#and it was so nice of them to thunk of me when they saw it 😭

[jamisafan]

My turtle watch broke 😭

The old guy already slightly fixed it for me, but we need to glue the tiny piece back or try and find a new buckle that I can buy (if you can even do that. I would think you can.)

Rest in piece for now my sweet 😢 it freaking glows 😭

[sourszt]

𝐁𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍 | 𝙘𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 + 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — buggy the clown x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, cockwarming, authority kink, ‘sir/captain’ kink, bondage, riding, lap-sitting, slight dumbification, dacryphilia, buggy is a sadist, teasing, praise, creampie, use of “sweet pea” and “sweetheart”

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — 1k words. i remember the vile thoughts i thunk when i saw live action buggy in that goddamn chair and one of them was how badly i wanted to be sitting in his open ass lap. so yeah this is based off of that, y’all can thank my brain for this one![kinktober m.list]

“did i tell you you could move?”

his voice was mocking and stern, cutting through the quiet like a dagger. it forced your spine impossibly straighter where you sat in buggy’s lap, drawing a strained whine from your throat.

though you weren’t even looking at him — your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to still your aching, trembling thighs, you could see the shit-eating grin he wore as he laughed at you.

“i asked you a question, sweet pea.” buggy’s gloved hand flew up and caught your jaw in a tight hold, eliciting a garbled cry from you. he forced your gaze down into his, his pupils dilating at the sight of tears gathering in your eyes. he cooed gently, granting you a sliver of hope that he would actually take pity on you.

after all, he’d been so cruel to you for the past hour. you deserved it, right? keeping yourself so still in his lap with your hands tied behind your back while you kept his cock nice and warm inside of your pretty pussy. you were working so hard to please your captain, yet he still scrutinized even the slightest give of your thighs and taunted you like this.

his eyebrows raised, slightly creasing his face paint, and he shook his head with obvious expectation. when no response looked to be forming on your pouted lips, his jaw tightened. his hand, detached from his wrist, circled around behind you and grasped your overlapping wrists, lifting your arms back up to your shoulder blades.

you cried out as your chest puffed out, a fat tear rolling down your cheek and soaking into his glove. “n-no, you didn’t tell me i could move.” your voice cracked relentlessly while you pleaded with buggy. it seemed to ease his outburst and he slowly lowered your hands back against your tailbone while his satisfied grin grew wider. “i’m sorry.”

his brows suddenly furrowed back together and his piercing blue eyes met yours again. “what was that, sweetie?” he whispered scornfully. you whined softly, fried brain scrambling to figure out why your apology wasn’t enough for him.

buggy’s eyes raked down your pitifully clueless face and he scoffed, releasing your jaw to reach down and grasp your hips, keeping them firmly in place as he harshly thrust his up into yours. his cock dragged deliciously against your walls and filled you to the brim, granting you the friction you’d been craving for so long.

“captain! i’m sorry, captain.” the name tumbled from your lips behind a loud moan, and buggy hummed lowly in response.

“atta girl. that wasn’t so hard, now was it, sweet pea?” his gloved hand now gently cupped the side of your face, smiling when you instinctively nuzzled into his warm palm. you shook your head with a gentle hum. “you’re bein’ s’good for your captain, hm?” you responded with a nod this time, eyes widening with silent pleas.

“can i cum, captain? please, ’t hurts s’bad.” you whined pathetically, waiting for buggy’s okay to start moving. even in such a desperate state, you still managed to listen to him. he watched several more tears race down your cheeks with excitement in his eyes, and your pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears for a while. god, how hopeless he was.

he enjoyed this. he enjoyed bending you beyond your limits until you broke over and over. until you were begging him with all of the air in your lungs to let you cum, completely deaf to everything and everyone around you with your only focus being him. his instruction, his touch, his cock.

he could feel the tremble in your thighs growing stronger against his hips, and he could see the rise and fall of your chest pick up in pace as your sobs became uncontrollable. your lips quivered with each beg, though he couldn’t tell anymore if it was because of your overwhelmingly visceral need to cum or because the pain of your arms squeezing together behind your back was finally catching up to you.

either way, he didn’t care. he wanted to drag it out for as long as he could before you wound up passed out on top of him or something, so he nuzzled his cheek into his closed fist and watched you some more, much to your dismay.

“please, can’t keep myself up much longer. i need to feel you, sir.” you babbled on mindlessly, praying that buggy would finally cave.

he did. his eyes fluttered shut the moment he heard a new term fall from your lips and he sighed. it was as if it was the answer he’d been waiting for.

“since you asked so nicely. go on n’ make yourself cum, sweet pea.” his little nickname for you made you whine as you sunk down onto his cock. he groaned at the feeling of your pussy spasming around him, and his hand reached out to gently stroke your sore thigh. “fuck, you take me so fuckin’ good, sweetheart.”

you whimpered at the praise and you immediately craved more of it, momentarily pushing the pulsing pain in your legs aside to bounce yourself on his cock. he filled you so perfectly, his tip kissing your sweet spot with each long, slow thrust.

both of your moans grew louder, buggy’s lips parting as his head fell back against his chair. his fingers curled around your hips, surely to leave bruises the next day, while he bucked up into you.

“that’s it, just like that — fuck,” he hissed against gritted teeth when your cunt squeezed around him.

your hips rocked into his a few more times before your legs finally gave up, your body rendered numb as a blinding orgasm hit you. your head lulled back and your body arched into buggy’s chest as you weakly rode it out.

buggy’s hands gripped your hips as his own orgasm crashed into him, thick ropes of cum filling you up inside. you whined at the sudden warmth of it, instinctively grinding your hips down into him. he chuckled breathlessly.

“lookit you, takin’ all of your captain’s cum so fuckin’ well. you did so good f’me, sweet pea.” buggy gently wiped whatever tears still stained your face with his thumb, his other hand hovering behind you to untie the rope that bound your arms all the way up to your elbows.

you were sure you wouldn’t be able to move — let alone walk after this, but you didn’t mind. so long as your captain was satisfied.

tbh this one changed my views on this clown. like i pictured him as lowkey submissive before this but now im just.

[foxaftershocks]

I just wanted to say I absolutely adore how you write Lars. I can perfectly imagine him in my head and it’s spot on. Please just keep writing all the Lars ❤️

I had an idea where the reader works at the lab with Lars. She has a crush on him but thinks he doesn’t like her but it’s more so because she makes him nervous and he doesn’t know how to act around her.

Winston sends them out to another borough (Queens, Brooklyn, etc) to collect an item he wants to extract or study and they could either get stranded and have to spend the night somewhere or come into some danger and finally confess their feelings? Maybe a bit of angst or jealousy followed by fluff. Thank you! 🥰

Here you go! It's got some jealousy, its got the one bed trope, it's got yearning and pining, and it's super long. I hope you like it.

“Seriously, he hates me,” you said.

Lucky shook her head, aiming the crossbow at the target. Her smile was secretive and you couldn’t unpack it without her thoughts being voiced. You kicked your legs as you watched, hands trapped under your thighs, waiting for the thunk of the bolt hitting the target. You offered a high five for the bullseye.

“He doesn’t,” Lucky said, “hate you, that is.”

“He’s always so… mean,” you said, trying to come up with the right words.

“He’s mean to everyone. If anything, that means he likes you,” she replied.

“He glares at me,” you said.

“I think that’s just his face.”

“Okay, well, when I enter a room he walks out of it pretty quickly and I always get the feeling it’s because of me. Like he can’t even stand to be in the same room as me,” you said, feet kicking harder as you thought about it.

Just that morning you’d been busy making a coffee in the tiny kitchenette you’d petitioned Winston to invest in. When you’d turned around, slowly mixing the mixture with a teaspoon, you’d looked up to find Lars standing just behind you, looking at you with furrowed brow and harsh glare. Instead of saying anything to you, he spun on his heels and stalked away, leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth.

You had plenty of other examples and each one left you sure that he wanted you to leave the lab and never return.

“Well, that could be anything,” she said, “maybe he just remembers something he has to do. Nothing to do with you at all.”

“Right,” you snorted, “sure.”

You watched her sink another bolt into the target, trying to work out what Lars’ problem was. You were always polite, always nice, sometimes a little too nice, and had never done anything to him. Maybe he’d realised that you had the tiniest crush on him and felt so offended by that he had to be cruel.

And what did it say about you that you still had that tiny, really not very significant at all, minuscule crush on him?

“Gee, I sure hope I don’t pay people to sit around and not do work all day.”

You startled, looking up into the face of Winston. Guilt curled around your heart, stomach sinking as you stared at him. He waited a moment, staring at you.

“We were just…” you trailed off, trying to find some excuse.

“Bouncing ideas off each other,” Lucky said, “while weapons testing.”

A small smile flicked the corners of his mouth up and you relaxed. It wasn’t often Winston got upset with you. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d seen him get upset with you. Stern, sure, but not upset. So his small smile set you at ease.

“Lucky for you I have an assignment for you,” he said, “come on, we have something to pick up.”

You trailed behind him, a bounce in your step. You’d been stuck in the lab for too long, working on calculations and data input. Getting to stretch your legs and go out into the world was exciting.

Until you saw who’s station Winston was leading you to.

“Pinfield, I’ve found you a partner,” he said.

Lars looked up, brightening until he saw you standing there, shifting your weight between your feet. A storm flew over his face, a glower levelled in your direction.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Play nice. It’s out in Brooklyn so it’s gone take you most of the day. Miss Hathaway has a trunk we’re interested in procuring. Retrieve it and bring it back here. She’s expecting you,” he said.

“No way,” Lars said.

“You’ll do it or you’ll be on gunk duty,” he said, “until summer.”

His face drained of whatever colour there might have been left. He stood abruptly, the screech of the stool on the floor harsh on the ears.

“You can’t be serious,” he said.

“As the plague,” Winston replied, “do it, Pinfield. It’ll only be a few hours.”

“I won’t even bite,” you said, speaking before your thoughts could catch up.

Winston’s chuckle as he clapped your shoulder only brought heat to your cheeks. Lars wasn’t even looking at you. Cursing internally, you feared you might have just made it worse.

“See? She’ll play nice with you,” Winston said, giving you a little shove in his direction, “van is waiting out back.”

He trudged off, not even bothering to see if you were following. His shoulders were tense and you could faintly hear him muttering to himself, no doubt cursing your very existence. Hours with him as you trekked out to Brooklyn on a fetch mission were shaping up to be a very specific form of torture.

He pushed the door open, letting in overcast sunlight. The air was cold, far too cold, and you shivered, curling your arms around your body as you stepped outside. The depths of December was not the time to be giving yourself over to the elements. Sliding in the van beside him, you ignored the curl of his upper lip as you directed the air vents towards you, flicking on the heat.

The roads were busy, people trying to beat the usual Friday holiday rush. Leaning back in your seat, you turned your gaze to the window, people watching as best you could in the stop start motion. It didn’t take long for the first flutters of white to pass by.

“It’s snowing,” you said, almost to yourself instead of to the other presence in the car.

“It’ll stop,” he said.

When you glanced over his knuckles had turned white around the steering wheel and his jaw was clenched. You let yourself look at him for a moment, knowing he couldn’t look back. Your eyes traced over his profile, along his nose, over what you’d always imagined would be soft lips, down his chin, the long column of his neck disappearing under the buttoned up collar of his shirt. he was beautiful. That much was obvious to you.

If he realised you were looking at him, he was ignoring it. And you. His fingers reached for the volume, turning up the radio until it would be awkward to talk. You continued to look, watching him. He was so careful as he drove, cautious, leaning forward to peer through the windscreen. He didn’t seem comfortable in his role as driver, tense and awkward. Or maybe he was just always like that.

The snow began to come down in flurries, sticking to the ground. Traffic slowed down even more, coming to a crawl. You pressed your nose to the window, looking out on the world.

“It’s getting worse,” you said, raising your voice to be heard over the radio.

“It’ll stop,” he said again.

You were pretty sure he was wrong.

Hours passed in silence, taking longer than it should have. The snow was falling thick and fast, the taillights of the car in front your constant companion. Lars wasn’t breathing easy, loud in the car, the radio long since turned down so he could concentrate. You were doing your best to make yourself a non-entity, not wanting to distract him at all. He’s already snapped at you just for playing with the heat.

Until it became clear that you had to say something.

“We can’t keep on,” you said.

“We’re almost there,” he ground out.

“Lars, I think we should stop until it clears up,” you said, “or at least stops snowing.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon. We should press on,” he said, jaw still clenched.

“Lars.” You waited until the van had braked again, his face turning towards him, “we have to stop.”

“Fuck,” burst from him, his hands slamming down on the steering wheel. You jumped at the sound of the horn blaring, “fine. Find somewhere for us to spend the night.”

You typed into the gps, looking for any kind of hotel nearby. Anywhere the two of you could stay as you waited for this storm to blow over. He followed the directions, pulling off the road to follow the directions as best he could in the swirl of snow and darkness.

The carpark was surprisingly full and you were worried you wouldn’t be able to find a room there. He put the car into park, staring up at the building in front of you. Instead of talking to you, he pushed the door open. You shivered, the cold invading you. Your coat was not enough to handle a snow storm.

“Come on,” he groused.

You made a dash for the front door, doing your best not to slip. His hand caught you around the elbow, keeping you steady as your feet almost came out from under you. He practically dragged you through the front door into the warm light and warm air of the entrance. Crossing over to the check in desk, you felt apprehension.

“You’re in luck,” the concierge said, “we have one last room available tonight. This weather has certainly changed a lot of people’s plans.”

“No. We need two rooms,” Lars cut in before you could say anything.

“Ah, then I’m afraid you’re not in luck. We really only have on room still available,” he said.

“We’ll take it,” you cut in before he could say anything.

One room was better than no rooms and you didn’t want to risk either of you having to go back out into that weather. You took the key from him and led a disgruntled Lars to the bank of elevators.

“Why would you do that?” he hissed when the doors closed.

“Did you want to go back out there? Because I sure as hell don’t,” you said.

He rolled his eyes, looking away from you with his arms crossed over his chest like a petulant teenager.

“Look, you can put up with me for one night. Just suck it up and deal with it and then tomorrow morning we’ll go finish the job,” you said, tired of how hostile he always was with you. It was one night. He could deal with it.

He didn’t answer. The doors open and he strode forward, plucking the key from you. You rolled your eyes, following him, trying not to look at the way his ass looked in his slacks. He might infuriate you, he might hate you, but you still felt butterflies around him and found him stupidly attractive.

Pushing open the door to the one room you were going to be sharing with him, he flicked on the lights. You ran into his back as he stopped without warning.

“What?” you asked, “is there something wrong? Did we find the murder hotel?”

You looked around his shoulder and then felt yourself freeze with him. One bed. One fucking bed. God must be laughing at you because this had to be some kind of sick joke. One double bed in the small room. This was going to kill you.

“Absolutely not,” he said, turning around to storm out only to find you still there.

He looked down at you, eyes flashing, jaw clenched, lips pressed together tight. You placed a hand on his chest, ready to push him back. He made a small noise, stepping back as if your touch burned. Maybe it did.

“I’ll go down and ask for a trundle bed or something,” you said.

You held a hand out to him, palm up, waiting for the key. He stared at you, blinked, then dropped it into your hand to keep from touching you.

Unfortunately, your trip was a bust. Too many people stuffed into a small hotel, not enough facilities for the weather. You returned on heavy feet, ignoring the man riding the elevator with you as you tried to come up with a way to tell Lars that wasn’t going to blow the entire thing up. You doubted he was above storming out into the snow and sleeping in the van just to prove a point.

“Not a fan of this weather?”

You looked up, finding the man watching you in the mirrored doors.

“Oh no, that’s not… It’s fine. Better if I was at home than here,” you replied.

“I dunno. I think there’s something magical about an unexpected snow storm in a hotel. All kinds of people come together that would normally stay so seperate,” he said, studying your face in the reflection.

You looked back, if only because his thoughts had surprised you. You hadn’t thought about it that way, seeing the nuisance the entire thing was rather than the possibilities it presented. He gave you a half smile.

“After all, would we have met without it?” he asked.

“I don’t even know you,” you replied.

“Dave.”

He offered you his hand. The palm was calloused and warm against yours and you felt shy as you gave him your name. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you averted your gaze down to your feet. His look of interest at you was new and a flutter of excitement started in your chest. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen with Lars.

“Same floor,” he said as the doors opened with a ding.

You stepped out into the hall, carpet softening the sounds of your footsteps. He followed, looking down at you as you walked side by side, hands close enough to almost brush against one another.

“This is me,” you said, coming to a stop outside the door, dread filling your stomach at what was waiting beyond for you.

“If you need any help warming up, I’m only two doors down,” he said, pointing at an identical door just down the hall from you.

The door to your room opened without warning, Lars sticking his head out. His hair was ruffled, as if he’d running his fingers through it and his sneer was not promising for the coming conversation. You gaped at him as his hand shot out, grasping your wrist and pulling you closer.

“That won’t be necessary,” he told Dave, shutting the door in his face.

“What was-“ you tried to ask before he interrupted you.

“Only an idiot would accept an offer to share a room with a stranger,” he said, cutting you off, “are you really that desperate?”

“Desperate for what?” you shot back.

His mouth opened and then shut with a snap, as if he didn’t deserve an answer. He spun on his heels, striding back to the bed, three steps away from you then back again. The skin of your wrist burned from where his touch had been fingers circling it like a manacle.

“Well?” he asked as if you’d been having a completely different conversation.

“Well what?” you asked.

“Are they going to bring a trundle?” he asked.

Ah, right, yes, that.

“They’re all out,” you said, ripping the bandaid off quick in the hopes it would hurt less.

“What do you mean they’re all out?” he asked, voice going deathly still.

“Something about a surprise snow storm and not being prepared for so many guests. If you want to go argue with them, be my guest.”

You gestured to the door and for a moment you really believed he was about to storm out of there to argue with the front desk. Then he shook his head, turning away form you so you couldn’t see the inevitable rage on his face.

“I know it’s a less than pleasant situation, but we can share a bed for one night like adults,” you said to his tense back.

He muttered something that sounded like an insult to your intelligence before he took his glasses off and dragged a hand down his face. Replacing them, he turned back to you. You’d never seen him without his glasses on before. You wondered how much of a difference it made.

“Let’s just get this over with. Make sure you stay on your side of the bed,” he said.

You would have snakily suggested making a pillow wall if you thought there’d been enough for that. As it was, the pillow situation was little depressing. One each.

You let him pick which side he wanted first, not wanting to annoy him further. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you shucked your coat off, lying it aside. Tugging each shoe off, you glanced over your shoulder at him. He still had his tie on. He wouldn’t be sleeping in that would he? Apparently he would. You were going to have a hard enough time trying to sleep in your jeans. He wasn’t human. He couldn’t be.

You climbed into the bed, turning on your side so you didn’t have to see him. The bed dipped as he lay down beside you, a tug on the covers. The lights went off, leaving you in darkness. Facing the window, you watched the snow fall, not sure you’d be able to fall asleep. Shadows passed over the glass, the pile of snow growing on the window. You sighed, soft in the silence.

The longer you waited, the more the cold began to invade your senses. You could put it off when you were focusing on other things, problems to solve. Now you were left waiting, shivering in the expanse of the bed.

Lars was close enough you could almost feel his body heat. The bed wasn’t as big as either of you would have liked if you had to guess. He shifted again. You curled up in a ball, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to stop the shivering. You didn’t want to wake him. He hated you enough as it was.

A grunted huff. You tensed, waiting to see what happened. Nothing. Silence reigned again. You tried to relax again but the shivering was becoming unbearable.

“For gods sake,” you heard Lars mutter into the dark.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Can’t you stop?” he demanded.

“I’m trying,” you replied through gritted teeth, “it’s so fucking cold.”

A hand reached out, fingertips brushing over your spine. You jerked back, shrieking when you almost fell out of the bed. An arm curled around your waist, hauling you against a warm body. You struggled against the hold trying to put more space between the two of you.

“Stop flailing about like a fish,” he said.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“I know you find me repulsive but perhaps you can put that aside for one night so you don’t freeze to death and we can both maybe get some sleep,” he said, voice soft, breath ghosting against your skin, “shared body heat is the best chance of that.”

He certainly was warm against you.

“I don’t find you repulsive,” you whispered, not able to focus on anything else. If you did then you’d feel the way his body felt against yours, the hard planes of his chest, the curve of his legs as the slotted behind you, the soft rise and fall of his breathing.

“Course you do,” he said, “don’t be stupid.”

You turned, needing to see his face. You had no idea what was going through his head but whatever it was you needed him to know he was wrong. His arms tightened around you as if wanting to stop you but you wiggled your way around to face him.

He was so close, nose brushing against yours. You froze, finding him without his glasses, breath brushing your lips. He was softer without them, more boyish, less of something to hide behind. He drew back, retreating, like you were chasing him away.

“I don’t find you repulsive. Not at all. You’re…” you hesitated, not wanting to reveal your hand to him.

He began to retract his arms from around you but you reached out, winding his tie around your hand, keeping him in place. He glanced down then back to your face, lingering a moment. You must have been mistaken because otherwise he had been looking at your lips and that would be too much to handle.

“I’m what?” he asked, voice barely above an exhalation.

“You’re beautiful,” came from you without permission.

Lying so close to him in the dark, lit up by the lights out on the street, it felt like a confessional, the perfect moment for secrets to spill out.

He blinked, a look of confusion passing over his face. On of your hands came up, tracing over the way his eyebrows came together, smoothing the line between them.

“You’re the one who hates me,” you said when no response came forth.

“What makes you think that?” he asked, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers continued to trace over his features. He wasn’t batting you away, demanding you stay on your side, to stop bothering him.

“You glare at me, you leave every room I enter, you’re mean to me,” you listed off, “you made it clear you didn’t want me going on this job with you.”

“Because I knew it would be intolerable to sit in the van with you for hours,” he said, voice heartbreakingly soft.

“See? You hate me,” you replied.

“No.” His eyes sprang open and there was something there, so close to fear, or panic.

“No?” You had no idea what he was getting at.

“That wasn’t why it would be intolerable. It’s not… I’m not… You’d be sitting so close I could touch you,” he said.

“So?” you asked, not sure what the problem was.

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself.”

Now you were the one who was confused, eyebrows drawing together. The way he was looking at you was like it hurt to say and that only made it less clear what was going on.

“What?” you asked.

“I want to touch you, all of the time. You’re so…You’re just… It’s… I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“So why are you always so mean to me?” you asked.

“To remind myself you don’t want me the way I want you,” he replied.

“But what if I did?”

That shut him up. He looked down at you, still so close to him, mouth hanging open. You decided to take matters into your own hands, since he didn’t seem to be getting the message.

Surging up, you caught his lips in a soft kiss. He made a pained noise and you drew back, worried you’d hurt him. His hands pressed into your spine, dragging you closer as he kissed you again, almost like he couldn’t stop himself. His tongue dragged over your bottom lip and you opened yourself up to him.

He didn’t stop you as you climbed onto him, knees falling either side of his hips, straddling him. Your hair fell forward, a curtain between you and the rest of the world. You were quick as you tugged on the tie, pulling it off him, so frustrated by it. His hands had fallen to your hips, squeezing, pushing up past your sweater, seeking out the warmth of your skin.

You lost yourself in him, in his kisses. For such a buttoned up person, he kissed like a man who knew what he was doing. It only made you moan into his mouth, wanting more, wanting him in all the ways you’d never admitted to anyone before. You wanted his hands all over you. You wanted his lips all over you. You wanted him.

“We have to stop,” he mumbled against your lips before kissing you again.

“Uh huh,” you hummed, letting your tongue graze against his.

His answering groan and the tightening of his hands wasn’t indicative that he wanted to stop. He was kissing you like you were the air he breathed. Like you were everything he’d ever wanted.

“Really,” he said as he drew back after indulging for a long moment.

“You don’t want me?” The sting of rejection was like ice over you.

You sat up properly, staring down at him.

“No. What? No. I do. I want you,” he said, panicked as he sat up too, following you, arms curling around your waist to keep you in place in his lap, “but not here. Not like this. Not in some seedy hotel. It should be after I’ve taken you somewhere nice for dinner and shown you that I’m a good guy and that I’ll treat you right. I’m meant to impress you first before this.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?” you said.

“Maybe.” His eyes darted away from you.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheek, turning his face back towards you. Your lower lip was caught between your teeth and his eyes landed on it again, darkening, almost smouldering. You lent forward, giving him another lingering kiss.

“I must admit, when I’ve thought about it, it wasn’t quite like this,” you said, “at the very least I expected to be wearing sexy underwear.”

His skin heated, cheeks flushing. Your thumb ran over the warm skin, admiring it. His small whimper was gratifying and the way he was looking at you let you know he wanted to devour you.

“When we’re done with this job, I’m taking you out,” he promised, eyes sweeping down your body.

You let your fingers fall from his face, brushing the vulnerable skin of his neck before you began to slowly unbutton his shirt. He caught your wrist again and you wondered if that was something he enjoyed. If he might want to restrain you.

“What are you doing, love?” he asked, “I thought we were in agreement.”

“You can’t sleep like this. I’m just getting you comfortable,” you murmured.

He released you, letting you unbutton the rest of the shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. His skin was soft against yours, so warm it was almost burning in the cold air of the room. He lay back, pulling you with him. You settled against his body, head reasting on his chest, half on top of him.

“You have no idea how happy I am,” he murmured in the dark.

“I think I do,” you replied.

His lips pressed to the top of your head in a soft kiss before he settled down again. You listened to his heartbeat, slowing as his breathing evened out. Closing your eyes, you let yourself relax against him, much warmer than before.

And if you returned to the lab the next day with a bounce in your step, then you didn’t feel any need to explain yourself to Winston when you passed over the artefact.

[simphornies]

A/N: A quick little one-shot for Valentine's!

Word count: 1.3k (1,394)

Warnings: implied sex at the end, that's about it I think.

Valentines Special [ Vox x Reader x Alastor ]

You woke up to the sounds of loud whispering and thumping inside of your dark room. You squint and reach for the remote for your lights. But it wasn’t shere it usually was so you blindly walked around your room with your hands out. After hitting yourself a couple of times on your furniture, you opened your door to let light in.

Your eyes adjusted to the light and as soon as they did there was a big sign on the wall in front of your door that said ‘HAPPY FUCKING VALENTINE’S DAY’ decorated with flowers.

“Oh fuck it’s—”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, MY DEAREST.” Vox exclaimed excitedly.

You groaned in response, “Vox I just woke up.” You rubbed the sleepiness out of your eyes. He grabs your hand and leads you to your bathroom. To your surprise it was covered with petals. The bathtub was ready for you, steaming. “Aw. Vox…”

“Go go. Get ready.” He grinned, proudly gesturing to the tub with both arms out, “The day we have planned for you is amazing!”

You smiled and gave him a quick kiss, “Thanks, babe. I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time. Meet us in the lobby.” His screen lit up with hearts and left you to have a relaxing bath.

.

As soon as you walk out of the bathroom in your robe, you see Alastor waiting for you by your bed. Beside him were a set of clothes. He looked over to you with his signature grin. His ears flicked with delight upon seeing you, “Hello darling! Please please. Pick your poison.” He points to the three sets of outfits.

One was picked by Alastor, another picked by Vox. It was obvious from the color schemes. The third outfit caught your eye. It was a nice blend of both of their colors. A purple outfit adorned with hearts, the stitches were blue on one side and red on the other. It was the obvious choice for the two to not fight for “who you picked” for the day.

You picked it up and the others instantly disappeared as soon as Alastor snapped his fingers. “Wonderful choice! I’ll leave you to change, my doe.” Before leaving he gave you a sweet kiss on your cheek.

When he opened the door you saw Vox standing outside, basically shaking in excitement. “I can stay and watch you cha—” The door shut behind Alastor. “—nge if you want me to, dollface.” He finished. You heard a thunk soon after.

You laughed at their antics and proceeded to get into the outfit of choice. If your constant presence around the two overlords proved enough evidence of your relationship with them, this outfit definitely does. You managed your hair into a braid and went towards the lobby.

You see your two lovers arguing, as per usual, about something. They quickly, or rather Vox did, shut up as soon as they saw you approach from the corner of their eyes.

“Hello boys.” You smiled, “Thank you for the wonderful start to this day. Happy Valentine’s.”

They picked a side and wrapped their arms around yours with pride. A kiss placed on both sides of your face from them.

“We’re going to take you out for breakfast today.” Vox states.

“Where to?” You ask, a bit excited.

“Cannibal town!”

“Ozzie’s!”

They both spoke at the same time and immediately glared at each other. You cleared your throat, “Ozzie’s would be a nice start.”

Vox stood up straight while Alastor pinned his ears back against his head. You pulled him closer, “Don’t pout, little deer. We’ll go with your choice before we go to breakfast. A snack for the trip, okay?” You giggled.

"Hmm. I’ll settle for it.” He hummed, ears perking back up with pride.

“Alright babes, let’s try not to murder anybody and each other today, okay?”

“No promises.” They said in unison.

.

Walking around town with two overlords wrapped around your finger was definitely something that gained a lot of attention. Every single year. You decided to give them a break from your scolding every couple of years when it came to practically attacking any demon or sinner that dared to stare at you. They couldn’t care less about the looks they got but they drew the line when anybody even attempted to approach you.

While they were distracted, you sneak away to buy them gifts. You got them both cufflinks and jewelry that matched your necklace. Of course, in their own colors. You bought Alastor a shiny new pocket watch and Vox a locket. Both gifts contained a photo of you making a heart with your fingers within them. As soon as you left the store, a tall demon approached you with sinister intent.

“Hey there, sweet cheeks.” He grinned. You gave him a disgusted look. “What’s a pretty face like you doin’ alone today?” His eyebrows wiggled up and down to which you rolled your eyes.

“None of your business and I’m not alone. Now if you’ll excuse me. I have to get going now.” He blocked your way before you could step any further. His hand lifted your chin up and you growled at the audacity. “Get your filthy hands off of me.” Your eyes glowed red.

He laughed, “And whatcha goin’ to do about it, toots?” His goons popped up from behind him.

“I really don’t want to paint my lovely outfit today with weak blooded bitches.” You groaned as you slapped his hand off your face. “So I’ll let them do it.” You smiled sweetly.

“Who?”

You took a deep breath in, “HE TOUCHED ME.” You screamed and without a second’s notice, black tendrils stabbed a couple of the goons, catching the others. The one who dared to touch you was immediately burned to a crisp with electricity. You stood there with your arms crossed, watching the massacre unfold in front of you. You dodged every lose limb that flew towards you and reveled in the screams.

Soon after Vox and Alastor took your hands, “Are you alright?” Vox asks.

“We lost sight of you for a second there, my dear. You must avoid leaving our sight.” Alastor added.

“You’re right, my apologies. But! I got you both gifts.” You handed them their respective boxes. They opened it and were ecstatic. They both put their cufflinks on proudly, decorating their sleeves with your initial. Alastor had already placed the pocket watch in his pocket, a little keychain dangling off of the chains while Vox put the locket around his neck.

“Oh thank you, dearest! You did not have to!” Alastor exclaims.

You smiled and pinched both of their cheeks lovingly, “Anything for you boys.”

.

After a long day of Vox and Alastor dragging you around everywhere and ensuring nobody was favored over the other to avoid pouting, you arrived back home exhausted.

You dropped to your bed with a happy sigh, “Today was fun. Thank you both.”

Alastor works quickly to take your heels off, rubbing your feet to soothe the pain from walking around so much. Vox rubbed your scalp gently. You purred in delight at their acts of service.

“You two are certainly outdoing yourselves this year.” You laughed.

“Anything for you, my darling doe.” Alastor hummed,soft jazz faintly coming from him.

“That I can agree with. Today is an extra special day for you, babe.” Vox emitted soothing static white noise.

“You know…” You began, they both looked up at you, “The night isn’t quite over yet, my loves.”

With a swift move, the overlords were on their backs on your bed. Each of your hands trail up their chests, “I think you two deserve a little…treat for today, hm?” You whispered seductively into their ears.

Alastor’s ears twitched and Vox glitched. Both from excitement. They exchanged a look before they looked at you.

Pretty soon you were a mess under them, your body filled with pleasure. Safe to say they definitely got their fill at the end of the night. After a myriad of hickeys, bite marks, and love scratches, they were both knocked out cold and cuddled up in your hold. You sighed happily, enjoying their warmth and comfort. You snapped a quick picture of the three of you cuddled up under the blanket, saving it to your special folder titled “Valentine’s Night” before drifting off to sleep.

[spidercookie18]

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆

The Lost Boys 1987 AU set in modern time. None of the boys died, and all the Emersons/Star/Laddie/Frog brothers are vampires. This is explained later…

Tags: General violence, swearing, drinking, territorial marking, brown skinned reader, use of y/n, afab, use of she/her Word Count: 5.6k ish Next chapter here:

“No one should suffer what I suffered. I still dread those scenes when man killed man. I lost my parents, most of my family, by running away.” —��Milkha Singh

Chapter One:

There was a familiar smell hanging off the air as the boys walked through the boardwalk. David had seemed to be the only one to notice it, as none of the other young vampire men pretended to know what he was talking about when he’d asked. He’d been smelling this particular scent in the shops, on the beach and around the streets these past few days, so he asked Max if he recognized what it was.

“Trouble,” is all his sire responded with.

David knew that was the one warning he’d get on the subject, but he was going crazy trying to figure out where it was coming from. The boys couldn’t smell the scent, but they noticed how irritable he was becoming; so, they rode down into town to harass the locals and cheer up their leader. The rowdy bunch parked their bikes down the boardwalk and were heading up towards the sound of music. David walked with his hands deep in his coat pockets, grinning at his brothers as they bounced around and punched each other’s shoulders. Maybe his attitude would change with a nice night out, his mind starting to leave his obsession.

“Hey watch it!” A man bumped hard into David.

He stared at the human from under his brows, his nostrils flaring in anger, “you bumped into me,” David spat at him.

The human puffed out his chest and the men behind him crowded around the lost boys. They towered over the vampires as they stood, and the smiles faded from the boys’ faces. The man walked up to David, and poked a finger at his chest as he spoke, “oh yeah? What are you going to do about it? Blondie.” The man chuckled and turned to his friends who also laughed.

Tonight, was not the night for mercy, David thought.

David grinned, his toothy smile a foreshadow the men would not understand until later. The young vampire turned as to walk away, then quickly swung back around and punched the man; the connect made the man’s teeth clack, and he stumbled back to the ground. The group the man was with jumped in to hassle the vampires as they all started shoving and yelling at each other, but the boys kept them off of David as he wailed on the human.

David pulled an arm back to begin the assault on the man who’d been so unlucky to get on his bad side that night. He landed blow after blow on his jaw and eye socket till the man was unconscious. He’d all but slumped onto the ground, but David held him by the collar of his shirt; bent over him and kept wailing on his victim. The grunts that came from David were animalistic, and the CLACK of his fist connecting to the skull of the man were loud and frightening. The human men slowly stepped away as David harshly let go of their friend’s collar and threw him to the planks with a THUNK.

He stood up, took a deep breath, and ran his hands through his hair, inadvertently smearing blood in the tips of his mullet. The vampires stood over the bloody victim and the human men moved to quickly gather their friend and run away.

“Feel better?” Dwayne heartily laughed as he patted David on the back.

David licked the back of his leather gloves to taste the blood he was sure they would be having again later. He turned to his boys to give them a devilish grin, “that was fun.”

They chuckled. People continued to walk past them as the boys started in the direction the group of men had run off in. From the side of his eye David noticed a shadow walk swiftly passed him.

That scent.

He turned to find the figure in the crowd and saw a head bob through the sea of people as it walked off. He turned to follow the scent without giving warning to the boys, who’d stayed staring at their ‘to be’ victims. David swiftly moved through the crowd of people, trying to catch up with the source of his fixation; but the figure moved much faster than he had anticipated.

He had been held up by a group of tourists that were walking in a tight line. He pushed through them and their protests as he hustled towards the figure. “Fuck, where did it go?” He looked around and noticed how the crowd looked to thin out ahead of him, he saw the figure again. He sprinted to catch up with the shadow he was pursuing.

It's a chick? David was confused by what he saw; a short, simple human. He felt a pull that led him closer to his fixation.

MINE. The word permeated his thoughts the second he caught sight of what he was chasing.

She's MINE, he felt his boots hitting the ground below him, he was running now.

He was closing the space, but it was still not enough to catch his obsession. She’s so small how can I not reach her?

He watched the curly hair bounce as you walked briskly through the street now. He made a mental image of what you looked like on the off chance he lost sight of you. You were short, even with heels, dark brown hair, and honey skin. It was a simple outfit, white lacey top with jeans. You held a small tote off your shoulder, and you wore cowboy boots. He chuckled; they reminded him of his boots. You half turned your head to see behind you.

Crap. He ducked behind a group of people to hide. Did she notice me? His heart was racing, he clutched at his chest as he peeked out behind the group. No, there’s no way she did. He stepped out to notice you further than ever. “Oh, what the shit?” He sprinted to catch up, his coats flapping behind him; he was almost within arm’s length of you, but you had not made it easy. He reached an arm out to grab you…

“Hey there he is!” The boys came up behind him and he turned before he could touch you.

He quickly whipped his head back to watch you turn a corner and out of sight. He groaned loudly; he couldn’t believe how easily you lost him.

“What happened man? Why’d you take off like that?” Paul panted out.

“The girl,” David was bent over, his hands on his knees, he pointed to where he had seen you disappear, “she’s who I’ve been smelling all week.” He couldn’t believe he was actually panting, if he wasn’t so upset, he would have laughed in excitement at his new challenge.

The boys looked at each other in confusion, “um, there’s no one there-”,

“Okay, well I know that Marko, she ju- …she just took off.” David tried to explain.

“Sure man, your imaginary scent comes with an imaginary girl,” Paul laughed, and patted David on the back. David shot him a look of annoyance, and Paul took his hand off.  

“Hey, are we still going after those guys?” Dwayne asked.

“Yeah man, sure.” David was angry again.

How could I let her get away.

He was going to hit something again soon.

The boys turned back towards where they had seen the group of men take off and found a feast before them. They’d headed off the group at the parking lot on the far side to wait, like flies to a web. Once the group had dragged their friend into the back of their truck, the boys struck, quickly, and quietly. They snatched them all into the sky, fed, and rummaged through their pockets to leave their bodies in the trash somewhere. The mangled corpses a clear indication of the rage that still coursed through David’s veins.

The boys had found a decent amount of money in the pockets of the men they threw in the dumpsters. “Well, we’re set for a night of fun!” Marko held the wad of money up in triumph. The boys cleaned up and walked back down to the other end of the boardwalk where they had parked their bikes, next to a bar they knew wouldn’t kick them out.

When they got in, Marko and Dwayne headed to the back of a bar where the pool tables were. They knocked the quarters off the edge of one of the pool tables indicating that they would in fact be next to play. The men standing around recognized the crew; they knew better than to retaliate, and swiftly picked up their things and left the bar. “Huh, looks like it’s open now,” Dwayne laughed. Paul and David walked over to the bar and ordered beers for the group.

David wanted something stronger first and ordered two doubles, “whatever’s cheap and strong”, he told the bartender. He waited for his order and leaned against the counter. The lights were dimmed, and the music was loud, almost painfully loud. He looked around the bar and noticed all the drunk bodies moving out of sync with the music.

Well, there’s take out if anyone is still hungry, he thought and chuckled to himself. The bartender dropped off the shots and the beer and David placed the money on the counter. He left a modest tip, fucking animals, he thought as he saw the other patrons stiff the bartender; he picked up the shot glasses and knocked back his head. Nice n’ hot. The clear liquid burning his throat as it went down. David grabbed the beer and leaned back against the counter, his senses were beginning to dull, and the rage in him subsided. He looked around the bar and noticed a few people walk in.

There she is.

He couldn’t see your face behind your hair, but that didn’t matter; he knew what you looked like, he knew your scent.

You walked up to a space beside him, and he casually turned his head to look at you. You ordered a drink and leaned forwards against the counter. You pulled your bag out in front of you to grab your money, but David interjected, “I got it,” he handed the bartender some money, “whatever she wants,” he said to them casually. You tucked your hair behind your ear and looked up at David, “oh, thank you.” You smiled up at him, and he felt his undead heart skip a beat. If he wasn’t so used to playing cool, he might have dropped the charade, but he just turned to lean against the counter the way you were. He looked over you, and your features.

“I’m David,” he stuck his hand out for you.

You grabbed the drink from the bartender, then moved to offer your hand to him. “I’m Y/N,” you smiled sweetly. He pulled your hand to his face and placed a kiss on it, his icy blue eyes moving from your gaze to his hold on you. Inhaling your smell.

Honey, roses, clove? No, it’s more complex than that. He held the kiss longer, it’s the scent of her skin, but there’s something…else. 

Noticing your heartbeat quicken he released your hand from his.

“What a gentleman,” you chuckled nervously, your guard immediately going up.

“Sorry,” he tried to soothe your nerves, “are you here with someone?”

You took a sip from your drink and shook your head no. “Are you?” You didn’t smell like a normal human, but not entirely like something else.

“Yeah,” he gestured over his shoulder to the young vamps in the corner, “me and my boys are having a night on the town,” his voice was warm and inviting. You leaned back to see who he was talking about. You noticed three loudly dressed young men playing pool, they were eyeing anyone who got too close to their game. They seemed territorial, to say the least. “Would you like to join us?” David smiled, really laying on the charm.

“Sounds fun,” you batted your eyes and followed David to the back of the bar where his companions were.

“Hey boys,” they all looked up at him, “this is Y/N,” he gestured to you. They looked from him to you, and you watched their nostrils flare; they were smelling you, and not being subtle about it. David gave them a stern look, “she’ll be joining us tonight.” You held your drink against your body and gave them a quick wave. The boys changed their attitudes and greeted you kindly.

“Can I play winner?” You nod towards the table.

“Sure,” Marko lined up his shot, “that’ll be me.” He looked at Dwayne, “corner pocket,” he said arrogantly. The pool balls clack and he sunk the eight-ball, corner pocket like he said.

Dwayne groaned and handed the cue to you. He leaned down to you, trying to sneakily take a whiff, “he’s a cheater, that one,” he eyed Marko.

“No, I’m just better than you,” Marko started racking the balls back up. You slung the strap of your bag off around your head and sat it down gently on the table nearest, there’s a soft clunk when you set it down that the boys pay no mind to. “You think you can beat me princess?” Marko taunts.

“Oh, I barely remember the rules, I just thought it’d be fun,” you smile innocently. Paul leaned down to hand you the chalk and you could hear him sniff you as well. You forced yourself not to roll your eyes at how obvious they were being, and smile as you took the blue cube from him. You twisted a few turns on the tip of the cue with the chalk, then lined up your shot to break.

CLACK and the balls sailed across the table, THUNK one of the balls sunk. You smiled up at Marko, who was unimpressed, and you moved to line up your next shot. You stepped in front of David and looked back to make sure you wouldn’t hit him; he nodded at you, and you could feel him staring at your ass when you turned back around. CLACK, THUNK. Marko scoffed and you moved past him to line up your next shot. You could feel him breathing in your scent as you moved around him. CLACK, CLACK, THUNK, THUNK. You smiled up at him; he was visibly upset by now; he crossed his arms and looked over at David who was more than amused by the sight before him.

The boys looked at each other, they could smell your perfume, the scent of your shampoo and even the petroleum in your makeup, but they couldn’t smell you. The scent of your skin escaped them, and they looked back at David, waiting for his move. You sauntered in front of him again, and lined up your shot. CLACK, THUNK. You turned back to smile coyly at him, your eyes lidded, and you raised an eyebrow at him, amused in your own antics of teasing the young men.

“Oh, come on!” Marko bitched, “am I going to get a turn?”

You smiled up at him, “in a sec.” You let your tongue slide ever so slightly out of your lips in a focused look. CLACK, THUNK.

“Mother fu-” Marko scrunched up his face.

The others were laughing at him now. You moved back in front of Marko and lined up your shot, you could hear him growling as you slid the cue back and forth between your knuckles. “Oops,” you missed on ‘accident’ and the cue slid up. You stepped out of his way and let him take his shot.

“Finally, fuck,” he lined up, “I thought this would be a one-sided game.” He shoots and skims the edge of a ball. “FUCK,” he screamed. You could hear Dwayne and Paul snickering beside David.

The cue ball landed between yours and Marko’s ball, “let’s see ya hit that,” David called out to you, raising his eyebrow to taunt you.

You sat sidesaddle on the edge of the table and placed your fingertips on the felt. Leaning over the table, David noticed a pendant fall from your shirt. It was a small, thin vial, it looked almost black, or maybe a dark purple. You angled the cue high over your head, CLACK, the cue sailed over Marko's ball and hit yours. The ball slowly rolled over to a pocket and it looked like it would slow to a stop. You eyed the ball and waited for it to fall, THUNK. The boys were in an uproar; Marko was seething now.

He gripped the cue in his hand, and you could hear the wood start to crack over the music. I’m pushing my luck, you thought, the image of a deer in headlights popped into your head. You tucked the necklace back in your shirt safely where it should be, hopped off the table and moved in front of David and the other boys. You leaned down and arched your back as you slide the cue between your knuckles, trying to tease them; you heard David growl softly, the sound made you chuckle. “Corner pocket,” CLACK, the eight-ball sailed across the table, bounced off the edge and turned towards the corner pocket. From the edge of your eyes, you could see Marko gritting his teeth and staring intently at the ball. THUNK.

CRACK, Marko broke the cue over his knee. He was screaming obscenities in a language that wasn’t English, and Paul moved to his side to calm him down. You watched as the tantrum unfolded and David turned you around, to take your attention away from the melt down the short, curly haired biker was having.

“You’re pretty good,” he put his arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah, where’d you learn to do that, short stuff?” Dwayne was laughing at how pissed off Marko was getting.

“Oh, I’ve had a lot of time to practice,” you chuckled.

Marko stomped up to you, “that’s bullshit, you’re gonna play me again!” He shoved your shoulder.

“Woah, woah, calm down Marko,” David stepped in front of you, the silver in his tongue trying to soothe his brother.

David and Marko were eyeing each other, and Dwayne and Paul stood uneasily near them, waiting for one of them to make a move. The tension was palpable, and the hair on the back of your neck started to stand on end. You went to your bag and pulled out a small wad of cash, “I was actually about to buy y’all a round if that’s ok.” David was holding Marko by the scruff of his jacket when the boys looked back over at you, “if y’all want that?” You held it out to hand to Marko, and David let him go. The short blond walked over to grab the cash from you, but before he could take it you flicked your wrist to hold the money away from him, “are we square?” He eyed you, before looking over at David who raised an eyebrow, waiting for Marko’s response.

Marko turned back to you and smiled an unfriendly sneer, “yeah,” he took the money from you, “we’re square.” He turned to walk to the bar, with Paul, and Dwayne in tow.

As they walk past you and David, you heard Paul say something to Marko, “if you’re so mad about it, you should have cheated.”

“I was fucking trying to- Stupido figlio di puttana, pensi che non ci abbia provato?” Marko retorted.

David looked over at you and laughed from the pit of his stomach, it was almost a bellow. “You didn’t have to do that,” he put his arm around you.

You were sure if you didn’t then you’d have to deal with the consequences of a pissy biker. “It’s just a courtesy drink,” you smiled back at him, and the boys brought back a tray of shots.

They all brought the glass to their lips, and you followed suit. The boys took a few more shots as you nursed your drink. David took your hand and led you to the dance floor, he was surprisingly better than you’d have thought, but maybe that had more to do with how inebriated everyone around you was. You could smell the cigarette ash on his coat, and the leather and motor oil as well. The light from the bar contorted his face and casted shadows about his features. He had a dark look in his eyes that made your stomach hurt. The longer you looked at him, the less you noticed him moving.

Was he actually dancing? Was it a trick of the light?  You turned so you didn’t have to see how frightening he looked at that moment.

You could feel his hands slide down your waist, and he pulled you close as he swayed against you. You felt yourself begin to sweat, all the bodies, and the man clad in wool and leather pressed against your back, was all too much. David could smell your scent now, over the fixation he could not place, much stronger now than what it had been. Whatever the smell was that he couldn’t recognize was almost completely faded against the fragrance of your skin. He pulled you closer to him and you prayed that was his wallet pressing into your ass.

Mine, mine, mine.

The word seeped through his thoughts again. She’s mine. He let the word run wildly through his mind as he listened to the blood flow through your veins.

His face was resting on your shoulder, his nose buried in your hair, and you could feel him inhaling you now. You turned to face him, he was certainly attractive, but that was no excuse for a stranger to be smelling you like that. You put your hands on his shoulders and tried to push away, his grip tightened, and he leaned down to press his mouth in the crook of your neck. You tried to think of a way out of his grasp, as he kissed and nuzzled against your exposed skin. You turned your gaze to the clock on the wall.

“Oh, fuck,” you sighed against David’s ear.

He hummed and didn’t move from his position.

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” you pulled back from his embrace, and he reached for you as you turned to go.

“Where are you going?” You could have sworn his eyes were blue a second ago.

“It’s late,” you tried to back away from him. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

No way you were stupid enough to spend the night with a…whatever he was. Not after him and his buddies were smelling you like damn ‘jeepers creepers’.

At least not until you knew if it was safe or not to be around him.

He held onto your arm, “it’s not even closing time,” he smiled, trying to charm you into staying with him. You pulled from his grasp, and he stopped smiling. He eyed you, waiting for your next move. You clutched your bag against your body, and he realized that his persuasion, for whatever reason, didn’t work on you. He internally raged against that fact, but quickly softened his gaze and began to apologize. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t cool…” he looked over your nervous figure, “can I at least walk you home?”

You tried to play it off, “that’s alright, I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Max’s words echoed in David’s head.

Trouble.

What could he have meant? You’re so helpless, just a fragile little human.

“Nonsense, I insist.” You weren’t getting rid of him that easily, not after he had worked so hard to catch you.

He turned to let the boys know he would be walking you home, and that he would catch up with them soon. He held the door for you out of the bar and you both started down the boardwalk. He stopped by the bikes to give you a ride to your rental.

“Oh, I should have known those were yours,” you bounced on your toes, waiting for him to get back off the bike.

He chuckled, “am I that cool?” He smiled back at you, waiting for you to get on.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not very.”  

You stared quietly at him with an impatient look on your face.

“You’re really not gonna let me give you a ride home?”

“I’d rather walk,” you smiled briskly and turned on your heels to begin to wander away from David.

“Oh, shit” he moved to get off the bike, catching his boot on the seat, and hobbled to get unstuck. “Hey, wait!” He sprinted to catch up to you, and you were already at the corner. How the fuck does she do that, he thought.

You turned and chuckle at him, “I don’t live too far.” You pointed off in the distance and he walked beside you. He began to pat at his coat pockets and pulled out a lighter and a cigarette. He lit one and stuck his hands back in his coat.

You tried to make small talk to make the walk go by quicker, but David was not one for polite conversation. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, a long time.”

“How long have you known your friends?”

“Oh, a long time.”

“How old are you?”

“Not very.”

“Uh-huh,” you stared at him from the corner of your eye, “you’re a real open book ain’t cha?”

He scoffed, “me? Oh yeah.” He pulled the cigarette from his lips and ashed it over the curb. He put it back in his mouth and took a long drag and blew smoke up into the night air.

You chuckled and looked up at him, “you know there’s blood in your hair, right?”

He shot a hand up to his hair to wipe it off, “oh, don’t worry about that…It’s not mine.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed.

He turned his head to look at you, the moonlight shining down on your body. His whole unlife, never before had he seen moonlight look so enticing. You caught him staring and he smiled a toothy grin. “So,” he starts, “what about you? Are you an open book?”

You chuckled, “why don’t you find out?”

“Where are you from?” David asked.

“South.”

“Of?”

“Here.”

“Los Angeles?”

“Further.”

“San Diego?”

You giggled, “no, the South.”

“Ah,” David responded, it’d been a long while since he had been down there, he wasn’t exactly ‘up to date’. He stared over at you again.

“What, David?” you looked up at him.

“So, like cowboys South, or hill people South?”

You busted out laughing.

He couldn’t help but smile watching you laugh; he loved the way you looked at this moment. You stopped in your tracks, doubled over, “oh man, that was the hardest I’ve laughed in a long, long time.” He stopped and stared at you, impatiently waiting for an answer, he bent down to be face to face with you and cocked an eyebrow. “Cowboy South,” you wiped a tear from your eye.

He let you finish collecting yourself and followed next to you when you started walking again. “So, what are you doing in Santa Carla?” He could hear your heartbeat pick up, then quickly slow again.

You tucked a curl behind your ear, “oh, I’m just traveling.”

Is she lying? Or is that not the whole truth?

David tried to look into your mind to see what you were hiding, but it was like there was a wall blocking him from you. He knew his brothers could close him off, and Max and Lucy could as well, but he had never had a human lock him out before. This bothered him.

David already knew his persuasion didn’t work on you, so he’d have to press you another way. “How long have you been traveling,” your heartbeat quickened, then slowed once more.

“Oh, a long time.” You both had your reasons for secrecy, and you would give him the same courtesy he showed you.

He snorted though his nose, annoyed, but he would get his way sooner or later. David flicked the dead butt from his mouth and kept himself from trying to pry. You turned the corner and walked up to a small house with a truck parked in the driveway. “Wow, ain’t seen one of those in a while,” David ran a hand across the tailgate of the old truck.

“Yeah, she’s my baby,” you pulled your keys out of your bag and stopped at the top of your porch. You turned to look down at David, he stood with his hands behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet; he was clearly waiting to be let in. “Thank you again,” you said. David smiled up at you from the bottom of the stairs and began to walk up them. “Goodnight,” you turned to put the keys in the lock.

The blond stood, stunned that you had no intention of letting him in. “Wait,” he called to you, as you stepped through the threshold. He gestured to the doorway, “Can I co-?”

“Oh, no David, we just met.” You smiled innocently, “and I’m not that easy.”

He stood there, dumbfounded, he scoffed. “Seriously?” He stepped up to the doorframe, and you closed the screen door.

“Goodnight David,” you smiled one last time and closed the front door on him.

“No kiss?”

He stood in front of the closed door, gripping the frame; it cracked under his hands. David growled; he was not used to rejection; nor would he accept it. He walked around to the edge of your house where he found a window to your bedroom. He found it slightly ajar and reached a hand under. He was burned.

Ah what the shit!

He pressed his face against the window and peered inside, he saw a small water bubbling fountain by the edge of the windowsill next to your bed.

Who the fuck does that!

Note: Vampires cannot cross running water; this is mentioned in the novel but not in the movie.

He hissed at the small froggy fountain that was spitting water. He took off his glove and started licking at his hand when he noticed you walk into your room. He crouched so you wouldn’t notice him standing creepily at your window. You took off your boots and dropped your bag gently on a hook by the door. He snorted at how cutely you looked without your heels, tiny thing. You looked at yourself in the mirror and rubbed your neck. You stayed looking at where your neck met your shoulder and rubbed it a bit more. You sighed, threw back your head, then began to pull your shirt off, pulled it over your head and your hair fell over your undershirt and your bra.

Yeaaah, undress for me sweet thing, David thought as he hung off the windowsill. You unhooked your bra from under your camisole, your peaks showing through the thin fabric. David was gripping the windowsill hard now, and you moved your hands down to slip off your pants. David subconsciously growled, you looked to the window. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He slunk back against the wall. You peered out the window, like you knew someone was watching you.

Fuck me, David thought as he tried to stay perfectly still and out of sight. He didn’t dare make any more noise, you seemed to notice him every time he did anything that night. You shut the window, locked it, closed the blinds, and shut the curtains. Mother fucker! Poor creepy David was annoyed that you had ended his show early. He stood up, frustrated, he knew he wouldn’t have a chance at seeing any more of you that night. Drunkenly he stared at the blinds, “stupid girl.”

He scrunched up his face at your window, he heard you moving around inside, he was pissed that he couldn’t watch. He was pissed he was resorting to watching you through the window, like some loser human stalker. He should be inside while you willingly undress yourself for him.

You were his now anyways.

He gritted his teeth, he thought for a second and figured, ‘well, while I’m here’. He undid his belt and shoved his jeans down enough to free his cock, he was going to mark you, whether or not you’d let him. He pissed on the ground below your window and chuckled to himself.

“Let’s see if she notices this.” He chuckled and gave himself a quick shake. He put his member back in his pants, and pulled out his phone to let the boys know he was headed back to the bar. David gave one more look at the window as he put his glove back on and took off in the night.

The next morning, you definitely noticed. You stared at the spot on the ground outside your bedroom window. You knew the frame around your front door was cracked, and now your grass was trampled. Two very clear big boot prints, and what looked like a summersault, or like he was rolling around on the ground. You stood with your mug in your hand, still in your slippers and pajamas.

You sniffed at the air, “oh, that fucker!” You begrudgingly went back inside to fetch something to get the piss off your lawn. You returned with baking soda and vinegar, and sprinkled and poured the mixture on the dead spot till you were satisfied. You went back inside to fetch a pitcher of boiling water and angrily stared at the spot, “goddamned vampire asshole pissing on my fucking lawn!”

You were going to let David have it the next time you saw him.

[starlightsuffered]

Unexpected Visitor

Info - unexpected visit, child running away from home, anxiety, single mother, scary moment

I was dozing on the couch watching an old rerun of Seinfeld when I heard the knock. I jerked myself awake. I almost thought I’d dreamt it when another one came. The sound was not urgent or even demanding, it seemed more gentle.

I looked out the peep hole and saw no one. I tentatively opened the door. There was nothing about until I heard a loud thunk. A small girl jumped out in front of me.

She was missing two teeth and her smile was wide. I was utterly flabbergasted as she beamed up at me. She was looking up with her huge brown eyes and I nearly melted.

“Who-who are you?” I asked.

“Lily,” she said plainly. “What’s your name?”

“T-Timothée,” I said without even really thinking.

“Nice name,” she replied. She was peeking around the corner into my apartment.

“Do you have fruit loops?” She asked with a quizzical cock of her head.

“Um, yeah,” I mumbled, still completely baffled by her appearance.

She pushed past me at the affirmative message and began to look through the cabinets. As if I’d known this girl all her life I jumped into care taking mode. I was grabbing a bowl and milk and a spoon. Soon she was seated at the table with her snack. She was smacking her lips happily.

“Why are you…” I tried to start my questioning but I didn’t want her running off. She was in safer hands here than just anywhere. She was clearly well cared for physically, and someone was likely looking for her.

“What are you doing?” Was the question I finally landed on.

“Runnin away from ome,” she slurred through the sugary milk.

“Why?”

“Don’t like kindergarten,” she replied.

“I see,” I said solemnly.

“There’s so many rules. I wanna go on an adventure like in the books my mama reads me,” she told me.

“Sounds like your mom is nice. Why would you want to leave her?” I asked.

“Hmmmm,” she tapped the spoon to her chin.

“She said no cereal for dinner. My teacher in pre K said one day we can send a letter when we learn to write. Maybe I will write her one.”

I smiled at the precocious child. She seemed too smart for her own good. I tentatively stretched out my foot to the Frozen book bag she’d tossed on the floor.

“Why did you pick me?” I asked her as a distraction. I didn’t want her to see me pulling the bag close to me. I figure there may be an address or phone number inside,

“You look like a prince, from a fairytale!”

“That’s very kind,” I said with an amused smile. I did see a number in the bag. I refrained from calling but instead texted the number. To be extra cautious I recorded a voice note of Lily subtly. I had no idea what Lily’a guardian felt about the police. I didn’t know if they’d want them involved.

I heard wild pounding in the complex. I stared at the ceiling with a curious air. Lily seemed unaffected. She was doing a little dance to herself as she ate.

“Who is your favourite princess?” She asked before a woman burst into my apartment. Her hair was wild, her face tear stained, and she looked more distressed than I’d ever seen another human look.

“Lily,” she nearly wailed. She ran to the small girl and scooped her up. She held her against her chest and almost sounded like she was praying as she mumbled under her breath.

“Thank you,” she said to me, eyes watering profusely.

“She just slipped out the door, I knew she couldn’t have gotten far but I was terrified,” she sobbed.

“It’s all okay, she just knocked on my door and said she wanted some cereal. Oh, she also told me she was running away because she doesn’t like Kindergarten,” I recited to her mother.

“Snitch!” Lily said, pointing a finger accusingly at me.

“It’s good he told me. You know you can’t leave home alone,” her mother said sternly.

“I’m y/n, and I can’t thank you enough,” y/n said, thrusting out a hand. I shook it and let the side of my mouth lift at the reunion of mother and daughter.

“I’m Timothée, and I was happy to help,” I said with a full smile now.

“You’re an angel. Thank you again,” she said weepily.

“It’s seriously no problem,” I chuckled.

“Mama, I’m sleepy,” Lily yawned.

“Well you had a big adventure,” y/n said with a small smile. She wasn’t yet ready for the seriousness of the moment to drop. She picked up her child’s book bag.

As they were going out the door, Lily peeked over her mother’s shoulder. She waved sleepily and blew me a kiss. I laughed at the ridiculousness, but caught it to satisfy her. I put it in my pocket as she smiled wearily and closed her tired eyes.

What an unexpected visitor.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator r @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Hello! I love your writing^^

If it's alright with you, could we get a short story or reaction(whichever works) of Seth where he finds out halfway that sugarboo is scared of being on a motorcycle even after they agreed to go for a ride with him when he asked while still keeping a tough Image and giving him the "don't tell alph" face , only for him to calmly help them slowly get over their fear and telling them they won't let anything bad happen to them.

Ignore the fear and focus on me.

Seth was half way in the ride with Boo, who was holding on him tightly. They told him they were fine and to just ride because Boo wanted to go on a ride with him. They don't usually get to hang out one on one most days because of his new job.

Boo behind Seth, was having a slight panic attack. Trying to keep their breathing regular as Seth speeds down the road he chose to ride on. It was outside of the town, simple dirt road for a nice quick ride.

There was a thunk, and some shivering from Boo this made Seth turn his head slightly. Trying to figure out if they were good or not, Boo clutch onto Seth even harder when he moved.

"Sug? You good, hon?" Steadying himself on the bike, it wobbled a bit from Boo moving. It didn't help they hit a pot hole a few feet back, did it surprise them? Thinking Seth spoke again gently.

"It's fine Sug, only a small hole I won't let ya get hurt." Turning back seeing no one Seth steadied the bike again. Looking over his shoulder he was about to speak again but paused. The look he saw on Boo was one of terror and saw tears in their eyes, worried out of his mind he slowed down and parked.

"Please don;t tell Alph..." Frowning Boo wiped their face. They felt embarrassed by their stupid fear they had. Seth took off his helmet and then gently took off Boo's wrapping his arms around their shoulder's.

"Sug, babe why didn't you saw you were scared? I would have went slower for you." Soothing Boo, Seth frowned as they sniffed into his chest. Hiding their face not wanting to be seen right at the moment by him.

"I...I wanted to ride with you! I feel like we don't hang out a lot anymore....." Whining out a bit Boo looked up at the cowboy. Seth sighed at what they said, then leaned down and kissed their forehead.

"Hon, if that's what ya felt why didn't ya tell me? I would have taken you on a hike instead, I never wanna make you do something you don't wanna!" Taking his hands off their body and went to their face. Softly holding them as he looked at them, looking straight in their eyes.

"I know, but I also wanted to ride a motorcycle...." Pouting a bit, Seth laughed at that but then thought of something. Grabbing the helmets the brown haired man looked at his partner.

"Look babe, we only have my bike to get back to town. So, wanna try again?" Questioning looking at them, Boo linked at him with puffy eyes. "Slower this time obviously. Just focus on me babe, ignore the fear. I got ya Boo." Adding encouraging words to Boo they nodded with a determined look. They wanted to try this again, Boo was so happy Seth gave them that pep talk.

So going back into position on the bike they clipped on their helmet. Seth smiled at them and followed their lead, getting ready to ride his bike again with them. Gently wrapping their arms around their brown haired partner, Boo focused on their breathing.

"Ready, Sugar?"

"Yes!" Excitement was now filled in them as the bike was revved by Seth. Slowly going back on the road Seth looked both ways and began riding back to town. Boo looked around as they drove back, now that they focused more on Seth than the riding they felt better.

Boo then wonder if they'll ever be able to ride his bike? Maybe not before they get over their fear. Lying their head on his shoulder, Seth smiled to himself as he noticed that Boo was now having fun.

[fox-stan]

@mamuzzy’s dark fox gave me brain rot too lol. Anyways here’s how I imagine fox gets to that point

Wolffe is already halfway out the door by the time Fox scrambles after him, barely catching his wrist to stop him leaving already.

“That’s not what I was trying to say Wolffe. I swear! It’s just, we need-“

“Shut up.” Wolffe snarls, snatching his arm out of Fox’s grip and spinning around. “I don’t want to hear it from you. I don’t care what you think you’ve been through, you know nothing about what it’s like to loose all the men under your command.”

“But-“ Fox isn’t allowed to finish his protest, isn’t allowed to beg even more for the help his men desperately need. Wolfe shoves him hard, Fox’s bad shoulder clipping the door frame causing his vision to gray out for a moment. By the time his vision returns to normal Wolffe is already gone.

Fox sinks to the ground and lets his head thunk back against the wall as tears start to well up in his eyes. He doesn’t need Wolffe, and he was foolish to think the Wolffe would be in a place to listen to Fox’s problems. Not with the Malevolent disaster so fresh. Still, he had to try. With how things are going he’s not sure how much longer the Guard can last without help.

The door slides open and Fox looks up hoping to see Wolffe, only for his stomach to drop when it’s Thorn who enters. He’s got his helmet clipped to his belt, so Fox can see the sympathetic look on his face as he sits down next to Fox.

“I heard the yelling, I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”

He’s kind enough not to say I told you so when Fox shakes his head. Fox knows that Stone will have less restraint when he finds out. Thorn doesn’t say anything, even when the tears Fox has been fighting spill over, running down his cheeks now that he’s got the comforting presence of his brother pressed into his side.

They sit there quietly as Fox mourns his once close relationship with his batch and despairs his helplessness to help his own men.

Fox’s comm rings out in the silence between them and he flinches when he opens it to find a summons from the Chancellor. Shit. Of course he doesn’t get even a few minutes to just sit and be miserable. The Guard doesn’t get nice things like that.

He knows better than to take too long so he quickly rubs away his tears and shoves on his helmet, only stopping to knock his shoulder against Thorn’s in a silent goodbye before heading towards the Chancellors office.

When he gets there he’s surprised to find a lack of Red Guards manning the door, leaving him a little unsure as he steps inside. Thankfully, the Chancellor waves him to stand at attention in his usual spot, standing just to the side of the ornate desk so that he can be forced to kneel at the Chancellor’s feet just as easily as he can be bent over it to receive lashings.

When the Chancellor gestures for him to remove his bucket he hesitates. He’s acutely aware of the appearance of his face right now. It will be impossible to hide that he was just crying, with how swollen and red his eyes are. But the Chancellor is not a patient man so after a brief moment Fox slides his helmet off and clips it to his belt.

They’re alone in the office Fox can’t help but notice, with unease building in his stomach. The feeling only grows worse when the Chancellor gives him a sympathetic smile. The Chancellor hasn’t bothered to use his mask around him in months, not since Fox discovered what he truly is.

“I saw your conversation with Commander Wolffe.”

Fox’s stomach drops, he doesn’t even bother asking how the Chancellor knows. Everything that happens in the senate building makes its way back to him eventually. Even most things outside of the building typically do.

Fox foolishly thought he wouldn’t be punished as long as he didn’t implicate the Chancellor to Wolffe. Clearly that belief was misplaced. Briefly he wonders if the Chancellor is simply going to kill him. Since there’s no Red Guard here to deliver a punishment that seems like the most likely course of action.

“I can offer you the support that the GAR refuses to.”

Fox is still processing the fact that he tried to reach out for help and instead got his hand bitten by the only people in the wretched universe that are supposed to care about him and the fact that the Chancellor seemingly knows about the whole thing. Given the circumstances he thinks he can be excused for his dumbfounded, “What?”

The Chancellor laughs. It’s not the cruel, twisted thing Fox is used to, but rather a truly amused little sound that Fox is unfamiliar with.

“I saw what happened when you tried to reach out for help from lesser beings. The evidence of how that went is all over your face.”

Self-consciously Fox scrubs a hand over his face but he knows that will do little to hide the evidence of his tears.

“They don’t have the resources to help you, even if they cared enough to try.” That stings and Fox can’t help his reflexive flinch but the Chancellor keeps talking. “I, however, have all the resources and power you could want.”

Fox wants to deny him, he’s loyal to the republic he would never knowingly work with a Sith. But. What has the republic done for him? All his loyalty has wrought him is dead little brothers and older brothers who apparently don’t care.

The Chancellor stands, ornate robes rasping across the floor as he move closer, clasping Fox’s shoulder. “I don’t make this offer lightly, and I will not make it again. So I urge you to consider what this could do for you. For your men.”

Fox tilts his chin up. “And if I wanted to kill Senators?”

The Chancellor laughs that strange new laugh again. “Senators are quite replaceable. In fact I think you’ll find my adversaries often find unfortunate ends.”

“Medical supplies?” He probes again, expecting more resistance this time when it’s something that could only help his brothers, not something that can be twisted to suit the Chancellor’s needs.

“My boy you’d have your pick of the Republic’s medical supplies.”

Fox swallows and thinks of holding Thorn down to keep him from thrashing while medics pulled shrapnel out of his stomach and hip. Thinks of the way he wished so desperately for painkillers while his younger brother screamed.

He knows his answer, the Chancellor must realize at the same time because a slow smile spreads across his face and his eyes seem to burn a molten gold.

“All I ask in return is your loyalty. And your willingness to do a few favors for me.”

Fox knows it won’t be that simple. But he thinks of Wolffe turning his back on him, of all his brothers in the GAR ignoring his pleas for help. He thinks of what this could do for the Guard, the ways this could make their lives better and he decides that whatever the price for dealing with a Sith is one he will happily pay.

And so he kneels and swears himself to Chancellor Palpatine.

[slippinninque]

⭐The Power of Patience ⭐

Shigeru Kimura x blackfemreader

In which you accidentally find the use in patience

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+, softdom!Shigeru, overstimulation, edging/teasing, frottage, mentions of toys, cursing, long fic, before-work-drop

He was on you as soon as you slipped in the door. Pressing up against you and claiming your lips heatedly. The tiredness that enveloped you fell away like an ugly cloak as you wrapped your arms around his waist, melting into his solidness.

"I thought of our talk." He whispered into your ear as his hands wandered along your body, "I have something to say. Would you come to my study to listen?"

After the world's quickest shower, you laid yourself down across Shigeru's desk and he followed after you. The kiss was deep, burning away the memory of your previous stalemate.

Shigeru stretched over you and took your searching hands above your head. You shivered at the smell of him, the feel of him settled between your thighs, his rope winding around your wrists...

"Huh?"

Shigeru calmly straightened and kept only a light touch to your thighs now as you blinked at him. Gone was the flirty smile and it was replaced with a heavy stare.

You suddenly recalled Matsumoto's words from earlier.

"Don't let him fool ya with that 'pure honor' bullshit! Kid--he could sell a rabbit running shoes."

"Shi-Shigeru-san, is this about the...thing?" You winced and backpaddled, "Also, I may have done something..."

Shigeru gave you a smile this time but not one you liked to receive. You groaned as your head thunked back onto his desk. Did you really perfume your thighs for this?

Shigeru went and rolled his fancy office chair so he was seated at his desk and between your legs, "This is about a lot of things, my dear. Do enlighten me on which you are referring to."

You stared up at the ceiling. This situation was quickly becoming too much in so many, non-sexy ways. Maybe you could save this if you ripped the band-aid off.

"I may have rendezvoused for a gig. Y'know, didn't go through the proper channels."

Shigeru was going through his drawers as you spoke but you saw him twitch and he finally grabbed what he was looking for.

"You traded favors with Matsumoto. For passports."

Double fuck, "I needed them quick for a friend. You were busy and Matsumoto knew a guy that could do same day!"

"You accepted such terms from him so easily for something that I could have done freely for you had you waited."

"It wasn't even bad!"

Shigeru's fist thumped heavily on the desk space next to you,

"He used you as bait in a filthy bar that you are prohibited from entering without me! It is not neutral ground and you have enemies."

You rolled your eyes and your foot began to swing in annoyance. Was this going to be another lesson about how much you should cherish yourself and all that?

Ever since you both entered this relationship, Shigeru has been nothing but doting. Careful. Gentle. Mindful. Nice.

Which should have been good and more than enough. It was different and it was your honorable Shigeru-san but...you needed more.

You tried to tell him that he didn't need to be so sweet to you. That you would like for him take and claim, show you how easily he could tear you up and down.

The more bruises, the better! You said it with a grin, expecting the smile that past partners wore when they heard they could do anything to you. Shigeru protested with such force that it may have made you a teeny bit defensive.

The talk ended up being more of a disagreement as you both had very different ideas of what it mean to be 'mean'.

You walked away felt coddled, muddled by the conflicting feelings of wanting to know how to be what he wanted but being stuck with how you were.

It was easy enough to find trouble with one of his lieutenants when you needed a little favor to get a friend to safety. Matsumoto had a big mouth but damn you didn't expect to be found out so soon.

The upset boiling in your stomach turned you bitter, "If you think that's the worst thing I did for a job--

"That is no excuse to let him touch you!"

His tone picked your head up. Meeting Shigeru's glare stalled your brain as arousal rejoined the race. Which was he more angry about--Matsumoto helping you or showing a bit of skin for a favor?

With the look on his face, shit, it probably didn't matter either way.

"He barely touched me, Shigeru-san! Honestly, I only had to play along to get us in and we went our separate ways! It's not like I suc-su-suh somehow did something bad!"

It was too late and your mouth had Shigeru seething. Your mind pinwheeled as you wondered just what he had in store for you.

Shamefully it did nothing but dampen your panties more as you held out hope he finally gave you what you wanted.

"Shigeru-san?" You tried to honey your tone, "I apologize for my behavior--

"I know Matsumoto. It was not only business for him.," Shigeru murmured without hearing you, "I know him just was well as I know you.

His hands were back on you as he rubbed your knee thoughtfully. The action shouldn't have had you squirming the way it did but it's been so long.

"You ask to be hit and choked." Shigeru said lowly, "I believe you are hiding. Dulling your pleasure with pain. Putting yourself in precarious situations for the thrill to match the pace of your mind..."

Shigeru leaned over you so you could feel his sigh span across your mouth.

"I will not hit you," He said to the fall of your stomach, "but I can give you what you need."

You tried to look away. He stood from the chair to lean over you, taking a firm hold of your chin to turn you back to face him. You gasped on a laugh at how easy you were for him.

"I can't Shigeru-san, I can't get there without a little bite or something...It's just how I take it."

The desk creaked beneath your grip, the noise catching his attention. When his eyes met yours next, they were steady but dark.

"You've trained to take a blade. You will learn to accept my pleasure."

"It's hard to-to focus on it. I can't stop thinking of more and wanting more and how to get more. Then I start thinking of more and more."

"Ah, you only need to take your time. Pain is the easy way out, at times. Patience is more powerful than you give it credit for."

You snorted, "Patience looks better on you than me."

Shigeru tilted his head as he considered your words. His hand stroked your cheek as he turned his gaze softer.

"I care deeply for you. Far beyond the limits of your body. It matters to me how you treat it. Let me show you how it can be good for both of us, hm?"

Shigeru pressed hot kisses along your neck and jaw as he spoke. You promised and promised again that you'd give your all. He reached somewhere behind you and your hands slackened from the loosening rope.

You pouted, "Wait--you said--

"This was to make you listen," The rope went sailing across the room, "I won't need that now that we've talked. The desk will be the only discomfort I'll allow."

You huffed briefly stuck your tongue out at him, "I'll be so good for you, you'll get bored."

"My, my what a look in your eye--you really mean it.

And you did. Shigeru thought he could tame the beast of your fucked up nerves but you knew better. Nothing could fix it. He couldn't put any pieces back together if more than half of them were gone.

You would let your Shigeru try and you would let him see on his own. That all you needed was his teeth, his marks, his hurt.

The sooner he was on board with it, the sooner the real fun could start...

The sound of something being set onto the desk had you perking up and immediately blinking at your lover.

His answer was to pointedly slid on the mini-vibrator onto his finger. The next noise you made carried concern at the intense sound of the buzzing as Shigeru tested it's settings.

"S-Say, what--who told you what that was?" Your curiosity flared as strongly as your lust as you watched Shigeru master the settings of the vibrator.

"No one told me what it was! I know where to get what I need."

You shivered at his tone and couldn't help ribbing, "Should I be jealous that you bought such a thing with out me?"

"You often think me too good of a man if you believe this is all that I picked up, my dear." Shigeru's tone was teasing as his hands settled on the sleeping shorts you hurriedly threw on. He exhaled and rubbed your thighs.

"Do you know what you do to me? How long I poured over those options to have you calling for me?"

Your hips lifted on their own accord at the sound of him. Shigeru tugged and the cool surface of the desk met our cheeks. He absently folded your shoulders and tossed them beside you, eyes locked with yours.

Trembling with anticipation at the sight of him rolling up his sleeves, you had to keep your happy noise choked down when he reached to pull his hair back from his face.

He made a rough noise in the back of his throat, seemingly not all-there again as his his stare went between your thighs. You wondered if you glistened from the rollercoaster of arousal you've been on.

"I'll stare. You've been coming to bed late and waking up early--you've been keeping us apart.

"It's been a long time," You said coyly, "Don't stare like that."

You stifled a giggle at the dramatics. He tilted his head and regarded you with a smirk filled with promise.

"With the honor of your trust, allow me to me make it hurt for you."

You grinned and blew him a kiss, "Hurt me good, Shigeru-san, and I might give you a gold star after..."

-------

Shigeru Kimura was the sun you'd follow to the edge of the universe.

An edge he brought you to and shoved you back from time and time again. Your sensitive, attentive lover was tearing you apart with pleasure all without even touching his zipper.

Shigeru gave you the vibrator again and only when you cry did he use his fingers.

Then he made you scream in two of the three languages you knew, curling and pumping inside of you as he ran the vibrator dead agaisnt your clit.

Now, Shigeru used his mouth to make you beg.

Every time he built you up to an orgasm, each feeling more intense and euphoric than the last, he'd back away. Stopped, slowed, retreat.

It wasn't long before not coming felt like coming--your nerves felt like they were at their limit of how much euphoria they could process. A heady ocean that threatened to either push you over the edge or promised to pull you back under when you got too close.

You could feel every part of you shaking, you could feel the hot streaks of Shigeru's busy hands across you. His soft touch made you shifty in the beginning until he ran you down with praise and filth.

"The ropes did look rather nice, perhaps a different colored silk..."

"Ahh, you're really twitching now. Are you feeling close? Give me a kiss, I'll let you get closer."

"That's the way, beautiful. Keep showing me how good it feels..."

His hands became rougher then. Kneading became squeezing, pulls ending in snappy little pinches. His teeth used as much as his tongue.

Audaciously, you wanted more. You wanted to burn down to nothing but ash in Shigeru's hands and you believed he could feel it. Then again, you couldn't hold much in your head as Shigeru wrung you down with nothing with his insistent need to make you feel the good kind of good.

All that single minded focus set on dismantling you.

You promised him so many things in your delirium, straining to keep your thoughts between your ears and saying anything to keep Shigeru between your legs long enough to make you come.

You sat up on your elbows and the slight shift made the sensation all the better. You sobbed for release, feeling like start fire was rushing through you. You whimpered for a break Shigeru tsk, rubbing your shaking thigh.

"Can I ?Just once, just once, pleas--Shigeru-samaaa..."

He lifted from between your legs with a pat to the hardwood beside you, satisfied as if he had the last sip of his favorite sake. His head tilted as he peered at you through the strands of hair that escaped his hair tie.

" 'Shigeru-sama' ?" He echoed, a smile paired with the roughness of his voice, "I rather like what giving you what you want does to you. You're in a promising mood, chisana keki?"

You whimpered as you wracked your brain, eyes trained on his reddened lips. His beard and chin was still wet from you and some of the strands sparkled prettily.

"I'll-I'll check in more! With you, with-with whoever! Not Matsumoto!"

Shigeru chuckled and stood. His thumb fell back down to your clit, press-rubbing as you mouth dropped open in a wispy moan. It was almost enough to push you over, just a shadow more...

"I'll call for back up if I need it! I'll--oooh, scout b-before going in, oh my g--whatever you want! I'm aching..."

You watched as his free hand unhurriedly undid his zipper to pull out his dick. You whimpered and curled your legs around him as he stepped closer.

Shigeru nuzzled the head of his dick between your petals, kissing under your clit as he stroked himself.

"You've done so well for me, my dear. Look at how good you took what I gave you, being nice and still...."

Your eyes nearly crossed. The sight of Shigeru working himself at the wrecked sight of you was sublime. You felt the velvety poke of his head and the just-right roughness of his working hand against your pussy.

You felt, really felt, it. You've never been built up so high, wound so tightly that all you could feel was ''yes, yes, yes, please yes' .

You heard your near constantly moaning with Shigeru's groaning lines beneath. Amazingly, you had no room in your mind to ask for more.

You wanted to apologize to patience and pledge your devotion to it, you reached for Shigeru to confess but he caught your hand.

He placed it to his abdomen and you bit your lip at the feel of his heated skin, his tensing muscles as he used you to rub off.

He...he was just as affected as you. Heat crawled up the back of your neck as you took in how debauched Shigeru was. Gone was his neat lines and graceful movements, he hadn't even bothered pulling down his pants. His dark eyes darted to where you touched and l the dampness of your cheeks.

You cried out what could have been his name as you finally fell over the cliff. White blotted your vision as your eyes rolled closed, orgasm tearing through you in lines of light and sensations that left you crying and gasping.

The last thing you remember is the sound of Shigeru's laugh-lined moan as he came, thinking distantly,

Holy shit, he was right about patience...

-----

✨ending notes✨: PHEW!! This one was a long time coming, thank you all for being so patient! This was fun to write, especially trying to figure out just what our Shigeru would do! I may have to try again soon lol🫣

Tell me what you think with a reblog and comment, tysm for reading!!✨💜💕

💕taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @miyuhpapayuh @sageispunk @blowmymbackout @astoldbyaja

@harmshake @soft-persephone @blowmymbackout @ms-angiealsina

[prolix-yuy]

Nice.

+ a Pedro boy of your choosing 😘😘

Happy banging!

xoxo

I'm loving how much 69 is coming up with our boys, it's absolutely delightful. And one of my choosing? Hmmmmm, whoever could that be?

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Position: 69

Word Count: 955

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral sex (m and f receiving), PiV sex.

Notes: Din and oral sex makes me short circuit every time, so here it is for you, my most wonderful Skye!

There were always caveats with the Mandalorian. Or Din, as you’d come to know him. He’d whispered his name to you before he undressed you the first time, not able to touch you like your lover without you knowing. There are rules, he told you, that would allow him to take you on his ship. Rules for how you would coexist, and how you could care for him. Rules for yearning, and desire, and finally confessions that reveal how much he felt the same.

Most revolve around the helmet. 

At first he could never take it off, so when he first found the wet heat of your cunt your pleasure was reflected back in the beskar. Then little things began to slip. He could lift it to kiss you, an act so soft and sensual you almost lost your footing. Then he could let you touch his face in the dark, a gentle exploration that was met with wet streaks on his cheeks. Finally, and most devastatingly for your day to day productivity, he said he could remove it if you didn’t look at his face.

Well, there are lots of ways to not look at someone.

Cheek pressed into the wall as he presses you against it, cock spearing into you from behind. His hands tight around your waist, barely pulling out before driving back in.

Bent over his Maker-damned uncomfortable bed, a hand on the back of your neck as he drilled into your noisy cunt, powerful gasps making you tingle from head to toe.

He tries not to talk too much without it on. You think it’s because his voice is so much louder outside the beskar.

But tonight he leads you to a blanket on the floor, lays down on his back, and lets you straddle him. He’s stripped down to his pants and thermal shirt, the soft curves of his biceps and pecs making tempting hills and valleys. You hope one day he will let you explore them thoroughly, press your lips to every inch of him, an armor of a different kind. 

“Cyare,” he breathes, an endearment you understand but still squeezes your heart every time he says it. “I want to taste you.”

A stronger shudder racks down your spine, your hips rolling down over his cock, rock hard beneath you.

“How?” you ask. It always has to be him who decides how your lovemaking goes. His Creed is a series of doors with heartache behind them, and only he knows which one will bring the least.

“I…saw it in a holo,” he says, the stutter of embarrassment making you smile fondly.

“Researching?” you ask, one expansive hand squeezing your thigh.

“Like this,” he says, maneuvering you to face his feet with your knees bracketing his head. You quirk a devilish smile. You’re familiar with this.

“Can I touch you too, Din?” you ask, and his own thin moan urges you to open his pants, pulling out his thick cock. Dipping down, you lick the head and press down an open-mouth kiss. Din’s stuttering groan is followed by a hiss and a thunk. You’d know that sound from a galaxy away, your body conditioned to spike arousal at the knowledge that he’s taken the helmet off. 

“Pretty,” Din murmurs, thumb caressing your slippery folds, catching on your clit and rubbing tight circles. You sigh, sliding his cock further into your mouth as he explores all of your intimate flesh. He’s hard and throbbing between your lips, and when you cup his balls you’re rewarded with a spurt of salty precum on your tongue. 

“Cyare, I can’t…concentrate like that. Just…hold me, please,” he chokes out. You give him respite and back off, licking and dragging your lips over his head as he pulls your hips lower.

The moment his tongue touches you it’s clear you’re done for. He takes a moment to explore, discover your cunt with his tongue the way he knows it so well with his fingers, and then seals his lips over you and slides his tongue fast and purposeful over your clit. He can’t be this good, he’s never eaten pussy before, you know it. Your body can’t be on the precipice of orgasm after having his mouth on you for seconds.

Maybe it’s just Din that makes you lose all sense.

He slurps and licks and noses through your slick, finding spots that make your back bow and mercilessly holding to them. You keep pulling forward just enough to get a moment of breath, but he pulls you right back snug against his face and rockets you up there once more. After the third time he growls, raspy and thick, “Cyare, cum for me, can’t wait any longer.”

It’s too much. You snap with a gasp, hips rocking hard against his mouth as he pulls you tight, tongue messy and demanding as he licks into you, swallowing loud enough that your face blazes with heat. Finally your body slumps, cheek pressed against his hip. He guides you to the floor, your eyes pressed close for a few more moments of him without the helmet. 

“Was that good?” he asks, pulling a giggle from your chest.

“Fantastic. Amazing. Sure you’ve never done that before?” you joke, and to your surprise his nose slides against yours, pulling you into his warm body. He kisses you languidly, your taste sharp on his lips. You nuzzle into his neck, body heavy and sleepy post-orgasm.

For a moment you wonder what would happen if you just opened your eyes. If you threw all sense to the wind and let yourself see the man you were quickly falling for.

But there are rules.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[cheeseyberg]

Eddie's POV

Part 5 Part 4 Part 3 Part 2 Part 1

Max is still laughing to herself as Eddie pulls himself together and climbs in the van. Was he hallucinating, had he dropped acid that morning and forgotten? Maybe there really was some kind of gas leak in Hawkins? Maybe like a reverse Vecna situation where he's seeing the opposite of his worst memories?

"OW, what the hell?!" Eddie yells and slams himself back against the driver's side door to get away from Max, who is already reaching out to pinch him a second time.

"You're babbling about Vecna and gas leaks, figured you needed someone to pinch you." Max shrugs like her go to answer isn't always physical violence and chaos. "You're not hallucinating or dreaming, I too witnessed Mama Steve confirming your date."

"Ew, don't call him that." Eddie pulls the van out of the parking lot and points it towards home. "Seriously though, what just happened? I started this day with a very specific plan to find out if Steve and Nancy were back together," Eddie gives Max just a little side-eye when she snorts at this. "-and the next thing I register he's confirming a date. Did I black out and ask him on a date? Did he ask me on a date? I don't even remember who suggested it."

"We're all seriously underestimating that man," Max mutters under her breath. "Does it matter, isn't this what the end goal was anyway? You have a date that will hopefully put a stop to your stupidly embarrassing crush on Steve Harrington."

Indignant as ever Eddie jerks the wheel to the right, narrowly avoiding the curb and then rights the van. "How do you know about that?! I'm very subtle! And you're one to talk, don't think I haven't heard Dustin teasing Lucas about you ogling Steve's chest hair when we were out on Lover's Lake. You're basically a peeping tom!"

"This isn't about me. Your crush on Steve is more obvious than Will's pining after Mike," now it's Max's turn to side-eye the scoff that comes at this. "-and you somehow enlisted the most obvious member of the group to help you. Seriously, I love Robin but she has no subtlety. You should have seen her floundering in there. Steve sussed her out immediately. You're lucky I was there to help wingman you."

"Oh is that what we're calling meddling now?"

"You got a date, didn't you?? Some thanks would be nice."

Eddie pulls the van into his spot in front of the trailer and thunks his head against the steering wheel, "oh my god, I have a date with Steve Harrington, King Steve, monster slayer Steve, Steve 'the hair' Harrington…"

"And he has a date with Eddie 'the freak' Munson. So, are you going to live up to that particular name or are you going to get your shit together and woo him?"

"How am I supposed to do that? He was the lady killer in high school, all the girls, and not a few guys, wanted to date him. What do I know about wooing a guy like that?"

Max opens her door and hops out, "Come on Munson, you're overthinking this. Come inside and we'll figure it out."

Eddie climbs out of the van and grabs a discarded notebook from the back before following Max into her trailer. Max grabs two sodas from the fridge and sets one down in front of Eddie, where he has settled on the couch before she sinks down on the opposite end.

"I'm serious when I say you're overthinking it. You know Steve. Not King Steve, not Steve 'the hair' Harrington, just normal dorky, mother hen Steve. You've been hanging out for months, you know him well enough to have a crush on him so this should be easy. You know what he likes, what he doesn't, what annoys him."

"Until an hour ago I was sure that Nancy Wheeler was what he liked."

"Yea sure, but you only thought that for what, 12 hours. Did you think it before you saw them hugging yesterday?"

"No," Eddie admits softly. "I had started to suspect he might like me actually, that's why I was so surprised to see it."

"So, what else do you know he likes, use what you know. He's just Steve, he's very forgiving even if you don't get it right."

"Don't tell Dustin, but you might be the smartest kiddo. Thanks Red." Eddie gives her a small smile and visibly relaxes. She's right of course. He does know Steve; knows he likes the kids and knows he likes to pretend he doesn't. Knows he loves watching them act like kids because he thinks they have had to grow up too fast. Knows his friendships are so important to him because he's not used to people liking who he really is and sticking around. Steve like consistency, he likes predictability, and he likes Eddie. So yes, Eddie can work with that and as he remembers all the things he knows about Steve he truly relaxes because he knows Steve wouldn't like anything too big or over the top. Now he's got real plans to make.

He gets up to head out to his home across the way and is halfway towards the door when Max calls after him, "Hey can you toss me the walkie by the door?"

He grabs it and tosses it so it lands on the cushion next to her leg. "Thanks Eddie, good luck. Don't go overboard, it's just Steve."

"I won't, thanks again Max, that was surprisingly helpful advice, for a peeping tom and a meddler." He laughs as he swings the door shut but can hear her steps running from the couch to the door. He's about to jump down to run away from her when he hears the lock turn in the door and then the static of the walkie as max yells into it, "Dustin! You'll never guess what Eddie just said about you!!"

@charliechaplintheawesome @flwerkitty @dbquills @zerokrox-blog @bidisastersworld @respect-snails @estrellami-1 @4nemo1egend @archermightbegay @blackpanzy @fictionalenigma @practicallybegging @anaibis @starman-jpg @thesuninyaface @messrs-weasley @hallucinatedjosten @ronance-is-my-wife

[omegasmileyface]

The Foleys' Incredible Crisis

Chapter 1: Call It Stormy Monday

Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just as Bad) was written and performed in 1947 by T-Bone Walker. It is one of the most popular Blues songs ever, and has been performed and reiterated by countless other musicians. It has been credited with inspiring B.B. King to take up electric guitar, and it is included in the Library of Congress.

Happy Invisobang!!! This should have been posted earlier in the week but I couldn't make myself get to the computer to finalize/format it. Hehe. This year I had the INCREDIBLE experience of working with Shadow and Sharks, who were such wonderful artists— they have a whole smörgåsbord of art to please your eyes in this story! They have kept me on my toes— as I write this, the final, collaborated illustration is still a secret to me 👀 Lola is an OC I named once I realized Tucker absolutely feels like he has a little sister. Since then she's been in my heart and I can't let her go. My wonderful girl Lola. It's a treat whenever I get to see her in the wild— I almost had a heart attack when she appeared in Lex Luthor's Ascent from Supervillainy to Fatherhood by halfagone!

For a directory of all currently posted chapters and related content, check out the Table of Contents!

fic summary: After a whole week of vacation stuck together, the Foleys were more than happy to have some time apart. So when they each found themselves caught up in ghost business, that meant handling it alone. Angela wasn't planning on improvising a ghost conspiracy, Maurice was hoping to avoid working IT, Lola didn't think playing a hero would take her out of school, and Tucker would really have liked to focus on his own problems. But, really, what else did they expect from Amity Park? Home, sweet home.

words: 2269

AO3 link

next chapter [pending]

Tucker dropped his bag with a thunk. He was far beyond caring to be delicate, despite the electronics inside— he just wanted to shed his shoes and jacket and maybe the memories of the trip along with them.

"Ohhhh-kay," said his mom, grimacing at the trash can. Nobody had thought to empty it before they left. "What a vacation!" She laughed emptily. "I'm going to bed. You can fend for yourselves for dinner."

Tucker's dad popped back out from behind the bathroom door. "Before you go," he called over the rush of the faucet, "can we all just agree? Real quick, get in the den and then we can all ignore each other."

Lola sighed loudly and gave up untying her shoe, just kicking it off. Tucker agreed. He couldn't wait to wash his hands after the long trip.

His dad dried off his hands and joined them in the den, looking each of his family members in the eyes one by one. "I propose we never talk about this trip unless we have to."

Everyone agreed with as much fervor as they could muster after the fraught day.

"Also," said Lola, "I think we should try not to talk to each other for a whole day."

"Works for me," said Tucker.

His mom yawned. "Much as I love you all, I'm good with a day pretending you don't exist. Tucker, can you walk with Lola to and from school tomorrow?"

He looked at his little sister. She shrugged.

"As long as she plays nice, yeah."

His dad clapped. "Cool. Alright. So, unless one of us needs something, we all mind our own business tomorrow? Okay. I'm gonna order a pizza, and... I'll sleep in the guest room tonight. Pleasure doin' business with you all."

Tucker closed his eyes and sighed, pleased at imagining taking a shower and sleeping in his own bed in a few hours.

They had just wanted to see family in Chicago. What a disaster.

The library was quiet when Angela Foley came in. That made sense, she worked weekday mornings, so they usually only saw adults and the rare preschooler. As much as she liked helping the spread of knowledge, it was nice not to have too much to do at the front desk. Maybe she could get a crossword puzzle or two done.

She had made it about halfway through the puzzle (Angela knew a lot of things, but wordplay was never her specialty. What on Earth was she supposed to get from "gift for a blue lady"?) before someone walked in, paused, and went straight for the front desk.

She put on her smile. "Hi! Can I help ya with anything?"

The man was tall, wearing a clean white button-up shirt and jeans. His brassy skin and black hair caught strangely in the fluorescent lights, turning almost orange at their edges. She was pretty sure he was a ghost in disguise, but she had helped ghosts before. Usually, if one was asking for help using a library, they weren't intent on doing anything violent.

Usually. She still reserved a little caution.

"Yes, I'm looking for information on a very distant place. Where might I find something like that?"

"Well, what place is it?"

"It's called An Aghaidh Mhòr."

Angela blinked at the unfamiliar sounds. "I'm not familiar. Is that... Gaelic?"

The man fiddled with his sleeves. "Scottish, I believe, yes."

"Alright." Angela stood up and moved toward the computer monitor at the desk by the door. "I'm going to check in our catalog for books on Scotland."

The man watched silently as she searched. Angela hummed. "It looks like, in house, the only books we have on Scotland are travel guides covering the whole of the UK or Europe. I don't expect they'd have many details on smaller places— well, I'm assuming An Aghaidh Mhòr is small, since I haven't heard of it. If you'd like, you can check anyway, or I can contact another library in the system, and they can send over some more specialized books, but that might take a few days."

The man said nothing, but his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Angela recognized the face of a person with a wide, potent array of bad options.

"Or, if you're more pressed for time, we do have a few computers and Internet access here. I can help you find some web sites that might have what you're looking for."

"And this wouldn't take any longer than looking through a book?"

Angela smiled and headed toward the public computers. "Faster, even, if you know what you're doing. I can help you if you've never done it before."

They began their search, and the man caught on quickly to what Angela was doing and how. She helped him for a while, long enough to find out that An Aghaidh Mhòr was a place in the woody North of Scotland, usually called Aviemore, and was something of a tourist destination. Beyond that, she left him to do his own research and went back to her crossword.

She just had a pesky few clues left when the man started muttering curses in another language and walked back over to her desk.

With panicked eyes, he said "I have to be honest. What I'm looking for is, ah… evidence that An Aghaidh Mhòr has an open community of ghosts alongside its humans. I'm certain that it once did, and I know that it still must. But I have chased every tail of information I could find that led to pages on the computer, and none of them, regardless of detail or experience with the town, has mentioned it."

He looked down and seemed to weigh something in his head. "It must be some sort of secret. Whether to protect the ghosts or to protect themselves from ridicule, the living people of An Aghaidh Mhòr have hidden their ghost society. You have to help me find it."

The little hairs on Angela's body all stood up. Warning bells were going off in her head. There was nothing to do but remain calm. "If that's the case, I don't know about anything like that. I can send out a question to my colleagues to see if they know anything, but I'm afraid I can't–"

"No!" The man swung out a hand, and the inner doors swung shut, silvery light weaving across them like fishing nets to keep them in place. The lights dimmed and his skin faded to a deep, fiery orange, layered and complex like agate. His eyes glowed like the moon. The few library guests gasped and looked at him in shock.

"You are a keeper of information, from a city with a striking connection to ghosts. I need to know the truth about ghostly An Aghaidh Mhòr, and you must help me find it." His silver eyes were full of fear, but Angela couldn't bring herself to care how the ghost who just trapped and threatened her was feeling.

She had to think fast to get out of this safely. Something to keep his hopes up…

"Fine. Fine." Angela held up her hands. "I'm not confident in my own grasp of the situation, but I do know of some secrets like the one you're talking about. It'll take some time– say, a couple hours– to put together anything meaningful, and I'll need to call in an expert, but I can do it. I will do it."

She could only hope her friends were any good at improv.

Maurice was never one for early mornings, but he always made the best of his hour alone after the kids went off to school and Angela's shift started. That was his time to make coffee and goof around. He could prance around the kitchen in ways that would make Tucker gag if he were there, and as long as he couldn't see his neighbors, he could put them out of mind enough to sing as loud as he wanted.

Before work was the blues hour. Today he put on Lucille. Whole album, on tape, from the top.

If anybody asked why he started his days with the blues, he'd probably say something about the sad lyrics reminding him how lucky he was. How no matter how embarrassing the family vacations or boring the work or sleazy the boss, he still had a clean house around him and a faithful wife beside him.

In reality, though, he mostly just liked the beat.

Once he got into work, it was just the same as ever. Double-entries and journalizing. He didn't even get to mix up which accounts he dealt with. VLADCO was too big for that. It was Accounts Receivable, 140-180, day after day.

But at least it wasn't IT.

Then, after almost an hour of swimming through "Axiom Labs, Ltd. $1,300 Debit" and "Hey, Maurice, how was the weekend?" and "Nugreen Ectosuppliers, LLC $400 Credit" and "You get that last letter? Crazy what Masters is trying these days, yeah?", everything went dark.

(Or, at least darker than usual. The grainy white of every surface in the office never lent itself to anything deeper than a cloudy grey.)

After a few seconds of quiet shock, the lights came back. Now, however, there was a ghost floating in front of the door connecting the Finances and Supplies department to the rest of the facility.

He seemed to be well-muscled and of average height, though it was hard to tell exactly what a ghost looked like when they were putting off that much of an aura. His skin was dark green and rough-looking, like bark, and there was a reddish halo around his head like some sort of spectral hair. His blood-moon eyes looked over everyone in the room individually before anyone dared speak. Finally, he opened his mouth.

"This is the center of a company that arms humans againsts ghosts and similar threats. Yes?"

Shocked, a few people nodded.

"And you are all from the department keeping stock of supplies. I do not know where your weapons are kept, but I know that you do. Someone in here will retrieve them for me. I need them, if I am to bring my people, ghosts and humans, together again."

The tension finally broke the membrane freezing time, and several office workers started to move for phones.

"Don't bother trying to get help. I have severed all the lines of communication between you and the world outside this office. I will leave you alone, as soon as someone leads me to the armory."

Maurice glanced at the little LCD display on the phone on his desk. No signal. His computer, too, had nothing when he clicked over to the Internet settings.

No one said anything. Some kept trying with their phones, but not a single person offered to explain how scant and useless the actual in-house ecto-equipment supply was or show the path to it. Maurice imagined they were all thinking the same thing he was; yes, complying was generally the way to stay safe in a hostage situation, and panic was strong, but a ghost coming into town and getting their hands on even just half-assembled ecto-equipment never went well. And, maybe even more importantly, VLADCO had terrifyingly strict regulations on safe ecto-tech policy. Unless the immediate threat of being personally hurt for information increased, the consequences in the long run were the biggest monster here.

The ghost crossed his arms. "Fine. You have one hour to bring me to the weapons. I can wait. I have waited this long. If you take any longer, or if you attempt any trickery, then I will start going through with threats. Until then, you may have your time to panic and fantasize about ways out that don't involve giving up company supply. I will be standing here."

He leaned against the door, and his gaze stayed rock-hard on the workers and their cubicles.

Maurice caught the eye of his most tolerable coworker Jacob. Jacob widened his eyes in some silent look of panicked questioning. Maurice shrugged. He was scared out of his mind, but what was there to do? Freaking out wouldn't do anybody any good. He could wait here and see if any ghost hunter showed up, and once they got closer to the end of the hour, everybody could meet up and decide if it was worth giving up the ecto-tech.

For now... well, he certainly wasn't going to do more accounting. This was as good an excuse for a break as any.

He toyed around on his computer for a bit, fidgeting with whatever programs he had. Maybe if the ghost noticed him, he could say he was looking for office schematics explaining where the ecto-tech was held. Really, he couldn't think to do anything but let off stress.

He played around in the rudimentary E-mail client for a bit. Mimed sending goofy messages to his coworkers while he knew he couldn't accidentally send them. But there, at the top of his inbox, was the automated morning office update. It had just come in four minutes ago... after the communications were shut off.

Was there some kind of hole in the ghost's anti-communication measure? The intercoms weren't working, and normal E-mails weren't going through, even within just Finances & Supplies. But the daily updates worked on a different system than the normal E-mails, so nobody had to send them at a consistent time each day, just queue them up.

...Was there something about the different setup that made it immune to the ghost's blackout?

Maurice got to investigating.

[cloudwhisper23]

Grumbo Month! Another day from the list that @grow-bettah created for this lovely event.

Day 5: Candlelit Dinner

Grian had laughed when he saw what Mumbo had set up for them. His red sweater was covered in moss and stone, and he had not dressed up at all. But that was okay. Mumbo had expected something like this, honestly.

Inviting Grian over wasn’t usually a formal event, after all.

Grian sat on the edge of his seat in the unfinished vault, poking at the candle on the table. He still had that amused smile on his face when Mumbo took his own seat.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Not at all. I’m laughing with you.”

“I try to do something nice for you, and you’re poking fun at it.” Mumbo crossed his arms.

“Oh, don’t pout. It’s nice, Mumbo. Really. But candles?”

Grian’s feigned ignorance of human traditions was really starting to become a problem. Mumbo’s cheeks burned as he opted not to reply.

Finally, finally, Grian inspected the meal. “Mumbo. This is soup.”

“Mhm.”

Grian prodded the bowl skeptically. “Who did you get this from?”

“Pearl.” Mumbo replied, wearily. “Why?”

“Mumbo.” Grian’s feathers twitched. “Do you know what Pearl has been up to this season?”

“Not really.”

“Ah,  okay.” Another pause. “Did you tell her what the soup was for?”

“I did.” Mumbo forced himself to meet Grian’s gaze as he replied. “You know, typically it isn’t embarrassing to go on a date with your boyfriend.”

“We’re sitting in a half-finished vault in the middle of the night. There’s no torches, only one candle, and you had Pearl make the soup.” Grian shook his head. “Mumbo, if that’s not embarrassing, I don’t know what is.”

“What’s wrong with the soup?” Mumbo pressed. “Seriously. You know something I don’t here.”

“We won’t know unless we eat it, unfortunately.” Grian shrugged. “Pearl is in the Soup Group. They were the resistance against King Ren.”

“Ah. So it could be poisonous.”

“Or completely harmless.”

“This was meant to be a nice dinner,” Mumbo said mournfully, looking at the soup. “Our first one since you got back.”

“You mean our first one since you got back. I was gone for a week!”

“Right. Yes.”

“Look, Mumbo. It’s not a big deal, really.” Grian scooped a large spoonful of the soup into his mouth. “It’s just a precaution- Whoa.”

Mumbo stood as Grian swayed in his chair, the feathers on the side of Grian’s head flicking out. “Grian?”

“Mmm?” Grian’s eyes were unfocused.

“You alright there mate?” Mumbo steadied Grian with one hand.

Grian turned to him and kissed him hard. Mumbo jerked back. Grian followed his retreat, curling his talons into Mumbo’s jacket to continue clinging to him.

“I think we know what the soup does now,” Mumbo said. “We need to get some milk into you.”

A quick trip to Mumbo’s storage room, and both of them were sitting on the floor. “So, there was definitely something weird in the soup.”

“Absolutely,” Mumbo replied, letting the bucket fall from his hand with a heavy thunk. “You were right to be cautious.”

“Yep.” Grian leaned against Mumbo’s shoulder. “It was a nice thought.”

“I wish it had gone better.”

“Mumbo.” Grian chuckled slightly. “You think drugged soup is enough to scare me off? Not a chance.”

“I know.” Mumbo tried to smile back. “I just wanted things to go well.”

“Yeah? We’re here, we’re together, and now we have a funny story to tell.” Grian sat up suddenly. “Let’s prank her back.”

Mumbo’s curiosity stirred at that. “Do you have a plan in mind?”

“No, but it won’t be too hard to make one. What do you say? Candlelit prank plotting?”

“Definitely better than the soup,” Mumbo agreed.

When Grian kissed him, Mumbo didn’t pull away. He pulled Grian closer, almost into his lap as he deepened the kiss.

Grian was the first to pull free from that one. “Right! Let’s get to work on a plan.”

“Of course, Grian.” Mumbo smiled.

Maybe it hadn’t gone so bad after all.

[amrv-5]

for the cuddle ask game... 4, 14, 16, 20, 26, 30 <- I limited myself to 6. feel free to combine any or discard any as you please xxxxx

HELLO HELEN and thank you for this prompt LOL super cute and I had a great time writing it!!! sorry this is so late but I HAVEN'T ABANDONED THESE PROMPTS I PROMISE!! anyway I picked 20. cuddles while reading to each other plus 30. pulling the other's arms tighter around themselves from this prompt list.

Hawkeye yawned. He tossed his book onto the nightstand and rolled over twice, coming to a stop on top of BJ. 

“Hi,” BJ said, raising his own book to better consider Hawkeye, who was looking at him intently. 

“Hi,” Hawkeye answered. He nosed into BJ’s chest. “What are you reading?”

BJ showed him the cover of his book. A thick science fiction collection Hawkeye had gifted him. More to Hawkeye’s tastes than his own, but he was enjoying himself anyway. 

Hawkeye continued to gaze at him. It was pointed, and expectant—BJ knew what he wanted. An occasional nighttime routine. Usually it was indulged when one or the other of them was struggling with sleep, but it was nice, too, for no reason at all. 

“The fact is, the Time Traveller was one of those men who are too clever to be believed: you never felt that you saw all round him,” BJ began, reading aloud, clear but soft, speaking from the chest instead of projecting.

Hawkeye rubbed his face against BJ’s sternum lazily, eyes shut in contentment. He had a terrific cowlick.

BJ grasped his arm with his free hand as he continued to read, anchoring him. Hawkeye was breathing softly against him, asleep or thoroughly relaxed, by the time he reached a page break. Moving might disturb Hawkeye, so BJ struggled to turn the page one-handed—managed to free his thumb, stretched to reach the opposite page, and dropped the book onto Hawkeye’s head. Hardcover and all.

“Oh, Hawk,” BJ said, already laughing—Hawkeye had made a funny, catlike sound of discontent, and the thunk of the book bouncing off of him had been even better. He clutched Hawkeye tight and tried to kiss the crown of his head and stop laughing so much all at once, trying to balance how terribly he felt with how comic the progression of events had been. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Did that hurt?” 

Hawkeye removed his head from BJ’s chest, looking at him through one slit eye. His indignation cracked into laughter almost immediately. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” BJ repeated, rubbing his back. His ribs hurt from laughing under Hawkeye’s full weight. 

“Some alarm.” Hawkeye slipped down to rest his head against BJ’s middle.

“What about my book?” BJ asked, when it seemed like Hawkeye was settling in for the night.

“That deadly weapon? It’s staying on the mattress where it can’t hurt anyone.”

“Sorry again.” BJ petted Hawkeye’s hair, feeling guilty and protective, even though it hadn’t been a hard hit, and Hawkeye would tell him if he’d really been hurt. 

Hawkeye patted his flank. “Just teasing, Beej,” he reassured him, looking up long enough to wink. “I’m hard-headed.” He paused, holding BJ’s gaze. And I’m bringing the encyclopedia to bed tomorrow. For self-defense.”

BJ squeezed him. “Which letters?”

“Oh,” Hawkeye said, nuzzling into him happily, “let me see. A for aerial, ambush, attack; B for betrayal, book, bombardment, bruise—”

“I get it,” BJ said, laughing, and kissed the rest of the alphabet away.

[broodsys]

had this in my head all day

Dorian had been reading for some time when he heard the telltale sounds. A shifting chair, her bit-off giggle, low murmur of private voices. He rolled his eyes a little, but it was fine - nice, really. The Inquisitor certainly deserved something pleasant, and Solas seemed a good man. They could be a little maddeningly overt at times, but Dorian didn't begrudge them that. He tried to focus on his book again, with decent success.

That is, until the voices changed pitch. He frowned, setting the book aside. Were they-

Why, yes. They were fighting. He would recognize the tone anywhere; fast and sharp even as they tried to keep their voices low. The polite thing to do would be to give them space, let them have their little lover's quarrel in relative privacy.

Dorian was hardly polite.

He got up and made a show of stretching before walking idly to lean back against the railing, closing his eyes to focus on what was being said.

"-condescending!"

"Oh, I apologize. I didn't realize asking for basic manners was condescending!" Oh. Juicy.

"It's how you ask! Why are you always so damn sure you're right?"

"I have a system! The least you could do is try to respect it." Solas' voice was harder to hear than the Inquisitor's, his anger more muted.

"It makes no sense!" A deep sigh that echoed up, then Solas said something Dorian couldn't make out. "Fuck, fine. You want it your way? You can have it." Oh dear. That didn't sound promising.

"Thank you," echoed up nice and clean, Solas' sarcastic gratification evident. He heard a loud thunk and winced. Then another.

"Happy?" She asked sharply.

"Quite." Gentler now.

"Ass." There was a surprising fondness in her voice. Dorian finally chanced a look down at them.

Her hand was... on a book. On the bookshelf. Frowning, he replayed the conversation, watching as Solas strode over to her and leaned against the bookshelf to kiss her. Dorian looked away quickly, still frowning.

-

"So, I heard your little... spat," he mentioned casually when they were all trudging through Crestwood. Lots of walking here. Lots of time to ask probing questions. Solas glanced back at him with an arched brow while the Inquisitor just stared straight ahead, although he noticed her shoulders tensing just a bit. Embarrassed?

"Eavesdropping, were we?" Solas asked in turn, but Dorian saw the edge of his smile as he faced forward again. His own shrug went unnoticed.

"Hard not to. Voices carry, you know." Silence, then. "So..." The Inquisitor sighed and faced him, although she stared at Solas.

"I reshelved his book 'wrong'."

Dorian blinked, genuinely taken aback. "Glad you admit it," came Solas' quick reply, earning a faux glare from her.

"Maker preserve me," Dorian muttered under his breath, making both of them turn to face him. "You two are insufferable, I hope you know." He walked ahead of them, letting his mumbling carry. "So boring. So boring. Thought we finally had some lively drama but this? Is so boring."

[frozenjokes]

Sword Fighting [KEEP SCAR AWAY FROM SHARP OBJECTS]

[3/6] Prev / Next / Ao3 Link

“OH you’re Imp! Imp and Skizz! You’re Imp! And that’s Skizz!” Scar pointed from the crudely painted sign above the stand to Impulse, and then to Skizz, and back to the sign again. Skizz let out a hearty laugh, slapping Scar’s hand a couple times until he could shake it properly.

“Nice to meet you buddy! Scar, yeah?”

“That’s me! You’ve heard good things I hope! I haven’t heard a thing about you, but I’m so pleased to finally see who Impulse was hiding at home!”

“That’s an incredibly odd thing to say to me, Scar!” Skizz matched his energy, gripping Scar’s hand in a tight squeeze, “I think you should really watch what you say to strangers, especially ones who make swords for a living.” Skizz put on a smile to match Scar’s own, and Scar blinked rapidly, though his grin did not falter.

“Oh! You thought I was threatening you. Sorry about that! Happens.”

“Does it? Happen?” Skizz broke off into a coughing fit he failed to suppress, dampening the effect, but Scar stayed where he was, smile still bright.

“All the time!”

Both of them stopped at the thunk of Impulse’s head on the register, along with the following groan. Horrible. This was horrible. He never should have let Skizz come in today. He heard Skizz gasp, but the hands on Impulse’s shoulders were Scar’s, shaking him lightly.

“He’s fainted! Oh, he’s fainted! If only there was a doctor around-!” Scar sang, and Impulse pushed him away, the other yelping as he stumbled back. Skizz looked unimpressed.

“This guy’s a total goof.”

“He’s not usually this.. ugh,” Impulse sighed, covering his face with his hands to hide his embarrassment. Given Skizz’s snort, he must not have done a very good job. Impulse uncovered his eyes in time to catch a flash of alarm across Scar’s face, followed by his hands raising in a placating gesture.

“I’ve made a bad impression, haven’t I?” Scar glanced sheepishly away from Skizz, and Impulse couldn’t remember a time Scar had ever avoided eye contact before now. Still, he struggled to tell how genuine Scar was being, even now, when he looked so convincingly unhappy at the revelation of his ‘bad impression’, however obvious it was how poorly this was going.

“Can’t say it’s been great,” Skizz replied evenly, and Impulse had to cover his own smirk with a hand as Skizz crossed his arms, a gesture he always pulled when he wanted to be intimidating. Scar’s eyes flicked Impulse’s direction before he pulled back, lowering his posture as he raised his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’d like to start over. I just knew Impulse had someone at home, yeah, and I really wanted them- you- to like me. Nerves make me a little crazy sometimes, and then I go and think even less before I start talking. Too much energy, nowhere for it to go but everywhere, yeah? Sometimes it works out, but sometimes I go and embarrass myself.”

“You knew there was someone at home?” Impulse pressed, and Scar jumped, like he hadn’t expected Impulse to speak.

“Well, you’re here almost every day, and your stock kept changing. I figured there was someone helping you out,” Scar ran a hand through his hair, looking meek, but Impulse didn’t buy the facade.

“I don’t bring in everything we have every day. We have some extra stock in reserve as well, Scar, most stands do. It’d be a little impractical not to, actually.”

“I guess I didn’t think about that,” Scar mused, but Impulse couldn’t pinpoint if he was being genuine, “You just seem like a family man. Thought you might’ve had a kid or an apprentice or a..” Scar paused, squinting, “hus..”

“Try again.”

“Roommate?”

“You got it,” Impulse chuckled, but straightened as he saw Skizz’s amused face, the threat of teasing in his eyes. Impulse stuck out his tongue, and Skizz returned the gesture, giggling.

“Alright Scar,” Skizz rolled his eyes in a grand motion, turning back to Scar, “You’ve been good to my pal Dipple Dop here, so I’m willing to forget your vague threat as a fluke.”

“It wasn’t a threat!” Scar wailed, a laugh behind the words, grabbing for Skizz’s hands in a way that would’ve made Impulse cringe. But Skizz didn’t seem to mind, enjoying the contact and the energy even as he gave Impulse an exasperated look.

“I believe you, I believe you, off,” Skizz snorted, pushing Scar away, “Why so eager to meet me then?”

“Well, I want a sword! Obviously!”

Impulse and Skizz shared a look, equal part skepticism as it was bewilderment. Scar threw up his hands again, flustered.

“I mean, come on!” Scar laughed, running an awkward hand through his hair, “Of course I want a sword. There’s a reason I’m here all the time, isn’t there?”

“You’ve never bought anything!” Impulse tapped the counter, and Scar rolled his eyes, giving Impulse’s shoulder a hard pat.

“Silly, silly, of course I haven’t bought anything! A sword is personal! Alive . How could I go around and purchase something like that without getting to know the people who made it? No, no, no, I wouldn’t have that. And no offense, but I’m not looking to buy anything you have for sale either. I want to commission you!” Scar threw up his arms in a grand gesture, though he looked slightly disheartened seeing Impulse and Skizz’s faces, staring blankly.

Skizz tapped his foot. “I thought you couldn’t even swing a sword.”

“Who told you that!” Scar gawked, then turned on Impulse, who only shrugged in return.

“You can’t.”

Scar gaped at him, and Impulse couldn’t help but snicker through the silence. “If you want to throw away your money on a tool you can’t use, then sure, by all means. If you don’t like what we have on sale though, I don’t see you being interested in anything we could make you.”

“That’s fine. I’ve already gotten my hands on some higher quality materials I’d like you to use and-“

Skizz stopped him with a hand, waving in his face, “Whoa, whoa, don’t get ahead of yourself, different metals require different kinds of care, and if you’ve never worked with swords, how would you even know what you want?”

“You can’t do it?” Scar looked crestfallen; the only expression of emotion Scar showed today that Impulse was sure was genuine. Skizz however, didn’t miss a beat.

“Of course I can do it!” Skizz scoffed, and Impulse chuckled as he amped up the bravado, “You just haven’t thought about this at all! Who’s to say you’re worthy of my sword?” Impulse cringed back at Skizz’s dismissal of what would probably be a lucrative deal (regardless of whether or not he was qualified), but Scar was not discouraged, bouncing on his toes.

“I can prove it to you!”

“Can you?”

“Yeah!”

“How?”

“I don’t know!” Scar never lost his enthusiasm, eyes bright. He looked almost like a kid, begging his parents to let him keep the puppy he found outside. Skizz huffed and turned away, but Impulse saw an amused affection in his eyes.

“Wait,” Skizz gave Scar’s chest a tap before scooting behind the counter, “This kid,” he said, rolling his eyes at Impulse. Impulse returned the look with an exaggerated annoyance, chuckling as Scar shifted his weight, unable to keep still. From a small chest in the stand, Skizz dug out a small wooden sword, long and thin, and tossed it to Scar, who fumbled to catch it with a delighted squeak.

“Impulse! You didn’t tell me about these!” Scar spun the sword through his fingers, completely enamored. Impulse waved him off.

“I didn’t have them before. Skizz brought them.”

“Yeah, so I could beat the tar outta you,” Skizz straightened up with his own wooden sword, smirking at Scar’s expression; pure, unbridled excitement. Skizz had to stop to cough, so Impulse leaned forward on his arms, catching Scar’s eye.

“You won’t be so eager after getting hit with that.”

“ If he hits me.”

“ Oh, Scar,” Impulse snickered, but Scar did not falter, his eyes shining as Skizz stepped out from behind the counter. He was ready when Skizz dove forward, their swords meeting in a heavy crack, but his form was poor, and Impulse laughed as Scar stumbled back. Skizz teased Scar with a couple soft pokes as he regained his balance, but nimbly jumped away when Scar swung back. Skizz dodged a few more times, only with the occasional parry as Scar floundered, looking increasingly flustered with each whiffed swing.

“Shop at Imp and Skizz! Where we know what we’re doing!” Skizz bellowed, turning heads. Scar huffed in what Impulse couldn’t tell was real or mock annoyance, but put up a smile as Skizz swung again, managing to hold his ground. That is, until Skizz pushed their swords to the side and shoulder checked him, sending Scar tumbling into the well walked path. Impulse cringed at a couple of annoyed glances from passersbys, but Skizz had certainly drawn peoples’ attention, a few townspeople even coming closer to watch, or at least to see what the commotion was about. Scar got to his feet with a wild grin as Skizz entered a small coughing fit. He didn’t look the least bit discouraged as he raised his sword.

“Rematch!”

Skizz looked him up and down, Scar’s nice clothes now sprinkled with dust and debris, then shrugged, a small smile crossing his face. “Alrighty.”

Impulse had no idea how long the two of them sparred, but it didn’t matter how many times Scar got his shit rocked, he always got back up, looking more exhilarated each time. His expression bordered on crazed, and Impulse couldn’t blame the crowd that formed; he himself couldn’t tear his own eyes away. How many times would Scar get back up? With several visible bruises and a bloody nose, he still insisted they keep going, but eventually, Skizz’s coughing fits became more frequent, more awkward, until Skizz had to excuse himself, looking ragged and embarrassed.

Scar never swung while Skizz was coughing. He always steadied him, even when Skizz didn’t need the help. Just a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The crowd began to part, though a couple people lingered, some to talk with the crazy man still smiling after getting so thoroughly beaten again and again, but a few people also stayed to browse. For the first time, Impulse silently cursed the business of the stand, keeping him from Skizz. Though he still stayed, grateful for the purchases, and even a tip or two for the show. Even better was Scar’s face as he had to wait back while Impulse served other customers, so blatantly unused to not having Impulse all to himself. Skizz eventually resurfaced from behind the stand, though he stayed mostly quiet, and Impulse longed for his customers to leave so he could speak with him.

Finally, when the browsers began to disperse, Skizz gave Impulse a gentle nudge.

“Might’ve overdone it there,” Skizz sighed, though he didn’t look unhappy. Anything but, actually; his expression was deeply pleased. Impulse drew his hand to Skizz’s forehead and frowned.

“You’ve got a fever again. You should go home, I’ll finish up here.”

Skizz shook his hand away, shaking his head, “I’m fine, Imp, just a little tired. That kid’s got energy, geez, it’s contagious!”

“You pulled quite the crowd,” Impulse let himself smile with an eye roll, resigning himself to the company, “They were crazy about you.”

Skizz laughed, his fever flushed cheeks a little pinker, “You think so? Nah, no, they were all on Scar. Young, handsome, getting his shit kicked in, people love that stuff. He played up the drama anyway.”

“You aren’t giving yourself enough credit. People are just as impressed with the strong, skilled type, even if he’s gone gray.”

“That was hardly skill. I can’t quite show off if the guy I’m fighting is a total dunce, though, it was a nice warm up,” Skizz stopped, bringing a hand to his head, then groaning, “Just a little dizzy,” he mumbled. Impulse pulled back, grabbing his water bottle and pushing it into Skizz’s hands.

“I’ll start closing up shop. We can afford a half day, especially with the sales from your spar.”

“No, Impulse-“

“I’m taking you home,” Impulse spoke firmly, with a tone that invited no argument. Skizz frowned, lips pursed, and Impulse squeezed his shoulder, pushing him gently to sit. As fun as the afternoon had been, Skizz had overdone it. Time to go home.

“I could walk him home, if you want,” Scar said, too casually, the normal pep beyond his tone gone. Impulse jerked up, surprised to see him there despite his never leaving, but more unnerved to find him staring. Staring, watching them, not speaking until now. Goosebumps trailed along Impulse’s arms.

“No.”

It came out more aggressive than Impulse had meant it, and clearly Scar had been surprised as well, taking a step back. Skizz flashed Impulse a look, but he struggled to read it.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I'm sorry.” Whatever expression crossed Scar’s face, it didn’t look like the message he was trying to convey, but something else entirely, like his mind was on a completely different path of thought than the words he was speaking. Like he had planned something, and it hadn’t worked. Like he was already shifting focus to something new. Impulse narrowed his eyes, then shook the thought away. Paranoid. He was being paranoid. Skizz gave him a concerned look, (clearly about him, not Scar) which was enough to convince Impulse to let it go.

“You’ve been very helpful, Scar,” Impulse began, struggling to find the words to explain himself, “I appreciate your generosity. We both do. But I need you to let us keep our personal lives, personal. This is kind of a lot. Too much, even, sometimes. I need room to breathe.”

Impulse saw the gears whizzing behind Scar’s eyes slow as he processed Impulse’s words, then nodded, looking gently thoughtful.

“I have trouble knowing when I’m too much,” the words felt odd coming out of Scar’s mouth, his voice soft and reflective and quite unlike him. Scar noticed it too, making a face, but relaxed after another moment of thought. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll give you some space.”

A sudden panic gripped Impulse’s chest, and he found himself speaking clumsily before he could think, “Your company is appreciated,”

Scar smiled, something genuine, which quickly fell to a playful smirk. “I know.”

Scar waved, turning on a heel before sauntering off in the opposite direction with no apparent purpose, just like always. Impulse swore he went a different way each time he watched Scar go. He felt Skizz’s fingers tap his shoulder, and turned to see him looking smug, what for, Impulse couldn’t even guess.

“Do you watch him leave like that every time he goes?”

“What?” Impulse stood straighter, ears hot as Skizz giggled, “What?” Impulse stressed, more alarmed.

“Oh, nothing.”

“You- he’s weird. He’s just weird, alright? I can’t help wanting to know what his problem is. Problems, more likely. I want to know what’s up.”

“He wants a sword!” Skizz teased, and Impulse rolled his eyes.

“I think we both know it’s not that simple.”

“Yeah,” Skizz sighed, resting his chin on his hands, “What a total doofus.” Impulse could only nod, not entirely sure of the truth to that statement. He turned to start packing up shop, deep in thought. Skizz didn’t say much either, and Impulse longed to know exactly what he was thinking. He hoped he wasn’t alone in his discomfort.