#poor pathetic TV pining

[keekeenuggets]

RadioStatic Week, Day 2: Vintage / Modern

We were writing this for other reasons, but then realized it happens to fit the prompt for today, so... figured we'd post it. We probably don't have the energy to participate in a lot of the days for this week, but we're excited to see more of what other people create, regardless!

Summary: A year into Alastor's disappearance, Vox makes one last attempt to reach out to the demon -- he hosts a radio broadcast.

Title: Old-Timey

Day three hundred and sixty-five since the last time Vox had heard from Alastor. Not that he'd been keeping track. He only had the date memorized, of course, and he just happened to look at the calendar and notice how many days had passed. Just like he did every day. It was part of his daily routine, not that he would ever admit it. It just so happened that he had a calendar posted on his door, which he looked at every day before exiting his room. Of course he'd look, because how would he not look at before leaving his room? It only made sense.

But as much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd started actually growing concerned for the old prick. An extermination had passed, not too long ago, and Vox wanted some kind of confirmation that Alastor was still alive. Even more, he wanted to know that his old friend cared, but he knew that was asking too much.

Still, he had an idea. He had the right equipment for it. Though radio broadcasts weren't his thing, what if...? It was a long shot, but if anything would catch the Radio Demon's attention enough to get a response, it would be Vox, the modern television overlord, going live on the air an old-timey piece of junk.

He wouldn't abandon his TV equipment, of course. He'd simply both avenues at once. Talk about the Radio Demon's mysterious disappearance, perhaps. It was as interesting as any news segment that bitch Katie Killjoy could come up with. Most of her shit consisted of boring, desperate grabs for views. At least Voxtek could come up with things that garnered actual interest. The hypnotism didn't hurt, either.

"... And three. Two. One. Going live!"

Travis, the studio director who bounced back and forth between shooting for Vox's segments and Val's pornography happened to be in charge of cameras, that day. He was mediocre at the radio tech, but they managed. And with the push of a few buttons, he saw the green light that let him know he was live not only on the television, but also on the more traditional radio waves. The perfect venue for grabbing the attention of all citizens of hell. Not only the most up-to-date ones.

"Annnnd good day, fine sinners!" Vox grinned into the camera, his hands folded in front of him. "Today's broadcast is brought to you by Voxtek. Trust *us* with your news." His eye sent out waves of persuasion, for only a moment. Today, he was all about the audio. And no one, not even -- or especially not -- Alastor, would be able to hear the hypnotic frequencies. He had to rely on his charm and showmanship, today. But that was not a problem.

He cleared his throat. "I come live to you in a rather unique format. Yes, this time, I'm broadcasting over the radio, too. A little bit of traditional medium for old time's sake, right? It doesn't hurt, every once in a while." He laughed, to himself. Then he continued. "Now, we've got a special topic this morning, and it's the reason I've decided on this dual transmission. As some of you may be aware, the Radio Demon hasn't been around in quite some time." Speaking the words gave them a truth he didn't want to think about, but Vox kept the grin plastered on his face like his life depended on it. He refused to slip up. "In fact, it's been an entire year since his last reported sighting!" Not that he had checked every social media platform in case of any mention of the Radio Demon.

Except that was exactly what he'd done. And as the overlord of technology, he'd been able to keep an eye on cameras and through screens all throughout the Pentagram. Sure enough, Alastor was nowhere to be seen. That is, nowhere that modern technology had any reach, at the very least. He still didn't want to believe him to be dead, but the fact Alastor would work so hard to avoid any detection or communication with Vox was also infuriating. As if had never meant anything to the other overlord. Maybe he hadn't. But he didn't need to think about that.

"Now, there has been some speculation on where he's been. Having a nice vacay off-the-grid, entrapped by another, more powerful, overlord..." The last one didn't seem likely -- or at least had been a possibility Vox feared the thought of. The Radio Demon was already quite powerful to begin with. "Some even speculate that the demon might not be among us any longer at all!" That would be much worse, of course.

"But hey, maybe there are some upsides to this change of pace, am I right?" He said this only because he knew that if anything would get a response from Alastor, it would be demeaning his choice form of expression. "I mean, radio is so outdated. It's about time we give Hell a more modern entertainment makeover. And sure, as I said, radio can be fun every once in a while, but who wants to rely on only barely audible sources of pleasure? With no visuals?" He laughed. "Please. That's so old school. And we've got much better means of enjoyment, nowadays."

He paused. Half-expecting the Radio Demon to interrupt his broadcast. Such a thing certainly wasn't unheard of before. Alastor enjoyed displacing mediocre radio hosts. And though Vox was confident in his ability to entertain, he knew that his old thought of himself as superior. Maybe he was right; maybe he was wrong. Regardless, it was his opinion that made the difference, and yet, Vox's program remained uninterrupted. It was almost disappointing.

So Vox continued, sharing some of the theories and speculation he'd found online about Alastor's disappearance. All found while searching for any signs of him being spotted anywhere. Stories were all kept anonymous, and there were a few ideas he made up himself. But no one needed to know that. The viewers, the listeners, they were just there for the entertainment and fun. Most of them didn't care about what was genuine or not, so long as it was enthralling, and technically, Vox wasn't lying about anything -- only pretending that the speculator of some of the rumors wasn't himself.

The segment Vox had planned out was only about an hour long, and as the top of the hour began rapidly approaching, he started to feel more restless and agitated. It became clear that Alastor really wasn't listening. Or at least, wasn't planning on showing it. Responding at all. What an ass. A year of absolutely no contact after an argument-induced battle, no way of even knowing how he could possibly contact his old friend, and all after Vox had dared ask Alastor to join him in expanding the medium he worked with? As if it was such a major offense. At least Valentino and Velvette supported him, even though they didn't seem to understand, either. They didn't understand the joy of broadcasting, not in the same way Alastor had. They'd had that in common, and he still had been too stubborn to stray from radio, even a little bit.

"Well, that about wraps it up for this broadcast," Vox chimed as happily as he could muster. The viewers, he knew, didn't care whether the grin was genuine or forced, and most didn't know it was the latter anyway. "We'll be back later for some more daily news. In the meantime, I leave you with this ad from our sponsor. And don't forget: You can always trust us, Voxtek, with your entertainment."

As soon as the cameras shut off, Vox's smile faltered, but he plastered it right back on when Travis came up to him.

"We're done here, right?" He asked. "'Cause Val's expecting me down at his studio for a shoot. The rest of the camera crew can handle the afternoon broadcast for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Vox waved him off. "Go help Val. He won't let me hear the end of it, if I keep you." It was good news, though, if Valentino was going to be busy with a shoot. He knew Velvette had her work, too. And he just wanted to be alone.

He retreated to his room and sat surrounded by his screens, all connected to cameras and tech across town. City-wide surveillance. Vox flipped through different feeds absent-mindedly. As always, in the back of his mind, he was searching for one specific person. But he should have known, by now, it was pointless.

What if something really had happened to him? Vox shook his head, sighing at the thought. No. Alastor was too tough for that. He was the Radio Demon. No, it seemed more plausible that he was simply avoiding Vox. Avoiding all detection. How, Vox wasn't sure. Strange that he could disappear so effectively. But, of course, if anyone could do such a thing, it would be Alastor. For whatever his reasons, Alastor knew how to remove himself from the public view if he needed to. That was their thing, of course, media and coverage of different sorts. Vox figured he, too, could avoid being detected, if he'd wished.

Vox sighed. It was time to just admit what he didn't want to before. Whatever he had with Alastor before, if he ever had anything at all -- it was over. Truly. By this point? Any hope of having it back was futile.

The aching became rage, like a protective shield. Rage, bitterness, was easier to handle. It meant he wasn't being hurt, but that he was the one in control. He was the one that would do the hurting, if it ever came down to it. If he ever saw Alastor again. That had been one thing he'd learned from the Radio Demon. Always find a way to keep the upper hand.

With his control over technology, now, he would. And someday, Alastor would see what he left behind.

[hheaven-sentt]

you and i

summary: this must be what dante wrote about | bodyguard!leon x f!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: strong language, incredible yearning and pining, self deprecation, angst, leon is sad for like the majority of this tbh, poor guy has a lot of feelings to work through

notes: this is technically a continuation of heaven is not fit, but it can be read separately you just might miss some context. there's gonna be another installment of this probably because i'm obsessed with this concept | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Leon was told what his next assignment was following his harrowing return from Spain, he’d laughed. He had outright, fully, unapologetically laughed. It was ridiculous, the idea that he would spend the foreseeable future babysitting. It wasn’t possible.

He stands against the wall of a conference room. You enter with your father after ten minutes of his waiting, and you barely acknowledge him. He doesn’t mind so much, he’d rather fly under the radar and get out than have to initiate a conversation. Your father introduces him, and he’s not sure that you even hear him. He just toes the carpet and stares forward. He prays to whoever might be listening that you don’t try to speak to him. He’s less than thrilled when your dad asks him to drive you home.

He does, of course, and he tries not to hate every minute of it. You mostly stare out the window, probably pretending that he’s a taxi. He pulls up outside your building, and considers asking if you want him to walk you up, but you’re hurrying out of the car before he gets the chance.

Grabbing your elbow, he says, “Call if there’s an emergency,”

Your eyes widen a bit when you nod, and he gently releases you. You bustle out of the car with no further words.

His apartment is empty when he returns to it. There’s little light save for the lamp on the end table. An alleyway kitchen holds his dinner for the night: a random salad he’d found pre-made at the supermarket. He sits at his pathetic dining room table. It’s only got two chairs, and he never has guests, so it feels lonelier than just having a single chair. But Ashley said it was weird to only have one chair, so here he is. He picks at the lettuce aimlessly, appetite not really kicking in the way he wants it to. 

He allows himself to wonder, for a moment, what you’re doing. Have you already showered and gone to bed? Are you with someone? Maybe watching an old movie on TV? He feels awkward, and shifts around like someone’s watching him. Something crawls under his skin, and he physically shakes the feeling.

He avoids you for about a week. It’s unprofessional, but he can’t find it in him to care. He keeps a close eye on you, making sure that you’re not in any immediate danger, and calls it good. He’s been very vocal about how this is not a job he would’ve taken himself, and although it’s not exactly hard or brutal, isn’t it? Isn’t it cruel to make a grown man follow around a twenty-something all day? He sits in his car outside your apartment building, watching silently and flipping through the radio. He can’t place why, but he hates that you walk to work alone. A feeling he can’t describe gnaws away at him, makes him feel guilty all over and squirm in his chair. You seem to be able to handle yourself. But he can’t shake the feeling of what if? 

He can’t tell if you like him. You’re stiff in his passenger seat, gnawing on your bottom lip. He feels strangely insecure, constantly shifting as if someone is staring at him, but you’re facing away from him.

“Up here,” you say quietly. “On the left,”

He begins to turn right. You look like you’re fighting a laugh.

“The left, Leon,” you say again.

“I know,” he says. “I was testing you,”

It was meant to be a joke, but it comes out gruff and forced. For the love of God, why can’t he relax with you? Why does he feel like he’s being judged, put under a microscope by your gaze? He steals glances at you throughout the drive. You silently bob your head to the song on the radio, tapping your foot off beat every now and then. It almost makes him smile. He is straddling a dangerous line, and he’s leaning one way further each and every day.

…

Leon decides very quickly that he likes having you in his space. A man of few constants is sure to find comfort in coming home to you on the couch watching some movie he’s never heard of. You fit against his couch nicely, breathe a new life into the cushions that were mostly for show when they were placed. He likes that you hold a hand up when there’s something good playing on the TV, and he has to wait for it to pass so he can finally talk to you. He likes that he wants to talk to you. It has dawned on him that he just likes you.

“Wanna grab dinner later?” you ask around a mouthful of chips, syllables muddled and smooshed against the mash. There’s a faint smile on your lips.

He shrugs. “We can do whatever you’d like,”

He wants very much to grab dinner with you. He’d like to do anything with you, so long as you keep looking at him and laughing at his jokes, as feeble and rough around the edges as they are. You swallow thickly and smile at him, and he feels like he floats off the ground.

“I’m thinking italian?” you suggest. “Craving some ravioli from that place downtown,”

“Italian sounds great,” he says, and he genuinely means it. Truth be told, you could’ve suggested trash from the dumpster out back, and he would’ve accepted.

“Cool,” you say, still smiling. It grows when he returns it. “We should walk there,”

He sits beside you on the couch and you wordlessly pass him the bag of chips. “You wanna walk all the way there? It’s a few miles,”

You shrug. “Why not? It’s so nice out,”

“Wear comfortable shoes, then, sweet girl,” he says, rolling the top of the chips down. You always tell him that he’s better at it.

“I’ll wear whatever shoes I please,” you tease. “Besides, if I get tired, you can just carry me,”

He hates the fact that he would, too. He would do anything you ask of him.

You’re dangerously close to him as you walk. Your hand bumps into his a few times as it swings, and he debates on the consequences of securing your fingers in his. He almost thinks it would be easier if you rejected him, that’s a pain he could work past. But if you didn’t? He’d be facing a lot more than temporary heartache; a lifetime of aiming to please, working to avoid disappointing you, and the devastating misery when he eventually does. That terrifies him. To be the source of your suffering is to strike him down where he stands.

“Can I pick your brain for a second?” you ask. He glances at you before nodding. “There haven’t been any incidents since…the one. How do we know I’m still in danger?”

He thinks for a moment. Truthfully, you’re not in any danger, at least not directly. But Leon finds himself continuously advising your father that you should remain with him, and your father always listens. He considers himself lucky that he was there that night, feels guilty over the idea of not walking you up that had flitted through his thoughts for a moment. He won’t risk something like that again.

“Your father is still worried,” he says. You nod slowly. “I can talk to him, if you’d like,”

You wave your hand. “No use. It won’t get through to him. Besides, it’s not so bad being saddled with you all the time,” 

You knock your shoulder into his, and he feels like his heart stops. “You’re not saddled with me. You can leave any time you want,”

You grin. “Who would laugh at your stupid jokes? Or eat all your food?”

“I don’t need someone to eat all my food,” he teases, and you laugh. “Especially wouldn’t mind having the blanket to myself at night,”

You elbow him softly in the ribs, laughing at him. “Oh, be realistic. You, my darling, are the blanket hog, don’t lie,”

He’s beaming at you. He can’t fight the brightness of the smile, or the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. What he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss you right now, openly and freely without the guilt of his job hanging over his head like a sword. Shame taints the moment in an instant, and he makes an effort to contain his joy. You don’t seem to notice the shift, and if you do, you don’t mention it.

The restaurant isn’t the most elegant joint in town, but you behave like it is. You sit with pristine posture, pretend to know the difference between certain forks and complain that there’s only one–really, how is a woman supposed to eat a meal in these conditions?--and you tease him for having his elbows on the table.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was a date,” you say, picking around at the ravioli on your plate.

He grins. “Forgot to mention that I don’t have my wallet on me. Mind paying?”

“You’re a lousy date, then,” you say, grinning. “Like you’d ever let me pay,”

“It’s not like this is a five star meal, sweet girl,” he says. “Believe me, if it were? You’d definitely be paying,”

“Not going to treat the lady?” you tease. “Not very gentlemanly of you,”

He shrugs. “I believe that men and women are equal,”

You roll your eyes playfully. He likes seeing you like this, cast in the light from the fake candle in the center of the table, smiling faintly to yourself, and oh so beautiful. You reach over to steal a bite of his pasta, and he doesn’t stop you. He finds himself wanting to share with you, allow you to partake in whatever he’s having because he wants to keep you happy no matter the cost.

“Ashley’s coming home this weekend,” you say between bites. “She asked what we were up to,”

We. You and him, a collective, a pair. It sends a shiver through him. “I don’t think we’re doing anything important,”

You smile. “I think she misses you,”

He shrugs, hates the feeling of being wanted. “I’m sure she misses you more,”

He thinks for a moment about whether or not you would miss him if he left. Would you wonder about him? Would you feel longing? He knows he would. Hell, even just leaving the apartment brings a feeling of loneliness. He craves your presence, feels like he needs it to exist. You keep him grounded.

…

The fact that you walk away from him so easily–you barely put up a fight–makes him nervous. He regrets it the second it happens, his chest filling up with a guilty ache as he watches you storm away from the car. The ride was awkward, but he knew that saying anything would just make matters worse. He’s so sure that you hate him, and he’s not surprised that you do.

He calls you most days. It’s pathetic, really, how often he leaves messages on your machine. Most of the time they don’t even say anything other than a miserable apology and a few sighs of discomfort. He allows himself to wonder what you’re doing. Have you finished moving in? Have you met someone? You’d never mentioned a significant other while you were living with him, so he had this miniscule hope that things were going his way. The only problem is the massive barrier between you–his job to protect you. He was paid to ensure your safety, regardless of his want to. No matter how hard he tried, his efforts would always seem forced, incentivized by a paycheck. That’s no way to know someone, hidden behind bank statements. He wants to know you openly, freely.

He spends most of his days doing reports. There’s much less excitement now that you’re not waiting for him to come home each day. He moves through the motions without much care, barely reading the files he’s shoving into the cabinet. He thumbs through them with abandon, staring blankly at the half blacked out statements. Most times, he thinks of you. He feels guilt over the way he cut things off, but in what universe is there a more amicable way of doing it? There are approximately two other ways the situation could’ve gone.

He could’ve kept the job. He could’ve kept going every day, pretending like he doesn’t look at you like you hung the moon and the stars. He could’ve feigned disinterest until you inevitably found someone worthy of your time, and then wrestled with the heartache until it dulled. He could’ve stuck by his word and done his job.

He could’ve had both–you and the job, wrapped up together in the palm of his hand. But where would that get him? How long until you suspect that he’s acting this way for a paycheck? There was no way for that to work out. There was no realistic way for him to have both, regardless of how much he wanted that. He imagines that it would be pretty good to get paid to spend time with the person he desires most, a win-win situation.

The best decision was the one he’d already made. He hates it more than anything. He wants to see you. He wants to know you’re okay. He wants you to answer his calls.

You’re gone so long that his birthday passes. He wonders, selfishly, if you thought about him. Maybe your hand hovered over the phone for a moment in hesitation before you ultimately decided against calling him. Maybe you’d gotten him a gift you never intended to send his way. Even if he were just a passing thought across your mind, he’d take it. That was gift enough.

…

His breath is shaky as you stare at him. He wants so desperately to reach out to you, but he doesn’t. With a grin, he says, “Whether you want me here or not, right?”

You huff a laugh through your nose, a small smile widening on your features. God, he feels so lucky to see it. “I always want you here.

He could kiss you; he wants to kiss you, but not here, not now. Not when he just got you back. He’ll bide his time, he’ll wait until the world falls apart if he has to because keeping you in front of him is worth any cost. He’d pay millions, fight thousands, and lay his life down just to see you smile or make you laugh. He’s not letting you walk away so easily ever again, not if he can help it. You look at him, as if you’re really seeing him, and he feels like everything might be okay.

He enjoys spending his nights lounging on your couch. He’s been mostly relegated to average office work–who knows how long that will last–and it’s a refuge to sit against your cushions and feel you dig your feet into his side.

“For someone who always wears socks, you have cold feet,” he hisses, reaching down to move your ankle. You laugh.

“Not my fault you’re a human heater,” you say. You’re wrapped in a blanket he brought from his sad apartment; thank God that place is long behind him now. His arm is draped across the back of the couch, and your hand reaches up to hold onto his thumb.

“If you shove your feet into my side one more time, you have to call for the pizza,” he says, flicking the ball of your ankle. You bark another laugh, squeezing his thumb. He likes this, loves this even. The domesticity cleanses him better than any altar or priest ever could. He is bathed in a permanent ray of sunshine, one that warms up his skin and pushes away the shadows. You are akin to divinity. He confuses your touch with idolatry.

With a sweet sigh between hushed lips, you shuffle closer to curl into his side. He decides, right then, that this is where you’re meant to be always. Whatever the price, he will pay it gladly and fully without hesitation. There’s a traffic jam outside the window but he can’t hear it because you giggle when he pokes your side. There’s blush on the tips of your ears as you laugh.

He presses a kiss to your hair, and you sigh contently. Throughout the trials he’s endured, he’s never felt like much was worth that much pain. But, sitting here with you makes him think that there is brightness in the world. There is something to want, to love. He’s never wanted to please someone so desperately.

“I think we should stay like this forever,” you whisper, craning your neck to look at him. He’s grinning down at you in admiration, memorizing the lines and freckles on your face. “You and I,”

He kisses you, not for the first time, but hell it feels like it. You smile into it, fingers twisting into his shirt where your hand rests on his chest. His arm curls around the back of your neck, pulling you endlessly closer. If he is damned for eternity, at least that comes after this, he thinks. Your soft edges accept his jagged ones with ease, pulling him in and keeping him at close range. You pull away, resting your forehead against his.

“You wanna be stuck with me forever, sweet girl?” he asks, voice low and gruff. You smile.

“I’m not stuck with you,” you say. “Besides, wouldn’t you wanna spend eternity with someone you love?”

He rockets back. Your smile fades quickly as you realize what you’ve said. You go to shift away from him, and he panics. You can’t leave his atmosphere, not again, he won’t let you. He takes your face between his hands as gently as he can manage. He looks you in the eyes, searching for any regret, any fear. He can’t find it.

“Yes,” he says, voice shaking. “I want that more than anything,”

This must be what Dante wrote about. You must be Francesca.

[youremyheaven]

"GIRL I FEEL YOU, i don't find this romantic either. I think relationships are build over time and it's possible to build something with someone WITHOUT love bombing them???"

yess omg, you get me - idk if you know the sitcom 'the Big Bang Theory' but it reminds me of the dynamic between Leonard (played by a very Venus dom dude) and Penny. She's this bubbly, pretty popular girl who dates lots of guys and is very friendly but can be viewed as shallow, and he's like this nerdy lovesick loverboi with mummy issues.

He pines for her throughout the show while she dates numerous other guys and I think it's almost like we're supposed to feel bad for him, like 'damn poor Leonard, if only she'd be less shallow and give him a chance 😔' but it's like, in reality she's doing nothing wrong by not being that into him and he's kinda being entitled by going 'woe is me' about it.

She was painted as very oblivious to how he felt but tbh (I know it's just a show) but I always think it's more likely she just acts oblivious so that she doesn't look like a b* for turning his lovesick ass down.

Then later in the show they actually do get together - I think she does develop genuine feelings for him, but it's more that they've been friends for so long and have that history. It ends up a running joke that people will go 'wow man, how did you get her!?' and she goes 'he wore me down' lmaoo

it's a comedy so it's not that serious but yeah it never felt right in a way because it's supposed to sound like a sweet story: 'yeah he wanted her for yearsss and years and she finally gave in' but lowkey it's not that sweet, it feels a little more like she was emotionally strongarmed into ending up with this guy.

Venus men are also kinda self sabotaging I think too, they're the kinda dudes to purposely make everything seem so tragic so that they can play 'tortured artist'. They PURPOSELY create this dynamic, almost like being a cuck lol

I've watched the early seasons of TBBT (it used to air on TV all the time in India)

Omg Leonard & Penny's relationship ALWAYS gave me the ick 🤡

OMG ACTING OBLIVIOUS to not seem like a bitch is me with men 😭😭 I play my bimbo card whenever they try to hit on me bc men do not take rejection lightly 😔

Yeah the "pursuing someone until they just give in" is very Venus men coded 😭 I've had major situations with a couple of Venusian men and they've all been persistent as helllll, meanwhile my Nodal ex basically disappeared from my life. These men, no matter how many times you turn them down, idk if they don't feel humiliated or embarrassed or what it is??? but lovesick is the right word. They just keep going at it??? the word 'no' means nothing to them 😭

OMFGGG the tragic image they paint of themselves is crazy accurate 😭😭 every Venusian man I know has pulled the "I've wanted you for soooo long, please I beg of you" type strategy,,, like they're SO willing to look pathetic, it's crazy??? I always thought it was surprising bc they're all otherwise dignified stoic seeming people but suddenly they act like pathetic fools in love and now I see it as how they see themselves as lovers, i.e, they think of themselves as doomed tragic heroes who just love a girl too much without concern for how she feels 🤡it's like they LIKE pain (which is obviously very Venus coded as well) they're masochistic lowkey

[ao3feed-byler2]

Your Teeth In My Neck

by FoodieHoodie

“Were you cyberstalking Will again?!” She sounds childishly excited when halting at the stairwell banister, like she’s cracked an impossible case, always relentlessly seeking the truth.

Or

Mike and Will used to be friends. Best friends! But after one fight they couldn't come back from during the summer, they haven't spoken to each other since. The only time they cross paths is on the piste, with epee swords brandished, as fencing rivals for their opposing boarding schools - Hawkins High vs Lenora Hills Prep. This year is no different, except it kind of is. Something pulls them together and this time they can't escape it. Because there's no Mike without Will and there's no Will without Mike. Simple as that.

Words: 3120, Chapters: 1/27, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Dustin Henderson, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Jonathan Byers, Argyle (Stranger Things), Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Vickie (Stranger Things), Jennifer Hayes, Joyce Byers, Karen Wheeler, Ted Wheeler, Holly Wheeler, Erica Sinclair, Jim Hopper, Scott Clarke, Henry Creel, Bob Newby

Relationships: Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Lumax (Max Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair), Henderhop (El Hopper/Dustin Henderson), Stoncy (Nancy Wheeler/Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington), Will Byers/Original Male Character(s), But like these dudes Will is with is nameless faceless nobodies bro so chill Byler endgame, Rovickie - Relationship, Robin Buckley/Vickie (stranger things no last name how bruh), Jopper (Joyce Byers/Jim Hopper)

Additional Tags: Ex-friends to Strangers to Rivals to Acquaintances to Rekindled Friendship to Lovers, Fencing, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Rich Kid Mike vs Poor Kid Will, Mike plays for Hawkins and Will plays for Lenora, Senior Year of High School, Flashbacks to how it all fell apart, Strict boarding school rules, Unreliable Narrator, Boys In Love, Childhood Friends, The fencing swords are metaphors for Byler's affection, Underage Drinking, Cuz teens go out and party, Mike misses Will dearly he's so down bad omg it's pathetic, Cyberstalking each other cuz Mike and Will are extra like that (cringe kings yay), Sneaking Around, Sneaking Out, When your rival understands you the most, Angst in the beginning - comedy/romance romcom towards middle and last arcs, Slow Burn, Hate crushing, hate flirting, Hate makeouts?, Sharing a Bed, Secret Relationship, Jealous Mike Wheeler, Jealous Will Byers, Modern Day Byler somewhere in the 2020s, Sexual Tension, cuz Mike be having some dreams (more on the pining side tho), preppy school uniforms, ghosting culture, burner accounts, attachment issues vs abandonment issues vs isolation issues

from AO3 works tagged 'Will Byers/Mike Wheeler' https://ift.tt/VfBrR1w

[noteguk]

white lies | jjk | m

— summary; in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 

— contents and warnings; smut, fluff, very minor angst, poor attempts at humor, athlete!jungkook x reader, childhood best friends, fake dating, idiots to lovers, far too many movie references, a tiny bit of jealousy, jk is a football/soccer player, mentions of alcohol and drugs, the catastrophic event that is a frat party, jk is kind of a himbo, so much sexual tension, mutual pining, a lot of touching, dirty talk, fingering, grinding, jk has a big dick, praise, body worship if you squint, unprotected sex (don’t.), pulling out, very mild possessiveness, mid-sex confessions, the L word…, Jungkook wants to fuck you in his team jacket because his tastes are very singular and you wouldn’t understand it 

— words; 13,3k

— author’s notes; I know what you’re thinking… and yes, every bad movie mentioned is real. Also, this is a self-aware cliche and 100% self indulgent. Have fun!

When people first found out that you and Jungkook were friends, you received a very predictable, repetitive sequence of reactions.

First came disbelief. It was the most comprehensible one, at least from your perspective, taking into consideration that you and Jungkook were completely different people. He was loud (sometimes too loud) and outgoing, probably knew at least ninety percent of the campus population by name and city of origin. Jungkook was warm, friendly, the type of guy that you’d confess all your worries to if given enough time. You, on the other hand, was more on the “colder” side — you weren’t as inviting with strangers, and didn't mind going through moments of awkward silence. Jungkook was a talker and you were a listener; he was a daydreamer and you were a brute realist: maybe that was why your friendship worked so well. But most people couldn’t really get it. 

Second came the questions — the doubts, the sideway glances, even a few bitter comments if you were unlucky enough. Jungkook had kind of a reputation when it came to sleeping around, so most people jumped to the conclusion that either you were his favorite plaything (which might have been the most offensive thing you’ve ever heard) or that you were simply the rare one he had friendzoned because he didn’t want to fuck you (a big runner-up to that prize). Eventually, though, you settled their anguishes simply by saying that you knew each other ever since you were kids. 

Which took you to the final phase: relief and acceptance. The ones who saw you as a threat instantly relaxed, and the ones who couldn’t understand why he would “waste his time” with “someone like you” quickly understood that it was a deep, innocent connection that he was just “too sweet to let go.” Obviously, that didn’t make you feel any better. 

Truth was, it was kind of hard being friends with Jungkook. Mostly because the boy casted a light so strong that it was almost impossible not to stay in his shadow, but also because you always felt like you had to justify your existence every time he chose you instead of anyone else. You were the person he ran to hug once his team won; you were the one he ditched other people for, just to hang out with you. It made you insecure. And, yeah, there was also the fact that you had been madly in love with him for some time now, but that was unimportant. 

Well, until he asked you to be his (fake) girlfriend, that was. 

Jungkook, bless his heart, was never one of the brightest when it came to real-life situations. He could ace a test with no issue, but, when it came to reading the room, he was a lost cause — something a bit paradoxical when you realized how social he was, but, well, people probably thought his cluelessness was adorable. And that might also be the reason why he never caught onto your pathetic crush, but that was a different topic. 

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?” You munched on your chips, eyes flickering over the TV screen. The two of you had made the terrible decision to hatewatch all the bad shark-themed movies you could find, and now you were suffering the brain-smoothing consequences. “Sounds like the dumbest plan in the world. And I don’t understand what you’d get out of that.” 

He whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Jungkook had been trying to convince you for half a movie now, and he was running out of arguments. “I told you already,” he stressed, eyes locked to the white ceiling. With the living room completely immersed in shadows, the shades of blue and yellow from the television reflected off his face like a prism. “The boys have been teasing me because I could never hold a date.” 

“And? That’s your problem.” You looked at him, meeting his desperate stare. “And, honestly, why did you even lie about it? It’s true, you know it.” 

“You’re cruel.” Jungkook tugged the bag of chips off your hands, ignoring your complaints. “I have my reasons.” 

You laughed. “Yeah, what is it again? Waiting for the right person?” You teased, watching as his frown only deepened, his cheeks puffed out as he angrily chewed. “Come on, Cinderella, snap out of that fairy tale. Have you stopped to think how many nice girls you let go because of that stupid mindset?”

“It’s not stupid,” he murmured, clearly irritated. 

With a sigh, you shrugged. “Fine. It’s not.” You yanked the bag of chips away from him, slightly sad that it was almost finished. Unfortunately, your marathon had made you eat a lot more junk food than your body could probably handle, but that was a problem for the future you. Present you really wanted more chips. “I’m just bitter.” 

“We can agree on that.” He smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes that prepared you for the worst. “What was it that those guys called you in high school?”

You pointed at him. “Don’t,” you warned. 

But his smirk only grew, morphing into a full-blown (dazzling) smile. “Ice queen?” Jungkook tried. 

You rolled your eyes, sinking into the couch. “It’s a dumb nickname, shut up,” you groaned, trying to focus on the shitstorm that unreveled on the television. There was a priest trying to exorcise the ghost of a demon shark, and that was a thousand times more interesting than recalling the nightmare that was high school. “It got even worse when Frozen came out.” 

“Still gets to you, though.” Jungkook poked you on the shoulder, allowing himself one last laugh at your distress before striking once again. “So… wanna help me?” 

Yeah, like that would have magically changed, you thought. “I already said no.”

Jungkook leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his palms. He was in anguish, but you couldn’t feel that sorry when he had caused that himself. “But I already told them we were dating,” he whined, defeated. 

“Again, sounds like a you problem,” you said, throwing the empty bag of chips on the coffee table. “Just say that you panicked and made some shit up. Own up to it, you’re already a grown up.” 

Jungkook shook his head. “I can’t, they’ll never believe me again.” 

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Dragging this out won’t make it any better. You should tell them the truth,” you said, pausing for an instant. “Actually, I can’t see this ending well in, like, any possible scenario. Even Doctor Strange had better odds in Infinity War.” 

The fact that you liked Jungkook was the key point that he didn’t have access to, but that was very clear inside your head. Even in the best possible outcome, in which no one doubted a single thing and everything magically went back to normal, you’d still have to live with that weight inside your chest. Sounds pretty fucking painful to pretend to be someone’s girlfriend when you were almost considering selling your soul to turn that into a real situation. And then to be done with it like it wasn’t nothing more than a business transaction, or a platonic favor for a good friend... that would just suck, to put it lightly. 

Sadly, Jungkook wouldn’t give up so easily. “What if we, like, only do it tomorrow night?” He pressed on, turning to take a better look at you. He always looked so breathtaking, his gorgeous big eyes just staring at you like a cute dog pleading for a piece of meat. You could sense yourself starting to fold, and that was always a bad sign. “Just for a few of my friends to see us together, show that it’s the truth, and then I can just say that we didn’t work out and decided to stay friends.” 

“But it’s not the truth,” you stressed, turning your head back to the television. You were starting to get pissed at the fact that you’d have to watch that movie again to try and make sense of what was happening. But you were also sad because you were both considering his request and suffering in advance because of its unavoidable consequences. “I don’t wanna be just another name in your list of conquests, Jungkook.”

Correction: you didn’t want to pretend to be one. You were fine with trying something out (for real) with Jungkook, even if you didn’t get a fairy tale ending. You just didn’t want to play with your own emotions — and probably induce some emotional trauma — because your best friend couldn’t own up to the fact that he lied about something (again). 

And, yet, it was getting to you. Just like a vipers’ venom, it had started to spread inside your body, corroding the walls you had built up for yourself. Your therapist would rip you to shreds if she knew you were thinking like that, but maybe ignoring the only chance you’d have with Jungkook — real or not — would be the foolish decision there. 

Besides, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? You could push your pride aside and help a friend during a time of need… and who knows, maybe get a couple kisses along the way? And just for one night? You could do that… 

Back in the present, Jungkook was just now digesting your previous claim. “What? You’d never be just that,” he guaranteed, an expression of bewilderment plastered all over his obnoxiously handsome face. Every day was a new test from God, and you were failing miserably. “You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.” 

Ouch. That was a low hit. And worse? You knew that he didn’t say that with any malicious intent to manipulate you or anything — he genuinely meant it. Jungkook was such a sweetheart when it came to you, he’d stay up to help you with your projects; volunteer to take you out on an adventure when you were feeling down, even if he had to face the consequences of skipping practice later. He had done so much for you, and you couldn’t even push your feelings aside one time to help him out. 

Your high school insecurities were starting to erupt, and you were thinking that maybe those dumb nicknames were right. Maybe you were kind of a cold-hearted bitch. Especially when your best friend/love of your life was pouting and begging you to help him and all you could do was to mock him. 

Beside you, Jungkook deflated like the saddest balloon in the world, a long sigh leaving his lips. “You know what? You’re right, this is stupid,” he admitted, running one hand through his hair. You always wanted to do the same, it was so soft and puffy that you could get lost in it. Also, there was something about the tattoos on his arms, the veins of his hand, that just made you lose your mind. “I should just own up to it.” 

Took you a couple seconds for your rational brain to catch up to your horny one, but it eventually did. “It’s okay, I’ll do it,” you told him. “Just one night.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes widened like a kid’s during Christmas morning, a beautiful smile overtaking his features. He jumped in your direction and, before you could even react, his strong arms were wrapping around you, pulling you into a warm hug. You were so fucked. “You’re the best! I owe you big time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll remember that.” You placed your hand on his forehead and pushed him away, ignoring both his whiny complaints and the quickening of your heartbeat. “Now back to our shark exorcism.” 

~ 

Jungkook’s teammates didn’t get why the two of you were still friends. 

As Jimin, the world’s most competitive striker once said, some things are so obvious that you just can’t ignore them unless you have a secret agenda. When it came to that specific subject, the obvious thing would be that Jungkook had an earth-shattering crush on you, and his secret agenda was the fact that he was too blind to see that it was mutual, so he decided to repress it until it asphyxiated him. 

His teammates tried to warn him over and over again that you, in fact, were all heart eyes and chuckles when he came around, Namjoon even got close to creating an entire PowerPoint presentation about it, but all of it fell on deaf ears. Jungkook, in his blissful ignorance, just wouldn’t hear it. From where he was standing, there was just no conceivable way that his laughable childhood crush had any chance of being mutual. 

Jungkook didn’t know much about psychology, though, because, if he did, he might have faced those emotions head-first instead of avoiding them until they started presenting themselves in different, slightly destructive ways. When you repress something, it doesn’t really go away, it just settles somewhere else, like squeezing a handful of slime. No matter how much he tried to get a hold of it, it still slipped between his fingers — made him cancel dates last minute to spend the night with you, convinced him to do the dumbest things just to make you happy. 

And, now, in a weird projection of a personal fantasy, he was pretending to be your boyfriend. 

In his defense, it wasn’t a machiavellian plan he had meticulously constructed: it just kind of happened. Jungkook wasn’t exactly a poster child when it came to being teased — after all, he was used to be being the best at practically everything — and, when his teammates all ganged up on him during their break, claiming that he just couldn’t get a girlfriend even if he tried, both his annoyance and the practice-induced exhaustion made him say that he was already dating someone. 

“Yeah, right,” Hoseok had mocked, pressing a towel against his sweaty forehead. The changing room thankfully had a great ventilation system, combined with large windows, otherwise they would’ve died from the heat and the smell already. “Just say that you can’t take a joke and move on, Jeon. No need to lie about it.” 

Taehyung barged in before Jungkook could get a word out. “Besides, we know there’s only one person that can fit inside your heart,” he said, watching as Jungkook’s eye twitched. “How’s ___ doing, by the way?” 

“She’s fine,” he answered, monotone. 

“Yeah? Are you gonna ask her out or what?” Jimin teased, his voice coming from beyond a row of lockers. “Or are we free to do that?” 

In typical animal planet fashion, the locker room exploded in a roar of laughs and fragmented provocations, every guy trying to speak louder than the other. Jungkook felt himself shrink, his frown deepening as his heartbeat quickened. There was something burning at his insides, a mixture of shame and jealousy, and that was exactly what pushed those idiotic words out of his mouth. 

“Actually,” he started speaking when the thunderous laughter diminished, turning around to place his bag back in his locker. “I’m dating ___.” 

It was almost amazing how fast the room morphed into a crypt — the thick silence hitting Jungkook right in the face, weighing down and turning into guilt and worry inside his stomach. He was unable to look back and face his friends, instead pretending to be extremely interested in his bag’s zipper. 

Why did he always do that? Why couldn’t he tell the truth for once in his life? 

“That seems even harder to believe,” Taehyung was the first one to speak, the one brave soul that verbalized what they all were thinking. Simply as that, life returned to the locker room, and so did the sounds of his teammates laughing at him. “Just yesterday you were acting all nervous around her.” 

Jungkook slammed his locker door shut, turning around with a determined expression. “Well, yeah, because I was planning to ask her to be my girlfriend,” he had never constructed a lie so fast before, but, even then, Taehyung didn’t look like he was buying it. “I’m serious.” 

Which was probably the least trust-worthy thing he could say. 

“Prove it, then.” Hoseok smiled, crossing his arms. “Call her right now.”

“I’ll do you better,” Jungkook didn’t hesitate — a terrible sign, he realized one heartbeat too late; it was never good when his mouth decided to take the lead, allowing for the words to flow out of him before they could be filtered by his logical brain. But Jungkook was competitive, both in the field and in his personal life, and he couldn’t stand the humiliation that came from both losing an argument and being caught in a lie. As ironic as that was. “I’ll take her to Saturday’s party and you can all see it with your own eyes.” 

Jungkook was just buying himself some time, hoping that his charms would be enough to sweep you into his miraculous scheme before his teammates could realize something was off. Hoseok, of course, did not know that, but his expression showed that he wasn’t all too convinced either. “Sounds great,” he lowered his voice, looking at his friend up and down. “See you there, Jeon.” 

Jungkook left the locker room with a crown of victory hovering over his head and a bright, prideful smile — one which shrunk and shrunk as his day progressed and he realized that there was no way in hell that you’d accept to be swept into his personal melodrama. 

He had enough time between that conversation and the night at your place to go through all the stages of grief. In denial he found himself running from those cyclical thoughts, ignoring that it had happened in the first place — maybe it was all a big misunderstanding and his friends would let that situation go; maybe he didn’t have to sacrifice his friendship with you just to avoid being wrong about something. In anger, came anxiety, frustration at himself for being so dumb and impulsive, allowing for his ego to step in the way and shield him from reason. That one he suffocated with extra gym time and a consequential terrible cramp in his shoulder. 

Soon enough came bargain and Jungkook was thinking that, if he were to be very lucky, he could convince his friends that you happened to be way too sick to go to the party that night, and that, weirdly enough, you two broke up the very next day and you didn’t want to talk about it ever. Maybe he could go through all that in secret, use all his brain power to construct an elaborate, moviesque plan to get him out of the ditch he had dug himself and no one would ever know of his dirty lies. 

It was all for nothing, however — the depression stage materialized soon after, in the middle of his advanced calculus class, and Jungkook was practically imploding over the fact that he had managed to ruin everything between you two, and also between him and the rest of his team. That was it: not only would he lose his best friend (and perhaps the love of his life) but he would also lose trust and respect in the field. 

Acceptance only reached him when Jungkook was on his way to your place, and he came to terms with the idea that he was already in deep shit, so he should at least try and change that. He would ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a bit — even if he was positive you’d laugh until you were out of breath and never let him forget about it — under the possibility that perhaps, you’d say yes. 

Which, surprisingly, you did. 

Now, Jungkook wasn’t particularly emotional when it came to most things — even in the field, he managed to control that side of him well — but there was something intense bubbling up in his stomach as he made his way back to his dorm after the movie was over; a laugh that hung somewhere between maniacal and desperate that he couldn’t hold back. That could be bad, really bad. Especially considering that he didn’t have the slightest clue how he would hold himself back from just vomiting out a fervent love confession the second that you kissed him. 

Because that was supposed to happen, right? In a relationship, pretend one or not, people should kiss. He should act like your boyfriend, perhaps a fantasy that he had way too often, and still spare enough brain matter to remind himself that it was all fake. And that it was also all his fault. 

As established, Jungkook was the president of the company of putting himself in extremely uncomfortable situations. And, when the night of the party arrived, he decided to screw himself even further by lending you his team jacket. 

It was because it was cold, he tried to brainwash himself. It was because you were cold, because the night was cold, and not because he liked the view of you in it in the slightest. Or maybe because it was a bomb pumping his thorax full of pride and possessiveness; because it was making him believe, even for a second, that you two were part of a chimerical alternative universe in which you were together. Not at all. It was strictly business — the neighborly job of a worried best friend, at most. 

“Is this really necessary?” you spoke his doubts out loud, tugging at the sides of his large jacket. 

Jungkook managed to keep his cool, eyes darting around the peaceful streets. You two were close to the party, he could already listen to the repetitive beat echoing through the cool breeze, and every step he took amplified his anticipation by tenfold. “It speaks for itself,” he told you, his hand firm on your waist. You were wearing a sleeveless top and a skirt in the same color, and there was a stripe of exposed skin in between the two that Jungkook’s hand brushed against sometimes. He felt like he was a virgin again, hyper-aware of your body and completely unsure what to do with himself. “Besides, you look good wearing it.”

You rolled your eyes. “I look stupid.”

Jungkook glimpsed at you, a sleazy smile growing on his lips. “You look like my girlfriend.”

You snorted. “Oh, so I look super stupid,” you corrected, looking away. 

“Funny,” Jungkook answered, monotone. His smile melted away — there was no way in hell it was mutual, he thought, his friends were just fucking him over, trying to see him embarrass himself. “I hope you act better than you tell jokes.” 

“It’s probably as good as the effects in Birdemic,” you said. 

Jungkook shook his head — he had conflicting emotions when it came to that movie, considering that it was so awful that he laughed to the point of choking on his popcorn. You, being the empathic friend you were, brought up his near-death experience as often as you could. “At least that movie was funny, your poor acting will just be sad,” he threw back. 

“Thanks.” You giggled, making his heart leap inside his chest. Jungkook wanted to beat his head against the asphalt until that shy spirit of his middle school past left his body completely. “I’ll let you do the talking.” 

Jungkook nodded, allowing his gaze to navigate around the neighborhood — there were a handful of strangers in the streets with the two of you, but it was a shortcut to the frat house that not many people knew of. It brought along a peculiar sentiment of intimacy; the way your features were covered by the pale yellow of the light poles making him want to dive in and kiss you until he couldn’t even breathe. The realization that he could actually do that, under the excuse of a fake relationship, was one that almost knocked him out. 

“Just to be sure, by the way,” Jungkook started. “You’re okay with me, like, touching you like you were my girlfriend, right?”

You looked at him for a moment, measuring his expression. “Yeah, that’s part of it,” you told him. “I’m guessing you are okay with it as well?” 

“Fine by me.” Jungkook cleared his throat. The frat was literally just around the corner, buzzing into the night with a generic beat and the joyful yelps of hundreds of strangers. He usually enjoyed that cacophony of sounds, but, that time, it was like the screams from hell. “Just a couple hours, okay? Then you’re free.” 

“It’s fine,” you told him. “How bad can it be?” 

~ 

Short answer: bad. Long answer: bad, but with a twist. 

Jungkook looked around the party like he was a kid lost in the supermarket, his eyebrows furrowed as he searched for his teammates (which that whole spectacle was supposed to be for). You felt like a piece of a puzzle thrown in the wrong box, leaning against his toned body as he tried to think of what to do. 

“So…” You cleared your throat, trying to make yourself heard through the loud beating of the song. Jungkook followed your voice, leaning in closer. Maybe your heart skipped at that, but no one had to know. “What’s the plan, captain?”

Jungkook clicked his tongue. You two were leaning against one of the walls of the large living room, in a somewhat calm corner of the party. “I don’t know, I’m not feeling like being interrogated right now,” he said. “I think it’s better if we wait for the guys to get a bit more drunk so they don't think too much about it.” He sighed, looking around for a bit longer. “We could stay here for a while, just sit down and talk. What do you think?”

“Sounds good.” You breathed out. “I’m taking any chance to rest my feet at this point.” 

The ancient gods of the frat parties seemed to be on your side, because it didn’t take much longer than a couple minutes to find a sofa that 1) was unoccupied and 2) didn’t look like it had any suspicious fluids on it. You settled by Jungkook’s side, a breath of relief escaping your chest as you felt the pressure on your calves subside considerably — all you wanted was to go back in time and kill whoever thought high heels were a good idea. 

However, you relaxed way too early. 

You had to hold back a surprised gasp when Jungkook abruptly tugged your legs onto his lap, one hand finding the curvature of your waist instantly. 

“This feels... intimate,” your voice sounded stiff when you spoke up, pushing your skirt down. 

“Yeah, that’s the point.” His eyes roamed around the room for exactly two seconds before they widened just slightly, then snapped back at you. “Okay, two things.” Jungkook placed one arm on the couch behind you, murmuring as he leaned in. He had that scheming expression on his face that had been plaguing you ever since middle school, when he first discovered pranks, and you didn’t think that was a good sign. “First: Yoongi, Jin and Namjoon are here, and they’re looking— shh, don’t look! Dumbass.” 

“Sorry. You’re the dumbass,” you said. It was hard not to look when you felt as if you were under a microscope, watched closely by his meat-headed friends. Still, you tried to keep your composure. “And the second?” 

He exhaled, the hand that was on your waist traveling to touch your cheek. You wondered if he could feel how hot your skin had become. “It’s kind of the time that you have to commit to being my fake girlfriend,” Jungkook warned, stare oscillating towards your mouth. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” 

Suddenly, you felt like you were right back in high school, about to have your first kiss and not having a single clue about how to do it. “O-Okay,” you whispered. 

Jungkook didn’t waste any time. Before you could think about something to try and break the ice, his mouth was on yours, silencing you and turning your thoughts into white noise. He kissed you softly, much slower than you had expected, giving you time to adapt to the tender movement of his lips caressing yours. 

You sighed, gradually remembering how to move your limbs. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as he leaned his head to the side, opening his mouth just slightly and deepening the kiss. No matter how many times you had fantasized about that moment, it could never compare to the way his tongue slipped inside your mouth, nor the small grunt he let out against your lips. Kissing Jungkook felt like heaven and you had completely forgotten about your fake dating situation until he decided to pull back just a bit. 

“Fuck, you’re a good kisser,” he mumbled, nose bumping against yours. 

You let out a breathy laugh. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I’m not surprised.” His hand slithered down to your hips, his warm palm sending shockwaves through your body. You felt like you were in danger from the way he was speaking, his body moving closer to yours. “I knew you would be.” 

Jungkook didn’t even give you time to process his words before he was kissing you again — sloppier, hungrier this time. Again and again, he chose to throw gasoline into the flame of your desire, and what could you do but to melt under his touches, to kiss him just as eagerly. 

Faithlessly, you were trying to convince yourself that it was all an act, that he was just playing it up because he knew his friends were watching. But his hand just felt so firm on your hips, pulling you closer as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft sea of his hair. It seemed so real when he moaned softly against your mouth, biting on your lower lip before tracing kisses down your jaw, towards your neck. 

Or maybe you were just so deep inside your own illusions that you didn’t want to believe that it was all for show. 

Your eyes parted just slightly, trying to find his friends amongst the crowd of strangers. It was extremely hard to think when Jungkook was sucking and licking his way down your neck, his hand squeezing your thighs. Apparently they were nowhere in sight, though, for those obviously bright orange jackets had left your field of vision. 

“Jungkook,” you called, surprised at how firm your voice came out. The boy only hummed against your flesh, not paying much attention to what you were saying. “I think they already left.” 

Still, it didn’t seem like he was willing to stop. Jungkook mumbled against your neck, his voice so low that you almost didn’t catch his words past the loud music. “Yeah, but someone else can be watching.” 

You didn’t know who, though, and you didn’t really care. You were more worried about the small bites he was placing on your skin, the soft sucking of his mouth that left you pressing your legs together, begging for relief. “Um, okay, but there’s a minor emergency,” you told him. 

That managed to get his attention, for the boy pulled back so he could look at you. “What is it?” He asked, worried. 

You shifted around on the couch, your legs still thrown over his lap. You noticed something hard poking against your skin, which gave you enough momentum to admit out loud that, “I’m, like, soaking wet right now,” you said. “My neck is super sensitive and I’m really trying to hold back here.” 

Jungkook froze, blinking a few times and your words settled in his mind. He would never understand how you could be so shy in one second, and then just throw that bomb on his lap like it wouldn’t make his dick rock hard in record time. “Fuck, how can you just say that so naturally?” He cursed. 

“Sorry.” You bit your lip. Jungkook had to fight the urge to kiss you again. “I’m just being honest.” 

How ironic was it that, while Jungkook lied his way through life, you had no problem throwing those random truths right at his face? The opposites do attract, after all. 

He cleared his throat, unsure if he should pull away or not. “Want me to stop?” 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I think this is getting weird.” 

Maybe it would be the perfect time for the world to just open up and eat him whole, considering that Jungkook had never felt so embarrassed in his life. “Weird how?” He asked. 

“Weird like… weird.” Self-expression under moments of extreme sexual pressure really wasn’t your forte. You broke eye contact, flustered, instead choosing to look at the cluttered coffee table by your side. Jungkook’s hand was still on your body and you liked his touch far too much for your own well-being. “Maybe it would be better if we just went home.” 

“Right now?” Jungkook whined. Sometimes he still acted like the kid you knew, all puffy cheeks and demands for attention; for things to happen the way he wanted. You, being the simp that you were, were his number one enabler. “One more hour, please? We’ve been here for so little time, I just wanna cover all my bases.” 

His pouty lips and needy voice was a Molotov cocktail thrown directly in your heart. “Fine.” You puffed out. 

“Thank you!” Jungkook beamed, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. The action was so automatic, so unthought, that neither of you reacted to it for a second. “Um… why do you say we try the backyard? Jimin said he’d try some new barbecue technique or whatever, so maybe they’re outside.” 

“And after that we leave?” You asked. He nodded. “And you do the talking?” 

“I’ll try my best,” Jungkook agreed.

You sighed. “Okay. I need some fresh air anyways.” 

~ 

Back in middle school, you had a very eccentric world history teacher. You clearly remember one afternoon that she simply walked in and asked the class what was the worst type of torturing they could ever imagine a human could endure — which ended up being a great opening line to a very interesting class about the medieval times and the ways of the inquisition, but also something that plagued you for a long time. That night, when you returned home, you dove into the rabbit hole about the topic and (much to the horror of your parents) discovered a thing or two about torture methods. 

The key point, it seemed, wasn’t even about the actual physical act, but about the horrendous expectation that came from it. Psychological torture could break a person apart before someone even laid a finger on them. You knew that already, but you had never truly witnessed it until that night. 

“Well, guess I have to take back what I said,” Hoseok started, his speech slightly slurred by the alcohol. Jungkook was right, they were a lot less intense after a few drinks, and apparently weren’t questioning a lot either. “I didn’t think you two would ever end up together after so many years of bullshit, but here we are.”

“Cheers to that, brother,” Jimin barged in, raising his cup. 

Jungkook chuckled behind you. “You guys have no fucking faith in me.” 

As a typical former theater kid, you were naturally dramatic. But you weren’t kidding when you said that pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend might be a newfound method of psychological torture — especially when he made you sit on his lap, his head resting on your shoulder and strong arms wrapped tightly around you. It was because there were no more chairs left in the backyard, and he wanted to play the gentleman/possessive boyfriend and didn’t allow you to stand up. But justificatives were fruitless when you could feel him getting harder by the minute. 

“It’s not about faith, you just fucked me up,” Taehyung said. He was the least inebriated one out of the group, but that didn’t mean much. “I owe Yoongi like fifty bucks now, thanks, man.” 

Jungkook was probably going to say something equally ludicrous in return, but your  curiosity made you act quicker. “Why?” You asked. 

Taehyung clicked his tongue, leaning back against his chair — it was the type that folded in half, and you were thinking he would flip over any second now if he continued with those harsh movements. “Ah. No biggie. He was one of the few people who believed your boyfriend here when he said you two were together.” 

You giggled, trying to keep yourself composed. Unlike Jungkook, you were not very skilled when it came to making up lies at the spot, so you ended up deflecting a little. “Yeah, it was a bit… sudden. So I understand the surprise.” 

Hoseok yawned, throwing his head back. “Nah, not really a surprise.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, shifting a little behind you. You felt him tense up, which probably wasn’t a good sign. “Yeah, what do you mean?” He echoed. 

“I mean… that it wasn’t a surprise,” Hoseok repeated, raising his eyebrows in a quiet mockery, as if you had just questioned the color of the sky. “Yoongi was sure Jungkook had finally gotten the balls to confess to you. I, myself, didn’t think it was that likely.” 

Wait, what? Suddenly you felt like you were the one being lied to, and all of them were in it together, building this huge prank around that story just to humiliate you. There was no way Hoseok was serious about that, not when the booze was probably melting his brain. 

Before you could continue to think about that, however, Jungkook spoke up. “Man, you guys suck.” He laughed. “I told you I’d do it someday and you never believed it.” 

Ah. That was it. Jungkook had lied about it just like he had done countless times in the past. 

You deflated a little, a sting of pain inside your chest as the conversation continued to unravel around you. Right then and there, you felt like the stupidest person alive, with no right to complain about the consequences you knew would come from that idea. Even if you had almost convinced yourself otherwise, what probably happened was that Jungkook got cornered some time in the past about some other girl, and ended up telling his friends that he liked you instead, just to get out of that situation. Like some of his lies, it snowballed, and it took you to where you two were now. 

It was hard not to feel hurt, even if you still believed you were a bit at fault for agreeing to his moronic plan. You knew you’d end up like this, suffering over someone who didn’t see you the same way, and you still fell headfirst into that trap. Maybe you were the bad guy in that situation, maybe you were the creepy one for taking advantage of his situation just to feel his body against yours, just to kiss him and pretend that it was all true. Maybe you had no room to judge. 

If you concentrated really hard, you could probably pinpoint the exact moment in which you realized that you were head over heels for your best friend. It wasn’t as glamorous as you’d like, just a dirty thought catalyzed by your teen hormones that unleashed an avalanche — it had happened back in the dark, desolate lands of high school, when you were cheering for Jungkook during one of his games. It was an important one, from what you could remember, his brain buzzing with the tension of his senior year and the promise of a fantastic victory. As always, you were there for him: front row, face painted with the colors of your high school, and cheering him on. 

He smiled at you, like he always did, but there was something odd about it. Like a lightning crossing the sky, one simple (yet fatal) intrusive thought popped up inside your head: he’s hot. 

It was all downhill from there. As much as you tried to wave those ideas away, they kept growing and multiplying, finding new ways to justify themselves — not only was Jungkook hot, suddenly, but you also realized that he would be an amazing boyfriend. He was sweet, kind, funny, determined, a bit ditzy sometimes but nothing you couldn’t deal with. He heard you complain about your problems when needed, but also felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with you. There were so many shared interests between you two that you were positive that you could talk forever and never run out of topics to discuss. Jungkook was a walking minefield and you just stepped right on it. 

And there you were, stumbling your way down into hell as your lives progressed, and Jungkook got into the same college as you. As predicted, he quickly grew to be the campus’ new star player: a great attacking midfielder, with the number 10 plastered on his shirt and a heart-stopping smile on his face. How on earth could you fight that temptation? It was like a re-enactment of Eve and the snake in the garden of eden. Only the snake had amazing thunder thighs that looked even better with his team’s shorts. 

You always asked yourself if Jungkook knew what he was doing when he used his shirt to dry the sweat on his forehead, leaving his glistening abs in full display; or maybe when he hugged and swirled you around after they won a game. Part of you wanted to believe that he liked you back, even if you couldn’t really see it. Most of you believed that he was just his personality and nothing else. 

“Hey,” he breathed out, voice husky against your ear. You thanked his oversized jacket for concealing the goosebumps on your arms. “You good?” 

Just on the brink of a meltdown, no biggie. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

He hummed, nuzzling his face against your neck. “Just a little bit longer, alright?” He placed a tiny kiss there, but it was powerful enough to make you whimper quietly. No one seemed to notice, but you didn’t know why Jungkook did that when you had just told him that your neck was sensitive. “They seem convinced.” 

Maybe “they” should have you included as well, because you had to actively remind yourself that you two were just acting, that he didn’t see you that way. Nevermind the pool of wetness between your legs, nevermind the way your body was on edge with his strong arms pulling you closer; his chiseled abs pressed tightly against your back. Nevermind Jungkook’s sweet smell or the gentle touches of his lips against your skin. It was all fake, dollar store material. It was just a matter of time before your ride became a pumpkin and the dream was over. 

At the same time, you could tell that Jungkook was being affected as well — you could feel the outline of his hard cock poking against your ass when you pressed down on his lap; noticed the tense movements of his arms as they held onto your body. And when Jungkook spoke, with his head placed on your shoulder and a solemn expression on his face, you could tell that he got just a bit choked up every time you shifted around, brushing your ass against his erection. 

The human brain is amazing when it comes to searching for any reason to prove our own theories, however, and that was why you weren’t taking any of those signs seriously — cognitive bias was a thing, and you weren’t falling for its tricks. If there are people out there that believe that the earth is flat, even with a ridiculous amount of evidence against it, you couldn’t trust yourself in believing that you had enough proof to think that Jungkook was interested in you. Maybe your argument was equivalent to “well, I can’t see gravity so it doesn’t exist”, and you didn’t even know it.

So you decided to take it easy, to aim towards the side of caution, as the night progressed into the deeper levels of Dante’s Inferno. By the time that Jungkook decided that you two had accomplished your goal and it was time to get you home, you almost cried in relief. 

You two drove in almost complete silence, only sparsely commenting on a few occurrences of the night. There was a thick blanket of tension hanging between the two of you, a bitter taste in the back of your throat that you couldn’t ignore. It had been a fun night, yeah, but it was done with. Time to burst that bubble and crash back into reality. 

Thankfully or not, depending where you stood, Jungkook didn’t seem to be as worried about those details. He was ridiculously cheerful, beyond proud of his skills, and a little over the moon about the fact that he had been with you the entire night, acting out things he never thought would come true.

“There you go, all done,“ he exclaimed, victorious, the second you two walked into your apartment. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” 

You scoffed, leaning against the wall so you could remove your shoes. “It wasn’t good either,” you said, monotone. You were physically, emotionally and psychologically exhausted, and you seriously didn’t want to look at his annoyingly pretty face for another second. “Have fun telling them about our instantaneous breakup.” 

At that, Jungkook visibly tensed up. “Ha. Yeah…”

You sighed, beyond pissed off (and heartbroken) at that point. You weren’t Jungkook, weren’t built to lie your way through life, to pretend as if the feelings inside your chest were not your own. “By the way — fuck, I hate high heels,” you complained, throwing your shoes on the floor with a bit more force than necessary. Jungkook flinched a little, distracted. “By the way, what did Hoseok mean by that?”

He blinked, swallowing dry. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck — think of something. “By what?”

You raised one eyebrow. “Saying that you’d never have the guts to confess or whatever.” 

The worst part was that Jungkook could see in your downcast eyes that you had no idea what you were asking him. You seriously couldn’t tell that he had feelings for you — or, if you did, you simply couldn’t believe it. Or maybe you just despised him on a level in which a crush would be preposterous to even consider. “Ah.” He clicked his tongue. Think, you dumbass! Come up with something! “That.” 

You were getting a little choked up now. There was no way you couldn’t notice the trademarked signals of Jungkook buying himself some time, trying to come up with something inside that evil head of his. Maybe you had been right thinking that he had mentioned your name randomly one day, just to save his ass, and now he was dealing with the backlash of his actions. “Yeah, what was it about?” You pressed on. 

Jungkook chuckled, nervous. “Man… I was really hoping you’d forget that.” 

You took a step closer to him, anticipating what was to come. If he was going to hurt you, you wished he would just do it quickly, without dragging it out so much. “Just tell me, Jungkook.” 

And he was trying. Kind of. Jungkook was looking at you like his brain was frying, the Widow’s blue screen reflecting off his widened eyes. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, stare falling to the floor. “I can’t lie to you about that.”

You scoffed, venom running up your throat. That was priceless. “You tell white lies almost every day, why is this so different?” 

“Because it’s not a white lie.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and narrowed your eyes, taking another step towards him. “Why are you thinking about lying to me, in the first place?” You asked. “Even if… even if it will hurt me. I deserve to know.” 

“Uhh…” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his head. “Because the truth kind of sucks and it can fuck everything up. And I don’t wanna do that.” 

Apparently you were right about your previous theory, then. Jungkook didn’t see you the same way, after all. And that was fine (it wasn’t), but he couldn’t even grow a pair and tell you straight on. “So you would rather avoid it?” You didn’t relent, motivated by your frustration, your hurt, that sickly feeling of betrayal — everything at once. “That has been kind of a running theme with you, hasn’t it?” You stared at him, but Jungkook could only avert his eyes from your burning gaze, instead looking at his feet. “Fine. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to, but quit dragging me into these bullshit lies of yours. I’m tired.”

“No one has ever cancelled a date with me,” he blurted out.

You hesitated, blinking a few times as you digested his words. “What?”

He breathed out. “No one has ever cancelled a date with me. It was all me,” Jungkook confessed. “I lied to you about that because I wanted to spend more time with you. And I didn’t care about anyone else.”

“Wh—“

Overwhelmed by a random wave of courage, his gaze snapped up at you. “I like when you watch my practice and bring me stuff, and I like when you invite me to those dumb movie marathons and make me watch the most disgusting shit,” Jungkook continued, his words falling incoherently from his mouth. You could only stare, flabbergasted, as he spilled months — years — of secrets all at once. “And I like watching you study, and I love seeing you laugh, I love spending time with you, and Hoseok is fucking tired of hearing me talk about it and do nothing.”

“I... don’t understand what you’re saying,” you told him. 

“I told the guys that we were dating because you were literally the only person that popped in my mind, and the only person I actually wanted to be with,” he just went on, not paying attention to your previous comment. Jungkook was a little on edge now, a bit breathless and wide-eyed. He’s nervous, you realized. It had been a long time since you saw him like that. “And this was the best night I’ve had in a while, just because you were there and I— I’m fucking everything up, I told you I would.”

“Jungkook,” you called softly, feeling as if every inhale was an olympic sport. Your heart was beating so fast inside your chest that you were afraid of having a syncope before you could hear the words you needed so badly. “Just tell me what you want to say.” 

He cleared his throat, shifting the weight from one leg to the other. “I’m like… how do I put this…?” Jungkook paused, took a deep breath, and dropped the bomb. “I’ve been kind of in love with you ever since we were like eight, yeah.” 

Record scratch. Freeze frame. “You what?” 

Jungkook chuckled. “Yep… awkward,” he said. “Sorry.” 

It hasn’t settled in just yet, which explained why you didn’t start screaming at him. “And you have the guts to tell me that I drop things naturally?” You asked. “Are you serious? You better not be fucking with me right now.”

He raised one hand and placed it on his chest. “I’m not, promise.” 

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks. “Jeon Jungkook!” You screeched, both hands flying to hold onto his shirt, rocking him back and forth with the strength of a thousand men. “I’m gonna make you swallow my fist!”

Jungkook was dumbfounded, ten times more confused than when you tried to explain to him the plot of the Velocipastor — which really wasn’t that hard, it was just a pastor who was also a dinosaur shifter. But his brain wasn’t good at following those types of unpredictable plots, and that counted your burst of anger. “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting at all,” he murmured, voice flat with disbelief. 

But it was your turn to ramble incoherently. “You’re an idiot! You’re even worse than I thought!” You were still speaking loudly, letting all that frustration wash out of you, giving place to relief. “You made me go through all this fucking night, kissing you and pretending to be your girlfriend, while you actually like me? You prick!” 

You punched his chest — his stupid, muscular, rock-hard chest. “Ouch!” He whined, but you doubted it actually hurt. 

“I was almost crying because of how hard it was to suppress my own feelings for you,” you told him, pulling on his shirt once again. You wanted to take it off, wanted to kiss him until he was all that you could think about. But you also wanted to dropkick him straight to the deepest circle of hell. “And you like me back? Idiot!” 

“Wait, wait, what?” Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, a perfect picture of his surprise. “For real?”

“For real.” Your shoulders slumped, the anger that possessed your body left you as quickly as it had arrived. “I’m in love with you too, you smooth-brained asshole. Ever since high school.” 

He blinked, dumbfounded. “I had no idea.” 

“Didn’t I tell you that speaking the truth is always the better option? You never listen.” You tugged on his shirt one more time, for dramatic effect. “Dumbass.” 

“You’re the dumbass. And no, I don’t think I do,” his voice was flat, mind navigating miles away from your place. “___?”

“What?” You barked. 

“How mad are you?” 

You groaned. “Pretty mad, why?”

It was his turn to take a step towards you, the heat that emanated off his body now surrounding you. “Because I’m gonna kiss you right now and I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t bite my face off.”

You sighed, relaxing against his torso. Jungkook’s hands came up to rest on your waist, guiding you closer to him. “I’ll try my best,” you told him, “go ahead.” 

Maybe all those foolish love songs and melodramatic romantic poets were onto something, because you swore you saw fireworks when Jungkook finally moved in, crashing his lips on yours. Yes, you had kissed him already that night, but there was no way those two situations could be comparable, not when you felt much lighter now that the secret was out, and that you knew what he felt when he pulled you closer, when he sighed against your mouth and caressed your lower back. 

Long years of friendship granted you the knowledge that Jungkook was tender with some things, rough with others — he was gentle with kids, with his other friends, with you; he was hard around the edges when it came to his matches (being especially fiery around championships), people he didn’t like, and goals he wanted to reach. As he kissed you, you could notice him trying to figure out which approach to take with you: his lips were soft on yours, tongue slowly exploring your mouth, but his hands were harsh, groping your ass as he pushed you up against the nearest wall, a growl vibrating inside his chest. 

Maybe it was a bit evil to push his buttons when you knew he was so dangerously close to snapping, but you weren’t in the right frame of mind — or, rather, you weren’t in any frame of mind at all. So, knowing very well that Jungkook was the most competitive person you knew, you pulled away from the kiss to say, “Come on, why don’t you kiss me like you mean it?” 

Which might have been the dumbest final words you could’ve uttered. 

You were graced with just a couple seconds of hesitation from his part — frustration and desire flashing inside his hooded eyes — before he was crashing his mouth onto yours once again. Jungkook didn’t say anything, because he didn’t need to: the messy, sensual kiss he gave you was more than enough to make you shut up. Just according to the keikaku, of course. 

His hands were in the back of your tights before you could think, pulling you up and pinning you against the wall. You moaned against his lips, a shaky exhale leaving your mouth when he rolled his center against yours — cock hard and heavy inside his pants, brushing against your covered heat. Jungkook did it two, three, four times, slowly grinding against you like he couldn’t hold himself back any further, groaning at the feeling. 

When he pulled away, you were almost seeing entire constellations forming in your vision, your breath labored and mind dizzy with desire. “Fuck,” he cursed, resting his forehead on yours. “Want you so fucking bad.” 

“Want you too,” you told him. “Bedroom?” 

He pulled back so he could look at you better. “Sure?” 

You nodded. “Sure.” Leaning in, you placed a timid kiss on his lips. “Want you to fuck me, Jungkook.” 

After all those years, that was all that he needed to hear. He was quick to pull you away from the wall, hands holding your body up and your legs wrapped around his waist. Jungkook knew your apartment like the back of his hand, but he still kept his eyes open as he walked towards your bedroom, your lips mindlessly attacking his thick neck. You had dreamed about doing that so many times and you could say with confidence that you weren’t disappointed by the shuddering breaths he let out, or the small grunts he gifted you every time you sucked his skin just right. By the time that Jungkook placed you on your bed, crawling over you, you were so wet that it was almost embarrassing. 

He looked at you like he was hypnotized, his hands roaming up your legs, slowly spreading them so he could place himself in between. With the action, your skirt rolled up, exposing your underwear. “Shit, I thought about doing this so many times,” Jungkook murmured, almost as if he was talking to himself. “I can’t believe it’s real.” 

“You’re so sappy.” You giggled, but you couldn’t deny that his low voice was getting to you. You shivered when his palms met the exposed skin of your waist, pausing in the space between your skirt and your sleeveless top. Jungkook was deep in thought, his gaze flickering all over your body. “What is it?” You asked. 

“You look so fucking hot in this.” He pulled on the large piece of clothing, his tongue coming out to lick his lips. “Wanna fuck you with the jacket on. Just the jacket.” 

You almost choked on your saliva — well that was something you weren’t expecting at all. “Seriously?” You raised one eyebrow, teasing him. “You have that much of a hard-on for sports?” 

Jungkook didn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes, though, because he gave you a serious answer. “No, I have that much of a hard-on for you.” He dipped in so he could nestle his face on the curve of your neck, humming as he inhaled your scent. Once again, you were faced with the contrast of his soft lips against your skin, but the rough tug of his hands on your skirt. “Wanna fuck my girl with only my jacket on, what’s so wrong about that?” 

You whimpered when he licked on your sensitive spot, trying to push your legs together, but being stopped by his presence between them. Jungkook successfully pulled your skirt out of you, throwing it somewhere on the floor. “Since when are you this possessive?” You asked. 

He moved back, hands progressing to your tube top and sliding it down. It seemed as if the world had conspired in his favor, because it was just so easy to leave you only with his team clothes on, the elastic material leaving your body quick enough. “I’m not possessive,” he responded, only half there. His brain was trying to understand the vision of you before his eyes, only with your panties and his jacket. Jungkook could feel his cock throbbing inside his pants, begging for relief, and he just knew that sight would plague him forever. “Wanna make sure that you know you’re mine, though. I’ve thought about this for too long.” 

As you fumbled for something to say, he dove back in, his mouth attacking your breasts with no time. Your back arched, fingers tangling in his messy hair as he sucked and licked your nipples, his strong hands squeezing your tits every time you moaned out. It was almost humiliating how reactive you were, with your shallow breaths and broken calls of his name, but Jungkook was fucking loving it, and he just wanted more of it. 

You melted under his touches as he pulled himself closer to you, his mouth tracing its way back to your clavicles, then your neck. Much to your dismay, his hands were still on your breasts, playing with your erect nipples as he finally found that one spot that made you yelp. 

“W-Wait,” you stammered, “my neck is sensitive.”

Jungkook knew that already. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since you mentioned it back at the party; his cock stiff inside his pants at the memory alone. “I noticed,” he groaned, the vibrations of his voice spreading throughout your skin. One of his hands slithered between your bodies, hastily pulling your underwear to the side so his fingers could plunge between your folds. At the sensation of your arousal, Jungkook growled, pressing his erection against your thigh. “Holy fuck. You’re soaked.”

“I told you,” you said, feeling like your brain was about to melt and drip out of your ears. It was hard to concentrate when he was making out with your neck like that, sucking and biting the skin before liking the same spot he had just attacked. Still, the sudden plunging of his finger inside your pussy caught your attention in an instant. “J-Jungkook, I’m—” 

How shameful was it that you couldn’t even finish a damn sentence? Lust was getting the best of you, pushing your rationalizations aside and filling your lungs with desire. Jungkook soon added a second finger inside you, stretching you wide as he continued to fuck you. It was a fantastic sensation — his hand was much larger than yours, and you were sure you’d be able to cum like that if it kept it up for long enough. 

Jungkook moaned against your neck, pulling his head back so he could take a look at you. His cock throbbed at the sight of your dazed-out face, your parted lips looking so dangerously inviting to him, “Tell me what you want,” he asked, diving in to kiss you. He sucked on your tongue, making you whine as he pulled back. “I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

“Want you,” you said, nails digging into his shoulder blades. 

Jungkook liked the sharp pain that came from it, raising the speed of his fingers just a bit. “I’m right here.”

“No,” you whimpered, blinking back the tears of frustration that covered your irises. God, Jungkook couldn’t even believe you were all his. “Want your cock inside me, please.” 

Listening to you saying that was like experiencing a choir of angels singing directly to him. Jungkook had waited far too long to get you alone like that, so beautiful and pliant beneath him, and there was no way in hell he would deny you your request. 

So he got moving, his hand flying to the back of his shirt, which he tugged off with one swift motion. Your eyes fell to his toned chest, roaming his sweaty skin as he moved onto his belt. “Take those off.” He signaled with his head towards your panties. 

You nodded, sliding your underwear down and throwing it to the side. Even with his jacket still on — which, you admitted, it was both objectively and subjectively hot — you felt extremely exposed, thighs closing just slightly when Jungkook took his pants and boxers off. 

“Keep them open,” he warned, his stare stuck to your glistening folds, and you did. His face was one of sheer lust, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he placed himself back in place. “Wanna see you cum on my fingers,” he breathed, “but I’m too hard. Need to be inside you right now.” 

Your attention flickered downwards, pulled by the small collision of his cock against your clit. You winced at the feeling, but one of his large hands kept you in place as he moved closer to your heat. The constant drumming of your pulse was all that you could hear for a second, heart skipping a beat when you fully noticed his size. 

Would it be weird to say that Jungkook had a pretty dick? Because he did. And a big one too, which made you second guess your own limits for a moment. 

As if he was reading your mind, his cockhead pressed against your pussy, so warm and wet that Jungkook swore he was about to lose his mind — or what was left of it. There was nothing more that he wanted then to nestle himself in your heat, bury himself deep inside you until you were the only thing he could think about. “Shit, look at you,” he murmured, brushing his tip against your entrance. Your figure twitched under him, a soft gasp leaving your mouth at the feeling. “Bet I could slide right in.” 

He was hypnotized by the squelching sounds of your pussy, the way your opening fluttered around his crown as he slowly started to press himself into you. He wanted to do it slowly so he could pay attention to every detail of you, every small exclamation of pleasure that dripped like honey from your lips. 

The world around you two was getting smaller and hotter by the minute, suffocating you and pulling the air out of your lungs. Your eyelashes fluttered as Jungkook’s cock slid inside you, just the tip at first, your back arching as your walls clenched around him, almost as if your body was rejecting his size. “You’re so big,” you whined, burry eyes fighting to focus on his face. 

Jungkook, however, wasn’t looking at you, but at the way his member sank between your folds, diving into your wet heat. “Yeah?” He breathed out, jaw clenching. It was taking everything inside him not to start pounding into you. “I’m sure you can take it, don’t you think?” 

You nodded, and it took a moment for your words to catch up to you. “Y-Yes,” you said. 

Jungkook was more than halfway inside you now, and his mind was more than halfway gone, thrown out of the window and into the gelid nocturnal winds. The way you were wrapping around him should be illegal; you were so perfect that jungkook was sure he could never find a drug that would get him so high. “That’s it, be greedy for me,” he groaned, “take everything.” 

He went as deep as he could, his cock almost brushing against your cervix and your cunt throbbing against him. Maybe he had died and was in paradise, because there was no way he could be feeling so good. 

“Move, please,” you asked meekly. 

Lucky you, he was more than happy to comply. 

Jungkook tilted his hips back, until just his tip was still inside you, only to bottom out again, feeling as your cunt throbbed around him. He did this with unbearable patience at first, allowing your body to get accustomed to his cock splitting you open before he started to pick up the pace. Most of his self control had already burned out, though, at it wasn’t long before he was fucking you fast, rough; groaning at the way your tits jumped every time he shived his length back inside you. 

Once again, he felt like a virgin — you were too much, it seemed. Everything about you got him searching for the stars, wishing for more and moaning out every time your cunt squeezed around him. You were so fucking wet, he thought, so tight and warm, that he wasn’t even thinking about cumming, just about how wished to keep fucking you forever. At the same time, Jungkook was sure that he wouldn’t last long, not when you were looking at him like that, calling his name again and again until it silenced all his thoughts. 

Your breath hitched when his cock brushed against your sensitive spot. “Right there, right there,” you sobbed, nails scratching the skin of his arms. Jungkook caught onto your request straight away, keeping the same angle until you were a babbling mess under him. “Oh m-my god, yeah,” you cried out. “S-So good.”

“Fuck, that’s tight,” Jungkook cursed, his hands digging into your thighs, shoving them up for him so he could reach deeper, fuck you harder. He couldn’t stop moaning, gasping, producing the most beautiful sounds for you. “S-Shit, you’re just pulling my cock in. Your pussy feels amazing.” If given enough time, he could go crazy staring at the way in which his cock disappeared between your folds, only to come back dripping with your arousal, and then slamming back in. “You’re just so fucking hot,” he couldn’t help but say it out loud. “Play with your tits for me.” 

You didn’t have the guts to deny him, your hands palming your tits, squeezing the soft flesh. You whimpered at the feeling, eyes closing in bliss as he continued to fuck you. 

“That’s it, so good for me,” Jungkook praised, hips losing their rhythm for a second. His cock was already throbbing, orgasm threatening to hit him any time now. He needed you to cum first, though. “Your pussy too. Come on.” 

That time, you hesitated a little, a broken sob falling from your lips as you found his gaze. However, you couldn’t deny it — you wanted to be good for him, to get his praises again and again until that was all that you could hear. So you followed his command, two fingers, sinking into your wetness before trailing back to your clit. 

A rush of pleasure ran through your veins, pussy clenching around his cock as your moments grew desperate, needy for more. You were bordering on delirious by that point, your mind unable to focus on one thing, instead jumping between all the stimulation you were getting — your hand squeezing your breast; your fingers rubbing your clit; Jungkook’s cock drilling inside you. “T-Too much,” you cried. 

God, but that’s exactly what he wanted. Jungkook wanted to see that pretty, overwhelmed face of yours, wanted to show you that every minute of waiting had been worth it. “Yeah? But you can take it for me, can’t you?” He moaned under his breath, starting to get lost in his own pleasure. You were getting tighter by the second, which was a dangerous thing. “You can cream my cock if I ask you to, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll do anything f-for you.” 

Jungkook sighed at your words, cock throbbing inside you. “Good girl, just like that,” he husked. “Such a good girl.” 

Tears started to prickle your eyes, and you didn’t know if it was because of how overwhelmed you were, or because your emotions were just now starting to tip over. “J-Jungkook,” you called his name, for a moment not knowing if you would follow it up with something else. His eyes found your own, dazed ones, and his heart skipped a beat at how beautiful and his you looked at that moment. “Love y-you.” 

Years of fantasizing about that confession could’ve never prepared the two of you for such an honest, unexpected moment. Jungkook felt his soul reach levels of happiness which he had never experienced before, mouth only able to say one thing in return. “Love you too.” He pressed his forehead against yours, movements becoming more sloppy, desperate. The new angle was an amazing discovery, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you, which tore a loud cry from you. “Holy shit,” he moaned. “You’re getting so fucking t-tight around my cock.” 

“Close,” you breathed out, letting go of his previous requests and just taking your hands to his face instead. Jungkook stared at you like he could see the entire universe in your eyes, his hot breaths hitting your face in gentle waves. “K-Kiss me, please.” 

There was no need to repeat yourself. Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours, trapping you in a kiss that felt both like too much and too little at the same. You barely had any time to dive into the caress of his lips on yours before your high washed over you — walls spasming around his length as you dove into bliss; moaning into the kiss and holding to his broad shoulders. 

He broke the kiss right after, a stuttering, failed breath leaving his chest. “L-Love you,” he choked out, “so much.” Jungkook gasped. He was so close, but, at the same time, he didn’t want to let go just yet. It felt too good — having you was too perfect. “Can’t b-believe you’re mine.” 

You smiled at his state, one hand brushing the sweaty hair away from his forehead. “Love you too,” you said back. You could say it again and again, without ever getting tired. After so many years swallowing it down, nothing felt so free. “It’s okay, you can let go.” 

Jungkook nodded, only mildly aware of his own actions. With all the force within him, he pushed himself away from you, pulling out from your heat. Soon, his hand wrapped around his cock, using your arousal to pump himself towards his much-needed release. “Shit,” he choked up, throwing his head back. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—” 

Jungkook grunted as he finally reached his high; cock throbbing in his hands. His cum splattered all over your belly, a few white ropes hitting the underside of your tits as well; dripping down to your mound and pelvis as his movements started to slow down. Even then, so fucked-out and overwhelmed, Jungkook looked like a god you’d be more than happy to worship. 

“Fuck,” he heaved, hooded eyes trailing over your form. By some miracle, probably the work of some mysterious sports god, his jacket remained untouched. “That looks so hot.” 

You smiled, taking a glimpse at your body. “And messy.” 

He let out a breathy, tired laugh. “Yeah. Gonna clean you up, just give me a second. I almost blacked out here.” 

Playfully, you kicked the side of his thigh. “You better,” you told him. “And don’t be so melodramatic.” 

“Rude.” He leaned in, placing a kiss on your lips. You still felt like you were dreaming, trapped in an alternate reality. If that was the case, you didn’t want to wake up. “Next time I’ll cum in your mouth so you’ll learn some manners.” 

Next time. Those words fell like a stone inside your stomach. It was pretty much impossible to mask your lovesick gaze now. “Yeah, bold of you to believe it’ll change a thing.” You pushed him off you, signaling towards the bathroom. “Go, be a good boy and go get me a towel.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but did as you said, leaving the bed soon after. “I liked you better when you were pretending to be my fake girlfriend,” he spoke from the corridor. “You were more polite.”

“I was acting,” you said. “This is what you’re gonna get.” 

He laughed, appearing back in the room. “Ah, well, I guess I made my choice years ago.” 

That managed to shut you up real fast, heart hammering against your ribcage as Jungkook started cleaning you up. His movements were tender on your skin, feather-like touches that moved up your abdomen, to your breasts, then back between your legs. During all that, a familiar, comfortable silence fell between you two — one that you had grown used to; so empty and yet so full. 

After he was done, Jungkook discarded the towel, returning to his rightful place next to you. Like it was your second nature, you curled yourself up next to him, head resting on his chest and his arm wrapping around your waist. 

The world was perfect for exactly thirty seconds before he decided to ruin it. “So…” Jungkook started, a mischievous smirk already curling on his lips, “you like like me.” 

You scoffed, propping your chin on his chest and meeting his gaze. Jungkook was too cute and too hot for his own good, and his post-sex state managed to incorporate both elements in a hazardous combination. “Yes. And you like like me back.” You remarked. “Did you seriously have to go through all these steps instead of just, I don’t know, telling me?” 

He threw his head back, eyes closing in sheer desperation. “I didn’t know!” 

“Everyone knew!” You exclaimed back, flabbergasted. You couldn’t believe that all those years of shared distress could’ve been solved with the most basic common sense. “Do you think I watch your games because I like them? I tell you all the time I hate sports! Dumbass!” 

Jungkook flinched when you slapped the top of his head lightly, forging pain. “Ouch! You’re the dumbass. And I thought you were kidding.” He pouted, eyes drifting off towards a corner of the room. You could tell he was thinking, so you gave him his time. “But now that you mention it…”

You rolled your eyes, laying back down. “Yeah, that’s not so hard to—”

“I cannot stand body horror.” 

“What?” You shrieked, sitting up at lightning speed. That managed to be the most unexpected thing Jungkook had told you that night — scratcher that: ever. “You told me you loved watching body horror with me.” 

He shook his head, an expression of disgust on his face as he was reminded of every horror movie he had ever watched. “I almost puke watching it. I just pretend I enjoy it because it makes you happy.” 

For a moment, your mouth hung open, mind working a million miles per hour to make sense of his admission. Thinking back to it, you had noticed how frequently Jungkook went to the bathroom while watching Tusk; about how many times he coughed and turned his head away from the Human Centipede. “Oh my god.” Your shoulders slumped, your voice was a frail little thing, filled by disbelief. You couldn’t call him dumb when you had acted just the same. “We’re both idiots.”

Jungkook laughed as you returned to your previous position, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Yeah, I think that’s the only possible conclusion.”

[nanatsumu]

HIGH SCHOOL!SUKUNA x F!READER

thinking about bad boy itadori sukuna who all the kids at school try to steer clear from because they know he’s bad news and if you get involved with him then you’re bound to be tied with bad luck for as long as he lives. well, that is everyone except for the president of the student council who so happens to be his childhood best friend turned lover.

this is mostly written for my own self indulgence and to project my fantasies of having a boyfriend onto sukuna but feel free to treat this as any other headcanon! ps i am pretty sure canon sukuna would kill a baby at any given situation, but this is going to be a revamped version of sukuna written by yours truly ;) and its a high school au so sukuna won’t be a complete menace to society and will actually have a heart heh

also i didn’t realize how long this was going to be??? this is kind of all over place too because i just wanted to throw all of my thoughts onto this post so there might be some plot holes in this LOL

i feel like sukuna would be the type of bad boy who isn’t necessarily a bad boy but everyone at school just paints him as some kind of delinquent because of all the tattoos and piercings he has.

he actually shows up to school more often than you think he would (but that’s only because you’re in most of his classes so long story short: you’re his only motivation for attending class)

“forgets” to bring his work books to class more than usual (in reality he does this on purpose so he has an excuse to be near you) so he requests to sit next to you the entire class period so he can share with you for the meantime but whenever the teachers not looking he’ll go back to admiring your face.

his older twin brother, itadori yuji, is very fond of you since you three grew up together and you both had your chances of being a victim to his antics!

exhibit a: in middle school when you and yuji were watching tv together, the show you two were watching would keep switching to some wrestling match broadcasting on a sports channel and no matter how many times you turned the tv on and off, it just would not stop. but it wasn’t until you heard snickering from the kitchen that you realized sukuna had a spare remote and was the mastermind behind the whole thing.

exhibit b: sukuna and yuji’s mom was the owner of a bakery so every now and then she would have either one of the twins come deliver freshly baked pastries to your household! oh how wrong was she to trust her youngest. sukuna was now a freshman in high school, and by now you would’ve thought that sukuna would have grown out of his childish phase, but WRONG! sukuna was still a menace in your life even past childhood. so when you bit into one of the macaroons, instead of being hit with the overwhelming taste of [favorite flavor], all you could feel was the burning sensation of wasabi kicking into your tastebuds.

yeah after the whole wasabi macaroon freak accident, you stopped accepting everything sukuna offered to you and opted to only eating pastries out of the boxes that yuji delivered to you. (sukuna eventually caught onto this and was just TEENSY bit upset but he would rather down a whole tube of wasabi than to tell you upfront)

now, how did you two even end up dating??? oh boy now that is a story

you see, yours and sukuna’s dynamic growing up was similar to that of tom and jerry’s— you being jerry and sukuna being 10x worse than tom of course

but it wasn’t until a confession after school behind the cherry blossom tree that was known for bringing good luck to successful confessions that sukuna finally realized that maybe he really did like you just a little lot bit

sukuna overheard the boy who was planning on confessing to you talking to his friend group about how “sweet and caring” you are (although sukuna could argue otherwise, you were a little brat. *LIKE HELLO?!&:&:& YOU WEREN’T THE ONE WHO ATE A MACAROON FILLED WASABI**) and obviously his ears perked up at the mention of your name. he grew up with you after all so naturally he would be interested in a conversation that revolved around you.

but then the boys started going on about how “you looked like an easy catch” and how “your body was bangin’!” yeah no, that’s where he drew the line. sure sukuna was an ass and talked shit about you most of the time (in his defense it wasn’t like he was doing it behind your back) but if he ever caught someone else talking about you like that then he would be sure to give them a hard time.

he hid behind one of the bushes near the cherry blossom tree while the boy was professing his love for you. funnily enough, for a moment sukuna forgot why he was originally there because he was too busy trying to stifle a laugh as he watched the boy stumble over his words.

“okay shows over” sukuna thought as the confession was reaching its conclusion, but just as he was about to step in and give the poor boy a piece of his mind, he stopped in his tracks when he heard you roaring with laughter.

“did you really think that i wouldn’t hear about what you and your friends said about me earlier? you’re really pathetic if you think any girl would be easy enough to fall to her knees for you because news flash! you’re a disgusting pig and you deserve to rot in hell for speaking about a girl’s worth like that.”

“it’s kind of sad too, i thought you were a nice boy and i probably would have given you a chance but it seems like you’re even worse than scum! damn it, to think there was somebody out there who’s even worse than sukuna.”

of course sukuna was not pleased to hear that last bit, but he did have a proud grin forming on his face as he watched the boy run away, flustered from your rejection and the embarrassment he was put through.

“sukuna i know you’re hiding behind the bush.”

“huh? i came here way before you got here, there’s no way you could have seen me.” he said as he stood up to his full height.

“well, your laughter isn’t exactly the quietest, plus i can spot that hair of yours from a mile away.”

lets just say, sukuna was glad you didn’t ask him what he was doing there because he wasn’t sure if he could spare the embarrassment of telling you that he was planning on ruining the confession.

after that whole fiasco happened, sukuna started to feel(!&:&::&) things

like he started to notice how you styled your hair differently one day and how you switched to a new perfume that smelled like spearmint (was that weird? for sukuna probably not. he just excuses it as being highly observant)

you weren’t dumb either, you had a feeling sukuna was there that day of the confession because he too had overheard the conversation between the boy and his friends as well (you knew he was prideful and if you brought it up then he probably would’ve denied it)

so from there on out it was just mutual pining at the point except... well.... not really??

i feel like it was just an unspoken agreement between you two that you guys were “together” but not “together together” because he started to treat you differently than he would before. like for example, he’d carry your bag for you whenever you guys would walk home (yuji was confused by this at first because if anything, it would have made more sense to see sukuna make you carry HIS bag, but he eventually caught on to sukuna’s feelings for you because they were twin brothers after all), he started walking you to class more often even though his class was all the way on the other side of the school (you asked him why but he just shrugged and said he was just “killing time” so that he wouldn’t have to go to class and then you ended up scolding him), and there was also that one time you miraculously found a $20 bill in your backpack after mentioning to sukuna that there was this cute top you saw at the mall the other day but didn’t have enough money at the time to purchase it (you asked him about this but he said it was probably yuji, but you didn’t want to pry any further since you wanted to cherish the fact that sukuna cared that much)

but eventually you got sick of this whole push and pull game that you physically had to tug the collar of his school uniform and pull him in for a kiss (he was visibly shocked at this because he never would’ve imagined you as the assertive type. not that he was complaining though)

“oya? didn’t think you liked me this much kitten.” he said laughing while you rolled your eyes.

“as if, i got tired of you being a wuss so one of us had to wear the pants in the relationship.” you snorted, causing him to irk.

to be honest, your relationship with him is smooth sailing because you both were pretty chill people and you didn’t have to worry about him sneaking behind your back to see other girls because 1. literally all the girls at school are terrified of him and 2. he knew what you were capable of doing to him if you were to ever catch him cheating on you so he wants to stay on your good side

jealous and possessive don’t exist in his dictionary because he is the epitome of those two words. remember what i said about how your relationship is smooth sailing? i kinda lied.

he’s easily jealous like for example: when you were in english class and the teacher had you guys jot down some notes, you realized you forgot to ask for your pencil back when you lent it to your friend last period.

so you asked sukuna to borrow a pencil but instead of giving you a pencil, he called you an idiot for being so forgetful.

this makes you mad so you turn to your male classmate since he was sitting on your opposite side and ask him for a pencil instead.

sukuna was practically fuming the entire class period and once the day ended and you two were back at your place, he made sure to mark you real good. (oh he also went out to buy a pack of mechanical pencils to sneak into your backpack so that next time you forget your pencils, you’ll have 10 extra pencils sitting in your backpack as backup)

he’s not a big fan of pda in public, but on the chances he will show some of it, the most he will do is wrap an arm around your shoulder or waist whenever some dude is trying to hit on you.

BUT IN PRIVATE? better buckle up because your in for a ride wink wink

really likes putting hickeys on you to a fault! but will never put any visible ones on your neck because he doesn’t want your parents to view him as some kind of animal (but he has nothing to worry about because your parents really like him and are grateful for the fact that he’s very loyal to you, and you guys grew up together so it’s only natural that your parents are accepting of him since they already know he has a good heart underneath that tough facade of his)

oh, and yuji starts learning how to knock whenever you come over (or shuts himself in his room for the meantime if he thinks it’s unsafe to step out of his room) because chances are, you’re probably making out with sukuna in his room or smth.

now onto the spicy stuff

when you and sukuna first started dating, the first thing you told him was that you weren’t ready to have sex yet because you were nervous and sukuna understood and told you that he was willing to wait for whenever you were ready.

but when you were ready though, it was kind of spontaneous and you weren’t even wearing a matching pair of bra and underwear that day

you two were chilling in your room watching some stupid (according to sukuna) animal documentary when suddenly you felt his hand on your thigh

dating sukuna and all, it was normal for him to have his hands on some part of your body (whether it be your thigh or your waist) while you two were in bed.

but you were feeling a bit bolder HORNEE than usual so you began to leave a hot trail of kisses starting from his jaw all the way down to his neck.

sukuna obviously got the memo but before those kisses could escalate into something more daring, he asked you once more if you were completely sure you wanted to do it and once you gave him the green light, he was quick to tug his shirt over his head and pounce on you.

he started getting really into it though and accidentally bit your thigh which made you loose your high and scold him for it, but he let out a hearty laugh and muttered a quick apology before getting back into business

sike i lied, remember what i said about it being spontaneous? yeah, you technically didn’t loose your virginity to him that day because after he finished prepping you, you both came to a realization that you didn’t have a condom.

oh well, there’s always next time!

i think sukuna is a sucker for pet names: his favorite thing to call you is either kitten or princess and that’s it LOL he finds calling you baby or babe is a bit too cheesy for him

but he likes it when you call him baby or babe ;)

date nights consist of either staying in and cuddling in his room, going out for a walk at night (but very very late though. there’s still lamp posts that guide your way through the streets but it gives you the heebie jeebies to be out walking outside so late. sukuna always reminds you that nothing bad will happen as long as he’s right by your side), or just spending time with you and your families.

but if you’re really down to do it, he’ll probably initiate a make out session that’ll lead to y’all fucking one way or another (he only ever does it if he is 100% sure that you’re feeling it because he knows you get easily embarrassed if he asks you straight up)

(this part is mainly written for me because i love the idea of sukuna being over at family functions, but it can be applied as part of the general hc heh) if you took him to any of your family functions as your plus one for the first time, all the aunts and uncles would be a bit wary of him at first due to all of the tattoos and piercings he has (sukuna swears he has never felt so self conscious before) but after they strike up a conversation with him and find out that he’s actually a good guy who knows what he wants to do in the future and is very loyal to you, they start to like him more.

your little cousins adore him and love it when he comes over because sukuna is a very tall high schooler which makes him the perfect candidate as a monkey bar

so when you noticed that all the little ones started to climb on his body and mess around with his hair, you were quick to react because you knew your boyfriend was easily irritable which prompted you to think he hated kids

but there was nothing to worry about because when you saw him playing around with them and even crack a smile, you felt your heart grow fuzzy at the sight and you knew right then and there that you wanted to stick by sukuna’s side for the rest of your life

and in the unfortunate circumstances that sukuna is too busy to make it to one of your functions, the first thing everyone asks is “where’s your boyfriend?” or “where’s ‘kuna? i wanna play with him!”

so you have to facetime him and let him know that everyone is wondering where he is (your phone is dead by the end of the night because after the adults get their turn at saying hi to your boyfriend, the kids snatch your phone and end up talking to him for the rest of the night)

but in conclusion, everyone is waiting for the day he gets on one knee to propose to you and your parents are itching to get to get call sukuna their son-in-law :))

also don’t forget that your parents want two grandchildren: one boy and one girl!

[verai-marcel]

Serendipitous Meetings (Arthur x GN!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Summary: You foolishly didn’t mark where you parked in the huge parking structure, and spend some time looking for your car. You run into a fellow who did the same thing, and things get ridiculously serendipitous from there.

Author’s Notes: How many tropes can I shove into this fic? Let’s face it, I just wanted to have Arthur fuck like the manly man that he is. Also going for gender neutral as much as possible, so all my readers who want a piece of Arthur can have him.

Tags: Arthur x GN!Reader, smut, light D/s tones, size kink, light spanking, neck grabbing, rough sex, dirty talk, modern AU

AO3 Link is here, li’l darlin’.

Word Count: 3764

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

"Shit."

You let out a long suffering sigh as you looked around the packed parking structure. In your rush to meet your friends, you had forgotten to take a photo of where you parked. Now you stared at the large expanse of cars, racking your brain for at least a slight memory of how you got to the venue entrance from your car. 

Sticking your hand into your pocket, you gripped your phone for a moment before letting it go. You had already shooed your friends away, insisting you had parked nearby and could get to your spot no problem. Swallowing your pride, you started to search the rows for the off-white bucket of bolts you dared to call your car. 

After searching one floor, you trudged up the stairs to the next one, stopping a few steps past the landing to gaze upon the hundreds of cars before you. You faintly heard another set of steps coming down the stairwell, but you were so mired in your own despair that you didn't pay the sound any mind. 

"Shit," said a gravelly voice next to you. 

Glancing over, a very broad set of shoulders filled your view. Your eyes flicked over the red and black flannel shirt and blue jeans, with an almost hilariously large belt buckle. Then you looked up. 

Oh no. He was gorgeous, in a rugged, manly-man sort of way. That chiseled jaw, the five o’clock shadow, that thick neck… he was the kind of man who could probably pick you up and throw you over his shoulder with ease. You were so busy staring at him in tired awe that he finally noticed you.

A pair of turquoise eyes met yours. "Sorry," the man said. "Can't find my truck."

It took you half a second to remember to respond. Then you gave him an empathic half-grin. "I can't find my car either."

He pointed upstairs. "What's yer car look like? Maybe I saw it up there."

You shook your head. "It's just a generic off-white Toyota Corolla."

The man shrugged. "Oh. Well, sorry darlin', there's a bunch of those up there."

You sighed, lamenting the fact that your car was one of the most popular cars out on the road these days. You also secretly enjoyed him calling you darling with that accent of his. He sounded like he had just stepped out of a spaghetti western. 

"Maybe I saw your truck downstairs, if it stands out," you said, trying to be helpful. 

"It's a blue Chevy pick-up. Really old, like one o' them classic trucks, 'cept it ain't been cleaned up like the ones you see in a car show."

Your memory flashed with the image of a dirty blue truck in your apartment complex's garage. You stifled a laugh at the thought. You had always wondered who drove the old thing, since you had never seen its owner. 

"Nope, I didn't see a truck like that downstairs," you told him. 

"Oh. Well, guess we better start lookin'," he said. He looked at you for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You waited.

“Maybe,” he finally said, “maybe we could look together? For a bit. Keep each other company.”

“Okay,” you said easily. Part of your brain screamed that it could be really easy for him to just pull you into his car, but you dismissed the voice in your head. He seemed alright; you had a good feeling about this guy.

The two of you took off towards the left side of the structure. Putting your remote under your chin and hoping it would actually increase its range, you hit the button on occasion. 

“Uh, what’re you doin’?” he asked, pointing at your remote.

“Oh, I read about this online, someone figured out that you can use your own head as an antenna, or something like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow, but eventually just nodded. “Huh, I guess that makes sense.”

You shrugged. “Haven’t tested it before this, so I’m hoping it actually works.”

The two of you wandered further and further towards the center when finally you heard that familiar beep. 

*BEEP BEEP*

He chuckled. “Guess it works.”

You had never been so happy to hear that annoying little buzzer of a horn. You took off at a jog without waiting for the man, going towards where you had heard the sound, and as you turned a corner, you spotted it. 

It was the big, old, blue truck from your apartment complex. 

No way, you thought. There is no way. Maybe it's a similar truck. 

Going back, you saw the man wandering around, still searching. 

"Hey Mister!" you yelled. 

He turned towards you. 

You excitedly pointed towards the truck. "This yours?" 

He started walking to you, and as he came closer, you could see the smile on his face and felt your heart skip a beat. 

"Thank you," he said, stopping in front of you. "Where’s your car?"

You grinned and hit your unlock button. The little off-white sedan next to his truck let out a little beep, the lights coming on. 

"Wish I had one of those," he said wistfully. "Sure woulda made my life easier." He looked at you with a small smirk as he opened the door to his truck. "But then I wouldn’t have met you. Thanks fer your help, angel."

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm from his comment. "No problem." You struggled to find anything else to say, feeling pathetically desperate to hear him speak more. "Have a good night," you finally said. 

"You too," he said, his voice a little lower, a little more breathy as he hauled himself into his truck and closed the door. Now that you had a pretty good feeling that he was a decent guy and not a creep, you half-wished he really would pull you into his truck and have his way with you. 

Shaking the lewd thought from your head, you got into your car and set up your phone to listen to a podcast as you drove home. You eased your way out of the garage, through the local roads, and onto the freeway. For the next thirty minutes, you would spot the same blue truck out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes you’d pass him, sometimes he’d pass you. 

Maybe it’s a different blue truck, you tried to convince yourself.

You couldn’t convince yourself any further when you pulled into your apartment complex right behind him. He parked at his usual spot, three away from yours. Climbing out of your car, you saw him walk towards you.

“You followin’ me?” he asked gruffly, though the grin on his face clearly showed his amusement at the coincidence.

“I can’t believe we live in the same complex,” you muttered, still in shock that you had never seen this handsome man before. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, ‘bout two years now.”

“Shit,” you thought to yourself.

“Why’re you cursin’?”

Oh crap. You said that out loud. “I, uh, um,” you stammered.

He quietly watched you, letting you stew in your own embarrassment, an amused grin on his face. The bastard was enjoying watching you squirm!

Feeling your face heat up, you blurted out the truth.

“We could’ve known each other sooner!”

It was an unfortunate tick in your personality that you had never managed to get rid of, and now, watching his eyes widen at your embarrassing remark, you wished the sidewalk would just open up and swallow you whole. But since that wasn’t going to happen, you opted to turn around and stalk away.

“Hey now, wait, you can’t just say that and leave,” the man said, jogging to catch up to you. When you wouldn’t stop walking, he swerved in front of you, forcing you to stop mere millimeters from him. You noticed how big he was, how little you were in comparison. You weren’t a small person by any means, he was just… large.

“Why’re you runnin’ away, darlin’?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. Perhaps with the way you acted, you seemed that way to him.

You took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling his scent, a mix of pine trees and a subtle hint of campfire smoke and musk that made you want to bury your face in his chest and stay there. Desire shot straight between your legs, reminding you that it had been a long time since you’d been with anyone. Letting out a shaky breath, you made the poor choice of looking up at him.

You were blinded by his kind smile and seduced by his deep voice. “Do you want to know me?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes, I do,” you answered immediately.

He pointed to his apartment. “I live there. Want to share some whiskey?"

You paused. He was a stranger. 

A stranger with beautiful eyes and the sweetest smile you had ever seen. 

You followed him willingly into his den. 

***

You blinked after he turned on the lights. When your vision cleared, your expectations were, fortunately, not met at all.

You had expected a bachelor pad with junk everywhere and clothing on the floor. What you saw was a clean and neat living room with a simple couch and a TV on top of a small entertainment center that held a few blu-rays and a blu-ray player. The short table in front of the couch had a plate on it, a smudge of ketchup and some crumbs on it, and a glass with a little bit of water left.

The man went to pick up after himself, putting the dirty dishes in the sink before going to his pantry. His kitchen looked pretty bare, except for the dried herbs, tied up in bunches under his cabinets. 

While he shuffled around bottles, you went to sit on his couch, but not before pausing for a moment to look through the door to his bedroom. He had a bed that looked big and comfy, his sheets somewhat askew but otherwise in place. Didn’t look like there were any clothes or boxes lying around anywhere. So either the man was tidy, or he didn’t own a lot of things.

“Curious li’l one, ain’tcha?” he chuckled behind you.

Spinning around, you could only give him a sheepish grin. “Yup, sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

He smiled and gave you a tumbler of amber liquid with a giant sphere of ice. “Curiosity like that could get you in trouble one day,” he said mysteriously, gesturing towards the couch.

You raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway. You took a sip of the ice cold whiskey, enjoying its slow burn down your throat. It was smooth and sweet. “This is fantastic, what is it?”

“It’s a blackberry flavored whiskey,” he replied as he settled himself on the couch, a little closer to you than you had expected. “I thought you might like it.”

“Oh?” You leaned in a little closer. “And why is that?”

“Somethin’ a li’l sweet fer a li’l sweetheart,” he said with a grin. He knew he was being schmaltzy, but you didn’t care. You were eating up his words, spoken with that deep rumble that went right between your legs.

You continued to sip and make small talk with him until your ice had melted and the late night had become the witching hour. But he didn’t seem to mind, and you wanted to stay.

“You got a bit o’ whiskey here,” he said as he leaned in and reached for the corner of your lips, his thumb catching the drop that had escaped your last sip. You flicked out your tongue to catch him, and your eyes met. A heartbeat passed. The whiskey gave you strength.

Taking his hand in yours, you surged forward and kissed his lips, tasting whiskey and his woodsy scent. A low moan came from deep within him, but he did not reach for you. His hands gripped the cushions as he let you take the lead, climbing into his lap and wrapping your arms around him, your fingers kneading his broad shoulders. You kissed the breath from him, desperate to feel him against you.

When you finally broke away for air, you stared at his eyes, now filled with lust and longing, and realized you didn’t even know his name. 

He came to the same conclusion. “What’s yer name, darlin’?”

You told him.

He nodded and repeated your name. It sounded so good when he said it. “Feels nice to say it out loud,” he said. “I’m Arthur,” he added as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tenderly. “How far do you want to go?”

“All the way,” you said, grinding your hips against his groin, making him take a shuddered breath.

Without a word, he picked you up and carried you to his big, comfy bed. He dropped you unceremoniously and took off his shirt.

He was ripped. He was built like a man who had worked all his life in a physical job, carrying & lifting. With his tall stature, his broad shoulders, and his huge arms, he made you feel small.

You had never been more aroused in your whole life. 

Your body was ready to be thoroughly fucked by this man, and you hadn’t even taken your clothes off yet. You watched hungrily as he undid his belt and dropped his jeans & boxers, your eyes taking in his size. He wasn’t even at full mast yet, and you already wondered if you’d be able to take him all in.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

Taken out of your trance, you took off your clothes as he watched. You started at a normal pace, but when you saw him take himself in his hand and stroke himself while watching you with a lustful gaze, you slowed down, making an attempt to tease him. Already topless, you lay back on the bed and lifted your legs up, sliding your pants upwards. Slowly, you exposed your ass to him, winking salaciously.

He stroked himself a little faster. A soft moan escaped his lips. “Darlin’, yer makin’ it real hard fer me to stay in control here.”

You glanced down at him. “I can see it’s real hard,” you said with a playful smirk.

“Oh, yer goin’ ta get it now,” he said, his grin becoming predatory as he climbed onto the bed. Grabbing the rest of your clothes, he pulled them from you, flinging them over his shoulder before flipping you onto your belly. He gripped your ass and squeezed hard before giving you a firm spank.

“Ooh!” you yelped. 

“You want more?” he asked as his hand soothed over his mark.

You could tell he was asking for permission. Turning back to him, you gave him your best pouty face. “Does Sir think I need more?”

Arthur looked immensely pleased with your response. “I think so,” he said, his voice deepening with a thread of command that turned you on beyond belief. He straddled your legs and rested one hand on the curve of your ass. “I told you, curiosity would get you in trouble.”

He spanked you hard once more. “That’s fer sneakin’ glances into my room,” he said. He gave you three more swipes, each in slightly different areas so you wouldn’t get too sore. Then he grabbed your ass with both hands and massaged your muscles, spreading you open as he thrust his cock along the cleft of your rear.

“Yer so obedient, sweetheart,” he murmured as his hips rocked, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. Then with his strong grip, he manhandled you onto your back, wrapping his big hands around you and pulling you into his arms. He cradled you for a sweet, gentle moment before rolling you around like you were as light as a pillow before setting you back down onto the mattress. He leaned over you as he reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom. You watched him slip it on, but he didn’t move to enter you. Instead, he reached down and began to stroke you as he loomed above, watching your reactions.

You moaned and writhed under his deliberate exploration. His hands traveled languidly along every inch of you. When he found a sensitive area that elicited a soft noise of pleasure from you, he lingered, making you whimper and lean into his touch. He finally touched you lower, where you longed for his attention, but to your frustration he continued his study at the same leisurely pace. Soon his strokes became faster and he pressed harder against you. His eyes nearly glowed as he watched you lift your hips towards his hands, imploring him for more. Using his new knowledge to his advantage, he brought you to the brink and then shifted his touch elsewhere, making you cool off before working you back up again until you were going insane with need.

“Please, please Arthur, I need to come,” you begged.

He only smiled as he slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly worked you open enough for two of his fingers, then three. Soon he was dragging you to the edge again, and you hadn’t even had his cock. You were feeling like you were being denied the thing you wanted most.

“Arthur,” you whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Louder, darlin’.”

“I want your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?”

“Fuck me!”

“Say it again. All of it.”

“Fuck me with your cock!”

His smile was wolfish, satisfied that he had heard you beg for your desire. Pressing the head of his shaft against your opening, he pushed, easing his way inside of you.

You were right. He was big, long, and oh so thick. He stretched you deliciously, and you keened softly as he took you, claimed you, made you his in the most carnal of ways. He reached up and slipped his hand under your head, gripping your hair at the base and pulling slightly. 

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I want to see you while I’m takin’ you,” he murmured.

You couldn’t look away from him. His look was intense, as if he commanded your entire being, your body his to use for his pleasure. And you willingly gave it to him, letting him sheathe his entire length inside of you. He held you still while your body adjusted to his claim, watching you with an almost proud expression.

“Good li’l darlin’,” he said as he leaned over. He kissed you gently on the lips, then on the forehead, and as if he was overcome with affection for you, peppered kisses along the curve of your cheek and down your neck.

“I’m goin’ to fuck you now,” he whispered into your ear. “You tell me to slow if it’s too much for ya, alright?”

You nodded, sure that whatever he was about to do to you, you could handle it.

He lifted himself up onto his forearms, his hands framing your face. “You look so damn cute,” he murmured before his hips slowly pulled back. “So fuckable.”

Arthur slammed his cock deep inside of you with one forceful stroke. He immediately looked down at you when you let out a cry of surprise. He waited, quietly checking in.

“More,” you whispered.

You thought you saw relief cross his features before he gave you a teasing smirk. “Ask me nicely and I just might give it to ya.”

“Please sir,” you begged, “I need more.”

Arthur gave you a single nod before rocking his hips, building you up slowly, his gaze nearly burning a hole into you with their intensity. As your body stretched and accommodated him, you clawed at his arms, greedily clamoring for him to speed up. He let out a feral growl before wrapping a big, rough hand around your neck, his other hand gripping your leg and spreading you wider for him. 

"You think you can take more, darlin'?" 

You looked up at him and smiled a challenge. 

He began a ferocious pace, angling himself to take you as deep as he could go. All you could focus on was the impact of his body against yours, his thick shaft filling you over and over, unrelenting as a tidal wave.

Soon he let go of your neck so he could sit up and grip your hips with both of his hands. He was fucking the breath out of you with each hard thrust, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room with a lewd rhythm, intertwined with your breathy cries and his low moans of pleasure.

He reached down and stroked you, his touch rough and vigorous, matching the way he was ravaging you in a haze of lust. You could feel yourself sprinting towards that delicious finish line. The end was in sight as your hips jerked wildly, your legs wrapping around Arthur as he thrust even harder and deeper than before. 

"Come fer me," he murmured. "I want to feel you lose yerself around my cock."

You screamed as his words broke the dam that was holding back a torrent of pleasure, your climax tearing through your body at breakneck speed. Your legs stiffened, your toes curled, and your fingers dug into his very muscled biceps as you came harder than you ever had. You shook with aftershocks as Arthur continued to thrust, his hands letting go of your hips as he fell upon his forearms, caging you in as he chased his pleasure. 

"Fuck sweetheart, I'm comin'," he moaned before he buried his head into the crook of your neck. He gave three more erratic thrusts, then nearly crushed you with his weight as he pressed his hips against yours, keeping himself inside of you for as long as he could. 

A breathless moment passed, the two of you trying to catch that elusive breath. Arthur rolled off of you, quickly gathering you into his arms as he tumbled onto his side. 

"Goddamn," he finally muttered. "Wasn't expectin' to have such good company."

You turned in his arms so you could see the wide grin on his face. "For once, I'm glad I got lost in the parking lot."

He kissed your forehead. "Me too, darlin'. But let's make sure we don't get lost again." He found your hands under the covers, brought them up to his lips, and kissed your fingertips. 

"After all, I only just found you, my li'l darlin'."

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

End Notes: Been a while, and of course, all of my pent-up lust just came streaming out of me in a flurry of words and phrases. Hope it’s still hot enough for you, my lovely readers!

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 16: Mini Elvis

The war god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot. "Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed." "You knew it was a trap," Percy hissed. Ares gave me a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV." Taking the shield from Percy I shoved it at him. "You're a jerk." Annabeth and Grover caught their breath. Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back. "See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas." The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which I could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS. Percy said, "You're kidding." Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job." He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to Percy. Inside were fresh clothes for all of us, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuff Oreos. Percy said, "I don't want your lousy—" "Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving him his best red-alert warning look. "Thanks a lot." I could see Percy gritting his teeth. It was probably a deadly insult to refuse something from a god, but I also didn't want anything that Ares had touched. Reluctantly, he swung the bag over his shoulder. I looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who'd served us dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt us. She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of us. Great, I thought. We'll make the papers again tomorrow.

I imagined the headline: TWELVE-YEAR-OLD OUTLAWS BEATS UP DEFENSELESS BIKER. "You owe us one more thing," Percy told Ares, trying to keep my voice level. "You promised me information about our parents." "You sure you can handle the news?" He kick-started his motorcycle. "They're not dead." The ground seemed to spin beneath me. "What do you mean?" "I mean Percy's mom was taken away from the Minotaur before she could die. She was turned into a shower of gold, right? That's metamorphosis. Not death. She's being kept. As for yours, I saw them myself. Upstairs with the big guys. Why do you think you're causing one of the biggest uproar up there? They're refusing to tell who your parent is. No matter how much cut." He smirked. "What...?" Percy and the others must've seen something as they all held me back. "What are they doing to them?" I could feel the ground shake as Percy's grip on me tighten. We'll save them... calm down. Not the hero. Us. So calm down. "Calm down Y/N." Percy whispered. The ground stopped shaking and took a deep breath. "I will make you all kneel." I said. He looked at me confusedly. Then he shrug it off then laughed, "Oh yeah? can't wait, kid." Percy gripped my shoulder. "You're pretty smug, Lord Ares, for a guy who runs from Cupid statues." Behind his sunglasses, fire glowed. I felt a hot wind in my hair. "We'll meet again, Percy Jackson. Next time you're in a fight, watch your back." He revved his Harley, then roared off down Delancy Street. Annabeth said, "That was not smart, Percy." "I don't care." "You don't want a god as your enemy. Especially not that god." "Hey, guys," Grover said. "I hate to interrupt, but ..." He pointed toward the diner. At the register, the last two customers were paying their check, two men in identical black coveralls, with a white logo on their backs that matched the one on the KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL truck. "If we're taking the zoo express," Grover said, "we need to hurry." I didn't like it, but we had no better option. Besides, I'd seen enough of Denver. We ran across the street and climbed in the back of the big rig, closing the doors behind us. The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was like the world's biggest pan of kitty litter. The trailer was dark inside until Percy uncapped Riptide. The blade cast a faint bronze light over a very sad scene. Sitting in a row of filthy metal cages were three of the most pathetic zoo animals I'd ever beheld: a zebra, a male albino lion, and some weird antelope thing I didn't know the name for. Someone had thrown the lion a sack of turnips, which he obviously didn't want to eat. The zebra and the antelope had each gotten a Styrofoam tray of hamburger meat. The zebra's mane was matted with chewing gum, like somebody had been spitting on it in their spare time. The antelope had a stupid silver birthday balloon tied to one of his horns that read OVER THE HILL! Apparently, nobody had wanted to get close enough to the lion to mess with him, but the poor thing was pacing around on soiled blankets, in a space way too small for him, panting from the stuffy heat of the trailer. He had flies buzzing around his pink eyes and his ribs showed through his white fur. "This is kindness?" Grover yelled. "Humane zoo transport?" He probably would've gone right back outside to beat up the truckers with his reed pipes, and we would've helped him, but just then the trucks engine roared to life, the trailer started shaking, and we were forced to sit down or fall down. We huddled in the corner on some mildewed feed sacks, trying to ignore the smell and the heat and the flies. Grover talked to the animals in a series of goat bleats, but they just stared at him sadly. Annabeth was in favor of breaking the cages and freeing them on the spot, but I pointed out it wouldn't do much good until the truck stopped moving. Besides, I had a feeling we might look a lot better to the lion than those turnips. I found a water jug and refilled their bowls, then Percy used Riptide to drag the mismatched food out of their cages. He gave the meat to the lion and the turnips to the zebra and the antelope. Grover calmed the antelope down, while I used my knife to cut the balloon off his horn. Annabeth wanted to cut the gum out of the zebra's mane, too, but we decided that would be too risky with the truck bumping around. We told Grover to promise the animals we'd help them more in the morning, then we settled in for night. Grover curled up on a turnip sack; Annabeth opened our bag of Double Stuff Oreos and nibbled on one halfheartedly; I tried to cheer myself up by concentrating on the fact that we were halfway to Los Angeles. Halfway to our destination. It was only June fourteenth. The solstice wasn't until the twenty-first. We could make it in plenty of time. On the other hand, I had no idea what to expect next. The gods kept toying with me. At least Hephaestus had the decency to be honest about it—he'd put up cameras and advertised me as entertainment. But even when the cameras weren't rolling, I had a feeling my quest was being watched. I was a source of amusement for the gods. And it wasn't helping knowing they're hurting my parents. Here I was risking my life for them and what are they doing? "Hey," Percy cooed, "We'll save them. No matter what. I promised you that." "Okay." Percy pulled me closer until I was resting on him. Annabeth cleared her throat. "Hey, sorry I wasn't much help back at the park... I could've helped getting you guys out... It's just..." She shuddered. "Spiders." "Because of the Arachne story," I guessed. "She got turned into a spider for challenging your mom to a weaving contest, right?" She nodded. "Arachne's children have been taking revenge on the children of Athena ever since. If there's a spider within a mile of me, it'll find me. I hate the creepy little things." "We're a team, remember?" Percy said. "Besides, Grover did the fancy flying. All we did was grab the shield." I thought he was asleep, but he mumbled from the corner, "I was pretty amazing, wasn't I?" Annabeth, Percy and I laughed. She pulled apart an Oreo, handed me and Percy a half each. "In the Iris message... did Luke really say nothing?" I munched my cookie and thought about how to answer. The conversation via rainbow had bothered me all evening. "Luke said you and he go way back. He also said Grover wouldn't fail this time. Nobody would turn into a pine tree." Percy answered. In the dim bronze light of the sword blade, it was hard to read their expressions. Grover let out a mournful bray. "I should've told you the truth from the beginning." His voice trembled. "I thought if you knew what a failure I was, you wouldn't want me along." "You were the satyr who tried to rescue Thalia, the daughter of Zeus." He nodded glumly. "And the other two half-bloods Thalia befriended, the ones who got safely to camp..." Percy looked at Annabeth. "That was you and Luke, wasn't it?" She put down her Oreo, uneaten. "Like you said, Percy, a seven-year-old half-blood wouldn't have made it very far alone. Athena guided me toward help. Thalia was twelve. Luke was fourteen. They'd both run away from home, like me. They were happy to take me with them. They were... amazing monster-fighters, even without training. We traveled north from Virginia without any real plans, fending off monsters for about two weeks before Grover found us." "I was supposed to escort Thalia to camp," he said, sniffling. "Only Thalia. I had strict orders from Chiron: don't do anything that would slow down the rescue. We knew Hades was after her, see, but I couldn't just leave Luke and Annabeth by themselves. I thought... I thought I could lead all three of them to safety. It was my fault the Kindly Ones caught up with us. I froze. I got scared on the way back to camp and took some wrong turns. If I'd just been a little quicker..." "Stop it," Annabeth said. "No one blames you. Thalia didn't blame you either." "She sacrificed herself to save us," he said miserably, "Her death was my fault. The Council of Cloven Elders said so." "Because you wouldn't leave two other half-bloods behind?" Percy said. "That's not fair." "Percy's right," Annabeth said. "I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for you, Grover. Neither would Luke. We don't care what the council says." Grover kept sniffling in the dark. "It's just my luck. I'm the lamest satyr ever, and I find the two most powerful half-bloods of the century, Thalia and Percy." "You're not lame," Annabeth insisted. "You've got more courage than any satyr I've ever met. Name one other who would dare go to the Underworld. I bet Percy is really glad you're here right now." She kicked me in the shin. "Yeah," I said, which I would've done even without the kick. "It's not luck that you found Thalia and Percy, Grover. You've got the biggest heart of any satyr ever. You're a natural searcher. That's why you'll be the one who finds Pan. I mean, you found me despite my scentlessness... is that a word?" Percy muffled a laugh. I heard a deep, satisfied sigh. I waited for Grover to say something, but his breathing only got heavier. When the sound turned to snoring, I realized he'd fallen sleep. "How does he do that?" I marveled. "I don't know," Annabeth said. "But that was really a nice thing you told him." "I meant it." We rode in silence for a few miles, bumping around on the feed sacks. The zebra munched a turnip. The lion licked the last of the hamburger meat off his lips and looked at me hopefully. Percy didn't take long to fall asleep. Annabeth rubbed her necklace like she was thinking deep, strategic thoughts. "That pine-tree bead," I said. "Is that from your first year?" She looked. She hadn't realized what she was doing. "Yeah," she said. "Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year's beads. I've got Thalia's pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress—now that was a weird summer...." "And the college ring is your father's?" "That's none of your—" She stopped herself. "Yeah. Yeah, it is." "You don't have to tell me." "No... it's okay." She took a shaky breath. "My dad sent it to me folded up in a letter, two summers ago. The ring was, like, his main keepsake from Athena. He wouldn't have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her.... That's a long story. Anyway, he said he wanted me to have it. He apologized for being a jerk, said he loved me and missed me. He wanted me to come home and live with him." "That doesn't sound so bad." "Yeah, well... the problem was, I believed him. I tried to go home for that school year, but my stepmom was the same as ever. She didn't want her kids put in danger by living with a freak. Monsters attacked. We argued. Monsters attacked. We argued. I didn't even make it through winter break. I called Chiron and came right back to Camp Half-Blood." She wouldn't meet my eyes. "Please. I'm not into self-inflicted pain." "You shouldn't give up," I told her. "You should write him a letter or something." "Thanks for the advice," she said coldly, "but my father's made his choice about who he wants to live with." We passed another few miles of silence. "Luke actually told me about you two coming to camp already." "Really?" She looked at me amazed. "You two must've gotten close fast." "Well, I don't know. I feel like I had to talk to Luke. Like I had to be there for him. The same with Percy." We have to be there for both "You're not wrong. I'm not sure how I'd be without your help." Percy yawned. "Yeah, I wouldn't have been able to handle him." Annabeth glared at him. I laughed, "I think you two are cute." Both of them blushed and said some excuse to disprove me. Which then turned into them showing off who's better than who. "If I'm dating anyone it'll be Y/N!" Both of them huffed and glared at each other. I shook my head and smiled. At least I've gotten new friends out of this. "So," Percy trailed off. "If the gods fight," he said, "will things line up the way they did with the Trojan War? Will it be Athena versus Poseidon?" Annabeth put her head against the backpack Ares had given us, and closed her eyes. "I don't know what my mom will do. I just know I'll fight next to you." "Why?" "Because Y/N will and whether I like it or not you're my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?" "That's all Mr. Peabody." "Shut up, Droopy." I felt her rest on my shoulder and she fell asleep. "Am I that comfortable?" "Yeah," Percy laughed as he rested on my lap. I had trouble following their example, with Grover snoring and an albino lion staring hungrily at me, but eventually I closed my eyes. ~~~ I woke with a start. I was second one awake. Grover was talking to the antelope. "Morning?" "Everyone had the Y/N privilege except me?" "You fell asleep first." I stroked both Annabeth and Percy's hair, which unfortunately woke up Annabeth. "Sorry about that." "It's fine." She yawned. She brought out some Oreo and handed me one. Until the truck stopped. "They're checking the animals aren't they?" Annabeth froze. I shook Percy's shoulder. "The truck's stopped," I said. "We think they're coming to check on the animals." "Hide!" Annabeth hissed. She had it easy. She just put on her magic cap and disappeared. Grover, Percy and I had to dive behind feed sacks and hope we looked like turnips. The trailer doors creaked open. Sunlight and heat poured in. "Man!" one of the truckers said, waving his hand in front of his ugly nose. "I wish I hauled appliances." He climbed inside and poured some water from a jug into the animals' dishes. "You hot, big boy?" he asked the lion, then splashed the rest of the bucket right in the lion's face. The lion roared in indignation. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," the man said. Next to me, under the turnip sacks, Grover tensed. For a peace-loving herbivore, he looked downright murderous. The trucker threw the antelope a squashed-looking Happy Meal bag. He smirked at the zebra. "How ya doin', Stripes? Least we'll be getting rid of you this stop. You like magic shows? You're gonna love this one. They're gonna saw you in half!" The zebra, wild-eyed with fear, looked straight at us. There was a loud knock, knock, knock on the side of the trailer. The trucker inside with us yelled, "What do you want, Eddie?" A voice outside—it must've been Eddie's—shouted back, "Maurice? What'd ya say?" "What are you banging for?" Knock, knock, knock. Outside, Eddie yelled, "What banging?" Our guy Maurice rolled his eyes and went back outside, cursing at Eddie for being an idiot. A second later, Annabeth appeared next to me. She must've done the banging to get Maurice out of the trailer. She said, "This transport business can't be legal." "No kidding," Grover said. He paused, as if listening. "The lion says these guys are animal smugglers!" "We've got to free them!" Grover said. He and Annabeth both looked at Percy, waiting for his say. "Percy, open the lock." I snapped at his face. Outside, Eddie and Maurice were still yelling at each other, but I knew they'd be coming inside to torment the animals again any minute. He grabbed Riptide and slashed the lock off the zebra's cage. The zebra burst out. It turned to Percy and bowed. Grover held up his hands and said something to the zebra in goat talk, like a blessing. Just as Maurice was poking his head back inside to check out the noise, the zebra leaped over him and into the street. There was yelling and screaming and cars honking. We rushed to the doors of the trailer in time to see the zebra galloping down a wide boulevard lined with hotels and casinos and neon signs. We'd just released a zebra in Las Vegas. Maurice and Eddie ran after it, with a few policemen running after them, shouting, "Hey! You need a permit for that!" "Now would be a good time to leave," Annabeth said. "The other animals first," Grover said. I cut the locks with my knife which wasn't as easy as what Percy had done. Grover raised his hands and spoke the same goat-blessing he'd used for the zebra. "Good luck," I told the animals. The antelope and the lion burst out of their cages and went off together into the streets. Some tourists screamed. Most just backed off and took pictures, probably thinking it was some kind of stunt by one of the casinos. "Will the animals be okay?" I asked Grover. "I mean, the desert and all—" "Don't worry," he said. "I placed a satyr's sanctuary on them." "Meaning?" "Meaning they'll reach the wild safely," he said. "They'll find water, food, shade, whatever they need until they find a safe place to live." "Why can't you place a blessing like that on us?" I asked. "It only works on wild animals." "So it would only affect Percy," Annabeth reasoned. "Hey!" He protested. "Kidding," she said. "Come on. Let's get out of this filthy truck." We stumbled out into the desert afternoon. It was a hundred and ten degrees, easy, and we must've looked like deep-fried vagrants, but everybody was too interested in the wild animals to pay us much attention. We passed the Monte Carlo and the MGM. We passed pyramids, a pirate ship, and the Statue of Liberty, which was a pretty small replica, but still made me homesick. I wasn't sure what we were looking for. Maybe just a place to get out of the heat for a few minutes, find a sandwich and a glass of lemonade, make a new plan for getting west. We must have taken a wrong turn, because we found ourselves at a dead end, standing in front of the Lotus Hotel and Casino. The entrance was a huge neon flower, the petals lighting up and blinking. No one was going in or out, but the glittering chrome doors were open, spilling out air-conditioning that smelled like flowers—lotus blossom, maybe. I'd never smelled one, so I wasn't sure. The doorman smiled at us. "Hey, kids. You look tired. You want to come in and sit down?" I'd learned to be suspicious, the last week or so. I figured anybody might be a monster or a god. But my knife wasn't glowing so... I figured. Besides, I was so relieved to hear somebody who sounded sympathetic that I nodded and said we'd love to come in. Inside, we took one look around, and Grover said, "Whoa." The whole lobby was a giant game room. And I'm not talking about cheesy old Pac-Man games or slot machines. There was an indoor waterslide snaking around the glass elevator, which went straight up at least forty floors. There was a climbing wall on the side of one building, and an indoor bungee-jumping bridge. There were virtual-reality suits with working laser guns. And hundreds of video games, each one the size of a widescreen TV. Basically, you name it, this place had it. There were a few other kids playing, but not that many. No waiting for any of the games. There were waitresses and snack bars all around, serving every kind of food you can imagine. "Hey!" a bellhop said. At least I guessed he was a bellhop. He wore a white-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt with lotus designs, shorts, and flip-flops. "Welcome to the Lotus Casino. Here's your room key." I stammered, "Um, but..." "No, no," he said, laughing. "The bill's taken care of. No extra charges, no tips. Just go on up to the top floor, loom 4001. If you need anything, like extra bubbles for the hot tub, or skeet targets for the shooting range, or whatever, just call the front desk. Here are your Lotus Cash cards. They work in the restaurants and on all the games and rides." He handed us each a green plastic credit card. I knew there must be some mistake. Obviously he thought we were some millionaire's kids. But I took the card and said, "How much is on here?" His eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?" "I mean, when does it run out of cash?" He laughed. "Oh, you're making a joke. Hey, that's cool. Enjoy your stay." We took the elevator upstairs and checked out our room. It was a suite with three separate bedrooms and a bar stocked with candy, sodas, and chips. A hotline to room service. Fluffy towels and water beds with feather pillows. A big-screen television with satellite and high-speed Internet. The balcony had its own hot tub, and sure enough, there was a skeet-shooting machine and a shotgun, so you could launch clay pigeons right out over the Las Vegas skyline and plug them with your gun. I didn't see how that could be legal, but I thought it was pretty cool. The view over the Strip and the desert was amazing, though I doubted we'd ever find time to look at the view with a room like this. "Oh, goodness," Annabeth said. "This place is ..." "Sweet," Grover said. "Absolutely sweet." There were clothes in the closet, and they fit me. I frowned, thinking that this was a little strange. I took a shower, which felt awesome after a week of grimy travel. I changed clothes, ate a bag of chips, drank three Cokes, and came out feeling better than I had in a long time. Search and find them Huh? Look for them and warn them I came out of the bedroom and found that Annabeth, Percy and Grover had also showered and changed clothes. Grover was eating potato chips to his heart's content, Percy looked like he was having a headache, while Annabeth cranked up the National Geographic Channel. "Percy you okay?" "Yeah it's just.... All those stations," he told Annabeth, "and she turn on National Geographic." "It's interesting." "I feel good," Grover said. "I love this place." Without his even realizing it, the wings sprouted out of his shoes and lifted him a foot off the ground, then back down again. "So what now?" Annabeth asked. "Sleep?" Percy and I looked at each other and grinned. We both held up our green plastic Lotus Cash cards. "Play time," I said. I couldn't remember the last time I had so much fun. I came from a relatively poor family. Our idea of a splurge was eating out at Burger King and renting a video. A five-star Vegas hotel? Forget it. I spent most of my time playing and... looking for someone I think. I bungee-jumped the lobby five or six times, snowboarded the artificial ski slope, and played virtual-reality laser tag and FBI sharpshooter. I saw Grover a few times, going from game to game. He really liked the reverse hunter thing—where the deer go out and shoot the rednecks. I saw Annabeth playing trivia games and other brainiac stuff. They had this huge 3-D sim game where you build your own city, and you could actually see the holographic buildings rise on the display board. I didn't think much of it, but Annabeth loved it. Percy was playing with Grover. I'm not sure when I first realized something was wrong. Probably, it was when I noticed the guy standing next to me at VR sharpshooters. He was about thirteen, I guess, but his clothes were weird. I thought he was some Elvis impersonator's son. He wore bell-bottom jeans and a red T-shirt with black piping, and his hair was permed and gelled like a New Jersey girl's on homecoming night. When he saw me he gave a smirk and invited me to play a game of sharpshooters together and he said, "Groovy, man. Been here two weeks, and the games keep getting better and better." Groovy? Later, while we were talking, I said something was "sick," and he looked at me kind of startled, as if he'd never heard the word used that way before. He said his name was Darrin, but as soon as I started asking him questions he got bored with me and started to go back to the computer screen. I said, "Hey, Darrin?" "What?" "What year is it?" He frowned at me. "In the game?" "No. In real life." He had to think about it. "1977." "No," I said, getting a little scared. "Really." "Hey, man. Bad vibes. I got a game happening." After that he totally ignored me. I started talking to people, and I found it wasn't easy. They were glued to the TV screen, or the video game, or their food, or whatever. I found a guy who told me it was 1985. Another guy told me it was 1993. They all claimed they hadn't been in here very long, a few days, a few weeks at most. They didn't really know and they didn't care. Then it occurred to me: how long had I been here? It seemed like only a couple of hours, but was it? I then tried to move, but I bumped into a girl. "I'm sorry!" She said. "Hey, no prob." "Oh... uhm... No prob?" "I--- No problem. Say Uh... I kinda lost track of date. What's the year again?" "Huh? It's 1930. Okay, I'm sorry I have to go. I'm looking for someone." Everyone is important in our story "Did you say something?" I go by Y/N L/N, you'll find the one you're looking for at the zombie shooting game. I left her alone and confused. I didn't know why. But I knew now this place is wrong. I tried to remember why we were here. We were going to Los Angeles. We were supposed to find the entrance to the Underworld. My parents... for a scary second, I had trouble remembering their names. I had to save them. I found Percy first. "There's something wrong." We said at the same time. "Years?" He asked. I nodded. We then looked for the others. We found Annabeth still building her city. "Come on," Percy told her. "We've got to get out of here." No response. I shook her. "Annabeth?" She looked up, annoyed. "What? "We need to leave." "Leave? What are you talking about? I've just got the towers—" "This place is a trap." She didn't respond until I shook her again. "What?" "Listen. The Underworld. Our quest!" "Oh, come on, Percy. Just a few more minutes." "Annabeth, there are people here from 1977. Kids who have never aged. You check in, and you stay forever." "So?" she asked. "Can you imagine a better place?" I grabbed her wrist and yanked her away from the game. "Hey!" She screamed and hit me, but nobody else even bothered looking at us. They were too busy. I made her look directly in my eyes. I said, "Spiders. Large, hairy spiders." That jarred her. Her vision cleared. "Oh my gods," she said. "How long have we—" "I don't know, but we've got to find Grover." We went searching, and found him still playing Virtual Deer Hunter. "Grover!" we both shouted. He said, "Die, human! Die, silly polluting nasty person!" "Grover!" He turned the plastic gun on me and started clicking, as if I were just another image from the screen. I looked at Percy, and together we took Grover by the arms and dragged him away. His flying shoes sprang to life and started tugging his legs in the other direction as he shouted, "No! I just got to a new level! No!" The Lotus bellhop hurried up to us. "Well, now, are you ready for your platinum cards?" "We're leaving," I told him. "Such a shame," he said, and I got the feeling that he really meant it, that we'd be breaking his heart if we went. "We just added an entire new floor full of games for platinum-card members." He held out the cards, and I wanted one. I knew that if I took one, I'd never leave. I'd stay here, happy forever, playing games forever, and soon I'd forget my parents, and our quest, and maybe even my own name. I'd be playing virtual rifleman with groovy Disco Darrin forever. Grover reached for the card, but Annabeth yanked back his arm and said, "No, thanks." We walked toward the door, and as we did, the smell of the food and the sounds of the games seemed to get more and more inviting. I thought about our room upstairs. We could just stay the night, sleep in a real bed for once.... Then we burst through the doors of the Lotus Casino and ran down the sidewalk. It felt like afternoon, about the same time of day we'd gone into the casino, but something was wrong. The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with heat lightning flashing out in the desert. I ran to the nearest newspaper stand and read the year first. Thank the gods, it was the same year it had been when we went in. Then I noticed the date: June twentieth. We had been in the Lotus Casino for five days. We had only one day left until the summer solstice. One day to complete our quest.

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[chelsfic]

I Fell into Fantasy - Nandor x Guillermo One-Shot

WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Guillermo admits to a secret desire. Nandor tries to fulfill it without compromising his aloofness. 

A/N: The title of this fic comes from a song called “Days of the Phoenix” by AFI. I was inspired to write this fic by the scene in the movie where Viago talks about how he likes to make things “nice” for his victims during their final moments.

Warnings: Blood drinking, a bit of smut, frottage, pining, angst

---

Guillermo really should know better.

How many nights has he spent digging up the garden to dispose of the mangled corpses left behind after the vampires’ feasting? How many bruised, torn throats has he seen? Cracked collar bones and broken limbs? Lifeless, staring eyes? 

He knows the victims are in pain before they die. He knows the vampires sometimes like to play with their food, chasing tearful virgins through the house, giving them a taste of escape before tucking into their meal. He knows it hurts. He knows it isn’t sexy.

Really. He knows.

He’s still jealous. He’s jealous when he shows up to yet another sad familiar mixer to find that nearly every other human in attendance has faded puncture wounds and he has to hide his smooth, pristine throat with a turtleneck sweater. He’s jealous when he’s forced to stand in the corner and listen to his master’s obscene, tantalizing moans as he drinks from some random human who isn’t him. He’s jealous when Nandor remarks on how tasty a victim is, licking his lips before discarding their lifeless forms like so much garbage.

He knows it’s wrong. But he gave up caring about right and wrong a long time ago, around the time he dug his first clandestine grave.

He’s wanted to be bitten ever since he was 13-years-old and he first watched Lestat turn Louis on the 18-inch TV in his bedroom. He’d paused the movie, rewinding and frantically beating off as the blood poured onto Brad Pitt’s lips.  He wants to know what his master’s lips would feel like on the tender hollow of his throat. He wants to feel the scratch of his beard as he closes his mouth over Guillermo’s sensitive skin. He wants Nandor to hold him close. He wants to feel those sensual moans rumble through the vampire’s chest as he takes his fill.

He wants so much.

Whenever he feels jealousy, lust, longing... he reminds himself that he should feel grateful, proud even, that Nandor has never fed from him. Nandor sees him as more than a meal. He’s a trusty companion, a person, a...friend? This is what Guillermo tells himself. He knows it’s not a matter of taste. How many times has Nandor scolded him for looking too tempting when he blushes? Or warned him to be careful with his sword collection because he didn’t want him bleeding all over the place and testing his self-control? 

Whatever his reasoning--respect, boundaries, taboo--Nandor doesn’t feed on his familiar. But Guillermo often wonders if things would be different if his master knew how badly he wanted it.

---

“Guillermo, you’re very serious tonight. Are you having to take a human shit? I can wait until after for you to do the tucking in…” 

Nandor stands by his open coffin with an uncomfortable smile on his face that’s akin to a grimace. Guillermo has already helped him remove his outer layers and brushed out his flowing, dark hair. All that remains is for the familiar to hold his hand while he steps up into his coffin.

“No, master, I--I don’t have to take a shit. I’m fine,” Guillermo murmurs with sadness practically oozing out of his pores.

Nandor bristles, his eyes darting all over the room as he wars with himself over whether to press further or simply to ignore Guillermo’s stupid human moods and hope they go away.

The vampire sighs dramatically, “I think you better tell me what is the matter, Guillermo. I don’t want this affecting your work performance. You do a very poor job dusting the paintings and the window dresses when you’re sad. Now what is it? Laszlo and Nadja? Are they giving the guff to you?”

Guillermo is quiet for a long moment, looking up into his master’s fathomless brown eyes as he decides how to respond. Nandor’s whole body is tense as if he’s awaiting the guillotine blade. Maybe he should just get it out of his system and finally admit--well, certainly not everything he feels for his beloved master, but at least about his deep desire to be bitten. 

He blushes, lowering his gaze as he finally answers, “I guess...I’m just a little jealous. Of...of the people you feed from.”

Nandor’s face drops into blank befuddlement before his dark brows lift upward and his lips curl in a poorly concealed smile.

“You’re jealous of my victims? I kill those people! You want me to murder you? Is this some kind of death wish thing? Because I find that really annoying!” Nandor sputters, half amused and half serious.

Guillermo’s face is burning with humiliation now and he rushes to clarify, “No! No, I don’t want to die, master. It’s just...I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to be bitten by a vampire...”

His voice fades to nothingness but Nandor clearly understands him and his face grows pensive as he contemplates his words.

“Are you bullshitting me?” Nandor questions and his tone is just close enough to irritation to cause Guillermo to shrink in on himself as he answers.

“No, master.”

“Well…” Nandor sighs and affects a look of disinterest. “It’s alright to say that sort of thing to me, Guillermo, because you’re my familiar. But you want to be careful out there with the other vampires. You could get eaten up! And then where would I be? Having to make another ad on the Greg’s List!”

“...Craigslist…”

“As I said!” Nandor snaps, holding out his hand expectantly as he moves to get into his coffin. “Now, that’s enough of this crazy talking. Alright?”

“Alright, master,” Guillermo murmurs subserviently, reaching up to release the lid and slowly lowering it, sealing his master inside. 

“Goodnight, Guillermo!” Nandor’s muffled voice calls as the familiar moves around the room, blowing out candles.

“Night, master!”

Sealed in the claustrophobic darkness of his coffin, Nandor’s mind races as he tries to process this new information about his familiar. Guillermo--his little Guillermo!--would let him bite him and drink his delicious blood? No, he wants him to do it. Yearns for it. He is jealous of the people he kills just because they get to feel the sting of his fangs and the touch of his lips. Nandor palms himself through his trousers. He’s harder than he’s been in a century just thinking of it.

---

He tries, he really does. Guillermo tries to forget about his shameful admission and go back to normal. Nandor certainly seems unmoved, doing nothing to even hint that he remembers having the conversation. So, Guillermo goes through the motions, dutifully completing his chores, searching for fresh sources of virgin blood, and standing by while Nandor sates his bloodlust with perfect strangers. But now that he’s revealed his secret--part of his secret, let’s be honest--and faced his master’s outright rejection, he just can’t seem to let go of the hollow ache in his chest.

He feels inadequate, pathetic, unattractive. And sad. Mostly sad.

Guillermo might think that Nandor has forgotten all about their little chat, but the vampire dwells on it just as much as the human does in the days that follow. And it’s impossible to ignore the scent of “sad human” that’s begun to permeate the household. Nandor spends several days battling with himself over what to do. He considers killing Guillermo and starting over with a new familiar… Guillermo gets his wish, Nandor doesn’t have to confront his shameful attraction to his servant… everybody wins! But the thought of Guillermo’s sweet little face gone still and lifeless sends a foreign stab of emotion into his chest that is really unpleasant.

He could ignore the situation and hope for it to go away on its own. But now that he knows his familiar is secretly lusting after his bite, he can’t get it out of his mind. He’d avoided feeding from Guillermo for years. At first it was a matter of preserving a valuable asset. Guillermo is a good familiar, why risk slipping up and accidentally draining him? After a while, when Nandor started to fixate on his familiar’s adorable smiles, fantasizing about how his soft, little body would feel against his...then it became a matter of self-control and rejecting his disgusting, unnatural feelings for a... servant!

So, that leaves him with one option. He must feed from Guillermo...carefully. So, so carefully so as not to be overcome and either kill or ravish the poor fellow. And if he is going to bite his Guillermo, then he must make it a pleasant experience for his familiar. He can’t stomach the idea of simply ripping into his human and hearing him scream and cry with the pain of it. No, it has to be...special.

---

Guillermo is barely in the door, laden down with shopping bags, when his master’s voice calls to him.

“Guillermo! Is that you?”

“Yes, master! I’m back from the store. I got you some more of those bath bombs you like,” Guillermo answers, wrestling with the bags as he edges towards his room. “Is there something--?”

Nandor appears at his side and interrupts, “The one with the lavender? Very good, Guillermo. Ehm--why don’t you put down those satchels and come with me to my room for a moment. I have a surprise for you.”

Guillermo’s face lights up with a warm smile and he drops the bags on the floor by his closet-room, “A surprise? For me, master?”

“Just for you, Guillermo! Come!” Nandor practically skips at his side as they walk back to his room, his eyes lit with anticipation.

Nandor closes and locks the door behind them, watching his familiar take in the arrangements he’s made. He borrowed Laszlo’s gramophone and set it up in the corner. It’s playing a soft, quiet melody that floats gently on the incense-infused air. A vase of vivid red roses sits on an end table next to his fancy couch, which he’s covered in a layer of bath towels. 

“What...what is all this, master?” Guillermo breathes, walking up to the flowers and burying his nose in the fragrant blooms with a smile on his lips. 

“Do you like it, Guillermo? I wanted it to be--” he pulls a face but manages to get the word out “--nice for you.��

“But, why?”

Nandor steps up beside his familiar, towering over the smaller man. “I’m going to feed from you. If... if that is still something you are wanting.”

“Oh,” the word comes out on a shaky exhale and Guillermo feels his knees go weak. “I--yes, I still want...that. Thank you, master.”

Nandor smiles, baring his fangs and crinkling his eyes. Guillermo feels his heart do a flip in his chest and wonders, distractedly, if Nandor can hear his heartbeat. They’re standing so close. Guillermo could lean forward just a bit and they’d be touching. He looks up into Nandor’s eyes and finds them melted with warmth. His master has never gone through such an effort for him before. Guillermo feels like his heart could burst.

“You want to take a seat?” Nandor gestures to the towel covered couch and Guillermo snaps out of his daze.

He sinks down onto the cushions, running his hands appreciatively over the terry cloth, “This was clever, master.”

Nandor takes a seat beside him, close enough that their thighs brush together and Guillermo gulps. He’s brushed his master’s hair, helped him dress, helped him bathe for goodness sake, but he’s never felt as close to him as he does now.

“Are you comfort-a-ble, Guillermo?” Nandor asks, staring at his face with a hungry intensity. 

Guillermo locks eyes with him and he sees his master’s pupils dilate, his lips part to bare elongated fangs. He gasps out a quivering breath as he fights the waves of exhilaration, lust and fear in order to answer.

“Yes, it’s...very comfy, master. Very nice, thank you.”

“Good,” Nandor responds, his eyes flicking down to Guillermo’s collar. “Why don’t you remove your woolen garment and open your collar. I don’t want to spoil your nice clothes.”

Guillermo feels like he’s in a dream. Nandor is never this...considerate. His mind flashes back to every time he’s watched his master strike out at a victim unannounced, with fierce aggression and even cruelty. It’s pathetic that his standards are so low, but the fact that Nandor isn’t treating him like just another victim to be used and discarded sends a rush of affection and hope flowing through him. He hastily grabs the bottom of his sweater, pulling it up over his head and tossing it aside. Next, he reaches for the collar of his shirt, but Nandor is there first. His long, thick fingers pluck at the buttons, releasing each one until Guillermo’s chest is visible. He pulls the collar aside, revealing the smooth, unblemished curve of Guillermo’s neck and shoulder.

“Are you ready?” Nandor asks with a hiss as he eyes his familiar’s naked skin. He’s never seen so much of the man before and he feels his cock stir with interest inside his trousers. 

“Yes,” Guillermo breathes needily, tilting his head to bare his neck even further. 

Nandor brings his hand up to cradle Guillermo’s head, letting his fingers sink into his soft curls and cupping his warm cheek in his palm. The pulse point at Guillermo’s throat is practically visible, his heart is beating so fast. Nandor feels his mouth flood with saliva as the rushing flow of Guillermo’s blood reaches his ears. 

He wraps his other arm around his familiar, drawing him onto his lap and finally leaning in to bury his face into the warm, inviting crook of his neck. Nandor breathes in the intoxicating aroma that even the human-things-for-smelling and his incense cannot obscure. He moans loudly. He might be embarrassed if he were less overcome with the sensory feast of his familiar’s soft body in his arms and the promise of his warm, thick blood.

Guillermo mewls at the touch of his master’s mouth on his bare throat. His beard is scratchy and rough but his lips are impossibly soft and gentle. It’s like a kiss, he thinks, his heart rushing with affection and joy. Nandor’s arm around him is firm and strong. He knows that he could never hope to escape if Nandor truly wished to restrain him and drink him dry. Putting this level of trust in his master makes him feel like a tiny, frail rabbit in the jaws of a hungry wolf. A delicious shiver runs down his spine at the image. And then Nandor’s lips pull back and he feels the sharp points of his fangs graze over tender skin.

“Oh!” Guillermo cries out. 

Nandor growls low in his throat but pulls back just slightly to check, “Is this still alright?”

Guillermo nods quickly, bringing up his hands to run them through Nandor’s soft hair reassuringly, “Yes! Yes! Please, master!”

He feels Nandor’s chest rumble with suppressed laughter and then there’s just the blinding, burning flash of pain that blooms as Nandor finally strikes, burying his fangs into his familiar’s soft, warm throat. Guillermo’s mouth falls open and his hands fist in Nandor’s hair as the first wave takes him. 

“Shhh,” Nandor murmurs wetly against his neck, lapping the spilled blood with long strokes of his tongue. “Shhh, you’re safe.”

“Nnghh!” a pleasured groan strangles from the familiar’s throat at the touch of his master’s tongue. Guillermo squirms, his cock filling even as blood drains away from his body. 

Nandor tightens his arms around his little Guillermo, pulling him flush against his broad chest and biting down once more as he begins to drink in earnest. He moans wantonly as the sweet blood fills his mouth. He’s as hard as he’s ever been and he rolls his hips against his familiar’s generous backside. He drinks and he drinks.

The pain ebbs enough for Guillermo to lose himself in the delicious feeling of connection with his master. His hands, his lips, his tongue, his teeth are all on him, inside of him, part of him. Nandor’s touch unlocks a secret room inside of Guillermo where he keeps his most tender feelings. For once he allows himself to truly feel the devotion, the affection... the love that he has for his master. It’s wonderful and dizzying. Tears slip from his eyes as he reaches his arms around Nandor’s broad shoulders, hugging him closer for as long as he’ll allow.

Too soon he feels his head start to spin and his grip on Nandor’s shoulders loosens. The vampire senses it immediately and draws back with a feral growl. Guillermo is limp and breathless in his master’s arms. He looks up with heavy-lidded eyes and watches Nandor lick blood from his lurid, stained lips.

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo whispers, snuggling into Nandor’s chest with a contented sigh. His arousal is flagging and he hopes that his master hasn’t noticed. He’d felt Nandor’s rigid erection grinding against him while the vampire drank his blood, but he has no way of knowing if that’s just something that happens every time he feeds. Whatever the case, he’s far too weak and drunk with happiness to do anything but drift along and hope that Nandor keeps holding him.

Nandor’s dead heart squeezes in his chest at the sight of his sleepy familiar burrowing his face into his chest. His plan seems to have failed. He’d wanted to give Guillermo his fantasy while remaining aloof, but instead he’s feeling an annoying rush of warm affection. Worse, he’s shamed himself by...rutting against the human like a street dog. He should push him away, or give him an order to remind him of the boundaries that are still in place. But as he looks down at the sweet smile on his familiar’s lips he can’t find it in him to spoil the moment for him so soon. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night he’d remind Guillermo of how things still stand between them.

“Will you keep holding me, master?” Guillermo mumbles, his eyes drifting shut. The human has read his thoughts!

“Yes,” Nandor replies, leaning down and tracing a barely there kiss onto Guillermo’s forehead. “For a little while.”

[dakotacrisis]

Deal’s End (7)

Felix and Marinette take a day off for themselves

(Read on AO3)

---

Marinette couldn’t get settled. She had been sitting in class for what felt like forever. Everything floated around her in a daze and she couldn’t even read what was on the chalkboard. She wanted to get up an move. To do something so she wasn’t going crazy in her seat.

Just then the lights in the classroom died. Half the class had disappeared in the blink of an eye. A cold sense of dread washed over her and she turned around. The entire back of the classroom was now a long empty field. In the distance she could see a figure approaching rapidly, a large scythe swinging in their hands.

The Creep! She started running. Her heart hammering hard in her ears. Yet she could feel the murderer racing ever closer. She had to get away! She needed to find help! She screamed for help. For someone to be there. But the field remained empty. Her voice was gone.

She spotted a shack in the distance and bolted for it. She ran inside and before she could close the door The Creep burst in and cornered her against the wall. The pentagrams drawn across the walls and floors started to glow as she cried and begged. There was a flash of light and a sharp pain in her stomach.

Marinette bolted up right breathing heavily and crying. Her entire body felt like it had been doused in a bucket of cold water. When she closed her eyes she fell right back into the nightmare.

“Marinette?” A voice from below made her scream.

“Why are you screaming?” Felix’s head popped up over the railing of her bed. His silver eyes reflected back at her. “Whoa, are you okay?”

She shook her head.

Felix climbed up next to her on the bed. He switched on the nightlight by her head. “Love, you’re shaking...and crying? Did you have a bad dream or something.”

“Nightmare.” She gasped out. “I was run--running in a field and--and--and there was a scythe and--”

“The movie…” Felix sighed.

“I told you I can’t do horror!” She cried. “I told you!” She felt like an idiot getting so scared over a movie but it had felt so real. Her momentary anger ebbed away and she pathetically held out her arms. She needed some physical reassurance.

“Come now, shush,” Felix pulled her close. “It was just a bad dream. It’s over now.”

She squeezed him tighter. He ran a hand softly through her hair and her breathing came easier. “Do you need something? Glass of water or...I don’t know.”

“Keep talking.” she whispered.

“About what?”

“Something. Anything.” She pleaded, “Please, I need something to distract me.”

“Okay…” he thought for a moment. “How about a story? Do you wanna hear a story?”

“Sure.” She nodded.

“Alright, relax, take a deep breath, listen to my voice.” His hand continued to run lazily through her hair. The feeling soothing to her rattled mind.

“This is a story of a deal I made many, many, many years ago.” Felix said in a voice so gentle she knew she had never heard it before. “In this story there was a man. A poor man. He was lame and dirty. He could barely afford to eat and his clothes were worn and thin from years of use that left him in a chill during the cold nights. And this poor man was in love with a woman. This woman was everything he was not. She was beautiful and rich beyond measure. There was nothing she wanted that she did not receive. Yet the woman was humble and kind and revered like a saint by everyone that knew her.”

“I think I know where this is going.” Marinette mumbled, her eyelids already growing heavy.

“Every night in the poor man’s prayers he prayed that the woman would be happy in her life. That she would remain healthy in all her days and never want for not.” Felix continued. “Then one day there was an announcement. The beautiful woman was to be married. A worthy suitor from a far off land that had heard of her grace and beauty and struck an accord with the woman’s father.”

Marinette’s head rested on Felix’s shoulder and she let out a long yawn. Felix asked if he should keep going. She nodded slowly. She felt the gentle press of Felix’s cheek on the top of her head as he continued with his story.

“The woman grew sad because the man she was to marry was a brute. It was obvious from first impression that he had a short temper and no fine set of manners. The woman wanted to object but the arrangement had already been made. Not wanting to upset her family she went along with the union but in her heart she wept for she knew it would not be a happy marriage. The poor man upon hearing of the woman’s plight grew sad as well. He weeped for his faraway love for he knew that she deserved so much better and yet there was nothing he could do. What could a poor man like him do to help her?”

The pull of sleep was dragging her down quickly. Thoughts of a poor pining man watching his beautiful love from afar replacing the nightmare that plagued her.

“That’s when I showed up…” Felix whispered.

It was the last thing she remembered before she was asleep again.

She woke up several hours later refreshed and cozy in her bed. Felix wasn’t next to her on the bed where he had been when she fell asleep. The pang of disappointment lasted only a second before she noticed him reclining on the ladder up to her bed. He was flipping through her sketchbook once more. He noticed she was awake and smiled.

“Hey sleepy head.” He closed the sketchbook. “Feeling better, love?”

“Yeah.” She yawned. “I feel like I should apologize for freaking out on you like that last night. The nightmare had freaked me out and--”

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me.” Felix assured her. “You were shaking like a leaf.”

“That stupid movie.” She muttered. “I knew I should have watched something more lighthearted before bed. Then none of that would have happened.”

“Maybe. But there’s no use harping on the past.” he jumped down to the floor. “These past couple of days have been stressful and busy. I need a day to regroup. How about we take it easy. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” Marinette slid out of bed. “Thank god for the weekend.”

She was getting a late start to the day. Her parents were already downstairs working in the bakery but they had left fresh croissants out for her. Since they weren’t upstairs she invited Felix down to share them. They made small talk while eating before taking up space on the couch for some TV and a couple rounds of Mecha Strike.

As tempting as staying inside in her pajamas all day was Marinette did want to go to the fabric shop today. There was a design she was really excited to get started on and today was the perfect day to start. She got dressed and headed out.

“So this is a fabric shop?” Felix gazed at the rows and rows of different fabrics and all their patterns, textures, and colors. “How do you find anything in this mess?”

“It is color coded. And while I would love to buy a lot I do not have a whole lot of money saved up so we’re gonna have to stick to the bare essentials.” Marinette made a beeline for the clearance section to see if there was anything there she could use first. When that failed she moved onto the regular floor.

“So what exactly are we looking for?” Felix asked.

“Silver organza. I would like some slightly iridescent if I can find it.” Marinette scanned the rolls of fabric. She pulled some out to see if it was right before pushing it back in. “I’m making a sheer dress overlay and I want the fabric to shimmer when I move. There’s a white bodycon dress at home that I was planning on layering it over.”

“And what occasion is it for? Some big party you planning?”

“None that I know of but it’ll make a good party dress if one arises.” She found the perfect fabric and pulled it out.

“You have a dozen other projects you’re working on and you choose to spend your time on something new that you’re not even sure if you’re gonna wear?”

“What can I say? I like making pretty things.” She did a mental calculation of how much fabric she would need. To be able to afford it she’d have to be very careful in her measurements. Every inch was gonna have to be used to perfection.

She paid for her purchase and they headed out. It was about lunch time and Felix suggested they stop somewhere to eat. “My treat.” he held up a wallet.

“How do you have money?”

“The same way I can change my clothes without actually having a closet. You spent all your cash at the shop so I’ll get lunch.” They stopped at the same cafe they had gone to days prior with Adrien.

They sat outside and ordered. “So, I gotta know.” Marinette said as she picked at her salad, “The devil’s food cake that you dropped off at the table last time. Was that from the kitchen or did you just make it appear for an inside joke?”

“I stole it from the kitchen.” He shrugged. “Why? You want another slice?”

“Honestly? Yeah. I don’t think I could eat the whole thing myself though without feeling like a pig.”

“Weak.”

“I’m sorry if I wouldn’t feel good about myself for eating all of that.”

“You’re eating a salad! You can definitely have cake and not feel bad about it.”

“Sure but we also had a lot of croissants and nutella for breakfast.”

“That’s fair but I’m still gonna order the cake.” he shrugged.

Marinette looked over the boy across from her. No. Not a boy. A demon. She was having a hard time remembering he wasn’t just an annoying roommate. She had tried five years of her life to him. He was here to help her become Adrien’s girlfriend and then he’d be gone. She hadn’t thought about that before. She had become so used to his presence that to not have him around anymore was going to be strange. When she first started this all she wanted was for him to be gone. Now that their time was coming slowly yet steadily to an end the thought of not seeing him again was bittersweet.

He was annoying and made crude jokes and had invaded her privacy on more than one occasion but he wasn’t all bad. Especially not in a way she thought a demon would be. He was legitimately helping her and his efforts seemed to be working. He was very relaxed when he wasn’t throwing her into stressful situations. He was also pretty funny when he wanted to be. Marinette couldn’t remember a time she laughed as hard as when she was with him. And though he may deny it Felix was kind. He didn’t have to comfort her when she got scared or treat her to lunch but he did.

Thinking back to last night and how she had clung onto him in the aftermath of her nightmare made a blush rise on her cheeks. It was probably the closest she had been to him since she woke up with him in her bed that first day. She hadn’t noticed it before but he did have a scent. Even now she could smell if as the wind picked up a tad and blew in her face. Fresh sheets and just a whiff of cinnamon.

He looked up from his plate and caught her staring. She quickly looked away cursing that she had been ogling him so absentmindedly in the first place. Why does he have to have such striking eyes? It felt like he was staring into her very soul.

She peeked up to see if Felix was still watching her and a shiver went down her spine when she saw he was. He raised a single pale eyebrow at her.

“Something on my face?” he asked.

“Oh uh, yeah,” Marinette lied. She grabbed her napkin and pretended to wipe some crumbs from his cheek. “There. Got it.”

“Thanks. I could have gotten it myself though.” He smirked and her face grew hotter.

“Right. Of course.” She nodded. She distracted herself by finishing off the last of her drink as fast as possible. Get it together, Marinette! She chided herself.

The plates were cleared away and a single slice of devil’s food cake brought to the table. They picked at it from either side and Marinette had to threaten to stab Felix with her fork if he didn’t slow down and let her have more.

“Felix, I was wondering about something.” Marinette said.

“Does it have to do about why you got so defensive about the cake even though you said you weren’t gonna eat that much?” Felix pouted as he waited for Marinette to get a bite.

“No. Not that.” She chuckled, “I was wonder how long you thought this process is gonna take.”

“Well if you let me at it I could have this cake cleared in ten seconds.”

“Not the process of eating the cake, dummy!” Marinette sighed. “I was talking about our deal. The contract stated that you had to stick around and help until Adrien either fell in love with me or became my boyfriend. How long do you think that is going to take?”

“Why? Want to get rid of me so soon?” He grinned as he was allowed to get another bite of cake.

“No.” Marinette said, “I was concerned because you had mentioned that your bosses wouldn’t like it if you were up here with me too long. Aren’t they going to be mad about you spending all this time on me?”

“Nice of you to worry about me but there’s nothing for them to do now. We struck a deal so I am allowed to stay with you as long as till the deal is fulfilled.” Felix explained. “They might not like it but they can’t tell me that I’m not doing my job. In reality I think they’re jealous that I get to stay above ground for so long.”

“I know that you’re from literal Hell but is it really so bad even for demons? It’s not like you’re the damned souls burning in endless torment.”

“Yes and no. Down below it is endless work and the reprieve and fun we’re supposed to have has grown stale. It’s like we’re stuck in a cramped room grinding against each other as we shuffle about generating a constant feeling of contempt and anger.” Felix sighed pushing the rest of the cake in front of Marinette. “I didn’t know it before but you can get so tired of being angry all the time.”

After they paid for the meal they walked back home. Marinette got back to work on her design while Felix lounged at her computer playing Mecha Strike. He was sure that if he practiced on the highest computer difficulty enough he could beat Marinette.

Nightfall came and Marinette found herself hesitant to go to bed. The nightmare from last night creeping back into mind. So instead she lit a bunch of candles all around the room, put on her most relaxing playlist and laid back on the floor.

“Are we having an existential crisis?” Felix asked from the chaise.

“Not ready to go to sleep yet.” Marinette stared up at the ceiling. “This helps clear my head. Care to join me?”

“Not like I have anything better to do.” Felix laid down opposite her so their heads were side by side but they could still spread out like a starfish. “Cozy.”

They stayed like that for a long time not saying a word and letting the music from her phone drift above them half heard.

“Hey Felix,” Marinette whispered, not wanting to break the peace they were in by talking at full volume.

“Yeah?” Felix whispered back.

“I’ve been thinking about something.” Marinette said, “If you’re a demon and the way demons are made are to be believed, does that mean you were once an angel?”

“Is this the part where you try to unlock my tragic backstory?”

“I’m curious.”

He was quiet for a long time. Marinette started to think she overstepped before he spoke again. His voice so soft she almost didn’t hear him. “Yeah. Long time ago.”

“What made you fall?”

Felix didn’t answer.

“Felix?” She turned her head to look at him, “Why did you fall?”

“There are things angels aren’t supposed to do. Rules we must obey.” he sighed, his gaze lost to the ceiling, “I broke one of them and next thing I know I was falling through the heavens.”

“Literally?”

“Yeah. Hurt like a bitch.” His voice was quiet, “One second you’re high up on a cloud and the next you’re hurtling through space, red hot and burning. Not knowing exactly where you’re going to end up and not really caring. All you know is that you are burning away everything you thought you were. Then you hit the ground and the ashes that you once were collide in the fall and reform you into something you never thought you’d be.”

“I’m sorry.” Marinette reached for his hand. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. It’s kinda nice to talk to someone about it. Down below everyone’s been through it so no one has any sympathy for the next. Doesn’t matter if you were cast out or chose to rebel. All you become is another face in the crowd. Another nightmare in mortals’ dreams.”

“The most nightmarish thing about you is your manners.” Marinette joked. Felix’s stoic expression cracked into an amused smile and he turned to look at her. His nose almost bumped against hers. “Do you ever regret it? Falling? Breaking the rules?”

“No.” Felix squeezed her hand, “I may not be favored but I do have some agency over my own life. That’s more than I can say from when I was an angel.”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it.” His silver eyes bore into hers. She wasn’t unsettled though. If anything she felt a certain calm that came with the shiver down her spine.

“And,” his smirk softened, “Because of it I got to meet you. That itself I think is a good enough reason to not regret it.”

Her heart beat harder in her chest. “What’s so great about me?” she asked.

“What isn’t?”

Her breathing stilled. Her whole body had. All she could do was stare at this boy across from her. His hand was still clasped with hers. She could feel his thumb idly stroking back and forth across the back of her hand. She didn’t know what she was doing. Her eyes searched his face for some kind of clue as to what it was that was going through her head. A reason for why her heart wouldn’t stop beating so fast.

“Marinette,” Felix’s voice brought her back to the present. He so rarely used her first name. His face inched closer and he left a whisper of a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for talking with me.”

“Felix…” Her body flooded with warmth. The small part of her cheek he had kiss burned like a hot iron. She watched as he stood up and walked out of the room. Where he had gone she had no idea but the click of the door as it fell shut left her cold and small in the empty room.

She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. God help her, what was she supposed to do now?

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (8)

---

(tagged)

@sannsibarr @miss-mysterys-blog @maribug-adrienoir @mermaidreject @corabeth11 @goblinwhoships @symwinter

[retroateez]

1980s horror film - s.mingi

hello all!!!

it’s been a lot longer than i intended, but a bunch of stuff came up and i both didn’t have time and didn’t feel like writing. this also wasn’t what i initially planned on posting, but life works weirdly and here we are. that being said, i wrote this in a way that is different to how i typically write so i apologise if it sounds/feels weird or awkward. regardless, i hope u enjoy! (also i didn’t realise it was all lower case so please ignore the inconsistency lmao)

//

pairing: song mingi x reader genre: unrequited love?? idk how to tag it oops word count: 1660 this is inspired by a song titled ‘1980s horror film II’ by wallows! 

//

mingi had been waiting for eons to score a date with y/n. way too long. all of his friends (mainly wooyoung), teased him constantly about her, but he had never gathered the courage to do anything about it.

they'd been friends for a long while, even hanging out a few times together at the cinema, or just going out for lunch before mingi realised he had an absolutely huge crush on her.

recently he'd been avoiding her like the plague, using volleyball practice, or band rehearsal with the boys as an excuse not to hang out with her. 

that was, until one sunny saturday afternoon, when she called him out of the blue. he took a few moments to collect himself, staring at the ringing phone in his hand like it was a ticking bomb seconds away from a devastating explosion.

"hey dingus!" y/n called down the phone once he had collected himself enough to answer. "what are you doing?" she asked.

"nothing. why?" 

"i'm bored." she declared. "wanna come over?"

"s-sure!" mingi agreed straight away.

"sweet. see you soon then!" y/n hung up, and mingi was convinced he might pass out.

he'd never been to her house before. maybe she really did like him back? oh god, he was starting to internally panic now; how was he supposed to act? he didn't want to be a creep but he didn't want to be painfully awkward either. oh god. oh god oh god oh god.

"get it together, mingi." he scowled at himself in the mirror, shaking his faded red hair side to side. he couldn’t make a fool of himself in front of her; he absolutely would not allow it. 

this could be his chance, to finally muster enough balls to ask y/n out before it was too late. yes, he'd decided; today would be the day.

-----

half an hour later, an exceptionally nervous song mingi knocked on the door of his highschool crush. he reached up and brushed a shaking hand through his hair, wondering whether his legs were numb from fear or the chilling bite of the surprisingly cold weather. 

a few moments passed, then the door swung open to reveal y/n. she was dressed in her usual style, comfy, stylish, beautiful, very y/n. in truth, she could be wearing a trashbag and mingi would still say she looked gorgeous.

she gave him a wide, toothy grin and stepped aside to let him in.

"welcome to mi casa!" she motioned to the hallway dramatically, one arm sweeping out in front of her and almost bashing her elbow into the kitchen doorframe.

"i wanna watch a movie!" she said, once she had recovered from the near injury. "i've already got the snacks ready, so let's go!"

she began bounding up the stairs, mingi following her before realising where they were headed and freezing abruptly in his tracks.

"we're going upstairs?" he breathed, anxiety flooding him from head to foot.

just what exactly was she expecting from him?

"yeah?" she shrugged. "is that a problem?"

"no!" he replied, perhaps a little too quickly. "no, that's not a problem at all."

-----

he was scared.

bordering on terrified.

y/n's bedroom was dark; having pulled the curtains before mingi's arrival to avoid the sun glaring onto the television.

as the minutes went on, mingi became less and less sure just what she was planning this afternoon.

she paced over to the tv set, opening a dvd case and slotting a disc into the player.

"it's a 1980s horror film," she explained. "i've been wanting to watch it for ages, but i didn't want to watch it alone... you don't mind, do you?"

mingi shook his head quickly. he did in fact mind, not being the biggest fan of the horror genre, but he'd made it this far, and backing out now was definitely not an option. plus, if wooyoung caught wind of mingi chickening out, he would never hear the end of it.

"here," she motioned to her bed; a double, with lilac sheets and an appropriate amount of cushions bundled up by her pillows. "take a seat."

unsure of whether he should, but not wanting to be rude, mingi crawled across her bed, sitting down amidst the cushions and crossing his legs like an obedient, yet timid child. he watched y/n grab her desk chair, dragging it across the room and placing it beside the bed, distanced but still close enough to mingi to completely throw him off his guard.

"don't you want the be-"

"nonsense!" she cut him off before he could even get the words out. "you're my guest, so you get the bed."

mingi was bewildered. never in his life had he expected to be in this situation. it appeared that y/n had absolutely zero intentions of doing anything romantic. which, don't get him wrong, was totally fine, but regardless he was still confused.

all the cheesy high school romance movies he’d watched, and all the young adult fiction novels he had read hinted that when you were invited to your crush’s house, alone, it usually indicated they wanted something romantic. or something more. absolutely nothing had prepared him for, or even suggested that the current circumstances would ever occur in a million years. mingi felt rather cheated, to be honest.

was she making him wait on purpose? deliberately staying away from him in the hopes that he'd just cave in and sweep her off her feet? y/n didn't seem like that kind of girl, but mingi had been wrong about a lot of things when it came to y/n. 

the movie began to play, and they sat surrounded by darkness, mingi decided he would simply go with the flow. he was a nervous wreck, but he wasn't a pervert; he wouldn't do anything unless y/n initiated it. the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. 

despite reaching a solution, he couldn't get it out of his mind how close they were in the moment. glancing to his side, he could very much reach out and gently touch her hair. or softly caress her cheek. 

obviously, he wouldn't, because that would be weird. and that was a vibe he was trying to avoid today.

halfway through the movie, y/n jumped up, explaining she had to use the bathroom and scaring the shit out of mingi in the process.

he kept his gaze fixed on the movie playing in front of him, but his mind wandered to other places. he sighed deeply.

he didn't even know what to say to her.

she's always on his mind,

and yet,

he's too afraid to say anything. how long would this pathetic pining go on for? surely it would be better for him to take wooyoung's advice and just go for it? otherwise he'll be playing this game for god knows how long. 

that was it.

he simply couldn't help the way he was feeling; he needed to get it out, to tell her how he truly feels.

and maybe, just maybe, she'd feel the same way too.

y/n comes back, and mingi gears himself up for his confession. digging into the deepest corners of his mind to find the right words to use. deciding to abandon his previous resolution to let y/n initiate, he convinces himself to take charge and follow the lead of every heteronormative teen movie in existence, and sweep the girl off her feet.

until she ditches the chair, motioning for mingi to scooch over and then she lays down right beside him. 

the bed is fairly large, but then again mingi is no regular sized teenage boy, his lanky frame taking up a considerable portion of the bed.. as a result, his right side and her left are pressed flush against each other, and poor mingi thinks he's about to explode.

but still, he inhales deeply, surveying the situation.

the lights are off, 

the mood was right.

perfect.

mingi lets her settle for a short while, which is really him internally psyching himself up, before setting his masterplan into action.

he turns his head slowly to look at y/n, noticing how invested she is in the movie and he pouts a little.

he wants her attention.

she still doesn't notice, so he opts for placing his hand on her cheek as gently as he can and guides her gaze towards him.

her eyebrows furrow together in confusion, but she makes no effort to move away.

frozen anxiety that mingi misinterprets as a green light.

his eyes fall shut, and his upper body leans forward the tiniest amount. he's so close. so close to finally being able to show y/n how he feels. he's seconds away from having a weight lifted off his shoulders. he can't wait to shove it in wooyoung's face either, all the times the younger boy had called him a pussy had pissed mingi off to no end, but look at him now wooyoung, look at him now.

all he needed was for y/n to bridge the gap between them.

but instead, a small hand on mingi's shoulder pushes him back, and his eyes snap open abruptly, and he feels his stomach fall straight through his ass.

"y/n, i-"

the look on her face stops mingi dead in his tracks, because he can't read her expression.

is she mad? is she super pissed that he tried to kiss her? he'd understand if she was, it probably wasn't the best course of action but it was the best he could come up with. is she angry? is she hurt? disappointed? he searches her eyes, burning into his, for answers but comes up short. all he can do is try and guess how she's feeling, but realistically he's no expert, he's no mindreader, how is he suppo-

"mingi, i'm really not that into guys." 

oh.  

[aion-rsa]

The Sopranos’ Funniest Moments

https://ift.tt/32fYYqM

The Sopranos’ genius was in telling structured stories with well-established themes, while still aping life in all its dirty, disorganised, contradictory, open-ended glory. The show wasn’t a drama, or a comedy, or a tragedy, or a farce. It was all of them. It was none of them. It was life.

Creator David Chase and his crack team of writers never lost sight of the essential truth that no matter how cruel, harrowing or horrid life becomes, it’s always laced through with laughs: oftentimes the laughter and the horror rise in tandem.

Here, then, are some of The Sopranos’ funniest moments, most of them enmeshed with the macabre, the monstrous and the melancholy. 

South of the Border

S1, E9 ‘Boca’

In the machismo-drenched world of the mafia, even going down on your girlfriend is seen as a sign of sexual weakness, and quite possibly – in the non-PC words of Uncle Junior himself – ‘a sign that you’re a fanouk.’

Apparently, ‘they’ think ‘if you’ll suck p***y, you’ll suck anything.’

Whoever ‘they’ are.

News of Uncle Junior’s oral talents reaches Tony from a gossip chain, the final link in which is Carmella. Tony’s reaction, and the way in which he baits Uncle Junior with the intel on the golf course (culminating in Tony singing ‘South of the Border, down Mexico way’) is equal parts childish to hilarious – but funniest of all is how this schoolboy teasing serves as the pre-cursor to a Mafia war.

As Tony later tells Carmella: ‘Cunnilingus and psychiatry brought us to this.’     

Guess Whose Back?

S1, E10 ‘A Hit is a Hit’

Christopher sets Adrianna up in a recording studio to help realise her dream of becoming a music mogul. Things don’t go well. Her new band – the woeful Visiting Day – is ready to walk after a long and soul-sapping session during which they’ve produced nothing of worth. Christopher wastes no time taking up the mantle of manager to convince them that the show must go on. It’s fair to say that being motivational doesn’t come naturally to Christopher. Or, rather, it does, it’s just that his methods of motivation are rather more violent than most. First, Christopher throws the ex-addict lead singer a bag of crystal meth and orders him to take it. When that doesn’t work, he takes the only reasonable course of action left open to him and smashes a guitar over the man’s back.

There’s No Place Like Home

S2,E4 ‘Commendatori’

Paulie is incredibly excited to be visiting the motherland, and arrives full of romantic notions about Italy. All of these are systematically stamped out, mostly by Paulie himself, of whom an Italian gangster remarks at dinner, after Paulie requests tomato ketchup for his spaghetti:  ‘And you thought the Germans were classless pieces of shit.’

Paulie’s beatific little smile as he drinks in the squalor of New Jersey on the ride home from the airport is pitch perfect.

It’s the Jaaaccckkeett!

S2,E8 ‘Full Leather Jacket’

From the moment Richie Aprile is released from prison he’s on a collision course with Tony. In classic Sopranos’ style, though, the torch paper isn’t lit by Richie shacking up with Tony’s sister, or paralysing their mutual friend Beansie, but by the fall-out from a spurned jacket. Not just any jacket, though: ‘the’ jacket; the one Richie took off Rocco di Meo after an adolescent scrap.

‘Cocksucker had the toughest reputation in Essex County, but he never came back after I got through with him,’ Richie tells Tony, as he gifts him the infamous garment.

‘He later died of Alzheimer’s,’ adds Junior.

The look on Tony’s face as he tries to look grateful for ‘the jacket’ is almost as funny as the look Richie later wears in Carmella’s kitchen when he  notices the sainted jacket hanging from the shoulders of the maid’s husband.

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

S2, E9 ‘From Where to Eternity’

When Christopher briefly dies on the operating table after an assassination attempt, he returns from the brink of death with visions and dispatches from the afterlife. Paulie takes these reports to heart, divining in them a supernatural threat. Not only does Christopher tell Paulie that the souls of his many victims still follow him everywhere he goes, he also brings back an oblique warning: ‘Three o’clock’.

This cryptic curse has Paulie slamming bolt upright in his bed each night with a scream on his lips. First he visits Tony, who tries to lead Paulie back to sanity.

‘You eat steak?’ Tony asks.

‘What the fuck you talkin’ about?’

‘If you were in India, you would go to hell for that.’ 

‘I’m not in India,’ says Paulie. ‘What do I give a fuck?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. None of this shit means a goddamn thing.’

Unconvinced, Paulie visits a spiritualist psychic, who ‘confirms’ that Paulie is being stalked by ghosts. ‘That’s satanic black magic!’ rails a terrified Paulie, ‘Sick shit’, before hurling a chair at the ‘ghosts’ and screaming ‘Fuckin’ qu***s!’ at them. Finally, he visits his priest to tell him he’s cutting off his donations to the church on the grounds that he should’ve been protected from hauntings. I defy you not to chuckle at the baleful glare Paulie gives the Virgin Mary on his way out of the church.  

A Very Un-woke Wake

S3, E2 ‘Proshai , Livushka’

Livia Soprano – Tony’s murderously manipulative mother – proved just as divisive in death as she was in life, her demise precipitating a wake that was as awkward and corrosive for the characters experiencing it as it was rich and funny for us schmucks at home.

Tony never wanted any of Janice’s ‘California Bullshit’ at the gathering he and Carmella hosted at their home (or ‘that house, up on that hill’, as Livia would have called it). Janice being Janice, though, vetoes her brother’s ruling. She asks each of the assembled guests to share a thought, a memory of their mother, which – given that Livia was a sharp-tongued, anti-social harridan – doesn’t produce heart-warming results. No wonder the unknown man descending the stairs in the background behind them all decides to about-turn and get the hell out of there.

‘She never minced words,’ says Hesch, trying his hardest to accentuate the positive, ‘Between… brain and mouth… there was no interlocutor.’

Read more

Movies

The Sopranos: saluting the greatest TV drama ever made

By Jamie Andrew

TV

The Sopranos: Explaining the Final Scene

By Jamie Andrew

Christopher’s rambling, drug-fuelled, ad lib on the nature of existence, rebirth and doppelgangers is a treat, the sort of new-age snash David Brent might have conjured up while fully sober. The silence doesn’t last for long, though, not least because Carmella has spent the duration of the tense memorial knocking back booze like a cooze-hound on Spring Break, and is ready to unleash hell. 

Merry Stressmas

S3, E10 ‘…To Save Us All from Satan’s Power’

In the absence of Big Pussy Bonpensiero – taken on a long boat-ride to oblivion – the amply proportioned Bobby Baccala is the natural choice to become the new Satriales’ Santa. Except he doesn’t want to do it. He’s too shy.

‘The fucking boss of this family told you you’re gonna be Santa Claus,’ Paulie tells Bobby menacingly. ‘You’re Santa Claus. So shut the fuck up about it!’

The surly and reluctant Bobby proves a lacklustre substitute, an observation that’s articulated perfectly by Paulie when he says, ‘Fuckin’ ho hum if you ask me.’

It’s not just Bobby’s mafia colleagues that like to drop the F-bomb at Xmas. Even a little boy, unimpressed by Bobby’s schtick, issues a heart-felt: ‘Fuck you, Santa.’

God bless us. Every one. 

Two Assholes Lost in the Woods

S3, E11 ‘Pine Barrens’

The Pine Barrens was the episode that cleaved most closely to all-out comedy, pitting hot-headed anti-survivalists Christopher and Paulie against a runaway Russian they’d failed to kill. The darkly comic shit-show unfolded in the unforgiving, snow-filled foliage of the eponymous Pine Barrens, where Tony and Bobby were eventually summoned to rescue the hapless pair.

It’s hard to pick a comedy highlight from this episode, as it’s chock-full of them, but highlights include Tony losing it at the sight of Bobby Baccala’s hunting attire (if James Gandolfini’s laughter seems particularly genuine here, try googling some behind-the-scenes facts – you won’t be disappointed); Chris and Paulie noshing down on sauce sachets like they were a gourmet meal, and the following misunderstanding between Paulie, Chris and Tony thanks to poor mobile reception:

Tony: (garbled, on phone) It’s a bad connection, so I’m gonna talk fast. The guy you’re looking for is an ex-commando! He killed sixteen Chechen rebels single-handed.

Paulie: Get the fuck outta here.

Tony: Yeah, nice, huh? He was with the Interior Ministry.  Guy’s some kind of Russian green beret. This guy cannot come back to tell this story. You understand?

[line breaks]

Paulie: (to Christopher) You’re not gonna believe this. He killed sixteen Czechoslovakians. The guy was an interior decorator.

Chris: His house looked like shit.

You Talkin’ To Me?

S4, E6 ‘Everybody Hurts’

Artie Bucco, Tony’s boyhood best pal, is a regular, hard-working chef. Even so, he’s frequently seduced by the luxurious criminal lifestyle he sees lapping around the fringes of his wonder-bread world. When a business deal to promote ‘the new French vodka’ goes awry and Artie finds himself $50k out of pocket to a swindling huckster he decides to channel his inner Mafioso and get his money back the Soprano way. Unfortunately, his inner Mafioso is no more ferocious than that possessed by any average member of the show’s audience – as much as proximity to Tony might convince us otherwise – and he gets the crap kicked out of him. Before that, though, his little Taxi Driver moment in the mirror, complete with mid-life crisis ear-ring and mobster posturing (‘Fucking shoes you’re wearing. What are they? Designer?’) is at once endearing, pathetic and very, very funny.

The mirror is no accident. He’s looking at us, looking at him, looking at ourselves.     

Telephone Tough Guy

S4, E9 ‘Whoever Did This’

While Ralph Cifaretto is probably most widely remembered as a sort-of gangster Loki – a mirth-wracked trickster with a penchant for mayhem – most of his misdeeds were so loathsome that even the wider mafia disapproved: cheating on his grieving partner, beating a young pregnant girl to death, burning a horse alive (come on, of course that was him). Still, he did make us laugh, though, didn’t he?

No more so than when he pranked Paulie’s dopey-yet-adorable old mother in her nursing home (‘It’s a retirement community!’), announcing himself as Detective Mike Hunt, Beaver Falls, from the Pennsylvania police department. Not only did Ralph claim that Paulie had been caught pleasuring a cub scout in a public bathroom, but also that a small rodent had been discovered in Paulie’s rectal passage. ‘A gerbil, ma’am’.

Ralph laughed his head off.

Tony later removed it.  

A Truth Injection

S4, E10 ‘The Strong, Silent Type’

Drug interventions are worthy and solemn rituals – they certainly aren’t supposed to be funny – but there’s something delicious about a room full of self-involved sociopaths with no impulse control and an insatiable appetite for pleasure assembling to pass judgement on Christopher essentially for having no impulse control and an insatiable appetite for pleasure. Christopher is at least self-aware enough to lobby this back in the faces of his supposed rescuers, pointing out that Silvio likes to sample his sex-workers; that Paulie’s hot-head almost dragged the Newark family into war with the Russian mob, and that Tony’s epicurean compulsions will probably kill him more quickly than Christopher’s drugs.

From the moment a bewildered Christopher emerges from his bedroom to find both families – blood and work – camped out in his living room, the laughs just keep coming, all the way through to the (inevitable) explosion of violence at the scene’s climax.

Christopher instantly recognises the host of the intervention, Dominic Paladino, as ‘the guy who broke into Stew Leonards that time and stole all those pork loins.’

‘Yes,’ replies a sheepish Dominic. ‘But… that’s not why I’m here today.’  

Especial mirth-based mentions must go to Silvio and Paulie (the latter’s reaction to Christopher’s narcotic-related manhood problems is priceless), and their refusal to play along with the ‘care-frontation’. 

‘When I came to open up one morning, there you were with your head half in the toilet. Your hair was in the toilet water. Disgusting,’ says Silvio, reading awkwardly from what is possibly the most unnecessary aide de memoire ever written.

Leave it to Paulie to lay the smackdown on this particular brand of ‘California bullshit’: ‘I don’t write nothing down,’ he says, ‘so I’ll keep this short and sweet. You’re weak. You’re out of control. And you’re becoming an embarrassment to yourself and everybody else.’

Drugs are bad. Mmmkay?

Dead Good Food

S5, E7 ‘In Camelot’

When Junior realises he can get respite from his house arrest through attending family funerals he starts to exaggerate and exploit ever more spurious links to get him out of the house for a few hours. While all around him are wracked with grief, his is the only face with a smile on it, enjoying the change of scenery, enjoying the food, wondering why everyone has to be so maudlin.

In a darkly funny scene he happily extols the virtues of the spread while attending the wake of a teenage boy. ‘Chicken’s nice and spicy, huh?’ he beams at a fellow mourner.

A Grave Error

S5, E9 ‘Unidentified Black Males’

When Tony agrees to pick up the tab for the headstone of a New York soldier who was slain, unbeknownst to him, by his own cousin, his men manage to add insult to injury.

We see the headstone. At the graveside. During the funeral service. And it says:

Peeps.

‘Peeps?’ spits Tony. ‘It’s a fuckin’ nickname! His family name is Pepperelli!’

Silvio hunkers down into full middle-management mode. ‘They’re gonna re-do it. Fuckin’ J.C. He’s dyslexic.’

 ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ asks an incredulous Tony. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

You could fill a book with The Sopranos’ funniest moments – Paulie’s rant about shoelaces, Bobby B botching a publicity shooting, Silvio’s poker-table tantrum, Little Carmine’s malapropisms, to name but a handful – so by necessity we’ve had to leave a lot out. What are some of yours?

The post The Sopranos’ Funniest Moments appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[elatedmarvel]

After All This Time, You and I (3/4)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Bucky you’re entire life.

Word Count: 1060

AN: Wow it’s been a minute since I posted this story! Honestly lost a little of the motivation, and the end of last year was rough. Hope you guys enjoy! 

Warnings: A few swear words

You can do this, get yourself together Y/N. Smoothing down the front of your dress, you steal one more look in the mirror. Turns out, an hour scrubbing, tweezing, and putting on makeup makes your skin glow. You could go so far as to say you looked Instagram model worthy. 

After months of denying it to yourself and the world, you finally conceded that you were in love with one James Buchanan Barnes. You weren’t even sure when it had happened, maybe you’ve been in love with him all your life. 

But of course with the revelation came the heartbreak of knowing he would never feel the same about you. You were the baby sister of his best friend, probably someone he thought about as a sister himself. He had seen you butt naked running around the backyard at 4 years old, with cake all over your face on each birthday, and vomiting into his toilet a year ago.

After crying to Natasha and Wanda for weeks, Natasha had enough. She had convinced you to start dating again, get over Bucky and move on to bigger and better. And by bigger, she meant bigger. Of course, there would be no one better than Bucky. But after a year of pining, you were ready to stop being so lonely and pathetic. You couldn’t spend every Friday night hanging out with Steve and Bucky, you had to live your own life. 

With more confidence than before, you grab your jacket and stuff in your wallet, keys, and lip gloss into a small purse. Some John Doe from Bumble was going to meet you at a bar downtown.

The front door opens, and slams shut signaling the return of your roommate. 

Bucky. 

It might have been a poor choice to live with the unrequited love of your life, but you needed a roommate after Natasha moved out to live with her boyfriend. Bucky decided to stay an extra year to get his masters last minute, and Steve had already signed a lease with Sam. Of course, Steve had encouraged the two of you to shack up, stating that it would be good for both of you. 

The year you two had been living together has been the best year of your life. With every meal made together, every night sat on the couch and watching TV or studying for tests was a small glimpse into the domestic life that you craved. There has never been a sweeter torture, but you would gladly endure it to see a sleepy Bucky walk out of his room every moring. 

“Bucky! I’m on my way out, but I went grocery shopping today and got the pizza you love so much. It’s in the freezer if you wanna heat some up.” you yell at him, gathering any last minute items. 

Walking out into the living room, you stop your rambling about the cutest dog you saw today when you see him hunched over on the couch. Head in his hands, you can tell he’s trying hard not to cry. 

“Bucky? What’s wrong?” you ask, immediately taking a seat and wrapping your arms around him.

A few moments pass, you can tell from his back that he’s trying to get a hold of his breathing. You rub circles into his back as you feel him tense, laying your head on his shoulder, waiting out the storm. 

“I got passed over for the job.” he says so quietly, you aren’t sure he spoke at all. Your heart sinks for him. This was his dream job, the reason he decided to spend extra money and extra time to get a masters degree. 

“Oh Bucky, I’m so sorry.” you try to soothe him. 

“They said that it was down to me and some other person, but they had more experience.” he explains, head still down. 

“I’m not going to lie, that sucks. And it’s going to hurt for a while, but then something better will come along and you’ll be glad you didn’t get this one.” you state, sure that he’ll have a bright future. 

He nods, and before you know it, he shifts on the cough to lay down, with his head in your lap, eyes closed. Your fingers immediately go to his hair and start to lightly massage his scalp. You sit in comfortable silence, hoping that your presence helps Bucky in some way. 

He opens his eyes and stares up at you, as if seeing you for the first time. “You look breathtaking, are you going somewhere?” he asks innocently. 

“Nope” you say, popping the p and shaking your head. “Just wanted to pamper myself.” you explain with a weak smile. 

He looks at you a little longer, trying to discern if you were lying, and you hope that your poker face is up to par. His eyes squint, and you can feel your face starting to burn, staring back down at him as nonchalant as possible. 

“Ok.” he accepts. His stomach ruins the moment by growling, and you both laugh. 

“Let’s get a crap ton of takeout and then get shitfaced.” you suggest. 

“Sounds like the perfect way to end this awful day.” he says with a smile, moving to get up. 

“You go shower off the sadness, and I’ll order.” you offer as he pulls you up from the couch and into his embrace. 

“You’re the best” he whispers, and presses a kiss to your forehead. The action makes you weak in the knees for a moment. You close your eyes and relish in being in his arms. 

He releases you and retreats to the bathroom. Pulling your phone out of the purse on the counter, you shoot a quick text to Bumble boy telling him you weren’t going to make it, and open your seamless account. You order three of Bucky’s, and yours, favorite meals. As you set the phone down, you see that what’s-his-name texted back, but you know you’ll never talk to him again. 

Walking back to your room, you change into comfy clothing. Instantly, the dread you didn’t even know was there starts to clear up. You can hear Bucky singing a very off-key rendition of ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ from the shower, it brings a smile to your face and your heart swells.

So much for getting over Bucky Barnes.  

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

Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome!

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Sigh of Relief

by Nayeliq1

He knew he was a vile creature. He was deprived by nature, doomed to serve the purpose of lust and sin. No, Crowley certainly wasn't a stranger to those feelings. Hunger, desire, want. He had been designed to inflame them. This body he'd been given, temptation incarnate. Yet, he'd only ever experienced them himself for one other being, one single creature, the one and only he could never have. He was no stranger to longing, either. He'd been pining for so long he could have filled a whole damn forest! Millennia of waiting, wanting, loving from afar. He had exhibited a quite extraordinary amount of restraint over the years if Crowley could say so himself. Maybe it had been too much. Maybe something had to snap inside of him at some point, maybe- Excuses. Nothing but poor, pathetic attempts to justify his own weakness when it had been more crucial than ever to stay strong. It didn't matter that he'd wanted this for thousands of years. It didn't matter that he'd fought against this urge for centuries. It didn't matter that it had been on the verge of overpowering him countless times before. He hadn't let it. He'd never let it. Until now.

Words: 3107, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Gabriel and Beelz are only mentioned, Post-Canon, heaven and hell couldn't let it slide after the failed trials, Rape Aftermath, at least sort of, more or less non-consensual sex, but no details, only revisited in flashbacks, Still heed the warnings, Self-Hatred, lots of other dark emotions, I'm so sorry for doing this to Crowley, Healing, resolving conversation, learning to forgive, Hopeful Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Considering the Circumstances, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Aziraphale knows just how to fix it, Misunderstandings, Hamilton References, just because, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Getting through dark places together, Not Actually Unrequited Love

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/25631119

[fangirlshrewt97]

The Witcher Fic - Give Me One More Chance (Part 5)

Author: Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Witcher (TV Series)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier|Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer of Vengerburg, Geralt of Rivia & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Jaskier|Dandelion & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier|Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Yennefer of Vengerburg, Roach

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up (Swearing, Mild Gore)

Warnings: None Apply

Additional Tags: Post Episode S01E06: Rare Species, Emotionally Constipated Geralt of Rivia, Pining, Touch-Starved Geralt of Rivia, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt & Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Canon-Typical Levels of Violence, Monsters, I really put Geralt through the wringer here, but I am ok with that because poor Jaskier did not deserve it, I do acknowledge though that Geralt is multiple levels of screwed up and maybe thought he was helping them both when he was actually hurting them

Summary: After the dragon hunt, Geralt tries to cope with his actions. And misses Jaskier a lot. But refuses to deal with his feeling even when it almost kills him.

Alternate title: 5 things Geralt misses about Jaskier + 1 he didn’t need to

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389734

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

                                                             *****

Traveling together with Jaskier made the void Geralt had been feeling since the dragon hunt feel a little smaller but at the same time, just as deep as before. For the first few days, Jaskier barely acknowledged Geralt or Yennefer. He was also quieter than ever, though he maintained a constant stream of conversation with Ciri. He answered every question she threw at him, sometimes with outlandishly impossible answers that had her giggling. At night when they made camp, he took over cooking whatever ingredients Yennefer had bought in the previous town and whatever meat Geralt hunted.

He sang his songs, well, every song that did not have to do with Geralt in any way.

He did not touch Geralt. He did not speak to Geralt. He scarcely looked at Geralt.

Geralt wanted to shake the bard, beg him, plead for an accidental brush of their hands, a question out of habit, a peek from the corner of electric blue eyes.

But Jaskier gave him nothing. Demonstrating a mastery over his bodily reactions Geralt had not known the bard was capable of, Jaskier ignored him completely and intentionally.

Jaskier was even cordial with Yennefer, never outright cutting her with sharp words but not sparing a word that was not needed. Geralt would even venture to say they might be friends from the good-natured teasing he heard when he was out of their earshot.

Ciri saw all this, but surprisingly, or maybe totally unsurprisingly, after all how well did Geralt actually know her, the little princess took Jaskier’s side. Or perhaps not side, but she seemed to find his actions justifiable. A few times when Geralt was returning from a hunt, she heard Jaskier and Ciri rummaging about in camp. He heard her trying to convince Jaskier to give him a second chance. Jaskier stayed quiet.

///

After nearly three weeks of traveling together, of too quiet camps, non-music filled walks through possibly enemy woods, of distances so easy to close yet so insurmountable, Geralt was at his wits end. Yennefer had portaled herself and Ciri away, claiming that she had a friend who could help her with training for Cirilla and that the princess needed to remember what a bed felt like. Geralt had a suspicion based on the pointed glare both girls sent his way that they were actually conspiring to grant him some time alone with Jaskier.

Jaskier was mute as he watched the portal closed, getting back to setting up their camp in the same efficient way he had done when once upon a time it had always been just the two of them. Geralt knew he had to be the one to talk, since Jaskier was obviously not going to.

“Jaskier, we have some spices left, and I hear a deer nearby. What do you say we have a meal with some flavor for once?” Geralt asked, wincing at his own pathetic excuse for conversation.

Jaskier just hummed noncommittally. Geralt resisted the instinct to growl or run a rough hand through his hair. Was this what he had subjected Jaskier to all these years? But he did not have the talent the bard did to draw words out of others. Much less from someone who typically could not be stopped from talking. Needless to say, Geralt was frustrated and reaching the bottom of a very shallow pool of ideas.

Which is what he chose to blame for why he completely missed the sound of a monster approaching. Night had fallen, and both were sitting on opposite sides of the camp. He was brushing Roach while enjoying the absentminded strumming of Jaskier’s lute, the bard obviously composing inside his head. Geralt finished brushing and turned, only to feel his breath catch in his throat. Jaskier was glowing by the campfire, his pale yellow doublet casting golden shadows over his delicate features, the shadows making him look all the more unearthly. He was humming something under his breath, and Geralt had to strain his ears to catch it.

Had the bard always been so… lovely?

He was so enraptured in the blue of the bard’s wide open eyes that he entirely missed the alarm in those eyes. Roach’s neighing and shove with her snout was the only reason the endrega did not behead him.

“Geralt!” Jaskier screamed. Geralt did not even have time to enjoy the sound of his name passing through his bard’s lips in nearly a month before the endrega advanced, pinning him to the ground with on of it’s claws.

Geralt freed his arms enough to quickly sign Aard and throw the monster back against a tree. That dazed the creature long enough for Geralt to dive for his silver sword. Now armed, Geralt threw himself at the monster, swinging his sword and managing to cut of one of it’s claws. The endrega retaliated by smashing into him with its mace-like tail. Geralt’s unprotected skin tore easily under the spikes in the monster’s tail. A pained groan escaped him, but his training ensured he did not drop his sword.

The monster clawed at him again, executing a sharp cut into his right shoulder.

“Hey ugly! Try this on for size!” Jaskier shouted, voice dripping with fear yet underlined with the same steel as Geralt’s sword. When Geralt rolled his eyes in his direction, he saw Jaskier holding said sword, arms shaking with the weight but keeping the sword steady. Geralt vaguely recalled Jaskier saying he was nobility, he would have been taught the sword. Or at least fencing. His stance looked firm even if the sword didn't.

The creature snarled before dropping Geralt against the tree and advancing towards Jaskier. Just as Geralt feared that he was going to watch his bard get eviscerated, Jaskier threw something into the fire between him and the creature, making the fire roar up before transforming into a thick green cloud.

Geralt coughed as the smoke enveloped him thoroughly, grimacing as he pressed his abdominal wound closed. On the other side of the fire he could hear the creature screaming and screeching before steel sang through the cacophony and the noise cut off abruptly.

He was still coughing when a pain of hands grabbed him from below his shoulders. He yelled but the body behind him did not stop until they were clear of the camp and the smoke. Geralt was breathing hard and pale as the moon that shone through the trees when Jaskier deposited him against a tree.

Through the haze he saw a cut on the bard’s upper arm, but Jaskier brushed away his arm and cut open Geralt’s shirt with the small knife he always kept on him. He swore when he saw the extent of the bruising. Pressing firmly, he guessed at least two broken ribs, possibly three based on the volume of Geralt's groans.

“Damn it Geralt. Wait here. I will be right back, I need to find your potions.” Jaskier complained as he rose, only to yelp when Geralt yanked him back towards him, nearly sending the both toppling into the forest floor.

“Ow you bastard, I am only trying to help!”

“You… are…hurt…” Geralt rasped.

“Yes and you pulling me by the arm that was injured is not going to exactly make it better now is it?”

“Monster…”

“Is dead. Or at least it better be, the thing was in two pieces last I saw it. Plus we left poor Roach and my precious lute at the camp. Let me go check on them!” Jaskier said.

Geralt groaned but relented. Jaskier stumbled as he was suddenly released but stood up and tugged his doublet into place. “Thank you. I will be right back. Just… try not to get killed will you?”

Saying so, Jaskier disappeared between the tree lines. Geralt groaned again as he closed his eyes and lets his head thump back against the tree. Tonight had not gone at all as he had wanted.

True to his word though, Jaskier came back to where Geralt was, loud enough to wake the forest.

Cursing as he nearly tripped over a root he didn’t see, Jaskier dropped beside Geralt.

“Ok I have all your potions here. What do you want?” Jaskier asked, holding up Geralt’s potion bag. Geralt winced as he shifted against the tree, pretending to do so to get more comfortable and not because this way, Jaskier was leaning more heavily onto him.

“Dark green one. And clear potion in the square vial.” Geralt grit out.

Jaskier rooted around the bag before crowing victoriously as he held out his prize, quickly uncorking the two potions and helping Geralt swallow them. Geralt hissed as he felt the potions rushing through his veins, but settled as his healing was further boosted by the potions.

“Use my tunic.” Geralt slurred. Jaskier looked up confused from where had settled into Geralt’s side.

“What?”

“You are bleeding. Use my tunic. It is ripped.”

“Oh.” Jaskier said. He looks at his own injury, the wound a graze that has almost stopped bleeding. Deciding not to argue with the Witcher for once, he did as told and ripped up the shirt, wrapping the make-shift bandages around his upper arm. with the left over cloth, he wrapped them around Geralt so as to make sure the open wounds did not get infected.

They stayed like that for another moment until Geralt grunted and tried to shift.

“Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

“Are you sure? Can you walk?”

“Jaskier. It is cold and I don't have a shirt. We will both freeze overnight.” Geralt growled.

“Fine, fine off we go to the camp with the dead monster, why not?” Jaskier said as he placed an arm around Geralt’s waist and let the Witcher lean his weight on him as the two made their way back to camp.

Jaskier had Geralt sit back against the tree that Roach was still tied to while he went and reignited the fire that had almost been put out during the fight.

Geralt tried to push away Roach when the horse started to nibble on his hair, patting her nose to comfort her.

The endrega was lying several feet ahead of him, cleaved clumsily in half, his steel sword embedded haphazardly in it's abdomen. Jaskier was quiet as he set about cleaning the campsite, giving the monster’s corpse a wide berth.

“Should we be worried of more of those things coming after us?”

Geralt grunted. “Endregas are solitary creatures.”

“Oh small comfort I guess. Anything else going to attack us while we sleep?”

“No.”

“You sound confident.”

“If something comes for us, I will stop it.”

“Geralt I know I say…used to say you could defeat monsters in your sleep, but I didn’t actually mean it.”

“I am not going to sleep. You sleep.” Geralt bit back, trying to cover the hurt from Jaskier’s correction.

Geralt could make out a vein in Jaskier’s forehead, which was new, and he knew the timing was awful, but he found it equally amusing and adorable.

Jaskier took a deep breath and exhaled it before sitting in front of Geralt. Geralt felt oddly cornered with no escape. Which actually wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“What was your plan?”

“Plan?”

“Plan for whatever you wanted to do without the girls around. And don’t insult my intelligence by saying us being left alone was not planned.” Jaskier said.

Geralt swallowed. The bard perpetually surprised him with his perceptiveness. He sighed.

“I told Yennefer to take Ciri it would be nice to have a couple nights for just us so we could have a chance to talk. So I could apologize.”

Jaskier groaned before mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘stupid Witchers with skulls thicker than the mountains they get thrown against’.

Jaskier sat up from his slump and sat closer to Geralt, making his heart beat tick up. So close, Geralt felt like he would burn from the intensity of the gaze that seemed to pierce right to his soul.

“Before you start apologizing, I want to say that you're an idiot.”

“Hmm.”

“And I kind of hate you right now.”

Geralt flinched internally but kept his face blank. “I understand.”

“No you don’t you self-loathing bastard. I regret the 22 years that I spent with you.”

Geralt bit the inside of his cheek. Was this how Jaskier had felt when Geralt had screamed at him on that mountain that accursed day? Like his heart was being ripped to shreds, and his world was becoming darker with each passing breath? How had the bard ever found it in him not to chase Geralt out of his life in that village? But Geralt heard the slight change in Jaskier’s heartbeat and held on to it like a life line.

“That's not tru-”

Jaskier cut him off. “Okay, that's a lie. But you've really hurt me, Geralt.”

Geralt had a feeling that the expression on Jaskier’s face was yet another that would haunt him in his nightmares, in addition to his face on the dragon mountain and that stupid doppler that stole Jaskier’s visage.

Geralt weighed his words carefully before speaking. He was walking on a tightrope and he had this sharp feeling in his gut that if he messed up this conversation, he would never get his bard back. “I... I know. I'm sorry. You... You didn't deserve any of it.”

“Keep going.”

“You've always been good to me... You're the reason people don't hate me anymore... You were by my side when nobody else was.” Geralt verbalized slowly.

“Glad you finally noticed that, but it doesn't really sound like an apology.”

Geralt clenched his fist. Jaskier was making this unnecessarily difficult. But this was a problem that could only be solved with words not steel or silver or grunts and looming appearances.

Closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see Jaskier’s face, Geralt inhaled deeply and laid his heart out for him.

“I'm sorry I didn't appreciate it. I was a fool. Now I get it. You were always kind, thoughtful, loyal. All you wanted in return was to go on adventures and find inspiration for your songs. I should have respected that. But all I did was treat you as a nuisance and a bother. When you might be the only true friend I have had who chose to be my friend out of his own free will and not because you had a duty to put up with me or were tied to my by something.” Geralt finished, gasping. His hands were so tightly clenched he could feel his nails making crescent indentations into the rough skin of his palm.

Jaskier stayed quiet in front of him. When he pried his eyes open, and hesitantly looked up, the bard was sitting in front of him with a stunned expression and a gaping mouth.

“Jaskier?”

No response.

Geralt tentatively released one hand and barely brushed it on Jaskier’s hand before the bard seemed to crash back into reality.

Geralt and Jaskier froze, hardly daring to breathe. The millimeter of skin Geralt had pressed against the bard felt as though it was on fire.

Jaskier finally gasped out a soft “Oh, you idiot.”

Geralt hardly got the words “What did I say-” before the bard was crashing into him. Geralt tensed up for a minute before feeling all his stress melt away in the bard’s arms. He wrapped both arms around Jaskier and pressed the bard in close, burying his nose into soft brown hair that smelled of sweat and faintly, lavender. In his current position, Jaskier was practically straddling Geralt, his body a line of heat that warmed Geralt to his core.

Jaskier sobbed into his ear “You idiot. Geralt... I... Yes, I wanted those things, but it wasn't what mattered. I... All I ever wanted was you.”

Geralt felt a lump in throat, his heart matching the wild thumping of Jaskier’s own. Today had started off as a nightmare where he had been sure he was going to loose the bard, and now Jaskier was telling him, what? That he…cared for Geralt?

Geralt whispered, scared that if he said the words any louder this moment would break, or worse he would find out it had all been an illusion “All these years... Don't take this the wrong way, but I thought that this was... I thought that once you satisfied yourself, got all the songs and stories you needed out of me, I mean-” Geralt grunted tightening his arms around Jaskier’s waist as he mulled on what to say. “I thought you will get bored with me eventually. I didn't think that you'd… that you might have feelings for me. Beyond friendship. Or companionship. And it is fine if that is all you feel for me Jaskier. I just want to travel with you again. I… I have missed you far too much.” He confessed, his secret out now, no longer weighing him or eating at him.

Jaskier stayed quiet once again, and Geralt feared he had once again said the wrong thing. He loosened his arms even as every muscle in his body was screaming at him to hold on and never let go. Jaskier smelled of confusion, and underlying it was his personal scent of honey and sunshine.

Geralt was so focused on his own thoughts he nearly missed Jaskier’s faint voice

“Feelings? For... How long?”

Geralt tried to suppress the hope blooming in his chest at Jaskier’s own hopeful words, no disgust or rejection in them.

Shrugging, Geralt said “Give or take five to six years.”

Jaskier jaw opened and closed a few times as he lip synched Geralt’s admission before unexpectedly punching him in the arm with the injury.

Geralt groaned. “What was that for?

“Shit sorry. But seriously? Five to six YEARS? You unbelievable idiot, Geralt why the hell would you not tell me?”

Geralt shrugged again, barely not wincing as the movement jostled his injured shoulder.

“You- oh, oh you just-” Jaskier sputtered, slapping his own forehead before pinching his nose. “Ok listen to me you thick-skulled buffoon. I am in love with you. 1000% gone on you. Pining after you so bad the whole continent could see it.”

Now it was Geralt’s turn to gape. He let out a strangled “What?”

Jaskier’s shoulders slumped. “Geralt, we are not made for monogamy. I know that. We have had far too many paramours to pretend otherwise. But do you know why Yennefer was always the one that got under my skin?” At Geralt’s silence, Jaskier continued “She was the one who had a chance. God Geralt, look at her. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life, she is terrifying and powerful, and knows what she wants. She is as immortal as you.” Jaskier’s voice was frail for his next declaration. “How could a mere bard stand up to all that?

Jaskier’s head dropped, and he wrung his hands until Geralt covered them with one of his, the other cupping Jaskier’s jaw and setting his every nerve on fire.

“How long?”

Jaskier whispered “From the moment I met you.” Geralt spied a few tears gathering in Jaskier’s eyes. “Gods. I can't believe it. So much wasted time…”

“Guess we're both idiot.” Geralt offered before pulling Jaskier in closer until they could feel the other’s breath on each other’s faces. “Can I kiss you?”

Jaskier’s breath hitched before he nodded. Unable to wait another second, Geralt closed the gap between them.

It was a simple kiss, just a press of rough lips against dry ones, but both men felt a joy foreign to them flood them and threaten to drown them. They broke to merely gulp a breath before diving into a second kiss that was far more passionate.

As both men fell back against the tree, uncaring of the rough bark, Roach snorted something that had they been paying attention could almost have been interpreted as “Fucking finally.”

[kiddoryder]

Kidnapping an Angel

Blitz and Sophie McNight and Ryan O’Grady belong to @loli-momo1908

 Inside of Hell, there was a demon who have pale green skin, reddish brown hair, red eyes with iris, wearing dark green coat with slightly pale pine green pants and a shirt under his coat and having a tail with spikes and an axe blade on the end of his tail. He was known as Ryan O’Grady aka the Evil Eye Killer. He  was the one who murdered Blitz and Sophie’s parents 4 years ago. Right now he was at an abandoned factory trying to think of a plan to get revenge on his arch enemy’s son.

 Ryan – “There’s gotta be something or somebody that I can use! I could use his baby sister…But that’s too obvious. Besides, what’s so bad about saving the best for last? Hmm...”

Ryan began to past back and forth until he stepped on a piece of paper. He picked it up and saw that it was an old newspaper clipping of the Happy Hotel.

Ryan – “I know this…I seen it on the TV with that stupid bitch of a Princess advertise.”

Ryan looks at the back of the paper and saw a phone number and it was Angel Dust’s phone number. At first, Ryan looked disgusted but then remembered who he is.

Ryan – “I see that drag queen bastard with Blitz before…*realized something* I got an idea! *laughs*

()()()()()()()()()()()

Right now at the Hotel, everybody was just relaxing and doing their own thing. Then a letter slipped under the door and Charlie’s youngest cousin Sonya noticed it and picked it up. Sonya saw that it said, “To Blitz” and said:

Sonya – “Blitz you got a letter.”

Blitz – “Really? Let me see.”

Blitz took the letter and opened it. The note said:

“Hey kid. It’s been four years since we last seen each other with your parents that night ain’t it? Guess what? I’m going to take away the most treasured person you loved most. I’ll be so looking forward on seeing you watch helplessly as I tortured your loved one then, I’ll be killing you…See you soon kid.

Signed

The Evil Eye Killer

Blitz’s eyes widen in horror and had a frozen look on his face. Even his hands were shaking in fear. This makes Charlie and the others look at Blitz in concern.

Charlie - *concern* “Blitz, are you okay?”

Angel –“Yeah it looks like you saw something horrible.”

Blitz even began to pant a bit before he ran off saying “Sophie!” making Charlie and the others shock.

Charlie – “Wait Blitz! What’s wrong?”

Blitz - *stopped and turn to Charlie and the others* “I have to keep her safe! That monster is coming to get her!”

Vaggie - *confused* “What? What are you talking about?”

Blitz – “Look, I can’t talk right now! I gotta get  Sophie and be sure HE doesn’t kidnap her!”

Blitz ran upstairs and quickly opened the door to his sister’s room. Luckily for him, he saw that Sophie was napping in her bed much to Blitz’s relief. He pulled up a chair and sat by her side. Charlie and the others witness this and feel confused and concern for Blitz.

Angel – “Well that was weird.”

Then Angel felt  vibrating noise and check his phone and it said: “Hey Hot-stuff! I wanna have a fun time with you today. Meet me at 325 Devil Street. Don’t be late!”

Angel – “Oh look like work is calling me. Be right back!”

           Before anybody can protest, Angel already left the hotel. However what he didn’t know is that a shadow of a certain serial killer was watching over Angel and grinned evilly with his wicked plan had already began. Angel made it to 325 Devil Street and looked for whoever texted him for his “services”. 5 minutes had past, and Angel decided to get some drugs at the vending machine since he was getting bored. When his usual cocaine bag came out there was also a note next to the bag of cocaine.

Angel - *confused* “Huh? What the?”

Angel took the note in one hand, and the drug in his other hands. He opened the note and he read it:

Angel - *reading it* “Since you are the one, he loves, you will die tonight. *confused*  What the hell do that even means?”            

           Just then, all of a sudden, one arm held Angel from behind as the other hand with a handkerchief containing a knock out drug covered Angel’s mouth. Angel tried to struggle free but with the drug began to take effect, Angel began to woozy and was knocked unconscious by the drug and fell limp in the arms of arms of Ryan O’Grady! Ryan grinned evilly as he got his victim and he slunged Angel over his shoulder to carry him away for his plan.

Ryan - *laughs evilly* “Phase 1 complete. Now phase 2.”

()()()()()()()()()()

           Angel was starting to wake up but still a little woozy. But he noticed that he was in some abandon factory and was actually tied to a pole. He tried to speak but it just turned out muffled and saw in a puddle that there was duct tape on his mouth. Angel was then greeted by a punch in the face by Ryan. Angel’s eyes widen in shock on who kidnapped him, and the murderer Blitz was talking about.

Ryan – “Well looks who is awake. By the look on your face I can your so call ‘lover” have already told you about me, like how I murdered his and his dear sister parents? Well guess what? I love every second of doing it!”

Angel had an angry and horrified look in his eyes. He can see how evil and sick Ryan can be and see he’s not the type of guy to be messing with.

Ryan – “You wonder why I kidnapped you? Well you see, I thought kidnapping his baby sister was a bit too obvious and too easy. So I figured why not kidnapped the person he’s in love with? The answer was you because it was pretty obvious on how you two are close. Which is disgusting. Kidnapping and killing you will be fun but seeing the look on Blitz’s face seeing your dead body and too depressed to even live will be even more fun.”

Angel had an angry look on his face but then muffled shouted in pain when Ryan gave him a hard punch in the stomach.

Ryan - *threating*  “And I suggested that you stay tied and don’t move and be the good little slut puppy you are, or else things will end up deadly! And word of advice, don’t leave your phone number at random places.”

Angel eyes widen: Ryan was the one who sent him that text and the one who knocked him out. When Ryan left, Angel looked around and tried to find anything that can help him escape or send a message to Blitz for help. Luckily for him, he happened to find a sharp piece of glass that wasn’t that far away from him. Thanks to his long legs, Angel managed to step on the glass and bring it closer to him. He uses his foot to flip the glass in the air, and he caught it with one of his hands. He began to use the glass to cut the rope and then he was free and even remove the duct tape from his mouth. Angel saw the doors and began to run toward it, but then he was shot on the back and he fell on the ground with a burnt mark on his back. He looked and saw Ryan with his gun.

Ryan – “Tsk tsk. You just had to follow just one simple rule. Too bad that I would have to end you now.”

Angel - *wincing as he was getting up* “I like to see you try motherfucker! How about we fight mano y mano?”

Ryan – “Wow. That’s coming big from Blitz’s boyfriend. But I supposed beating you down will be even more fun.”

Angel growled and ran to punched Ryan, but Ryan grabbed Angel’s wrist and simply threw him on the ground. Angel got up and tried again but this time, Ryan gave him a hard punch in the face that made Angel go against a crate of boxes. Angel stood up and looked angrily at Ryan who was doing a smirk at him.

Angel – “You called that a punch? My father punched harder than that!”

Ryan - *laughs and rubbing his knuckles* “You should’ve just cooperated with my plan tried to escape or stupidly tried to fight me, you wouldn’t be in a physical mess. I know that pathetic rat with wings love you deep down and it’s a shame he wouldn’t have a chance to tell you that, when I’m through with him, then you, and then, his baby sister who is weak and pathetic like her brother.”

Angel - *angrily* “Why you bastard!”

           Angel ran and actually managed to punch Ryan in the face which did knocked him down a little. Ryan was shocked because only strong demons like Blitz, can actually land a punch on him. No demon like Angel ever had the strength to actually physically harm Ryan.

Angel – “You’re just jealous because Blitz is more of a man then you will ever be! You may lie to yourself that you are better than Blitz, or Sophie or even their parents. But I know the truth about you: the truth about you is that you are nothing but a fucking coward!”

Ryan - *glaring angrily as he got up* “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

           Ryan ran toward at Angel and slapped him hard on the right side of his face, which made him fall on the ground. Then Ryan kicked Angel on the stomach hard as he watched Angel rolled over towards another crate of boxes. Then he walked over and knelt down as he roughly placed his hand on Angel’s head to keep him pinned down while apprehending his four arms. Angel was wincing in pain even when Ryan was digging his nails into Angel’s skin, but he didn’t want Ryan to hear it, so he stopped.

Ryan – “You don’t know anything about me or what their father did to me, when I was alive years ago….And once your precious hero comes to the rescue, I’ll be making you watch as I slaughter the fucking life out of him! *grins evilly* and then, after that, I’d be happy to have you join him in a merciless death.”

Angel – “The real tortured is that a coward will be the one who will kill me! The most fun I’ll have is watching Blitz beating the living crap of you cause that what you are too! A piece of crap!”

Ryan – “I wouldn’t get too cocky, you little shit!”

He lifted Angel up by the bow tie, and threw him across the factory, seeing him crashed yet again into another crate of boxes that shattered into pieces. Ryan walked toward him.

Ryan – “Tell me, if I were a coward, how come that little runt with wings ran away from me with his sister 4 years ago? Ohh, that’s right. He’s been hiding like a sick scared bitch all this time after he saw me put an end on his dear parents. Does that make him a “man” by cowering in the shadows all this time? He’s a poor weakling sap, just like you are.”

Angel weakly got up and wince in pain and saw that his first left arm was broken. He was in a lot of pain and beside the broken arm, Angel can feel and see he got a lot of cuts and bruises on him. Even his clothes, bow tie, and gloves had some holes and torn apart. However, despite being in pain, Angel refuses to give up and let Ryan talk bad or hurt Blitz.

Angel – “You shut up about him! You’re a hypocrite too! If you are so tough, then why aren’t you fighting him now? Ohh, that’s right, you are basically using me as a shield! Plus killing his parents four years ago prove that you are a poor weakling sap because you were too afraid to fight back! At least Blitz is a braver guy then you are!”

Ryan was getting angry again that he was being mocked and talked back to by a demon like Angel Dust. He could have killed him quickly with gun like he originally planned, but then thought: why not beat Angel into a bloody pulp? It would be much for fun and seeing Blitz’s reaction, Blitz would be too depressed to even fight back and easier for Ryan to kill him. Then Ryan kicked Angel on the stomach, which made him fell on the ground again.

Ryan – “You’re an arrogant fool. No wonder why your daddy never loved you at all. At any time when the son of my arch enemy arrives to the rescue, it’ll be the last time you’ll be seeing him alive. Why don’t we have more fun huh? Let even make this fight a challenge.”

Ryan then puts a blindfold and muzzled on Angel and continued to beat him up. But Angel continued to fight back despite being in horrible pain. He doesn’t want to let Blitz down.

()()()()()()()()()()()

           Back at the hotel, Blitz, Charlie, Vaggie and Sonya was getting ready to protect Sophie. Blitz and Charlie got their powers ready, Vaggie got her knifes, and Sonya got out her spell books.

Charlie – “Ok so Vaggie got the weapons out, Me and you got our powers, and Sonya got her books ready for the most powerful spells she knows.”

Sonya – “I even got the big guns ready!”

Sonya pointed to Liz in shadow form who did a slasher smile.

Vaggie – “So, in case that bastard even dares to take one step into the hotel, we’ll be ready for him.”

Blitz – “Thank you guys so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.”

Charlie – “Well of course Blitz we are your friends. We will do anything to protect you.”

Sophie – “Big Brother, what’s going on?”

They turned around and saw Sophie who awoken from her nap. She was holding her stuffed dog in one  hand and rubbing her eyes with the other hand. Wanting to tell his baby sister the truth, Blitz kneeled down to Sophie’s height level and said:

Blitz – “Sophie listen to me, there’s a monster out there and he’s planning to take you away from me. But don’t worry, me, Charlie and the others are going to keep you safe at all cost. We won’t let anything happen to you. We promise.”

Sophie – “Oh thank you Blitz!”

Sophie hugged Blitz knowing that her big brother and their friends will protect her. However, Sonya noticed another letter slipped through the door. Sonya picked it up and it had Blitz’s name on it.

Sonya – “Blitz you got another letter.”

Blitz – “What? Another one?”

Blitz took the letter from Sonya and began to read it:

“Hey there kid. Guess what? I’ve just caught the one you truly love, and it isn’t your sister. If you want to see your dear friend alive, meet me at the abandon factory at 652 Vile Street You better show up alone or else he dies, and you will be next. See you then.”

Signed

The Evil Eye Killer

           At first, Blitz had a confused look on his face.

Blitz - *confused* “Truly love? What the hell is he-“

Blitz eyes began to widen in shock and horror. He realized who Ryan was referring to.

Blitz – “Oh God no…”

Vaggie - *concerned* “What? What does it say?”

Blitz – ‘….That son of a bitch kidnapped Angel!”

All – “WHAT?!”

Vaggie – “As much as I get annoyed by that slutty asshole Angel, even I would never want anything bad like this happened to him.”

Sophie – *worried and sad* “What are we going to do?”

Charlie – *worried* “How are we going to get him back!?”

Blitz looked at the letter as he soon thought with his eyes closed for a moment. As dangerous and risky it’s going to be, he won’t stand by and let Ryan kill the one person he truly loves that isn’t his sister. He stared at his friends with a serious glare on his face.

Blitz – *seriously* “The letter said I have to go alone, then that’s what I have to do for Angel.”  

Charlie - *worried* “Blitz are you sure? I mean we go with you to save Angel.”

Sonya – “You heard what the letter said cousin Charlie we can’t! If we do, he will kill Angel and Blitz.”

Blitz – “Sonya is right Charlie, if any of you follow me, Ryan will kill Angel. And I can’t risk that. Stay and watch over Sophie for me.”

Blitz began to walk off towards the door. Then Sophie said with a sad and worried look on her face.

Sophie – “You will come back with Angel…right?”

Blitz halted before he looked back at Sophie with an assuring smile on his face.

Blitz – “Don’t worry kiddo. We will be back in one piece, I promise.”

Blitz gave his baby sister a hug and then he exists the hotel. He took a few steps and opened his wings and flew off to meet with his arch enemy at the abandon factory to rescue Angel Dust.

()()()()()()()()()

           At the abandon factory, Angel Dust was now on the ground in terrible pain. He had more cuts, and bruises on his body. Sadly, he wasn’t strong enough to fight Ryan and it was tough to see with the blindfold and muzzle on him. Angel did try to sit up but was punched in the face by Ryan again.

Ryan - *glaring at him with arms crossed* “Did I tell you to get back, up bitch? Honestly, if you hadn’t tried to fight me or escape the moment you woke up, I wouldn’t have hurt you. Although, you do have the guts to keep on fighting me and get a few hits here and there. So I can respect that.”

           Angel weakly got up and ran toward him despite being blindfolded. Ryan simply grabbed his face and slammed him down on the  ground hard.

Ryan – “Unless you want me to kill you now, ya better stop fighting your worthless piece of crap!”

           Angel just mumbled a “fuck you!” which made Ryan angry and he slammed Angel’s head on the ground three times hard. Then he took out the gun in his pocket and aimed it at Angel’s head.

Ryan - *sighs* “No matter anyways, caused whether your precious “boyfriend” comes for you or not, I can’t wait to see the looks on his pitiful face, when he sees you lying dead. Then, I’ll have him join you shortly.”

Angel tried to fight back but was too much in pain. Even with the blindfold, he felt like he was going to pass out. Before Ryan can pulled the trigger, there was a loud crashed into the factory. Blitz had burst through the window.

Ryan - *shocked* “What?!”

Blitz flew forward with amazing speed with his fist reeled back as it flared in a blue magical glow and then, slammed a powerful punch at the serial killer’s face that sent him flying and crashed onto a couple of crate boxes, saving Angel just in time. Blitz landed carefully on his feet and his eyes widen and gasps in horror seeing Angel badly hurt, muzzled, and blindfolded. Blitz took off the muzzle and blindfold and Angel’s eyes were closed and wasn’t moving. At all. Blitz knelt down and carefully lifted Angel’s into his arms. Blitz didn’t even care that Angel’s blood was staining his arms and shirt.

Blitz - *worried and concerned* “Angel? Angel are you alright?! Answer me!”

But not one sound was coming out Angel’s mouth. Not even a moan. This made Blitz even more worried and tried to wake Angel up by gently patting his cheek. But no sound out of Angel. Then blitz began to shake Angel to get him to wake up.

Blitz – “Come on Angel, wake up! Angel look at me please!”

           Blitz stopped shaking Angel awake seeing that it wasn’t working. Blitz began panting but he tried to keep himself calm. However, some tears are starting to form in his eyes as he held Angel in his arms.

Blitz – “Don’t you dare die on me, you fucking slut! Do you hear me!? *panting* Come on man. You gotta wake up…I’ll never forgive myself if I lose you man…You may be a pain the ass at times, but I…I really need you in my life in Hell, okay? I’ll even miss you calling me…*he bites his lips for a second before he took a deep breath and said something he hates* “Blitzy-Que”…Please….Just don’t die on me.”

Blitz held Angel’s body closer to him as he rested his head on Angel’s shoulder carefully. He let a few tears drop on the ground and on Angel’s shoulder. Then he heard coughing and weak laughter.

Angel - *weakly* “Heh…I knew…You love…That nickname…Blitz Que…*coughs*”

           Blitz opened his eyes wide and looked to see Angel was awake with his eyes half closed and was weakly smiling. Tears of joy fell on Blitz’s face.

Blitz - *ecstatic* “Angel!? Oh, thank God that you’re alive!!”

           Blitz carefully hugged Angel due to the many injuries he has. Angel use his second pair of arms to weakly hug Blitz back.

“How Sentimental….”

           After hearing that voice, Blitz and Angel turned and saw Ryan coming out from the pile of shattered crate boxes. He had blood coming from the right side of his lip when he was punched and drew his gun out, pointing at both of them.

Ryan – “To bad I gotta put an end of this and you both.”

           Ryan began to shoot his gun at the boys. Blitz carried Angel in his arms and began to fly while avoiding the bullets from Ryan’s guns. He was trying to figure out a way to get away from the psychopathic killer and get to safety with Angel.

Angel – Blitz I…Can’t believe….You would…Save my ass…*coughs*

Blitz – “Hey, I always come and get you out of trouble.”

           Blitz then noticed a weak of the support beam of the building. This gave Blitz an idea.

Blitz – “Hang on!”

           With speed of flight, Blitz made his right foot flared in blue magical glow and twirled around fast and deliverers a powerful kick at the support beam’s weak point. The magical powerful kick caused the beam to break in half and causing the abandoned factory to start collapsing. Blitz managed to fly out of there with Angel in his arms but as for Ryan, he tried to find his way out and escape until the top of the building collapsed and started to fall towards.

Ryan - *eyes widen* “OH SHIT!”

           Outside of the abandon factory, Blitz flew out of its distance with Angel in his arms. They both saw the abandon factory with collapsed with Ryan still inside. Blitz sigh in relief that he managed to recuse Angel.

Angel - *weakly* “Mmm…Thank you…Blitzy Que.”

           Angel then passed out from the pain and injuries he has. His body felt limp in Blitz’s hands much to his concerned.

Blitz – “Aw shit...Hang on Angel, you’re going to help right now!”

           Blitz began to fly in the sky fast to get to the hospital for Angel to get recovered. Less than 10 minutes, he saw Hell’s Hospital and quickly flew down and kicked the front door opened ran toward the front the front desk carrying an unconscious Angel Dust in his arms. He told the front desk who was looking uninterested and painting her nails.

Blitz – “Where’s the doctor!? I need them now!”

Front Desk Clerk - *bored* “Look you can’t just come in here and demand something! I’m busy doing my nails and-“

Blitz - *grabbed her by the shirt* “I don’t give a shit about your nails! He’s badly hurt, and you better get the doctor or else I’m killing everybody in this crap hole!”

Clerk - *scared* “Y-Yes sir!”

The clerk pressed a button and a doctor came out. First, he only saw Blitz and looked annoyed.

Doctor – “Clerk you know I only take in worthy demons-“

However Blitz turned around, and the doctor saw he has an injured and unconscious Angel in his arms. The doctor gasps in shock.

Doctor – “Hey that’s the mobster and porn star Angel Dust!”

Blitz – “Yes! He’s badly hurt! Help him now!”

Doctor – “Alright! You’re lucky Angel is an important figure in Hell. I only help those that I think they are worthy.”

           The doctor pressed a button on the wall and two nurses came out with a stretcher. Blitz gently put Angel down and they began to wheel him. Angel weakly opened his eyes halfway and the doctor put an oxygen mask on face. Angel closed his eyes again, and opened them seeing that he was still on the stretcher but saw that Blitz was there holding his hand saying:

Blitz - *tears coming down his face* “Angel…You’re going to be okay...You better not die! You hear me!”

Angel – “Mmm…Blitzy…”

           Angel lost consciousness again and it made Blitz more worried. Then Blitz stopped when one of the doctors block his way and the rest of them kept wheeled Angel into the hall.

Blitz – “Get out of my way! I need him!”

Doctor 2 – “Sorry but rules are rules. Beside they are wheeling him to the operation room.”

Blitz - *shocked* “Operation room?”

Doctor 2 – ��Have you seen the injuries he has? He will need surgery, so he won’t die. Again. We will make sure to keep you in tact on what is happening.”

Blitz - *sighs* “Fine…”

Blitz went to the waiting room area and sat down one of the chairs. He saw the phone and wanted to call Charlie to let her know where is and Angel’s current condition. Before he began to dial, he saw one of the doctors holding Angel’s clothes and was about to throw it out in a trash can. Blitz quickly pinned the doctor to the wall.

Blitz - *mad* “What do you think you are doing?”

Doctor 3 - *scared* “Oh u-um we usually throw patients clothes either before or after surgery. Or if we just feel like it.”

Blitz – “Those are Angel’s clothes and don’t belong there! Give me his clothes.”

Doctor 3 - *scared* “B-but-“

Blitz - *threatingly* “I said give me. The. Clothes. Now!”

The doctor did what he was told and gave Angel’s clothes to Blitz and left to the surgery room. Blitz sat back down and sadly looked at Angel’s clothes. It was torn, had holes and stained with Angel’s blood. Not wanting to think of Angel not surviving the operation, he picked the phone to call the hotel.

()()()()()()()()()()()

           At the hotel, Charlie and the others were worried about Blitz and Angel’s since half an hour had passed. Then the phone began to ring, and Charlie quickly picked it up.

Charlie – “Hello Blitz? You found him! He’s what…Oh no…We will be right there! *hangs up* Guys we gotta go to the hospital now!”

Vaggie – “Why, what happened!?’

Sophie – “Did Blitz get Angel back?”

Sonya – “Are they both okay?”

Charlie – “Blitz is okay, but Angel is badly hurt!”

Vaggie - *shocked* “What!? We gotta go to the hospital now!””

           And so, Charlie and the girls exist the hotel as they ran into the limo, gotten inside of it, and then they drove off straight to the hospital. Then they made it at the hospital and saw Blitz in the waiting room era looking scared and sad at the same time.

Charlie – “Blitz! Where’s Angel Dust? Is he ok?”

Blitz - *sighs* “The doctor said that they’re taking care of his injuries now in the operation room, but…I just hope he’s okay…*placed his hands on his head, lowered his head and growl in frustration* UGH!! Damn it! Why….Why is this happening?! I should’ve come sooner and stop that bastard from hurting him….This is all my fault….”

The girls felt bad for Blitz seeing him so upset. Vaggie sat down next to him and:

Vaggie – “Hey, hey, listen to me Blitz, none of this is your fault. It’s that Evil Eye Killer’s fault. He was the one who planned this.”

Sonya – “Yeah I mean he’s the one who hurt Angel, not you.”

Charlie – “Even though Angel did come out hurt, you still managed to save him and that what matters.”

Sophie – “Yeah Blitz you are a hero!”

Blitz lifted his head up to the girls smiling after realizing that they are right.

Blitz – “Thank you guys...”

           Just then an hour or two later, one of the doctors came over to blitz and his friends to the waiting room area. He told them the good news about Angel is going to be okay and survived the surgery. The doctors managed to stop all the bleeding and use some medicines (even some drugs) to help him heal. However, Angel was still unconscious, and Blitz and the others decided to stay in his hospital room until he woke up

()()()()()()()()()

“Look…He’s awaking up!”

“Oh thank God he’s okay!”

“He’s…still alive!”

           Angel’s eyes slowly opened and the ringing he was hearing stop. His vision was blurry, so he blinks a few times to clear his vision. He saw that he was in the hospital room, in a hospital bed, bandaged up and wearing a cast for his broken arm. He even had two IV bags: one was medicine and the other was pink blood mix with cocaine for him. Angel saw Charlie, and the girls in his hospital room but Blitz wasn’t there.

Charlie - *gently* “Hey Angel, how are you feeling?”

Angel – “Tired but getting better. Where is-“

That’s when Blitz opened the door and saw Blitz with a can of soda in his hands. Blitz looked up to see Angel awake.

Blitz – “Angel you’re awake!”

Angel – “Blitz!”

Angel stood up in his hospital bed as an attempt to walk to Blitz. However thanks to his injuries, it prevented him from doing so and just cause more pain.

Angel – *in pain* “Ow! Ow!”

Blitz – *concerned* “Whoa take it easy Angel! You just woke up.”

Blitz gently push Angel down on his hospital bed and covered him with the blanket more to keep him comfortable.

Angel - *rubbing his head* “How long was I out?”

Sonya – “For a few hours.”

Vaggie – “Angel you son a bitch. You have no idea how worried and scared we were about what happened to you. It even scared me.”

Angel – “Eh what can I say babe. I’m loveable.”

Sonya – “Yeah you can tell he’s back to old self again.”

Sophie walked up to Angel and tip toped to the bed’s level. She gave him a piece of paper with a cute drawing of herself, Charlie, Vaggie, Sonya, Blitz and Angel holding hands and it even said, “Get well, Angel”.

Sophie – “I made a get well drawing for you.”

Angel - *smiling* “Aw…Thanks Sophie it’s really cute.”

Sophie smiled and giggled a bit. Blitz walked over to Angel slowly and sat down on the chair next to the bed.

Blitz – “So…um…How your arm?”

Angel – “It’s okay. It mostly I would have to wear this cast for 6 weeks.”

Blitz – “Six weeks huh? *rubbed the back of his own neck* Well…at least you’ll be better by then. And you will be leaving the hospital in a few days.”

Angel – “Yeah…I mean this isn’t my first time in a hospital and had a broken arm. Then again…I never fought a bastard like Ryan. I managed to get a few punches here and there, but he was too strong. To be honest…I was scared that I was gonna die.”

Blitz- “Yeah, he really was strong and brutal from the looks from all the injures he gave you…But all that matters is you’re safe now and that bastard won’t come near you, my sister, or anybody else while I’m around and that’s a promise I’m willing to keep. Now I know there’s more than just Sophie that I need to look after and care about. I mean you guys are important to me and Sophie.”

Angel – “Aww thank you Blitzy-Que. *smirking* you know, it would have been cute if you dressed up as a nurse to take care of me. Then I would have called you Nurse Blitzy-Que!”

Blitz then had an angry/annoyed look on his face and his left eye twitched a bit at the “Nurse Blitzy-Que” comment. But he knew he had to keep his inner feeling of punching Angel in the head due to him being badly hurt.

Blitz – “Mmm…! You’re lucky you’re getting a long rest to recover because I would’ve hurt you right now.”

Angel – *chuckled* “But seriously thank you for saving me. I was honestly surprised that you would”

Blitz –*softly smirks* “And I’ll do it again if anything like that happens once more. Besides, I would never, ever leave you hanging like that.”

Angel - *smiles* “Thank you. Ummm…Do you mind staying with me until I get better?”

Blitz – “Of course I will. Besides, I trust Charlie and the others to take care of Sophie for a few days.”

Charlie – “We will take good care of her. And will visit you Angel.”

Angel smiled and did a yawn.

Angel – “I don’t know what kind of drugs they put in me, but it is making me tired.”

Blitz – “Blitz good, because resting is an important part of recovery.”

Vaggie – “Maybe we should leave these two alone. We will see you in the hotel in a few days.”

Sophie – “See you tomorrow!”

Sophie gave her brother a hug and left with the girls to go back home. Then Angel fell asleep while Blitz went to the bathroom. Blitz went back to the room and Angel was still asleep. Blitz slowly walked up to Angel and couldn’t believe the injures he got: his head was wrapped in gauze bandage since he has a concussion, his first left arm was broken and put in a cast, the rest of his arms and cut up and bruises so they were wrapped in bandages. Angel got a bandaged on his cheek, his chest and ribs were bruised so that was wrapped up as well, and his legs was cut up and bruised so it was also bandages up.

Blitz gently put his hand over’s Angel’s hand another hand on Angel’s cheek. He was being careful that he didn’t touch any of Angel’s injures and didn’t want to wake him up. It was hard to believe that a tough demon Angel, and badly hurt and now in the hospital to recover. Even some of the cuts was bad to the point that Angel needed stitches. Blitz held back the tears because the most important thing was Angel was alive and was safe.

Blitz – “Don’t worry Angel…I’ll make sure to keep you safe from that Evil Eye Bastard. That a promise I’m keeping for sure.”

Blitz make sure no one was looking especially in the hallway. He gently kissed Angel on the lips.

Blitz – *whispers* “Recover soon Angel.”

Blitz sat down on the chair and began to take a nap too and stood by Angel’s side as he requested. Now have a new mission: Protecting his new family from Ryan and making sure he keeps his promise to protect them.