#i am literally so feral for him on thursday i felt like i was going to explode if he didn't fuck me right that second

[pomegranatecountry]

i think i need to jerk off before i go to the easter vigil mass so i can survive through it without going insane

[olichat-reads]

Imagine | ProHero!Bakugou x Villain!Reader #2

a/n: I felt like writing some insight to what i meant when i say you and bakugou working together is somehow worse than you two going against each other. Because, yes, its that bad haha.

she/her reader

🌟

Imagine being tangled in wires and each other like cats in yarn, with you strapped to katsu's leg, trying to wiggle yourself free like a dying fish while reading the manual upside down for katsu who is frantically defusing a bomb with only his left hand because his right is stuck to your face.

"Why do we always end up like this?"

"20 years of friendship and i still have no fucking clue."

"Red wire or white?"

"Re- WAIT. WAIT. NO. WHITE."

"FUCK YOU. ARE TRYING TO GET US KILLED."

"BITCH YOU TRY READING FROM THIS ANGLE. NOW FLIP THE PAGE."

*sigh of god's most tortured soul*

"Y/n. I only have one hand free."

"Well good for you. I have none. Now. Flip- OW. OW KATSU MY HAIR. MY HAIRRR"

"STOP FUCKING SQUIRMING. I CAN'T REACH THE DAMN THING FROM HERE."

*3 minutes left on timer*

*incoherent screeching*

☆

Its usually why you rarely have anyone else on comms- because no one can stand you guys' stupid 😭.

"Red, are you hearing this psychopath??"

"Shitty hair, if you take her side I'm going to blast your ass into next thursday-"

"Don't threaten him into admitting you were right! You KNOW you're fucking NOT."

"YES, I FUCKING AM-"

"OH YEAH? LETS PUT IT OUT THERE THEN. SEE WHAT THE PUBLIC THINKS OF THE NUMBER ONE HERO DRINKING HIS COFFEE WITH HOT SAUCE-"

"ITS AN ACQUIRED TASTE-"

"ITS FUCKING DISGUSTING IS WHAT IT IS. RED TELL HIM-"

"..."

*red has left the call*

*pinky has come online*

"...HI GUYS PINKY HERE. Red had to um-"

"Pinky please tell this psycho that hot sauce in coffee is fUCKING-"

"Ohhhh its you two...... Yea, nope :D." *call disconnected*

"HAH."

"THAT WAS NOT A *YES* YOU FUCKING-"

But weirdly no one is ever too worried about you two fucking up on missions. You're both the best in the field. Feral, reckless and a little insane? Sure. But you get the job done.

A cross between lawful evil and chaotic evil.

"Can we just kill him?"

"No."

"...can i just kill him?"

"No."

"You've read the file! I'll be doing the world a favour by offing trash like him."

"This world has laws that you are binded to. And the law said fucking no."

"...please?"

"..."

"How am I supposed to live, laugh, love in this conditions?"

*big sigh*

"Fine. Mess him up. No killing. Death's too good for him."

":D!! I feel like I should be worried about the number one hero's morals but FUCK YEAH! VIOLENCE! >:D"

☆

You're also not against smacking the stupid out of your bestfriend, especially when he gets a little too reckless on the job. Injured or not. It never works but it makes you feel better at least.

"Please stop getting shot. It stresses me out."

"Oh well if you don't fucking like it- PUT THOSE HANDS AWAY I'M INJURED YOU HEARTLESS WENCH-"

☆

Its not just him tho. You're BOTH stupid. It goes both ways. ✨️ b a l a n c e ✨️

"Why are you like this."

"Idk, man. I think its the anxiety."

"The anx- BITCH YOU JUST JUMPED OUT A 12 STOREY BUILDING."

"DON'T YELL AT ME I LITERALLY JUST TOLD YOU I HAVE ANXIETY"

"'I haVe aNxiETy' she says, yeeting herself out the window because the elevator is 'sUS'."

"Small spaces makes me twitchy-"

"AND JUMPING OUT A FUCKING BUILDING DOESN'T??"

"( ; ω ; )"

"Fuck you."

"I deserve that."

"THE FUCK YOU DO-"

☆

I feel like as much as it seems like a bad idea for both parties involved, neither you can help that your work life bleeds into your regular life as well. And you both surprisingly manage it well around each other.

"Have you heard about that new hero??"

"You talking about that air brained newbie?"

"Oh my god, so he WAS dumb! I literally thought you guys were using him as bait!"

"We weren't. He's just fucking stupid."

"I almost felt bad knocking him out :("

"Nah, you're fine. In fact, you should've hit him harder. Maybe give him a concussion or hell a scar as a souvenir. Make sure the lesson fucking sticks."

"You are worryingly condoning of violence for the number one hero, Katsu."

"Bitch, have you met me?"

☆

Another thing that i thing could go awfully wrong is literally planning out your work plans together but you two are just??? So trusting of the other to never double cross you.

"Wait, what? Why the fuck would you do that?"

"Because thats the nearest and fastest exit to the train station. I can cut down on 10 whole minutes and i need that time to catch the train."

"But its the riskiest, you fucking dumbass. Look, you have four other exits WHY would you pick the one you KNOW the heroes would target?"

"Because MATHS SAID-"

"You know what just let me do it-"

"Katsu no-"

☆

You give each gray hairs but you both of you were ready to risk your neck for the other.

"Having you as my bestfriend is like having an emotionally unstable daughter that never listens."

"...but?"

"There's no buts. You give me migraines."

":("

Yeah. You love each other.

🌟

a/n: hehe

[vanillafrog]

I'm Scared to Feel This Way (But You Won't Let Me Run Away)

Pairing: Whiskey x You

Summary: You hated his existence more than anything but once forced to be his trainee, you come to feel a whirlwind of emotions towards Whiskey that overwhelms you completely. Luckily, Whiskey might just feel the same way.

Word Count: 3511

Warnings: angst to smut to fluff, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, degradation and a bit a praise, unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks), creampie

A/N: I wrote this live in front of my friends so they got to watch me black out and write this lol. Though tbh, writing in front of people real time does make you finish things.

To be a Statesman takes hard work and dedication. Something a lot of people don't have the capability of doing which is why there are only a handful of top agents that will take on students from the Academy to train under them as their ward. There are tons of students who prayed and pleaded for an agent to take them under. Some had very specific tastes on who they wanted.

Most of the people wanted to work under someone they found... ahem aesthetically pleasing. This being the case, Agent Jack Daniels or as others called him, Whiskey, had a swarm of people pleading for him to take them under. Some quite literally.

Yet, here this cowboy stood with an annoying smirk on his face as your professor announced that you would be his trainee. It was an amazing opportunity to have but... fuck that dude. You wished any other agent had chose you and from that stupid look on his face, he knew. He always knew that he drove you batshit whenever he would come guest lecture or stand in for the sparring trainer. It was just his energy that made you feral and not in a way you were particularly used to. The accent, the hat, the cocky attitude made you just want to punch him. But you couldn't. Not without completely throwing away your scholarship that you worked too hard to obtain. No, you couldn't punch.

So you would ignore him. At first, whenever he would flirt at you, you would just turn your head to whoever was next to you to make it seem like you thought it was them he was flirting with. After all, those stupid sunglasses made it difficult to tell who he was looking at anyways. Then he started to not wear them around you. Which truthfully was somewhat endearing but the stupid shit that left his mouth dampened the effect.

Then you had to get creative in ignoring him. He'd flirt, you'd look around you like you were lost before shrugging at him and walking away. Whiskey at first was confused by it (maybe a little hurt if he was honest) but that didn't stop the cowboy. If anything, it seemed to encourage him to want to get in your pants even harder.

Soon it just became walking out of rooms he was in and if you couldn't, you just wouldn't listen to anything he said unless he was lecturing or saying something of use. He would find ways of approaching you, talking to you. Even on one occasion, brushing your arm. That didn't end up well for either of you but that was a story for another time.

Now you're stuck following his hick ass around god's creation for the next few months until you were assigned as an official agent. The first month felt like hell on earth but then he became a somewhat bearable presence. He was still flirty and downright arrogant at times but it did seem like he wanted you to do your best in this field. Something you didn't expect if you were honest but that would be your fault for judging a book by its cover. Half way through your second month with him, you began to notice how your eyes would find him instantly whenever entering a room. You shrugged it off as a force of habit from when you were ignoring him. Then at the end of the month, you noticed how you would actively seek him out in those rooms. That bothered you a little. Made it feel like he was winning some game you barely knew the rules of. But whatever, you just went with it. It's not like it could get particularly worse than that.

Then it did. The first time it happened was after you shadowed him on a mission that went sideways. You both were okay and the mission was successful but the scrapes and bruises, the nearly getting shot exhausted you to the bone. That night in your shared hotel room you both shared a bed even though there were two.

He had offered when he noticed how shaken up you were. You had tried to play it off, seem like some type of bad ass. But he saw through it so you ended up cuddled against his chest that night and he was pleasant. Whiskey didn't flirt or be annoying or anything other than a gentleman. Something so rare to see in him. It was like it broke something in you. Or fixed. Something.

Four months as his ward and you weren't as annoyed with him as you used to be. After rough missions, you even found yourself hugging him or cuddling up in bed. The people who knew your distaste in him from before teased you about how he got you wrapped around his finger. You wished they were wrong but they weren't. He did have you wrapped around his finger and upon realizing it, you were scared.

Being scared means running. At least that's what it meant to you. You didn't exactly avoid him. You couldn't even if you wanted to. No, you just didn't spend extra time with him. After missions, you would force yourself away from him. Away from some kind of comfort that only he could provide. Whiskey didn't say anything at first. Then a month passed and he noticed how distant you were. He couldn't help but wonder what it was that he did wrong. Your interactions before you distanced yourself were normal to your guys' standards. Hell, he was sure you were beginning to feel the same way for him as he felt for you since you first shown you weren't going to fall easily into his charms.

"Hey." It was a late Thursday evening when Whiskey caught you before leaving the building. You looked up at him confused but decided to stop and wait for him to come up to you. "Need a ride?"

"What?" You stared at him bewildered. Sure, there were times where you rode on the back on his motorcycle before but those were always for missions and not so much pleasure. Whiskey smiled shyly at you.

"I just-" He cleared his throat, looking away for a moment before making eye contact again.

"We haven't really spent time together lately so I thought, maybe, I could take you home..." He trailed off for a moment. "Maybe we could order take out?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?" You didn't mean to sound so aghast, you really didn't. He just surprised you. The cowboy never seemed to be the dating type. Hell, him being somewhat shy right now was positively nerve-racking. Whiskey shifted his feet before taking a breathe and giving you a panty dropping smile. "And if I am?"

You stood there for a moment, processing what was happening. There was absolutely no way... there was... Agent Jack Daniels was asking you of all people on a date like a school boy. It broke your heart and repaired it all in a handful of seconds. You didn't even notice that you were staring at him or crying until his rough palms held your cheeks so gently that you were positive you knew what this feeling you were so scared of was.

"Baby," he whispered. "Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me how to fix this." His voice was a desperate plead as hands moved behind your back and pulled you toward his chest. You just sobbed louder, clutching onto him for dear life. He nuzzled your hair with your nose, holding you firmly and making sure there were no wandering eyes to see you in your distressed position. He just knew you would hate for others to see you having a weak moment.

After a few moments where your sobs became softer, Whiskey placed a sweet kiss on your forehead before pulling away. "So sugar," you scoffed at the nickname making him chuckle. "Do I get to take you out?"

"On a date or with a sniper?" You smiled at him getting a loud laugh in response. Your heart clenched at the sound.

"I was hoping a date but if you preferred something else..." Whiskey smelled deviously at you causing an ache in your core. You coughed, looking around at the empty hall around you. "I'm just yanking your chain, baby. As much as I want to have you for dinner, I won't make you do anything you don't wanna."

Fuck, fuck, shit. Why did he make common sense and consent sound so sexy? When did he even cause arousal to spike through you? Maybe this was what you were always feeling towards him. Perhaps that annoyance was an act you held up in hopes of hiding how badly you wanted to save a horse. Didn't matter because you just finished having a mental breakdown over emotions for the same guy who was willing to fuck you even with tear stained cheeks.

You looked back at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards your face. Your lips barely an inch apart. A groan left his mouth as one hand tangled into the hair on the back of his neck, just pointing out of his hat. "Are you offering to fuck me?"

His hands found your hips, grip tight as he pulled your body into his. His dark eyes shifted behind your eyes, looking for any signs of distress or teasing before leaning towards your ear and whispering, "I was thinking more along the lines of making love..." Your breath hitched. "But if you want me to pound that pretty pussy of yours, all you got to do is ask."

He pulled your ear lobe between his teeth gently before ghosting his nose along your cheek and hovering his lips just above yours. Without thought, you pushed your lips into his roughy. He reciprocated instantly, devouring your lips with no regard for the clanking of teeth. One of his hands trailed up your back and grabbing you at the base of your neck, tilting your head exactly how he wanted so he could tear you apart with his mouth.

You couldn't help the moan that left you as you tried to grind up against him. Whiskey just abruptly pulled away from you, ignoring your whine but smiling at how you chased after his lips.

"As much as I always wanted to fuck you on my desk, I think I would rather see how beautiful you look on my bed." He grabbed your hand before walking to the elevator. He didn't yank or drag you and his grip was firm but loose enough for you to pull away from if you wanted. Despite his filthy words and filthier kissing, he was still being respectful to you. Shit, if that didn't make your pussy throb even harder and your heart proud against your ribs.

Climbing onto his motorcycle was second nature, securing your arms around his waist after strapping on the helmet was a common occurrence. However this time it felt different. Like you were setting something in stone that you weren't really sure of what it was but knew was good.

The ride to his apartment was quick. Probably quicker than it should've been with your hand palming him through his jeans but you weren't going to get into it with him about driving safety. At least not now as he climbs off his bike and quite literally throws your over his shoulder. A laugh tore through you as he stomped his way into his apartment building and the elevator leading up to his floor.

"Oh you thought that little game of yours was cute, baby girl?" His voice a rough growl. "Playing with my cock like that when I'm trying to focus on the road."

"Only a little bit," you snickered at him. In response, he swatted your ass making you moan involuntarily. His grip tightened around your thighs.

"Well I be damned sugar," he ran his hand over where he just smacked, soothing it. "I never would've thought you were so damn dirty but I might've gotten real lucky with you."

Your nails dug into his back when he said that and the cocky bastard chuckled. He caught you with your pants down so might as well try to get the high ground again. "Sir," you whined while wiggling your hips. His breath caught in his throat, obviously thinking you weren't going to play along. "I'll be your good girl."

As soon as the elevator opened, he hauled ass to his apartment, particularly ripping the doorknob off trying to rush inside. Jack didn't even bother setting you down. He just headed straight to his bedroom where he tossed you onto his large mattress where you bounced from the force of it.

You looked up at him with a doe like expression, watching him breath heavily and finally being able to take note of the large bulge formed in his jeans. Jack grabbed your ankles, pulling you so your ass was hanging off the bed and he was the only reason why you didn't fall.

"You going to be a good girl for me?" His hand squished your cheeks and you nodded. His gaze softened for a moment. "You'll tell me when to stop or slow down?"

"Yes sir," you responded back to him as clear as your lust hazed mind would allow you. He nodded before shoving your shirt over your head and yanking your pants off, leaving you in your underwear. You couldn't help but feel self conscious under his appraising gaze. This morning you didn't exactly put on your 'fuck me' underwear. It's not like you knew you were going to end up sleeping with your mentor today though you probably should've. Being a Statesman did mean being prepared for any outcome.

"So fucking pretty," he mumbled more to himself than you. His large hand roamed over your stomach and thighs before his eyes made his way back toward your face. "I really am the luckiest man." "Jack," you whined, pushing your hips up towards his causing him to swat your thigh.

"Wrong name, pretty girl." His fingers found their way to the hem of your underwear.

"S-sir," you corrected yourself. He hummed, pushing his hand down until his fingers found your soaked core. He groaned as he swiped his fingers through your folds making your whimper before he pulled his hand out and popped his fingers in his mouth while holding eye contact with you. The moan he let out was downright sinful.

"Sweeter than sugar and damn near the best thing I've ever tasted." He grabbed the hem of your panties, waiting for your signal. You nodded and he quickly yanked them down your legs before dropping to his knees. He had just barely thrown your legs over his shoulders before he enveloped your heat with his mouth making you arch up into him. "Take off your bra, let me see you play with those beautiful tits."

You instantly followed his orders, throwing the bra somewhere in the room and tweaking your hardened nipples as he tongue flicked at your clit. You cried out as he pulled your closer to his face as he began to roll your sensitive nub around before sucking harshly. There was no way to focus on anything other than the pleasure he was bringing you so you dropped your hands into his hair and pulling on it making him stand up and away from you.

"I don't remember telling you to do that." "I'm sorry, I'm-" You didn't get to finish your half assed apology before Jack hauled you onto the bed and rolled you onto your stomach.

"Hands and knees." You scrambled up instantly. "Since you wanted to act like a little whore, I'll fuck you like one." Behind you, you could hear the clanking of him unbuckling his belt. You couldn't help pushing your hips back towards him making his swat your ass. "Needy little slut."

You had just barely felt the brush of him against your entrance before he was pushing in, stretching you out against his impressive length. He paused half way through, letting you adjust to him. Once he felt your walls relax around him, he quickly thrusted the rest of himself inside making you cry out. You both groaned at him finally filling you to the hilt.

A second passed before he started to languidly thrust. Your head dropped between your shoulders as his cock hit every crevice inside you. Now you knew he had a reason to be so damn arrogant sometimes.

He yanked your head up by your hair. "Pay attention, baby girl." His thrusts turned harsh and fast suddenly. "Because I'm not going to fucking repeat myself." You could barely focus on anything other than stroking of him inside. "You. Are. Mine." He thrusted in time with his words. "No one else gets to feel this tight little pussy of yours. No one else gets to hear this sounds and no one else gets to have your heart."

Your hips moved back into his his, trying to reach that high that you just knew was going to absolutely destroy you. When you didn't respond, he pulled you up by your neck. He held you up against his chest by your throat, not choking you, just holding you there.

"Answer me," he hissed out between his teeth was your cunt clenched around him. You brought your hand up to his, pushing it more against you, trying to encourage him to choke.

"Yours," you breathed out. "Yours, o-only yours." He gave your neck a test squeeze and sure enough, you began thrusting back towards him faster. "Only gonna love you, only you, fuck." You were getting so damn close. Hell, you didn't even notice what you just said but he did.

All the air in his lungs left him. He pulled out, ignoring your whine before pushing you onto your back and covering your body with his. Jack greedily attached his lips to yours as he pushed back into you and resumed pounding your pussy. With one arm holding him up beside your head, the other found it's way between your legs where he rubbed circles against your clit making you finally teeter over the edge.

You screamed out his name against his lips and he fucked you through your orgasm. His fingers didn't stop rubbing your clit under your pushed them away but he didn't stop his harsh thrusts. He just moved that arm parallel to the other one as he pushed himself closer towards his release.

"Where?" He groaned out, thrusts turning sloppier and harder.

"Inside." He loudly inhaled before dropping his head into your neck and leaving multiple kisses and bites between praises of "such a good girl" and "made just for me" along other things muffled against your skin.

His nose pressed into your pulse as he throbbed inside of you, feeling you with his seed. A drawn out moan fell from his lips along with a chant of your name. He rocked inside you for a bit before staying still and kissing you gently.

Now that the lust had been satisfied, he was able to hold you under him and show you exactly how he felt. He pulled his lips away from yours and brushed hair out of your face. You gazed up at him with tired but loving eyes. Jack couldn't help but smile at you and places kisses whether he could reach. Mouth, nose, forehead, cheeks.

"I don't know what made you cry earlier," he started, lips pressed against your cheek. "But I promise, baby girl, that I'll do my best by you."

"I know, Jack," you fingers massaging his scalp. "And I promise to be my best for you as well."

He pulled away to hover over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Does this mean I get to bang you on my desk?" You laughed at him, making you both temporarily hiss when you squeezed around his softened cock inside you. "One day but for now, let's cuddle."

"Anything for you." He pulled out of you , rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him. His heart beat was steady against your ear and clearer than anything had been in your life.

Agent Jack Daniels was an annoying son of a bitch. Since you met for the first time, he had gotten on your last nerve but somehow he ended up wiggling his way into your heart. Even more bizarre, you were in his as well. So maybe your professor allowing you to work under him was a good idea after all. Agent Whiskey was one of the best in the field to learn from and now you knew for a fact that he was going to be the best to take care of your damaged heart. You could only hope to be able to cherish his properly in return.

[hankwritten]

No Thru Traffic

Gen, 1k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 6: Parade

“I’m really sorry Administrator,” I coughed into my tissue. “It really is- achoo-! It really is that bad. But at least it came after I got all that work done yesterday, right?”

The slightly pixelated Administrator on the other end of the Zoom call did not chime in in agreement. She narrowed her eyes, and I swallowed, hoping the sweat beading down the side of my face added to the charade.

After several tense seconds, the Administrator said, “very well. But I expect you early tomorrow morning to make up for the lost contracts.”

“Oh d-definitely,” I sniffed. “I’m sure it’ll be c-cleared up by tomorrow,”

“It better be. Administrator out.”

Her face hung frozen for a half second before the call dropped, replaced by a black void on my screen. I cautiously closed the webcam cover, just in case.

Then, I flew into a frenzy, wiping off the makeup I’d used put fake bags under the eyes. From my nose I removed two stubs of tissue, and took in a glorious breath now that I was freed from stuffy-nostrils. The sweat was real though. I’d never lied to the Administrator before, never to her face, and the sudden adrenaline as I realized what I’d just pulled off threatened to jitter me out of my skin.

“Yes!” I said, punching the air. “Ha! I did it!”

The exultation was short lived, as my head whipped to where my laptop was still sitting open. The call was over but…better be extra safe and power that off before I go.

I changed out of the grubby, sick-girl pajamas, and went to my closet. Habitually, my hand went to one of my numerous purple tops, but stopped just short of the hanger. Was this what I was going to wear, today of all days? Same boring work clothes I did for the other three hundred sixty-four days a year? I drew my hand back and frowned.

Screw it. Who knew when the next time I’d work up the nerve to do this again?

I began shoving hangers aside, heavy with their deep whooshing as I sorted through dozens and dozens of painfully similar button downs. Sometimes there was even a dress! How original! So I just kept searching and searching until-

There! Right at the back: an orange Hawaiian shirt I’d worn exactly once, back when I’d been forced to take my government mandated vacation. I pulled it on with gusto.

The tangles came free from my hair—I hadn’t brushed it yet that morning in order to give it that “sickly” look—and then I was in front of the bathroom mirror. Biting my lip, I looked down at the facepaints I’d bought on an impulse, thinking at the time I could paint little flags on my cheeks, but now that the time was upon me I wondered if it was too much. Already I was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, how much more wild was I willing to get?

But, well, since I’d already bought them…

Fifteen minutes later, I examined myself in the mirror again, and gave a relieved sigh. Hadn’t managed to smudge a thing!

Sensible shoes, my bus pass, and then I was off.

The parade was vibrant, so much better in person instead of looking at YouTube clips later and sighing wistfully. My first day off to coincide with it ever, and all I’d had to do was a little office subterfuge. Now, as long as I didn’t end up in any photos, no one would know I’d been here at all! Everything was going to be absolutely-

“-Oof, entschuldigung, I did not see you there.” The man who’d just bumped into me adjusted his glasses. “Miss Pauling?”

“Medic?” I gaped. “What are you doing here?”

“I am here for the parade of course,” he said, gesturing around. He was dressed for it, his usual vest replaced with one of horizontal rainbow stripes. “As are you, I assume.”

“Yes but,” I stumbled over my words. “What about work?”

“Ah, the Voice? I simply told her I was sick.”

I felt my spirits sink. “Did you now.” I rubbed my face, only remembering to avoid the facepaint at the last second. “It’s fine. Great to see you actually. As long as no one else recognizes us I’m sure we’re-”

“Doktor! Miss Pauling!”

“Aw jeez.”

Pushing through the crowd to greet them was the Heavy Weapons Guy—even worse, Engie appeared to be tagging along behind him, discussing a brochure with a unicorn-costume clad Pyro.

“Did not expect to see you here,” Heavy said as he made it to our side of the street. “Thought little Pauling must work.”

“Could say the same to you guys!” I said, irritation creeping into my voice. “Don’t tell me you all just played hookey together?”

“Naw,” Engie replied. “Didn’t know any of these fellers were coming until we all ran into each other.”

“This is bad,” I began to titter. “If we’re here, then who’s at the office?”

“…Is this a bad time to tell you that Demo ‘n Soldier are coming at us from down the street?”

I whipped around. Sure enough, there they were: Soldier with rainbow-striped American flag tied around his shoulders, and Demo with his afro dyed a deep commitment to purple.

“Ahhhhh!” I couldn’t help but let out. “Why did you all have to skip work at the same time as me?”

“We all wanted to come to the parade, lass.” Then, noting my distress, Demo added with a wink, “don’t fret! The old woman won’t know a thing. Currently, I’m home in bed with the measles.”

“The measles,” I deadpanned. I turned to our now rather obstructing group. “And what did the rest of you say?”

“Gingivitis,” Soldier offered.

“Chicken pox.”

“Halitosis.”

“Cat Scratch Fever,” Scout said, taking a bite from a hot dog.

“Scout!” I demanded. “When did you get here?”

He shrugged. “Don’t blame me, I was just following Spy, seeing why he was sneaking around and crap.”

“And I told you,” Spy’s voice replied, “that I was merely following the bushman and seeing what he was up to.”

“Wankers.”

Maybe I should just stop turning around. Then my coworkers would have to stop randomly appearing behind me, right?

“That’s literally everyone,” I berated them all. This time, when I rubbed my palms under my glasses, I did end up smudging the paint, streaks of white and pink running up my cheeks. “Uhg, we’re so screwed. What is the Administrator going to think when she walks in to the office and sees-”

“Absolutely no one?”

Okay. It looked like I’d have to turn around in a horrified manner one more time.

The Administrator parted the crowd around her, not the least because her shoulder pads threatened to stab anyone who got too close. Everyone shrank before her, except for Heavy maybe because I don’t think he has it in him to shrink before anyone.

“Helen,” I started, then cleared my throat. “I guess you uh…took a guess where we all went huh?”

“That I did.” She blinked down at her employees. “I must say I am disappointed. Of course, I expect something like this from these idiots, but from you Miss Pauling? Couldn’t even engineer a decent structural emergency in order to justify shirking your work. At the very least you could have flooded the building, or released feral opossums into the ventilation.”

“HEY NOW,” Soldier barked from the back of the group. “Have you been reading my itinerary? Because it very clearly says SOLDIER’S DAY PLANNER, DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE SOLDIER OTHERWISE I WILL KILL YOU!”

“…Are you saying you wanted me to fabricate an emergency?” I asked, perplexed.

“It would at least have been more convincing than nine separate emails from my employees, all claiming different maladies. One of which was,” she looked at her phone, “‘A Case of the Mondays’.”

“It is actually proven that worker productivity is up to thirty-three percent lower at the beginning of the week,” Medic justified.

The Administrator stared at him. “It’s Thursday.”

“Alright, alright,” Engineer butt in. “I think we can all agree that we may have messed up a little. Told a few harmless lies about medical issues we may or may not have. But that ain’t exclusive to Miss P here! We all’ve been lying ‘round here, and it ain’t fair to single her out.”

“The laborer is right,” Spy agreed. “The blame should fall on all of us.”

One by one, to my amazement, the others spoke up, or nodded in agreement. When I glanced up at the Administrator again, she had an eyebrow raised, as though I had somehow orchestrated this as well.

“I could instruct you all to return to work, you know,” she said. “It is only fair that your recrimination should begin there. However…”

“You showed up, saw how sick it was, and decided you’re going to hang out and eat hot dogs with us instead?” Scout asked.

She glared at him. “I still have work that must be done before the end of the day. But, it appears Miss Pauling has tripled her workload in the week leading up to today, she has effectively removed any urgency from the rest of your duties. Thanks to her foresight, you are technically not needed at the office today.”

“Aih! Way to go lassie!” Demo said, squeezing me around the shoulders until only my toes were on the ground. Similar congratulations were offered, everyone getting in a pat on the back.

“You inspire great loyalty, Miss Pauling,” she said. “But do not let this happen again.” With that she turned, and disappeared into the revelry.

“Wow,” I said. “I think I’m going to have a heart attack now.”

“Have one when the parade is over!” Soldier demanded. “Look! Floats!”

There certainly were floats. As the chatter died down, and everyone celebrated their good luck, I was left standing among my friends with a new appreciation, these people who’d stuck by me when it’d counted. They were a bit of a colorful bunch but, hey, who better to celebrate pride with than them?

[desperatefrenchwriter]

Sola Gratia (7/?)

Rating / Warnings : General audiences, no particular warnings.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 7/? (2219 words)

Author’s notes : Rated A for Angst

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Won’t you invite me in ?”

I slowly turned my head to face him, the tip of my nose touching his for a second.

“Do you think this is how it works ?”, I whispered. He inched back, probably picking up the anger I tried to conceal in the softness of my tone. “Do you think you, who has haunted my every nightmare, every dark corner, every space behind my back, for months-” I took a shaky breath. “Do you think you can invade a place I feel most safe in, threaten my dearest friend, threaten me, and hope a gift will make up for it ?”

I clenched my jaw. His expression, as he has leaned back into his seat, was unreadable.

“I have spent days in the hospital, terrified that you would find me and finish the job. And I couldn’t tell- I couldn’t tell anyone why I felt so unsafe because frankly, who would believe me ?”

Tears welled up in my eyes, still he said nothing. Had he spent so much time apart from any humans he forgot how to understand emotion ?

“I am terrified, right now, because I know you could… snap my neck, or bleed me dry, and I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything about it !”

I started to cry silently, unable to stop the flow of tears running down my cheeks. He seemed almost paralyzed. I took the chance, and got out of the car, slamming the door behind me. Fumbling for my keys, my fingers were so shaky I dropped them. As I picked them up, I heard the other car door open, and froze, slowly turning back to face him. He circled around the car, but kept a distance between us.

“I cannot begin to imagine what you went through because of me.” He looked and sounded completely serious, which was a strange color on him. “There is nothing I can say that would be close to an acceptable apology, but I do want to make amends.”

He handed me the box, keys still on the lock. The chain glimmered under the streetlamp’s lights.

“I won’t invite you in”, I maintained.

“And I will not insist.”

I hesitated a little, and first pulled the key from the lock, slipped it into my pocket. As I took the box, my fingers brushed against his, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Are you cold ?”

                   I could have a fire lit, if you want.

“I’m fine”, I replied, once again having no time to protest as he put his jacket on my shoulders. “I’m literally ten feet from my door, Vlad-”

“Hah, she called me Vlad !” A semi-triumphant look plastered on his face.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you, or like you, for all that matter”, I snapped at him.

“And I will make my peace with that.” He put a hand over his heart. “For now.”

“You are insufferable. I’m going to bed.”

He still had a somewhat… sheepish look to him, head slightly tilted to the side, like a grounded puppy. Still. I couldn’t move past the flashes of teeth, blood and feral growls layering over his face. I suddenly had to inhale a sharp gust of air, and turned back, the box held against my chest by my injured hand, the other looking for my keys. I turned back, and climbed the short flight of stairs to the entrance of my building.

“Sleep well, Lady Cetero.”

Can’t promise anything. I buzzed myself in, and hurried to the stairs without a second look behind me, turning all light on as I went by. As I climbed the steps to the fourth and last floor, I felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest. Not only because those stairs were a nightmare, though. On the doorstep, the meowing on the other side of the door had me smiling. That little monster was going to be unbearable.

Giving the usual kick to the door panel to get open, it creaked on its hinges, yet the incessant yelling of the hairball at my feet covered most of the noise.

“Hey, shut it, dumbass, you’ll wake the whole building”, I told him, locking the door behind me.

Following his little strut to the kitchen, I gave him his much expected dose of kibble.

“You fat idiot, you need a diet. I love you so much. Babie.”

He purred hysterically as he ate, and I kept on my incoherent baby talk for a while, mindlessly running my hands through his shaggy fur. God, what a day. I sat on the floor, removing my heels, and resisted the urge to throw them out of the window. Gift from Leah, gift from Leah, I muttered under my breath as I put them away in the hall closet.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed Leah’s number, who picked up before the first ring. I reassured her, told her I was home, safe, and tired. As soon as she started taking her usual gossip-y tone, asking about Vlad, I bid her good night, and hung up on her crystalline laugh.

I dragged my feet to my bedroom, throwing the jacket on my desk chair.  I grumbled as I tried to unzip my dress. God, who decided to make clothing you can’t take off by yourself ? Rich people, probably. Or people in a relationship. As I finally succeeded to pull the tab down, I heard knocking on my window. A panicked scream escaped my mouth as I noticed the dark silhouette standing on the emergency staircase, outside. Him, again. I sighed, and climbed over my bed to open the window a crack.

“What the hell do you want now ?”, I barked at him.

“You forgot your briefcase”, he told me, holding it up for me.

“Oh. Thanks.” I hesitated before opening the window wider. “This is not an invitation.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it”, he smiled as he passed me the worn leather bag. “Although, if you still need help with your dress-”

“Get out of my balcony.”

I could swear he winked before he disappeared. By that I mean, literally vanished. I leaned out of the window, and felt a soft stroke against my cheek, and a bat, flying off. Well. Something to add to the list. I closed the window, and sat back on my mattress. Sleeping was going to be a challenge, tonight.

~ - ~ - ~

The sound of my alarm dragged me from sleep. Buried in my thick duvet, head incased in my pillows, I groaned for a good minute before I found the energy to set my phone off. Outside, everything was still dark, which made getting up that much harder. Zardoz meowed in indignation when I had the nerve, the hubris to move him from my legs, where he’d spent the night.

My hand felt sore, and I figured I had to redo the bandages, if only to assess the damage. It wasn’t too bad, two cuts to my palm, and one across my thumb, the rest being small, superficial scrapes. I disinfected the whole, and carefully placed fresh bandages, making sure I’d be able to actually use my hand this time.

I dragged myself to the kitchen, and the sacrosanct bean juice machine. It did make disgusting coffee, but then again, I was very much used to it. As it rumbled, having the whole table vibrating, I served His Royal Majesty his morning dose. This time, I set it into a training ball, so that he’d have minimal exercise. God, I could barely picture the sorry state I’d found him in. A small, half dying kitten, at the corner of my building, now a year and a half ago. His harrowing mews of distress attracted me, and after a significant amount of vet bills, he was mine. Leah had the idea for his name, as we were in a weird movie binge-watch party, and Sean Connery’s red underwear made some lasting impression of us. By that, I mean she almost choked to death laughing.

Bringing my cup back to my bedroom, I threw some clothes on, and slipped my feet into my boots. Thursdays were usually not that busy for me, but my absence during the seminar meant I had to catch up on some classes, both to my dismay and that of my students. I finished my coffee with a wince. The things we do for energy. At least, wasn’t coke. I checked the contents of my briefcase, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and was out, but not before a final kiss on Zardoz’s belly, who endured with minimal complaints.

Greeting Mrs. Mills, checking her mailbox way too early as she always did, she asked if I had any breakfast, and cursed at me when I answered by the negative, as she always did. And as I always did, I wished her a good day, before storming out. I climbed down the stairs, checking my watch for the next train, and froze as soon as I raised my head back up.

“What the hell are you still doing here ?”, I exclaimed, my voice coming out a bit more squeaky than I would have liked.

“Good morning to you too”, the Count cheerfully replied, handing me a paper bag.

“What’s that ?”

“Oh, don’t sound so suspicious, it’s breakfast”, he sighed.

Squinting at him, I took the bag, and peeked inside. Warm, buttery looking croissants.

“I didn’t know what to pick, I went for ‘timeless classic’. Is that alright ?”

He seemed to genuinely care. I sighed.

“What isn’t alright is you standing at my front door at six thirty in the god forsaken morning. The croissants are fine.”

“Well, perfect then !”, he exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

He opened the passenger door once again.

“What do you mean, you’ll drive ? I’m going to class. I don’t have time for whatever shenanigans you have planned.”

“I know, I’m driving you there.”

Knowing I wouldn’t win this argument, being still half asleep and on an empty stomach, I threw my head back, sighed, letting out a “FINE” that seemed to satisfy him, as I slipped into the car. He sat behind the wheel, my university’s address already in the GPS. Worried me a little. How much exactly did he know ? Was it all in my blood ? Gods, that would be very telling of my academic situation. I leaned back onto my seat, deciding that if I had to put up with him, I didn’t need to make conversation.

“Are you angry, for some reason ?” He really did seem puzzled.

“Dear Lord, you actually have no idea, do you ?”, I sighed.

“I thought it would be gallant.”

“In the twenty-first century, waiting for a woman you barely know, whom you tried to murder a few months ago, is considered a bit creepy, my guy.”

He remained silent, excluding an outraged mouthing of “my guy”, which almost sent me in a fit of laughter.

“Maybe you will have to ‘update’ me on your modern manners, then”, he proposed after a short silence.

“Yeah, maybe.”

What in the goddamn fuck was happening. Three days ago, I had nightmares about the guy, and he was now my glorified chauffeur. Well, not that it really did much for the lingering feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

“So, did you just wait in front of the building, hoping I’d come out eventually ?”

He laughed. “Would you call me a stalker again if I did ?”

“Obviously.”

“Then no.”

I had to say, he was a little funny. Not that I would admit it under torture, but still. The sky started to take a pink color, lighting the few clouds in bright orange.

“You don’t burn in the sunlight. What’s up with that ?”, I asked.

“I don’t sparkle either, if you want to know.” He didn’t let me enough time to react to the terrible implications of that sentence. “Maybe it’s easier to believe you are only unsafe in the dark.”

I sat back, watching the first rays of sunlight come through the windshield, giving his eyes an almost silver color. I noticed a soft smile form on his lips. He wasn’t horrible to look at, when he wasn’t in a bloodthirsty frenzy. A sharp profile, that commended authority, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw. His hair was still long, in controlled, soft waves, mostly slicked back, except for a few strands, falling casually in front of his face.

“Lady Cetero, you will have me blushing soon”, he teased.

Ah. Fuck. “I don’t like you clean-shaven. It looks weird.”

He laughed, and I turned my eyes to the road, trying to ignore the rising heat to my face. Curse me for blushing so easily.

“I’ll let it grow back, then”, he told me, almost apologetic. Soft.

I shifted further into the leather seat, a smile forcing its way to my lips. “Hrm.”

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder

[itsclydebitches]

Preacher Summer Secret Santa Gift: A Three Flower Bouquet

Title: A Three Flower Bouquet 

Summary: Jesse's said before that their lives resemble the start of a bad joke: an ex-preacher, a rich wedding planner, and a foul-mouthed bum all walk into a flower shop...

Fandom: Preacher

Words: 4,574

Warnings: None (except maybe cursing, but if that bothered you you wouldn’t be watching this show lol) 

Pairings: Jesse/Cass/Tulip

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

A/N: Hello, @homelygrantaire!! I come bearing a gift! Just so you know I had a blast writing an OT3 flower shop AU, so I really hope you enjoy this little present. Happy Summer Secret Santa! 

A Three Flower Bouquet 

Week One

Jesse had once read in National Geographic that there were only six degrees of separation between him and every other person on Earth. A friend's colleague's niece's kindergarten buddy grew up to be the wife of the barista who once served the President a cappuccino, that sort of deal. He'd never put much stock in that kind of science-y nonsense, though it might go a long way towards explaining how the hell the three of them kept ending up in here together.

A former preacher, a bum, and a renowned wedding planner all walk into a flower shop...

"We're the beginning of a bad joke," Jesse muttered, hefting his watering can like a pistol. He aimed it at Tulip's head. "What can I do you two for?"

"I need BIG flowers," Cass said promptly at the same time that Tulip went, "The Montoya order." They turned to glare at one another. Jesse just shook his head.

And so the day began.

***

The first time Tulip walked into his shop she was all figurative fire and brimstone—except for the literal fire at the end of her cigarette. She'd commanded the small space with all the ferocity of an army general, laying out a series of rare and rather large orders that she'd need from him within the coming months. At no point did she give her name—which, Jesse would come to learn later, was because she assumed everyone should already knew it—and paid him no heed when Jesse insisted that this was too large a job for his small, out of the way establishment.

She needed tulips, dammit, and she needed them now.

Jesse had been wrist deep in soil at the time and he’d felt is oozing between his fingers, this woman already grating on his nerves, spine, and driving a steak straight through to the back of his skull. He had to take a deep breath and deliberately release his fists, lest he crush the fragile roots just a hairsbreadth below. Jesse turned with a smile.

"I've got some," he said, probably sounding less amiable and more like he was constipated. While passing a kidney stone. God he hated these richie-rich types. "I've also got a contact an hour out who can make up the rest, but it'll take a bit. Really, ma'am, you're better off hitting a larger store."

The look she'd turned on his was pure in its intensity. Jesse's shop was filled with a color and life that didn't belong in Annville's desert, but this woman didn't belong in his shop, not with that sharp tailored suit and three-inch heels. She'd torn the sunglasses from her face and for the first time Jesse got a look at searing black eyes.

"I'm Annville born and bred," she drawled. "I'm loyal."

Jesse couldn't help punctuating her words with a disbelieving laugh. "You're Annville?"

"Fuck yes I am, you got a problem with that?" And one hand curled into a waiting fist, actually rearing back in preparation.

Oh damn. She was Annville. Alright.

Jesse had raised his muddied hands in surrender and went behind the counter to clean up, getting the order forms ready as she prattled on about her work as a wedding planner, her name in the magazines, how the flowers had best be fresh despite the climate because the Livington's were not an easygoing couple.

Jesse weathered her prattling about wanting whites, or maybe pinks, no, wait, maybe something two-toned, and each time she changed her mind it was another scratch out with the pen. By the time he actually got to flip the order around for her to sign it Jesse had determined that small town pride and stunning good looks didn't make up for this kind of nonsense.

Except then she signed Tulip O'hare and suddenly Jesse's day was fantastic.

"You're a Tulip," he said slowly, "in need of tulips..." Jesse looked up with a stunning grin and Tulip, bless her, just rolled her eyes instead of decking him good.

"Yeah, like I've never heard that one before." She threw his pen back on the counter. "I'll be here next Thursday. You'd best have my flowers."

"You doubt me?"

"Oh good god yes."

He'd laughed because yeah, their 'good god' had doubted him too and Jesse had eventually decided that growing things was better than sticking a dead, white collar on his neck every morning. He'd shed his chain like some kind of dog, mangy and still a little bit feral. But now Jesse had bright colors, heady scents, and the picture of someone like Tulip O'hare just begging that he come through for her. Jesse let his eyes follow the sharp lines of her bodyand thought that he could get used to this kind of clientele.

"Thursday then," he agreed. "It's a date."

"It's definitely not."

Tulip had put her cigarette out in his potted iris and honestly? If it had been anyone else Jesse would have had them leaving his store in pieces.

But she was something entirely.

***

Cass was something else too. Holy shit.

Jesse rubbed at his forehead, unconcerned that he was smearing soil over his skin. What had begun as a headache had blossomed (ha) into a migraine of epic proportions, all due to the skinny little twerp half sitting on his counter. Cass had come in for the first time exactly 69 minutes after Tulip left—a fact Jesse only knew because he was that obsessed with when he could close shop—and if that number didn't encompass the man's entire being, Jesse didn't know what would.

He'd known Cass for a handful of seconds. It was one handful too much.

"Back up," Jesse said. He sighed. "You want a cactus?"

"Yep."

"But mine are too pretty?"

Jesse gestured to the small collection of cacti sitting over by the windowsill, most of them in teeny-tiny pots that people found cute and not too intimidating to take care of. They still weren't overly popular though. People could see dry, prickly brush on their way to work everyday, or outside their bedroom window, free for the taking. No, they came to Jesse for the lush and the colorful, things he either had to import or that he grew himself, so slow that sometimes it was hard to part with them. No one in Annville wanted to buy a freaking cactus.

Except this asshole.

"Look at 'em!" Cass said. His voice held enough indignation that Jesse did look again, half expecting the view to change. "They're stupidly pretty. All fuckin' green an'... an' small." Cass pushed his hands palm to palm to demonstrate their smallness, looking pretty angry about it.

Jesse just stared. "...thank you?"

"It won't do. How they hell am I supposed to give Laura somethin' like that? She'll think I actually like her." Cass shook his head despairingly. "The fuck am I supposed to do now?"

That day had felt like something straight out of the Twilight Zone. Jesse was a small town boy with a small town business and he'd gotten used to his routine over the years. That routine sure as hell didn't include a stranger than normal customer, let alone two back-to-back... and yet, let it never be said that Jesse Custer couldn't roll with the punches.

"One sec," he said.

Jesse's backroom was a mess of tools, soil, and vegetation. On his bench was a pot of very dead petunias, the poor things all shriveled and brown. It wasn't his fault the damn things were finicky in this weather and honestly Jesse wasn't bemoaning the loss of those pink flowers, not when they were that cheap to come by. The plan had been to take back the pot and move on. Now Jesse snagged the whole thing, a few dead leaves trailing behind him.

He set the pot down in front of Cass. "This Laura of yours... she the one down at the auto-shop?"

"Yeah! One in the same."

"That woman's a piece of work."

"You're telling me."

"So how about giving her this?"

It was surreal to be presenting that run-down plant like it was something actually worth selling, but sure enough Cass' eyes lit up at the prospect. In that moment Jesse saw the whole situation clearly, how a man like Cass might think that breaking things off with a shitty gift—rather than just some good, old fashioned honesty—might be the way to go. Decked out in a whole collection of ratty clothes, Cass looked like the kind of creative asshole you only ran into once in a blue moon. He wore at least three torn shirts that as a whole nearly succeeded in covering his chest. His jeans were colored over in marker, like a freaking middle schooler's, and that was definitely weed doodled down on his left knee. The only reason Jesse knew his name was because Cass had a "Hello! My name is ____" sticker plastered on his stomach and he could only guess where he'd picked that up. Maybe one of the church's monthly events. It would fit. Jesse was pretty sure the guy was homeless. He kinda smelled homeless.

"I had my heart set on a cactus," Cass sighed. "But I guess a dead thing is better than just a looks-dead thing. Here," he rummaged in his jeans and pulled out three super wrinkled dollars, jellybeans, and a nearly empty packet of Camels. "Does this cover the shit you weren't even planning to sell?"

Jesse raised an eyebrow as he slid the offering across the counter. He left the jellybeans. "How were you gonna pay me if you wanted the cactus?"

"Duh. Was gonna pay you with a kiss. Gotta move on sometime, don’t I?"

Cass winked, grabbed his dead plant, and sauntered out the door with what he probably thought was a seductive strut. Despite the absurdity, Jesse did find himself staring at Cass' ass.

"Aw hell," he said.

***

Week Five

In the two years since he'd chucked the collar, beat up a few old contacts, collected their funds, and started up his shop, Jesse hadn't seen anyone of particular interest come through the door. Emily often came in on the church's behalf, asking for whatever was fresh and cheap to put up front. Jesse honestly didn't know if she did that because they really didn't have the funds, or because she couldn't stand to look at him long enough to actually choose something herself. Probably both. She'd taking his defrocking worse than most.

Others mostly picked up flowers on their way to and from service. For their windowsills. Their gardens. Local weddings, funerals, stupid boys looking to make up with their girls (of which Cass was in the obvious minority). Jesse had resigned himself to a life of flower mediocrity until those two assholes had plowed through at sixty miles an hour.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they didn't keep showing up together.

"I thought you ran a clean establishment, Jesse."

Tulip said it with all the rancor he'd come to expect of her, looking none too subtly at Cass’ grimy attire. A month had passed since she'd grudgingly complimented the tulips he'd provided and in that time she'd no more warmed to Cass than she had to dressing down. Today was a blue, pleated skirt; bright yellow top; killer heels and jewelry fine enough that it could probably feed Jesse for the rest of his miserable life.

Tulip kept a healthy distance between her fine clothes and Cass' scruffy self.

"It's a flower shop," he said. "These things grow in dirt." Cass shook a nearby plant for emphasis. "Manure, luv. Or does your fancy little life not cover some literal day-to-day shit? If you do go is it on a porcelain throne?"

Jesse slowly and carefully leaned his head into his palm. It wouldn't do for Tulip to see him laughing.

He had to hand it to her though, she was a master of manipulation. Tulip kept scrolling through her iPhone, occasionally holding up some pic or another against one of Jesse's flowers, typing out some notes, took a pic of her own... it was only after three long, agonizing minutes had passed that she looked up and said blandly, "Sorry. Did you say something?"

"Jesus fuckin' christ."

"Better question." Jesse raised his hand like a schoolboy. "Are you two assholes actually going to buy something?"

"I like your orchids," Tulip said, for the first time actually taking her eyes off Cass. "But I think they're a little classy for the Taitts. They're humble folk, you know? They need something bright with those white table cloths, just nothing that's going to distract from Laura's dress—it's not a very nice dress, can't afford anything more eye-catching. I do worry about the bridesmaids upstaging her—so maybe those sunflowers. Yeah, over there..." She completely missed Cass 'yapping' with his hand behind her back.

"I've only got enough for five vases," Jesse warned.

"That's fine. Humble, like I said. They've only got enough people for five tables anyway."

As Tulip rummaged for her credit card Cass slipped to the floor (he'd been sitting on the table with the lilacs, a smudge of pale brown amongst all the purple) and sauntered up behind Tulip. Like a kid faced with a dog, too stupid to know he'd get bit, Cass curved his hands around her waist and leaned into Tulip's back. He pressed briefly there before peeking out over her shoulder.

Except miracle of fucking miracles, the pretty doggie didn't bite.

"Uh," Jesse said.

"You better be cleaner than you look," Tulip muttered, still shifting through her purse. Cass waved his arms in demonstration and wow. He was clean. Relatively, at least. Jesse was still trying to re-boot his brain when Tulip said, "Ah!"

"No, no." Cass pushed her wallet back down. "This is on me, luv."

Tulip scoffed. "You can pay for five bouquets?"

"Well, not in the traditional sense, but Jesse and I have got a tab going, don't we?"

They most certainly did not. Cass' 'tab,' established after his first dead-plant purchase, consisted of promises he never kept and a pair of lethal puppy-dog eyes he wielded with precision. Over the last few weeks Jesse had given the man not perfect, but still serviceable flowers in exchange for all sorts of stupid trinkets and words. He liked to think that he gave Cass lilies and irises because he felt bad for the freeloader. It probably had more to do with Cass' obscenely pouty lips.

He was pouting right now, clearly begging Jesse to help a guy out. His arm moved numbly and somehow (dammit) Jesse ended up signing over the month's largest order for free.

"Enjoy," he said automatically, still staring at Cass' hand wrapped just under Tulip's breast. There were 'thank you's and sly glances and when they finally left the shop, Jesse followed them like the scoundrel he was. An apron, muck boots, and pollen dusted t-shirt sort of ruined his look though.

Still, Jesse could move silent when he needed to and what he found in his spying were his two favorite customers hoofing it to Tulip's Fiat 124 Spider, a car so fucking immaculate that it had no place on Annville's dusty streets. It seemed a shame then for the two of them to immediately start defiling it, both literally and figuratively: Tulip hiking Cass up onto the hood of the car, straddling him as he kept them balanced, the kiss that sent flecks of spit down to sizzle on the paint job, Cass' muddied boots leaving streaks on the tire. It wasn't any voyeuristic guilt that finally turned Jesse away. Just the disappointment that neither of those figures were him.

Of course, all that changed when Cass came back twenty minutes later.

"Crush my sunflowers in your enthusiasm?" Jesse muttered, forgetting for a moment that good, respectable businessmen didn't follow their customers out of doors and watch them going at it like bunnies on a sheet of hot metal. He ducked his head over seed packets and thus missed Cass turning the little sign from 'open' to 'closed.'

In fact, Jesse determined not to notice Cass at all until he was making himself at home between his legs.

Cass dropped to his knees and looked up with a rakish grin. If there was a god in this world maybe he wasn't so disappointed in Jesse's career change after all.

"Told you I'd pay you back," Cass said. He pinched a mouthful of jeans between his teeth and tugged, running hands up under apron and shirt. "Just didn't say how, now did? Think this'll clear up my tab?"

The answer Jesse gave was tangled as a vine because by then Cass was pulling down the zipper, palming the wet spot on Jesse's jeans, breathing deep like he enjoyed the scent of both of them together. Jesse gave up on words entirely and when he looked up there was Tulip standing just outside the storefront, watching them with a cigarette between her lips. There was a sunflower in her hair. She caught Jesse's eye and winked.

"Fuck you both," Jesse muttered, tugging hard at Cass’ hair.

He pulled off only for a moment. “Pretty sure that’s the point, eh?”

***

Week 13

So. Those two showing up at the same time—probably not a coincidence after all.

"Do you even like each other?" Jesse asked one Saturday morning, re-potting a Peperomia. "Do you like me? I'm honestly curious."

"You're serviceable," Tulip said as Cass licked his finger and made a sizzling sound. Right. Jesse didn't know why he bothered. It wasn't like any of them were built for straight answers, the kind of lovey-dovey declarations you got in the movies and on TV. Besides, didn't actions speak louder than words and all that shit?

If they did, their actions told Jesse that they were both complete and utter assholes. Also that they had nowhere better to go.

"This place is awful on my allergies," Tulip moaned, pulling a Kleenex from her purse. "And I was supposed to Skype with a potential client an hour ago." She checked her phone and shrugged, too lazy to move from the tiny chair Jesse had dragged out from the back room. Tulip flapped her hand at her face in a sad attempt to start up a breeze. "And your air conditioning sucks."

"Non-existent," Jesse countered. "Its been busted for weeks. The hot house stuff likes it, but..." He trailed off, staring at Cass who'd scrounged up an ancient GameBoy. He leaned against Tulip's legs and periodically peeled her skirt off of his bare back. It was that kind of heat. "Hey. You could fix the damn thing. Earn your keep if you're gonna hang out here all day."

"No," Tulip said. She kept fanning her face, eyes closed.

"Maybe," Cass said. Which meant 'no.' Dammit.

"Excuse me?"

The three of them turned as an older woman snuck in through the door, opening it so slow and careful that the bell barely rung. Her nerves didn't seem to ease when she spotted Cass and Tulip. If anything, she looked like she wanted to sneak back out.

"Welcome to Flowerworks," Jesse said, hurrying up to the front. "Sorry. Ignore them. They're just friends of mine."

"Is that what we are?" Tulip murmured and Jess flipped her the bird behind his back. The client latched onto his arm as Jesse carefully guided her away from his two fools. Her hand was brittle and fluttered like a bird against his arm.

In fact, the entirety of her looked frail, too thin and breakable for a place like Annville. Hair that was white and thin as cotton candy waved about her shoulders, and her dress—powder blue with a sensible belt—hung on her awkwardly, too big despite the 'XS' tag Jesse could see peaking out from the collar. She looked like a good breeze or a decent curse would send her topping to the ground, and Jesse hurried her over to the remaining chair next to the chrysanthemums, lest she fall and break something here where awful things like suing might get involved. Jesse then took a healthy step back once she was settled. Old people gave him the creeps.

"It's good of you to come in, Mrs...?"

Her mouth worked silently. The woman looked up at Jesse and her expression told him that he'd said something unexpectedly shocking, crude even. Finally, she smiled, but it was a small, awful thing.

"Sawyer," she said. "But I suppose it's 'Ms.' now. My husband died last night."

Behind him, Jesse heard the strangled noise that Tulip made and Cass' tiny "...aw shit." Mrs. Sawyer didn't seem to hear. She reached out a bony hand and gripped the edge of Jesse's apron, the parody of a small child and her mum.

"Howard needs white lilies," she said urgently, gaining some energy. "Although, yes, he never expressed any interest in flowers. Said they were commercial gimmicks. What's the point in spending money on something that's just going to die?" Her voice broke hard on the last word. "But they're coming for him later and I can't leave his grave bare I just can't I—"

"We have lilies," Jesse interrupted gently. He gripped her hand." Plenty of white."

"I woke up next to him," Mrs. Sawyer said. "I've done that every morning,” and all at once she sobbed and put her head between her hands.

This wasn't the first time Jesse had dealt with a distraught customer, but usually they were more composed than this: just slight, hiccupping cries or silent tears that slipped down the cheeks. He was used to anniversaries and useless birthdays, not the immediate aftermath. He floundered, turning to Cass and Tulip, only to find that their support was already underway. Tulip left at a brisk walk to the café down the street, returning with tea and plenty of chocolates. Cass filled the silence with any sort of prattle that seemed to soothe her. As Jesse bundled his best lilies in a black bow, he heard him telling Mrs. Sawyer that he'd once been a preacher. When she looked up with a disgusting amount of hope Jesse couldn't meet her eye.

Mrs. Sawyer left with their awkward condolences. She didn't pay a cent.

"Fucking hell," Cass said. He leaned into Jesse's shoulder as Mrs. Sawyer shuffled out of view.

"Yeah," Tulip agreed.

"What a mess she is. Like a broken doll or somethin'. It's fucking awful." He lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and for once Jesse didn't yell at him for getting smoke around his flowers. Cass took a draw, passed it to him, and Jesse next passed it to Tulip. Cass blew the smoke up at the ceiling, nice and slow.

"Think that'll be us someday?" he asked.

"Can only hope so."

***

Week 27

Flower shops felt like they were always standing still. There was something about the slow growth of the plants, the heady scents that added a dream-like atmosphere, and the contrast to the outside world that made it all... removed. Despite flipping the 'open' sign to 'closed' each evening, Jesse had the distinct feeling that time never actually passed here. Maybe it was a quality that all stores possessed. Maybe it was just his.

Or maybe it had something to do with Tulip kissing him.

"Hey, hey, hey," she pulled back and pinched Jesse's side, merciless. "Don't fuck up the hair. I've got a video call at 2:00."

"Plenty of time to fix it," Jesse murmured, starting in on her neck instead.

"You obviously know nothing about hair care."

"I know some other things though..."

Tuesdays were always slow for some reason and Jesse felt no guilt in dragging Tulip to the back room, especially not after she'd been gone two weeks, supervising a wedding in Oklahoma. She's brought back a sweat-stained invitation and a piece of stale cake that Cass had still eaten with relish. He'd gone out to 'work' (hustling the locals at poker) while Tulip had remained.

She was something to behold now, stretched out across his table, her skirt hiked up and her shirt pulled down. Cass was quick blowjobs behind the counter and late night secrets he’d never admit to in the morning. Tulip was slow and worshipful. She gave you nothing but absolute focus. It was rare for any of them to end up in an actual bed.

Jesse slid off the end of the table so he could put his mouth to work below. Tulip's thighs were the color of his soil, stretch marks pale like veined leaves, she trembled as gently as a petal.

He stupidly wanted to tell her that she was prettier than any flower in this store. Jesse knew she'd kick him for it.

Panting, Tulip propped herself up on one elbow and grinned. She reached behind her, fumbled, and snapped off the plant nearest to her. It was a little spring of aster.

"Got you a flower," she whispered.

"You stole it from me."

"Do you care?"

He really, really didn't.

***

Week 52

Six degrees of separation. They couldn't brag about knowing the president or the pope, but fate had certainly brought three distinct people together. More importantly, it refused to let them go.

"We should go on a trip." Cass said it with all the enthusiastic optimism of a toddler. "Just fuckin' drive outta this joint for a while. You know, see the sights, take in the open road, go all the way to the sea." He raised his hand and squinted, the horizon just beyond his reach.

Jesse snorted. "And who's paying for this idiotic romp?"

"Don't need no cash. You just drive an' shit. Take whatever you're given."

"Just drive," Jesse said. "With that gas you can't pay for. On the food we can't buy—"

"Don't be a shit spoil-sport about it."

"I'm rich," Tulip offered. She looked up from her phone when the room was silent too long. "What? I am. So if we're going anywhere it's in something nicer than whatever beat-up trash you're picturing."

"A camper."

"Absolutely not."

"Where would we go?" Jesse asked, because suddenly it all seemed possible, in as much as the three of them ever planned for anything. Not just the trip either, but that they'd be around each other long enough for more trips. Vacations. Growing old. Life.

"Anywhere." Cass skipped around the room until he found the oxeye daisies. He plucked one and not for the first time Jesse marveled that he wasn't run out of business by these two.

"Who'd watch the store?"

Tulip shrugged. "Wait it out. Cancel orders for a while, sell what you have, give a few things to Emily. She can keep them in the church..." For once Tulip wasn't smirking or glowering his way. "It'll be here when we get back."

"Suppose it will," and just like that Cass knew he had won.

He slid back onto the counter, messing up papers and knocking the poor cash register nearly off the side. Cass twirled the daisy between his fingers before plucking off a petal.

"Hey!" but before Jesse got indignant, Cass spoke.

"He loves me, he loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not..."

Oh. Alright. So the three of them watched, confident in where they'd finally land.

[fleetgay-super-sonic]

Dark Magic

I wrote a thing for school and liked it enough to post it. It would have been longer but I had a word limit.

I have no idea how I got into this mess. Oh wait, yes, I do, I HAD to try that spell for Bearded Bear on the neighbor’s cat. It was supposed to be a frog, not a creature from the depths of hell. I was now cowering in the corner, petrified. I just seem to be lucky it hasn’t noticed me, thank you, lucky sweater. How did I mess a spell up this bad?

My name is Gelder, I’m currently learning magic from an old wizard who lives in a cave. His name is Bearded Bear, and has gone down as one of the three legendary wizards. I seem to be the only person in town who didn’t know the wizards were anything but old legends. It just never came up in conversation.

My phone starts ringing and I pick it up, “Hello?” “Yeah, Gelder?” It’s Bearded Bear, maybe I shouldn’t tell him how badly I messed up. “Did you get the shiny?” The creature begins to screech. “Yes, and- Wait…” he paused, “What is that screeching?” I hear someone in the background telling him that he can’t just take his stuff. Probably Stymac.

“I tried to turn something into a frog.”

“What did you turn it into this time?”

“It’s green and has four legs like a frog, but it is definitely not a frog.”

“Did you try to turn a dog into a frog, that spell gets a bit finicky with some animals.”

I felt something drip onto my horns, “No it was the neighbor’s cat.” I moved out of the corner. “Cat? That must be it! Cats are oddly resistant to magic of all sorts. Also, does it have purple eyes?” I glanced to where the things eyes were, “…Yes?”

“I’ll be there right away.”

Knowing Bearded Bear, right away was literal or a few seconds off. He teleported in right on que, a mildly worried look on his face, his hat about to fall off. “Now,” he said, “where did it go?” I simply pointed up. Bearded Bear stated, “That’s a feral demon. How did you mess up a frog spell THIS BADLY?!?” He calmed a bit and took an apple out of his pocket, “This is how you do a frog spell!” he snapped his fingers and the apple turned into a small, strange creature that was also definitely not a frog. He looked at it and paled, “Gelder?” “Y-yeah?” I choked as the former apple started to scramble towards my leg. He locked his eyes on me and commanded, “We need to get out of here. NOW!” I wasted no moment scrambling up to my feet and beginning to leave. Bearded Bear grabbed my hand and ran down the stairs to get to the nearest exit that wouldn’t risk me getting badly hurt, “Bearded Be-“ “I have no idea what a teleportation spell would do on this property, so we’re going to get OFF the property and THEN teleport to the cave, boy!” I said nothing furthur.

When we got to the cave, Robo-Butler, a short robot with a screen for eyes, was holding Stymac, a human half-breed, back from entering the back area of the cave. “Let me go, you stupid robot!” “No, it would prevent Bearded Bear from completing his task,” the robot looked at us, “Welcome back, Bearded Bear and Gelder.” His screen showed that he was confused, “Though I thought that lessons were on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays.” Bearded Bear walked on ahead, “Have you performed any dark rituals on the property?” “No? Not that I can recall?” I remembered something that it was stupid to forget, “The place was an old winter home belonging to my aunt-“

“Call her and see if she did any dark rituals, that kind of stuff messes with normal magic and corrupts it.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Who knows, just call her so we know which one she did so I can try to tell how to reverse the corruptive magic! Or I could just do the maximum to take no chances, but that leaves me exhausted so I don’t really want to. Also, you probably wouldn’t be happy in what that might entail for your house.”

“Fine.” I pulled out my phone, dialed the number, and waited.

“Excuse me, but could I let go now, he is getting close to the cord powering my hard drive.” The robot was still gripping tightly, but who he was holding back seemed to be attempting to stab shards of magic into him. “I may be captured, but I am nowhere near defenseless!” Stymac shouted.

The line picked up, “Hey, Aunt Mariam? Yes, it’s me. Well someone wants to ask a question.” I handed the phone over to Bearded Bear without hesitating.

“Wait- Oh fine!” he took it a bit grumpily, “Have you done any dark rituals on the property that you used to have?” Right to the punch. “My name doesn’t matter right now, what I need to know is what I asked! Why? It’s for Gelder’s safety that’s why!” he finally got the answer, “Thirty years ago? Which one? I have that book.” He went over to a shelf and grabbed a foreboding looking book and started flipping through the pages. “Page 46, wait that ritual?” he groaned, “Thank you for your time ma’am.” He hung up and gave the phone to me. “Robo-butler put him down you need to come with me and the student, might as well give a lesson.”

I was relieved, we were finally going to get this over with. “Was it a strong one?” I asked. “What do you think, boy?” It was a bad one. “Exactly. First, however.” He teleported Stymac away.

The three of us teleported back and Bearded Bear said, “Now here’s how you do a full magic purification! First, you need to get rid of the tainted material.” A firey creature appeared and flew off. “Oh, forgot about that.” He smiled.

“Robo-butler, set it on fire!”

“Wait, WHAT? You never said anything about that!”

“I said you wouldn’t like it.”