#they just take it and snatch the rug right out from under him

[silversodas]

I Think There Are Actual Hints That Vox and Alastor Work Really Well Together or More Like They Have All They Need to Work Together

So we know that Vox and Alastor like to define each other by how their preferred medium is better, but what’s interesting is that’s just how they define each other, Alastor being an old fashioned radio and Vox being a sell out TV, but that’s not what they are, what they are is Audio and Video. We even see when one might have done better with the others help, like Alastor’s commercial that he did for the hotel

His Audio was fine enough, got your attention, but holy shit, the video was awkward at best, it makes you uncomfortable watching it. And it makes it even more awkward when you can tell Alastor is overcompensating with his voice. But what he did know was a little impressive, some people pointed out that he probably did the editing himself. I believe that these out of place skills such as summoning tech and knowing how it works are remnants of Vox. Just like How Vox is always Smiling when he needs to take control of a situation is remnants of Alastor

They probably learned these things from each other. As a matter of fact the way Alastor kept jumping from scene to scene in the commercial was similar to how Vox kept jumping from visual to visual in the beginning of stayed gone, going vary fast to keep attention. Speaking of which

Stayed Gone is an example where Vox is really strong in visuals, buuuuut probably needed a little help audio wise

Alastor knows how to lure you in with what you hear, Vox pulls you in with what you see, and yeah he snatches your attention right away and (like I said earlier) jumps from visual to visual and you can’t help but be transfixed

Buuuuutt that’s Vox’s problem, they are just watching, his audience can’t even grasp what the fuck he is trying to say because Vox is overcompensating with visuals, and it’s how Alastor verbally slaughtered him in stayed gone. Alastor is so charismatic and experienced with capturing an audience with his voice alone that Vox immediately loses his.

Because, just like how Audio can’t do all the work, neither can video, and one can’t overcompensate for the other, they need to flow together

But I have noticed this a while back, what made me think that they probably work really well together, or rather they have all they need to work together, is what @cringefailvox said about the different outfits that characters like Vox and Alastor wear during songs that have symbolism to it

Like how Vox always dresses as roles that are the leader or face of an organization Bishop/TV Chef/Captain. Roles that have power, but are at the whims of many people and need the approval of said people to stay in power

While Alastor is dressed in more subservient roles Nun/Busboy, roles that are essential to run the organization but often go unnoticed, but can pull the rug out from under said organization if they decide to leave. In other words, it might be symbolic that he is a support (until he decides to take it away)

So Vox being the front runner and presenter basically being everything you see (Which is ironic because Vox means The Voice) and Alastor providing support and stability (he honestly doesn’t do to bad with support, stability is up for debate though) is another way they, in theory, could make a good team.

But the team up would work just like audio and video unfortunately, video is not the most important part, but it’s the part that gets the most credit. while audio emphasis and supports video, it’s part goes unnoticed until it’s not there. And Alastor’s ego has an ass so fat it’s aw inspiring that he can fit it through the door, so that may have been ONE of the reasons he said no to joining Vox (not saying it’s the only reason or even main one)

Vox may even see the potential for exactly what their partnership could be and it’s a reason why he took it so personally when Alastor shot him down

And it’s just so interesting that Vox and Alastor act like forces that should be pitted against each other but their capabilities show that they would go together like peanut butter and chocolate (in theory)

[crescentbelle]

Liability

Miguel O’Hara x Fem Reader 

Angst

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: After a failed solo mission, Miguel’s punishment makes you feel as if you’ve become a liability.

finished this at 4am with my botchy Spanish skills so please forgive me.

It had been two weeks since your last fight, and equally two weeks since you had stepped foot out the careful watch of your boss, Miguel O’Hara. You weren’t given the luxury to mistake his hovering. His mindset was clear, you weren’t to be trusted.

One slip of a web was all it took, the anomaly you spent the last month tracking down slipped away, snatching your travel watch on the way out. You let the time pass crying out of frustration and being pushed down by a glitch each time you rose from the cracked pavement.

Maybe it was the amount of time it took for you to muster up the courage to tell Miguel you lost him again, or the fact that he then spent the next two days cleaning up the mess the escapee made. Either way, you had committed your biggest mistake since joining the famous group of vigilantes. Not that you could say their band together was infamous to any universe, but that’s what they were to you, and you had utterly failed.

One of Miguel’s star players had let him down, made a mistake so embarrassing to his reputation, that he couldn’t trust you outside his view. Banished to the filing of any and all reports that came through; that was the dignified job you took on. The only thing keeping you sane was to believe it was all just a humiliation tactic from his end, the more you fought against it, the more he succeeded. At this point you didn’t know what to think. The man barely spoke to you, even on his rarely chipper days.

Sat crossed-legged in a chair; you continued the boredom-striking task. Click drag. Click drag. You missed the moments when Hobie came to visit, the small times where you got genuine interaction and not awkward stares.

“you’re free to go now.”

Silence strung together with tension rose thick in the air. Will that ever fade?

He didn’t turn to look at you, his broad frame still turned to his own screen, eyes cold and cruel as ever. God, he really did find you pathetic after this one.

A beat passed. You always wondered if you should thank him, but that just seemed stupid. Thank you so much Mr. Miguel O’Hara for another silent day stuck at your brooding side. You chose the silent approach, slowly uncurling from your awkward position.

Making your way to the door, you heard him call on Lyla, muttering about a mission he needed to put another man on, one that wasn’t you.

“Just take her name off as an option, I don’t want her out right now.”

The words broke you down, weirdly in a way that no other snide comment from the man had before. Since you arrived all you strived for was the acknowledgment of your skills, to show you could become useful. Now, it feels like the rug had been pulled from under you. How long until you get sent back home? How long until Miguel admits you have become a liability?

Please just say anything else, anything so I know you don’t hate-

Miguel calls your name, sharp and devoid of any readable emotion.

“you’ve forgotten your day pass. That’s the second time this week.”

You gritted your teeth, “Thank you.”

“Try not to do that again, you’re glitching has gotten worse.”

That was it, The final stroke. Storming forward, you swipe the scanner off the desk, cheeks burning red with emotion. “You don’t have to scold me like I’m a child, Miguel.”

“Trust me, I know I don't.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not doing this right now, you can leave.” 

Beat. 

“It was one mistake! How does that constitute shunning me away?” Your body was hot, a magma bubbling into adrenaline. With a racing heart, you refused to back down. Everyday sitting in his office like a lap dog for all your friends and accomplices to watch, you couldn’t take it.

The man’s shoulders stiffen, his body toughening to a cold, ridged stance. Slowly, his gaze fell onto you. There they were, those piercing eyes.

That silent tension melted into something thicker and harder to hide from, fear. Fear that radiated off you in waves he could sense like a strike to the face.

“You don’t get to make those choices,” His voice spoke as a mutter, like he was hiding a seething tone from slipping out. “You don’t get to tell me how I choose to keep you safe.”

“You don’t get to talk about me like I’m not right here! I’ve always been on top of things- ever since I got here. Why do I slip up once and you get to treat me like I’m in idiot? Am I that humiliating for you?”

Beat. This one is too long, his eyes shift for just a moment, caught between thoughts. It’s a second of weakness that makes you apprehensive.

“I’m not letting you on any more missions.”

No-

“You’re sending me back.”

He shakes his head, dejected. “No, I’m not- just shit. Please don't make this harder than it has to be. For your sake.”

“Are you kidding me? You're asking me to never fight again!”

“Please-”

You take another step forward. “You’re asking me to throw away what I was built for! This is my meaning, why are you doing this to me?”

With the confidence he had left to muster up, Miguel stalked over to your frame. This was the closest you had been since he picked you up out of the alleyway you pathetically collapsed in, and the desperate feeling followed. To beg and kick like a child until he let you back in. It felt horrific and you wondered if he felt it too.

“I cant help it. Por favor, no te quiero lastimar. Please don't make me risk you again.” His hand moved up, close enough to your cheek that it makes your senses tingle, before its dropped down to his side again. “Please.”

“You’re hurting me.”

Beat.

With what feels like an instant, you’re being pulled into his chest. his broad arms caught you in his embrace, a hand coming to rest against your temple. Its simple, but it makes your heart ache. Never have either of you come this close. This is that desperate feeling bubbling up again.

You wonder if you should have pushed away; told him he's pathetic and walked away from this cryptic language you now share. But you cant anymore, not with his touch like this.

“I’m sorry.” The mumble of his words reverberated through your body like a purr. 

A single drop of a hot liquid hits your forehead and manages to roll down onto his thumb. You scan up to his face. That stoic stare he managed to always hold stood strong, staring off into a void like there's something better to worry about. But his eyes watered and the trail of a tear glimmered on his pronounced cheek. 

He guided your head back down to lay against him again and moved his gaze to the side, anywhere to avoid the way you look at him now.

“Don't leave, okay?”

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Behave ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Armed Detective Agency: Atsushi Nakajima

a/n: (soft) dom!atsushi won the poll <3 thank u everyone for ur support on my fics! every like and esp follows + reblogs count sm and i rly luv when u interact wit me, send me msgs and stuff like that, it means sm to me that u enjoy my work :3 and idk if u will come back to read this anon but if u do, i hope u enjoy it <3

genre: da nasty

content warning: f!reader. MDNI! (soft) dom!atsushi. reader is a bit of a brat. bondage (handcuffs). fingering. orgasm denial. praise (lots of it). atsushi calls you "good girl." ;)

summary: it's about time atsushi taught you to follow the rules.

no one would ever expect it.

– of course not.

the ada's sweet, blushing jinko was rushing through his paperwork all day today, so eager to get to your apartment tonight. what could he say? he just wanted to see you so badly.

he wanted to see that cute, embarrassed face of yours.

he wanted to cuff your hands behind your back and fuck you –

kunikida, for example, would never expect it.

his coworker stopped him right in his tracks while he was halfway out the door, hitting him with that unanswerable question: "where could YOU possibly be off to in such a hurry?" just as soon as he was about to leave. all atsushi could do was clutch his phone to his chest anxiously and hope kunikida didn't have the slightest suspicion about the sort of things atsushi might enjoy doing on his days off.

someone like kunikida would never understand it – no one at the ada would, really.

atsushi isn't nearly as clever as dazai or ranpo, nor is he indispensable like yosano, or strong like kenji. the bedroom is the only place he doesn't have to be anyone but himself. he doesn't need to prove his usefulness to you – between the sheets, there is no power struggle. you submit to him completely. you want him to take control.

and he'll take it – he'll take it over and over again.

by the time he reaches your apartment, it's already night. your place is is small but cozy, tucked away in a neighborhood a train ride away from yokohama, somewhere where there's not as much violent crime. you're laying on the rug on your bedroom floor, wearing nothing but his shirt and your panties, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. that's just like you to pay him no mind – to ignore him and feign innocence after playing such a dirty trick, knowing that you were probably on his mind for hours before. as he sets his bag on the bedside table, you barely move to acknowledge him, instead pleasantly thinking about how worked up and annoyed he must be at your blatant display of nonchalance.

"oh, you're here."

you turn over on your back, glancing up at him. there's that sweet face of yours. you're batting your eyelashes up at him like you hadn't done a thing at all, and now your shirt is riding up your thighs and ruching up the sides of your stomach. you know every weakness of his and exactly how to play them to your advantage. he rolls his eyes, kneeling down beside you. "yeah, i'm here."

snatching your phone from your hand, he tosses it on the bed in annoyance, and the first thing he does is scold you. "that wasn't very nice, you know, sending those videos during work. kunikida could have saw."

a frown forming on your face at his frustration, you pout at him. "did you not like them?"

you're too good at convincing him to forgive you – as if he were ever mad at you in the first place. his expression softens at your disappointed voice. you beam as he relents, pulling you into his lap and playing with the strands of your hair. "of course i did," he mutters as you relax into his gentle touch. "i liked them too much.

– but you know it's against the rules to touch yourself like that without me."

of course –

breaking the rules always meant punishment – and you'd be lying if you said this wasn't exactly what you wanted in the first place.

getting up from his position, you wait patiently as atsushi shuffles through the box hidden under your bed for the pair of cuffs saved exactly for punishments. you hear the quiet clinking of metal behind you, then feel atsushi's hands smoothing down your shoulders. "do you remember your safe-word?" he asks, and you nod, repeating it back to him.

"that's my girl..." he murmurs. his voice is a honeyed whisper in your ear, thick with desire and dripping with such sweetness as you feel him begin to adjust the restraints around your wrists from behind you. "just tell me if you want to stop, okay?" the leather is smooth against your skin but worn and slightly frayed, the cuffs already fit perfectly to your wrists from using them on you nights before. your back arches as you feel him tug on the restraints to test them, honey already collecting between your thighs at the anticipation of being touched by him.

you hear the quiet click of metal as he hooks the cuffs together. "is it comfortable?" he asks, his voice as gentle as always, and you feel his fingers intertwine with yours lovingly. you nod obediently, then melt into his touch as his hands brush through your hair, as his lips travel down your neck and your shoulder in a series of delicate kisses that you sigh into. you ache to kiss him back, to run your fingers through his silver hair, but the restraints hold you in place. all you can do is turn your body to slightly face him and hope he gets the message that you want more, that you want him to kiss you again as you tip your chin toward him, as you lean into his touch behind you.

you feel his hands grasping your waist, just slightly toying with the hem of your shirt. "you'll be a good girl for me, won't you?" – and he's brushing the underside of his thumb across your lips, gazing expectantly into your innocent eyes. nothing there but complete devotion. you nod, then his fingers are reaching elsewhere – between your thighs – and you're trembling with desire as you feel them hook under the waistband and peel the garment between your legs. "you're so wet already.

don't worry. i'll take care of you."

his fingertips are rough, calloused from all the fights he's been in, but his nails are perfectly trimmed, and he knows just where to touch you. the reassurances he murmurs into your neck make you pliant, and you spread your legs wider for him as he runs his fingers along the side of your thigh, teasing you with gentle brushes while his other hand grabs the swell of your breast. "pretty baby," he coos, and you turn your cheek toward him to gaze into his longing eyes. "you should have just waited for me to come home."

slowly dipping inside of you, you watch as your arousal drips from his fingertips. "baby, you're so wet... look," he sighs, lips soft against your earlobe. he's right – you're soaking, and the evidence is all there, the thin string of wetness webbing between his fingers as he pulls them between your legs. you gasp softly, half from embarrassment of just how wet he's made you already, and the other half from the feeling of a second finger being eased inside of you. you feel him smile behind you, grasping your waist tighter, "you can take it, baby, just like you take me. just stretch a little more."

then, he pulls his fingers out of you, and you hear the slick sound of them slipping out of you so easily. "but you want me here most, right?" he teases, his voice a low whisper in your ear, and you feel those skillful fingers of his encircling your pulsing clit – the place that he knows always makes you moan the loudest – and you nod desperately, hips chasing after his touch as you feel his fingers move farther and farther away.

"not yet, baby. not yet" –

and you obey.

you whine for him, beg for him, plead for him,

until his fingers seek you once more, until he brings you to the edge only to snatch it away over and over again.

when he can't take more of your begging, he unclasps you from your restraints, kisses up your inner thigh, gazes into your eyes lovingly and showers you with endless praises. then, pulling you into his arms, he bends you over your pillow, runs his hands up and down your body like you're a doll before taking you over and over until you've had your fill –

"that's my good girl," he whispers, kissing up and down your spine. "now you know to behave, right?"

author ps: i didn't write about the aftercare, but any bdsm scene should always ALWAYS include aftercare. + ofc atsushi would give u the best aftercare ever <3

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[cloudcountry]

hii I saw that requests are open, I was wondering if I could request headcanons for vil demon x angel reader?) where the reader tries to be as tsundere and indifferent as possible so as not to be tempted by the beauty and power of the vil demon~ but fails in the process hehe, sorry if it sounds complicated qwq jsjsjj thanks in advance!

SUMMARY: temptation comes for the best of us. for you, it came in the form of vil schoenheit, a powerful demon of envy.

COMMENTS: ANONNNNN YOUR MIND (EXPLOSION NOISES) IM IN AWE I LOVE WRITING DEMON ANGEL SHIT ITS MY JAMMMMM

originally i was going to make reader neige's guardian angel but i thought the timeline would be weird with what i was trying to do so yk i didnt but if you'd like me to write something like that too i can!!

You’re not mesmerized by his tail, or the way his horns curve above his head like gallant spires, or the way his makeup is always done just right, too look alluring enough to drag you into temptation. It’s all a game to him, he has nothing to lose, but you could very well lose your wings if heaven knew how often the idea of kissing him wormed its way into your thoughts.

He curls his tail around your wrist or waist when talking to you, sometimes even yanking you towards him as his wings flutter softly behind him. They’re scaly, gnarled things—nothing like your soft feathery white wings. He finds the contrast amusing, often joking about touching yours.

There’s been a few instances where they have touched. Neither of you mention it.

Every time a feather falls from your wings, whether it be because of stress or anger, he plucks it from the air and kisses it. The purple smudge he leaves behind does nothing but remind you of his impurities, and you scold him relentlessly for doing something so... so...!

He croons when he gets you alone, murmuring how jealous he is because your wings are so pretty and you’re such a sweet thing and he wishes he was more like you—and if he can’t be you he has to have you. Envious to his core, he takes all that you offer him (even though it isn’t much), eating right out of the palm of your hand.

You never have the time to feel powerful before he snatches the rug out from under your feet.

His envy also makes itself known when other supernatural beings talk to you. It isn’t healthy at all for him to be coveting you so much, especially when you aren’t even his, so why does it make your heart race when he growls low in his throat and steps in front of you? Why do you like it when his wings shoot out from their bases, hiding you from view? Why do you like it when he whisks you away and holds you close, running his fingers through your feathers as his eyes glow purple and small flames fly from the corners of his mouth?

You barely find the strength to pull away, brushing yourself off as if the smell of brimstone and smoke won’t leave.

(That’s because it won’t, if Vil has any say in it. He’ll never tell you but he wants to mark you, to corrupt you, to take you into Hell with him so you can be right by his side. Your time with him is always limited and even though he might love leaving him all alone he hates to see you go.)

You’re salvation for a demon, and you don’t even realize it.

[son1c]

Tails is never going to take a vacation ever again

tails is definitely... hm. "clingier" doesn't seem like the right word, but once he finds out about what happened to sonic, he wants to be around him basically 24/7. sonic might comment on it, like, what's he acting like a little kid for? cuz tails hasn't been this attached-at-the-hip to him since the classic era.

but tails has trauma too. he already almost lost sonic once, and now that it's happened again he has some problems bouncing back. especially since he was kept in the dark until AFTER sonic was already back--like, he has to cope with his disappearance AND return all at once.

tails is left feeling like the rug was pulled out from under him, and the worst part is, in the beginning, sonic won't even look him in the eye. and he doesn't know why.

tails might also have some guilt about... just... the whole thing. like, it wasn't tails' fault! but maybe if he'd been there, he could've stopped starline from snatching sonic in the first place. or at least found him sooner. yeah. maybe then, his big brother wouldn't be left with all this baggage that he's hesitant to tell tails about.

cuz that's another thing. sonic is very atlas-coded in that he tends to shoulder all of his problems by himself. and since tails wasn't there while it happened, prying it from sonic after the fact is an uphill battle. but tails wants to know how to help and support him. he wants sonic to be able to look at him again :(

[7sevenrings7]

So Much (For) Stardust - Stolitz (Explicit)

The hold Stolitz has on my SOUL is INSANE. PLEASE, somebody, just let them be happy! *sobs*

So...let's let them have some Good Friday smut. As a little treat.

WARNING: This fic is explicit and is intended for those aged 18+. Fic includes fellatio, ass play, and bondage. Unrelated: Brief and non-descriptive mentions of an apocalypse.

It's definitely not as wild as I could have gone (given the couple), but I wanted to explore the softer side before going into their kinks. Definitely not the last fic of these two.

This will also be posted on ao3 early next week (along with a x reader Hazbin fic if you're interested in those). The prophecy at the beginning will be an integral part of that x reader fic. I was fascinated watching "The Circus" to hear that prophecies were under Stolas's purview and wanted to explore that.

In another life, you were my babe

In another life, you were the sunshine of my lifetime

What would you trade the pain for?

...I'm not sure.

When Hell usurps Heaven

Earthbound its ruler be.

When Heaven quells Hell

The door with no key

Shall present itself

Unto humanity.

And when both fall

So soundlessly

Two stars remain

In shattered realms:

The Light of Lucifer and

The Mourning of Morningstar

To rest reality.

To rest reality.

To rest reality.

To rest reality.

To rest reality.

To rest…reality.

Stolas could still feel the snaps of Lucifer’s shoes as he stalked from the mansion tattooed onto his skin. 

He could never determine when a prophecy would come to him. He could force it - well, kind of - if information was needed. But the harder he tried, the less what arrived made any sort of logical sense.

That he had not tried at all - in fact was actively begging the universe to offer Lucifer only the most straightforward and simplest of answers - haunted him.

I did not sleep with that imp, your grace.

Ozzie saw me there, yes. Unfortunately, I think there may be some sort of misunderstanding. You see, I was just…

You’re a rule breaker, sire. So let’s rewrite the rules! Who’s to say I can’t marry my Blitzy? We’re already FAR more acquainted than Stella and I EVER would be. From one fallen to temptation to another…let me have this. Let me be happy.

Okay…so he was never actually going to use the last one. Fantasy was one thing. Political suicide was another. 

But he also hadn’t planned on spewing the most damnable prophecy that had ever fallen from his beaked lips. One that had come as sure as sin without any of the pleasure.

It did not help that it was the 14th.

Clawed feet dug into the plush red rug in front of his lounging chair that he felt drawn to for the simple fact of wanting something present should he faint. Stolas gasped for air, his hand clutching at nothing and everything all at once as his fingers ruffled through the feathers of his chest.

Where in the Hell will we go?  Stolas frowned, his upper set of eyes shutting against the stray thought as he caught the lower set of eyes began to tear up. What’s safety in the middle of the fucking apocalypse? 

He did not have to ask himself what the rattling of his brown-gray walls meant. As he always did, Blitzo snatched up the window and slithered into the room just as sly as any snake.

“‘Sup, slut” said Blitzo, standing to his full height in front of Stolas. “Ready to take this ‘D’ train to ‘P’ Town? Like…like Pleasure Town. Pleasantville…nah, that’s gaggy. Pound Town! Oh Christ on a stick…why’d it take me that long to get there? It was right there! Could have helped a guy out there, Stolas.”

Faced with his beloved and his ridiculous humor, Stolas found his breath growing even despite the shake in his very bones.

“Blitzy,” he warbled, words seeming to fail him.

“Hm?”

Those yellow eyes stared up at Stolas expectedly and he could not take the slightest of spaces between them any longer.

With a swiftness Stolas gathered Blitzo up in his arms to clutch him against any sliver of skin he could find. It was not an easy endeavor - Blitzo immediately began to wiggle and jolt his head to and fro in annoyance.

“It hasn’t even been that lo- eek!” Blitzo exclaimed, his hands carding through the feathers on Stolas’s chest to give his mouth room to breathe. The touch, as always, served more like fire to Stolas’s blood. “LET ME BREATHE!”

“No,” said Stolas, voice still weighed with sorrow. “No, Blitzy. I need you to listen.”

“List-ng,” mumbled Blitzo.

That Blitzo’s gun was what his hand reached for when Blitzo slid a hand down Stolas’s arm escaped Stolas entirely. He could merely feel his cheeks redden and his groin grow pleasantly hot.

“I received a prophecy today…for the King of Hell,” said Stolas.

“Ah shit,” said Blitzo, perking up and putting his arm stiff by his side. Stolas made a small “mmph” at the loss of contact. “Lucifer? Like the Lucifer? Like the holy fuck…FUCK ME, DADDY…Hell’s Daddy Baddie Bofanawahnahdingdong?”

Squinting at Blitzo as if trying to understand the workings of his mind, Stolas tilted his head. “...yeeeesss?”

Blitzo’s eyes seemed to shine before he wore a strange, almost pondering expression.

“Is he as short as the tabloids say? Because I say that he’s a Short King ™ but noooooo…Moxxie says he’s soooooo tall and that he’s soooooo seen him in person. Like sure, Mox. An absolute nobody like you has seen our supreme ruler without melting into the pavement like a sour strawberry shake. Lick my ass, bitch boy.”

Though Blitzo was not speaking directly to him (that much was clear…it was the little white-haired imp that Stolas had come to know as “bitch boy,” after all), Stolas could not help but smile at his antics. 

“I suppose that would depend on the height of the demon meeting his majesty,” said Stolas plainly.

Blitzo pouted.

“Don’t poke holes in my theory,” he said, whipping his tail lamely against Stolas’s arms still holding him feet above the floor. “Fucking rude.”

Laughing a warm laugh, Stolas snuggled Blitzo into the curve of his neck.

“To answer your question…short.” With a pause, Stolas regarded Blitzo with a hooded look. “Better be careful, Blitzy…you know how I love my short kings…”

That he was referring to Blitzo himself went without question…at least Stolas assumed that it did. The look of confusion on Blitzo’s face made Stolas frown. He took a hand to rub his thumb in a caress across the end of the scar under Blitzo’s eye.

Despite a stray moment of frustration in his brow, Blitzo stiffened entirely before smiling wide.

“You trying to tell me that I could have lost my shameless cum slut? Not much of a threat when I fuck you so good, babe. Speaking of...”

Goetia were practically weightless. It was a fact - a cold one that Stolas did not care to remember when he was busy drooling over the strength it took for Blitzo to flip back before hoisting him into the air. He tossed Stolas onto the waiting and well made bed. 

Stolas landed on the comforter with a laugh and a slight bounce. “Ha ha ha! Hm…but Blitzy…you forget what a world of depravity that you’ve launched me into. A toy or two might be all it takes to replace you.”

The dark of the room prevented Stolas from seeing Blitzo, but he could definitely feel those gold eyes on him.

He could also make out the telltale sound of clothes hitting the floor.

Cold, mirthless laughter filled the room.

With a leap only an imp as impish as Blitzo could make, there he was…crouched on the foot of the bed. Those eyes of his narrowed even as Stolas drunk in the view. The splotches of white dancing among the red. The lithe chest and the promising outline between his legs.

The cowboy boots Blitzo always wore and always refused to take off.

When Blitzo spoke, it was with a hiss befitting his forked tongue.

“Be useful for once and restrain yourself.”

Stolas frowned. There were parts of Blitzo’s life that he simply did not talk about. Hurts that Stolas seemed to commit without being quite certain of what he had done. 

And the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the one he loved. So he settled into a role he knew Blitzo approved of.

“Yes, daddy,” Stolas practically purred. “I’m so sorry for being so…mouthy.”

That seemed to improve Blitzo’s mood if his smile and his slither up the bed were any indicators. With politeness, Stolas made to forget and ignore the scratchy slip of Blitzo’s boots on his satin sheets. 

Handcuffing himself to his headboard was not a task completely unknown to Stolas. It was, however, unavoidably awkward. 

“If you’re so sure that you can have so much pleasure without me…let’s remind you what I can do without all the bells and whistles. See how your smug ass likes that.” Blitzo was close enough now to clasp Stolas’s light chin in his large hand and lean forward to whisper. “Mouthy. Real cute. I’ll show you mouthy, your majesty.”

The nasty tone in Blitzo’s voice was definite cause for concern…

…but not quite as much as the imp literally ripping the clothes from Stolas’s body.

“OH!” Stolas exclaimed, his wrists already the sweetest type of uncomfortable. “Oh, Blitzy, yes!”

The blush that colored Stolas’s cheek was like a drug to get high off of. He certainly felt high as all four eyes danced in delight with the dark of the canopy bed swirling around him. After Lucifer had left, Stolas had found his cape and his crown discarded in some hallway or room in his grief. So the red tunic he wore was the very first to go. He thrust his chest toward Blitzo desperate for contact.

Blitzo simply moved to catch Stolas’s beige trousers in his digging claws. They came off without protest - without need for the speed with which they were thrown. 

Stolas’s blush deepened when he realized his thick tongue had been sticking out of his panting beak.

“Look at you,” said Blitzo, his tone both appreciative and aggravated. “Prettier than any Moan-a-Leeso.”

That Blitzo had no idea what the hell he was talking about was evident.

But his intent meant enough. Meant enough to make Stolas stretch and sigh and savor the burn of the restraints despite wanting nothing more than to grab hold of his lover.

“You…think I’m that pretty?” Stolas ventured.

Blitzo managed a nod before his tongue caught Stolas’s.

The Goetia could have cried.

Kissing Stella had been nothing like this. He had once wondered what anyone found fascinating about romance when kissing her was the same as kissing a cardboard box or the back of his hand.

But Blitzo? Oh, Blitzo made him burn. Made him want to be lost in him forever. Made him want to be reckless and reasonless and all the things he had been warded against as a child. 

Too soon Blitzo was pulling away with Stolas following him as far as his restraints would allow.

“Ah, ah, ah,” said Blitzo haughtily. “You’re making me forget where I was…my little dick-straction. Oh yes…”

Blitzo was sure to caress and clasp at every bared bit of feather that Stolas had on display as he made his way down the dark lord’s body. The plush feathers of Stolas’s thighs quivered when Blitzo carded his fingers through them.

That he was already hard was a battle Stolas lost mere moments after seeing Blitzo. But the first reverent twist of Blitzo’s hand on his cock made Stolas choke on air. 

For his part, Blitzo waited until all of Stolas’s eyes were squarely back on him before smirking.

“Being mouthy,” said Blitzo.

Being with Blitzo was like experiencing every vibrant bit of life all at once. It could be overwhelming and only the slightest bit overstimulating. Both seemed apt descriptions of Blitzo’s tongue twirling the head of his dick as if it were the last lollipop in Hell. 

This imp would be the end of him.

“FUCK yes,” Stolas exclaimed.  

What Blitzo did not fit into his mouth, he shoved into a hand instead. His fingers curled and quickened at such a lovely rate that Stolas did not quite think to care where Blitzo’s free hand was. 

Then a finger pressed soft but steady against the feathers of Stolas’s backside.

Stolas knew the way he spread his thighs wider at the sensation and raised his tail feathers would be considered brazen. The act of nothing more than a common whore. 

But maybe whores were onto something when it felt this damn good. 

Being that Stolas knew Blitzo was coming over, he had naturally prepared himself accordingly. But in the rush to the bed, he had forgotten the lube. Words were trying to form into sentences in his brain to warn Blitzo…but then the curiously gentle swirl of Blitzo’s finger left the round of the hole he had finally found.

It was soon replaced with Blitzo’s tongue.

One hand still working the Goetia’s dick, Blitzo allowed the other to hoist one of Stolas’s long legs into the air as he slowly but surely licked and lapped and lounged within the other’s ass. The crudeness of it all made the feathers on Stolas’s chest practically burst forth as he squealed in delight - pleasure and pointed avoidance of responsibilities clashing into the sweetest sensation. 

Tongue snapping up suddenly, Blitzo chuckled when Stolas groaned in protest. 

“What’s the matter? Not so easy to replace now, am I?”

The force and the bite of those words caught Stolas off guard, made him blink almost drunkenly down at Blitzo. “What? Blitzy…I could…I could never replace you.”

A myriad of emotions flitted across Blitzo’s face. None landed quite right or for any more than a moment. But when you had four eyes to catch details, you caught enough. 

Shock.

Sadness.

Searching…but for what?

“Well…that’s…” Something like a cough or a wheeze escaped Blitzo. “Oh fuck me…that’s…good.”

Before Stolas was able to say more - to ask what would possess Blitzo - his Blitzy - to assume he was replaceable, the imp had lowered his mouth back lower than low. The pressure of that tongue - thin though it was - seemed too much at first. Unpleasant. Stolas grimaced and was about to ask to shift positions when the dual tips of Blitzo’s tongue ran against that spot.

“FuuuuuUUUUUuuccckk-KH!”

With a mind like Stolas’s, quiet was hard to be found. He always had to be ready to perform his duties at a moment’s notice. There were wars to stave off…faraway stars to map…dreams to bring to reality or to immediately crush. It did not matter if he was simply lounging with a lovely red wine and a good book…his thoughts always persisted.

Now, with his dick thrusting weakly into Blitzo’s warm hand and his mind scattered by the sheer sensitivity of his ass, the only thoughts in his head were of that delightfully crimson cutie pie giving him the most divine of pleasures. 

Any discomfort was soon forgotten as Blitzo bobbed his head and let the wet heat of his mouth graze between Stolas’s legs before falling back further again. 

“Yeah…yeah make me wear your tongue as a fucking plug,” Stolas rambled loudly, both humiliated and turned on by his own words.

Blitzo, gracious as ever, obliged. 

Normally Stolas’s stamina would allow for more fun, but after an exhausting day and being called “pretty” by Blitzy, he was desperately welcoming the build of pressure at the bottom of his stomach. It did not help that Blitzo’s fingers were now focusing on the head of Stolas’s cock in jerks that spoke of well known weak spots.

“Blitzy…Blitzy, please…I’m so close…I’m so…!”

The speed with which Blitzo switched his tasks - set his mouth to Stolas’s cock and two fingers into Stolas’s ass - was astounding.

Stolas could barely appreciate it for the peak of his pleasure striking him all at once…tearing down the trappings of a prince and making him putty in his lover’s mouth. 

Oh how he longed to stroke Blitzo’s jaw as the imp swallowed his cum. 

The moans from Blitzo as he lapped at Stolas’s dick did nothing to quell this want.

“Touch you,” rasped Stolas, inhaling sharply. “Want to…touch you.”

Pulling the softening cock from his mouth, Blitzo frowned. “Too damn bad. Now stick out your tongue…”

Though he quickly and dearly missed the fingers that had been stroking the inside of him, Stolas giggled almost maniacally. “Fuck yes! Yes! Come to me, Blitzy!”

Sorrowfully, Stolas’s beak did not allow him the abandon he would so adore to have when providing fellatio. But there were always ways around this. One particular gag Stolas had found in a luxury sex shop in the Lust Ring usually helped to give enough range without putting Blitzo in harm’s way. 

Tonight…tonight he needed him so desperately that he would forego his pride to give Blitzo what he needed.

Presented with the gorgeously long red cock that he so loved, Stolas stuck out his tongue as far as he could…then past that.

“Christ, we’re eager,” Blitzo chuckled. “Say ‘ahhh,’ baby.”

Stolas could not say anything at all and instead made an awkward humming noise before feeling the weight of his beloved settle onto his tongue. He certainly must have been a sight…all-powerful dark lord of Hell second only to the Sins and their families themselves…reduced to craning his mouth wider than wide to worship the dick of an imp. 

The rhythm, thankfully, was soft but steady. Blitzo moved his hips slightly as Stolas’s tongue lathered up and down his dick, his balls, his…

“OHohohohoheeeee! That kind of tickled,” Blitzo giggled.

Heart pounding in his chest, Stolas stopped himself from embracing his darling imp to preen on him until his heart’s content. He’s so raw and real and rippling with sex…oh, Blitzy. 

Salt and sweat. It was the taste of fine wine…of ambrosia…of something so indulgent as to be gluttonous. 

Oh FUCK…I never called Bee back about the quarterly reports…ah…later. Busy now.

Blitzo’s hand came up to tug back the feathers at the back of Stolas’s head and Stolas writhed beneath him.

“That’s right,” said Blitzo encouragingly. “Suck daddy’s dick just how he likes it.”

Horror sent chills down Stolas’s spine when he let out a horrible slurping noise as his tongue rounded that red cock over and over. It was unattractive and gargling…embarrassing in its earnest enjoyment.

But then Blitzo was mumbling…was saying things that sounded strangely like “Fuck, that’s hot.” 

So Stolas continued. 

“FUCK me…fuck me,” Blitzo grunted, his hips snapping quicker to meet Stolas’s wild rhythm. 

It was the clutch of those long fingers against Stolas’s skull that let him know his effort was about to be rewarded. He thought of their last roll in these same sheets…how Blitzy had sat his cute little ass right onto Stolas’s face and use that blessedly long tail to jerk Stolas off at the same time.

A repeat would be marvelous…but perhaps later…now…now I just want it to be about you, Blitzy.

In the quiet seconds before Blitzo came, the two locked eyes. Trembling, Stolas dropped his gaze while willing his tongue to continue even as the burn at the base of his mouth cried out.

Little longer…little longer…don’t you dare take this away from him…you can do it…

Colorful strings of curses filled the air as Blitzo finally came. Stolas tried to shoot him a wanton look even as he lapped at the cum being shot down his throat.

But Blitzo glanced away, his breathing ragged. 

It might have hurt if those hips had not gone backwards to remove himself from Stolas’s grasp before the imp collapsed onto the Goetia’s body.

“Mmmmhmhmhm,” Blitzo moaned. “Daddy want sleepy now.”

Laughing a loving laugh, Stolas gave into temptation and preened - his beak shuffling and clacking against those large horns. “Get some sleep, Blitzy.”

Seemingly beyond tired, Blitzo rolled off of Stolas and onto the empty side of the bed.

His side of the bed, Stolas corrected himself quickly.

…if only.

Several moments of silence passed. Stolas gathered his breathing and slid his hands from the restraints with practiced ease. 

He was almost too afraid to turn his head to look at Blitzo. The imp was still there - his weight equivalent to little more than a small dip in the bed.

But if he looked…would Blitzo remain? Or would he disappear like a dream?

Like so many times before?

Stolas heard Blitzo snoring and his heart sunk and rose all at once.

“I’m so scared, Blitzy,” said Stolas softly, sweeping the line of secretive. “I have absolutely no idea what any of this means and…and all I know is that I saw you. During the prophecy. In the madness of a planet’s end…it was only for a moment…but I’d recognize you anywhere.” 

The chuckle that hung in his chest was hollow and forced.

“I…I want you to come with us…with Octavia and I.” Stolas smiled when a loud snore bubbled and popped from Blitzo’s mouth. “You can even bring Loona and your two little imps from the agency. I…I haven’t quite figured out where we’ll go…but for as long as I’m able, I’ll protect you.”

He turned then, confident in Blitzo’s sleep. The imp was turned with his back facing Stolas - bare and spiked and intoxicating.

But now…now was not the time for that.

Scooting carefully and quietly, Stolas laid a hand in the space between the two. When he clutched at the sheets, he might have been doing so to keep himself from touching Blitzo once more. For there always was the promise and panic of the next time.

The next time…

“I don’t know…I can’t…I think…”

Blitzo stirred in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. Stolas eyed him, hopeful. But Blitzo did not wake.

Inch by tiny inch, Stolas shifted to Blitzo until he was flush against his back. Although Blitzo swatted at him at first, he soon settled. Stolas had been rigid yet still - trained in years of proper decorum and terrified of waking the imp.

If Blitzo woke up, he would leave.

If Blitzo left, Stolas may never see him again.

He can’t be your bird in some gilded cage, he thought woefully. Blitzy would hate that…but if he could…if he would just…

What Stolas wished Blitzo to do, exactly, he could not lay a finger on. 

Like him?

Love him?

Marry him?

Or, perhaps, he thought, relaxing into the bed and Blitzo and all the bliss of the night, I’d just like him to stay.

Blitzo never had, of course…stayed after one of their rendezvous. Had come close and had even fallen asleep before. But Stolas knew far too well it never made a difference. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. He shouldn’t…Hell, he shouldn’t be doing this to begin with.

Yet just when Stolas began to frown, he felt what at first seemed like vibrating from Blitzo. Slightly alarmed (and only slightly aroused), he glanced over Blitzo’s shoulder trying to make sense of the senseless situation when it struck him.

Purring.

Blitzo was purring in his arms.

Despite himself and his own horror-filled prophecy, Stolas grinned a wide grin and cuddled into one of Blitzo’s horns.

Maybe - just maybe - this could be enough.

Maybe - just maybe - this should be a new beginning.

Maybe - just maybe - this time he would stay.

…maybe.

[3minsover]

Tunnel of Love - a Steddie drabble

Steve’s eighteen years old when he visits a carnival for the first time.

It pitches up on the outskirts of town; bright lights and whirling rides and twinkling music, shrieks of delight and clanging of metal. He and some friends, finished with school for the summer, venture towards the gleaming archways and painted boards, barely containing their childlike excitement. They go on near every ride, try every game - fixed as they may be. He and Robin take turns smashing a cartoonish hammer down on a metal plate, he and Jon cast rings over bottle necks, win teddies and toys for the girls.

Evening creeps around them soft and warm, as they head towards the bumper cars, sugar fizzing like glitter through their veins. Steve doesn’t notice the man working the attraction until he’s sitting in his little car, ready to twist and bump and laugh.

“Right pedal means go, left means stop, don’t hit anyone too hard if you can help it.” Steve looks up, takes in a tall, slender guy about his age with waves of dark hair crushed into a knot at the back of his head. He’s bracing one foot against the hood of Steve’s bumper car, leaning his elbow on his knee. The man’s eyes are huge and dark, darker than his hair, and all at once Steve’s breath is swept from his lungs. His heart sets to pounding faster than any ghost train could manage. He’s beautiful. Rugged and sharp-jawed and the tip of his nose is rounded just so, and Steve simply gawks, swallows, nods. “You gonna be alright there, big boy?”

“Y-yeah. alright,” Steve forces out, and then the guy tilts back, shoving at Steve’s car with his booted foot to send it sweeping over the metal plane and out into the arena.

Steve tries to focus on having fun, tries desperately not to whip his head around to catch another glimpse of the man whenever he’s not being actively prevailed upon by Nancy, or Rob. He manages it a couple times, manages to snatch a glance towards him where he stands, a cigarette pinched between two fingers, leaning against the wooden frame of the ticket booth. And each time, the man’s gaze is already waiting for him. Steve forgets to have fun, forgets to breathe between jolts and jerks, and when the cars grind to a halt again, he finds himself leaping up from the low seat and clambering out of the car, heedless of his friends’ confusion.

“What time dyou get off?” Steve asks as he reaches the man’s earshot. He smiles, drops his cigarette to the ground and pushes up from the wall.

“Give me an hour. You been on the Tunnel of Love yet?” The man raises a quizzical eyebrow. Steve’s breath catches at the implication, and he shakes his head. “Meet me there. Lemme show you why it’s got that name.”

Steve parts with his friends, leaving them suspicious but satisfied with his cheerful grin and enthusiastic wave, and waits. He waits by the Tunnel of Love, lulled by the twang and lilt of the music from within, and hopes his man will come. Sure enough, he appears, sauntering through the dust and diesel, the shrieks and shine. Steve feels the thrill of electricity sparking static between them as he nears, as his face splits into a soft smile.

“I didn’t get your name,” Steve states cautiously once he’s close enough.

“You didn’t ask,” the man smirks, taking Steve’s hand and leading him, walking with easy backwards steps, towards the tunnel’s entrance.

“Tell me?” Steve’s voice is light, twinkling like the flickering beams above.

“Eddie. And what’s yours, pretty boy?”

The night slips away, sand through fingertips, and Steve is thrilled, exhilarated by Eddie’s gentle voice and easy touch.

The first time Steve kisses Eddie, it’s under the red-pink glow of tunnel lights, pressed close on a tiny boat fit just about for two. The first time their bodies intertwine, it’s under the silver-white glint of the stars, laid bare on the bed of Eddie’s truck. Over the six weeks that follow, in the comfort and and freedom of summer, they have more first times, more and more; Steve visits the carnival most days, seeks out the smiling kisses and eager hands behind backboards, knowing that each first time draws them closer to the last.

And so it comes.

It comes creeping, with the quiet understanding that this too must pass. Their last kiss is not like their first, not fumbling in semi-darkness or through smile-tight lips, but slow and delicate, as though either one might break if the other presses too hard. Their last kiss says words they never dared speak aloud, speaks apologies for all they’ll never do, chants promises to which neither can remain true.

Steve goes to college in the fall.

The carnival has left town, and with it, the magic. The enchantment is broken, yet the spell remains. Steve studies, parties, comes home for Christmas, but the phantom twinkle of funfair music, the shimmer of lights seems always just out of sight.

All that never was lingers in Steve’s soul, the yearning for a man long gone, one he’ll never see again. Steve tries to move on, tries to forget, but in his dreams, night and day alike, he’s back there again under the stars and the lights, there with the man for whom he fell hard and without reservation. To whom no one ever quite compares.

It’s ten years before the town sees another carnival. Steve’s certain it’s not the same one, not Eddie’s one, but he and Robin visit all the same, for old time’s sake. They arrive just before dusk, when the sky is pink and peach, and the grass begins to sparkle with dew. Steve wanders for a while, knows where he wants to go but fears what he’ll find. Or, what he won’t.

But when robin suggests they take a spin on the bumper cars, Steve simply nods, follows her there. His heart pounds, and he can’t look, can’t focus, can’t breathe. He clambers into a little red car, drops his chin to his chest and attempts to plaster on a joyful smile, when-

“You alright there, big boy?” And there he is. With a couple more tattoos, a little more muscle and a few more crinkles by the corners of his eyes, but there’s Eddie, leaning down as he had all those years before, smiling in that mischievous way Steve used to love. Steve nods, swallows, smiles back.

“Y-yeah. alright,” he whispers, and he knows that now, here, he is.

[cuddlepilefics]

Uncooperative patient

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Seonghwa

Caregivers: Hongjoong, San, Wooyoung

Sequel to 'But if you stay, you'll get sick too' and 'Pounding headache'

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Hongjoong would’ve loved to say he was surprised when he woke up to Seonghwa puking over the side of his bed in the middle of the night but truth be told, he wasn’t. With a silent curse, the leader snatched the bucket from next to his own bed and held it under Seonghwa’s chin just in time to catch the next round. “I-I’m sorry”, the oldest choked out before lurching forward again. Hongjoong took a seat on the bed next to him, careful to avoid the puddle on the floor. Resting his hand between Seonghwa’s shoulder blades, the leader hummed: “Don’t worry about it. Sorry you couldn’t escape our germs.” The older shuddered as he ducked his head into the bucket again. Sweat trailed down the side of his face and his eyes watered as his throat hurt worse with every retch. “Do you think you’re okay for now?”, Hongjoong asked softly when his hyung hadn’t brought anything up in a few minutes. Seonghwa shrugged, his stomach was still bubbly but he might catch a break. Promising the older to be right back, Hongjoong took a quick trip to the bathroom to clean out the bucket before returning to collect his friend.

Seonghwa’s head felt light when Hongjoong helped him to his feet and he greatly relied on the leader’s support to get him to the bathroom in one piece. Too dizzy to sit on the toilet lid, the oldest plopped down on the rug and rested his back against the bathtub, drawing his knees up to his chin, so he could rest his forehead on them. Hongjoong ran a towel under cool water and crouched in front of him, whispering: “Please lift your head for me.” Unwillingly doing so, Seonghwa squeezed his eyes shut and shivered, while the younger dabbed the sweat off his forehead before wiping his lips and chin. “Do you want me to get you a fresh shirt? Something less sweaty might help with the chills”, Hongjoong offered, folding the damp towel and draping it across the other’s neck. Shaking his head, Seonghwa shifted onto his knees and flipped the toilet seat up. He rested his hand on his bloated middle, panting: “Don’t wan’ a fresh shirt… Wan’ this to stop.” – “I know, hyung”, Hongjoong sighed, rubbing the other’s back through his sweat-soaked shirt.

While the leader comforted Seonghwa through the next bout of vomiting, another member had woken up from the commotion. San gently removed Wooyoung’s arms from his waist and slipped out of bed. There was light streaming through the gap underneath the bathroom door and he winced when he heard a painful heave. Lightly tapping the bathroom door as a warning, San poked his head in and was relieved to see that Hongjoong wasn’t as pale anymore and seemed to have the situation handled. When the leader gave him a thumbs-up, San made his way to the bedroom the two oldest members shared.

Knowing how much Seonghwa hated messes or general untidiness, San collected some cleaning supplies and mopped up the floor before picking up the empty water bottles and packs of crackers. He returned the empty cups to the kitchen and brewed a fresh pot of ginger tea, stripping the sweat-dampened sheets off his hyung’s bed while he waited for the tea to steep. When San had put fresh sheets on the bed, he picked out a shirt and made his way to the bathroom. It was good that he did because Hongjoong was having his troubles convincing Seonghwa to take off his shirt, despite the oldest shaking like a leaf. “Your chills aren’t going to get any better if you keep it on”, the leader tried again, looking at San for help. San handed the shirt to Hongjoong and wet a small towel with very warm water, humming: “This is going to be nice and warm, don’t you think it’d be really comfy to get the sticky one off and finally warm up?” Seonghwa eventually allowed Hongjoong to remove his shirt and grimaced when goosebumps spread on his skin but San was quick, wiping the sweat off his back and chest with a warm towel and hurrying to dry him off. Once he had put on his fresh shirt, Seonghwa felt a little less disgusting, though it didn’t have much effect on the chills but he doubted there’d be anything that would.

“I prepared your room, so if you want to go back to bed, we can help you get there”, San informed quietly. Palming his sore middle, Seonghwa grimaced: “S-Sorry. I coul- I couldn’t move.” The oldest stifled a queasy belch into his fist, wincing at the sour taste. “Hyung”, San sighed, making eye contact with Hongjoong, “Don’t worry about it, okay? We’ve both been there, we get it.” Not having the energy to argue, Seonghwa only nodded but still had no intention of going back to his room. He was still trembling and would most definitely be more comfortable if he went back to bed but that’d mean having to rely on his dongsaengs to walk there as his head was still spinning.

Gently nudging Seonghwa’s shoulder, Hongjoong hummed: “How’re you feeling now?” The older just shrugged. “Do you want to lay back down?”, the leader asked quietly. Rubbing his watering eyes, Seonghwa muttered: “Gonna puke again.” – “Yeah, most likely”, Hongjoong nodded, sympathetically, “Doesn’t mean you’ll have to spend the next twenty-four hours camping out here. Look at you, you’re still shaking. You could be curled up under your duvet, getting some rest before the next round hits.” The older couldn’t deny that his bed sounded heavenly with how sore his muscles had become in only a matter of hours but was it worth the effort? “Do you want help?”, Hongjoong asked softly, offering the other his hand. Shaking his head, Seonghwa rasped: “I’m okay, just really sore.” That wasn’t entirely the truth but he could handle himself.

Almost as soon as Seonghwa got to his feet, his vision swam. For a moment, he held onto the sink with a trembling hand before starting down the hallway, Hongjoong walking next to him. San had noticed the oldest waver for a split second and decided to walk behind him in case he fell. It was a good thing he did because Seonghwa made it a total of five steps out of the bathroom before his vision turned black and he felt his legs give out. San managed to catch him around the waist and carefully lowered him to the ground, with Hongjoong worriedly crouching next to them. “’m fine”, Seonghwa slurred, his vision still spotted with splotches of black but the ringing in his ears was fading. “Fine my ass”, the leader huffed, “Come on, work with us a little. That also means being honest with us.” – “But ‘m fine”, Seonghwa insisted, shrugging off San’s hand to sit up.

He got to his feet despite his friends warning him to take a moment. The dizziness made his stomach turn but he had started his mission of getting back to bed, so he’d see it through. Stumbling, Seonghwa blindly reached out to steady himself, his hand landing on Hongjoong’s arm. The leader quickly linked their arms and San wrapped his arm around Seonghwa’s waist from the other side, so they could walk him back to bed without him falling over. While Hongjoong got his roommate situated in bed, San poured the oldest a cup of tea. “You should drink something, hyung”, he hummed, holding the cup out to the older, “You’ll feel a whole lot worse if you get dehydrated.” – “No, jus’ sleep”, Seonghwa denied, curling up under his blanket and closing his eyes.

Making eye contact with his dongsaeng, Hongjoong whispered: “Just leave it on the nightstand. He’ll drink eventually. Wooyoung doing alright so far?” San nodded. His best friend had slept peacefully since they had gone to bed. “I won’t be making the same mistake we made with you, telling the company you were recovered already. I’ll tell them I was still throwing up tonight and so was Woo. We really struggled, so I’m not going to leave him home alone”, Hongjoong explained, running his fingers through Seonghwa’s sweaty hair. San nodded, whispering: “I’ll turn off our alarm, so Woo can sleep in a little longer. Can you please wake me when you get up to call management?” The leader agreed, so San went back to his room, relieved to find Wooyoung just the way he had left him.

Seonghwa managed to sleep for almost an hour before startling awake in a cold sweat. Weakly propping himself up on one elbow, he leant over the edge of the bed and pulled the bucket closer. Seonghwa took a shaky breath, relaxing a little when he felt a calm hand stroke up and down his back. After a few minutes, the oldest laid back down, looking up at Hongjoong with fever-glazed eyes. “I don’t feel good”, Seonghwa admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Cupping the other’s flushed cheek, the leader smiled sympathetically: “I know. Do you want to try sipping some tea? Maybe it’ll settle your stomach.” The older shook his head, resting his forearm across his eyes. “You’ll be far more miserable if you get dehydrated”, Hongjoong reminded, earning a frustrated sigh. With some struggle, Seonghwa sat up and rested his back against the headboard. “Hang on, you’re actually listening to me?!”, the leader teased, adding a little more hot tea to the cup that had already gone cold, so it’d be lukewarm.

After taking a tiny sip, Seonghwa released breath, realizing that it actually felt nice on his throat. They sat together for a while and the sun eventually started to rise, so Hongjoong picked up his phone to call the three of them in sick for the day. “You don’ have to stay back for me”, Seonghwa whispered, “I’m fine.” – “Wooyoung and I were fine staying back on our own too”, the leader reminded, “That doesn’t change the fact that it really sucked and honestly, I haven’t slept nearly enough these past nights. I can do with a few more naps over the course of the day.” Biting his lip, the older nodded. He felt guilty, forgetting how much sleep Hongjoong had lost caring for their dongsaeng and being sick himself.

When all the members were up and ready for the day, they headed out. San hadn’t managed to sneak away from Wooyoung without waking the younger, who was upset to learn that they had managed to get their hyung sick too. With how awful he had felt the previous day, he was completely on-board with staying back to care for Seonghwa. It was always the oldest taking care of them, so he deserved the same treatment. As the dorm grew quiet once more, Hongjoong mentioned that they should have breakfast. “You two can go ahead”, the older breathed, “Imma just go back to sleep. My head’s killing me.” Brushing the backs of his fingers against Seonghwa’s forehead, the leader sighed: “I bet it does. Your fever’s up. You know, if you eat at least a few bites, we could give you medicine. I’m pretty sure you’d have an easier time sleeping if your fever went down and the headache improved a little, don’t you think?” Seonghwa just shrugged closing his eyes.

Not wanting to argue with the older, Hongjoong and Wooyoung went to the kitchen. They too would take it easy for now and only eat a small bowl of rice each to see if their stomach could handle it. “Hyung, let me”, Wooyoung winked, filling a bowl for Seonghwa too. He also got the oldest a cup of broth, so he could get some electrolytes in. Since Hongjoong was too tired to argue when Seonghwa was being uncooperative, he saw no harm in letting his dongsaeng try his luck.

“I said, I didn’t want anything”, Seonghwa frowned, when Wooyoung poked his arm. Handing the older his bowl of rice, Wooyoung gave him a cute pout and reminded: “You wouldn’t let us starve either.” They stared each other down, making Seonghwa’s eyes water. Wooyoung kept using more aegyo till his huyng eventually relented and lifted a bite to his lips, warning: “I’ll throw it back up anyway.” – As long as you keep it down long enough for the medicine to work, it’s fine”, Hongjoong shrugged, placing the medicine onto the other’s nightstand, “Besides, it won’t hurt as much if you have something to throw up.” Glaring at the leader, Seonghwa forced down a few more bites before accepting the broth to wash it down. He managed to get through half of the bowl though at a snail’s pace and tiredly washed down the medicine with a few more sips of broth. It sat uncomfortably in his stomach but the nausea was bearable.

Laying back down, Seonghwa muttered: “I hate both of you. For getting me sick and for being so fucking annoying. Screw your aegyo. My stomach hurts worse now.” Wooyoung almost choked on his rice as he cracked up, quickly finishing the last few bites. “You could never hate me, hyung”, he smiled confidently, “Scoot over, I’ll make it up to you for getting you sick.” Seonghwa raised his eyebrow at that, so the younger elaborated: “You’re still shivering, so you’ll be getting lost of cuddles to warm you up and I can rub your tummy. Maybe it won’t hurt as much then.” – “True, I can’t hate you”, Seonghwa sighed, scooting over to make some room for his dongsaeng.

[animeangelriku]

in every picture that i drew (i saw you)

[Also read on AO3!]

Crowley chances upon the briefcase by accident.

Aziraphale’s gone out to pick up a few records and a package of coffee blends Maggie and Nina sent them, as well as a couple of sweets from his favorite bakery in town to celebrate that they’ve finally finished moving into their cottage.

Of course, there are still a few things left to tidy up—some trinkets, two or three books in the study, a pair of plants here and there—but for the most part, they’re done. This place is fully theirs now.

Crowley rubs at his chest, over where his demonic heart rests within his corporation. Oh. Oh, that’s new. That feeling of encompassing relief, of absolute certainty, of overwhelming calm. He… doesn’t dislike it, no. It’s just… something to get used to. And he’s got time to get used to it, doesn’t it? They both do. That’s—that’s part of the deal.

Fuck, there it is again, like the warmth of sitting close to a fire during a cold night. Of having Aziraphale’s tartan blanket tucked around him at the end of the day. Of catching the giddiness in Aziraphale’s voice with his mouth.

Crowley shakes his head to himself, snatches his mug of coffee from the kitchen isle, and heads upstairs, to their bedroom.

(Their bedroom, for Someone’s sake.)

He stands at the doorframe to simply take it in for a second. The rustic dresser doesn’t match the bedclothes in the slightest, the hideous combination of Crowley’s satin pillowcases and Aziraphale’s decades-old duvet and sheets, and the rug by the foot of the bed is a stark contrast to the hardwood floor, which is a contrast in itself to the marble tiles of the ensuite bathroom, and the bloody nightstands stick out like a sore thumb, and Crowley will be blessed to admit it’s his favorite room in the entire cottage, he loves it so fucking much. He could spend the rest of his immortal life here, as long as Aziraphale is with him.

Then something catches his eye. 

Right there, beneath the bed, almost hidden by the corner of the rug, is something… brown. Kind of leathery looking.

Crowley kneels by the bed and pulls the object out. A bag? Some sort of briefcase? It’s definitely Aziraphale’s, if only because it’s at least eighty years old, but Crowley doesn’t remember ever seeing it before. And why is it that Aziraphale hid it under the bed? Instead of hanging it by the front door or putting it in their walk-in closet.

When Crowley stands with it, the latch pops open, and the contents of the briefcase spill out onto the floor. Nothing but several papers of different sizes: papyrus sheets, scrolls, scraps pieced together.

“Shit!” Crowley mutters. From the looks of it, at least there was nothing that could’ve broken or snapped apart, but if Aziraphale kept this stuff, it must be important, and Crowley doesn’t want to accidentally ruin any of it.

He kneels down to immediately start to get everything back inside the briefcase, except that his eyes catch the corner of one of the papers, and what he sees makes him stop.

It’s a sketch of him.

His hair is much longer than it’s been for a few decades, curls cascading down to his chest. The expression on his face is unguarded, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. He seems to be wearing a robe, though he can’t really tell, given that the sketch isn’t finished. It looks almost as if whoever drew this stopped once they reached his shoulders, like the artist got distracted or couldn’t bear to finish it.

Crowley stares at the piece of parchment for what feels like an eternity. It has no signature, and the nearly washed out black of the lines gives the impression that it’s much older than one would assume at first glance.

Did… did Aziraphale draw this?

Crowley picks up more of the pages still on the floor. They’re all sketches of him at different points in time. But not only that—they’re all instances in which he and Aziraphale met up throughout the millennia. The oldest sketches are the ones that are incomplete: Mesopotamia, Uz, Golgotha, Rome, Wessex, even their encounter outside the Globe Theater. Some of them are a little more detailed than others, sometimes including a bit of his arms and torso, but those, he finds, are the unfinished sketches.

Then the sketches change. They become a little more complex, a tad more alive, more like pictures than scribbled lines. There’s him in Paris, sitting across a table with a glass of wine and a plate of uneaten crepes in front of him; him in Edinburgh, his head thrown back and his mouth open with what seems to be a loud cackle; him in London, staring straight ahead as he holds out a folded piece of paper.

(The folded piece of paper is scratched out, covered by angry lines and splotches of ink, but Crowley knows exactly what it is. He knows exactly what words are written on it.)

Him in the backroom of the bookshop, having a drink with Aziraphale after the angel’s first professional magic performance.

(He can still remember how badly he shook as he raised the rifle to aim it at Aziraphale, the fear and nausea that he would betray his trust by discorporating him.)

Him in his car, holding a tartan thermos gently, carefully, in his hands.

(Aziraphale looked so bloody gorgeous, backlit by the neon lights of Soho. Crowley recalls his fingers twitching with the desire to cup his jaw and kiss him.)

Him on a bench, his lips curled up in a lazy, amused smile.

(“We will win, of course,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley allowed himself to think he meant the two of them.)

“My dear, I’ve been calling you for— Good Lord, what are you doing?!”

Crowley’s head snaps to the door of their bedroom (their bedroom, he still can’t get over that). Aziraphale is frozen in place, his eyes wide in shock and a beautiful blush pinkening his cheeks.

“Huh?” Crowley asks.

The angel rushes into action. Crowley remains stunned, cross-legged on the floor, while Aziraphale picks up the scattered pages and clutches them tightly to his chest.

“Why do you have these?!”

“I…” Crowley licks his lips, clears his throat. “The… bag. Briefcase. Under the bed.”

Aziraphale lets out a frustrated groan. “You weren’t supposed to ever see them!” Then he glares at the briefcase on the floor. “And you were supposed to be locked away, not hiding under the bed!”

The briefcase, Crowley thinks, seems to almost give a nonchalant shrug.

“Sorry,” Crowley says. His mind hasn’t stopped reeling with the realization that Aziraphale has been drawing him for millennia, and he feels a bit like he’s missed a step in this conversation.

The angel puffs out his cheeks and huffs out a breath. His brows knit into an upside-down vee that Crowley immediately wants to kiss away. “No, Crowley, I—I’m sorry. I should not have yelled at you, I was simply… surprised. I’ve kept these hidden for so long that I… I forgot I no longer have to.”

He kneels down by Crowley’s side. He looks at Crowley, and his face softens, and the corners of his mouth curl upwards in a shy smile. Crowley moves closer to him, brushing their shoulders together. With an exhale of air, Aziraphale spreads the sketches out in front of them.

There truly are so bloody many, it’s a miracle they all fit inside that briefcase.

“I suppose you have questions,” Aziraphale says.

“Sure,” Crowley agrees. “But you don’t owe me anything, angel. You can tell me whatever you want me to know.”

Aziraphale reaches out to push a strand of Crowley’s hair behind his ear.

“I didn’t mean to start sketching you,” the angel begins, his gaze back on the sheets of paper. “At first, I mean. I-it was an unconscious thing, you see. A-and whenever I realized what I was doing, I-I would stop, but I— Well, I couldn’t bring myself to destroy them, so I just… hid them instead.”

Crowley glances down at the first sketch he saw, with his long curls and unguardedness. He thinks it might be the first time he met Aziraphale as a demon, on top of that wall. He sure as fuck looks like a smitten, lovesick schoolboy.

Hell’s bells, he’s always worn his fucking heart on his sleeve, huh.  

Aziraphale touches one of the pages closest to him: Crowley holding a coin between his fingers, about to toss him for Edinburgh.

“But no matter how hard I tried,” Aziraphale goes on, “I couldn’t stop completely. I would always find myself drawing you again, despite my futile attempts to push you out of my mind. You’ve always been there, one way or another.”

Crowley bites his lip to stop the words from spilling out: It’s always been the same for me, too, angel.

The space between their bodies is nonexistent now. Crowley leans against Aziraphale’s arm and rests his head on his shoulder. His angel turns to press a soft kiss to his hair.

This is also kind of a miracle, Crowley thinks. The touches and casual displays of affection. How easily those come to them, after millennia of dancing around each other. How quickly they fell into them.  

Aziraphale takes a deep breath. His mouth trembles as he opens it to speak.

“After the world didn’t end, I kept myself from sketching you as often. We were spending more time together, I—I didn’t want to risk you finding out. I was just coming to terms with the depth of my feelings for you, and I… I didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you would think I was silly, or if you would decide not to talk to me again. But I still couldn’t stop altogether.”

Crowley takes one of Aziraphale’s hands between his and touches the pad of each finger, pressing his thumb to the center of the soft palm. He can almost feel Aziraphale’s heartbeat through the skin, knows that’s impossible but doesn’t care much—their corporations have always done what they wanted them to. Crowley might not be good with words, but this, he’s gotten good at.  

Next to him, Aziraphale shudders.

“Even in… Even in Heaven,” he says, his voice quivering, his eyes squeezed shut, and Crowley wants nothing but to pull him close and kiss his temple and tell him it’s okay, it’s all right, they’re here now, Crowley’s forgiven him, there’s no need for more pain, more heartbreak, they’re okay, they made it.

Aziraphale carefully grabs one of the sketches from the pile and shows it to Crowley.

The expression on his face is… it makes something break within Crowley, makes his essence wriggle and writhe in discomfort, makes his skin burn like a scar he can’t touch without slicing it open anew. The devastation in his damp, golden eyes and the defeat in the tight, flat line of his parted lips would be enough to bring him to his knees if he weren’t already sitting.

He doesn’t want to recognize this moment. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to be back there, having poured his heart out, hoping he won’t lose Aziraphale forever, afraid that he will, anyway.

(He did. He did, and he’s dwelled on it enough, and he won’t anymore. It’s not worth any more tears.)

It’s not the only sketch of that day. Crowley counts at least seven more pages with similar images of him (heartbroken, abandoned, alone), not to mention the ones he can’t see.  

“Even while I was… Up There,” Aziraphale starts again, curling his fingers around Crowley’s. “I was unable to stop thinking about you. About your beautiful eyes, your wonderful mouth, that kiss… I…”

He trails off, his eyebrows pinched in what looks like pain. He bites his bottom lip so hard that Crowley swipes the pad of his thumb over it to pull it free. “Aziraphale.”

“Oh, my love,” the angel says, leaning their foreheads together. He pushes his nose against Crowley’s cheek, like he wants to make up for the distance that separated them for months, and all Crowley can do is hold his hand, cup his neck, kiss his eyelids. “My darling, I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” Crowley replies, the only thing he can say without falling apart. “I know, angel. Me too.”

He focuses on the fact that Aziraphale never forgot about him, just as he never forgot about Aziraphale, despite everything. It helps bring him back to the present, to the life they have now. The life they chose for themselves.

Aziraphale slightly shakes his head to himself. He smiles—a small, timid, almost self-conscious sort of thing—and hands Crowley a stack of papers.

“I don’t know about you,” Aziraphale tells him as Crowley takes the stack gingerly, as delicately as he did with a tartan thermos sixty years ago. “But I like these ones much better.”

And then—oh, and then.

The sketches in his hands amount to more than the rest of the drawings combined. The way his hair is styled and the clothes he’s wearing and the lack of sunglasses indicate that these are portraying moments from the last five years or so, once they were… once they were truly on their own side, finally on the same page: him sleeping, smiling, watching the telly, yelling at the plants, working in the garden, looking out the kitchen window, sharing a glass of wine with Aziraphale, and, most telling of all, looking ridiculously, stupidly, tit over arse in love.  

When Crowley runs a finger through the pages, careful not to crinkle the paper, he can feel that love in them. The same love he sees in Aziraphale’s eyes every day, the same love that courses through him whenever Aziraphale holds his hand and entwines their fingers and noses his cheek and scratches his nape and sighs into his mouth.

It’s… it’s surreal, in a way, to see himself the way Aziraphale sees him. His body language is much more relaxed, the edges of his eyes softer, the lines on his forehead less pronounced. Even though the sketches are all black and white, these seem brighter somehow, as though the cloud covering the previous six thousand years of drawings had dissipated before Aziraphale sketched the more recent ones. Not that Crowley can blame him—their time in this cottage has been the happiest he’s been in… centuries. Millennia. Maybe his entire existence.

In these drawings, he looks it, and it would be embarrassing to be so fucking obvious about it if he didn’t know that’s how Aziraphale looks at any given moment as well.

Retirement suits them.

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees. “Yeah, I like ‘em better, too.”

He turns to catch Aziraphale’s gaze, and the radiating joy and calm in his eyes and the easy twitch of his mouth is too much of a temptation to resist. Leaning in to kiss him is the easiest thing in the world, and Aziraphale meets him in the middle.

When the angel holds Crowley’s chin between his fingers to pull him closer, to find the perfect angle so he can deepen the kiss, Crowley melts against him, sinking his hand in the curls on the back of Aziraphale’s head.

Thank you, he wants to say. For loving me all along.

He doesn’t. Instead, he kisses back harder, hoping Aziraphale will still understand what he means.

(He does. Of course he does.)

Later, sitting at the kitchen table, Crowley drinks his cup of coffee and listens to Aziraphale rave about how excited he is to go to the farmer’s market next week while he eats one of the sweets he bought at the bakery. Crowley reaches over the table to take Aziraphale’s hand, and he hides a smile on the rim of his cup when Aziraphale immediately interlaces their fingers, like it’s only natural that he would.

And if, later on, out of the corner of his eye, Crowley sees Aziraphale miracling a notepad and beginning to sketch him, well—he simply looks away and pretends he doesn’t notice. He hopes that’ll convince his angel to show him the finished result.

(Aziraphale shows him.)

[familiar-finn]

Finn very nearly missed the phone call that his bike had been found. Thank fucking god he wasn't with Gareth when he got it because he was sure his master would try to get there and snatch it before Finn could pick it up. Normally he'd be fine to take a few minutes –– because how long could it take to retrieve his stolen vehicle from the police station –– and go grab it during heat week but there was one issue with that. The issue being he was in heat and lacked a large amount of self control around the ever confusing chief of police Morozov. No surprise Ransom was working during heat week too.

Whatever. He could do this. It'd be five minutes, in and out, no fucking problem. Totally fine. Finn quickly cleaned himself up after sorting out one of those high points of his heat and put on a tank top and some shorts because it was fucking hot out. Or maybe it was just him. Probably both.

He teleported himself right into the station and headed for Ransom's office. Course no one else was around since Valentine was off duty indefinitely and Thatcher was also in heat, which left Finn with the only option to deal with. He knocked and waited for permission to open the door, stopping right in the doorway because any closer might break the resolve he'd walked in here with. Of course the dragon looked good, all rugged with bright eyes and that stern look combined with a body full of weaponized muscle Finn knew well hidden under that hot uniform... His gaze was wandering over the cop from head to toe and he quickly snapped himself out of it, finding Ransom's eyes instead for what he'd really come here for.

"Got a call about my bike bein' found," the familiar said.

@officermorozov

[riddle-me-ri]

Here for the smut writing prompts!  One Bad Day Penguin saying “You’re cute when you’re whining for more.” (number 16) to female reader, pretty please! I need to have my praising kink fed 🫣

A/N: hnnggg oof–me too anon, ME TOO. I see you’re an anon of culture. This was so delicious and right up my alley. Thank you anon for the prompt idea and for letting me exploit my own praise kink rip. Also, you can thank finnie for putting this thought in my head:

That that alone has fueled so much of this asdfghhfds

Trigger Warning:  18+ ONLY MINORS DNI explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering, biting, making out) and strong language

Word Count: 1.8 k

One Bad Day Penguin x F!Reader - Sweetness

Everything was perfect. The night couldn't have gone any better…

Well, it could always be better…at least for you.

It was another successful night at the Iceberg Lounge now that Oswald had the club and the rest of Gotham's Underworld back under his control.

You loathed being under the Umbrella Man's thumb. When he snatched the rug out from under Oz, he made you stay put. If not just to rub the salt deeper into Oswald's open gaping wound. 

When Oswald needed you most, you couldn't help him unless it meant you wouldn't be here at all. 

“Hey, sweetness.”

You try not to think about the past anymore. You and Oz were right where you two belonged, with each other. However, things have been hectic. Changes in management of Gotham's criminal underworld wasn’t something that just happened overnight. 

As happy as you were to have Oswald back at your side, it’s been difficult to spend any intimate time with him alone. 

“Hey Ozzie, another amazing night in the books.” You commented. You set the folders down on his desk and unceremoniously propped yourself on top of his desk. 

Oz was looking out at the city skyline. Long ago, he put up his top hat, overcoat, tie and suit jacket. All that was left was his dress shirt which had a few buttons undone and his dress pants. 

He glanced over at you and smiled dreamily. "I know you were busy, but did you get to enjoy yourself at all, baby?" 

"I..uh..er…well." You wracked your brain for a decent excuse but nothing came up. 

"Take that as a no." Oz concluded. 

"Ozzie, it's fine. I enjoy helping you, having you back, the club is livelier than ever. I enjoy seeing people actually enjoying themselves." You explained. 

You noticed Oz watching your legs as you crossed them. 

"As sweet as ever, but I want you to have a good time too…I…I know I've been neglectin' ya lately."

Oswald walked over to you and stood in front of you as you stayed perched on top of his desk. You leaned down a little, and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"Baby, don't get me wrong…I do miss being with you, just the two of us. But I'm still over the moon of having you back. Our time will come, it always does." You gave a comforting kiss to his forehead. 

Oswald hummed. This is what he loved about you. There were many things, but the biggest one being how much you understood him and how you tried to put him at ease. He's never known this level of comfort in so long. When Umbrella Man took you away from him…he wasn't sure he'd make it. 

"How about now?" Oz breathed. 

You perked your head up and tilted it to the side. "What do you mean?" 

"The club is closed. Everyone's gone home. Even then the door's locked.." 

Oz scooted himself closer to where he was in between your legs. One of his hands teased at the hem of your skirt. 

"Oh..y-you mean now, now." 

Oz chuckled. "Yes, sweetness. That is if you want to." 

Uh…Hell yeah. 

"Yes…more than anything."

Oswald tilted his head to the side and collided his lips with yours. Your hands went up and cupped his face into your palms, trying to somehow pull him in closer and keep him there. 

Meanwhile, Oz's hands went to work. He teasingly crept his hands up your skirt. This thumb teased the underlining at the bottom of your underwear, tracing it but not going past it and to where you needed him to be. 

He brought his hands up to the top of your panties and began slowly stripping them off you. You could feel some of your fresh wetness keep you connected to the fabric until the string finally broke once your underwear was exposed from under your skirt. 

You lifted your legs to help him take them off. He brought the pitiful undergarment up to his face. His thumb ran along the crotch of the panty, collecting the slick there. 

Oz hummed. "Damn, baby, you should've said something sooner…I hadn't even done anything to you yet."

You couldn't even think of a response. Maybe in any other circumstance you'd be embarrassed but you were way too wound up to care. Oswald must've seen the absolute desperation on your face because he brought his hands back down on your thighs. Not before pocketing your underwear into his pants pocket of course.

Your arms remained around his neck as he leaned in for another kiss. Completely distracting you from his slow assault on your lower half. You felt his tongue slip out to lick your lips, asking for entrance. As you let his tongue invade your warm wet cavern, his fingers were making similar headway. 

You moaned softly as you felt the slightest intrusion from his fingertip. Gently stroking just the edges of your lower lips. He gathered more of your slick along his middle finger. 

You were still swirling your tongue around his as he finally slowly pressed his finger through your folds. Oswald reveled in the way your moans vibrated into his mouth. 

You broke the kiss as it started to become harder to catch your breath. Oswald's fingers may not be the longest, but god what they lacked in length was made up in girth. They stretched you out so deliciously, you could swear you were splitting in two. 

Oz had a nice steady pace going, just to get you warmed up, but he knew your body almost just as well as he knew Gotham City. He knew it wouldn't be long for you to do what he missed the most. 

"O-O-Ozzie…" You moaned. 

"What is it, sweetness?" He asked, almost teasingly. 

"P-please…baby, please.." 

Oswald began slightly picking up his pace, your moans got a tiny bit higher. Before Oz removed his finger entirely. 

You groaned miserably. "Ozzie…" 

"Hm?" He didn't look the least bit perturbed. 

"Please…Ozzie, baby…don't tease me. Haven't I been good, babe?" You whined. 

That. That right there.

He leaned his head to the side of your face and he gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek. 

"You have been amazing, darling. I'm just a selfish little animal." He growled into your ear. "I can't help it, you just look so cute when you're whining for more.."

Oz began kissing down your neck and he slowly inserted both his index and middle finger into you. You cried out slightly from the pain but more so the pleasure you knew was coming. Oswald began thrusting his fingers faster and deeper into you. 

"O-Ozzie…yes, please yes.." Your knuckles turned white at how tightly you held at the measly fabric of his dress shirt. 

The kisses at the nape of your neck slowly turned into softly suckling at your skin. One of your hands moved up from his shoulders to his hair, pulling at the thick jet black strands there. 

Oswald brought one of his hands out from under your skirt and began undoing your button up blouse. However this caused the fingers pumping in you to slow down, and you couldn't have that. 

You helped him with the rest of the buttons, you still wore it open as you undid the front clasp of your bra. 

Oswald's eyes were blown at the sight of more open skin, just waiting to be painted in many love bites from him. That's what animals do, isn't it? Mark what's theirs. He immediately took to your chest licking and suckling along the skin, teasing the nipple until finally sucking on it with fervor. 

Your head fell back as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. His fingers regained their pace back inside you, occasionally Oz scissored his fingers in you, stretching you out all the more despite how tight your walls were sucking his fingers in. 

"F-fuck…Oz…mmm…fuck..f-feels so good."

Your praise made Oswald take a particularly harsh bite into the top of your other breast, but the tingling sensation caused more pleasure than it did any pain. 

You glanced down and slightly gasped. You were so lost in the pleasurable knot in your gut, you hadn't even noticed the absolute purple and blue bruised mess he left your skin in. 

"Gorgeous…Absolutely gorgeous.." Oz commented almost dreamily as he followed your eyes to his handiwork. "Just one more…" He muttered. 

As his head came back up to your neck. Oz added his rough thick thumb to start circling close right circles on your clit. You almost jolted off the desk but Oz's weight kept you steady. 

He kissed and licked lovingly at the apex of your neck and shoulder. Preparing you, this will be his most imperative mark yet. 

You were once again distracted by the onslaught of your core. Like a ball of rubber bands if they were nerves to your entire body. It kept getting tighter and tighter waiting to burst from the pressure. The tiniest jolts of pleasure from the friction on your clit and the pressure of Ozzie's fingers filling you to the brim. 

You almost missed the very last sensation that sent you over the edge. 

Oswald bit down on your neck. Hard. Possessively. You could feel the most miniscule of skin slightly break from the pressure. 

The pain, the pressure,  friction and finally the thought…the very thought…

These were the same teeth that…that (if you know, you know)

The realization made you clamp down tightly on Oz's fingers, as the tight rubber band ball of nerves in the pit of your gut finally snapped. Shock waves of pleasurable, tingling electricity sent your nerves into overdrive. 

Your legs were quaking around Oswald, your fingers shaking as they still held onto his shirt and hair like a lifeline. You could feel the vibration of Ozzie's groan as you slightly pulled his hair. 

His mouth was still latched onto your neck as his fingers continued to thrust slowly, working you through your orgasm. Soon your legs started to try and cover your entrance away from Oz's hands as you got overstimulated. 

When Oswald removed his hands, he made sure to also collect some of your wetness that no doubt probably stained his desk and your skirt. 

He finally let go of your neck from his teeth. Oswald kissed and lapped up the little specks of blood that showed up. 

You were a breathless, bruised, and sweaty mess. However you couldn't get yourself to care at the moment as you tried to regain your breath, still relishing in the afterglow. 

"You know why I call you sweetness, Y/N?" Oswald asked. 

"Because I'm sweet?" You guessed in a tired, but pleased tone.

"Exactly." He popped two of his fingers that were soaked in your slick into his mouth. You were entranced as you watched him suck his own digits clean. 

"You're the sweetest thing, inside and out."

[faraway-sunshine]

The Band Kid Hangout, Part 1 (from the 11th)

Sorry for the delay. I've been feeling crappy from the new dietary tweaks the nutritionist suggested and from being stuck at Mom's office during the day so I've not had much energy.

Anyway, here's the post:

I turned up at Kit’s apartment around 3pm. It’s higher up in the building than mine, and although the floor plan is similar it’s pretty much a mirror image due to being on the other side. It is right next to the fire escape though.

Inside looked a lot more homey instantly compared to my own place, with photos and drawings pinned all over the walls and the wallpaper clearly faded in parts (unlike how my apartment is just painted white everywhere). A man sat on the couch folding laundry and flashed me a smile, though his eyes narrowed in a way that made me stiffen a little. It's likely he was sizing me up.

“Ah, you must be Sunny. The others are in the bedroom, over there.” He nodded to a door on the flip side with a couple stickers of the letter C stuck on. 

Kit’s bedroom had bunk beds on one wall, with a little girl sitting on the top bunk making plastic dinosaurs fight Beanie Babies silently. I also saw a poster for a movie that had a lot of photorealistic fire behind a bunch of oddly animated characters, plenty of SpongeBob merch, and a basketball hoop above the built-in closet.

Everyone else was already there aside from Eddie, sitting in a near circle on a Spider-Man circular rug. Grizz instinctively shuffled a bit and motioned for me to sit between her and Davey, opposite Kit. 

“Sunny! You made it!’

(Rest of the story under the cut)

I nodded shyly, still not quite the same as I was when I'd called them before, not feeling able to speak yet. And even then, on that phone call, I was mostly listening. Seeing them face to face added a lot more pressure fast.

Kit grumbled and checked his watch. “Goddamn, Eddie, surely it doesn't take that long to get the goods!”

My face must have looked confused, because Kit smirked. 

“You’ll see what I mean later. In the meantime, because we can't get to band business until Eddie arrives, we’re gonna warm up. Do you play something? Eddie said he saw you by the string instruments at that poky instrument store by the mall.”

Grizz objected. “It’s not poky! It has charm and character. Certainly more than all those pompous music stores that devote half the floor space to pianos you’re not allowed to test.”

“I’m not saying that it's a bad music store. Simply one that happens to have a small floor space.”

They moved on to some different topic, but I wasn't really listening. I thought back to that store, the wrong one, how I nearly snatched up that violin as if it were my own that I broke so long ago before running out so quickly that I was sure the sales clerks thought I stole something.

I didn't realise I was digging my nails into my arms until I felt another hand rest on my shoulder. It took a second to see it was Davey’s, which snatched away as soon as I looked at him.

“You okay?”

Without saying as such, I know he wasn't asking about my quietness. I pulled my hands away and noticed a very slight amount of something red under one of my nails, quickly rolling my sleeves down to cover it up.

Kit and Grizz caught on too, abandoning their conversation. Kit got up and rummaged through a drawer before tossing me a Slinky. 

“Here, if you’re restless, just play with this. I get it.” And with that, they returned back to their conversation, as if this were an ordinary moment rather than another thing weird and off-putting about me.

I was still pondering this when Eddie finally came bursting in. Everyone jumped at how the door slammed apart from Kit’s sister on the bunk, who didn’t even flinch, and Eddie himself. He carried a plastic bag from Walmart and a grin, before pulling - of all things - a chocolate cream pie in a foil tin under plastic wrap from it.

“Time for shitface, everyone!”

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Crimson Flowers_Part 2

A.N: Part 2 of my TWST OC in Glorious Masquerade event. Can I just also say, as a Malleus fan, this event is really brought home all the gold!! I LOVED this event!!

Twisted Wonderland Masterlist  

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

“Come, Mia! Join us in the festivities!! I’ll be right over there!!” Malleus called after he walked away from Rollo. 

“Okay!!” Mia smiled as she made to follow him, but Rollo’s words stopped her: 

“...Magic is such a troublesome thing. Wouldn’t you agree, Mia?” 

Mia blinked, taking a moment to let his words wash over her. 

He continued, “I can only imagine how arduous it must be to spend your days surrounded by a gaggle of rambunctious, foolhardy mages. The world would be much better off without magic and the chaos it brings. Surely you must have had similar thoughts?” 

Mia cocked her head, “Honestly, at this point. I’m pretty much used to the chaos. But I think being the only female at an all-male college is harder than being the only non-magical human.” She laughed once. 

This was the first bit of emotion she had seen on Rollo’s face as he reeled back, “You’re used to it? Oh, you poor thing! I can’t blame you for becoming numb to the absurdity after spending every day swimming in it! Mages use their magic to lead people astray and cloud the eyes of the virtuous public. It’s a sad state of affairs. But worry not, that state of affairs shan’t last much longer.” 

Mia wrinkled her nose in thought. With such a jubilant atmosphere, she was having a hard time processing his words. 

The Grim called out to her, breaking into her thoughts, “Hey, Mia! You’ve got better things to do than stand around!” 

She felt a brief flash of unsettling spirit before it was quickly washed away from Grim’s new  newest fireworks, once again getting caught up in the magic of it all. 

But that unsettling spirit came back when she found herself screaming as she fell unexpectedly. 

Then she found that she was no longer falling, when Malleus caught her. She clung to him, as a lifeline, as she fought to regain her senses. 

She felt her feet touch solid earth, but Malleus arms did not move away from her. 

“Mia, are you okay?” he asked quietly 

Deuce rushed over, “Mia?”

She was holding her head quietly and didn’t answer right away. Deuce swore she was swaying slightly. 

“Is she going into shock?” Epel asked worriedly. 

“That was like snatching a rug out of under us. It might take her a few minutes for her vertigo to realign.” explained Jamil. 

Deuce voice rose an octave, “But she hasn’t said anything yet.” 

Riddle snapped at his underclassman, “Give her a minute and settle down.” 

“And since she doesn’t have magic, it’s especially harrowing, realizing how helpless you are in such a situation.” Rook murmured. 

“TMI….” Idia stated. 

“I’m. Fine.” She managed to grunt out, lest they continue panicking over her. She raised her head and looked up at Malleus before groaning and holding her head once again, “When did you get four horns, Tsunotarou?” 

Professor Trein eyed her with concern, “Breathe, Mia. It seems you are dizzy. I applaud your quick thinking, Malleus. This could have ended in tragedy had we not acted as quickly as we did.” 

Malleus shook his head, but his eyes didn’t stray from Mia, “Speak nothing of it. She has no magic. Naturally, I could not forget about that.” 

Mia was dimly aware of Malleus grip on her tightening. 

“We have you to thank as well, Professor! It seems that those that couldn’t handle their own landing are largely unharmed thanks to Professor Trein.” Azul smiled, “Nicely done. I landed fine on my own by applying a bit of wind magic.” 

“Is this really the time to be sucking up!?” Idia asked. 

“And Mia is still out of it!” Epel snapped, “You call that unharmed?”

“Let’s settle down. We shouldn’t get so worked up. This will not help Mia.” Silver admonished. 

“He’s the one that….” 

Rook laid a hand on Epel’s shoulder, stopping him. He knew that Epel was getting worried about Mia, but they all needed to calm down. Epel glowered but didn’t say anything else. 

“First, I said, largely unharmed, thereby taking into account emotional state.” Azul clarified before murmuring, “Even if I was speaking more on physical state to begin with…..” 

“And that’s helpful how?!” snorted Sebek. 

“Alright! Enough!” Professor Trein snapped before anyone could say anything else,  “Mia, do you feel any better, now?” 

She blinked owlishly at him before looking up at Malleus. The fae prince had been looking at her in concern. An impish smirk made its way onto her face, “Well, you have two horns again, instead of four, how does it feel?”

Malleus gave a small chuckle, “I don’t think I could carry four horns well. Two is plenty.” 

“Nonsense!!” Sebek crowed, “Malleus-sama, it would only make you look more formidable!” 

Silver sighed, “I think that’s the exact problem. He doesn’t want to look more formidable!” 

Mia waved her hand, “Alright, I’m fine now. Sorry to worry everyone. There is reason, I don’t like rollercoasters, now you know.”

“Take it easy, Mia.” Silver stated in concern, “Take more time to adjust. We aren’t going anywhere at the moment.” 

The tension rolled out of Deuce’s shoulders, “Well, if you’re making jokes, then you must feel better.” 

Malleus gingerly began to release her, only when she began to move away from him with a smile, “Thanks for the save, Malleus.” 

He smiled back, “Of course.” 

—

Mia was with Silver. She also wanted to know why Rollo was so angry at mages when he himself was one. Did that mean, he also hated himself? Although, it seemed that only her and Silver cared for that point. Now that she had time to think about it, she mulled over the words that Rollo spoke to her earlier. Was there a hint there? 

Was this his way of correcting the sad state of affairs? 

But before she had time to really analyze everything, suddenly the ground was shaking. Wide-eyed, her head snapped up to see that Malleus had electricity emitted from this very being. This was the first time she had ever seen him so angry and to witness even a fraction of the power he wielded. 

“I THOUGHT I HAD BEEN ISSUED A GENUINE INVITATION!!” 

“Cease this at once, Draconia. All this power will draw in more flowers!” Professor Trein cried, with an increasing amount of concern. 

Mia added her voice, “Calm down, Tsunotarou!! Get ahold of yourself! Take a deep breath!”  

Some of the others shouted out their concern.  And finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he calmed down, sending dust all over the place. Mia coughed as she waved it away. 

They thought Malleus was done for but before anyone could work up a good panic, he calmly exited from the dust with a placid expression, on his face, “What?” 

As the exchanged continued around her, Mia raised a hand to her temple and heaved a huge sigh. Why did it seem like she went from 0 to 1000 in the span of the last fifteen minutes? 

“When I saw the rest of you in a panic, it helped calm me down somewhat.” He turned to Mia, his green eyes piercing, “I hope I didn’t scare anyone.” 

“Ya….ya….” Mia’s nerves were quickly wilting, as she continued to rub her temples, “Imma about to…don’t tell me. Did you really throw a temper tantrum over an invite?!” 

“Hey, don’t make him mad again!!” Idia cried. 

“Oh, no!” Deuce murmured. He recognized when Mia was going to go on a tangent. This was a time, when she was 1000% done with the stupidity around her. 

Riddle glanced at Deuce with a raised eyebrow as he took a step back. 

Mia turned to the Prince of Fae, eyes flashing, “You over here seriously gonna throw down cause someone didn’t issue a genuine invitation? If the man set you up, then he didn’t deserve your presence in the first place.” 

“I AGREE!” Sebek busted out. 

“I didn’t ask for an ‘Amen’!” Mia snapped with a growl. 

To some of the boys surprised, even Sebek ducked his head with wide eyes. They even noticed that the lone hair on top of her head was whipping back and forth. 

Mia continued at Malleus, “Don’t have nobody out here, making you waste energy and magic and feels for something so dumb! You didn’t even know him until this morning! So chill! You want a genuine invite so bad, wait until we get back to school! I’ll throw you a tea party and send you a personal invitation!! Will you be satisfied then? I already fell a thousand feet, don’t make me worry about you over something so colossally stupid on top of that!!” 

There was a brief amount of silence as Mia blew out a heavy breath. He lone hair stilled and dropped. 

“It wasn’t a thousand feet, actually….” Azul murmured, breaking the silence. 

Riddle stared drolly, “Really, that’s the takeaway?” 

“What is wrong with you?” Idia whisper yelled at Mia, “You'll get all of us killed if you make him angry again!” 

“I’m surprised, you let that slide….” Ruggie stated towards Sebek. Other than his initial outburst, he was strangely quiet. 

“Are….are you okay, Malleus?” Deuce asked. He kept glancing between the Fae Prince and Mia. He always knew that she could be prone to bouts of fearlessness, but this took the cake. She lectured Malleus and didn’t seem to have any qualms about it. However, he couldn’t tell how Malleus was taking it. 

Malleus finally stirred, “I’m not going to get angry over such a thing. Mia is my friend. Naturally, friends are allowed to correct each other, no? That is what Lilia has impressed upon me.” 

Sebek only shook his head with a pout, “Yes, Lilia-sama did say that! And that’s why Mia has liberties as your friend. I still think she should watch her words with you though. But speaking of which, you will remember your words, human!!” 

Mia glared at Sebek, “Not the time, Sebek. Not the time….” 

“Regardless, I will make sure that you hold up your end of the bargain! You cannot issue such words carelessly…” 

“Sebek….” Everyone stilled as Malleus growled, “Cease your words. They are insulting. I believe that Mia would not issue such empty promises.”  

“Of course! In no way did I mean to imply…! Forgive me, my lord!” Sebek cried. 

Silver just sighed. Maybe one day, Sebek would stop putting his foot in his mouth. 

Rook spoke up, “Oh la la!! A deep friendship is a thing to be treasured. Amidst our situation, you have shown me a beautiful sight! Merci!~” 

“I apologize. I didn’t scare anyone, did I?” asked Malleus. 

Idia sighed, “You ask that, but are only looking at Mia.” 

Mia rolled her eyes, “Do I look scared to you?”

“No, you look angry.”

“Wow! Give the boy a medal!” 

They watched as the corner of Malleus’ lips lifted. They hadn’t quite realized just how close Malleus allowed Mia. 

Professor Trein interjected, “Alright, if we could focus. Draconia, perhaps you could tell us, what you did to those flowers.” 

—--

Mia was glad when they finally settled on a plan. She and Grim were going to with Professor Trien to help the villagers. She never been glad to be magicless as she was now. 

She smiled, “Of course, Professor. I have to take care of my elders after all!” 

Professor Trien looked trouble, “I’m not sure I care for your wording there…..” 

Mia looked stricken, “I’m sorry, Professor. I only meant, that I’d worry about you in this situation. This was supposed to be a pleasure trip, not a war trip. I’m sorry.” 

The Professor smile, “Think nothing of it, child. I can see your good intentions.” 

In his defense, he was used to the boys poking fun at him, but seeing Mia’s genuineness warmed his heart. It was nice to have a student that actually listened to what he had to say. 

After getting Grim on board, which didn’t take much, Mia gave a sly grin towards the group, “Professor, you know, on a good day, these are a group of idiots….” 

“Hey!!” came the affront while the Professor raised an eyebrow. 

“....And yet, when push comes to shove, they somehow always manage to pool what little brains they have to form a big brain and get things done. Which is why, I’m not worried in letting them handle this in the slightest.” 

Professor Trien spoke, “I take it you speak from experience.” 

Mia seemed to age as she gave a deep sigh, “You have no idea.” 

There must be much that goes on behind the scene that the teachers didn’t see. Professor Trein had learned much in this short time in how the students interacted with each other. He had been shocked at Mia’s earlier tirade. He had never witnessed her like that. It was clear that Draconia valued what Mia had to say. Even he wasn’t sure how Draconia would act after Mia said all of that.  

“Shihihi, well, after that spiel, I can’t back out now can I?” asked Ruggie, “I suppose I’ll take Team Bell Tower.” 

Riddle spoke, “You don’t have to change your attitude on account of us, you know.” 

“Of course not. It’s stacked to go Team Bell Tower anyway, there are more human shields… ah, I mean the more people there are, the better my odds of survival.” 

Mia just stared drolly at Ruggie, “You have a real heart, you know?”

“Shihihihi….” 

Shortly before the group split up, Mia grinned, “Hit him one time for me, boys! I fell….a thousand feet….” she glared at Azul, daring her to correct him, “...and I’m still mad about it!”  

Azul only looked away, pushing his glasses up on his nose but decided not to push the matter. He already made his point earlier, why compound the issue now? He knew when to forage ahead to his own benefit, and this did not yield any benefits. 

Malleus smile, “Rest assured, I will adequately convey your displeasure, Mia! And we will get this done! I will put a stop to his schemes. Heh Heh. So…where shall I begin…..”

Part 3

[panjakes]

FL CHP.4 PJS

Pairing: Tiger Hybrid!Jay × Fox Hybrid black fem reader

Genre: fluff; crack; enemies to lovers au; slow burn

Ch. Warnings: profanity

PREVIOUS. NEXT

The next day….

Yn and jay sat in the library just staring at each other

"You know study buddies talk to each other right?"

Jay asked sarcastically

"What clubs are you in?" Yn asks ignoring his question

"Guitar club. It hasn't started yet" jay says scratching his head

"You like music?" Yn asks

"Yeah, I want to make music or produce it" jay says making Yn nod

“Mhm. So what is your problem with your work anyway?" Yn asks

"I don't have a problem. I just can't focus" he admits

"Why can't you focus?" Yn asks tilting her head in confusion

One of her ears twitched before resting on her head. She was so cute.

"I-I Uh I have some things on my mind" he says looking away from her

“Like what?" Yn asks genuinely concerned

"Don't worry about it and mind your got damn business" jay says harshly.

Yn makes a straight face before nodding. She closes her notebook and math book before sticking them in her green bookbag that had many different pins and patches on them. She stands up slinging her bag over her shoulders

"Where are you going?" He asks standing up

"Home. Your not going to speak to me like that. I'm doing you a favor." Yn says rolling her eyes while walking away

Jay groans before getting up and running after Yn

"Look I'm sorry" jay says grabbing her wrist She snatches it with a groan

"Whatever. We can try again tomorrow" she says walking out the library

He groans sitting back down at the table with a groan

"She's so damn stubborn" he mumbles putting his head down

Yn walks into the photography room where Maddie was already in the room

"Hey Yn! How was your study sesh?" She asks smiling

"We didn't study because he has a smart ass mouth. He's on his first strike already" Yn says putting her bookbag down

"Already?! Wow. I genuinely wonder how this will turn Out” maddie says smiling

"I'll tell you how. It's not going to work. Period. We hate each other" Yn says rolling her eyes

"Are you sure? Hates a strong word

"Well strongly dislike" Yn says grabbing her camera from her bag

"Honestly I think you to sweep your whole problem under the rug" Maddie says causing Yn to pause

"Sweep it under the rug? Maddie…he embarrassed me. On purpose! In front of the school and in front of Haruto! He ruined my picture" Yn says tilting her head in confusion

"Yeah I get that but it was one prank Yn, you can't go on with the grudge forever" Maddie says

She just wanted the two to just get over this ridiculous beef.

"I definitely can and as my bestfriend you should be on my side, not his" Yn says taking the lense cap of her camera

"I am on your side! I just don't want your hate for him to distract you" Maddie says with a frown

"Trust me. It won't. I'll talk to your dad and find him another study buddy" Yn says rolling her eyes

"Yn no, give him a chance" Maddie says

"Do you like him or something?" Yn asks shocking maddie causing her cheeks to flush a deep pink

"W-what!? N-no! Not at all! I-I just hate seeing my bestfriend upset about something so small" she says causing Yn to sigh

"I'm sorry Maddie I'm just.…stress. I'm not trying to take it out on you"Yn says wrapping an arm around Maddie

"It's okay Yn really, I just think you should forgive and forget" maddie says tapping her hand

"I'll try…only for you" Yn says smiling causing maddie to smile

Little did she know maddie wasn't crushing on Jay, it was her very bestfriend she was crushing on

"Your an fucking idiot"

"Shut the hell up Cindy" jay says rolling his eyes

"Your fucking up your chances with her" she says waving her hand

"Trust I'll have plenty of chances"

"You take to much pride in yourself. Yn doesn't seem like the kind of girl to put up with your shit. Be grateful that she's helping you cause l'd decline"

"Good thing your not my tutor then"

"Your missing the whole point asshole"

"Then what is your point? Get the hell out my face Cindy and go Fawn over Jungwon who's in love with his bestfriend and doesn't want you by the way” jay growls

"Jay! What is your problem?! Do not talk to your sister like that!" Jays mother says

"No mom it's fine. At least my crush knowledges me. Yn doesn't even want anything to do with you because your an asshole. She'll never be with you when you act like this, stupid fucking prick" she says

before storming off to her room allowing her door to slam

"Jay what is your problem?" His mother asks causing him to sigh

"I don't have a problem"

"It seems to me you do! Your failing your classes and being mean to your sister? This isn't like you" she says genuinely concerned

"Why are you acting like you care?" Jay asks

"Excuse me? Because I do" she says putting a hand on her hip

"You don't! Your never even here. You were never here now all of a sudden you want to care about me and cidny. Go back to Europe or where ever the hell you and your husband be at" jay says grabbing his phone and jacket

"Jay! Jay! Jong-seong ! Jong-seong park!" She shouts after jay as he ran out the house

Yn laid on her bed looking through the pictures she took on her camera. Keeping the ones she liked and deleting the ones she liked. Her reading glasses sat on the rim of her nose as she constantly pushed her long braids back into the black and yellow bonnet

"Yn! Your friend is here!" Her mom shouts

She frowns looking at her phone seeing no texts from Maddie says she was coming over.

"She's in her room you can go upstairs" her mom says to someone

She peeks over her shoulder waiting for the "friend" to come up the stairs. She gasp and gets up at the sight of jay.

"What're you doing here?" She asks

"|-I didn't know where else to go" he says sighing

"So you came here? To me? Why?" Yn asks folding her arms

"|-I got into it with my mom and I Uh. Don't really have anybody else so can we just study and do some home work to get my mind off things?" Jay asks

Before Yn could come up with a sassy response jay stopped her

"Please. I'm not here to argue or fight with you. I justneed a distraction" jay says making Yn sigh

“Yeah come on" Yn says pointing to the small coffee table with tiny bing bag chairs on the floor. He sat down in the chair taking in his surroundings. The walls were a forest green and white.

The walls and furniture were decorated with green brown and white decor. The smell of vanilla and coffee beans were in the air. Different candles and inscents were lit along with a humidifier going on. Ari Lennox played softly on her green and white Alexa.

He then looked over at Yn who walked over to the table with a black cup of pens. She wore a gray fitted crop top with black spandex shorts. He looked her up and down taking in her apprencr. She was beautiful in her element.

"I didn't know you wore glasses" he said softly

"They're readers" she says softly opening her text book

"So Uh what do you want to start with?" He asks

"We can start with the English homework. It's only 10 questions" Yn says

"Okay. Need a pen?" She asks causing the boy to nod She had a him a brown pen that had a bunch of bears and stars on them. He smiles at how cute it was.

They two got started on his homework, jay asking questions here and there. He actually wasn't getting on Yn's nerves

"So you want to tell me why your here?" Yn asks

"Me my and my sister got into it. Didn't feel like hearing their mouths or my dads so I just left before he came home" jay says putting the English work in a folder

"Are you going to go back?" Yn asks closing the English book and opening the precal book

"Probably not" he says writing his name on his paper

"Well where are you going to go?" Yn asks

"I don't know" jay says clutching his jaw Yn honestly felt bad.

"Don't you have any friends?" Yn asks

Jay sighs before shaking his head

"Not anymore…I got 38. Is that right?" Jay asks sliding the paper over to Yn. She looks it over and nods

"Yeah" she says

For the next two hours the two did class and homework.

"Hungry? My mom made Namungodi and Luwombo" she says confusing jay

"I'm sorry what is that?" He asks

"Ugandan food" Yn shrugs

"Your from Uganda?" He asks

"My parents are, do you want to try it?" She asks causing the boy to nod

She quickly gets up and goes to make him a plate before bringing it back up to him. It smell so good and tasted even better. His ears perked up at taste of food. It was delicious

It was safe to say, jay was stuffed and satisfied

"Uh thanks for the meal and help Yn. I Uh l appreciate it" jay says nodding

"It's cool. Don't mention it. Really don't mention it» Yn says

"I'll Uh see you at school tomorrow" he says opening

the door

"Wait" Yn says causing him to stop

"Do you really have no where else to go?" Yn asks

"No, I was just going to a park or something he says making Yn sigh ears dropping at the information

"I'm not going to let you leave after hearing that information" Yn says

"What?" Jay ask

"We Uh have a couch in the basement you can use. My mom won't mind and my dad doesn't come home until after I leave for school" she says pointing to the basement

"Uh no l'm fine. You already did enough." He says opening the door Yn sighs and closes it

“Jay get your ass down the stairs. Not going to argue you with you" she says causing the boy to nod. Yn leads the way to the basement. It was cozy. I nice plush black couch with a black coffee table. A tv sat on a tv stand that had a heater that looked like a fire place under it

Yn goes into a closet pulling out a blanket and pillow.

"You just have this stuff down here?" Jay asks as she hands him the pile of blankets

"Yeah me and Maddie often sleep down here when she comes over soo" Yn says making him nod

"Uh yeah, thanks again" he says

"No problem” Yn says

“Uh see you in the morning” jay says as Yn walks up the stairs

“See you in the morning” Yn says heading straight to her room to tell Maddie what just happened

The next morning…

Jay was woken up by Yn’s mother.

“Sweetheart time to get up! It’s 7:30” she says with a smile

“Uh thank you for waking me up” he says

“No problem what’s your name again sweetheart?”

“J-jay”

“Well jay here’s some clothes for you. There’s a shower right over there”

“Uh thank you, if you don’t mind me asking you just have these things laying around?” Jay asks

“Their my nephews and I’m sure he won’t mind lending you some clothes. Breakfast will be ready in 10” she says

Jay scoffs at the air. This family was waaay to nice. Nothing like his. It was weird. It felt weird to be cared for.

Jay did his thing in the bathroom and quickly went up the stairs to join Yn and her family. Yn’s mother sat plates on the table.

Jay awkwardly goes over to the table and takes a seat. Yn’s mother sits a plate down in front of him the consisted of a pancakes and bacon with fried bananas on the side. Next to his plate was a bowl of what he’d assume was porridge.

“Apple or orange?” She asks

“Uh orange” he says making her laugh

“Yn likes apple” she says sitting the cup in front of him

“Thank you ma’am” jay says nodding

“No problem”

Jay looks over at the women seeing same red fox ears that Yn had. Now that he paid attention she looked exactly like Yn. Down To the T. It was as if she cloned her daughter.

Soon Yn came down the stairs dressed and ready. Her kinky hair was brushed out sitting pretty on her head

“Morning mama, where’s taata?” Yn asks sitting at the tbale

“Morning omwana wange, he should be walking in now” her mother says

Jay was a little confuzled with the language switch but he put two and two together and figured what they were talking about.

“My Amaka! I’m home”

“Taata!” Yn says jumping up from her seat to great the man that walked into the kitchen

“My Yn! How are you this morning?” He asks

“I’m good Taata, how was work?” Yn asks taking her seat

“Tiring but I enjoy my job, ohh. We have a guest.” He says looking over at jay

“This is Yn study buddy, he came to walk her to school this morning so I invited him in for breakfast”

“What’s your name boy?”

“Jay sir”

“Mm. Make sure my child gets to school safely” he says

“Yes sir” jay says nodding

“You kids eat. It’s almost time to go”

Jay watch the family dynamic and could help but feel jealous. From the time his “parents” adopted jay and cidny, jay never got to experience this. He and cidny always ate with the babysitter or alone because his “parents” were out traveling.

“Hey, jay!”

Jay snaps out of his trance looking over at Yn who looked back at him

“Are you going to eat your Bananas?” She asks causing him to slide his plate over so the dark skin girl could eat the left overs he didn’t.

“Yn stay out his plate!” Her mother says

“Mommy! He’s obviously full! I’m making sure the food doesn’t go to waste” Yn says stuffing the bananas into her mouth

She takes the plates and put them into the sink. She grabbed her bag and jays jacket heading to the door

“Okay we’re leaving! Bye Mommy bye Taata!” Yn shouts opening the door going outside with Jay right behind her.

The walk was quiet but it wasn’t awkward.

“So, why’d you let me stay over?” Jay asks making Yn gulp

“Because I know what it’s like to not have anywhere to go. Don’t mention it. At all. Like ever” Yn says

“Why? Scared what everyone will think?” Jay asks

“Yes. I am actually. I don’t want people to think I’m anything but your study buddy” Yn says crushing Jay’s heart.

Yet he didn’t know why those words hurt

“Whatever Yn. I could care less” jay says rolling his eyes

“Great. Keep it that way” Yn says speed walking to the school entrance

Before Jay could shout out to him his name was called

“Jong-seong!”

He turns around to be met with his sister

“What” he asks

“Where the fuck were you?! Mom and dad were worried sick about you!” She says making him roll his eyes

“I seriously doubt that” jay says walking away with cidny on his tail

“I don’t know what your problem is but you need to stop! Dad is pissed a-“ she starts but jay turns around growling at her

“Fuck dad! When has he ever cared about us cindy”He says causing her to flitch

“D-don’t say that!“ she says

“Look, you might be the perfect little hybrid they wanted and that’s why they dot on you. But I’m not something they ever wanted and I’m fucking fine with that. Walk home without me cause I’m not coming home tonight either” jay says waking away with cidny calling out to him

Yn stood by the entrance watching the interaction truly and genuinely concerned about what was going on it jays home.

Chapter 5 will be posted on @brownsugarbaybee ‘s blog!!!

[dominimoonbeam]

Don't Run - 15

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

you can find the series from the start over on patreon.

story tags: mobsters, romance, explicit sex, explicit language, learning to trust, dark themes, bad childhood, arranged marriage, reference to past murder, kidnapping, danger, violence, guns

DON’T RUN - CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Freya took that time in the shower to put herself back together. She couldn’t believe she’d cried like that in front of Ezra. He was practically a stranger and, worse, practically an Ellis.

It felt good to let the hot water drive the cold from her skin, standing under it until it melted the ice around her bones too. She scrubbed the ocean and sweat from her skin with his body wash. It smelled good, comforting, and she shied away from the realization that Adi smelled like this too. Ezra. They both smelled like Ezra now.

When she finally turned off the shower and stepped out, the pain in her feet was almost enough to buckle her legs. She caught herself on the small sink. She hadn’t realized how much they hurt until now, until she’d cleaned up and gotten warm again.

“Still alive?” Ezra called through the thin walls.

Freya fought not to smile. He made this easy somehow. She dried off. “Yeah,” she called back. He’d brought her clothes like he’d said. A pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt. No underwear or bra. She supposed she couldn’t expect him to have those on hand for wayward female guests. She dressed in what she was given and felt a thousand times better when she was wrapped in soft cotton, both garments well-worn and clean. She gave her hair another rubdown with the towel before twisting it over her shoulder and then picking up her dirty clothes off the floor. The trash can definitely wasn’t big enough to cram them in.

She opened the bathroom door and limped out into the hall, grateful for the rug padding her steps. The smell of pizza hit her and her stomach didn’t even growl, it just ached, making her arms shake.

Ezra was crossing from the little kitchen to his living room with a couple glasses of water when he spotted her. He put the cups down on the coffee table, just barely out of sight from where she stood. “Here,” he hurried over, taking the bundle of her dirty clothes from her. “Sit. Eat.”

Freya wasn’t sure if she would have argued if she weren’t so hungry. All she knew was that those were the only things she wanted to do right then. She limped out of the hall and into the living room, ignoring the way he watched her. Her focus was on the pizza box on the table.

“I didn’t know what you liked so I got half of it just pepperoni and the other with mushrooms, olives, and garlic,” he explained, sitting down next to her and flipping the lid open.

Freya had to stifle a moan. She forgot why she was ever mad at this man. She might even be in love with him. He handed her a plate and she grabbed a slice, starting with the pepperoni but with every intention of eating both. “Thank you,” she said before taking her first bite and almost melting back into the couch.

It was a good couch, well beaten in.

Ezra smiled and took a slice of the mushroom side. He said casually, “I told Adi you were here, so they can call off the search.”

Freya swallowed her mouthful, nodding. It hadn’t been fair of her to ask him not to. Of course, they needed to know. Wells had seen her get snatched off the street. Word would have gone out. “Is someone coming to get me?” She tried to make it sound like she didn’t care.

“No. I mean, Adi was going to, but I told him not to. I can take you back to your place whenever you want. No one is coming here tonight.”

Freya looked at the man next to her on the couch. “Why would you do that?”

Ezra stared right back at her like the answer was obvious. “Because you didn’t want them to.”

“I can stay the night?”

Ezra’s expression softened. “Yeah. Of course.”

Freya studied him for another second, something fluttering in her chest at the way he didn’t look away. He just waited. She took another bite of the pizza, almost to the crust of this slice already. “I’m going to eat the whole pizza,” she said quietly, to change the subject.

Ezra laughed, leaning back to settle onto the couch next to her. “Drink your water.”

She did, not really thirsty until the first sip hit her tongue, and then she nearly drained the cup. He traded it with his.

When she was on her second slice he asked, “What happened?”

Freya had known the question was coming. How could it not be? She’d been thinking about the answer since she pulled herself out of the sea.

“They took you to the docks?”

She nodded. Yeah. They took her to the docks.

“How did you get away?”

She chewed and swallowed, glancing sideways to catch his reaction when she answered, “I stabbed a guy.”

“Is he dead?”

She blinked. Ezra hadn’t shown any sign of being surprised let alone horrified. “I don’t think so.”

“How did you end up in the bay?”

“I jumped in.”

He stared at her, slowly smiling. “You swam the bay?”

“I didn’t have a lot of options.”

“And then you walked up to the park?”

“Again… Not a lot of options.”

“You could have asked someone for help.”

Freya lifted an eyebrow, wondering if Ezra was testing her. “And say what? ‘My name is Freya Morgan and someone kidnapped me?’ No, that would involve cops and a hospital. I kept my mouth shut and I got myself home.”

“Ellis.”

She had just taken another bite of her pizza. She was already starting to feel full, but she wasn’t ready to stop eating. It felt like it had been days. “What?”

“Freya Morgan Ellis.”

She swallowed.

“The name has weight here. You could use it.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything, chewing on her crust instead.

“Do you know who they were? The people that took you?” he asked, still in that easy voice, like they were talking about some friends of theirs and not her abductors.

She scooted back on the couch, into the corner. It was small enough that even that didn’t put much space between them. “No. I’d recognize them if I saw them again, but I didn’t know them.”

He nodded, pulling out his phone and tapping it to life. He brought something up and passed it to her. “Anyone here?”

Freya took the phone and looked at the file of photos. Half were mugshots and the other half seemed to be candid pictures. None had been taken on his phone, but where in a file he had access to.

She started scrolling through them. She recognized some of them, was related to more than a few, but didn’t find Vizzini or his thugs. “No. It was three guys. One seemed to be the brains and the other two were just muscle. A driver and a gunman.”

Freya passed the phone back and he put it on the table.

“And you got the jump on them?”

“Yeah.” It wouldn’t work next time if Vizzini got her in the same situation. He was definitely too smart for that. She could only pretend to be helpless so many times before people got wise and learned to put a bullet in her from afar. “I should have killed him,” she half-whispered, more to herself than to Ezra. She hadn’t really thought about it until now. She could have and she should have killed him.

If Vizzini lived, he would be a problem next time around.

“Why didn’t you?” Ezra asked.

I need friends, she thought. It was insane and she definitely wasn’t going to say it out loud. She reminded herself that she couldn’t trust Ezra, but it was hard to believe just then. She shrugged.

“Were they going to kill you?”

She sank deeper into that corner of the couch. “Yeah. He had a plan to start a war between them and us over it.”

Ezra was quiet for a long time, long enough that she glanced up at him on the other side of the couch. He was frowning cutely before finally looking at her and saying, “I’m glad you stabbed him.”

She bit her lip, trying to tamp down her own grin. “I think I shot one of the thugs too.”

His eyebrows went up and he twisted sideways to mirror her on the couch. “What? Okay, start at the beginning. Paint me a scene.”

She did. Talking to him was easy and she found himself not giving him the CliffsNotes but the whole story, from the brunch all the way to the park.

Ezra listened, wincing and nodding at key moments in sympathy.

When it was done, he took a deep breath and let it out. He mulled over the information for long seconds and she found herself on edge, wondering what he’d say. Finally, he looked her in the eye. “Vic is definitely going to keep throwing drinks on you.”

Freya blinked and then laughed. “That’s your take away?”

“That’s the real threat, isn’t it? You can clearly handle kidnappers just fine. The problem is you letting Adi’s sisters bully you. They’re not going to stop. Vic tried to hit Molly once and when that didn’t land, she threw a drink. Have you fucking met Molly?”

Freya nodded, she had. Molly was a scary person. The idea that she’d take that abuse was surprising.

“Mol has been with Grayson for years and Victoria still hasn’t let up.”

Freya shrugged. She wasn’t that scared. “I can take it.”

Ezra’s smile vanished. “The point is, you shouldn’t.”

She stared back at him. Her legs were curled on the couch cushion between them, so close that she could almost feel the heat of his thigh against her shin. “Why not? Molly takes it.”

“Molly’s situation is complicated…” he hedged.

Freya laughed shortly. “And mine isn’t?”

He looked at her, completely serious. “No. It’s not. Your family brokered your marriage to the Ellises. They sold you to their enemies for a trade agreement.”

She tensed, heart squeezing in her chest.

“But now the Ellises have to keep you as one of their own. You might not be able to leave Everton, but you don’t have to let Victoria throw a drink in your face either. You have more leverage than you realize, Freya.”

Her mind spun on his words and the certainty in his voice.

Ezra smiled softly. “Of course, I’m not suggesting you pull any more guns on family members…”

For a split second, Freya wasn’t sure what he was talking about. The last time she’d pulled a gun had been on her kidnappers that morning. And then she remembered Adi in the hallway that night after she’d tried to run. How had that only been a few days ago?

Of course, Adi had told Ezra.

“How does it work… you and him,” she asked softly.

Ezra only looked surprised for a second before settling into his side of the couch, staring back at her. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. Growing up around the Ellises… their old man offered me work all the time. He even tried to talk me into being a guard for Adi since we were together all the time anyway and I could be in his classes and go everywhere he went.”

Freya nodded slowly. The idea of recruiting a child to guard another child with his life was grim, but she’d seen worse.

“I don’t work for them,” he said clearly, because it was important. “I don’t work for Adi or his family. He pretends not to get why, but I think he knows. I can tell him to fuck off any time I want to, and I don’t have to do anything Harmon says either.” He laid his cheek against the couch cushion, just like her, his smile soft and tired. Their knees were touching now, a perfect mirror, if only they weren’t so different in body. He was bigger, broader, and tattooed. She was soft and short. “I was homeless for a while and managed to hide it from Adi,” he confessed in a playful whisper, like maybe Adi still hadn’t figured it out. “He would have done something stupid like buy me a place to live if he’d known.”

“Like a mistress,” Freya understood.

Ezra nodded, holding her gaze. “I’m not the mistress,” he said quietly, an edge there that would have put her on guard if she didn’t think she knew what he meant.

Ezra was Adi’s partner. His best friend. His lover.

Freya was his wife. It came with the title and ties, but it didn’t change anything about Ezra. She swallowed a lump in her throat that wanted to become an apology. She didn’t owe Ezra an apology and she didn’t really think he wanted one. “What does that make us?”

“You and me?” he asked, that smile pulling at his mouth again.

She nodded, tired. “You and me.”

He reached out, his fingertips warm against her temple and firmly sliding back to comb her wet hair away from her face. “Tangled up.”

Freya closed her eyes under that touch. “Are we enemies?” she asked, like he would tell her if they were.

He was still touching her hair, and then the skin behind her ear and down the side of her neck. “I don’t want to be enemies with you, Freya.” There was a smile in his voice. “I’ve seen your knife.”

She sighed. She was just so tired.

“I know,” he said, like he heard her thoughts. Had she said them out loud? “You can sleep. I won’t let anyone in.”

[thatseventiesbitch]

Fictober 5th - “No, anything but that!”

This is part of #Fictober22, original post HERE if you want to follow or write along. Just some drabbles I’m doing, for fun. ✌🏼

“I’m sorry Eric, I’m just not feeling well.” Donna clutched her pregnant belly and Eric felt a pang of guilt for even making her apologize. “I don’t think I can help you set up the crib today, and it’s definitely a two person job.”

“No, no,” Eric soothed, and he set a hand on his girlfriend’s back, guiding her back towards their bedroom. “I’m sorry. Of course, you should rest. I’ll - I’ll try to figure it out myself.”

Damn their procrastinating, Eric thought. They’d kept saying they’d set the crib up next weekend, and then the next one, and then the one after that until, well - they were about to run out of weekends. Baby-free weekends, anyway.

Donna’d started having Braxton-Hicks contractions - Kitty called them false labor pains, but it meant real labor was just ahead. Red had slapped Eric’s shoulders, chuckling, and told him to get the damn crib ready, dumbass.

“I’ve got this,” Eric assured her, trying to hide the panic welling in his voice. “I’ve got it.”

Donna shook her head. “No. You won’t be able to do it alone. But you know who’s surprisingly good at this kind of thing? Jackie. I’ll call her.

“No, anything but that!” Eric shook his head vehemently.

But it was too late. Donna was on the phone, and in just fifteen minutes, Jackie Burkhart was at their door.

“I’m so glad you called me, Donna,” Jackie nodded. “I’ll have that crib built in no time. Well, Eric will. But I’ll tell him what to do.” Upon arriving she’d promptly heated up some tea for Donna, and now she filled a mug and sent a grateful Donna on her way, back to bed. Then Jackie turned to Eric.

“Where’s the instruction manual?” she asked snottily.

“Over there, I’m guessing.” Eric gestured to the large cardboard box the crib was delivered in. He hadn’t touched it.

“Open the box, Eric,” Jackie commanded. She handed him a pair of scissors and primly took a seat on the edge of an ottoman. “I’ll try to use small words so you can understand.” She gave Eric a tight smile.

He growled and snatched the scissors from her, then opened the box and spread the contents out on the rug in silence. When he found the instruction manual, he handed it to Jackie wordlessly. She looked over it and then slid to the floor to inspect the pieces.

“Okay, we need four of these thingies,” she held up a long white piece, but Eric shook his head.

“We only have three.”

Jackie scowled. “What do you mean we only have three? We need four.”

“I mean there’s only three.” Eric scowled back. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Well check the box or something,” she said, exasperated.

Eric shook the box, and the missing long white piece fell to the floor between them. His face turned red, embarrassed, and Jackie snatched the piece in her hand, vindicated.

“Ha,” she snapped. “Follow directions, Eric,” she taunted him, but when he muttered an apology under his breath she let up.

Over the next thirty minutes, they successfully assembled the skeleton of the crib. Surprising both of them, after their initial quibbling they were able to set aside their bickering and work together. Jackie’s natural leadership abilities and prior mechanic experience shone through, and Eric’s craftsmanship from putting together his models lent itself to the task, too. 

“Is that screw tight?” Jackie inspected over his shoulder as they finished attaching the headboard to the base of the crib.

Eric checked it himself, and nodded. “Yep.”

“Are you sure?” Jackie teased him. She tossed the Phillips screwdriver she’d been holding into the toolbox, like she was taking a break for a while. “I want my godchild to be safe while they sleep.”

Eric rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Right. And I have no vested interest here.”

They did take a break to go have a pop in the kitchen, and as they sat down at the counter Jackie said, “You know, Eric, we were almost a good team back there.”

Eric took a thoughtful sip of his Coke. “I’m pleasantly surprised at how not awful that turned out to be.”

“Aw,” Jackie lifted a hand to her heart. “Eric. That’s one of the nicest things you’ve said about me.”

Eric nodded his head sincerely. “I really, really meant it, Jackie.”

“You take directions well,” she said, turning to compliment him.

“Huh,” Eric said. “Tell Donna that, will you?”

“Sure,” Jackie giggled. “You know Eric, we’ve hung out together - just us - twice now, and you haven’t hated it,” she reminded him. “Remember when we registered for gifts for your wedding?” Eric slowly nodded. He remembered. Jackie sipped her Tab, and smiled. “We’re kind of friends, Eric.”

Eric laughed. “No, we’re not,” he said reflexively. Jackie tilted her head, but she didn’t say anything. Eric thought about it for another moment, and then his eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god. You’re kind of my friend!”

Jackie’s laugh was more of a cackle now.

“Oh my god,” Eric begged her. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Jackie covered her mouth, still laughing. “I think - I think they might already know.”