#but at least getting service to not even being able to schedule a fucking appointment

[dex-starr]

“Oh psychiatry is only open from the hours of 7:00am to 5:00pm, we can’t schedule an appointment for you at all even though we are in the same network, sorry you gotta waste your break at work tomorrow again :)))))))”

Well what the fuck are you guys good for then?

Like don’t get me wrong it’s not your fault directly the system is useless, but I’m going to let you know how fucking stupidly useless you guys are when it comes to mental health. But hey you go and raise those premiums for your shit tier services just because we as public service workers have a stipend :)))))))))

Fucking capitalistic pieces of shit in charge of everything really sour everything

Like you asshats do realize I need these meds to be a productive little worker bee right?

#shut up pls dex #this is so annoying I went from getting fucked over bc of demand on ‘free’ healthcare #but at least getting service to not even being able to schedule a fucking appointment #let alone get an adhd refill #WHEN I AM ALREADY DIAGNOSED LIKE BRO IT IS IN MY FILE YOU NEED TO EVALUATE ME AGAIN???

[caffeinated-chaos-bean]

Idk whether to laugh or cry lmao

Well guys --

I've been in town for 9hrs today. :'D

So my mom and I left the house around 10am so we could go pay the car insurance bill and such before my 1:30pm physical therapy appointment but apparently there is a curse going around because just like Shanna (and I now find out, Kaz as well today) WE GOT A FLAT FUCKING TIIIIIIRRRRREEEE. To make it even better, for whatever reason, both ATT and Verizon cell service was out completely and was even impacting people being able to call 911. Landlines in some places weren't even working. So we had to drive out car with its flat tire to the parking lot of my work and use their phone in order to call AAA to get a tow. Thankfully they found the spare tire we weren't sure we even had and put that on for us, so we got to immediately go and get the tire fixed. The culprit? A NAIL.

That got over at 12:45pm and then we went to the bank and pulled $100 so we could pay the car insurance (it was $83, the rest went to mom's ciggs). Then we forgot we needed gas and had to run and quicky get gas before running to the other end of town to make it to my physical therapy appointment. The appointment went well, aside from half the already scheduled future appointments WERE ON DAYS I WORK AND I CANT DO THEM. So only 2 of the 10+ days they pre-scheduled actually work (9/5 and 9/13) and the rest have to be re-worked. >n<

THEN we went to get groceries and coffee, hoping to relax for at least another hour back home before my 4pm appointment with my new primary care doctor. By the time we get halfway home? NOPE NO TIME TO RELAX FOR US. We barely had time to get what refrigerated groceries we had put away (dry goods left in the bags on the table) before we had to hop back in the car and make it to my primary care appointment on time. On the way there, mind you, we got tailgated halfway there and when my mom and I both flipped the dude off (and I even turned around in the passenger seat to glare at them) he decided to tailgate FURTHER and actually FOLLOW US the rest of the way there before turning off when he saw we were turning into the doctor's office. I'm not joking when I say that I had the spare car key clutched between my fingers in case I needed to stab someone in the neck in self defense. @n@

This appointment went well and lasted almost an hour and a half, and thankfully this new doctor seems to actually DISCUSS what my health currently looks like opposed to my old doctor??? This brings me to where I'm at in not knowing whether to laugh or cry because its just the icing on the top of the cake.

We went over my previous blood tests that I had done back in June. Aside from having read over those horrible results, the doctor said she could tell just from looking at the orange-ish tint of my nails that I was showing signs of being highly anemic. I also had my bloodwork explained to me for the first time in forever and it made sense and honestly doesn't sound good. Essentially, my red blood cells are too small and too tight to properly do their job and circulate oxygen in my body and carbon dioxide out of my body, and so alongside that, my platelets are working 10x as hard as they need to (ie. swelling) in order to cover for the red blood cells being so small and to ensure that if I ever needed a major surgery or got a major injury that I don't bleed out from it. Along with that, the triple-digit heart rate spikes I've been having?? Yeah not normal either.

What I'm looking at in the future from all of this??

I need to get an EKG and a 2-View Chest X-Ray. I got a Vitamin B12 injection today and will be getting one each month for the next 6 months. I also have to wait for a call from Hematology/Oncology because my red blood cells are so fucked up that I have to have a BLOOD INFUSION!!!

Below, this image perfectly describes my brain after all of this:

#the bean speaks #mun #admin #please make me laugh #please make me cry #make me figure this shit out

[purplechaosguardian]

House Sitting

Chapter 1-Beggars can’t be choosers

Time to follow the weird ass voice to a weird ass house, children!

The phone rang once. Twice.

“Who’s going to get that?”

“Can’t Cesar get it?” “You know we can’t have his voice recorded.”

The phone rang a fourth time.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’ll get it.”

Adam grabbed the receiver and spoke in what Cesar lovingly referred to as his customer service tone. “You've reached the Bythorne Paranormal Society, how may I help you?” He pressed a button so all three could hear. The voice on the other hand was a woman. “Hello? Um...may I schedule an appointment?” Adam began feeling around for something to write with, and nodded when Jonah pushed a pad of paper and a pen his way. “Of course, ma'am. Where's the location?” He nodded, scribbling the address down. That address…that was back in Mandela, wasn’t it? Cesar’s stomach would have lurched, if he still had one.

“Okay, thank you. Would you mind giving me a brief description of what you've been experiencing?” “I’ve been…hearing things.” Cesar rolled his eyes. Thanks miss, you’ve given them so much to work with. Thankfully Adam had more self control, if only just a little bit more. “Like… what ma’am?” “I still hear the meows of my old cat Johnny, but the little guy passed away a few years ago.”

Jonah leaned over the table, not looking particularly thrilled about the potential job. “Ugh, really? A freaking cat Alternate?” Cesar had to stifle his giggles at the thought of being able to thwart an Alternate with one of those cat lasers or a jingly toy. Maybe even a can of tuna fish would be enough. Adam shushed both of them before returning his attention to the call. “I don't think it's an Alternate, I just think his soul roams the house still. I want to make sure he finds peace in whatever realm he resides in. Do you think you could help...guide him?” Adam clicked the pen. “We can...certainly try ma'am. When would you like us to visit?” “As soon as possible, please. When's your next opening?”

Adam glanced at Cesar, and the latter shook his head. They had no other clients for the next week. “Well, we can do tonight if you want.” “Can you do 3 nights? I'm away from home...on a business trip. I'm sure this will give you enough time to deal with him.” Cesar stepped away from the phone like it was something disgusting. “These seems as shady as fuck.” Adam seemed to share the sentiment because he hesitated. “Um…well…” “How about $500 a night?” “OH HELL YEAH!” Jonah cheered, while Adam tried to retain an air of professionalism. “Alright. Sounds like a plan. Uh, we will help your cat, ma'am.” The lady on the other end almost seemed to let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much! I appreciate it more than you can think!” “No problem, ma'am. It's just what we do.” And so, the call came to an end.

Cesar glared at the phone as if it had just growled at him. “I think this is a stupid idea. Like ‘deal with it?’ If either of you walks in that house, you’re gonna wake up in an ice bath with both of your kidneys missing.” “Oh no, it’s weird as hell.” Adam ripped the address out of the pad and headed to the car. “But we need the cash, and we've dealt with worse, so at least try to deal with it.” “I wouldn’t worry too much Ces. We’ll go help the cat, and if things get too weird, we’ll bounce.” Cesar leaned closer to Jonah, trying to take comfort in the fact he was still warm. “I guess…”

Only three days. It’s not like anything can go that badly, right? Right??

“Are you two coming or what? We gotta go now if we’re going to make it on time!” Cesar leaned further into Jonah’s side. “Gee, who knew Adam could be somewhat friendly sometimes?” Jonah’s laughter could probably be heard all over the motel while Adam just scowled. “I’m going to pour salt on you.”

“Ok, a little more to the left. Keep going. You’re good, you’re good. Adam, you got it?” Cesar would have helped, but his relationship with touching physical objects was in Adam’s words “really fucking unstable”. So unfortunately, carrying the gear was pretty much off limits. Jonah leaned against the car’s trunk. “You sure you got it?” Cesar couldn’t see Adam’s face, but he’s been with these guys long enough to know Adam’s rolling his eyes. “Yeah, just open the trunk.” Jonah leaned over with a grin almost akin to the Cheshire Cat. God he misses movies. “Now are you really sure you got it? Cuz-.” “Just open the damn trunk, Jonah!” “Hm. Guess you do got it.” Adam sighed. “Such a dickwad.”

Cesar leaned over the gear. “You think this is gonna be enough to hold us over?” Jonah shrugged. “Maybe? Not like we can do anything about it now.” One of the several things Cesar’s learned from the past 3 months is that being on the run from the fucking FBI was that you couldn’t just wander into your local Ralph’s or Walmart whenever you needed. Well, you probably could, but then you’d be caught by the cops.

He had just settled into his usual spot on the back seat when the car stalled. Fuck. “Shit...you got anything left?” Jonah wriggled in a way that just made Cesar feel bad for. “Uh…no?” “You used everything already?!” Adam tried to start the care again, only to let out a frustrated dammit and let his head meet the wheel. “Well, we don't gotta worry about income anymore since we got this massive frickin payday, right?” Cesar looked into the rearview mirror, Jonah’s eyes and a foggy patch of glass staring back at him. “Let’s think about that after the job’s done, Joner. I’m still not convinced this lady just has 1500 bucks lying around for a ghost hunting crew.” Even if it was in Mandela.

Adam emerged from the wheel. “Uh...well...we got a couple of options.” “Which are…?” Cesar sighed. “The usual. See if there’s someone willing to help us out with the cables, or we just take another.” It was almost off putting how used to stealing he was at this point. What would Momma say if she could see him now? “Eh, it's broad daylight now. But it's not like anyone's gonna call the cops or anything-.” Despite everything, Cesar laughed a bit. “Some things never change.” “-and we'd be doing yet another delinquent act. But it's not like we were already on the run anyway.”

——

Cesar was usually as comfortable as one could possibly be in the back. Not having to share it with anyone plus having no need for a seatbelt meant he could lie down and watch things pass by the window. But passing by the “Welcome to Mandela!” sign filled him with dread almost like icy water, slowly seeping into every part of him and leaving with a chill so bad it felt like it would never leave. He could almost see his blood coating his hands. He could still feel the blade against his throat. He reached subconsciously for a hand that wasn’t there. It’s just 3 days. Only 3 days.

He rubbed his eyes, moving his attention over to the conversation in the front. “And who's to say that she's not even crazy? Who's to say she's not as high as I'm going to be in 30 minutes?” “uh...I would hope us. Because the last thing I need is getting a weird house call from a stoned lady about a dead cat and then there'd be nothing there.” “right? Half of me thinks there aren't even any Alternates, and the mayor was just too stupid to just make that entire, uh, infographic.” Cesar sat up. “Well, I sure hope it was an Alternate because I don’t know what else would make me think ripping my own throat open was a good idea.” Jonah sheepishly chuckled, turning to meet his gaze. “Sorry, Cesar.” “Adam never took his eyes off the road. “Besides, why are we getting so many calls about Alternates in the first place?” “Maybe it's mass hysteria...right? Do you guys think this is the rise of the war on Alternates?” Cesar squinted. “Like a war on drugs type deal?” “I don't know...we're just two guys driving.”

Cesar tuned them out, spotting a cross covered in snow. They were close. The GPS confirmed this, its text to speech function confirming they would be there in 10 minutes. Jonah spoke up. “Holy shit, that's actually really useful. I mean, they didn't have to outlaw these things, did they? Like I doubt that guy's face could appear on something like this, and, y'know, kill you.” “No, they did not.” Cesar leaned between the two of them. “You think this was overkill? Trying being around when The Television and Mirror Destruction Order was put into place. TVs, mirrors, could it show you your reflection? If it did, it had to be smashed into a bunch of itty bitty pieces, or something like that anyway. I was heartbroken when I had to trash my tv. I spent years saving up for that.” Jonah let out a low whistle. “I guess crime really does pay.” Adam shrugged. “I like how you're making us out to be gangsters when all we did was...y'know...get all this.” Cesar leaned back, trying to quell his nerves. It’s just 3 days. Only 3 days. “It’s not like we had any options to get this shit the same way any other law abiding citizen would.” “I know, I know...it's just...we lived our whole lives under the radar, right? Like the quiet kids.”

The car pulled up in the driveway and Cesar felt like he was about to be swallowed whole by sheer dread. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was wrong, it just felt like they shouldn’t be here. But it’s not like they had a choice, they couldn’t not do this job. Cesar took a breath and left the car.

It’s just 3 days. Only 3 days.

#the mandela catalogue #mandela catalogue #tmc #cesar torres #tmc cesar #adam murray #tmc adam #jonah marshall #tmc jonah #ghost!cesar au #my writing

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Actually, I hope you'll forgive me if I complain about one more thing

This is just kind of venting, so like, prioritize making sure you're rested and stuff over reading it, you know? Hope you have as nice a day as you can

About a week ago, have an appointment scheduled with a plumber to come look at the downstairs toilet. Leaking every time it flushes (had a huge mess cause my mom made such a pile of filth next to the toilet no one saw it was leaking till it wasn't flushing right, so she had me take a look and I'm like... it's dumping water every flush)

Anyway, grandma's agreed to help cover the toilet, but I'm wondering why the toilet is gonna cost $800, seems high to me. I say "wanna ask the plumber why that is, we've used them on the water heater, so I don't they're trying to screw me, but I don't get it"

Well, she starts freaking out a bit and being like "well it's hard for me to get up the stairs, so I've just been pissing in my incontinence pads, I think I'll die if this doesn't get fixed". First off like, don't fucking need to know that, second off fuck off, said I wanted to ask a question

Well, the son of a friend of my grandma's agrees with me, says he thinks he can fix it for cheaper, asks for a picture

My mom sends it, he sends back that he can't help cause it's looks like there's bad floor damage and that'll cost a lot more to fix

So now my mom's freaking out, just doom and gloom

I'm having to regulate her emotions for her, which I hate being forced to do. I'm pointing out "guy probably didn't realize previous idiot that owned this place laid particleboard over the good tile and put stick on tile on that, he's probably mistaking cosmetically ugly for damage, cause he's just going off a picture"

Also keep saying how "well, the plumber will be here noon tomorrow, I'll talk to him then, and we'll know what we know"

She keeps saying how "hope for the best, plan for the worst", and it's like yeah, but worst cause scenario isn't that the floor's fucked, it's that I decide I need to install a toilet myself instead of letting the plumber do it

Makes my night, and then also my morning hell. Like first thing she says when I get up is how she contacted habitat for humanity to see if they can help fix floors... when the floor isn't even fucked up, like I've felt the particle board and it's not mushy, and there's good tile under it... no, won't listen

Well how do you think it all turned out?

Oh, I was 100% right? Yeah, that's what happened. Talk with the plumber, find out that part of the cost is them warrantying both the toilet and their work on this (and I liked the warranty on the heater, come out and service it every year, so I'm ok with paying for it). Also it's not top of the line, but it's a bit better toilet than what I'm finding at home depot... problem solved

Floor? Floor is literally like I said it was, plumber didn't even mention it. Toilet was a different size which means now you can see the tile even better in the gap between it and the particle board hole

My mom? Zero apology, just kind of a "well, you know I tend to worry"

Yeah, well fuck you. I managed to leverage a small lump sum of money my great aunt left me, way less than what a house costs around here, into a house despite not being able to get any kind of loan. I've cleaned out your trailer. I've done all this shit, I've done so much

Least you can do is show me a little trust. Instead of listening to your mother, a person that we've agreed the correct thing to do is do the opposite of whatever she says cause she give the worst advice and is a panicky ass... instead of listening to her, you could trust me, someone who can go in that room and actually look at the floor

But no, you have to make my life miserable for a night and a morning, and then you can't even say sorry

...don't know, just still mad about that if I'm honest. So... sorry about this weird ask. Just... talking about my mom kind of made me think about this, and it's still pretty fresh, and it's not like I was able to do more than make some posts bitching on here, it's not like I was really able to talk to anyone

No, I get it. My mom always expected me to manage her emotions for her, too. I learned recently that when my grandparents got divorced, my grandma processed the ENTIRE THING with my 11 year old mother who still to this day insists that this was fine and healthy for her and not the literal definition of emotional incest, so I guess at least now I know where she gets it from. It's an infuriating experience, especially as someone like you or me who works destructively hard to regulate our own emotions, to have someone constantly leaning on us to manage theirs too, let alone a parent whose job was always to be that support person for us.

[yaoi-princess]

i cannot lie the stress i have been under the past week has been pretty crazy! i am very very tired and my body hurts and at least i have a rental car now lol.

I really struggled that last week with my car breaking down OBVIOUSLY. i think the most frustrating thing right now is that other AAA employees i have been speaking to keep telling me they don’t understand how i was forced to wait that long just to be told no one was coming to get me. i got a call this morning on the way to getting my car rental from AAA and i’m just glad that the service representative listened to me and is going to open a case against the office that so thoroughly fucked me over.

it’s still so frustrating in hindsight because i really felt like those operators thought lesser of me because i sounded like a women despite repeatedly telling them that i am a man!!! and they had my name right in front of them!!! it’s just really dysphoric because i feel like so much about me has changed throughout my transition, except my voice. and it’s really upsetting because the ONE fucking thing i desperately wanted to change was my voice. i hate sounding like a girl. i hate talking on the phone and always being called ma’am or miss like i am just so fucking tired of it. i’m essentially a year and a half into my actual HRT transition and i’m just so frustrated by the complete standstill i feel like i’m experiencing. I feel like I’m not making enough progress. My next OBGYN appointment isn’t until the end of April at the moment - that is going to be a very important appointment for me. I’m hopefully going to be switching to T injections and upping my T dosage.

Yeah, I’m still terrified of losing all my hair but at this point it really does matter less to me when I feel like I’m not where I want to be in my transition. This next appointment is also going to be helping me schedule top surgery and a hysterectomy, which at this point are so vital to me feeling better. like i haven’t really talked about it anywhere, but even for someone who has experience next to zero physical body dysphoria, i am hating my boobs so fucking badly. being on T has just made them to saggy and so loose they look so fucking ugly. i think i’ve dropped nearly an entire cup size and 2 inches off my bust even before i started “losing” weight. at this point i’m just irritated bc i want them gone so badly.

i’m more nervous about the hysterectomy, since it’s going to be pretty invasive too. but i just have a nasty feeling that i have woefully undiagnosed endometriosis and they’re going to have to gut me like a fish about it lmfao. i’m hoping that isn’t the case, but regardless i want them to take my uterus and ovaries out because i’m really over dealing with that shit lol.

for the past week weight wise, i’ve been sitting at 320 really solidly! i’m just so tired and stressed out from all this car stuff that i haven’t been able to do much. i’ve been going on some walks in the evenings, and also taking my dog on walks regularly so it’s not like i’m not getting any exercise. it’s just that i don’t have it in me to be super conscious of what i’m eating, when, or how i’m burning it off lol. and tbh that doesn’t bother me because the point of all of this isn’t weight loss, it’s taking care of myself!

anyway i’m just going to get super high today and just chill the fuck out. i am still trying to get my chores done, and i have a bunch of convention prep to work on that’s not sewing-related, so that’s what i’m going to try and work on. we’re two weeks out and i haven’t even tried finalizing my script or outline for my panel and i’m panicking about it lol. but otherwise i’m really optimistic that my con is going to be a great experience, and i’m just excited that i’ll finally see a bunch of my friends again.

i have a lot of knitting to do too, so i’m gonna be focusing on that as well hehe. i might write more later who knows. i’m just in pain and tired today sigh.

#journal #ftm stuff #3.16.24

[kryptidkhaos]

Disabled Trans Man Off His Hormones

I’ve been off my hormones for the past three months now because the local LGBT clinic (which only happens once a month) keeps fucking me over.

TLDR; I need around $200 so I can get back on my HRT. If you want to hear about the nightmare I've been dealing with and why I'm in this situation, hit the read more. This is an e-begging post and I'm trying not to feel shitty about it. [email protected]/chaosqueer

v3nmo: @chaosqueer

c@shapp: @chaosqueer

In November, even though I had an appointment made weeks in advance, they overbooked themselves and had to tell me they were full for the night and couldn’t see me, but reassured me I could go to any of the other clinic nights that month to get my hormones filled. That was a lie. I went to multiple other clinic nights, after calling their main office several times to double-check this information multiple times as well, only to either be sent home straight away after being told they “weren’t qualified to treat my needs” OR sitting through their entire process of waiting, going through the intake, getting an exam, talking to a doctor, etc (a process that takes at least 4 hours minimum), only to be told at the very end “no, actually, we’re so sorry, that’s not something we’re allowed to do here. you need to go to the LGBT clinic for that”.

So I threw up my hands and supposed my only option was to wait for the upcoming LGBT night in December. So that’s exactly what I did. I made an appointment weeks in advance, just like I did last time. I resolved to get there extra early so I could be the first in line. I stood outside in the cold with a half dozen other trans folk who were waiting to be seen for about an hour, only to have a car pull in front of the building and nurse lean out to say, “clinic’s closed for the holidays, sorry!” and drive away, even though all of us had appointments and their online calendar hadn’t shown any holiday hours.

So once again, I’d been completely fucked over and had to wait two weeks for the clinic offices to reopen at all for me to even be able to call them and ask when the hell they would be open again. I called and called and called as soon as New Year’s was over and finally got a call back about a week later and was able to make another appointment for the LGBT clinic for January. That was supposed to be today. I got two different phone calls this morning reminding me that my appointment was today.

I just got home, after driving 20mins there and back on a nearly empty gas tank I’m scrapping pennies together to try and keep something in, and after once again standing in the cold for almost an hour, got sent away from a shutdown clinic. They only ever have one security guard on staff for these nights. The one scheduled for tonight got sick, called out, and there was no one to replace him.

So the entire clinic had to be shut down because they’re not allowed to legally operate without one. Me and over a dozen other people who had been standing there had our information taken down (after there were several complaints all around about how last months clinic had also been closed without notice) and told that we would be rescheduled “as soon as possible” and just....turned away.

This is AFTER the absolute SHITSHOW they pulled on @renthony last week while we were trying to get our antidepressants. 

I can’t keep fucking doing this. I can’t keep relying on a bunch of student volunteers who treat us like homework assignments and guinea pigs.

There’s another clinic in town we’re going to try and get into, but it’s sliding scale we’re going to need to apply for and while “cheap” is good, it’s still more expensive than “free”, which is the only reason we’ve been tolerating getting fucked over like this for so long. But that’s still not going to get my hormones covered. I need to make an appointment with the local Planned Parenthood, who only just started offering HRT services at the end of last year, and that’s going to run approximately $200 I do. not. have. I had been holding on to $25 of my birthday money specifically so I knew I would be able to afford to fill my prescription first thing after my appointment today

So yeah, if you made it this far, then I’m sure you’ve guess this is an e-begging post, and I appreciate you getting this far. I’m tired of having to do this, I’m especially tired of my family constantly being accused of making up all of the shit we go through like scam artists, but what other choice do I have at this point?

Please. I’m so exhausted.

#medical bills #medical expenses #prescriptions #signal boost #original post

[nolansnose]

To my moots: I did A THING. Wrote a lil something. A Nolpat imagine *gasps*

This is unfinished and I will only be updating this everytime Patty gets a point or better yet, score a goal!

Edited and rb'd because this has been updated!

(With added steam 🙈)

Summary: Surprise!

Nolan Patrick x whoever you wanna pair him with in your head

UNTITLED

They hadn't exchanged any kind of communication in three weeks. That kind of radio silence from both their ends wasn't normal. It has been a month since they saw each other last, they were both busy --- she with the endless demands and responsibilities of being the new executive assistant to the director of medical services while Nolan was training in preparation for the incoming season.

It amazes her how they were able to give each other attention in the past year and how they haven't given up on each other. It wasn't easy, it's daunting at times, at least for her.

For someone with such a demanding job and schedule, she truly couldn't figure out how she was able to give time to Nolan.

She didn't understand how someone like her was able to pique his interest or that he continued to give her attention, well, not until these past few weeks. She may be busy but during moments that she wasn't thinking about work, Nolan makes sudden, sometimes unwelcome appearances in her thoughts.

Unwelcome because she shouldn't be thinking about him. They're not... Argh! She sighed and put down the book she's trying so hard to understand in her lap. She's in an old cottage by the beach, alone for this long weekend, her first non work related trip after a long while since being appointed and she's alone. She should be relaxing, resting, eating sumptuous meals and reading this... Shit it was Nolan who gave her this book. Why did she pick this one to bring? She sighed again and tried for the nth time to relax in the couch she was perched on. She put her feet up in the arm rest and reached for the tea in the side table to drink but grimaced as its already cold.

As cold as the weather that wasnt apt for the place she was in. Beaches are made for warm, summery weather, not rain and cold drafts. She looked out the window and shook her head because it was still raining. The rain peltering the roof was loud and... what was that?

She heard something beside the raindrops. Footsteps. Rustling. Knocking? Was someone knocking?

But she wasn't expecting anyone.

Still, she stood up and headed for the kitchen which was near the parking area of the resort she was in. She clutched her chest when she saw another shadow beside the plants outside. Shit! A thief? But this was an exclusive resort!

She grabbed the fruit bowl in the counter and headed for the kitchen door. There was that sound again. Footsteps. And knocking.

She took a deep breath and raised the bowl above her head, ready to whack whoever was on the other side of that door. She unfastened the locks and opened the door.

"Fuck!", the 'intruder' called out and caught the bowl before it made contact with his face.

"Nolan?", she blinked.

The newcomer put down the bowl and raised the hood of his jacket. "Hi,"

"I thought you were a thief!"

Nolan looked at her with amusement. " I knocked but there was no answer."

"When was that? I didn't hear anything."

"Uh, five minutes ago?", he asked as he grabbed a clean towel out of the basket on the washing machine near the door. "May I?"

She exhaled loudly while moving away from the door so Nolan could dry his shoes in the mat and removed his jacket which was also wet.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. How did he even know she was here? Oh. Right. She remembered telling him about this weekend trip the last time they were together.

"I missed you," he said. "You didn't text or call."

"You never did, too," she pointed out.

"Hey, I called," he said with a bit of pain in his voice.

"When did you call?"

"Are you going to let me come in or do I have to defend myself by your kitchen door?"

2

"What's that for?", she asked having glanced at his backpack.

"Change of clothes. I've been in town for a few days, actually ", he replied honestly.

She gave him another quick look before going back to retrieve the cup of tea in the living room and brought it up in the kitchen to heat in the microwave. She felt his eyes on her while she set the timer.

"Chamomile?", Nolan asked just as he put down his already opened backpack in the kitchen counter and took out a clean pair of socks.

She didn't know whether to be irritated or happy that he remembered her preference. Normally, she'd appreciate it but now she felt cornered. Vulnerable. She came here to unwind, rest and think, -- to escape from all that's troubling her -- that included Nolan.

Yep, trouble. That's Nolan, alright. What else would you call the man who chose to entangle himself with someone like her? Even for a weekend, she wanted a break. She wanted him out of her head, her body and her bed.

"You still haven't answered why you're here," she took the mug out of the oven and set it on the counter. She caught the smirk on his face. "What?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Nolan took a step towards her and tenderly caressed her arm."Didn't you miss me?"

She looked up into his eyes to see a worry there she didn't normally see.

They've talked about their situation a handful of times before, where they're headed eventually. Together they've decided that its better if no one else knew whatever kind of relationship they were to have.

She can't remember exactly how that topic came about, but they wound up in bed together before defined lines were ever set.

This, whatever this was, has gone on for a year, a short time compared to others. She knew she shouldn't keep her hopes or expectations up, but sometimes, she gets tired of her feelings being hurt from a misunderstanding because nothing was solid or made public. Sometimes the feelings were his. Sometimes he acted jealous or frustrated because she behaved in a way that made him question the exclusivity they had agreed on a year ago.

"Not at all?" His low, lazy voice pulled her back from her thoughts.

She shook her head. "No."

He leaned into her some more, their closeness made her feel like she's drowning. "Liar."

Then his mouth met hers and she instinctively opened her mouth to allow his tongue to enter. He tasted sweet and salty like caramel popcorn. He satisfied every urge and each craving.

A whimper escaped her throat and he had her pushed against the counter with one hand in her hair as the other lifted her leg and grabbed her ass. He knew how to completely envelop her into a whirlwind of sex. It started out with a kiss as it always did.

And this kiss grew more fervent and she felt a familiar hardness push against her in just the right place. He made her feel sexy and desirable in a way that she revelled in. His kisses were addictive.

Its hard to reclaim her sanity everytime they ended up like this, like he drained whatever courage she had left. But before she could totally gave in, she held Nolan's arm firmly and pushed him away from her. He moaned a little as a protest but moved away and let her right herself.

The desire for her was evident in his eyes, in his jeans and she tried not to look but his scent, his kiss lingered. She was still dazed and her heart was beating wildly.

"What?" He asked as he touched the edge of his mouth.

"We can't continue this, Nolan", she insisted.

He shook his head. "We're not doing anything we haven't done bef----"

"No", she cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "This as in hiding. We thought it wont get this complicated given our work and who we are, we thought it'd be easy. None of this is easy, Nolan."

"Thank you for saying we, instead of you," he nodded as he answered. "Seriously. We both said this unofficial exclusive thing would be easy and a breeze and I'm glad you didn't pile the blame for your feelings just on me."

She looked at him carefully. Sometimes, his prankness still startled and overwhelmed her. She hoped and tried hard for its effect to not register on her face.

"Whoa," he said with one eyebrow raised when her gaze turned squinty. "Why are you looking at me like I just told you I'm getting married or something?"

"Let's end this, Nolan," she said in a faint voice, then grabbed the mug of tea again.

She felt him observing her eventhough her attention was on the tea she's drinking.

"You already said that four months ago."

"This time I meant it." She said in a voice lacking of conviction.

#nolan please shoot the pucks more #nolan patrick #nolan patrick fic #nolan patrick imagine #nhl imagine #this fic is a one time thingy

[minchanslut]

At Your Service

Pairing: F!Reader x Escort!MinChan  Word count: 2.4K

You sighed deeply, feeling the warm water cascade down your shoulders, taking some of the tension you had built up on your muscles along with it, but that alone wasn’t enough. The immense stress that your job put on you along with so many nights of sleeping alone had started to get to you. You wouldn’t say that you were one to feel incomplete while not in the company of a significant other, but as your needs grew, you found it harder to satiate them yourself, often leaving yourself feeling unsatisfied. You craved the touch of someone else. 

Of course, you attempted to follow the trend of meeting people on dating apps and engaging in one night stands, but you were quick to realise that it simply wasn’t for you after having two separate experiences which left you deeply disappointed, and wondering whether men were even able to make women orgasm anymore. After telling your friend of your encounters and how you’ve given up hope on dating apps she suggested you hire an escort, if what you were looking for was just great sex. You dismissed her idea, saying that such a service would only be a waste of money and that you were bound to find someone who would be able to give you what you need, for free at that. But you had no such luck, not even after four months. It was almost as frustrating for your friend as it was for you, seeing as she had to put up with your constant whining and complaining. Even after months had passed she was still adamant about how you should at least try her suggestion, claiming that she heard of an extremely luxurious escort lounge through a coworker. It took some time, but eventually you gave in and decided to test the waters, though still quite skeptical, you had little hopes for what was to come. You had made an “appointment”, as they called it, about a week before, telling yourself you needed time to prepare, both physically and mentally. The website, which insured complete secrecy, offered a wide variety of escorts to choose from, which only made it harder for you to take your pick. After spending hours scrolling on your phone, reading the description provided of each escort and thoroughly analyzing their photos, you decided to go for a guy named Chris. His photo provided a glimpse of his toned muscles and charming smile, but not much else. You chose not to dwindle on your decision for too long, fearing that you would change your mind and end up back at square one. 

A week later you found yourself walking through the doors of a lavish club which seemed more like a 5-star hotel. There were both men and women dressed in expensive attire throughout the room. You timidly searched for the front desk, hoping whoever was there wouldn’t poke fun at your anxious state. Thankfully you were greeted with an understanding smile by a woman named Mia, who gave you a brief explanation of how everything worked. She would tell you which room your escort would be waiting in, and would announce to them that you were on your way and all you had to do was make it there in one piece. Seemed simple enough. Before you left she assured you that you had nothing to be worried about and that you were in good hands. 

“It’s not too late to turn back.” you told yourself, but if you did so you would lose both the experience and your deposit. Before you knew it you were already standing in front of Chris’ room, realizing then there really was no turning back. Chris was already standing at the door frame by the time you arrived. He greeted you with a smile, and allowed you to come inside, immediately offering you something to drink. You admitted to being too nervous to drink anything and he nodded in understanding. 

“Is there anything I can do to help ease your nerves? You know, before we start?”

You could only shrug, scratching your head awkwardly. 

“Okay how about, I eat your pussy? Would that calm you down a bit?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his coarseness, but you went along with it nonetheless. That is why you were here after all. 

Chris approached you slowly, sitting down on the bed beside you, helping you out of both your bottoms before ridding himself of his shirt. You couldn’t help but stare at his toned arms and defined abs, and you would’ve stared at them for much longer if his touch hadn’t pulled you away from your thoughts. He instructed you to straddle him as he laid down. He chuckled when you gave him a confused look. 

“This way you can set your own pace, is that alright?” 

You decided to go along with it,as you figured that he would know what he’s doing. He guided you towards his face, your aching pussy spread out in front of him. 

“Whenever you’re ready.”

You took a deep breath and lowered yourself, providing Chris with direct access to your heat. He placed kitten licks on your clit, allowing you to get accustomed to the situation before wrapping his lips around the small bud and sucking harshly. You got the impression that Chris was enjoying himself just as much as you were, as he was moaning against your clit, the vibrations making your legs shake in pleasure. Chris’ hands found themselves holding onto your waist, helping you maintain balance as you grinded against his tongue, practically fucking his face. Your moans grew louder as your orgasm approached, your toes curled up as you pulled away, your pussy convulsing vigorously. You collapsed beside him as he sat up, wiping your juices from his chin with the back of his hand. 

“Do you need a minute or do you wanna go again?”

You asked yourself if he was insane, how could you go again after cumming that intensely. And yet no more than 5 minutes after your first orgasm you found yourself on all fours in front of Chris, who was thrusting into you at an incredible speed. He had his chest pressed against your back and you could feel his chiseled abs on your skin. He had one hand supporting his weight and the other rubbing your clit. Every so often he would plant chaste kisses on your back and shoulders, followed by praise that made you melt. 

“You feel so good, I won’t last much longer, shit.”

And he really didn’t, though neither did you. But mere moments later you were right back where you started, ready for another round. 

From then on you found yourself seeing Chris once a month, twice if you were lucky. 

You felt your muscles contort, an evident frown forming on your face as you refreshed the page once more only to receive the same notification. Due to your busy schedule the days you could make an appointment to see Chris were very limited, but luck had always been on your side and you were able to see him on the days you were free without any difficulties, until now that is. Your frustration grew as you continuously refreshed the website but were still met with the words “No slots available” 

You could easily be considered a regular there, but you hadn’t been with anyone other than Chris. You were unsure whether to just give up and visit the following month, maybe even making an appointment several weeks in advance this time, or to simply go for someone else. You really didn’t feel like going through the trouble of searching for someone else, seeing as it was already difficult for you to pick the first time. You were close to giving up on your search until you discovered a rather convenient quiz the website provided, which claimed to help you find the perfect sexual partner for you. After hesitantly clicking on the link you were redirected to a page with various questions regarding your kinks, desires and fantasies. It was a rather quick quiz that certainly didn’t beat around the bush. After calculating your results you were met with the name Minho in bold letters, along with a short description of him right beside his photo. You opted to trust their recommendation and booked a session with Minho for later that week. 

You walked into the building with less confidence than in the recent months, yet still not as apprehensive as the first time. You were nervous about what this new experience might be like, but you were excited nonetheless, wondering what Minho would do differently than Chris. Heading over to the front desk you greeted the receptionist whom you’ve grown fairly friendly with over the recent months. You made casual small talk as she typed away on her computer before stopping abruptly and looking up at you with a puzzled look on her face. 

“Do you not have a session with Chris tonight?”

Your cheeks flushed as you avoided her gaze, announcing that you were, in fact, there to see Minho. She cocked her eyebrow at you, smirking slightly and continued without another word. You shrugged it off, bidding her a farewell as you began heading towards the room you had been assigned, rolling your eyes when she shouted “Have fun!” from behind you. 

You knocked twice and Minho opened the door almost immediately, clearly expecting you. 

He was dressed simply, button up and black dress pants. His hair was pushed back, slightly damp from what you assumed was gel. He invited you inside and was quick to comment about how he had seen you before but never expected you to go for anyone other than Chris. 

“It’s quite an honor, actually, to have some fun with Chris’ plaything. Or is it the other way around, hm?” 

There was only silence, which caused Minho to sigh. He made his way behind you, helping you slip off your coat as he whispered in your ear. 

“No need to be so tense, I’m here to help you unwind after all.” 

He ran his hands up and down your arms as he nipped and sucked on the exposed area of your neck. His hands then traveled to your sides, fingers gently tugging at the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head. His fingers softly traced the skin of your abdomen while he walked forward, leading you towards the bed. He planted wet kisses down your spine, getting lower with each kiss and pulling down your pants in the process. Once you were left in nothing but your undergarments he gently pushed you down onto the bed. You were at a 90 degree angle, your upper body laying on the bed as your knees pressed onto the floor supporting your lower half. Minho ran his hand up and down your back, humming at your reaction. 

“Eager, aren’t we? Maybe I should just give you what you want.” 

He wasted no time waiting for an answer as he placed a small kiss on your pussy through your panties. He moved onto your inner thighs, leaving chaste kisses on the supple skin. He could feel your legs beginning to shake with anticipation and he was quick to return his attention to your aching pussy, licking a long stripe up your clothed folds. Minho pushed your panties aside as he pressed his finger against your entrance. 

“Shit, you’re already getting wet, but you can do better than that, right?” 

He slid his finger in deeper, curling it upwards as his lips found their way around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves. He pumped his finger in and out of you at a slow pace, taking care to give enough attention to your clit. He withdrew his finger, only to collect your juices with his index and middle finger before sliding them back in, groaning in satisfaction. 

“You’re taking my fingers so well, can’t believe you’re so tight after being such a whore for Chris” 

You felt yourself clench at his words, burying your face in the sheets to muffle your whine. 

Your relationship with Chris was purely one of give and take. He provided you with a service which you paid for. You had no feelings for him and were sure he had none for you. Yet, choosing Minho over him this one time felt as if you were being unfaithful, but it also made your pussy ache with need for Minho’s touch. You wanted to feel him inside you, and you desperately wanted him to be the one to make you cum over and over again. He picked up his pace and had replaced his mouth with his thumb, which was now rubbing circles on your clit. 

Minho caught on to your attempt at trying to keep yourself quiet and clicked his tongue. With his free hand he grabbed hold of your hair, raising your head slightly so that your face was no longer against the mattress. His new position meant that it was now harder for him to reach your clit, but his index and middle finger never once stopped pumping in and out of you. 

“Now, now, if you don’t make any sound how am I supposed to know whether or not I’m doing a good job. Just for that I might not allow you to cum.” 

“No, please, I’m so close.”

Your words caused him to smirk, seemingly strengthening his ego. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I’d much rather have you cum on my cock, what do you say?” he said, removing his fingers from your heat. He helped you up, allowing you to sit on the bed properly. You eyed him closely as he removed his belt, his pants following soon after. He was left in only his white button up, of which half the buttons were now undone, and his boxers, the shape of his hard cock clearly visible. Minho unclasped your bra and helped you out of your panties, before slipping out of his boxers himself. He took the time to roll a condom onto his length, spreading your wetness onto the head of his dick. He pulled away for a moment, rubbing his thumb over your clit, followed but his palm slapping your pussy a few times. You felt your legs twitch as you ached to be filled up once more. He lined himself up at your entrance, but to your dismay stopping halfway to look over at the door which had previously been locked, swing open. 

You glanced over Minho’s shoulder to see Chris, who still hadn’t finished his sentence, come through the door calling your name, clearly not knowing you would be preoccupied with Minho.

“Mia told me that you’d be in this room, my session got canceled so I figured we could have some fun. Oh, am I interrupting?”

#bang chan smut #lee know smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #chris bang smut #lee minho smut #stray kids lee minho smut #bang chan scenarios #skz chan smut #skz chris smut #stray kids chan smut #stray kids chris smut #skz lee minho smut #skz lee know smut #stray kids lee know smut #lee minho scenarios #lee know scenarios #skz scenarios

[dontshootmespence]

Enough Love To Go Around

Summary: At The Breeding Bench, omegas willingly lend their ‘services’ to alphas in need.

Pairing: Alpha!Ketch x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, implied Alpha!Gabriel x Omega!Reader.

Word Count: 3,079

Warnings: Knotting, claiming, multiple alphas, bondage, nipping, light nipple play, power bottom Omega, slight bit of degradation, I think that’s it.

A/N: This fills my ‘power bottom’ square for @spnkinkbingo​ and my ‘slutty omega’ square for @spnabobingo​.

At The Breeding Bench, fertile omegas lend their services, i.e. their sweet little pussies, to alphas in desperate need of a cunt to fuck during their ruts. Some Omegas fall for their customers, some don’t. Some know who fathered their pups, others don’t. What remains is the omegas are in control. You’d be lying if you said this is what you imagined when you presented about 10 years ago, but you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t love what you did now.

As the owner of the business, Gabriel only took a five percent commission, so that he, and all his girls, could make a damn good living, which you did. Plus, he let his girls have all the power, unlike so many others in similar positions, so if you wanted an alpha to knot you, you could, but if you didn’t want to, you could forbid it, and thankfully everyone that used the establishment played by the rules.

The only Alpha you’d had so far, and the one you shared your only pup (so far) with, was Gabriel. He was a wonderful Alpha and father, and totally not the jealous type, so even after he claimed you, he said if you wanted to accept other alphas he was fine with that so long as he could claim another omega. Any other pups you might have he would help provide for.

All the girls had their regulars, the ones that would utilize the services of The Breeding Bench during every single one of their ruts. Then there were the floaters that came in and out of town. You had your regulars too; the brothers, Sam and Dean, a British transplant named Arthur Ketch, a man named Castiel floated in a few times a year and always booked some time with you and one of the other girls, Meg. You never cared to know people’s names unless they came in often, so you knew a few other names, including Gadreel, Benny and Mick.

Within the next week you had appointments with Sam, Dean and Arthur; they’d been your clients the longest and you trusted them all implicitly. Sam had no Omega. Dean had one, another friend of yours, Jo, and Arthur didn’t have one either. You’d have any or all of them if they wanted.

Walking into the back office, you bent down and gave Gabriel a kiss. Somehow, he’s able to perfectly balance being a father to your one-year-old pup, Aiden, with running this kind of establishment. “Who’s coming tonight?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Everyone who walks in the door, obviously,” you laughed. “But if you mean who’s on the schedule, Sam and Dean. I wasn’t supposed to have Arthur for a couple days, but he asked to reschedule and told him if he didn’t mind working around Sam and Dean then I’d be happy to squeeze him in...so to speak.”

Gabriel chuckled, his pen gliding over the numbers in the books. “Dirty little Omega. They’ve been going to you since we opened, right?”

“Yup, nearly five years for all of them. Arthur’s not the type to take an Omega. He’s more just in it for the fuck,” you say softly out of range of Aiden’s little ears. “But the boys I could see being interested. You’re still okay with that, right?”

“As long as you are, love. As long as everyone knows I’m your primary Alpha, you can have as many as you want.”

With a smile, you gave him another kiss and placed another on the top of Aiden’s head. In order to make sure there’s no immediate territory issues between alphas, only one alpha is allowed in a room with you at a time, so no threesomes or moresomes are allowed. Apparently, Gabriel had allowed it once upon a time but after one alpha nearly ripped another’s throat out he set up ground rules.

Despite being brothers, Sam and Dean could get territorial with you if they were both in a rut in your presence at the same time, so Dean would be your second appointment and Sam your last. First was Arthur.

Stepping into your usual room, you met his steely gaze and a shiver ran quickly down your spine at the sight of his smirk. “Hello, darling.”

“Hey, Ketch,” you greeted as you turned to close the door. Before you could turn around, he was on you, his mouth gliding up and down your neck in search of whatever sweet spot might make you squirm today. “Rut came early, huh?”

He only grunted in response before spinning you around and yanking your jeans and panties down with a few quick movements. “On the bed, head over the edge, mouth open. Don’t swallow a damn thing.”

“Wanna fuck me stupid?”

“You could say that,” he growled.

Crawling onto the bed, you let your tongue hang out and clasped your hands in front of you so that you could give him the illusion of control. Slick already dripped from you, easing the thick slide of his cock inside you. He bent down over you and bit down on your ear as he began to pump into you. “No talking. Just let me fuck that sweet little cunt.”

Whimpering, you turned toward him only to have him shove your face back into the bed. “Such a good little cunt.”  You smiled to yourself, crying out each time he thrusted to the hilt. As the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, heat spread throughout your body, nerves licked by fire until saliva was dripping onto the floor of its own accord. “Whose cunt is this?” He asked, desperation demanding an answer.

Every word was punctuated by a sharp thrust. “It’s- Your- Cunt- Sir.”

With a final thrust, he quickly pulled out and walked to where your face hung over the bed. Grabbing your hair, he yanked your head back. His knot was thick and swollen, aching for connection, but Ketch was a man of no complications and preferred not to knot, instead slipping his cock down your throat. “Swallow it all, love.”

You eagerly did as he commanded, smiling around him as he pulled out and slapped his knot against your lips, leaving a trail of spit to roll down your chin. Bending down, he tongued at your mouth and instructed you to stay still while he readied himself to leave. “Love marveling at my handiwork.”

Just before he slipped out of the room, he turned to you. “Until next time, darling.”

Smiling, you licked your lips in reply.

One down, two to go.

---

Combing your hands through your hair, you stood up and went to the adjoining bathroom to clean up for your next appointment. As promised, Ketch had fucked you stupid, so it took a few minutes before you felt like yourself again. You brushed your hair and slipped into a different outfit that you knew Dean would lose his mind over - leather pants with a low-cut red top and matching heels.

You’d be a little early for Dean’s appointment, but after brushing your teeth, you returned to the bedroom (which had newly laundered sheets thanks to the staff) and sat with your legs crossed, patiently waiting. Though your heat was likely a few weeks away at the very least, Dean’s scent filled your nostrils before he even walked in the room. “Holy shit, babe. You trying to kill me?”

You ran your tongue over your teeth as Dean shrugged his leather jacket off and practically lunged across the room, teeth nipping and biting at your heated skin. Arching into his hunger, you scratched at his skin, giving him silent permission to let himself go. “You’re always safe with me, Dean.”

He lifted you up against the wall and raked his hand up under your shirt to lift it over your head. “How long we been doin, this? Five years?”

Reaching down into your panties, you pushed them down along with your leather pants and kicked them to the side. “Five years, baby.” There was an obvious, unspoken question dancing on the tip of his tongue. “Wanna knot me, Alpha?”

“Already got one. Okay to share?”

“As long as you are.”

He grunted as he kicked his pants off and laughed. “We can be one big happy family.”

Laughter dissolved into a drive you’d never seen in him before, that pure Alpha desire and strength that most saved for the ones they claimed. As he carried you to the bed, he tore your shirt off and pushed your bra off in the most clumsy, too-sex-starved-to-care way. His cock pressed against your stomach and you palmed at it, massaging his knot before he laid you down on the bed and dropped to his knees. Entwining his fingers in yours, he licked his way up your pussy, moaning at the taste of your slick. “Goddamn, baby.” Dean’s tongue slid up and down your folds, lips suckling at soft skin.

“Knot me, Alpha,” you breathed. You whined in desperation and watched as his head popped up from between your legs and he stalked his way up your body.

When his face hovered over yours, his hunger softened for a moment as his lips met yours. “You know I’m not doing this just because I’m mid-rut, right? I might have started off as just your customer but-”

With every bit of strength you could muster, you grabbed his face and crashed your lips into his. “And I don’t let just anyone knot me. Only someone I trust. Someone I love.”

Not another word was spoken as Dean slipped his hands up your arms and into the space between your fingers, gliding your arms above your head. “You sure?”

“Fuck me, Alpha.”

Biting your lip, you sighed as his knot filled you. He was shaking, undoubtedly trying not to just fuck you like a jackhammer and actually take his time. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it, but you wanted, needed, to see him lose control. Despite his grip on your hands, you wrapped your legs around him and dug your heels into his lower back. “It’s okay, Alpha. Fuck me. Make me yours.”

An appreciative growl rolled up from his throat as he thrusted into you to the hilt. “Not gonna last long.”

“Don’t care,” you replied, nipping at his ear. “Just need you.”

With each thrust, you dug your heels in harder and harder until he was practically grinding into you. Knot swelling, he started to rut against you and whisper in your ear about how he was going to fill you up, every word of which you soaked in as your legs began to shake. “That’s it, Dean. Fuck, fuck fuck.”

When his knot locked to you, his mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. All he could do was go still above you, thick ropes of come spilling into your pussy. Slowly, his rutting slowed to a stop, though his lips continued their sweet assault on the side of your neck. “Love you,” he said softly, smiling into your shoulder.

“I love you, too, Alpha.”

As his knot released itself, you talked about where things would go from here. Like Gabriel, he promised that whether or not any pups were his he would take care of them, just as he was doing with Jo. He also respected your decision to accept more alphas if you so chose. He only asked to know who they were. “Gotta make sure they’re good enough for you, too. Otherwise I’ll rip their throats out.”

Finally, his knot released and he pulled out to lay at your side. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. You know I have to get ready for my next appointment, right?”

“Yea,” he replied with a knowing smile. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded.

“You want Sam to be your alpha too, don’t you?”

Shyly, you nodded again and rolled on top of him. “I do. I’ve been seeing him as long as you. I love you both. I’ve got a lot of love to go around though I promise.”

“Well, Sam I can personally vet and say I trust him. Is there anyone else? Besides Gabriel I mean?”

“Not right now. I do have some consistent customers, but no one else I’m on that level with yet. Just you three. I trust you with my life.”

Glancing at the clock, Dean sat up and situated you in his lap, tonguing at your mouth. “After your next appointment, you free?”

“Yea. Have some ideas?”

“I do. Maybe Sam can join in on the fun.”

“I’d love that.”

As he got dressed, you fell into easy conversation about his work at the shop, which he owned alongside Sam. Most knowledgeable gun enthusiasts in the Midwest. “See you later, ‘Mega. Show Sam a good time.”

“I always do,” you said with a wink.

And with that he was out the door, leaving you just enough time to get cleaned up for Sam.

---

After getting cleaned up, you went back to your once again freshly made bed. You didn’t bother getting dressed. Sam normally preferred you be naked the minute he walked in anyway.

Maybe it was Dean knotting you, maybe it was the amount of sex you’d had in the past few days, but you were pretty sure your heat was going to come a littler earlier than usual, but you didn’t mind. With (hopefully) three Alphas, you’d be taken care of in any and every way. And you wanted another pup. Aiden was the light of your life.

Rubbing your legs together, you slipped your hand between your legs and inhaled the sharp smell of pine mixed with motor oil and just a dash of freshly fallen rain. You didn’t even realize Sam was there until the door closed. “Already getting ready for me?”

“I could smell you,” you replied with a smile. Feeling bold, you decided to ask Sam rather than wait. “Can I ask you something? And if you say no, it’s okay, we can continue on as normal.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Something wrong?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your plump lips.

“Not at all. You know I have an Alpha right?”

“Gabriel, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say Dean claimed you too.”

“Yea, because I love them both. And I love you. Would you knot me too? Claim me?”

His eyes transitioned from soft and concerned to hungry and possessive in an instant. “Fuck yes. Wanna see you round with my pups. Even if they aren’t mine. You are and they’ll be in every way that matters. Can we use the bench?”

Giggling, you opened the closet door and pulled out the collapsable bench he liked to use. Before you even laid a hand on it to unfold it, he yanked it away and readied it quickly, roughly grabbing your hips to bend you over the bench. “Wait,” you said.

He stopped immediately. “What is it?”

“I want to look at you when you claim me. Tie me up face up?” Sam bit your lower lip and smiled into your mouth before practically throwing you onto the bench, hands tied to a bar above your head. “Tie my legs too?” You asked breathlessly.

Dropping to his knees in front of you, Sam tied your ankles to the legs of the bench, his lips and teeth and tongue trailing over your legs as his hands deftly fiddled with the ropes. “You’re so damn perfect. So eager to be used.”

Your tongue darted out and washed over your bottom lip. Feeling helpless in your Alphas’ embrace - it imbued you with a strength you didn’t have in any other moment.

As he straddled the bench, legs on either side of your slightly spread ones, he pinched your nipples and relished in the way you embraced pain. You felt your slick drip onto the bench below your ass and popped your head up to see Sam stroking himself, his knot almost painfully swollen. “Fuck me, Alpha. Pound my sweet little pussy.”

Growling, Sam slipped himself inside you with one swift thrust. Had you not entertained other appointments this evening, his thickness would’ve pained you, but you were more than ready for him. Your body was eager for it and even though you could barely move due to the binds around your wrists and ankles, you tried to buck into his movements.

Sam grasped the bench on either side of your hips and used it as leverage to pump into you, his cock coated with slick with each pass into your wet heat. Each pointed thrust rattled your entire body. But it wasn’t close enough, despite how his knot was swelling inside you. You wanted him closer, covering you. “I need to feel all of you,” you breathed, almost begging. “Just fuck me. Mark me. Make me yours.”

Bending over, he placed most of his weight on you, his chiseled chest flush with yours. He was so heavy and desperate for release you could barely breathe, but it didn’t matter when you felt his knot lock to you. He breathed against your neck. “Gonna pump you full of my cum. You’re gonna take it like a little Omega?”

“Yes, Alpha. Pump me full.”

A strained groan erupted from his lips, which wrapped around your nipple. He bit down so hard you cried out and bucked upward as much as your body would allow, legs trembling so violently you could hear the bench shaking underneath you. “Fuck, Sam.”

Sam chuckled into your sweat-slick skin, rutting against you while he came down from his high. Once his knot finally released, he removed the ties that bound you to the chair and carried you to the bed. He slipped in behind you and cradled you in his embrace, every inch of his body molded against yours. Even now you could help but grab his arm and wrap it around you, craving the closeness. “Even now, such a needy little Omega,” Sam laughed.

“Always.” For a few minutes, you sat there in silence, breathing in rhythm with each other. “You were my last appointment for the night. I promised Dean we’d go out. Wanna join? I could show you both just how needy I really am.”

Sam swallowed hard and smiled into your neck, a movie’s worth of images playing through his mind. “Slutty little ‘Mega.”

“Damn right.”

#spnkinkbingo #spnabobingo #alpha!dean #alpha!sam #alpha!ketch #alpha!dean smut #alpha!sam smut #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!ketch x omega!reader #dontshootmespence #enough love to go around

[samwrights]

Inked [Kuroo]

@tamcitrus thank you so much for this request bb! And thank you so much for your support with Elixir, it means so so much to me! If you haven’t checked out Elixir yet, folks, the link is right [ here ] for ya.

This ended up being way longer than I anticipated and is slightly NSFW. Warning for language!

Also, I kinda had a good laugh writing this one. My most recent tattoo is a hand one and MAN that sucked. I have to get the knuckles touched up too 🙃 which this whole story reminds me...I gotta book an appointment with my artist.

It started out with a genuine to desire—Kuroo wanted a few simple tattoos. A few on his arm, maybe two on his chest or so. But two became an entire piece from his collar bones to his hips, and a few became a traditional, Van Gogh-esque type artwork until both arms came to match.

Kuroo is unsure of what he loves more, your work or the way your hands feel on him, even if they are dragging hot needles into his skin.

He never anticipated migrating the artwork up to his neck or onto his hands and knuckles, but as it’s happening, he’s unsure which one gives him greater satisfaction. With his hands, your fingers were intermittently grabbing at his own, trying to make the skin more accessible as you pounded the ink in. When trying to do the tips of leaves that were a part of the rose on his hand, you were concerned that he was going to flinch away from the needle. No matter how high a person’s pain tolerance was, the knuckles sucked.

Kuroo hadn’t even noticed, too enthralled by conversation with you. Over the years and sessions with you as his sole tattoo artist, he learned many things about you. Of course, there was the typical shop small talk, “how long have you been tattooing” or “what do you do for work”. But even so, Kuroo knew many things.

Like how you started your apprenticeship at twenty and now, for the last three years, you co-owned a shop with a buddy. He knew that being able to get an appointment with you was almost next to impossible—Kuroo typically had to book months in advance. At one point, you no longer accepted walk-ins. For professional reasons, it was due to not having adequate time to service your clients that had scheduled for you and had paid a deposit already. Kuroo knew it was because you were tired of tattooing infinity symbols on freshly turned ladies.

Learning the more secretive parts of your character was like an adventure he never knew he wanted to take. The first in-depth part of yourself that you revealed, entirely without meaning to, was how much of a perfectionist you are. Unfortunately, Kuroo learned it the hard way with a machine in your hand, digging highlights repeatedly in the realistic rose you had just finished on his neck.

“Okay, okay. That fucking hurts, I’m sure it looks great.” Despite trying to come off as commanding, Kuroo’s words came like weak pleas. Partially from being in pain, partially because he didn’t wanna move too much that it would disturb your work.

“Oh please, you like it.”

Well, you’re not wrong.

Another trait he witnessed first-hand is that you were adamant and ruthless—supposedly due to being an owner of the shop. Kuroo’s not convinced though and he believes it to be a part of your personality. The first time he had seen you so cold was awkward and, ironically enough, was also the same day you tattooed his neck.

Your previously scheduled appointment hadn’t shown up for an hour. Kuroo liked to come pretty early, mostly to make sure he’s got food in his system and he’s gotten his nicotine cravings curbed. He also brought you lunch, knowing you pretty much never left your studio. Even after having lunch together that day, your appointment hadn’t shown nearly two hours later. Kuroo wasn’t due for another hour, but after eating and getting cleaned up, you had moved on and started prepping for his piece instead. After mentally preparing himself for the needles that were going to be dancing along his neck, your client that had blown you off walks up the stairs, “all ready to go” or so he said.

“I’m sorry, you’ll need to reschedule your appointment downstairs.” At first, your tone is polite and friendly as always, but you’re focused on your work.

“I already booked an appointment with you? Why else would I be here?”

“And you were late, whereas my next client was early.”

“Do I at least get my deposit back?”

“Non-refundable.” At this, you point to the sign you had plastered on the wall just above your sinks. Your only two rules. No refunds and no dates.

“I want my fucking money back.”

“Yeah?” You snort. “And I want the two hours back of my time that you wasted. Which, need I remind you, your deposit only equates to an hour of my time. You’re lucky I don’t charge you double, now get the fuck outta my shop.”

Kuroo would have laughed if your hands were pressed around his neck.

So far, the most intimate details he’d learned hadn’t really been all that deep. Or rather, they didn’t seem like it to those that were looking from the outside. Considering Kuroo was in a band, it was obvious to both of you that music played a big part in his life. Knowing about a person’s favorite songs and bands tells a lot about them. It was easy for Kuroo to decipher, beyond conversation, since you always had music playing in the background as you worked. It’s not deep if you don’t know what to look for, Kuroo muses.

But he notices the way your eyes change with every song. Lately, the mood has been The Story So Far. You knew every song, every album, and every line. Though there were some that were only followed with delicate mouthing and whispers of singing along, there were others that were much more distinct when passing you lips. To Kuroo, that meant that those lines hit harder.

I wanna see why you love her

Why you’re good for each other.

“So why the no dating rule?” He asks, pulling himself from his reminiscing, as you’re starting the coloring on the tattoo at hand, pun intended. Kuroo is more than comfortable with you, sharing secrets he had only shared with his band.

“Boyfriends always try to get free shit,” you grumble out, accidentally pressing a little too hard into his wrist.

“So, does that mean if I ask you to dinner, you’ll say no?”

“...no.” Of course you wouldn’t. For the last three years since he started coming to the shop, you’d wanted nothing more than to cancel all your appointments and fuck him on your client chair. But the better part of you said no, not thinking he was going to entrust you with decorating his body for years. Naturally, lust grew into something more.

“No, as in yes? Or no, as in no.”

“No, as in no dating, Kuroo.”

“Soooo, are we skipping straight to the part where I fuck you into the ground or the part where I just marry you?”

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

#haikyu!! #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu requests #punk!haikyuu #punk!reader #punk!kuroo #punk!au #tattoo artist!reader #samwrights #hq kuroo #kuroo x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader

[crystalgirl259]

Life of a High School Vampire One-Shots 7 Planned Parenthood

WARNING! This chapter will include talks of violence, abortions, and explosives. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

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

SUMMARY: A rabid protester outside a health clinic draws Kai into providing some clarification into what Hell's tortures might really be... ****************

Kai groaned in frustration as the hot noon sun shined brightly above him as he sulked down the street. After Lloyd and Jay found out about his little one-night stand with the Cole person, his roommates insisted that he should get checked out at a health clinic just to be certain that he hadn't caught anything, especially since Kai couldn't remember whether or not they had used protection. He knew they spoke from a place of concern, but that didn't ease Kai's anger.

It got even worse when he found out that they had booked him an appointment at a nearby health clinic behind his back when they figured out he wasn't going to do it.

Kai wanted to tell them that thanks to his power he didn't contract any human diseases. But he also knew that he had to keep the secret. He was also a little grateful that when his parents sent him to Ninjago they crafted an entire medical history for him. It was to explain away any oddities the doctors would find thanks to his vampiric genes. As the brunette was about to round the corner to the clinic, he noticed a small RV parked awkwardly on the curve.

Kai was immediately suspicious of the vehicle.

It was fairly plain with the exception of a brightly colored bumper sticker beaming up at him. The street the RV was parked on had no stores or anything that would make a driver of an RV and possibly their passengers' park and get out. Kai was curious, but he also knew he needed to get to his appointment or he wouldn't hear the end of it. As he rounded the corner, however, he saw a sight that both amused and irritated the vampire.

"Sinners! Sinner! You're a sinner!" Shouted a middle-aged man with a checkered shirt and khaki shorts was standing next to the door holding a large homemade sign damning abortions and promoting pro-life. Kai had heard about these types of people and they made him mad. He didn't understand why these people thought it was perfectly ok to harass women who were already going through a bad time. He was also livid when he realized that these pro-life people were all for pregnancy.

But then as soon as that baby was born then they didn't give a fuck what happened.

Kai might not be the most sensitive person but knew that even one had a right to choose and if they choose to abort a fetus he couldn't give a damn.

"Yeah, you're a sinner! Have fun with your abortion! I hope you're wearing sunscreen, 'cause it's hot as hell in hell!" The man shouted at a woman who was much older than him walking into the clinic. Kai seriously doubted she was able to get pregnant anymore. This clinic did offer abortions, but they also provided other services such as testing and treatment for STIs, advice about sexual health, contraception, pregnancy testing, HIV testing, hepatitis B vaccination, and help for people who have been sexually assaulted.

The brunette barely managed to suppress a growl.

This was the last thing he needed to deal with today of all days. He was thankful that he was wearing sunglasses because he was certain his eyes were glowing red with his burning rage. Kai knew that he had to get to his appointment and he wasn't about to let a hippie stop him. As the brunette was about to walk into the clinic and ignore the man, he noticed the man's slightly opened rucksack and saw something shining poking out ever so slightly.

Kai quickly realized what it was and a million thoughts ran through his head.

But they all came to a stop when he saw a sticker for the exact same music band as the bumper sticker. Kai connected the dots rather quickly and a sickening grin spread across his face. This was going to be fun...

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

Once everything was set for his plan, Kai approached the clinic again and saw the man crouched in the car park, hiding in between the cars as he rummaged through his bag and glancing back at the building. He had to get rid of that monstrosity. He pulled out the explosion device but cursed when he saw that somehow the wires attached to the device had been cut. The tools were to fix it were back in his RV parked around the corner. The man really didn't want to risk rushing back to the RV in case anyone saw him or, more importantly, the device in his backpack.

But he couldn't stay in between the cars either.

He had already avoided a couple of people by the skin of his teeth and he knew his lucky hiding place couldn't last forever. If they did he would be shipped off to prison, never to see the light of day again. He couldn't let that happen. Not while abortions were still happening every day.

"You need at least six more ounces of kerosene for that to work right." Kai suddenly announced his presence with a cocky smirk. He could already tell this was going to be fun. The man let out a yelp as he bolted up and attempted to hide the evidence, but he knew the teen had seen the device.

"That is none of your business!" He snarled, terrified at being discovered, but he refused to back down. "Sir, I suggest that you turn around and walk away because THAT is a BABY! MURDERING! FACTORY!" He all but screamed as he gestured to the health center.

"Don't be ignorant; Romania shut down its last baby incinerator back in 87." Kai rolled his eyes and tried to walk past the man, only to have his path blocked.

"They are everywhere!" The man cried out, only for his eyes to widen in horror. "Sir, are planning on assisting in murdering an unborn child today?!" He exclaimed and Kai almost burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement, but he held it in.

"That's not on my schedule, but it is my day off." The brunette shrugged casually, catching the man off-guard. With that said, Kai tried once again to enter the health center, only for the man to block his path again. It took all of Kai's restraint not to tear this man's throat out.

"Just so you know, if you walk through those doors you are entering into the devil's playground." The man warned, trying to persuade the teen to walk away. Instead, Kai had had enough of this guy and shoved past the protester without another word. "YOU LIBERAL HEATHENS WOULDN'T KNOW SATAN'S HANDIWORK IF SMACKED THE RAINBOW STICKERS OFF YOUR UKULELE!" The man screamed and just like that, the leash on Kai's temper snapped.

This rabid protester needed some clarification into what Hell's tortures might really be like.

"I know it." The brunette hissed as he turned around and removed his sunglasses, unveiling his crimson red eyes. "Satan lived in Charles Manson; giving him the charm to form a cult of reckless murderers," Kai smirked as he began to circle the man like a hungry shark. "Satan lived in Ted Bundy; providing him the good looks to lure his targets into his trap, where he would strangle his subjects and sleep with the corpses." He added as he listened in on the man's thundering heartbeat.

The man himself was frozen in terror as his eyes followed the teen casually, yet slowly, walking around him like a predator.

"Satan lived in Jeffrey Dahmer; bidding him invite unsuspecting victims into his basement only to be dismembered and eaten." Kai finally finished and that was when the man finally found his voice again.

"H-H-He... h-... he ate... the bodies?" He managed to stammer out, his throat suddenly very dry as his skin turned cold and pale.

"If Satan really is providing me a dose of plan B, he has really lost his edge." Kai all but purred in satisfaction, knowing he had won this little fight. With that said he turned and walked to the entrance.

"Well, I hope you have fun in hell." The man shot weakly.

"I will, save me a seat." Kai grinned as he put his sunglasses back on and walked inside without even giving the man another glance. The man took a deep breath to calm his nerves before rushing back to his RV to repair the device. Kai couldn't get rid of the smile on his face as he felt the gas canister and the wire cutters poking him from his bag. Or when he heard a small explosion in the distance and the sound of a car alarm ringing. He simply sighed contently as he approached the front desk and rang the bell.

"I'm here for my appointment."...

#Life of a High School Vampire #ninjago kai #ninjago #ninjago fanfiction

[leam1983]

It’s the end of the work week and, well...

I’m having thoughts on labor culture.

My father was born in 1958. He lived as the son of an absent father of five children who had no ability to truthfully express his love and care, and who instead chose to bury himself in work as a means to display his commitment. My paternal grandfather made and sold mattressees and died quite young of a cancer strain that today would’ve seemed benign. He was described as a hard worker, either up to his neck in his business or wanting just a scant few hours per day to himself. It made an aloof lover out of him and a distant father - who still loved his wife and children to bits but who felt emotionally castrated in a sense, as were men of the era.

The family consensus is that his work killed him.

My father is now 65 and survived a bout of Non-Hodgkinian Lymphoma. The oncologist and anyone with half a brain agreed that stress was the culprit. Early on, Dad had the family as an excuse for his tendency to overwork. He had to provide for us, after all, and garnish my mother’s meagre savings. All she has is her government-issued pension plan, while my father does have his own pension as a retiree of the City of Montreal’s Real-Estate Appraisal service. Considering, he felt obligated to pull a heavier load to bring in more, so they’d have better investment opportunities. Later on, he kept working out of a sense of fealty and attachment to his division, breaking out of retirement during the pandemic to join the work-from-home team. He wanted to help techs and city officials find ways to bring more of the traditionally snail-mail-based parts of the system online so the city’s Land Management service wouldn’t be paralyzed by COVID-19. What was supposed to be a single month turned into four, which turned into twelve.

By the end, they were begging him to stay on the team and to pull longer hours. We’re talking twenty hours per day, in some particularly grueling stretches. That means being logged in by breakfast and scarfing bagels down with Urban Design techs on Zoom instead of your own family, or having supper with your boss because she needs a play-by-play of the situation to stave off her executive anxiety.

Long story short, I didn’t see Dad much during the first wave. His reasoning was that he’d eventually stop, pool all this cash, and chuck it into his and Mom’s Registered Retirement Savings Account - with maybe an extra two thou or so in case the country reopened enough for their postponed trip to Cuba to take place.

Guess what? His zona flared up and he ended up with odd, shingly bumps along his scalp which to this day the local dermatologist grimaces at and tentatively has us dab with cortisone cream.

Mom, though? She’s a retired and registered nurse with a self-negating streak and a chronic propensity to undervalue her own physical ailments. Someone who quite literally understands the pain of busted hips on a clinical level because she was trained in Gerontology - and also someone who refuses to schedule an appointment with her GP and who inexplicably self-medicates with white wine.

As for me, I’m a 37 year-old man with a paycheck I consider massive with its meagre six bucks above the minimum-wage threshold - someone who chose to shack in with his folks until the current crisis ends and who therefore has a history of a single, willingly terminated apartment lease that originally began in the Planned Housing market. The apartment I want is basically a Barbie doll house for adults, a gleaming fantasy I’ll never have enough capital to touch unless I feel like trying my hand with criminal applications of my skills. The apartment I can get right now is a shithole, and I have the audacity to think I deserve a shithole that at least wasn’t someone’s former cockroach den.

Now here’s the kicker: I value my sanity and my health. I know my mental stamina levels and I know from experience that after working seven-point-five hours per day with the occasionally shorter Friday, I’ve found my limit. I could invest more if I worked more, yes, and I’m already in a better position than my parents, retirement-wise. I’ll never be rich, but I’m already set to be comfortable, provided I don’t spend my golden years trying to make it as an unsponsored TechTuber or anything else that’s equally ludicrous.

Where that’s a problem is in the toxicity this is generating. See, I have the gall to slide my daily schedule later so I can start at an hour that fits my biological clock and ends at an hour where I’m at my most creative. That means the folks saw me spending my pandemic mornings on Animal Crossing while Dad was trying to wrangle Excel spreadsheets for non-tech-savvy fellow Boomers while preventing the dog from eating his meeting notes. That means they guzzled vinho verde like it was Kool-Aid after seven while I made sure to find more concrete means to distance myself from work - ideally ones that didn’t involve functional alcoholism.

Naturally, what was bound to happen, happened: Dad soon spent his evenings calling me shiftless or “unwilling to commit”, while I was stuck watching him miss all the cues his stressed-out body were sending him. We already had Trump’s last desperate months and a global plague to handle, I really didn’t want my work to turn into more of a nuisance than it already is. I already love the people I work for and hate what I do (repeating the family cycle, it seems), but I’ve at least decided to give myself ample Me time every single day. 

I’ve paired that with smaller, if consistent portfolio investments, along with a few new habits I wanted to get into to stay saner. Dad pulls crosswords or plays competitive chess in the wee hours, while I usually lay down to meditate around midnight and fall asleep by 1 AM at the latest. I’m half-expecting my father to pull a Tyler Durden and to sneer at me, at some point. “Self-care is masturbation,” he’d probably say.

Looking at classifieds for rentals, it’s obvious that the entire system is predicated on abuse. Work yourself down to the therapist’s office, right down to the fucking bone, and you just might earn a half-decent retirement because nobody’s taught you to invest incrementally. Nope, Society seems to say, you’re supposed to buy, buy and buy some more, until you realize you have ten years left to start from scratch!

I remember Dad’s face on my eighteenth birthday. “Why would you want a Disability Care Savings Account, Brain? You just turned into a legal adult by Canadian standards - you’re in no rush, right?”

I told him the real gift I wanted for my birthday, that day, was a ride to the family’s Financial Investments counsel. I pulled up the PDFs I’d printed out and filled and brought them over. From then on, if I dropped a penny in my nest-egg, Ottawa would drop another one. If my share grew, so did the government’s. In the twenty-odd years since, it’s expanded exponentially.

Dad thought I’d done this to have a big cushion by the time I’d retire. Mom thought I’d done this in case my disability worsened and I started requiring equipment or physical assistance. Honestly, my dumb, if slightly prescient eighteen year-old self figured I’d rather spend my time reading or playing video games than working. I knew I’d need something to help cushion my admittedly low career-related ambitions. I might throw several thousands at a new computer every seven to eight years, but that’s because I’ve saved them up for just as long, little by little. I have no vices beyond what sillicon offers and what you’d find in the pages of a book and don’t exactly need a big ‘ol, stonkin’ humidor stuffed with conoisseur stogies.

I have a shoebox with a poked-out Ziploc bag and a sponge, with a handful of joints and a few Santa Anas I got off of a buyer’s pool from work. Five of us occasional chair-bar goons pooled cash together on Cigar Chief and cushioned prices with a single, shared and massive order. I’m nowhere near rich, but assuming the housing market can catch its breath eventually, I’ll be able to live modestly - with one or two markers of occasional luxury I’ll have chosen.

I have a shittier job than my father has had and I’ve chosen to be happier than him. It’s just sad that the usual response elevates overwork as the supposedly one, true way to leave a mark in society.

No, Dad. I don’t want to die while my own cells eat me alive, I want to die blazed out of my fucking mind, happy because I’ll have had time to enjoy my friends’ company and to finally make some sense out of Kerouac’s Subterraneans or to figure out what the fuck is going on in Joyce’s Illiad. I’ll die crusty as shit and fulfilled as a Pop Culture jockey, because I’ll have either finished Persona 5: Golden in my lifetime or I’ll have watched the entirety of the MCU’s output before Disney finally manages to kill their golden goose.

I want to die decades from now, feeling like I at least owned my choices and didn’t spend my time tethered to someone else’s professional expectations of me.

#personal life #thoughts #work culture #overwork #cancer #free time #mental health

[noonawriter]

Delicious Rendezvous

WORD COUNT: 4638

WARNINGS: flashbacks to torture, shameless flirting, over-worked and stressed main character

DELICIOUS RENDEZVOUS

Chapter 4

“Bad news,” Siwon said as soon as he was in earshot of Heechul. “Our contact in 223 has been transferred and is locked out of the local system here.” He bit his lip, a rare slip of control. “As I’m sure you know, we’re cutting it too close to develop a new one just yet.” His first creation walked up to him with a look of hesitation on his face.

No mystery as to why.

Back when the terror of it was fresh, Siwon informed Heechul of a raid that had occurred a decade ago and how badly it had ended. The whole thing played like a movie reel of memories and fears. It wasn’t the sex work that sank them that time - no one runs that kind of operation without a contingency plan. No, it was who was doing it that led to tragedy.

Several of the employees ended up in a specialized prison only to be slowly tortured to death because supernatural creatures weren’t known then... And groups of humans have the capacity to do terrible things when they’re afraid of the unknown. Ingenuity, put to exactly the wrong purpose. What little inside data could be gleaned was... It was... Unspeakable, to this day.

Heechul considered giving him a moment of comforting touch, but it would be crass to make it so very evident that his right-hand man’s thoughts were left entirely unlocked. They sure as hell didn’t have time for a fight, either.

Not a creature anywhere didn’t hear about that disaster. The Council exploited those fears, the prejudices borne of it, but for the rest of the community, lacking that level of power... Whatever there was where Heechul’s stomach used to be turned just the same way at being bombarded with it all over again, shrunk into a few nauseating seconds. If his hair could still stand on end, it would. Even the humans that supported that establishment had been fined so heavily that they were out on the streets, and then... disappeared. Maybe to the same place. Who knows? Siwon visibly winced at that last thought, but forced that idea to the side. There were days that his confidence that his master would never let anyone harm him or their brethren was all that allowed the leader to make it happen.

Yet, sometimes, Heechul really wished Siwon had more magic potential. This was one of the rare moments where he’d very much like to be able to not hear these thoughts. Keeping his hands from ripping his own hair out was as much as he could manage here, arms stiff at his sides. Was he even capable of crying anymore? Did he have what it would take to stop a repeat of such horrors between his very own walls?

It was all too much. Too much. Heechul had to set it all aside too. Rather than comfort, he ended up having to tap Siwon’s cheek just to bring him back to the present.

“Sorry,” he mumbled with a shake of his head. ”I remembered it again.” That raid was the last time Siwon tried working for anyone else, is the only other thing he would say about it out loud. He broadcast the rest louder than an echo in a cave, though, he just didn’t know he was - right to Heechul like an open book, at least. Not a hint of a side gig since.

The grass only looks greener, as it were.

Finally, that portion of mental agony was over, tucked away back in its box. Upon realizing the massive amount of work that their contact being pulled out from under them meant, Heechul’s shoulders slumped. There was too much weight upon them.

However, he only allowed himself those two seconds of self-pity before squaring them back up. “Shit. That means there’ll still be a raid tomorrow night.” He checked, unwittingly holding his breath, but couldn’t get much detail. “That only gives us about a day and a half.” He counted off on his fingers as he called out instructions. “We need to put up glamour and force barriers on the rooms, make excuses, reschedule appointments, make sure all my kids have somewhere to stay for the night..."

A groan slipped out. But only one. How he dreaded this last part. “I’ll have to handle the backstage regulars. They would feel slighted if informed through an intermediary.”

While he was appreciative of his higher-paying customers in that they kept the show running, literally and otherwise, they always looked down their noses at him when complications came up. Fuck, he felt a headache coming on already. He pinched the spot just above the bridge of his nose. He’d have to add on the promises of a free service to make sure they kept silent about where they went and who ran the show - and he hated burdening his kids like that.

Hated it with everything in him, but the alternative was worse. He’s not risking any kind of prison cell for anyone.

“Of course, Master. I’ll initiate the protocol and distribute the workload immediately.” A floating schedule appeared next to Siwon, its constituent lines made of light if light could be smoke.

“Thank you. Time for me to get to my part of the work as well.” Heechul watches as Siwon carefully inspects the list and moves to assign each task. He stretches his arms out wide, a satisfying crack sounding in response, as he rotates his neck and searches his mind for where Alyssa is and what she’s doing. He needs her now more than ever. 

While her training had, of course, been intended to prepare her for bigger and better things, he needed that untapped power she was sitting on to pull this off on such short notice. It felt as though he had more to hide this time, more at stake, when in reality, the only new addition to the club was his little witch. A flush took over his cheeks quickly. He’d not felt the need to protect anyone quite so strongly since he’d made Siwon. “Stupid sex magic. Everything is amplified.”

He tried to sound mad about it, but inside, even if only to himself, he had to admit that he was more amazed at just how much change the ritual had wrought in the first place. He also decided then and there that he would not perform any sex magic with another person, ever.

Definitely not if it turned out like this. He didn’t want this with anyone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No better way to learn, Heechul had insisted, than throwing you in to help with glamouring the back rooms to look like cramped offices and storage space. Everything was tightly coordinated - regimented, even, which was surprising to see in a place usually so loosely and chaotically run. Time constraints would do that, you supposed.

He rattled off instructions and even showed you exactly what you needed to do and say, but your brain was foggy with all the veins of magic flowing through the club. There was an anxiety running through the employees that you couldn’t help but soak up to some extent. “Let’s add empath to the list of things to deal with. That’ll be fun,” you said under your breath, none too pleased with the discovery. Your eyes rolled, but you continued with the task, pride not allowing you to step back and admit defeat.

Maybe even that little voice inside that was happy that Heechul was the one who needed you, for once, instead of the other way around. Just the thought made your ears burn.

Putting up the glamours was the easy part, though. Imbuing them with enough power to stay up for two entire days left you sweating and ravenous. You huffed, taking a second to wipe the sweat off your forehead and sip from the water bottle Mi had brought you hours ago, tossing it on his way past with a small smile and a congenial nod.

When all this work was done, you for sure had to get him to show you that one shade of purple again so you could try to find a matching dye. His hair had only held it for a second earlier.

You were getting distracted again. And you finally noticed that your hands were shaking, too. The strain was getting to you.

“Fucking hell. This shit is for the birds.” Your voice was tired and wavering. Hands on your hips, you stood there admiring the iridescent sheen from the last barrier you put into place. “God damn, I should have eaten first.”

“Such dirty words coming from such a pretty little mouth.” Of course, when you’re a sweaty mess, that’s when Heechul shows up to inspect your work. On his face blooms his signature smirk; after holding your attention on it for a second, he adds, “I like it,” with a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows.

Damned if it didn’t make you want to kiss him again. You whimpered at the thought and immediately flushed, thinking that while he was still there.

As usual, though, he was gone before you could give the thought any weight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were carefully not thinking about the absurdity of taking a coffee break in a... house of pleasure where your magic training is happening, the legitimate front half of the building notwithstanding. Even after all the upheaval, there was something sort of amazing about creatures of all sorts here milling about, living their ordinary lives and being themselves. The comfortable atmosphere in this room left you feeling bold enough to lean back against the counter near where the siren was, the dull gray microwave buzzing on the other side of him. You were protected now, right? And his boyfriend was really friendly with you, so that’s gotta count for something.

"Hey," you said, wiggling your fingers in a sheepish wave. He acknowledged you with a sideways glance, but nothing more. After hours working quietly side by side, following his occasional directions about images and dimensions, that didn’t seem odd anymore. "Look, you can tell me if this is out of line, but I'm really curious about something."

"Hmm?" Ryeowook answered absentmindedly, watching Henry and Donghae play-fighting across the room with a fond half-smile. You may have even heard a faint, tuneless humming; couldn’t be sure, but you felt a little bolder, a little more free either way.

"Does the, uh, backstage work affect you at home?" This was so embarrassing to ask about, but you'd been dying of curiosity and this seemed like your best bet to get some answers. Usually, it was your training regimen that left you too drained to make conversation. To be honest, you were still kinda drained; it was hard to tell whether your thoughts made sense, your brain-to-mouth filter just about gone.

When Ryeowook turned to you, though, his brow was furrowed in confusion. "Why would I do work at home? Heechul’s wards and security are far better than anywhere else, even clubs supposedly owned by the very wealthy,” he pointed out, crossing his arms. “I only do work here."

"No, I mean, um," you blushed as your composure slipped further, not wanting to have to spell it out, "you know, you do-" You waved towards the hallway of back rooms. "You do this for work, so does it, uh, when you're at home, does it get in the way of, wait, no, does that cause any problems for you with," you were definitely red as a tomato now, your entire face aflame, "making love?"

But Ryeowook only blinked twice. "If he wanted to, we could."

"Oh! Oh, sorry, I didn't think- Sorry. I shouldn't have assumed. You probably think I'm a jerk now, huh," you admitted clumsily, pursing your lips. I sound like an idiot! This was such a bad idea.

But he only hummed nonchalantly, turning away once more. "Hmm. Well, you wouldn't be the first to assume, only the first to apologize for it," he said offhandedly, taking a sip from his mug. "But it doesn’t matter to me. I suppose I take after my mother that way," he continued in a wistful voice, a touch of sorrow coloring his features. "Keeping my mate safe and happy is my heart's greatest desire."

"That's so sweet!" You cooed, genuinely touched by the sentiment, only to be met with an icy stare as he whirled around to face you.

"Don't know why I'm telling you all this," Ryeowook said while he pushed off from the counter, his tone acrid and sharp as though the words were meant to cut to the bone, his eyebrows drawing together in anger, startling you when he slammed his mug down on the hard surface. "I don’t care if you’re Heechul’s newest, shiniest project. If that's your power,” one peak of his upper lip curled up towards his nose in contempt, “let's not do this again. I need to get back to work."

"But wait, I didn't-" He'd crossed the short distance to the doorway in three quick strides and left before you could finish your sentence. "-do anything," you finished dejectedly, dropping your raised hand. Not that you knew what you were going to do with it anyway. You muttered under to yourself, “‘Make friends,’ he said. Do this, do that, blah blah blah.” Wait a second. Newest project?

What happened to the others?

“Don’t take it too personally,” a genial voice said next to you, cutting off your train of thought. Guess your muttering was louder than you’d realized. “He takes a while to warm up to most people.”

You turned to- not the butler. Mi. Seriously, still not a butler, you hastily reminded yourself. More of a jack of all trades? Maybe it was better not to call a shapeshifter that, so you went with, “You really think it’ll be okay? I feel like I screwed up pretty bad.”

“Welllll, maybe warm up isn’t the right word. But he’ll probably stop being an ass.”

“Probably?” Despite yourself, you laughed, smiling back at Mi’s toothy grin. He patted your shoulder in a friendly way before saying, “Excuse me, I need some tea,” his hair color and the shape of his arms changing three or four times between the microwave and what you’d come to call caffeine central more towards the back of the room.

Still, after the- intimacy you and Heechul had shared so far, the idea that you were one in a long line of projects, to be set aside whenever he decided he’d had his fun, rubbed you the wrong way.

Which not only lingered through your meal, but grew. And grew. And grew bigger still.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stomped down the extravagantly decorated hall, footsteps echoing off the marble tiles that probably set him back more than you cared to think about. A red haze settled in your mind as you mulled over the words Ryeowook spat to you. Hands curled into tight fists, you didn’t bother knocking before making entrance into his office. Hopefully, whatever sights awaited you wouldn’t be something you’d regret seeing, because you were way past caring now.

"So I'm your latest project, am I?" You flung the words at Heechul the very second you walked into the room.

"Feisty today, aren't you."

You wanted to slap him. Something. Anything. Instead you settled on a seethed, "What happened to the others?!"

Heechul laughed. "What happened?" He asked condescendingly, moving his upturned palm in a horizontal arc, his eyes following before landing back on you. "Look around you, darling."

"Argh!" You clenched your fists. Eyes rolling as you wanted to tear your hair out.  "Can't you just say what you goddamn mean for once?!"

But Heechul only sighed. "Really, you could stand to learn to read between the lines. Can't always rely on your power, you know." But as you glared, he seemed to relent a bit, his smile turning amused, his eyes a touch fond. "Haven't you noticed? Those who sincerely come to me for aid... I don't take that lightly. Why, I develop them to the fullest of their talents. How else could I build all this?"

Silence enveloped the room as you looked deep into his unwavering sight. Dammit, you sighed under your breath. He was being honest - well, his version of it anyway. Relenting yourself, you breathed out a long exhale. "...That's it?"

"Yes, that's 'it'. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. My favorite kind," he finished with a smirk, alluding to extremely pleasant memories of the 'arrangement' already between the two of you.

You took a moment to gather what you wanted to say. His aura gave you a reason to pause. Your words needed to be chosen carefully. You gestured your hands between the two of you. “This? Us? Just me scratching your back and you scratching mine, I’ll assume?”

“We both know what assume means, sweetheart. Let’s not do that.” He turned to walk out, but before he made it through the doorway, he called out over his shoulder, “Good job out there. You’re doing better than I expected.”

Might’ve been better that he looked away before you could flip him off. You tried sending it mentally anyway, pleased to faintly hear his distinctive laugh. At that point, you didn’t know if the warmth in your heart that you felt a moment later was his or your own.

He kept getting you all mixed up like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Donghae was speaking in hushed tones with Heechul when you rounded the corner. He noticed you coming in and moved to intercept you as the man you wanted made his smooth escape, right back into the office you’d just vacated. Damnit. “Come on, Alyssa, follow me. You need to let off some steam.” Objecting, you pointed towards the doorway where you were trying to go, because Heechul kept escaping conversation like some sort of extremely beautiful eel, but Donghae wrapped his hand firmly around your wrist, steering you in a completely different direction. “Your work is done for now. The boss has some things to tend to. He asked me to help you get some frustration out.”

Before he crossed the threshold to a room new to you, he looked at you, waggling his eyebrows. “I’m more than happy to help, Lys.” He giggled at your huffed response as he pulled you out a side door and a few buildings over into what looked like a gym at a country club, just on a smaller scale. Taking in the sights before you, your brain reeled at the possibilities of what Heechul was going to have you working on now.

“It’s not like I’m not appreciative for a break, but is physical fitness really important to my training? I’m fit enough, but…” Donghae shushed you with a finger to your lips.

Eyebrow raised, he explained. “This isn’t just gym class. Boss asked me to evaluate your skills. See where you are so we’ll know where to start.” You wondered what he was talking about. Surely you wouldn’t be stranded without your powers? He grinned as though he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Come on, just think of it as a bit of stress relief. Let me show you what I want you to be able to do.” He proceeded to throw a few punches, one sequence after another. A minute became more as he got more focused. 

You allowed your eyes to roam his form as he continued his session. The thick, corded muscles from his biceps down his back, his ass just as shapely as his chest was, even to his hips as they tightened and flexed as he danced around the hanging heavy bag. A small sheen of sweat coated his forehead as he threw hit after hit. You even noticed how his tongue was situated between his teeth at the corner of his mouth. It was cute, but then, you took his figure in again in its very nice entirety.

If anything, you were getting more frustrated, though certainly not the way he’d intended.

You weren’t blind. Donghae was fit. That was the simplest way to put it. But the way he moved around the bag gracefully almost had you forgetting he was a supernatural creature. His eyes had a dangerous focus blazing in them, and you shuddered to think of those who would be on the receiving end of an angry version of this barrage. You couldn’t help but find it attractive, mentally thanking Heechul for suggesting this break; truth be told, you didn’t even try to stop your gaze from going wherever it was drawn to. Oh, the things you could imagine...

He stopped at hearing a whine from you, his eyebrow raised high. For a second, you were irrationally terrified that he could read your thoughts too. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were staring, hard.” He looked none too surprised by that - amused, if anything.

Fuck. At least he couldn’t see what I was thinking. You stuttered out some nonsense, words failing you at the fact that he’d caught you drooling over him.

Eyes shut in embarrassment, you didn’t notice him move, which is why you ended up jumping in surprise when you heard his voice in your ear. “This is delicious. Thanks for the free meal.”

“I...” Damn this anxiety. “Hey wait, I didn’t tell you that you could do that!” He rolled his eyes, and, really, you could tell you needed to concentrate so you could get done and leave. For your sanity’s sake. You stepped to the bag and looked at him, wide-eyed and ready for his instruction without any further distractions. Hopefully.

He chuckled. “Let’s see what you got. Give me a few good sequences and we’ll call it a day. And I promise I won’t tell Heechul that you were eyeing me like a piece of meat. Besides, it’s my job to do the ogling around here.” He winked, making you feel a bit weak in the knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“As I mentioned, we unfortunately have a highly contagious bout of illness, and thus, those facilities are unavailable for a couple of nights. We can reschedule your appointment if you would just come this way.”

“You’re a goddamned liar! Lemme back there!” Regular though this man may be, at the moment, he seemed to be doing his best to make the saying that hell is other people a reality. Heechul’s temper reached its last frayed thread.

“You, sir, need to calm the hell down. You’re at a fifteen and I need you at, like, a seven,” Heechul snidely commented as the regular patron threw every excuse in the book at him as to why he should be allowed inside even if no one else is there. The growl that rumbled at the back of his throat was deep and raspy, full of rage as the patron tried to push his way from the front waiting room onto the main floor. Heechul called out in a dead language - and suddenly, the snarling long-time customer was frozen on the spot.

The thread snapped.

No longer willing to hold back, Heechul took a deep sigh of relief as he got right in front of the now confused man. “I told you, countless times,” he emphasized as he bared his teeth, “we are closed for the next couple of nights. I can see that you refuse to take my words seriously, not even attempting to cooperate.” His hand glided up to the patron’s face as his nail traced his red, splotchy cheek. “What you fail to realize is just who,” Heechul took that same nail and raked it from the patron’s temple to his lips, leaving a deep, seeping wound behind, “I am.” Taking the customer’s chin in his other hand, he jerks the man’s head in the direction of the floor.

Seconds later, Heechul had drawn a crude symbol on the marble. “You will never step foot in this establishment again. Should you even try, I will know. I will hunt you down and tear you limb from limb. And I will enjoy every single second of it,” he hissed, face contorting in unbridled rage. Then he stood, straightening to his full height as the doors flew open.

As Heechul walked towards the doors, the man who was still immobile was moved to the opening. His body seemed to fly as he let out a terrified scream. 

“I don’t ever want to see you here again.” Heechul turned on his heel to walk away. He tilted his head a few degrees towards the sound when he heard Mi’s firm “Sir”, but didn’t falter in his step, as he had more important things to deal with. His favorite shapeshifter could handle the situation however he saw fit. Trash disposed of, Heechul added the area to be monitored more closely in addition to his typical security alert set, along with making a mental note to check his crew for potential teleporting capability or an ability to learn quickly so he could evaluate offering security training and shifts. There were plenty enough to rotate at the front and connecting doors, but in the back rooms...

That’s where danger turned on a dime.

Breathing slowly, Heechul ran his hand over the back of his neck. Problem after problem continued to appear. If he couldn’t entice some of the other customers to fill in those appointments, cover the disruption, it’d be two months at most before he had to evaluate dipping into the stash. The guilt of it ate at him whenever he couldn’t keep it entirely at bay. The ex-noble’s possessions were Heechul’s by right, but he hated exercising that option; Siwon was loyal, and good at his job, and would never turn down the request.

That it benefitted his safety as well as everyone in his employ was not as comforting as it should have been. Taking from it, even with permission, still felt like stealing. I need a drink.

No time. Back to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The static took over your vision as you saw bits and pieces of something happening. Grainy images and darkened tones did not help. Even as your eyes closed, you squeezed them tighter and found you could see through someone else at the moment, someone tall and weighed down by something. Equipment? What could- You could hear a sinister cackle to your right but the current head you were occupying wouldn’t turn so you could see who it was. Though, if your memory served you well enough, it sounded like Claude and he was headed somewhere with a mission.

You studied the surroundings of the overly dressed-up group of men you were envisioning. Sidewalks, street lamps, old brick. “Shit!” You yelled out, gasping for breath as your feet began to move without you willing them to. You couldn’t be bothered to apologize for knocking into the others as you dashed to where Heechul’s magic was emanating strongest.

The doorway to his office was shut with a supernatural energy, but somehow, your inner self anticipated it. Without breaking stride, your palm came up and a small glow emanated from it. Light enveloped the door, causing its edges to hum, opening to you silently but swiftly.

“They’re coming.” Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the sights of Heechul’s closest and most trusted. Gulping, feeling like you couldn’t get enough oxygen, you panted, “It’s happening early. The...” A boom against the barred doors down at the end of the hallway sounded throughout the club. “The raid. Claude got- someone to bump up the time frame.” Heechul was by your side in an instant as the rest of the crew flew out of the room, knowing exactly what they needed to do.

Author’s note: mad props to @thesirenandtheking​. An amazing sounding board, wonderful aesthetic maker when it comes to setting, and SUJU knowledge!!! Couldn’t do this without you.

#super junior #super junior fic #Super Junior Heechul #Super Junior Heechul fic #heechul fic #suju fic #kpop fic #supernatural kpop

[pokemaniac1]

To Grant a Wish - Part 1

Written for @tilltheendwilliwrite​‘s 7.7k Celebration (Covid Sucks) Challenge. This got waaaay away from me and ended up being almost three times longer than I thought it was going to be. It was originally going to be a oneshot but i’m going to have to post the second half in a few days due to the flu. :( 

Check it out on Ao3 Here

My prompt was this image:

Summary: After trying and failing to set an appointment to meet with Iron Man, Make-A-Wish Foundation worker, Eliza Elliot, has no idea how she's going to help her kids fulfil their wish to 'Meet a real life superhero'.  

However, thanks to an online video, some determination, and a pair of chaotic interns, Eliza manages to pull it off.

Warnings: Childhood illnesses, references to terminal illnesses, hospitals, possible inaccuracies in the job description tbh, cat calling, getting cornered by drunk guys, threatened assault, car crash, (almost)getting run over by a car,

------

Saturday evening had Eliza rubbing her eyes tiredly and glaring at the phone in her hand. The number to the Stark Industries' head office flashed briefly on her phone’s screen before going black.

She had been trying to get in touch with the events' coordinator of the company, or someone who could help her, for the past 3 months, but she'd been shunted off from one person to the next with seemingly no end in sight.

She noted the time, seeing 8:26pm, and sighed. Closing her notepad, she was about to place it back in her bag and head off for the night when her phone buzzed on the counter. She looked at the number and, seeing one of the numbers she had spent over an hour on hold with today, she scrambled to pick it up. She almost lost her mug - empty but for a few left over coffee grinds laying at the bottom - off the side of her desk in her haste but managed to catch it just as she pressed the 'Accept Call' button. She placed it back on the teetering pile of papers that sat on the edge of her desk, its weight balancing out the whole pile and preventing an avalanche that was one day inevitable.

"Hello! This is Eliza Elliot." She said to the phone, her best Customer Service Voice(TM) in place. She hoped briefly that she didn't sound too frantic.

"Ah, Miss Elliott. This is Michael Walters, I'm the deputy events manager at Stark Industries." Came the clipped voice from the other end. "I'm calling to follow up with you regarding your calls over the last few months." "It's great to hear from you Mr. Walters." Again, Eliza did her best to sound calm, hope rising in her chest. Three months and finally a response. "I was told you were one of the best people to speak to in regards to setting up an appointment with Iron Man." Him and like 20 others. "That's correct, I'm one of those in charge of approving Mr. Stark's events." he said, sounding like he had his nose pointed to the ceiling.

The haughtiness in his tone was hard to miss and Eliza felt her own nose wrinkle in distaste. Just get through this conversation Eliza. You've waited 3 months for this opportunity. She took a deep breath and jumped right into it.

"Great! As you're most likely aware from my previous calls, I'm calling on behalf of the Make-A-Wish foundation. I'm looking to set up a meet and greet with Mr. Stark and some of the children who would love to meet their hero." Her rehearsed line came out in a single breath and quickly enough it almost sounded like a single word. Thankfully, it was understandable, but it was a close thing. Pinching herself slightly, she forced herself to take a deep breath. Here next words came out a tad more controlled. "What would be involved....."

"Miss Elliott." Came the abrupt reply, cutting off her off. "I'm calling to inform you that, unfortunately, we can't approve of an event held at your location." Eliza's breath caught in her throat.

"Oh, well thank you for getting back to me and letting me know. Is it because of security for Mr. Stark?" She asked once she could breathe again, figuring that that would be a valid concern considering everything that the Avengers deal with on an almost weekly basis. It's not like a small (government funded) hospital in the middle of New Jersey would have the kind of security needed to prevent those risks. "We're happy to book an approved venue if that's what it takes."

"Ah wonderful, we can put you on the waiting list then." Walters said. The snobbish tone was still present and it rubbed Eliza up the wrong way. Do it for the kids, Eliza. Jeremy and Zeki have been waiting for this. She heard papers shuffle in the background. "It appears our next available booking is in 18 months at the..."

Her heart plummeted, a heavy rock forming in the pit of her stomach not even hearing where the venue was. She found her voice after a moment and was quite proud of the fact that there was no waver to it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Walker. I know this may be a lot to ask, but is there any chance we can get an earlier time slot?" She asked. A pause on the other end had her palms sweating. She rushed to fill the silence. "It's just that, we have a couple of kids who have been waiting a really long time already and we're working on fast-tracking a few select wishes due to the nature of their illnesses." Fuck. Did I just violate HIPAA by saying that? Shit fuck. Too late now. "They're really looking forward to seeing their heroes."

"Miss Elliott," He started, a harsh edge to his voice. "I certainly cannot rush you up the queue. If we let anyone just push ahead, especially those looking for handouts, then we wouldn't be the industry leaders we are. Your organisation will wait your turn regardless of whatever sob story you have lined up."

Eliza was stunned silent momentarily, not quite sure how to respond.

She wasn't the best with social cues, but she was pretty sure that the man's response was entirely uncalled for. Even if she was trying to get a foot in the door to meeting her superhero for personal reasons, surely they had enough resources to do a background check on everyone who was trying to get a meeting? Wouldn't that be enough to see that she was who she said she was?

He clearly knew she was with the Make-A-Wish Foundation though. He mentioned looking for handouts, was this because they were a charity? Why would they have a problem with that though? Tony Stark and Stark Industries was famous for having one of the most influential charities in the country in the Maria Stark Foundation. Surely they'd be understanding in helping another charity? This sort of thing is what they did, right?

Mr. Walker had continued talking throughout her minor existential crisis.

"It's also come to my attention that you have made over a dozen calls to our office just in the past month." He said in his imperious tone.

She didn't need to look at her notes to know that, yes, she had indeed called them over a dozen times this month. Twenty-six times to be exact. Though, to be fair, most of those were to the Maria Stark Foundation rather than Stark Industries itself and all of those were because they couldn't seem to decide who was in charge of organising a meeting with Iron Man.

"I have booked you in for the next available appointment in 18 months. Our event team will be in touch with the details in the next 48 hours. From now on, please refrain from excessive phone calls, otherwise we will be forced to pursue legal action on the grounds of harrassment. I hope you have a lovely evening Miss Elliott."

At the sudden beep signalling the end of the call, Eliza could only stare at the phone, the number again flashing on the screen before going dark. After what felt like an eternity, she placed the phone down on the counter and collapsed her head onto her arms.

What the fuck was that?

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

Two days later on Monday morning, Eliza walked into the children's wing of the hospital, the laughs and chatter that greeted upon her entry making her smile. Despite everything that they were going through, the kids always managed to have smiles on their faces.

Her job as a Wish Granter with the Make-a-Wish Foundation had her scheduled to come in to socialise with her assigned children at least three days a week. She adored seeing her honorary children whenever she was scheduled; it was a  part of her job description that was a bonus she was very happy to take advantage of.

They were so often such a joy to speak with as the distinctive resilience of children was plain as day in almost all of the kids in the hospital. Whether they're hospitalised because of cancer, a birth defect, or even a degenerative disease, the vast majority of the time they're playing and laughing as much as they were able just like any regular kids.

Her job could be really difficult though. Sometimes, it was heart wrenching to look at all the tiny faces in the children's wing of the hospital and know that for some of them, their stay in the hospital would be ongoing for the remainder of their lives.

There were also days where certain children had a particularly painful day. It could be a flair up, a seizure, or a day after a surgery. The days that she had to watch the almost lifeless forms of usually energetic children weighed heavily on her heart.

Thankfully, that day seemed to be one of the good days.

When we she walked through the door to the ward one of her children were assigned to, she was almost bowled over by a bright blur at waist height. She only just managed to stay standing by reaching out and snagging the doorframe with one of her hands, steadying both herself and the little barnacle that was now attached to her legs.

She looked down and her face brightened in happiness at seeing the excited face of one of the kids looking up at her. Her concerns of the previous night's talk were put on pause and sent to the back of her mind as she went to chat the tiny ray of sunshine.

"Carly!" She exclaimed, taking in the little 6 year old dressed in her favourite summer dress, even though it could be considered sweater temperature in the air conditioned room. "It's good to see you, sweetie! I see you're up and moving about like a little tornado."

That got a giggle from the little girl and another squeeze before she let go and stepped back from Eliza.

"I'm super fast today!" Carly giggled. "I totally surprised you just then, didn't I?"

"You sure did." Eliza laughed, taking a step back into the room and making space in the doorway for a mum coming in. "What have you been up to today with all this energy?" The question seemed to remind the girl of something and she quickly grabbed hold of Eliza's hand again, tugging her towards a bed at the back of the ward and chattering so fast Eliza couldn't keep up with what she was saying.

As she was dragged walking past, several parents who were sitting beside beds – some carefully trying to avoid any wires or IV cords their young children had - looked up and smiled in greeting at her. They were doing remarkably well at managing the kids considering most of them seemed to have caught whatever spurt of energy Carly was displaying. She'd be worried if it weren't such a refreshing sight to see.

The children in this ward ranged in ages from five to ten years old and while most of those in the children's wing stayed maybe a couple of nights at a time, this ward and the ones either side of it were where those with some of the more serious conditions were staying. These were the kids who tended to come in more frequently for operations or observations and for longer periods.

For example, Carly, who wasn't one of the children whose Wish she was organising but was hard to ignore even on one of her bad days, was there that day on observation after a scare that her leukemia was returning. She'd recently had her third chemotherapy treatment so she was still in the early stages of treatment. Despite this, she rarely stayed still for very long, and was on her feet as often as she was physically able to be, much to her parents' distress.  

It hurt sometimes to know that such young children were going through such terrible experiences, but they always maintained such positive outlooks on their lives, it was difficult to remain too upset around them.

Eliza noted, with no small amount of amusement, that the bed she was being led to was almost completely covered with pillows. It was an impressive stack to say the least. It had been covered from the very top to the very end in pillows of varying sizes and was roughly five layers high all the way across, even six layers in some places. If Eliza had to guess, she'd say there was easily fifty pillows just on that one bed alone. Beside her, Carly was chatting away happily, informing Eliza that they had plans for today and that they needed her help with a very important task.

"Mummy said we weren't allowed to start until you got here, so now that you're here you, me and Zeki can play princes and princesses! Buuut...." the drawn out word was punctuated with another fierce little tug to her arm. "we need a castle!"

Eliza huffed out a laugh and traded an amused glance with Carly's mother who was watching everything from a chair by the window.

Zeki, a young boy with polymicrogyria and a smile with an intensity set to outshine his hardships, was standing beside a tower to the pillow gods, practically vibrating with excitement. He was one of the two children whose wish Eliza was organising and he happened to be one of Carly's best friends in the ward. The two of them were practically inseparable when they were staying in the hospital at the same time.

Due to his condition, his brain hadn't developed correctly in the womb and led to Zeki being born deaf, having a lot of trouble with coordination, and often experiencing seizures. It was a severe condition that was progressively getting worse. This condition, paired with an underdeveloped heart, had led to far too many close calls for comfort and a great deal of uncertainty of his survival with each seizure (hence Eliza's urgency to get in touch with Iron Man).

Kids being kids though, that didn't stop either of them from playing their hardest. With an excited wave at Eliza when he saw her, he pointed at the pillows and started signing even more wildly. She didn't know much sign language but it looked like a pillow fort construction was in the near future. She was proven correct a moment later.

"He says we're going to be building a Pillow Castle Fort, 'liza!" Carly almost shouted her Big Reveal as they came up to him. "Ooohh! That sounds fun!" Eliza said with enthusiasm. "That's a lot of pillows you have there. Where did you get them all?" "His mummy brought most of them and my mummy brought some of the others! We needed at least a hundred pillows for the castle!" She said with a serious nod to her head. "Let's go!"

"I'd love to help, Carly. But, aren't you supposed to be resting today?" Eliza asked, pausing by the bed and giving the girl what she hoped was a disapproving face. She apparently needed to work on her disapproving looks because Carly just grinned, ignored her, and started helping Zeki move the pillows from the bed to the floor. Eliza sighed. "Fine, but once we finish, you're going to bed, little miss."

And with that, the three of them got to work. With a chuckle and an amused glance at the two troublemakers Eliza focused on following the appointed princess' directions.

She wasn't surprised when, after only a minute and in a moment of frustration and mischief, as they were taking the main pile off the bed, Carly decided that the easiest way to bring them down was via the avalanche method; i.e. Grab a couple from the bottom of the pile and rip them out to bring the rest of the pillows down on top of them. Zeki let out a squeal of surprise and then a loud giggle as the pillows tumbled down around them.

Once that excitement was over, the castle was started by using the bed as a foundation with the pillows propped up against the legs and built around it. Carly obviously had a vision as to how her castle needed to be designed because she took over directions almost immediately and was very fastidious about the placement of each pillow.

She wasn't sure exactly what she was signing to Zeki, but her playful comments to Eliza along the lines of "'Liza, make sure that pillow is exactly this far away from the one next to it! No, no, no! This far!", or the very serious "No, 'Liza. We can't just make it two floors high! It has to be three floors! The princess and the prince are going to have the best room we can make." while Zeki giggled and wiggled at their side made her think they were talking smack about her in their secret language. The cheeky little things.

It was an hour later and the pillow castle was well on its way to completion when Eliza's other charge came to greet her.

Jeremy was a little boy for his 10 years of age and he came almost crashing into the ward through the door and bounding, not quickly but still energetically, over to her when he saw her. He had a massive smile on his face as his momentum, and lack of coordination, brought him crashing into her where she was crouching on the floor. Luckily for the castle, they fell to the side and away from the pillows, however, it wasn't so lucky for Eliza's elbow, which caught the tiled floor as she turned to catch the small bundle of energy flying into her. She chuckled as she sat up, ignoring the slight flare of a soon-to-be bruise, and picked up the squirming child from her lap.

"Hi Jeremy. How are you going today, kiddo?" She asked with a grin.

The garbled noises she got in return, paired with an excited wave of an Iron Man toy she had just noticed in his hand made her smile widen further, though a ball of sadness curled low in her belly.

Jeremy had an enzyme deficiency (the name of which was more a rearrangement of the alphabet to Eliza than an actual word) which caused a variety of issues for him. Besides being unable to communicate verbally, he also had various bone malformations, and had to have enzyme replacements each week. These appointments meant he was hooked up to a bunch of machinery for 8 hours every Monday, and while not a cure for his condition, did a lot to slow down its progression.

Having just arrived for his appointment, he was in high spirits and was excited to see all of his friends again. It was also apparent, he was keen to show off his new toy.

"Oh wow! That's an awesome Iron Man toy!" She told him excitedly. "Is he new?"

He nodded frantically in return and pulled out his mobile phone. He pulled up his communication app and started typing.

She waited patiently for him as she fixed the base of the castle fort and once he was done she read what he showed her. Carly and Zeki were excitedly starting to crawl through the castle and test its integrity so Eliza knew she had a moment to chat with her second charge. Carly was gingerly pulling herself up to the bed level while Zeki was exploring the base level, the one securely on the ground and the one with the most 'rooms' able to be huddled together.

'We were buying a present for my friend's birthday and mum got it for me!' He'd typed.

"Ooh! That's awesome!" She exclaimed. Grinning, she looked down at his shirt with a big screen print of the Ironman armour on it and his light up Ironman glow shoes. "Iron Man's your favourite superhero too isn't he?" She knew the answer but he always got excited when he spoke about Ironman.

As she expected, he started writing frantically on his app, telling her all about the trip to the store and the fact that he got to play in the park after it, and even meeting one of his school friends there!

'It even comes with 2 extra armour sets!' He went on to type. 'When I get home, I'm going to be putting on one of them! It's like a puzzle!'

She grinned. "Woah Iron Man puzzles!?" She started nodding her head thoughtfully while smiling. "They are the best kind of puzzles."

As Jeremy started typing on his phone once again, and Carly and Zeki started playing princes and princesses among the pillows, her thoughts drifted to the disastrous conversation with Mr. Walters on the phone the day prior. She hadn't yet received the confirmation email he said she'd receive but she still had roughly a day or so before she had to follow up.

Iron Man was Eliza's first choice of hero to contact for Jeremy and Zeki's shared wish of 'meeting a superhero' because of Jeremy's absolute adoration for the hero as well as the hero's very public identity. Zeki hadn't really shown a preference for any hero in particular as he reacted with the same vigorous energy to all the heroes when she'd asked and when they came on tv. So as long as they were in their suits, he'd be happy.

Getting in touch with the heroes was the biggest hurdle that Eliza had to face, made only slightly easier by the fact that Stark Industries had made a public method of setting up fundraising or social events. She'd seen pictures of Mr. Stark in his Iron Man suit taking publicity shots with people, both adults and kids, at other hospitals around the country, sometimes even the world, and she figured it would have been easy to get through to the self proclaimed Philanthropist. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Steve Rogers, Captain America, was also contactable through Stark Industries according to their website, but she didn't hold out much hope for reaching him if she couldn't get past the first stage of reaching Iron Man.

How was she even supposed to get in touch with another hero? It's not like all the heroes essentially had a hotline to contact them for meet and greets.

A tug on her shirt pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked down again at Jeremy, only to have his phone jammed in her face in his excitement.

'Spiderman was with Iron Man Yesterday in New York! There were super cool pictures and videos on Youtube of them fighting the big robot! Iron Man got really close and Spider Man even ran right past! They're so cool!'

Eliza raised her eyebrows in surprise, "When did this happen? I didn't hear about any fights that the Avengers were called to over the weekend." Though, I was working for half of it trying to get in touch with said hero and then staring despondently at Netflix for the rest of it when I couldn't.

After a few moments of typing, he replied. 'Saturday!! I can show you the video'

At Eliza's nod, he started searching YouTube for it. She took a moment to glance again at Zeki and Carly who were still playing Princes and Princesses. They'd moved from playing hide-and-seek through the castle to a royal tea party in the main room on the 'second floor' (i.e. on the bed rather than the floor).  

It didn't take long before Jeremy had found his video and her attention was brought back to him.

It was a very shaky shot at first, all blurred and out of focus. It was equally likely that the cameraman was either in a rush to get away from the danger, or in a hurry to catch some of the action (self preservation more often than not came after taking the chance to catch the action for the chance of a viral video of the heroes). After a few seconds of the of the blurred sidewalk, the camera's view shifted to a smoky version of the New York skyline, with Stark Tower reaching towards the sky and the Empire State Building in the distance. Rubble from nearby buildings littered the roads and people took shelter in various shops, nooks, and crannies around the street for what seemed to be an almost monthly occurrence at this point.

For a moment, the only sounds that could be made out were voices calling out to take cover or directions for the closest shelter, but then a low whine could be heard getting louder. The camera turned towards the sound and a dark spot in the sky could be seen getting larger, presumably as whatever it was got closer and closer coming from the direction of Stark Tower.

Suddenly, a loud crack and groan drew the cameraman's attention to the right, causing the camera to jostle and then move in that direction. The crack had been from the impact of a large body being thrown into a mess of steel frames outlining a construction site, which, by itself, was disturbing enough despite it having reptilian features and being almost twice the size of a human. Anything described as reptilian while being the size that it was had no business being in this century, let alone taking down construction sites.

As soon as the figure was there, it was gone. A brief shout from the cameraman and a pan to the left showed it had been yanked away and stuck to a wall across the street by what appeared to be a spider's web. A blue and red clad figure swung through the air in the direction of the disturbing lizard-man.

The camera was able to get a surprisingly good view of the swinging form as it passed. For the briefest of moments, it captured the black webbed pattern through the red and blue, and even managed to pick up a few fuzzy tears in the fabric wear blood seeped through. Again, almost as soon as the figure was there, it was gone, swinging up to meet the bad guy of the day head on.

Right behind him, a reddish-gold blur followed, streaking through the air and leaving a trail of smoke behind it. It went by too fast to get a good look at it, but as it got closer to Spider Man and the lizard-man on the side of the structure, it slowed down enough to make out the shape of a very humanoid robot.

The video ended on a frame of Spider Man swinging through the air just as the lizard-man broke free and launched himself up and into the air, Iron Man close behind the newer hero and ready to lend a hand.

It was still quite grainy but a really picturesque screenshot nonetheless and Eliza figured it would be used as a lock screen by many of the superheroes' fans around the world.

Ironman’s assistance brought up a question that she had actually been meaning to find out.

"Does this mean that Spider Man's an Avenger?" She asked the little fan.

After some frantic typing, Jeremy answered, 'No, he just stays in New York. Iron Man offered but he said no :('. At this, Eliza just hummed.

Then, an idea.

New York was Spider Man's base of operations? Perfect.

She'd just found her next contact.

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

Her Friday morning found her on a bus to New York City.

The trip to New York was a long and tedious one.

The bus routes from New Jersey to Manhattan were all painfully convoluted and each had their fair share of congestion issues so the total trip took 3 bus changes and roughly five and a half hours.

She'd planned on arriving at the city midmorning so that she'd have a greater chance to walk around and spot the vigilante throughout the day, but she ended up arriving after lunch thanks to a particularly nasty pile up on the freeway just outside the city.

Tumbling out of the bus, she thanked whatever god was around that day that the ride was finished.

She had just spent four and a half hours, shoved right next to a guy who looked like he had spent a night out on the town and smelt of piss, vomit and other bodily fluid she really didn't want to think about. To make it worse, the woman in front of her turned out to be a very loud Karen who had decided that this was to be the bus trip where it would be most beneficial to inform everyone in her general vicinity of the conspiracy theories she had heard of recently. God forbid anyone try to correct her though. Oh no, that would send her on a rant lasting another one of the four hours they were all stuck together and Eliza prayed fervently that no one made that mistake again.

Then, she started to declare that she was being discriminated against because the elderly woman in one of the front rows didn't give Karen the seat and the lady 'had a walker with her so surely she could sit on that!'.

Frick that lady.

Anyway, thankfully that ride from hell was over.

Standing in the middle of the bustling New York sidewalk, however, she realised that she forgot to think of a very important detail.

She had no idea how exactly she was going to go about contacting Spiderman.

Theoretically, she knew that he stayed around the queens area, but that only narrowed it down to about a hundred square miles of the city.

Thankfully her last bus had taken her right into the centre of Queens so she decided to wander around for a bit at least. She hadn't been to New York city before so she figured she'd do a bit of sight seeing and hope to see Spidey at some stage.

This method proved to be enjoyable for a time, and she had great fun taking pictures of 'Queens: Home of the Amazing Spiderman'. However, after three hours of seeing the sights but not seeing any signs of Spider Man, she was starting to get a bit antsy.

She had realised before she'd even set out that she most likely wouldn't see him on the first day, after all it was barely four o'clock in the afternoon and she was pretty certain he had a day job that took up his daylight hours. She'd hyped herself up for the encounter for most of the day though, and it was still a bit of a disappointment regardless of the logic.

Six hours of wandering later she admitted defeat. Friday was a bust, but she had high hopes for the weekend.

Sadly, Saturday turned out similarly to the previous day; some lovely sightseeing and tourist opportunities she hadn't had time for the previous day and no Spidey sighting. She had tried asking people around the area if they knew how or where she could find Spiderman but they'd mostly given her a brief, very judgy, once-over and a very generalised 'He sticks to Queens mostly.', or 'he's usually out around this time.', or the most useful one of all; 'if you need him, he'll find you.'

She couldn't say she blamed them for being hesitant to explain. She was a somewhat short, gangly, woman, who looked more like a teenager with her scruffy backpack and wide rimmed glasses than her actual 22 years, and very obviously not from New York. Hell, the locals probably got fangirls that looked similar to her looking for Spiderman on a weekly basis.

Honestly, she admired their loyalty to their local vigilante, it just made it a bit more difficult to do what she came there for. She hadn't lasted 3 months, over 20 phone calls, an eternity on the bus ride from hell, and two days of wandering around, just to be stumped by some city searching though, so she marched on.

It was late Sunday afternoon and many glances down suspicious alleyways later that Eliza had a breakthrough in her search for the local vigilante. It came in the form of a group of drunk guys and an ignored catcall (which the aforementioned drunk guys apparently took as a challenge).

She hadn't thought much of just ignoring the tottering group as she'd passed them, it was after all an unfortunately common experience and not the first time that day, let alone weekend. What wasn't a common experience, however, was the sound of uneven foot steps and increasingly boisterous attempts at getting her attention as she moved down the street.

It wasn't quite dark yet but it didn't take away from the rising sense of panic that sped up both her heartrate and her steps. Interestingly enough, her increased speed didn't deter the group, if anything it seemed to encourage them. She cursed her lack of knowledge of the area, avoiding looking at Google maps in order to keep her eyes on her environment.

After a few blocks of power walking, an ill-timed red light and road work stopped her in her tracks and allowed the group to catch up with her.

"Heey girl!" One drawled.  "Come on, we just wanna say hi."

His friend stumbled along beside him slurring "Yeah, why ya gotta be so ru-ude? Juss' tryna give a compl'm-nt!" He hiccoughed and slumped just a bit more on another in the group.

She kept her eyes trained forward, directed to the traffic light but just out of focus enough to observe the drunken antics on her peripheral. She knew New York city was famous for its creeps but this was getting out of hand. Just the situation she was hoping to avoid; Alone at night with a group of men following her.

Sure, Spider Man patrolled this area, but she'd seen neither hide nor hair – nor web – of the guy in the days she'd been here and she wasn't too thrilled about putting her safety on the line to just have a slim chance of seeing him.

Her silence seemed to just egg the guys on, encouraging them to get closer and more obnoxious. What had previously been at a distance was now up close and within reach. Her hands tightened on her bag straps and her breath stuttered as she noticed their movements tilting towards her, stopping just short of actually touching.

Everything was just slightly out of focus as the sun was almost completely gone by now, leaving only the glow of the street lights and the pin-pricked lights of the passing cars to provide an eerie illumination of her entourage. It put her on edge more than it would have in the daylight, even if there were just as many people lining the street. No one had come to her aid, and most likely wouldn't have in the daylight either, so she resigned herself to tensely waiting for the change of traffic signal. The feeling of hyperawareness was a feeling that would linger and probably leave her too agitated to sleep that night.

"C'mon girl!" A third guy crooned patronisingly, propping his drooping friend up from a stumble. "Just give us a smile!"

Just to spite him, she scowled.

"Awww! Look! She can hear us!" Another hollered. "Smile! C'mon, smile! You'd look soooo much prettier! At leeast say hellloooo!"

The beeping of the crosswalk signal was her saviour in that moment and as soon as she heard it, she was off, practically jogging across the road. Unfortunately, that just happened to be the moment that someone decided that they were above the road rules for driving and that they needed to run a red light. Directly towards the crosswalk she was running across.

She was two steps off the sidewalk and mid-step when she heard a scream behind her and caught a brief glimpse of headlights to her left before she realised her mistake. Years of listening to her mother drill into her to look both directions before crossing the road flashed in her mind.

Everything seemed to fall into slow motion as she turned her head towards the light, the dark shadow behind the lights loomed closer and closer. She felt her eyes widen and her foot move through the air as if through molasses for split second and she had only a moment before a thought flashed through her mind.

Well...damn.  

A sudden weight crashing into her diaphragm punched the air from her lungs and caused her head to snap forward and her legs to trail in her wake as she flew through the air. She instinctively shut her eyes and tensed at the impact, the pain from the car taking a moment to register to her shocked mind, though the wind at her back as she flew through the air was mildly soothing. She was pretty sure that when she crashed into the ground, the pain would come through and be even worse.

A few seconds passed and, when she didn't feel the jagged impact on the ground and the wind continued to whistle past her ears and whip up her hair into what was going to be a definite birds nest, she realised  that the impact she had felt wasn't the front bumper of a car but instead an arm. It was an arm that had apparently swung out of nowhere and was still wrapped securely around her torso as it, or rather they, swung through the air and away from the middle of the street she was nearly flattened in.

She looked down at the arm and saw a sliver of red and blue...just before her eyes noted the fact that they were approximately four to five storeys above the ground and going faster than the cars below them. She would have screamed but her breath caught in her throat as they started dropping and getting closer and closer to the pavement below so she contented herself with clutching at the only lifeline she had. She briefly hoped that she hadn't left finger shaped bruises on her saviour's arm in her panic (as she was sure that would be poor rescue etiquette) but she realised later that, considering he dealt with troublemakers such as the Rhino and Electro, bruises would most likely be fine, if not non-existent.  

As they swung, she could faintly hear a consistent stream of chatter coming from behind her. The voice sounded young, excited and carefree.

"It's ok ma'am, I got you. Just hold on and we'll be on the ground before you know it." He whooped when they crested another swing - contrasting her own urge to either puke or scream - and continued the stream of babble as the wind rushed past her ears. She thought she heard a few questions, but she didn't answer on account of the mild terror thrumming through her veins.

They touched down in front of a well lit strip mall surprisingly lightly considering they were going over 30 miles an hour less than a minute beforehand. Eliza was glad for the iron grip maintaining its hold on her after their landing as she knew she would be a shaky puddle on the floor had she been placed down and let go of immediately. She locked her knees to prevent them from crumpling and took a moment to breathe and mentally kiss the ground beneath her.

The arm around her slowly pulled away when she stayed standing so she slowly turned around to make eye contact with her rescuer. Well... Eye-to-mask eye contact. Her heart practically beat out of her chest from nerves and whether it was because of the drunk guys, the near death experience, or from simply meeting one of the famous heroes, she wasn't sure. Truth be told, the combination of all three would probably give her a heart attack if she took the time to think about it.

She had barely turned around before she was being spoken to by the figure in the famous red and blue costume, his hands coming up to steady her as she stumbled back slightly from being closer then she'd thought.

"Oh my gosh! That was a close one! That car came out of nowhere, are you ok?" She nodded, tongue still stuck on the roof of her mouth, not that it seemed to matter to the superhero. He seemed pretty content to talk a million miles an hour even without her input. "You look alright. I mean, the swinging can be a bit terrifying the first time you do it, but better that than being hit by the car." The eyes on his mask narrowed a bit and he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Actually, you look a bit pale and Karen says yo-I mean, I think you might be going into shock. Here sit down for a bit."

She was gently nudged to a set of stairs and she sat down gratefully.

"Thanks Spider Man." She sighed and relaxed as much as she could onto the cold concrete.

"No problem!" He replied. She couldn't really tell because of his mask, but it sounded like he was grinning.

"Bloody hell." Eliza sighed again, dropping her head into her hands and resting her elbows on her knees. "That's the last time I cross the road without looking, even if I do need to get away from creeps."

"Yeah, checking the road is always a good idea." Spider Man agreed. "As for the creeps, you could try carrying around some pepper spray?" She snorted.

"Yeah, like looking down and rummaging through my bag is a good idea when surrounded. Aren't you supposed to suggest I keep my eyes and ears alert, avoid badly lit locations, and always walk with a friend?"

Now it was his turn to splutter. "W-well yeah... I guess that would kinda defeat the purpose of keeping your eyes on your surroundings." He scratched his head almost sheepishly before continuing, his tone turning fervent. "It is useful if you happen to be able to get it though! I once saw this lady spray this guy in the face and he was still rolling on the ground after I came back to check on him after I walked the lady home! I didn't realise how useful the pepper sprays were until that day!"  

Eliza could only grin at his earnestness. She could already feel the erratic beat of her heart calm into a more sedate pace and her breathing even out as they spoke. It was great to see someone trying their best to help and give advice on staying safe, all hints of superiority absent in his tone.

"If you're feeling better, would you like me to walk you home?" He asked suddenly. The offer made Eliza release some extra tension she didn't realised she still had.

She nodded. "That would be great actually. I'm staying in a hotel somewhere around here."

"Cool, I can definitely take you back!" He was already standing and excitedly bouncing. Geez, he had a lot of energy. "What hotel are you staying in?" When she told him, he nodded again. "Ok, that's not far from here. Do you feel alright enough to start walking?"

"Sure. I could do with a really hot bath right about now." Eliza said, taking Spider Man's hand he offered as she spoke. She idly ran her hand through her tangled hair. "And a brush by the feels of it."

Spider Man laughed and they started walking down the street.

"So where are you from?" He asked.  

"I'm visiting from New Jersey." She paused, realising suddenly that this is her chance. She took a deep breath. "I, uh, actually came to New York to find out if you could help me with something." Spider Man turned to her and with his face covered she couldn’t tell if he wanted her to continue or not. So she too another breath and continued anyway. "You see, I've been trying to get in touch with a superhero, any superhero, for a few months now and I haven't had any luck. I've met you though today so... yay!" Jazz hands added for good measure. "I could have done without the almost-getting-run-over part, but hey, if it means I get to finally ask you about seeing the kids then I'll take it I suppose."

She really could have done without the 'almost getting assaulted and then flattened' part of the evening but considering he hadn't outright declined immediately, she was counting it as a win.

He continued to stare at her, making Eliza desperate for a verbal response as she could not read his reactions with his bloody mask on. "Well, it'll depend what it is. If you want my help to take over the world, I'm sorry, but you'll have to find someone else." He said playfully. Eliza laughed, almost in relief.

"No nothing like that." She said waving her hand. "Just want some help making a couple of kids' remaining years enjoyable."  At this, Spider Man seemed to take more of a keen interest so she elaborated. "I work with the Make-A-Wish Foundation and I have a couple of kids who would love to meet a superhero." Her tone had turned soft as it usually did when she was talking about the kids.

He seemed to perk up even more, if that was even possible. "Oh really? That's so cool! I mean, it's really cool that you thought of me! I'd love to meet the kids! I'd have to run it by Mr. Sta- I mean, Tony, but it should be fine!" He was almost shaking now and she could practically see the excitement rolling off him in waves. When his words registered though, she couldn't help but sag a little in relief.

"Awesome. It's been a long few days." she said with a chuckle, rubbing her temples while trying to keep her eyes on him just in case he disappeared. "You're really hard to find."

Spiderman tilted his head to the side as they walked, "Really? I thought there was, like, an Instagram or Facebook page following me?" He said, making it sound more like a question than a statement. Eliza stared at him for a moment and he rubbed his head. "I can't remember if there's a twitter page, but I know for certain that there's an Instagram page that likes to keep up with me and they do a surprisingly good job of it too." Eliza mentally facepalmed. Of course social media would have the answers. Spidey fans have some of the best content and the most up-to-date info on their hero (second only to Tony Stark and that's only because Mr. Stark's been around longer and is a literal billionaire) since the Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman is so directly active in his community.

"Oh. Right. I completely forgot about that." Came her tired sigh. "Geez, I feel like such a failure of a millenial. I mean, what kind of millennial forgets about bloody Twitter and Instagram?"  

Spider Man laughed quietly, "It's fine. I know a few people at sc-work... who aren't on social media. Not many, but a few." After a moment, he asked, "So what are the kids like? Is Spider Man their favourite Superhero? I know I'm only kind of an Avenger, so it's cool they want to meet me!"

She snorted, "Are you kidding? Only 'kind of an Avenger'? Your battle last week with the lizard guy was on Youtube and you were working so well with Iron Man! One of the kids was practically vibrating out of his seat in excitement when he was showing me."

"Oh, you mean the one with both Mr. Stark and me going past? Yeah, that was a pretty good shot of us, we looked so cool at the end, it even stopped on a cool pose!"

As he continued enthusiastically, Eliza giggled. He almost reminded her of some of the kids. Energetic, easy to entertain and constantly bouncing between topics. Idly, she wondered how old Spider Man was. He didn't sound much older than her, and his energy....

"You know, Mr. Stark might be interested in meeting them too. I know he goes to a lot of charity functions." Eliza thought she heard him mumble, "He sure complains about them often enough." But she wasn't sure.

The comment made her crash back into the present. She felt her shoulders slump.

"Yeah. I tried getting in touch with him through the Maria Stark Foundation, but it didn't work out."

Spider Man seemed to frown at her tone, made obvious only by the slight narrowing of his eye lens things. "Really? How come?"

Sighing, she recounted her long and overly complicated phone journey through the bureaucratic chain of the Maria Stark Foundation and Stark Industries, followed by her brief but greatly disappointing interaction with Mr. Michael Walters. She was pretty positive this was going well and she could see her hotel across the street now so she let herself relax a bit. Suddenly feeling drained and really tired, she had to stop herself from stumbling the last of the distance to the building.

"I mean, it's understandable I suppose, the security that is. I get that Mr. Stark has a lot of enemies and I want what's best for the kids, so the safer the better." As she finished, she realised she probably sounded a bit whiny to one of the superheros that the safety protocols directly affected. At this point of the night however, she didn't have it in her to care all that much, not to mention, Spider Man was nodding encouragingly beside her. "At the same time though, I'm on a...bit of a time limit, you could say."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just, one of the kids I'm organising the meeting for has a progressive illness and, to be honest..." She paused, sadness filling her as she fiddled with the frayed end of her jacket's sleeve.

They'd come up to the main entrance to her hotel by now and she momentarily contemplated if it was really a good idea to bring it up, but she was fast running out of fucks to give and desperately wanted something good to come out of this hell-trip, "it's just...not very likely he'd make it the 18 months Mr. Walters said we had to wait. If anything, we're not sure if he'll make it to the end of this month."

Silence.

She looked at him and she saw him staring at her, lenses wide and standing eerily still beside her, his head cocked to the side.

After a moment, all he said was, "You know what? I'll talk to Mr. Stark. I'll see what we can do." And he swung away. Staring at the empty space beside her, it took a second for her to realise she was suddenly alone again. She hadn't even given him her number.

Still in shock and with fatigue starting to sit heavily on her bones, she shook herself and made her way toward the door, numbly figuring she was going to have to think of a different way to meet another superhero.

Eliza only had to wait two days before her life-risking journey paid off.

#tpromptsachallenge #my writing #To Grant a Wish #part 1

[fictionalnormalcy]

Face Amidst the Smoke Ch. 8

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1435 Characters: Astrid Hofferson, Hiccup Haddock Summary: Astrid is paired for a project with someone who she is definitely not eager to work with. Haddock has a reputation of being a bad student, just a bad role model in general. But in being forced to work with one of the worst seniors in the school, she comes to see what is under this bad boy’s exterior… and she may be getting in over her head.

Unlikely

He wore that very same cap on his head. Lopsided, but it must’ve been part of the uniform. He sat at a high desk, though not tall enough to tower over anyone. He gave no flicker of recognition as I waved, and instead he crossed his arms. He wore a collared dark brown shirt with the same hammer stitched into the fabric at the right side. There was a plastic nametag right above the symbol with Hiccup written in dark type.

Credit to: lyallwolfart

“How can I help you?” He asked again.

I had to admit, it was strange seeing him without the leather jacket. It let me see his pale arms. A bruise apparent on his forearm as he continued to glare.

“You don’t know me?”

He snorted. “So what? What are you fucking here for?” 

“Well,” I gestured to his shirt, “I found your place of work.” 

“You had to pull some detective work to find out that shit.”

“I’m glad I found you.”

“Well I’m not, if you don’t have a car that needs to get repaired or schedule an appointment, you may leave the premises.”

“Now that I’m here, we should at least try to-”

“You found my work. Now get out.” 

“I was thinking, that maybe until we get this project finished we could develop a schedule and go over to each other’s-”

“This couldn’t have waited until tonight?”

“There’s no one in here right now.” I reasoned. 

He scowled. “But I’m still on the clock. I don’t get paid to listen to schoolwork crap.” 

“You’re acting as if this is going to take the rest of the day,”

“With your rambling it probably will. Get out and you can try calling when I’m not supposed to stuck behind this stupid desk.” 

“Don’t think you’re getting rid of me so easily Haddock, there’s a reason why-”

He slammed a sign down right in front of me, on the verge of teetering off the desk to the floor. He pointed to each word with an angry finger.

“I know you can read Hofferson. We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. You don’t have a car, so you can just-”

“Hiccup!” A man with a grease-stained cap limbered into the room through a side door. “The Larson’s car i’ tae be picked up first thing Monday and it’s still nae finished!”

“Yeah so what?” His eyes drifted lazily to the side.

The man scratched at his blonde mustache as he pulled a clipboard off a wall behind Haddock. Finger running down to find something scribbled on the sheet. 

He sighed. “Lad he wants you to do the work. Specifically requested yae.”

“Well we can’t all get what we want can we?” He spun the desk chair to look at him. 

“Get tae work on it, now.” He pointed to the side door.

He looked at me as he climbed out of the chair. “Last chance to get the fuck out.” 

His boss didn’t seem to notice me. He continued to flick through the sheets on the clipboard, tsking to himself twice before placing it back on its hook. Then he did a once-over once he noticed me still glued to the desk. 

“He didnae help yae did he?”

“I came to-”

“Customer service is nae one a’ his strongest suits, bu’ better him than me. He can tolerate te ingrates without snapping at them. Do yae have an appointment lass?”

I shook my head. 

“I’m Astrid Hofferson.”I held out my hand for him to shake. “I’m a classmate of Hiccup’s. We got paired for a project.” 

“Yae planning on working on it today?” 

“In all honesty sir he didn’t even know I was coming.”

He chuckled. “He didn’t give you this address, did he? Well that’s Hiccup fer yae. Stubborn lad, just like his father. I’m Gordon Beicher, but yae can call me Gobber. I’m Hiccup’s godfather.”

“Nice to meet you.” I smiled. “I needed to meet with him over the weekend so we could get some progress done, and I remembered seeing that cap in his car, so I figured he worked here. Luckily he was actually in today.” 

“He’s in here more often than I’d like him tae be. One a’ my hardest workers, ‘nd it’s hard tae keep him tae a schedule because he shows up at any time he likes, but if yae’d like I can dismiss him early so he can work on this with yae.”

“He seemed very intent on kicking me out just now.”

“Just needs a little persuadin’ lass.”

“Sir as far as I’ve noticed, you’re the only one he actually listens to.” 

“Haven’t had much luck with him have yae.”

I took a deep breath. “It’s been a stressful week, Mr. Gobber. However, I am very determined to make Haddock do his part until we get this done.”

“I can give yae his address, if yae like. That way yae’ll be able to work together on this project in a more private setting.”

“His address?” I asked for clarification.

“He doesnae live with me. Hasn’t fer some time now.”

“But he’s a minor, he’s supposed to-”

“Do yae know the lad smokes?”

“Isn’t a mystery in the slightest.” I shook my head. “Everyone on campus knows he smokes. Hiccup doesn’t bother to hide it.”

“I told him that as long as he smokes he cannae live under me roof.”

“And that prompted him to move out? How could his parents not have-”

“Neither his father or mother are around tae tell him what he shouldn’t be doing.” His face grew grim as he held out a slip of paper toward me.

I took it, reading the address and noting that it was a familiar street. A few blocks over from my own place of work. In the, more dangerous part of Berk. Gods. He really should be under Gobber’s roof. 

“So he isn’t living with his parents either.”

“Hiccup has claimed his independence.”

“Pardon me Mr. Gobber, but how can he afford this? Is he a full-time worker here at the shop?”

Recalling that he also owned a car, and from what I knew an expensive one at that. 

“As said, he comes in whene’er he wants. I pay him his hours, though there is someone helping him out.” His blue eyes seemed to darken. 

“Thank you anyway for the address, Mr. Gobber. I-”

“Gobber, lass. No need for mister.” 

“Could I have your phone number as well? I feel, that you’d tell me more than Hiccup ever would.”

Gobber grinned, exposing a silver tooth on his lower jaw.  “No problem with that either lass. Yer goin’ tae need someone tae keep me godson in line.”

“You know, it is funny that Hiccup listens to you more than his own parents.” 

Apparently, any mention of the parents seemed to dampen his mood. His smile disappeared, but he took out his cell phone and showed me his contact number. 

“Hopefully he can find a friend in yae Astrid. Come ‘round back. Time yae got some progress done on that project.”

I followed him through the side door to the expansive work space. There were about five cars spread out, two elevated, and there were clangs coming from a gleaming white Jeep. Some tables planted at different walls, and two red rollable large toolboxes. 

“Gobber, you tell that fucking Larson that the mechanics of the car is not where you store food!”

“What?” Gobber chuckled in amusement as we approached the Jeep. 

“Him or a troll stuffed a croissant near the air filter. Stale and dirty, and it’s,” He grunted, “not fucking coming out, DAMMIT!”

He pried it free, stretching his arm back to throw it into a trashcan at the garage door. 

“If there’s crumbs in there I am not vacuuming.”

“Is that all the maintenance needed?”

“Got it done. And why is she still here? She didn’t have an appointment.”

“Told me about yer group project.” He raised an eyebrow at him. 

He turned back to the hood. “Fucking great.” 

“I’ll give it a final check over. Yae can clock out and get to work on it. Give her a ride to the apartment.”

“Umm, why?”

“This isnae up for debate. Do it.” Glaring at him to intensify the command.

After a 60 second stare-off, Haddock sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. He made a show of removing his apron and shoving me aside to go hang it on a hook.

“Go wait for me at my car.” Forest green eyes locked contact with me. “Be there soon.” 

#httyd #fanfiction #face amidst the smoke #ch 8 #ao3 #astrid hofferson #hiccup haddock #gobber the belch #modern day au

[strwbrryeos]

The Magic Shop (M)

SUMMARY; Your mother always told you magic came at a price. You should’ve listened. Well, at least you got revenge on that stupid shapeshifter Yoongi.

Genre : smut, angst, magic!au

Pairing : witch!Reader x shapeshifter!Yoongi

Contains : rough sex, grinding, nipple play, unprotected sex, you’re soulmates Jungkook said so, oral, hand job, creampie, enemies to lovers, major character death, lotta angst, sorry not sorry, dirty talk, praise kink, minor dom!Yoongi, finger sucking

Links removed! Please visit my blog for the master list!

Yoongi can feel the wind rushing under him; it’s almost as amazing as how free he feels. He loves this. Loves as the air bends around him, doing his bidding and keeping him afloat.

His favorite thing, however, has to be the fact that for a time, he can forget about you.

Well, that is until he lands to find you scowling at him with a very grumpy face. Terrible.

“Min Yoongi!” you screech, causing passersby to nearly jump out of their skin.

Yoongi huffs, shedding his owl form for that of a handsome, young man. So much for the freedom. “What?” he groans. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He shoves his way past you and into the store, ignoring the way your eyes burn holes into his back. Or at least, he tries to ignore it. But then he’s acutely aware of how his back hurts and oh my god is that smoke?

“Y/N!” he screams in panic, “stop it! Stop it!”  

“What? You seem―”

“Y/N!” shouts a new voice, distant and annoyed. “Stop setting your coworker on fire!”

With a dissatisfied sigh and a snap of your fingers, the flame on Yoongi’s back disappears, though the new scorch marks on his shirt aren’t much better. “Really?” he asks, and he has half a mind to turn into a wolf right now and snap your neck. Maybe next time.

“Next time don’t be late,” you say with a simple shrug.

“Are you just mad because I bit you last time?”

“You could’ve given me rabies!”

“For the last time, Y/N, I don’t have rabies!”

“That’s exactly what a person with rabies would say.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

You and Yoongi work as you always do: in perfect tandem but complete silence. Part of the reason that the wizard you work for hasn’t fired either of you yet is because, despite how absolutely morbidly you get along, you work fine as long as you don’t talk. The wizard likes it that way anyway.

He hired the both of you about two years ago; you, for your wonderful knack for magic and Yoongi for his healing abilities as a shapeshifter. The perfect duo to run an all-needs magic shop.

It’s too bad you hate each other, though.

The wizard, Seokjin, comes down from his lot, shaking his head at the two of you as he watches you work. “Still nothing, huh?” he asks with a laugh. “You’d think you’d get along better after so much time together.”

“Maybe we would if she weren’t such a―”

“I will literally give you fleas,” you cut him off, causing Seokjin to roll his eyes in exasperation.

“You know, part of what makes a good magician is being able to work with other people,” he says as he begins shuffling through the day’s schedule. “It’s important, especially if you’re gonna be a healer.”

“I have good people skills,” Yoongi huffs. “It’s this one who doesn’t.”

“It’s only when I’m around you,” you reply without so much as looking up from your pot. You turn to Seokjin, changing the subject. “I brewed the first potion of the day already,” you say, gesturing to your work. “The customer will be here to pick it up in about twenty minutes. I can get working on the next one if you want.”

Seokjin nods in approval. “Good work. Looks perfect. But I think I’ll do the next. You get started on the three o’clock appointment.”

“Sure thing.”

“And Yoongi,” he says, turning his attention to the man as he fiddles with his burnt shirt, “I’m pretty sure there’s a unicorn coming in later. Take care of that, would you?”

“You got it, Boss.”

Seokjin throws him a thumbs up, fixing his shirt in the process, before giving a few final instructions and vanishing into the air. You return to your work in silence, humming what is, to Yoongi’s ears, incoherent gibberish. It makes his ears ring, though magic spells always seem to have that kind of effect on his much-too-sensitive senses. Your hands wave in a defined yet random way over the cauldron until it turns the perfect shade of glass blue. Despite the annoyed rumbling deep in his chest that comes from being near you, Yoongi can’t help deny that you always look your best when you’re working. Maybe it’s because you’re not talking either.

Where you deal with the potions and the spells and magic items (seriously, why do talking cloaks even exist?), Yoongi specializes in magical nature, whether it be plants or animals or that really weird growth on a person’s skin that they swear is whispering stupid pick-up lines to them when they’re trying to fall asleep. He pokes around the greenhouse, checking in on his new batch of nightshade and making sure to give the silver orchids extra water. He whistles while he works, and a few of the live-in fairies come to pay him a visit from their gardens.

“How are you, Yoongi?” asks one delicately, fluttering in front of his face.

He smiles at the creature, her wings sparkling in the sunlight but so paper-thin that they’re nearly invisible, and says, “Better now that you’re here,” and the little fairy zips away in shyness. Another fairy appears, opting to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder as the shapeshifter makes his way towards the back of the greenhouse.

“How’s your coworker?” he asks.

Yoongi grunts in response, the thing in his chest growling in annoyance. “Always the worst.”

“Eh, I like her.”

“Still don’t understand why.”

“She’s cool! You should get to know her. I think you guys would make good friends.”

The other fair reappears, taking her place on Yoongi’s opposite shoulder. “Doubt it! Yoongi is nice! Y/N is not!”

“Oh, you’re just biased ‘cause he paid you a nice compliment!”

“I can pay you a compliment too, if you’d like, Novus,” Yoongi says with a soft laugh, and the small creature is blushing, angry at having been so easily charmed.

“Whatever,” the fairy scoffs. “Y/N is a good witch. You’re just angry.”

“And you’re not?” cries his female counterpart. “I don’t understand why you defend her. She doesn’t even come in here.”

“That’s cause this big ol’ shifter here won’t let her. How do you think she gets her spell ingredients?”

Yoongi jumps a little in realization. “So you’re the one that’s been taking from my supplies!”

“It’s not taking if it’s from my own home!”

“I guess,” chuckles Yoongi, really not caring but glad to have solved that mystery. “We’re not gonna be friends, though, Novus.”

“I think you two have more in common than you think?”

“Like what?”

“Well―”

“They don’t have anything!”

“Stay out of this, West!” The grouchy fairy continues. “You’re both here to help people, for starters.”

“So we have one career interest. Doesn’t make her more appealing.”

“I know you both like music.”

“Everybody likes music!”

“And you’re magical.”

“Everybody is magical, Novus!” laughs an exasperated Yoongi. “Look, let me just go water the shrooms and then I’ll leave you two alone, okay?”

“No, no, please take West with you. She never shuts up about you.”

“Novus!” West exclaimes, embarrassed and scandalized. “Be quiet.”

Yoongi only shakes his head, ignoring the bickering fairies that stay perched on his shoulders. A few gnomes come to greet him, but they’re quick to leave, annoyed by the chattering of the winged creatures. After Yoongi attends to the shrooms (during which the damned things wouldn’t shut up about how he and you were destined for life, claiming they could see into his soul), he retreats from the greenhouse and back into the real world.

He finds you in the shop, busily attending five different customers, and he already knows he’s going to get hell for this as soon as they’re done. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asks, rushing down the wooden steps. The customer glares at you before returning a friendly grin to Yoongi.

“Finally some service around here! I need to pick up an order. Heat suppressants for a young hybrid.”

“Sure thing,” Yoongi says, moving to the counter. “Name?”

“Lee Daesong.”

“Got it.”

Yoongi turns around, shuffling through the wooden cabinets behind him. He pulls out a small sack where the name “Lee Daesong” is printed in fine, gold ink. Yoongi hands it the man and he returns a smile and a handful of gold pieces.

“Thanks. Have a good day.”

“You too. Come back soon.”

Yoongi watches as you help an old witch with a spell before escorting her out of the shop, and you close the door with an exasperated sigh, whipping around to face your co-worker. He’s expecting you to yell, but instead he’s greeted with cold silence. You seethe instead, sitting down at your workstation and ignoring him entirely.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Not even gonna talk to me now?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Y/N,” the shifter whines, standing in front of your desk. “For fucks sake, we work together!”

“Unfortunately.”

“C’mon, really?”

You look up, staring him in the eye as your finger flicks the air, turning the pages of the book for you. “You left me to deal with five angry customers all on my own, and Seokjin is probably gonna hear about it and have my head!”

“Look, I’ll vouch, okay? My fault.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “as if. We all know he loves you.”

“Loves me? You’re his prodigy student!” Yoongi exclaims, and he can feel his blood beginning to heat up.

You stand up, glaring at him. “Whatever. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Yoongi retorts before stomping off. You hear the distinct slam of the greenhouse door, and you sit back down in a huff.

It’s not like Yoongi is a bad person. He’s a great person. Hell, he’s perfect. And maybe that’s what pissed you off so much about him.

You liked him when you first met him. You might’ve even harbored a small crush on him. But after years of being groomed as the “prodigy student,” the girl destined for greatness, it irked you to find someone so good at magic―and so easily praised by your idol. Working for the Wizard Seokjin is a dream come true, but he never seems to have time for you. He might give you a passive nod after a potion well-done, but all Yoongi needs to do is smile at him and all of a sudden he’s getting cakes and cookies and a new plant to take care of.

Quite simply, you hated that. So you hated him.

The only good thing that came out of meeting Yoongi was the fact that you push yourself to be the best you can be every single day. You practice your magic into long, dark hours, ignoring the pulse of your head after so many spells. Magic flows from your fingers with incredible ease, and everywhere but the shop, at least, you are praised for it. At least something was worth it.

As the sun finally set to reveal a shimmering night sky, Yoongi flips the shop’s sign to “closed,” and you both begin packing up for the evening. Seokjin returns, his arms stuffed to the brim of all kinds of wacky looking plants and contraptions. Yoongi rushes to help him, ending up with a hoard of stuff that piled high and obscured his vision.

You crack a smile until Yoongi says, “I can feel your happiness. Stop it.”

Seokjin sets down his bags before taking the load off, one by one, and ratting off each thing’s use. “This one,” he says, holding up a clear jar with red fluid sloshing around in it, “is siren’s blood. Straight from the Seventh Sea. Pretty isn’t it? See the way it glitters?”

“Gross,” Yoongi says, his nose scrunching in distaste. “I can smell it through the jar.”

“What’s it for?” you ask.

“Really good for curses,” Seokjin replies as he stashes it away. “It’s pretty potent stuff. Good for enemies.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“It’s not to be used on innocent shapeshifters!” Yoongi pipes up, not liking the idea of you having access to such a thing.

“You act as if I would hurt you―”

Both Seokjin and Yoongi interrupt you with a sharp look.

“―on purpose! You didn’t let me finish!”

“The ‘innocent shapeshifter’ is right, Y/N. No curses.” Yoongi smiles triumphantly until the wizard says, “And you’re not allowed to use it to make yourself into some terrifying, super animal, okay?”

“Wait, I can do that?”

“Don’t give him ideas!” you shout.

“Enough, enough,” Seokjin says with a dismissive wave of his hands. “Gods, you two really don’t know when to cut it out, do you? No matter. I’ll see you both bright and early in the morning! Now get out. I can’t stand the sound of you two arguing.”

You and Yoongi give him a sheepish grin and utter your goodbyes before exiting the shop. The streets have a wispy, yellow glow to them, courtesy of the streetlights. You see a few pixies flying near the rooftops, dancing to a tune that you can’t hear.

“Gonna stand there the entire night?” asks Yoongi from behind you, ruining the serenity of the moment.

“Not as long as you’re here,” you reply cooly. You step away from him, turning to head home. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t be afraid to call in sick.”

“And make your day? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Yoongi watches you go, shaking his head in irritation. You hear the sound of him morphing, but when you turn around, his figure is long gone. You shrug, continuing down the quiet street on your own. You pass stores and boutiques, markets and taverns before arriving at a cozy cafe on the street’s corner.

The bell on the door jingles as you push your way in, and a fluffy, two-headed puppy bounds its way up to you. You squat down in excitement, cooing and petting the dog until a shadow appear over you.

“I swear he likes you more than me. One day he’s just gonna leave with you.”

“If that’s the case I can consider my life a successful one. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Dork,” he says with a cheesy grin, pulling you into a hug. “How was work?”

“Terrible.”

“Yoongi?”

“Hate that guy.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and laughs, walking back towards the counter, his cloak flowing behind him. “He’s a good guy,” he says as he turns on the latte machine. “I don’t know what you have against him.”

You groan. “Can everyone stop telling me he’s such a great guy? I’m over it!”

“Well, he is. Sorry.”

“Taehyungie,” you whine. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. Take my side for once!”

“As your best friend it is my legal obligation to tell you when you should shut the fuck up and make friends with the guy.”

You huff, sitting in a chair with Cosmo comfortably seated in your lap. “That’s it. Cosmo is my new best friend.”

“Fine. Yoongi is mine.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Taehyung shrugs, bringing back a latte for you and a juice for himself. “I’ve known him forever. He’s a good friend.”

“Better than me?”

“No,” Taehyung snorts, “you both are terrible. Always complaining about each other and never doing anything about it.”

Cosmo hops off of your lap to snuggle up next to his owner. Taehyung alternates between heads, scratching them both behind the ears.

“Oh, he talks about me?”

“Don’t let it inflate your ego. He’s just telling me about what a bad person you are. You two seriously need to think about couple’s therapy. It’s been two years.”

“Taehyung―”

“Look, Y/N, in all seriousness, I love you both. Sure, I’ve known you longer, but I’d be lying if I said Yoongi wasn’t a good friend.” He pauses to sip his drink. “But if you both are going into the same career, which is, keep in mind, healing, then you need to learn to work with people you don’t like.”

“Yeah, but Yoongi is―”

“Is a person that you’re spending a lot of time with, like it or not. Might as well make the most of the situation.”

You slump in your chair, suddenly feeling very childish. You love Taehyung, but you hate how he’s always right. He’s too damn smart. “I knew I should’ve talked to Hoseok today.”

“Really?” Taehyung laughs. “The man’s a sadist! He’d be giving you the worst advice possible.”

“Well, maybe that’s what I need.”

“Oh, fuck off, Y/N. C’mon. Try it my way first. Then, if it really, really sucks, you can go talk to the witchdoctor and see what he has to say.”

“Fine, fine. But only because I love you.”

“Mmhmm, I love you, too. Now go. Namjoon’s coming to pick me up.”

“Oh?” you say as you stand. “How’s that going?”

“Would probably go better if you weren’t here when he showed up!” he exclaims as he about shoves you out the door.

“Okay, okay, okay! Bye, Taehyung.”

“Bye, Y/N. Let me know how it goes tomorrow, okay?”

“Will do. Can I take Cosmo with me?”

“Not a chance.”

“Fucker.”

Against Taehyung’s wishes, you show up at Hoseok’s door anyway, and he greets you with a mischievous smile. “Can I do something for you, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “I need a curse.”

―

You take a deep breath before entering the shop, trying to swallow the last of your pride. Taehyung is right, you know it. You just need to be the bigger person.

You climb the steps, and the door opens with a soft creak. Yoongi is already there, humming quietly as he organizes his plants. There’s a fairy napping on his shoulder, but she flies out of sight as soon as she hears you.

Yoongi looks up, expecting a snide remark, but he’s pleasantly surprised when all you say is, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Do anything fun last night?” you ask as you rifle through the papers that Seokjin has left at your desk.

“I―uh, yeah. Visited some friends.”

“Cool, me too.” You sit down, your eyebrows scrunched in concentration as you take in the information before you. Most of the papers are written in Ancient Draconian, and you can’t for the life of you remember what the squiggly symbol means.

“Hey, uh,” Yoongi interrupts you, waving a hand in front of your face.

You look up in confusion, not expecting to see him standing so close. “Yeah? What?”

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just… acting really nice, is all.”

Your cheeks flush and you look back down, averting his gaze. “I just figure that we should be nicer to each other is all.”

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. Taehyung. He points to the squiggly symbol on the paper. “Mix thoroughly.”

You pause, not quite registering that Min Yoongi just willingly helped you. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He turns around, going back to work. The fairy from before is now hiding in his hair, eyeing you suspiciously. “She’s up to something,” West whispers just loud enough for Yoongi to hear.

“Don’t be so cynical.”

The two of you are doing your own thing in silence until Seokjin pops into the shop with a loud whap. He stops immediately, watching as the two of you work peacefully. “Did someone die?”

“Nope. Just trying something new.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes, glancing feverishly between the two of you. “It’s weird. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like us getting along?” you ask.

“What can I say? I must’ve gotten used to two years worth of unnecessary yelling.” The two of you say nothing as he begins his ascent up the stairs. Halfway up, he halts before saying, “You’re not fucking, are you?”

“W-What!”

“No!”

Seokjin puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry. Felt like I had to ask.” And with that, he disappears.

The air is thick with uncomfortable tension until someone walks in, and you both breathe in relief. It’s an attractive young man, dressed in a suit of fine, red silk and a black robe. He fiddles with his watch before turning his attention towards you.

“I’m here to pick up a potion.”

“O-Oh, yes. Sorry. Uh, name?”

“Jeon Jungkook. Can I also pick up a few ingredients while I’m here?”

“Sure. Yoongi can help you with that.”

Yoongi hops beside you, giving the visitor a gracious smile. “What are you looking for today, Sir?”

“Mm, a few things. Fairy wings, golden nightshade, black shrooms, and a couple of unicorn tears.”

“Sure,” Yoongi says with a nod. “The fairy wings and unicorn tears are here, and if you prefer, you can pick out the nightshade and shrooms yourself.”

“I would like that very much, yes.”

“Follow me then.”

Yoongi leads Jungkook to the greenhouse, and the two of them walk in silence until Jungkook says, “So how long have you and Y/N been together?”

Yoongi stops, eyes wide. “I―uh. What? We’re not… How do you know her name?”

“Oh, my bad,” Jungkook says with a small laugh. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the future from the present.”

“What?”

“I’m a seer. Sorry if that wasn’t clear. I can see people as they are now and who they’re going to become. Trying to work on seeing people in the past, but that’s a bit tricky. Everybody’s hidden themselves away.”

“So,” Yoongi says as he leads them towards the field of nightshade, “you’re telling me that we… me and Y/N… we become a couple?”

“Should I not have said anything?”

“No I just… We hate each other.”

“Hate? Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What are you talking about? There’s not a single day that she and I have ever gotten along.”

Jungkook smiles and sticks his hands in his pockets. Yoongi thinks he looks infuriatingly calm. “She envies you. You admire her. Your ‘hate’ is just a miscommunication. Plus your souls are practically yearning to be together. I thought it was obvious.”

They stop at the nightshade garden, and Jungkook begins picking his way through them, leaving a dumbfounded Yoongi to process this information alone. “So we’re… soulmates?” Yoongi asks quietly as Jungkook picks his plant.

“Yep,” the seer says quite nonchalantly. “But beyond that it’s kind of blurry. Not sure why.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. It’s blurry. What more do you want me to say?”

“I’m not a mage. I don’t know what ‘blurry’ means.”

“It means I can’t see. I can see images. I see you two together. But beyond that it’s all very hazy. It’s blurry.”

“Sounds like a lot of projection to me,” Yoongi replies as he leads the young seer to the shroom patch. “Did Taehyung put you up to this?”

“Oh, you know Taehyung? I love that guy! His dog is super cute too.”

“He did, didn’t he?”

Jungkook laughs again. “Certainly not. Taehyung takes orders. Doesn’t give ‘em,” he says with a smirk.

Yoongi cringes. He did not need to know that. “Here are the shrooms. The black ones are back there.”

Jungkook nods, careful not to tread on any. “Shrooms can see into your soul too, can’t they? What do they say?”

Yoongi knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to give this guy the smug satisfaction of being right. “I don’t know.”

“Hm, maybe I’m wrong then.” He steps back onto the main path and Yoongi begins to lead them back into the shop. “But I’m probably not. Thanks for the stuff. How much will that be?”

“That’s forty-six gold,” you interject from your place at the counter.

“Perfect. I’ll see you two love-birds around, yeah? Have a good day.”

You watch him exit with wide eyes before turning to Yoongi. “Uh…”

“Don’t ask. Guy’s crazy.”

―

At some point, you’re not really sure when, you realize that you don’t actually have to try to be nice to Yoongi. You can just do it. Maybe he’s not all bad.

He still irritates you, though.

“So I hear you two are getting along now, huh?” Taehyung says from across the table.

Hoseok, who had been slurping at his food noisily, stops and looks up. “Yoongi?”

“Yeah. We are. Doesn’t make him less annoying though.”

“How’s that curse going?”

“No need for your curses, Hoseok,” Taehyung replies with a shake of his head.

Hoseok shrugs. “Too late. Already done.”

Taehyung looks at the both of you in shock. “You did what?” he screams.

“Relax,” he says around a mouthful of food. “It’s nothing bad. Just take away something he loves.”

“Hoseok!”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt anyone. The thing he loves most right now is an old record player.”

“Or,” Taehyung interjects, “you could, I don’t know, not.”

“Ah, you’re no fun.” He turns his attention back to you. “So tell me more about this Yoongi character. Y’all gonna fuck?”

Taehyung’s face turns at his crass statement, and you slap his arm. “We will not! He’s a friend.” The words were out of your mouth before you could think about it, and Taehyung’s face is absolutely glowing.

“He’s a friend! Oh my gods I have to go tell the whole world.”

“Please, don’t. I hate you.”

“It’s okay. You love Yoongi.”

“Wow, can’t believe she’s all grown-up. Boyfriend and everything,” Hoseok laughs.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you shout defensively.

“Yeah, yeah. So I hear he’s a pretty powerful shapeshifter, right? Super young too.”

“Yeah,” says Taehyung. “He’s got a pretty impressive streak. And you hear the rumors about his family? They say that Min shapeshifters can become magical entities.”

“Aren’t they already magical entities themselves?”

“No, no, like demons. Angels. Unicorns. Mermaids. Dragons.”  

“What? No way. And a healer too, huh? Sounds like you two are perfect together, Y/N.”

“We’re not―”

“Oh no,” Taehyung says, “they’re soulmates.”

“Can you both please―”

“I knew it.”

“Stop it!” you bark, causing them both to stop and look at you. “Nothing is happening! He’s a friend, okay? Yes. That’s it. Now, my break is over, so I need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?”

“Yeah, alright. See you.”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself as you make your way back to the shop. When the door opens, you’re afraid to find yourself suddenly pinned to the floor and face-to-face with a very mean looking wolf. Your body is frozen in panic, and for a second you forget any magic you had ever learned.

But then the wolf turns into a man, and you’re faced with one happy looking Min Yoongi. “That’s for being late,” he says as he climbs off you before extending you a hand.

You take it, and apparently Yoongi is stronger than you think because he pulls you right up, and now you’re face-to-face with his chest instead. Wow.

“Jerk,” you murmur before pulling away, the slightest tint to your cheeks.

“Aw, don’t be mad. You set my shirt on fire when I was late, remember?”

“Oh, right―”

“And then you said I had rabies.”

You cringe, preferring not to remember the more unsavory aspects of your behavior towards him. “Right. I know. I deserved that. I’m sorry.”

Yoongi laughs, his cheeks crinkling to accommodate his big smile. “Wow, I can’t believe I got an apology out of you.”

“That’s the only one you’ll ever get,” you say with a smile.

The day goes by easily; you spent most of it poured over your books. Seokjin left plenty of things for you to decrypt, most of them being lost spells. Where he acquired them you were afraid to ask.

“It’s closing time,” Yoongi says, appearing beside you. You look up, surprised to see that the world is dark beyond the shop’s windows.

“Oh. I didn’t even notice.”

“You’re too wrapped up in… what is this? Elvish?”

You giggle. “Nope. Mermaidian. Can you believe it?”

“I thought their spells were lost in the sinking of Atlantis.”

You thought so too, but apparently not. “Don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “And I’m not about to ask Seokjin. He does enough sketchy activity on his own.”

“You might have a point. C’mon. I’ll clean if you file.”

“Aw, what a gentleman.”

The cabinet complains loudly as you nudge it open, filing away the day’s receipts. Yoongi swipes up any stray dirt and waters his plants one last time. Your mind is preoccupied with the spells, though, and you’re running through the motions in your head. As soon as you’re finished, you’re back at your desk, trying to comprehend its instructions. You don’t notice Yoongi leaning on the broom, watching you intensely. The way you run your fingers through your hair, or the way your hair keeps falling out from behind your ears. The way you get a slight flush to your cheeks when you’ve made a breakthrough, or the adorable way you whisper as you talk yourself through it.

It’s when you smile to yourself and the thing in Yoongi’s chest damn near purrs that he drops the broom he’s leaning on and almost falls because, well, when did he catch feelings for you?

You perk up, alerted by the noise. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice shaking slightly. “Scared myself is all. I think I’m tired.”

You nod. “Go home.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. What about you?” he asks as he grabs his bag.

“I’ll close up. Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Yoongi departs and you throw yourself back into your work, the solitary atmosphere something of second nature to you. You read the words of the script outloud, the hand motions coming to you naturally, and glittery, golden water fills up your hands. The fairy Novus, who likes to come and watch you sometimes, gives you a cheer, and you file the spell away, moving on to the next.

This one is a bit harder, and you laugh a bit to yourself because, hey, this one is in Elvish. It takes a couple tries (and a lot of frustrated murmuring) before you’re able to get it; thorny vines erupt from shimmering green sigils on the ground, whipping around dangerously like they’re looking for an enemy to strike. You quickly reverse your actions, the sigils vanishing into thin air and taking the vines along with it.

“Old Elvish battle spell,” you say to Novus as you file it away. “Good for enemies.”

“What about this one?” He flies down to your desk, picking a spell written on burn parchment. The writing shimmers, but there’s something deeply unsettling about it. You shrug and pick it up.

“Not sure. Looks Draconian, but it’s not.”

Novus hovers over it for a second before looking up at you in realization. “Oh! It’s an old spell from the Blood Age! It’s like a combination of Draconian and Vampiric.”

“Hmm, sounds utterly terrifying.” You smile. “I’m gonna try it.”

“Do you need help reading it?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

Novus shakes his head, sitting atop your shoulder as he helps you recite the words. When you’ve learned it fully, Novus steps back and watches the magic happen.

―

Yoongi is halfway through his flight home when he feels it. The thing in his chest growls, twists and turns and he abruptly drops in altitude, suddenly feeling very wrong. It doesn’t take him long to realize that something’s happened to you, and he’s darting back towards the shop within seconds.

There’s an eerie red light emanating from the shop when he gets there, and when he knocks on the door, he gets no answer. “Y/N?” he shouts. “It’s me. Are you okay?”

No answer. The Thing urges him forward, begging him to just kick down the damn door.

So he does.

The door opens to reveal you, eyes closed as you cry out, your feet chained down by restraints that wind up from a terrifying, red portal. Yoongi takes a step towards you before he’s pushed roughly back by a small, purple light.

“Don’t touch it!” Novus shouts. “It’s bad magic! Bad magic!”

“What? What happened? We need to get her out of there!”

“No, no, no,” the fairy cries, zipping around the shop in a panic. “Bad magic, it’s bad magic…”

Yoongi turns to you, and the Thing shouts as he watches you scream in pain, your eyes opening for a split second to land on him before closing again. He doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is that you’re hurting and something is trying to take you from him and oh, gods, why does his chest hurt so bad?

He doubles over in pain, and his head starts to feel fuzzy, like he’s falling asleep. The Thing roars, and he blacks out.

When he wakes up, he’s in his apartment. He does not remember getting there. He also does not know why you’re cradled in his arms, nor does he know why he physically can’t bring himself to let you go. But most importantly, why are the two of you on the hard-fucking-floor?

Yoongi lifts you gently and brings you into his room. He tucks you underneath the covers before tucking you under him, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he pulls you tightly to his chest. He breathes in your scent before drifting off again, his mind hazy.

―

You wake with a start, the previous night’s events rushing back to you at once. You remember Novus. You remember the language. You remember the words. You remember watching as your hands conjured a portal straight from Hell, and you watched as the Devil’s Ropes ensnared your feet, then your legs and hands. You remember a voice, a deep, ugly voice whispering your darkest fears in your ears. You remember blinding pain, coursing through your body as if in your very blood. But most important you remember Yoongi. He was there. He transformed into something terrible, something you never though capable, and he closed the portal himself.

And as everything came back to you, your body shook, and tears fell from your face. You bury your head in the pillow, afraid that when you open your eyes you would see it all again.

But when you do open your eyes again it’s to a soft-smiling Yoongi, gently rubbing the tears off your cheeks. “Don’t worry,” he says, “You’re safe with me.”

You hesitate, all of a sudden unsure of how to act, before rolling into him, body pressed right against his as you cry. He holds you close, stroking you lightly and whispering reassurances until your body stops trembling.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his chest. “Thank you for saving me.”

He leans down and kisses your head, an act that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. “What would I do without my favorite coworker?”

You sit up abruptly. “Work! Seokjin’s gonna kill me! I’m―”

“Come here,” he says, grabbing you by the hand and putting you back on the bed. “You’re taking a day off. I’ll tell him what happened.”

“But Yoongi―”

“Good luck trying to argue with me,” he laughs. “I’ll send Taehyung over to check on you, okay?”

You nod, sinking back down into the bed. “Okay.”

―

“I can’t believe it! He’s your prince charming!”

“Shut up, Tae. So he saved me from a demonic portal. Big deal.”

“Gods, you’re dense.”

“What are you talking about?” you groan.

“Okay, tell me, how did Yoongi know to come back for you?”

“Uh, I don’t know, lucky guess?”

“You know, as smart as you are, you can be pretty stupid.”

“Hey!”

“Shapeshifters have what can only be described as a thing in their chest, right? The source of all their powers?”

“Yeah, yeah. This is common knowledge, Tae.”

“Well the Thing is alert to danger when something they care strongly for is in trouble.”

“Okay…?”

“Holy fuck, you’re slow! He cares about you! And a hell of a lot too if his Thing thinks you’re that important.”

“What, so, it thinks I’m like his mate?”

“I mean, weird way to put it, but yeah. Pretty much.”

You lean back, your soup long forgotten. “Woah.”

“Now the question is, how do you feel about him?”

“I actually… I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it.”

“Well, get thinking about it. ‘Cause the truth is out there for him at least. I know you like to hide yourself from people, Y/N,” Taehyung says, standing to clean up. “But do yourself a favor, okay? Don’t hide from him.”

Taehyung leaves you confused and irritated in Yoongi’s apartment, and there’s not much for you to do except pace back and forth impatiently.

“How do I feel about Yoongi?” you said aloud. “Hell if I know!” You flick your fingers in agitation, sparks flying from them every so often. Okay, yes, he’s good looking. Really good looking, but who’s paying attention? He’s got a heart of gold; you’ve seen it firsthand.

But that doesn’t mean you like him, right?

Sure, he can be equal parts infuriating and equal parts endearing. And, sure, the way that little kids and magical creatures alike flock to him is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, and yes, he has the cutest smile, and wow you wish you weren’t so stupid because you’ve obviously liked him for a while now. Maybe you even loved him. At this point, who knew? Certainly not you.

You flop down on his couch in defeat. You really should’ve seen that coming from a mile away. At least Taehyung did.

The door rattles and keys jingle from the other side of it, and you realize that the sun had set long ago. You sit up, looking a bit frazzled as Yoongi walks in, and he looks just as startled, not really expecting you to pop up like that.

“What’s up?” he asks with a laugh, placing his keys on the counter.

“Not much. Thanks for sending Taehyung over by the way. How was work? Was Seokjin mad? Is he going to fire me?”

“Relax,” he says as he comes to sit next to you. “He felt really bad, actually. He never meant to put that spell in your stack.”

“Oh.”

Yoongi looks at you with a sweet, sincere smile, and suddenly it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time. His pretty, pale skin. The way his hair falls over his head. His deep, thoughtful eyes.

“Something wrong?” he asks, pulling you out of your trance.

“Um. No. Actually. Okay, wow, I just…”

Don’t hide from him.

“I wanna tell you something.”

“Why doesn’t that sound good?”

“No, no, it’s good!” You pause. “I hope.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Okay, okay.” You take a deep breath. Taehyung’s words replaying in your mind.

Don’t hide from him.

“I… think I like you.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you think he’s about to reject you, and you swear you’re going to murder Kim Taehyung until he says, “That’s a relief.” He inches closer to you, and suddenly you’re very aware of your proximity. “Because I think I like you, too.”

Overwhelmed with the incredible urge to kiss the man in front of you, you only hesitate for a second before your lips are on his, and suddenly everything feels right in the world.

You can’t explain it; maybe it’s magic. Something is dancing through you, lifting you up and making your heart race. It’s something to do with Yoongi, you know, but beyond that you can’t tell. All you really care about is the fact that his lips are so soft and you wish you had done this sooner.

Yoongi’s hand slides to your waist and pulls you onto his lap, desperate to have you as close as possible. The thing in his chest is fucking ecstatic, having waited too long. Yoongi bites down gently on your bottom lip, and your mouth opens to let out a small gasp, a sound he quickly swallows back down. His hands are digging roughly into your sides, itching to go farther but afraid to make the first move. You’re wrapped around his neck, stroking the sensitive skin there.

You depart from his lips, evoking a quiet, needy sound from him as you move across his cheek and down his jaw before reaching his neck. You nip the skin, and Yoongi can’t help but grind up into you. It occurs to you that Min Yoongi is hard underneath you, and you’re doing no better, and you grind down into him, eliciting the sweetest of sounds from him.

“Y/N… we can… we can stop.”

“I don’t want to.”

“A-Are you sure.”

You pause to look up at him and nod eagerly. “I’m sure.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back,” he says, and the look in your eyes tells you that he’s telling the truth.

You lean in close and whisper, “I don’t want you to.”

He growls, wrapping you around his waist as he stands and carries you into the bedroom. He hardly hesitates, stripping his clothes off before ripping off your own. His eyes drink you in, loving the sight of you flushed and spread out before him, and he’s barely begun. He takes your mouth back in his before leaving kisses across your body, making sure to take pleasured time at your nipples.

He pinches one, rolling it between his fingers as he licks and laps at the other, not ever really wanting to stop because the sounds you make are oh, so pretty. But if it’s sounds he wants then it’s sounds he gets as a stray finger finds its place at your folds, flicking at your clit.

You arch your back, yelling out Yoongi’s name, and he hums in satisfaction. “That’s it, pretty girl. Say my name.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you moan as he descends, wanting to taste you for himself.

“You’re so wet for me already. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Please, Yoongi,” you whimper, already so pathetically fucked out for him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Yoongi sticks his tongue out quickly, just to see your reaction, but it’s hard to tease you when you’re pushing so hard on his head. You yank on his hair, and he gives you a slap on the leg that says, “Behave.”

You squirm under him as he finally puts his mouth on you, tongue working wonders. He easily slips two fingers inside you and you cry out, the sensation nothing but bliss. He licks at you roughly and fucks you on his fingers, loving the way you twist and turn beneath him.

“You taste so good, baby,” he says before returning back to your dripping center.

“Fuck, fuck, Yoongi,” you murmur as he nibbles at your clit. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re not in charge here, baby,” he says before standing up and giving your pussy a slap. You yelp, gripping tightly to the bedsheets. Yoongi’s face is coated in your juices, and he’s never looked happier. “Come here,” he commands.

You obey, though at first you have trouble, your legs shaking from denied pleasure. “Why don’t you get me ready for you?” You take a hold of his cock, already leaking precum and just begging to be sucked, but as you lean in towards him, he grabs a hold of your hair and says, “Nah, uh, baby. I’m gonna give everything I have to that sweet pussy of yours.”

You nod, not able to find a voice for yourself. You pump him gently, and he closes his eyes and relishes the feeling. You pick up your pace and his mouth drops open, face scrunched in concentration as he tries not to cum in your hand right then and there.

Eventually he’s had enough, and he says, “Lay back, babe.”

Your back hits the mattress without a second though, eager to finally have him inside of you. Yoongi laughs, stopping to kiss you gently. He massages your thighs a couple of times before looking deep into your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything to ask, “Is this okay?”

You give him a small nod, telling him to go ahead. He chases your lips one last time before lining himself up at your entrance.

“Please, Yoongi,” you plead.

He doesn’t respond, but looks at you through lidded eyes, his body awash with lust. “I’ll try to hold back.” He pushes his way in, and the both of you have your heads thrown back in groans of pleasure.

“D-Don’t,” you pant, struggling to find your voice. “Don’t hold back.”

“Baby…”

You grab his arm in urgency, the only thing on your mind the desperate urge to be fucked. “Please!”

Yoongi nods, withdrawing from you carefully before slamming back into you. The force has him slipping out of you, so he respositions himself and holds you close before entering you again. His grip is tight, and you can do nothing but sit there and take it.

Yoongi fucks into you with abandon, pouring everything from the last two years into his thrusts. Hate. Anger. Jealousy. Friendship. Happiness. Adoration.

He’s losing his goddamn mind inside you, and you’re no better.

Something’s alight inside of you, a fine sheen of sweat coating your body, but it’s nothing compared to the feelings raging inside you. You want this to last forever. “Yoongi,” you say, your mind dizzy with lust, “look at me.”

Yoongi does, a hand on your waist coming to trap your wrists above your head, and he stares right into your soul as he fucks the life out of you. You lean up to kiss him, though it’s more or less just tongue on tongue. The room is nothing but the sound of sex, and you can feel your orgasm approaching.

It starts in your toes, climbing its way up your body until you’re shivering. It starts to coil, centering in your stomach.”Y-Yoongi… Fuck… I’m gonna―fuck―I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, babe. Me too. Just wait. Just wait.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Touch me, please.”

Yoongi’s hand darts to your clit, feverishly working the sensitive bud. Your nails dig into his back, the sensation becoming too much.

“Cum with me, babe,” he says, and that’s all it takes for the two of you to come undone together.

You open your mouth in a scream, and Yoongi sticks two fingers in. You bob your head on them as if you were sucking his cock, muffling the sounds of your orgasm.

Finally the two of you come down, heaving as you collapse back onto the bed. You can feel the cum dripping out of you, but you really don’t give a damn. Everything just feels too good.

“Y/N?” Yoongi says through heavy breathing.

“Hm?” you answer sleepily.

“I think I lied earlier. When I said I liked you.”

“What?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

―

And you fall in love right back, and Seokjin is so sick of seeing the two of you cuddle at work that he is actually contemplating firing you both.

“I think I liked it better when you guys always argued,” Seokjin grumbles as he rifles through paperwork. Yoongi only grins, stealing a kiss from you on his way to the greenhouse. “Yuck. Definitely liked it better when you guys always argued.”

“Bite me,” you laugh, sticking your tongue out in defiance.

“That’s my job!” Yoongi calls from the other side of the shop, and Seokjin groans in disgust. You scratch at your hand as you continue to work; the annoying itch set in about two weeks ago and still hasn’t gone away. Seokjin takes notice, and grabs it to inspect.

“Still there, huh?”

“Yeah. Not sure what it is.”

“Get bit?”

“I don’t see a bite mark.”

“I can put a salve on it.”

“Yeah, please.”

Yoongi’s traipsing through the water lily garden when he hears Seokjin shout, “Yah! Get some blue shrooms for your girlfriend! I’m doing a thing!”

“Sounds sketch!” he shouts back but does as he’s told. The shroom patch is extra chatty today, much to his chagrin, and they’re all eager to get a word in. He does a pretty good job at ignoring them until a cursed shroom speaks up. They only have one; it’s good for enemies, as Seokjin says, and it’s an ugly, little thing. It’s green and brown and speaks with venom in its voice.

Yoongi is expecting some vicious jibe or harsh remark, but instead the shroom just says, simply, “What do you love most?”

Yoongi hesitates. “What?”

“You heard me.” The shroom repeats itself. “What, in your life, do you love most?”

It sounds like a harmless question, so Yoongi answers, “Y/N, of course.”

“Of course,” the shroom says, and its mouth morphs into a horrible grin as a shrill scream pierces the air. Yoongi looks up in a panic, knowing full well that that’s you.

“What did you do?” Yoongi shrieks, the thing in his chest bubbling in fear and anger.

“Nothing that wasn’t already done.”

Yoongi rips the shroom out of the ground and throws it onto the floor before running as fast as he can. His human legs, he decides, aren’t fast enough and he’s at your side in the form of a big, black wolf. He morphs back into a human and holds you in his arms, searching to Seokjin for answers.

“What the fuck happened?” he asks, panic rising in his chest.

Seokjin looks just as alarmed. “I don’t know! She was just standing here! And then something happened, I don’t know, and now there’s a mark on her hand!”

“A mark? What mark?” He turns to look down at you and finds you sobbing, clutching desperately at your left hand. His heart aches to see you that way, and the Thing isn’t too happy about it either. “Baby,” he says, “let me see your hand.”

“I c-can’t,” you sob. “H-Hurts, Yoongi, it hurts!”

“Let me see. We can make it go away.”

With coaxing from both Yoongi and Seokjin, you’re able to release your hand long enough to show them the source of your pain. A large ‘X’ is embedded in your skin, written in an odd mix of gold glitter and your own blood.

Seokjin frowns, a look that does not put Yoongi at ease, and says, “Let’s put her to sleep for a bit. Then we can try and discern what’s wrong.”

Yoongi doesn’t have nearly half a second to protest when Seokjin is already casting the spell, and you fall limp in Yoongi’s arms. At least you’re not crying anymore. Yoongi carries you upstairs at Seokjin’s behest and lays you on his bed.

“What the hell is that?” he asks the wizard who’s pacing nervously around the room. He doesn’t get an answer when two figures zap into the room.

“Got your message,” Taehyung says, rushing to your side. “What happened?”

“Maybe you can tell me,” Seokjin replies, anger lacing his voice.

“What? Are you trying to imply I had something to do with it?”

“No. But your friend here might.”

Hoseok looks up in shock. “Okay, I am a lot of things but never, never would I hurt Y/N.”

“Look at her hand,” Seokjin says simply, and the color drains from Hoseok’s face.

“What? But I…”

Then he notices Yoongi standing there, and everything clicks into place. He storms at him, grabbing the shapeshifter and thrusting him against the wall.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi growls, ready to tear him limb from limb.

“What did you do?” Hoseok hisses, and Yoongi can only stare at him dumbfounded.

“What did I do? What did you do?”

“What did you do right before this happened? Right before the mark appeared?” Hoseok pressed.

“I… I don’t know! I was having a conversation with a dumb shroom, is all!”

“You idiot! Shrooms can see into the future!”

“So?”

“Gods, you activated the curse!”

“What curse?”

“Ah, the curse, the curse…” Hoseok mumbles, letting Yoongi down.

Taehyung approaches his friend, and he looks quite calm, so Yoongi isn’t expecting him to slap him so hard across the face.

“Motherfucker,” he fumes. “I told you. I told you. Look what you’ve done!”

“She came to me!”

“And all you had to do was say no! It’s easy! One word! N-O!”

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Yoongi bellows over the chaos, his voice reverberating enough to shake the room. Yoongi notices that Seokjin is crying, Taehyung’s eyes are glassy, and Hoseok looks like he’s about to collapse; he’s not so sure he wants to know anymore.

“You tell him,” Taehyung whispers. “You tell him.”

“I… I’m sorry… The curse… You can’t go back…”

“W-What?”

“It’s the Devil’s Trade,” Seokjin says, his voice rough. Yoongi has never heard him sound so wrecked. “Take away the thing your enemy loves most.” Yoongi sucks in a breath. “And you shall have the ultimate revenge.”

“At the time of the curse, you loved a record player the most. She was supposed to ask you about. She was supposed to ask you the question. But then she wanted to be nice to you and started being friends, and I guess she forgot.”

“So you’re…” Yoongi stumbles backwards. He can’t breathe. “She’s gonna… I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles again. “She’s gonna die.”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he can’t see anymore. All he can see is your broken figure, barely heaving a breathe in Seokjin’s bed. Yoongi does what he does best: he runs. He runs right out of the shop and right into the sky.

Yoongi can feel the wind rushing under him; it tugs on his wings like the hand that tugs at his heart. He hates this. Hates that all of a sudden he has no control, his life seemingly flailing like a flag in the wind.

The worst thing, however, has to be the fact that all he can remember is you.

The thing in his chest tells him to go be with you, to be by your side, but he can’t bear to see you like that. He wants to see you laugh and smile and dance with him. He wants to see you waking up next to him. He wants to see you when he comes home.

But he knows it’s not an option. He needs to be strong for you. 

He lands again, and stares at the building where he knows you’re sleeping. He takes a deep breath and steps inside the magic shop, exchanging his fears for a positive attitude.

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