#oh except for that one small window that didn’t have blinds.

[ursaribbon]

my “boyfriend” in 2nd grade said the thing he liked about me was that i wasn’t afraid to be myself. still the nicest thing a guy has ever said to me

[exorciqsm-0]

Out like a light >ᵥ_ᵥ<

Boxer!Eren Yeager x Onyankopon lil sis!black fem reader

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Your big brother, Onyankopon, was a well-renowned fighter in the boxing industry, winning belt after belt due to his exceptional skill. You were proud of him, especially considering the hardships you both endured for him to reach this point.

There's a twelve-year age difference between you, with him being 34 and you being 22. Since the moment you were born, Ony has been the one taking care of you because your emotionally unavailable parents felt they didn’t need to. He stole for you, bought you food, and ensured your education by enrolling you in tutoring programs under your parents' name to secure your graduation, admission to a good university, and a high-paying job. Fighting was how he made his money.

When it came to you, Ony didn’t play, so you could only imagine his face when he sees a video of his main opponent basically flirting with you at a coffee shop.

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Today was a very slow day for you. Your lectures were stupidly long and boring, your friends were all busy, AND on top of all that you dropped a cookie you were eating in a puddle when you were walking to class. Now you find yourself working on a assignment for your chemistry class in a coffee shop.

As you were working, you heard a large commotion coming from the entrance of the store. Turning to see what it was, you were blinded by flashing lights emanating from the front windows of the store. Deciding not wanting to have these lights in your eyes, you turned back and continued working.

After about 30 minutes you grew hungry. Cursing yourself out for not getting any food before hand, you made your way to the register. On the way there, you got a notification on your phone causing you to look at it.

Sash 🫡 :

YALL WANNA HANGOUT LATER????

Y/n 💞 :

oh so when I ask if y’all want to hang y’all don’t wanna respond 🙄🙄 (oh and sure>.<)

Con 🤓 :

thats because you be asking us at the most god forsaken hours😒

As you were typing out your response, you bumped into someone. (cliché i know but y’all bare with me 🙏) “Oh I’m sorry..” you say before you see a cake pop fall to the ground. Now you were really sorry. The man in front of you groaned in frustration. “Watch where you’re goin-“ he paused when he turned around. Staring at you as if he was lost for words.

“I’m so sorry. Please let me buy you another one.” You offer. An unexpected low “Damn” fell from the man’s lips leaving both you and him confused. “No it’s fine” he says when he snaps back to reality. “Oh come on! It’s my fault so I’ll buy you a new one! I’m going there right now anyways!” You insisted eager to fix your mistake. The man turns looks at his friends and then looks back at you. “Ok um sure.” A small smile forming on his lips.

"Here," you said, extending the cake pop to him with a sheepish grin. "Sorry again." "You really didn't have to do that," he replied, his gaze shifting to the dessert now in his hand. "No, no! I had to!" you insisted, your smile widening with sincerity. He returned your smile, gratitude in his eyes. "So... do you have a name?" he asked. "Oh, umm it’s (y/n)! What’s yours?" you responded. "Eren. Oh, um, Eren Yeager," he replied shyly.

As you processed his name, a wave of recognition washed over you. You'd definitely heard that name before. That's when it clicked. The paparazzi, the wounds on his face. everything fell into place, and you suddenly realized who he was.

"You're that boxer, right?" you said, unable to contain your excitement as you grinned at him. "Oh, umm, yeah," he replied, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Do you like boxing?" he asked, trying to shift the focus away from himself. "I mean, my big brother's a boxer," you replied casually, feeling a of pride as you mentioned your brothers job.

"Really? Who is he?" Eren asked, his curiosity piqued. "Onyankopon!" you replied proudly, the name rolling off your tongue effortlessly.The feeling Recognition formed on Eren's face. That's where he'd seen you before—linked to the famous Onyankopon.

Eren and Ony were headlining for this highly anticipated boxing event, were they are facing each other in the ring. Throughout the years of both of their boxing Journeys, there have been very mild beef between the both of them. But nothing to Extreme.

"Hope you don’t mind me beating up your brother," Eren teased, flashing a mischievous grin at you. "Umm, I don’t think you will," you replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you bantered back. With a subtle nod, you motioned for him to follow you back to the table where your belongings stood.

Eren obliged, his smile widening as he fell into step beside you. "So, what do you do?" "I'm in university right now. I want to become a dermatologist," you replied. "Oh, really? That's cool," Eren responded.

"Hey, so um," Eren interrupted you, halting your steps. You turned to face him, curious about what he had to say. His smile was infectious, and you found yourself returning it. "I was wondering if you'd want to talk more," he continued. “I would love to but my class is starting in a few minutes and..” you look at the paparazzi still flashing there cameras at him. “You also look busy.” You return your gaze back to him. He looks behind him and sulks. Their still here?

"Then can I get your number?" Eren asked, eager to continue talk to you more. Your smile widened at his request, flattered by his interest. With a playful glint in your eye, you reached out for his phone, causing a flicker of confusion to pass over his face. "For my number," you clarified with a smirk, enjoying teasing him just a little. "Oh, um, yeah," Eren stammered slightly, fumbling in his pockets until he located his phone. Once he retrieved it, he handed it over to you.

"Here ya go, honey," you said teasingly, handing Eren his phone back with a playful smile dancing on your lips. His cheeks flushed slightly at the nickname, caught off guard by the endearment. "Thank you, pretty," he replied, mustering up the courage to flirt back, his attempt at charm accompanied by a sheepish grin. As you prepared to leave, Eren's gaze lingered on you, reluctant to see you go. "Text me when you get home," he requested softly, his sincerity evident in his tone as he watched you pick your stuff up and leave.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔

>ᵥ_ᵥ< : ITS MARCH BREAK YALL IM FREEE !! I might make a part 2 of this😙

[simplydannie]

Written for and inspired by @grinnworld. Inspiration from their post here!

Set in an entire different AU, ever since the passing of their parents, Floyd has been raising the twins for the last three years. Now thirteen, Floyd is experiencing a lot changes… especially with Velvet.

It had been three years since the day…since the day their parents died.

Floyd was trusted to care for them, despite his tiny size, their parents trusted him because of how loving he was towards the twins…he really did care for them. Now they were thirteen, and life really didn’t prepare him to raise any thirteen year olds…GIANT thirteen year olds for that matter.

Veneer was much calmer than his sister. He didn’t demand much, except for the occasional attention. Velvet on the other hand was more of a handful, especially these past couple of weeks. Her mood was haywire, Floyd felt like he was walking on eggshells half the time around her.

“Alright, something simple for dinner, burger and fries?” Floyd had said one day.

“Okay!” Veneer exclaimed bouncing happily.

“….UGH…” Was all that came out of the girls mouth.

“What? Don’t want burger and fries?”

“….No…” Velvet exclaimed.

“…Um, okay…Oh! Mac’n’Cheese!”

“Yummy!” Veneer said again.

Velvet rolled her eyes, “No.”

“..Pizza?”

“Oh double pepperoni!” The boy yipped happily.

“No! No! No! I don’t want anything! Stop pressuring me!” Velvet then stormed off and closed herself in the room. Veneer looked at Floyd with a confused expression and a rumbling tummy.

“….Sooooo what are we having?”

“Guys come on school!” Floyd walked down the hall calling out for the twins to hurry. He peeked in Veneer’s room, “Ven seriously?”

The boy was face down on his bed, mouth wide open and snoring, his alarm ringing and ringing next to him, “Five more minutes.” He pouted.

Using his hair, Floyd whipped open the blinds allowing for the bright morning sunglight to shine through. Veneer grunted and whined covering his face with a pillow, “Nooo, it burns!”

“Come on. Let’s get up sleepy head.” The small Troll then made his way over to Velvet’s room. Her bed was empty…but he could hear grunts and angered tones coming from her closet, “Vels?”

She barged out of her closet, tears running down her face. The young Rageon began throwing her clothes on the floor, ripping them from her closet, tossing them in mounds next to her bed.

“I HATE EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING LOOKS LIKE POOP! I WANT NEW CLOTHES! NOTHING LOOKS GOOD ON ME!” She sat down hugging her knees crying and crying. Floyd wasn’t sure what to do, he wasn’t sure how to approach it. Quietly and slowly he neared Velvet.

“It’s okay Vels. How about that dress you like?” He suggested.

“I already wore that!!!”

“Okay, okay. Take a moment and think what your favorite color is today, rememer that always helps you pic an outfit?”

Velvet was silent as she contiplated what he had told her….She calmed down as she dug through her pile of clothes, going back into the closet to change. She then came out an pink overall dress with a white sleeved under shirt underneath.

“There! See. Now lets go down for…..”

“I HATE IT!!!” She ran back into the closet crying.

The twins nearly missed the bus after Velvet had her little break down. At breakfast she couldn’t decide what she wanted, while Veneer happily munched away on his favorite cereal…As the twins were at school Floyd laid facing up towards the ceiling. He didn’t know what was wrong with her, why she was such on a rampage. Maye it was a phase? She was thirteen now. Maybe it was a mourning thing she was going through? She did love her parents.

“Rageons are definitely different than Trolls…” He murmured to himself. He heard the bus pull up front. Floyd peeked through the window to see the twins getting off….He already saw Velvet wasn’t having it, she must have had a really bad day. She flung her backpack to the ground and stomped her way towards the front door. Veneer was left trying to collect her things as he wobbled after her. The front door opened and slammed shut again as she came through. Velvet stomped her way up the stairs and straight into the bathroom.

“Oh boy…” Floyd heard a soft knock coming from the front door.

“Um….can someone please open the door for me?” Veneer’s soft voice came from the other side.

Floyd approached the bathroom in which Velvet closed herself behind. There wasn’t crying, but he could hear her heaving breathing as her anger slowly began to diminish. Veneer was behind him watching carefully…As the weeks went by he began to worry what was going on. Velvet didn’t want to hang out as much or do anything with him really…he began to feel lonely. Floyd slowly tapped on the door.

“Vels?”

“…..What..” Her tone was stern and serious; she did not want to be bothered.

“Was everything okay at school?” He asked.

“…….No…….”

“What happened sweetie?….Are you two getting bullied again? Tell me who it is! I’ll go straight down there and- “

“No Floyd!”

“Then what Vels? What’s going on? These past week has been different. We’re worried about you….You know can talk to me about anything…Tell me anything…I’m here for you…both of you.”

“You can’t help with this one Floyd.”

“….I can try…”

“No!”

“Please…”

“NO!!”

Floyd sighed, “Okay Vels….” He began to walk away….

“….You wouldn’t understand…” Her voice came out again.

“What Vels? Understand what? I can if you helped me.” Floyd responded.

“It’s…..It’s a girl thing….It happened at school. My teacher and nurce talked to me about it.”

“…Girl thing?” Floyd lingered and thought; what could she possibly mean, what girl thing? He tried thinking, “Vel’s please help me understand.”

“Its something….that happens every month….”

“…Every month?…..….oh….oooooooh……..OH!” It finally hit Floyd. His exclamation caused Veneer to jump where he was.

“What happened? Is she going to be okay? Does she need to go to the doctor?” He began to asked. Floyd paced up and down in a panic.

“She’s fine. She’s fine. We uh, we need to go to the store. NOW! We need to get a few things…Okay, okay. Vel’s hang tight! Me and your brother will be right back!!” He called out pulling Veneer by his pant leg.

“What? Floyd why are you freaking out? What happened? Oh my god, is she going to die!” Veneer panicked.

“No. But if we don’t hurry then she’ll definietly kill us! Let’s go Ven! Let’s go now!!”

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 10 - Gallantry and Bravery

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

The tourney had claimed most of the afternoon, but there were still plenty of hours left before the feast, and you wanted to spend them alone, lying on your bed and staring up at the canopy. 

You just couldn’t stop thinking about the way Lord Glover had died, his body hitting the dirt, and the smile which had filled Aemond’s face. So pleased, no remorse.   

He'd never looked more like a dragon than he did in that moment, and you’d never despised him more either.  

Yet the tourney had been a success, the crowds had cheered so vibrantly, the entire royal box filled with celebration.  

It seemed only you who was disturbed by Glover’s death, and you supposed death at a tourney was commonplace. There had been three others, but they were strangers killed by strangers and Glover’s death felt personal.  

Not just because you’d given him your favour, but because of Aemond. Maybe it was unfair to hold him to a higher standard, but he was no stranger, and you didn’t like to think of him as the kind of man who could kill so easily. So senselessly.  

More than anything, you couldn’t stop wondering if he had killed Glover for you .  

Perhaps that seemed vain, but you could not be blind to Aemond's misplaced affection a moment longer, even if you had no intention of ever returning it. 

Rolling onto your side, you stare out the window and Maris burst through the door with a letter in hand. 

“Helaena has invited us for tea,” she says excitedly, plopping herself on the bed so all you can see is her bright smile. 

You groan, staring back up at the canopy, “can you not go with Cassandra?” 

“She’s had too much sun and needs to rest before the party,” her voice lowers with a small but wicked laugh, “her nose has turned quite red.” 

“You’re cruel,” you say, pushing her shoulder and she laughs again before clinging to your sleeve, her grip tight and desperate.  

“I must find out why Prince Aemond asked for my favour,” she says and, though you’d been wondering the same thing, you can think of nothing you’d like to do less. 

“Why can’t you just go alone?” you say, and she rolls her eyes, still clinging onto your sleeve. 

“You know I cannot be the one to ask Helaena of Aemond’s intentions, it would be far too forward. But if you ask...” 

You groan dismissively as she stands, trying to pull you up. 

“Oh please, please, please,” she begs, “you know I would do the same for you in an instant.” 

Of course she would, there was no end to her scheming especially when it concerned matters of the heart. 

"Please sister,” she begs again, and you know her well enough to realise she will not stop until you give her what she wants. 

So you sigh, and roll from the bed, before striding towards the door and yanking it open.  

“Well , are we going or not?” you say unhappily, and Maris’ smile is so triumphant as she hooks her arm in yours as though she thinks you might change your mind and abandon her at any moment.  

When the guards open the doors to Princess Helaena’s quarters, the first thing you notice is two blond haired toddlers who are playing on a plush rug with their nursemaid. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.  

You’d never seen them before and wave your fingers, hoping for a dimpled smile. But they only stare, suspicious of strangers, their lips in soft baby pouts.  

The second thing you notice is Aemond and your heart just about leaps into your throat at the unexpected sight of him.  

He’s lying on the chaise; his torso completely bare except for the bandage wrapped tightly around his bruised ribs.  

You know you shouldn’t be looking, but you can’t seem to claw your eyes away as they sink to his stomach, where the tight definition of his abdomen dips below the lose strings on his breeches.  

He normally wears leather, but these are soft, black cotton and his feet are bare, relaxed .  

You’ve been staring long enough for your cheeks to turn pink before you try to retreat back through the door.  

“Perhaps we should return another time,” you suggest, crashing into Maris, who not only blocks your escape but pushes you deeper into the room.  

“You will have to excuse my brother,” Helaena announces, waving her hand to beckon you both out onto the balcony, but Maris makes no attempt at excusing Aemond’s presence.  

She rushes to kneel at his side, her smile more triumphant than when you’d agreed to come here.  

“You fought so gallantly today, my prince,” she gushes, her eyes like two saucers which are ready to plate him up.  

Aemond groans as though her kind words are an insult, before his attention returns to you. 

“Have you come to scold me, Lady Baratheon?” he says. 

Maris laughs nervously, “ why would she do that?” 

“Because your little sister seems to disapprove of everything I do.”  

He presses his hand to his bandage and forces himself from the chaise with a pained grunt. 

“I did not realise his grace held any esteem in my opinion,” you reply, but you know it isn’t true and Aemond laughs softly. 

“Yet you like to give it anyway, don’t you Lady Baratheon?”  

“My preference for the extent of our communication has not changed since the first instance. In that I should prefer to avoid it at all costs.”  

“Yet you are here ,” his voice is louder now, “when there are a thousand other places in the Red Keep, or shall I vacate the entire castle for your solitude?” 

“I would not expect his grace to vacate anything for my benefit. So I will leave, if it suits the princess,” you say, glancing to Helaena and hoping she will intervene in some way because, despite what you’ve just said, you cannot seem to get your feet to move as Aemond stalks closer. 

“I would rather you told me what you thought of the tourney,” he demands. 

You say nothing. Waiting until he’s crossed the room, and you can see every shade of purple which blossoms in the bruise beneath his good eye, as much as you can feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.   

He killed a man ; you remind yourself as your eyes scrape across his swollen lip to where the cut has crusted over.  

“I do not think his grace would enjoy my answer.” 

“Try me.”  

You glance at Maris who’s giving you a pleading look, but if Prince Aemond wants the truth, you won’t sugar coat it for him. In fact, you’ll give it so harshly that he’ll stop looking at you the way he’s looking at you in this very moment. 

His soft pensive expression, almost forcing you to forget how much you’d despised his actions less than 3 hours ago.  

You wind your shoulders back as though you’re a knight preparing to strike a blow. “I found the whole thing to be a spectacle of senseless violence with no use but to pet your own sense of grandeur. Ser Glover was the better fighter and-  

“Sister!” Maris interjects, the word shrill and horrified. 

“No, do go on, Lady Baratheon,” Aemond encourages, his eye levelling with yours, his fingers splaying wider across his ribs. 

“You killed him in cold blood like a petulant child who cannot stand to lose a game.” 

Silence commands the room, and then laughter. Aemond’s laughter, stifled by the pain in his ribs but still there and not at all disturbed by your stark analysis as he returns to the chaise. 

Maris stands, the expression in her eye beyond angry, yet her lips are sealed in a tight line which could never be broken in front of the prince. 

“Come ,” Helaena says, offering her hand for Maris while giving you a harrowing look, “let my brother stew in his self-pity.” 

When they disappear onto the balcony, you know they probably don’t want your company, but you feel as though you cannot leave either.  

So, you resign to follow, but stop short when Aemond reaches out to catch your wrist, the rough touch of his fingers searing across your skin without a glove to mask it.  

You look at his face, then to the place where he’s gripping you so tightly, and it's the same place Lord Glover had touched when he’d kissed your hand, yet the feel is entirely different.  

Glover was trying to seduce you with gentleness, but Aemond’s touch isn’t gentle, its certain , and your heart isn’t just fluttering, its beating so hard you feel it might burst into flames.  

“Your grace?” you whisper, hardly daring to meet his eye. 

“You’re right. Lord Glover was the only man who dared to face me, and he did better me. So I killed him to ensure there was no man in all of Westeros who could ever stand against me.” 

You look at him now, your voice tight, “then you’re a coward.” 

If your words wound him, he covers it well, tugging your arm so you’re forced closer, crouching to stop yourself from falling ontop of him.  

“If only you held yourself to your own lofty standards of bravery, then perhaps you would not spend your time at court skulking in the shadows and pretending you don’t enjoy every second you spend in my company.” 

“I am not brave and never claimed to be and... I don’t need to pretend.” 

"Neither do I, and I don’t give a shit about tourneys or gallantry. I’m no white knight hero from a song and I would kill every man in Westeros if they stood in my way.”  

“If you care so little about tourneys, then why bother competing?” 

A smile flicks across his lips and you regret your question as his hand sinks between the cushions on the chaise to retrieve a handkerchief. 

“I must admit, you have no talent for needlework,” he teases, and your eyes grow wide as you notice the wonky cornflower which is now caked in dust and grime. 

You hadn’t seen him collect it from the end of Glover’s lance, and never imagined he would either.  

When you reach to snatch it from his hand, he shoves it back below the pillow with a taunting laugh, “you’ll have to try better than that.” 

You don’t take the bait. You’re not about to scramble around on top of him for the sake of a handkerchief.  

He can have it, it’s just a piece of cloth so it doesn't mean anything . Yet it also means everything , and you know how much it would upset Maris if she knew it was your favour he kept by his side instead of hers.  

You wrench your wrist back, wanting to at least take your arm from his grasp but Aemond doesn’t give that up either. 

He holds you firm, neither of you saying a word before he chooses to relinquish your arm. Because he decides, not you .  

Hastening to your feet, you grip your skin where his touch had been. 

“If you think I could ever enjoy your company, then you must be completely deranged," you say before hurrying out onto the balcony which now seems like a refuge, except, when you sit at the table, you feel like the arrival of a dark cloud on a pleasant afternoon.  

Maris and Helaena both stop what they’re doing to stare, but they don’t ask you to leave, and you thank the gods for propriety as you drink your tea and pick at your cake as though there’s nothing amiss.  

Still, Maris has not forgotten about your little outburst. So when Helaena excuses herself from the table, she pinches your arm with all her might.  

“Ow ,” you whisper harshly, trying your best not to squeal.  

“You are the worst sister in the entire world!” she hisses, her voice shaky and filled with emotion. “You are ruining my chances with Aemond, is that what you want? For me to be miserable?” 

Rubbing your arm, you can’t meet her eye as you say, “that’s not what I want.” 

"Then can you at least try to be nicer to him?” 

You wanted to scream or shake her, “believe me, if I were nicer to the prince, it would not increase your chances.” 

Her eyes flare brightly, her cheeks hot, “and what is that supposed to mean?” 

You sigh, your words carefully chosen, you’re not trying to hurt Maris. “I mean you are lovely enough for any man to want regardless of their feelings for me.” 

"Well, if you care about me at all, you will apologise to him, or I will never talk to you again.”  

You want to tell her ‘no’, but Helaena returns and Maris’ mind is already made up on the matter.  

So, when it is time to leave, and Prince Aemond is still lounging on the chaise, she jabs you in the ribs with a pointed look before announcing, “my sister has something she wishes to say...”  

You clench your nails into the palms of your hands, and try not to roll your eyes, as everyone in the room focuses their attention on you.  

“Please... accept my apologies for the way I spoke before. I am unused to such… gallantry and bravery .”  

It seemed your traitorous tongue could not be stopped, but Maris was satisfied with your apology, even if Aemond looked as though he could see into the very inner workings of your mind. 

“Such heartfelt words, Lady Baratheon,” he began, “but I cannot accept an apology of which I have no need. If my lady thinks I am behaving like a... ‘ petulant child’ then she must be certain to tell me at her earliest convenience.” 

“Well ...” Maris frowns, forcing a laugh, and looking as though she is completely unable to decipher whether the apology had worked in her favour or against.  

“My sister also had the most wonderful idea of making you a remedy,” she added, kneeling by the prince's side once again.  

“It's an old family recipe for swollen…” she tilts her head, glancing down his body, “muscles and um…” she meets his eye, “ lips.” 

You could die of embarrassment for her, but you’re soon distracted by the amused way Aemond turns to look at you, “a remedy? How thoughtful of my lady.” 

You shift from one foot to other, meeting Maris’ stern expression and feeling as though you might strangle her for concocting such a ridiculous scheme.  

“She will bring it to you before the feast, my prince,” she added as if the mere suggestion wasn’t bad enough.  

“Then I will look forward to it,” he replies, giving her, for once, the pleasure of a genuine smile.  

When you’re walking away from the room and out of sight of the guards, it's your turn to pinch her arm and she does squeal. 

“What remedy?” you demand.  

Maris shrugs, “you said you would try to be nicer to him and I thought it would be a good gesture.” 

You heave a very heavy sigh, “if it is you who wants the prince… don’t you think it should be you who brings him the remedy for his…” you mock her voice in a high falsetto, “swollen muscles and lips.”  

She folds her face into her hands, completely dismayed, “oh no! Why did I say that?” 

“Why, indeed?” you ask, annoyed beyond measure.  

~~~

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! As Lady Baratheon, what would you put into Aemond's remedy? Are you softening to him or do you like to see him suffer?

[caesariawritesstuff]

Hello, I hope I'm not bothering you too greatly with this request! Please do not feel obligated to complete it if it is not something you would enjoy writing! Have a wonderful year! (Also, in the future, if this idea is any good, feel free to rework it with any other characters you'd like!)

🌹 💋

BTAS Jervis Tetch (Mad Hatter) (fem or gn reader)

I'm thinking roommates + coworkers, getting home together after work at the Wayne Enterprises tech lab, Jervis being jealous over reader becoming closer with another colleague (in his mind, at least) Preferably there's mutual pining up until this point.

-Prompt inspo-

"I'm not letting them go. They're mine. They've always been mine."

"You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their damn hands off!"

“I’m going to need you to stop for one second because I just find it so incredibly rude that you think I’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass. Are you a brick? Because you're dense as hell.”

“We have business to get down to.” “Right here?” “Right fucking here, because I’m not about to let you go to someone else for something I can give to you twice as good.”

“I bet they can’t fuck you like I can.”  

Workplace Jealousy

Summary: Jervis and you arrive home - but he's been jealous over a new employee who has your attention.

Word Count: 2.0k

Content Warning: Jealousy & possessive behavior.

A/N: Ahh anon, I really hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful year too!

The day had been long.

It had been one of those days where leaving work left Jervis with a throbbing headache between his temples. Frustration pounded in between his seams, spreading up through his limbs and behind his eyes. He was desperate to get home, to pull off his tie, and sit down in the recliner with his favorite book, Alice in Wonderland, and unwind for the night…except, there was one little problem: you. As not only his roommate and coworker at Wayne Enterprises, but your presence today was also one Jervis found himself eating away at him, gnawing on his bones, burning jealousy deep within his stomach that he couldn’t control.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you in the passenger seat as he drove through Gotham; night had fallen, and stars littered the night sky like diamonds. Bright yellow lights from passing car headlights gleamed in his eyes. You were looking out the window, watching the streets go by, but you’d been quiet since getting in the car with him after work. Jervis’s eyes narrowed as he pursed his lips, clenching his teeth so hard it was a miracle they didn’t shatter in his mouth and turn to bone dust. His hands were a white-knuckled grip around the steering wheel. Jealousy burned through his stomach, hot and writhing like a vicious snake. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that burrowed into his bones and ate away at him. The moment he’d watched that new doctor, Dr. Wilson Wright, ask you to join him for lunch – oh, no, Jervis hadn’t like that one bit. You’d even accepted without question.

Jervis frowned, his lips turning downward as they peeled back in a sneer. How could you accept coffee with another man? The very thought left Jervis feeling more than dejected. Hadn’t there been more to what you and he were doing? The lingering glances, the soft touches, always a little too long on the other’s shoulder or small of the back – or had he simply been blind all this time? Had he mistakenly believed it was all in his mind? Jervis’s frown soon twisted into a scowl, and he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Are you hungry?” you asked from beside him. “I can make us something to eat.”

He was quiet for a beat too long, too afraid that his anger would show when he did answer, but finally, he gruffed out, “That would be nice.”

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Fine, fine,” he said, quickly. Perhaps too quickly. He didn’t want you to know how he was feeling, didn’t want you to see the jealousy reflected back in his eyes. But he felt your eyes lingering on him too long, in that way that made his stomach warm and his skin prickle with heat. His heart hammered against his ribcage, leaping into his throat.

“You’ve been awfully quiet all day,” you said.

“Just busy thinking about our next project. Nothing to worry about, my dear,” he said, finally shooting you a wide-grinned smile.

You nodded, but soon began rambling off about the next project you were developing together for Wayne Enterprises. Jervis listened, the sound of your voice like music to his ears, but he found – no matter how hard he tried – he still couldn’t fight the jealousy eating him up from the inside out. Frowning, he nodded along, pretending to listen and giving the occasion comment, until he finally pulled up outside your apartment, a big brick building on the south side of Gotham, looking well worn from the weather and years of age. The two of you made your way inside, climbing the stairs until the fourth floor, when you entered your shared apartment together. Jervis held the door open for you, as he always did, and you wandered inside. His eyes caught on the delicate curve of your neck, the soft scent of you skin invading his nose as you walked past. His insides warmed, and yet still, that jealousy continued to linger in his belly.

“I’m exhausted,” you said with a heavy sigh as you collapsed onto the nearby chair, your eyes fluttering closed.

Jervis shut the door behind you and gazed at you through heavy-lidded eyes. He couldn’t pull his gaze from you, from the way your head held high, how you carried yourself with confidence in your step. After all, you were one of the brightest minds at Wayne Enterprises – it was no wonder another doctor took an interest in you at all. Even if the very idea made his stomach turn to rot. Turning away, Jervis wandered over to his favorite recliner and pulled off his coat, draping it across the back, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. He reached up, rubbing at his tired eyes; the days seemed to be growing longer and longer. And with your bosses breathing down both of your necks, it was making things much harder. It was a good thing you’d agreed to be his roommate only a few months into working at Wayne Enterprises, when you’d complained about the cost of your own place, and the offer to move in with him had slipped out of his month out of his control. Of course, by that point, he’d had eyes for you for quite some time – but he still wasn’t entirely sure if you returned the sentiment.

Well, it was hard to say you did when you had people like Dr. Wright knocking at your door, asking you out to coffee. Jervis frowned again, his lips pulling back in a sneer, as he curled his hands tight into the leather recliner, gripping the material against his sweaty fingertips.

“How about we do takeout instead?” you asked.

“Hm?” Jervis asked, your voice pulling him from his thoughts.

“I’m too tired to cook,” you said, standing up as you approached him. “We can get takeout at that Chinese place you like. How does that sound?” As you spoke, you reached out and touched his shoulder, but the feeling made his heart leap into his throat.

“Sure,” he said, but his voice was quieter than he tried to project. Your eyes burned holes into his, too bright and shining, your face too full of life and wonder. Staring at you for too long only made his insides twist further into knots, and he pulled away, looking down at his feet.

“Jervis?” you asked. “Are you okay? You’ve been off all day.”

Your words made his anger burn tight in his chest, constricting in his throat. “It’s nothing,” he said, waving you off.

You peered at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, I know we’re both exhausted. Maybe you should join me and Wilson for coffee tomorrow? Get your mind off things?”

Jervis mumbled something noncoherent as he wandered away into the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water. Jealousy squirmed in his stomach like a parasite, eating away at him.

“Wilson says it’d be nice for us to step out of the office everyone once in a while,” you continued. “He’s even writing a proposal to Bruce Wayne himself about how to implement an even healthier work-life balance for us employees. Isn’t that great?”

Wilson, Wilson, Wilson. Wilson this, Wilson that. Jervis scowled, filling up his glass, his jealousy only continuing to grow higher and higher, like each word out of your mouth was watering it until it was a poisonous vine, suffocating him.

“He even says—” you started.

Jervis couldn’t help it – he slammed his glass down onto the counter, sloshing water over the rim and it spilled over, wetting his skin. Your gaze snapped to him, eyes wide, a look of confusion twisting on your face.

“Jervis?” you asked.

“My dear, I am so very tired of hearing about how brilliant and wonderful Dr. Wilson is,” he said, unable to stop the words from pouring out of his mouth.

You blinked. Stared at him. “What?”

Jervis scoffed under his breath and waved his hand. “All you’ve done all day is talk about that boorish man and how great he is. I bet he can’t even develop the proper technology to control the minds of mice like I can. What has he done for Wayne Enterprises, hm?”

You looked at him, taken aback, as if you couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, but you wandered closer with tentative steps. “I didn’t realize you were so jealous of him,” you said, the words quiet.

Jervis scowled. Words danced on the tip of his tongue, lingering there, but he only brushed a hand through his blonde hair and looked away. He couldn’t keep going with this – he would only go too far, and there would be no coming back from it.

“Jervis,” you said again, reaching out to touch him, your fingertips brushing against his hand. The movement was so tender he flinched back, his arm dropping to his side.

“Don’t,” he said. “Please.”

“Don’t what? Wonder why you’re acting like this?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Like what?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Like this giant, jealous jerk!” you huffed out.

His eyes went wide as a red mist clouded in front of his vision. “Do you think I like being like this? You think I like feeling like I want to rip someone’s head off every time they dare to touch you or even look in your direction?”

He felt like the Queen of Hearts: “Off with their heads!” he would cry.

Your jaw fell open slightly, as if confused by his words, his declaration – but Jervis couldn’t stop himself. The door had been opened, and he came around the counter, his steps slow and purposed as he approached you, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“You think I like knowing you give your attention to other men?” he asked, the words like venom dripping from his wicked lips. “Because if you think, for one second, I’m going to sit here and let you continue to have eyes for anyone else but me, than my dear, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Jervis—” you started.

He took another step closer. “And here you stand, having the audacity to continue singing the praises of another man, all while I’m standing right here. I’ve always been here, my dear, always showering you with the attention and affection you deserve. And you have the audacity to stand there and ignore me, to pretend I am invisible to your beautiful, wondrous eyes?”

“Jervis—” you said again.

But he wasn’t finished, not as he stepped closer, until he was but a hairs breadth away. Until he was so close that he could feel your breath on his skin. He reached up, cupping your face in his hands, fingers brushing against your cheeks.

“My dear, I have grown so tired of my feelings are not being reciprocated. Of you not getting it through that dense skull of yours that I care only for you. And you know what, my dear? I refuse so stand aside any longer and let anyone else have you. Because you’re mind – and you’ve always been mine. I’m never letting you go.”

Your eyes were wide, a flush to your cheeks as you stared him down from head to toe. But Jervis’s breath came out in soft, shallow pants as his anger and jealousy began to subside, now that he had poured out his heart and soul to you.

“Jervis,” you finally said, a little firmer this time, as a slow smile spread onto your lips. Your hands reached upwards to thread into his blonde hair, your fingers twisting in the thin locks. “I was wondering when you’d finally make a move.”

“What?” he asked, confusion twisting inside of him, his cheeks burning as though you’d slapped him right across the face.

You laughed, shaking your head, your eyes alighting with mischief. “You think I’m dense? Take a look in the mirror, Tetch. I wouldn’t have agreed to coffee with Wilson if I wasn’t trying to make you jealous, silly.”

He blinked. “All this time you’ve...been trying to make me jealous?”

“Of course, Jervis,” you said, laughing again. “It’s felt like the only way to get your attention.” Your smirk turned seductive as your hands reached down, tugging at his tie in a way that made his blood warm and excitement shoot all the way down to his loins.

“But I – I thought—” he started, stumbling over his words like an imbecile.

“No more thinking,” you whispered, and pressed your lips to his.

[reds-fluff-extravaganza]

Albert Wesker x reader

Requested over on ao3! Reader is a secretary for the Raccoon City Police Department. Also no zombie/virus AU

Being a secretary of the Raccoon City Police Department wasn’t always that bad. Despite not being out in the field, you were actually quite respected by many of your coworkers, including Albert Wesker himself. You didn’t really see him too often, but you two were surprisingly close despite how cold and uncaring he usually is.

You were doing your usual thing, listening in to the radio that was sitting on your desk. You had it on low so it wouldn’t bother the others, but it was loud enough that you could hear it instead of the loud chatter of the others.

“Hey, Y/n, did you hear? There’s supposed to be a snow storm coming.” You heard a familiar voice, making you look up from your paperwork to find Leon leaning against your desk.

“Yeah, I heard it on the radio.” You lightly glanced at the small radio that was sitting on your desk. “Plus it was already snowing on my way here.”

“I really hope we don’t get snowed in here.”

“Yeah, me neither. I have things to do when I get out of here today.” You sighed a bit, taking a glance behind Leon to see a familiar sunglasses wearing face. Wesker. Leon must have noticed where your gaze had landed, as he turned around as well.

“Well… I’ll let you get back to work, Y/n.” He said before walking off, as if not wanting to get involved with Wesker, which you didn’t blame him one bit. You shook your head and went back to your paperwork… which didn’t last very long as you now had someone else in front of your desk.

“Wesker.” You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“Y/n.” You glanced up from what you were working on to face the taller male.

“Let me guess… now that you’re finished with whatever mission you’ve been sent on and waiting for your next one… you want to go get some drinks or something.” He chuckled a bit in response.

“I still haven’t figured out how someone like you would, cold, mysterious, uncaring, would want to spend time with someone like me.” He only shrugged in response.

“…to answer your question, yes, we can go out later.”

“Good.” You went to say something else, before the power went out. “Son of a..”

“Must be the snow storm that was mentioned earlier.” You barely heard him say. You stood up, taking a look around.

“We should take a look outside.” You went over to one of the windows, only to find you couldn’t see anything except for white, and you could hear the wind blowing.

“Damn…” you closed the blinds and went back to your desk. “I…think we may be snowed in.”

“You think?” You heard both Wesker and Leon say back to you.

“Well I didn’t think it would happen this soon!”

“Weather is unfortunately very unpredictable, Y/n.”

“Thanks for the lesson, Wesker.” You shook your head and sat back down at your desk. “I suppose the only thing we can really do is wait it out.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“At least we’re not stuck out there.” You pointed out, leaning back in your chair a bit.

“That is true.” You watched as Wesker pulled up one of the nearby chairs to sit across from you.

“Well, there goes the plan for drinks.”

“For now, anyway.” You chuckled a bit in response, watching as everyone else scrambled to make sure everything was closed off to prevent any further heat loss in the building. Fortunately for you, you weren’t completely bothered by the temperature. Plus, you had brought along a very warm jacket in case the cold weather had gotten worse.

“Well, since we’re going to be stuck in here for a while, I think it’s time you told me your little secret, Wesker.”

“That depends on which one, Y/n.”

“Oh you know exactly which one I’m talking about! You said you were going to tell me why you spend so much time with me after your missions.”

“Ah, that.” Wesker seemed to think about it for a moment, leaning back into the chair he had been sitting in.

“Yes, that. Come on, Wesker. I’ll get the answer out of you eventually.” He shook his head, chuckling in response.

“Fine, fine. You want to know why I spend so much time with you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, to put it simply…” It seemed as if he was taking a moment to think of what he wanted to say. “I like you, Y/n. Despite you being a plain secretary, you don’t let that bother you, you always work hard and you are not afraid to speak up or speak your mind. Hell, you’ve even stood up to me, and I like that about you. I think you’re quite interesting.” You had to take a moment to process his words, before your face lit up with a rather dark blush. He liked you? And the fact that he just said that so casually just caught you off guard even more. You were rather glad it was dark in the room which hid your blushing face from his view.

“I… like you too, Wesker. You may be a cold, uncaring jerk most of the time, but you’re calm, confident and intelligent. You caught my attention the first time we met, really. I was just afraid you were either taken, or just uninterested in anything romantic.”

“Well, I was feeling the latter until I met you, actually.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Well, now we’re definitely going to have to go out for drinks after this.”

“Well, not just that, if you’re not against the idea.”

“Not at all.” You smiled faintly, not expecting this turn of events at all, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, quite the opposite. As everyone else was doing their own thing, you and Wesker just stayed at your desk, just talking away and discussing plans for when you got out of this situation.

[lavenderbradshaw]

Two Paper Airplanes

You and Bob have never had a hiccup. He was always the same-old Bob, kind and loving and gentle. You think that's all going to change after the birdstrike, after you tell him some news.

Remember when you hit the brakes too soon?

“Eject, eject, eject!” 

The sound of Phoenix and Bob’s voices over the radio make you want to hurl. Literally. You feel your stomach twist so quickly you barely know what’s happening until Rooster has a hand on your shoulder. You don’t say anything, the placement of your hand on your abdomen must be enough for him to deduce what’s happening. He calls for Hangman to bring him a trash can, and you almost ask how he can tell, how he just knows you’re going to throw up. You can’t, though, because in a blinding sequence of events, you end up on the floor. Jake’s holding your feet against his stomach, still standing to try and get blood flow back to your head. Rooster is fanning you, almost hilariously, with a chunk of papers. You lick your lips, which are too numb to feel, and Halo sighs. 

“You scared the shit out of us,” she gasps out, her hand clutched in yours. “You okay, Dreamer?”

You close your eyes for just a second , opening them again to see Maverick crouched next to you now. You flinch, the memory of him being up in the air with Bob and Phoenix when they- 

“Bobby?” You whisper, quiet as a mouse. He nods his head and then shakes it.

“He’s okay. They’re gonna check him out, probably keep them both overnight which is normal,” he says, still shaking his head. “He’s okay. Why don’t we get you checked out?” 

20 stitches in a hospital room

Between the two of you, there are 20 stitches. Four in your hand from where you’d sliced yourself with the kitchen knife just a few days ago, and 16 stitches in a small cut on his shoulder from a rock he’d uncomfortably slid on as he landed. Parachute operated fine, canopy operated fine, everything is fine. 

Except there are 20 stitches and one test result remaining completely hidden. 

You sit at his bedside while he naps off whatever they’d given him. He’s grounded for a few days, just to recover, but you wish he were grounded forever. You’d give everything you had to make sure he never got in another jet. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his hand in yours. You’re staring off at the wall, or maybe the window, he can’t tell. But he does know you’re out of it, because he’s called your name three times now. 

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper, so quietly he shifts to hear you better. 

“What, baby? I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“I’m pregnant.”

When you started crying, I did too

“You’re…” he whispers, pushing himself up in the hospital bed. You don’t stop him—you can’t. “Oh, God.”

“Pregnant. I’m pregnant.”

You aren’t sure what reaction you wanted out of him, but he starts crying. You suppose that’s a suitable reaction, because you start crying, too. 

“If you want to… we haven’t even…” you stumble over your own sentences, shaking your head. “We’ve only been dating a few months, less than a year, and if you don’t want this…”

“No!” He gasps, and your heart sinks. He sees the reaction on your face and he immediately wants to fix it. There’s an overwhelming feeling of dread in the pit of his belly, he wonders if this is how you felt when you heard him eject. “No, not like that, baby, no. I want… I want this baby and a wedding and a million more babies with you.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and lip wavering. “Bob, you don’t have to just… say that.”

“Shut up,” he says, his voice more firm. You look at him closer, now. He has your undivided attention. “No, please, God. It’s you. It’s been you since the moment I saw you. I have a ring in my locker on base because I didn’t know where to hide it at our house and- and I was going to propose but this happened and…”

When the sun came up, I was looking at you 

He’s there every waking moment. Throughout all the waves of nausea and doctors appointments and midnight cravings, he’s a solid, unwavering force until your baby girl comes into your lives in the middle of the plastic tub in the living room. She doesn’t cry, not at first, quiet just like her father. She just opens her eyes, taking it all in, before a solid tap on her butt makes her curl her hands into fists and wail. The sun was just beginning to rise as she slipped from you after a long night, but you’re suddenly more awake than you had been previously. You’re crying, looking between Bobby who was adamant about getting in the pool right behind you and that tiny little baby girl. 

“She looks just like you,” Bob whispers, his hand coming up to meet yours against her back. “She looks like you.”

You just shake your head, leaning it back against Bob. Bob, who was just as exhausted, who had been at work when you called him contracting, who had raced home and changed into swim trunks and got in right behind you in water that was now slightly chilled. “She’s gonna be so much like her daddy. Quiet and kind and loving. She’s gonna be your little girl.”

He can’t stop staring at you, as the sun rises more and peaks into the living room. He doesn’t even stop staring when you’re resting on the couch, curled up in blankets and drifting off to sleep. He just holds your little baby, his little baby, and stares. 

God, he loves you both more than he could have ever imagined.

[kaiso-woo]

Hey...

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Masterlist

PART 2 of my ‘Stay Series’ - a long hypothesised journey of a relationship between Bang Chan and Reader.

WC: 4.2k | Synopsis: After some time as long-distance friends, Chris surprises you by appearing at your Café - and he asks you out... with a little help.

Notes: FLUFF, Second Person Narration, Skz Fluent in English, Swearing, Idol!Chan, Barista!Chan, Fem!Reader

Here for a reading marathon? Head back to the start!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

Overall ‘Stay Series’ Synopsis: Bang Chan experiences the suic!des of Stays, so when you lot choose to die, he dies right along with you. Reader is the “antidote” to this condition - NOT MENTIONED IN THIS PARTICULAR FIC

PART 2

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

-

(A/N: When writing is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages.)

You: “CHRISTOPHER!!”

Chris: “I have done absolutely nothing” Chris: “You have no right to be calling me that”

You: “What do you mean nothing you little shit?”

Chris: “Hey hey” Chris: “This name calling is undeserved”

You: “YOUR HAIR. IS ALMOST BLONDE.”

Chris: “Oh is it really? I didn’t notice”

You: “You’re actually annoying”

Chris: “Only for you~”

-

Your breath hitches suddenly, and you turn off your phone with a click, deciding that it would be irresponsible to try and respond after that. With a wide yawn, you drag yourself out of your bed and amble over to your window. The sun is only just beginning to rise, so even when you pull the blinds across, your room remains relatively gloomy. 

Life’s been good. You’ve been chilling, honestly. Café Studio has been as busy as always, regulars coming and going, newbies learning the ropes. This morning, there are more than a few late-night goers snoozing in various places, and you smile quietly to yourself, making a mental list of the warm drinks you’d make this morning. Harry loves his cappuccino’s, and Taleena could never go wrong with a chai. 

The only thing you do before heading downstairs to the café is wash your face in the bathroom to rid your eyes of sleep. The customers are aware of your policy. They accept your generosity in your pyjamas or they don’t stay at all. Carefully, you roll up the shutters, letting the early morning light filter into the café, hesitant to make too much noise and wake up your guests.

The coffee machine is, unfortunately a little loud, so you decide to wait for the first few customers to wake up before you begin to make their drinks. 

To kill time, you head out to the backyard, where a black Labrador puppy cracks open her eye, stretches, and prances over to you.

“Hey Harvs… heyyy Harvey baby, how was your sleep?” you ask excitedly, your voice pitched higher than usual. She jumps up onto her hind legs, resting on your knees with her tail wagging, tongue lolling eagerly.

“Your Mum’s gonna come pick you up soon. Oh I bet you miss her hey?”

You’re scratching her lovingly behind her ears when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

-

Chris: “Did you watch our performance?”

-

You can’t help the small smile that dances across your features. Someone’s fishing for praise.

-

You: “How else would I know that your hair IS ALMOST BLONDE”

Chris: “did we do okay?”

You: “Of course! You all did so well!”

Chris: “that’s a relief” Chris: “my voice cracked a few times haha”

You: “I know”

Chris: “it’s embarrassing”

You: “To you” You: “Trust me Chris, no one cares”

Chris: “I do”

You: “Except for you”

Chris: “you noticed?”

You: “Of course I did”

Chris: “then everyone else noticed too”

You: “I noticed because I knew you would notice”

Chris: “you must know me pretty well then”

You: “Only as well as I can through messages”

Chris: “all problems have a solution”

You: “HAH” You: “what?”

Chris: “Bin and Jisung want to know what you think about their rapping”

You: “They were amazing!” You: “Their outfits especially oh my gosh?”

Chris: “yeah I’m proud of them” Chris: “Jisung was nervous before we performed”

You: “Was he?” You: “Tell him I said he was fantastic!!”

Chris: “sure thing” Chris: “he’ll appreciate that”

-

You frown and scroll back up to your previous messages a little. Even though this man is a world away from you, his disappointment can distinctly be felt through the phone. You hadn’t complimented him yet, and although he’s happy to hear praise for his members, he deserves to hear praise for himself too.

-

You: “Oi Chris”

Chris: “Yeah?”

You: “You should wear pink more often”

-

Harvey scratches at your shoes, vying for your attention and you shove your phone back into your pocket, a little frantic about complimenting him. He should wear pink more often though, that was pure fact. 

You had been keeping up with their content over the past few months, eagerly liking photos and watching live streams, laughing along with them and giggling, like any Stay would do. The only difference this time, however, is that you could do all of this with Chris.

The first time he called you, it was out of the blue. At the time you had your phone by the coffee machine, and you were busy making James a mug, desperate to get him out of your café. The moment your phone started to ring, vibrating obnoxiously on the counter, you fell into auto-pilot mode. Usually when people call you while you’re working, you automatically place it on speaker so you can multitask.

Chris’ voice hesitantly calling out to you startled every fibre of being in your body. “Hey… you there?” he paused, waiting for a response, but your shocked state didn’t allow you to, “Bad timing? Sorry nevermind-”

“Wait wait wait wait- Chris?!” you dropped everything you were holding, completely forgetting about James’ coffee, and scrambled for your phone. “Chris?!”  “Yes. Chris.”

You had your phone to your ear now, and your heart was thumping wildly in your chest. “What’re you- sorry I was just surprised.” “Did you not see my Caller ID? Why are you surprised?” he laughed, the tinkling sound sending butterflies into your stomach.

“I didn’t. I just answered – but also you’ve never called me before…” You waved a dismissive hand towards James, basically telling him to get lost, and that you’d make his coffee in a second. He frowned, and his eyes became icy – being the stubborn, annoying, prick that he is, he sat down on the barstool.

“Who’s Chris?” he casually called, and you rolled your eyes, ignoring him.

It had turned out Chris just needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn’t directly related to Stray Kids. Everyone was nervous that day, he couldn’t talk to anyone around him without seeing the nerves in their eyes. It was just making him nervous. 

“You’ve got this Chris. What makes you think you won’t get the award?” you sigh, trying to reassure him as best as you could.

“Yeah well, it’s not just that. It’s our performance too. This could be big for us. This Western coverage could do wonders for Stray kids.”

From then on, calls kind of become a regularity. In the middle of the night, you’d wake to your phone ringing. He’d apologise profusely for waking you up, but he’d be so excited to tell you something that it doesn’t bother you. One time you face timed him, testing the waters. As soon as he answered, the first thing you heard was him whining about not wearing makeup, the first thing you saw was him hiding his face between his hands, sitting at his studio desk.

“Chris I literally don’t care. I’m face timing you because you have to meet Bailey.” Then you flipped the camera to show him the Royal King Charles Spaniel that you were babysitting today. His gasp of joy completely made your day.

“He looks like Berry!”

-

Life’s been good. You’ve been chilling honestly.

But if we’re talking about honesty here, as the days wore on your heart ached increasingly. Sometimes it would get to the point where you’d avoid Stray Kids content, just because it was painful to think about Chris being so close, yet so far away. You dearly wished… you had hugged him tighter before he left the first time he was here. The first, and last time – and you had no idea when or if he’d return. Even though he said he would…in his cheesy little notes. He’s never once mentioned it over a message or call, and you’ve never once dared to ask. Just being able to communicate with him was a gift in itself… 

What even are you two… anyways?

-

You find yourself wiping down the windows, making sure they’re squeaky clean, as customers bustle around your café. No one currently wants a coffee and no one has any requests with the library or anything, so you take the time to squeeze in a bit of regular cleaning. Just as you’re about to move onto the last set of windows, one of your customers, Ashley, comes bounding up to you.

“Hey there’s a phone ringing in your office,” she smiles, proud to be of help. You put your cleaning materials down onto the floor, and your forehead creases in exhaustion, “Just when I thought I’d be able to clean.”

“I think you should really hire an assistant, or employees in general. I have no idea how you manage to run this place yourself,” Ashley grins.

“Yes well… business isn’t too intense really. I’ve managed thus far,” you sigh and dust your hands off on your apron, then pause lost in thought. Hiring some others would be helpful, even if it costs you money, it’ll give you more time to just live a little.

“Do you have a job Ash?” you abruptly ask, and the girl shakes her head slowly, eyes widening in excitement, “Would you like to work here?”

“Oh- can I? When can I start?” she squeals, eagerly dashing forwards and scooping up the cleaning equipment you recently abandoned, “Can I start today?”

Ever so sweet. Ashley’s one of your favourites, even though she’s still in high school. 

“Um… I mean I have to sort out the legal requirements first so probably not until…” you halt as the expression on her face sullens, and change your mind, “If you really want to help out, you can start today. I’ll call it your induction, yeah?”

Ashley nods with glee and turns to clean. The phone has stopped ringing by this point, but you can just as easily call them back anyways.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

Thankfully, the phone begins to ring again when you walk into the office, and you pick it up with a renewed gusto, “This is Café Studio! How may I help you today?”

“Uhh… does your animal daycare do cats?” someone mumbles, their accent startlingly British.

“Yes of course, when did you want to drop them off? Also did you say cat…s??” you query, scrummaging around for your bookings book and a pen.

“Yeah uh- my friend here. He has um. Three cats.”

You pause, and dimly wonder why his voice sounds familiar, and you also note that his English isn’t entirely English.

“All good. I’ll just need some other info… just the names of the cats, when you’d like them to stay… your name and a phone number, if possible?” you’re sitting there, anticipating his answer, but the other end has gone radio silent.

“Are… you still there…?” you cautiously probe, not wanting to be annoying.

“Soonie, Doongie and Dori.”

You slowly lower your pen to the table and sit up straighter, the familiar names registering in your brain. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the conversation on the other end of the line, but there’s whisperings and panicked discussion.

“What’re we supposed to do for the name? Are we allowed to say Minho?”

“Uh…I don’t know- just put Chan’s name, he’s probably there already anywa-”

This voice sticks out like a sore thumb, the low octave causing you to jolt in your chair.

“Shhhhhhhshshshhh,” the first-person hushes, but it’s too late.

“Felix?” you croak out, mouth going dry. British accent… British…

“Jisung?” The silence on the other end of the phone is profound, and somewhere else, presumably in the same room as Felix and Jisung, there are people laughing in the distance.

“Ah shit,” Jisung curses and the line dies.

You’re not even thinking straight as you throw the phone onto the desk and bolt out of the office, your spinning chair ricocheting away. What do you mean he’s probably there already? They’re messing with you. There is no way, what on earth would he be doing here, unannounced, when he’s got an entire schedule-

He’s here.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s there. He’s standing right there. Already busying himself with the coffee machine, muscle memory walking him through the timings, and the fiddling. A new black cap, perhaps a new black mask. A stylish leather jacket, a plain white shirt... but the same dark eyes, the same smile crinkles, the same brown curls.

He’s here.

You catch Ashley standing to the side hesitantly, obviously curious to know why some random stranger has just walked up to your coffee machine. She wasn’t a regular yet when Chris was around before. Ashley eyeballs you, then points slowly at Chris, trying to figure out what she should do.

“It’s… it’s okay Ash… he’s fine…” you murmur, voice a hoarse whisper.

Chris suddenly stops, and his hands slowly fall to his side. He swivels around and stares at you, eyes wide, as if wondering himself what he’s doing here. You gulp, heart threatening to abandon your body. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“Hey…” he mumbles, through the cloth of his mask, “how you doin’~”

Again, your brain is complete jelly right now, so it’s no surprise when your mouth fails to form coherent words. As if in a daze, you stagger over to him, your feet dragging on the floor.

“Y/N?” he hesitantly asks, when you continue to merely stare at him, mouth parted in shock, eyes shimmering with pent up emotions.

“How am- how am I doing? How am- can I give you a hug?” you blurt out, and you can visibly see the tension in Chris’ body evaporate. After a second of numb silence, he spreads his arms wide, “C’mere.”

You dash forwards and sneak your arms around his abdomen, slamming into him with a force that makes him stumble backwards with a little ‘oof’. Chris wraps his arms around you, rubbing comforting circles on your back.

“How can you say that? How am I doing? You’re insufferable,” you whine into his shirt, and an unfamiliar sound of embarrassment escapes his throat. Carefully, he places his chin on your head, “It’s been a long while~ I didn’t know what to say, don’t tease me…” he cries, eliciting a string of giggles from you.

After what feels like an eternity, you pull yourself away from him and move to stand at your place by the coffee machine, picking up the grinders he’s abandoned so you can finish the order. 

“What are you doing here?” you breathe out, as Chris sidles up beside you to start the next order. The tips of his ears an adorable shade of pink, and your heart flutters when he turns slightly to face you and his sparkling eyes gaze into your own, crinkling at the corners to show he’s smiling wholeheartedly despite his mouth being hidden behind his mask.

“Am I not allowed to be here?” he chuckles back, reaching over to snag a takeaway coffee cup.

“Don’t respond to a question with a question!” You pout, clicking the portafilter into the grouphead of the coffee machine. The low hum of the coffee trickling out of the spouts begin as he leans over to whisper in your ears, “I’m here for you. I told you I’d be back didn’t I?” Chris presses the button to start the coffee on his end, placing his cup neatly underneath the spouts. Your coffee has finished pouring, and all it needs now is milk. Chris stares at you blankly, his eyes flickering to the coffee you’re supposed to be making, and then back to you. He’s frozen your brain though, and once he realises this, his ears turning pink again, he snatches your coffee cup from the machine and does the milk for you.

The coffee machine stops whirring, and regathering your wits, you grab his coffee cup, and begin to do the milk for it. You’ve switched orders now.

“You’re back for my hot chocolate aren’t you, you little liar.”

Chris clicks a lid on top of his coffee- your coffee? and places it down on the bench, “What can I say? You never told me what goes in it.”

You do the same, capping the takeaway coffee with a lid, “Okay come on, you can’t keep saying that. You’re practically a coffee connoisseur now. You can easily figure out how to make it yourself.” You grab both of the coffees and move around him checking the name on the order and preparing to call it out for the customer. It’s Ashley’s.

Chris sneaks up behind you and slides his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him again, “Mhmm… listen again, you never told me what goes in it.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, your brain working overtime to figure out precisely what he means. Truthfully, you know exactly what it means, but you’re refusing to admit it – at least your mind is, maybe not your body, because you can feel the tips of your ears burning.

“Are those mine?” Ashley wanders over, her intuition kicking in apparently. After she was instructed to leave Chris alone, she had gone back to cleaning the windows.

“Yeah- yes,” you breathe, wriggling to try and escape Chris’ grasp, “but why’d you order two?” 

Ashley gratefully accepts one of the coffees, blowing into the small hole to cool it down, “The other one is for you.” 

Your heart melts a little, and as Ashley takes a sip of her drink, Chris sneakily extricates the remaining coffee from your hand, pulls his mask down and takes a sip.

“Hey- Ash ordered that for me, not for you,” you swivel around and try to take it back off him, “you don’t even like coffee.”

Chris’ nose scrunches up in distaste after his sip, but he still refuses to give it back, holding it high above your head, “What’s yours is mine.” 

“Since uh- when?!” you retort, rolling your eyes at him and trying to yank his mask back up his face.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Ashley gasps, and Chris freezes. He immediately pulls his mask back up, and hands you back your coffee, “I know you!”

“No you don’t Ash,” you state at the same time Chris says, “Not surprised.”

You turn to stare at him in shock, but he just shrugs nonchalantly, “Are you a Stay then?” he quizzes, leaning forwards and pressing his hands on the countertop to prop himself up.

“Oh me? No not really. I haven’t had time to- she is though,” Ashley garbles, pointing at you unabashedly, “That’s how I know who you are. Remember?” she’s talking directly to you now, “You were playing one of their songs over the speakers a while back and I asked who they were.”

Oh. Yeah you remember now. Ashley had asked you about them, and because she genuinely seemed interested you lost your self a little in explaining who Stray Kids were.

“He’s your bias isn’t he? Bang Chan?”

“I’m your-” Chris starts, but you interject him swiftly, “Well duh,” then without sparing a glance towards him, you address Ashley, “We’re going to have to keep this quiet, yeah?”

She leans closer and whispers with a wink, “Oh yeah for sure. Can’t have all the Stay’s chasing you for dating Bang Chan, right?” 

Chris bursts out laughing, suddenly hiding his face in his hands, and you splutter uncontrollably, “I’m not- hang on- what gave you that impression- we’re just long-distance friends.”

Ashley sucks in air through her teeth and grabs her heart dramatically, “How does it feel Bang Chan? To be friend zoned?” 

Chris is laughing so hard he’s practically wheezing, desperately trying to breathe through his mask. 

“Oh- it hurts- I’m in so much pain- how could you?” he manages, clutching his own heart in his hands and pouting with his eyes at you. You step back from them both; Chris who’s still chuckling, and Ashley who’s smiling at you with a knowing look.

“What am I missing here?”

“I like this child. Keep her. Ashley right? Just call me Chan,” he’s finally stopped laughing, but his eyes are still glimmering with mirth.

“She’s keeping me alright. I work here now,” Ashley grins with pride, taking another sip of her coffee, “Anyway so… are you going to do it or do I have to do it for you?” 

Chris falls apart laughing again, leaning heavily on the bench to support himself. The pair of them seem to be on a completely different page to you, and you’re just standing there in confusion.

“Okay! Okay wow! This is… not how I was planning on doing it,” he wheezes, and Ashley sighs, impatient, “Who cares?!”

“Planning on doing what?! Someone help me out here, what is happening?!” You cry, face scrunched up in desperation, head flicking from one person to the other.

“Okay you,” Chris begins, flicking his head towards you, “Close the café tomorrow-”

“Or just leave it up to me,” Ashley chirps eagerly.

“-that works too. I’m taking you somewhere.”

You raise your eyebrows in amusement, a little thrown off by his assertion, and Ashley’s collaboration, “Where and why?”

Chris shrugs, “The beach, with food, and because I want to,” Ashley is nodding in the background, as if she knows this is exactly what he’d say, “I haven’t been in a while.”

“I’m poor. I can’t afford to buy food just for the beach,” you stubbornly state, mind trying to figure out if he was being genuine.

“It’s called a fucking date. Chan will pay for you,” Ashley snaps, and Chris nods vigorously, “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you speak, “Oh-kay, you two get along too well. Your induction isn’t over yet Ash, get back to work.”

“Yes boss,” Ashley grins, skipping away with her coffee.

“She’s bright,” Chris chuckles, watching her leave, “This isn’t exactly how I was meant to ask you out but I think it worked out fine.”

He’s not even looking at you as he speaks, but when he registers your silence he turns towards you.

“Wait- you were being serious?” your mouth drops open in shock, and Chris shakes his head at you. He pushes himself off the counter and grabs your shoulders with a little shake.

“Yes. I was being serious. Go out with me tomorrow?” 

“What about- what about the rest of Stray Kids, where are they? Don’t you have things to-”

Chris squishes your cheeks playfully to shut you up, “I told you before. I’m here for you.” 

You squirm in his grasp but he holds you steadily, “That’s not the only reason though, surely.”

“Yes. It is. Everyone’s on a two-week holiday and it was a toss-up between whether we returned to our families or here,” Chris’ eyes stray from yours to the side of your face, and he carefully brushes a strand of hair back, “The Kids really loved your Café, and it only exists here.”

“You’re lying,” you breathe, eyes wide.

“I am not… so… how difficult would it be to close shop the day after tomorrow? They want to come over.” 

In his eyes, you can see a flicker of exhaustion. You can tell he’s not happy to have to inconvenience your business just so Stray Kids can visit in peace. It’s not an inconvenience at all though.

“Sure! Tomorrow can be Ashley’s first shift, and I’ll close shop the day after,” you grin, suddenly burrowing yourself into his arms and pulling him into a hug, hiding your happiness from the world.

He’s here.

-

On this first little date at the beach, where you had a picnic blanket and food set up, the rest of Stray Kids gate crashed halfway through. They ate half your food, picked you up by your wrists and ankles and threw you into the water. This shocked you to the core because… since when were you that friendly with one another? They seemed to welcome you to the family pretty quick.

Chris was laughing back at the picnic set up. And the Skz members gleefully pestered you for confirmation of whether Chris was your boyfriend. When you nodded, soaking wet, they sprinted back to him and crushed him in a mountain of hugs, teasing him and cooing him. 

Then, yelling over the top of one another, dragged Chris all the way down to the water where you still stood. He was laughing, putting up a bit of a fight but not really; he’d always be gentle with them. Once the members had managed to group everyone together, Jisung started chanting “Kiss! Kiss!” and the rest of the members joined in. Chris was hiding his face in his hands, making distressed noises, his ears burning bright red. 

You shook your head in disbelief at the members around you, and instead pulled Chris into a hug, which he reciprocated, burying his embarrassed face into your neck. There were whoops and cheers (and Jisung’s disappointed “awhhhhh”), and then you forcefully pushed Chris down into the water, a stupid grin on your face. He came up spluttering, shocked, and then dove for your ankles. You squealed and sprinted away, crash landing into Felix, who caught you, but stumbled and fell into the water too – and then suddenly, everyone was getting dragged under.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

-> PART 3 -> Masterlist

A/N: Yay! Milestone Event 2 (And a Half) Check!

Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.

Until next read! - Kaisowoo

[embodiment-of-pride]

Helluva Boss x Reader Chapter 6 (Loona Part 4)

Reminder:

I decided to change the pronouns to keep the reader gender neutral. If I missed something, please let me know!

When it was time, you entered Blitzø’s office. The one window in the room had its blinds closed, resulting in the room becoming very dark. It felt like a boss room chamber. That’s a surprisingly accurate description, given he’s actually he’s a Helluva “boss,” you thought.

Blitzø was sitting at his desk, fingers steepled. His eyes were closed. Was he sleeping? Thinking? You couldn’t tell.

“Blitzø?” you called out as you closed the door behind you.

His eyes snapped open, and he flailed his arms in surprise.

“Damn it, Moxxie! I told you not to disturb…oh. It’s you.” Blitzø composed himself. You could tell he was much calmer than last night, even if he did have eye bags that made him look sinister. His words didn’t contain malice (except the ones that had been for Moxxie); it seemed he had prepared himself.

“Sir, about last night,” you began. You gave time for Blitzø to respond. He nodded respectfully, allowing you to go on.

“Sir, I care for Loona. As a person, and as a friend. What we talked about last night should have stayed between her and I. I acknowledge that I deceived you by keeping the fact that I was a sinner from you. I had my reasons, and you can probably guess them, given the current state of The Pride Ring. Although, I suppose it had to come out eventually.”

You gave a slight pause.

“I may be a sinner, and I guess that means I have been universally deemed a ‘bad person,’ but I intend to always treat everyone here at I.M.P. with the utmost respect. I know that you’re protective of Loona, but you being over-affectionate, and over-protective is what’s causing Loona to lash out at you. I’ve seen that she does care for you. But your behaviour? Eavesdropping on our conversation last night? Interrupting by coming out of the fucking bushes? It’s not respectful to her. To your daughter.”

Another small pause. You took a big, deep breath for what you were going to say next. You fucking furry.

“Sir, I fully intend to ask Loona to be…something to me. And I want to be that something for her. So, I will ask her. I am making it clear now that I will accept the response she gives me, whatever it may be. I know this might disturb you, but I would appreciate it if I had your blessing to do so. I don’t want to create a rift between you and your daughter, and I definitely don’t want to diminish the professional relationship between the two of us.” You gestured between you and Blitzø as you finished.

Blitzø was silent for a while; he looked tired. He took a deep breath, and then spoke.

“(Y/N). Loona…said a very similar thing last night.” Your pulse quickened. What did that mean?

“Not about…whatever…lovey-dovey bullshit you just said.” He waved his hand in the air, dismissing that part. “She really chewed my ass out; She was mad at me for listening in, for interrupting. And for leaving.” Blitzø was fidgeting with his hands, clearly uncomfortable with being so honest. “She wants me to stop screwing with her personal life. She made that very clear. I was not…okay, last night. I argued with her, saying I was just trying to protect her. She said she doesn’t need protection, and she never did. And…she’s right. She doesn’t.” Blitzø took his eyes off his hands, and looked up at you with soft, but still serious eyes.

He paused, then looked down again.

“Apparently, she hadn’t told me everything, or honestly almost anything true about your ‘con-ver-say-tion’ after your fight.” Blitzø used air quotes when he said that, sounding out every syllable. “I don’t blame her. I’m a shitty dad.” His voice broke.“I would’ve found a way to blame you entirely for the conference room. I’ve often refused to hold her accountable for…anything, really. It’s a fault of mine. She told me that…she does hurt me out of fear of me getting too close. That she still has a fuck-ton of trauma. And that you made her self-aware, about how she was behaving. She told me it was you who managed to make her change for the better.” He put his arm out towards you, palm up and fingers out. It was a way of pointing at you, without sticking his finger in your face. “You two had that heart-to-heart first, where she confessed all of it…and I wasn’t there for her.” His arm rested against his desk again. He was taking shaky breaths.

Blitzø had been looking down at his desk for a while, avoiding your gaze. He looked up at you, with squinted, determined eyes. You realized that he and Loona probably hadn’t argued all night. They both hadn’t slept because they felt guilty about what they had said, or hadn’t said, to the other.

“For the times that I can’t be there for her, you’d better fucking be there.” He pointed at you with a wounded expression, his voice trembling with emotion. You weren’t angry at the gesture this time. You were thankful. “You have my fucking… ‘blessing,’ or whatever. But if I ever…” Blitzø got up out of his chair, climbed over the desk, and grabbed your shirt by the neck. “…hear about how you weren’t there for her, or if you hurt her in any way, I will skin you alive, stuff you like a pig, and mount your FUCKING head on my wall.”

He let your shirt go, and fell back into his chair. His arms were crossed, and his face was deadly serious.

“According to your schedule, I have a mission with Loona that I need to be at soon. I need to catch up on some rest. Now, out.” He motioned towards the door. You quickly obliged.

One down, one to go. Not that they’re just tasks. These are people I need to make amends with, you thought.

You stepped out of the office, and almost ran into Loona. You managed to stop yourself when you saw her. She was remarkably close to the door. Had she been trying to listen in from outside?

“Sorry!” You said as you braked. Then you decided to just ask. “What are you doing, standing so close to the door?”

“He give you shit?” Loona asked, dodging the question. She had her arms crossed, and was looking at you with a guarded expression on her face. She’s definitely still angry at me, you thought. But she did ask, so maybe…

“A little, but I think I gave him more shit.” You paused. “Loona?”

Her ears perked up, but her expression remained stoic.

“I let you down last night. I should’ve talked to him, argued, something. I made you deal with him, because I was scared. I was a pushover. So I decided I needed to fix it, and make up for it as soon as possible. When I was in there, He told me how you came down on him last night about it. He feels guilty about everything. I understood you needed to, but it was my fault you had to in the first place. I’m so fucking sorry,” You apologized. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Loona’s posture relaxed as she heard what you had to say. She thought for a moment. “Blitzø’s always been overprotective and…huggy. I would’ve given him shit about it, eventually.” She looked like she was thinking of doing something, and was slightly uncomfortable about it.

Then, In a single movement, she uncrossed her arms and hugged you. Your arms were pinned to your sides, so you just stood there, stunned. Her neck craned over your shoulder. She spoke as she held you.

“I appreciate that you’re sorry, but don’t ever fucking do that to me again. Or I’ll put you in the hospital, for good this time.” She growled, but she still held you tight. Perhaps too tight; you could feel her claws digging into you through your clothes. OUCH. You were really glad that she couldn’t see your face right now. Unfortunately, your tail was definitely giving you away. Although, being happy for being forgiven is reason enough, you thought. Thankfully it wagging doesn’t communicate anything more than that I’m happy or excited.

Loona pulled away to an appropriate distance, but left a hand on your shoulder. You tried to keep your composure. She smiled at you. It was clear you had become a close friend to her. If I’m smart, and lucky, I hope I can become something more to her, you thought.

“It’s nice to hear you gave him shit, too. Satan only knows how much more of that he needs.” She took her hand off of your shoulder. You silently wished she would put it back. I’m touch-starved, you realized. You’d been in Hell for months now. It had been rare that people gave you respect as a hellhound, let alone touched you in a way that made you feel cared for. You had no family down here (to your knowledge), and you had been unable to form any meaningful relationships up until I.M.P.

You thought about the conversation you had with Blitzø just a moment ago. He had given you his blessing to pursue Loona. Granted, you were supposed to be there for her, no matter the state of the relationship between you two. He had given you a pretty violent warning as well, if you weren’t. I don’t need to be worried. I fully intend on keeping that promise, you thought.

As you thought of Blitzø, you felt you could at least try to help mend the relationship between him and Loona. “He seemed…sorry. He does feel guilty. You should talk to him when you’re with him out there together.”

You held up Stolas’s grimoire, which you used to send the assassins of I.M.P. to their targets. It helped that you were more familiar with Earth than any of them were. Although it fucking sucks how I learned how Blitzø managed to convince Stolas to lend it to him. You had heard far too many horny messages from him to Blitzø, being the receptionist for I.M.P. They were honestly enough to make you blush whenever you even thought of the idea of them.

Loona raised her eyebrows in realization. “Right, mission. I was busy catching up on sleep…” She rubbed the back of her neck as she said that, looking away. Was she blushing?

You nodded respectfully. “Hey, umm, since Blitzø knows that I’m…you know.” You gestured with your hand. “I was wondering if you’d be okay if I told M&M. I haven’t yet!” you clarified. “But now that the cat’s out of the bag, I feel kind of bad not letting them know. They also seemed worried about what happened last night.”

Loona turned her gaze back to you. If this body of yours had sweat glands, you’d be drenched. She was quiet for a while, thinking, but also keeping her eyes locked on you. Shit, did I say something wrong?

“Yeah, that makes sense. It’s your secret. That would mean I get to stop covering for you.” She winked and punched your arm. “I’d also feel bad for not letting them know.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. You stood there for a moment, just enjoying her company, and the fact that she seemed to not be mad at you anymore. At least for now.

“Well, if you’re ready, I can open the portal now…” you said, almost hoping that she would want to continue talking with you.

“I’m ready,” she said confidently. You walked over to the front of your desk, then opened the grimoire to the right page. You double checked where the portal needed to be on Earth, and gave a thumbs-up to Loona. She nodded.

“BLITZØ!”

You jumped slightly, startled. She had shouted from next to you, towards Blitzø’s office door. You looked at her, and she gave you a teasing smile. You tried to ignore the pounding of your heart as Blitzø came out of his office.

You opened the portal, and Loona and Blitzø headed through. Loona turned back to smile and wave at you. You waved back. When she had turned around again, Blitzø gave you a thumbs up, which confused you. He then used that thumb to draw a line across his neck, communicating that while he now trusted you, you were not off the hook if you ever fucked up. Yeah, that’s more of what I was expecting, you thought.

The portal closed. The second it did, Moxxie stuck his head back into the main room. You almost didn’t notice, but you turned around to see him suddenly there. He walked up to you sheepishly. He seemed to be doing things he wasn’t supposed to a lot lately. He looked up at you, fidgeting with his hands.

“I take it your talk with Blitzø went well?” he asked.

“Yeah. I think it did.” You smiled to yourself. “I’m ready to tell you and Millie now. You know, what it was that caused a bit of an upset last night.”

His eyes went wide. An open smile slowly started to reach across his face. If the highlights in his eyes had a shape, they would’ve been stars of wonder and happiness. He pranced out of the room, calling “Millie! You’ll never guess what…” you stopped hearing him as he went deeper into the building.

Soon, both of the small imps were before you, eagerly awaiting your explanation. They were practically jumping up and down with excitement, clutching each other. You chuckled, and knelt down to their height. You were all huddled together, ready to finally share this massive secret.

“I’m sorry to say it, but I’ve been deceiving the both of you for a while,” you started. The imps seemed to get more excited as the suspense continued. “Loona found out the day we had the massive fight, and we talked it out. She helped me keep it from Blitzø. Eventually Blitzø found out, last night, and was, of course, mad at me,” you continued. The imps were holding their breath, clutching each other’s hands as they awaited your confession. “I’m…not actually a hellhound. I’m really a sinner. I think Millie also almost found out last night, when she noted my eyes. Apparently real hellhounds have white irises, and I don’t.”

The imps’ faces fell. They stopped jumping, but still held each other. They looked up at you in confusion.

“So that’s why your eyes are all fucked up,” Millie said. Your head reeled back from the sudden insult.

“Sorry!” Millie apologized, reaching a hand out towards you sympathetically. “I guess, I was just surprised that your secret wasn’t what we thought it was.”

You tilted your head, and your ears perked up. “Wait, what did you think it was?”

“Well, I thought you was dating Loona, and Moxxie thought you were (insert sexuality/romantic identity that would not be attracted to Loona. Whichever one would be the most wrong/funny)” Moxxie nodded in agreement. Millie turned to him and said “Which is still dumb, hon. You know Blitzø would be supportive, no matter what they were.” Moxxie’s eyes went wide in realization at his mistake.

Your heart started beating fast at her explanation. She thought you were already dating Loona? Behind Blitzø’s back? That would be a plausible explanation from their point of view…but what made her think of that? Were your animal behaviours that you had been trying to get under control this entire time, undermining you? Had your blushes been visible this whole time? You suddenly remembered the first day you had been at I.M.P., and had mentioned Vortex to Loona. She had blushed, and you could tell from beneath her fur. SHIT, you thought, as you suddenly remembered all of the times when you had flushed in front of her, hoping that the fur on your face hid it.

You slapped a hand to your forehead, thinking about it. Loona probably already knew that you liked her, and hadn’t said anything to spare your feelings. You could your feel your face getting hotter yet again, and you quickly covered it with your hands. Too bad that made it more obvious.

“Oh. OHH!” said Millie as she observed your reaction. “You do like her! I knew it!” Millie gave the air a some quick fist pumps, and Moxxie reluctantly handed her a small amount of money. They had made a bet; she thought it was so obvious. Fuuuuuuuuuckkk…

Millie then closed what little distance was between the two of you in the huddle. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, in that strange little hug one does when comforting someone. Moxxie did the same, but on the other side of you.

“At least you didn’t get fired!” Moxxie offered. “Moxxie!” Millie scolded.

Moxxie tried again. “I mean, now that I can see it, I can’t help but think that you two would be a great couple! Just ignore the fact that you might get hopelessly rejected, and have to quit this job that you worked so hard to keep—as well as having lucked into never getting fired—out of embarrassment, so that—OW!!” Moxxie was cut off by Millie sucker punching his gut. You were silently grateful.

This time, Millie spoke up. “Listen (Y/N), it’ll be fine. I can’t say for certain if she’d take a chance on you, but we both know that she cares about you. I mean, it sure looked like you two had something going on.” She poked your chest, teasing you. “You know, Moxxie and I met at I.M.P., and Blitzø thought I was going to hate him.”

While you were embarrassed, you did appreciate that the married couple was trying to console you, if not urge you to pursue Loona. Maybe you did have a shot at this. Even though you didn’t really know Loona’s reasons for behaving the way she did around you. Maybe she pitied you, maybe she thought of you as a close friend, or maybe she really did have feelings for you, as Millie thought. After all, you had already declared to Blitzø that you were going to ask her out, because you had already decided you were going to. There was no backing out of that.

“Thanks, you guys.” You gently tried to stand up, letting the imps take their arms off you before you rose to your full height. “I appreciate your support. But it’s still really fucking embarrassing that it was that obvious,” you snickered. These two imps were your friends: your confidants. You could trust them. “To be honest, I had planned on doing it today; talking to her, I mean. That’s what partly why I met with Blitzø today.” You nodded towards Moxxie, who confirmed it to Millie, although he hadn’t known that was part of the reason. “I thought maybe I could do something simple, like ask if she wanted to grab coffee alone sometime. Well, I know she also likes alcohol, but taking her out to a bar might be a little out of my comfort zone. Can I ask what you guys think?”

“Keep it simple.” Millie smiled reassuringly. “And don’t be afraid to be rejected! You have to respect a woman’s boundaries.” She nodded to you, serious. You nodded back. “Also, make your intentions clear from the start. It could also turn out that she agrees to the date, and then you discover that you’re better off as friends.”

“Yeah. Ooh, and don’t bring her flowers on the first date! That comes off way too strong.” Moxxie offered. “I agree: keep it simple, like Millie said.” He closed his eyes and crossed his arms, confident in the advice. “Honestly, Loona doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would be into that.”

“This seems like a lot,” you said nervously.

“Well, you did ask for advice,” Millie came back with.

“You’re right,” you said. “I just hope I don’t ruin what we have already, and make work unbearable, like Moxxie said,” you confessed. Millie punched him again, this time in the shoulder.

“I deserved that,” Moxxie relented.

“Hey, when exactly are you planning on asking her?” Millie questioned. Her eyebrow was raised dramatically as she folded her arms.

“Well, if her mission goes well—which, let’s be honest, this is Blitzø and Loona we’re talking about here, they’ll be back soon—I’ll ask her while she’s in that good mood that she always seems to come back in,” you said.

“That’s sweet!” Millie said. “Although…you should ask to talk to her privately, when she’s not in front of everyone,” Millie said. “It takes the pressure off of her.” You nodded again, agreeing. You hadn’t thought of that. Loona would be in the middle of the office, and you didn't want to do that to her.

“Okay, thanks you guys. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“No problem, (Y/N)! I trust you’ll let us know how it turns out!” Millie winked and elbowed your leg playfully. She probably would’ve done it to your arm, but the imp was too short for that.

“Yeah. Good luck!” Moxxie said. Millie took him by the hand, and walked back, deeper into the office.

They had met at I.M.P., you thought. It’s possible I could have what they have.

As predicted, Loona came back quickly with Blitzø. They were talking loudly and happily together. It seemed that they had managed to resolve any issues they had while they were out on mission.

You waited until their chatting died down, and you tried to gently interrupt.

“Hey…Loona?”

Loona looked at you, a wide smile on her face. She tilted her head at you, like a curious dog’s. Gods was she beautiful. Even back when you resented her, you had loved to see how happy she was when she came back from missions. It was when she was the most genuine.

“Yeah, (Y/N)?” she asked.

“Could I talk to you? Out in the hall, I mean?” You asked nervously.

Loona’s face dropped slightly. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong! I just—”

“I know what he’s talking about, Loony,” Blitzø interrupted. What the FUCK Blitzø? You screamed at him with your eyes. He continued.

“It’s nothing bad. Just head out; I’ll watch his desk for a while.” Blitzø shooed her towards the direction of the main door for I.M.P.

Instantly, you were relieved. He didn’t spill your secret, despite having been kept in the dark about yours. You gave him a thankful nod. He responded with a “I’m watching you” gesture.

“Okay…” Loona still looked confused, but she opened the door and walked through. You followed, and she held the door open for you. You walked past her, and stood against the wall of the hallway. The succubus that usually occupied the office across the hall weren’t there today, and they had their blinds closed.

Loona walked over to you, and cocked her head to the side curiously as she stood in front of you.

“(Y/N), what the fuck is going on?” she said, concerned.

“Loona, I…look, you’re a really cool person. You always speak your mind, and you live your life unafraid of how others will respond to you. You’re capable of kicking so much ass, it’s ridiculous. I really admire you for that.”

Loona blushed and gave a small laugh. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You could feel the blood moving through you. It felt as if your hands were vibrating. You were shaking a little. This was it; you were finally going to confess your feelings to her, and you were even more scared than you had been when Stolas broke the door down on your first day here. Facing the wrath of Demon Royalty was nothing compared to this.

“What’s going on?” Loona asked, nervously. The blush remained on her cheeks.

“Look, I know we’re friends right now, and I don’t want to ruin that. But…I started to develop feelings for you. It started when we had that conversation in the conference room.” You tried to confess this while avoiding the actual violence that had occurred that day. “It kind of just…kept getting stronger after that. You kept talking to me, and I…I really like you Loona. Could we go out for a coffee sometime? Oh, and I also want to make it clear that I’m more that capable of taking reject—”

“Did Moxxie put you up to this?” Loona asked angrily. You looked up at her. You hadn’t realized that your gaze had fallen to the floor; you had avoided looking at her out of fear. Her brows were tightly knit, and her snout was squished into a snarl. Her teeth were showing. Those daggers that had killed many victims out on assignment.

“…W-What?”

Reminder:

I decided to change the pronouns to keep the reader gender neutral. If I missed something, please let me know!

Where you can read (Ongoing):

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If you have tags I think I should add to the story on these sites, please comment them! Share, comment, and like/fav/vote wherever you read it to feed my Pride!

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Had you played TV cliché bingo while watching The Couple Next Door, I do believe sparks would have been flying from your dabber. I’m almost in awe that so many were crammed in before the first ad break alone. Barely seven minutes in, Becka (Jessica De Gouw) and Danny (Sam Heughan) were pulling each other’s clothes off and having sex at their living room window, curtains open, in a way that no married couple whose small child has just left the room ever do. Except in TV La-La land.

It was a bonus, though, for Alan the Pervert (Hugh Dennis), who has a telescope trained on their house and dark circles under his eyes that suggest he does a lot of squinting while hunched over his computer (and I don’t mean at Wordle).

I suppose at least this drama owns its clichés. What am I saying? It revels in them. It opened with the classic taster of horror to come, Eleanor Tomlinson as Evie running in what we shall call TV’s “sexy terrified” way. That is, frightened but looking hot, hot, hot in a short silk nightie as she ran barefoot through a forest. We then flipped back in time to Evie and Pete (Alfred Enoch) happily arriving at their new suburban idyll to start their family, which was a sort of sunny Wisteria Lane and not at all like the Leeds I remember from when I lived there.

It told us everything was too smug to be true by having laughing children playing with water guns, lawns being mowed, cars being washed. Uh-oh. We know that can’t last. And it didn’t. Evie miscarried her baby (conceived with a donor because Pete has “puny sperm”) by minute 16. I have a terrible feeling that the koi carp in the garden are some sort of “swimmers” metaphor.

Sometimes the dialogue was so stilted, I wondered if it was a spoof. “You guys will get through this,” Danny said to Pete, who should really have responded by asking if he was a chatbot. It soon transpired that Danny and Becka were swingers (it’s based on a Dutch series called, yes, The Swingers) and they promptly had “that couple we met in Marbella” round for some wife swapping as Pete watched from his window. Has anyone in this street ever considered closing a blind? And, actually, aren’t they “the couple opposite”, not “next door”?

There’s a dull subplot about Danny being a dodgy copper, which ties in to a dull investigation that local journalist Pete wants to look into, but his editor wants him to cover the opening of a new city library. A new library? Pull the other one. The UK has closed about 800 of them in the past decade.

At least Evie cheered up when she got Danny’s powerful beast between her legs. Oh, I mean his motorbike, though it’s obvious it won’t be long before the other beast comes into play. I feared we might get to the end of the episode without it committing the top TV cliché on the bingo card, namely spontaneous sex on a kitchen worktop. But, no. Evie and Pete gave us a full house by doing exactly that — and during a storm for added cheesiness.

These couples are as wooden as Dutch clogs, but I am enjoying Dennis’s greasy performance as the disgusting stalker who pretends to like yoga so he can be near Becka. I must warn you that later in the series it’s traumatic to see the man who played the nice dad in Outnumbered masturbating. I must also warn you that episode two contains some of the worst cringey couple dancing you are likely to witness in your lifetime. I think the moral of this silly but entertainingly corny tale is going to be: “Don’t shag the neighbours.”

thetimes.co.uk

Carol Midgley joined The Times in 1996 and is a former Feature Writer of the Year winner. Find her column in Times 2 each Wednesday and her TV reviews on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.

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Indeed I saw all the reviews after the streaming view, including all episodes. The Times’ review concretes many things about The Couple Next Door 💁‍♀️

[yoyeolears]

it's okay not to be lonely//chapter 3 pt. 2

zhang hao x sung hanbin

genre: angst & fluff

warnings: death, cursing, a bit suggestive

masterlist: summary | 1 | 2 | 3 pt. 1 | 3 pt. 2| 4 | 5 | 6 (final)

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chapter 3 pt. 2: so i allowed myself to fall

word count: 1,945

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Walking to his place was filled with Hanbin chatting up a storm. Meanwhile, Hao would just sweetly smile at him while offering his own little thoughts about whatever topic the other male decided on here and there. He wasn’t oblivious. He knew Hanbin was being chattier than usual to keep his mind at bay and from entering dangerous waters. 

“Well, this is me.”, Hao announced once they approached his building. 

The five-floor apartment that Hao stayed in was situated on the outskirts of the city. It was primarily known for being one of the rough areas, however, Hao who had now lived here for more than two years couldn’t really agree. Sure, it was poverty-stricken and that attracted people with all sorts of socio-economical issues, but he had never felt unsafe or threatened. Although, he supposed there was one exception and that was his unruly neighbours, who still refused to let him sleep at night. 

Hao unlocked the front door to the apartment complex fairly easy despite the ever growing shaking of his hands. He beckoned Hanbin to follow him as he shut the door behind him. 

“I am up on the second floor. There isn’t an elevator though, so we will have to walk. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Lead the way.”, Hanbin saluted him. 

Hao laughed before leading the way upstairs. His flat was located at the very end of the hallway on the second floor, its windows facing the bright lights of the city. 

Hao brought out the second pair of keys. His hands’ trembling was almost reminiscent of the shakes of an earthquake, and he felt quite embarrassed as he tried to push the keys into the lock but failed every single time. A hand reached out to stop the tremor in his body. 

“Hao Hao, you are okay.”, Hanbin reassured him. 

He took a deep breath, and with the other's help successfully twisted the key in the lock. Pushing the door open, he ushered Hanbin reluctantly into his flat. 

It was small. Almost claustrophobically small. But he thought it was cozy. He’d spent a lot of time trying to turn it into an actual home, not a place he just slept in. There was a tiny kitchenette tucked away in the corner of the room with a window above it, blinding city lights illuminating the rest of the space. His bed sat on the opposite side, an array of plushies littering it. Across was the desk lamp he had forgotten to turn off in the morning, accompanied by all his books that were messily spread out on the cramped desk. 

“Is that a photo of you and your parents?”, Hanbin asked, eyes taking in the space. 

Hao’s eyes fell onto the picture frame next to his bed. Indeed, standing there was a photo of him and his parents on the day he got accepted to study abroad. He smiled at it melancholically. 

“Yes, that was the day I found out my application for the University had been accepted.” 

Hanbin gave him a affirmative nod,  “You look a lot like your mum.” 

Hao felt his eyes burn but decided to push the tears back. He was determined to not ruin the mood with his crying. 

He was about to give the male a response when the latter practically screamed out loud. 

“Oh my god, is that you in a suit, holding a violin?” 

He laughed, the sound almost bitter. 

“Yeah, I used to get booked for weddings quite a bit back in China.”, he shyly admitted. 

“You still play?” 

“Hypothetically, yes. But I don’t own a violin anymore. Had to sell it to pay for my parents’ burial and to support myself.” 

His confession hurt Hanbin, his smile turning into a frown. 

“I am sorry Hao Hao.” 

He didn’t want Hanbin to be sad because of his miserable past. So, he smiled back at him reassuringly. 

“It’s okay. Maybe one day I will have the money for another one.” 

“Hmm, are violins that expensive?”, Hanbin asked, feet on the move to explore the rest of his flat. Not that there was much to explore. 

Hao nodded, “They are expensive, yes. Depends on your level though.” 

“What level are you then?” 

“Actually, I have a teacher diploma.” 

Hanbin's hand, which was busy flipping through a book on his cluttered desk, retracted at lightning speed. 

“You are that good? I don’t get it then. Why not get a job as a teacher?” 

“I thought about it, but I needed the money urgently, so selling the violin seemed like the best option at that time.” 

The male's attention fell back onto the photo of him holding the violin. He knew what’s coming next. 

“Do you regret it?” 

There it was. Such a simple question with such a complex answer. 

“I don’t know.”, he settled with, “I know I needed to pay off my parents’ burial somehow, but I also know that playing is my escape. Sometimes, I think about how different my life might have been if I still had this part of my life unchanged.” 

“I get it. Sometimes you don’t get to do what you want to do, right?” 

Hao agreed, “Right.” 

Hanbin clapped his hands, smile returning on his precious face, “Anyway! Shall we watch a movie then?” 

He huffed out a little laugh as he watched the excited man fumble through the bag looking most likely for his laptop. He took a sit on his bed, waiting for him to finish setting up. 

Hanbin let out a long sigh as he flop next to him. 

“I swear I need a bigger bag. Getting that laptop out was a proper work out.”, he complained. 

Setting the laptop on his lap, Hanbin pressed the power button, waiting for the machine to come to life. Only it didn’t. The daunting low battery icon flashed on the screen for a split second before the screen went black again. 

The male groaned, “Fuck. I thought I charged it last night. I am such a disaster! I didn’t even bring my charger with me because I was so sure it was all fired up and ready to go.” 

Hao smiled at Hanbin sympathetically, “It’s okay. You are not a disaster. Things like this happen all the time.” 

The latter pursed his lips in thought, “But then what are we supposed to do?” 

He honestly didn’t know. It’s not like he had a laptop. His old one broke down ages ago and since then he hadn’t been able to replace it. 

All of a sudden, he felt Hanbin's body bounce on the bed. 

“I know! I will do your hair with those hair clips!”, Hanbin cried out, proceeding to pick up said clips from his nightstand. He didn’t even remember leaving these there. When did the other even notice? 

“What do you have these for anyway?”, Hanbin asked, inspecting them. 

“Well, I used to wear them while practicing the violin. My hair got in the way quite a bit.”, he explained. 

“Makes sense. Come on then. I will turn you into a pretty doll.” 

Hao’s ears flushed their red usual, but he accepted defeat and turned his body to face Hanbin's. 

The male excitedly took a teddy bear shaped clip and gently grabbed a few strands of hair. He clipped it into place, hands already reaching for a second one to repeat the process. Part of him wondered why Hanbin had decided to stay. Surely, putting hair clips in his hair wasn’t this entertaining. Yet, one look at his face was enough to confirm that he was genuinely happy to do this. To be here with him. He felt the familiar warmth circulating through his body. 

“I am doing splendid work in my opinion. You look cute.”, Hanbin commented, taking a quick look at his progress. 

“I am sure it looks amazing.”, Hao chuckled. 

“Wait, I need to put some on the back of your head.”, he exclaimed, bending to reach over Hao's head. 

He was so close. He could practically feel Hanbin's toned chest, most likely due to his impressive experience in dancing, grazing his shoulder whilst more hair clips were being put into place. For a second, Hao found it hard to breathe. His chest felt tight, and his hands started getting clammy. He bit his lip trying to ease his anxiety. 

“There you go. All done.”, Hanbin announced. 

Hao was seconds away from releasing the longest exhale in his life, when he found the latter inches away from his face. Hanbin was looking at him with such an emotion-filled expression. He felt his mouth part, ready to say something, whatever, but Hanbin's hushed tone stopped him in his tracks. 

“Hao Hao.” 

For the few seconds that followed, he was certain he blacked out. One minute, he was looking at Hanbin, eyes alert, the next he felt warm lips on his. Trying not to panic too much, he reluctantly circled his hands around the other man's neck. He pondered about the last time he kissed someone. It had been so long ago, he sincerely prayed that his skills weren’t lacking that much. Although, judging by the barely noticeable trembling of Hanbin's lips, he felt just as nervous. 

Feeling a little bit braver, Hao swiped his tongue against the other's lips. He noticed him exhale heavily, most likely due to nervousness, before softly pressing his heated hand on his Hao's cheek, finally granting him entry. 

He was addicted. He was addicted to the warmth Hanbin always provided him, kissing him only fulfilling that sense of comfort. He wanted more and more. He wanted the other to stay close to him forever until all he could feel was the blazing fire in his chest. He needed himself to be the reason for the crackling fire igniting between Hanbin's breasts. 

Hanbin softly whined in his mouth, spurring Hao on to greedily pull the male even closer to him. The latter, clearly just impatient as him, decided to take matters into his own hands, driving Hao into his lap. 

Still, it almost didn’t seem like it was enough. Maybe nothing could ever be enough. Perhaps nothing he could do would sufficiently show Hanbin how much he made him feel. 

“Hao where are we going with this?”, Hanbin asked, doubt laced in his voice. 

For once he was going to be brave. This time he was going to scream the truth if he had to. 

“I want you. I want to show you how much you mean to me. Will you let me do that?” 

Hanbin visibly gulped, “I have never-“ 

Hao’s eyes softened, “Neither have I. We can take our time. There is no reason to rush. And if you don’t want to, that’s okay as well. I just want to make you as happy as you make me.” 

Hanbin softly brought their foreheads together, hands reaching to gently cup his cheeks, “Your own happiness is what makes me the happiest.” 

Hao's lips jutted into a soft pout, eyes full of fondness and warmth turning to look at the man before him. He gently caught a strand of stray hair falling in front of Hanbin's face, pushing it behind his ear. 

“I am happy. I have you and that’s all I need.”, Hao sincerely confessed. 

Hanbin's eyes lit up in glee, genuine emotion dripping from them. Hao couldn’t tell if it was love yet. 

The male's tight grip on his hoodie snapped him out of his thoughts. The smile on Hanbin's face had been wiped off, his brown irises exposing all his deepest thoughts. 

‘I will love you.’, Hao thought to himself before Hanbin's lips engulfed his once again. 

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A/N:

Yes, I did say I would release this in the start of February. Did I intend to? Absolutely? Did I manage to? Clearly not. Also, how rude of me not to even greet the people that may be reading this. So, hello! For those who don't know I am always fashionably late at updating this story.

In all seriousness, I am very happy that I at least succeeded in eventually putting this out. My life has been in a bit of topsy-turvy state. I sincerely hope that anyone who reads this chapter loves it, especially since this is my favourite one of the ones I have written so far.

I will be going back to edit some of the previous chapters and making some minor changes, because I realized after 4 months of writing this story that I switch back and forth to present and past tenses quite a bit. Personally, I believe this confuses the narrative and makes the story seem more messy, sooooo...

I cannot promise when the next chapter will be out as 1. I am too bad at sticking to releasing new chapters on time and 2. I haven't even started chapter 4.

Frankly, and I don't mean to cause any concern, I don't even know how to proceed after this chapter. I know how I want the story to end, but I have no clue where to go with what happens in-between. Hopefully, I will figure this out shortly and the next chapter will not be released as late as July or anywhere near that date.

See you soon!

-Jina

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 12: Fresh Air: Mitsuhide and Katsu take their act on the road… hopefully they’ll survive the palanquin journey.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Professionalism warred with fear as Mitsuhide guided me to the street where the palanquin lurked. Yes, I’m contracted to behave in public, but I hadn’t thought to put “no small spaces,” into our agreement. Would it even be possible to control the panic and willingly climb into a box?

Mitsuhide slid open the door, but my feet did not want to move.  He stepped closer and spoke in a voice quiet enough to prevent the porters from hearing him. “Dear me, one would think that you’re afraid to being in such close quarters with me. Worried that you’ll be unable to resist me when we’re face to face?”

“That’s not it.” His teasing hardly made an impression at this point. My throat was already closing. Though I rarely told people about my phobia, Mitsuhide was minutes away from finding out the hard way. “It’s the box. I don’t enjoy being confined in this manner.”

Either he had no ability to conceptualize how frightened I was, or he figured he could talk me through it, because Mitsuhide simply picked my frozen body up and carried me inside.

“We do not have time to debate this.” He settled me firmly in front of him, and before I managed to utter a word of protest, the porters lifted the palanquin onto their shoulders. The sudden motion rocked me forward and I fell right into Mitsuhide. By the time I scrambled to a secure kneeling position on the floor cushion, we were already on our way to the Aguchi-jinja Shrine where the kaigoshu regularly met.

Quickly, I twisted my face to look through the window… only to realize it was covered by thick silk blinds. The little light that passed through only bathed the palanquin in a reddish glow.

Breathe.

Air.

I can do this.

I wasn’t alone, though I considered Mitsuhide’s company dubious at best.

Breathe.

I can do this.

Fresh air came in at the edges of the window. I could feel it. I was not alone. I was not locked in.

I gripped the side of the palanquin, trying to ground myself, trying to determine the boundary between myself and the walls.

“You were not being purposefully obstructive.” Mitsuhide’s dry tone pulled on my attention. “You truly do not like being enclosed.”

“What was your first clue?” Please don’t use this against me. I took a deep breath… and another. And a third.

“The fact that my wrist now bears indentations of your fingernails.” I hadn’t even realized I had grabbed him.  Mitsuhide pried my fingers off his arm, and transferred my grip to his hand. “Unless you are using this somewhat painful method to signify that you wished to hold my hand.”

“I was not.” That said, holding someone’s hand wasn’t completely unwelcome in this circumstance. His skin was cool and dry, his grip firm, and I felt more anchored to reality. I would have thanked him, except it was also his fault that I was stuck in here, and one good deed did not negate that.

“Perhaps, rather than fighting me on everything,” he tapped his finger on my forehead, “if you choose the most important battle, or if you can imagine such a thing, not fight with me at all, then I would realize when you have objections with merit.”

Oh sure, now he wants logic. “I don’t fight with you about everything.”

“Therein proving my point.” He reached across me to lift the shade that covered the window slats. “Does this help?”

“It does, somewhat.” I kept my eyes on the window, my breathing coming easier now, as the townhouse storefronts of the merchant district gave way to bigger manors with gardens and courtyards. The sun was setting and the sky had turned pale violet. I still didn’t like being in here, but seeing the outside world was enough to make it tolerable.

A breeze from the sea brushed across my face. The ocean-scented air was welcome, although probably it would be a bad idea to let it ruin the hairstyle that Sho had labored over most of the afternoon. With my free hand, I tentatively poked at one of the complicated knots. “It feels like she lacquered it.”

“Not a single hair is out of place. Rather it appears…” his voice trailed off, after taking on a considering tone. A dangerous tone. “It may be too perfect.”

“Was that not the impression you’ve created for your Kyubei character? That he very much takes stock in appearances?” So different from the real Kyubei that I again worried that his vassal would never be able to return to Sakai.

Mitsuhide tugged a piece of hair out of one of the knots, and it sprung free to curl under my ear.

“Hey! Why did you do that?” If Sho were around, then respect for age and authority or not, she’d probably kill him.

Or worse … she’d cry.

“The man I am portraying wants to possess pretty things, and show off that they are his, even as he mistreats his toys.” Mitsuhide freed another piece of hair, allowing it to twine through his fingers. “He would think nothing of arriving at this meeting having … played… with his concubine en route. He might even have marked her.”

He traced that strand of hair from where it lay against my neck, slowly trailing his finger down…

…along my throat…

… finally resting at the hollow where my neck met my shoulder. “Right there.”

Had I thought his hand was cool? Everywhere he had touched now smoldered with a warm steady glow, like a flame slowly working its way along the fuse of a rifle.

“Don’t even think about it.” Was I talking to him or to myself? Suddenly aware that I was practically in his lap, I rocked backward, pressing myself against the wall of the palanquin.  “Try it and I’ll cut your throat in your sleep.” I covered my neck with my hands.

“You wouldn’t find it painful. In fact, I believe the experience would be extremely pleasurable.” He leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “Peace, brat. I won’t mar that lovely skin… not tonight anyway.”

Not trusting him, I kept my hands where they were.

“Perhaps this instead.” He brushed his thumb across my lower lip, smearing the lip rouge that Sho had so carefully applied. His thumb was rough and calloused, though the touch was soft and gentle, and the confusing contrasts pushed my breath into my throat, where it hovered there, waiting...

I could not look away.

Then he rubbed that thumb over his own lips, transferring the rouge to his mouth, turning it into a slash of red.

I still could not look away, even when he flashed that teasing grin at me, acting as if he was privy to a secret knowledge that I did not share.

He looked good in make-up – belatedly I noticed he had outlined his eyes in kohl. In modern Japan, I imagined he could easily pass as a glam rocker.

“Ah. We are here.” He calmly… dispassionately slid open the door, winking at me before rearranging his face into the cruel Kyubei mask. “Head down. Stay quiet. After the meeting, the cowed Kaya will circulate and hope that her master doesn’t notice her. If I need you by my side to listen, I will come get you.”

He climbed out of the palanquin, then turned and offered me a hand.

With my nerves still rattling, I took it.

What had that been about? Was it really to costume ourselves for the roles we were about to play? Or had he been trying to take my mind off my fear?

I sneaked a look at his face. Those now too-red lips gave nothing away.

The meeting of the Kaigoshu was initially, at least in some ways, like nothing I had expected, partially because it seemed so wrong to conduct governing business in a shrine. But it was their usual meeting place. Aside from the location, it seemed to be like every other committee meeting ever. Countless topics and complaints were presented for debate, and nothing was ever solved. The thirty-six official members argued between themselves about so may petty issues:

Should taxes be collected on the same day every fourth week?

Were the merchants who lived closest to the moat more responsible for its upkeep?

Should the new foundry be built that close to the premises of a fabric store?

Even when Nobunaga’s name was brought up – a topic sure to interest Mitsuhide – it turned out to be a nothingburger, as the Kaigoshu members were convinced that Oda’s interest in trade would prevent him from interfering with the merchants of Sakai.

Yet.

He would eventually, but these men, and they were all men, didn’t have much imagination.

Once all the official business had been taken care of – or brought up, ignored, or dumped on someone drafted to solve it - it was time for non-member requests and a delegation of foreign merchants joined us.

With a shock, I saw the priest from the auction - he was acting as their translator. In all that had happened, I’d forgotten he existed. Hopefully, he had forgotten me as well, but in case he hadn’t, I edged behind Mitsuhide. While Katsu had the ability to become invisible… Kaya did not. Mitsuhide didn’t visibly acknowledge my reaction to the man, although he did discreetly pat my arm. I supposed that was all he could offer as reassurance, given that we were in public.

If the priest noticed us, he didn’t let on. Most likely he was being kept too busy translating for the Portuguese merchants, as they all started yelling at once. Eventually, one of the Kaigoshu held up his hand for silence, and pointed to the loudest merchant to go first.

The merchant, with the Priest translating accurately (although he was smart enough not to translate a couple of egregious breaches of etiquette) requested that his imported fabrics not be stored in the same warehouse as the spice merchant’s stock.

His request was shuttled off to two merchants who owned the dockside warehouse in question, in a rather ‘settle it yourselves’ solution. Another foreign merchant noted that there was a growing demand in the West for ‘oriental’ silverworks and wondered if he could be put in touch with local craftsmen. None of these matters seemed like they were related to our missing persons case, and I started to wonder that my entire masquerade would turn out to be a colossal waste of time.

After a parade of requests, the full gathering broke into smaller groups, to discuss specialized issues and projects. The priest accompanied the merchant who didn’t want his fabrics smelling like to spice to the previously mentioned ‘settle it yourselves’ meeting. Some of the other Nanban left the building to wander through the shrine’s grounds.

Mitsuhide nodded at a couple who were strolling toward the courtyard. “If you follow those two, I’ll circulate here amongst our countrymen.”

Fine by me – it would take me out of the vicinity of that priest.

While Mitsuhide approached Tadayo, the fabric merchant we had met last week, I went outside to the garden area full of smaller shrines, statuary, and sacred trees.

The Nanban merchants stopped at a statue portraying Raijin and Fujin, their conversation loud enough to be overheard. I walked past them, head down, hands neatly folded, then paused in front of a hokora, to stand in “prayer.”

At first, the merchants made fun of the sculpture, noting that they were ugly (pushing their luck, they were since they were insulting the Gods of lightning and wind – these were not beings that people who relied upon overseas shipping for profit could afford to anger) and speculating that even the uncultured English would not pay for the like. Upon noticing me, one of them said to the other, “that bit of exotic fluff though. We could command any price for merchandise like that.”

Ok. Yuck. But where? Who would they sell to?

Not betraying my interest in their conversation, I continued to stay as still as the statues lining the walkway. And while I could not be invisible dressed as Kaya, I could still be apparently oblivious and no threat to these men.

“I wonder if she know any tricks with toys.” The speaker continued along this vein, complaining about his unimaginative and pious wife.

All this was, of course, creepy, but it wasn’t helping me find Aki, Hideyoshi or Mai. Instead, I had to stand there and listen to them speculate on my bedroom skills. Both men would be happy to have a Japanese mistress, but it was clear they would rather pay a professional courtesan, rather than go to the trouble of acquiring a slave that they would be responsible for until resale. Of course, if one could be acquired and discarded easily, it would be another story.

Unfortunately, I was still stuck in this dead end, listening, for I suspected that if I turned to leave, the two of them might become more assertive if I were to pass within arms’ reach.

“Ah! Senhor Shojumaru!” One of the Nanban greeted the man, just as a third set of footsteps made his presence known. “We were admiring your country’s religious iconography. And the garden. So unusual. Such new and exciting flowers.”

Um. We were in a rock garden. But… details. Interestingly, they had addressed him in Portuguese, so apparently Shojumaru was fluent in that language.

Good to know.

There was the sound of a striking of flint, then a few moments later the smell of tobacco reached my nose. Shojumaru responded to their greeting in Portuguese - he knew these two men well enough to address them by name – Senhors de Sousa and Pegado.

“How is the latest shipment working out?” That was de Sousa again.

“We have no cause to be displeased.” Shojumaru took a long draw on his cigar as the three of them moved a little deeper into the courtyard. Luckily, they stopped before they got out of earshot.

“We have another ship arriving from Goa soon. Would you be able to guarantee safe passage for the same price?” De Sousa offered no additional details about what was on that ship, though Goa generally meant cotton and spice. Nothing illegal, although the safe passage did ping a question. How could Shojumaru guarantee that, why was he guaranteeing it to Nanban, whose ships those had to be, and safety from what?

I kept careful mental notes of all that. Hopefully, Mitsuhide was discovering additional pieces of the puzzle. So far, none of this seemed to be related to the slave trade, for that would be something that would be coming from here, not to.

It was only after I had almost given up the idea that I would hear something useful that Senhor Pegado asked about finding women to ship to Europe. It was a feel-things-out kind of question, tentatively phrased, and I don’t think they had any direct knowledge of Shojumaru’s involvement.

… and apparently he had no involvement. “I do not deal in human cargo. It is an insult to suggest that I would.”

The way the previously affable Shojumaru all but growled it had the other two backing off, although one of them offered a half-hearted apology. “Pardon, Senor. We had heard that you might be amenable to any type of exports or imports, but clearly our information was incorrect.” Then both men decided they’d had enough of the night air and scuttled away.

“Pleasure doing business with ye,” he muttered at their retreating backs, and once again his voice echoed across my consciousness.

Pleasure doing business with ye. Why did those words-

Crunch.

That night air that sent the Portuguese back to the shrine and a chill down my back also carried the sound of more footsteps, and the rustling of heavy fabric… fabric too heavy to belong to any of the Japanese merchants.

It was the sound of a priest’s robes brushing along the leaf-strewn walkway.

There had only been one priest in tonight’s delegation and I absolutely did not want to encounter him in this dimly lit courtyard.

Cursing my light colored kimono, I scooted off the path, as quickly and silently as possible, doubling around brush until I slipped behind an ornamental shrub thick enough to hide me from view. I dropped to my knees, biting my lip to avoid cursing when I banged my kneecap on a large … rock?

Carefully feeling around the dimensions of the rock, revealed it to be a small statue… of Jizo, if I were to guess by touch and size. Jizo was a Buddhist diety, technically out of place at this Shinto shrine, which was probably why it had been half-hidden in the shrubbery. Many people however worshipped Buddhist and Shinto Gods indiscriminately, and to be honest, at the moment, I could use a little protection from this little guardian of children and travelers.

With his cassock ominously whooshing along the ground, the Priest approached… then halted directly in front of the bush.

Jizo… a little more help here, please?

Could he see me? Smell me? Or sense me?

Nothing happened.

I counted off seconds in my head, and when I reached sixty, I risked peering through the leaves – the man wasn’t even looking in my direction. No, he was watching Shojumaru, who continued to smoke his cigar. A tiny glow of orange illuminated his face, which had been wiped of that ingratiating smile.

And yet another set of footsteps. At this point, there were probably more people out here on the grounds than there were inside the main shrine. “Master Shojumaru.”

That… was Mitsuhide’s voice. In front of me, the Priest’s posture stiffened. Alerted.

In a moment, Mitsuhide came into view. When he reached Shojumaru he bowed – just a slight shifting of his upper body that indicated he believed Shojumaru was in a lower caste.

What had appeared to be a calculated insult rolled right past Shojumaru. He couldn’t have missed it, so either he didn’t care, or was saving up for a later revenge. I was more curious to discover why Mitsuhide purposely tried to insult him.

“Master Kyubei.” A much deeper bow, flattering. I felt like I was watching a play – or I did until the priest shifted position and blocked my view. “Did you find the meeting useful?”

“It appeared to be similar to the petty maneuverings of a father who has yet to realize his child has surpassed him.” Mitsuhide more than likely grimaced at that, but it was too dark from where I was hiding to see his expression. “Ruling by committee would be useless in the face of a real threat. When attacked, one must act, not run back and meet to decide what to do. Surely you must agree, for you don’t appear to be a member of the Kaigoshu. Or… have you not been asked?”

“I have no role in the Kaigoshu due only to time and other responsibilities. I travel frequently.” Shojumaru gestured broadly with the hand holding the cigar. Even tonight he wore gloves, though it wasn’t nearly cold enough to require them.

“My mistake. Ah well. These petty officials can enjoy their posturing while it lasts. I’ll take care of my own interests with or without them.” All was quiet a moment, aside from the rustle of wind that brought the scent of tobacco and incense and body-odor d’priest to my nose. “That interest, of course, includes my latest toy. I was told she had wandered out here – did you perhaps see where she went? She’s new and has yet to learn that her place is at my shoulder.”

It was just acting, but I still felt gross. Maybe because I had just been treated like an exotic object by the Nanban merchants. Maybe it was because I was less than half a meter away from a man who had tried to buy me. But since Mitsuhide was well aware that I was out here somewhere, I figured he was testing Shojumaru, giving him a chance to pick a side of what might be considered a moral issue.

“The girl? I noticed her praying earlier.” He had?!  “But I don’t know where she is now.”

Once again, the Priest shifted position. But if I had any hope that he would be leaving that wish went unanswered.

Jizo… please?

The cassock rustled again, I could see the man fumbling at his waist.

Please don’t pee.

Especially not on me.

The priest did not take out the item I had been worried about. If only! Instead, what he held in his hand, its gold handle glinting faintly in the lantern light, was a wheellock pistol. Calmly, with enough familiarity to assure me that the man was used to, and unafraid of using, the weapon, he pointed it at Mitsuhide.

@bestbryn @lyds323 @selenacosmic @lorei-writes @tele86 @akitsuneswife

[keicordelle]

The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Identifying Features

"Oh, Alphinaud, I'm glad you're back already. Tataru asked me to give you this scarf. She said she knitted it herself, and that it should 'help to fend off the Coerthan cold better than a necktie'."

The boy blinked up at him. "Um, Master Dotha- Keshet, I'm Honoroit. I'm afraid Alphinaud is still out at the moment."

Keshet let out a rough sigh that was almost a groan, peering down at the small Elezen. Yes, the hair was brown, not white, and shorter than Alphinaud kept his, now that he looked. "Sorry," he grumbled, dragging a hand harshly through his hair.

The better part of a year already he'd been in Eorzea, and still he couldn't tell the differing members of their races apart. At least he'd finally gotten the hang of identifying a person's race before addressing them - there had been more than a few awkward moments at the Waking Sands before he'd learned to look to the ears first, where he'd mixed up Minfilia and Y'shtola, or worse, Thancred and Y'shtola (who had not taken well to that particular mistake, and had glared daggers at him and Thancred both as the rogue laughed so hard he fell off the crate he'd been seated on). Fortunately, the ears tended to give away a person's race, at the very least, though the distinction between Hyur and Roagadyn still escaped him. Within the Scions, at least, that had cut down on the number of mix-ups fairly significantly; it was only Minfilia and Yda, and Tataru and Papalymo who took the brunt of what they named his "face blindness" from there on out.

The problem with Ishgard, of course, was that the entire city state was filled with Elezen, and every damned one of them looked the same to Keshet. How was he supposed to tell them apart when they didn't have horns or scales? He couldn't just glance at their face and go "Oh yeah, scales across the nose and brow, flared horns pointing down, ah, it's Horkudagh." He was sure there were identifying features he was meant to be looking for, but he wasn't entirely certain what they were. Hair was the only one he could make use of, once he remembered to look for it at all, but people could change the style, the cut, even the color of their hair as much as they wanted, so it wasn't really a permanent fixture of identification like horns and scales were. And Nhaama preserve him from the number of people who had the same hair color, or worse, who modelled their own appearances off someone else's. And as soon as family resemblances entered the picture, all bets were off. Within the Fortemps household alone, he regularly mixed up Emmanellain, Artoirel, and Edmont. Haurchefant at least stood out around here, with his brightly colored hair and unwavering optimism, but if he ever dyed his hair, Keshet would be twice damned.

The only non-Au Ra he'd never struggled with were Urianger and Alphinaud, and he guessed the latter was now out the window. The tattoo on Urianger's cheek served just as well as a pattern of scales over his face, and so long as he maintained his habit of covering only the top half of his features, Keshet was unlikely to mistake him. But it had been Alphinaud's small stature that had preserved him from Keshet's fumbling, since there were few enough Elezen of a height with him - except for Honoroit, he now realized. Really, it was a small miracle he hadn't mixed them up until now.

"It's alright, Master Keshet. I'm sure that once you've had more practice, you won't have so much trouble recognizing people," Honoroit consoled him. Keshet sure hoped he was right, because if he had to listen to one more offended litany for having mistaken Emmanellain for the House Fortemps manservant, he was liable to launch himself off the edge of the city.

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

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[whisperstemptations]

muse — FAYE BROOKES. 30s. bisexual. journalist / aspiring publisher. karen gillan fc. plot — it’s the holidays and faye has no choice but to visit her family back in glasgow, scotland for the holidays. her mother, ever the church go'er has invited the new young priest for the first family dinner, years spent in catholic school had taught faye to not engage with men of the cloth, but your muse is proving to be quite…different. smut and angst abound, muse can be scottish, can be not. inspo.

It was her childhood bedroom, in the home she grew up, the city she was born into, and she felt like she was a teenager again, smoking out the window so the smell wouldn’t linger in the room and her mother would have something to say about it. Was it ridiculous that a grown woman sought to avoid a lecture from her mother? Absolutely. Then again, being back made her feel like a teenager in all sense of the word. Inhaling deep, it gave a bit of warmth in the crisp Scotland air as she held the smoke and then exhaled, finding her nerves relaxing at least a bit after what was supposed to be a calm, happy family dinner. But, Sheila Brookes was a woman that was almost as inquisitive as her journalist daughter, except her questions were more invasive. Not that she would ask Faye about her work — w e l l, not entirely true. She asked one question and then followed up about any romantic prospects the redhead had. Which was ridiculous, in her mind, her love life certainly active but not at all lasting. Certainly not something she could openly talk to her mother about, at any rate. Perhaps she would tell her uncle about her latest exploits when she was set to meet up at his pub and after a few drinks, but certainly not her mother, and most definitely not at the dinner table with their guest. Sprung last minute on Faye, dressed in casual attire that for a panicked moment, Faye worried this was to be a blind date or set up concocted by her mother. But oh no, it was much worse. Though dressed casual, he was, in fact, the new priest that came into the city and it took all of Faye to not laugh outright when it was explained. Of course her mother would invite a priest the night Faye flew back home! She was surprised Sheila didn’t suggest a baptism renewal or some other god awful thing right there at dinner, to wash away the sin from Faye’s body. For fuck’s sake, she thought, going for another drag, at least thankful it wasn’t her ex that came to supper, small favors and all that —

A knock on the door and a second later it opened. A bit rude, she thought, not waiting for an answer, turning her head to see the holy vessel themselves at her doorway. She let out a soft huff, taking a moment to take yet another drag as she looked at them, “You won’t tell me ma, would you, Father? I dunno if smokin’ in my mother’s house is a sin per say, though I’m sure in her book, not so much yours.” She couldn’t help the snark out of her voice, she never much done well with his type, the holy type, so quick to judge and condemn her. Tapping her cigarette at the ash tray she smuggled in, she let out a sigh, “If your lookin’ for the toilet, it’s the other end of the hallway, unless you want a smoke yourself. I think you lot can do that… Not rightly sure.”

[scrimethewriter]

One Night At A Motel (EXAMPLE OF NSFW WRITING)

 - - Nate  POV - - 

Moonlit puddles splashed as I trudged through the rain, without a destination in mind, just to get away. If I fled Bayview, the police would think I was running away from justice, and therefore be guilty.

Behind me, a battered pickup truck drove down the street, its headlights blinding him as it sped by, splashing water on me as it lurched into a puddle.

I cursed under my breath. Great, I thought to myself. Now I’m even more wet. 

Up ahead, the truck stopped and was reversing to crawl back to me. As the driver rolled down the window to talk to me, I recognized who it was.

“Need a ride?,” Cooper called out to me.

“No thanks, I’m good,” I replied, not looking at him.

“You could catch a cold in this rain. Sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

“I… I can’t go home.” I thought of my note proclaiming my admission of so-called guilt.

Cooper nodded in understanding. “Ah. Well, get in, I’ll take you to a hotel. I actually am going to one right now.”

I stood my ground, unsure what to do.

He sighed. “Get in”.

It was a crappy hotel. It wasn’t even that much of a hotel. It was more of an abandoned motel type. I was surprised that there even was a single employee.

Cooper checked in, and the front desk attendant gave him a rusty key on a chain.

“Room 201,” he read aloud.

“Second floor. Luxurious,” I remarked.

Cooper laughed. I blushed.

We climbed the staircase, and opened the hotel door.

“Crap,” I said.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s only one bed.”

“Oh. You sure there's no pull out couch or anything?”

“The only thing in this room is a bed. If there was a couch it would be obvious.”

Cooper shrugged. “Well, I don’t mind sharing. As long as you don’t take the entire blanket.”

I forced out a laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Cooper put his duffel bag on the bed, and turned to me.

“You don’t have any other clothes?”

“Uhh… no.”

Cooper sighed. He dug through his bag and grabbed a shirt and shorts and threw them at me. “Here. put this on”.

I grabbed the clothes off the floor and held them up. “They look a bit small…”

“Well, that’s the only size I have, and you’re not getting into the bed with wet jeans. I’m gonna be in the bathroom.” Cooper said over his shoulder as he walked to the small bathroom.

 - - Cooper POV - - 

I flushed the toilet and rinsed my hands under the sink. I open the door and I pause. 

Standing right in front of me, with a shirt covering his eyes and wet, white underwear, is Nate.

“U-Uh…” I stammer.

Nate pulls the shirt down and tries to cover his near-seethrough underwear with both hands. Except the fact that I’ve already seen it. Damn, I think. He’s biiiigggg. His bulge was at least six inches, and that’s when his… thing is soft. My face turns red as I think about it, and I start to feel myself get a bit hard. DAMN IT.

“Uh- I’m gonna put on the shorts…” Nate nervously says. He takes off his hands, exposing his dick again, to pull up the tight shorts. 

As they glide up his legs, they get stuck under his bulge, and it pushes up his dick. Let’s just say I saw quite a bit of the shaft come out.

Nate’s face burns and he reaches down and shoves his boy bits back into his underwear.

I look down and step out of the way so he can get into the bathroom. He hurries into it and shuts the door, his face bright red.

I’m watching the TV when Nate comes out. He’s wearing the robe that came with the hotel bathroom, and he hesitates before taking it off.

“Don’t make fun of me, okay?” he says to me.

“Why would I make fun of you…?” 

Nate unties the robe and lets it fall to the ground. The white nylon shirt hugs his body, leaving the outline of his chest, his nipples, his abs, his biceps, and I blink before moving my eyes downwards. He’s not wearing any shorts. He’s just wearing his transparent underwear.

“The shorts didn’t fit me…” he explains.

His bulge juts out like a sore thumb, and I can see the shape of his… part. His round ass sticks out on the other side, and I feel myself starting to get hard.

Nate coughs. My eyes dart from his sculpted body and look at his face, desperate to conceal the redness spreading across my face.

“So, uh, what time is it?”

I check my watch. “Around midnight.”

His eyes widen. “I have to leave pretty early in the morning, so is it alright if I go to bed now?”

“Sure, that’s fine. I’ll probably join you soon.” 

Nate glances at me. “Coolio,” he says, and he walks to the bed. My eyes follow him, but more importantly, his ass.

 - - Nate  POV - - 

Oh.

My.

Fucking.

God.

I just made a complete fool of myself in front of Cooper. He’s acting like it’s not that big of a deal, but then again, he’s not the one who has the skintight, see-through underwear that flashed his dick.

God.

As I walk down to the bed, I feel Cooper’s eyes on me. My face burns. I lift open the covers of the twin-sized bed and sit down. Cooper jerks his head away to act like he wasn’t watching me, but he’s not fooling anyone.

“Hey, Cooper. If you want to look at me, go ahead,” I call out to him.

Cooper faces me and he starts blushing as he looks down. “Sorry, Nate,” he mutters.

I get up and walk to a spot in front of him.

“No, go look.”

He shakes his head.

I move directly in front of his chair. I grab his hair and pull it upwards.

“Ow, that hurt-” Cooper starts to say. He stops midword and stares ahead.

Fucking shit. I forgot my underwear is see-through. And now my dick is right in front of his face.

I sigh. “If you want to look, then here.”

I slowly spin, giving him an angle of my entire body.

Cooper shifts uncomfortably, and I see a bulge forming in his sweatpants.

“You saw me practically naked, so now it’s your turn.”

He still gets redder.

Cooper stands up and takes off his sweatshirt, showing a crumpled Nirvana t-shirt. He drops his sweatpants to reveal a jockstrap with a massive bulge in the crotch area.

I lift up my skin-tight shirt and toss it behind me. “Usually I sleep naked. But that would be a bit indecent.”

We’re facing off for a few seconds before Cooper hesitantly takes off his shirt, revealing abs and perfect muscles.

Damn.

“Now let’s top it all off.” I grab the sides of my underwear.

Cooper sharply inhales.

I pause. “Turn around, pervert.”

Cooper spins quickly, and I see his entire ass from the massive hole in the back of his jockstrap.

I drop my underwear, and grab it with my hand. 

“Turn around.”

 - - Cooper POV - - 

He saw my ass. The entire thing. As well as the huge boner I have. Can this get any more embarrassing?

“Turn around,” I hear Nate say, and I slowly turn.

Nate. Is. Completely. Naked.

I am speechless.

I was right, though. He is fucking huge. 

“Well, it’s your turn now,” he smirks at me. “If you get to see my dick, show me yours. I promise I won’t make it weird.”

“No no no no no.”

“Too late…”

“Aw, c’mon. Yo-”

“Take off your jockstrap.”

“I-”

“I know you have a boner. I won’t laugh about it.”

“I- I won’t tell anyone about your… thing.”

“What thing? Oh, you mean my dick? Here, take a closer look at it.”

Nate steps forward, so his dick is almost touching me. I see it start to stiffen a bit. Nate gently grabs my waist, and I shiver.

A naked, hot, hung dude is holding me. Oh my god.

His hands move downwards, and he grabs the straps of my underwear.

I shakily inhale, and he pulls it down.

“There. Now we’re even,” Nate says, staring into my eyes.

“Well, this is… uncomfortable,” I said.

“It’s only uncomfortable if you make it.”

“Do you want to make it uncomfortable?”

Nate smirks. “Only if you do.”

I smile. “Oh, I do.”

“Get in the bed, then.”

 - - Nate  POV - - 

What persuaded me to do that? I’m not gay or anything. Or am I? No. I dated Bronwym, and I loved her. So I’m not gay. I could be bi?

Whatever. I shake my head clear of thoughts, and Cooper snuggles up against me. Even with the blankets on, it’s still freezing. As if he reads my mind, Cooper starts talking.

“Why is it so goddamn cold in here? They could have at least put a heater here,” he chatters.

“Who needs a heater when we have each other?”

I can make out Cooper’s smile in the dim lighting, and I feel his cold body rub against mine in the bed.

He leans into my ear. “Let’s do this.”

Cooper kicks off the blankets, and gets up on his knees. I can see the silhouette of his boy bits hanging down, and his ass casts a shadow across my chest. He moves one leg over me to get into a straddling position, and positions himself directly over my crotch.

 - - Cooper POV - - 

I knew he was big, but damn, it feels so much bigger when it’s inside of you. Nate’s hands hold onto my hips, and they guide me up and down on his huge, rock-hard dick. A shaky moan escapes my mouth, and Nate starts to slow down.

“N-no… k-keep g-g-going,” I manage to say as my muscles spasm.

Instead of responding, Nate flips me upside down, and pushes my face into his pillow, leaving my ass sticking out like a mountain peak. He gets on his knees behind me, and thrusts his cock into me.

I moan helplessly into his pillow, and the smell of his musk fills my head, causing my head to spin.

I jerk my head out from the cushion. “F-Faster! G-Go faster!,” I practically scream.

“I- I c-can’t~” Nate’s protests are cut off by the feeling of a warm liquid squirting, filling my insides. He pants as I lay down recovering, cum flowing freely out of my ass.

I try to roll over, but Nate holds me down as even more of his cream spurts out of his dick and deep into my body.

“We’re not over yet.”

 - - Nate  POV - - 

I guide my throbbing dick back into his asshole, and pound the cum back into him. With each thrust of my waist, Cooper moans louder and louder. A second spurt of cum shoots out of my cock and deep inside of him, and I pull out my dripping dick.

I grab Coop’s waist and I swing him upside down. On his stomach, a stream of white semen stands out from his dark brown skin, and his dick throbs with each break. 

I grab the front of his hair and jerk him forwards to a kneeling position.

“You made me make a mess, so now you have to clean it up,” I commanded him.

Cooper looks up at me with big brown eyes, and he moves in. He starts by gently licking up the stray cum from my abs, legs, and balls.

Cooper places his round, wet mouth onto the tip of my huge cock. Suddenly, I shove the back of his head, and my meat goes deep into his throat. Back and forth, I move his head until I finally cum once more, this time in his other end.

He pushes away, gasping for air, and I see fresh cum on his hand.

“Ugh, you were jerking off that entire time?,” I complained.

“Yeah, do you expect me to just want to get fucked by you?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Good point.”

“Anyway, let’s go to bed.”

“Uh, Nate, we have, uh, white stuff all over us.”

I laugh. “No, it’s actually only on you. You cleaned me up pretty well.”

Cooper drops his mouth. “So you’re not going to suck me off?”

I laugh harder this time. “What do you think I am, a bottom? No. I fuck and get sucked. I don’t suck and get fucked. So get in bed, or I’ll make you suck me again.”

Coop groans and sits down in between my legs. “Fine. But don’t expect to be so clean when you wake up.”

I lay down on my stomach with my legs spread around him, and I go to sleep with Cooper railing me senseless.

[purplemoonabove]

Art-inspired Fanfic, No. 2

I’m a writer. An artist’s work is my inspiration on how I picture the scene, only in my head.

Next up - @pinkpiggy93

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“We have word of an act of blasphemy upon this region. Very simple mission - smite the demon from further actions, and all will be done. No problems here, right?”

“No, sir. Not a problem at all.”

Aziraphale was used to such a mission. It wasn’t common, but it wasn’t rare for him to deal with. He preferably would deal with miracles and have himself gaining a treat or a new book to be fond. Each century has their own treats of creativity, and Aziraphale soaked it in as much as skin took in the sunshine. This was no different; word has spread across this specific area about a “deity that can work miracles if given a special gift”. The last he can recall was of that time with the Golden Cow, which he found most offensive to both Moses and Her—after everything, they didn’t have the patience for his return with the Ten Commandments? Such rudeness, and with an inanimate object at that!

Shaking off the past stress, Aziraphale adjust his cloak of dulled beige with a hood covering most of his blond bundle. In the shadows he can be well hidden, but only when not seen longer than a few seconds. He wasn’t flashing but was not one to blend unless in complete darkness. Except in this area.

It was very simple, as well was smart. No one would have even noticed—which, obviously, was the point, hence why Aziraphale’s information on the location was well given as he, too, would have not noticed. Such a building was blended with the others, all in disarray for years of lacking care and respect from the humans that lived in them before. Windows were either broken or curtained by the thickest of dust. Paint chipped off the structure. Structure chipped off the foundation, leaving open spots above and collective rumble below. The dirt road was clear, an oddity in comparison but made it less difficult to climb and walk around broken items. During his walk, a dimmed darkness with a full moon above was his only view of light; entering an alley led to a cover from it, increasing the dark to almost blind him.

Adjustment was simple, his sight catching his surroundings in seconds. The growing mold on the stone walls. The damp area nearby at his left. The wooden board feet above his head, acting as the cover between one window and the next. And lastly, right before him, the sealed touch of a wooden door blending into the side wall. And below it, at the small horizontal gap all doors bear, was a hint of a yellow glow.

An act of blasphemy done in secret, Aziraphale recalled. Straightened up his cloak, he walked towards but made no move to enter. Only a readjustment to press his ear against the shivering cold wood.

“What is it that you desssire?”

Two causes on why his heart suddenly raced. One, the voice was loud, and powerful as a child’s scream in an endless cave. The building was about four stories, and could hold about two apartment rooms side-to-side on each floor. Such a voice can be possible if all the rooms were destroyed, no structure to have them rooms anymore and become one massive rectangular space with tons of ceiling height. A deity with miracles can only do who knows what to make the abandoned building a bearable foundation.

Two, it was Crowley.

No matter how masked that voice can be, he knew such a hiss anywhere.

Another voice was speaking, but he couldn’t verify the words only the emotions – begs, pleads, acts of desperation under the presence of a human-formed demon acting like a miracle-working god. His eyebrows furrowed. What the Hell? What kind of mission was this for him to do so? He was a demon, his job was of temptations—and he should know, the Arrangement had him do plenty of them! What was so tempting of this?

“Give me your ring.”

He blinked. ‘A ring? He wants the person’s ring? For what—Oh, wait. The offering… Well, that is most disrespectful!’ He chided the demon in his head. Temptation or not, Crowley was not one to take someone items, especially one that may be a wedding ring or some sort. For crying out loud, the demon was worried for children when the flood happened!

How he managed to get most of them on the ark under his nose was still beyond him. Wasn’t against it, but still.

‘But why…?’ His thoughts silenced when a soft gasp was done, then Crowley continued in that enchanted voice.

“You will return home, and when in bed, you will place the ring upon your wife’s finger. By morning, the fatal illness will come to an end. Your wife will live.”

A warmth came and grew in Aziraphale’s heart. Speechless already, his hand still chose to cover over his lips. Tears began to spew from his eyes.

This wasn’t a temptation.

This wasn’t even a mission.

Crowley…

Stepping away from the door to the other side of the wall, he can still hear the loud and praising cries of the human - a husband, in mourning for his wife’s health – before the cries got closer to the door. Quick to hide, even though able to go invisible, was his thought as light spurred from the open door and in his hidden location gave Aziraphale the viewing of tearful gratitude upon the dark gray-bearded, brown face. His right hand clutched desperately at his chest when the door closed behind.

“Thank you,” he whispered to the sky, and Aziraphale casted a miracle to the man.

He deserved it. His wife deserved it. And if have children, whether young or old to have their own families, they deserved it.

Crowley…

Taking a shaken breath through his proud smile, his eyes closed to hide back the tears, his right hand was raised.

Snap!

The outside cold was replaced by candles’ warmth. Aziraphale opened his eyes.

“Oh, Crowley!” He praised. “That was—”

His brain finally caught up. Eyes widened to bulge out and his smile faded.

The joy and happiness for the man was immediately swapped. By shock. By amazement. By complete awe.

“Angel?!”

This… was not what he’d expected.

Now, to be fair, Aziraphale was familiar with many deceptions against the Almighty One. Blasphemy. The praise upon inanimate objects. Humans acting as though they were the “closest connection” to Her. Even those who trick others claiming that ‘She made them do it’—those selfish animals.

But this was not the case.

This wasn’t even a plan he was accustomed in knowing.

Crowley truly knew how to dress. He always did, adjusting to the human crowds for temptations but also for secretive hides of his physical non-human form such as his eyes. Acting as though they were from a birth defect was a great excuse, people giving no more than a second glance before realizing. But as of now, Crowley wasn’t blending with the crowd. He didn’t look close to blending with his lot! If anything, it only reminded Aziraphale of that Golden Cow—only more attracting than ridiculed.

Standing away from a love seat of glittering and silk fabric in resting, Crowley too was in flowing layered fabric but in a dark reddish purple by the lights. Golds in long chains rested at his neck to his waist, inches longer than the waves of red that were grown from his scalp. His eyes, however, really took the cake—No snake eyes, just two sets of miniature suns of matching candle glows.

Crowley truly looked as a deity. But currently bore the expression of a deer caught with lights upon them.

“What in Satan’s name are you doing here?!” He hissed. The enchanted dominating voice was gone, reverting to the original and clear hissing of annoyance that made Crowley ‘Crowley’.

Aziraphale, however, had lips agape but only breath (if there’s any) escaped.

The annoyance left with a pout and furrowed eyebrows. “Angel?” He went down two flights of stairs, blinking twice and the glow left his eyes. Snake eyes analyzed the frozen angel. Then behind him in search before returning. One eyebrow was now raised.

“Angel?”

Not a miracle in work, Crowley snapped his fingers—once, twice, three times.

Aziraphale was a statue in awe.

“Angel!”

“Ahh! Yes!” Eye contact was broken. The unfroze blond angel in a human corporation looked about the area. He was right, the building was miracled to remove all the stories of housing. In replacement was of a grounding of thick pillows and carpeting to go with the love chair, along with shelves and shelves of candles that needed an ever-extending ladder to climb and lit if weren’t done by the demon.

“Yes! Uh, this, this place is quite remarkable, Crowley,” Aziraphale spoke, looking about the interior work. “Quite charming. And completely understandable on what you’re doing. Um, what is it that you’re—”

He shouldn’t have turn back around.

This only increased Crowley’s smirk.

“Like what you sssee?”

The enchanted voice was low, and yet the echo effect rested in his ears. The glow was back in his eyes as he laid relaxed on the lounge chair, one foot on the seat to have the fabric pushed back to his center. A serpent’s forked tongue came and left as a tease.

“Something that you desssire?”

Aziraphale felt hot at his cheeks, and it wasn’t by the candles or the cloak.

“Ooh~” A strand of hair resting at his chest had its end twirled by his index finger. “Seems like I’m right.”

“You are most certainly wrong!” Aziraphale blurted, trying to get some grounding over what actually was the most attractive wear Crowley has ever worn and pulled off. “What the Hell are you doing anyway?!”

Crowley’s smirk rarely faded. “Just doing a little… ‘free will’.”

Aziraphale stared in disapproval. Using Her gift as an excuse. Such rudeness.

“Well, your ‘actions’ are under Heaven’s disapproval.”

“Took them long enough to realize it, too. Although, I am a little surprise that they sent you here to come and ‘smite me down’.”

Aziraphale straightened and crossed his arms. “And what, pray tell, is so surprising about that?” He urged with a pointed look.

The glow faded again. Mischief from his eyes matched his smirk, then gaze over to the chain on his necklaces. “No reason” was the answer.

“Well, there must be a reason,” he pushed.

He purged his lips with a head shake. “Nope.”

Aziraphale sighed in annoyance, his arms dropping. “Crowley, you are being so…”

Crowley looked over, his eyebrow raising in expectation.

“Irritable.”

Crowley snorted. Aziraphale glared.

“What’s so irritable about a demon doing his job?” He teased.

“This—This is not—I’m fully aware of your actions to that man – those kind actions!” Aziraphale gave himself internal praise on how the demon’s face scrunched in annoyance. “But I honestly doubt that this is some sort of a temptation.”

“How can you be so sure?” Crowley poked. “You’re here, aren’t ya?”

“Y… Yes, but—”

“And it’s technically having humans disregard Her name for my miracles, no?”

“Well, yes but—”

“So how is this not an act of temptation–” He got up from the chair, walking with that sway in his steps. “–if they sent you to stop me? Especially when it’s so ironic?”

Aziraphale’s mouth gapped like a fish for a few times before recalling the last statement. “Ironic?” He questioned.

“Yeah. You’re usually the Angel that comes after me instead of any other. Ever since the Garden.”

Aziraphale’s eyes darted to the side in thought. That’s true.

“All the more reason I’m glad it was done.”

He blinked and returned to him. Confusion laid in his blue eyes. “What do you mean?”

The smirk softened to a smile, then his arms suddenly wrapped around his neck. Distance shorted from a feet of body separation to a few inches from noses in contact.

Blue eyes widened at the calm and teasing snake gold. And yet, his low voice didn’t bore the equal tease as the words brushed at his lips.

“I desired to see you again. And they made it happen.”

The warmth came back in his heart again, pounding to escalate as fingers removed the hood and roamed through his hair. Crowley was a demon, but he wasn’t as vile as other demons. He can be truthful all the time, especially when blunt and rude. This was very rare for him to be vulnerable and soft towards him.

Relaxing under his sight, his own hands hovered at the hips. Then trailed arms to wrap at the waist. Crowley’s eyes blinked in surprise, lasting seconds longer as Aziraphale gave a small smile.

“That’s good to hear. I don’t have to express my desire anymore.”

It’s been years since their last speaking of The Arrangement, and even though it wasn’t a century long Crowley’s company was most appreciated at a certain time of his life.

When Crowley scoffed softly before leaning into a hug, their chins resting on each other’s shoulders, the warmth began to radiate from his body. Hopefully not to hurt the demon. He finally got to see him again. God forbid he discorporate now.

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And God most definitely will NOT let that happen! 😂

Gonna keep it short: Love you, love your art style and comic, love your work on long-haired Crowley (seeing David Tennant with long hair has done things to me; your art style made it worse and I don’t give a damn). Keep this gift of yours going. Forevermore does it give a smile to my face!

😍😊❤️

Hi guys long time no see! I’m sorry I’ve been of the radar for quite a long time, Tet is over and it’s only a week till my school work is over and I can get back to drawing some more ^^ For those who are waiting for their commissions from me, it’s for the same reason that I haven’t been able to get back to you. I’m posting this work here so you guys know I’m still alive 😂

For those who have only just followed recently this design was for a comic I did of Good Omen alternative universe….2 years ago? I still love the design very much i did an illustration for Crowley (and just forgot about it afterwards 😂)

I hope you guys enjoy this piece. If you scroll down waaaayyy further on my main insta page you’ll find the original post with the design ^^

Ps: the tags are for the algorithm, I’ve been away for so long I’m not even sure it’s gonna help 😂😂😂