#i need the hanged man rust

[zurdurer]

I rewatched the hnoc performance again

Seperate drawings under cut

[nerosdayinanime]

wanna make my own kny httyd au

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 1

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: When you try to surprise your brother with a visit in the hopes of mending your strained relationship, it does not go as planned. Rudely dismissed by Scott, you decide to get a little revenge. And who better to do it with than the head Tornado Wrangler himself... Word Count: 3509 TW: Family Conflict, Brief Mention of Reader's Clothes/Breasts, Unsucessful Flirting, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Grabbing your backpack off the seat beside you, you stood and joined the crowd of passengers making their way to the front of the bus. You stopped to let an elderly couple join the line in front of you and used the momentary pause to glance out the window at your destination. A small diner in need of a fresh coat of paint and a good window washing sat off to the left while several rows of gas pumps were lined up on the right. Trucks, vans, campers, and SUVs filled almost every parking spot and spilled into the grassy field around the lot. Some vehicles were ancient, rusted machines that barely looked driveable while others were so fresh and high-tech they could have just been driven off a lot. Those were the vehicles you were looking for.

Stepping off the bus, you headed towards the group of four shiny new vehicles on the other end of the parking lot. On the way, your head was on a constant swivel as you took in everything around you: a middle-aged couple arguing loudly about who forgot to tie down the lawn chairs the last time they stopped, a somewhat familiar-looking man in a cowboy hat unloading a piece of equipment from his huge red truck while another long-haired man filmed him, a woman with dreadlocks fiddling with a remote control only for a large drone to drop out of the sky a moment later and land at her feet, a few children racing towards the diner with their exasperated mother trailing behind yelling at them to watch where they were going. 

It was utter chaos and you loved it already. 

As you approached the vehicles, you saw the Storm PAR logos printed on the sides and breathed a sigh of relief that after this sixth bus stop, you had finally tracked them down. You still didn’t see who you were looking for, so you walked up to a man with dark curly hair wearing a white button-down Storm PAR shirt who was currently crouched down examining a weird solar panel-looking piece of equipment set up next to one of the vans. As you cleared your throat, he looked up from the machine and blinked, as if he was shocked to see someone standing there despite the crowds of people around him. Glancing around, he asked, “Um…can I help you?”

You guess you shouldn’t be too surprised by his reaction. In your cut-off shorts, boots, and halter top, you looked like you should be hanging out one of the trucks you passed when you first got off the bus, not the polished, company polo shirt-wearing tech heads milling around the Storm PAR vehicles. And you didn’t even want to know what your hair and makeup looked like after four hours on that poorly air-conditioned packed bus. 

So, instead of taking offense at this guy’s slightly dismissive tone, you smiled as you adjusted the backpack on your shoulder. “Hi. I’m looking for Scott.”

The man glanced over his shoulder but made no move to stand up. “He’s here but he’s in the middle of some data calculations. Can I help you with something?”

“Not really. I had time off college and he mentioned you guys were having a really active season so I figured why not come out and see all this in action.” The man was still looking at you like he couldn’t understand why you were talking to him and you suddenly realized you hadn’t explained the most important detail. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I guess I should have mentioned, Scotty’s my older brother.”

Instantly, the man’s demeanor shifted and a huge toothy smile spread across his face. “Oh! You should have led with that. Nice to meet you.”

Rising to his feet, he stuck out his hand and you shook it, officially introducing yourself. When he said his name was Javi Rivera and it was your turn for things to click into place. “Javi! You’re Scotty’s business partner, right? He’s told me about you.”

Javi let your hand drop and his eyes shifted towards his equipment once more. “Really? Well, um, you know, I’ve, uh, heard great things about you too.”

You grinned, grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “Scotty never even mentioned he had a sister, did he?” Javi gave a slight shrug, still not looking directly at you and you laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Never wants to get personal, everything’s about business with him. To be honest, I don’t see or hear from him that much which is just another reason I figured I’d come surprise him when I had the chance. Plus, I read some research Scotty left lying around last time he came home and it was really interesting. I’m excited to be able to see what you guys do firsthand.” 

“Well, I’m sure Scotty will be glad to see you. Let me go grab him.”

Javi turned and disappeared into one of the vans. A moment later, he returned with your brother following closely behind. “Javi, I was in the middle of some important calculations. Why did I have to–” Scott stumbled to a stop as he saw you standing there.

Since he was a teenager, Scott had mastered the art of keeping his emotions hidden. He could be fuming mad, joyously happy, or heartbrokenly sad, and in each case keep the same perfect mask on his face. However, you knew his one tell. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his eyes. And right now, you could practically see flames burning within them. 

For the first time, you wondered if coming to see him had been such a good idea. Shifting from one foot to the other, you tried to force a smile as you half-heartedly held out your arms. “Surprise.”

Scott remained rooted to the spot, his only movement the constant forceful chewing of his gum. Javi glanced back and forth between the two of you, the smile slowly draining from his face. Hesitantly, he explained, “She said she was your sister so I figured…”

A cultivated smile spread across Scott’s lips but it didn’t reach his eyes as they continued to burn into yours. “No, it’s all good. I’m just surprised to see her.” Without breaking eye contact, he held his tablet out to Javi who took it from him. “Give me a few minutes to talk to her and then I’ll get back to those numbers.”

Javi started to protest, assuring him there was no rush and he could take his time, but Scott had already closed the distance between you. Grabbing your arm tightly to the point of slight painfulness, he guided you past the rest of the Storm PAR vehicles and into the empty field. 

Once you were far enough away that you knew none of his co-workers could hear you, you wrenched your arm from his grasp, snapping, “Get off of me!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his mask finally slipping as his nostrils flared and lips curled into a snarl.

“Well, hello to you too!” You examined your arm where he had grabbed you, massaging it gently. “Can’t a girl come visit her big brother?”

“Not when she wasn’t invited or even asked if she could come beforehand! What were you thinking? This isn’t one of your wild party vacations. This is my job!”

“I know that. I wasn’t expecting you to drop everything and take me sightseeing. I just thought I could hang around and watch you guys in action. I’ve read some of the research you left at Christmas and I was hoping maybe I could learn a little more about it.”

Scott shook his head, his hands on his hips. “This is our busiest time of the season. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

“What do you think I am? Eight? I don’t need you to babysit me. I told you, I’m interested in what you do and thought I could just hang around and see how it all works.” You shrugged, “Maybe you could even take me on a chase or two.”

“Hell no. I won’t have you getting scared and causing us to have to turn around in the middle of a storm run. Javi and I have worked too hard to get this company to where it is and I’m not going to let you ruin that because, on a whim, you thought it would be fun to see a storm.” Scott scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “It’s so typical of you to still think that just because you want something or because Mom and Dad will pay for it, everyone else will bend over backward to accommodate you. Well, I don’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore.”

You took several deep breaths and tried to keep your anger in check. This was not at all how you thought this would go, but lashing out right now would only make things worse. So, in a calm, steady voice, you tried to shift approaches. “Scotty, we haven’t spent any real time together since you left for MIT. And back then…I’m not proud of the person I was and I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. But I was a kid who didn’t know any better! I’ve grown up since you left. And this trip isn’t just something I thought would be fun to do ‘on a whim’. I worked hard to save up the money to come here because I wanted to see you and spend time with you—however little time you may be able to work into your schedule. And I promise I won’t get scared or make you stop your chase. If I don’t like it, I’ll suck it up until it’s over then not ask to go again.” Taking a step forward, you gently placed your hand on his arm and gave him a timid smile. “Let me show you who I am now…how much I’ve changed. Please, Scotty.”

But Scott yanked his arm away and took a step back. “I don’t care where you go, but you need to stay away from me and Storm PAR. Now, I have work to do.” He took one last look at you, and, for just a moment, you thought maybe he felt bad for what he said and was reconsidering things. But then, he blew a small bubble with his gum and popped it loudly in your face. You jumped slightly, the sound sharp and startling, before glaring at him. He had been doing that since you were kids and he knew how much you absolutely despised it. Shooting you one last smug smirk, Scott turned and walked off towards the cluster of Storm PAR vehicles. 

You turned to look out into the open field, lip quivering, as you fought against the tears that were burning your eyes. Things between you and Scott had been pretty bad when he left for college, but you hadn’t realized he still really thought so poorly of you. The last few holidays or family events he had been forced to come to, things seemed to be getting a little better. You thought that maybe you had reached a turning point in your relationship. But now it was clear you had been very wrong.

Looking back at the diner and overflow of vehicles, you wondered what you should do now. You had no idea when the next bus came by or how to get a ticket home or if there was a motel nearby you could stay in for the night or how you would even get there if there was or what you would do in the morning or—

UGH! The longer you stared at the Storm PAR logo on the side of the van Scott had disappeared into, the less hurt you felt. Instead, the pain began to shift into outrage. How dare Scott treat you like this? You had spent a lot of money and wasted two weeks of your summer vacation to take this trip to see him. You knew it would involve listening to him drone on about numbers and graphs you could barely comprehend for most of the time, but you were willing to smile, nod, and seem interested to show you cared about what he did. But no! He didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself or prove that you weren’t here to interfere with his work. He had just torn you down before turning his back on you and walking away. That asshole!

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky and you realized standing here fuming about Scott wasn’t going to help your situation. You could do that once you found a bus schedule or a place to stay for the night. However, as you stormed back through the parking lot, something caught your eye. 

When you had come through the first time and passed the familiar-looking man and the long-haired guy with the camera, you had only seen their truck from behind. But now that you were looking at the front, you noticed the distinctive metal logo attached to the front of the truck’s grille: a tornado with horns jutting out the top of the vortex. And you realized why the man in the cowboy hat looked familiar. 

Scott might not talk to you very often, but during the instances that he had, you had heard plenty of complaints about Tyler Owens and his group of Tornado Wranglers. Everything they did was the complete opposite of how Storm PAR operated and it drove Scott crazy that while he was out there doing the “real work”, this group of amateur YouTube chasers were the ones getting all the attention and acclaim when all they were really doing was getting in Storm PAR’s way. 

And Scott seemed to have another level of hatred for Owens himself.    

Out of curiosity, you had looked up the Wranglers’ YouTube channel and found it pretty entertaining. While Scott viewed every aspect of his work with complete seriousness and professionalism, these guys tackled the same work like they were having the time of their lives. They were still informative, explaining to their viewers how tornadoes formed and the types of destruction they can cause, but they would then drive straight into the center of a funnel or take chat requests of crazy things to do in the storm. It honestly seemed like a great way to get people excited about learning about tornadoes while also keeping them entertained. And it seemed like their nearly 850,000 followers would agree. No wonder Scott hated them so much. 

Suddenly, you had an idea—the perfect little act of revenge.

Changing directions, you made your way over to Owens’s truck. You could see he was now alone, tinkering with the equipment attached to the bed of his truck. He had traded his white cowboy hat for a faded backward cap and had pushed his sleeves up above his elbows as he worked, his sun-bronzed skin on full display in the dying light.

Though you had only watched a handful of the Tornado Wranglers’ videos, you had a pretty good idea of the kind of man Tyler Owens was and how you could persuade him to help you. After all, these narcissistic, jacked-up truck-driving, overcompensating pretty boys were all the same. The kind who had been fawned and swooned over their entire adult lives just because they flashed a charming smile or a playful wink in the right direction. However, with just a little stroking of their ego or a bat of your eyes, they could become putty in your hands. All you had to do was introduce yourself.

Reaching the side of the truck, you tucked your hands into your back pockets so it thrust your chest forward and, biting your lip, called out coyly, “Hey there, cowboy.”

Owens glanced up, a curious smile curling across his lips as he saw you, his eyes traveling from your head to boot and back up. “Well, hello there.”

Giggling softly as you placed your hand on the side railing, you asked in a sing-songy voice, “You’re Tyler, right? The big...bad…tornado wrangler?” With each word, you walked your fingers across the railing, your eyes locked on his.

He leaned back, wiped his hands on his jeans, and said, “I might be. Depends on who’s asking.” He was still looking at you but his smile had slipped slightly and you realized you might not have grabbed his attention as well as you thought.

Placing both hands on the railing now, you pushed yourself up slightly, your chest pressed together, and you looked up at him from under your lashes. “What if I’m asking?”

Owens stared at you for a long moment, his eyes still examining you thoughtfully, though you were shocked to see they stayed locked on your face and didn’t dip down to your breast like you had expected. Then, finally, he said, “You seem like a nice girl, sweetheart, but I don't think I'm what you're looking for. Good luck though.” He gave you a kind, yet dismissive nod, and went back to whatever he had been working on.

Your jaw dropped, lips moving silently as you tried to figure out what just happened. This kind of thing always worked on guys like him in the past. Show a little skin, stroke their egos a little, and they would be wrapped around your finger in no time. But he hadn’t even given your act more than a passing glance. It was possible you weren’t his type or maybe he was in a committed relationship, but neither of those things had exactly deterred guys in the past. 

You turned around—properly dismissed—and were just about to walk away when another thought crossed your mind. What if…what if you had misjudged him? What if he wasn’t the kind of guy you assumed he was? From what you had seen in his videos, he was cocky and overconfident and a huge flirt, but what if that was all for the cameras? During your very brief interaction, he seemed polite and respectful even as you tried to throw yourself at him, something no other guy had ever done in that situation. 

Maybe you had gone about this all wrong. Maybe you needed a different approach. A more honest one…

You hurried around the other side of the truck so you were in front of him once more. Dropping all the over-the-top flirtatiousness from your voice, you said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I thought…it doesn’t matter what I thought, but the point is I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had a really shitty day and approached this situation all wrong.”

Owens didn’t raise his head, but his eyes drifted back in your direction. Feeling like he was offering you a chance, you explained, “Listen, the deal is I came here to surprise my brother with a visit, and as soon as he saw me, he told me he doesn’t want me here and I should fuck off out of his way.”

That got his attention. Looking up, his brow furrowed, Owens asked, “Your brother said that to you?”

You rolled your eyes and hit the heel of your palm against the side of the truck. “Well, not in those exact words but the sentiment was there. The point is, he told me he didn’t care where I went as long as I left him and his team alone. So, I plan on respecting his wishes…and wondered if I could hang out with your team instead.”

“Well–” He leaned back, clearly not interested in your request, but you cut him off before he could turn you down.

“Please! It’ll just be for a day or two. I promise not to get in the way or mess with any of your work. I just know he has a problem with you guys and seeing me with you will drive him insane.” 

Putting down the wrench he was holding, Owens shook his head. “Back up…who are we talking about now? Who’s your brother?”

You realized you needed to get better at introducing people into a conversation before jumping right in. “Scott? He works for Storm PAR?” He hesitated so you sighed and turned towards the other group of storm chasers at the other end of the lot. With one hand on your hip, you pointed lazily with the other, “The surly tall one who never takes off his stupid baseball cap?”

Instantly, Owens straightened up and you knew you had piqued his interest. Chuckling, he asked, “Wait, so you’re telling me Mr. Clipboard and Chewing Gum is your brother?” You nodded. “And you want my help messing with him?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. So, will you do it?”

The cowboy leaned over the side of the truck and gave you a wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve come to the right place.”

Part 2 coming 8/19!

Tag list: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole,

@ryebecca, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @ohtobeleah, @slightly-psycho-multifan,

@sunlightmurdock, @xoxabs88xox, @superchatnoir07, @love2write2626, @smoothdogsgirl,

@rebecca0may, @hereiamhereigo, @nerdalicios, @28cnn, @obsessed-fan-alert,

@ddarling-ddearest-ddead, @sehnsuchts-trunken, @taorislover94, @sweetdayme4427, @marisha-3,

@hopeurokays, @lonelysoul50, @bobfloydssunnies, @rebra1863, @mirrorball-6,

@phoenixhalliwell, @mysticalfuncollectorus, @hellkaisersangel, @stoneyggirl2

@how-what-why-huh, @axolotllover225, @holybatflapexpert, @princesssterek, @autumnleaves1991-blog

@cevansbaby-dove, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @fandomprincess1994 

[redcoralpot]

Tougher Than Nails - Mike Schmidt X M!Reader

Warnings/Details: NSFW content, implied substance abuse, alcohol, cowboy!reader, hankie/cowboy hat code.

Summary: Mike goes to a bar downtown in hopes of getting his mind off of court, but instead finds something much healthier.

A/N: Everyone should thank my boyfriend for this idea; he's always the one that reminds me that I am technically a 'cowboy'. He saves a horse very often.

Word Count: 1.8K

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Bars weren’t really Mike’s thing. Any alcohol he’s ever had tasted like crap, and becoming an alcoholic would just be another check on Aunt Jane’s list to prove to the court that he wasn’t suitable for custody. Hell, he swore her perfume was still clinging onto his nose hairs, and all he wanted to do was escape her. Escape reality, too. Mike remembered when his father used to do just that after Garret disappeared, drowning himself in the bitter liquid at night, his speech slurred. That’s why he was here, at a bar in downtown Afton, while Maxine stayed with Abby. He was desperate.

The building was crowded, delightful chatter and jazz music filling the air. Lights were strung along the wooden walls, narrowly dodging the black and white photos hanging by themselves. More customers squeezed in behind him; Mike frantically searched for any open spot in the room. Hallelujah– a single stool was left vacant near the serving counter, and Mike shuffled into it, shoulders tense. The bartender seemed to notice his presence, as she leaned towards the man, still shaking another person’s drink. 

“You’re a new face,” she rattled, “may I see your license?”

Mike fumbled with his wallet, sliding the card for her to see, “Uh, sure.”

“Right, you’re all clear; would you like to open a tab?”

A man cut in before he could answer, and for the first time, Mike got a good look at the person sitting beside him, “Just add whatever he orders to mine, Molly.” 

She shrugged, the key hanging from her left pocket jingling, “Easier for me.”

You chuckled, the brim of your hat covering your eyes. It was decorated with embroidery and leather, complimenting your purple button up shirt, though that was partially hidden by a black vest. Two hankies hung out of your back, left pocket, similar to Molly’s keychain. One was rust colored, but the other was a complimentary gray; Mike thought it was an interesting stylistic choice. 

“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.”

As the bartender turned, scribbling in a notebook, you inquired, “So, what’s a fine boy like you doing ‘round these parts?”

Mike grabbed the foaming beer that was placed in front of him, “I live nearby.”

“That’s not the only reason, is it?”

He hesitated to answer, instead choosing to take a long sip of the beverage. It burned down his throat, the flavor making his lips curl and his head a little more dizzy. Somehow, it loosened his will, and he found his lips moving without his permission. Your energy was just hypnotizing; he felt himself being pulled in.

“Needed a break from stress,” Mike admitted, picking at the glass’ label.

You cocked your head to the side, your hat tipping upward, “Just ‘cause you’re in a hole, doesn’t mean you gotta keep digging. Alcohol isn’t the cure to what you’re feelin’.”

“What am I supposed to do? Not even my medicine works anymore.”

“I go here for stress relief too,” you assured, downing a shot, “but not necessarily for the drinks.”

Your hand hovered over the small of his back, looking at him for consent. When he didn’t move away, you settled your fingers there, feeling a shiver run through Mike’s body. Some of the previous tension released from his shoulders, and he almost leaned back in relief. Many of the customers in this bar were paired with the same sex, unlike most of the movies he’d seen that included the subject. So, he supposed it wouldn’t look too weird if he did.

You elaborated, “People can be cruel, can’t they, sweetheart? Comin’ to a place like this, where everyone’s like me in some way or another, is a damn good bonus.”

“Like you?”

“Y’know,” you gestured to your handkerchiefs, “queer and such.”

He paused, “Ah.”

“You didn’t know this was a boy bar?”

Mike replied, “I kinda just looked up the closest bar to my house.”

…

“Good to know.” Your hand fell away from his back.

He almost chased it. Mike liked the feeling, the weight of your fingers pressing into such an intimate spot. However, he wasn’t tipsy enough for that, and controlled himself. He watched as you spoke to Molly, the lady’s eyes flicking towards him and back, and you slipped her the money needed to cover the tab. You tipped your hat towards Mike, a respectful way to put distance between you, before disappearing into the suffocating crowd. Molly side eyed him, sweeping away his bottle, before leaving as well. Mike swallowed, pulling loose skin from his bottom lip with his teeth. It was now, or never– perhaps alcohol wasn’t the only way, after all. You were right. 

Mike could still see the very top of your hat swerving above the crowd, and he trailed after it to the best of his ability. A random girl almost elbowed him in the face, and he was sure his shins would be bruised after tonight. Your shadow was reflecting in the glass door, growing fainter and fainter as you walked further away, your hips swaying. Mike pushed it open, the vision dissolving, and cold air stung his cheeks. The moon reflected off of car hoods, the only way he was able to see where he was running. His hand reached out and grabbed your arm, as you flinched.

Mike’s ears were red, probably from the alcohol, and you stared at him, “What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know,” was the only answer you got before your collar was jerked forward.

Your lips crashed violently with his; your teeth clicking as he struggled to pull you closer. Mike was still fisting your shirt as you brought your hands to cup his jaw and the back of his neck, trying to gentle the kiss. 

You mumbled against his mouth, “Better not be some experiment of yours, pretty boy.”

“Nope,” he whispered, the aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue.

His back hit the side of your car, and his hands moved from your collar to swinging his arms around your neck. Your knee found its way in between Mike’s thighs, pressing against his crotch, and his groan was swallowed by your lips. Mike whined when you trailed down, aiming instead for his neck. Dark marks and bites soon decorated the pale flesh, his blood dripping a contrasting splash of color. 

Tugging on his earlobe, you challenged, “Gonna come back to my place?”

Mike doubted he ever agreed to something so quickly.

The drive was long, too long in his opinion. Though, it was most likely only fifteen minutes, at most. Mike didn’t even have to walk up the driveway to your cabin; his legs were locked around your hips as you carried him through the door and up the stairs. He ground his groin against you, searching for any possible friction. You tossed him onto your bed, unbuckling your belt, holding it taut. The man in front of you wiggled back and spread his legs to make room for you. You snickered at how willing Mike was, considering his hesitation when you first met.

You regularly kept lube on the bedside table, just to be prepared for when you brought men home from the bar. However, this one was different in a way you had trouble putting into words, other than positive. His thighs shook as you massaged the liquid into his hole, a hand covering his mouth to prevent you from hearing his noises. Ah, now that wouldn’t do, would it?

In response, you tugged his hand off of his mouth, “Lemme hear you.”

Such pretty sounds from a pretty mouth, it was truly a shame. When Mike immediately went back to covering them up, you slid your fingers out of him, instead reaching for your abandoned belt. His eyes trailed after your hands as they bound his wrists together in front of him, almost akin to handcuffs. Mike couldn’t see much of your expression after your head dipped down, only the shit-eating grin playing on your lips. Of course, that was before you took your hat off by the crown and placed it firmly on his head, though it was a tad too big for him.

“Why don’t you keep that safe for me, sweetheart?”

For a second, Mike was confused. Keep it safe? Just what were you planning on doing? He felt a grip on his waist, right before his world spun around him, and the positions were practically reversed. The guard was now sitting on top of you, or more so your crotch, his thighs caging in your hips. Mike’s hair was disheveled and the light on the ceiling created a sort of halo around him, and fuck, did you think he was pretty. Only a few select people had ever gotten to wear your hat, and you could confidently say that he was the most beautiful in it.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting your cock slip through the opening, “You ready?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

You had a grip on his waist again, slowly guiding him down. You didn’t thrust, didn’t force him to go fast, and allowed him his proper time to adjust, “How’s that feelin’?”

“G-good,” he shuddered, precum leaking from his tip, “think ‘m ready.”

“You haven’t seen the brunt of it yet, boy!” You grunt, thrusting the rest of you inside, brushing against Mike’s prostate. 

The man on top of you moaned, and the sound was so uncharacteristically loud that even he seemed surprised by it. Mike leaned down, resting his tied fists on your chest in order to keep his balance. His sweat dampened your collarbones, his drool smearing on your neck, and the pathetic excuse of a guard tried leaving kisses over the areas he could reach. You soon found a rhythm to your thrusts; groans were punched out of your throat on their own.

Mike could feel heat rushing through his brain, bringing tears that stuck to his eyelashes, covering any thoughts or hesitance he may have had before. That wasn’t enough for it– it spread like wildfire down his body, down to where your fingers were leaving bruises, and down to his red, leaking dick. Something deep was brewing inside of him, nothing he’s felt since his hormonal teenage years. Hell, he didn’t even have time to process it when you kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear that he’s such a needy slut; it exploded.

When he finally came to, he could feel his thighs twitching and your heaving, sticky abs below him. His eyelids felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was stay there with you. You were rubbing circles into his back, attempting to pull out, but a grumble from Mike made you stop. In fact, you were saying things, but it sounded muffled and far away. He took great comfort in your voice, no matter what you were talking about. It was getting farther and farther away, yet still managed to follow him into his dreams. For the first time since the incident with Garret, he did not have a nightmare. 

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Taglist: @cannabrisano @kai_beanz @fandomz-brainrot @slimemakermas

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 1

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: When you try to surprise your brother with a visit in the hopes of mending your strained relationship, it does not go as planned. Rudely dismissed by Scott, you decide to get a little revenge. And who better to do it with than the head Tornado Wrangler himself... Word Count: 3509 TW: Family Conflict, Brief Mention of Reader's Clothes/Breasts, Unsucessful Flirting, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Grabbing your backpack off the seat beside you, you stood and joined the crowd of passengers making their way to the front of the bus. You stopped to let an elderly couple join the line in front of you and used the momentary pause to glance out the window at your destination. A small diner in need of a fresh coat of paint and a good window washing sat off to the left while several rows of gas pumps were lined up on the right. Trucks, vans, campers, and SUVs filled almost every parking spot and spilled into the grassy field around the lot. Some vehicles were ancient, rusted machines that barely looked driveable while others were so fresh and high-tech they could have just been driven off a lot. Those were the vehicles you were looking for.

Stepping off the bus, you headed towards the group of four shiny new vehicles on the other end of the parking lot. On the way, your head was on a constant swivel as you took in everything around you: a middle-aged couple arguing loudly about who forgot to tie down the lawn chairs the last time they stopped, a somewhat familiar-looking man in a cowboy hat unloading a piece of equipment from his huge red truck while another long-haired man filmed him, a woman with dreadlocks fiddling with a remote control only for a large drone to drop out of the sky a moment later and land at her feet, a few children racing towards the diner with their exasperated mother trailing behind yelling at them to watch where they were going. 

It was utter chaos and you loved it already. 

As you approached the vehicles, you saw the Storm PAR logos printed on the sides and breathed a sigh of relief that after this sixth bus stop, you had finally tracked them down. You still didn’t see who you were looking for, so you walked up to a man with dark curly hair wearing a white button-down Storm PAR shirt who was currently crouched down examining a weird solar panel-looking piece of equipment set up next to one of the vans. As you cleared your throat, he looked up from the machine and blinked, as if he was shocked to see someone standing there despite the crowds of people around him. Glancing around, he asked, “Um…can I help you?”

You guess you shouldn’t be too surprised by his reaction. In your cut-off shorts, boots, and halter top, you looked like you should be hanging out one of the trucks you passed when you first got off the bus, not the polished, company polo shirt-wearing tech heads milling around the Storm PAR vehicles. And you didn’t even want to know what your hair and makeup looked like after four hours on that poorly air-conditioned packed bus. 

So, instead of taking offense at this guy’s slightly dismissive tone, you smiled as you adjusted the backpack on your shoulder. “Hi. I’m looking for Scott.”

The man glanced over his shoulder but made no move to stand up. “He’s here but he’s in the middle of some data calculations. Can I help you with something?”

“Not really. I had time off college and he mentioned you guys were having a really active season so I figured why not come out and see all this in action.” The man was still looking at you like he couldn’t understand why you were talking to him and you suddenly realized you hadn’t explained the most important detail. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I guess I should have mentioned, Scotty’s my older brother.”

Instantly, the man’s demeanor shifted and a huge toothy smile spread across his face. “Oh! You should have led with that. Nice to meet you.”

Rising to his feet, he stuck out his hand and you shook it, officially introducing yourself. When he said his name was Javi Rivera and it was your turn for things to click into place. “Javi! You’re Scotty’s business partner, right? He’s told me about you.”

Javi let your hand drop and his eyes shifted towards his equipment once more. “Really? Well, um, you know, I’ve, uh, heard great things about you too.”

You grinned, grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “Scotty never even mentioned he had a sister, did he?” Javi gave a slight shrug, still not looking directly at you and you laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Never wants to get personal, everything’s about business with him. To be honest, I don’t see or hear from him that much which is just another reason I figured I’d come surprise him when I had the chance. Plus, I read some research Scotty left lying around last time he came home and it was really interesting. I’m excited to be able to see what you guys do firsthand.” 

“Well, I’m sure Scotty will be glad to see you. Let me go grab him.”

Javi turned and disappeared into one of the vans. A moment later, he returned with your brother following closely behind. “Javi, I was in the middle of some important calculations. Why did I have to–” Scott stumbled to a stop as he saw you standing there.

Since he was a teenager, Scott had mastered the art of keeping his emotions hidden. He could be fuming mad, joyously happy, or heartbrokenly sad, and in each case keep the same perfect mask on his face. However, you knew his one tell. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his eyes. And right now, you could practically see flames burning within them. 

For the first time, you wondered if coming to see him had been such a good idea. Shifting from one foot to the other, you tried to force a smile as you half-heartedly held out your arms. “Surprise.”

Scott remained rooted to the spot, his only movement the constant forceful chewing of his gum. Javi glanced back and forth between the two of you, the smile slowly draining from his face. Hesitantly, he explained, “She said she was your sister so I figured…”

A cultivated smile spread across Scott’s lips but it didn’t reach his eyes as they continued to burn into yours. “No, it’s all good. I’m just surprised to see her.” Without breaking eye contact, he held his tablet out to Javi who took it from him. “Give me a few minutes to talk to her and then I’ll get back to those numbers.”

Javi started to protest, assuring him there was no rush and he could take his time, but Scott had already closed the distance between you. Grabbing your arm tightly to the point of slight painfulness, he guided you past the rest of the Storm PAR vehicles and into the empty field. 

Once you were far enough away that you knew none of his co-workers could hear you, you wrenched your arm from his grasp, snapping, “Get off of me!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his mask finally slipping as his nostrils flared and lips curled into a snarl.

“Well, hello to you too!” You examined your arm where he had grabbed you, massaging it gently. “Can’t a girl come visit her big brother?”

“Not when she wasn’t invited or even asked if she could come beforehand! What were you thinking? This isn’t one of your wild party vacations. This is my job!”

“I know that. I wasn’t expecting you to drop everything and take me sightseeing. I just thought I could hang around and watch you guys in action. I’ve read some of the research you left at Christmas and I was hoping maybe I could learn a little more about it.”

Scott shook his head, his hands on his hips. “This is our busiest time of the season. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

“What do you think I am? Eight? I don’t need you to babysit me. I told you, I’m interested in what you do and thought I could just hang around and see how it all works.” You shrugged, “Maybe you could even take me on a chase or two.”

“Hell no. I won’t have you getting scared and causing us to have to turn around in the middle of a storm run. Javi and I have worked too hard to get this company to where it is and I’m not going to let you ruin that because, on a whim, you thought it would be fun to see a storm.” Scott scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “It’s so typical of you to still think that just because you want something or because Mom and Dad will pay for it, everyone else will bend over backward to accommodate you. Well, I don’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore.”

You took several deep breaths and tried to keep your anger in check. This was not at all how you thought this would go, but lashing out right now would only make things worse. So, in a calm, steady voice, you tried to shift approaches. “Scotty, we haven’t spent any real time together since you left for MIT. And back then…I’m not proud of the person I was and I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. But I was a kid who didn’t know any better! I’ve grown up since you left. And this trip isn’t just something I thought would be fun to do ‘on a whim’. I worked hard to save up the money to come here because I wanted to see you and spend time with you—however little time you may be able to work into your schedule. And I promise I won’t get scared or make you stop your chase. If I don’t like it, I’ll suck it up until it’s over then not ask to go again.” Taking a step forward, you gently placed your hand on his arm and gave him a timid smile. “Let me show you who I am now…how much I’ve changed. Please, Scotty.”

But Scott yanked his arm away and took a step back. “I don’t care where you go, but you need to stay away from me and Storm PAR. Now, I have work to do.” He took one last look at you, and, for just a moment, you thought maybe he felt bad for what he said and was reconsidering things. But then, he blew a small bubble with his gum and popped it loudly in your face. You jumped slightly, the sound sharp and startling, before glaring at him. He had been doing that since you were kids and he knew how much you absolutely despised it. Shooting you one last smug smirk, Scott turned and walked off towards the cluster of Storm PAR vehicles. 

You turned to look out into the open field, lip quivering, as you fought against the tears that were burning your eyes. Things between you and Scott had been pretty bad when he left for college, but you hadn’t realized he still really thought so poorly of you. The last few holidays or family events he had been forced to come to, things seemed to be getting a little better. You thought that maybe you had reached a turning point in your relationship. But now it was clear you had been very wrong.

Looking back at the diner and overflow of vehicles, you wondered what you should do now. You had no idea when the next bus came by or how to get a ticket home or if there was a motel nearby you could stay in for the night or how you would even get there if there was or what you would do in the morning or—

UGH! The longer you stared at the Storm PAR logo on the side of the van Scott had disappeared into, the less hurt you felt. Instead, the pain began to shift into outrage. How dare Scott treat you like this? You had spent a lot of money and wasted two weeks of your summer vacation to take this trip to see him. You knew it would involve listening to him drone on about numbers and graphs you could barely comprehend for most of the time, but you were willing to smile, nod, and seem interested to show you cared about what he did. But no! He didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself or prove that you weren’t here to interfere with his work. He had just torn you down before turning his back on you and walking away. That asshole!

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky and you realized standing here fuming about Scott wasn’t going to help your situation. You could do that once you found a bus schedule or a place to stay for the night. However, as you stormed back through the parking lot, something caught your eye. 

When you had come through the first time and passed the familiar-looking man and the long-haired guy with the camera, you had only seen their truck from behind. But now that you were looking at the front, you noticed the distinctive metal logo attached to the front of the truck’s grille: a tornado with horns jutting out the top of the vortex. And you realized why the man in the cowboy hat looked familiar. 

Scott might not talk to you very often, but during the instances that he had, you had heard plenty of complaints about Tyler Owens and his group of Tornado Wranglers. Everything they did was the complete opposite of how Storm PAR operated and it drove Scott crazy that while he was out there doing the “real work”, this group of amateur YouTube chasers were the ones getting all the attention and acclaim when all they were really doing was getting in Storm PAR’s way. 

And Scott seemed to have another level of hatred for Owens himself.    

Out of curiosity, you had looked up the Wranglers’ YouTube channel and found it pretty entertaining. While Scott viewed every aspect of his work with complete seriousness and professionalism, these guys tackled the same work like they were having the time of their lives. They were still informative, explaining to their viewers how tornadoes formed and the types of destruction they can cause, but they would then drive straight into the center of a funnel or take chat requests of crazy things to do in the storm. It honestly seemed like a great way to get people excited about learning about tornadoes while also keeping them entertained. And it seemed like their nearly 850,000 followers would agree. No wonder Scott hated them so much. 

Suddenly, you had an idea—the perfect little act of revenge.

Changing directions, you made your way over to Owens’s truck. You could see he was now alone, tinkering with the equipment attached to the bed of his truck. He had traded his white cowboy hat for a faded backward cap and had pushed his sleeves up above his elbows as he worked, his sun-bronzed skin on full display in the dying light.

Though you had only watched a handful of the Tornado Wranglers’ videos, you had a pretty good idea of the kind of man Tyler Owens was and how you could persuade him to help you. After all, these narcissistic, jacked-up truck-driving, overcompensating pretty boys were all the same. The kind who had been fawned and swooned over their entire adult lives just because they flashed a charming smile or a playful wink in the right direction. However, with just a little stroking of their ego or a bat of your eyes, they could become putty in your hands. All you had to do was introduce yourself.

Reaching the side of the truck, you tucked your hands into your back pockets so it thrust your chest forward and, biting your lip, called out coyly, “Hey there, cowboy.”

Owens glanced up, a curious smile curling across his lips as he saw you, his eyes traveling from your head to boot and back up. “Well, hello there.”

Giggling softly as you placed your hand on the side railing, you asked in a sing-songy voice, “You’re Tyler, right? The big...bad…tornado wrangler?” With each word, you walked your fingers across the railing, your eyes locked on his.

He leaned back, wiped his hands on his jeans, and said, “I might be. Depends on who’s asking.” He was still looking at you but his smile had slipped slightly and you realized you might not have grabbed his attention as well as you thought.

Placing both hands on the railing now, you pushed yourself up slightly, your chest pressed together, and you looked up at him from under your lashes. “What if I’m asking?”

Owens stared at you for a long moment, his eyes still examining you thoughtfully, though you were shocked to see they stayed locked on your face and didn’t dip down to your breast like you had expected. Then, finally, he said, “You seem like a nice girl, sweetheart, but I don't think I'm what you're looking for. Good luck though.” He gave you a kind, yet dismissive nod, and went back to whatever he had been working on.

Your jaw dropped, lips moving silently as you tried to figure out what just happened. This kind of thing always worked on guys like him in the past. Show a little skin, stroke their egos a little, and they would be wrapped around your finger in no time. But he hadn’t even given your act more than a passing glance. It was possible you weren’t his type or maybe he was in a committed relationship, but neither of those things had exactly deterred guys in the past. 

You turned around—properly dismissed—and were just about to walk away when another thought crossed your mind. What if…what if you had misjudged him? What if he wasn’t the kind of guy you assumed he was? From what you had seen in his videos, he was cocky and overconfident and a huge flirt, but what if that was all for the cameras? During your very brief interaction, he seemed polite and respectful even as you tried to throw yourself at him, something no other guy had ever done in that situation. 

Maybe you had gone about this all wrong. Maybe you needed a different approach. A more honest one…

You hurried around the other side of the truck so you were in front of him once more. Dropping all the over-the-top flirtatiousness from your voice, you said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I thought…it doesn’t matter what I thought, but the point is I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had a really shitty day and approached this situation all wrong.”

Owens didn’t raise his head, but his eyes drifted back in your direction. Feeling like he was offering you a chance, you explained, “Listen, the deal is I came here to surprise my brother with a visit, and as soon as he saw me, he told me he doesn’t want me here and I should fuck off out of his way.”

That got his attention. Looking up, his brow furrowed, Owens asked, “Your brother said that to you?”

You rolled your eyes and hit the heel of your palm against the side of the truck. “Well, not in those exact words but the sentiment was there. The point is, he told me he didn’t care where I went as long as I left him and his team alone. So, I plan on respecting his wishes…and wondered if I could hang out with your team instead.”

“Well–” He leaned back, clearly not interested in your request, but you cut him off before he could turn you down.

“Please! It’ll just be for a day or two. I promise not to get in the way or mess with any of your work. I just know he has a problem with you guys and seeing me with you will drive him insane.” 

Putting down the wrench he was holding, Owens shook his head. “Back up…who are we talking about now? Who’s your brother?”

You realized you needed to get better at introducing people into a conversation before jumping right in. “Scott? He works for Storm PAR?” He hesitated so you sighed and turned towards the other group of storm chasers at the other end of the lot. With one hand on your hip, you pointed lazily with the other, “The surly tall one who never takes off his stupid baseball cap?”

Instantly, Owens straightened up and you knew you had piqued his interest. Chuckling, he asked, “Wait, so you’re telling me Mr. Clipboard and Chewing Gum is your brother?” You nodded. “And you want my help messing with him?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. So, will you do it?”

The cowboy leaned over the side of the truck and gave you a wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve come to the right place.”

Part 2 coming 8/19!

[obsessivevoidkitten]

No Light In The Darkness

Male Moth Fae Yandere x Gender Neutral Firefly Fae Reader Word Count: 1.5k (CW: Noncon, stalking, fear, dissociation, general yandere behavior, kidnapping, mentally broken reader, dead dove: do not eat, biting, crying, dacryphilia)  (I marked this one as dead dove because despite there being no physical pain or violence I tried to make the mental anguish and the rape scene and depression that follows to be a bit more realistic than normal, idk if I succeeded but I hope readers still enjoy this work. Also thank you to the reader who suggested the name for the yandere.) (This was a request in my stack from a year ago. Oops. Sorry it took so long.)

A firefly fae with constantly moving antenna, a chitinous exoskeleton covering your feet, legs, hands, and arms, and a brightly glowing thorax that extended from your back and bobbed behind your bare ass. That was you. Overall, you were a pretty average firefly.

Sadly though, you were of a very rare breed. There were very few other firefly fae out in the world, at least not in the part of it that you inhabited. But that was okay, you still went out every warm night and took to the sky, flashing and signaling in the way that your kind did to show you were receptive to romantic advances. You did, actually, have a suitor or two, but they were unfit. They seemed nice, but they lacked a certain special something. They weren’t firefly fae like you were. They were illumination deficient. How could you possibly be a partner with someone who was utterly unable to communicate and woo you via light? Being able to express yourself via your light signals was just far too essential an aspect of a relationship to be with someone who you could not share it with. No, you would be happier single than you would be relegating yourself to a relationship with such a person. The non-firefly fae men that you had to reject were all respectful about it and seemed to understand. Or so you had thought. But there was one who always watched you, stealing glances at you whenever you were out and about during the day and completely unable to move his eyes off of you as he stealthily watched you every night from the shadows as you did your half of an unrequited mating ritual. Orion, the muscular moth man that could never manage to take his eyes off of you. How could he possibly be expected to when you illuminated the sky with your enticing little mating dance. Especially since, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge it yet, it was all for him. How could it be for anyone else? There was no one else even watching, and those that had tried to court you in the past never stuck around like he did after you denied them. They couldn’t pass your test to show dedication in earning you as a mate. You probably didn’t even realize you were doing it, were probably in denial telling yourself you had to have another firefly fae, but really you didn’t fool Orion even if you had managed to fool yourself. There were no others of your kind anywhere near there. So obviously you were dancing for Orion. But he was starting to get impatient waiting for you to realize it yourself. He needed to be your mate already. To have his roaming hands explore all over your body. Orion was a master of sticking to the shadows, but even so you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You had this feeling in the past from time to time but over the past few weeks the sensation had become nearly unbearable. You could not shake, even for a moment, the sensation that you were being stalked. Hunted. Every breeze, every snapping twig, or rusting leaf was a potential assailant to you. It was especially bad in the woods. You surveyed all that was around you, constantly hyper-vigilant. But all you could see were shrubs, trees, soil, and flowers, nothing out of the ordinary. Even your little house, safe above the forest floor, hanging from the branches of a great tree, did not offer the sense of sanctuary that it should have. You even felt at times that you were being watched in your sleep. You even went so far as to get new thicker drapes to make sure no one could peep in. You tried to calm yourself down, tell yourself that you were being paranoid, but you just couldn’t. One day in the forest as you were searching for food things finally came to a head. You were walking along a gently used forest path, overgrown with grass and weeds, when you noticed a delicious looking clump of edible mushrooms at the base of a bush. You bent down and plucked them up, popping them into your basket when suddenly the bush rustled and shook. With a jolt of abject terror you dropped your basket and ran before taking off flying towards your home. You entered the door and slammed it shut and locked it, leaning against it as you caught your breath. Safe, you were safe and sound. An arm suddenly grabbed you from behind making you scream. The glowing red eyes of a mothy fae greeted you. “Are you okay, my love?” You shrieked and tried to get out of the door you had just slammed closed, shaky hands fumbling desperately at the lock. “If something is after you I will keep you safe!” He exclaimed in a voice that could only be described as eager and “trilling”. He pulled you close and held you tight against his abs. You tried to flail out of his grip, to kick and push but he was so strong, you could see and feel his muscles even beneath his lavender fur. One set of arms wrapped around you, squeezing uncomfortably tight, while the other two slowly made trails all over your body, feeling up your rear, gently touching your sides, and finally turning your head towards him as he kissed you deeply, making a sound not unlike a purr as he did so. You struggled against him, fighting the kiss, your pleas and screams muffled into it, but he did not seem to mind. You tasted so wonderful. “Calm down my little light, I am here for you. I know you might be in denial and nervous, but I know you need me.” He gently grinded against you from behind, his large warm erection slipping between your thighs and plainly visible from between your legs. Precum smeared your thighs as he continued thrusting really slowly, like he was afraid he might harm his tiny little victim. His words, obviously, did nothing to console you and his erection clearly showed his sexual intent with you, eliciting the only logical response. “L-let go of me you fucking psycho! Are you touched in the fucking head!? Get your nasty dick away from me you filthy pervert!!! What in the ever loving fuck is wrong with you?” As you said these words with all the anger and venom you had in you you were flashing angrily as well. “Ah you flash so prettily for me my little fire~ Someone’s just grouchy because they don’t know how to admit they want to be my mate and get my cock in them!” He completely twisted the intent of your words until they reinforced his skewed reality. His cock prodded your entrance, lovingly massaging precum into your hole to lube you up while one of his roaming hands found your chest and he began lightly pinching your nipple. “You don’t need to act all tough my sweet flame, I know you’re soft. You have a mate now, no use pretending otherwise,” he cooed. “You’re a goddamn maniaaaaah-” Orion stopped your words by biting into your sensitive neck just as he finally drove his cock into you. You moaned involuntarily and your legs probably would have given out had he not been holding onto you with his powerful arms. “See? I’ll make my mate feel so good~” You felt a growing heat in your stomach as your light started flashing like crazy, your body was betraying you completely but no part of you wanted this. Tears flooded your eyes and sobs broke up the gasps leaving your body. Of course Orion was oblivious to your plight. Another thing he completely misinterpreted. Your frantic light signals were a sign for him to continue, your tears were clearly of joy, and you couldn’t help but sob in pleasure because your big strong mothy mate was taking such good care of you. The overstimulation was way too much. The mouth all over your neck, sucking, biting, licking, and kissing. The fingers playing with your nipples. The arms holding you so tightly like you were the most important treasure on earth. You came hard. You went limp and your mind went blank, as if trying to spare you what was happening to you to some degree. It was, almost, like an out of body experience. He did not stop at your climax, he kept diving into you over and over, licking up your beautiful tears that he was so sure were caused by the pleasure he was giving you. At long last he finally planted one more passionate kiss to your unresponsive lips and filled you with his viscous seed. His antenna flitted over you and he held you even closer than before. He finally got to breed his darling. And when you next rejoined reality you would find yourself in an unfamiliar dwelling, the place he called home, leaning against him with your face buried in his chest, quietly sobbing, as he slowly made love to you again and again. 

[mochirimochi]

Somewhere Safe

William Afton X Reader

I wanna smash the pervy dilf in the rabbit suit ok?

-This is now officially part 1 in a series!-

p1 ● p2 ● p3 ● p4

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You just need somewhere safe to hide from your abusive ex. Unfortunately for you, you're about to stumble into the arms of something much, much worse.

18+ Minors DNI.

~3700 words, no use of y/n

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cws: abusive relationships, degradation kink, breath play if you squint, smut, rough sex, EXTREMELY dubious concent, a sprinkle of spanking

You can also read on ao3 if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51567985

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Your arms shake as you push up the rusted steel door that separates the pizzeria from the outside world. Every clatter and rumble of the metal makes you flinch and sweep your eyes over the abandoned side lot. There shouldn’t be anyone out and about to catch you at this time of night, right? Regardless, your heart pounds as you force the heavy door up, inch by agonizing inch. As soon as you’ve made enough space for your body you toss your bag under and swiftly crouch to follow it. 

Breaking and entering is far from your typical Monday night activity, but circumstances have left you with little choice in the matter. You need somewhere you won’t be found, somewhere no one will think to look for you. A dilapidated former birthday attraction certainly fits the bill, you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned the place to your ex before and if you have he probably won’t remember anyways. 

You give the door a tug to close it behind you, flinching as it slams back down into the concrete, and pick your way through the broken glass of the entryway. The smell of mildew is heavy in the air, clawing at your lungs and making your eyes water. This place used to be so vibrant and full of joy once upon a time. You���ve attended many a birthday in the restaurant that stretches out in front of you, even had a few of your own. This place had always been a favorite of the local parents due to its… generous wine portions and the ability to outsource their children's supervision. As a result it had been a kids paradise, the ability to run wild while mom and dad got lost in the sauce on a Saturday afternoon? Few things could rival that sense of freedom for a kid. Ironic as it was considering what had come later, it had always been a place where you felt safe and happy. Maybe that was why you’d chosen the pizzeria when you needed to hide from your abusive boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend now you suppose. It wasn’t like you had any plans to go back to the man after tonight. 

You give yourself a shake, attempting to bring yourself back to the moment at hand. This isn’t exactly the time to be spacing out after all, you’re technically committing a crime. Actually, there isn’t anything “technical” about it, you’re definitely breaking multiple laws right now. You shoulder your backpack and cast a glance toward the stage, it’s concealed behind a dusty red curtain but you can practically picture the animatronics behind it ready to jolt into song and dance just like they did years ago. You wonder if the owner removed them when he shut the place down. If you pull back the curtain will you find the shabby remains of your childhood heroes? You shiver, maybe it’s best not to find out.

If you remember correctly, the staff always entered and exited through a door next to the prize counter, maybe you’ll find a staff room with a couch through there. It seems like as promising an idea as any so you flick on your flashlight and make your way past the dining area and through the arcade. Sure enough, you’re greeted with a “staff only” sign and an unlocked door to boot. 

The hallway beyond is dark, lacking any of the color of the show floor. Interestingly, flickering yellow bulbs hang from the ceiling sporadically. The emergency power must still be on in this part of the building, you reason as you cautiously move through the hallway. You round a corner and let out a yelp as you collide with something huge, brown, and strangely soft. The impact knocks you off balance and you land rather gracelessly on your ass. It takes a moment for your brain to comprehend what you’re looking at as your gaze travels upwards over pudgy brown legs and a round plush stomach.

“Fredbear?!” The exclamation comes out before you really have a chance to think. “How in the world did you get all the way over here?” Your heart, which has been about ready to leap out of your chest, slows as you take in the animatronic. It’s in surprisingly good shape considering the state of the rest of this place. You push yourself to your feet and take a few steps back. “I can’t believe they actually left you guys here, you’d think they’d have moved you. Poor guy, all this time stuck in this dingy old hallway.” 

It’s strange when you really think about it, who would leave him just standing in the bowels of the restaurant? It seems like an awfully strange place to just leave your star animatronic, rushed closure or not. After a moment, a distant memory of the animatronics being wired to wander through the pizzeria comes back to you, in fact now that you think about it you can remember getting a big warm hug or two from the Freddy animatronic. That would explain it, maybe his circuits got damaged over time and had triggered that unique function. 

“Sorry to bug you big guy, I promise I’m not here to cause trouble. I just… needed somewhere safe.” Not for the first time that night you feel tears well in your eyes. “Nope, I am not going to cry over this. Not happening, you didn’t see me cry as a kid and you’re not gonna see it now.” You blink the tears away and the absurdity of your situation finally hits you. Not only are you hiding from your psycho ex and breaking the law for the first time in your life, but you’re also talking to a decrepit old robot like it can actually understand you. You heave a shaking sigh to ground yourself and pull your shoulders back. This might be your lowest moment but you refuse to let yourself wallow in it. With a determined huff you give Fredbear an affectionate pat on the arm before moving further into the building.

Before long you stumble across the staffroom, a long cluttered room with an extended plexi-glass window looking out into the hallway. Maybe at another time the window would serve to make the room feel brighter and bigger but now the dust covered plastic is shot through with a spider's web of cracks that barely allow you to see into the room. The door is unlocked though, and after a few quick shoves the warped wood releases its hold on the frame to allow you entry. Luckily, the room seems fairly well preserved and you spot a few dusty but intact couches pushed up against the wall. Jackpot. The exhaustion you’ve barely been keeping at bay all night hits you like a freight train and you lurch across the room to the couches. You collapse onto the nearest one, sending a fine cloud of dust into the air. You can’t bring yourself to care as you curled into a tight ball, finally letting sleep take you.

–

William watches the security cameras with curiosity as you wind your way through the building. Normally the animatronics would have taken care of any intruders well before they got to this point. This is new, novel even. He leans forward at his desk, squinting at the video feed in an attempt to get a better view. His jaw almost drops when you collapse onto the couch and fall still. Even through the grainy monitor he can tell that you’ve fallen asleep. What in the world is your deal? Who in their right mind would break into an abandoned establishment of dubious repute only to take a nap? He clasps his hands in thought as he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. This calls for a more… hands on investigation.

–

A tickling in your nose rouses you from your slumber and you begin to sneeze yourself awake with surprising force. You check your watch, barely 4 in the morning. You’ve only slept for an hour at most and exhaustion threatens to pull you back into sleep. It might too, if not for the insistent vibration of your phone in your pocket. You flip the cursed thing open without hitting the button to answer, bracing yourself for what you know you’ll see. 

Unsurprisingly, you’ve got 53 unread texts, 20 missed calls and 16 voicemails. You don’t need to check the contact info to know who they’re from. Against your better judgment you navigate to your sms messages and begin to read through the backlog when your phone finally stops buzzing. Some of the texts are pleading, others threatening. A few texts claim to “love you so much” and be “so fucking sorry”, while others rail at you “you fucking bitch” and “how dare you fucking run off like that?”. The messages paint a grim but unsurprising picture, a picture that’s unfortunately all too familiar. You raise your hand to the tender bruising that you know must be beginning to come to the surface on your neck before you navigate to your most recent voicemail. You flick on the speaker before staring into the green light of the screen. 

“Where the fuck are you, you fucking bitch?” You flinch as an angry voice fills the room. “You think you can fucking run away from me? You think you can fucking end shit? You’ve got another thing coming to you, used up fucking slut. The next time I lay eyes on you you’re fucking dead, you hear me? Run the fuck away from me again and see what happens. I’ll-” You don’t give the voicemail a chance to run its course. With a raw, frustrated scream you launch the phone across the room. It hits the wall with a satisfying clatter. The battery and casing skitter across the floor and the voicemail cuts out abruptly. Not satisfied with just cutting the bastard off you stomp across the room, still screaming, and smash your foot into the body of the phone. It gives with a satisfying crunch and you roar as you kick it for good measure, sending the now useless device across the room once again. All the fear and rage of the last few hours overcomes you and you let yourself scream until you run out of breath.

Suddenly a flash of something yellow through the hallway window catches your eye. You push your hair out of your face as you try to catch your breath, attempting to squint through the aged plexi-glass. A hulking, inhuman figure stands on the other side of the window, seeming to peer back at you. For a moment neither of you move, it seems to be taking you in as much as you’re taking it in. The strange standoff breaks when the figure, still indistinct through the dust and cracks in the glass, starts to move slowly and methodically towards the staffroom door.

Finally your brain springs into action. Shit. Whatever that is, it’s not good. You sweep your eyes frantically around the room, weighing your options. Any windows to the outside are boarded up, and the only door in or out is the one the massive yellow figure is making its way towards. The only viable option seems to be to take the defensive. There’s a tiny kitchenette against the wall, and you rush towards it in desperation. Frantically, you yank open the drawers in search of anything you might use to protect yourself. The best you can come up with is a wooden spoon. In another situation that might be laughable, but you can’t take a moment to consider how absurd you look brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. The rattle of the doorknob tells you that you’re out of time.

Whatever you had expected to be on the other side of that door it certainly wasn’t a massive yellow rabbit suit. It’s huge, so large that it has to duck to get its ears under the door frame. As it tilts its head to take you in, your blood runs cold. You hold your ground as the thing stalks closer, its movements slow and deliberate as it moves towards you. 

In a moment of desperation you launch yourself forward, attempting to dodge around the looming figure and make a dash for freedom. You don’t have a chance. A pair of strong arms wrap roughly around your waist, jerking you back with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. Your makeshift weapon clatters to the floor. A dark chuckle rumbles from the depths of the suit as a hand drags its way from your waist and up your chest to grab your chin.

“What. Have. We. Here?” The voice that comes from the suit is deep, taunting, and undoubtedly mascuine. He punctuates the last word with a rough but controlled yank, pulling your chin up and your head back into his chest. You whimper as it strains your already aching neck. With your head tipped back you can see the yellow rabbit head looming above you and it tilts to the side again as if in curiosity. “I asked you a question.”

“I-I-...” You can barely get your mouth to move and you lick your lips in a desperate attempt to draw words from them. Your obvious fear draws a satisfied hum from the depths of the suit and the hand on your waist tightens noticeably. The hand on your jaw however, disappears. You pull in a shaky gasp and buck your head forward in an attempt to build up enough momentum to break free. The vice-like grip on your waist is unaffected and your captor grunts in amusement. 

A rustling above your head draws your attention and you look up to realize that the hand that had just been holding your jaw captive is running along the neck of the suit. With a single, deft movement the head of the suit comes off and your captors face is revealed. There’s an almost rugged handsomeness to his mature features, graying stubble covering his cheeks and eyes that in another life may have looked almost kind. The expression he’s peering down at you with now is anything but kind or gentle though. There’s a hunger there, and a barely suppressed rage. He places the head on a nearby table and returns his hand to your jaw. With agonizing languidness he leans forward and presses his lips to your ear.

“Who gave you permission to sleep in my restaurant?” 

You gasp as his stubble rasps against your jaw and his hot breath ghosts across your face. 

“I’m sorry. I just needed a place to stay. I’ll leave right now. I’ll-”

He cuts you off. “A place to stay, huh?” His lips are still brushing against your ear and despite yourself you feel a chill run down your spine that has nothing to do with fear. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with that absolute delight of a man on the other side of the phone, would it?”

“He’ll kill me.” As soon as the words come out of your mouth you know they’re true. Honestly, you’re lucky to have survived him this long.

“Oh, little mouse, what makes you think I won’t?” The grip on your jaw releases for a moment and you hear something fall to the floor. When it returns it’s a very warm, very human hand that takes its place. His other hand briefly lets go to do the same and you can feel his nails digging into your flesh as he presses you against him. 

“Please.” It’s barely more than a whimper as the hand at your jaw dips to circle your neck. “I just needed somewhere safe.”

“And you chose here? Bad luck.” He presses his nose to your jaw and draws in a deep, ragged breath. “But you know, we might be able to work something out.” The hand at your waist begins to travel, burrowing its way under the hem of your shirt before splaying wide across your stomach. His long fingers barely brush the underside of your bra but you feel the heat of them as if there’s no fabric to separate you. “I’d hate to see a pretty thing like you put out in the cold.”

“Anything.”

–

William can barely contain himself. The feeling of your trembling body in his arms is oh so delicious and your intoxicating scent floods his nose, every breath sending a thrill through him. You’re so soft, so malleable, so utterly breakable. It’s brilliant. 

Using one hand to keep you pinned against him he uses the other to work his way out of the suit with practiced skill. Initially he’d just wanted to watch you, figure out the enigma that was your survival after breaking into his restaurant. Normally people don’t last for more than a few minutes. But you’d dithered around, chatted up his ace in the hole, and then taken a nap? He couldn’t contain his curiosity.

The phone call had derailed his plan and given him an idea. Sure, he had planned on killing you once he’d solved your mystery but maybe there were other things you could be useful for. There was something captivating about you, and the perfect leverage had just fallen straight into his lap. 

He makes quick work of the suit, and soon he’s reveling in the feeling of your body against his. 

“Anything?” He asks, stroking his thumb gently over your jugular before giving your throat a controlled squeeze. Your startled gasp is almost enough to send him reeling. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, little mouse.”

–

This is wrong. Everything about this situation is wrong.

And yet, your body seems to have some of its wires crossed because it is not getting the message. The only thing you should be feeling right now is fear, and sure, there’s a very healthy dose of that tying your guts in knots but beyond that there’s an underlying current of heat. None of what’s happening should be causing your core to tighten, and the goose bumps forming on your neck should be from terror.

But they’re not.

His hand drifts up even further, pushing your bra up and out of the way to capture the smooth skin of your breast in his hand. You can’t help it, you roll your hips back into his, pushing against the hardness that’s growing there at an almost alarming pace. He growls behind you, pulling you even closer to grind against your ass.

“So that’s how it is?” His voice in your ear is even deeper now, heavy with lust as he gives your breast a hard squeeze. Even you’re surprised when you let out a wanton moan. “Imagine such a dirty fucking slut falling right into my lap.” His words have you clenching around nothing and you don’t even have the presence of mind to feel conflicted about your body's reaction. He releases your breast and his hand burns a trail down to the top of your jeans, he flicks the button open with ease and slowly undoes your zipper. Then he stops, his hand ghosts over the crotch of your jeans before it stills. You let out a needy whimper that you barely recognize as your voice.

“Beg for it, little mouse.”

You groan, canting your hips forward in a desperate search for pressure. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, fuck me.”

His control seems to snap and he spins you around before shoving you across the room and face down into the couch, barely giving you time to yelp in surprise. He pulls your hips into the air before yanking down your jeans and panties in one harsh motion. The animalistic groan that escapes him at the sight of your dripping pussy sends a shock of arousal through you. He grabs a globe of your ass in each hand, digging his fingers in so hard that you gasp. His nails bite in deep enough that you’re sure they’ll draw blood. 

“God, look at you.” He grunts, releasing your ass and stepping back as if to admire the view. You hear the clinking of his belt buckle and wiggle in anticipation. “What a fucking freak you are, so fucking wet and ready for a strange man in an abandoned building.” He lifts his hand and lands a stinging blow on your ass. You flinch and yelp at the unexpected pain and he does it again on the other cheek. “Dirty slut.” The sting brings tears to your eyes, but it also causes your arousal to coil even tighter in your abdomen. 

Suddenly and without warning he grabs your hips and slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion. You scream as he stretches you, your channel burning around his thick cock. “Take it.” He grunts, slamming into you. All you can do is whimper in response as he sets a punishing pace, thrusting into you again and again. The burn eventually melts into a building and rising heat that threatens to sweep you away. 

Your scalp stings as he tangles his fist in your hair and yanks your head back, changing the angle so that he drives impossibly deeper into you with every stroke. Any train of thought you may have been able to carry is lost as he bombards you with pleasure. Your eyes roll back as your hands desperately grip the couch cushions. A few more thrusts and you’re coming undone, screaming out your release. He follows close behind you, letting go of your hair to grab your hips again. His fingers bite into you as he pulls you back against him, trapping you to him as he fills you. 

“Fuck.” He grunts, his voice raw and his hands trembling at your hips. You both still for a moment and your brain finally starts to realize what you’ve just done. But in the throbbing, warm throes of your afterglow you can’t seem to bring yourself to care how truly fucked up this situation is. When he finally releases his vice-like grip on your hips you groan at the loss of contact.

The chuckle that he gives is warmer than any of the others so far, and he gives your ass a final squeeze that you could almost consider affectionate before he steps away.

“Yes, I think we’ve come to a satisfying agreement.”

-----

I don't know what came over me last night, but this was the result. I've never written smut before, but I sure have read a lot so hopefully it's enjoyable.

[cadavercowboy]

Hot Rod

Anonymous said: i need a eddie munson fic where reader is pretty bold. I had a dream where i texted him "i wanna blow you" and he just responded "hot." i need this so bad 😭 Hmmm. *cracks knuckles* Alright, allow me to extrapolate a bit here... Idk why Eddie is a mechanic, it just felt right. I believe he would find this ridiculously hot and would lose his silly little mind if his girl got all confident and cocky about giving him the schlurpy durp.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You send Eddie some dirty texts and he takes full advantage of the opportunity afforded to him.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Sexting. Oral sex (it's sloppy toppy, guys!). Slight degradation. Face-fucking. Cum swallowing.

A/N: Reposting this because I privated the original and tumblr decided to fucking eat it. :-)

He heard the ping of his phone between the high-pitched whirs of Wayne’s pneumatic drill, though he’d ignored it on account of the grimy layer of black grease coating his fingers. Another ping and then a third let him know who it was texting him. A sudden sense of urgency had him ducking out from under the hood of the latest vintage car his uncle had him helping to rebuild so he could reach for the red rag on the workbench to clean his hands just enough to check his messages. The sight of your nickname splashed across the screen had prompted a small smile, but the content of your messages had his jaw falling slack.

“Eddieee…”

“I wanna blow you.”

Short. Sweet. Straight to the point. Eddie had licked his lips, fighting back a groan as he re-read the texts.

“Miss the way you feel in my mouth…wish I could taste you right now.”

The bold statement had caught Eddie off guard. While you’re far from a prude, it wasn’t usual for you to so blatantly express your desires. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but he knew a simple text wouldn’t suffice; he needs to give you precisely what you’ve asked for. Still, he couldn’t leave you hanging so he tapped out a lackluster response, knowing he’d make up for it shortly. 

“Hot.”

Eddie had stopped giving a shit about his greasy fingers as he dragged a hand through his hair and tried to come up with an excuse to give Wayne so he could get home to you. Sure, he felt a little guilty about flaking on his uncle, but the constriction in his pants won out over the one which tightened his chest.

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie called hesitantly.

His uncle popped up from his stooped position near the rear wheel of the cherry red Coupe, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I’m pretty beat,” Eddie lied easily. “Think I’m gonna call it a day, man.”

Wayne nodded as he stood, tossing a rusted bolt into a coffee can already half-full of discarded hardware. He wiped his hands on the stained material of his navy jumpsuit, wondering why his nephew had suddenly decided to pack it up for the night as he checked the dirty face of his watch.

“Alright, kid. I’ll probably be outta here pretty soon, too.”

Relieved that Wayne hadn’t questioned him, Eddie returned his tools to the rack and cleaned up his workspace so as to avoid any reprimanding from his uncle. His phone chirped again and he snuck a quick peek as inconspicuously as possible. He wished he hadn’t.

“Come home and fuck my throat.”

“Jesus goddamn Christ,” Eddie muttered, nearly dropping the device.

Wayne eyed him wordlessly, studying his shaggy-haired nephew as he fumbled with his cellphone and shoved it in his pocket for the second time in the last few minutes. He suspected the jingling electronic had something to do with Eddie’s sudden desire to leave, though he said nothing.

“See you tomorrow, Ed,” Wayne grumbled. “Tell your girl I said hello.”

Eddie’s steps faltered, unsure if his uncle’s words were intentional or if he’s just paranoid. Wayne noticed the hesitation but pretended he didn’t, instead burying his head in the engine of his car to hide his sly smirk. 

And that’s how Eddie ended up racing home to you and making it there in record time.

Though he knew you’d kill him for it, he texted you on the drive; punching the keys haphazardly — volleying his eyes between the road and the screen — to let you know he was on his way. He had every intention of testing to see whether you have the balls to back up what you’ve said and he knows you know that even without him saying so. Still, you pretended not to see his text. You feign ignorance as his booted feet come clamoring through the door.

“Baby?” Eddie calls, his voice nearly as tight as his pants had been the entire ride here.

He rounds the corner and spots you. You’re lounging on the sofa and watching something mindless on the television. You look so pretty dressed in nothing but a tattered Tom Petty tee, your bare legs stretched out and your ankles propped up on the arm of the couch. He’d love to bound across the room and ravish you right there on the worn green cushions, but he’d much rather have you make good on the earlier declarations you had made so confidently.

“Oh, you’re home,” you note with a smile, though your expression immediately darkens as you swing your body off the couch and begin to advance on him. “Finally.”

Eddie doesn’t even have a chance to say hello before you’re falling to your knees in front of him. His mouth drops open in disbelief and his arms raise at his sides; he’s not quite sure what else to do with them as your fingers deftly undo his belt and wrench his zipper down. You shove impatiently at his grease and oil-stained pants, shifting them just enough to get to what you want. There’s something so hot about the fact that you seem unphased that Eddie has come straight from work and hasn’t had a shower yet; his dick stiffens in agreement.

The warmth of your hand surrounds his half-hard erection as you reach under the waistband of his underwear and Eddie groans in bliss. Your texts already have him so torqued up, he fears he won’t last very long. If the jolts of electricity shooting through his body at the mere caress of your fingers are anything to go by, he’ll be lucky if his dick even makes it to your mouth.

“Been wanting this all day,” you purr as your fist pumps Eddie’s length, coaxing him to harden further.

His legs waver when he sees how hungrily you stare at his dick, your desperation written all over your face. Your wide, wet eyes peering up at him makes his cock throb in your hand and you lick your lips. He barely hears what you say when you mutter something about needing to taste him because your comment is lost among the sound of his broken moan as your lips surround his sensitive tip.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie whispers, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “That’s so…s’good.”

You suckle his swollen head, intermittently flicking your tongue across the weeping slit until Eddie’s knees nearly buckle. When you lean in to drag your soft lips further down his length, Eddie comes dangerously close to exploding. A muffled moan escapes you as you taste the heady flavor of Eddie’s skin mingling with his sweat. He sucks in air between his teeth, finally looking down at you again and delving his hands into your hair to guide your movements.

As much as you love when he takes control, you want to make Eddie feel good; specifically, you want him to relax and let you take care of him. Rather than heeding the pressure of his hands, you plunge your head forward and swallow as much of his cock as you comfortably can. 

Your throat constricts and your eyes begin to prickle with tears. The metal teeth of Eddie’s zipper drag along your chin when you widen your jaw to accommodate the size of him. Gently rocking your head side to side, you manage the last inch before Eddie is pulling away from you. He stops when your mouth is midway down his shaft, taking in the sight of your mouth stuffed full of him as his girth stretches your lips wide.

With your best puppy dog eyes and a dissatisfied whine, you silently plead with Eddie to allow you to proceed. You need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, need to bury your nose in the thatch of curls at his base until you’re gagging around him. You want it so badly. 

Eddie shudders when you swirl your tongue against the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock. Saliva gathers in the corners of your mouth as Eddie sits hot and hard between your parted lips, the slickness beginning to trickle down your chin. Something in Eddie’s gaze shifts in a way that both frightens and thrills you.

“You really want my cock that bad, huh?” he taunts, a hand circling under your jaw to force you to meet his eyes.

You nod your head carefully, your lips sliding against his turgid flesh with the movement. Eddie grunts in response as his thumb brushes along the corner of your mouth to gather some of the spit that leaks out. 

“Why don’t you let me fuck your pretty little mouth then?” he adds. “Just like you said earlier. Bet you didn’t think I’d follow through.”

Eddie’s words are stern but teasing, challenging you to prove that you aren’t all talk. He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead shoves his pants and underwear lower, baring his cock and balls and the length of his pale thighs to you. He shifts his feet and brings his other hand to your face, each of his thumbs hooking in either side of your mouth as he pulls out. 

“Look at me,” he commands, waiting until you obey before he continues. “Stick your tongue out.”

The wet flesh brushes against Eddie’s cock when you do, the heaviness of the appendage making your thighs clench. Eddie shoves his digits further into your mouth, tucking them between your teeth so you couldn’t close your mouth even if you wanted to. Saliva dribbles from your gaping mouth and he pushes the solid head of his cock through the moisture before shoving the stiff member back between your lips. 

“You look like such a pretty little slut. Keep your eyes on me and breathe through your nose,” is all the warning Eddie growls before he thrusts his hips forward.

The first press of his hard cockhead against the back of your throat is alarming and you flinch and cough, but Eddie doesn’t relent. He thrusts with steady and smooth strokes, his hefty cock dragging over your tongue and bumping the sensitive spot that makes you gag until tears spill from your eyes. You gag and splutter and each noise only spurs him on, the pathetic sounds earning a grunt of pleasure with each slip and slide of Eddie’s slick cock. 

“Stay just like that,” he snarls behind gritted teeth, making the demand as if you have any choice but to remain in his steadfast hold as he fucks your throat. “Be a good girl and let me use you.”

Just as expected, Eddie can feel his balls tightening with his impending orgasm. Adjusting your position, you brace yourself against Eddie’s forceful thrusts; cupping your hands around the backs of his bare thighs and hugging your body close to his so he can continue to fuck your face with ease.

You’re a mess of tears and drool and damn if he doesn’t wish he could stay here forever. Spit falls in steady globs on your chest, soaking your shirt. The wet sound of his cock sliding through the abundant moisture is going to be ingrained in Eddie’s head for a long, long time. Not to mention the way you whimper as you struggle to take him. 

A buzzing in his ears signals the nearness of his release and Eddie holds his breath as he buries every inch of his pulsing cock in your mouth. The swollen head slips just past the tightness of your esophagus and when the muscles squeeze him, Eddie loses it. 

He begrudgingly pulls back, only for the satisfaction of coating your tongue with the creamy spurts. You sniffle and whine when the warm drops hit your taste buds and fill your mouth. Though you do your best to keep it all contained, Eddie just keeps cumming and the abundant seed overflows and begins to ooze over your lower lip and down your chin. 

“Fuck,” Eddie sighs, fisting his cock and giving it a final shake to dispel the few drops that still seep from the tip. 

Not bothering to fix his disheveled clothes, Eddie crouches in front of you. He studies your soaked face and your full mouth, his cock twitching appreciatively at the debauched sight you make.

“Show me,” he whispers hotly.

You widen your jaw and stick your tongue out, careful not to let a single drop of Eddie’s cum escape. He inhales deeply, satisfied with your obedience and directs you to swallow it all. A shiver courses through you at the heated tone of Eddie’s voice, but you do as he asks. Your tongue peeks out to sweep any remaining spend from your lips, though Eddie beats you to it. 

His large hand cups the back of your head, pulling you in so he can capture your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. The sweet taste of you mingles with his own saltiness and Eddie moans into the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours until you’re breathless. 

“What the hell got into you?” Eddie pants with amusement as he observes you with adoration and surprise.

Joseph Quinn Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Emerald Hallow Chapter 2

Summary: Steve Rogers wants to move on.  He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century.  But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas.  He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good…and he’s not the only one who notices.  

**plus size reader 

Warnings: abo!dynamics, smutty smut smut, name calling, eventual threesome, voyeurism, rough sex

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Steve called her the next day.  Twelve hours was surely enough time.  He also felt like he was going to combust if he didn’t hear her voice again.  He was worried about how badly he wanted her, knowing that this kind of connection was something that wasn’t common.  His self control was hanging on by a thread, and with their date coming up at the end of the week he was trying his best to not think about it too much, or fixate on the way her emerald hair shone on stage, or the black lipstick that slightly stained his beard, the feel of her on his lap…

“Jesus, punk, I need to meet this girl.  If she’s got you all wound up like this,” Bucky laughed watching Steve pace back and forth from his closet, dropping clothes onto his bed, trying to figure out what to wear.  Steve growled at the mention of Bucky, a natural born Alpha, even coming close to Y/N.  Bucky raised his eyebrows at Steve’s challenge.  “Chill, man.  Not trying to come for her, just saying she sounds like quite the Omega if she’s got you of all people acting up.”

Steve’s glare relaxed on his face as he tried to breath through the anxiety in his body.  “I’m sorry, Buck.  I know, I’m trying to just…” he sat down on the small free space on his bed.  “I’ve never felt this before.  I don’t know how to handle it.  I’ve never felt so…out of control before.”  Bucky nodded, his eyes downcast.  “Have you?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“Besides being the Winter Soldier, no, my Alpha has never taken over,” Bucky said, shaking his head as his eyebrows furrowed.  “Maybe gotten the better of me here and there, but never anything like you’re describing.”

Steve sighed heavily as the jittery feeling ebbed and flowed through what felt like his very cells.  His body knew it was going to be around Y/N again in a few hours, and his Alpha hormones were thrumming, making his blood race and heartbeat rate spike periodically.  “I’m afraid that the second I see her, let alone smell her, that I’m going to do something I’ll regret.”

Bucky reached out over the pile of clothes and gripped Steve’s shoulder.  “You won’t.  If I’ve ever seen someone who is the ultimate gentleman, it’s you.  You won’t hurt her.  You won’t take advantage of her.  I know you won’t,” he reassured him, squeezing his shoulder before dropping his hand.  He pulled out a shirt and pants from the pile and held it out to him.  “Wear this.”

Steve grabbed the clothes from him and studied them, finally nodding as he stood to go change.  “Thanks…jerk.”

Bucky scoffed.  “Yeah, whatever.  Just think of Hydra any time you get too excited.”

A few hours later Steve stood waiting outside a themed restaurant that he thought she would like.  After seeing glimpses of the tattoos that were on her arms, and judging based on her hair and style that night at the jazz club, she was a Halloween enthusiast, and this place was a witchy, spooky themed restaurant with fancy cocktails and food.  Halloween was only a few days away, and he wanted to show her that he was paying attention and impress her.

He smelled her before he saw her, her scent whipping his face with the Autumn wind.  It nearly knocked him off balance, his hormones humming and buzzing as he turned towards her.  Y/N was wearing a large, rust orange overcoat with a knee length, pear-colored pinafore dress peeking out from underneath.  Her emerald hair complimented the colors well, now worn in a much more modern wavy curl style.  Her lips were natural this time, and he felt his own lips itch at wanting to grab her face and kiss her.  As she walked he could see her legs were covered with black sheer tights and tattoos that were haphazardly scattered across her thick calves.  She wore chunky Doc Martens and thick socks against the cold.  She gave him a brilliant smile as she approached.  Steve was physically holding himself back, biting his lower lip and his fingers on one hand pinching the other hand to keep his hands to himself.  

“Hey handsome,” Y/N greeted him, her signature smirk making his knees feel weak.

“Hi,” Steve said gruffly, looking her over hungrily.  “You look beautiful.”

“Aw, thanks,” she smiled widely.  “You’re insanely hot, as usual.”

Steve laughed loudly, the humor helping to lessen his anxiety.  “Insanely hot?  Wow, high praise.  I need to work on my compliments.”

“You say a lot with those pretty eyes of yours,” Y/N said cheekily.  Steve’s breath stuttered as she gazed up at him.  “You smell…delectable,” she sighed, giving him a dreamy look.  She reached out and swiped his coat, her fingers sliding over the knitted sweater he was wearing.  “And you look incredible in green, has anyone ever told you that?  It brings out the little bit of green in your eyes.”  Steve blushed deeply at her consistent compliments.  “Or…did you wear green because of me?” she stepped toward him, the heat of her body making her scent roll off her in waves.  “You wanted to match me, didn’t you?”  Steve couldn’t even try to save his pride as he nodded, his eyes fluttering as he swallowed harshly.  “You like my green hair?” she teased him, her long nails scratching through his sweater, making goosebumps erupt across his chest.  

“I like everything about you,” Steve whispered, his hand reaching for her hand on his chest and bringing it up to his face, kissing her open palm reverently.  This made the smirk on her face fall, her eyes widening slightly as she watched him.  “I have to be honest, I’m a very controlled man, but ever since that night I've been struggling to keep my composure with you.  So as much as I love this flirty back and forth, tread carefully, Omega,” he used her classification as a warning, his eyes flashing dangerously.  

Y/N blinked, his words seeming to strike her quiet momentarily.  Then her smirk slowly returned, her eyes looking playful.  “Yes, Alpha,” she said slowly.  Steve’s eyes rolled and his grip on her hand tightened.  She giggled and then turned to the restaurant.  “I’m starving,” she announced and walked away from him, pulling her hand out of his grasp.  Steve blew out a rough puff of air and followed her inside.

They got to know each other better during dinner, Y/N enjoying the cocktails as she explained a lot of the decor inside the restaurant to Steve, who wasn’t well versed in horror movies or Halloween in general.  They were sitting in a booth, and as the night drew on they moved from opposite ends to sitting next to each other.  Steve’s arm was behind her shoulders, his body angled toward her as she told him another story about her time singing at the jazz club.

“Usually it’s nothing but fun, but every once in a while there’s some drunk, self-obsessed Alpha that just can’t seem to understand the word ‘no,’” she said offhandedly, taking another sip of her third cocktail.

Steve squirmed in his seat, unhappy with this piece of information.  “Really?”

Y/N nodded, setting the cocktail down and adjusting her dress that had risen up her thighs.  “Such an ass.  Like let me sing the damn song, dude.”

“Is he there often?” Steve asked, looking down at her thighs, his free hand tightening into a fist.  Y/N nodded as she took a bite of the dessert he ordered.  “Why don’t they ban him?”

She scoffed, her eyes rolling dramatically.  “He’s the manager’s brother.  Doesn’t matter how many complaints there have been, he doesn’t take me seriously.  I’m just the ‘talent,’” she said, her fingers tightening around the fork in her hand. 

Steve bristled, his anger bubbling deep in his belly.  His jaw ticked as he tried to calm himself.  “When do you sing next?”

Y/N gave him a suspicious look.  “Tomorrow night, why?”

“I’d just like to come see you sing again,” Steve said unconvincingly, his arm behind her wrapping around her more firmly.  Her eyes narrowed at him but she merely smiled as she stabbed another piece of the dessert with her fork and then held it up to his lips.  Steve smiled at her offering and opened his mouth, letting her feed him.  Something about that action made the Alpha in him hum with satisfaction as he ate.

“Oh, you got a little…” Y/N pointed towards his mouth.  Steve tried licking his lips, but she shook her head.  “It’s just…here,” she lifted her fingers to his lips, her thumb wiping a piece of chocolate off the side of his mouth.  She pulled her hand away but Steve moved forward quickly and bit her thumb softly, sucking the chocolate off.  Her eyes widened and she sucked in a short gasp.  He watched her as he licked her thumb then released it, their faces much closer together now than before.  He took his chance and leaned forward, his nose nuzzling hers.

Y/N smiled, her eyes fluttering as she breathed him in.  She angled her head as her body shifted to face him, then dragged her lips from his cheek down to his neck.  Steve froze, afraid that if he moved he’d take her on the table right there and then.  She nuzzled his neck gently, then he felt her tongue lick his scent gland.  His hands turned to fists as she sucked softly on his skin, his scent strengthening as she scented him.  People at the tables around them shifted uncomfortably as his pheromones reverberated across the restaurant.

“Y/N,” Steve whimpered.  “Please…”

She pulled away, licking her lips and her hand squeezing his knee.  “Your place or mine, handsome?”

A deep growl rumbled in his chest and he threw a few bills on the table before taking her hand and ripping her out of the booth.  Y/N quickly grabbed her coat and laughed as he pulled her out of the restaurant.  He led her to his car and helped her in before slamming the door and winding over to his side, sliding in and peeling out of the parking spot and towards his apartment.  The whole way he kept a hand on her thigh, squeezing firmly, trying to ground himself.  His hormones were going haywire, making her own scent get stronger.  As her desire grew her scent became spicier, making his eyes and mouth water, his grip on the steering wheel warping the leather.  When they finally reached his apartment he helped her out and pulled her inside.  Once the door was closed behind her he caged her against the it with his arms.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Steve breathed heavily, his eyes hungrily looking her over, watching her chest rise and fall.  “If we do this, I won’t be able to stop myself.  I’m surprised I’ve made it this far.  If you let me have you, I won’t let you go, Omega,” he grunted.  

Y/N sighed, her eyebrows turning upwards as she licked her lips again.  “I want this, Steve.  I want you.  Let me have you,” she reached up and grabbed his face, pulling him into a heated kiss.

The second their lips met Steve lost all control.  He pulled her against him roughly, his kiss too hard, his tongue shoving its way passed her lips and into her mouth to taste her hastily.  His hands blindly pulled at her clothes, unhooking her dress, taking her shirt off while leading her to his bedroom.  Her hands did the same to him, touching him all over his chest and stomach as she pushed his sweater and undershirt up and over his head.  When he finally got her completely bare before him he picked her up and threw her on his bed.  She yelped and then laughed when she hit the bed.

“I don’t think anyone has ever lifted me before,” Y/N smiled, watching him as he took his pants and underwear off, her eyes bugging as she stared at his large cock.

“I’m not like anyone else,” Steve smirked as he crawled up onto the bed.  His hands felt every inch of skin, massaging the plushy flesh on her body, his fingers dipping into every curve and dimple and admiring the array of tattoos that littered her skin.  His lips were not far behind, kissing, licking and sucking as he moved up her legs.  Without warning when he reached her core in between her legs he dove right in, inhaling deeply as his tongue licked between her slit.  Y/N gasped loudly, her hands gripping the blanket beneath her.  Steve couldn’t stop tasting her, her slick slowly oozing from her as he worked her towards her orgasm.  His fingers parted her lower lips and he eased one finger into her, pumping slowly as she keened at the feeling.  He quickly added another finger, the tip of his tongue flicking her clit quickly then slowing down.  He added another finger, and her back arched as her slick made his fingers squelch in and out of her. 

He sucked her clit harshly as his fingers quickened, curling inside of her just right.  Y/N moaned, then it turned into a shriek as her orgasm washed over her.  Steve continued sucking and fucking her with his fingers as she rode out the orgasm, his own deep moan vibrating into her pussy as he smushed his face into her.  Her legs twitched as she calmed down and Steve finally pulled his fingers out, sucking at her slick on his fingers.

“Taste so good, Omega,” he said lowly as he lifted his wet fingers to her mouth.  Y/N obeyed and opened her mouth, licking and sucking at her slick on his fingers.  She gripped his wrist with her hand and continued sucking two of his fingers, her eyes focused on his face as she sucked them like she would his cock.  Steve groaned at the feeling of her tongue on him, and he quickly moved up and pulled his fingers from her mouth, kissing her lewdly.  Her arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him against her as he nestled his hips between her legs, his cock sliding between her lower lips.  He took his cock in his hand and lined himself up with her pussy.  Y/N’s ankles hooked behind his ass and pulled him towards her, shoving his cock deep inside her in one thrust.  They both moaned against each others’ mouths as he filled her.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N whispered against his lips.  “So good, Steve…fuck,” she rolled her hips against him, trying to get him to move.

“My needy Omega,” Steve huffed a laugh, then pulled his hips back and snapped them back into her.  Y/N’s mouth dropped open, her eyes shutting tight as he filled her again.  Steve kissed her all over her face and down to her neck, nosing her scent gland and licking and sucking at it roughly as he thrusted repeatedly into her.  His hands kneaded her breasts, pinching and flicking her nipples until his mouth could replace them and suck and lick at them.  Y/N’s hands were all over him, then ultimately settled on running her fingers through his hair and giving the back of his head a harsh tug.  Steve whimpered at that, his hips trembling.  “Fuck, do that again,” he said as his left arm dug underneath her shoulders and cradled her head in the crook of his elbow, keeping his body close to hers.  Y/N smiled as she scratched his scalp again with both hands, her long nails leaving a tingling sensation as they ran down his head until she gripped his hair and pulled.  Steve whimpered more loudly, his breath fanning her face as he kept himself cheek to cheek with her.  “You’re so good…Y/N…my pretty Omega,” Steve’s free hand slid between their bodies and his thumb started rubbing at her clit as he thrusted faster.  Y/N’s voice rose in pitch, a steady stream of rushed breaths at his thrusts spilling from her lips.

“Knew you were mine from the second I scented you,” Steve groaned, leaning down to lick her gland again.  “Up there singing to me, like a goddamn tease,” he nipped at her neck, making her gasp.  “Prettiest voice I ever heard,” he said.  “Be mine.”

Y/N’s hips twitched, her pussy fluttering around him.  He could feel his knot starting to catch inside her as he became more desperate for her answer.  She tensed at the feeling.  “I’m…I’m my own,” she said, her voice sounding heavy with emotion.  Steve looked at her in alarm, worried he’d said something wrong.  “But I’ll be yours, as long as you’ll be mine,” she said resolutely, her eyes starting to fill with tears.  

Steve nodded fervently.  “I was yours the moment I found you,” he promised.  Y/N blinked rapidly as his knot grew, the tears finally slipping from the sides of her eyes.  “I’ve never wanted anything, anyone, like I want you.  Can I have you…please?” he nipped near her gland again.

Y/N let out a small sob, bringing his head back up and kissing him deeply.  “Yes, Alpha.  I’m yours.”

Steve smiled and kissed her again, his hips thrusting four more times until his knot fully inflated and he came inside her, groaning loudly.  Y/N was right behind him as he flicked her clit, her squeal being muffled by his lips on hers.  He rutted against her as he filled her up, then he broke the kiss and licked down to her neck.  He kissed her gland before opening his mouth wide and biting down on it.  

Y/N’s back arched as he bit her, her hands scratching his back as it triggered another smaller orgasm.  She whimpered and he growled at her pussy squeezing him again.  Their scents combined as he let go of her neck and licked it to sooth the bite.  She was now his mate, and he was hers.  It all went a lot faster than either of them were expecting, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to care.  He moved them both to lay on their sides, holding her close to his chest as they waited for his knot to deflate.  

Steve tickled her spine with the tips of his fingers, randomly kissing the top of her head and forehead as his breathing evened out.  Y/N’s arm that was wrapped around his body squeezed him and she kissed the spot above his heart on his chest.  He smiled and looked down at her.  “My Omega,” he whispered, nuzzling her cheek with his nose.

[skxllz]

warnings; mentions of cancer risk, implications of abuse, implied homophobia

the rattling of steel clanged around, signifying that someone was climbing the rusted ladder of the fire escape. you were burning a cigarette on the side, hanging over the railing and looking down at the passing people that laughed, talked, and just so happened to be drunk.

it was eleven forty on a saturday night after all.

“ hey, y/n! ” mickey's voice caught your attention, causing you to look up and for him to grin — until he saw the wisps of smoke. he followed it, up until his eyes landed on your cigarette.

“ the fuck? ”

a frown instantly pulled at his lips. that's when ian climbed up behind ‘im on the ladder and pulled himself up, only to dust his hands onto his jeans. “ what is it? ” ian questioned, looking at mickey with raised brows — then, his head slowly turned to you.

they both had frowns on their faces after that.

you flicked your cigarette over the railing and to the ground below, ridding it from their sight, and yours, completely. “ I don't see what the big deal is with me smoking. ”

“ you promised you wouldn't anymore. ” ian shot back, face hard with emotion. “ y/n, lung cancer runs in your family and last time you were at the doctors- ”

“ I know. ” you scoffed, looking away. “ I know, they found cells and I was at high risk. i just... ” your eyes were darting back and forth as you thought, debating if you should tell your boyfriends about the trouble that's been going on in your life. it was difficult to decide.

“ you just? ” mickey mocked, waving his hands about, “ you just what? spit it the fuck out. ” he was irritated because someone he loved went behind his back and did something he shouldn't have. of course he'd let his anger get the best of ‘im.

you sigh, “ I've been stressed, alright? and angry.. ” tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let anything fall; holding them back with immense strength. “ m’ mum, she's... not supportive of my sexuality. that's why I never introduced her to you guys. ”

ian's brows knitted together at this new found out information. of course, him and mickey knew you had secrets —they had only known you around eight months—, but they never thought it'd be something like that. something they could relate to, of all things.

of course it was serious, but why wouldn't you go to them about it?

mickey glanced at ian, before approaching you slowly with a softening expression. he himself knew what it was like to have a parent that wasn't accepting. “ y/n... ” you flinched as he put a hand on your forearm, and that made him reel his arm back.

he was nearly offended — but then he glanced down, eyeing the arm that was covered by the thin sleeve of a hoodie. your mother couldn't have... could she?

even if he wanted to ask, he didn't, because he knew he'd kill the bitch. right now, you needed comforted — and as selfish as mickey could be, now wasn't the time.

“ baby, ” mickey's voice came out quieter, “ why didn't you come to us — to me? you know we wouldn't judge you.. ” he huffed a laugh of irony. “ hell, terry hates my fucking guts cause ‘m gay, man. ”

you wouldn't meet his gaze, but you nodded in acknowledgement to his words, letting out a shaky breath. “ I.. I know. I just didn't want to bother you guys with my problems. ”

“ bother us? ” this time ian scoffed, approaching the both of you until he was standing directly next to mickey. “ if you bothered us, we would've told you to beat it awhile ago y/n. ”

“ yeah, ” mickey eyed you, blue eyes taking in the sight of your own shifty ones. of course you were nervous. “ but you're not botherin’ us. so stop beatin’ around the bush about shit from now on, alright? ”

you were silent for a moment, thinking over mickey and ian's words — taking in the fact that yeah, they were telling the truth. these two don't keep people around, especially mickey, if they didn't like them. so in a way, you guess you were lucky.

that's when you lifted your head to smile slightly at the two, “ y’know I love you guys, right? ”

mickey smirked. “ enough to suck my d- ”

ian smacked him in the back of the head. mickey scowled in reply, rubbing at his head, but said nothing.

the red head turned to look at you with a sweet smile, “ what he meant to say, was he enough to stop smoking, right? ”

you were grinning widely, cheeks rosey from mickey's earlier comment. god you loved them. “ yeah... yeah, enough to stop smoking. ”

[seongwars]

away with the wind | xii

Pairing: dragonrider!Seonghwa x ex-dragonrider!Reader AU: dragon rider au | strangers -> lovers Summary: A spinal injury forces you to retire from dragon racing, and with it, the end of your engagement to Song Mingi. Park Seonghwa, a rising star in the world of dragon racing and heir to the prestigious House Park, seeks a new dragon after an unfortunate accident on the skyway. As the saying goes, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Word Count: 6.1K Warnings: violence, kidnapping, mentions of trafficking, cirrus running a fade on everyone 👀

Fic Masterlist

Seonghwa’s fingers trembled as he frantically checked his phone, swiping through a barrage of notifications with growing urgency. Each swipe only intensified his anxiety as he refreshed the screen, desperately hoping for a response from you. The seconds felt like hours.

Finally, a new notification from your number flashed on the screen, its recent timestamp offering a glimmer of hope. With a swift tap, he opened the message, his heart racing as he scanned the attachments. The photos revealed containers in a warehouse each with evidence of illegally captive dragons being transported. His pulse quickened as he took in the details.

As the gravity of the findings sank in, Seonghwa’s focus momentarily shifted from the information at hand. He scanned the room noting the guests' relaxed demeanor as they listened to the guide's animated explanations. The guide, a man with a wide smile and a practiced enthusiasm, moved from exhibit to exhibit, encouraging visitors to admire and even handle the displays. 

Taking advantage of the distraction, Seonghwa subtly signaled to Hongjoong and his father. His gesture was almost imperceptible—a slight, urgent tilt of his head—conveying the gravity of the situation without drawing undue attention.

“Y/N and Yunho sent over some footage,” he said, his voice steady but charged with a sense of urgency. 

Lord Kim’s face tightened as he absorbed the information. His brows furrowed deeply, a sign of his deepening concern. “Containers?” he asked in a hushed tone, his eyes already betraying a grim understanding of the implications.

He leaned in closer, his face darkening as he absorbed the details. The camera panned methodically over the wreckage, capturing the size and shape of each cage with meticulous precision. Scorch marks varied—some indicated intense, localized heat, while others suggested prolonged exposure to flames. Broken restraints lay scattered haphazardly, some still hanging from the remnants of the cages, others strewn across the floor, rusted and mangled. The scene painted a vivid, distressing picture of the aftermath, hinting at the horrors that had unfolded within those walls.

“This is grave indeed,” Lord Kim murmured, his voice low and strained as he crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze remained fixed on the screen, absorbing the full extent of the destruction. The room around them seemed to fade as the reality of the situation became all too clear.

Hongjoong, ever vigilant, glanced over his shoulder to ensure that the guests remained engrossed in the guide’s enthusiastic explanations. The guide continued to weave his tale with animated gestures, oblivious to the urgency unfolding nearby.

“I suspect the illustrious Lady Lee had a hand in this,” he deduced, his tone carrying a hint of grim certainty. “If they’re trafficking dragons, we need to understand what they’re using these creatures for.”

Seonghwa nodded, his expression grim as he absorbed Hongjoong’s words. “No need,” he said quietly. “They’re most likely related to their hybrid dragons.”

The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air. The footage, the suspicion of Lady Lee’s involvement, and the hint of dark experiments painted a troubling picture. Their next steps would need to be calculated and swift if they were to unravel the full scope of the operation and put a stop to it.

You and Yunho quickly retraced your steps out of the warehouse and into the nearest corridor, seamlessly slipping into your roles as oblivious tourists who had simply taken a wrong turn. Yunho whipped out his phone, launching a holographic map with a flourish that was more theatrical than necessary. He pretended to study it with exaggerated concentration, every movement designed to convince anyone who might be watching that you were just another pair of lost sightseers. You mirrored his act, glancing around with a look of bewildered confusion, as though you were desperately trying to make sense of your unfamiliar surroundings.

As you strolled past several guards stationed along the corridor, their gazes barely flickered in your direction. Your casual, nonchalant demeanor was convincing, but the tension coiled in your chest was nearly suffocating. Each step you took seemed to amplify the pounding of your heart, while the growing clamor of the busy lobby ahead offered a semblance of safety and a potential escape route.

The grand entrance of the lobby soon came into view, its opulence a stark contrast to the grim reality of the warehouse. You exhaled a small, controlled sigh of relief as you stepped into the expansive, bustling space. 

In a carefully rehearsed move, you exclaim loudly with just the right amount of faux anxiety, “Oh no, I think we’ve been separated from the group!” Your exclamation was deliberately loud enough to draw attention but still fit comfortably within the ambiance of the bustling lobby.

Yunho immediately picked up on the cue, adopting a tone that mixed concern with a casual air. 

“Let’s try asking someone for directions. Maybe they can help us find our group.” His words were directed at you, but his tone was deliberately pitched to be overheard by nearby staff, laying the groundwork for your ruse.

Nodding in agreement, you headed toward the front desk, adopting just the right amount of distress, signaling your need for the receptionist’s assistance. The act of maintaining your cover was crucial if you wanted to make it out of the lab alive. 

“Excuse me,” you began, your voice edged with concern as you approached the front desk. “We seem to have lost our group. Could you help us find our way back to them?”

The receptionist looked up from her computer, her expression shifting from mild annoyance to professional concern as she took in your urgent tone. Her eyes flicked briefly to Yunho, who was standing slightly behind you, maintaining a stance of worried agreement.

“Of course,” the receptionist said, her voice warm and accommodating. “Let me see if I can assist you. Could you please provide me with the name of your group or the tour you’re supposed to be with?”

You and Yunho exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible glance. Yunho stepped forward, his expression confident as he leaned an arm casually against the desk. With a charming smile that seemed to light up the room, he said, “We were with members of the Assembly.”

The receptionist’s eyes widened slightly, clearly impressed by Yunho’s presence. “Ah, the Assembly,” she repeated, her tone now tinged with a hint of respect. “Let me check the records for you.”

As she turned to her computer, Yunho glanced back at you, a playful glint in his eye. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I’ve got this.”

You shook your head, laughing at his confidence. Yunho had always had a way with people, effortlessly putting them at ease and winning them over with his charm. It made you wonder why he dedicated so much time to work instead of enjoying a social life.

“Ah, Y/N!” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “Dr. Kang?” you blinked, genuine surprise coloring your voice as you locked eyes with him. His sudden appearance is far from welcome—it’s a complication that could unravel everything. But you quickly regain your composure, forcing a polite smile.

“We were just exploring and accidentally got separated from our tour group,” you explained, adopting a tone that was light and almost apologetic. You gestured vaguely around you, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s so easy to lose track of where you are in such a big place.”

“I’m glad I'm not the only one,” Yeosang breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought I was the only one who had taken a wrong turn.”

You nodded sympathetically, maintaining your facade of innocence. “We’re just trying to find our way back to the group.”

“Do you mind if I tag along? Perhaps we can find them together?”

You take a moment to craft your response, aiming to keep the conversation engaging while steering it away from anything incriminating. “Of course, if you don’t mind being surrounded by Assembly members and endless discussions about bureaucracy.”

“Excuse me, your group should be at the reception area,” the receptionist interrupted. Thank gods, you thought to yourself. “The location should be down that corridor and to the left.”

As you strolled down the corridor, your senses remained on high alert. Yeosang continued his small talk with Yunho, pointing out the differences in Cromer’s work against the Institute, but the tension between you was palpable. His questions were too pointed, his interest too keen. Each step, each glance exchanged, felt like a delicate dance on the edge of a precipice.

After a tense journey through the corridors, you and Yunho finally spot Seonghwa and Hongjoong milling about in one of the larger exhibition rooms that doubled as the reception space. The sight of them is a small relief, a sign that you’re successfully blending back into the crowd. 

“It seems we found your group,” Dr. Kang chuckled, his eyes still sharp and observant.

“Thank you, Dr. Kang,” you say, maintaining the pretense of gratitude. Yunho echoes your thanks, his tone equally courteous. You begin to step away, eager to merge with the group and escape the unnerving presence of Yeosang.

But just as you’re about to join the others, Yeosang’s voice cuts through the air, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Y/N, could you stay back for a moment?” Yeosang’s tone is light, almost casual, but there's an undertone that made your heart skip a beat.

Yunho hesitated, glancing at you with concern. Yeosang quickly added, “Just a quick chat about some of your findings. Nothing too serious.” His smile was friendly, but his eyes betrayed a deeper intent, making you wary.

You share a quick, silent exchange with Yunho, a look that says, I’ll be fine. He nods reluctantly and continues toward the group, though his pace is slower, his posture tense, clearly remaining on edge.

Turning back to Yeosang, you forced a smile, trying to match his casual demeanor. “Of course, what do you need to discuss?”

He motioned for you to follow him to a quieter corner of the exhibition room, away from the prying eyes and ears of the other visitors. As you walked, the weight of the situation weighed down on you. 

“Did you find anything interesting?” he asked, his voice low and casual, though his sideways glance hinted at a more probing interest. “I’d love to know what you’ve uncovered.”

You met his gaze with careful neutrality, the flicker of tension still fresh in your mind. “I didn’t get very far,” you lied, choosing your words with deliberate precision. “I tried comparing the markers from the Kuku to my Dreamwood as an example, but it’s been challenging to draw any definitive conclusions.”

“Challenging?” Yeosang’s interest seemed to intensify, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed your response. 

“The markers are quite distinct from what we have in our records. There are some similarities, but the differences are significant enough that it complicates the comparison. I’m still working on isolating the variables and trying to make sense of the discrepancies.”

Yeosang’s expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration, his eyes studying you with a sharp focus. “Interesting. It sounds like you’re onto something, even if it’s not immediately clear. Why don’t you stop by the lab next week? We can look at it together and see if we can make any progress.”

The offer seemed genuine on the surface, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that his interest was more than just academic. 

“Sure, I’d appreciate the help,” you replied, forcing a note of enthusiasm into your voice. 

Yeosang’s smile widened, and he gave a nod of satisfaction. “Great. I’ll look forward to it.” With that, he gestured for you to rejoin the group, the conversation having ended as quickly as it began.

Yunho stood at the edge of Seonghwa’s office, his eyes fixed on the expansive holographic display that now filled the room. The footage, captured from multiple angles, hovered in mid-air, creating a three-dimensional map of every corner and crevice.

Every detail of the warehouse was exposed, from the scuffed concrete floors to the claw marks on the containers, as if the very fabric of the space had been unraveled before him.

“Find anything?” Seonghwa’s voice broke through the silence.

Yunho let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he shook his head. 

“No,” he said, his tone resigned. “This was all the evidence we were able to capture before the guards showed up. The footage is thorough, but it doesn’t reveal much beyond what we already knew.”

He paused, his eyes tracing the holographic image of the shackles displayed prominently on the screen. 

“The only thing that’s clear is that these restraints are small enough to fit juveniles, not adults.”

Seonghwa nodded thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he considered the implications. “It’s easier to capture juveniles than adults for illegal experimentation, that’s for sure,” he remarked. The words hung in the air, a chilling reminder of the dark nature of their investigation.

There was a brief silence, filled only by the faint hum of the holographic display. Seonghwa’s gaze flicked to his desk, where his phone lay ominously silent. 

“Have you heard from Y/N?” he asked, his tone tinged with concern. “I can’t get through to her.”

Yunho’s expression tightened, his worry evident. “No word from her yet. I know she was going to stop by the lab today but haven’t heard from her since.”

“Dr. Kang, Y/N is here,” Sumin’s voice rang out clearly, breaking the soft hum of activity in the Biology lab. The secretary’s announcement echoed slightly in the pristine, white-walled corridor, his tone both professional and cordial.

The door to the lab slid open smoothly, and you stepped into the room, expecting to be greeted by the usual flurry of activity. Instead, you were met with an unusual silence. The bright, artificial lighting cast a sharp, sterile glow over the expansive space, revealing an array of scientific instruments and glassware meticulously arranged across gleaming countertops.

“Dr. Kang?” you called out, your voice carrying through the empty lab but receiving no immediate response. The sound of your voice seemed to dissipate into the vast space, adding to the surreal feeling of the room.

You glanced around, noting the various research stations, each one perfectly maintained but empty of human presence. The silence was punctuated only by the occasional hum of machinery or the soft whirr of ventilation.

As you ventured deeper into the labyrinth of workstations, you stumbled upon an array of dragon limbs, meticulously dissected and strung up on giant hooks. Each limb, massive and lifesize, dwarfed the average man, their sheer scale a testament to the dragons' formidable presence. 

The dissected pieces, preserved with clinical precision, revealed layers of sinew, muscle, and scale, stretching far beyond the dimensions of any human limb. Though lifeless, the specimens carried an eerie dignity, their vibrant, iridescent scales catching the cold, fluorescent light that loomed over everything in the room.

“Y/N, I see you’re here,” a voice broke through the sterile silence, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned, your gaze still lingering on the lifeless limbs. "What is this?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words catching in your throat as the chilling scene unfolded before you. The magnitude of it all made the air feel thick and heavy, like the remnants of something forbidden were pressing down on you, demanding answers that you weren't sure you wanted to hear.

“The future,” he replied smoothly, “Dragons are more than just relics of the past. Their strength, their resilience, it’s all right here, waiting to be harnessed by my hands.”

His words cut through the suffocating silence like a blade, and a shiver ran down your spine. The implications of his statement settled in—a future built on the bones of creatures that once ruled the skies, reduced to specimens and parts for human gain. 

“This is wrong,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. 

“Doing this under the Institute’s nose is illegal—you know that.” Your heart pounded as the enormity of the situation settled in. “You can’t just—”

Yeosang’s expression shifted, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before he masked it with a calm, almost dismissive indifference. 

“Has anyone ever told you that your deduction skills are—” he paused, a thin smile curling at the edges of his lips, “admirable, but rather inconvenient? You’ve become quite the detective with all the snooping you and your ragtag gang of friends have been up to. I imagine having access to Park Seonghwa’s connections and Kim Hongjoong’s resources has been oh-so-convenient for you.”

“W-What are you talking about?” you demanded, taking a step back. 

His words struck a nerve, and you stiffened. How did he know about your deep dive into Ajax’s lineage? The realization that your investigation was no longer hidden sent a chill through you.

“Requesting a sequencing report, now that’s quite specific,” Yeosang remarked, his tone laced with a mix of condescension and grudging admiration. “Only someone looking to compare two different types of genetic material would go that route. It’s a bold move, bordering on reckless.”

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as if assessing you with newfound respect, or perhaps wariness. “Then you discovered the warehouse,” Yeosang continued, his tone admiring yet laced with an unsettling edge. 

“How did you–” you whispered, your voice faltering as you struggled to comprehend the gravity of his words. “You weren’t at the lab by chance.”

Yeosang tilted his head slightly, a mocking glint flickering in his eyes. “Oh, not at all, Y/N,” he replied, his voice smooth and casual. “It’s quite impressive, really, how far you’ve managed to get.”

He paused for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. “I must admit, Park Seonghwa isn’t as daft as I initially presumed,” Yeosang continued, his tone shifting to one of begrudging acknowledgment. “I didn’t expect him to connect the dots so quickly. But that’s the thing about talent—it occasionally shows up in the most unexpected places.”

“But even with all of his cleverness and the Kim’s vast network, you’re still playing a dangerous game, meddling in things far beyond your understanding. You’ve poked your nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

“You can’t just play god because you think you know better than everyone else,” you shot back, your voice trembling with defiance and fear.

Yeosang’s lips curled into a cold, predatory smile. “Oh, but I don’t think I’m better than everyone else,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

“I know I am.”

His eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your blood run cold. “You see, the difference between us is that I understand the stakes and I’m willing to see them through. You, on the other hand, are just a pawn in a game you can’t even begin to comprehend.”

A chill ran through you as his words sank in. Something about his tone felt off, the confidence in his stance unnerving. 

“You should’ve stayed out of it,” a voice said, smooth and tainted with disappointment. The sound sent a jolt of shock through your system, your heart stuttering as you turned to face the source.

“Wooyoung?” you breathed, your eyes widening as he stepped into view. There he stood, casually leaning against a workstation, his presence out of place in the dimly lit lab. Your mind reeled, the pieces of a sinister puzzle snapping into place with a clarity that felt like a punch to the gut. 

“You’ve been feeding him information this whole time?”

Wooyoung shrugged, his expression calm and unapologetic. “I didn’t think anything of it until you started getting involved.” Wooyoung moved closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. 

“You wanted to be a hero, didn’t you?” he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “To uncover the truth and save the day? You flew too close to the sun Y/N. And now you’re about to get burned.”

“Jung Wooyoung, how… how could… c-could y-you…” you slurred, your voice barely a whisper as a sharp pain bloomed at the base of your neck. The words struggled to leave your lips, each syllable a battle against the sedative coursing through your veins. Your legs gave way beneath you, and you crumpled to the ground, the world around you spinning into a blur.

Wooyoung’s expression remained impassive, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you fall. There was no hint of emotion in his eyes, just a cold detachment that sent a shiver down your spine. The edges of your vision darkened, and you fought to keep your eyes open, to stay conscious just a little longer.

Above you, Yeosang’s face hovered, his expression cold and clinical. He withdrew the needle with a practiced ease, his gaze never wavering from yours. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only a chilling resolve.

“When you wake up, you’ll be able to fly again,” Yeosang murmured, his voice a soft, almost soothing contrast to the harsh reality of the situation. His words echoed in your mind as the darkness finally claimed you, pulling you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Cirrus’ nose twitched, sensing something amiss. The bond linking your minds flickered with distress and confusion, and the dragon’s primal instincts surged to the surface. She felt your fear, your pain, and the sudden, terrifying drop in your consciousness.

She thrashed against the cavern walls, her eyes blazing with fierce, protective fury. A deafening bellow erupted from her, demanding to know where you were and why you were in danger. The sound echoed through the caverns, a call of desperation and anger.

“Cirrus!” your grandmother shouted, her voice nearly drowned out by the dragon’s roars. She raised her hands, trying to project a sense of calm, but Cirrus’s eyes, glowing with an intense, wild light, were locked on the horizon. She wasn’t listening. She couldn’t. The only thing that mattered was finding you.

With a final, bone-chilling roar, Cirrus made her decision. The ground shook from the force of her takeoff, and in an instant, she was soaring into the sky, leaving the chaos of the caverns behind.

Your grandmother watched in helpless dismay as Cirrus disappeared into the clouds, her heart pounding with fear and uncertainty.

BREAKING NEWS – DRAGON FLYING TOWARDS CROMER LABS, ALL CIVILIANS IN THE AREA EVACUATED

“Seonghwa,” Yunho panicked, thrusting his phone at Seonghwa, the live footage of Cirrus charging at full speed toward Cromer Labs filling the screen. “You should see this.”

Seonghwa’s heart dropped as he watched a familiar lavender dragon streak across the sky, her massive wings slicing through the air with terrifying precision. Cirrus was in a frenzy, and there was no mistaking her target. Cromer Labs loomed in the distance, its cold, clinical exterior standing stark against the dragon’s wild, primal energy.

As the facility came into view, Cirrus let out a ferocious roar that echoed through the skies like a battle cry. The sound reverberated with a force that shook the very earth, and Seonghwa knew this wasn’t just a dragon on the loose—this was a guardian seeking her bonded.

“Shit.” 

Seonghwa didn’t hesitate. Without another word, he sprinted through the estate, his mind racing. He had to reach Cirrus before she tore the lab apart—or worse, before the lab’s defenses and keepers decided she was too great a threat to let live.

He called out for Starshine, his voice cutting through the night air with urgency. The response was immediate as Seonghwa vaulted onto her back, gripping the reins tightly.

“Let’s go,” he urged, and with a powerful leap, Starshine launched into the sky. 

The wind roared in Seonghwa’s ears as they soared toward the lab, the landscape below blurring into a patchwork of dark fields and city lights. He could see the trail of destruction Cirrus had left in her wake, the telltale signs of her fury etched into the ground.

The lab’s alarms blared, a cacophony of sound that only fueled Cirrus’s rage. She landed with a ground-shaking impact, her claws carving deep gouges into the asphalt as she tore through the barriers in her path. Debris flew in every direction, and the humans in the surrounding area scrambled in panic, but Cirrus paid them no mind. Her only focus was finding you, protecting you, and destroying anything that stood in her way.

Seonghwa urged Starshine to fly faster, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see Cirrus now, a force of nature, her chest heaving with each breath as she prepared to breach the lab’s final defenses. Smoke curled from her nostrils, twisting into the air like a dark omen.

“Hold on, Cirrus,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath as they closed in. He knew they had only moments before things escalated beyond control. Starshine’s wings beat furiously as they approached, and Seonghwa’s mind raced with a single thought: he had to reach her, to calm her, before it was too late.

Yunho, close behind on Voltage, was already scanning the area, trying to piece together what could have caused such a violent reaction from the usually controlled dragon. 

Cirrus’s massive form shifted, her glowing eyes locking onto Seonghwa and Yunho. There was no recognition, no bond to anchor her; all that remained was the raw, primal instinct to protect and destroy. With a snarl that sent chills down their spines, Cirrus suddenly lunged at them, her powerful wings sending a gust of wind that nearly knocked Seonghwa off balance.

“Yunho, move!” Seonghwa shouted, pulling Starshine into a sharp ascent as Cirrus barreled toward them. The impact of her claws against the air sent a shockwave through the sky, and Seonghwa could feel the vibration in his bones. 

Yunho was already moving, as Starshine dove down to intercept Cirrus before she could close the distance on Voltage. The two dragons collided in mid-air, their roars deafening as they grappled with each other. Claws slashed through the air, and the sky lit up with bursts of energy as Starshine tried to hold Cirrus back.

“Cirrus, stop!” Seonghwa called out, but his voice was drowned out by the fury of the fight. Starshine twisted to avoid Cirrus’s snapping jaws, trying to push her back without hurting her. Resetting course, she flapped her wings, diving toward Cirrus with precision. The goal wasn’t to harm but to restrain, to bring her back to herself.

But Cirrus was relentless, her rage blinding her to everything but the perceived threat. She twisted out of Starshine’s grasp, her tail lashing out and clipping her wing. Starshine let out a sharp cry, struggling to maintain balance as they fought to stay in the air.

“Seonghwa! Yunho!”

A flash of radiant light cut through the gloom, slicing across the horizon like a blade of pure sunlight. 

“Lady Sunmi!” Seonghwa exclaimed, a relief washing over him. Your sister had arrived with her dragon, Eos. 

For a moment, the ferocity in Cirrus’ eyes wavered, her primal instincts recognizing the strength and authority that Eos carried. Without any further hesitation, she snapped out of her reverie and let out a furious roar, the sound reverberating across the sky.

Without warning, Cirrus lunged at Eos, her claws outstretched, teeth bared in a savage snarl. Eos barely had time to react, pulling up sharply to avoid the full force of the charge. She flapped her wings with powerful strokes, trying to gain altitude, but Cirrus was relentless.

Eos twisted in the air, countering with a sharp turn of her own, her claws slashing through the sky as she retaliated. The clash of their massive forms shook the ground below. Angling her wings just in time, Eos narrowly avoided the strike, and retaliated with a swift, calculated blow to Cirrus's flank.

The hit landed, and Cirrus snarled in pain, momentarily losing her momentum. Cirrus whirled around, using her powerful hind legs to launch herself at Eos once more. The two dragons became a blur of motion—claws slashing, tails whipping, wings beating furiously as they fought for dominance.

Cirrus lunged, her jaws snapping mere inches from Eos’s neck. Eos countered with a powerful wing swipe, sending Cirrus spiraling out of control. Letting out a roar of frustration, Cirrus’s breath came in ragged gasps as she struggled to regain her bearings. But Eos was ready.

With a final, commanding bellow, Eos surged forward, wrapping Cirrus in a tight, unyielding grip. It was a move that combined raw strength with the gentle pressure of authority, signaling the battle’s end.

The younger dragon thrashed wildly in the air, fighting against the hold. But Eos held firm, her wings encircling Cirrus in a protective embrace. Slowly, Cirrus’s struggles weakened, her energy spent. The wild light in her eyes dimmed as exhaustion took over, and she finally relented, collapsing against Eos in a shuddering heap.

From a distance, Seonghwa and Yunho watched with bated breath, their hearts pounding in their chests. The tension in the air was almost suffocating as Cirrus fought against your sister and her own instincts.

"Y/N’s in there," Yunho said quietly, voice tinged with horror as he pieced together the damage. The thought of you being trapped inside that cold, clinical building while Cirrus tore through it like a force of nature was almost too much to bear.

"We have to get her out of there," Seonghwa said, his voice laced with urgency. He couldn’t let you stay in that place a moment longer, not while Cirrus was in a blind rage, and not while the lab’s security systems were likely more focused on containing the dragon than ensuring the safety of those inside.

When you come to, a sharp, throbbing pain radiates from the back of your head, and you squint against the dim light of the room. The disorientation is overwhelming, but as your vision clears, the reality of your situation slams into you with the force of a freight train. You’re strapped to the seat of a console, the cold metal biting into your wrists and ankles as you instinctively try to free yourself. Panic surged through you, your breath quickening as you tugged desperately at the restraints.

Your heart raced as your bleary eyes settled on the ominous sight before you—a life-sized incubation tube dominating the center of the room, its sleek, metallic frame reflecting the sparse, sterile light that filters through the darkness. 

The dragon was still, its eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep, dreamless sleep. The liquid around it was a pale, ethereal color, giving the impression that the dragon was floating in a kind of otherworldly cocoon. The sight was both mesmerizing and disquieting, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the dragon you were familiar with.

You try to steady your breathing, to push back the rising tide of fear, but the sight before you only deepens the sense of dread that clung to your thoughts. What is this place? Why are you here? And, most terrifying of all, what have they done to this dragon?

“You’re awake,” Yeosang sings, his tone dripping with a cruel sort of amusement.

Your blood runs cold as you turn your head to find him standing just a few feet away, his expression a twisted mask of satisfaction. The light casts sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the dangerous glint in his eyes. He’s been watching you, waiting for this moment, and the realization makes your stomach churn.

"What is this?" you manage to choke out, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay calm. 

“This,” Yeosang continued, his voice softening with a rare hint of reverence, “is the result of years of research and experimentation. It represents the pinnacle of my efforts to unlock the limits of dragon physiology and enhance their abilities. Everything I’ve worked for has led to this moment.”

You glanced back at the dragon, the sight of its serene slumber now tinged with a new layer of complexity. The creature was no longer just a subject in a high-tech incubator but a living embodiment of Yeosang’s ambitions and research.

He stepped closer, his gaze flicking briefly to the dragon in the tube before settling back on you. "And you are going to be a part of it."

Yeosang watched you struggle with a detached interest. His gaze drifted towards the sleek console that contained you where a complex array of wires and screens are meticulously arranged. 

"What are you doing? Let me go," you demand, your voice stronger this time, though still edged with fear. You tug against the restraints once more, ignoring the pain as the metal digs into your skin. You have to find a way out, a way to stop whatever nightmare Yeosang is orchestrating.

Yeosang ignored your pleas. "The neural link is nearly complete. When activated, it will fuse your consciousness with the dragon's. The transmitter embedded in your neck interfaces directly with the dragon’s neural pathways, creating a seamless telepathic connection."

“Let me go!” you screamed, your voice breaking with fear and desperation.

“Let you go?” he repeated, his tone devoid of sympathy. “Not when we’re on the brink of witnessing how the regenerative function operates. It’s one of the most crucial aspects of this experiment,” Yeosang continued, his voice almost reverent. 

“Don’t you want to fly again, Y/N?” He glanced at you with a hint of curiosity, as if testing the waters of your desperation. “Don’t you want to heal that broken back of yours?”

The notion of flying again, once a cherished dream, was now twisted into a horrifying spectacle of manipulation. The thought of being bound to the dragon, subjected to its primal force and the invasive technology that linked you both, was overwhelming.

“You know,” he said with faint amusement, “you’re the first candidate to fight back. Most of the others were quite compliant.”

“The kids,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. “What have you done to them?”

“Yes, the children were part of the initial trials,” he sighed, ignoring you again. “Their young minds were more adaptable to the neural interface. But there were… complications.”

“Complications?” you echo, your stomach churning.

“Some of the connections were too strong,” Yeosang admits, his tone almost clinical. “The riders lost their sense of self, becoming too intertwined with the dragons. It was a setback, but one that provided valuable data. Physically, they’re fine, though they do face some… emotional challenges.”

The room seemed to close in around you as you processed the enormity of his words. The children had become casualties of Yeosang’s ambition, their identities obliterated in the name of progress. 

“Where are they?” you gritted. 

“They’re being monitored,” he explained, his voice devoid of any hint of empathy. “Their bodies are intact, but their minds—well, they’re still part of the ongoing research. We’re studying the effects of the integration and how to refine the process.”

As the machinery around you began to hum with increased intensity, the final preparations for the experiment were being set into motion. The neural link cables glowed brighter, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls.

Panic surged through you as you strained against the metal restraints. “No, no, please, no,” you cried, your voice cracking with desperation.

The sudden blare of alarms pierced through the hum of machinery, their shrill wail growing louder and more urgent. Yeosang’s face darkened as the alarms were interspersed with the rhythmic pounding of what sounded like heavy impacts from outside. The building itself seemed to shudder, its walls vibrating as if responding to an unseen force.

“Hey, bastard,” a voice growled from the shadows, carrying an unmistakable authority and defiance. “You better get out of there before the authorities shut down your little operation. Her dragon’s about to tear the place down.”

The voice, emerging from the very darkness of the lab, stood in stark contrast to the mechanical whirring and the blaring alarms. Your heart raced with a mix of hope and disbelief as you turned your head and saw a familiar figure stepping into the dim light.

Mingi…?

<< xi | xiii >>

a/n: chapter xii is finally here! it might be a while before the next chapter as i'll be out for a procedure in a week. but uhhh yeah, mingi 👀

taglist: @chngbnwf, @sunnysidesins @litolmochi @syubseokie @park-simphwa @szakias @babymbbatinygirl @oddracha @maliamaiden @signingsongbird @passionandsuga @mitchii

[valeskawhore]

IMAGINE:

APOCALYPSE AU?? PROXIES X READER (IDEA!)

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve been seeing all around tumblr from my mutuals and honestly, why the hell not? I love the idea of apocalyptic survival. Let me know if this should be a series !!

An eerie creak sounds out behind me as I opened the window, and Dust flooded the dimly lit room as I made my way inside. Exploring abandoned houses wasn't always a typical interest of mine, but staying warm and having a dry place to sleep at night was.

Rain clashed gently down on the roof from outside, crickets could be heard and soon the silence rested back into place when I pulled the cracked window shut from the other side.

This place definitely was not the best, but at least it was dry.

First thing I did was open my backpack, setting up candles and hanging an old sheet that I found laying in the corner, over the window to block out the light.

Repeatedly, I told myself that this was just temporary.

I didn't have enough food to last more than a few nights anyways. Walkers roamed more and more with every passing day, tho winter was coming and it was coming fast.

Hopefully, that would do something to slow the walkers, even if it was just by a few steps, I prayed.

With a sigh, I slowly sat down on the make-shift mattress that I made for myself, hearing my ankles pop in the process because man, I really needed to stretch more often, I'm not getting any younger.

I took off my baseball cap and pulled down my mask to breathe just a little bit clearer, running my fingers through my hair, I noticed how greasy it was. The thought made me disgusted since.. Well, I couldn't even imagine how I smelled and i didnt want to either.

Popping open a bottle of water, I drank my thirst away. Listening to the rain pour, the thunder crack and the sounds of the undead trudging along outside.

As I clenched my eyes shut for a second..

I blocked out the screams, the cries and pleads for help.. The cocking of guns and the growls of the unthinkable tearing and ripping the flesh of the people being eaten alive. My fingernails began to itch, my knuckles on fire, tears welding in my eyes.

“Y/N!!” She screamed, “HELP ME!!” she cried..

I sat my bottled water down, and lit up a cigarette.

“It’ll be ok..” I told myself, “Survive one more day, just one more,” everynight.

“I’ll find you baby.. one day..”

I closed my eyes.. Relaxed my body, breathed out deeply.

“Goodnight y/n” I told myself.

The front door clashed open.

*~*~*~~*~*~*~

“GET INSIDE! GET THE FUCK INSIDE!” A voice screamed. The sounds of the undead gurgled up the last of their life and slammed their heads against the door, screaming. I heard multiple people slamming themselves against the front door, refraining it from opening. “ROGERS, FIND SOMETHING, NOW. WE NEED TO BARD THE DOOR!”

“I-I-M OHN–ON IT!!” Someone stuttered.

I jumped up from my mattress, reaching for my gun and loading in the magazine. I threw the sleeping bag off of me, and unlocked the door. I heard the others rummaging down stairs for something to board the door. I peaked my head out,

Something suddenly rammed against my head, the door was torn open, slamming into my head. I fell back on my ass, and reached around lazily for my gun.

I heard a gasp fall above me, my vision was spinning, but I found my gun and raised it above me at the silhouette. There were two of them, then three, then two, until both shadow figures meshed into one guy. His face was something more,

Two dark brown eyes, greasy chestnut hair, he nose was already bleeding and there was a bandage covering up the right side of his lips stretching to his cheek bones.

He was definitely a young man, 23-24 maybe. Wearing yellow rusted-rimmed goggles, a blue hoodie with a tanned, older jacket overtop, there was a black and gray-ish mask wrapped around his neck and pulled up over his face. The (now) snickering man wore stained blue jeans and some bloodied converse.

His laugh rang out through my skull, pounding against my ear lobes. His eyes became impossibly wide now, canines glimmering in the moonlight as thunder cracked in the background.

With one final sadistic smile,

He picked up his double hand axes and raised them high, His laughter almost screams now, The screams of a hyena, a skinwalker luring its prey.

The young man brought the axes down quickly,

I rolled over with a small scream, doing my best to avoid the hard steel.

I fumbled around on the ground, reaching for my gun.

When I had it in my hand, the man jumped on me and slammed my back into the hardwood floor. The house was so old that dust jumped into the air, and swam around. I clenched my eyes shut and coughed until I could breathe again. I felt his boney hands wrap around my throat, his skin uncomfortably cold and white. I kicked my feet behind him and threw my head back,

The man let up his grip but didn't scream out in pain, his laughter only grew.

I grabbed the boy's hair and threw him off of me, his body collided against the wall,

Because,

His body actually went through it, clashing into the room next to us.

Dust flooded the room once more, and as the psychopath took longer than expected to rise back to his feet, I grabbed my sleeping bag and ran downstairs, contents loosley in hand.

I struggled to throw my jacket on as i ran down the steps,

A shorter figure stepped in front of me, and stuck his leg out, successfully tripping me in the process. I felt my world being flipped upside down as my rib cage cracked against the staircase. I coughed up blood, my heartbeat in my ears as I laid there motionless.

With my vision dark, i could only here throat-ripping screeching from the outside world,

Three figures stepped in my view of the door, I pulled my arms in front of me and did my best to drag my body away. I moaned out in a breath-less cry as I felt the rusted nails sticking out of the wood flooring scraped against my cracked ribs.

Something stopped me, whoever or.. Whatever it was, grabbed my achilles heel and dragged me back in the living room with one strong pull.

They flipped me on my back, blood dripped down the corner of my mouth as I did my best to control my breath. Hesitantly, I reached my hand up and folded my fist into a weak, shaky middle finger, my ‘fuck you’ to the world.

I heard one of them snicker before the tallest one leaned down carefully, dark red painted eyes peered into mine before he pulled off my mask. I had a surge of anger come over me, as I reached to kick him in the balls but he caught my leg, almost expecting it even. His grip tightened menacingly on my thigh, before he gave my cracked rib cage an almost impossibly fast sucker punch.

I coughed out blood on instinct, my body spasming. I held my chest and my body folded forwards, my knees to my chest. “F-fuck you..” I coughed, tears streaming down my face.

His hand, still on my thigh, tightened once more. Leaning close to my face, the stranger whispered..

“What.. do we have here?”

[littlenightma]

Hello. I may have been obsessed with Rusty Nail for the last few hours. I wonder if you can write a Yandere Rust Nail headcanon?

Yandere!Rusty Nail Headcanons

• Yandere!Rusty gives absolutely zero fucks and tolerates zero bullshit. All he really wants is to be left the hell alone, but it doesn’t always end up happening that way. This time, though, he was pleasantly surprised because he ended up with you. It might take a while for you to adjust to your new life with him, but he promises it’s for your own good.

• Will kill anyone like that if they upset you intentionally or not. He hates seeing your tears and how you become withdrawn with sadness. Will make you watch as he chains them to his truck and drags them down the road until there is nothing left but a trail of blood, guts, and bones. And if you get scared, he’ll console you with gentle kisses and tight hugs, rocking you back and forth until you are okay again.

• “The world is full of people like that, but don’t you worry, little one. I’ll be here to take care of ‘em.”

• If you break any his rules, he will break you back respectively. The rules are in place for a reason. They are there for your protection and for his peace of mind when he is not around and breaking them is a good way to get on his bad side (which he hates showing you) but if you can’t listen, then you’ll have to face the consequences. He has to make sure you know you’re place.

• “I know it hurts, darlin’, but you know what else hurt? That little slap you gave me when I found you.” He inspects the mark on your face. “So just consider this as me returning the favor.”

• And when you really break the rules that leaves him so pissed that he could kill someone, anyone, he ties you up naked and defenseless in his trailer. You’re hanging up by your arms, barely able to stand up straight, having to resort to using your toes. He wants you to be as uncomfortable as possible. He hates doing it and he hates that you have forced him to resort to this, but you have to learn, baby. You can see the sadness and disappointment written across his face before he goes emotionless.

• He drives and drives and drives with you bouncing in the back. Your arms hurt, your legs are tired, and you’re calling out for Rusty to stop but he ignores your cries. He keeps on driving — speeding up at some points when you become hysterical — like you’re nothing but cattle on the way to the slaughterhouse. It’s not until you have gone silent from exhaustion when the truck finally comes to a stop.

• “Have you learned your lesson?”

• You hiccup, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

• “Will you try to leave?”

• “No.”

• He cups your cheek and makes you look at him. “I hate doing this to you. Don’t make me do it again.”

• If you think his punishments are bad, his rewards are far better. After a particularly rough handling session and Rusty is certain that you have learned your lesson, he does whatever he can to ease the pain and fatigue. Runs you a hot bath (provides bubbles or candles if requested) and cooks you a warm meal to have after.

• Gets you whatever you want. He is a provider at heart and provide for you he will. Price doesn’t matter to him, but he appreciates it when you bring it up anyway. You hold something for too long at the store and he’s making you put it in the basket despite your protests. You want new clothes? You got them. You want a new game that just released? It’s ordered. Whatever you want so you can live life happy and comfortable with him you will get, understand?

• This man is only truly happy when you’re happy. Ever since you came into his life he isn’t in those foul moods he often found himself in and he sees the world a little more brighter than he used to. But don’t ever think he won’t knock some heads when he needs to.

• The way your eyes light up when he presents his gifts to you makes him feel like the best man in the world and so does the combination of a tackle and a tight hug you give him to show how grateful you are. Those are the moments he lives for, too see you happy, protected, and all his.

NSFW 18+

• Will edge you like a sorry motherfucker until you are begging for his cock and relentlessly insisting that you’ll never try to leave him. Rusty is possessive and protective over his shit and the thought of you gone hurts him straight to the core. He was a lone rider for so long and he’ll be damned if he ever has to live his life without you in it.

• His cock, chain, or belt. Take your pick, baby, because either way you’re getting punished. The welts on your ass and the stinging pain on your cheek are nothing compared to the what he felt when he realized you had escaped. He thought he’d lost you, but he found you and brought you right back home, didn’t he?

• He takes you out to a field when the moon is high in the sky. He tells you to take off your clothes and lay on your stomach. You hear the unmistakable unbuckling of his belt.

• “I thought I was being good, Daddy. Am I still being punished?”

• He hushes you and turns your head. You bury your face into your arms expecting a smack, but it never comes. Rusty peppers kisses down your spine and presses his hips into yours. He gently thrusts for hours, never going at a pace that throws you two over the edge, but it still feels nice to be connected to him.

• His arms are cradling you and his chest is on your back. You feel his heat, his heartbeat, his entire body moving and all night long he’s whispering how much he loves you and that he will never let you go. You’re his baby and no one will ever take care of you like he does. He’s yours, don’t you feel it? He never wants to put his cock inside anyone else and he for damn sure never wants another cock inside you.

• “Are you ready to come with me, baby? I’m gonna fill you up so good. Let me hear you, okay? Goddamn, you look so damn beautiful taking my seed.”

• You and him come together multiple times under the moon and stars until neither of you can move. He covers you both with the blanket he brought and you fall asleep wrapped up in Rusty’s embrace thinking that being with him isn’t such a bad thing after all.

[carveredlunds]

i need to know when armand first saw his portrait hanging in the louvre. when did he find it out it was there? did hear about a vecchio portrait there and decide to go and see if it was "the adoration of the shepherds", or did he go to the louvre and find it by chance? what was it like to see his own human face looking up adoringly at the shepherds, kneeling in submission, that expression of worship on his painted face? when was the last time he'd seen this portrait? did he know it had survived this long? what did he do when he saw it, divorced from its context, impersonal and on display for strangers to gawk at? did seeing it take him back to marius' studio in the early 16th century, the smell of paint and the sound of a brush on canvas? did he remember posing for it, folding his arms across his chest and staring up in pathetic wonderment, as marius probably told him to, so he would be preserved forever in this portrait, a slave boy, a donation, his skin paler in paint than in real life? did he remember, when he saw it in the louvre, that vecchio had whitened his skin, or was it a surprise to him? what did he do when he saw it? did he smile, get teary-eyed, feel angry, feel nostalgia? were there other visitors nearby, when armand saw his own portrait for the first time in centuries? did they notice the eerie similarities between the man with rust-coloured eyes staring at it and the boy in the picture?

[sirdindjarin]

A Ghoul and a Vault-Dweller Walk Into a Bar

Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard x Lucy MacLean.

TAGS: Fluff, pining, introspection lol.

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol consumption.

Based off of this post ! I loved the idea and couldn't get it out of my head.

AO3 link 🤠

A few days after the events of the last episode, the Ghoul and Lucy take solace in a quiet saloon, only to find their dynamic is changing.

“Ain’t this a peach,” the Ghoul muttered, taking in the New Vegas saloon. It was a postwar attempt to recreate what no one still walking had ever experienced, but it was faithful enough to send the Ghoul back to the set of a movie some two centuries earlier. He could smell the burn of the stage lights, hear the staccato of studio executives arguing, and see PAs stumbling over cables in the background. 

His bittersweet reverie ended when - what else - the Vault Dweller opened her mouth. Again. 

Bouncing on her tiptoes, her wide smile was interrupted only by her exclamation, “Wow! This place is right out of a history book. Oh, gosh, look at that!” 

Hanging from the ceiling was a myriad of materials in various stages of rust and decay. Grimy, glaring patrons grumbled as Lucy rushed past their tables to examine some memorabilia plastered to the wall. She gingerly ran her gray forefinger over the rusted farm equipment. “See these? They used to pull these behind a tractor, or a horse, and it made furrows in the ground. That made it a lot easier for them to plant things like corn, tobacco, wheat -” 

The Ghoul ignored her lesson. Let the history buff have her boring version of fun, it’d give him some peace. After the past three days, he needed it. He strode toward the far end of the bar, spurs clinking.

Lucy had been silent after the revelation with her father. Downright catatonic, almost. The following morning, still in sight of the Hollywood sign, and out of the daggum goodness of his heart (truly, he’d been a saint to even think about it) he’d offered her a hit of an upper, but she’d curled her lip in disgust. No skin off his nose, he’d thought humorously, he would just let her stew. 

Before the sun had set that next day, however, the girl abruptly flipped from traumatized silence to her usual non-stop chatter. He hadn't asked what changed. The Ghoul assumed she'd come to terms with her father being an evil sonofabitch. He expected her trauma would rear its ugly head at some point, but that was a future problem. Once she started talking again, he had again been a saint - he’d only thought about shooting her once. And that only because she had asked him a stupid question. 

You mentioned finding your family. You have kids?

Sidling up to the bar top, his ragged coat slapping gently against the stool, the Ghoul’s attention was drawn to a jukebox against the wall to his right. Colorful lights flashed, dimmed by a layer of dust; but the old machine advertised it was ready to sing. He glanced curiously at some of the songs, felt a flicker of some emotion he wouldn’t put name to, and turned away. He drummed his gloved fingers on the wooden counter, impatient to have something to smother the spark of sadness. Here, the weight of the past was literally hanging over his head.

The Ghoul had directed his focus on the other end of the bar, where the barkeep seemed to be pointedly ignoring him, when a dull scraping sound alerted him to someone sitting beside him - between him and the mocking jukebox. 

“Hi! Barkeep?” Lucy beamed and motioned between herself and the Ghoul, “Could we get a drink, please?” 

The gruff man looked more like a patron than a bartender, all heavy gait and uninterested stare, but he raised his eyebrows at Lucy. The Ghoul laughed under his breath. 

“What?” She asked in a whisper. Grimacing, she worried, “Oh… is that not how you’re supposed to do it?”

“There’s a laundry list of things you shouldn’t be doin’, Vaultie, but flaggin’ down the bartender ain’t one of ‘em.” 

Lucy straightened her posture. “You know, we have established a mutual goal and I would appreciate mutual respect. I don’t think being laughed at is-”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t laughin’ at you; quit bein’ so sensitive,” the Ghoul stated flatly. “Don’t we make quite the damned pair? A Ghoul and a Vault Dweller walk into a bar…” he trailed off with another chuckle.

Lucy relaxed her shoulders, still feeling awkward. “Oh, haha.” 

“All we got is distilled water and tequila. Which’un you want?” The bartender interrupted, though he spoke only to Lucy.

“Uh, I would like to try the tequila. I still have some water leftover and it’ll be fun to try something new.” 

The bartender sucked on his teeth, turned, and left - resenting serving a peppy Vault Dweller and outright refusing to serve the arrogant ghoul seated beside her as though it was a person.

“They don’t much like my kind here, darlin’,” the Ghoul grinned lopsidedly. He tapped his holster with his new forefinger. “I’ll have to get my drink a different way.”

Eyes wide, Lucy nearly stood on the rung of the stool as she shouted to the bartender: “Make that two glasses of tequila, please.” 

The barkeep went still for a brief moment before deciding it wasn’t worth it. He’d seen some weird shit, but if this wasn’t the strangest duo he’d ever served, he’d eat a radroach. He sent the shots sliding down the well-worn wood counter with surprising skill, and they stopped directly in front of Lucy. She nudged one of the grimy glasses toward the Ghoul, who grunted. 

In those old movies, the characters often clinked their glasses together. Excited to perform a toast in a real saloon, Lucy raised her glass toward the Ghoul. Her eyes sparkled so earnestly that the Ghoul briefly considered indulging her. Instead, he tipped the shot glass into his parched mouth, eyes closing in satisfaction.

“Ah,” he hummed. This was nothing like the chems he used to stay sane, and tequila wasn’t his favorite, but damn if it didn’t feel like the alcohol stripped off some of the layers of the past week's shit.

Upon opening his eyes, he was surprised by the mix of amusement and regret in his chest at the way the girl’s face had fallen. It was childishly funny the way he could disappoint her so easily - as though they kept the same standards of behavior - but the pleasure of her disappointment only took the Ghoul so far. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he goaded, his voice deep and persuasive. “It ain’t top-shelf but it ain’t lizard-piss, either.” 

“I don’t know what either of those mean,” Lucy mumbled as she brought the glass to her lips; she winced as fumes burned her nostrils. Abandoning caution, she threw the clear liquid into her mouth and swallowed as the Ghoul had. The liquid stung as it slid down her throat; her mouth puckered. Fighting the urge to cough, she cleared her throat instead. Lucy refused to let the Ghoul have anything more to bully her about.

Lucy blinked away the wetness in her eyes. The Ghoul was watching her. Lucy couldn’t discern the look in his eye, but it wasn’t one she’d seen before. The Ghoul had made certain of that. 

“That was, um, so good,” she grimaced. But the warmth in her chest and stomach was pleasant. “You want another?”

The Ghoul chuckled, “If you’re buyin’.” 

***

“No, I only meant it as a compliment,” Lucy slurred, blushing furiously. She was only four shots in, but the Ghoul was starting to get concerned that she would throw up on him. Lucy wobbled on her stool. “Really, they’re nice eyes. No, ‘m okey dokey. Wow, this stuff is strong.” She held her hand out in front of her and wiggled her fingers, fascinated by the way her vision seemed to be a half-second beyond reality. 

“Must be. You,” he pointed in her face, “can’t handle your liquor.”

"Hey, it’s my first try," she steadied herself. 

“It’s gon’ be your last if you paint my boots. You look a little green, Vaultie.”

Her big brown eyes refocused on the Ghoul. “Okay, well, distract me. I know you won’t tell me anything about yourself.” 

He tensed. 

“And that’s okay. But I don't even know your name." Lucy threw him a frown, "What if I have to call for you - what am I supposed to say?” 

The Ghoul chewed at the inside of his cheek, tearing away some skin as he considered. He’d had twelve shots. She wasn’t asking anything too revealing; and she had saved his life. And maybe all her “Do Unto Others” bullshit wasn’t bullshit, but he still wasn’t about to crack open like a can of biscuits. The Ghoul gazed down into her doe eyes, then he and the tequila made a decision.

“Cooper,” he answered after safely looking away, his voice rough over the word.

Something scratched at the back of Lucy’s brain. Tipsy as she was, she knew this was important - she did not want to ruin whatever progress they seemed to have made. She nodded and replied politely, “That’s a good name. Cooper.” 

Lucy watched the rainbow of lights as they reflected off the shiny bar. She slid off the stool and leaned over the jukebox, flipping idly through the songs. 

Cooper held his thirteenth shot in his gloved hand as he stared ahead at the blank wall of the now-empty saloon. After they had collectively purchased nearly twenty shots, the bartender had lost all sense of distaste for either of them; he now sat in a chair, dozing, waiting for the Ghoul and the Vault Dweller to ask him for more. 

A gasp came from Cooper’s right. His stool groaned as he turned, and he saw Lucy grinning up at him.

“Look at this song: I Walk the Line. It’s from one of my favorite movies -” 

Cooper's stomach lurched. 

“A Man and His Dog.” Lucy selected the song. “And the main character’s real name was Cooper. Used to watch those old Westerns with - with my dad all the time. The best ones are the ones with him. With Cooper Howard, I mean. He was always the good guy. He never hurt anyone. Well, unless he absolutely had to, of course.” She began to wax poetic about ethics, and her audience of one tuned out. The gruff croon of Johnny Cash filled the otherwise silent building.

Cooper Howard debated whether or not he should tell her the truth. He didn’t know how much she knew about his life as an actor - some of her questions about his family could be answered if she knew about his widely-publicized, definitely-public-record divorce - but seeing her face when she learned that her favorite cowboy movie star was the radiation-ravaged monster sitting beside her would be hilarious.

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Well, would it be hilarious? Cooper wasn’t so certain anymore. Lucy’s disappointment in him was rapidly losing its luster. Her cowboy had fallen a height that would’ve killed anyone else - had killed almost everyone else. The good man she idolized was dead. He wouldn’t resurrect him just to kill him again in front of Lucy. 

For the second time that afternoon, she pulled him abruptly from a reverie. 

“I wonder what it was like. Everyone in these saloons… with a jukebox playing while you dance with a handsome stranger,” Lucy gazed out at the empty room. “It must’ve been incredible.”

Cooper didn’t correct her about jukeboxes and saloons. Instead, he took his thirteenth shot, allowing it to burn away what was left of his judgment. 

“Well, come on down, darlin’.” He held out his hand - the one that was one-fifth her.

Dubious, distrustful despite their fledgling partnership, Lucy’s eyes darted between his outstretched hand and his dark eyes. This man had cut off her finger less than a week before. He’d tried to sell her. 

But this wasn't a desperate game of cat and mouse, and he no longer believed she was a lying murderer. (That conversation had been a hoot. One of the few times he’d asked her a question, Cooper had wondered what possessed her to cut off Wilzig’s fuckin’ head, and, after she told him Wilzig had left her no choice, she tearfully described the sound of his spine severing and nearly vomited. The Ghoul had laughed.) She was here of her own choice. Lucy chose to follow the Ghoul - Cooper - into the Wilds and the Wasteland. She trusted him now, and he her.

“It’s alright, Vaultie. Y’know I won’t bite,” he drawled with a smirk. “Of the two’ve us, which one has bitten the other?” 

“Wh-?” Lucy started to ask, then decided better of it. Cooper had given her his name and his trust. He had been as kind as summer by Wasteland standards, and she would be damned if her manners were the poor ones. She took his hand.

As sure as night is dark and day is light

I keep you on my mind both day and night

The room was spinning, and Lucy wasn’t sure if the blame should be placed on the tequila or the Ghoul who held her so gently. This was a far cry from the lasso he’d thrown around her last week. She opened her mouth, fully intent on telling him See, the Golden Rule is golden for a reason. But when his hand slid slowly from the curve of her waist to the small of her back, she found that the words were missing. 

He guided them in a small, slow circle. Cooper’s chest was pressed up against her own, and it was though his centuries-deep layers of leather and cotton, and her pristine, thick Vault-Tec suit were non-existent. The vulnerability set his teeth on edge, but it relaxed Lucy. She let the music, the alcohol, and the Ghoul take her. Uncharacteristically shy, and somewhat nauseous, she laid her head on his shoulder. 

Cooper hummed along with Johnny Cash, letting himself feel a modicum of peace in this improbable, inexplicable bubble. He could feel Lucy’s heart beating rapidly beneath her garish suit. His own heart felt like the tattoo of a horse’s hooves. Cooper’s jaw tensed as he wondered how she’d feel to know that. He found himself hoping. 

Hope and contentment were as foreign to him as a nose and hair, now. Yet he felt the gnaw of yearning. Lucy was a reflection and a time machine. Maybe that cowboy - the one who deserved both hope and contentment - could live again. 

And happiness I've known proves that it's right

Because you're mine, I walk the line.

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Joel (41) / F!reader (25) | 4.7k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak

Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky attitude or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: hi guys!! I’m fresh off finishing east side of sorrow and couldn’t wait to hop into this work. I can not thank everyone enough for the fun we had with esos, but i am beyond stoked to meet this joel because i am ferallllll for him all dirty on a ranch with a cowboy hat on a horse ughhhh, give it to me already. anyways, let me know if you like it 🤍 thank you to @sawymredfox for letting me idea dump on you and give me all kinda of ideas! i love you to pieces! this ones for you my dear!

A03 Link | Spotify Link | Masterlink

Pt. 1: Oklahoma Smokeshow

Half a mile from the turnpike, two miles from home, along the winding and twisting asphalt of Cold Creek road, Joel Miller rasps his gloved hand against the steering wheel of the Rising Sun Ranch’s newly bought—second (maybe fifth?) hand old pickup truck. A beat up nineties chevy with rust on the floorboard and a new-car tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Beside him, his brother Tommy bounces his knee while he takes a long drag off his second cigarette since this drive started. The smoke plumes through the window, then back inside when the chill outside pushes the hot smoke back into the cab, whirling around Joel's senses like it belongs there. The smell is insufferable and makes Joel’s skin crawl, takes him to a time before ropers scars and belt buckles.

“Know that shit’s gon’ kill you, right?” He doesn’t need to look over at his brother's form beside him to know the younger man is anxious, like he usually is on long car rides. “You used to do it too, big brother.” Joel scuffs at him, keeps his one gloved hand on the wheel as he keeps on driving. He’s not wrong, if he wants to talk about the Joel of ten years ago, a distant, ragged and angry version of himself. “Don’t remind me.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the snow coated road ahead of him. He’s cautious at this time of the year, the winter storms usually leave them stranded on the ranch for a few weeks, but he’s lucky enough to have caught the dark clouds before they started to let down too much. The salt on the roads seem to do the trick for the time being, so long as he stays away from the embankment and keeps his eyes on the dimming road ahead.

It was mid day, but the sun sets early in the winter, so it hangs low in the sky amongst the cold abyss, like it’s desperately reaching out for the horizon—like it wants to run from this place too. He looks ahead and silently wishes to himself that he could follow those last rays of sunshine into tomorrow, like maybe he would find something there.

He shakes the thought and sets his mind back on track, why they were out here. “When we get back to the ranch, you need to find a way to apologize to Miss Lou. She really was just tryin’ to be helpful, Tommy. She ain’t wrong for that.” Louise had always been more than welcoming and kind to them, she’s saved their asses more than once and she feeds them more than she needs to, but his brother can never seem to let a good thing be, always biting the hand that attempted to feed him.

“Don’t like it when people go through my shit, man, you know that.” He’s nearly done with his cigarette, thank fuck because Joel wants to grab it from his hand himself and chuck it out the window. “She wasn’t goin’ through your stuff, dipshit, she was doin’ your laundry! Doesn’t give you any right to snap at someone like that. Especially a nice lady who’s husband give’s us a dollar in our pocket and a roof over our heads. Do you have any Idea where we’d be without that?”

It cuts deep because Tommy flicks his butt out the window and sinks down in his seat, he knows Joel is right because they are incredibly lucky to be where they are now. They would probably never find somewhere as appealing as their little shared hunting cabin a half mile from the main house. “Hank ain’t happy,” he adds, like Tommy doesn’t already know that after the argument that led to them leaving. “We wouldn’t be out in a goddamned snow storm for fuckin’ flowers if Hank was happy.”

Joel finally glances over, but when he does, it’s at the bouquet of flowers sitting beside him on the bench seat. “Doesn’t matter, you still need to apologize—to both of them. We wouldn’t have shit if it weren’t for them—“ they wouldn’t, they were on their last leg, hitchhiking across half the country when they found an ad outside of the feed store in Jackson looking for a ranch hand in exchange for room and board. Joel gave them two for the price of one and the rest was history. Tommy makes an annoyed sound and interrupts. “Joel, what's that?” Directly in front of them, on the side of the road caught in an embankment is a little blue car sunk all the way down to the lug nuts. It doesn’t look like the person lost control, but they just drove into the embankment.

This road isn’t frequented and the cell service is spotty, but the taillights on the car tell him there's someone inside. “I’m stoppin’ to help,'' Joel informs him, but Tommy shifts and rolls his eyes—he’s never been the humanitarian type. “Why? I’m sure they can pay for a tow truck. Besides, if they are stupid enough to get stuck in an embankment, they can suffer.” Usually, Joel would agree, but the closer they get to Christmas, the more that iced over heart of his starts to thaw out.

Joel stops the truck on the road and leaves it running while he looks over at his brother. “Ain’t leavin’ nobody stuck out here in this storm, even if they’re stupid. They won't make it through the night.” He shuts the door behind him and stuffs his hands into his pockets. An agitated gust of air leaves his lungs in the form of cloudy condensation amongst the snowfall. He walks up to the car, leaning down so he can glance inside without getting too close. Through the fogged window, he can make out the figure of a woman leaned against the steering wheel, her face casted by her hair hanging all around while she slumps her head against the wheel. Stupid—stupid girl. What the hell is she doing way out here?

He rasps against the window and she jolts just as Tommy comes up behind him, finally having left the comfort of the truck cab. “S’a girl, should have guessed.” Tommy interjects with a crude tone, thankfully before she rolls the window down. She looks a little scared and a lot embarrassed, her eyes are red like she’s been crying her heart out. It doesn’t make Joel sad, it makes him uncomfortable. Emotions make his skin crawl, make him uneasy. He doesn’t handle people crying well, he doesn’t know how to react to it, what he should say or do.

“You need someone to pull you out?” He asks, trying his best to sound mellow tempered and helpful. He’s not, but he won't be able to sleep tonight if he has to drive by the coroner unsticking her frozen body from the seats in the morning. “I’m so sorry—I was checking my phone because my mom texted me and I didn’t see the corner—“ stuck in the snow because she was on her fucking phone? “You hit a snow embankment because you were textin’? You dim or somethin’, girl?” She gives him a hard glance, eyebrows pulled together tightly. “I’m not dim, but I can tell you’re dense.”

Tommy scuffs from beside him and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll grab the chain,” he tells his brother as he heads towards the truck. “I’m gonna pull you out, but after that you’re on your own, kid. This storm is just starin’, might be smart if you headed back to whatever city you blew in from.”

She’s the furthest thing from appreciative when Joel hooks a chain to the frame of her car and the hitch on the front of the old red chevy. When she gets out of the little blue car, Joel gets the full extent of how unprepared she is for a full on impending whiteout snowstorm. Her pants have rips and holes, like they are meant to be there, no way they are offering any kind of protection from the chill. Her boots have a three inch heel like she’s walking along some new york sidewalk with a tiny dog in her arms. She has a jacket, fur lining the hood and yet she’s still shaking like it all does nothing to protect her from the snow.

“Thank you for doing this, but I really could have called a tow truck or something. They probably would have been a lot nicer about it.” Her voice is dripping with disdain when he stands upright again. “You want nice, or you want to be dead? Because there ain’t no company sending a driver out here when were forecasted to get two feet overnight.”

She puts her hands on her hips in an attempted threatening manner, like that might scare Joel into an apology when she looks like an angry child who didn’t get their way. Joel hated people like this, too good for the world with their nose up in the air. He turns around to head back to the truck when he spots the piles of boxes in her back seat. Great—another fuckin’ know it all who think’s living out here is romantic and rustic. “You movin’ out here somewhere? You know there ain’t a mall for like, a hundred and fifty miles, right?”

She’s irritated now, with all the rude comments Joel is throwing her way—but he doesn’t care because the last thing this place needs is more city people thinking they can tame this untouched land. It shouldn’t bother him, because how long could she really last out here anyways? With those three inch heels and clothes fit for a concrete jungle, not muddy plains and cattle. She won't make it a month out here in the dead of winter.

“Just pull my car out, or leave me be, because the last thing I need right now is to get harassed by some old dumb fuck cowboy.” Dumb cowboy? Old? Like he’s the fucking moron out here in the middle of a blizzard in a car with bald ass tires and pants with holes in them. Maybe he should fucking leave, let her strand around trying to find a signal to call a tow company that wont come. “You know what?” Teach her a lesson, maybe then she’ll learn this place isn’t for people like her. With her done up hair and makeup—she’s pretty, unnaturally so—like she’s trying to damn hard to look that good—god damnit—“walk around in those stupid fucking shoes and see if you can find your own way out,” he leans down and undoes the hook under her car roughly. “Come on Tommy, were out of here.” She stomps her foot in the snow and starts to pace back to her car.

Joel makes his way back to the truck and unhooks the chain from the front. He’s had a long fucking day of taking care of his idiot bothers problems and he doesn’t have the patience to help some girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her.

“Hey, big brother.” It’s Tommy’s voice in his ears when he finally closes the door behind himself, huffing in discontent as he puts it in gear. “What.” He snaps, backing away from the stuck car and those sinfully tight jeans on that tight little—mother fucking son of a bitch, stop it!—he cant stand people like her, fucking with his head and getting under his skin. The type of girls who have looked him up and down and laughed in his face at the thought of someone like him being up to standard for someone like them. That snot nosed brat can sit in the snow, for all he cares.

“No need to get all hostile at me, man—I’m just checkin’ on ya. You’re all red and pissy, and nothin’ gets you all worked up like that.” He shrugs beside him with a cocky sort of snort. “I mean, unless—“ Joel jerks on the wheel and sneers over at his brother. “Drop it. Not another fucking word or I’ll leave you here too.”

Tommy’s jaw snaps shut and he looks out the passenger window, the radio playing quietly while the storm picks up, and the road carries on. Joel doesn’t think about what he’s done, only how his knee bounces and his hands flex the whole way back to the ranch. How his heart pounds and his blood rushes and it makes his head throb.

When they pull into the muddy drive, he shuts off the truck and turns towards his brother and the bouquet of flowers. “You really need to mean it when you talk to them, I’m serious. They are nice people who’ve looked out for us for two years. We owe them that, at least.” His little brother seems serious when he nods, so Joel passes him the flowers and heads inside. They have sacrificed so much to help Joel and Tommy. They’d been through dark winters with them, when they lost half the herd to the cold and Joel spent the night in the barn with what was left to make sure they all stayed upright and dry. They’ve all had empty bellies at night, didn’t have two nickels to rub together between the four of them and they’ve stood by each others sides through it. They’ve seen Tommy lose his shit a few times, too—so they know he’s capable of coming back from it. He just hopes this time wasn’t too far—Tommy had yelled at her for simply washing his clothes for him.

When the door to the big white farm house creaks open, Joel steps inside to the warm scent of roast in the oven and potatoes on the stove, Hank in his recliner with the newspaper in his hand and his reading glasses on while the game plays in the background. Hank was a large man, kind of chubby in the joyous kind of way, kind eyes and balding on the top. He laughs a lot, but he takes no shit while he’s at it.

“Kitchen,” Joel directs Tommy, who makes his way to the conjoining room where Louise was probably busy cooking dinner. Joel makes his way over to the couch across from Hank, who drops his paper and gives Joel a long look. “You talk to him?” He nods his head and glances down at his snowy boots. “He’s been real anxious all day. Storm comin’ in is messin’ with him and he knows it's no excuse to snap at anyone. He’s in there apologizin’.”

The older man nods at him and glances over his shoulder where Joel can barely see Tommy handing her the bouquet. “She was really shaken up over it, I hate seeing her so upset. She’s been excited all day and trying to make the house looks nice. I think it was just a misunderstanding, but don’t give him any excuse to yell at her like that.”

Joel twists his hands around and looks up at Hank who wears a solemn expression. “I know, I’m real sorry, Hank.”

The man across from him sigh, then offers a faint smile as he stands from his chair. “It’s alright. You boys are like family, families fight—it happens. Lets get some dinner, forget about all this mess, alright?” Joel is thankful for the reason to drop the conversation and stands with the older man as they head towards the kitchen. Louise and Tommy are talking quietly, smiling at each other until she reaches out and embraces him in a soft looking hug. It's an ease on Joel’s wound tight mind, thinking Tommy had finally thrown a wrench in the only good thing they’ve had in ten years.

Dinner is delicious, savory roast that he can dip soft bread in, let is soak up all the juice that he tries and fails to not get all over his beard. When his bowl is empty and his stomach feels distended, he leans back in his chair and sighs contently. “That was amazing, Miss Lou—I don’t know how you do it.” The smile she gives him isn’t like one of her usuals, it’s slightly saddened and disheartened when she looks across the table at him. For a moment, he worries that Tommy’s words are getting to her again. “Everythin’ okay?” He sits up a little in his chair.

“I'm a little worried. Our daughter was on her way home from college today, she’s finally graduated and she called me this morning to tell me she’d be home before supper, so I made her favorite.” She looks towards the window. “The storm is getting worse, I’m worried her little car wont make it,” Joel’s whole stomach lurches into his throat and he nearly throws up in his hands. “I told you we should have gotten her a truck, Hank, you know she’s not the best driver in snow.”

Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!—he’s such a fucking idiot. He knew she was coming home today, Lou has been talking about it for weeks, the impending return of the prodigy child, home with a degree to save the ranch—or whatever it is that she was doing. He’d heard them talk about her so many times, she was all brains and no know-how, Hank always talked about how clumsy and awkward she was, but how brilliant her mind was at the same time. He’d always questioned how uncoordinated she really was, based on the photos of her as a young woman roping in the rodeo. Fuck—he should have recognized her... “What’s her name again?” Tommy asks like he has no fucking clue Joel is losing his ever loving shit right now. They left her stranded on the side of the road in the middle of this damn snow storm. He hears Louise say her name but it doesn’t register because he feels like he’s on fire and drownings at the same time. “But everyone’s always called her Honey. Since she was a little little thing. She was always so ornery and stubborn until one day she got into a bee box and got covered in bee stings. Ever since that day she was so sweet, so we started calling her Honey.” Lou has this soft smile and all Joel can think about is how he’d told her to crawl back to whatever city she came from in her stupid fucking shoes. “She’s got a real mouth on her till something puts her straight.” Hank chuckles and Joel abruptly stands from his seat.

“I’m finished, I can go out and have a look incase she got stuck somewhere.” He slings on his jacket, but Tommy is still eating and doesn’t think much of it—dumb ass. “Are you sure? She’s probably fine, she knows better than to get caught out in these storms, she probably got a hotel in town.” Joel shakes his head at them and throws on his thick Carhartt jacket that Hank gave him his first winter here after watching him shiver in the fields. “I’m sure, it’s gettin’ bad, just gonna make sure she ain’t stuck somewhere.” Joel makes his way out the door quickly, grabbing the keys to the truck that they had given to him—“how are you supposed to manage a ranch if you don’t have a way to get around?”

He starts up the old chevy and it fires to life despite the snow coming down in heaps now. He’s worried about the road back to her car, about the probably eight inches lining the long driveway, but he throws it in four wheel drive and tries his damndest to get through it because despite all the things stacking up against him, his biggest worry is the police finding her frozen to death in the morning and her parents faces when they find out it was Joel who abandoned her there to die. God—he’s such a prick.

The road is slippery and tricky, a winding snow covered path along the hillside leading towards Jackson. It takes him twenty minutes in this blizzard to get there, all he can think about the entire time is the half freezing girl hiding in her car and the warm food in his belly that was meant for her. He stops the truck when he gets to the car, the lights are off and it looks abandoned—his gut lurches again, what if he’s already too late? Two hours have passed since he left her stranded and the sun has set now, real cold is creeping in.

He jumps out of the truck and walks up to the window. He can't see inside because the glass is fogged, so she has to be alive in there. He knocks on the window and the door jerks against the cold. “Hey,” he pulls the door open more, she’s sitting in the driver seat, pale and shaking with a small blanket pulled around her to keep in some warmth. The look she gives him could kill a man if he didn’t feel like he was already going to die the second she tells her parents that he left her there.

“Y-Your conscious f-finally get to y-you, asshole?” She’s absolutely shaking, her fingers look purple. “I’m so sorry—C’mon, it’s warm in the truck.” He reaches for her hand, but she snaps it away from him like he might burn her. “I c-can get o-out on my own.” She can and does, wobbles on her too tall heels and starts to head towards the running truck. Joel grabs the door for her and she sneers at him—yeah, yeah—he deserves that. He closes the door behind her and runs over to the other side. When he jumps in, she’s got her hands pressed against the heater while she relishes in the welcomed heat.

He pulls away from her trapped car, he’ll come back for it when the snow has cleared up a little bit, but for now—it’s too dangerous to try and yank it out just for it to get stuck in the road because it has no traction. It's ten agonizing minutes of silence while Joel taps his fingers against the steering wheel, trying his damndest to keep a close eye on the woman beside him. She’s warming herself up and thawing out that burning rage Joel knows is inside of her. When they get closer to the driveway, she starts to fire off. “You takin’ me to some backwoods shack to tie me up and keep me?” He scoffs and looks out the windshield, trying to keep the truck steady in the snow.

“If I was going to tie up and keep some girl, I’d make sure she was less bitchy.” She growls at him, growls lowly and it actually does the job, makes his skin prick in goosebumps while he drives. “Wouldn’t be so bitchy if you didn’t leave me on the side of the road. You know I could have died, right?” He is painfully, agonizingly aware of that fact. “I came back, didn’t I?” The driveway is in view, a long fenced path up to the old farm house. “How’d you know I was comin’ here?” Her voice is a tad quieter now, less abrasive on his ears.

“Cus’ I’m comin’ here too.” He says quietly, halfway hoping it won't reach her ears, but her mom was right—she is quick, smart too. “You’re Joel, aren’t you?” She laughs menacingly, crossing her arms across her body and her left leg over her right with a scoff. “You know, my parents said it was Tommy I wouldn’t like. Said you were this big southern gentlemen.” She laughs a little harder, looking over at Joel. “They were half worried they’d have to chase me out of your bed, that you were right up my alley. My daddy said you were the type to charm any woman’s pants off. Guess they don’t know you like they thought they do, huh? Under all that chivalrous facade is just another self centered, selfish cowboy.”

Joel shuts off the truck and glances over at her. “Look, I’m real sorry. First impressions aren’t my strong suit, got a thing for people who don’t belong out here. Didn’t know you were their kid. Would’ve pulled your car out if I’d known.” She opens the door of the cab and steps out into the snow. “So you’re only a good person when someone’s lookin’, I’ll keep that in mind, dickhead.”

She slams the door and storms off towards the house while Joel slumps against the wheel with his head in his hands. Fuck…if it’s not Tommy risking their welcome, their jobs, then it was him, making an absolute ass of himself in-front of the bosses daughter. The bosses fiery, too good—too good looking—

“Son of a bitch!”

—

He gets into the house ten minutes after she does, his hands stuffed in his pockets and half expecting her parents to kick him out right then and there. He pretty much told her to fuck off and left her to freeze to death. There’s no doubt in his mind that they would have found her dead in the morning, the temperature was below freezing already.

To his surprise, it's quiet when he gets inside. Hank and Louise are in the dining room with their daughter, laughing and smiling and surprised to see her, to see her with Joel. “And he just found you there?” She looks so…so..chipper standing there beside her dad with her arm on his shoulder while he sits at the table. “Yep, got my car stuck because I was texting, I know—not bright.” She sounds so fucking fake and dramatic in her tone, Joel’s hands flex and unflex. “And I couldn’t get out and find a signal because of my stupid fucking shoes. I probably would have died there if not for…good ol’ Joel.” She cocks her head with this shit eating grin on her face that makes Joel's gut clench up and his heart pound.

This fucking bitch—is she blackmailing him right now? In those stupid fucking pants and that top he’s finally getting a glimpse at—and then…shit…

Look at you…just—his brain is going haywire right now. He hates your fucking guts right about now but his brain makes other notes about your guts and its desire to be in them—and that tight ass shirt with your tits just pourin’ out of it—Jesus CHRIST, Joel, get it together here.

He shakes his head, bites the inside of his cheek and meets your eyes, everyone else is looking at you, but you’re looking at him, fully aware of the way his eyes just ate your body up for dessert until he was stuffed. “Real winner you guys have here, mom and dad…real winner.”

If there’s one thing Joel is certain of, it’s that he is in big, big fucking trouble.