#it hurts like wound cleanser on an open wound

[hesitantvampirealien]

someone please tell me i'm not the only person who feels completely destroyed emotionally after listening to Summertime

[espresso-ships]

Home - Varganardi oneshot

Words: 1K Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Cuss words, slight injury & mention of blood Summary: Just Laura comforting Nacho <3 Pr0ships DNI!

He kicks off his shoes, his heart heavy with anxiety, and his head, and shoulder, pulsating with pain. The TV is on. Is she really up at this time…? Guilt creeps up, realizing she’s been up. Waiting for him to get home. And here he is, bruised up, sore and exhausted. He limps into the living room to find her, his beloved Laura, asleep under a blanket, with a documentary playing on the tv. He wants to walk up to her, hold her in his arms and seek comfort in her warm embrace. 

Instead, he sneaks - at least tries to limp quietly - to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, which is almost empty. He takes out a beer, the freezing bottle feeling good against his sweaty palms. He puts it against the bruise on his face, and hisses at the pain but then sighs in relief, when the coldness numbs the pain. It has the same effect on the bruise on his shoulder. If only it worked for feelings too. He scoffs at the thought. How bitter he sounds. 

“Nacho?” 

Shit! He turns around quickly, as if paranoid it's someone else. But of course, it’s only Laura. Laura… She looks tired, but as soon as she sees the look on his face, she looks more awake, concerned. Shit. He fights the impulse to throw the bottle away. Instead, he removes it from his skin slowly, giving his girlfriend a sheepish smile. The glare he receives says: I’m not dumb. He sighs. She’s seen the bruises, of course. She’s too observant, too worried about him. Too damn stubborn. That’s what I love about her, though. 

“Hey… You awake?”

No reply. The ticking from the clock on the wall is almost a relief, because at least it’s not completely silent. Usually, he and Laura have a comfortable silence. They don’t always need, nor want to talk. They don’t need background noise either, just the company of each other. 

This is different. She crosses her arms and looks him up and down. His shoulders slumps down, and he barely notices his girlfriend's absence. He blinks his eyes and stares at the closed fridge in an attempt to lose track of time. That’s when Laura returns, but this time carrying a bottle of wound cleanser, cotton pads and band-aids. Noticing how zoned out her boyfriend looks, she takes his arm, guiding him to sit down in a chair. He almost whines when he bends his hurt leg to sit down, almost. But then yet again, Laura notices his tiny grimace. Damn it, Laura. 

“I’m fine.”

“No. You’re not.”

He doesn’t even protest when she sits on the chair next to him, and carefully helps him off with the shirt, so she can inspect his bruises. 

He can see the thousands of emotions on her face - confusion, anxiety and worry, anger, and then… She swallows hard to hide the emotions from seeing him like this. Her beloved boyfriend, exhausted and wounded next to her. She hates it, and hates his work, hates to know that she could lose him, just like that. She blinks her eyes. Not now, not now. She tells herself. 

But she’s not the only observant one. Nacho sees the pain in her face, and it kills him. 

“This will sting for a bit.” she wets the cotton pad with a solution that makes him crinkle his nose. He flinches as she puts it against his skin, dabbing at the sore skin of his shoulder, and then the face. His eyes tears up at the discomfort, but her presence, and the gentle touch, makes it feel ok. She mumbles apologies, but continues the work.

“What happened?”

“Laura…”

“Nacho.” 

I give up. He thinks. But he tells her about what happened. He tells her about work today, and everything that messed up. As he talks, she reacts to his words, but never interrupts. If it’s one person he trusts, it’s her. She’s concerned, of course, but never too judging. She hates the fact Nacho is in the cartel, but knows how difficult it is to leave. She’s stayed by his side all this time, even before they started dating. Always on his side. After some minutes the wounds are treated and his face and shoulder is covered in bandaids. I probably look ridiculous. She’s thought of everything, and he even has a bag of frozen beans against his leg, which still hurts.

All of this, for him. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he whispers. Laura looks at him, her soft green eyes meeting his dark brown eyes. The pain in his voice is reflected in her eyes. They both feel it. 

“Stop it.” 

“I…”

“Stop. I mean it.” She walks into the bedroom and returns to the kitchen with a new shirt for Nacho. After helping him put it on, she walks him to the couch. She’s about to leave again to go get him something, but the urge to feel her close is too overwhelming. She protests as Nacho pulls her down next to him, wrapping his strong arms around her. He just holds her like that, and she hugs him back. Laura moves her hand over his head and shoulders, in a soothing way, and Nacho melts into her touch. He inhales her shampoo and the scent, her scent, of lavender and peppermint. It smells like home. She is his home. He holds her, and wishes to never let go. 

“I love you.” Nacho mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotions. 

“I love you.” her voice too is full of emotions, and shaky. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, he allows himself to be vulnerable. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t hold back. Nacho knows he doesn’t have to. Not now, not with Laura. 

“Let it out, Iggy.” she whispers. And he lets it all out. “It’ll be ok.” 

He actually believes it. 

“Stay. Don’t ever leave me.”

“Never, amore. I’m right here.” Laura’s voice is full of determination. “You’ll be ok.” 

Her words, her touch, and the reassurance is all he needs right now. He knows that whatever he faces, Laura will be by his side. 

Home. 

She is his home.

It's angst o'clock YAYYY

Been working on this one for a while, but GUYS!!!

I'm finally out of my creative block and my motivation AND inspiration to write is coming back!!! 😭💕

Here's a little Varganardi hurt/comfort :3

If you've read this far and like my writing, please share OR comment! Interactions means a lot on fanfics (or just any writing)!💕

Taglist 💕

(Sorry if you guys don't want to be tagged in this- Lmk! <3)

@mashedpotatosinacup @jokerislandgirl32 @tireddovahkiin 

@sharkruss @stoneshipper 

@sheepie-self-ships @scarecrowbf @emmamagorobisgirlfriend 

@sunflawyer @literally-just-there @fomybeloved

Form to be added!

[finalgirlkateausten]

bruised like violets

post-4x08 "the first ones". after that utter wreck of a mission, Jack refuses to take up infirmary resources when so many of his men are worse off than some chewed-up wrists. Sam won't let him get away with his silent self-punishment. TW for minor injuries, self-loathing, mentions of minor character death

The white bandages around Carter's wrists keep peeking out from under the sleeves of her BDU jacket. Jack keeps frowning down at them while he watches her, carefully disassembling her weapons and cleaning the rest of her gear. He's working on his own P90 right now, but it's slower going, when every snap of his wrist burns his skin, makes his eyes water a little. He doesn't mind though. The pain he'll sit through while the zip tie burns heal won't be anything compared to the soldiers who lost their lives to Goa'uld and Unas and the fire of friendly semi-automatics. Fraiser and her team have their hands full enough already; he can suffer a little until his cuts scab over.

He's returning his gun to the armory rack when he becomes cognizant of the presence at his shoulder. "Sir. You haven't gotten checked out yet?"

He looks over his shoulder at Carter. Big mistake, her blue eyes are searching and a little worried, and something hurts in his chest. "I got checked out enough to know I'm not a Goa'uld. They're busy down there, I don't need to be in anyone's way."

"You need to get your injuries seen to," Sam retorts, one eyebrow lifting.

Jack pulls back his sleeve from his left wrist, the fabric rough against the irritated skin. It almost feels like he's looking at someone else's arm, despite the fact that he can feel the tightness when he moves his wrist, the sting that's settled under the skin.

"I'll be alright," he mutters absently.

"Not if those cuts get infected," Sam says, her eyes boring into his. "I mean, really, sir, we were crawling around in the dirt on what is likely the home planet of the Goa'uld. D'you really wanna risk it?"

Jack stares at the floor. She can be downright pushy sometimes. "I'll live, Major," he grunts.

Still frowning, Carter turns away, returning to her pack. Jack gets a moment of relief to think she'll finish what she's doing and leave him to his silent self-flagellation, but then she pulls her field first aid kit out, carrying it back over to him. She inclines her head toward the bench, pulling out gauze, medical tape, and some cleanser. "Sit down."

He does. "Since when do you give the orders?"

Sam doesn't answer, instead pouring the cleanser onto a pad of gauze. He hisses when she begins to dab at the dried blood and barely-healing scabs on his right wrist.

"Daniel is safe," she reminds him quietly.

Jack winces, his stomach knotting at how quickly she's caught on to the storm whirling around his head. "Yeah, well, how about Rothman? Hawkins? The rest of SG-11?"

"SG-11 was dead before we even got there, Sir."

"It was the Goa'uld homeworld." He closes his eyes. Whatever she's doing burns even more now that the wounds are open again. "We got too comfortable. Thinking they'd all moved on to become dictators across the galaxy. I should've been ready for some kinda bullshit to happen."

"And I'm the one who's supposed to be able to sense them," Carter replies, an edge to her voice. "Yeah, we didn't know exactly what we were walking into. We never do. We did what we had to do to get home alive... sir."

He opens his eyes again. Looks at her. By now, he recognizes the blank expression she wears when the other option is folding in on herself and succumbing to tears. Without conscious thought, he turns his hand as she dabs neosporin on his wrist, locking his fingers through hers.

Are you ever going to call me Jack?

But saying that out loud would definitely not be leaving it in the room.

"Hey," he says, his voice rougher than he realizes, "what's the point of me being in command if you're going to beat yourself up too, huh?"

Sam doesn't quite smile. He wonders if she gets lost in his eyes sometimes, like he always does in hers. "At least I let Janet bandage me up instead of running off and hiding." She gently pries his fingers away, delivering a soft pat to the back of his hand before she layers gauze over his skin. His stomach flips.

"Must not've hidden very well, since you found me."

She does the thing where her bottom lip pulls briefly between her teeth. Jack shoves his free hand into his pocket as the idea of brushing his thumb over that lip crosses his mind. "I think sometimes you think you need to be alone when it's maybe not the best idea after all."

"Well." The pain in his chest has turned into a familiar but terrifying warmth, always Carter-induced. "I mean, good ideas are generally your purview. Not mine." He's glad when she wraps the final bandage over his wrist and moves onto his other arm. The gentle precision she's using is doing something to him, to his brain-- he shouldn't be alone in a dark room with her much longer.

"I dunno," she offers, administering the stinging cleanser once again, "honestly, a better idea would probably have been to drag you down to the infirmary instead of doing this here."

"You're more than trained for this," he points out. "It's just band-aids, really." Her fingers along the inside of his arm make him jump more than the ointment on his cuts.

Carter hums. "Not what I meant."

He knows. "I'm glad it's you," he says, even though he shouldn't.

She won't look at him now. "Teal'c would've been rougher. Faster, though."

"Teal'c wouldn't talk, either," he says softly, knowing she knows he doesn't mean that as a good thing. "And he'd leave me here, too. To my own devices."

Sam sighs. "I'm heading back to my lab once we're done here. If you want to listen to me explain quantum physics while I try to distract myself from writing that damn mission report."

"Hey," Jack protests, "Hammond told us all to take the night off." He doesn't wait for her protests about physics being stress relief for her. "We should at least go see if there's blue Jell-o in the commissary."

Finally, a smile. She glances up at him before finishing the layer of gauze and grabbing the roll of bandages again. "Or pie."

"Or pie," he agrees. "I mean, come on, is there anything food doesn't fix?"

"Flesh wounds," Carter says pointedly, tearing the bandage and tucking it into itself.

His hand twitches as he stops himself from taking her hand again. "Well, that's what I have you for." He stands up, bumping his shoulder against hers as she packs away the first aid kit. "Hey, look at that. We match."

Sam brushes her fingers over the bandages, her own more visible since she'd pulled up her sleeves to work. She hums, her fingers moving from bandage to skin. Jack holds himself very still, waiting as her touch ghosts from his palm back up to his forearm. He's surprised when she lets her hand land there, squeezing his arm once. "That's better."

"It is." He lays his hand over hers. "Thank you."

She's staring at him, and his heart is trying to escape his chest, and he wants to close the distance and kiss her but he's just so tired. For the thousandth time, he reminds himself to be content just knowing that she knows. That she maybe even wants to kiss him herself right now.

"Come on." She takes his hand and leads him out of the armory, letting go once they're in the open hallway. "Jell-O time."

They're alive. Daniel's alive. And he still has her, in the ways that really matter.

He looks down at their matching bandages and finally starts to feel a little better.

[him-x-her]

Vee is for Vampires - Chapter 3

Author: @sinnysuicide AO3: SinnySioux Vamp!Ville x F!reader Wordcount: 2k + Warnings: There will be smut. 18+ only. Read on AO3. Previous Chapter ❥ Next Chapter ❥ Fic Masterlist

Chapter 3: “I’m the hungry vampire now.”

I wake up, fully clothed and completely uncomfortable. I blink a few times; my eyelids fused together with mascara and tears. I try to rub the kohl out of my eyes, and roll over to reach for my phone. It’s 16:48: I have five missed calls, all from work.

“Oh shit!” I hiss, but, truth be told, I don’t care. Maybe I can fake an illness to get a bit of time off work to recover emotionally. I don’t think ‘Sorry, I got attacked by a vampire!’ would go down well with my boss. I decide to think of excuses and maybe call in tomorrow with the best one.

Huh, vampire. Vampires exist. Although this is a completely wild and INSANE concept, it isn’t my biggest fear. Ville tearing my throat out and murdering me isn’t my biggest fear, either. I guess my biggest fear is never again being as happy as I was last night. Upon admitting this to myself the tears start to fall once more. I remove the makeshift tourniquet of an old scarf and take another look at my puncture wounds. They still look sore and will probably take a week or so to heal. I take a shower to mask the sound of my sobbing.

…

I towel dry my hair and brush my teeth. I know that I should eat something but the thought of doing so makes me nauseous. I switch on the TV and stare into the void for a bit.

#And next on ITV starring Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, it’s Interview With The Vampire.#

I blink. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I switch the TV off and sling the remote across the room. “FUCK this!” I say out loud; I am fed up of feeling sad and worthless. I turn my lamp on and close the curtains. It’s Autumn so it’s starting to get darker sooner in the evenings. I walk into the bathroom to take a look at myself. Pink, puffy eyes. I tie my hair into a messy bun, and put on some old ripped jeans and a black tank top. I go rooting through the bathroom drawer for a cleanser.

“Ouch!” I draw my palm back to see I’ve accidentally caught it on a razor I had haphazardly thrown in the other day. There is a clear slit in my left palm and it begins to bleed. “Fucking great!” I mutter, dismally sarcastic, trying to remember if I have any bandages lying around. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door: I freeze. I don’t know if it’s someone from work checking up on me or even Ville himself since he knows where I live.

I walk hesitantly to the door and stop a foot or so in front of it. “Who is it?” I say, throat hoarse.

“It’s Ville, please, please let me explain.” he begs. I feel sick.

“Explain how you confused me with a snack?!?” I say angrily. This is good. Anger is much more manageable and cathartic than depression.

“I hate myself for what I did to you”, his voice breaks slightly. “Let me heal you, at least”, he pleads.

I hesitate for a moment. Heal me? How? I unlock the door and open it very slowly, my hands shaking. He takes a step into the room and I take three steps back.

“Please, I’m not here to hurt you.” My eyes begin to well up and my hand instinctively flies to my neck. His eyes are pink too; he looks like he has spent his day similarly. Somehow he still looks incredibly beautiful in his black skinny jeans, V-neck shirt and blazer. I glimpse part of a tattoo on his chest and have to snap my gaze away from him to refocus. He approaches me slowly.

“Do you trust me?”

“No… yes… I don’t know!” I become flustered and start to cry. I want so desperately to believe that he is the same man from nine hours ago.

“I’m going to heal your wounds, okay?” He moves closer. He opens his mouth and bares his sharp fangs, and bites down into his wrist. He starts to bleed thick and deep and red. He puts his wrist to my neck and I feel a warming sensation. He pulls back and I run to the bathroom to look in the mirror: the puncture wounds are no more. There is no trace of Ville’s blood.

“W-what? How?” I begin to shake again.

“Shhh, sit down”, he takes my hand firmly but gently and sits me down on the sofa. He sits next to me and takes my hands in his. I flinch when I remember the wound from earlier.

He cups my palm with his. “When did this happen?” He asks, concerned, as he bites down into his wrist again, which appears to have miraculously healed from a moment ago. He puts his bloody lips in my palm and kisses lightly. I watch the skin heal, the wound close and the blood dry up and dissipate. I am in awe. “There” says Ville with a smile “Healed.”

“Huh”, I say, “I guess I know who to call when I get a papercut.” Sarcasm forever my go to when things get tough; masking the discomfort with humour is my way of coping.

“I would give anything for you to call me; I’d heal every part of your body for just an ounce of forgiveness”, he looks sad, but hopeful. I want to trust him, to give this a shot, but I cannot let him off this easily.

I remove my hands from his and stand, my arms folded. “You came to explain”, I state coldly.

He looks morose, “I want you to know I don’t take what I did lightly. I don’t expect you to forgive me or for us to ride off into the sun-“

“Well OBVIOUSLY NOT because you would burst into flames, seeing as you conveniently forgot to tell me you’re a FUCKING VAMPIRE!!” here comes the rage again. I feel myself burning with utter fury.

I give myself a moment to take a breath.

“Would you have believed me?” He looks at me with his beautiful pools of green and I try my hardest not to melt.

“…no” I say, and sit back down on the couch, defeated.

“Please let me just explain what happened. Then you can hate me, you can punch me, you can scream at me. I just want you to understand.”

After a few seconds of silence I concede, “Okay.” He removes his black beanie hat and runs his hands through his hair, visibly stressed.

“When you met me, outside the bar, I hadn’t been drinking alcohol. I’d fed from someone. I didn’t realise they were inebriated until I was giggling like an idiot in your car.” My eyes widen as he talks about feeding. Ville seems to pick up on it. “It’s fine, I healed him and he went back to his friends. Anyway, vampires are nocturnal. We sleep during the day and waking us from sleep can make us feel pretty disoriented. I hadn’t fed properly - I awoke confused - and I could smell your blood. I became overwhelmed with hunger. When I heard you scream it snapped me back into reality and I was horrified…” he looks down and runs his hands through his hair again.

“Last night I… I had the best night of my life. All day I’ve been thinking about listening to your playlist, the way your eyes lit up when I played my guitar, the way you held me, the way we kissed”… he looks up at me with his glassy eyes, his lashes wet with tears. “I have never felt this way before and I would do anything to earn your forgiveness, anything.”

I fight the urge to hold him, to comfort him.

“I…” the tears roll down my cheeks before I can speak. Ville moves closer to me and takes my hands in his again, kissing my healed palm.

“Please don’t be afraid of me. I promise I will never hurt you again.” He soothes.

I take a deep breath and swipe the tears from my face. “I’m not afraid of you, Ville. I probably should be, but I’m not.” He looks at me curiously. “I lost the only family I knew when I was very young. I never wanted to rely on another human being because life is so fleeting,, and nothing is promised. We’re born, we kill time, we die.” My voice begins to waver. “I am afraid of the connection we had last night, the feelings I felt… and never having those feelings again.” The tears silently roll out of my eyes, pool at my chin and fall to the floor.

In an instant, Ville wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. I bury my face in his chest and sob. A moment passes and I look up to gauge Ville’s feelings. He looks at me with sparking emerald eyes, the life in him returned. He places his thumb on my chin to tilt it upwards, and kisses me sweetly.

“Minä rakastan sinua, baby.” He whispers.

“What does that mean?” I ask, looking up into his eyes.

He blushes. “It’s Finnish… maybe I’ll tell you when you forgive me?”

I giggle into his chest; his V-neck wet with my tears. “I’m sorry, let me dry your shirt?” I offer.

Ville promptly unbuttons his blazer and pulls his shirt over his head. My eyes rake over his smooth chest and the little path of hair which leads down… he has portrait tattoos on his chest, a tattoo of what looks like a mix of a heart and a pentagram around his nipple and a swirly decorative tattoo just above his… “Ahem”, Ville clears his throat, “My eyes are up here”. I blush furiously.

“Um… I think I’m the hungry vampire now”. Ville throws his head back and laughs loudly as I place his shirt on the radiator. He walks over to me and softly places his hands on my hips.

“Forgive me?” He purrs.

“Oh, no, baby. You need to earn it.” I smirk with sass.

“Oh, I will”, he vows. “So tell me, baby vamp, which part of me makes you most hungry?” He presses his body to mine and before I know it we’re kissing passionately. My tongue claiming his; my hands grabbing at the luscious curls atop his head. All of the pain, the sorrow, the anger; every single emotion of the last twelve hours thrown into our physical connection.

Breathless, Ville whispers, “Where is your bed?” I hook an index finger beneath the button of his jeans and pull him forwards. He shudders at my touch as I coax him into my bedroom. Softly, I fall backwards into my cold cotton sheets, exposing my midriff as my tank top rides up. Ville crawls atop me and kisses my lower abdomen. I gasp and start to feel wet in my underwear. He begins to unbutton my jeans with his teeth.

“No…” I whine.

He promptly stops. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to?”

I sigh. “I want to, so badly, but we need to slow down and you need to earn this. We need to reestablish trust, and you need to prove your self restraint.” I am so mad at myself for being my own cock-block, but I want this to last, and I want more than just sex.

Ville nods and moves up my bed to lie next to me. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” he asks, with hope.

“Absolutely” I grin, and our lips lock again. We spend hours making out; I run my hands up and down his smooth chest, enjoying the curves and texture of his toned abdomen. He cups my breast through my top. I pull his bottom lip forward with my teeth, and the only sounds are soft moans and gentle bed creaking as we rock back and forth, grinding against each other through our jeans.

It gets to 4am and I am visibly exhausted, my tired eyes illuminated by the full moon hovering proudly in the sky above my window. “Do you want me to stay?” asks Ville, but we both know it is too soon.

“No, baby, I have damage control to do with work tomorrow and I need a good night’s sleep. You’ll have all day to think about how to make it up to me” I smile.

“Let me take you for a romantic date?” asks Ville “Let me treat you like the goddess that you are.” His eyes shine.

“Mmm, okay” I say, sleepily. He gets up and fetches his clothes. I pout as he throws his blazer and beanie back on. His shirt still wet, I ask him if I can keep it.

He smiles genuinely and brilliantly. “Only if you sleep in it and imagine my arms around you” he teases, but I know that is exactly what I will do.

I follow him to my door, “I thought I was clear about burning the hat”, I raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, I got rid of the flat cap! The beanie stays, though” he laughs. “I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow, 7pm? I’ll leave all my hats at home” he flashes his brilliant white teeth at me as he grins.

“Okay” I smile, as he kisses my forehead.

“Thank you. I will make it up to you. I’ll be thinking about those lips all day.” He walks out of the door, down the corridor, and out of the apartment complex. I do as I’m told.

I undress completely and slip on his shirt. I slide into my sheets and touch myself, thinking about his tattoos and the mystery lying beneath the button of his jeans. The last thing I think about are his piercing eyes, as the rain against my window lulls me into a deep sleep.

Graphics by saradika-graphics

[medicdoodles]

Dritchet week 2022 Day 2: Promised Land

||(Day 1)||(Day 3)||(Last Day)

There's a Virus that is going that will reunite Deadlock to the mech that helped him.

Tw: for refereference of financial abuse. It happens in the last portion of the fic. And surgery for a lodge bullet wound at the beginning. While I tried to make more like a mechanic pulling out peices of the engine, it still something to weary of it.

He was saved by a space bridge engineer. Not a nurse, not a doctor, not even a damn medic. No just an of the so called neutral parties whom claim to only wish to help, but they never want to. Deadlock would have to bring up the law to force them.

So how pathetic must he be to still be weak for any mech with a soft touch. Deadlock has a reputation for fragging medics, but that wasn't entirely true. He also goes for former clockmakers or mechanics, or any bot who could make his engine purr properly. He's looking for a mech who could match the touch of the engineer, or at least get close enough.

So when a new viruse hits the Decepticon base he currently is stationed at. Many of his comrades give him a knowing look. High command managed to get some mechs who would come in to investigate the illness. The first order of business is that all personal would be quarantined until further notice. That's when the doctors will go into each individual room, and stay until they get an all clear.

At least three full days with a mech with a good touch all to himself. Yeah, they all already know that he's going to come out with another file in his folder.

A knock on the door, his doctor, his target. "Please stand stand back while I setup the sanitation ionization." That voice... "Good. I will now enter your room." The lock blinks three times red, turns green as the door opens and in comes in his doctor.

His doctor, that damn space bridge engineer. With a soft grey faceplate, a darker Chevron amongst pearlescent plating. If only he had his golden aura, then Deadlock would truly be in the well.

"Well, well." Deadlock moves to hover over him. "Surprise to see you here, doc." The mech flinches, guess he doesn't like being reminded that he isn't under the board. "Didn't imagine that they would manage to get someone like you to help us lowlifes."

"Don't say that." Ooo he's got a fire in him. "All bots deserve help." He leads Deadlock to the berth, guiding down with more than a suggestion than force. "Alright." he pulls out a medical scanner. It usually something you would notice, not until someone points it out. "Scans are coming out good." He rattles the thing as if it would suddenly change the results.

Deadlock gives him a smug look. Yeah he's done his best to make sure the mech's hard work wasn't undone. It wasn't for praise, since he didn't know if they would ever meet up again. If he was being completely honest, the idea of him being the last mech to touch him deeply sits well with him. "So green across the board, doc?"

"Hum. I wouldn't say that." He digs two finger into the swivel underneath his chassis. Fuck did that hurt, he tries to hold the cleanser back. "You have a deep cut here. Your suspensions are shot and the serpentine belt are five turns from snapping."

There's a small smile hiding underneath all that professionalism, one that Deadlock is more than happy to pull out. The mech then grabs his faceplate, forcing Deadlock to look at him and forcing his mouth open. He literal takes the words out of his mouth as he pops open and uses his flashlight. "You also have a chipped fang and your energon filter is almost full." He gets his fingers out of his mouth.

"I thought you said I was doing good." Deadlock lips are still pursued, like he was waiting for a kiss. Ratchet then pulls him back down and closes his mouth. He still has that small hidden smile, he was enjoying himself.

"In terms of the virus going around, you had no contact. And considering what you Decepticons do, only having one major injury, I say you're doing well for yourself." He makes notes on the scanner, angling it so Deadlock could have a better look. "Anything else you'd like to bring up? Sometimes diagnosis can't really get everything." He has his finger hovering over the save button.

"Yeah..." he moves closer. "See I have this thing on my lip." He gives him space to let him look at him. Deadlock returns the smug smile. "The only way to cure it is if you give it a kiss." He makes obnoxious kissing sounds, he probably would have chase the mech down but the gentle caress on chest stops him.

"Well I'll look into that too." The mech walks back to the entrance. "But first lets get all of these kinks in order." He stands by the door, not doing anything. Was he getting his bearing or did Deadlock come on to strong? "By the way." He looks back at him, and damn if that full smile didn't look good on him. "You should take this time to learn some manners and try asking for a date first, okay."

"How about your name?", and he walked out.

---

"Oww." Deadlock whines as the mech pulls out the stray bullet that was logged underneath his armor is being yanked out. It is a good thing that the quarantine shields also block out sounds. Because the last thing he wants the team hearing cry about some little wound. Well it was more because that little wound was his fault.

"I put in five pain numbing chips." The mech uses his right hand to hold him in place. "Sorry, none of your files mentioned that you burn through them this quickly." He unspools more of the cords from the side of his body. Yikes he's pretty sure those aren't supposed to be out like this. "Okay I got it."

If he cried like a new spark, no he didn't. The mech starts to wipe down the cables he pulled out. His touch is still gentle... "So..." he looks down, wanting to see him work again. "What's my status?"

"Well I got the bullet out, though it is strange that it is a metal one..." it is true, sliver metal is expensive to get, and even more to use. However it has a better chance of slowing down a mech on the run, as normal energon shots instantly cauterize the wound. The down side is that they need a lot of training for proper care. One that Deadlock didn't have at the time he fired it. "But I don't want to start the other surgeries just yet. You still have to flush out the pain chips before I can use the blockers."

"Ohhh..." he feels heat growing up in his faceplate. Should he ask for the doctor's name? Or maybe he should ask about how the operation of his fang will go? He should at least say something and not lay here mute.

"Unfortunately I don't have any with me right now. So after this I'll have to go outside." He gives the joints that bend his leg a shake, like some kind of youngling. "That will give you at least more time to get some manners."

He gives him a scoff, "Says the mech who has his arms three meters deep in my internals." Then a yelp escapes his lips as said mech tugs a cord a little too hard. "Hey if I have to get manners, then you have to get better bedside manners."

"Excuse me?" Oh that fire in his eyes is back. The mech doesn't mess with his frame again, no he just keeps plugging cords back into their connectors. This time he gives them a nice rub.

"I'm just saying that it wouldn't hurt you to be a little sweeter to ya patients."

"Yeah." He finish putting everything back in his body. He pulls a bigger surprise by patching the wound and giving the still cooling metal a kiss. It was more of a ghost kiss than anything else. "Is this what you want? Me kissing your boo boos and rubbing your head like a good little mech."

"It would be a start." Deadlock takes the other bot's hand and moves them to his lips.

"Too bad." Before he could kiss them, they're snatched out of his grip. "Now I have to get those blockers. So just stay there and don't get up." The mech gets up and goes for the door.

"Wait." Deadlock knows he'll be back, but he has to get this off his chest. "How about I show you how nice I can be? Say over a nice dinner, my treat."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, once all of this is over. Just look for me and I'll take you somewhere fancy."

"Well..." sweet Primus he's considering it. "I don't really date my patients."

"Good thing once this is over I won't be."

"And I don't even know your name."

"Deadlock. The name is Deadlock."

The mech scans the door and stands for the sanitation system to clear him. He turns to walk away, and he almost leaves without an answer.

"Ratchet."

---

After all the noise that was the virus running around the base, Deadlock finally gets to leave his damn room. More importantly he gets to go on that date he promised to Ratchet.

Buffing his armor and waxing his face. He wants to be extra tempting tonight, because despite his plan to berth the mech. Deadlock didn't make that happen, so better to have insurance.

He makes his way towards a high end bar in the middle of Praxis. As one of the few cities still completely neutral, it allows him to spoil Ratchet. That and the owner still owes him from saving his business, so he gets unrestricted access to one of the private rooms.

"I must admit." Ratchet comes from the corner of the street, looking up and examining the building. Neon lights bounce off his frame. "This is a pretty swanky place." When he's satisfied with where they would go to, he turns around giving Deadlock a smile.

"Well if it isn't Ratchet?" Before either of them could say another one to each other another mech comes in. He isn't much to look at, and Deadlock certainly isn't threatened. However, he sees that his date is tense and that doesn't sit well with him. "I'm surprised you can afford to go to a place like this."

"I can't." Ratchet wraps himself in Deadlock's embrace as if he could physically block him. For his part the con deepens the hug, flaring his plating to imitate the newcomer. "My date here is the one treated me."

The mech gives a hard look, evaluating if Deadlock could actually afford it or not. "Somehow I don't believe you..." Okay, this asshole is going to-

"That doesn't matter." Ratchet tries to lead them to the building, but he doesn't let him. Deadlock isn't going to let that mech talk to Ratchet like that. "That's the truth."

There's a sinister smile that passes through that mech's face. "Oh yeah." Then he moves to enter the club. "Then maybe you can convince him to pay for my drinks too." He laughs away or he could. Until he reaches to the bouncer and looks back. "By the way Ratchet." He waits for his full undivided attention. "That's going to be another 100, since you clearly can afford it."

As the mech is allowed to go in, Ratchet just shuts down. Deadlock realise that when he guids him to the pent lounge and sits him down at the seat that hits the corner. "No..." Ratchet says in nothing but a whisper. "I was so close."

"Hey." He won't let that mech ruin this date or let him get one over Ratchet. "What was all that about?" Deadlock is firm, he needs Ratchet to know that through thick and thin he wants to be here.

"Nothing... it's nothing."

"Try again." He slams his hand on the table, scarring away the minicon that was assigned as their waiter. Ratchet is still passive, nothing like that sassy mech he was stuck with for five days. "C'mon Ratchet. I want to be able to help."

"Oilslick." He doesn't change much but having a name is something he can work with. "I don't know how much you know about how sponsors work." Ratchet shifts his position to put his hands on the table to rub them and soothe himself. Deadlock puts one hand to join him. "But when you join the academy, they pay for your tuition. They do that to encourage more bots to join in. However it gets quite expensive." Ratchet shifts his hold to put his hands in between his, and darn if it didn't feel good. "To mitigate the cost, they sell the debt to places that will hire mechs. So not too strange to see mechs get stuck in as servants to the places they work. Most of the times the intrest rates are outrageous to make sure talents stay in one place."

"And he bought yours."

Ratchet nods but still doesn't look at him. "He got me at a discount." Deadlock does his best to keep his rage in line. "It's hard to get work when you have a record for malpractice."

He supposes that Ratchet thinks that this would shock him, and when he found out it did. How could any engineers have a touch like his, but he figured that not being a doctor would get you flagged by the Senate. "So he lords that record over you?"

"Yeah... calls me a financial lost. So he charges what he thinks I should have been making for him." He's starting to cry. "I was finally so close to pay it off. Just one more job I would have had the money. I could have gotten out of there."

Deadlock can't stand this. He was never good at being comforting, but for Ratchet- "There, there." He forces him into his embrace, letting him hide his shame between his frame. "It's going to be okay. We'll find a way to get you out."

"Huh?" Ratchet looks up as if he misunderstood what he said.

"I know this is our first date, but I need you to know I'm going to help you through this. Even if this thing between us doesn't work out. I want you to know that I will get you out of this." Ratchet field is erratic, he's scared to trust him. "You saved my life." He moves to pet his head. "Let me pay it forward."

It's a tall ask. To hand over years of gear and worry. To take the thing his worked the hardest at and to let go. However, if Deadlock can do this, why shouldn't he. If getting Ratchet to a promise land for a small fee. Then yeah it would be worth it.

What he failed to think about is how much the travel to reach there would take.

[wilhelmina-goulding]

Chapter 3: Which part of me makes you most hungry?

I wake up, fully clothed and completely uncomfortable. I blink a few times; my eyelids fused together with mascara and tears. I try to rub the kohl out of my eyes, and roll over to reach for my phone. It’s 16:48; I have 5 missed calls, all from work. “Oh shit!” I hiss but, truth be told, I don’t care. Maybe I can fake an illness to get a bit of time off work to recover emotionally. I don’t think “Sorry, I got attacked by a vampire!” would go down well with my boss. I decide to think of excuses and maybe call in tomorrow with the best one. Huh, vampire. Vampires exist. Although this is a completely wild and INSANE concept, it isn’t my biggest fear. Ville tearing my throat out and murdering me isn’t my biggest fear, either. I guess my biggest fear is never again being as happy as I was last night. Once I admit this to myself the tears start to fall once more. I remove my bandages and take another look at my puncture wounds. They still look sore and will probably take a week or so to heal. I take a shower to mask the sound of my sobbing.

…

I towel dry my hair and brush my teeth. I know that I should eat something but the thought of doing so makes me nauseous. I switch on the TV and stare into the void for a bit. #And next on ITV starring Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, it’s Interview With The Vampire.# I blink. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I switch the TV off and sling the remote across the room. “FUCK this!” I say out loud; I am fed up of feeling sad and worthless. I turn my lamp on and close the curtains. It’s Autumn so it’s starting to get darker sooner in the evenings. I walk into the bathroom to take a look at myself. Pink, puffy eyes. I tie my hair into a messy bun, and put on some leggings and a black tank top. I go rooting through the bathroom drawer for a cleanser. “Ouch!” I draw my palm back to see I accidentally caught it on a razor I had haphazardly thrown in the other day. There is a clear slot in my left palm and it begins to bleed. “Fucking great” I mutter, trying to remember if I have any bandages left. Suddenly there is a knock at the door: I freeze. I don’t know if it’s someone from work doing a well-being check or even Ville himself since he knows where I live.

I walk hesitantly to the door and stop a foot or so in front of it. “Who is it?” I say, throat hoarse. “It’s Ville, please, please let me explain” he begs. I feel sick, “Explain how you confused me with a snack?” I say angrily. This is good. Anger is much more manageable and cathartic than depression. “I hate myself for what I did to you”, his voice breaks slightly. “Please at least let me heal you” he asks. I hesitate for a moment. Heal me? How? I unlock the door and open it very slowly, my hands shaking. He takes a step into the room and I take three steps back. “Please, I’m not here to hurt you.” My eyes begin to well up and my hand instinctively flies to my neck. His eyes are pink too; he looks like he has spent his day similarly. Somehow he still looks incredibly beautiful. He has signature black skinny jeans and converse allstars on, a black v neck shirt and a blazer. I glimpse part of a tattoo on his chest and have to snap my gaze away from him to refocus. He approaches me slowly, “Do you trust me?”

“No… yes… I don’t know” I become flustered and start to cry. I want so desperately to believe that he is the same man from nine hours ago. “I’m going to heal your wounds, okay?” He moves closer. He opens his mouth and bares his sharp fangs, and bites down into his wrist. He starts to bleed thick and deep and red. He puts his wrist to my neck and I feel a warming sensation. He pulls back and I run to the bathroom to look in the mirror; the puncture wounds are no more. There is no trace of Ville’s blood. “W-what? How?” I begin to shake again. “Shhh, sit down”, he takes my hand firmly but gently and sits me down on the sofa. He sits next to me and takes my hands in his. I flinch when I remember the wound from earlier. “When did this happen?” He asks as he bites down into his wrist again, which appears to have miraculously healed from a moment ago. He puts his bloody lips in my palm and kisses lightly. I watch the skin heal, the wound close and the blood dry up and dissipate. I am in awe. “There” says Ville with a smile “Healed”… “Huh” I say, “I guess I know who to call when I get a papercut.” Sarcasm is always my go to when things get tough; masking the discomfort with humour is my way of coping. “I would give anything for you to call me; I’d heal every part of your body for just an ounce of forgiveness” he looks sad, but hopeful. I want to trust him, to give this a shot, but I cannot let him off this easily. I move my hands from his and stand, my arms folded. “You came to explain”, I state coldly. He looks morose, “I want you to know I don’t take what I did lightly. I don’t expect you to forgive me or for us to ride off into the sun-“, “Well obviously not because you would burst into flames, seeing as you conveniently forgot to tell me you’re a fucking vampire” here comes the rage again. I give myself a moment to take a breath. “Would you have believed me?” He looks at me with his beautiful pools of green and I try my hardest not to melt. “…no” I say, and sit back down on the couch, defeated. “Please let me just explain what happened. Then you can hate me, you can punch me, you can scream at me. I just want you to understand.” After a few seconds of silence I concede, “Okay.” He removes his black beanie hat and runs his hands through his hair, visibly stressed. “When you met me, outside the bar, I hadn’t been drinking alcohol. I’d fed from someone. I didn’t realise they were inebriated until I was giggling like an idiot in your car.” My eyes widen as he talks about feeding. Ville seems to pick up on it. “It’s fine, I healed him and he went back to his friends. Anyway, vampires are nocturnal. We sleep during the day and waking us from sleep can make us feel pretty disoriented. I hadn’t fed properly - I woke confused - and I could smell your blood. I became overwhelmed with bloodlust. When I heard you scream it snapped me back into reality and I was horrified…” he looked down and ran his hands through his hair again. “Last night I… I had the best night of my life. All day I’ve been thinking about listening to your playlist, your eyes when I played my guitar, the way you held me, the way we kissed”… he looked up at me with his beautiful green eyes, his lashes wet with tears. “I have never felt this way before and I would do anything to earn your forgiveness, anything.” I fought the urge to hold him, to comfort him.

“I…” the tears rolled down my cheeks before I could speak. Ville moved closer to me and took my hands in his again, kissing my healed palm. “Please don’t be afraid of me. I promise I will never hurt you again.” I took a deep breath and swiped the tears from my face. “I’m not afraid of you, Ville. I probably should be, but I’m not. I lost my parents when I was very young, I became fiercely independent. I never wanted to rely on another human being because life is so fleeting, and they will leave. Everyone leaves. We’re born, we kill time, we die. I am afraid of the connection we had last night, the feelings I felt… and never having those feelings again.” The tears silently rolled out of my eyes, pooled at my chin and fell to the floor. In an instant Ville wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I buried my face in his chest and sobbed. A moment passed and I looked up to gauge how Ville was feeling. He looked at me with sparking emerald eyes, like his life had returned. He placed his thumb on my chin to tilt it upwards, and kissed me sweetly. “Mina rakastan sinua, baby.” He whispered. “What does that mean?” I asked, looking up into his eyes. He blushed “It’s Finnish… maybe I’ll tell you when you forgive me?” I giggled into his chest; his v neck wet with my tears. “I’m sorry, let me dry your shirt?” Ville promptly unbuttoned his blazer and pulled his shirt over his head. My eyes raked over his smooth waxed chest and the little path of hair which led down… he had some portrait tattoos on his chest, a tattoo of would looked like a mix of a heart and a pentagram around his nipple and a swirly decorative tattoo just above his… “Ahem”, Ville cleared his throat, “My eyes are up here”. I blushed furiously. “Um… I think I’m the hungry vampire now”. Ville threw his head back and laughed loudly as I placed his shirt on the radiator. He walked over to me and softly placed his hands on my hips “Forgive me?” He purrs. “Oh, no, baby. You need to earn it” I smirked with sass. “Oh, I will” he promised, “So tell me, baby vamp, which part of me makes you most hungry?” He pressed his body to mine and before I knew it we were kissing passionately. My tongue claiming his; my hands grabbing at the luscious curls atop his head. All of the pain, the sorrow, the anger; every single emotion of the last twelve hours thrown into our physical connection. Breathless, Ville whispered, “Where is your bed?” I hooked an index finger beneath the button of his jeans and pulled him forwards. He shuddered at the touch. I moved backwards, leading him to the bedroom. Softly, I fall backwards into my cold cotton sheets, exposing my midriff as my tank top rides up. Ville crawls atop me and kisses my lower abdomen. I gasp and start to feel wet in my underwear. He begins to unbutton my jeans with his teeth.

“No…” I whine. He promptly stops. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to?” I sigh “I want to, so badly, but we need to slow down and you need to earn this. We need to reestablish trust, and you need to prove your self restraint.” I am so mad at myself for being my own cock-block, but I want this to last, and I want more than just sex. Ville nods and moves up my bed to lie next to me. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” he asks, with hope. “Absolutely” I grin, and our lips lock again. We spend hours making out; I run my hands up and down his waxed chest, enjoying the curves and texture of his highly toned abdomen. He cups my breast through my top. I pull his bottom lip forward with my teeth, and the only sounds are soft moans and gentle bed creaking as we rock back and forth, grinding against each other through our jeans. It gets to 4am and I am visibly exhausted, my tired eyes illuminated by the full moon hovering proudly in the sky above my window. “Do you want me to stay?” asks Ville, but we both know it is too soon. “No, baby, I have damage control to do with work tomorrow and I need a good night’s sleep. You’ll have all day to think about how to make it up to me” I smiled. “Let me take you for a romantic date?” asks Ville “Let me treat you like the goddess that you are.” His eyes shine. “Mmm, okay” I say, sleepily. He gets up and fetches his clothes. I pout as he throws his blazer and beanie back on. His shirt still wet, I ask him if I can keep it. He smiles genuinely and brilliantly. “Only if you sleep in it and imagine my arms around you” he teases, but I know that is exactly what I will do.

I follow him to my door, “I thought I was clear about burning the hat”, I raise an eyebrow. “Hey, I got rid of the flat cap! The beanie stays, though” he laughs. “I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow, 7pm? I’ll leave all my hats at home” he flashes his brilliant white teeth at me as he grins. “Okay” I smile. He kisses my forehead “Thank you. I will make it up to you. I’ll be thinking about those lips all day” he walks out of the door, down the corridor, and out of the apartment complex. I do as I’m told. I undress completely and slip on his shirt. I slide into my sheets and touch myself, thinking about his tattoos and the mystery lying beneath the button of his jeans. The last thing I think about are his beautiful eyes, as the rain against my window lulls me into a deep sleep.

[thevervelounge]

Micro Needling Treatments in Brisbane

Micro-needling is a procedure used to address a variety of skin problems. It started as a collagen induction treatment targeted at regenerating aged skin. The skin's natural ability to manufacture collagen declines with age owing to a variety of other causes. Collagen is the most prevalent of the proteins that give your skin strength and flexibility. It is necessary not only to prevent lines and wrinkles but also to cure wounds and scars. 

The procedure is spinning a wand or pen with mini-needles to produce microscopic wounds. These wounds are little and just skin-deep, yet your body reacts with alarm, releasing healing elements that increase skin strength, radiance, and health.

Does it hurt? 

You don't need to be concerned if the thought of small needles penetrating your flesh makes you cringe. Not only does the numbing lotion assist alleviate what experts believe is little discomfort during the surgery, but you should expect some pinkness afterwards, similar to a sunburn. At most, a few little punctate scabs may appear, only to vanish within a few days.

Who can use this treatment:

It's good for acne scars, and because it's completely mechanical and doesn't use heat. It's safe for all skin colours and kinds. The treatment is excellent for smoothing out the face and filling in acne scars, but it can also help to clean out tiny bumps caused by blocked pores. It aims to improve the skin's appearance and feel.

These are some more concerns that can be addressed with micro needling:

Fine lines

Wrinkles

Acne scars

Enlarged pores

Hyperpigmentation and sunspots

Lost elasticity

Uneven skin textures

Stretch marks

Uneven skin tones

Who should avoid this:

Although micro-needling is typically safe and effective, however, it is not advised for those who are taking or have recently had radiation, are pregnant, have a skin illness, or have a history of scarring or poor wound healing. People with current illnesses or open wounds should avoid using it until their skin heals.

Benefits:

Stimulate natural collagen production for vibrant, younger-looking skin.

Help minimize large pores and blackheads.

Boost radiance and improves texture

Reduce fine lines and wrinkles.

Reduce acne scarring and pockmarks.

Reduce hyperpigmentation and dark spots.

If puts an off to sagging skin

Dos and Don’ts after Microneedleing:

Don’t wear makeup right away after the treatment, it can lead to redness and cause other irritations.

It’s safe to use face wash or gentle cleanser after a day or two of the treatment.

Avoid sun exposure as much as possible

If you are committed to some fitness routine, it’s better to take a day off or two

Only use clean hands, towels or brushes after the treatment 

Aftercare:

Since micro-needling causes redness and sensitivity, apply a broad-spectrum, chemical-free sunscreen with at least SPF 30 in the weeks after your treatment. Also, avoid retinol and acids like glycolic and salicylic acid.  These substances will be excessively potent immediately after micro-needling.  Keep skin moisturised by using a moderate moisturising serum and using a gentle cleanser, while avoiding abrasive scrubs in the days after the treatment. 

If you want to receive a Micro needling treatment, Brisbane is the perfect place to go because it has the greatest professionals that will guide you through the finest experience. Whether you want to attempt simple micro-needling equipment at home or go for a professional micro-needling session, you should have a basic grasp of this method. 

[dand-elle-ion]

Genshin + When you get injured

With: Albedo

Words: 900

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Note: The reader is Gender Neutral, enjoy :)

Xiao ver. I Kazuha ver. I Scaramouche ver.

Dark and eerie clouds gather on the afternoon sky above Dragon Spine, causing the wind to howl louder and the air to freeze sharper than usual. Still, the labor in the middle of the mountain is occupied non the less.

Inside the cozy workroom you are sitting at a table, bend over maps and documents of your newest commissions, planning routes to accomplish them in the best manners possible.

Meanwhile the man himself, Albedo, is immersed in his own work of research papers, surrounded by alchemy flasks that were filled with substances in the most cryptic colours.

Albedo’s brows are furrowed in concentration, which – without any exaggeration – is the loveliest thing ever in your eyes. It was endearing to watch him, lost in work, completely shut out in his own big world of science.

Feeling you watching him, Albedo lifts his eyes, his gaze immediately softening. “Are you hungry? I can fetch us some snacks if you want to.”

You shake your head and smile a little embarrassed, heat creeping up your cheeks for being caught starring at him. “I’m good. Do you want anything, though?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he states and tilts his head to something next to you. “Could you please hand me one of the vials in that basket, if you don’t mind?”

Glad for the opportunity to get a grip on yourself, you reach for the basket filled with small glass vials to grab one of them. But as soon as you move back to hand it to Albedo a sudden thunder roars from outside, loud enough to feel the vibration in your very bones.

Flinching, you lose your grip on the vial, watching the delicate glass shatter on the table, its fragments scattering all over your papers.  

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. Without thinking you start immediately gathering the broken pieces to a pile, while repeatedly apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, Albedo, please tell me it was nothing special. I just got startled by the thunder-“

He is next to you in a mere second.

“Careful. Let me help you.”

To your surprise Albedo doesn’t seem to be bothered at all by the loss of his vial. His face remains calm as ever as he gently moves your hands away from the sharp shards, but halters almost immediately when he notices the blood dripping from your right hand.

He frowns. “You must have cut yourself.” His finger softly caresses the unharmed skin around your wound. “Does it hurt?” Concerned he shifts his eyes back to yours, observing any indication of pain on your face.

“A little,” you admit.

“It doesn’t appear like there are any splinters of glass anymore, so I’m going to disinfect the wound first, alright?”

You couldn’t help but grimace a little by the thought.

“Don’t worry.” Albedo chuckles. “Klee has managed to hurt herself an astonishing number of times during her adventures, so I’ve created a cleanser who doesn’t burn when in contact with an open wound.”

Merely half convinced you let him lead you to a sofa in a corner of the room. You sit down, while using your other hand to hold your injured one, careful as to not let any blood stain the furniture.

Meanwhile your eyes are following Albedo, who is roaming around the room, gathering utensils from cabinets and drawers, before he returns to sit beside you.

In unbent silence he places your hand carefully in his and uses a slightly wet towel to wipe away the blood, then he opens the cleanser.

Your nose wrinkled at the sharp smell. “So, no pain on the skin, in exchange for pain in your nose, huh?” You state, only half joking.

His lips curve into a smile. “Would you prefer it the other way around, love?” he teases.

“Nope. I’m good. What smell? Haha, no smell. Don’t smell anything at all.”

And like he promised, you do indeed not feel anything at all, but a distant pounding and Albedo’s warm hand in yours.

A little later, when he’s finished tying a bandage around your hand, your face twists a bit, but you make no sound. Still, as usual, Albedo notices.

“I’m sorry, love.” He apologizes, giving you a half smile. “But it has to be a bit tight, in order for it to heal easier.”

He plants a soft kiss on your bandaged hand, not breaking the eye contact for a second.

“Are you still in pain?”

“Barely,” you murmur, not being able to focus properly on much but Albedo, his face now close to your own. A quiet “thank you” manages to escape your lips before they were already brushing against his own.

But just as he starts to deepen the kiss the thunder decides to roar again, making you both flinch at the sudden noise.

Albedo rises from the sofa, making you pout in return.

At this his blue eyes twinkle with amusement, still he bends down to you, pressing a loving kiss on your forehead. You close your eyes, but once again - his lips are gone way too fast and with him his warmth.

“How about a small break until the storm passes, to prevent further… incidents?” he suggests coyly. “Some tea, perhaps?”

[donghyuckcuyhgnod]

let me in

“oh, i’m sorry- hold on just a second,” you said to your friend, her nodding her head in response. you fished the vibrating phone out of your pocket, confused to see that jeno was calling you. jeno never calls me, you thought. with confusion, you answered the call and put the phone up to your ear.

“hello?” you said. the sound of a few other people bickering in the background was heard, before a distant, “dude! she answered!” was heard. you assumed it was chenle upon hearing the voice.

“hello? y/n?” jeno finally said, nervousness in his voice.

“yeah, it’s me. why’d you call-“

“can you come over? something is wrong with jisung,” he said, the voices in the background now quiet. you assumed they were too focused on listening to the phone call.

“what do you mean something is wrong with him? i’m with a friend right now, i can’t be rude and just leave!” you said, which caught your friend’s attention. she shook her head at you, an understanding look on her face as she mouthed the words, “it’s alright, go!”

“y/n, please!” jeno begged. you sighed, looking at your friend as you silently thanked her, blowing her a quick, friendly kiss before standing up and leaving the coffee shop you were in. “i’ll be there soon,” you said, hanging up the call and walking to the nearest bus stop.

—

“i’m here!” you yelled as you walked into the dorms. jeno, jaemin, renjun, chenle and donghyuck came running to you as soon as they heard your voice.

“jesus, y/n! what took you so long?” donghyuck asked, his actions of hugging you like a koala completely contradictory from his sassy tone of voice.

“it’s called the bus, hyuck,” you laughed, affectionately patting him on the head. “now, what the hell did you guys rush me over here for? and where’s jisung?” you said, noticing that the sixth boy of the group, your boyfriend, was missing.

“that’s why we called you here,” chenle said. “he got home from his voice lessons a few hours ago and he went straight to his room. since then, he hasn’t come out and he refuses to let us in. he’s acting really weird,” jaemin said. you sighed, worry now taking over you as you pushed through the five boys, heading straight down the hall and to his room. they followed close behind you, but you stopped them before they could get any closer to jisung’s bedroom door.

“just. . . let me try. he might open it for me, but not if you guys are up my ass,” you scolded them. they nodded, backing away a bit as you turned towards his door. lifting your balled fist up, you sighed as you shakily knocked on the door.

“sung? it’s me, baby. wanna let me in?” you asked softly, the sweet tone of your familiar voice grabbing the said boy’s attention. before you could say another single word, the sound of his lock clicking was heard before another round of silence. looking at the boys, they all urged you to try his doorknob. just as they had suspected, it was unlocked, and you slowly let yourself into his room before closing the door behind you. turning around, you saw your boyfriend sitting on the edge of his bed, his back facing you. his head was down, his hands anxiously rubbing his thighs.

“jisung? are you okay?” you asked, making your way towards the boy. you sat next to him, trying to look at his face but he desperately avoided your eyes. “jisung, you’re going to have to face me sooner or later,” you said, your hand now lightly placed on his thigh in comfort. he sighed, slowly lifting his head and looked at you.

you gasped, a loud screech coming from you the moment your eyes caught his bruised eye and busted lip. “park jisung!” you yelled, “who did this to you!?”

other than a quiet sigh, jisung remained silent. your hand reached up to his cheek (the one that wasn’t swollen and bruised), as you rubbed it gently. “baby, what happened?” you asked more softly this time, his eyes never once meeting yours. for a few moments, the two of you sat in silence. to be quite honest, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. before asking any questions, you decided on cleaning his wounds.

“come on,” you sighed, pulling him up by his hand. he looked at you with confusion in his eyes, and you were pretty sure you heard and felt your own heart crumble into pieces. jisung looked unusually sad, his teary eyes boring into yours, and you couldn’t help but pout at him. his hand still in yours, you forced him to the bathroom where the first aid kit was located.

walking out of jisung’s room, you gave a warning glance to the boys that stood outside of the door. they instantly understood, seeing as jisung was clinging to you like a koala as you walked to the bathroom. his arms were tightly wrapped around your back, his face buried in your neck, causing you trouble when walking. however, you didn’t say anything to him about it.

“sit,” you demanded, pointing to the closed toilet seat. upon hearing your tone of voice, jisung immediately did as told as he watched you fish everything you needed out of the sink cabinets. taking a wet cloth, you dabbed the cut on his lip, wiping the now dried up blood so that you could clean it.

applying ointment to his bruised eye, you sighed. “are you going to tell me what happened?” you questioned, a serious tone in your voice that jisung had never heard before. he opened his eyes, looking at you through his lashes as you stood between his legs. you put your hands on your hips, and for a moment, you reminded him of his mother when she would scold him as a child. you seemed disappointed, and jisung didn’t like to disappoint you.

“well, i. . . i got into a fight,” he trailed off as you looked at him incredulously. “well, obviously! i should’ve rephrased the question—why did you get into a fight? that’s not like you, sung,” you said. you continued cleaning his busted lip, jisung wincing every once in a while due to the sting of the cleanser. he stayed silent.

you groaned in frustration, “jisung, if you don’t tell me anything, i can’t help you! now tell me! what happened!?” you threw the hand towel in the sink, once again putting your hands on your hips as you stared at him. jisung had never seen you mad, and his heart fluttered at the anger in your eyes. this time, however, it wasn’t a good kind of flutter.

“one of the assholes training me was shit talking you! he was saying all these bad things about you right to my face and i lost control! he wouldn’t shut up, y/n! he rambled on and on and on and on about how you weren’t good enough for me! which is bullshit! everything he was saying about you was utter bullshit! how in the hell was i supposed to just sit there and listen to him!?” he finally bursted, standing up from the toilet seat. his voice sounded strained and broken, tears flowing freely out of his eyes as he kicked the wooden cabinet.

your eyes began to tear up as well, seeing the frustration and sadness in your boyfriend made your heart ache. had he really fought someone. . . in defense of you? you sighed, your eyes trained on the now cracked cabinet. you could hear the worried whispers of the other boys just outside the door, the obvious hesitation to go in being discussed by them.

jisung’s breathing was heavy, and although his back was turned to you, you could clearly see his chest heaving up and down. his head hung low in shame, and the sheer thought of raising your voices at each other lingered in both of your minds. it was bound to happen eventually, you thought, but you didn’t expect it to be in a situation like this.

“jisung,” you whispered, and you could see his head tilt towards you in the slightest. “i’m sorry, i. . . i didn’t know,” your voice trailed off. he turned to you, his cheeks red with emotion, his eyes puffy and red.

“why are you apologizing? i’m the one who got into a fight. i shouldn’t have pushed him. i was just so angry! i’ve never been that angry before, y/n. . . i’m so sorry,” jisung admitted, sitting back down on the toilet as he held his head in his hands. you took one big step and reached him, pulling his face out of his hands and up to look at you.

“it’s okay, jisung. i’m not mad at you. i just worry about you. i’m your girlfriend, that’s what we do. i don’t want to see you get hurt,” you sighed, gesturing towards the small injuries scattered around his face, and even on his fist. “this better not happen again, park jisung.”

“i know, i know. i’m sorry. please don’t leave me, y/n. i don’t know what i would do without you,” he said, his eyes tearing up again.

“who said anything about me leaving you? stop apologizing and just calm down, okay? park jisung, i am never going to leave you and you better know it. i’m right here, baby, okay? i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity and genuineness. jisung’s lip quivered, his arms wrapping around your middle as he hid his face in your stomach. your own arms wrapped around him, your fingers tangling in his hair as a method of comfort.

“calm down, sung. it’s okay, i promise.” you leaned down, pressing a loving kiss to the top of his head as you allowed his tears to wet your shirt. he finally calmed down, his eyes looking back up at you. seeing his expression nearly broke your heart, and you simply couldn’t stand seeing him this way. so, instead of letting your own tears fall, you decided to lighten the mood.

“well, did you win?” you said, referring to the fight that initially caused this whole situation. this, like you had hoped, caused jisung to giggle despite the tears in his eyes.

“hell yeah, i did,” he responded, causing you to laugh along.

[mandalorianbrainweasel]

Hopefully in under the wire, I work nights and just woke up.

Mij and any of the others who are vastly underdeveloped, Wad'e maybe? Prompt: "This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I have to stitch up that wound."

You did! I just had trouble thinking something up. So. Adult hubris in not wanting children to see them weak.

***

"This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I have to stitch up that wound."

Wad’e shoots him a betrayed look. “You seriously don’t have anything to numb it or—.”

“You,” Mij reminds him cheerily, “are the one who got himself stabbed in the break room. We’re out of anesthetic. So, your choices are either let me stitch you up here or I can haul you all the way to the infirmary in front of everyone.”

“Son of a—ouch, seriously Fett?”

Jango eyes him from the couch, dead eyed and unamused and having just kicked him in the side. “Don’t bleed out on the floor; no one wants to clean that up.”

“Clearly,” Wad’e says.

“You’ll survive rushing to the infirmary,” Mij says helpfully.

“Kark you,” Wad’e says.

The microwave beeps and they all look over to see Kihrau pulling out a bag of bang corn.

“Really?” Wad’e asks. “Really?”

The brat raises an eyebrow. “Wad’e, you’re the one who fell on your own damn bes’bev.”

“Look—.”

“The longer you wait, the more likely I need to do it here,” Mij sing-songs.

“You know,” Wad’e says, turning to Jango, “when you said you had a doctor with a good bedside manner—.”

“Wad’e when was the last time you went to a doctor on Mandalore?” Kihrau asks, aghast.

Wad’e pinches his lips together. “Fair.”

“We could ask the Kaminiise to do it,” Mij offers.

Wad’e stares at him. “Karking fine you little shit. Fett, why are all of the ones you brought in who are younger than you like this?”

Jango breaks out a little, terrifying smile that Wad’e’s occasionally seen on Vau’s face.

“Generational humour,” all three men under the age of thirty-seven tell him cheerfully.

“Do you want something to bite down on?” Mij asks him, already dousing a needle in cleanser.

Wad’e eyes it fatalistically.

“You could sing,” Jango reminds him.

That gets the other two’s attention. Look, he doesn’t sing anymore for a reason thanks.

“I hate you,” he tells his Mand’alor.

“I’m sure you do,” Jango replies, patting him on the shoulder.

“Bastards—oh shabir ad be’chakaar. Gilamar I am going to kill you and make it painful.”

“Ik’aad,” Mij calls him, that smug fucking genial smile still on his face as he stitches the gash up.

Wad’e gapes at him then throws his head backwards. He tries to keep his mouth open—does not want to break his teeth and need the sadistic little bastard to do mouth surgery (and he doubts Gilamar wants to, even if he’s apparently done it before in the emergency rooms of Keldabe City’s biggest hospital)—but it’s difficult. Eventually he rolls his eyes, winces again as he feels the needle pass through his skin, and opens his mouth. The words of the old marching tune reverbarate through his lungs more than across his tongue, the rhythm grounding him and each precise word keeping him mindful of his mouth.

Eventually the pain stops and he flops back onto the polished floor of the break room, panting.

“I hate you,” he tells Mij faintly while the young doctor slathers his thigh with bacta.

He wraps it too, tight, and does Wad’e the favour of stitching his kute back together so at least it won’t be painfully obvious to the cadets what happened. Most of them anyways. And he can just claim he got into a knife fight, those happen enough in here.

“Thank you, Mij, for not letting another idiot nearly bleed out in the staff room,” Jango says.

For as cheerful as he presents himself, Gilamar’s eyes are dark and acerbic and Wad’e doesn’t really trust him. It’s not even that he’s cin vhetin, it’s that he’s teetering on some edge that either no one else notices or no one else cares about. The kid needs a guiding hand and ‘Alor is about the only one who can do it, but considering Jango’s own issues...well.

Then again, are any of them really qualified, if those issues disqualify?

“Thanks, kid,” Wad’e tells him through gritted teeth, playing off the wince at the genuine surprise on Mij’s face as being from twinging his wounded leg as he sits up carefully.

“It’s my job,” Mij says. “Why don’t you sing more? You sing well.”

Wad’e shrugs. “I carry a tune of my own better with the bes’bev. Everything I can sing is old and dusty.”

“Like you,” Kihrau says dryly.

Wad’e turns and gives him a dirty look, but the kid just munches on his bang corn smugly. Of course he and Mij are the same age, the brats. “When this is healed I’m going to wipe the sparring mat with your face,” he threatens. “The tinies’ll get a kick out of it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mij rolls his eyes. “Just don’t do it with your bes’bev in your pocket, again,” he warns.

“Got it, doc,” Wad’e drawls sarcastically.

[ninja-scenarios]

Spa day w/ Illumi ✨🐰

I started writing this a month ago so it still says “15th of Christmas” pls bear with me lol

This is part of a Illumi/Hisoka/reader poly relationship! But there won´t be any Hiso in this, sorry! I have another fic planned tho so pls anticipate it :)))

Now I can´t stop imagining Illumi with a bunny ears headband... uwu

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„What is this?“

- „A jelly peeling.“

„And this?“

- „A brush used for applying skin masks, so you don´t have to use your hands.”

You beamed with anticipation. This year, you had decided that it was time to show the boys how to make a couple-advent-calendar. A collection of 24 enjoyable things you could do together. And here it was. The 15th, “spa day”.

Hisoka was out, so you´d grabbed Illumi and dragged him into your study in what had to be the most comfortable kidnapping in history. He actually behaved very well, and you had the slight suspicion that he already enjoyed this.

“First is a headband.”

After you´d both taken a steaming hot bath together and rose from it super relaxed, you slipped a bunny-ear headband onto your boyfriend. Illumi turned to view himself in the make-up mirror. The feeling of something restricting yet comfortable was new to the assassin. The headband wasn´t meant to hurt him or for training, just to hold his hair out of his face. It felt... good. And the light pink went beautifully with his crème bathrobe.

“Look! You look like a bunny now!”

“Is that good?”

“It means you´re very cute and I like it.”

“Ah.”

“My cute little bun bun~”

While Illumi was admiring himself in the mirror, you had to resist the urge to braid his luscious hair, simply gathering it in a ponytail and then taking a seat in front of him.

Illumi´s mind wandered to the rest of the bathroom. You really had taken the time to tidy and clean everything and even decorate. Everything smelled so good! The light-scented candles held a soothing glow and they smelled sweet, as if Illumi just had to stick out his tongue and receive candy. You had placed them on every available surface, creating a big palette of colours that put his mind at ease. The products sitting neat next to them had big beautiful names and colourful packaging. Together with the tasteful instrumental music they made Illumi feel something he didn´t before. A thrill of anticipation.

“We´re starting off with a cleanser.”

Illumi´s watchful unblinking eyes followed every step of the routine. He sat there a little stiffly in a tailor-fashion, yet it reminded you fondly of a watchful cat. Or bunny, in this case. The outfit was so cute on him! It was a pity he wouldn´t let you take a picture.

You started to apply the soap-like foam onto his face with gentle care. Your nails were cut short just for this occasion and the way you worked the product into his skin was light and even. Your touch made him want to flinch, with how light and gentle it was, yet Illumi willed himself to hold still.

When would it start to sting? Illumi anticipated the pain, yet he trusted you. Whatever would happen, whatever would come, he wouldn´t flinch away. Even if you hurt him, he would be able to take it.

“Is this okay?”

“It is.”

You watched Illumi for signs of discomfort, a little concerned since he still wasn´t able to relax. It looked like he was preparing for the worst, even though you had mobilized everything to arrange a relaxing spa day... Ye the longer you brushed over his face, the heavier his eyelids became.

“Do you like it?”

“...”

His eyes closed and he started to relax. His shoulders became heavy, his hands slipped from his thighs into his lap where they loosely intertwined.

“Lumi?”

“Mh.”

Illumi wondered, when was the last time someone had taken care of him that way?

There was a memory from when he was about 3. He had fallen face first into the mud while running. Branches and dirt and pebbles had hurt his skin, yet by this age he had already learned not to cry. Illumi tried to remember. Had he already been numb to pain then?

One of the pebbles had lightly pierced through his cheek, resulting in an ugly wound that started to bruise. His mother had started yelling, fussing over his face and ushering him inside. She´d been angry and Illumi had felt responsible, mentally preparing himself for punishment. But then she had sat him down in her room, in her high chair in front of her vanity and tended to the wound under his eye with maybe the tenderest care he had ever seen in her.

“Illumi? I said do you want to wash your face yourself or do you want me to do it for you?”

You giggled when Illumi´s dark eyes shot back to your face. He had been zoning out for a while, probably lulled in by the soothing patterns on his face. For a second he just stared at you.

At you or at his mother, who had been wearing her hair down, then. Her beautiful locks of hair were black as night, just as his. His mother´s fussing had made him feel important, cared for.

“You do it.”

There was no force between his words. They came out slowly, eyes trained on your face as you smiled. Wordlessly you took a fluffy white washcloth and dipped it into a bowl with warm water.

“Close your eyes.”

You gently took a hold of his chin, just so much so that it would stay in place, as you began cleaning off the product. Illumi´s skin felt different now. Smoother, but dry.

“Next up is exfoliating!”

With far more fun that you´d imagined, you started rubbing the gel peeling into his skin. You had seen an instruction in a youtube tutorial earlier that day. When your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones in a circular pattern, Illumi let his eyes slip shut. You kept working gently on his face, eradicating non-existent little bumps and imperfections on his perfect glass skin. It was probably owed to his perfect diet and frequent intake of water... sometimes you were so jealous of that wonderful bastard.

Meanwhile Illumi thought about the pattern you used for the massage. Half a circle...

´Illumi. Keep up!´

His father had drawn the same pattern on the mat with his bare foot when he drew it back. Illumi hadn´t known then, that he´d done it to gain force and use it to punch his son square in the jaw.

`If you can´t evade my fist, how will you defend yourself against an enemy who attacks from the front? Illumi, they won´t have mercy like me. That is your first lesson.´

It had been the first time his father had openly punched him. Illumi had trembled in pain, holding his cheek with his tiny hand while trying to swallow his sobs.

`I trusted you, papa. I never thought... I never thought you would hurt me.´

Illumi´s eyes shot back open. His hands were gripping both your wrists, thumbs pressing into your palms and tilting them back.

A little gasp escaped Illumi´s mouth. His ears still rang with the blow of his father´s fist. Only after the noise had subsided did he notice.

In the same second he released you immediately. His heart beat wildly in his chest, spurring him on to fight, even though there was no actual danger. Even though you had never done anything to hurt him.

Your hands, they were so gentle, so soothing. They had brought him nothing but joy. There was no doubt in his mind that you were harmless.

“I should leave.”

He didn´t want to see your face, he couldn´t. After all, he had brought you damage. A flaw in a perfect system. Even though Illumi couldn´t decide if the flaw was his self-control or letting you close in the first place.

You went after him, grabbing onto his sleeve in the doorway.

“Illumi, listen to me.”

He didn´t move a muscle. He should go back home. His father would fix him. That was if he could forget you.

“I know it wasn´t the best idea to sit in front of you and repeatedly touch your face while you´re feeling vulnerable. I know you. I know have those patterns.”

Why did you have to say these words? They cut right into his soul with how true you were. It was unbearable yet Illumi couldn´t bring himself to walk away. Why couldn´t he just leave?

“Illumi...I want to walk through them together with you and for us to create new ones. New patterns, new memories, new routines.”

Why had he let a civilian come into his life? The needle he´d grabbed on instinct in his other hand when he´d grabbed you had almost come in contact with your skin. But you hadn´t even noticed.

“Don´t be a fool. I hurt you. It´s like father said. He let me live my own life, knowing I´d make a mistake and realize that there is only one way.”

Slowly, you walked around until you faced him.

“Illumi. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, the black-haired man raised his gaze. His eyes looked wet with frustration.

“You aren´t flawed. You´ve been put in a system where being perfect is unachievable. But look.”

You outstretched your hands, palms up. Upon further inspection, there were no bruises. No marks. Not even a red tint from where he had grabbed your wrists.

“You never hurt me, Illumi. Your grip was so gentle, somehow you must´ve known it was me. You see? There is no flaw.”

You beamed up at him.

“For me, you´re perfect. I love you, Illumi. I wouldn´t want you any other way.”

There was no flaw... he hadn't actually hurt you. Illumi's initial frustration started dripping down his cheeks.

For a long time, he wouldn´t let go.

With the utmost care he wrapped you in a hug, burrowing his face against your hair.

"Thank you. For letting me stay."

[treemaidengeek]

Nevernight Part 7: The Inherent Eroticism of Wound-Tending, Reciprocated

Previous installments: 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th

CW: this work implies that Meng Yao has a history of sexual trauma, though there’s nothing specific.

…………………………………………………………………..

The man's chambers were more spare than Meng Yao expected for someone of his stature. Unadorned walls, furnishings that were sturdy and well made and without ornament or excess.

The receiving area for guests stood out like a peacock preening in a monk's cell. Boldly colored and patterned silks draped the plush cushions. A set of ornate wine jugs and cups perched on a small table heavy with carved figures. A shelf displayed a series of what must have been gifts or combat trophies, for they were mostly as ill-suited to their owner as was their immediate surroundings.

Wen Zhuliu huffed out a breath quietly and gestured toward the luxurious area without looking at it. "Wen-er-gongzi visits sometimes. Mostly when he doesn’t want to be found. He prefers to have a quiet retreat designed to his tastes."

Meng Yao's eyes skated again over the opulent cushions and drapery. This was the decadence that the customer areas of his childhood home aspired to.

He swallowed.

Wen Zhuliu abruptly turned on his heel. His gaze speared Meng Yao for a heart-stopping moment. A minute furrow formed between his brows.

"Meng Yao," he said, voice low. "No one will hurt you here."

"Why not?"

Wen Zhuliu froze in confusion. Somehow it made him look less intimidating, more human.

Meng Yao resisted the urge to cover his traitorous mouth. Where had that come from? What was he thinking?

He couldn't retract the question now. Heat rose to his cheeks as his heart and his mind raced. "Why would I not be in danger around the Core-Melting Hand? You are a fearsome warrior in service to a sect known more for its might than its mercy."

The taller man pressed his lips together and lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. "Believe what you want." He turned away and began to move toward a plain mahogany cabinet.

Meng Yao hesitated, then spoke quietly to his back. "I believe you are a good man."

Wen Zhuliu paused. He half-shrugged again and made a noncommittal "hm" before opening the cabinet and selecting salves and bandages from the shelves within.

Meng Yao's eyes were drawn again to the peacock-bower. Wen Zhuliu had seemed dismissive of its presence and the various possible implications. It caused him annoyance, not pain or shame or any sense of privacy invaded. Merely a place for the arrogant gongzi to hide from his troubles and obligations, then. Not… anything personal.

His attention caught on the curio display. A dagger's hilt appeared to be encrusted with gems chosen more for sparkle than value, while its blade looked brutally efficient. A fine box was intricately carved and inlaid with woods that would crack without regular oiling. An onyx and jasper Wen clan seal looked as heavy as obligation itself.

These were messages as much as gifts: that their recipient was greatly honored as long as he stayed within the bounds of his station. That his worth depended upon his service to his masters.

That he was, himself, a possession on display.

Wen Zhuliu was returning with a tray of supplies. He too glanced at the curio shelf. One eyebrow twitched. He said nothing, merely gestured with his chin and led Meng Yao to a much simpler alcove with two firm cushions and a table carved in clean curves of ebony.

"Where are your injuries, exactly?" Meng Yao asked, settling himself next to the other. "And what medicines do you have here?"

Wen Zhuliu recited a short list of wound sealants, blood cleansers, burn salves, and similar materials. Meng Yao tried to pay attention but while he spoke, the warrior began matter-of-factly to strip his robes to the waist. Meng Yao was grateful to be standing behind the man. He needed a moment to regain his composure.

Compact muscle corded Wen Zhuliu’s body in a way that recalled indecent memories of Mingjue. Scars marked his torso and arms with mementos of battles past, fewer of them than Meng Yao would have expected. This man certainly hadn’t preserved his skin by avoiding combat.

He must just be that skillful.

The whip-burn marks snaked across both of his shoulderblades, curled around the base of his throat, and lashed down the left side of his chest. The flesh over his breast was beginning to heal under what Meng Yao suspected was scrupulous application of salves and poultices. The long-ridged wounds that wrapped around his neck and upper back, though, were clearly much harder for him to reach on his own. They stood out dusky and swollen.

Wen Zhuliu finished arranging his opened robes around his waist and sat stiffly, not quite looking at Meng Yao. “I’ve been using the ointment in the red clay pot,” he said. “It seems to be the most effective.” His hands twitched on his lap.

The man was uncomfortable. He wasn’t accustomed to being… any of this, probably, before someone else.

Meng Yao dampened a cloth and began cleaning the burns in small careful movements. Whenever his cloth caught on a raw or scabbed edge of Wen Zhuliu's damaged skin, he flinched a little. It was too easy to imagine what those lean muscles could do if roused to anger. Something had hooked itself into his gut and drew him steadily, magnetically toward the man. That was frighteningly easy, also.

Wen Zhuliu sat impassive. Only his occasionally-restless hands and the stiffness of his jaw betrayed the pain of the process.

Heavens, Mingjue was just like this. How mortifying the thought that someone could see him weak.

Use it, said the analytical part of him. You need allies. Enduring bonds can be secured in vulnerable moments.

Before tonight, had he ever seen this man have a conversation that went beyond surface courtesies? Did he have anyone to truly talk to?

"What was Madam Yu like?" Meng Yao asked. (Vague guilt wormed through his stomach. It was good to offer support to someone who was hurting, he told himself. Incidental personal benefit didn’t matter.)

Wen Zhuliu silently clenched his hands in his lap while Meng Yao finished cleaning his burns and began gently to pat them dry. Meng Yao focused on tracing the contours of the man's wounds and listening for the unspoken things constrained within his posture. Those subjects were safe and appropriate and relevant.

The way the lamplight warmed his bare chest to honeyed umber was not appropriate to dwell on. Nor was the way his dark eyes gleamed like those of a night creature.

Focus. Meng Yao re-folded his cloth and applied the fresh surface to the still-seeping wounds across the breadth of Wen Zhuliu's upper back. There was a softness here that, somehow, Meng Yao had not expected. Sabers were heavy, and wielding them built layers of bulky muscle unlike the more sinewy builds of expert sword cultivators. Wen Zhuliu was neither. His own body was a more potent weapon than any made of steel. His uniqueness was carved in the dancer’s compact elegance of his musculature, the svelte curve of shoulderblade, the dense cords that shaped stomach and hips and converged to support his spine.

He was beautiful. Meng Yao touched him lightly for fear of hurting or displeasing him, but also for fear that the heat simmering low in his own body would flare and burn out his common sense.

Finally Wen Zhuliu’s broad shoulders dropped, just a little. “Xiandu called the prominent sect leaders to pay tribute when Wen-da-gongzi had his one-month celebration. Each sect's accommodations reflected Xiandu’s satisfaction with its obeisance. Jiang-zongshu quietly accepted their quarters. Madam Yu did not.” Meng Yao could hear the bittersweet smile in his tone. “She spoke a few sharp words to the steward in the central courtyard at midday. She hardly even raised her voice. There were five groups arriving at once, and every single person turned to listen to her.”

Meng Yao couldn’t help laughing. “It’s been my privilege to know a few women like that,” he commented. He caught his breath as he registered that that story had been more words than everything else Wen Zhuliu had said to him put together. He felt a surge of excitement, and of strange pride.

After a brief pause he asked, “What happened?”

Wen Zhuliu made a small satisfied sound. “The Yunmeng delegation were relocated to finer accommodations, with the steward’s apologies.”

Meng Yao rested one hand softly on the outer curve of Wen Zhuliu’s shoulder and shifted to smile at him. “She sounds like a woman who demanded the respect due to her.”

The moment’s light faded from Wen Zhuliu’s face. His gaze dropped. “She deserved better,” he said simply.

Silence spun taut between them.

The man’s shoulder was so warm and firm under Meng Yao's touch. He wanted to step away lest the impropriety offend. He wanted to remain, because if he moved he might break something too subtle and fragile for words.

He wanted to remain, because the intimacy felt good.

He stepped away.

“The red clay pot, you said?”

Wen Zhuliu handed the little pot up to him. Meng Yao dipped into the ointment and hesitated before starting to rub it into the welts wrapping over one broad shoulder.

He had hoped that beginning with the least sensitive area might help dispel… whatever had entangled them. He shouldn't want to dispel it. He should lean into it. This was exactly what he needed. But… he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't meant to see this, to be here.

After Wen Zhuliu had tended Meng Yao's own wounds, the man had turned away to give him privacy to dress.

It hardly mattered where Meng Yao began. He was massaging ointment into raw healing burns. If he wasn't careful he could cause significant pain or tear skin away like tissue paper. He had to work gingerly, in slow, unavoidably sensual strokes. Wen Zhuliu sat rigid, gaze fixed on his knotted hands, breathing controlled and steady.

"I'm sorry," Meng Yao murmured, pausing to take more ointment and assess his progress. "I'm trying to make this as easy as possible."

Wen Zhuliu grunted acknowledgement without moving.

He studied the burns spidering over the man's spine and neck and swallowed. "I'm going to have to get into the hollows under your shoulderblades and at the side of your throat. It... might go more smoothly if you're lying down. It's entirely your decision of course. But there's a lot of muscle tension, and those are delicate areas to reach, and…"

Wen Zhuliu somehow managed to stiffen further. The man was drawn tight enough to worsen his injuries, Meng Yao realized with chagrin.

"I can stop," he offered. "We can take a break. Or we can call this good enough."

Wen Zhuliu snorted and rose abruptly and moved toward a recessed alcove curtained with unadorned linen. "Do what you have to do." His voice was low. He met Meng Yao's gaze for an unreadable moment before turning away to part the bed-drapes and perch on the edge of the mattress.

The enormity of the situation called heat into Meng Yao's face and into… other places. Here was one of the most powerful men he had ever met, spoken of in fearful whispers among the great clans, stripped to the waist and waiting for Meng Yao to join him in his bed. Trusting Meng Yao to tend his wounded back.

His heart quickened with giddiness. His gut twisted in shame. Uncomfortably he wondered what Xichen would think of him now.

I'm doing it for Xichen, he told himself. This is how I survive here and get him the information he needs to make it through this war.

How noble of me, he thought wryly.

He went to Wen Zhuliu and guided the man to lie down on his stomach, arms bent. It was much easier to work on the more relaxed muscles. He even managed to remain focused, more or less, despite the vertigo and flame of this proximity.

He found himself recalling those long, anxious days of nursing a half-dead Xichen. Long nights of watching over him, and dribbling water between his lips whenever he woke, and praying to Guanyin for mercy and healing for this man who had brought mercy and healing to so many others.

The esteemed First Jade and the dreaded Core-Melting Hand could hardly be more different. Yet...

"Why are you doing this?" Wen Zhuliu broke into his thoughts.

For a disoriented, panicked breath he wasn't sure whose wounds he was tending. He recovered swiftly. "You were hurt."

Wen Zhuliu snorted. "And I'm a good man." He shifted. "I meant-- why Nevernight?"

The man was in the throne room when Meng Yao arrived and offered himself. He wanted something more than what Meng Yao had said about the other clans treating him poorly, and seeking a master to be loyal to who will appreciate him for his skills and knowledge.

He allowed his massaging fingers to still for a moment and sighed. “Where could I go? The Lan, with their moral purity? The Jiang, whose family is so enmeshed with the Jin? Xiandu may be harsh, but he seems to recognize a valuable retainer when he sees one, regardless of circumstances and prejudices.” He started working salve into the burn again, silently adding by his touch: like you. He knows your value.

Wen Zhuliu did not answer.

Meng Yao curled his fingers under the sweep of his shoulderblades. He could see Wen Zhuliu’s jaw clench where his face was half-turned away on the coverlet, but his back remained still and relaxed, rising and falling with controlled waves of breath. The man shuddered, once, when Meng Yao began to touch the sensitive skin between scapula and spine.

“Almost done,” Meng Yao murmured. The other man swallowed and inclined his head in the slightest nod.

He massaged his way upward now, following a fine ridge of half-scarred flesh that traversed the plane of one shoulderblade and became an angry welt where Zidian had clearly whipped around the side of his neck to catch at his collarbone. Meng Yao swallowed hard as his careful fingers approached the hollow where Wen Zhuliu’s neck and shoulder joined. It was possible, at least, for them to act as though a man’s back was neutral territory and that exploring it inch by inch was merely medical care. The base of a man’s throat, though…. that was for lovers’ lips and assassins’ knives.

The skin was tender and warm. Wen Zhuliu's pulse throbbed a drumbeat beneath his fingertips.

Wen Zhuliu caught his breath and held it, huffed it out, caught it again.

Meng Yao felt his own body shiver in exquisite awareness of the other. He shifted to create a more generous fall of robes shielding his lap.

And then it was finished. He brushed Wen Zhuliu's hair back from his face to permit a clearer view. Yes. Done, and done well.

His fingers lingered amidst the dark strands.

In one abrupt, fluid motion, Wen Zhuliu twisted  and sat up. He grasped Meng Yao’s wrist. His eyes burned with dark and silent things.

That dark fire seared through Meng Yao, scalp to groin to toes. He should pull away. He should say something. He should leave.

He didn't. 

Wen Zhuliu released him and turned away. Meng Yao drew a deep shaky breath.

"You shouldn't have come," Wen  Zhuliu said. "This is a dangerous place."

Meng Yao smiled softly. "When have I known anything else?"

They sat together for another electric moment beyond time.

"I'll walk you back to your quarters," Wen Zhuliu said.

[toricrypticice]

The Golden Scarred

CHAPTER THREE (Fixed Perspective) 

“Wait what?” Hunter nervously glances at the Owl Lady gulping. “Uh I don’t think that's-“ He looks back to where Luz was “and she's gone” He grumbles. 

He glances back at the older woman feeling nervous and a bit uneasy. He fumbles slightly, his vision blurring. He yelps when his vision focuses in time to see Eda reach towards his face. He tenses, shutting his eyes tightly waiting for the expected blow. Eda frowns as the male flinches back. Rolling her eyes as she sighs. 

“Relax kid, I'm not gonna hurt ya.  Got no magic to anyways” Eda jokes, resting her hand against his hot forehead to which; he lets out a pathetic whimper leaning into her cool hand before growling, grabbing her wrist and pulling away. He opens his eyes looking angry for showing weakness.

“Don’t. Touch. Me. “ Hunter says through clenched teeth as he glares at the female, he sits up straighter as to intimidate her. Eda just stares, 

Hunters’ grip felt ..so weak. 

She frowns, concerned as she watches him shakily let go, holding his head in pain as he gets another dizzy spell. 

Hunter frowns as his head spins, wishing more than anything to just disappear from here, of course he’d get left with this wild witch when he was in such a state. He needed to get out of here and figure out how to redeem himself. 

“Okay okay. Look I just have to clean the cuts on your face, is that alright?” Eda says calmly, her eyes glancing to his torso where he shielded what looked like a worse injury from what the dark-stained shirt could tell her. She looks back to the males eyes offering a gentle smile. Hunter was confused but kept a harsh glare on the female.  

No one ever asked him if it was alright with him before. 

The question made him feel off and wrong.

 In the emperor's coven he was used to things just happening, he didn’t get a choice. 

But what made his stomach turn was the offer for someone to help with his wounds. 

It was unheard of!

 Getting hurt was a sign of weakness the Emperors coven didn’t get the luxury to enjoy. 

Especially Hunter.

 If anyone got hurt they were expected not to show any weakness, hide away if they had to. 

But Hunter's confusion seems to leave him as he remembers who she was. 

The Owl Lady.  

The once most powerful witch on the isle. 

She uses wild magic. 

She was a crook. 

She wasn’t to be trusted. 

It was almost laughable that he almost fell for it. 

“No I don’t want your help” Hunter mutters angrily as he looks away rolling his eyes at the female. Eda couldn’t help but snort, causing the male to glance back quickly looking a bit more agitated, his face going slightly red, even the tips of his ears burning as Eda laughs at him. He lets out a slight growl clenching his teeth. 

“Alright. alright, how about this then? I’ll give you the supplies and you clean them? “ Eda smirks confidently. Hunter nods slowly, almost unsure, confused. This was some kind of trick right? 

He narrows his eyes at her trying to read her eyes for any type of clue.

 This had to be a trick. 

The Owl Lady practiced wild magic.  

Wild magic is dangerous ergo so was The Owl Lady. 

“Good!” Hunter snaps with attitude before taking the first aid kit from her hands aggressively, a bit too quickly, his head spinning at the rapid movement.  He bites his lip.

 If he ignored the dizziness then he could do this, 

yeah?

Yeah. 

He’d done this for himself plenty of times in the coven. 

This wasn’t any different. 

And as his Uncle always told him, things like this would only make him stronger.  

He lets out a breath and picks up a bottle of what he hoped was the cleanser. He holds it close to his face trying to read the contents as his vision blurs again, his head suddenly pounding worse making his stomach do a somersault. He overall did not feel good. He just wanted to lay down and forget all this.

 He shakes his head grumbling, almost dropping the bottle as he blinks to try to sort his vision. 

Eda watches the male smirking, knowing he would give in any second. 

Hunter gulps as his vision focuses, he can feel The Owl Ladys’ gaze and he couldn’t help but glance her way seeing the smug expression.

This causes his face to turn slightly red in embarrassment, the blush spreading to the tips of his ears as he growls loudly. 

‘She knew!’

‘She knew he couldn’t do it’

‘She just wanted to rub it in his face!’

Hunter felt angry as his thoughts screamed. 

 “Fine! I need your help!” Hunter snaps bitterly, he spat out the word ‘help’ in distaste, grumbling as he looks away from the Owl Lady with a scowl. 

Eda chuckles “Ha Don’t worry about it kid” she smiles softly before getting a clean cloth ready. She dabs it slightly on the area below and around his eye. Hunter gasps slightly before he bites his tongue to keep from whimpering, the area stinging.

“Warn me next time “ he huffs “A-and stop calling me kid” He mutters through gritted teeth trying to hold onto what little dignity to the coven he had left. 

He was the golden guard. 

He just-.. needed to earn the title back. 

He shudders softly, his fingers gripping onto the couch, trying his best not to show weakness as he sits completely still. 

Though Eda seemed to take notice of the tense witch. 

“Just relax,” She reassures. Hunter glares at her frowning . 

“I. am. relaxed. “ He pauses, taking a breath, feeling agitated. 

She was teasing him on purpose, 

Unbelievable 

“You’re just clearly bad at this!”   Hunter bites back before he can stop himself, his eye throbbing badly from the stress. 

Eda clicks her tongue, shaking her head about to say something and then stopping with a heavy sigh putting the cloth down. 

Hunter felt his heart skip a beat in terror but he didn't dare move as his eyes twitch slightly with fear. 

He was going to be punished for talking back wasn’t he?

His breath stopped short and he bows his head quickly. 

“I apologize. It won’t happen again” the reply came swift before Eda could even open her mouth, like Hunter was used to biting his tongue and apologizing. 

And titan, he was.

 Or at least when he was stupid enough to get mouthy.

But he learned very quickly not to get mouthy with Belos.. 

Eda frowns, feeling bad for the kid. Belos really did torture them in the emperors coven huh? She felt bad for when she assumed they had everything handed to them. That they were Belos’ star children and were loved unconditionally even if they fucked up. They were his coven after all. But Eda realized now how stupidly naïve she was to think such a thing. The Emperor really was merciless, and with his own nephew too? She could really tell Belos did a number on the boy. Faded scars lined his arms, not to mention his cheek and clipped ear. And now there was the damage from the days prior. Belos was a monster. 

“Look, kid, seriously relax. If we were going to hurt or turn you in we would have done it already” Eda hums, joking to lighten the mood. But when she notices Hunter is still tense she sighs out “but like we won’t, you’ve been through a lot plus we’re criminals” she assures gently. Continuing to clean the area around his eye, being careful going a bit slower this time. Hunter scoffs, rolling his eyes looking away. Her words annoyed the male, he didn’t need her pity. 

“Wooow I feel so much safer “ He mutters sarcastically but his shoulders seem to actually relax, only tensing slightly every now and again. 

But Eda was right. 

They all could have done away with him easily, especially during his episode. And it’s not like they really could turn him in anyway if they wanted to, they all had their own wanted posters. Though he had expected these wild witches to be harsh with him, much like Belos was.  But so far The Owl Lady’s touches weren’t harmful or ill intended.  

She was just …

 taking care of him. 

This left a bitter taste in his mouth. He gulps feeling guilty for the small part of him that enjoyed it. 

Eda carefully wraps the area, being gentle. Hunter couldn’t help but let a soft smile grace his features.   

This was.. 

...Different.  

To have someone else clean his wounds and not himself for a change. 

To have someone be gentle and caring with him. 

 It was kind of…

Nice. 

“Thank you for your assistance Ms. Clawthorne..” Hunter mumbles softly, maintaining his composure as he straightens his back letting his smile fall. 

“No problem but you can just call me Eda kid. “ She laughs softly. 

Hunter looks away embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck. He wasn’t used to getting help. 

It felt so.. 

Unnatural. 

And for this witch of clearly high rank to want him to call her Eda. 

This all made his stomach turn. 

This wasn’t right.

 His mind kept screaming ‘Run get out!’

Eda was the ene—The Owl Lady!!

 The Owl Lady was the enemy. 

He growls as he has to mentally correct himself. He couldn’t use their names. That would only make him get attached- not that he could get attached to these lowlifes.

 Comfortable. He wouldn’t get comfortable. And he knew he wouldn’t fall for whatever façade The Owl Lady was pulling. 

Eda ties off the bandage. 

He was tired and glad this was all over. He could go back to his cave and -

 “ Alright onto the next one.” Eda hums but frowns as she watches the color drain from the small males face, his eyes widening as a few beats of sweat fall from his brow. 

Hunter coughs, grabbing his side, clenching his teeth at the feeling as it throbs badly. 

Dammit why did he let himself believe it was over? 

He let his guard down!

 He felt angry but more nervous about Eda looking at something a bit more serious.

 His vision swims as he looks back at the female and he shakes his head. 

“Er um how about we don’t and I leave?” Hunter laughs nervously looking down, fumbling as he scoots back slightly looking uneasy. He sits straight as he remembers his status. He couldn’t show he was scared. “I-I’ve overstayed my welcome long enough” he says strictly trying to hide his fear. 

Eda frowns, she knew that meant it was most likely really bad and with the fever the boy had...    

She really needed to look at it. 

“Kid I just need to take a small peek I promise I won’t hurt ya as I said before“ Eda reassured and yet Hunter felt more nervous..

Could- Could he actually trust her? 

No, No of course not!

But on the other hand ..

This was more serious…

Then again..

But Belos had always taught him to keep his guard up, even in friendly company..

Rascal pecks his leg, tweeting loudly. 

“Ow hey!” Hunter growls startled. He scoffs at the bird as he glares at the boy. 

He hated to admit that he did need her help and he hated that he had to show it. 

He hadn’t really looked at it since— what happened..

He gulps, deciding he had no choice (like usual),  he shakily starts to remove his shirt, wincing badly as it barely grazes the area on his torso. 

Edas’ frown worsened when Hunter revealed the darkly red-stained cloth wrapped tightly around his torso.  

Hunter coughs a bit harshly, feeling his vision swim again. He closes his eyes to steady himself. 

Eda watches, having to stop herself from moving forward to help the male knowing he needed time to adjust to them. 

But she felt so worried, she just wanted to help him.  

Hunter looked so weak. 

So tired. 

So Pale. 

So frail. 

The Golden Guard was but a small child.

And He did not look well. 

Eda hated herself for caring but.. she couldn’t really believe it. 

The Golden Guard. 

One of the Heads of The Coven 

A child.

Just a child.  

And Belos did all of this. 

To a child 

She felt angry.

So angry. 

 She couldn’t believe Belos would-! 

well yes she could but she was just shocked he’d do such a thing to family. She felt sorry for the boy. 

Hunter opens his eyes slowly before carefully starting to peel the bandage off. He gasps loudly, clenching his jaw as he pulls the stuck gauze from his flesh. A few tears started to build, blurring his vision and he quickly blinks them back. The fabric almost seemed sealed to his skin as he rips it off, blood dripping down his stomach. Hunter’s breath hitches as he finally tears it off, a small whimper leaving him as he shields the area gritting his teeth, shaking slightly. 

It hurt

It hurt so much.

“Hunter?” Eda moves her hand to his shoulder carefully before rubbing his back softly, concerned. 

Hunter shutters softly at the small touch but nods. 

“Sorry I know i just- right” Hunter didn't feel ready but he slowly removed his hands revealing the giant gash in his side which was bleeding a bit badily and now oozing a small bit. His stomach flips and He feels a slight tickle in his throat, he coughs harshly before he quickly supports the area after the first cough, a strained sound escaping him, a few tears falling as well. His side pulsing with every cough that shook his being. 

”Ah mm ah ahh” He grips the area, slightly his vision swimming. The pressure the cough created made the pain a bit unbearable, he shudders.

He just wanted to give up at this point. Just lay down. It hurt too much.  But he knew he needed to suck it up. 

“S-Sorry” he shakily removed his now blood stained hand slowly, his voice was soft and his eyelids shook weakly. He bites his lip nervously as his side pulses again but he grips the couch instead. 

Eda felt her heart break at the sight. 

“Stop apologizing already, Look before we start, because won't lie that looks real bad, if i gave you some sleeping nettles and maybe some-” 

“No.” Hunter's reply came fast and stern, Eda seemed a bit taken back by this. She pauses as she looks at the male confused. 

Was he used to high end healing?

Eda didn’t really have anything like that. 

“Look i know its no healing spell or healing potion but it can help you-”

“If you had healing potions i wouldn’t take those either” Hunter rolls his eyes as if it were obvious and she was an idiot for even thinking of offering. He glances down at the hole in his side gulping uneasily. 

Eda looks confused but then frustrated.

“Hunter, why are you being so difficult?” Eda groans in slight annoyance, I mean when she found out about her elixirs she had been so happy to find something to help her deal with the owl beast curse. 

So why was this young witch, who’s clearly in immense physical pain, take nothing to help deal with the issue?

But Hunter only seemed confused by The Owl Lady’s question. 

“Belos says that truly strong witches don't need such trifle things”. Hunter states matter-of-factly gripping the couch cushion. “I mean how will I truly get stronger with assistance?” He laughs and scoffs as he shakes his head at the woman who stares in disbelief. 

Eda stopped and stared for a moment. It was painful to watch the male suffer, she felt angry that Belos had fooled the boy so well. The fact that he fully believed such a thing. 

“Hunter, you don’t have to suffer to get better or to get stronger! that's not how this works.” Eda seemed exasperated that she even had to explain this to the young male. 

How dare Belos! 

She felt so so angry but sad as she stared at the clueless child. 

“J-just let me get my magic nettles cream at least so I can numb the area slightly before its cleaned. You're lucky to be alive with no stitches-“

“S-Stitch” Hunter gulps feeling a bit sick at just the thought and he quickly shakes his head. “I-i really don't think that would have been necessary i mean look,” he looks down at his oozing, festering wound “its- not that bad” he says quickly, his voice cracking making it not so convincing. He felt a bit sick to his stomach just looking at the wound, dizzy. He looks back at the woman smiling. 

Eda stares at him blankly. 

Hunter frowns as he realizes she is not buying it. 

“Okay yeah stitches probably were the best idea but” he mumbles defeated, putting his head down staring at his hands as they shake slightly.  He really didn’t like stitches, back when he got his nick in his ear he fainted mid-stitch and well he didn’t really remember anything else beside the panic of having a chunk of his ear missing when he woke up. Hunter lets out a shaky breath. 

“Alright relax kid and lay back “ Eda grabs her cream unscrewing the cap. Hunter gulps carefully laying on his back, gasping in pain as his side throbs. He bites his lip before gulping. 

“We’ll numb the area first then i’ll start cleaning” 

Eda hums walking him through the process

“Yeah yeah okay whatever” Hunter mumbles less bite in his words. He felt tired and he was in so much pain. 

Eda carefully spreads the cream, it glows bright yellow as Hunters body absorbs it. 

“Ah-“ He gasps gripping a nearby pillow. 

“Now before we continue you sure you don’t want some sleeping nettles or-“ Eda hums careful wetting a cloth with cleaner. 

“No I don’t need anything else I’m sure it's fine” he mumbles lying. 

Hunter's hands balled into fists at his sides, feeling scared.

 No no he was The Golden Guard. 

He scoffs at himself letting out a breath as he releases his tight grip.

 “Alright well then do it” He snaps slightly. 

Eda couldn’t help but chuckle at the boys agitation, it reminded her a lot of herself. 

 “Alright alright sheesh kid” she rolls her eyes before gently cleaning around the wound first. 

The male immediately tenses badly, his breath hitching as his eyes widen. He shakes his head shutting his eyes trying to maintain any of his composure. The Owl lady stops slightly. “Numbing cream will only go so far. Are you sure you don’t-“

“No! just clean the stupid gash!” Hunter growls, cutting her off with a snap as he glares.. 

Eda frowns but sighs softly. “A-alright “ she says a bit shakily. “But you asked for it” he carefully touches the actual area starting to clean but Hunter fully sits up covering his mouth as he cries out in pain, tears blurring his vision before he scoots away putting his legs up to block his stomach.  

Eda puts her hands up immediately, eyes wide. She had expected a reaction but-

Hunter grits his teeth as a sob escapes his person and he looks down shamefully.

Eda clicks her tongue sighing.

“Kid?” Eda tries gently. 

“I’ll take the magic assistance..” His shoulders sink in defeat as he gives in disgracefully. 

Oh what Belos’ would say..

Eda seemed a bit taken back. 

“A-Alright” 

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

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Drywall Dust by applecrumbledore

fandom: Supernatural

pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

word count: 16k

Is it explicit: yes

Bottom line: the one where dean fucks sam’s math teacher and it gives sam Ideas

The first thing that stands out about applecrumbledore’s writing is the banter. Like, astolat levels of banterful. It’s a such a nice palette cleanser after reading heavier stuff that makes my brain hurt. I don’t know if this is necessarily their best fic, or even my favorite fic of theirs, but it’s got this unstoppable momentum that carries you along, and you don’t even notice the subtler emotional currents until you go back and reread. The first time through you’re too busy hacking up a lung laughing to notice.

John has taken off after dumping Sam and Dean in a tiny podunk town, and the plot is kicked off when Dean goes to the only bar in town and eye-fucks Sam’s teacher (a man). I mean they do the actual fucking later, presumably in a bed or a car or something, but the eye-fucking happens in public. It is not a big town. Sam’s first reaction, when he hears about it, is disbelief. Sam is already being bullied in school so when the bullies add “your brother is a sniveling queer” to their arsenal of taunts, Sam loses it and starts a fistfight. In math class. Under the watchful eye of the very same man whom Dean fucked last night. Then he goes home and confronts Dean about it.

It’s a fraught conversation. Sam is livid that Dean didn’t tell him he was into guys—because if Dean wants to fuck guys that opens up all sorts of possibilities that Sam isn’t ready to examine head-on just yet; Sam is very deliberately not examining the real source of his anger. Dean interprets Sam’s fury as “you did something embarrassing—you publicly embarrassed me—now stop doing it.” And you can see how that wounds Dean? How he feels ashamed about it? And Sam, to his credit, realizes how he must have come off and tries to walk it back—no no the problem isn’t Dean’s sexuality it’s Dean keeping secrets from him—but it’s too late, he’s seventeen years old and basically everything the adults in his life do embarrasses him. I thought applecrumbledore captured that part of being seventeen exceedingly well.

“Don’t act like you give a shit, it’s your fault.” Sam shoved his busted hands into his pockets. “You know this is a hick town and you knew people were gonna talk, and you didn’t think about me at all.”

Oh dear Sam, are you mad that Dean wasn’t thinking about your reputation or are you mad that Dean wasn’t thinking about you while he got railed by another guy? Sam literally can’t stand it when his brother pays attention to anybody else, H O W are these boys for real I—

The next day Sam’s teacher asks him to stay after class and the ensuing conversation is so mortifying I was holding my hand over my eyes while trying to read through my fingers, even as I couldn’t look away because it just touches so many emotional live wires:

“I’m sorry about what happened with your brother,” he said tightly, obviously very embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” Sam said.

“If I had known he was the guardian of a student, I never would have— It was unprofessional. Mike didn’t—”

“Mike?”

Mr. Sorensen balked. “Your… brother?”

“His name isn’t Mike. He told you…”

They were both equally mortified. He felt like they had a sense of kinship in that moment, two people duped by the force of nature that was Dean Winchester. Sam, not for the first or last time, felt the need to apologize for him.

“He’s always like this,” he said quickly …

“He talked about you,” Mr. Sorensen said, halting and short, and Sam’s heart stopped whamming against his ribs and fell completely dead.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t—”

“No, what?” …

“He— he loves you very much,” Mr. Sorenson said, and Sam got a shiver all the way down to his feet. “He talked about… taking care of you all the time. I guess your dad is, you know, not around. He…”

He trailed off, but the look on his face wasn’t normal. Something in that look made Sam egg him on, made him pry for those last few words like a steel crowbar.

“He what?”

Sorensen’s eyes shifted. “Has Mi— Has your brother ever… done anything to you?”

All the air burned out of Sam’s lungs.

MIKE. MIKE. DEAN TOLD THIS DUDE HIS NAME WAS MIKE OMFG I AM DECEASED. I cannot believe Dean, is he really…talking about how fucked-up he is over his baby brother…to this one-night-stand whom he just gave a fake name to??? How. What.

Now that Sam has started thinking about Dean fucking guys he can’t stop think about Dean fucking guys, it’s practically the only thing he thinks about. He follows Dean to his next assignation for a spot of voyeurism, gets busted, they go home and bang—well first they bedshare while stewing in denial and then in the morning they bang. It’s so good. Banter, jealousy, voyeurism…if you haven’t read it what the fuck you waiting for.

“I’d do anything for you,” Dean against his mouth, “and that has nothing to do with wanting to fuck you. I want you to— yeah. Know that.”

This is objectively the most emotionally open Dean has been this entire time and it’s making me feel all the feelings….but somehow I’m still thinking about “Mike.” Mike. Thank you for being born, applecrumbledore, so we could all bear witness to Mike.

[badassbelowmaskofkind]

Jeff x reader

Ch 6

I continue to stumble over my own feet as I am harshly dragged through the halls by the one known as Jack, wearing the blue mask. I would have asked him to slow down but whenever I ever attempted to talk, he would let out a spine chilling growl. So I decided to keep quiet.

Finally however, we come to a stop in front of brown door. Seemed similar to all the others. He opens it and forces me inside. Slamming the door and locking it from the outside. Leaving me alone.

I appeared to be in some kind of wet room. There was no sink, no toilet, no bath. Just a drain in the dipped centre of the floor as one overhead shower hung down, where the light would be. Instead, smaller lights covered the walls. Bright enough to make it easy to see though.

As I took in the room around me, processing it's use, I suddenly jump as the door is unlocked and opened. Jack steps in, slamming the door and locking it. Why'd he lock it!?!?!

He held in his hands some sort of medical kit and operation equipment. He points to the floor by the drain and clicks his fingers.

"Sit."

I thought it would be best not to piss him off. So I obey and sit on the floor, extending my leg for him to mend.

"I would have done this in my operating room. Would have been easier. But I would have forgotten I was helping you and I would have killed you."

My heart sunk into my gut and a lump clogged my throat as I gulp at his words. He really is dangerous. I could tell, even just by the tone of his voice.

"It was right. About what it said. You guys are murderers-"

"He is not an 'it'. His name is Slender man. Slender for us. You should address him as such."

He snapped. I couldn't help lean away. I was really intimidated by him. But I couldn't let my fear show if I really were to be working here as a bloody maid.

I watch as Jack kneels down, unpacking his items and beginning to disinfect my wound.

"Right.. Sorry, Jack."

"It's EJ."

Huh? I was confused. Did he correct me of his name? But I was sure that 'Slender' had addressed him as Jack.

"But Slender called-"

"I said, its EJ. There is more than one Jack in this place and I suggest you learn which is who."

I remained silent. I could clearly tell in his voice that he was becoming agitated. And the fact that he was surrounded by medical tools with sharp blades. I wouldn't want to do anything wrong.

I watch EJ tilting his head as he puts the disinfectant on my wound. But he scoffs and lifts his head to look at me.

"You can't feel that? Most people would be screaming with this strength of cleanser."

He asks, before pushing his finger in the hole of my thigh caused by the twig. It didn't hurt of course, but I couldn't help cringe and scrunch my face like I had sucked on the lemon at the squelching sounds and sights of him pushing his finger deeper in my wound.

"Why can't you feel that?"

He asks lowly and quietly. Removing his finger and shaking his head, before beginning to stitch my wound and wrapping a tight bandage around my thigh. Cleaning up any of the dried or wet blood on my leg.

"Jack- I mean, EJ.. do you have, umm.. do you have any spare, masks?"

I needed to find a new one. This fabric was not going to last forever.

"Why?"

His head snaps up and stares as I hold my hands around my head, holding the fabric down. The two holes I had made for my ears were already ripping.

"Please.."

He growls lowly, standing up, unlocking the door and walking out. Taking his medical kit with him. I couldn't help but sigh. I guess that was his way of answering No.

However, I was too quick to judge. EJ suddenly returns with a mask in his hands. Standing over me, holding it down towards me. My hands slowly and shakily reach of to grab it. Taking it softly. He turns almost instantly and leaves me alone. But I don't pay him no mind. Instead, I examine the mask.

It was beautiful. It was perfect. I smoothly and softly trace my hands over its detail. I couldn't help but smile.

It was a very faint shade of pink, almost white but you could just about see the pink shade when it's tilted in the light. Anywhere else it appeared white. The two eye sockets were completely blacked out, just like EJ's. I wave my hand behind the mask, I couldn't see them through the eyes. Which was good as I didn't want anyone to see my bloodshot eye, and burnt skin, even if it is just the left side. There was no mouth or nose hole but as I removed my fabric mask and placed this new one over my face, it was easily breathable.

I fold my fabric mask into a ball and throw it in the bin. No sink, bath, toilet. But there is a bin ??

Taking a deep breath, adjusting my new mask, I open the door to the wet room and step out. Only to have my wrist instantly grabbed and to be dragged away. Glancing at the source, it was Jeff. I had forgotten Slender wanted him to find me a uniform. Everyone around here is so forceful.

He suddenly stops at, yet again, another brown door.

"Wait here."

He orders, opening the door, sliding in and instantly shutting it, I wonder what's in there?

I didn't have long to think about it as Jeff quickly returns with a set of clothes.

"The black skirt, white shirt and black bow-tie is your everyday uniform. The black trousers are for if your skirt is too dirty."

"But.. don't I get a spare shirt?"

He snarls, grabbing the collar of my doctors gown, yanking me forward. But as he goes to speak, he stops, looking down at my neck. Feeling around before instantly grabbing the chain. I had completely forgotten about the chain and collar. This was not good.

"This could come in handy."

He chuckles with a sly and evil grin. Before instantly dropping the chain and taking a step back, folding his arms. Starting at me.

"Well?"

I was so confused. What was he waiting for? But, once I followed his fixed gaze. I realised he was waiting for me to change into my maid uniform.

"I-I can't change here! I n-need privacy!"

He rolls his eyes, turning around to face the other direction.

"That's not what I meant!"

He groans angrily, turning back around and grabbing my chain, walking away in the other direction, pulling me along with him, until he reaches, you guessed it, another brown door. I'm so gonna get lost..

He opens it and shoves me inside, shutting the door. Feeling around for some kind of switch, I finally find one. But once the room lights up. I couldn't help but sigh. I was in a closet. Full of mops, buckets, sponges etc.. how humiliating..

I rush to get changed into my skirt, shirt and bow tie. Jeff banging on the door as he grew impatient.

Once changed, I open the door and step out. Jeff turns to look at me, his gaze completely fixed as he remains silent. But he soon shakes his head, scrunching his face with anger before storming off.

"Wait! What about my!... trousers."

I sigh. I wasn't shown a room that I would be sleeping in. So I just decide to fold my trousers and keep them neatly in the closet on an empty shelf.

*~~*

Sorry to post late

[btsmakesmehappy]

Palate Cleanser | 5

Genre: Agent au, friends with benefit (sort of), Stranger to lover, Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Agent!Taehyung x Baker!reader

Word Count: 6,7k

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: Guns. Violence. Minor characters died. Possessive Tae. Cursing.

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 completed

Series Masterlist: The Company

Summary: Taehyung needs something to take his mind off his broken heart. His best friend, Jimin, suggests that he should meet another woman and the first woman he met was you. Would you help him even though you have your own problem, that you hate men?

A/N: To my beloved beta readers: @arizonapoppy​ who gave me the most encouragement and to @hesperantha​ who literally made me want to join your screaming reading lmao. thankyou so much!!

“Why are you here again?” you asked, trying to sound mad. You put your hands on your hips as Taehyung walked through your door to the couch, throwing down his jacket and other belongings on his way.

Taehyung chuckled as he plopped himself on the couch. “You know, muffin, you’re thinking way too much. I know that deep down you are happy that I am here.”

You scoffed, walking to the couch and sitting beside him. “I’m not!”

He then took the remote from the table and turned on the TV, scrolling casually through Netflix. “Sure.”

You pouted and grabbed his arm to attract his attention. “I’m not!”

Taehyung just smiled. He leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose softly, catching you off guard. “You can say whatever you want, muffin. But you can’t lie to your heart. ”

You have been crying since Wendy dragged you to the Hall’s storage room. The room is in the back of the hall, almost outside. It’s weird for you that such an expensive hall has a room like this. The place is deserted and you feel that no one will ever hear your voice. You even take a peek at the broken window beside you, there’s no one out there to save you.

Taehyung was right after all.

That damn Park Chanyeol is fucking dangerous.

At the thought of Taehyung, you cry even harder. You are too young to die. You have just met a man who might be the love of your life and you have never told him that you love him. You miss Taehyung. You want to tell him that you love him. No, love may be too much. You want to be with Taehyung at any rate.

“For the love of God, stop crying already!” Wendy yells at you, yanking your hair.

How can you stop crying? You’re tied in a chair with a gun pointed to your head. If this isn’t the worst nightmare you’ve ever had, it is getting worse. Your stomach hurts. You try to control yourself, to stop the tears falling from your eyes. But they are just pouring like a waterfall.

“Wha-What will you do to me?” you ask cautiously.

“Oh, honey. Don’t ask something you don’t want to know,” she chuckles.

Suddenly, the door opens and a man barges in. He is in a suit too, and looks like another guest at this party. He holds a paper in his hand tightly. His face looks mad for some reason and he stops when he sees you. “Y/N?”

You look at him carefully. “Baekho?” You know this man. You went to college with him. Or close to it -- your college building is kind of merged with your culinary school so you saw him often. Hell, he even asked you out back then. Truth be told, you didn’t like him. He was snobby and when you rejected him, he hated it. He spread rumors about you in the building, which you didn’t care for. To you, he was just a rich annoying guy who had a bunch of men lurking behind him. And you remember one of the men -- it was Chanyeol.

His eyes widen when he looks at your state. “What? What is this?”

The door closes abruptly, making you jolt in surprise. “Nice reunion, right guys?” Chanyeol says happily. He walks closer to you. Your body is shaking. He touches your cheeks softly, which makes you wince in disgust. “I think it is more perfect than what I was planning before, with Y/N watching.”

Baekho glares at him. “What the fuck? Did you send this?” He asks as he holds the paper in the air. You can’t see what’s on the paper, but it looks like it might be a photo.

Chanyeol chuckles. “Of course I did! Who else knows about your bad past except me?”

Baekho grits his teeth. “What do you want? Do you want to share that photo with the public? Is that what you want?” He scoffs. “You really think that you can stop me from joining politics?”

Chanyeol laughs maniacally and walks to him. “I don’t fucking care about your career.” He pulls his gun and aims it at Baekho. “I just want you to die.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What the hell, Chanyeol? Are you crazy? Why do you want to kill your friend?”

Wendy slaps you across the face with her gun. “Shut the fuck up.” You can feel the tingling pain on your cheek and the bitterness of blood on the corner of your lips.

Chanyeol scoffs. “Friends? I have never thought of him as a friend.” His gun is still pointing to Baekho, who has already fallen on his knees. He’s hyperventilating and clutching his chest. “He just used me as a slave, back then.”

“What?” Your voice is weak. It doesn’t make any sense. Did he plan all of this just to take revenge on Baekho?

“You should be happy too, Y/N! He was the one who spread that groundless rumor about you! He even made your photoshopped naked photo.” He glares back to Baekho. “He is trash.”

This sudden fact makes you squint your eyes in confusion.  “That doesn’t mean you can kill him!”

“It is too late.” Chanyeol smiles weakly. You hear a click from his gun.

You squeeze your eyes shut when you hear a shot, followed by the other shots. The smell of gunpowder fills the room, mixed with the smell of dust. It is nauseating. The pain in your stomach worsens, twisting it, nearly forcing you to throw the contents on the floor. You want to vomit everything; wipe away what you just saw.

With the sound of the door opened abruptly, the sound of firing guns doesn’t stop, it is even getting worse. You hear the cries of the people around you. You clutch your bound hands into fists; your nails digging into your palms in what you are sure will be permanent half moons, if you survive this.

You cast your head down. At this point, you can’t cry anymore. You want to run away, but you’re tied. You literally can’t do anything. You pray that it will end soon.

You are almost sure you are going to die tonight.

Maybe it is the fear, maybe it is nausea, or maybe it is the fact that you are losing your mind, your mind turns blank and subconsciously mutters incoherent words, or worse, sings nursery rhymes, trying to calm your nerves.

Pat­-a-­cake, pat-­a-­cake, baker's man

Bake me a cake as fast as you can

Pat it, and roll it, and mark it with a "B"

And put it in the oven for baby and me

 Pat-­a-­cake, pat­-a­-cake, baker's man

Bake me a cake as fast as you can

Mix it, and stir it, and bake it just right

Good from the first 'til the very last bite

 Pat-­a-­cake, pat­-a-­cake baker's man

Bake me a cake as fast as you can

Make it with chocolate, and make it with cream

Make it the prettiest you've ever seen

 Somehow the voices around you are quiet. But still, you are afraid to open your eyes, until you feel a soft pat on your shoulder. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You slowly open your eyes, to find a familiar man in front of you. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Hoseok?”

Hoseok sighs in relief. “Thank God, I thought you’d gone crazy.” He laughs. “Wait, let me untie you.”

He does, and you rise from your chair, legs wobbly, and look around the room. Wendy, who was beside you, is held down to the ground by some man, there’s blood seeping from her back. Another agent forces Chanyeol to walk outside. His hands are tied behind him; Chanyeol doesn’t even glance at you. And Baekho...

You can’t see him clearly, as he is covered with a white cloth. The way his blood drips from his unconscious body, you know that he’s dead. A man died. A man killed another man in the same room as you are. You put your hand on your mouth, willing yourself not to vomit in this place.

Hoseok runs to your side and holds your arms gently. “Are you okay? Can you walk?” You nod weakly. Your mind is still processing all of these things.

Why is Hoseok here? Who is he? What the fuck is going on?

Another man walks over to you. His dark eyes show concern. “Y/N, right? Let me walk you outside. There's an ambulance waiting outside to check on you.” You nod again, having no will to argue or refuse. The man puts his hand on your back while the other hand holds your arm, guiding you outside. It’s already dark outside, crowded with police and also the other people who are just curious about what happened.

He then walks you to the ambulance and the paramedics quickly examine you. Luckily, there are no major injuries. You only have a little wound in the corner of your mouth and a graze on your shoulder from the firing incident. After the paramedic treats you, the man covers your shoulder with a blanket and hands you a cup of water. “Thank you,” you whisper.

The man smiles, his eyes turning into thin lines. “You’re welcome. Taehyung will be here soon.” He pats your shoulder.

At the sound of his name, your head perks up. “Taehyung?” You look at him in confusion. What is Taehyung doing here?

Just when you want to ask him about Taehyung, you see his familiar form run towards him. “Jimin! Where is Y/N?” he asks hurriedly.

Your eyes widen with the sudden arrival of Taehyung. His hair is messy, his forehead is wet with sweat, his breaths are uneven. He carries a rifle slung over his shoulder by a strap. His eyes fall on you and he sighs in relief. He drops his rifle to the ground and runs to you.

Without even thinking, you run to him too, dropping the glass and letting the blanket fall to the ground. The two of you meet in the middle. Taehyung pulls you into his embrace, kissing your face over and over. “Oh my God, muffin. Are you okay?” he asks with worry.

Hearing his voice and feeling the way he hugs you, you feel more alive than ever. You are relieved, you feel safe. And with that realization, your eyes flood with tears. “Tae... I’m sorry.” Your body shakes uncontrollably.

Taehyung feels his heart sinking to his feet. He hates it the most when you cry. “No, muffin. I’m the one who should be sorry. I should be the one to protect you. I am sorry.” He hugs you tighter, running his hand on your head, stroking lovingly to calm you down. “I am glad that you are okay.”

“There’s a dead man,” you sob, burying your face in his chest.

“Shh... I know, muffin.” He pulls away from you, taking your face in his hand. His heart drops when he sees the wound on your face. He grits his teeth; he is so going to kill Chanyeol. How dare he hurt you?

You search his face. “Tae?”

Taehyung realizes your confusion and shakes his head profusely to clear his mind. Right now, the most important thing is you, you are alive in front of him. He leans in and gives a chaste kiss on your lips, not wanting to hurt you more. He wipes the tears on your face and pulls you into his hug again. Chanyeol can wait.

What matters most now is you.

An awkward cough erupts behind you, making you and Taehyung pull away from each other. “Sorry to disturb you guys. Jin wants to talk to you,” the man named Jimin says as he hands the phone to Taehyung.

Taehyung walks you to the back of the ambulance to let you sit there. Jimin wraps you again with a blanket. Taehyung’s hand still holds your hand tightly, not wanting to let you go, even for just a bit. He puts the phone up to his ear with his free hand. “Yes, Jin-hyung?”

You look at Taehyung warily and divert your attention to the other man beside you, who is looking at you with twinkling eyes. He looks curious and happy at the same time. “Oh, right. I’m Jimin. Tae’s friend.”

“I’m Y/N. I am...” Your voice quietens. “I-I am also Tae’s friend.” You have never talked about your relationship with him. You know that maybe boyfriend is too much, but a friend?

Jimin smiles knowingly. Anyone who saw you and Taehyung would think the same as him. How you and Taehyung hugged each other for dear life, how you look at each other, how you hold each other’s hands tightly, it’s not just any friendship. Jimin is happy for his friend. Even before Hawaii, Taehyung has never been like this. You must be someone special for him to make him fall so deep like this.

“I don’t want to!” Taehyung snaps, making you and Jimin look at him curiously. “Y/N is not going to the HQ.”

You are perplexed at the sound of your name. After the fog of the shootout, your mind starts functioning again. You collect the puzzle pieces. Taehyung told you that he is an agent, and he used that big gun. He is an agent, and you just now realize it, that Taehyung has never lied to you even once.

You squeeze his hand to make him look at you. “Tae, I’m fine,” you say softly. “If that’s something I must do, I can do it.”

Taehyung grits his teeth in displeasure and sighs. “Fine. 30 minutes.”

Taehyung opened the trunk of Jungkook’s car, grabbing a rifle from the case. He touched the rifle softly, unsure of what to do. His fingers trembled. A memory from the war 5 years ago filled his head. He heard the sudden cry from a child in the flashback.  He balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes.

Jimin walked silently behind him and patted his shoulder. “Are you okay? Can you do this?”

His war flashback turned into a dying girl covered in blood on the beach in Hawaii. His love, who almost died 2 years ago. Who he loved so dearly and yet never loved him back. A woman who will never be his.

And then he saw you, slowly walking into his life.

You with a pout on your face and a blush that formed on your cheeks when he flirted with you. You, with a smile plastered on your face when he came to your apartment and hid that smile quickly when he looked at you. You, with tears flowing like a waterfall every time you watched Disney movies.

You, who always accepted him with open arms.

He opened his eyes and turned to Jimin. “Chim, please keep her safe…” he begged as his hands gripped Jimin’s shoulder tightly.

Jimin smiled at him knowingly. “Of course I will, Tae.” He pulled Taehyung into a hug and stroked his back to reassure him. “I am so happy that you found someone.”

Taehyung gulped, trying to hold his tears. “I don’t want to lose her. She is everything to me now.”

“I know.” Jimin then pulled away from his best friend and gave him a smack on his back. “Now go save your woman!”

The ride to the Company’s HQ is quiet. Hoseok drives with his eyes on the road, sometimes peeking in the rearview mirror. Jimin sits beside him; he looks like he’s holding himself from talking to you and Taehyung.

And Taehyung?

He has been holding your hand since you first saw him a while ago. He soothes your hand softly to calm you down, and sometimes bring your hand to his lips. You can’t guess what’s inside his head, his dark eyes are unreadable.

You step out of the car when Hoseok stops in the driveway. Your feet stumble; Taehyung drags you through the security, silently showing his badge to the guards. You’ve never thought you would set foot in this building. The last time you went here, you only stayed in front of the building.

The people inside the building walk quickly, looking busy. You thought that you would see people in suits walking around with guns in their hands, but instead it looks like a usual office. They even have a private Starbucks in the lobby, next to a stall that you assume as a burger joint. You frown your eyebrows. Duh, Y/N! Do you think you’d find a donut shop there?

You walk to the elevator after a woman in the receptionist area gives you access with a card. Still, the elevator ride is quiet, only filled with the sound of Jimin tapping his feet impatiently beside you.

“Alright! I give up!” Jimin says to Hoseok. Jimin then hands a 10000 won bill to Hoseok. “I just can’t keep quiet like this. This is killing me!”

Hoseok slips the bill into his chest pocket. “Aha! I knew you would lose, Park Jimin!” His smile spreads to his face.

Jimin snorts. “Fine! I lost! I don’t care anymore!” He then shifts his gaze to you. “So how did you meet Tae?”

You blink your eyes several times, confused with the sudden question. Jimin’s face looks so happy, it almost intimidates you. “Wh-What?”

“You know what I meant!” Jimin says. “I knew a little already from Hoseok, but I still want to hear from your side of the story! Did Taehyung force you to meet him? Or you were the one who chased him?”

“Alright, Chim. Not a good time.” Taehyung interrupts as you arrive on the 7th floor. “And what do you think you are doing?” You step out of the elevator, following Taehyung.

Jimin whines as he follows both of you. “I’m just curious! I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“PARK JIMIN!” Taehyung yells, you can see his cheeks turn bright red. The tightness in your chest loosens; you were nervous before, but this unfamiliar banter somehow eases your nerves. Jimin and Hoseok genuinely care for Taehyung; they’re not just being complete dickheads. You giggle softly at Taehyung’s sudden shyness, which he realizes. “Please don’t join him to tease me.” He tugs your hand softly.

He tries to sound mad, but in fact, he is a little grateful to Jimin and Hoseok. They are trying to help you feel comfortable, and he is happy about that. But still, it is embarrassing for him.

Taehyung stops in front of a big grey door; he raises a hand to open the door, but stops midair. He then turns his face to you. “Are you sure about this?”

You gently squeeze his hand. “I’m okay, Tae. And besides, I am not doing anything wrong. I shouldn’t be afraid, right?” you ask, waiting for reassurance.

Taehyung bites his lips. “Well, it can be a little scary sometimes.”

You gulp. Maybe this is a bad idea? Taehyung didn’t want you to do it in the first place, shouldn’t you just follow him? But, you thought he would get into trouble if he keeps doing this. And you don’t want him to be.

Hoseok pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m going inside too. It’s only an interview, don’t be intimidated by Jin-hyung.” He smiles and opens the door, letting you enter the room first.

You take a quick glance at Taehyung’s face when Hoseok closes the door. “Taehyung is not coming?”

Hoseok smiles comfortingly. “He is too emotional at this point, so, No.” He points you to a seat in front of him. “You want a drink? Coffee or tea?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Suddenly the door opens and a man with broad shoulders enters. “Hi! You must be Y/N. I’m Jin.” He takes a seat beside Hoseok, opening his laptop. “Let’s just do this as fast as possible, okay?”

The questioning starts. They ask you simple questions at first, like your name, age, occupation, and anything that identifies you. After that Hoseok starts asking about Chanyeol and your kidnapping.

“How would you describe your relationship with Park Chanyeol? How often did you meet each other?”

“I think we were friends? We went to the same school before, I helped him one time. We then met again after many years when he handed his magazine to me at my bakery. Then we went to dinner that night, had some conversations. A few days later, he came rushing to my shop handing me a proposal for this event. And before the event, he came to the store once. That’s it,” you explain.

“So, you had no other relationship with him?” Jin asks.

You shake your head. You then suddenly think about Baekho. “Although, I also know Baekho.”

Jin and Hoseok turn stiff. “You know Lee Baekho?”

You look at their reaction, silently regretting telling them. Did I say something wrong? “Yes. He went to the same school too. Not in culinary, but I saw him once or twice maybe?”

Jin moves his laptop aside, directly looking at you. “How do you describe your relationship with Lee Baekho then, Miss Y/N?”

You gulp, absolutely getting intimidated by him. “I just know him. He also asked me out in the past. But I rejected him.”

“And?” Jin pushes.

You fiddle with your shirt unconsciously. “He didn’t take it well. He kinda harassed me about it, and spread a rumor about me.”

“What kind of rumor?”

“I don’t know the specific reason because we were in different social circles. But someone said he edited my face onto nudes?”

“And you were mad about it?”

“But it’s not like I could do anything. He had too much power in the school, like that guy Chanyeol? He was one of his friends -- well, he said that he was a slave though.”

Jin nods. “Okay, let me rephrase this.” He then stands up and walks to you. “So, you were mad when he did that to you in the past, and you couldn't do anything to defend yourself.”

“Yeah?” You answer timidly, not sure what he is trying to say.

Jin looks down at you with suspicion. “Were you or were you not planning this with Chanyeol?” he snaps.

Your eyes widen. “What?” You almost yell. “No! Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. Revenge maybe?” He shrugs his hands.

“What?” Does this guy think you are complicit? “Look, I studied hard in my 2 years in school, I couldn’t bother to date any guy. I don’t fucking care what he did to me because it was just a rumor, it would die eventually. I don’t really care about what people said behind my back.”

“But still, you have a motive.”

“That’s just baseless!” you snap back. “I never met him even once after I graduated. And I’m doing great right now. Why would I throw away my life to just kill him?” Your eyes divert to Hoseok in front of you, who is also speechless.

Jin slaps the table hard, making you wince. “Then why are you suddenly approaching Taehyung? Or maybe you know that Taehyung is an agent and used him for your own gain? Making an alibi?”

You are perplexed and mad, and almost crying in frustration. It is just too much for you to comprehend. You can’t understand why this man suddenly put you in the corner. Whatever you said, he turned it back to you. You’re supposed to be a victim, but why did he treat you as a criminal?

Just before you answer anything, Taehyung barges into the room, looking mad. “That’s enough, Hyung.” He grabs your hand tightly, pulling you to the door.

“Kim Taehyung! You can’t just do this as you like. This is still an interrogation, and it’s far from over. She’s under suspicion!” Jin yells, grabbing Taehyung’s arm.

He jerks his hand away. “She’s a victim! Why are you being so hard on her?”

Jin snorts. “It’s just a common procedure. She might be lying.”

Taehyung looks at him with a stare that could freeze the Han River solid. “Not every woman is going to lie to you, Hyung” he whispers, making Jin wince. “I trust Y/N. And besides, I was the one who chased after her.”

“Maybe she made you think like that,” Jin says, folding his arms across his chest.

Hoseok, sensing the sour situation, stood up. “Alright-alright. Enough with this. Tae, we have finished the interrogation for now, so you can take Y/N home.” Without waiting a second, Taehyung grabs your hand, leading you quickly outside.

Back in the room, Hoseok turns to face Jin. “And you. That’s too far, Hyung. You barely had evidence, and yet you pushed her. It’s just not right.”

Jin clenches his fists and sighs. He then takes his laptop and stomps away, not wanting to say anything.

Hoseok is left alone in the interrogation room, looking around the bare walls of the empty room. He sighs. What the fuck just happened?  He walks out of the room. Maybe Jin was right, you were suspicious, you even have a motive. But that doesn’t mean that you want to kill Baekho.

Hoseok doesn’t need any more quarrels in his team. The only thing they should think about is whether Baekhyun is involved in this and why Jiseok suddenly tipped them that someone targeted Baekho.

Jin is losing his mind, he needs to move on too. He chuckles. Why do people around him always have a problem?

You walk in the middle of the night back to your apartment, draped in Taehyung’s jacket. You are not feeling the cold as the warmth and the scent from his jacket envelop you, calming you down. But even in the chilly wind, his hands are still the warmest things. He holds your hand in his, a steady reassurance of his presence.

As Taehyung opens your apartment door with his key, you suddenly remember that you have no stuff with you. You dropped your phone in the hall and your purse was still in the rental car. You turn to him. “Ehm. I think I need to go back to the hall. My purse is in the car,” you say cautiously.

He throws the key to the kitchen table and walks to the couch. “We will get your purse tomorrow. Just rest for tonight.”

“But, I also need to return the car before midnight. They’ll charge me more if I don’t,” you say as you follow close behind him. Your face bumps his back when he suddenly stops.

He turns to face you, you can see his eyes burn with fury, making you step backward. “Are you seriously thinking about that stupid rental car right now? You almost fucking died!”

“I know, but I am really fine! See?” You show him your hands and feet, waving them vigorously between you.

“That’s because I shot a fucking woman beside you,” he hisses. “Why are you so stubborn?”

You wince, completely aghast by his sudden rampage. “I am not. You see...”

“Listen to me!” he yells and runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

There is an awkward silence in your apartment. All you hear is the hum as the refrigerator switches on. You don’t understand what he is thinking, why he is behaving like this. You do know that he is worried about you, but still, you can’t comprehend why he does this to this extent. Even before, he was being overprotective of you, and now after this incident, it’s tripled.

He sighs and says again in a much softer tone. “Please listen to me, muffin.”

“Why?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

Your tears form on the edges of your eyes, threatening to fall. “Why are you like this?” you ask in a whisper.

Taehyung's heart sinks at seeing your tears. “Muffin...” He reaches out his hand to wipe your tears, but you brush his hand away.

“Just answer me...” You know he’s holding something back. There’s a piece of him that he isn’t sharing with you, and you just wish he would be honest.

“I just don’t want to lose you...”

You sigh, so frustrated with him. “I can take care of myself.”

“I’ve heard that from someone before and it didn’t go well.” Taehyung twists his lips, already regretting having said it. “And what happened tonight showed you couldn’t take care of yourself.”

“Is this because of that girl? That one in the diner? What happened between you two anyway? You clearly are still thinking about her!”

His body turns stiff. “What are you talking about?”

You tighten your hands into fists and cast your head down. “I am not that girl, Taehyung. I can’t be her. You should know that.”

You are saying nonsense things right now; the words pour out of your mouth without thinking. Maybe it is because of so many things happening tonight, or maybe because there are so many things in your heart and your mind. Or maybe it has been in your head several times, but never left your mouth.

Maybe Taehyung just sees you as a replacement for his past love. Maybe he really thinks of you as a palate cleanser. Maybe he just does those sweet things to other women. Maybe you are the only one who wants more. Why are you thinking so highly of yourself?

His eyes widened in bewilderment. “Of course I know that!” He grabs your hand softly. “I never thought of you as her, Y/N. Never once. Well, maybe at first I just used you to help me forget her, but what we had is beyond that.”

You jerk your head up to meet his eyes. “Then why are you doing this?”

Taehyung’s hand lingers on your cheek. Instead of answering you, he leans in and pecks your lips softly. He pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. It is so unfair. Not only does he read you like an open book, he even has a cheat code. He knows how to comfort you. So unfair.

“The one we met in the diner, I almost lost her, and I meant it literally. She was hurt in the mission. She was bleeding so much, she even went into cardiac arrest. She was on the verge of death.” He sinks his head to your shoulder. “It was traumatizing to have my close friend in that state. I just... I don’t want to lose anyone ever again. Furthermore, I don’t want to lose you.”

He takes a deep breath, taking in your scents. “I am sorry that I made you think like that, Y/N. But I really never think of you that way.” He looks into your eyes. “Please believe me.”

If you were your past-self, you would be pushing him away now. You would call him a liar. You would never give him a chance. But since you’ve met him, you decided to start trusting him, trusting people more. He opens your heart and your mind. You hug him back. “I’m sorry.”

Taehyung kisses your head softly. “I am sorry I yelled at you.” You melt into his touch, sinking your face deeper. “Let’s just rest for tonight, okay?”

You nod weakly. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He pulls away and pats your head lovingly. He takes your hand, guiding you to your bed.

Maybe you’re naive to trust him this much, after getting taken in by a classmate of all people. You still don’t know much about Taehyung’s line of work, his dangerous, well-dressed friends, and his apparently deadly skill with a gun. Maybe it is wrong, a bad decision, or maybe it is even the right decision. You don’t know. But you have to do what your heart tells you to do. You decide to trust him.

The following morning you wake up early and have time to think. If your old self from 5 years ago could see you right now, she would slap you in the face so hard you’d see stars. Maybe she would drag you to a convent, so you wouldn’t meet any men. But before she drags you, you would actually hug her. You would tell her that hating men will not be the answer. You would tell her that everything is going to be okay. You would tell her that she would find someone too, that she should give herself a chance to love someone.

Taehyung snuggles closely to your body, his hands holding your waist, his limbs nestle against your skin, protecting you from the outside world. He breathes slowly, still deep in his sleep. His hair is in disarray, a small pout pasted on his beautiful face. You look at his face carefully, finding the fine hairs around his mouth cute.

You run your fingers through his hair. You always like his hair. It is kind of curly and bouncy. It is not the first time you feel envious of his hair. His hair is shiny and soft compared to yours. Sure, maybe it is because you usually bleached it by yourself at home with Hani’s help before, and now your hair is dry and split. Maybe you should ask him where he gets his done.

Taehyung stirs with your touch, opening his eyes slowly. “Hey.” He sinks his head to your chest, hugging you tightly.

You can’t get enough of this.

“Hey to you too.” You stroke his hair. “Don’t you need to go to work? I think your phone has been ringing several times already”

“Don’t wanna,” he murmurs in your chest.

You smile at his antics. “Won’t you get into trouble?”

He hugs you tightly. “Don’t care.”

You giggle, hugging him back. “Oh, right. I need to find my phone.”

“It’s in my jacket.”

You gawk and hit him softly on the shoulder. “And why didn't you give it to me yesterday!”

Taehyung hums in your chest. “Oh, I also forget to tell Hani about you. She might be worried sick.”

You push him away abruptly. “And you couldn't say anything until just now?” You slide from your bed, walking to his jacket to find your phone. “Jesus, I can’t understand you.” You quickly dial Hani’s number to reassure her.

Taehyung sits as he watches you trying to explain yourself to your best friend on the phone. He can even hear Hani’s yelling faintly. He smiles mischievously when you put your middle finger towards him and glare. Even just that small action of you, it makes his heart racing.

It is weird. He can’t understand it.

He thought that he only had one chance to love someone, and when he lost her, he was almost sure he wouldn’t love or even meet anyone. But it changed when he met you. It changed when you decided to help him.

How come he became so attached to you? How come he wants you so damn much? How come you always take his breath away?

Taehyung rises from the bed and walks closer to you.

Maybe it's fate, when he found your bakery and met you for the first time. Maybe it’s chemistry, when you talked to him and slept with him the first time. Maybe it’s jealousy when he saw you with Chanyeol and when he hugged you.

Taehyung was never a hopeless romantic, but hell yeah. Maybe it’s love.

You turn your phone off and face him. “Well, thanks to you, she didn’t sleep at all last night. I can’t even understand her voice with her crying loudly like that. She also wanted to yell at you but first, she wanted to thank you. But still, you shouldn’t forget about Hani, she-“

Suddenly, Taehyung kisses you, interrupting your tirade, catching you off-guard. He kisses hard and quick. He then pulls away, to look at your face. “I-I think I am in love with you,” he says as he rests his forehead on yours.

His declaration makes you stunned. So out of the blue. So Taehyung. You do know that you both feel something about each other. But you never thought that you would hear it from him.

That he loves you.

Your heart is racing as your tears begin to fall. How many times have you cried in front of him since you’ve met? You’ve lost count. You don’t care. You can’t believe those words have this so much effect on you. You can’t believe how he affects you this much.

Taehyung senses your silence and looks at your face. “I am sorry, is that a bad thing for me to do?” He starts to panic as he wipes your tears.

You shake your head quickly. “No. Not at all. I just can’t believe I would hear it.” You smile softly.

“But I don’t want to rush anything. I want to do this carefully. I know you are still in the process of moving on. And so am I,” he blabs. “Oh. Not that I am still in love with that girl. I just thought-“

It’s your turn to stop his talk. You peck his lips quickly, making him blush. “That’s fine with me.” You grin from ear to ear, feeling drunk with happiness. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

He pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly. “Should we go on a date, then?”

You chuckle. “Fine by me. Maybe another place besides that diner?”

He smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkle. “Good call.” He leans in to give you another kiss. And after countless kisses you shared with him, it might be your most favorite one. That one kiss that declared a love for each other.

You never thought you would have this feeling.

Happiness. Love. Longing.

Sure, life is full of unexpected things. You thought you would just ride the bus for 2 stops, but you ended up sitting for another 4 stops because you dozed off. You thought you would just sit for a coffee, but then you ended up ordering a slice of cake because it looked delicious. You thought you would just eat the bread for a palate cleanser between the wine, but you ended enjoying the bread more than the wine. You turned to a man for comfort and to comfort him back, but ended up falling in love with him.

It was unexpected.

But you don’t dislike that a bit.

Maybe Hani was right, you did need a palate cleanser.

And now, your palate is pretty cleansed, and you are ready for the main course. Or maybe...

“How about another piece of bread?” you smile at Taehyung, as you drag him to the kitchen for the favorite part of your day, breakfast with him.

Epilogue

“You must be kidding me! That can’t be possible!” Jin yells.

Jungkook who has the report in his hand, winces. “I know Hyung. But that’s what the forensic report said.” He points to the part of the report which states: respiratory arrest-asphyxia. “The gunshot was fired after he died, apparently.”

“But when he was killed?” Yoongi asks back.

Hoseok thinks for a bit. “You know, Y/N said that Baekho was hyperventilating before he was shot. Maybe he had some disease? Or maybe he was poisoned?”

Jin runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “Alright then, Jungkook you go back to the forensics and investigate his cause of death. Yoongi will check the CCTV recordings, to see if he was drugged before he was in the warehouse. We still need to check on Baekhyun’s whereabouts too.”

As the other agents scatter from Jin’s office, Jungkook lingers longer. “Can you assign someone else to the forensics?” he asks warily.

Jin looks at him suspiciously. “Look, Kook. I want to help you, but the fact is we are in a bigger case than we thought. Please don’t make me yell at you. You are a professional.”

Jungkook sighs. “You are right. I am sorry. I‘ll investigate it immediately.” He nods and walks out of the office. He hates to go to the forensic department, but he can’t avoid it forever. He repeats Jin’s words to himself. He needs to be professional.

He must face her.

Go check the other series because *sst... It’s all connected!

Series Masterlist: The Company

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