#Chicken Neck Corridor

[rightnewshindi]

बांग्लादेश में हिंदुओं पर बढ़ते अत्याचार: क्या रंगपुर-चटगांव बनेंगे अलग हिंदू राष्ट्र? भारत की सुरक्षा पर भी असर

Bangladesh News: बांग्लादेश में धार्मिक अल्पसंख्यकों, खासकर हिंदुओं पर हमलों की घटनाएं हाल के महीनों में तेजी से बढ़ी हैं। मोहम्मद यूनुस की अंतरिम सरकार के सत्ता में आने के बाद से यह मुद्दा न केवल बांग्लादेश के भीतर बल्कि भारत और अंतरराष्ट्रीय समुदाय के लिए भी चिंता का कारण बन गया है। इस संकट के बीच एक नया प्रस्ताव जोर पकड़ रहा है- रंगपुर और चटगांव डिवीजन को अलग कर एक स्वतंत्र हिंदू राष्ट्र बनाने…

[insightfultake]

Chicken Neck in Hot Soup: How PM Yunus Stirred India's Strategic Sensitivities

In a development that's thrown a geopolitical wrench into South Asia's already complex machinery, Bangladesh's interim Prime Minister, Muhammad Yunus, has ruffled feathers in New Delhi. While on an official visit to China, Yunus provocatively described India’s northeastern states as "landlocked" and Bangladesh as the region’s sole maritime gateway—an assertion loaded with strategic implications. What truly raised eyebrows, however, was his invitation to China, describing Bangladesh as a natural extension of the Chinese economy, with the potential to bridge China's Belt and Road Initiative to India's sensitive northeast.

[theemporium]

in exchange for you not paying for my therapy bills after your last luke and cherry chapter i would like to request a luke blurb

the morning after your first time spending the night at luke and jacks apartment. you’re not quite sure what to do so anything you do for luke you do for jack so he’s not left out. jack is like “i like this one can you keep her” while luke is like “babe your my gf jacks a big boy he can do it himself”

thank you for requesting and sorry (not sorry) for the therapy bills!🫶🏽

.

Despite dating for almost nine months, this had been the first time you had ever stayed overnight at Luke’s apartment.

You had been in his apartment many times throughout the duration of your relationship, but you always left for your own place at the end of the night. Or Luke would leave with you, letting his brother have some privacy since you didn’t have a roommate. It always made sense, and seemed easier too.

But the boys had just come back from a long roadie and it had been almost two weeks since you saw Luke in person because of your own busy schedule. And as excited as Luke was to see you, he didn’t have the energy in him to handle another travel journey, as short as it was.

“Just stay the night,” Luke had all but mumbled as he laid on top of you on his bed, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “We can go to your place tomorrow.” 

And you didn’t have any reason to disagree with that agreement.

You just didn’t realise how out of your own element you were until you woke up the next morning. Luke was still fast asleep in his room and, considering how quiet the apartment was, you assumed Jack was too. It was stupid to feel so imposing but you couldn’t shake how weird it felt to be wandering around their place in the early hours of the day with neither awake yet.

You had decided to just follow the routine you usually followed at your place when Luke stayed over, scavenging whatever you could from their fridge and cupboards to make a decent breakfast with. Which, for two NHL players who should be eating more than the average person, was surprisingly not much, unless you wanted chicken and rice for breakfast (which no one in their right mind would want). 

You were lost in your own world, focused on the sizzling pan in front of you and the music playing from your phone on the counter beside you that you didn’t hear footsteps coming down the corridor.

“We own a spatula?” 

You turned, snorting when you found Jack glaring at the utensil in your hand like it had spawned out of nowhere. “I made Luke buy it when he tried to flip an egg with a fork.”

“Huh,” was all Jack managed to say. “He still asleep?” 

“Out like a light,” you nodded. 

“He’s gonna miss his breakfast,” Jack teased, rounding the counter so he could peek over your shoulder. 

“More French toast for us then,” you shrugged.

Jack paused, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “You made me breakfast too?” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Yeah?” 

“Oh.” 

“I mean, if you have plans for breakfast, it’s fine,” you assured him, waving him off. 

“No, I—” Jack paused before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, you’re Luke’s girlfriend.” 

Your confusion grew. “Yeah, and? You’re Luke’s brother. What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“You didn’t need to make me breakfast,” Jack said in a tone of voice that made it seem like his reply made any more sense than the previous ones. “But you did.” 

“What, you thought I would just make me and Luke breakfast and leave you to starve?” You questioned, the confusion slowly being replaced with amusement. ��That would have been a dick move.”

Jack shrugged. “I would have understood.”

“Luke’s my boyfriend and you’re his brother but you’re also my friend, Jack,” you said to the boy with a soft smile. “Making extra breakfast is not the hardship you think it is.”

Jack laughed, nodding. “You’re my friend too.” 

Your smile widened.

“God, that smells so good,” Luke groaned as he shuffled into the room, messy curls tucked underneath the hood of his hoodie. He paused, glancing between the two of you with narrowed eyes. “Why do you both have that creepy smile? What are you planning?” 

“Confidential things,” Jack retorted, throwing his arm around your shoulder as he beamed at his younger brother. “Maybe when you’re old enough, we will tell you.” 

You snorted.

Luke frowned. “Ugh, can’t you go annoy Nico to feed you.” 

“Nuh uh, I was given an invite to join you both for breakfast here,” Jack said, still grinning widely. “You’re right, bro, it does smell so good.”

Luke let out a huff. “She is my girlfriend, go away and make your own breakfast.” 

“And she is my future sister-in-law,” Jack retorted, cackling at the way both you and Luke flushed at his words. “We are family now! Get used to it, Rusty!”

.

[yrluvjane]

i saw your call for requests so here!

i desperately need remus x slytherin!reader with secret relationship trope preferably fem!reader but idc that much

maybe reader could be restrained from having an public relationship with Rem because of their friends hating each other or reader having an arranged marriage already set up?

also i’m a cocky/mean!remus believer but it’s fine if you don’t see that for him🫶

anyway thank you so much!!

I think i might make 3 parts to this, just cause i didn't really know how to blend the scenes together

The dungeons were cold tonight.

You tugged your robes tighter around yourself, glancing over your shoulder as you slipped through the shadowed corridors. The last thing you needed was one of your housemates catching you out past curfew—especially not when you were on your way to meet him.

A Gryffindor.

A werewolf.

The thought alone would make your friends hex you on sight.

But you didn’t care.

The hidden alcove near the seventh floor was dimly lit by the flickering torchlight, casting long shadows across the stone walls. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, was him—Remus Lupin, looking far too smug for someone who was supposed to be keeping a low profile.

“Took you long enough,” he drawled, pushing off the wall as you approached. “I was starting to think you’d chickened out.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping into his space. “Unlike you, Lupin, I actually have a reputation to uphold.”

His smirk only deepened. “Oh, I know all about your reputation.”

You huffed, but before you could retort, his hands were on your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips found yours in an instant, warm and demanding, and just like that, all your sharp remarks melted away.

It was infuriating how easily he did this to you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, his thumb brushed along your jaw. “Missed you,” he murmured, voice rough.

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered. “Don’t get sentimental. We both know this is just—”

“Fun?” he supplied, raising an eyebrow. “Because I seem to recall you begging me last time to—”

You slapped a hand over his mouth, cheeks burning. “Shut up.”

He laughed against your palm before nipping at your fingers, making you yank your hand away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he mused, leaning in again, his breath hot against your ear, “you keep coming back.”

You hated that he was right.

But then his lips were on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, and all coherent thought vanished.

Until—

A distant laugh echoed down the corridor.

You froze.

Remus pulled back, eyes sharp. “Someone’s coming.”

Panic shot through you. If you were caught—

“Go,” he said quickly, nudging you toward the opposite passage. “I’ll distract them.”

You hesitated. “Remus—”

He flashed you that infuriating grin. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll see you soon.”

With one last searing kiss, you tore yourself away, disappearing into the shadows just as the voices grew louder.

Your heart pounded as you fled, the taste of him still on your lips.

This was dangerous.

This was reckless.

This was everything.

[bweeeb]

DOCKED

Phill Wenneck X reader

warnings: man begging, sex, cheating, regret, blowjob M. English is not my first language, very dirty content.

Summary: A Las Vegas night gets out of hand when the girl that phil fucked appears there.

My head was spinning, oh my God, how could anyone drink that much? Last night we celebrated my sister Jules' bachelorette party. At first, we should be back in our room with Amber and Delilah, but the strong hands around my waist and the hard length pressed against my ass aren't any of the girls', unless we got so wasted last night that one of them bought a giant dildo and for some reason it ended up here, pressed against me. But unfortunately, the feeling of skin against skin is impossible to mistake, I could feel everything in my ass, including the veins that ran the length, long enough for me to feel it inside me from last night.

I took a deep breath and moved, I've never been so scared in my life as I am now. When I moved, the man's hands tightened around my waist and pulled me closer to him, suddenly, and accidentally, my ass opened up and let the cock settle between them.

I swallowed hard, feeling the humiliation starting to form in my core, and a weak sigh escaped my throat.

— You're awake.

The rough voice reached my ears and another low, morning groan escaped my lips. What was I doing?

— Uh-huh.

My murmur was so needy that when he heard it, his hand slipped between my thighs and a sigh escaped me once more.

— So needy. So beautiful.

He moaned and kissed my neck. At this point, I didn't care anymore, that I'd end this weekend like this.

I looked over my shoulder and found his blue eyes staring at me as if I were the last light in the world. His eyes were so, so blue that it made sense why I was so wet. Messy and wild hair that I remember burying my fingers in and so I did it again and again and looked away from him.

How the hell did I end up with a man like this! Shit! Not that I don't trust my own beauty, but even so. Holy shit!

His fingers plunged into me and quickly withdrew, replaced by his cock being slowly pushed into me.

— You have to be still and quiet, beautiful.

He whispered and I nodded in agreement as I began to feel him move in and out of me. Fuck, so good.

— So good.

I moaned softly and he laughed against my neck.

— Such a tight, juicy pussy for me. Fuck. I could wake up like this every day.

He moaned and my response was just a sequence of whimpers that made him push deeper inside me.

Our speed increased and he let out a "fuck" when our positions changed and the blanket came off of us, leaving us exposed in the middle of a corridor, lying on a mattress on the floor.

I slowly started to climb on top of him and move in sync with his hips, making his cock hammer deeper inside me.

— Oh fuck. That's it!

I moaned louder than I should have and his hands fell on my breasts, squeezing them and leaving more marks.

— Fuck, holy fuck, hell, shit, so good.

He moaned and cursed in every way, pushing harder. My head fell back, his two hands grabbed my waist and went up to my breasts bouncing and put me faster making me reach the peak and cum on his cock.

— What a tight pussy, holy fuck.

He moaned, raising one hand to my neck and squeezing hard, making me close my eyes with pleasure.

— You should cum on me. Inside me.

I said shrilly and with that his hot load was poured inside me in jets. Coming out of my pussy, the stranger laid me on the mattress, opened my legs and all the sperm that was leaking was pushed back by him when two fingers dug into my pussy, not allowing me to be leaking.

At some point we fell asleep again with his cock buried in me and when I woke up practically running away from that room I'm sure I saw a chicken walking around there.

Three months later, standing in front of Amber's pool, my black bikini hugging my curves as I rested on the edge, the sun warmed my body until a shadow covered it all. My eyes opened and Amber appeared smiling.

— This is Y/n. Y/n this is Stephanie.

Amber introduced me to a woman who smiled at me gently but the look that ran over my exposed body was a little subtle. I got up from my position and smiled, trying to ignore the look on me.

— Hi, nice to meet you.

Instead of her reaching out her hand, I greeted her with two kisses on the cheek and noticed her features probably twenty years older than me. She was beautiful, but she didn't seem to put sunscreen on her face every day. Just an observation without any judgment.

— Hi. Same.

— So. Where do you know each other from?

I asked, smiling sincerely at Amber and Stephanie.

— She's married to Phil, and kind of Phil is friends with Doug and Doug is married to Tracy and Tracy, over there.

Amber pointed to a brunette woman who was leaving a man and coming towards us, of course. I had spoken to Tracy once.

— It made sense for me to bring everyone together, plus the guys will have fun too.

Amber informed taking off her swimsuit and putting it on a lounger next to my things.

— Go on, go change. Sometimes I forget you're forty.

Amber moaned, clearly joking about her friends' age and they both rolled their eyes.

— I'm 30.

Tracy retorted and Stephanie right after.

— And I'm 38. No big deal.

— Wait, you're 30?

I asked and they both looked at me.

— I mean. You don't look 30.

I lied, but I felt that when my question escaped my mouth they would both start to hate me and the afternoon would turn into a total chaos of discomfort. They were both gorgeous but if they wanted to look like they were 20 years old, forget it.

Both women smiled and thanked me and went to change in Amber's bungalow.

— Hey! Do me a favor? I made some refreshments and they're in the fridge, can you go get them? As soon as my friend asked me I left the pool area and heard her whistling like a pervert who's never seen an ass from the outside.

Walking past the outdoor lounge area, I smiled gently at the men leaning against the counter chatting and went into the kitchen to the fridge. I grabbed the pomegranate margarita pitcher because I know Amber is addicted to making this drink.

— Hey, Amber, do you need any help?

A deep voice asked behind me and I laughed softly, my hair was a little lighter than Amber's, but even so, you could mistake us for each other except for the fact that our bodies were different. My curves were more pronounced, with a slightly larger hip and larger breasts. Amber had a gorgeous model's body, thinner and more defined thighs, and everything perfect, looking like it had been custom-made.

When I turned to see who had called me Amber, the shock I took was inevitable.

— Fuck.

I swallowed hard, feeling my semi-naked body covered in tequila and pomegranate in a second. His blue eyes meet mine and quickly scanned my now wet and sticky body. Funny, it feels like I'm having some flashbacks from that night.

— Shit.

I muttered once more looking at my body and not at him. Who was he? Why is he here?

— You... you need...

He started and I denied before he even finished.

— No. Thank you.

I said turning to mine and turning on the tap. I lifted my hair and twisted it in it, with the intention of not leaving it sticky and started to run water over where it had gotten sticky.

Looking over my shoulder, I found him still there, staring at me, going up and down like a rollercoaster and taking longer when he reached my ass.

— Excuse me? Do you need anything else?

— Hm. No.

He denied, but remained there, watching me run my hands over my breasts.

My breath became more of a gasp and I swallowed hard as I still felt him there.

— Phil?

Another voice entered the house and I heard him move and shove himself into the fridge, probably grabbing a beer.

Phil? Is he Phil? HE'S MARRIED?

— Oh. You two know each other? This is Y/n. You're taking too long, I came to see if everything was okay.

Amber appeared and made me turn to look at her, but I ended up meeting his gaze.

— Yeah. I... I got a little scared and spilled on myself, but it's okay, there's plenty left.

— Great. Are you okay?

— Great.

— Let's go outside then, the sun is great.

As soon as she says that, she also takes us both to the pool area again, I watch Phil go to the others and also see Stephanie planting a kiss on his lips. Ring, they both have a ring, how did I not notice he had a ring? Had he taken it off or not? Or hadn't? Oh my God! I slept with a married man, TWICE, or more who knows how many times I sat on him that night. Shit, I slept with him sober, completely sober, what the hell is this, I helped someone cheat? Seriously, what kind of horrible person am I?

— Y/n.

My name was called and that action brought me back to reality.

— Come on.

Amber pulled me and after half an hour we were like lizards in the sun.

— Wasn't there another one? I thought Stuart had a relationship.

I asked curiously trying to take the discomfort off me.

— Melissa. Yeah, it turns out that when Doug's bachelor party happened Stu slept with a stripper and married her. Some shit like that and he didn't want the boring Melissa anymore.

Amber said and the other two laughed. It's dear, don't laugh too much, your husband fucked me a lot too.

I closed my eyes tightly and thanked the sunglasses for being good and not letting any of them see my suffering.

— You guys went to Vegas too, didn't you?

Doug asked, approaching the pool with the others.

— Yes. Wait. I wonder if we were there at the same time?

After a very long conversation about when we went, Amber and everyone there came to the conclusion that we were in the same place but me and Phil looked at each other with a look that screamed “ no shit sherlock. “

I got up quietly, saying I was going to the bathroom and when I entered the house I almost sighed in relief to hear the silence.

— Listen, that's going to have to be forgotten forever.

The voice came from behind once again and I was startled enough to let out a scream along with a startle.

— Holy crap! Stop appearing out of nowhere like that.

— We have to forget about that.

He repeated.

— Not fucking way. Seriously?

I was ironic and got annoyed with the situation.

— You have a very dirty mouth, you know that?

— Shut up. You're the one who listed a series of swear words while…

I cut my sentence and his very clear and blue eyes turned dark.

— While what?

His voice became softer as he took a step forward.

— While I what?

I said softly.

— While you was fucking me.

I said and acted like I was the one with the soft voice. He wants to play? Okay, but nobody taught him that playing with fire burns?

— While I was fucking you.

He repeated, running his tongue over his inner cheek and laughing afterwards, rubbing the palm of his hand on his beard.

— No, you weren't just fucking me, you were shoving so deep inside me that I felt you for a week, hammering your cock inside my pussy, squeezing my body against yours. But you're nothing but trash, because you're fucking married you asshole.

I slapped him and that was an impulse for him to grab my waist and pull me away from the corridor's view. Thank you Amber for choosing this house full of mazes.

— I remember how you liked it when I came inside you, how your pussy tightened around me, love, i know, i was inside you. I know that you loved when I did that.

He then turned me around and pressed my back against his chest, his right hand went up, passed over my breast and grabbed my neck tightly, making me whimper. This was so wrong, his wife is down there.

— You love being choked, don’t you? I felt your pussy tighten around me when I did that.

He applied more pressure and my hands went up to the back of his neck. His other hand, which was on my waist, went up to my breasts and replaced the tiny black bikini with his enormous hands.

— They...

I tried to complete a sentence but the pressure he was exerting on my throat made me weak in every way.

— My friends know, i’m on a work call.

— I can’t...

I whispered and he laughed, kissing my neck which now had less pressure.

— Stephanie and I aren’t doing well, okay?

He gasped as he bit my shoulder.

— But... uhm... but you’re still with her. I can’t... uhm... help you with that.

I said as I got distracted by his mouth sniffing me. His big hands turned me around and his lips glued to mine and at that moment I felt the guilt fade away, because the kiss fit? Was it because he was with all the sluts who gave themselves to him?

— Phil, we can’t do this.

I said pulling away from him, I looked for a second at the man’s face and jumped once more to his lips that accepted me well. His hands squeezed my ass hard making me moan and I felt his erection pressing against me.

— No, no. I’m not like that, I don’t do that. I don’t help cheaters.

I lamented pulling away from him and tying my bikini again. I turned away from him and heard him sigh, but he didn’t seem angry, just upset.

— I haven’t had sex in three months, the only damn thing I’ve been finding is the fucking palm of my hand. She doesn’t have sex with me, she doesn’t stay home, she doesn’t do shit. You were the last person to sit on my dick like it was the fucking salvation seat.

He said and I turned to him with a confused look.

— Any guy who wants someone to give in says that, Phil. I can’t do this to her, even if she’s horrible in your relationship.

— My life is miserable, I hate my job and I haven’t had sex in three months, do you know how serious that is?

He repeated and I laughed.

— You need to leave her if you want to fuck like crazy.

I said

— I know that. Fuck. You were the last person who gave me any kind of affection in every way, my dick doesn’t understand that it’s not like Las Vegas now and my balls are so heavy I think I think I’ll explode.

Phil buried his face in my neck and I snorted, not knowing what to do. I was soaking wet, but I wasn’t letting him fuck me right there. So I pushed him back, to the end of the corridor, and knelt down in front of him. Seeing his breath quicken, his sunglasses making him look sexier than I snorted seeing him that way.

— Be quiet.

I said, lowering his shorts and underwear and releasing his hard length almost hitting my face.

— Oh shit.

He muttered breathlessly.

My hand went up and down on his length, I stroked the head and without much fuss I put his cock in my mouth and sucked it like a popsicle. Phil’s hands fell on my hair and I accelerated the back and forth movements. My tongue ran along its veiny length and the low moans made me push it all the way into my mouth. With the tip touching my throat, I choked, but continued feeling tears starting to form in my eyes.

— you are so fucking good, Princess.

He moaned, pushing my mouth to meet the base of his cock. I'm sure I hadn’t managed to fit it all in my mouth the last time.

I sucked him for a few more minutes and he came inside my mouth, I swallowed what I could and what escaped my lips to his breasts I cleaned with my finger, sucking while looking at him panting through my eyelashes.

— Now behave.

I said getting up and leaving the corridor as if nothing had happened.

In fact, the moment I went outside I said I had to go, looking at Stephanie and Phil’s friends while everyone knew he was after me was very psychologically torturous and I hoped I wouldn’t see Phil again.

[worldofstoriesanddreams]

Billy (Little Red Arrow) Batson - Team Arrow vs Weather King

Here's the next chapter of my Billy Batson | Captain Marvel | Little Red Arrow. (I decided to post it in full here too)

Enjoy!

"Young man," Miss Wormwood tapped her feet as Billy Batson hurried down the corridor, two hours late. "What's your excuse this time?"

As Captain Marvel, Billy worked through the night and early morning rescuing hurricane victims and helping with relief efforts. 

But Billy couldn't tell the school principal that. 

"I'm sorry Miss Wormwood," he rubbed the back of his neck absently. "It was an emergency. But I have a note from my dad to explain."

"No more notes. I want to see you and your dad in person on Monday about your unacceptable tardiness," she demanded. "Six p.m. in my office. Both of you."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied. Captain Marvel posed as Billy's 'dad' but how could he pull off a meeting with both Billy and his 'dad' present?

The final bell rang. 

Billy grabbed his backpack and joined the stampede out the school gates. 

Slipping through the bushes, he whispered, "Shazam."

Thunder roared, lightning struck the boy, power surging through him causing his body and mind to grow, filling him with power and wisdom. Captain Marvel knew exactly what to do. 

*

Billy's school problem settled, Cap flew from the Watchtower to Star City for Billy's lunch appointment. He powered down in an alley and ran the rest of the way to the restaurant Ollie had chosen.

As a reward for mastering the three-arrow technique, Ollie was treating him to an all-you-can eat buffet.

Boy oh boy. Billy couldn't wait.

“Grab a plate, pile on your food, then come join us, right inside,” Ollie said on the phone before hanging up.

The aroma of grilled meat, potatoes, pizza, freshly baked pastries and so much more enveloped Billy, tantalising him as he walked through the door.

“Holy Moley!” He gaped at the endless table laden with food. His stomach growled in response. 

Mouth watering, he piled pizza, potatoes, roast beef, fried chicken, lasagna, fish, lamb chops and pork chops on his overflowing plate.

“Hey!” He yelped, when someone hauled him off the ground, causing him to spill food on the pristine carpet.

“Put me down!” The boy protested, feet dangling in the air.

“No ruffians allowed,” the snobby waiter sniffed at him with disdain.

“I’m Ollie’s guest,” Billy pouted, furious.

“And I’m the King of England,” the bouncer marched him to the door.

Billy could have kicked himself. He should have known better than to wear his favourite sweater and jeans. It’s too worn and tattered for a swank place like this.

“Ahem,” Ollie, in a worn out, stained shirt and tattered jeans, blocked the exit.

“Mister Queen,” fawned the stiff necked waiter. “I was just taking out the trash.”

“Let my guest go,” Ollie clenched his fist, his smile sharp and dangerous.

“Sorry, sir,” the waiter grovelled as he put down the boy. Everyone in Star City recognised the prominent billionaire. “I didn’t know he was with you.”

“It’s okay,” Billy tugged Oliver’s sleeve, calming the man down before he could deck the bouncer. “I’m fine. Let’s eat!”

*

Dinah watched her sweetheart Ollie and itty bitty little Billy banter like kids at the playground. Who could have guessed the unlikely buddies had so much in common. 

Billy insisted on wearing his worn out red sweater and tattered jeans all the time. Oliver preferred his well worn (read raggedly torn) shirts and jeans to his business suits. They looked quite a sight in that ostentatious environment. The food was exquisite, though from the mess the boys made, it’s a wonder, the establishment hadn’t thrown them out.

“Oh this?” Ollie tugged at the shirt he was wearing with pride. “It’s from my time stranded alone on an island. It’s where I learned survival skills and mastered archery.” 

“You were stranded on a deserted island all by yourself?” Billy’s eyes widened. “For how long?”

Oliver held up his open hand. “Five years.”

“Were there dangerous animals? Was that exciting?” The tiny boy radiated excitement.

“Very,” Oliver grinned. “I hunted the predators for food. It’s where I taught myself archery.”

“Can we camp there?” The adorable munchkin looked up at Ollie with large puppy eyes no one could ever hope to resist.

“It’s too dangerous,” Dinah cut in. “Ollie was stranded with no way out.”

“I can fly us out when we’re done,” Billy piped up. 

Dinah found it hard to believe that tiny tyke— the baby boy she always longed for, was the World’s Mightiest Mortal, Captain Marvel. 

“You do have a point,” she conceded.

“If you’re good, I can take you there during your school holidays,” Oliver offered.

“It’s a deal,” Billy’s dazzling smile lit the room.

The sky turned black without warning. Multiple bolts of lightning streaked the sky. It looked unnatural.

“Not me,” Billy raised his hands as he stared out of the window. “I didn’t do that!”

“Suit up,” Oliver got up and left, with Billy tailing behind him.

Thunder roared. 

Winds howled.

A strong wind caught little Red Arrow and would have carried him off, if Green Arrow hadn’t pulled the child down.

“Over there,” Green Arrow noted, sheltering tiny Red Arrow from the wind as they pushed through the storm towards the freak lightning.

For some insane reason, itty bitty Billy refused to transform into Captain Marvel. 

“You know, you could power up,” Black Canary gripped the tot’s hand to keep him from getting blown away again.

“Nah,” the stubborn boy pouted. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The storm intensified around lightning clustered around what looked like a ring of giant beach umbrella frames each a storey tall. 

“Bow at the feet of Weather King,” a voice boomed from a tower overlooking the structures. A man wearing a gold foil paper crown held a remote which he pointed at the lightning clusters. “Know my power!”

“Holy moley!” Billy exclaimed. “Who writes his dialogue?”

“Hey, kid,” the villain looked offended. Staring at Billy, he huffed, “I paid a professional screenwriter good money for this.”

“Now fall before the might of Weather King!” Smirking, the wannabe supervillain hit a button. A cyclone emerged from the ring of frames, growing in intensity as it headed towards Capital Hill.

Thwack!

Ollie’s boxing glove arrow punched Weather King out.

“All yours, Pretty Bird,” Ollie pointed at the structures.

Her song welling up her lungs, Black Canary let loose, shattering the weather manipulating structures. While that ended the lightning show, it had no effect on the tornado.

“Billy, stop the cyclone,” Ollie yelled over the winds.

“With which arrow?” Little Red Arrow hollered.

“Which arrow?!” Ollie sputtered. “None!”

“Aw man,” the itty bitty little archer pouted. Disappointed.

“Hurry kid,” Ollie prodded the child. “Power up and go get it!”

Billy look up, yelling, “Shazam!”

Blinding lightning and a thunder crack later, Captain Marvel did a goofy salute, before chasing after the tornado.

It was quite a sight, watching a red blur flying in the opposite direction of the cyclone’s spin, untwisting the twister. Dinah smiled at the thought of the tiny boy at the heart of the mighty Captain.

The winds dissipated.

“All done,” the Captain landed before Green Arrow and Black Canary.

Cameras flashed. 

Cap looked like a deer caught in the headlights. 

Reporters thrust microphones at the Big Red Cheese’s face,  bombarding him with questions.

Beside her, she felt Ollie’s inadequacy as he watched Captain Marvel steal the thunder in his own city. 

Dinah’s a meta.

Ollie’s not. 

Though he tried not to show it, she could tell it stung. 

Knowing Billy, she guessed that’s why the kid refused to power up around them, choosing instead to adopt a new vigilante identity as Ollie’s sidekick.

“It’s okay,” he smirked, as if reading her thoughts. “I’m good.” Green Arrow grabbed her waist and pulled her close. “I’m proud of our boy.”

 *

“You might have heard about Cap stopping the tornado in Star City, but here’s the real scoop,” Billy’s sunny voice brightened the station. That child’s a gem. Mister Morris’s chest swelled with pride as he watched the boy he regarded as his son, captivate the audience with his inimitable delivery.

“The real scoop is,” Whiz kid lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Green Arrow caught a new supervillain before he could even make a name for himself,” the boy chuckled.  

“The villain, who called himself Weather King, had machines that could manipulate weather,” the boy explained. “Well, Black Canary destroyed those with her Canary Cry!” He chirped.

“Captain Marvel, a friend of Team Arrow, showed up to help clean the mess.”

The boy went on to hype Green Arrow, highlighting what a brilliant strategist the archer was. Morris would wager that the child, who just happened to be Captain Marvel’s son, was a huge fan of Green Arrow and Black Canary.

“Billy, your dad is here,” Miss Dalshaw announced when the recording ended.

To the less observant eye, the man who walked up to Billy would pass as Mister Batson. Morris saw through the guise. He was an inch taller but his shoulders an inch less broad when compared to the real Mister Batson.

“Hi Dad,” Billy skipped up to the man and took his hand. 

The big guy ruffled his hair. “Ready to meet the Principal?”

“Billy, is everything alright?” Morris scrutinised the imposter.

“All’s good,” Billy grinned, giving him a look that said ‘play along. I know what I’m doing.’

“If you say so,” Mister Morris replied as Billy left with the dead ringer for Captain Marvel.

[getinthefuckingcarkitten]

LIs ranked from most to least likely to let you drink their blood and what would they taste like, mostly from the perspective of a vampire PC 🩸

cw for general violence and self harm

Kylar - You can save your pretty teeth, she's cutting for you on the spot and pressing the wound to your mouth. Would be excited to hear if you like it, trembling like a little dog. Her blood tastes greasy and it mixes with the salt of sweat on her skin. Tastes basically like a french fry - besides that, you can just tell she has an iron deficiency. Tell her she tastes good, please.

Great Hawk - Doesn't understand why but is too willing to go along with whatever you say. Would probably have to bite down any instinctive reaction to pain she might have and you'll hear the saddest little squawk of your life. Tastes like chicken surprisingly normal, if a little more iron-y than average. You can keep that info to yourself, but praising her for taking it so well will make her very happy.

Sydney - Pure would take a lot of convincing and would probably try to take you to the church, but Corrupted would be too curious to not let you try. Exposing her neck very prettily, but would be pleasantly surprised and let out a cute little gasp if you went for the upper breast instead, and will stay still until you finish. Tastes like nothing in particular, but the smell of incense still clings to her skin and gives it a slightly wood-y aftertaste. Would also want to hear some praise about how she tastes after.

Whitney - You're probably tasting her blood even involuntarily just from throwing hands in the corridors, but if she knew you needed her blood to survive she'd greatly enjoy force-feeding you any time she has an exposed wound. Might also irresponsibly injure herself for this purpose, then whine at you to solve it immediately. She tastes a bit like smoked meat but it makes you gag a little. Will get mad if you tell her she tastes bad, though, so tell her she's an acquired taste instead.

Robin - Much more likely to accept it at low confidence than when at high confidence, but would do it just because it's you. Would be really hesitant and ask you to bite her from the back so she doesn't have to see but will still involuntarily tremble when she feels your teeth sink in. Preferably, try to do this while laying down to avoid any accidents. She tastes... Very refreshing, actually. A perfectly good juice box. You'd ask if she's been living on lemons all this time, but she prefers if you keep the info of how she tastes to yourself.

Alex - More likely to accept at low dominance than at high dominance. Would prefer that you drink from her than take that out on the poor animals, and would put on a brave face just for you, standing strong even if you feel her tense up as you bite her neck. She tastes really good at first, until you feel the punch of unfiltered alcohol hit you. Might make you gag and/or get dizzy if you drink too much. Also wouldn't be very inclined to ask you about her taste, but would be ashamed of herself if you said she tastes like alcohol. She'd also probably try to find a way to weaponize your bloodthirst against Remy, somehow.

Eden - Would be a resounding no at first, until she saw you really struggling with the lack of blood. Would attempt to feed you animal blood first, though, and only if you either had an adverse reaction to it or at least pretended to have one, she'd avoid having you bite her. Doesn't she have enough scars? Ugh, fine. Would only let you go for the arms or something, and you think she's being a little dramatic as she doesn't even flinch once you sink your teeth in. Her blood is most likely thick, you could almost describe it as rich. You can tell she has never even come close to an iron deficiency in her life, and you're almost a little mad she avoided letting you have a sip for so long. After the initial reluctance, though, she'll also enjoy randomly force-feeding you blood, especially if you're just trying to tend to her wounds but she can see that glint of thirst in your eyes and that almost imperceptible licking of your lips.

Avery - No. Don't even try. Unless you get her really comfortable with you, let her see you teeth a little, let her get curious and prod a little into your mouth. Then you need to get her at least a little drunk, and also be a little drunk yourself so she won't feel like she's at a disadvantage. Work up to it slowly, very slowly, until she starts to forget how much she hates it when you give her a hickey, and then GO FOR IT at the slightest exposure of her skin. Her blood is somewhat thin, but somehow packs a real punch and leaves your tongue feeling numb after you're done, drink too much and it's straight to zzzland from all the xanax she takes. She will be mad as HELL after the initial shock wears off, so you better be ready to play it cute and very desperate. Tell her about how you couldn't deal with it anymore, you're just so hungry and she's too alluring to resist, tell her that you've never tasted better before, and you might get away with it with only a slap to the wrist (or the face). If you act enough like a puppy begging for scraps of food, she might let you do it again, but in a more concealed spot, like between her thighs for example. You better thank her very well for the opportunity after you're done, alright?

BONUS:

Harper - Would be so damn excited. You don't get to bite her, but she's going to extract some blood for you, the traditional way, and fill a little blood bag just for you. She's so excited that she'd almost trip over herself on the way to hand you the bag and sit down face to face with you, biting her pen in anticipation, waiting for you to tell her how she tastes, how do you feel when you drink blood and thinking about some more annotations she wants to make once you let her get a real good look at you, preferably splayed out on her stretcher. Her blood tastes fucking strange. A bit like chemicals, in fact. You can tell her that, she'll still be excited. Will probably try a hundred tricks to make herself taste good for you, for science. You start to get a little concerned for the both of you. Maybe that one was a mistake.

[blakeblueboi]

Happy (Late) Valentine's Day!!!

Draco: Potter, we agreed no gifts- Harry: I know! I know, I just- Harry: I know we said no gifts, Draco- but I was thinking about this past year and- and well, I never thought that we'd be well- we'd be- Harry: Us- you know? I know we just started seeing eachother and it's new, like you said, but isn't that reason enough? Harry: Reason enough to celebrate that it is so new? Harry: Before this year I thought that wasn't remotely a chance for us- I see now that I was wrong Harry: I was so wrong about so many things- and I hope that can at least- Harry: Make yo for that- even if it as last week that you even let me start using your first name and - -Inaudiable Harry- esque rambling- Draco: Do you ever shut up? Harry: Wha- mmph!!

The corridor rang with newfound silence as Potter's voice was abruptly swallowed in the matter of a second. Draco's ears were so unused to the lack of incessant rambling that they became muffled in shock.

The kiss, in the loosest sense of the definition, only lasted a few moments before Draco leaned back away from Potter's slightly parted ones he had seized midsentence. His grip on his tie only tightened however as Draco fixed the gaping Gryffindor with a hard glare.

Or at least he tried to. The look in Potter's eyes stole away any sort of insult or rebuttal from Draco's throat.

Stormy grey met electric green and in an instant Draco realized his mistake.

That had been their first kiss.

Their first kiss.

Draco had only wanted to shut the blubbering git and not only had he kissed Potter for the first time-- on Valentine's day no doubt-- but in the middle of the 7th floor corridor. Potter had dragged him up there without explanation, now obviously for gift giving but it was no less a public space.

Draco could feel eyes on him at all sides, from all directions even if he couldn't see or discern who exactly was there watching them.

Heat crawled up Draco's face like a creeping Acromanchula complete with pinprick of little fangs over his cheeks and down his neck. He was no better than a beet red third year as he stood there under with still silently shocked Potter's everlasting gaze. A gaze that under normal circumstances he would have preened under.

Draco's body acted on its own. With a flourish of quick and familiar magic his body bent and shifted until his pink paws plopped onto the cold cobblestone floor. With a scramble Draco bolted from the hallway, luckily with the pretty red ribbon that was wrapped around the box secured in his teeth.

The sound of Potter's voice calling after him fell on deaf ears as Draco's let his swift feline body carry him as far away as possible. As quickly as possible.

"Do you think he'll wear it?"

Harry had been a mess. So much so that he would rather take a hundred Bat Boogy hexes from Ginny back in fifth year than be in the predicament he was in at the moment.

"Harry, mate, you're starting to sound like a second year--" Ron told him indignantly from beside him with a clean chicken leg in his fist.

"Ron, I don't think you're helping--" Hermione scolded him from her spot across from them over her N.E.W.T.S level charms textbook and a half eaten dollop of strawberry pudding.

"No offense, but we are talking about Malfoy- the git is probably trying to decide which bedazzled silver trash can he's going to chunk it in- OW!!" Hermione swatted Ron over the head with her new closed charms textbook.

"Ronald, honestly you could at least try to be a little supportive for your best friend! You're making it worse!!" She hissed with a hard glare across the table at her boyfriend.

It was, indeed, making Harry's mood that much worse. He hadn't seen Draco all day since he gave him his Valentine's gift and he was starting to really believe he had botched their entire relationship. It wasn't enough that he had gotten Draco a gift when Draco had specifically told him that they were absolutely not getting each other gifts on what he described as a pathetic excuse for a holiday, but he'd gotten him something that was most definitely going to make it that much worse.

A glance over at the Slytherin table only threw his mood into the gutter when he saw Draco's usual spot empty. It wasn't like he couldn't have run after him that morning. He definitely could have. Especially in his larger, nimbler animgus form. But the thought only dug up memories of sixth year and a certain third floor bathroom. Even if the confrontation wouldn't have gone exactly like that now of course, it still kept Harry rooted to the cobblestones as he watched the white cat sprint away.

The loud swing of the Great Hall's massive doors didn't even rouse Harry to look up. He'd fallen for that trick too many times this evening to know that he wouldn't see a shock of white-blonde hair and pretty stormy grey eyes enter through it.

"Harry--" Hermione's voice whispered to him from across the table.

Harry hardly heard her over the uproar from the Slytherin table. Namely around a certain now occupied spot behind him.

"Bloody hell, Harry- did you really get that slimy git that? That must have cost a fortune!"

Ron'd words were drowned out by the sight of Draco Malfoy proudly, practically glowing with a self-satisfied smile on his beautiful face. His eyes twinkled with the light of the ever-burning candles above them and the pink glitter below that decorated every house table. His cheeks were a soft pink as Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott all gawked at him.

Or namely at what was clasped around his neck.

A silver necklace was visible above his tie and glittered in the light. It was made up of dazzling white and clear gemstones that shone various colors depending on the wearer's mood and the light around them like a prism. It was absolutely stunning, especially with the pink and rose red they were emitting onto Draco's perfectly pale skin. Harry had enlisted Hermione's help with making sure that the necklace would expand and shrink whenever Draco was in either of his forms.

Aside from what it was made out of-- it was truly a necklace but the length of it could have made it something else entirely.

That something else being a collar.

Stormy grey finally met Harry's green across the table and Draco's cheeks flamed with an instant and uncontrollable blush. A small smile was exchanged between them and words that went unsaid passed through their gazes.

Harry turned and that smile grew into a big grin despite a groan from Ron and another swat of her book on his head from Hermione.

Maybe Harry hadn't mucked things up that badly that Valentine's Day.

Fin.

WOw this took way longer than I thought it would lol

[klinefelterrible]

Behind the quidditch stadium

Draco: hey, Potter! Psst!

Harry: what do you want, Malfoy?

Draco: I know you hate me but—

Draco: come, check this out

Harry: what

Draco: petrificus totalus

Harry: ugh

Draco: so I realised I need it and you don’t want me to be bad at it so

Draco: *undresses his red panties and puts them on Potter’s head, takes down Harry’s trousers and kneels in front of him*

Draco: it might feel inconvenient for the first minutes or so but I truly intend to get better and better over time

Draco: *starts blowing Harry*

Harry: ugh

Draco: sorry if I somehowbite, I saw my folks doing that and I am prepared to go extra sloppy

Harry: ugh

Draco: *blows Harry eagerly*

Harry: *cums in Draco’s mouth*

Draco: yummy, yummy, yummy

Draco: I loved every second and every drop of it

Draco: I think the spell is about to expire in few minutes so I just walk away and hopefully you won’t kill me for that later, okay?

Harry: ugh

Draco: I love you too!

Draco: *giggles, grabs his panties from Potter’s face and runs away*

Draco: *comes back and french kisses Harry, then runs away*

Harry: sheesh that was intense

At the Gryffindors dormitory

Hermione: no fucking way

Harry: yes fucking way

Hermione: I don’t believe it

Harry: which part is so unbelievable

Hermione: wh—

Hermione: all of them

Harry: but which the most

Hermione: did you get a boner before or after he petrified you?

Harry: uhm—

Hermione: were you even properly petrified?

Harry: uhm—

Hermione: whoa!

Harry: what

Hermione: you guys kissed! Did Malfoy know you weren’t petrified?

Harry: gods forbid

Harry: he said that he „wants to get better and better at it over time”

Hermione: didn’t you say that he also said that he „loves you too”

Harry: I know, right?

Harry: awkward

Hermione: is it

Harry: it is

Harry: I have a deep gut feeling that it wasn’t planned at all

Hermione: my gut tells me the exact opposite

Harry: you weren’t there

At Slytherin’s dormitory

Draco: phase A is finished successfully

Draco: phase B initiated

Pansy: which is…?

Draco: miniskirts and high heels

Draco: he needs to want me more

Pansy: isn’t it too much?

Pansy: can’t you just ask him for a walk and talk to him

Draco: I will pretend that I never heard it and you— that you never said it

Pansy: *sigh* alright

Draco: good

At the Hogwarts corridor

Ron: didn’t you say yesterday that Malfoy sucked your dick

Harry: yeah

Ron: and how was it

Harry: wicked

Ron: who’d know that this mouth is able to do anything other than hate

Harry: oh I think it is capable of much, much more

Ron: like what

Harry: like love

Ron: dude

Harry: what

Ron: you’re not falling in love with him, are you

Harry: of course not

Draco: *passes by in tight miniskirt, black tights and six inch pencil thin high heels*

Draco: howdy

Harry: I, uh—

Harry: good heavens!

Harry: *gets redfaced and a raging boner*

Ron: what the fuck

Draco: phase B successful

Hermione: you don’t have to be professor Trelawney to predict the nearest future for Harry

Ron: yeah if he’s going to date Malfoy I’m going to kill him

Hermione: don’t be stupid, Ronald

Hermione: it’s love

Ron: I saw love and this ain’t it

Hermione: are you talking about your parents having sex

Ron: no

Hermione: „no”

Ron: yes, „no”!

Hermione: okay okay

Hermione: I am just trying to guess what do you mean by this „no”

Hermione: very firm „no”, Ronald

Ron: geez fucking hell

Ron: I meant yes

Ron: yes, I meant my parents doing it

Hermione: just because Draco and Harry are not naked in the chicken house…

Ron: IT WAS A BARN AND THEY HAD THEIR SLEEPING ROBES AND HATS ON

Hermione: *sigh* you know I was guessing, right

Ron: huh?

Hermione: all I’m saying is: every love is different, Ron

Hermione: *looks at Harry’s devouring gaze during Draco’s giving Potter an indifferent burlesque performance of hair finger-brushing, long eyelashes, leg dangling and neck flashing*

Hermione: let’s go

Ron: where

Hermione: wherever I am not falling in love with Malfoy too

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

More Sami x Jey please. Can never get enough. Can it be angst but happy ending? Maybe angry Jey and oblivious Sami!?? It's okay if you don't want to do this request!

Crossing My Fingers

Jey was steaming.

He paced backstage, fists clenched, eyes narrowing every time he caught a glimpse of him—Sami Zayn—further down the corridor.

People gave Jey a wide area; his anger radiated off him in waves. And it all stemmed from one simple fact:

Sami had canceled on him.

No warning, no text, no explanation. They were supposed to meet for a late-night strategy session—though Jey had really just wanted an excuse to hang out with the one person who made him feel safe lately.

Instead, Jey spent two hours alone, phone silent, pride bruised. Now, with a show looming, no one seemed to know what was going on. And when Jey tried to corner Sami, the red-haired man would wave cheerfully and dart off, as if everything were normal.

—

Backstage was chaos—camera crews rushing, wrestlers moving from one segment to the next. Sami chatted with a ring tech about new equipment, looking every bit his usual, warm, easygoing self.

Jey stood at a distance, seething, trying to reign in the surge of emotions. His heart hammered—anger, hurt, confusion, and beneath it all, that stubborn fondness he could never quite bury.

Finally, Jey stomped forward, grabbing Sami by the arm.

“Hey—whoa!” Sami nearly dropped the roll of tape he was holding. His bright eyes blinked at Jey in surprise. “Jey? You okay?”

Jey’s jaw clenched. “Am I okay? You ghosted me last night!”

Sami’s brow knit in confusion. “Ghosted you?”

“We had plans, Zayn,” Jey snarled, voice low to keep from drawing more attention. “You said we’d go over match footage, and I waited—but you never showed. Didn’t text. Didn’t call.”

Sami’s expression shifted from confusion to realization. “Oh, oh no—Jey, man, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” Jey snapped, chest tight. “You think I got nothin’ better to do than wait around for you?”

Sami tried to respond, but Jey barreled on, voice genuine. “You know I don’t open up to many people, but for some reason, I trust you. And you can’t even do me the courtesy of showing up or explaining why you—”

“Jey, stop,” Sami interrupted, guilt pooling in his eyes. “I—I forgot.”

Jey froze, blinking. “You…forgot?”

Sami let out a breath. “I’m not making excuses, I swear. My phone died. I got roped into an emergency meeting with the creative team. It was chaotic, and by the time I remembered our plans, it was already past midnight.”

“So you didn’t just…ditch me?” Jey’s tone was less aggressive, though he still glared.

“Never,” Sami said softly. “Look, I know it’s probably too little, too late. But if I could’ve gotten away, I would’ve. I wanted to be there.”

Jey exhaled, anger starting to return. “You could’ve texted me later.”

“I felt like a jerk…didn’t know how to approach you. Guess I chickened out,” Sami admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jey’s gaze dropped to the floor, feelings he’d been carrying lifting slightly. “I thought you just didn’t care.”

Sami’s eyes showed something close to pain. “I care a lot, Jey. More than you know.”

They stared at each other in a moment of silence, the backstage hustle continuing around them like white noise.

Slowly, Jey let go of Sami’s arm, muscles relaxing. “Yeah, well…maybe next time just let me know.”

Sami nodded fervently. “I promise.”

An undercurrent of everything remain unsaid. Jey’s lips parted, something lingering, and Sami’s heart pounded, sensing the shift.

But then—someone called Sami’s name. They both turned, moment broken.

“I gotta go,” Sami said, voice gentle. “But please—call me when you’re free. Let’s talk. I owe you more than an apology.”

Jey nodded stiffly, arms folded. “Fine.”

Sami started to walk away, then paused, looking over his shoulder with a small, tentative smile. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Jey watched him disappear around the corner, frustration mingling with that warm tug he hated admitting he felt.

—

Later that night, Jey paced in his hotel room. He hadn’t texted Sami, still fighting with his pride.

A knock on the door startled him.

He opened it—to see Sami, holding a plastic bag full of takeout containers and wearing an anxious expression. “Hey.”

Jey crossed his arms. “Hi Sami.”

Sami offered a grin, lifting the bag. “I brought dinner. Figured we could talk. Or watch the match footage. Or both.”

Jey eyed him warily, but stepped aside, letting Sami in.

They settled on the small couch. Sami handed Jey a container of food—Thai curry, still steaming.

“Look,” Sami began, quiet, “I know I messed up. I also know you don’t let just anyone in. I’m—”

He struggled for the right words.

Jey softened, setting his food aside. “I’m listening, Zayn.”

Sami inhaled shakily. “I care about you, Jey. Not just as a tag partner, not just as a friend—” He paused, swallowing. “I’d never stand you up on purpose. I’m…kinda—”

He trailed off, cheeks flushing.

Jey’s heart pounded. “You kinda—what?”

Sami forced himself to meet Jey’s gaze. “I’m…kinda crazy about you. I didn’t mean to hurt you or blow you off. I just messed up.”

Silencio.

Then, to Sami’s surprise, Jey let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like relief. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered, but there was no malice in it.

Sami bit his lip, nodding. “Probably.”

Jey’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, definitely.”

Then he reached out, brushing his fingers over Sami’s arm. “I’m not happy about what happened. But if you’re serious about this…us…”

“I am,” Sami said quickly, eyes earnest. “I’m dead serious.”

Jey’s shoulders finally relaxed. “Then…okay. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Sami’s grin was slow, blossoming with pure joy. He set his takeout on the table and, heart pounding, gently tugged Jey closer.

When their lips met—scared at first, then deeper—Jey felt all the leftover anger melt away.

—

Morning light filtered into the hotel room. Jey woke to find himself half draped over Sami, who was still dozing peacefully. Their late-night conversation had ended with them tangled up on the couch, talking about everything and nothing.

A small smile tugged at Jey’s mouth. He carefully brushed a stray curl from Sami’s forehead, thinking how close they’d come to letting a misunderstanding overshadow this.

Sami stirred, blinking awake. A sleepy, content look settled over his features when he saw Jey.

“Mornin’, Uce,” Sami murmured with a grin, still half asleep.

Jey chuckled softly, pressing his forehead to Sami’s. “Don’t you ever ghost me again.”

Sami snorted. “I won’t. Promise.”

And as they lay there, an easy quiet between them, Jey realized that sometimes all it takes is one honest conversation—and one heartfelt apology—to turn anger into something that felt an awful lot like love.

[maracujatangerine]

Hi I'm thinking a normal amount about Absalom today! Snooty Good PetTM who still (at least in Brutus' nightmares) moves to shield the others. Could we maybe hear a little about him and Brutus interacting (do they get to interact??) or how they first met or their first impressions of each other or. Anything like that? I love they and your writing is always tasty. -@secretwhumplair

86. Introducing Pets

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

”Do you really want to put them together, love? I mean, Brutus can be a bit high-spirited, and he is quite a lot stronger than your pet.” Wayland Jones shook his head. “I don’t want anything to happen.”

“Ah, don’t worry so much, dear. That nice WRU consultant did recommend for them to get some alone time together to suss each other out. And…” Cecilia twirled around gracefully, making her red skirt swirl out around her. Playfully, she put her hands on his shoulders, reaching up to give him a light peck on the cheek. “… since we are going to live together now…” She beamed, and turned to continue onwards down the corridor. “…we can’t really keep them apart for ever. Besides, we’ll just give them a few minutes, how bad can it get?”

“Let’s try it. I left Brutus in the hallway.”

“And Absalom is in the bedroom. I’ll go and get him.” She went eagerly, heels clacking against the floor.

Brutus and Wayland arrived first. The black-haired guard dog obediently went to kneel on the floor next to the unlit fireplace. His casual attire of dark grey sweatpants and t-shirt matched in colour, but clashed in tone, with Wayland’s dark grey suit and white shirt.

“I really want this to work, so make sure that you don’t mess it up for me.” Wayland’s hash tone made Brutus flinch. “She likes her pet, so be sure that you are nice to it. Understood?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. In fact, I count on you to keep an eye on Absalom. Romantics are smart enough to get in all sorts of trouble, but stupid enough to not get out of it again.”

“Yes, Master.”

Soon, the door swung open and Cecilia entered, Absalom half a step behind. At his mistress order, the pet knelt on the other side of the fireplace. He was elegantly dressed in a light blue vest over a white shirt, matching blue trousers, and his wavy, brown hair tied at the nape of his neck with a brighter blue ribbon. His collar was soft, grey leather, in sharp contrast to the black, synthetic material around the guard dog’s neck.

“Absalom, this is Brutus.” Cecilia said, grinning at the formality of introducing the pets to one another. “Brutus, this is Absalom. We want you to get to know each other better, so we’ll give you a few moments to talk.”

Both Cecilia and Wayland went towards the door.

“Have fun, pets.” She smiled. Wayland caught Brutus’ eye and mouthed; ‘Behave’.

As the door fell shut behind them, both pets stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.

Then, Absalom rose gracefully to his feet. The small scar on his upper lip emphasised by his sneer.

“Well, well… look what the cat dragged in….” In an undertone he added. “Though of course it would have to have been a fairly large and weight-bearing cat.”

He danced quickly backwards when Brutus also came to his feet. “That was a bit of a joke.” The pet said quickly, blue eyes wide. Finding himself, he tilted his head and tried a winsome smile. “I’m not usually meeting guard dogs. You are very imposing close by, darling.”

Standing face to face, they were almost the same height, but Brutus’ muscular heft compared with Absalom’s lithe build made the guard dog probably twice as heavy. They watched each other warily. Then, Brutus broke the silence with a shrug and a smile.

“I’m not used to your sort either.” He admitted, and scratched his head. “Actually, the last time I saw a romantic was when we got an old one as bait. He was just running around like a headless chicken and Jazz almost crushed his head when he knocked him out.” He chuckled. “It was actually quite funny… he…” Brutus looked up and finally seemed to register that Absalom’s somewhat condescending smile had frozen and turned into something more resembling a rictus grin. “Eh… He was all right, though… or at least he survived.” He swallowed, and tried again. “I wouldn’t do that to you, though. My Master has told me to be nice with you.”

“Okay then.” Absalom went for a forced, chipper tone. “We’re going to live together, we need to get along.”

Brutus nodded and held out his hand. “Truce?” Absalom studied his face for a moment, hesitating. Intensely blue eyes searching dark brown.

Then, carefully, he reached out his thin, carefully manicured hand, and clasped the the guard dogs darker, larger hand in his own.

“Truce.”

*

Everything feels a bit dark and scary in the world at the moment. Especially when things feels like they are going the wrong way, I think it is really important to involve yourself with actually trying to improve things, preferably together with other people in the world out there.

It is, however, also important to keep your own spirits up, so I took this advice, and decided to make something today. I have been twisting and turning this wonderful ask by @secretwhumplair in my mind for a while, and it finally clicked together in a way I’m happy with. I was also inspired by this ask. Thank you so much for the ask, @secretwhumplair, I hope you’ll enjoy Brutus and Absalom’s first meeting! ❤️

*

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[rightnewshindi]

कालादान प्रोजेक्ट: चीन की चाल को नाकाम करने की भारत की बड़ी तैयारी, जानें क्यों है ये इतना खास

New Delhi News: भारत और म्यांमार के बीच ऐतिहासिक और सामर��क रिश्ते हमेशा से मजबूत रहे हैं। लेकिन पिछले कुछ सालों में चीन की बढ़ती दखलंदाजी ने इस क्षेत्र में नई चुनौतियां खड़ी कर दी हैं। चीन ने अपने आर्थिक प्रभाव का इस्तेमाल कर भारत के पड़ोसी देशों को अपने पक्ष में करने की कोशिश की है। बांग्लादेश और म्यांमार में उसकी भारी निवेश और इकॉनमिक कॉरिडोर की योजना इसका सबूत है। खास तौर पर भारत के…

[lichenes]

oooo Vincent reassuring reader when the reader meets Sandra for the first time. PS. Love your work

-🪼

Thank you 🪼 for the ask :D Glad you like my rubbish <33

Sandra my beloved. But I shall rise to the occasion and fulfill your ask.

CW: jealousy, brief neck kissing and brief kissing, angst and fluff?kinda? corny ending like, actually embarrassing, some plot holes (sorry!), SFW

wc: 451

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ _____

You weren't the jealous type, you knew you weren't. It never occured to you that you could love someone so passionately and be so possesive of them. When you were jealous though you felt like a hungry fox trying to steal away a chicken from the coop. That's what you were feeling now.

"Chéri?" He mused not quite paying attention to you. "I need to go to meet up with a client." He smiled when you put up an eyebrow questioningly. "What? I'm a full time lawyer, all hours of the day are office time." You chuckled lightly pecking him on the cheek and bidding him goodbye.

He came back around 11, quicker than you were expecting, a woman under his arm entering your house. You went out into the corridor looking confused at hearing a her voice. "Hello?" Vincent looked at you, his face contorting into something you couldn't quite name. "Oh sorry, didn't you get my message?"

You were sitting around the table in your kitchen. Sandra and Vincent chatting away while you were sitting with your arms crossed clearly uncomfortable with her presence. There's nothing to be jealous of, you thought. You were chalking up your envy to how beautiful Sandra was. How her ocean blue eyes complimented her dark blonde hair. How she moved so effortlessly through the room, how she gestured as if to impress but not overwhelm.

She existed purely to be adored and Vincent seemed to be adoring her too much. "And how about you?" Sandra asked with a smile on her face. "Hm?" You hummed, flustered as your own jealousy just overshadowed any connection you could've formed with her.

When Sandra left around midnight she hugged you. She hugged you real tight, a hug cementing the fact that she would be showing up more often in your life. You hugged her back not wanting to seem off.

When she got out of your space Vincent came up to you and hugged you from behind.

"Sorry for taking so long chéri. I know you don't like unexpected guests." You relaxed into his touch, putting your head on his shoulder and letting him kiss you on the neck. "Honey..." you started. "Sandra and you... you're not..." you trailed off.

He spun you around and looked at you concerned. "No. Absolutely not." He got closer to your face as if to amplify his point. "I wouldn't do this to you. Ever. Don't think that of me mon cœur." He kissed you as delicately as he could, bringing you closer to yourself.

"I love you." You said after you broke the kiss. Tears already welling up in your eyes. "Et je t'aime aussi." He said wiping them.

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ _____

masterlist

[creepinonmen]

On a crisp February morning in 2025, Marat, the meticulous and well-respected manager of the Chick-fil-A nestled within the Mall, stood beside his car in the dimly lit parking lot, adjusting the collar of his crisp gray uniform shirt. The fabric felt cool and smooth against his fingertips, its slightly starched texture brushing lightly against his skin, while the red Chick-fil-A logo embroidered on his chest pricked faintly under his touch, its raised threads catching the faint, silvery glow of the overhead sodium-vapor lights. His black dress shoes, polished to a mirror shine, pressed firmly against the damp pavement, the leather soles gripping the slick surface with a satisfying, tactile resistance, their rhythmic clicks echoing sharply in the pre-dawn stillness, mingling with the faint, gritty sensation of gravel underfoot. He glanced at his watch—6:45 AM—its smooth, cool metal face pressing against his wrist, the ticking hands vibrating ever so slightly against his skin, and a flicker of anxiety tightened the knot in his stomach, the tension coiling like a physical weight in his gut. He was running a few minutes late for his shift, a rare occurrence for the punctual 20-year-old, and the crisp, cool air nipped at his ears, its chill seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, raising goosebumps along his neck.

Marat balanced a clipboard under his arm, its edges pressing into his side, the stiff paper crinkling faintly against his uniform, the corner digging lightly into his ribs as he shifted. Its pages, filled with the day’s schedule scrawled in his neat handwriting, felt slightly rough under his fingers, the ink smudging just a touch with the warmth of his skin, while inventory notes in blue ink and a checklist for the morning rush—prepping the kitchen, briefing his team of cheerful employees, ensuring the signature chicken sandwiches and waffle fries would flow seamlessly to hungry customers—brushed against his thumb, their texture evoking the savory, oily memory of frying chicken that lingered in his mind. The familiarity of the routine was a comforting anchor, but today, an inexplicable chill prickled at the back of his neck, the sensation like tiny, sharp needles dancing across his skin, a whisper of unease he couldn’t shake, underscored by the faint, metallic tang of anxiety coating his tongue and the slight, clammy dampness of his palms.

He parked near the service entrance, a nondescript door tucked between loading bays and maintenance corridors, its chipped, gray paint rough and cold under his fingertips, the surface flaking slightly as he pressed against it. His breath fogged in the cool air, a soft, warm plume that brushed against his lips before dissipating, carrying the faint, clean scent of winter lingering into spring. As he hurried toward it, the clipboard now clutched in one hand, its edges biting into his palm, the paper rustling with each step, the mall’s early morning stillness enveloped him—until a sudden, darting shadow erupted from behind a nearby dumpster, its movement swift and predatory, accompanied by the scuff of rubber soles on concrete and a faint, gritty vibration through the ground beneath his feet.

Before Marat could turn or cry out, a powerful arm snaked around his chest, the fabric of his uniform tightening against his skin, the cotton stretching and pulling at his shoulders, yanking him backward with brutal force. The clipboard slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground with a sharp, metallic ping that reverberated through his bones, papers fluttering like startled birds across the pavement, their edges whispering against the concrete, the thin sheets brushing his ankles as they fell. The air rushed from his lungs, leaving a burning ache in his chest, the pressure of the arm squeezing tighter, the fabric of the attacker’s sleeve rough and abrasive against his back. He was dragged into the dimly lit corridor of an unused office space adjacent to the mall’s service area, the concrete floor scraping against his shoes, the leather soles skidding with a screeching friction, his heels dragging, the resistance jarring his legs.

The space smelled of stale coffee, its bitter, acrid undertone mixing with the musty, dusty sensation of neglect, the air thick with the faint, oily tang of decades-old machinery oil that seemed to cling to his skin. The attacker, cloaked in a black hoodie and a ski mask that revealed only cold, unblinking eyes, shoved Marat forward into a small, claustrophobic office. The room was a relic of disuse, its single desk buried under a chaotic pile of yellowed manuals, their pages brittle and crackling faintly when disturbed, the edges cutting lightly into his fingers as he instinctively reached out, forgotten files with the faint, sour slickness of mildew, and cracked coffee mugs streaked with dried, brown stains that felt gritty under his touch. A flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting jagged shadows across the scuffed linoleum floor, its harsh, electric hum grating on Marat’s nerves, the vibrations tingling through his skull, punctuated by the occasional pop and sizzle of a dying bulb that sent a sharp, electric jolt through the air.

Marat stumbled, his polished shoes skidding on the slick floor, the leather soles squeaking with a high-pitched friction, the cold, smooth linoleum pressing against his soles as he lost his balance. His heart hammered against his ribcage, the thudding pulse loud in his ears, mingling with the rasp of his quickening breaths, the air catching in his throat, dry and scratchy. He twisted and struggled to break free, the fabric of his uniform shirt stretching taut, the buttons pressing painfully into his chest, the cotton chafing against his skin, but the attacker’s grip was unyielding, their gloved hands rough and cold against his arms, the leather gripping tightly, its texture slick and unyielding, squeezing his biceps with a bruising intensity.

With a rough shove, the masked figure bent Marat over the desk, pinning him down with a knee pressed into his back, the pressure sending a sharp, aching pain through his spine, the wood cool and splintered against his stomach, its rough surface scratching his skin through his shirt. The edge of the desk dug painfully into his abdomen, the hard, unyielding edge pressing into his flesh, his uniform shirt riding up slightly to expose a sliver of pale, goosebump-covered skin, the air chilling it instantly, the cold biting into his exposed flesh. Marat’s breath hitched, a muffled whimper escaping through his nose, the scent of his own fear—sharp and metallic—mingling with the dusty odor of the room, the vibration of his rapid heartbeat pulsing against the desk. He felt cold metal snap around his wrists—handcuffs locking his hands behind his back with a metallic click that echoed in the empty space, the metal biting into his skin, leaving a stinging, raw sensation, the cuffs’ edges rubbing against his bones, the cold seeping into his flesh.

Panic surged through him, hot and suffocating, as he opened his mouth to scream for help, his voice rising in desperation, the sound caught in his throat, tasting of bile and terror, the dryness scraping against his palate. But his cry was cut short. A damp rag, reeking of musty fabric and faint detergent—its texture rough and slightly gritty—was shoved into his mouth, forcing his jaw wide, the fabric abrasive against his tongue, its dampness clinging to his lips, heavy and uncomfortable. Before he could spit it out, the attacker wrapped a strip of silver duct tape around his head, the adhesive pulling at his skin, sealing his lips shut with a sticky, tearing sensation, the tape’s edge digging into his cheeks, its texture tacky and unyielding against his flesh. His muffled protests dissolved into frantic, shallow breaths through his nose, the air whistling faintly, his chest heaving as his wide, hazel eyes—glistening with unshed tears—darted around the room, the lashes brushing against his skin with each blink, searching for an escape, a savior, anything. The fluorescent light buzzed louder, its harsh, electric drone mocking his terror, the vibrations tingling through his skull, the shadows dancing across the walls like living things, their edges sharp against his peripheral vision.

With a swift, almost casual motion, the attacker flipped Marat onto his back, the desk creaking under the shift in weight, the wood groaning softly, its rough surface scraping against his spine, the splinters catching on his shirt. Marat’s cuffed hands were pinned beneath him, the metal biting deeper into his wrists, the sharp pain radiating up his arms, the cuffs’ edges grinding against his bones, while his legs dangled over the edge, his polished shoes scraping against the floor, the leather soles scuffing on the linoleum with a faint, grating friction, the cold surface pressing against his heels. His uniform shirt, now slightly wrinkled and damp with sweat, clung to his torso, the cotton chafing against his skin, the red logo distorted by the pressure, its raised threads pressing into his chest. The masked figure loomed over him, their gloved hands—black and untraceable, the leather creaking faintly with each movement, its slick surface sliding against his skin—reaching down to trail over his chest. The touch was slow, deliberate, fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt, the cotton rasping softly, lingering near the buttons, the hard plastic pressing into his skin, before tracing downward, over the flat plane of his stomach, the pressure light but invasive, raising a shiver that prickled his skin, the fabric bunching slightly under the touch. Marat’s heart pounded wildly, the thundering rhythm deafening in his ears, the pulse vibrating through his chest, his fear escalating as the attacker’s hand slid around, gripping his backside through the taut fabric of his dark polyester trousers, the slick, synthetic material bunching and pulling tight, its smooth surface sliding against his skin, the pressure firm and possessive, sending a wave of nausea roiling through his stomach, the fabric chafing slightly against his thighs.

The attacker’s voice, low and chilling, cut through the silence like a blade, its timbre rough and distorted, carrying a faint, metallic edge from the mask, the sound vibrating against his ear, the warmth of their breath brushing his cheek, sour and heavy. “I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, Marat,” they whispered, the words brushing against his ear, their breath warm and sour, the moisture clinging to his skin, laced with an unsettling mix of obsession and menace. The sound sent a shiver down his spine, raising the hairs on his neck, their texture bristling against his collar, their familiarity unnerving—had he seen this person before? Known them somehow? But the mask obscured any hint of identity, leaving only those cold, steely eyes boring into his own, wide with terror, the lashes brushing against his cheeks as tears welled, their hot, salty tracks trickling down his face, stinging his skin.

Marat’s breaths came in short, ragged gasps, the air whistling through his nose, the cold, dry sensation scraping against his nostrils, carrying the faint, musty scent of the rag still stuffed in his mouth, its rough texture pressing against his tongue, the dampness seeping into his gums. His muffled whimpers—soft, desperate sounds—barely audible beneath the duct tape, vibrated against his lips, the adhesive pulling painfully at his skin, its tacky grip tightening with each movement, the tape’s edge digging into his cheeks. He squirmed, his legs kicking weakly, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the floor, the leather groaning, the cold linoleum pressing against his heels, but the attacker’s weight held him firm, their knee pressing harder into his thigh, the fabric of their pants rough and abrasive against his skin, the pressure bruising, the bone aching under the force.

Then, with a chilling deliberateness, the figure reached into their pocket, the fabric rustling faintly, the texture brushing against his leg, and pulled out a syringe. The needle glinted under the flickering light, its steel tip catching a sharp, cold gleam, the barrel filled with a clear, ominous liquid that felt slick and cool against his skin as it pressed briefly against his arm before the plunge. The scent was sterile and chemical, cutting through the room’s musty air, its sharpness stinging his nostrils. Marat’s eyes widened further, the whites showing, his muffled protests growing frantic as he thrashed against the cuffs, the metal clinking softly, the edges grinding into his wrists, the pain radiating through his bones. But it was useless.

The attacker leaned closer, their masked face inches from his, the fabric of the ski mask brushing against his cheek, its rough, scratchy texture catching on his stubble, carrying the faint, oily scent of sweat and wool that clung to his skin. With a swift, brutal motion, they plunged the needle into Marat’s shoulder, the sharp sting radiating through his flesh, the metal piercing deep, followed by a cold, burning sensation that spread through his veins like ice water, numbing his limbs, the liquid seeping into his muscles, the pressure heavy and foreign. His vision blurred at the edges, the fluorescent light above fracturing into a kaleidoscope of colors, its harsh buzz fading into a distant hum, the vibrations tingling through his skull. His limbs grew heavy, his struggles weakening, the cuffs digging deeper into his wrists, the leather of his shoes pressing uselessly against the floor, and his wide, fear-filled eyes—glistening with tears that now spilled over, hot and salty against his cheeks, stinging his skin—locked onto the attacker’s for a final, desperate moment, the lashes brushing against his cheeks with each blink. Then, slowly, inevitably, his eyelids fluttered, the lashes dragging against his skin, his pupils dilating as they rolled back into his head, the world narrowing to a pinprick of light before darkness swallowed him whole, the scent of fear and chemicals lingering in his nostrils, the cold metal of the cuffs and the slick, synthetic polyester of his trousers the last sensations against his skin. Consciousness slipped away, leaving him at the mercy of his mysterious captor in the abandoned office, the mall’s morning bustle—oblivious to his plight, its distant chatter and the savory, oily aroma of frying chicken drifting faintly through the walls, the scent teasing his unconscious mind—beginning to stir just beyond the shadows.

[ruanbaijie]

During the Republican Era, Shen Zhiheng, a member of the Tianjin gentry who happened to be a vampire, offended the Japanese and became the target of an assassination attempt. He was saved by a blind young lady, Mi Lan, and his best friend Situ Weilian. When he went to repay Mi Lan for saving him, he discovered the terrible family situation that Mi Lan was in, and so began to pay more attention to her. Meanwhile, Shen Zhiheng’s plan to take revenge on Li Yingliang, the mastermind behind his assassination, fell short of success thanks to Li Yingliang’s Japanese superior, raising suspicions about his identity. Since then, Li Yingliang and the Japanese were in hot pursuit of Shen Zhiheng, determined to dig out the truth about his secret.

Please do not repost this anywhere else or retranslate it!

MAIN DIRECTORY ☾ READ ON AO3 ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

As he had a tall and slender figure, when Shen Zhiheng normally stood straight, he would stand out of the crowd like a crane among chickens. Now, as he swayed over, he was also extraordinarily eye-catching, so much so that when Situ Weilian heard the doorbell ring and opened the door, it was as if there was a flash before his eyes, and Shen Zhiheng had already drifted into his house together with the waves like a tall and gentle strand of seaweed.

Situ Weilian had already not seen his face for a long time, and he had prepared himself today to welcome a steel-faced demon. So, with much surprise, he turned around and caught up with him, craning his long neck and extending his head before Shen Zhiheng, scrutinising him.

“Da-ge? Are you… smiling?”

There was not actually a smile on Shen Zhiheng’s face, the corners of his eyes merely had shadows that held a hint of a smile. He turned towards the back before the sofa, sat down, and crossed one leg over the other, his eyes gazing upwards at Situ Weilian before him.

“I’m about to be imprisoned by the Japanese for you, do you think I can still smile?”

Situ Weilian hurriedly walked forward, squeezing himself down beside him. “I think you’re smiling.” He poked Shen Zhiheng with his elbow. “Are you finally willing to forgive me?”

Shen Zhiheng changed the topic, “Where’s Li Yingliang?”

Situ Weilian lowered his voice, “The corridor outside, the two apartments beside us, upstairs and downstairs, his men are all hiding there in ambush. In a while, he will barge in and take me as a hostage to force you to go with them.”

Shen Zhiheng turned around and extended an arm, reaching towards the small cupboard at one end of the sofa and pulling open one of the drawers. He visited this place often, and there were many times when he left the cigar he had brought along behind. Situ Weilian did not love cigars, so he kept them in that small drawer for Shen Zhiheng. That drawer had gradually become a treasure chest, containing cigars and long, high quality matchsticks, and ordinary cigarettes. However, when Shen Zhiheng pulled the drawer open this time, he found that there was only half a pack of cigarettes, and he looked back at Situ Weilian.

Situ Weilian shrugged, “You never come, no one used the cigars and they were just left there. They had become mouldy and I threw them away a few days ago.”

Shen Zhiheng closed the drawer, pulling back his hand. “Little son of a bitch.”

Situ Weilian dug his hand into his pants pocket. “I have chewing gum, do you want it? Perhaps you can eat it, in any case, you’ll just be tasting the flavour, and not swallowing it into your stomach.”

As he spoke, he fished out a small pack of Wrigley’s chewing gum. He pulled out a piece and removed the wrapper, sending it to Shen Zhiheng’s mouth.

Shen Zhiheng looked at him and asked, “Aren’t we no longer master and servant?”

Laughing, Situ Weilian leaned backwards, “Da-ge, I know that what I said was wrong, I’ve also already apologised to you, please spare me!”

Shen Zhiheng extended his hand and grabbed that piece of chewing gum. He popped it into his mouth, and frowned at once. The minty, refreshing taste was as sharp as a needle, stimulating his tongue and mouth, but not to the extent that it was unbearable. He really wanted to eat food like a normal person, since he could not actually swallow, then just pretending to chew was enough.

At this point, the doorbell rang.

Situ Weilian exchanged a glance with Shen Zhiheng, and then he shouted once in reply. He got up and walked over, opening the door.

The door opened, and Li Yingliang entered the stage.

As the weather was hot, his attire was simple. His Western suit was thin and fitting, proving that there were no guns hidden on his body. The group of men in plainclothes with him blocked the doorway, as he said politely, “Doctor Situ, I’m very sorry to so brazenly turn up on your doorstep like that and interrupt.”

Situ Weilian took a step back, a look of panic on his face. “Why are you here?”

Li Yingliang shoved Situ Weilian side, entering the house with his head and chest held high. As he had hoped for, he saw Shen Zhiheng sitting on the sofa, and he bowed slightly towards him. By right, he should have exchanged a few phrases of small talk with him, but when he straightened his back and looked at Shen Zhiheng, he was momentarily filled with mixed feelings, his emotions so complex that he had no idea where to begin.

Meeting his gaze for a moment, Shen Zhiheng suddenly stood up and pulled out a handkerchief. Using it to block his mouth, he dashed towards a small door at one side. The light behind that small door was lit, and the wall was lined with white porcelain tiles; this was a small toilet and bathroom. Li Yingliang was stunned for a second. Shen Zhiheng had already rushed inside, closing the door with a slam.

Then, the dull sound of vomiting came from behind the door, as Shen Zhiheng could finally no longer withstand the stimulation of the chewing gum, his intestines and stomach roiling turbulently. After retching into the toilet bowl for a while, he straightened his back, his face and ears red, turning to the tap as he panted heavily and washed his face with cold water. When he pushed the small door open and once again faced the others, he saw Li Yingliang standing before him with wrinkled eyebrows and clenched teeth. His eyes were completely red, as if he had suffered miserably at the hands of a bully, and he was so furious that there were already tears in his eyes.

Shen Zhiheng looked at him, wanting to speak but holding his tongue, for his stomach had a mind of its own and had started to spasm again. And so, he turned around and once again returned to the toilet, closing the door behind him, and the sounds of retching once again instantly started to ring out from behind the door.

Separated by a door, the corner of Li Yingliang’s lips twitched. He twisted his head towards Situ Weilian who was standing aside, and sneered, “He’s humiliating me, isn’t it?”

Situ Weilian licked his lips. “About that… he should have eaten something wrong.”

Li Yingliang nodded. “Of course, the thing he wants to eat most now is me. Eating anything else is eating wrong.”

Situ Weilian looked at him, blinking. He knew that Li Yingliang had misunderstood, but given his way with words, for a moment, he really did not know how to resolve the misunderstanding. Before he could say the two words “chewing gum”, the small door before them opened, and Shen Zhiheng stepped out once again.

After vomiting twice, Shen Zhiheng had rinsed his mouth maniacally, and had finally rinsed out seventy percent of the flavour of the chewing gum. Still, he still felt a little nauseous, as if he had not just chewed on chewing gum, but had swallowed shit. Breathing heavily, he leaned against the frame of the door to stabilise himself, wanting to even raise his hand to adjust his hair. However, there was really no need for it; that head of his was very stylish, and not a strand of his short hair was out of place.

On the other hand, as he had waited, Li Yingliang had become so angry that his teardrops were about to fall. When Shen Zhiheng finally looked at him again, he held onto Shen Zhiheng’s gaze, and said, “Mr. Shen.”

Still panting, Shen Zhiheng’s eyes, just like Li Yingliang’s, glistened with a slight trace of teardrops. Hearing Li Yingliang call him, that gaze of his became focused.

“Mm?” he asked Li Yingliang.

Li Yingliang gritted his teeth, a sneer slithering out from between his teeth, “You didn’t think that you could see me alive again, did you?”

Shen Zhiheng closed his eyes and nodded once perfunctorily, “Mm.” Then, he twisted his head to Situ Weilian, “Give me a cigarette.”

Situ Weilian said, “I only have Three Castles cigarettes, is that okay?”

Shen Zhiheng nodded continuously, and Situ Weilian jogged to find the cigarette box and matchsticks, lighting one for him.

He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke disperse the last traces of sweetness in his mouth, and finally, he was truly comfortable. Then, he turned towards Li Yingliang again, asking, “What did you just say?”

Li Yingliang raised a hand, and seeing this gesture, the agents in plainclothes behind him swarmed forward and surrounded Situ Weilian.

Situ Weilian feigned panic, “What are you doing? This is the concession zone! If you don’t leave, I’ll call the patrol!”

The agents subdued him with his hands behind his back, and stuffed a ball of handkerchief into his mouth.

Seeing this, Shen Zhiheng asked, “Are you kidnapping him?”

Li Yingliang’s sneer morphed into a cackle, “That’s right, I’m kidnapping him!”

With the cigarette clasped between his fingers, Shen Zhiheng inhaled again, “Then go ahead and busy yourselves, I’ll take my leave.”

The second he said this, he spat out a cloud of smoke and took a step forward. Li Yingliang froze, and hurriedly turned around to catch up with him, catching his arm. “Stop! Do you think you can still walk out of this door today?”

Shen Zhiheng turned around and asked, “Then you mean–”

“You’re also coming along with us!”

Shen Zhiheng inhaled another breath of smoke. “Okay.”

Li Yingliang had not expected him to agree so readily. He froze again, and recovered at once, raising his head and boring his eyes straight into Shen Zhiheng’s. His gaze was as piercing as arrows, shooting straight into Shen Zhiheng’s eyeballs.

“Don’t play any tricks, if you dare to cause any trouble again, I’ll send Situ Weilian off first to see the King of Hell!”

Upon hearing this, Shen Zhiheng twisted his head and was about to leave again. “I don’t have any feelings for him. Do whatever you want.”

Li Yingliang hurriedly grabbed his sleeve again. “You dare?!”

Shen Zhiheng glanced at him with a half-smile. “What do you think?”

Li Yingliang’s eyebrows raised. “I have no comment!”

Shen Zhiheng no longer spoke, lowering his head and looking at the small stub of cigarette in his hands. Seeing the ashtray arranged on the small desk beside him, he extended his hand and pressed that small stub out inside it. The house became quiet for no reason, as if everyone was standing at attention, waiting for Li Yingliang to speak.

A breath was stuck in Li Yingliang’s chest. Shen Zhiheng had not offended him, but he simply felt that he had been humiliated. Not only did the one surnamed Shen look down on him, he had also collaborated with everyone at the scene to ostracise him. Just how hateable was he? Just how deserving of being murdered was he?

However, he still swallowed this breath. “Mr. Shen, please.”

Shen Zhiheng said, “Chairman Li is allowing me to walk out of this door again?”

Li Yingliang said, his voice low, “You’re allowed, go!”

Behind the apartment building, Shen Zhiheng got into Li Yingliang’s car. As the hostage, Situ Weilian was in the second car, sandwiched between two agents.

Li Yingliang had constantly kept his guard up against Shen Zhiheng, in case he caused any trouble, and had even been prepared to fight for his life. However, Shen Zhiheng sat beside him calmly, without showing any signs of wanting to eat people.

When the car finally drove onto the main street, he even asked proactively, “How did you escape?”

Li Yingliang looked ahead, his face as pale and cold as snow. “You must’ve thought that I had long died in the basement, right?”

Shen Zhiheng replied, “A few days ago, I actually went back with the intention to take care of your body. I had rented the warehouse and the lease was about to be up. If the owner found a corpse in the basement, wouldn’t that be troublesome for me?”

“Then you could say that I saved you the trouble?”

“Certainly not. Dealing with a live you is more troublesome than taking care of your body. If you had died much earlier on, what need would I have now to go and be locked up in the devils’ prison?”

“How do you know that I will definitely send you to jail?”

“If you’re not sending me to jail, then are you inviting me to your house to be the lord of the house?”

“Then why didn’t you escape just now?”

Shen Zhiheng turned his face and looked at him. “Can I escape?”

Li Yingliang looked him in the eye. “You can’t escape.”

Shen Zhiheng turned towards the front. “Doesn’t that solve it.”

“I’m actually a little disappointed.”

“You want to see me become a trapped beast?”

“You understand me.”

“I understand human hearts.”

Li Yingliang laughed. “But you’re not even human.”

Shen Zhiheng sighed, as if in warning. “Such words are meaningless.”

“Hahaha, did I hit you where it hurts?”

“Yes.” Shen Zhiheng sighed, “It really hurts.”

Li Yingliang still laughed, as if he was about to go insane. With Shen Zhiheng, he was never able to keep a level head. Not only did Shen Zhiheng harm him physically, he also harmed him spiritually; if he did not humiliate him, he frightened him, making him panic to the point where he was like a dog that had lost its home. He simply did not know how he should deal with Shen Zhiheng. No matter how he dealt with him, he was never reconciled with it.

Shen Zhiheng realised that the car was not actually headed towards the Yokoyama mansion.

This was not sufficient to surprise him. Looking at the roads outside the window, he wanted to remember the path, but Li Yingliang suddenly fished out a roll of black cloth, and said, “Don’t mind me [1] .”

Shen Zhiheng was too focused on remembering the path, and had not heard him say these three words in a low voice, and so he did not turn around. After waiting for a while, Li Yingliang raised his voice, “Mr. Shen, don’t mind me.”

This time, Shen Zhiheng heard him and turned around, noticing the strip of cloth in Li Yingliang’s hands. Holding forth the strip of cloth, Li Yingliang’s face was cold as he said, “Please forgive me.”

Shen Zhiheng ignored him, turning his head to continue looking at the scenery. Used to being ignored by him, Li Yingliang was already of a strong enough mind, and so he simply covered his eyes with the cloth as if he were harnessing a horse, and then tied a live knot at the back of his head.

As the car drove on for quite a while, Shen Zhiheng did not know where it finally stopped. However, Tianjin was only so big, and as fast as the car drove, it was unlikely that they had sent him all the way to Beiping.

After getting out of the car, he was supported at the arms by two agents as he walked along, first crossing a threshold, then into a house, and finally down a long flight of stairs. The air became cold and damp, mixed with the smell of dirt and mould.

As he followed alongside him, Li Yingliang suddenly heard Shen Zhiheng ask, “A dungeon again?”

He replied, “That’s right, a dungeon again.”

Shen Zhiheng inhaled deeply. “Déjà vu, I’m afraid that this time, you will still fail.”

“That’s alright, this time, I don’t necessarily have to win.”

“Why have you become so detached?”

“I don’t dare to, it’s simply that I’ve died once, and have started to cherish my life.”

Upon saying this, he hurried forward. “Please lower your head.”

Shen Zhiheng obeyed and lowered his head, and Li Yingliang extended his arm out in a hurry, personally untying the black strip of cloth over his eyes.

Shen Zhiheng looked back. “Where’s Weilian?”

Li Yingliang replied, “He’s just behind us. We reached five minutes before him.”

“I want to be together with Weilian.”

“What if I don’t agree?”

Shen Zhiheng stopped walking. The two agents pushed him roughly, but they were unable to make him budge, as if he had grown right out of the earth. Seeing this, Li Yingliang quickly changed his mind.

“I agree.”

Shen Zhiheng continued walking forward.

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

This is not a direct translation. The actual Chinese used here is 得罪了 (dé zuí le), which literally means “I’ve offended you”. It’s commonly said when you’re about to do (or have done) something to someone that will humiliate or offend them.

[cyb3rthoughts]

A Slight Change of Pace Ch. 4

Synopsis- After an electric match, things heat up between y/n and Jeff. But some outside inference, and boiling jealousy make things harder than they should be.

Warning- 18+ steamy steamy make out sesh 🔥👀, language, angst

Word count- 4.k

A/n- aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!! This took me entirely too long to write. Hope y’all enjoy ch 5 coming sooooon ✨🫡

The Hardyz music continues to fill the stadium, as Jeff and I linger around the ring. We make our way around high-fiving everyone we can around the barricades. I was having the best time, going around seeing every fan feel the same excitement I feel inside.

After probably overstaying our welcome on the floor. We run full speed back into gorilla just like every other night.

Except this time it felt different. Both of our energies were palpable.

Excitement, adrenaline, tension.

So thick you could cut it with a knife. It exudes off my body like a white light. I look over. He seems like he has the same feeling over - rushed and buzzing.

So much so that I’m hardly able to respond to anyone backstage before his hand is on my shoulder guiding me elsewhere.

I scrunch my eyebrows at him curiously, his face giving me no hints at all.

He didn’t have a harsh grip, his touch was soft. It didn’t take him long to realize he didn’t have to force me to go with him anywhere.

No matter what, how mad I am, confused, whatever. I still seem to follow him wherever he demands.

For that I can’t explain.

Just like earlier this evening he led us further and further into the depths backstage. Since the show was nearing the end, people were running around left and right. Everyone, looking like chickens with their heads cut off. They were either gathering cords, or moving heavy equipment around.

Suddenly he grabbed my hand, yanking me into a short corridor that looked vacant for the time being.

What is with this guy and forcing me into the shadows?

Catching me completely off guard, which he seems to revel in. He abruptly pushes me against the wall, using the momentum of his pull. His lips instantly attaching to mine, basically giving me whiplash.

I’m taken a back at his advances, but without hesitation I kiss him back. Another thing I couldn’t explain.

All I know is I really enjoyed the last few “make outs” we’ve had.

One hand snaked to the back of my neck, tangling his fingertips into my hair. The other slowly moved from my waist, lower onto my hips. Then down my thigh, as I hooked it up onto the side of his leg.

Almost, subconsciously I wrapped my leg further around his. Causing his knee to bend forward.

I swallowed a gasp at the feeling, as he bit at the underside of my jaw. His movements fast, both of our breaths getting heavier and heavier, in the same rhythm as mine.

“This…” I breathily whisper

“Is not.. very professional.” I finished speaking just before his lips almost returned to mine.

He smirks, stopping himself before it went too far, dropping his forehead to mine, chest heaving. Both of us were sticky with a light coat of sweat from the match. “You’re right.” His nose grazed mine, lips almost falling right back to where it felt like they belonged. That overwhelming tension growing by the millisecond.

Then out of nowhere, he grabbed my hand once more, his urgency growing. He forced me to walk in front of him this time.

…. For obvious reasons.

His bulge pressed against my lower back with every step. Which he definitely seemed to be doing on purpose.

At the pace we were walking now. It was almost impossible to think about anything other than his close proximity. I had no time to contemplate that this could possibly be a bad idea.

Nor did I want to.

Nonetheless his hands found themselves glued to my hips once again. This time his grip was sure to leave marks behind.

We moved quickly, darting around random carts, and miscellaneous items that lingered around. Or the occasional backstage worker that luckily paid us no mind.

“Left here.” He spoke, deep, slowly into my ear from behind.

I turned the corner, wondering where everyone was. There were a few random people scattered, but no one I really recognized. After a second and the sudden sound of the crowd roaring I remembered.

Tonight, must be right about now, there’s a dark match between Kurt Angle, and Chris Jericho. It’s not televised, so who knows how long they’ll go on for. Guess that explains the almost ghost town.

“One more left.” He spoke again interrupting my thoughts. He gave me chills every time he spoke. My heart racing out of my chest.

All of the sudden we approach the vehicle bay where all of the trucks and suvs drive in. Everything was concrete slab and slate gray, completely industrial.

I notice a side door underneath the glowing red exit sign. It was next to the few huge garage sliding doors in the middle of the wall.

Where in the world is he taking me?

“Let’s go this way.” He gestures towards it. Pushing the door open just in time to escape any sight.

There’s rows and rows of huge, semi trucks in front of us. The company’s logos plastered all across each one.

Suddenly I’m startled by the scuff of footsteps stopping us dead in our tracks. A hushed “Shh” coming from Jeff sending a shiver down my spine.

We wait for a minute, now crouched down a bit to disguise ourselves with the shadows. There were muffled voices, through layers and layers of the massive vehicles. But for some reason they turned back around just before they got any closer. Lucky enough for us.

My heart had jolted for a moment, adrenaline coursing through my veins, like an electrical current.

Already he’s back to pushing me forward. “Wait where are we going?” I giggle snapping back into the situation at hand. I try to look back at him as we continue to stumble through the barely lit darkness.

He doesn’t say anything, when he sneaks back in front of me now walking backwards.

He grabs both my hands, slowing down his pace. He jerks his head to the side, as we slip in between two of the huge trucks. Shielding us from anything or anyone.

His eyes were dark, mine were probably wider than these 18 wheelers headlights.

I tried not to feel bashful at his intense,

unwavering stare, but it was difficult.

His eyebrows rose slightly, like he was just trying to gauge my expression.

I try to act more chilled out than I felt, leaning back against the cold metal of the truck. I wince barely as it touches my skin. It’s the only thing reminding me it’s almost below freezing out here.

He slowly walked closer, hovering over me at an extremely close proximity. While I let my head softly drop back against the steel.

His hand landed to the side of my neck again, softly forcing my head to the side, while his thumb ran over my jaw.

The pad of it slowly moving, landing on my bottom lip. He pulled it down, letting it go quickly, with a quiet “pop”. His other arm stretched above me, pressing his hand against the truck for support.

Just moments ago he was moving in fast forward, now it’s all slowmo.

Whether it was the background noises of distant workers. Or the quiet heav of our breathing. Neither could distract from the unspoken words between us.

It’s driving me insane.

Looking up at him I can’t help but laugh involuntarily. Simultaneously remembering I needed to stay quiet, I cover my mouth, to block any noise coming out.

“What?” He smiled down at me.

“Well… what makes this any less unprofessional?” I tease, wondering what the difference in scenery made.

A chuckle escaped his mouth. He dipped down now, placing a sweet peck to my lips.

“I just wanted to practice, s’more” he almost whined, deepening the next kiss, tongue swiping my bottom lip. “You didn’t take me up on my offer before.” He continued, really giving no reason at all. But it was enough for me at this moment, in my unclear, head rushed state.

Without any hesitation, he hoists me up, pinning me against the freezing metal. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

“I guess that makes sense.” I whisper while playing along with his nonsense.

“Our characters should be at least a little convincing.” I smile sarcastically justifying our behavior. His tongue, now commanding my mouth with each kiss in between words.

He then moved, burying his head back in the crook of my neck. I can feel the rumble of his slight laughter against my chest.

I let out another breathy laugh while peering up. I was greeted with the dark blue, starry sky above, reminding me where I was. Almost snapping me back into reality.

Almost.

Then my thoughts are immediately cut off by the pressure of his hips. His lips on my neck, at the same time, leaving the slowest, most methodical kisses in their wake.

My hands slid up underneath his shirt, harshly raking my fingernails down his shoulder blades. He groaned in response, as our hips started to subconsciously rock against each other, slowly.

A moan slipped out of my mouth louder than I intended. I almost jumped, startling myself at how lost I was in the moment.

He peppers his kisses up my neck again, over my chin speaking through each peck.

“gotta be quiet babydoll.” He smiled through his mumbles.

This time, leaving another kiss to my bottom lip. The nickname sending shocks through my system.

One hand stayed splayed across my ass, holding me up. While the other made its way in between the both of us. He reached for the top of my shorts, only needing his thumb and forefinger to undo the button. Never letting our lips break contact he starts to slide his hand inside my undone ring gear.

I moan again, into his mouth this time. Anticipation hitting me like a ton of bricks. When his fingers just barely ghost over my underwear. His forehead landed back to mine again, leaning against me like some sort of anchor.. “I know it’s difficult, sweetheart, you’re doing so good. hardly making a noise...” He whispers through his thick accent

He starts to shift the fabric to the side. Just when his first and middle finger start to move in closer.

Without warning I feel a harsh buzzing beneath me.

Followed by, an even louder engine roar. Halting all action, I jump instantly realizing.

Oh shit

“Shit we gotta go.” It’s almost like he can hear me think. He immediately lets me down slowly. His hand landing back in mine once more. I look back, assuming there’s no way we escaped sight this time.

But I turned back quickly, to catch a glimpse, and somehow, some way the guy didn’t spot us. He seemed to be minding his business, just getting ready to start his long haul. He was already walking back in the opposite direction we were heading. Thank god.

We scurry to the back of the truck. Jeff’s looking around almost in a calm frantic if that’s even possible. His head flinging left, right, left, right. I guess he didn't see the guy behind us, so I took the opportunity to dart my head back. He wasn't there anymore, hopefully he isn’t coming around the front.

I contemplate for a second if it’s really that big of a deal if someone sees us. But then I remembered yes. Kissing in secret places off screen has definitely got to be frowned upon.

I know neither of us would want something like that to get back to the big bosses.

It’s dead silent now so I assume now is the opportunity to make our move.

“What if you walk in… I’ll wait a minute or so, then… I’ll just walk in?” I ask matter of factly. It’s cliche, it’s not sly, or very smart at all.

But that's all I got.

I shrug at his look. It’s a mix between humor and wonder, that I really thought It’d work. He chucked, shaking his head, shrugging back at me.

He let go of my hand. “Guess it’ll have to do.” He said rolling his shoulders back, and holding his head up high. He walked in with so much confidence no one would ever question what he was doing. Maybe if I do the same it’ll be so obvious no one even notices.

One can hope.

I watch him from afar, I see him walk up to the door, there’s another guy right next to it that looks to be taking a smoke break. He nodded to him like they knew either other. Which didn’t shock me. Then the man actually swung the door open for him. He vanished through the walkway.

Simple as that.

I waited a minute, maybe two and a half, I was anxious and it felt like an eternity. But without fail, I roll my shoulders back, head held high, and try to bounce with confidence.

Boisterously, I strut over, channeling the part of me that’s not over taken with thoughts of kissing Jeff Hardy again.

Ugh.

I make it to the door, the same guy still standing there. A haze of smoke clouding the air. He blew out another puff as I approached. “You with him?” He said, gesturing his thumb towards the inside.

I pressed my lips together in a harsh line, clasping my hands together in front of me. I shook my head no, in probably the least convincing way I could.

He leaned back in his fold out steel chair, squinting his eyes at me. I didn’t speak hoping he’d just ignore that I was ever here.

We look at each other for a minute, and finally he forces himself up. Groaning, and grunting as he pulls the door open for me.

“Thank you.”

I slid through the door and found myself back inside, pace quickening with each step.

“Ooof” I let out a quick exhale. Looking around to see if anyone was around.

Also wondering if I would see Jeff again tonight. Or if he’d be waiting for me.

I hate that I just want more of whatever that was.

I wander around, really just hoping to find myself back in the vicinity of the women’s locker room. All that running around, and I didn’t even retain where anything is back here.

Not being able to help myself, while I searched for the room. I caught myself looking back at any passing body, or any movement I saw. Wondering if that was him.

It wasn’t. It was like he truly disappeared.

Finally I end up in the deserted locker room. Which is good enough for me, I’d rather not answer any questions about where I was.

I don’t even think I know where I was.

Seriously I mean where did all that come from? He was like a completely different person.

Working as fast as I could, so I can hightail it out of here. I hurry to shower, put my clothes on, and get the rest of my things together.

Just when I start walking out I hear my phone beep. Sliding it out of my pocket, I flip it open.

“Me and the guys are riding together to the hotel, wanna come with?” - Lita

I read the tiny letters on the screen, instantly scrunching my face. Oh this’ll be fun, not even a little awkward at all.

Even so, I have to try to act normal. Right?

“Count me in! I’ll meet you.”

“Cool, we’re by the vehicle bay.”

I roll my eyes at the coincidence. At least I know where that is.

While I’m making my way, up walks Edge, now dressed in jeans in a tshirt. I didn't realize, I’d never seen him in normal clothes until now.

“Hey hot stuff you were on fire out there! I haven’t heard screams like that in a while.” He said as he approached.

“Can I carry that for you?” He interjects not even letting me respond, as he’s already taking it off my shoulder. Now walking with me.

“Thanks, I mean you were awesome too, you two really did the heavy lifting.” I say almost feeling coy at his compliments.

“I’m the accessory.” I add on smiling, giving a little jazz hands. I didn’t mean it in a self depreciating way, it just is the way of the business a lot of the time. Most of us divas have to figure that out at some time or another.

He looked, almost disappointed at my words.

“Well I had a blast, that was a really great match.” He added. While we walk for a minute or two in a semi comfortable silence. But I keep seeing him look over me, and then back in front of him. I don’t know if he had something he wanted to say, and didn’t know how. Or if he just didn’t have any clue what to say at all.

I notice the directions on the walls informing me we’re finally nearing the garage area. When we get closer, I see my three partners waiting for me. Right by the small side door, I had earlier become familiar with.

Before I get any closer Edge stops me, placing a hand tightly on my shoulder. Still holding my duffel bag in his other.

He towers over me, looking deep into my eyes, with his large ones.

“You aren’t an accessory y/n, you’re a damn champion.” His hand then went to the top of my head. Fluffing my hair, under his palm. It was as cheesy as cheesy could be. But for some reason he’s just so charming, it didn’t even come across corny.

“You’ll see.” His encouragement was beyond sweet and much appreciated. But when he leaned in leaving a quick kiss on top of my head. I could feel those eyes, burning right through me, from across the room.

He dropped the bag into my hand with a smile. “See ya around.” He whispered

“Bye.” I felt like I fell under a spell for a quick second. His gaze enchanting me into gawking like an idiot. When I knew my friends were waiting for me right there.

When’s he’s waiting right there.

“Hey! I’m not standing here all night.” I hear from across the way and of course I see an annoyed Jeff throwing his hands in the air.

“Dammit gotta go! I’ll see you ok?” I start running towards the group, giving him another wave.

His movie star smile, stuck to his face as he waved back.

“Ooooooo y/n and Edge, has a good ring to it.” Lita jokes as I approach.

“Sorry! Sorry- what? no- shut up!” I nervously laugh, catching Jeff’s glare in passing.

“He was just being nice.” I brush off her comment and bouncing eyebrows.

“Let’s go!” I huff, changing the topic, as I direct us out.

I walk fast trying to stay away from Jeff for the time being. Nothing good comes from those looks.

Hopefully he’ll sit shotgun….

And of course he doesn’t, we reach the black Escalade, all sliding in. I find out Matt’s driving so naturally Lita gets comfortable in the passenger seat.

I plop in after we all toss our bags in the back. He follows suit right after, brows furrowed tightly. His snot annoyance, or irritation or whatever is beyond obvious. If he kept that expression on his face it might just get stuck that way.

He looked over at me as he got situated. It seemed like he was trying to decide if he wanted to chew me out or not. Before he got the chance, and before we even drove off. Lita from the seat in front of me, flips around, turning to now directly face me.

“So what did you two talk about?” She asks, with a giddy smile.

“Uhh” I’m unsure how to respond, I look over darting my eyes from his gaze right after. He seemed like he trying to listen intently to what I was gonna say.

“Nothing much. Just about the match, told him how great you both did.” I gesture to him on my left. My unease probably more apparent than I meant.

He rolled his eyes after his scoff under his breath. Giving me a taste of my own medicine.

The sudden change in mood takes up every corner of the car. Of course Lita and Matt don’t know any difference. This is his usual assholery. But going from who he was just a little while ago, to now. It’s night and day.

The rest of the drive was filled with me and Lita joking around. We had moments of blaring music and then interrupting it to continue talking about how we want future matches to go. Or just random things that the guys really didn’t care about. Matt piped in occasionally, he and Lita had plenty of side conversations to themselves too.

To which would lead to me longingly looking at Jeff who mostly kept to him self the whole time. Every few minutes I’d look over as fast as I could , hoping he wouldn’t notice. Just to see if he was still being weird. Not to my surprise he was.

Unfortunately we have a long drive tonight, about 2 and half hours. Traffic was horrible and moving painstakingly slow. The red brake lights glowing off of his skin. It matched his aura perfectly right now. It made it even worse.

“Damnn we need gas.” Matt grumbled, hand slung over the steering wheel. We all groaned. The night was turning to morning and we had just now finally picked up speed. We all just wanted to get to the hotel and pass out for the night.

“Oh turn here!!” Lita screeched, being the only one with any energy left. She pointed toward the huge exit sign that read the station was only .05 miles away.

“Jesus woman!” He yelled back. “…. Good idea but say it calmer next time!” He placed a hand to his chest feigning a heart attack.

She busted out laughing, leaning over to him to place a kiss on his cheek. Caressing his arm over the center console.

I chuckle at their banter. And for a split second I wonder if Jeff and I would ever be like that. Immediately I yank myself out of that fantasy, when I see the grimace still very present on his face.

Finally after a moment, we fly up under the bright fluorescent lights of the gas station awning. Matt and Lita both jump out just as we park. Matt goes to start the gas pump, while Lita leans into my now rolled down window.

“Need anything?” She questions poking her head in the window.

“Nope! I’m good” I respond quickly.

“Nah.” Was all he said. She nodded her head, and then took off inside with Matt.

Surprisingly, Jeff didn’t leap out of the car like I assumed he would’ve. But he did stay silent, clicking the tiny buttons on his cellphone in front of him.

I cleared my throat, not loud enough for him to know It was to get his attention. But I hoped it would’ve.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat to face him. My mind is running with thoughts, confusion, and genuine curiosity. Why is he so mad? Is this him trying to tell me he’s jealous. If it was, why is he right back to normal now? Normal as in a dick. The questions weighing on my mind get heavier and heavier.

“Listen” I start.

He barely looks at me, just moving his eyes to his peripheral.

“I wasn’t like…” I start again trying to figure out what to even say.

“I wasn’t flirting with him. He just came up to me and took my bag, and I don’t even know where that kiss came from-“

“No worries.” He cuts off my rambling, now actually giving me the decency of acting like he’s listening.

“Huh?” I questioned

“I mean it’s all good.” He smugly half chuckled, acting completely unfazed.

“We were just having fun anyways.” He says, reaching down to throw a piece of gum in his mouth. Which he was now chewing obnoxiously loud. “Right?” He smirked

Instantly I felt like I heard a glass shatter, or maybe it was my heart. He really played me for a fool, didn’t he? I know who he is so I can’t be surprised. But damn.

That hurt.

“Right.”