snow beneath his boots crunched with every footstep he took, the freezing wind made him shiver slightly. As he advanced towards the village, the residents greeted him cordially; both men and women, children and elders were delighted to see him. They began to gather around to see the magnificent man who had arrived at their village. Their bright smiles and sweet praises had taken him aback.

“I heard he saved a bunch of hunters stuck in a cave,” an excited boy from the crowd said with glee.

“Archmage Clayden is a wonderful man! He saved my husband and cured him with his magic,” a woman, presumably a hunter’s wife, commented.

Archmage Clayden… That must be who Clarence was dreaming of.

“What brings you here, Archmage Clayden?” A voice interrupted Clarence’s thoughts, he turned around to see a man smiling at him, extending a hand for him to shake.

Instinctively, Clarence refused the handshake and asked in an urgent tone, “Mayor, is there an Iris Village to the north of here? There's a farmer by the name of Oliver there.”

Clarence’s breathing became labored, giving away his nervousness.

“The Olivers? Everyone in Iris Village knows them. They've got a sprawling estate and huge tracts of farmland. They often come down here in autumn to sell grain,” a farmer lady politely replied. “Now that you mention it, you look a bit like their son… Are you a distant relative?”

“No, I'm visiting on behalf of a friend…” The Archmage replied, almost impulsively. Clarence could tell that he was lying. And without uttering anything further about the topic, the Archmage bid the villagers farewell and continued northward.

The next scene Clarence remembered was him standing on the edge, looking over at a village in the distance. The Archmage stood completely still for a moment, taking in the view. A villa stood in the middle of the snowy plains, with a distinct windmill and vast acres of fields surrounding the house. In the front yard of the villa, there sat an old woman in a wheelchair, and behind her was a young woman who whispered into her ear. Not far away, two men, one older and the other younger, stood in the doorway, looking out over their vast fields with contentment.

Clarence could tell they were related to the Archmage; the blue hair and eyes were undoubtedly similar – but, in an uncanny way, they were awfully similar to Clarence himself as well.

The Archmage stood on the hill, sighing softly. Clarence could understand that he felt conflicted. Any person would be excited to reunite with their family, but why wasn't he happy? Perhaps something disastrous happened between him and his family which created a rift in their relationship. Clarence didn't have much information in his hands, but in rural areas, and in such ancient times, it was common for impoverished families to sell off their children to earn money. After all, there was no despair greater than being betrayed by your own family.

The wind began to pick up, blowing from the north. Dark clouds appeared in the sky, and the freezing wind made the Archmage’s long, blue hair billow in the wind. The old woman and the young man went inside the house, and the Archmage turned around as well, leaving as he silently bid his family farewell.

Clarence, however, mumbled to himself and judged the Archmage’s decisions. He should've kept a proper plan with himself if he wished to visit his family, and he even left without a proper goodbye! The Archmage must be terrible at maintaining a proper timetable and etiquette.

Suddenly, the wizard stopped in his tracks, then he looked back – swarms of what seemed like butterflies were heading straight towards Iris Village. The butterflies had crystalline, almost transparent wings, they radiated a cold aura as they flapped their wings forward, advancing towards the villa at an impressive pace.

Without hesitation, the Archmage began to rush down the hill, over to the butterflies. Clarence noticed as the Archmage dispelled the butterflies with ease; a faint, blue-ish glow emitted from his gloved palm – and Clarence assumed it to be a heat spell, which eradicated the butterflies. The sorcerer was fast, but the butterflies were faster; within a few seconds, they made it to the villa, destroying it as they went on.

Clarence could hear screams reverberating through the air, piercing the deafening silence. Pleas of help echoed against the billowing wind as the residents rushed out into the cold. But, that didn't help; within a second, they were frozen and demolished by the glacial butterflies thereafter. Wherever the butterflies went, destruction followed – and they proceeded to destroy both the sorcerer’s family, and his emotional stability.

Clarence could only watch quietly – how the helpless people suffered the wrath of the unknown calamity, creating a vast expanse of cold blizzard, leaving nothing behind as they rampaged throughout the land.

The Archmage stood amidst the snow, still as stone; his knuckles clenched as his breathing labored once again. Fighting back tears, he knelt down on the snow, an immense pain coursing through his body.

The blizzard brought by those pests has engulfed everything; his memories, his love and hate, his resentment – and everything he had left. All was engulfed under a blanket of cold snow.

“I didn't expect it… to end like this,” Clarence heard the Archmage mutter to himself. “How many nights did I spend thinking of what I'd say to them? How I hate them? Blame them? Or would I forgive them? Would I be happy to see them?”

Clarence felt a sharp pain in his chest as he heard further, and it gradually increased with every word the mage said.

“But that doesn't matter now,” the Archmage continued. “Death is the end of everything.”

***

Clarence woke up, drenched in sweat. He panted heavily as he fumbled to grab his glasses on the nightstand. Clarence sighed, rubbing his eyes before putting on his glasses.

Clarence wasn't the type to overthink dreams, he had much more important tasks to handle. But this one seemed different; the blizzard, the screams of the innocent civilians, and most importantly: the Archmage. They seemed to be familiar. His appearance, behavior – everything seemed familiar. Did this have to do something with the case?

“Of course, not.” Clarence shook his head. “That was a simple nightmare.”

Clarence took his phone to check the time. 2:24 AM. He had plenty of time until the scheduled time when he usually started his day: 5 AM. He could've slept some more, but he didn't. He got up, folded the blanket, and put the pillow – which he had kicked while fighting the butterflies in his sleep – back to its place.

Clarence wondered what he'd do, and out of his workaholic nature, decided to sit down and work on some pending documents regarding the Student Council. But as he sat down to type, he found himself constantly getting distracted by the dream he had. He couldn’t help but feel that it had something to do with the case, with MC; he got reminded of the time when the painter girl asked for his blood before she swiftly jumped into a portal, onto a butterfly's back… wait – butterfly?

The soft sounds of typing came to a stop. Clarence stared blankly at the screen, his brows furrowed. He saw destructive butterflies in his dream, and a wizard losing his roots in the process of exterminating them. It sounds bizarre, but Clarence felt like it must be an important key.

That feeling only grew as, over the next few days, Clarence continued to dream of that desolate, snow-covered land. The mystery kept growing with every dream he had, reaching a point where sometimes he woke up disoriented and unable to tell whether or not his dreams were reality. He couldn’t continue working with his dreams infiltrating his every waking thought, so he opened a new document and began typing down his ideas: his dreams and what he had witnessed in them. And gradually, he seemed to notice a coherent plot and story flowing with every dream that he encountered. Then, one day, he came to a decision that he should publish the story.

Taglist: @lovebrushed @xcerizex @food-lover9000 @godheimm @xbalayage @nehamerchant123

Guys, wake up, fanfic writer Clarence just dropped !

[poppadom0912]

99 jay Halstead

Prompt 99 'Let's have a baby'

A/N: It took me a minute to write this but here you go! Hope you like it as much I do. Posting this as a sort of celebration of the new seasons.

*****

You came home with such an emotion painted on your face that it brought a smile to Jay's face despite the horrible day he had. There might've been casualties today but with you walking in with the biggest smile on your face, your dimple shining so much he was blinded, you could turn over any day.

"Look at you." Jay smirked, putting his beer down on the coffee table and coming towards you, waiting for you to finish putting everything away before leaning down and kissing you, feeling your smile against his lips.

"What's with the smile?" Your husband asked, letting you drag him back to the sofa, sitting very comfortably on his lap which he did not object to.

You had to stop yourself from getting lost in his eyes, your hands cupping his jaw, not bothered with the prickly feeling his stubble brought.

"Let's have a baby."

You said very seriously, your smile dropping in your seriousness as you watched him closely for any type of reaction. The two of you had been married for nearly two years now and yes, you'd have the occasional talk about children but after the wonder-filled day you had as a paediatric nurse, you finally caved.

"Baby." Jay said under his breath, forcing you to pinch him to make sure this was definitely real life and not a dream. "Don't lie, it's not funny."

Your soft smile and hands on his face were what made Jay realise that this was real, the biggest smile breaking out as he chuckled.

"I thought you'd never ask." He pulled you into his embrace, your head falling into his neck, arms going around his chest while his went around your back, pressing multiple kisses into your hair.

Stifling your giggles against his lips, you continued to kiss him, quick, short pecks and long, passionate ones which was the cause of the two of you moving to the bedroom.

*****

You thought nothing of your dizziness and sudden vomiting episode you had, blaming it all on the fact that it was flu season and you worked with kids who had no care for sanitation.

However, you did start putting some thought into it when you struggled staying on your feet, stumbling when you tried to get out your chair and walk towards a room to do your job.

It was purely coincidence that Will had a patient he moved from the ED up to the PICU, having just so been in the area when he witnessed you stumble in the corner of his eyes.

In a literal split second, Will was by your side, holding you up when your feet struggled to hold up your body weight. "Woah Y/N, you okay?"

Overly cautious and worried for his sister-in-law, Will watched your every move, waiting for something good or bad to happen or waiting for you to get your bearings together; he wasn't too sure.

"I- I'm okay." You slowly nodded, trying to blink the blurriness away and bring back your normal sight but failed. With how very poorly you were feeling, a heavy weight pushing down on your chest, you knew you weren't going to walk away from this alright. "Will, Will I'm gonna-"

Before you could properly warn him, you collapsed into your brother-in-law's arms, dropping like you were nothing but a rag doll.

"Get me a gurney!"

*****

Waking up in a bed you couldn't familiarise yourself with was daunting and had it not been for the ring on the hand holding yours, you definitely would've tried to escape.

Hearing you groan, Jay's eyes snapped up to yours, sighing in relief when he saw you blinking in confusion. "Oh thank goodness."

"What happened?" You asked, still groggy from fainting. You eyed the needle in your hand, following the clear tube up to the IV bag hanging besides your bed.

"You fainted." Jay replied. Despite his endless hounding at his brother for answers, Will kept it short and promised that he would tell him everything once you regained consciousness.

"In the middle of the work?" You groaned, digging your palms into your eye sockets. Everyone was going to be like guard dogs around you for the next few days, even if you repeatedly reassured them you were completely fine.

Before Jay could reply with anything remotely snarky or sarcastic, Will knocked on the treatment room door frame, smiling at your conscious self, you were looking much better than you were back in the PICU where you looked near dead in his arms.

"Welcome back." Will smirked, glancing down at his ipad with information from your bloodwork and all the tests they did on you. He both ordered and read them hours ago, the only people knowing what it said was himself and Maggie.

Clutching your husbands hand, your tried to not dig your nails into his palm. "What is it?"

"Well... It's not an it." Will bit back a smile, putting down the ipad on the bottom of the bed that your feet didn't reach, thanking the nurse for preparing the ultrasound for him.

"Your blood tests showed elevated levels of HCG." He looked at the two of you, gauging your reactions which were very different, your eyes wide as you realised what he meant while Jay glanced between you two in confusion.

"Will, I don't-" Jay cut himself off when the nurse turned on the ultrasound, Will warning you of the cold, quickly applying gel and bringing the wand to your stomach.

It was too early to hear a heartbeat but you could clearly see a little blob sitting in a clear sack. The little blob was yours and Jay's and it was in your stomach where it would be for a long but short time of 9 months.

With tears in your eyes, you had a wobbly smile when you looked at Jay who tore his eyes from the machine, his green eyes watering too when they met yours.

"We're having a baby."

[jakkinlarethian]

How I Became a Hide(out) - Part 1

I was just minding my own business in the market, doing my daily shopping, when a man I had never seen before walked up to me and sized me up. He appeared to be a little bit taller than me, but roughly the same size. His skin was darker than mine, kind of like a mediterranean vibe.

He said to me, “You’ll do” and yanked me into the side alley. Before I could protest, he put a capsule under my nose, which made me a little bit dizzy and made me not want to run.

He got a needle out of his bag and injected something into my neck. I felt like I couldn’t move a muscle or resist him at all. I was just standing there motionless. After he finished with the injection, he started to take off his clothes, stripping all the way naked. I tried to watch him, but my eyesight started to get cross eyed. I never had a problem with this, but it seems as if I could really start to see both sides my nose. My arms could move a little bit again and so I reached my hand to feel what was going on. As I reached and touched my nose, it pushed in caving in my face- distorting my vision further. I put both hands up to feel but all I can feel was my face collapsing in on itself, as if there was nothing in my skull anymore. Just then, my arms became limp again and fell to my sides. That jerking motion caused my head to flop forward, which made my face spread over my chest.

I could feel my arms drooping as if they were fabric. They twisted slighlty as if there was no longer any bone holding them in position. It was a very bizarre feeling.

I heard my attacker say, “You’re coming along nicely– even faster than I expected.”

As my face spread flat across my own chest I could feel my breathing and heartbeat distinctly. Suddenly I noticed that it was no longer beating- my chest was thinning out as if it were hollowing out. I could feel the deadweight of my arms slowly dragging down my shoulders, pressing down on my chest as it continued to hollow out. My face travelled down my chest on my torso until it was draped over my dick and balls. I could feel the empty form of my head conforming to the curve of my dick. I was a bit hard- this was such a bizarre and fantastic situation; apparently it aroused me on some level. My nose was flattened on the top bridge of my dick, my eyes could see each other on the underside of it.

The hollowing-out feeling continued with my stomach, which finally caved in on itself. My legs starting to feel wiggly. They started to collapse in on themselves, telescoping down as if they were folding in on themselves like a rolled up sock. With the final loss of any balancing that I had, I crumpled to the floor into what felt like a pile of fabric. I could feel parts of my body touching areas they shouldn't be able to. The wierdest feeling was that my leg skin touching other leg skin that was rolled on top of itself. Somehow my face had flipped and landed on top of the stack. From my perspective, It looked as if I was laying flat on the ground.

 The man stood over me, looking down at me on the ground. 

“I think you’re gonna serve my needs very nicely” he said. He picked me up, grabbing me by the top of my head. I could feel myself pulling off of the ground as if I was a blanket that had been piled on the floor. It was strange to feel part of me stretched tight from the lift versus the other parts I that I could feel folded in on themselves still down on the ground.

He put his hands in my mouth and stretched it open. He kept going far past what I thought my mouth should be able to do. He then proceeded to stick one foot down into my mouth and place his toes down into my neck. I didn’t feel any resistance from teeth or tongue or throat in anyway, it says if I was completely hollow. He proceeded to put his other foot in, stretching my mouth even wider. 

Both of his feet were now in my mouth, and I was there staring up at the back of his calves. He started to wiggle them to get them to go fully down my throat. My throat stretched accordingly, and I could feel his feet starting to dip into my chest. I was now staring up at his butt, with my lips completely cuffing around his two calves . It was as if I was swallowing him, licking him the whole way as I was going.

He put his two thumbs down in the sides of my mouth and gripped hard. He then started to pull my mouth and face upward so that his legs went deeper down into my chest. I felt his toe bump on the inside of my bellybutton, and keep going. His right toe momentarily got stuck on the inside of my dick where it joined my body– he had to wiggle around trying to get get it loose. My dick just flopped around as he did so. He finally got it loose and continued to shove his feet finally down into my thighs. My lips were now just below his butt cheeks, and my nose was firmly planted in his crack. I was staring up at his hairy back. He proceeded to pull on my leg skin, to start to bunching it up on itself so that he could fish his feet down farther into my legs.

He started to pull up my leg skin from he outside as if he were fitting his legs inside pants. I could feel my leg skin bunching up as he pulled my skin to get his feet into mine. His feet popped through my ankles and onto the soles of my foot. I could feel his toes push into mine from the inside. He pulled my foot taught, and then wiggled his toes to perfectly align them inside mine. He then pulled up on my leg skin to set his ankle in place. He did this for the other foot and then stood up.

He again shoved his fingers back into my mouth and started to tug upward. My nose dug deep into his crack and got stuck for a little bit, but he then unclenched and pulled it free. I felt my lower jaw cup his balls, and then stop. He had to move his hand around to stretch my mouth a bit wider to insert his very large cock in my mouth and down my throat. Whatever was left of my tongue licked his whole package as it slid past. I was now staring straight up his back from the position of his waist.

My mouth was now sealed around his waist like a waist band. The whole process must’ve been exciting him a little bit too because I could feel his dick nestled on the inside of my chin and it was flicking slightly. He shimmied back and forth to start to work his torso in. He again put his hands in either side of my mouth and tugged up hard, working it slowly up his torso to the underside of his chest. I could feel my bottom lip sliding over each ab and my top lip cupping his lower back. He then reached down and tugged at my leg skin to fully position his legs completely within mine. He reached down and worked my butt skin over to conpletely cup his bubble butt. Finally, he pulled out my dick and balls stretching them outward until he could align them with his shaft. It took a little bit of wiggling back-and-forth, but he was finally able to completely cup his balls and shaft. I felt like it stretched me out a couple inches longer than my dick usually was.

With that in position, he again started working the sides mouth up so that I slowly inched over his chest. I could feel his nipples flick past my lips, as my mouth was now brought up to underneath his armpits. I can start to taste his sweaty pits as my mouth came in contact with them. He used his left arm to hook inside my mouth and pull it triple-wide out from his chest so that he could plunge his right arm down through my mouth into my arm hole. He fished it down like a glove. Once he got his arm inside of mine, he let my mouth slap back, and then proceeded to use his free arm to position my skin over his right arm. Once his fingers were completely slotted within mine, he did the same by pulling my neck back out again and fishing his left arm inside of my mouth so that he could completely fit his left arm within mine. In the process I could feel his arm scraping and pushing out, bulging my chest as it went by trying to get into the left arm sleeve. He finally got it in, including all fingers by using his already gloved hand to stretch and pull my fingers into place.

My mouth was now around his neck and with my face looking straight up at the back of his head. He put my fingers back into my mouth and stressed it wide and up and over the top of his head. He did the same with my lower jaw, stretching it up over his jaw. After a couple more tugs and pushes, he was able to guide my lips completely over his head to complete my swallowing of him whole.

He used his hands to position my face over his making sure his nose nested in mine, and that my eyes aligned with his. I hadn’t realized that my eyeballs must’ve disappeared because I could see out of what was my eyeholes. At last, it seemed as if I had completely enveloped him. He started to stretch out our arms and legs to make sure that everything was fitting snuggly. He then reached his fingers into my mouth and stretched my lips inward so that I completely covered the inside of his lips. With one final inspection, he got out a second needle and jabbed it into my facial skin. After the needle was fully injected, I could feel my skin start to expand into the insides of his mouth and coat his tongue. I could feel all of my openings start to seal into his, as if my skin was now lining all of the insides of his openings. I could feel my skin, expanding up his ass and down the urethra of his dick.

“Wow – you really fit me like a glove. You make an awesome body suit” my attacker said in my own voice. I am guessing my inner coating of his body also included his vocal cords. He now could pass as me anywhere.

The effects of the drugs must’ve still been in my system as I slowly got sleepy. I tried to fight it, but I passed out.

To be Continued...

[xalygatorx]

Worthy (2015) | Chapter 30, "Death & Her Suitor"

Disappearing sporadically in public spaces quickly becomes Cora Dempsey's least concerning problem when suddenly she captures the attention of the forming Avengers Initiative, the World Security Council, and Asgard's fallen prince all in one week. And the universe is only just getting started with her.

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC. For additional details on what canon is used, see the Prologue post.

Summary: Cora risks her life to get the Soul Stone away from Thanos. Loki uses his illusions to buy Cora some time. Cora’s ancestors come through on their promise of a weapon. There is an outcome to Thanos's attempt at apocalypse.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: Superhero movie levels of action

Word Count: 2.7k

"CORA, NO!"

The slim young woman glanced over at the last moment, dodging the angry Aether beams just in time before they smashed into the floor where she'd been positioned but an instant before. In her attempt to get away, she overshot the split remnants of Mjolnir, but she whirled just before Thanos reached them, extending her right hand in a final, desperate attempt to salvage an advantage.

Despite the pull of its brothers from the Infinity Gauntlet, the Soul Gem and both halves of the mighty storm-calling hammer shuddered and gave a sudden heave through the air toward Cora, slamming against her arms, which reflexively wound around the metal pieces. She grappled with them a moment as she continued to run, a cry escaping her as she heard the floor explode from a blast of power just behind her, the heat of the attack flashing at her heels as she sprinted toward an open ventilation duct near the gaping hole in the far wall.

She dodged one more attack before tightening her hold on the hammer pieces and letting her legs give out from under her, her momentum skidding her forward as she slid into the vent, hearing Thanos's roar of frustration echo through the metal tube with her as she began a wild ride away from the labs.

Thanos growled and leaned away from the tube, the bejeweled Gauntlet beginning to blaze with his anger as the Tesseract's blue glow began to radiate and the air around Thanos began to warp. When the metal duct began to cave in on itself, the first to react immediately was Loki. And violently. With a feral growl, he seized one of Volstagg's blades from the scabbard on his back and hurled it at the monstrous being in the metal chair. The blade sunk into Thanos's arm, but it measured the same as a needle in his thick, power-engorged appendage. He turned blazing eyes upon the Jotun prince, who glared defiantly back, the others finally rising to the occasion where they could.

"How dare you, the rejected spawn of a fallen Frost Giant king, seek to challenge my might… Beneath even my thumb, you proved a failure. You are even lower now," Thanos said darkly, eyes narrowing as the Gauntlet began to recharge with energy. "I will end you all!" 

"All, are you?" Loki growled, clenching his jaw as his form shifted into multiples, spiraling around Thanos as he began a dance of deceit with room only for him to succeed. At the very least, he could give Cora time. Thanos grinned jeeringly as he looked over the illusions, easily seeing through Loki's illusions with the aid of the Tesseract's hold on reality.

"You seek to confuse me, weakling… You play a child's game," he said carelessly as he let a blast of blue dispel Loki's illusions, leaving only him behind. Loki grimaced, but noticed that Thanos's gaze kept darting toward the open vent, where Cora had disappeared just a moment before. He was distracted, but powerful… The God of Mischief could work with that.

With a jerk of his head, he motioned for Jane to move her makeshift bombs forward, watching as Steve moved to help her. In the meantime, Sif was regaining consciousness and Tony had finally regained his composure, though he'd seemed to be in the midst of some kind of anxiety attack, alternating between breathing heavily to the point of coughing and forcing himself to focus.

Loki created his illusions again, but forced them to move at top speed, swerving this way and that. By the time Thanos gathered the power to dispel them again, Loki had lunged, sending his dagger hurtling at Thanos's face, where it sunk into and cracked one of his cheekbones. Thanos bristled with the sound of an angry snake, but it wasn't over. Jane had managed to sneak nearer and with Steve close behind, they hurled the barrel at Thanos's back, where it broke and exploded over his shoulder blades and spine, the toxic chemical mixture seeping into his skin and burning down to the bone.

With a yell that became a screech, Thanos recoiled, twitching with agony as he summoned the power of the Tesseract one more time and sent blue energy streaming from the Gauntlet. Though Loki tensed to dodge and looked to make sure Steve and Jane had time to do the same, he was surprised to note that the power missed the pair by at least six feet. He recalled the location of the vent just as the energy shot into the metal, beginning to warp the tunnel within seconds of impact. No!

Cora clung to the fragments in her arms as she slid down the ventilation shaft, having to lie down to not hit her head. Her eyes narrowed when she heard the sound of bending, groaning metal behind her and when she tilted her head back to look, she saw the vent caving in, section by section. I need to get out of here, she thought desperately, hurriedly scanning the vent for a grate. When she saw one, she hurled the empty half of Mjolnir at the opening, smashing it and falling through just as the power warping the vent caught up. It continued along as she hit the floor of a lab smaller than the others, darkened until she triggered the automatic lights.

She scrambled to her feet and scooped up the hammer pieces, her thoughts racing as she ran from the lab. I have to get out of the building. There's too much that can warp and fall on me in here and I seriously doubt there's any way that Thanos doesn't know where I am… If he can't sense me, he can sense the Gem. Cora looked down at the Soul Gem, which was brightening and dimming like a pulse inside the metal head.

She hurried through the halls, wincing as booming crashes came from behind her in the labs she'd left behind. I'm so sorry, guys. But I have to prioritize… If I'd stayed there with the stone and played "keep away," I'd either be dead by now or struggling to hold onto this thing.

Cora scanned the directory signs as she ran, looking for the exit beacons until they slowly began to appear above door frames heading toward the west end. Thinking better of getting into an elevator, she sprinted up two stairwells, her pace increasing as she felt the floor begin to vibrate under her feet. Before she could process the strange groaning sound coming from the lower levels of the building, the thick steel floors and walls began ripping like tissue paper all around her, sparks flying when pieces clashed at every angle.

Reflexively ducking, Cora hurried down the last hall, dodging through the obstacle course of mutating wayward steel sheets, finally half-diving through the exit into the stormy world beyond. She was nearly knocked off her feet by the wind as it whipped past and then stilled suddenly, the movements in the atmosphere unnatural and alarming. "Dammit, go back together," she murmured as she pressed the two halves against one another to no avail. The Soul Gem just continued to beat like a living heart.

New York City was absolutely still apart from the moments in which the wind blew, sometimes catching trash and the bins that housed it, while other times it kicked up so violently in just the perfect spot against the bumpers of the stalemated traffic, cars were made airborne and hurled through the street into buildings and others of their kind. Cora skidded as she tried to brace herself against the wind, whirling just as the building behind her contorted and began to peel apart.

"God, this is like a terrible dream…," she murmured softly, wincing as Bruce burst from the roof in full Hulk-form, one arm occupied by their allies and the other with the barrels Jane and Dr. Selvig had been working on before Thanos had arrived in the labs. Before she had time to watch and make sure everyone else made it out okay, the side of the building nearest her exploded outward in a blast of white light, the sheen of Thanos's mechanical chair following through the debris. She ducked against the power of the blast, but it threw her back as all hell broke loose around her, even her form wavering in the midst of the chaos.

What was left of the cratered, cracked concrete rocked when the Hulk leapt down to the ground nearby and Cora heard only another hard thud before two enormous green fists pounded down on the ground on either side of her head, making her reflexively cringe until she realized another wave of the Gauntlet's energy had been heading her way. Bruce's roar of pain hit her heart and her eardrums with extreme force and she hurriedly scurried out from under him once the coast was clear, only to be attacked again from the front. Or so she thought at first.

Cora screamed when a large pillar of light ignited before her, a metallic clang meeting her ears before the light disappeared once more. When she turned to see what had become of the light that had looked suspiciously like energy from the BiFrost, she found a huge, steel-grey sword in her midst, looking to be the same material as Mjolnir, but worked into a polished, smooth blade.

"A claymore?" she murmured, her brows creasing slightly at the center before she lifted her gaze to the sky. Glancing back toward the blade, she found the surface littered with runes. "Whosoever wields this blade, should she be… This is the same as…," Cora read, glancing at the broken hammer in realization. The creed was longer this time, however, and the branding mark of her grandfather's work blazed beneath the hilt.

Cora looked to an oval-shaped indent at the base of the blade before understanding dawned and she glanced toward Bruce, who had remained nearby for her protection, she assumed. She swallowed hard as he nodded toward the hammer pieces in her hands and she murmured a soft "thank you" to Brokkr and Sindri for fashioning the weapon and sending it her way. It was just in time.

"Might not be enough to stop this, but we're going to try," she muttered as she reached for the Soul Gem, prying it from Mjolnir. She heard a grunt of agreement from Bruce before the Gem was plucked out of the metal. She pursed her lips and pressed the green stone to the indent on the sword; it bonded immediately with the new weapon, the pulsating green veins of power slithering down through the silver body of the blade. She pulled the sword from the pavement and looked down at the broken hammer in her arms, lying the halves against each other on the ground before aiming the sword at them, the blade glowing as it charged with energy. "Um… Heal it?"

Power seeped from the sword and ignited the fissure in the hammer, little fibers of light dancing between the halves until there was no space left to work within, just a scar on the surface. Once the halves were once again whole, the weapon quaked and soared from the concrete, hopefully seeking its true master somewhere nearby. Cora could only hope he was strong enough to wield it.

Lifting the sword and letting it settle into her hands the way she'd been taught back in Asgard, Cora stood beside Bruce, facing down against Thanos as he slowly advanced. "Pitiful Midgardian scum… Fall before me and surrender the Soul Gem."

"Fuck you, buddy, go back to space!" Cora snapped, finally burnt out on fear and running on the fuel of pure frustration. Bruce snorted beside her and she noticed the burns and welts littering his back from the Aether's blasts for the first time. They looked horrible and if they were able to do that much damage to Bruce's Hulk form, they more than likely were.

Thanos snarled as he came speeding forward. Bruce grimaced and crushed a vial he had in his hand, the fluid leaking from the glass into the barrel he'd dropped nearby when he had landed. The barrel began to shake and he hurled it at Thanos, who attempted to dodge. However, the barrel caught the underside of his chair and exploded upon collision with the main turbine, sending him flying with a pillar of smoke in pursuit.

Cora and Bruce hit the ground to dodge the wayward machine and though Thanos attempted to level the controls, the chair was spitting smoke, preparing to burn out at any moment. Just before the chair lost complete elevation, he released his grip on it, landing in the street as the chair careened into a taxi, nearly splitting it down the middle. The moment Thanos hit his own two massive feet, Bruce was running at him with a mighty roar, catching his Gauntlet-adorned hand before it could be raised.

"Cora!"

Cora turned at the sound of her name and it took her a moment before she moved her eyes up to a nearby rooftop, seeing Thor at its edge with Mjolnir aimed toward her. "What are you doing?"

"Raise your blade!" he shouted and when she did so, he released a bolt of lightning from the hammer. When it connected with the sword, it took everything in Cora not to flinch, but she soon realized that the hum she felt from the metal was Mjolnir charging her sword with energy. He was enabling the steel to utilize the same power as his ancient weapon. When he finally broke the connection, the blade was whirring with energy and Cora whirled, finding herself nearly face-to-face with Thanos, Bruce only just holding him off.

The wind whipping around them came to a startling standstill as Cora raised her weapon and cut the air, thunder cracking from the swing as lightning surged forward and plunged through Thanos just after Bruce thrust him forward with his last rush of strength. Thanos screeched with rage from the attack, attempting to walk against the blast, but going to his knees instead, despite his power-engorged form. When he raised the Gauntlet and attempted to call the power of the five gems within, the Soul Gem in Cora's claymore activated and began flooding the blade with a radiant green glow. To her shock, the other gems responded to its signal and deactivated before detaching completely from his hand, leaving Thanos stunned as well and, as a result, enraged.

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced over Thanos's head, seeing Tony and Thor both land nearby, her eyes catching on where Clint took aim on a nearby rooftop, Natasha flanking him with a rocket launcher while Steve and Loki slowly emerged from their surroundings, beneath an illusion Loki had no doubt conjured. Cora's eyes fell to Thanos again, weakened even more so with the Gauntlet now disabled. "Surrender."

Thanos's lip curled with hatred as his eyes scanned her and then moved over the Avengers gathered nearby, his hands clenched into fists as he glanced around like a highly intelligent, trapped and severely wounded animal. "Vermin… You will rue this day…"

With that, he slipped a device into the palm of his remaining hand and pressed a button. Cora barely had time to get a glance at the gadget before a white, luminous blast erupted from the mechanism, throwing her back along with the others. She screamed, but it fell silent amidst the boom of noise, and she hit the ground hard, rolling once before she was able to stab her sword into the pavement to avoid blindly tumbling into one of the deep trenches in the street.

Cora grimaced as she tried to open her eyes, though they were still dazed from the light, her ears ringing with white noise as, disoriented and pained, she picked herself slowly off the ground. Pulling the claymore from the tight fissure she'd made in the concrete, she squinted against the slow-fading whiteness, only able to wonder as her senses reset if it was over.

Next chapter: Chapter 31, "What Remains"

[the-illiterate-pirate]

Remember when I said I was taking a break? Me neither. I crave attention. Proofreading is so boring and makes me want to tear my hair out, but it proves to be worth it! I didn't like this too much at first but after checking it over and doing a bit of editing I think this turned out pretty okay! As an SBR simp I think it's customary to post some Diego monster porn. Enjoy ♡

Moonage Daydream

Notes: Fem!reader, nsfw, feral british bastard, monster fucking? breeding kink, overstimulation, teeth, voice kink ehe 🤭

It was pouring down rain outside of your small kitchen windows. Lightning struck across the dark sky, followed soon by thunder, each strike louder than the last, proving that this storm was here to stay all night. You worried for your boyfriend. That morning he was acting strange, you knew this storm would only dampen his mood worse now that he had to steer his steed through the nipping cold and mud.

Already the barn was set for his ride the best it could, you just had to prepare for Diego. To do that you warmed up some towels and blankets, with a heated batg waiting for him in the restroom, and you decided on his favorite for supper. You couldn't think of anything you could be forgetting, surely this would help him feel better!

The clock was near striking eight that night as you waited, towels in hand by the door. With only the rain sounding, the silence was deafening. Until you heard the barn doors being forced shut with an echo. That echoing set your heart ablaze as you waited on pins and needles for him to force his way inside the house. The door handle jiggled and squeaked under pressure and the door swung up on its old hinges to show your boyfriend, looking like a sopping wet bobcat.

You called his name softly, bringing him into your arms to wring out the water from his hair and clothes. He was strangely silent. He didn't speak after you asked him about his day, or after trying to rouse a conversation about dinner, or even after showing him into your shared room. Diego kept his head bowed, his bangs hiding his face well. You began to worry, but didn't ask even as you gently dried his hair. It must've been a pretty bad day if he wasn't saying anything. It wasn't rare for work to go sideways and upset him, you supposed. But this... this silence kept up for too long now, it wasn't like him to be like this at all

Finally you had to cave and spoke up again. Your hand cupped his face gently, pulling him up to look at you softly. His usually sharp, bright blue eyes were now dark and hazy. He didn't look right at you, he wasn't focusing on you at all. It was like it saw right past you.

"Diego?" You tried again, "Can you speak to me? Wait- there's bandage on your cheek, was there an accident at work?" But what could've possibly have happened at work? Was he working his horse too hard, and Silver Bullet bucked him off? How did you not see that before? It out like a sore thumb now, his hair must've been covering it perfectly.

"I'm fine." Diego finally spoke. It sounded automated, and it shocked you how deep his voice suddenly sounded.

Definitely. Something was definitely wrong. But what?

"...If you say so. Well, let's get you out of those clothes and into a hot bath, I don't want you getting any more sick." You give him a kiss on the cheek before sauntering over to his clothes dresser for his nighttime wear. You didn't see the way he picked up his head to sniff at the air. The room and all it contained was covered in the sickly sweet scent of yours. The pulse thrumming through your body echoed in the air, hammering into his ears like drum beats. Diego's senses were occupied with only you. With eyes like a predator he watched your hips sway and he breathed in your smell and memorized the melody of your heart. But he wanted more, so much more. He wanted to drown in you.

So occupied with finding clothes you didn't notice that that Diego left the bed until his arms wrapped around your waist. They pulled you into Diego's chest, where he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder, inhaling your scent deep while his hands massaged your covered curves.

"Diego?"

An inhuman sounding growl reverberated from his chest into yours, sending the hairs on the back of your neck to stand at attention. "Shh... Just let me..." He didn't make any move to finish his sentence... He only dug his nose deeper into your skin, to feel you and smell you, starting to impatiently rub his body against yours.

A whimper was startled from your lips once you felt his nails– no, they were more like claws as they dug into your layers of clothing. There were sharp, and one wrong move would tear open your skin. But Diego was slow and gentle as he tore off your clothes, layer by layer.

For every inch of skin that was now uncovered, Diego took his time to search your body and run his hands over your flesh, feeling up your softness, trilling in appreciation. You didn't think to stop him, you were still trapped between him and the dresser, and you'd rather die than admit it but the feeling of his tongue on your skin was pleasant.

When his hands reached your bra, he cared no more and tore it apart with his new claws. It was tedious, but Diego took his time in praising your soft mounds in his hands, occasionally licking off the sweat collecting on your body. It was a salty taste he loved.

He nibbled your thighs and covered you in bright red marks that would turn purple by tomorrow morning. He licked at every curve of your body, even kneeling to dip his tongue between the v of your thighs to taste your damp panties. You heard him moan at your taste.

"D-Diego! What has gotten into you?!" It was a simple feat to push him away from your shaking thighs. As he stumbled, he looked so dazed and drunken. But he still looked wrong. He was drooling everywhere and his pupils threatened to overtake his irises. And his teeth, they had suddenly grown sharp, like some kind of predator.

Those crystal blue eyes of his... they looked like they were glowing as he looked up at you. Diego stood back up only to cling on to you again, rubbing against you, conducting heat between your bodyss, acting like a horny animal. He mumbled your name into your shoulder, you could feel the hot huffs of air as he talked.

"Love, there's something terribly wrong with me. I think it's a side effect of my Scary Monsters... All day I've been thinking of filling you up with my cock."

Oh.

Oh.

It was a blunt confession. You wet your throat, thinking of how to deal with him like this. You had no idea what Scary Monster was, but if was causing him problems...

Your thoughts were cut off by a sharp whine. Diego was still rubbing his hard length into the back of your thigh, still neading at your belly with his claws. "Hurts... Really hurts. Need t'...empty."

You guessed there was only one way to help.

With a deep breath, you twisted to see him. Your hand was placed on his cheek. He was hot to the touch and sweaty. "Then please, use me as much as you'd like." They moved down trying to undo his belt and drop his pants. Diego got upset with your slow pace and ended up picking you up himself and throwing you on to the bed.

Before you could settle in to it on the final bounce of the mattress he was already on top of you. Somehow between throwing you on to the bed and now he had already shed himself of all his clothes. The cracks and breaking skin of his cheek had split and traveled down to his chest, his mouth was set in a toothy and wide sneer with spots of drool dropping onto you. It was unsettling to see your husband like this. But it was still Diego. You didn't need to worry right?

You settled on putting your worrying hands on his shoulders. His bare skin was slick, scalding even. While Diego left open mouthed kisses down your shoulder his tongue slid across your skin as he appreciated your taste more. He had you cuddled close underneath him. His whole body was circled around you like an unbearably hot cage, trying to feel all of your skin on his as he nuzzled and rubbed his face against your body. With every inhale of your delicious scent, he warbled more and thrusted his hard cock into your panties, which he sounded like he didn't enjoy it.

There was the sound of something tearing. To your horror he had ruined your undergarments farther. Then he quickly thrusted himself into your cunt. At this point you had become accustomed to his size and length, but without proper preparation, it still stung like a bastard. It wasn't passionate like any time before that night. Diego was a mess, he barely left you for a second. His thrusts were more of a humping motion than anything else as he couldn't bare to have his length leave for pulsating heat. He would force himself out of your hole and push back inside of you quickly, all while he spewed out manic moans. The noises Diego made sounded more animal than man at this point. His teeth grew jagged and threatened to pierce your skin with every deep breath into the junction of your shoulder. There was something swishing back and forth in your peripheral, you think it was a tail, it was scaly and seemed to try and curl around your thigh, but you didn't think much about it. Diego felt too good inside you. It felt better than ever before, despite how messy he was being, dare you say it... He was never this clingy. It was endearing in a way. And he was so much more vocal. It's embarrassing to admit that it was such a turn on. You could tell he was getting closer to his release, his thrusts were getting less coordinated, if they even were in the first place.

Your legs were suddenly grabbed in tight fists, he forced them up so your ass was lifted up from the bed. Diego brought himself out of you, and roughly pierced you on his length again so quick you couldn't help to scream. As his thrusts became inhuman, he towered over you snarling with drool spilling from his cracked lips. The old bed had started to creak, but you couldn't hear it over your own pleasured cries. You couldn't take it any more, he forced your mind into a well grounded mush. Your hands had started clawing into your pillows, you could feel it, you were so close, if he kept ramming into you like this you'd break.

The force of an orgasm rang screams from your raw throat. There was a raging whiteness that forced you blind. Only Diego was with you in that moment, but he continued to use you till his release. It began to hurt. His hips were bruising yours mercilessly, you cried and clawed into his back but he ignored your pleas.

"Diego please. It hurts! 's too much, god. Diego!"

He grabbed your scalp and forced you silent by biting into your throat. As the pain mixed in with the pleasure of your first orgasm, he never stopped moving inside of you. Diego anchored himself with his teeth digging into your meat. He was growling as your fluids mixed with his inside of you. With a final thrust he stayed sheathed in your core with his load of cum filling you up. He stayed in that position, keeping your hole plugged with his dick until he caught his breath. Just when you thought he was done, he started to thrust into you again. Your husband would use your body again, and again, until you lost count of how many times you both came and you were bloated sickly full.

Diego finally collapsed on top of you. Absentmindedly he would coo and gargle noises to you, softly licking at the blood seeping from your wound, and once his job was done he finally fell asleep between your breasts snoring away with his hard cock still keeping you full of his spend. Without any other thoughts you fell asleep with him. You were exhausted of course, but tomorrow morning you'd force him to clean and comfort you, monster or not.

[kxokiemonster]

“Look at them: dumb and dumber,” Regulus announced with a smile.

”Reg?” Evan called, not believing his own eyes.

Regulus felt like he was breathing after being drowning for too long. He was finally alive. He hadn’t felt like that in two years. Seeing Remus or James had appeased his heart, but seeing his bests friends was a completely new sensation.

Barty and Evan were a part of him. He couldn’t exist without the other two. Regulus didn’t know what being happy was without Evan’s arm around his shoulders and Barty laugh at some stupid joke. He hadn’t known sadness until he saw them crying. And he hadn’t felt death until he opened his eyes after the cave knowing he probably wouldn’t see neither of them again.

But now they were there. His eyes were running up and down both men trying to absorb their appearance which had change quite a bit in the last two years.

It didn’t surprise him when a hex was shot in his direction, dodging it with a move of his wand. The attacks didn’t stop, one after another kept coming in his direction. Regulus knew his friends well enough to see what their next moves were going to be, the only thing that prevented him from dying because not only they were fast, Barty and Evan were really good.

From the corner of his eye he could see Remus and James with a firm grip on their wands but he dismissed them with a gesture of his hand. It was his fight.

He spent a few more minutes in the duel until he saw his opening. “Expelliarmus!” he shouted. 

It was a stupid move. He knew the moment the word spilled from his mouth. Evan was good with wandless magic so he was still capable enough to hurt him and Barty was a force to reckon with.

“You’re going to die,” Barty promised and Regulus didn’t doubt his words for a second.

“Amicus ad aras”

Both Death Eaters stumbled, taken aback. “What did you just say?” Evan hissed, rage taking over his green eyes darkening them.

Regulus bent himself to pick the bottom of his trouser. He hissed when a burning hex got his hand. “Bloody idiots, I’m showing you,” he accused. He rolled the pant leg until his thigh was exposed, thanking his past self for not wearing something skinny. There, just above his right knee rested the words Amicus ad aras in fine lines. “We got them in fourth year after drinking half the cabinet in your dad’s office for my birthday,” he explained, his gaze never leaving Barty.

Evan patted his leg as if the words were directed to his own tattoo. “Barty did them with a rusty needle his mom used to sew with,” Evan chuckled at the memory.

“I’m still not sure how we didn’t get an infection,” Regulus let out half a smile.

“Because I cleaned the needle, you distrustful fuckers,” Barty complained althugh he was smiling

The three of them shared a look for a second before they started moving. Evan was the one who saw him first, but Barty was the one who got to hug him first. Remus, Sirius nor James looked too happy about it, but Regulus could only laugh as Barty almost knocked him with a hug.

Regulus buried his hands on Barty’s clothes, trying to remember every little detail: the smell of his hair, the weight of his hands on his waist, the sound of his laughter. He got about three seconds of a beautiful reunion before feeling the sharp stab of teeth trying to pierce his skin.

“Ow! Ow! He’s biting me! Evan, do something!” he yelled angry, ready to kick Barty, but the brunette was hugging him like an octopus so it was difficult to get rid of him.

James took a step forward, ready to hex Barty. Evan beat him to it, just grabbing Barty by the hair and yanking him until his face was far from Regulus’ neck. The Black touched his neck hesitant, not amused by the sight of blood. Nonetheless, the smile never left his face.

“Cass told me you went crazy. I didn’t know she meant crazy possessive, you little bitch,” he snarked with a smile.

Barty looked at him for a second before starting to laugh like a madman, who made the other two break laughing. The Marauders looked at them concerned, not knowing what to do.

“I told you his whole lot was just crazy,” Sirius murmured to James.

James nodded absently, admiring how Barty had fallen to his knees and was hugging Regulus by the hip, his head just hidden in the stomach of the Black, who was stroking his hair like it was a common occurrence. His eyes, however, were dark and ready to attack if Barty decided to bite him again. 

Evan, meanwhile, had opted to stand as close as he could to Regulus in fear he would disappear in any instant. To that, James could relate.

“Barty hexed four Death Eaters trying to find you. We had a handful of problems asking about you,” Evan started explaining.

“You never told us where you went,” Barty complained when Regulus started telling them his last two years.

“I died. Long story. That’s why I’ve come back. What I did worked and now I need your help”

Barty stood up quickly, frowning. “What are we going to do?”

“We are going to hex some more people, starting with the people that killed the McKinnons. After that,” he looked directly at Barty, a smile dancing on his lips, “you are going to become daddy’s perfect boy and get a job with him”

“You better be joking,” Barty sighed.

“I wish, But believe me, you are going to like where this ends”

[bornspellcaster]

Little Firefly - 1 (Sneak Peek)

(When the time pool closes before she reaches it and Luz finds herself hopelessly stuck in ancient times, an incident forces her to work together with her enemy to ensure their survival. In the midst of it, Luz learns there may be more than meets the eye to the frigid Puritan, and discovers the real secret to saving The Boiling Isles may just lie in reuniting an estranged family…)

Philip’s eyes widened as he barely had a chance to barrel roll out of the way of a crackling fireball. “You wish to throw fire, do you?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own set of parchments, malice crackling as brightly as the flames as he clapped together two different glyphs, and Luz quickly deflected the hot bolt of electricity with a wall of vines.

“Thanks to you I’m STUCK HERE!” Luz roared, trying to lunge at his ankles with a string of tightly constricting vines. “You kept me back, away from my aunt and the time pool closed before I got there!!” she shouted.

“You came from a time pool?” He almost stopped in confusion. So this witchlet was from another time? Ducking away from needle sharp shards of ice, he bared his teeth. “Oh I’ve had just about enough of you, you little barbarian!”

Luz yelped loudly in pain as spiked vines seized her around the waist, and hurled her against the rock side of the cave. Finally unable to withstand anymore abuse, her helmet, dented from the battle, could no longer even grip onto her head.

Philip watched the gladiator helmet fall to the ground, and his shoulders fell slack in shock. “…You’re a human?”

Before Luz could respond, the cave….began to rumble. Both gasped in horror as the ceiling began to collapse in on itself. Boulders crashed to the ground, sending shards of gravel and clouds of dust billowing into the air. It was hard to see. It was hard to hear over the roaring.

“Damnit, look what you’ve done!” Philip shouted at the child. She didn’t have time to snip back at him, as just then, another several rocks fell in front of the entrance, plunging them into deeper darkness. There was barely a sliver of light remaining.

Philip looked frantically back at the entrance he knew they couldn’t risk using as an exit. There were too many rocks falling. One by one tumbling crudely like a child’s wooden blocks, and soon they would reach them.

[narrators-journal]

Sexual healing

I hope this has enough spanking in it, I’m never too sure how to make spanking HOT enough lol. I at least had a fun time writing it? I know it’s not particularly LOVING, but tbh I always got the vibe from Machi that she was a lesbian, so I mayyyy have made a colder bitch than Illumi lmao. Other than that, just another Ao3 ask!

Kinktober prompt list: Here

Kinktober Masterlist: Here

CW: Spanking, Hisoka gets pegged, handcuffs are included. I may not have focused on the prompt, but it is spicy regardless!

Feitan and Uvogin? Healed. Dinner? Had. The members of the phantom troupe? Accounted for, and in one piece. All around, Machi Komacine considered her night free to herself. After all, her usual thorns in the side were either drunkenly passed out, or dealt with after that day’s mission. Plus! Hisoka Morrow, the painted, colorful bastard, wasn’t included in this job! She was free of him and his mind games.

So, taking down her light pink hair from its usual fluffy ponytail, Machi slipped into her sleeping bag, letting out a content sigh when the blissful comfort of a mattress seemed to turn her bones into jelly. After so long af sleeping in abandoned buildings or stolen cars, the healer didn’t care about the creaky, cheap mattress. It was a mattress.

Yet, an early bedtime wasn’t in the cards. Judging from the sickly familiar pattern of knocks at her door. Grimacing, the healer rolled over so that her back was to the door. Firmly ignoring it, only for the bastard to sing, “Macha~ Be a dear and let me in~”

So, with a mix of a sigh and a groan, Machi unzipped her sleeping bag and basically threw herself from the cheap hotel bed to stomp over and rip the door nearly off the hinges. “What the fuck do you want, Morrow? Why are you even here?” She spat, sapphire eyes narrowing darkly as she glared into those snake-yellow, smug eyes staring down at her. “I missed you! So, I came to find you.” Was the sappy response Hisoka gave, batting his lashes at her, jesus christ she’d kill for lashes that thick, and playing sweet. But, the sugar made Machi’s stomach churn. “Fuck off.” she spat again, trying to slam the door in the clown’s face. However, he was quicker, and got his foot in the door before she could entirely shut him out. ”Oh come on, Machi! Let me in, I’ll make my visit quick.” He promised, unbothered by the woman throwing her weight into the door to try and force his foot out of the way. Until, finally, she gave another groan and just caved, going back to the bed to pack up her sleeping bag. And, when she turned around, sure enough, the tall psychopath had followed her in.

The silence of his movements brought a shudder, but the healer bottled it up, knowing that any sign of how much Hisoka scared her would draw out whatever game he wanted to play, or demand he had for her. So, she turned her attention to tying her long hair back into its usual style. “Alright. What do you need sewn up.” She said coolly, ignoring how close he was to trapping her between the bed and his well-muscled body as she walked over to her duffle bag to dig out the pin cushion she kept her needles in. Making a conscious choice to crouch down instead of bend when she did. “Nothing,” He hummed, his syrupy tone dropped in favor of a more bored one. A glance over her shoulder revealing that the clown had gone from flirtatious, to more casual. Which, only meant one thing. “God damn it, Hisoka. Don’t you have a boytoy or something?! Some poor bitch you’ve baby trapped?” She snapped, standing up to glare at him again, her hands on her hips like an annoyed mother. Yet, her harsh tone didn’t seem to phase the pink-haired man, barely getting him to lift his yellow eyes from some mystery stain on his outfit. “No, everyone else is so boring. And Illumi said that if I try to bargain for sex a second time, he’d put a needle in my urethra.” He sighed, pouting at her like he wanted her sympathy for that.

Which, Machi did show. After all, while the phantom troupe were a ballsy pack of villains, even they were scared of crossing the Zoldyck family. And, personally, Illumi Zoldyck was Machi’s personal nightmare. With bottomless, soulless pits for eyes, suffocating nen that he used for a terrifying ability, and such a clinical, almost robotic personality, Machi would sooner face the devil than that man.

Though, on some level, maybe the devil was a far more likely encounter than people normally had. After all, he currently sat on her bed, giving her puppy dog eyes.

So, with a long sigh, Machi pinched the bridge of her nose, gritting her teeth in pure annoyance. “Fine. But I’m gagging you.” She told the tall man, getting a thousand watt smile that would’ve been charming if it was from anyone else. But, that aside, the healer simply turned back to her dufflebag to fish out some handcuffs, ball gag, and a vibrantly purple strap on that she kept for a more desirable partner.

By the time she turned back to Hisoka, he was already naked. His vest and pants were torn off as if he was some bachelorette stripper rather than a murderous psycho, but she didn’t bother questioning his speed or skill with stripping down. “Get on the bed. Face down, and put your hands out like usual.” she ordered, watching the scarred man eagerly climb onto the cheap, creaky bed, his ass already in the air. Machi coming over to cuff his wrists together once he was in position. “Open.” she added, a little perturbed by how readily Hisoka opened his mouth to let her put the thick rubber ball in his mouth and secure it around his head. Or, maybe it was the glitter of lust sparkling in his yellow eyes, either way, she didn’t know how to feel.

Regardless of that, though, she just went about the usual steps of their ‘hook ups’, as Hisoka called these meetings. Strolling down to the foot of the bed to kick off her sleep shorts and pull on the base of her sex toy, ensuring the silicone dildo was secure before moving to stand behind him, staring down at the round rump eagerly awaiting whatever she was going to do.

It wasn’t a surprise that Hisoka was so horny for whatever sex he could get, but it still somewhat annoyed the healer that he was so okay with being pegged, and, even after her setting such a firm rule on that being her only form of sexual contact with him, him asking for it.

"You really need to find someone else to 'scratch your itch'." Machi huffed, slapping the homicidal clown's ass, knowing well enough that he couldn't answer through the gag she'd tied in his mouth. "Like a prostitute."

Despite her complaints, though, the woman gave another slap to Hisoka's ass. At least enjoying the chance to cause the annoying bastard some pain for all of the healing he demands of her, and his general flirty pestering. If he got some sense of pleasure out of her strikes, that was up to him, but for her, the sight of the powerful man on his belly, handcuffed to the bed posts with a ball gag keeping him silent was more cathartic than arousing. But, if it kept him from dragging himself to her for free healing, she was willing to tolerate his sexual appetite.

So, she grabbed the bottle of lube and stroked a thin layer of it onto the pink silicone strap on she wore. Then, she simply lined herself up and pushed into Hisoka, thanking whatever god there was that he had been gagged when he let out a pornographic moan.

But, she ignored his theatrics and simply grabbed onto his hips when he pushed back against her and began moving. Tuning out each lustful noise and letting the pink-haired man push his ass back to meet her thrusts eagerly, only focusing on humping into him and pacing herself. After all, the last time she’d rushed one of their ‘hook up’, Hisoka had whined and purposely increased her work load to spite her. So, she made sure her thrusts alternated between slow, deep movements, and quicker ones.

Plunging the pink toy into Hisoka, clawing into his scarred skin, and sprinkling in a few harsh slaps to the meat of his ass, Machi still found no pleasure in her companion, but she did feel a small seed of pride and power sprout in her chest. After all, while Hisoka Morrow was far too annoying and deranged for her to consider dating him, he was still insanely powerful. He almost never stopped training and pushing himself, which the pink-haired woman would’ve respected far more if he wasn’t so...indescriminate with that drive. So, while she did hold a bit of respect for his fighting abilities, and maybe a little for his sadistic joy, there were simply too many factors for the woman to get more than an ego boost out of the sexual aspect of their meetings.

Finally pulling herself out of that rabbit hole, Machi let out a slow breath and focused back in on the man she had tied down on the hotel bed. Noting his dishevelled pink hair, sweat-beaded skin, and muffled, needy moans as she lifted her hand and landed another severe blow to his, surely sore by that point, ass again, getting a more emphatic moan in response. Which, she took as a good sign and switched to a faster pace. The mulling over of Hisoka’s ambiguous, confusing signals could be pushed off for the time being. For now, she focused on the joy she got out of leaving an angry patch of red on the scarred man’s ass as she fucked him.

[wiltedrosewritings]

NEVERLAND IN AUGUST

I often tell myself I will no longer partake in writing tae fics bc they always turn out excessively angsty and melodramatic, and yet, I find myself here, time and time again.

short version: kth and poor decisions. salty air. beach shore. never meant to be. exchanges that slipped away into moments in time. a secret well kept, and then fallen into oblivion. seashells. skinny dipping. august, except it's not. you, except you are not mine. us, except there is no such thing. you were never mine to keep, or to lose. 

tae's got a neverland complex. doesn't wanna grow up, bc it means leaving behind his freedom, but worst of all, you. or something like that.

proceed, if you are interested in the long version.

wc: 3.7 k

tracklist: 'August' by Taylor Swift

tense and POV: 2nd person and past

You are so easy to fall back into, as though we are molded to fit one another, a lock to its key, and it shouldn't be this easy to self-destruct.

Taehyung slipped away into the night when the crowd had settled and turned its eyes blind; when the topics of conversation had shuffled from his career and marital prospects to rather pettier, popular culture developments.

He averted curious gazes amidst the crowded streets as he meandered aimlessly. Like a compass with a damaged needle, he spun indefinitely, pressed tight between bodies. No sense of direction.

With a flighty gaze, he scoured the surrounding, illuminated buildings for an anchor, a sort of lighthouse, some sort of sign to pierce his attention, slap him hard across the cheek as the ground would if he would only stop falling. If the ground were to catch him and hold him, rather than cave beneath his feet.

Gloomy, dim eyes searched past the silhouettes of the skyscrapers, past the nomadic clouds, which veiled the moon's luminous halo, attempting to make out faint stars freckling the sky.

Not just any stars.

Polaris - a stable point, axis, around which the rest of the world's body falls and rises.

The star he'd chased with his siblings through the playgrounds long ago.

The clouds were too vast and dense, as were the crowds pressing in around him. Suddenly, he felt painfully sympathetic of Polaris's condition; the world seemed to start spinning around him, too; the ground at his feet warping with each unsteady step.

He didn't want to be central, polar. He wanted to be a fuzzy margin, ambiguous, never quite a start, never quite an end. The horizon.

He wanted to be too many things in life, and nothing at all, at once. It was dizzying, to say the least, to be tugged in every direction. To have so many quarreling voices beckoning your attention.

Sometimes he wished he could split himself into a million little versions. Split the burden between them.

He just wanted it to stop. The spinning. The encompassing chatter. The omnipresent stares. All of it.

He dipped into a gas station with a neon sign for a header and pulled the cheapest bottle of red wine from its rack. Rolled it over the counter towards the register clerk along with his upturned ID, only his thumbpad mostly covered his picture and name.

It was a quick swivel, quick enough for the clerk to nod in recognition he was of age; not long enough for them to register the reputation behind the name, the face;

not long enough for a light to flicker in their distant gaze and their mouths to fall slack in awe.

With a lazy grip on the bottle's neck, he swayed and weaved through the saturated streets, often slamming shoulders, until he sank into a dim alley, save for an overhead flickering neon sign, similar to that of the gas station, only just one flicker short of giving out.

He padded his way out to a quieter, sleeping street, and found himself a vacant bench to collapse onto.

It was finally dark, and quiet, and the margins of the world had seemed to settle about him.

There, he conjured up an affair with the shadows until he grew to question whether he'd become one. Whether the star-freckled clouds had encompassed and carried him away, to some distant Neverland. A place that could offer him an eternity to figure out the calls and wants of his heart.

His parents had omitted a truth from him. They'd omitted many through his development, opting for sugar-coating existence, but of all the ones, this one was unforgivable. 

They had never mentioned how it is like the air in your lungs dissipates with each passing year. A blind habit forms: you start holding your breath just to get through a couple of gruesome hours, a shift, the day.

You wait for the afternoon to catch it again, but then the afternoons start growing burdensome in a way uniquely their own. It grows, the weight on your chest, drowns you and kills you slowly. 

In his brief recollection tonight, he supposes they'd been unconvincing in their pretensions. They'd never blatantly admitted this truth but had often insinuated it.  

He should have looked closer, not forsaken the fine details.

He would have noticed the drawn bags lining their eyes, the burst capillaries on the ivory margins.

He would have felt the exasperated sigh leaving their lips while bracing their weight against the counter, just trying to stand another day. 

He could feel that helpless sigh, now. Infact, it had grown to become his. 

A sigh which seeped into the quiet night. 

Quiet, safe for the whir of cars on the highway, a couple of miles back; safe for the chirp of crickets nestled amidst bushes, shrubs.

Quiet, safe for the sudden exclaim of a nearby branch, snapped under unannounced weight. 

Taehyung stiffened and used the bottle that had been resting on his thigh as leverage, in case he'd need to spring upward and dash -though, it would likely be less of a dash, more of a stumble and awkward trot away given his inebriation.

"Boo!" 

He didn't startle, much too inhibited to have reacted within the acceptable timeframe.

Or simply, too unbothered.

Instead, he turned his head with a lazy, drunken gaze and there you were -- his Neverland on Earth, stardust lining your eyes, a shard of magic and dream and impossible possibilities amidst a limiting world.

The stars surely envied you. 

You kicked the air, standing, waiting awkwardly, as if for an invitation from him to sit. You weren't sure if he'd appreciate you intruding on his hideout, even if it was a vacant restaurant patio, with rusted chairs and overgrown ivy.

"They are losing their minds looking for you, you know?" 

"They are?" A smug smile tugged on the corner of his glistening lips. "Let them." He proceeded to lick the gloss away, tasting the bitterness of residual liquor with subtle tones of sweet vanilla and tart cherry. "Are you gonna tattle on me?"

He swung down the leg he'd had outstretched on the bench, opening a space for you. Welcomed your presence. 

Your original reluctance dissipated, formerly pinched shoulders relaxing. 

"I already did," you flaunted, lied, made your way across the patio, crunching over shattered stone. 

As you lowered yourself onto the seat, he gestured the opaque bottle at you, whirling the contents around. 

"If I'm going down..." he started, holding back a hiccup behind puckered lips. For an instant, his face twisted, as if bile had crept up the column of his throat.

He swallowed hard, and quarreled with the nausea wringing his stomach. "I might as well not remember any of it."

You'd feel nauseated, too, leading his life.

Sure, it was glimmery and luxurious, alluring and comfortable by every physical means, with everything imaginable so carefully crafted and tailored. The perfect life.

It was all pretend, shallow. A gilded cage is only ever still a cage, a prison, confinement.

It wasn't him - not the him that you knew. He was a free bird, meant to take flight.

The him that you knew would be up for spontaneous drives to the shore. He'd get lost out of an insistence to avoid using navigation systems. He'd blast every genre of music through the speakers, and somehow recall every lyric, even the ones that were in a foreign tongue. 

The him you knew, would leave his shoes at every corner, flinging them off with irritability, complaining about how sore they made him, managing to turn it into a debacle on how suffocating it is to be trapped.

He'd walk on coarse gravel, all through the city. Come home with the filthiest soles, nothing short of charcoal. He'd defy every norm with the lightest of smiles, come spewing to you about the sights he saw on his adventures, the people he'd met, how he'd played soccer with a couple of kids from the neighborhood, how their mother had served him some jiggae and how it reminded him so much of home.

Then he'd guffaw, shake his head and tell you that it was weird how he could recognize the familiarity of home when he'd never really met it. 

But you were, of course, biased in your belief that the only version of him that existed was the one he showed you. You didn't really - or simply didn't want to - accept that this version could be the manifestation of a persona, a theatrical mask meant to distract something deeper, more fragile, genuine, and lost.

Your accepting company allowed him to be a different version of himself, but it wasn't entirely the truest one.

"Get up." You slapped his thigh and turned the bottle he'd handed over, letting its maroon content pour onto the cement, stain it beyond repair. "I want you to remember tonight." 

He groaned, collapsing his head onto his hands and ruffling his hair into a nest. "I had been enjoying that!" 

"That..." You shifted your gaze to the ground and then back up at him, brows pinched in question. You couldn't possibly be referring to the same thing. "No one could possibly enjoy that. Abominable." You shuddered.

"It was cheap," he justified. 

"You act as if you have no money."

"I don't! It's their money." He thrust both arms into the open air, gesturing to his puppet masters, to the strings sewn into his elbows and wrists.

At all times, he was being watched fall apart at the seams, and was scrutinized. The same life which had been breathed into his infantile lungs, never felt his. Instead, it reminded him of a plotted strategy on a chess board game drawn out for added torture. It wasn't a single, one-time commitment; it was a lifetime of sustaining choices that would remove him further from himself.

"Enough self-pity for one night. Come on." You rose, knees creaking a little. "Let's go." 

"Where to?" He beckoned, still planted on the bench. 

"Somewhere. Anywhere. Nowhere." The offer hung in the air, open to endless possibilities. Potential twinkled in your starry eyes; a million wishes and dreams birthed in a second. 

You smiled, and stardust gathered on your tear line, rained down and dusted his sullen limbs until he was floating, made weightless, trailing after you.

"Neverland."

"What?"

"Let's go to Neverland."

You snickered and it was as if bells chimed, rang, jingled.

"What are you - Have you gone mad?"  Taehyung hissed, dancing his weary gaze across his immediate surroundings. He'd rapidly grown weary, careful of an audience bearing witness to the spectacle you were putting on, in your lacy underwear. Locks of hair danced around your figure in response to a cool oceanic breeze gathering to greet you.

"I am pretty sure this is illegal. Illegal, T."

T, as in Tinker Bell, his personal version of a rose-tinged fairy, with a volatile temper, particularly when things don't follow your script.

Incredulously, Taehyung continued to mumble beneath his breath. The cyclical breath of the sea drowned his protests.

Your bra collapsed onto a mound of sand, forcing his lips mute. Like a fish hauled out of the water, his lips smacked open, shut, then open again, failing to close around the ghost of words he'd thought to say but suddenly drew blank on.

Cheeks burning flushed in that so fae way, you dipped your chin behind the curtain of your hair. 

You shut your eyes for what you were about to do. Mustered the courage to follow through, to not feel vulnerable under his gaze. 

Taehyung's unwavering gaze followed your hands down, before trailing up so fast he saw stars spinning around his field of vision. He felt he'd been thrown into Van Gogh's Starry Night.

Slowly, apprehensively, he let his eyes cascade over your silhouette, which grew smaller in the distance as you raced to the sea, desperate to hide in its embrace. 

Growing envious of it, Taehyung ripped his top off his torso, and stumbled the length of the shore, quarreling with his trousers. 

In his boxers, he stopped close enough for the edge of the tide to graze the tip of his toes. Retracted at the sudden bite of cold. "You are mad, woman." It's no longer a question.

"Look who's talking?" You twirled around, the water caressing your sides, sculpting you with as much love and delicate intent as a historic artist did his marble block. "Isn't this illegal?" 

And something in you fizzled, like the air bubbles frothing against your lips on the crystalline surface. It filled you with confusing pleasure to leave a mark on him. To corrupt him.

You hoped your touch on him - your influence - was permanent enough to outlive all that would proceed. Permanent and deep like etchings on tree barks, or indentations on freshly cemented sidewalks.

The panic in his gaze had long dissipated. It blended into a palette of emotions. All unnamable, indistinguishable, but utterly mesmerizing, nonetheless, much like the colorful horizon behind you. 

Delight. Amusement. Fascination. A twinge of flippant anger. 

You drive me mad, woman.

Orange sherbet. Strawberry pink. Lavender lilacs. 

Mad enough to rouge his own cheeks.

You'd like to stare long enough to acquaint yourself with each and every one of them. To name them all, and find where one starts, and the other ones trails off. 

But the thought of staring, steadily into his gaze makes you restless, short of breath. As if there isn't enough air in the entire atmosphere to satiate your lungs.

You can't name the way he looks at you; it's foreign, but not frightening in its oddity. Still, you can recognize its danger, in that it's not a known way to look at friends.

You reclined your head onto the surface of the water, much as you would against your pillow after a long day. "Oh, it's heavenly, Tae." With your arms outstretched like the limbs of starfishes on the ocean floor, you floated. The salty medium carried the voice of the sea directly into your ears. The sound of your breathing and the beating of your heart amplified.

A bizarre reminder that you were indeed alive.

Splashing and thrashing echoed across the sea, and you instinctively curled in on yourself to find Taehyung visibly grimacing at the cold state of the water.

"Why did I ever think following you was a good idea?"

You beamed, droplets of the salty sea clinging to your lashes, where they refracted the setting sun, and it's like stardust in broad daylight all over again.

"You have to do it all at once. Don't think. Just do," you encouraged, watching as the delicate, thinly defined muscles of his torso flexed and twitched over the surface of the water. 

His gaze was devoid, save for deeply creased brows caught in contemplation. A war with the limits of sensation. He held his arms linked over his chest to preserve heat, or perhaps hide his vulnerability.

Water pooled in the cup of your hand, which you splashed in his direction, aimed right at his handsome frown.

Victory ignited like an ember amidst your eyes. 

He grew to shudder a few arms' length from you. Broad and strong shoulders quivered helplessly.  

"You!" Then, those burnt-honey eyes pierced yours. Glaring. Fixed. 

The cupid-bow lining his upper lip momentously twitched as he repeated himself "You-" His words stumbled over unstable, shallow breaths.

You withdrew into the water's embrace and watched attentively, as the waterline climbed up his finely detailed torso. Outstretched arms grew nearer. Burnt-honey eyes widened in a vengeful craze. Ivory teeth became bared underneath strawberry-red lips. 

A frightened giggle of yours bubbled the water's surface rimming your chin. 

Finally, with an inhale of courage, Taehyung lunged forward, took the blow of the cold front on, and wrapped you in his arms. His weight sunk you beneath the surface. You were a pair of tangled anchors.

Not having stored a breath in your lungs, you squirmed and kicked in his old. His groans were muted by the harrowing echoes of the abyss beneath the sea. 

Strong arms tightened around you and hauled you out. You broke the surface with a desperate gasp, choking for breath between giggles. 

Laughter echoed in his chest, and reverberated through you. It reminded you of the waves and siren songs you grew up believing resided within conch shells as a pig-tailed kid. 

Since having shed your milk teeth and tolerated the gnaw of growing pains that accompanied such loss, you'd given up on childish fables of that kind.

On trips to the shore, there weren't hidden siren songs in the colorful conch shells you held up to your ear. There was only your younger sister cackling beside you, calling you a fool - but only after having tried it for herself first. 

But much as you had convinced yourself siren songs didn't exist inside the shells, you'd also convinced yourself you'd never hear that laugh again. Somber. Baritone. A tad boyish, in the way it would crack unpredictably. So wholly yours. It was a tune you'd looped in your memory from the very first instance you'd heard it.

In that split-second, with his hands fanned over your hip bones, and half-moon eyes tenderly fixed on yours, the fables did not seem so farfetched. New possibilities were solidifying at the tip of your fingers. Your fingers grazed the apples of his cheek. 

The possibilities were whispers in the crest of your ear. 

You'd only needed to get far enough from the bustling commotion of the city to hear them, to realize they'd always been there. 

An abstract somethingness would always exist between you two, just barely palpable.

The champagne had a mildly scorched aroma undermining its light fizz. You grimaced as it burned its way down your throat.

On any given night, you would much prefer a cup of tea to pair with the sacred act of slipping into bed; green, chamomile, on occasion, even aromatic Tulsi. 

But tonight, you weren't trying to sleep, to ease a mild case of insomnia. Sleep would rob you of time both of you knew you didn't have.

After a couple of swigs from the dark bottle, your skin began to buzz. A denseness subtly amounted over you, as though honey were dripped over your body, every move lubricated, viscous.

Your legs were warm, draped over his in a languid, but intimate manner - almost grounding in nature, as if you were his anchor. You tethered him to the present pleasures, kept his mind off the anxious tomorrows. 

His lips were sweet on yours and at times a hint bitter, like something you shouldn't have taken pleasure in tasting. A poison, that grows tolerable the more you ingest, but not any less deadly.

The tolerance being an illusion, an influence of the poison over you, foreshadowing its impending triumph, as you relinquish your willpower. 

That's it. You were dwindling under its influence. Your mind grew heavy, like your limbs, with intoxication. 

It was no longer bitter.

Rather, it became cloying, and you were innately and undeniably insatiable. 

Taehyung hoisted your hips to reposition them over his, desiring your proximity. Possibly as equally intoxicated. The question hung over your heads in the shape of a watchful moon.

Who was the poison? 

The hold on you was rough, but harmless. It was the gentlest rough-grip you have ever been subjected to. You allowed it. 

"I shouldn't do this." Your shallow breath ghosted his swollen lips in torment. 

He nuzzled the distance in desperation, and you obliged, tasting him apprehensively.

Just one peck. 

Then, another. 

And, what if, perhaps you held his lips in place with adoration and reverence. Held them in a warm hug, as if to shield them from the cool breeze blowing in from the sea. 

Would that have been such a crime?

The set of trespassers that tore through your blouse certainly were (criminal). They robbed you of any and every modicum of self-restraint.

You were no longer holding his lips. You had long since graduated to a sculptor, molding them to your will with each measured graze. Simultaneously, you started to circle your hips over his, back and forth, round around. 

"We should stop." Taehyung breathed raggedly into your neck. "Tell me to stop," and it came across as half-plea, half-demand.

You defied him, pulled him close, your breasts flushed against his sturdy chest.

You were definitely the poison.

You were a corrupt, filthy little thing. Loved it when he called you out on it. 

Tonight, he held you like you were something, someone sacred, like you were ceramic at risk of shattering in his hands.

You wrestled his gentle touch, wanting him to defile as he'd done enough times before for it to not be mistaken with error, overwhelming tempation.

You were temptation embodied, but he never once feigned sanctity.

Equally so, if not more, you deeply desired to defile him, to permeate every inch of him until the crime became undeniable. 

Fast, is how it unfolded.

But is there any better way to go?

Live fast, die young, right? Shine so bright you burn out. A phenomenal supernova. Watchers gathered to experience a historic event. 

There certainly wasn't an absolute right or wrong way to go.  But, if there had been, Taehyung was certain that way was fast. To burn like the dozens of stars in the sky, framing the quaint balcony. One moment there, the next gone. 

He knew that his departure approached just as quickly as dawn brightened the horizon. He knew you weren't oblivious to this fact.

Something in him winced at the thought of putting you through it again.

"Tell me to stop."

"Don't stop."

"Tell me to go," he almost begged, groaning as you kissed down the column of his neck. 

"Stay."

He wished he could. 

A ringtone blared across the room, funneling out through the creak between the balcony door and the frame. It said what neither could bring themselves to utter.

Taehyung marched out of the room, half-dressed, delirious but with a direction in mind.

And just like that, the bitter taste returned to overpower your senses.

The whispers in your ears, grew deceiving.

Deceitful little lies. Impossible possibilities.

The possibilities that had grazed your fingertips crumbled into mounds of sand. 

Sand, after all, is only ever withered shells.

[ashen-crest]

scales and breath for the dragon snippet ask?

From this dragon-themed writing ask game:

Scales: share a snippet that describes something. (can be a person, a place, a feeling, etc.)

I know I already did a caves one, but look, there are a lot of caves in Stray Spirit, so you're gettin' another:

The tunnel narrowed again until it finally spilled them into the dock area—a massive cavern cradling a black, mirror-smooth lake. The vast space allowed for a bifurcated dock, with sleek, narrow passenger boats to the left, and larger merchant boats to the right. People on both sides all waited and toiled under the supervision of massive stalactites dripping from the vaulted ceiling. Most kept their voices low, as if loud noise would break one of the stone needles and shatter the lake like glass.

Breath: share a snippet that makes you laugh.

This is Emry, a broke musician, walking through Cal's fancy dorm building, with Aspen in tow:

“This is certainly an upgrade from the Tazlo apartments,” he whispered to Cal as he followed her up the stairs. The Tazlo residences, though certainly nice, had to cram all their rooms up against a mountainside, leaving little space for the rich and stifling airs that now surrounded them.

“I suppose so,” Cal said dismissively. Behind her, Aspen ran a finger along the polished railing, then tugged on Emry’s sleeve.

“This is very different from where you live.”

Emry gave them a flat look. “Thank you for noticing, Aspen.”

Thanks for the asks!!