Ficlet - Blog Posts

Not Big Enough (ficlet)

Warnings: Afab! Reader, Dacryphilia, one-shot, 'imagine fucking Vox w his own dick', ramble/ficlet, Sub! Vox, Dommy Mommy, use of 'mommy', smut

In the words of @bigfatbimbo, the power struggle with this man is real. Your first Christmas as an actual couple, he gifted you a replica of his own dick to feed his own ego and to impress people he wants recognition from.

He whispered shit into your ear like 'Can't wait to fuck you tonight', almost like he knew he was gonna be squealing 'mommy' and ruining his voice box. And that's what happened.

He was sat on the bed, the mattress soaked with spit and lube, dick impossibly hard and waterfalling milky precum against his stomach as he cried and rocked his ass against the dildo. Against his own dick.

"Awwe, is it too small, baby?~" You cooed in a sickly sweet voice, which he sobbed at, gently holding the bottom of his screen, feeling his pink saliva and tears run down your hand. It never took much to beat him down, to destroy his ego until he was sobbing and whimpering like a child who lost their toy. He'd come at a touch of your fingers on his aching dick, which is why you kept your hands on his screen.

"Momm- mmnz- mommy, need- need you- hic.." He glitched and sobbed, rocking desperately on the dick he made for you, the dick that wasn't even good enough for him.

"Selfish slut. You expect me to help you get off? How am I meant to get pleasure from that when even you can't?" You asked harshly, a complete 180 from your previous sickly sweet tone, grasping his neck with a strong grip, hearing him gargle slightly before sobbing again. You were right, you always were.

"'M sorry, mommy, I- hnzz- I'll be better next- hic- time- please, please, mommy, please-" He sobbed out desperately, throwing his head back from the grip on his neck, scrunching your shirt tightly in his clawed hands, which had already clawed up the sheets. "It's not big- gghz- enough-"

He whispers airily, slowing his rocking as he pleads for you, pleads for you to let him cum.

"Well, you asked for it.." You mumbled, reaching your hand down and quickly beginning to jack him off, moving your fists up and down at a fast pace, eating up the wet Noises almost outruling his keening. This carried on for the rest of the night, until not only the lights shut off, but he did to..

. . • ° ° • . . • ° ° •. . • ° ° •. . • ° ° •. . • ° ° • . .

AHHHSNXJWKDNFNSISJ

Barnaby. B. Beagle Drabble

Platonic child!reader ≈` *

Requested by @pastel-pandoll

"Barnaby?"

"Yea, kid?" His heavy accent runs thick as he looks at the much smaller puppet from his spot on balancing on a ball.

"Why do you do what you do?" The small child puppet asks softly, looking down while kicking the felt grass which surrounded their shoes.

"Don't you get.. bored?" They asked in an even softer tone, almost like they were scared to hurt the large dogs feelings.

"'Course not, kid!" The large dog exclaims, jumping off the ball haphazardly, niether him nor the child puppet questioning and it just.. rolls down the hill. Out of sight, out of reach.

"Why d'ya ask?" He put his large, blue paws on his uncovered hips, his body easily towering over the smaller puppet.

"I guess I just can't imagine doing the same thing.. forever." The child reveals, solemly looking off as the sunshine covered ball rolls down the grassy hill. They lived in a practical paradise. An artificial one.

"Barnaby?"

"Yea, kid?"

"I'm bored."

saw this edit and thought of this prompt— enjoy!

Lily jumps into James’ arms. He stumbles at the impact but he’s able to stay on his feet as Lily buries her face into his neck. He grips her waist, hoisting her up, letting her legs dangle.

“You could’ve died, you idiot,”

“You would like that wouldn’t you, Evans?” he chuckles.

He sets her down when he feels her hold on him loosen.

She steps back from him and immediately punches his chest.

“How could you say that?”

His face falls when he sees that she was being serious. Soon, her nose scrunches up in a way only he knew. She began to cry.

“Evans?” he says, reaching out for her.

She pushes his hand away and takes another step back.

“No. No, I wouldn’t like it if you died, James!” she raises her voice, letting the tears start to fall before she’s sobbing. She covers her face with her hands and before long she feels the distant lingering of James’ hand hovering over her, unsure of what to do.

“I— Lily, I’m sorry, please don’t cry… I was only joking,”

She lifts her head from her hands, wiping the tears on her cheeks.

“Well, I’m not! It’s always fun and games with you! You don’t even realize what you could do to someone if something were to happen to you!”

“You’re not making sense, Lily”

“Do you think Sirius, Remus, and Peter are the only people who care about you? They’re not. I care about you, James…. So you can’t gamble your life away and die on me just to get a quick laugh— not now, not ever— not when I’m—!”

“When you’re what?” he asks gently

“Not when I’m this gone for you, you arsehole!”

James’ eyes widen.

“So— So you can’t just risk your life all willy-nilly like that because— because I love you too damn much to lose you before I can even get the chance to tell you just how much,”

Lily’s breathing is heavy, tears steadily streaming down her face as her chest heaves up and down slowly.

“You… love me?”

Lily could only let a slightly amused breath out, “Merlin, you are oblivious aren’t you?”

“You love me?”

“Yeah.” She answers nodding, “I do. So if— if you don’t have feelings for me anymore, well tough luck, Potter, because I don’t think this’ll be going away any time soon,” She says, bitter smile on her face.

“I never said I wanted it to go away,”

A beat.

“I don’t want it to go away.” James takes long strides to Lily, taking her tear-stricken face into his warm hands and kisses her.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against hers. “I’ve had feelings for you since 3rd year, Evans.” He leans away, bending down to meet Lily’s eyes. “What makes you think I ever stopped, huh?” He swipes her falling tears with his thumb.

At this, Lily smiles but the tears don’t stop. All she can do is walk in closer to him. She throws her hands around his torso, presses into him, and cries into his chest.

James hugs her, one hand on her head, the other on her back. Rubbing her back and leaving soft kisses on the crown of her head until she stopped shaking and her breathing evened out.

Unstoppable Force

Arcane - JayVik - Modern AU

The Innovators Competition and Conference was one of the only events that the Academy put on that Viktor not only was willing to attend but also wanted to. Most other events were designed for networking or were an excuse to party. While the Innovators Competition and Conference was both of these, it was also a show of genius, a chance to learn something new and behold the wonders of the great new minds. It was also one of the only events that allowed those of low income to compete; and show that brilliance was not a monetary trait but an innate one. It was also where he first met Jayce, a handsome boy whose talent and ambition had been fostered by the Kiramman family. The event held great memories and, despite being older now, he still looked forward to attending, now as a university professor and active biomedical engineer.

The conference was three days long. Full of early mornings and important scientific theses, so typically not many drank until the final day, when the official afterparty started with a supper in the evening. The party aspect of the conference hadn’t been part of the official event until recent years. Afterparties had become the norm when Viktor first entered the competition years ago, but drunk scientists had a way of wrecking the places where the parties were held. And as a way of preventing mild explosions from happening in unsafe environments, the competition created an official after party, safe from civilians and with a semblance of order. It was held in the large theatre of the science building, which had been decorated lightly to give the party a more relaxed feel than the rest of the conference had been. As always, the night started out relaxed, the food was delicious, served buffet style by the school’s culinary arts students, which Jayce was kind enough to help him with. Jayce knew him well enough to fill his plate for him, with barely a word between them about him doing so.

After eating, the food was cleared and the tables moved to the sides of the room.  The bar opened, and was immediately flooded with patrons. Viktor watched on, the music becoming livelier, though not over bearing, not yet, it was socializing hour. Viktor was not one for socializing typically, but these people understood him in a way that most people at social events did not. He found himself sticking mostly to Jayce, until he was whisked off to another conversation, to which Viktor would follow once he had finished his own. Jayce enjoyed people far more than Viktor did, who quickly found himself exhausted from speaking as well was walking from conversation to conversation, as well as dodging increasingly inebriated scientists.

Viktor took a seat at an empty table, facing the open floor. The music had picked up and speaking was in the process of becoming drunken dancing. While Viktor was a gifted man, dancing was not one of the gifts he had been granted. He stretched his leg out, twisting it slightly in an attempt to loosen the angry tendons. Looking around, Viktor found Jayce talking to a slightly younger man then themselves. He was handsome, his short light brown hair flowed back, styled to look effortlessly messy, with a five o’clock shadow lightly shading his face, accenting his cheekbones. He stood close to Jayce, smiling confidently. Viktor watched as he placed a hand on Jayce’s bicep, trailing a hand down to his elbow, and letting it drop from there. Jayce laughed at what the man had just finished saying, his face lighting up, the gap between his front teeth creating a youthful contrast to the lines of age that appear near his eyes when the smile on his face reaches them in genuine joy. Jayce says something back, and the man chuckles lightly, responding. What he said, Viktor could not hear, but he watched Jayce’s smile turn nervous, his eyes moving down slightly. Viktor knew that look.

Jayce, despite being handsome, still found himself awkward when receiving compliments on his physical appearance. When complimenting his work, or something he believed to be earned, he took it with grace and polite manners. But Jayce did not feel like he earned his good looks, and now with gray striping by his ears and his skin worn from time, he often found receiving admiration harder. Viktor loved complimenting Jayce; it made him blush in a way that not much else did.

The difference between Jayce blushing because of Viktor and the look he was currently giving the man in front of him, was the happiness in his eyes when Viktor spoke with admiration. It was all the reason Viktor needed to stand back up, ignoring the strain he felt as he did so, and walked over to his husband.

As Viktor approached, Jayce looked up, meeting his eyes. Jayce’s smile turned soft. When Viktor got close enough, Jayce reached out an arm and pulled Viktor to him by the waist, causing Viktor’s lips to pull into a soft smile as well.

“Hey,” Jayce greeted, as if he hadn’t seen Viktor less than ten minutes ago.

“Hey yourself,” Viktor responded lowly before turning to the stranger, “I’m Viktor, and you?”

The man met Viktor’s gaze, his eyes were dark and beautiful, “Oh, hello. I’m Lirron. It’s good to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Viktor nodded, turning to Jayce, “I did not mean to interrupt your conversation, what were you discussing?”

Jayce raised an eyebrow. He knew his husband well enough to know that Viktor did indeed mean to interrupt. The advantage you gain from being on the outskirts, is that no one thinks much of you, and you are free to observe their natural behaviour. Jayce knew this, he found out long ago that not much slipped past Viktor. So much so that he nearly ruined his own proposal, after interrogating Jayce to why he was acting weird and forcing him to propose right there. Jayce, at the time, had looked like a deer in the headlights before Viktor had begun near cackling with laughter.  Now, however, Jayce was thankful for his partner’s observance.

“We were just sharing stories of some of our business partners lack of understanding of basic sciences.” Jayce answered.

“Ah, yes.” Viktor looked back toward their conversationalist, who had taken a small step back. “The struggle of the capable versus the greedy.”

Their companion smiled and gave a small nod.

After a moment of silence, Jayce spoke, “You will have to excuse me, Lirron.”

“Of course, enjoy your night.” He replied

Viktor placed a hand on Jayce’s chest, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Lirron’s eyes flickered momentarily to Viktor’s hand, and down to Jayce’s on his waist. “Yes, you too.”

Viktor stayed tucked into Jayce’s arm as they made their way to the far side of the hall to an empty table away from the loud music coming from the speakers. Viktor sat down facing the room to continue watching the crowd socialize. Jayce pulled his chair to settle tightly to Viktor’s side. He almost definitely didn’t care to people watch.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Jayce said, leaning his arm on the table behind Viktor.

“You were uncomfortable, yes?” Viktor spoke towards the room, but lowly enough that only Jayce could hear him.

Jayce sighed, “I wouldn’t say I was uncomfortable.”

Viktor leveled a stare towards Jayce, “A man half your age was flirting with you. You wanted this to continue? By all means, return to your conversation.”

Jayce laughed, stealing a kiss, a peck on the lips, from Viktor, who rolled his eyes at Jayce’s smile.

“No, I’m about done here. Besides, I have somewhere to be.” A hand reached up between Viktor’s shoulder blades, warm and gently caressing the small bumps his vertebrae made underneath his skin.

“And where would that be?” Viktor hummed.

“At home,” Jayce kissed his shoulder, “with my husband. Whom I love very much.”

Viktor smiled, “I suppose I am ready to leave as well.”

Before Viktor could stand, Jayce was on his feet, offering his hand to Viktor, who took it. Jayce pulled Viktor up with more force than necessary, causing him to stumble lightly into Jayce’s chest. Meeting his eyes, Viktor couldn’t help smiling along side his grinning husband.

The walk to the car was slow, Viktor’s leg hurt from all the activities from the past few days, leaning on his cane more than he ought to be. He was sure Jayce’s leg was getting sore as well, though he refused to use a cane.

He had said it made him look old. Which had earned him an unpleasant look from Viktor, who was not only older than him, but had been using a cane for most of his life. Jayce had assured him that it looked good on him. That he ‘made it work’. Viktor thought perhaps Jayce was more worried about people not letting him help anymore. That, perhaps, others would view the cane as a sign that Jayce could not take care of himself or others. Which, for Jayce, would be losing a key part of himself. Jayce loved helping everyone. Those who needed it and those who didn’t, it was one of the countless traits Viktor loved about him. Everyone was the same to Jayce, he didn’t help because he believed someone incapable, he helped because it was kind. It made him, and others happy.

The night air was cold, has been for the past week, which hasn’t been doing Viktor any favours for pain management, but thankfully the car was close. The disabled staff parking was probably one of the only perks of being disabled.

The car ride home was quiet, the warmth of the car relaxing Viktor as he watched Jayce drive. His dark skin glowed with each pass of the street lights. Jayce had cleaned up for the party, his hair was pulled back at the sides showing the sliver hair that grew above his ears. His beard was trimmed short, showing a few of the small scars that were left by the accident that also broke his leg. He is beautiful.

Upon entering their house, there is an audible sigh of release from Jayce. It had been a long few days, as enjoyable as they were, but they were glad they were done. Removing his coat and scarf, Viktor sat on the bench they kept in the entryway to remove his shoes, once again marvelling in the beauty of his husband. His large arms gently pulling at the sleeves of his coat to remove it and hang it next to Viktor’s. He slipped his shoes off with no care for the fine leather, and kicked them haphazardly to the rug near the door. Viktor huffed a small laugh, at least they were out of the door way and would not be tripped on.

The noise caught Jayce’s attention, who motioned for Viktor to scoot over. As soon as he sat, his head fell back and his leg stretched out. He let out another sigh and sat quietly while Viktor gently removed his shoes and placed them neatly under the bench. Once he sat back, he found Jayce looking at him. Jayce gently placed a hand on the side of Viktor’s face and gave him a slow gentle kiss. When he pulled back, he placed his head on Viktor’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“There is a perfectly good bed upstairs.” Viktor spoke softly.

Jayce hummed in response though he made no move to get up. He simply rested on Viktor’s shoulder, basking in the silence. After a moment of studying Jayce’s eyelashes, Viktor leaned his head against his husbands and closed his own eyes. Resting gently in their quiet home.

have a little snippet of something I'm writing but can't seem to figure out

_____ JayTim_____

Jason had seen Tim in many different suits, and most of the time he couldn’t tell you the difference between one or the other, or why Tim had decided on that particular suit for that moment. He had once said that a suit and a tux were different and Jason had just walked away. This was all information that seemed to benefit Tim but to Jason, a hood rat to Red Hood, he really didn’t care. Whatever he was wearing, Tim looked good, suit, tux, whatever. The jacket, dress shirt, and trouser combo was as good as his everyday attire, despite it being as much of a costume as his vigilante wear.

However, Jason had not seen Tim in a crop top, short shorts, and fishnets before.

And he still looked good. Great even.

Tim was lean, muscular, due to the nature of their night time activities, but he never seemed to gain the size that Jason had. It made him nimble and sly in a fight, moves which apparently translated very well to the dance floor of a loud and crowded club.

Sweat glistened down Tim’s arms, causing the neon flashing lights to shine like body glitter, highlighting Tim’s sharp nose and high cheekbones. He moved freely, slick movements that had no forethought, and yet were so controlled Tim must have known where every molecule in his body was as they thrummed to the beat of an unintelligible bass line.

“Tim?” Jason hoped his voice cut through the pounding music, “What are you doing here?”

Tim raised his eyebrows, his lips curled into a sarcastic smirk. Jason rolled his eyes.

“You’re leaving.” Jason said, his lips so close to Tim’s ear they grazed the round slopes of his outer ear.

“No, I’m not.” Tim shouted back, pulling back to look Jason in the eye.

They were close. A bump from the crowd could push them together into a kiss if they were any less stable. Tim’s lips were so close, his breath fast on Jason’s mouth, a reminder of the lapse in judgment and restraint which caused Tim such anguish. Jason’s grip on his arm tightened and pull him into Jason’s warm chest.

“You look like a whore!” Jason felt the rasp of his throat more than he heard it, and hoped Tim took it for anger, though Jason knew that wasn’t its origin.

Tim whipped his head around, ripping his arm out of Jason’s grip, “Maybe I am a whore!” he screamed back. He turned back around and made his way deeper into the crowd, closer to the stage, and like a Robin in the night, he slipped away.

Food for Thought - JayTim - Batman

Jason just finished making pasta, a meal full of carbs and protein, with only enough sauce to make all the ingredients stick together, just the way Tim liked it. He wouldn’t eat it otherwise. He added some extra sauce to his bowl and left the kitchen.

“Any progress?” Jason asked, sitting next to Tim on the couch, mouth full of pasta and fork dripping with his properly sauced food.

Tim’s eyes flickered over, before almost immediately returning to the computer

Hook.

“The budget is almost illegible. It’s definitely on purpose but I don’t have proof of which shareholder is responsible for it.”

Tim has been chasing a shareholder through botched paperwork for a few weeks. It was a string of issues that they were not used to. Most situations they came up against could be dealt with through well-placed violence, but this was a game of cat and mouse. Which if it were an actual game, Tim might have enjoyed. But as it stands, he has a shareholder stealing money from the company and botching projects for insurance scams. The difficulty Tim was running into, the reason the investigation has been going on so long, has been because corporate scum bags fight in paper work and contracts. So, Tim has had to dig his way through red tape, new and old contracts, current budget meeting and previous budget meetings, all to match up numbers that claim to have been lost in the shuffle.

There have been a few of his ‘board of old men’, Tim’s words, that he had cleared. Each cleared shareholder lightened the load, but sniffing out one specific pompous asshole at Wayne Enterprises was taking its time; and a toll on Tim. He hasn’t been able to take time to patrol as Red Robin, and his team have had to manage a few cases without him at the helm because of the near quadrupled amount of paperwork he’s had his nose in lately. It was making him antsy, his mind had been busy, but Jason could feel Tim’s body aching to move. The way he shifted constantly lately, or got up just to walk around, the lessened patrols were definitely getting to him. When he had been able to go out, he wasn’t even working on investigations, and had taken to the role of simply beating assholes senseless.

But Tim wouldn’t let anyone help. His pride wouldn’t let him.

“So, no progress?” Jason said through another mouth full of sloppy, wet pasta.

“Not in this specific file yet,” Tim sighed, “but I was able to eliminate one more suspect today.”

Tim began chewing on his thumb nail, eyes still glued to his computer screen.

“Well,” Jason grunted as he stood up, “you have like, three extra jobs at WE now, so no one can blame you for it taking time.”

“I blame me,” Tim grumbled, “I have to wait for every new edition of every new contract and every new budget, and then having studied those, I have to wait for the board meeting, which I then spend most of that time trying to catch someone slipping, but these guys lie, cheat, and steal through their whole lives. It just feels like the progress is so slow its non-existent.” Tim pulled the laptop into his lap, slouched against the couch and scrolled through another page of gibberish on his computer that seemed to make sense to him.

“Of course it does. You’re climbing a wall of old man greed with bricks made out of million-dollar budgets and legal jargon.” Jason spoke up louder, so his voice could be heard from the kitchen.

He made his way back to the living room, taking a bite of pasta with not enough sauce, before sitting back down and staring intensely at the computer. Tim looked over at him as he entered.

Line.

“Wait.” Jason said, grabbing the computer off Tim’s lap, and putting the pasta where the laptop had been.

“What?” Tim said, leaning in. Jason held up his hand to pause Tim, and scanned the document on the computer.

“Nothing.” Jason said, looking over at Tim, then at the bowl, and back at Tim with a smile.

It was boring, and Jason had to reread every line twice for any of them to make sense. Beside him, Tim took a bite of too dry pasta.

Sinker.

Tim looked down at the bowl of pasta, made with just enough sauce for everything to stick together and extra parmesan cheese, just the way he liked it.

Tim’s glare meant nothing, as it was followed by an eye roll and a small smile. Jason closed the laptop, and Tim moved closer, another forkful of pasta in his mouth, once again reminded that, yes, he did need to eat.

"I didn't know!" - JayTim - Batman

"Hey," Jason spoke, "there's this new cafe that just opened up. On the corner of Smithe and Verance." He leaned against the heavy lining of the BatComputer, being entirely unhelpful.

Tim gave a noise of acknowledgement, busy logging information on recent arrivals of man power to the city. He's hoping there isn't a turf war about to start, and he'd be damned if he let it. Turf wars were notoriously bloody, the civilian casualties rose immensely, not to mention the culling of blood in the gangs. Insurrection within the gangs of Gotham followed immediately after, or even during, coups and mutinies were almost a guarantee. Everything in Gotham changed with a turf war.

It gummed up the morgue, the police station, and all the Bat's duties. It left other files open and investigations stalled. 

"Would you..." Jason paused, "We could meet for a coffee when you're free next."

"Ya,” Tim snorted, a small smile on his face “when I'm not running a company, running a super team, or running for my life."

Tim could feel Jason staring at him, but when he turned away from the monitor, Jason was already walking away, footsteps silent.

Weird.

Coffee, while a life fuel, was usually more utilitarian than an actual outing. Not that Tim got time for a lot of outings that didn’t arise from his duties. Maybe it would be nice to grab a coffee and sit down with Jay for a bit. Later though, he had to finish the logs.

Tim finally made his way to the comfort of his bed in the manor after hours of cross checking and flagging passports and IDs. He really tried to stay at the Nest as often as he could, but late nights made early morning bed times, and the convenience of the king bed and Egyptian cotton sheets above the bat cave was hard to pass up, especially when limbs were sore and heavy from prolonged usage.

Freshly showered, wearing a worn-out sweater, and sweatpants that weren't originally his, but he had laid claim to, Tim flopped down on his bed, pulling the large duvet over his head and mentally thanking Bruce for the black out curtains.

Trying to get to sleep was always hard, caffeine flowing through him and antsy energy to finish a case made him restless. Even after days and nights of office work and crime fighting, sometimes he still found himself running through his day while he hoped his body would fall victim to sleep. He would think over and rethink every Wayne Enterprise interaction, every client offer, all his decisions while on patrol, and if any of them were right.

Even his conversations with the Bats, was he too snippy with Dick? Did Batman agree with his analysis? What was Jay talking about?

‘When you’re free next’. Free from what? Like, when he’s not busy ? Did Jay need him for a mission? What if the coffee shop was a front? Surely Jason would have led with that. He wouldn’t want Tim to walk in there blind and he hadn’t specified if it was for recon. Maybe Tim should go check it out, if Jay had doubts about it, it would be nice to know if they were founded.

‘When you’re free next’

It didn’t sound urgent. If it was a mission, or time sensitive, surely Jason would have pushed. Or gone himself. How dangerous could a new small coffee shop be that Jay needed back up? Was it a front for something and Jay wanted to make sure no one encroached on his territory? No, Smithe and Verance were closer to the Diamond District, still outside the high class area, not too far from The Nest, but far out from Hood territory.

‘We could meet for a coffee when you’re free next.’

Tim mulled it over in his head, running every possibility, but no conclusion he came to felt right. Maybe he would just have to talk to Jason when he woke up, ask him all the questions he had.

As Tim was slipping gently into unconsciousness, a fleeting thought passed by, not a conscious thought, but one that just popped in, unbidden.

‘Sounds like how you’d ask someone on a date’

Tim’s eyes shot open.

It was the most plausible conclusion he could come to, and now that he thought it, it wasn’t going away. Tim sat up, grabbed for his phone, yanking the charger out, and called Jason before he could think of what he was doing.

Every ring felt like it lasted twice as long as it should have. Tim had gone to sleep before sun up, which meant more than likely Jason was still on patrol.

Did that mean he would take less time to pick up? Or more time? If he was in the middle of a fight, he probably wouldn’t answer. His private line should be routed to his communicator, forwarding calls to him while on patrol - phones never really lasted if they were brought on patrol – which means Jason should at least hear the ringing.

While Jason and the family were moving towards something akin to colleagues, Jason only answered the Bats when he knew he had a minute to spare; and a private call would not be seen as an emergency, if it were an emergency, they would contact him directly through his com.  Tim thought about moving to a com line to make Jason answer, but the com lines were as private as anything else when it came to the Bats. Which is to say not at all.

Just as Tim’s mind started to run faster, the click of a line opening drew his mind out of the potential spiral.

“What’s up, Babybird?” Jason’s voice sounding tinny through the phone line, his tone laden with lies.

 “I didn’t know!” Tim nearly shouted into the phone before he could think. He was met with a heavy silence.

“Are you in danger?” Jason’s voice got quieter and lower.

“What? No. I’m talking about earlier! The date! I didn’t realize what you were asking and I was so distracted and I hadn’t slept in far too long and I didn’t know!” By the end of his  frantic speech Tim’s voice had ended up whinier than he would ever have liked it to.

He was met with another bought of silence.

“Okay.” Jason replied

It was Tim’s turn to take a moment of silence, mourning his pride. “Okay.” Tim took a small breath, speaking softly, “I want to.”

“Okay.” A resolute sound, followed by silence.

“Okay?” Tim prompted, hoping for a small expansion of the idea.

“We can talk about it tomorrow. In person.” The tin of the Jason’s voice from the phone suddenly became far more evident, an echo chamber of lost privacy.

“Okay.”  Tim repeated, closed his eyes and flopped his head down on the pillow, wishing he could figure out anything more to say.

“Get some sleep, BabyBird.” Jason’s voice was soft, tinged with the sound of a small smile. Tim could see it in his head. It made him want to slap Jason.

The phone clicked off. The room sounded far too quiet now.

Tim opened his eyes, his hand holding his phone dropped to his side, bouncing slightly on the impeccably made bed. Where did the exhaustion of the day go?

Hermittober 2024

Day 2 Enchanting

Cub was anxious. He and Scar had escaped the confines of their home territory, but he still could  feel eyes watching him. He tried not to let Scar notice, as he had searched for the origin of the feeling and found nothing. He proceeded with his plan to gear up, as their small swords were no match for a player when it was just the two of them. 

“Cub?” Scar was tormenting a pig, poking it with his sword but not enough to kill it, just watching it squeal and run away.

Cub put down his scrap of leather and focused on his companion. “What is it, Scar?” 

“Do you think that there's some Eldritch beast out there, waiting for us to make a mistake, so that it can pounce on us and drag us back to the mansion where we belong?”

Cub was a little lost for words. Scar had some off-the-wall ideas, but was pretty perceptive. “I don't not think that,” he hedged.

“Will you tell them to leave us alone already?” Scar sounded glum. 

“If I could I would, my man. We're just going to have to wait and see for now.” Cub went back to his task, still on the lookout for any opportunity to evade the mysterious eyes on them.

/-/-/-/-/

It was dark out, and they were traveling through a swamp. Their natural glow kept the frogs from attempting to eat them, as they looked like the unappetizing fireflies native to the area.

Scar was speeding ahead as fast as his wings could take him when he entered a clearing.

There on a log in an unnatural purple light with fireflies surrounding it sat the Eldritch creature. It had a dark cloak, but its wings were visible stretching out behind. Many purple glowing eyes were open staring straight at him. It was fascinating, no, captivating! Scar was enchanted immediately. It was the prettiest, and scariest, thing he had seen his whole life. 

“It's you.” He said, breaking the strange silence.

“What do you want from us?” Cub already had his sword drawn, ready to protect them from the danger this spellbinding creature posed to them.

Scar joined him, hoping they wouldn't have to fight the otherworldly being. He was shaking with fear.

Hermitober 2024

I found the HC October prompts. I'm using this list from Twitter.

Day 1 Vex

Grian sat invisible among the dense foliage of the dark oak forest watching the hive of activity inside the woodland mansion. Some enterprising player was sneaking through the hallways taking out the axe wielding illagers.

An evoker had just summoned a hoard of vex to protect himself, but the player was quicker, taking down the magical man. The vex swarmed on the player, seeking revenge. Except not all of them did.

Grian continued to watch as two of the vex broke away from the fighting and ventured up and out of their mansion home. Intrigued, Grian followed.

“This is our chance, Scar. Before they notice.” One of the vex was coaxing the other into leaving.

“Wait up, Cub, I'm not as fast as you.” The one vex wasn't able to fly as fast, having one of his wings smaller than the other.

They made it to the edge of the dark forest, the sounds of battle horns and clashing swords long behind them. The two little vex sat on top of the tree right on the edge watching the sun fall below the horizon.

“How far do you think we’ll make it?”

“As far as we want Scar.” They shared a mischievous smile.

They seem interesting, much more so than the boring player. Grian decided that they were worth his time in watching.

I told you, this art is inspiring. Fic under the cut.

Hermitopia Cowboy AU

It was dusty and hot, but that didn't deter Grian as he arrived in the lawless town of Hermitopia. He grabbed his bag and got out of the train. He took in the wooden buildings, horses tied to hitching posts, and tumble weeds crossing the dirt roads.

“Great, you’ve arrived.” There was a haggard looking train attendant on the platform to greet him. “Next train is tomorrow. Here are the keys to the office, the station and your room above the station. Good luck.” The man grabbed his own luggage from the platform and got on the train Grian had just departed.

“Wait, aren't you supposed to show me the ropes.” Grian tried to grab the other man before he got on the train, but the man yanked his arm away. He wasn't expecting to get thrown to the wolves moments after arriving. 

“No way, no how. I’m outta this dump.” The train door closed and cut Grian off from throttling the man. 

The train whistle sounded and the engine started to chug away down the line.

“Well, that sucks.” He didn't stay to watch, but grabbed his bag again and looked at the decrepit station in a new light. He was only stationed here for a year, hopefully. He’d have to get used to this place on his own.

Climbing the stairs he pulled out the key to his room. The door opened to reveal a small bed,  a 3 drawer dresser with one broken handle, and a small table with one chair.

There wasn't a huge build up of dust or dirt but he was disappointed that there wasn't a bathroom, only a chamberpot. “Yuck. Maybe my father was right, and I am a bit spoiled.” He emptied his meager belongings into the dresser and went to find himself a good meal.

“Cow-ooo, there you are, you silly thing.”

Grian spotted his first resident. A tall man, in a cowboy hat, with a green shawl wrapped over his shoulder, decorated with sunflowers. 

He surmised that the man’s horse had pulled free from one of the hitching posts and wandered away.

“Hello.” Grian called out in a friendly manner.

The taller man whipped around, startled. “Ahh, you can't sneak up on a man like that.” He had the most stunning green eyes Grian had ever seen, but as distracting as they were, his own eyes were drawn to the man’s open shirt and the large scar across his chest.

“Hey, you must be our new train station man. Welcome to Hermitopia. My name's Scar.” He holds his hand out for Grian to shake. His hand is quite strong, and Grian can feel himself smiling. 

Maybe this year won't be so bad.

you.... YOUU!!

back in my humble beginnings (aka returning to mcyt and getting roped into hc/life series right away), i first saw your art on pinterest.

ykyk THE VERY FIRST VERSION of double life scarian being all sexy, "you can be the match and i can be the fuse, boom" moment and I. WAS. OBSESSED. even more so now when you dropped the REMAKE of it LIKE- DHFSJFHS?!?! something something, your previous style looked kind of round-ish before (not the best explanation I KNOW)? but now the lines are DEFINED and grian, scar, pearl and everyone you drew in your style got HOTTER AND CUTER. I will make out with your scar design and marry your grian design ty and farewell

tl;dr i gobbled up your stuff on pinterest until i decided that i needed the myth and the legend themself.

here's the part where id ask a humble request (a sketch will do honestly): YOUR VERSION OF SUNFLOWER OR POPPY/LILAC SECRET LIFE SCAR

-🦋

Oh my gosh my HEART <3 That means so much to me <3 giggling and blushing

Have sunflower Secret Life Scar ~

This was yummy, so I made you a ficlet for this art. It's under the cut.

It was late, and Grian should have gone home to his base hours ago. He knew he shouldn't fly in his current inebriated state, so he stayed in Scar’s living room. He was listening to Scar talk about Jelly, or maybe it was Cub, could have even been about his upcoming improvement plans. Grian could listen to Scar talk for hours.

Grian liked the sound of Scar’s voice, but it was making him feel funny. It was making him flustered and warm, or maybe it was the alcohol.

Scar didn't seem to notice Grian becoming more and more jittery, his wings twitching in his agitation. Scar just kept on talking. Grian couldn't take it anymore, he needed Scar to stop talking before he burst into flames.

Scar certainly noticed as Grian stumbled over his way. “Hey there G, you feeling okay?”

Grian didn't bother answering as he sat himself down on a very startled Scar’s lap. “I need you to be quiet for a little while.” He said as he leaned in and stopped Scar from talking, capturing his open mouth in a sloppy kiss.

Scar didn't immediately kiss him back, as stunned as he was. Even Grian was surprised at himself.

When Grian stroked Scar’s neck gently, his claws caressing the sensitive skin lightly, Scar started to reciprocate, deepening the kiss. Scar was very enthusiastic, letting his tongue dance and slide into Grian’s mouth as well.

When they finally broke the kiss, gasping for air, Grian saw the look in Scar’s eyes. “I could get used to you shutting me up this way, pretty bird.”

Grian’s cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, but the blush spread to the tips of his ears at the term of endearment.

“Oh, shut up you.” He chided softly.

Scar just smirked, “Make me.”

If your able to can we get some scarian?

this was supposed to be just a sketch but i am unable to chill, apparently

Oh, simple thing

A little ficlet about some h/c terzomega after a ritual. Unedited and written on mobile :)

Tw for slight mentions of child abuse, nothing graphic

800+ words

The ending of every ritual is something Terzo never looked forward to.

Being out there on stage with his ghouls, seeing all of their devoted fans and being able to forget about being Papa Emeritus, when he could simply be Terzo, was something that made his heart ache whenever it had to end. It was freeing in a way he never had gotten to experience growing up, to simply forget about all of his worries and just enjoy being in the moment.

His vestments were sticking uncomfortably to his back due to sweat and his face felt feverish underneath his facepaint, but Terzo didn’t care about that. All he wanted to do currently was to get back to the hotel, light a cigarette and to just let himself bask in the afterglow of the concert. 

The walk to the bus and the ride back to the hotel was a haze, and Terzo was quickly stumbling down the hall to his hotel room, eager to shed the many layers he wore. Usually they didn’t bother him all too much after rituals, but the feeling of sweat-soaked clothes starting to cool down was not the kindest to his sensory issues. He fumbled slightly with the roomkey before unlocking the door, closing it behind him in a haste as he scrambled for the bathroom.

He leaned heavily against the porcelain sink, the lights flickering momentarily as they turned on. Terzo was met with his rugged reflection, and couldn’t stop the churning in his gut even if he wanted to. He looked even more disheveled than normal, and the agonized look in his eyes only increased the disgust building in his chest. 

The stark contrast between his raven black hair and the white skull paint only served as a harsh reminder of the person he despised the most. Terzo hated how similar he looked to his father, the similarities sometimes making it difficult to distinguish who exactly was staring back at him. He feared that one day he wouldn't be able to find a difference in his paint and the one his father wore, unconsciously turning more into the man that plagued his life ever since his birth.

Terzo reached angrily for the makeup wipes and began harshly scrubbing his face, desperately wanting to just get the damn paint off and not have to worry about it. His skin stung as if he'd been backhanded (He cradled his cheek as carefully as he could, biting back tears as Father continued to scream in his office, and Terzo wished he could curl up and hide in the shadows so that maybe Father would forget he ever existed.)  and Terzo felt the sudden onslaught of tears.

A shuddering breath left his lips as the first tears ran down his cheeks, and Terzo gripped the sink again to not collapse, suddenly feeling like the world was tilted on its axis as he fought to get his breathing under control.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his spiraling thoughts, and Terzo glanced up as Omega walked into the bathroom. The ghoul had removed their mask and jacket, and was clad in their dress pants and a simple tank top 

 "Cuore mio, what's wrong?" The question is murmured into his hair as Omega gently hugs him from behind, arms wrapped protectively around his waist as they place a gentle kiss to his neck. Terzo lets out a silent sob, not daring to speak aloud the things weighing down his mind at the moment. 

Omega doesn't force him either, they let him cry as long he needs to, cradling him with such carefulness it makes his heart twist painfully. He feels undeserving of their soft affection, of the simplicity in the way they show how much they love him. Terzo doesn't speak this out loud, Omega already knows.

At some point Terzo has turned around and buried his face into Omega's chest, clinging to them like they're the only thing keeping him afloat amidst all his turmoil. Terzo supposes it's not too far off from the truth. A clawed hand runs through his hair soothingly, a low rumble audible beneath his ear from where it rests on Omega's chest.

Eventually Terzo's sobs are reduced down to sniffles and the occasional hiccup, and when the tears finally stop he lets himself melt against Omega's larger body. "Mi dispiace, Omega. I did not mean for all this to happen. " 

"Nonsense, Papa. I don't mind." Terzo knows they don't, but he can't help but apologize. A gentle hand touches his cheek, cupping his face and urging him to look upwards. Omega kissed his forehead where the skin is reddened, and reaches for the package of makeup wipes. "Let's get this cleaned up, okay? There are warm clothes and food waiting in case you are hungry," Omega murmurs as they begin to wipe off Terzo's paint as tenderly as they can. 

He nods slightly, closing his eyes and letting out a quiet sigh. He's exhausted and wrung dry after his breakdown, and Terzo wishes to just lay down with Omega and forget the world that exist outside the door to their room. 

Omega hums quietly as they wipe off his makeup, and Terzo realizes they're humming 'He Is'. It makes a small smile appear om his face, letting himself sink into the warm of their voice and the gentle notes rocking him deeper into a sense of calm. "There we go, let's get you out of those clothes, shall we?" Omega asks after a little while, stroking their thumb over the apple of Terzo's cheek as he leans into their touch. "Si. Thank you, Caro."

They smile in reply before leading him out of the bathroom, making their way to the bed as they urge him to sit down. He complies, and lets Omega assist him in taking off his vestments. They're slow as they take off his jacket and undershirt, mindful of the scars on his shoulders as they get the dirty clothes off of him.

Once he's in his pajamas, Terzo slumps against Omega who has shifted to sit on the bed. He lets out another sigh, curling into their side as their arm drapes over his form comfortingly. "Do you wish to eat  before resting, or shall we send for Ifrit to have breakfast already prepared for tomorrow?" Omega questions as they move to lay down, cradling Terzo close to their chest as he wraps his arms around them. "Mm, I wish to just rest currently, my ghoul. Let's ask Ifrit tomorrow, okie dokie?"

Omega chuckles lightly before kissing the crown of his head, purring as they settle against the pillows. "Right, tomorrow it is. Goodnight cuore mio, may you rest well." 

Teroz yawns as he nuzzles into Omega's chest, mumbling out in broken Ghoulish, "I love you." 

He's already asleep before he can hear Omega's reply, swept away into a soft nothingness in the arms of his love. 

i adore this with my whole heart

Crashed the Wedding - Part 10

“Eddie I swear to all that is holy if you don’t stop fidgeting I’m going to stab you with one of these pins.” Nancy sniped as she fiddled with Eddie’s hair, the curls loosely tied into a messy mermaid braid decorated with silver crossing chains, hair rings, and gems. Even tied up as it were, Eddie had just let it grow down his back, only getting it dusted every few months to remove all the dead ends. He could have had anyone do his hair, anyone at all, could have flown in the best stylists in the world, but no. He’d asked Nancy to help him do his hair.

She’d told him the same thing, that he could get anyone to do it, but… he’d just smiled, told her they had similar hair, and that he trusted her to do it. She hadn’t let him down. She’d spent weeks researching braiding techniques because she knew he wanted it braided, spent ages working with one of those little mannequin heads with the hair to figure out how the gems, the chains and the little hair rings would fit into the style he wanted it to go in.

And only when she was confident that she could do it, did she attempt it on him. And that was two nights before at an impromptu hair rehearsal when she’d shown up with her bag of things to make sure what she’d done on the mannequin could be replicated with his hair.

It’d worked like a dream, she’d even managed to allow for a few messy curls to come loose from the braid, so they framed his face in effortless beauty that actually took a lot of effort. “I’m going to remember you said that at your wedding, see if you can sit still when you’re about to marry the love of your life. I feel like I’m being electrocuted but like… in a good way?”

“How can you be electrocuted in a good way?”

“Oh Nance, we gotta introduce you to the joys of electrostimulation, I’ll send you some links.”

“Please don’t, we had to get the scissors involved last time you sent me links to your kink stuff, honestly, Robin and ropes do not go well together.” There’d been knots, and not the fun kind, more the kitten trapped in a ball of yarn kind. “Almost dooone aaaand—” she slid one more bobby pin in place “finished!”

“Well… how do I look?” He turned in the chair to look at her, to look at her warm smile and emotional eyes. He’d already had his usual makeup team from his tours in to help him on that front, the crew invited as welcome guests but also helpy helpers in some parts. They’d covered his blemishes, however few he may have had, mattified his skin so the camera wouldn’t catch any oily spots lit up by the lights, and they’d gone the extra mile with his eyes. They’d been smoked with a dark shadow pallet, black blending into brown, into a warm honey gold the closer it got to his cornea his under eye lined with a soft brown, his lashes enhanced only a little by mascara to make sure it all blended together seamlessly.

He hadn’t needed anything on his lips, just a light swipe of a highlight over his cupids bow was always enough for his lips.

“You look beautiful, Eddie… Steve isn’t gonna know what hit him. Now let’s get you dressed and out there before Steve beats you down the aisle.” They’d already decided that Steve would be the one to walk down the aisle to him, followed by his Best Ma’am, Robin, and his groomsmaids an man, Max, Eleven, Erica, and Lucas. Preceded by their little flower girl Teresa Henderson, who’d sworn not to use her budding telekinesis to throw flowers everywhere.

Eleven would be watching that five-year-old like a hawk though.

She’d spent too long making sure that clearing looked as beautiful as it did to have her little demon child ruin it by whipping up a flower tornado. Too long lifting lanterns up to branches, too long artfully weaving string lights between the oranges, browns, and yellows of the leaves on the trees, letting some drape and some not. She’d spent too long ensuring all the benches they’d used as makeshift pews were arranged perfectly spaced to give everyone just enough leg room.

No flower tornado. Even if it would be extremely cool any other time.

The guests were beginning to arrive, walking down the long well-lit pathway from where they’d set up parking, Eddie had wanted a woodland fall wedding with elvish touches, and given Steve would bend to anything Eddie wanted if he bat his lashes cutely enough, the woodland fall wedding with nerdy elvish touches was happening.

It was extravagant, it would have cost a fortune to set up had Eleven not been there since the early afternoon setting it all up, it meant he got his way with his suit, a beautiful black tunic with faint dark grey brocade embellishments in the thick fabric, the cuffs held closed by silver cufflinks in the shape of D20’s, a high collar, open just enough to give his Adams apple room to breathe, hugging his neck.

The pants beneath it weren’t entirely visible but he’d gone for pants just tight enough around his ankles so he could wear his black calf-length harness boots over them, for ‘the look.’

It didn’t matter though, because nobody, not a single person would be looking at him when that music eventually started. A faint acoustic version of the march played by Jeff, Frank on base beside him adding depth to the gentle melody.

The little flower girl, her curls bouncing with each step as she carefully spread little yellow and white flower petals across the carpeted walkway, all the way down until she reached Nancy at the front who welcomed her and helped her to her own special seat at the front. And then, Eddie had to remind himself to breathe.

Steve.

He’d had no idea what Steve would look like on the day, they’d stuck to tradition, kept the outfits a secret and hadn’t seen each other for a whole twenty-four hours, even though that’d sucked. Now he wished he’d have gotten a heads up.

He looked like royalty, ethereal in his beauty, dressed in a similar style to Eddie, only his was white, a white tunic, golden in its embellishments, made even more beautiful by the cape pinned at his neck made of a thin gradient lace fabric that gently drifted across the floor, white and gold in its colour, embellished by golden glitter and starry patterns, in his hands a pretty arrangement of flowers in colours matching the petals little Teresa had decorated the walkway with.

He didn’t need makeup, he didn’t need anything but the clothes he was wearing, just looking at him was putting Eddie at risk of ruining his own makeup. He could feel the sting in his eyes, could see the watery distortion at the bottom of his vision, he breathed in sharply, the hand of their officiant, the grouchy old Chief himself, who’d gotten himself ordained purely to officiate that wedding, and Nancy and Robin’s whenever the hell they decide to tie that knot, on his shoulder, in a bid to ground him.

“Breathe kid.” Were his wise words, reminding Eddie that yes, air was required.

“It’s too hard, gonna asphyxiate.” Hopper only answered with a soft chuckle, and then Steve was there, their groomsmen and women at their sides, Robin, Max, Eleven, Erica, and Lucas at Steve’s, Dustin, Mike, Will, Nancy and Gareth at Eddie’s. Jeff and Frank lingering at the back to play them out at the end.

It all just sort of… tuned out after that, he couldn’t not focus entirely on Steve, on his smiling face, the happiness in his eyes, the warmth in his smile, the way the lights dangling in the treetops above made not just his outfit shimmer but his eyes too, he knew he should have been looking at Hopper as the man did his best to go through the standard opening words, to welcome their guests, to read out a little speech that Joyce had absolutely helped him to write that perfectly, leaving out all the monster bits, encapsulated just how much he cared for those two men, how he wished he could have been the one to walk Steve down that dumb aisle but he’d had to stay up front to do his actual job, something that had a tear slip from Steve’s eye and a soft laugh escape his lips.

He spoke of all the times he’d caught Eddie being a menace as a teenager, and how proud he was to see how much Eddie had grown up since then, even if it weren’t actually all that much, even a little bit was enough.

And then came the important part, the part Eddie had rehearsed so many times in the mirror he knew it better than one of his own songs.

“As you can probably imagine, our two grooms have chosen to write their own vows, so, without further ado as I know we’re all sick of hearin me speak… Eddie, i believe you wanted to go first.” Eddie took a deep breath. In, and out, before turning to Steve, the man mirroring him, his smile only widening as he witnessed that deep breathe.

“You got this, Bambi” he whispered with a cheeky wink, a direct crit hit to Eddie’s heart.

“Okay. Ehem… Wise men say that only fools rush into love.” Eddie began with a small grin that reached his eyes and made them sparkle in mischievous glee over his successful inclusion of song lyrics into his vows. Steve merely rolled his eyes in fond amusement, a smile seemingly permanently glued to his lips. “But I’m happy to report, that I’m no fool, although many would argue otherwise” a soft laugh erupted across the makeshift pews lining their little clearing, across the smiling faces of their friends, their families, their joy illuminated by the lanterns delicately dangling from the treetops overhead and the warm white string lights woven between branches between them. “I don’t think anyone can call nursing a love for half of the time I’ve lived as rushing it.”

Steve’s smile grew just a little wider, his hands gently squeezing around Eddie’s in a quiet show of support, as if he had ever needed support to talk.

“You came to me at my lowest, Steve, at my most frightened, and alone, you offered me warmth in your smile, safety in your words of comfort, and you supported me even though we’d definitely gotten off on the wrong foot.” Through sheer stupidity, assumptions of ones’ character, and jealousy over sharing their shared little brother. Not to mention the broken bottle to the throat. “Broken bottles, dorky little brothers, end of the world, you know.” Out of the corner of his eye he caught Joyce Byers gently waving her hand at Karen Wheeler as a simple ‘don’t worry about it’ gesture.

“I know” Steve quietly uttered with a gentle nod, his teary-eyed smile unwavering.

“You showed me what love is, Steve… you gave it so selflessly to anyone who needed it, welcomed them into your arms and kept them safe from harm even at the cost of your own safety. You’re like that single beam of warm sunlight through a break in the curtains on a cold winter morning.”

“And you’re the tiny little kitten that falls asleep in it.”

“Baby you get me so well.” He’d fallen asleep on top of Steve many a time and he always awoke warm, comforted, safe in a way that words simply could not explain.

“It’s a weird and wonderful gift.”

“Anyway, shh let me finish.” Steve’s smile widened a fraction as he nodded, lifting one hand up to his lips in a zip motion. “You adorable little shit. Ehem, as I was saying before I was so adorably interrupted. So, in light of how utterly perfect you are Steve Harrington, as there is no way on Earth, I will ever be able to pull off what you do so naturally for me every day, my vows to you will be to do my best every single gods-be-damned day, to be deserving of you. To never make you feel less than the most important person, the most important thing in my very crazy life. I vow to love you long after we become cranky old ghosts haunting our old stomping grounds because after everything we’ve seen, I flatly refuse to believe that I could stop loving you at death. I vow to never rearrange your hair stuff in the bathroom during my ‘rare as a unicorn’ cleaning sprees” at Steve’s fondly raised brow, Eddie tacked on a sheepish “again.” That earned another chuckle from their families. “I vow to give you all the applause, when you do something ridiculously badass so that you never feel underappreciated for the sheer awesome that is you in a crisis.”

“I am pretty badass, you are correct.” Robin, Steve’s Best Ma’am fondly rolled her eyes behind Steve.

“Shhh, I vow to pay attention to each and every one of your moles when I kiss them goodnight, even that one” Steve rolled his eyes, another soft laugh carrying through their audience “and finally, the most important one out of all of them… I vow to always leave the cap on the toothpaste instead of sending you on a treasure hunt for it every morning.” He’d somehow left it in the fridge at one point. Steve refused to let him live it down.

“Score” Steve quietly fist pumped.

“So, Steven Anthony Harrington, love of my life, I take you, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have, and to hold, in sickness, and in health, for richer, and for poorer, for as long as we both shall live and beyond because fuck you, death, I’ve kicked your butt once and I’ll do it again.” He held his hand backwards toward Dustin, who deposited a subtle weight into his palm to be carefully slid into place on Steve’s finger. “To you I make this vow.” The ring a solid gold, oxidized at the surface to darken the metal, it had a raised texture made of gold dust randomly fused to the dark metal, creating starburst patterns across its surface as though the sun itself were trying to burst through the dark. “I love you, Steve… I love you so much.” His voice finally cracking at the end as he allowed the tears to gather where he’d been holding them back for as long as he could.

“I love you too, Eddie.” Steve whispered back, squeezing his hands once more, ignoring the single happy tear that fell from his own eyes, letting it fall.

“Steve?” Hopper’s gruff voice prompted Steve to begin his own.

“Right, one second.” He breathed inward through his nose sharply taking a hankie he’d wisely chosen to keep in his pocket out to dab it at his eyes, he could do this, he had his friends, his family, he had everyone he loved right there in that clearing, and he had Eddie, looking practically ethereal in the lights twinkling around him. He could do this, he’d spent weeks sitting with Nancy just trying to get the damn things to sound right, then an extra week rehearsing them so he wouldn’t have to pull out the papers they were written on. “I—uh…” He could do this, he could absolutely do this, he could—

“Baby, are they written on paper?” Eddie’s eyes were so soft, his words quiet enough so that only those at the front could hear him, Steve nodded “then read them from the paper, it’s okay.” Eddie gently lifted Steve’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss atop his knuckles. Some things were hard when you’d suffered two too many concussions, Eddie never made him feel bad for not being able to do certain things sometimes, for needing days out of the spotlight, for needing moments to himself, for just… needing naps sometimes.

“I got you, Steve” Robin spoke in hushed tones as she offered the small number of pages to him, which he accepted gratefully. Now. Now he could do this.

“I wish I’d have gone first now, following that? Pfft, terrifying.” But then Eddie was the main lyric writer, lead vocals, and lead guitarist for Corroded Coffin, not to mention still the main DM for Hellfire so. He should have expected as much. Eddie gently squeezed the hand he still had hold of in an attempt to ease his nerves, it worked. “I’m not the best with words, so… forgive me.” The crows-feet at the corners of Eddie’s eyes only crinkled more as his smile widened, dimples on full display, nothing but love in that smile.

“For the longest time, I didn’t understand you, Eddie, when we were dumb teenagers still in school, you were this loud kid I could never wrap my head around, you played nerd games, and listened to music that made my head hurt even before the head trauma, you were an enigma that I didn’t try hard enough to figure out until you crashed into my life with a broken bottle to my throat that made me think things that didn’t belong in my brain in that particular moment.” He saw Hopper roll his eyes at their side, but Eddie was sniggering, so he ignored Hopper.

“We were pushed together through circumstance, and although that could have lead to us clashing, it could have led to resentment, you were just so easy to like. You never made me feel stupid for asking ill-timed silly questions” you have a car we don’t know about? Or, where’d you learn how to do that? As more than sufficient examples but god there’d been so many more since then. “You always so patiently just explained stuff to me without ever making me feel less than those around me, it was so easy to find myself drawn to you even if at the time, I didn’t really understand why.” He’d had a crush, a ridiculously ill-timed crush on a traumatised boy wrapped up in chaos, then after it was all finished, the crush had stayed, it’d stayed, it’d blossomed, he’d fallen deeper and deeper until resurfacing became impossible.

“You take the time to support me and lift me up in so many little ways and honestly, I don’t think you even really notice you do it. Like… you always remember where I put my glasses, even though you can never remember where you put your keys, you have like, this sixth sense for my migraines, like you know they’re coming before even I do—”

“You have this—”

“Don’t ruin the illusion, Bambi, just let me believe you’re magic.”

“Okay.”

“You make every space a home, Eddie, even that big empty house felt like home whenever you were in it, not because of anything you did, or anything you said, but because you, just you being your perfectly silly self, you are my home. You like to call me the sun, Eddie, but I’m nothing but the moon… I just reflect whatever warmth you give me. Without you I’m cold.” That mischievous little grin on Eddie’s face had softened, those beautiful brown Bambi eyes wide yet filled with warmth and emotion, shimmering with tears he’d previously shed and tears he seemed like he was about to shed.

“So, my vows to you are these… Eddie, I vow to support you, in every endeavour you take, be it music, be it writing, be it playing DnD until the early hours of the morning even when you know you have to be up at 6am to catch a flight. To never roll my eyes when you attempt to slip your nerdy references into our love life, I vow to never again ask you to play basketball with us, even if Lucas begs me to because I know you’ll selflessly say yes and suffer the entire time.”

There were pictures on the internet now. So many pictures. The Corroded Coffin fanbase found them all deeply amusing.

Lucas, now playing for some big-league team, had even signed one at his last signing event, almost choking with laughter when it turned up in front of him.

“I vow to continue, every day, to love you, and cherish you, and kiss both of those dimples at every available opportunity, awh yeah there they are~” Eddie ducked his head with an embarrassed little laugh, lifting one hand to his face to hide behind it, that didn’t last long though, because Steve curled his fingers around it and eased it away “nuh-uh, I wanna see that beautiful face when I do this.” Robin deposited into his waiting hand as she took the papers away, the ring that he’d specifically purchased out of his own left-over Harrington fund, the one he’d wisely kept in a separate bank account that the government had left alone when they’d seized his father’s assets.

He'd kept it from Eddie, hidden it away, because he wanted to see his face the first time he laid eyes on it. It was Mokume Gane in design, golds and silvers merged and shaped until the surface of the ring resembled an intricate wood grain effect, which on its own would have been beautiful, but it hadn’t been enough, it hadn’t been Eddie enough, so he’d had the words ‘One ring to seal our love, And forever to entwine us’ engraved around the outer ring in a beautiful elvish script, which Dustin had written down for him properly so the engraver could do it justice.

The expression of awe on his face when Steve slid it onto his waiting finger was more than worth the teasing he’d received from Dustin over how nerdy the whole thing was. “Steve…” Eddie breathed, eyes wide on the metal as they took in the beautifully curved writing, the intricate strokes, the pattern in the metal “you… you—”

“Yes, I did a nerdy thing for you, shh. I love you Eddie Munson, I will always love you, from now until forever, that is my vow to you.” And there were the tears, Eddie looking at him eyes shimmering and bright, beautifully reflecting all the lights around them more so than the twinkling little gems and trinkets tied into his hair.

“Ehem” Hopper cleared his throat “Eddie Munson, do you take this man—”

“I do.” Hopper didn’t chastise him for interrupting, even if he had interrupted the legal vows part.

“Steve Harrington, do you—”

“Without hesitation, I do.”

“Jesus Christ, well alright I suppose you’ve waited long enough, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you finally married! Good luck boys, Steve, stick one on him would you so we can all get drunk.” Eddie didn’t resist in the slightest when Steve took his hand and pulled him in, he went willingly, pliant in Steve’s grip as the man twisted and dipped him, Eddie’s laughter almost musical in its beauty, his free hand lifting to cup Steve’s jaw as the man leaned in to close the distance between them, their families, their friends erupting in cheers as lips touched

“Much better than your first wedding, right?” Eddie cheekily murmured against Steve’s lips, barely parting from them they still brushed as he spoke

“Oh, be quiet.”

With a widening grin, Eddie whispered “Okay” right back, before Steve sealed their lips together once more in the second of many kisses, as Mr and Mr. Steve, and Eddie Munson.

~THE END~

Promise - Tsukishima

this is my first post on here, and it’s a comfort self-indulge thing cause i was sad this week

character: time skip! tsukishima kei

word count: 845

warnings: might be ooc for comfort reasons (also the fact that i haven’t wrote anything in years so probably poorly written)

it just felt like too much, trying to balance school, work, and a barely existing social life. and maybe this was the last straw to it, as i shake looking down at my phone.

honestly, don’t bother messaging me again

had i done something wrong? i thought our relationship was fine, decent even. even with the lack of communication between us, i thought we were still in a good place. i had assumed she still saw me as a friend; however it seems that only I felt that way.

a tear trickles down my cheek, then another and another. it’s almost like my eyes had become a broken dam, the way I’m unable to stop crying over this. over her, someone i had considered a close friend. and yet, she didn’t care anymore.

should have told you sooner, but i don’t really care.. you’re kinda tiring...

when did this all start? how did we even get here? was i in the wrong? perhaps i should have hung out with her rather than stayed home. maybe i should have cared less about school, loosen-up for her. would that have changed anything?

“hey. are you crying?” i look up from the bench i sit on to see tsukishima, his head slightly tilted and his eyebrow raised. quickly i turn away as if i’m guilty by being caught crying. i hastily rubbed at my eyes, though my tears seem to have a mind of their own as they continue to fall.

“ah no. I’m fin—“

“i can see that you’re not.”

a sigh escapes my lips and i look back at him, attempting a smile but it’s too strain to feel normal on my lips. he frowns at it before sighing at me.

“you don’t really have to tell me what happened,” he says, placing his school bag down beside me as he sits down as well, “just don’t lie.”

and he doesn’t ask, rather he sits besides me and attempts to make small talk. no matter how awkward it feels in the situation, it’s comforting. with dried up tears and a slightly better demeanor, i look down at my shoes and take a breath.

“it’s my friend. though i suppose we aren’t exactly friends anymore.” i sneak a small glance towards tsukishima, knowing that i have his attention and he doesn’t plan to make any remarks till i’m done.

“she got upset that i wasn’t spending more time with her, saying that i wasn’t trying hard enough to be her friend. but it was always her not trying, i did nothing but reach out to her and she’d give me little to nothing no matter what.”

i lean back, my head touching the wall behind me and i laugh at the thought. at the irony of being accused of doing nothing when i did everything.

“ah i’m rambling aren’t i? i must thank you for sitting here, although i’m sure you’d rather be somewhere else rather than dealing with my emotions.” a small, sad smile comes across my face as he huffs in response.

“you make it sound like i’m heartless or something. i can be nice you know?” he lightly shoves his elbow in my side and i return the favor with a small laugh.

“it’s not your fault, you need to know that,” he says looking at me directly, “you did your best, and yeah it does suck that you lost a friend. but you have other people who care for you.”

i’m shocked by the gentleness his voice holds. this 6 feet tall middle blocker who has done nothing but tease me about my height or my grades, was now attempting to comfort me.

“you talk down about yourself, but i don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit,” he says, tilting his head back a bit looking up as if trying to find the right words, “you’re honestly a great person who got screwed over. i don’t even know how you were able to keep this all bottled up for so long. but it’s good to let it out before it becomes too suffocating.”

i smiled at him, poking at him in a teasing manner, “aw aren’t you being sweet. so you do care about me.”

“nevermind, forget i said anything.”

he swats my hand away halfheartedly, a smile tugging on his face too as he looks at me.

“so what now? do i just keep moving forward now?”

“yeah, she isn’t worth mulling over or crying about. besides you have a whole team of volleyball guys who are here for you.”

i laugh at the thought of the sendai frogs team, a bunch of energy filled boys who always leave a smile on my face. “and what about you? do I have you on my side?”

he looks at me with a light smirk on his face. taking his hand, he ruffles my hair against my protest. finally resting it on my head, he laughs at my pouting face, “course you do tiny. you’re stuck with me at this point.”

“promise?”

“yeah, promise.”

It’s easy to look and see humans, but they are not.

Most of them try to forget it.

Some of them revel in it.

The rest of them like to pretend the Nordics are like them. Human. Or as close as their kind can get.

Most of the time it’s easy.

But sometimes...

Sometimes you can’t pretend.

Can’t pretend, because Finland speaks with the freezing northern winds as his voice and he’s a winter storm and a summer hail and thick clouds that cover the sky and block out the sun. His attacks are lighting and his heart beats with the rumble of thunder and he perseveres perseveres perseveres, always gets back up, always comes back, and you never see him coming until it’s too late. He dances under the midnight sun and laughs during polar nights and smirks as the rest of the world falls to the biting cold while he stands strong and unbothered.

And Norway, who’s as deep and mysterious as the northern forests, the Scandes, the fjords. He’s crisscrossing leylines and great waterfalls and vast archipelagos. His joints creak like the wood of ancient evergreens as they grow, his innards stained black by stake burnings and dark plagues, his eyes a mirror of the northern lights. He sings with the voice of the stars, the moon, the aurora, and he’ll ensnare you as easily as he weaves his magic and bends the land to his will.

Iceland consciously hides it from the rest of the world, but in the company of a select few they drop their disguise and breathes a sigh of relief. They’re a duality, scorching volcanoes and freezing arctic, hot and cold, fire and ice. Their eyes burn with flames, lava in their veins, bones of obsidian. Their organs are made of ice, their skin like snow and frost lines their throat and lungs. They breathe smoke and frost, cry ice and lava and their hair is snow and ash.

Most of the time Sweden is normal, but sometimes you tilt your head and he’s scintillating water and the creak of oars and fine metal- and woodwork. His bones are iron, like what they mine and mine and mine in Malmberget, and his heart is a patchwork of water and splotches of land connected by bridges, the city of islands, and if you listen very closely as he speaks you can hear the creaking and clinking of the ice and stone in his lungs and throat which at best muddles his words and at worst keeps them deep in his chest.

Even Denmark, the most normal, is sometimes not a man, but a raging bonfire and burning villages. Glinting gold and shining blades and delicate sculptures of glass. His laugh is the crowing of ravens feeding on the flesh of the fallen, his hair tinged red with the blood of his enemies and his eyes are deep blue blue blue, the same shade as the ocean he once tamed and conquered and ruled.

They speak in riddles only they know, whisper of time and places no one else remember, and laugh as the other nations draw back in wariness and fear.

If they wished to play being normal, let them. But where’s the fun in that?

I wrote something and it didn't really seem long enough to post on ao3 but like... vaguely adult content I guess? I've still not figured how that works (or doesn't) on Tumblr. so have it under the cut. short ineffable phonecall about wall slams

"are you on your way?" Aziraphale asked cheerfully down the phone by way of hello. 

"oh. er. Angel, look, I've had a really shitty day, I think I'm going to stay in my flat and watch shitty TV until I fall into a shitty sleep. I think there's a new series of Love Island on." 

Aziraphale had no idea what that was but he didn't think it sounded like particularly good viewing. "if you're going to wallow and sulk, you can do it at mine. I've got wine, and you can tell me about your awful day and I can make very sympathetic noises." 

"no. I would be extremely poor company." Crowley made a point of switching on the TV and turning it up loud enough it could be heard through the phone. 

"oh I've been tolerating your moods for thousands of years," Aziraphale replied airily. 

"Angel." Crowley gritted his teeth. "I am trying. to tell you. that I don't WANT. to take my bad mood out. on you." 

the pause that followed was unreasonably long. Crowley felt his layers of irritation grow; he was trying to do a considerate thing, trying to grow as a person. if Aziraphale didn't appreciate his efforts he could go stick it. and if he didn't stop being so difficult he was going to find out exactly where in some graphic detail.

"but..." Aziraphale began awkwardly. "I rather think the angelic thing to do would be to absorb your bad mood for you. if you let it fester out into the world, that would be terrible, wouldn't it? but I, well I am a creature of, of love and such like, you couldn't harm me by being grumpy." 

this was utter bullshit and it made Crowley's teeth itch. what the fuck was he doing now? was he actually angling for Crowley to snap at him? 

"I don't mind. I could leave all the doors ajar so you could slam them. I... I'll stand near the wall so you can pin me up against it." 

there was another intense silence, but this time it was Crowley's doing. oh, he was. he was deliberately goading him into this. why would the angel want to be roughed up? completely unwanted, a voice whispered into Crowley's brain: maybe he's into that. angels aren't into that sort of thing, Crowley hissed back in his thoughts. and definitely, absolutely, neither am I. 

"I think it would make you feel better," Aziraphale added very quietly. 

Crowley remembered the last time he had done that very thing; in Tadfield, in an ex Satanic nunnery. he'd pressed his hips up against Aziraphale, just to hold him in place of course, and he'd briefly thought, and then thought it was ridiculous, that the angel might just have had an erection at the time. angels definitely don't get erections from being roughed up in Satanic nunneries. 

"just to be clear," Crowley said, and he'd already switched off the TV and picked up his car keys, "are you doing this to be self sacrificing or because you're... you're..." oh Jesus Christ, Mary, Joseph and a stable full of donkeys, he was actually going to say this out loud because if he didn't say it out loud he was going to spontaneously discorporate. "because you're... getting off on it?" 

there was a very guilty silence. eventually, Aziraphale replied, "are you judging me?" 

"yes. massively. hugely." 

"only I did rather think that time in Tadfield that you definitely got hard holding me against that wall." 

the sound of the Bentley roaring to life rattled out of Aziraphale's old rotary telephone. Freddie Mercury launched into Tie Your Mother Down. "Angel, I'll see you in five minutes. think of something incredibly irritating to say to me as a greeting." and with that Crowley hung up the phone and put his foot down.

UGH, the boys finding out that they’ve got some of sergeant Price’s traits is so awesome sauce. Loved this!

The 141 looking at videos of younger price doing things they got in trouble for and got them yelled at by price

Keepsakes

___

"God, when was the last time he came here?"

"Long enough he doesn't want to bother cleaning this shit out himself," Ghost muttered as he shoves a facemask into Gaz's hands. The dust made it necessary.

Price finally made the decision to have his old storage unit cleaned out. He himself hadn't bothered to do anything yet, but he's convinced the boys to do some cleaning for him. He gave them a list of certain things he's looking for, then to their surprise Laswell did as well. Apparently it was a shared storage unit against Price’s will.

"There's the box Laswell told us to grab for her."

Most of the videos were in boxes marked by young agent Laswell, a clear warning not to touch them to a Lieutenant Price.

As they stuffed certain boxes into the van they arrived in, Soap found an old jacket. Not worn in years, SAS embroidered on it with Price's name proud on the breast. Soap shook the thing violently, to relieve it of any unwanted bugs and dust, before put it on. Almost a perfect fit.

"Hm, think he'll notice?"

Gaz snorts as he dares to open one of the boxes, "You're him made over."

Soap grins despite the sarcasm and starts posing, earning laughter from Gaz. Ghost rolled his eyes at him while he sorted through the boxes. He finally stops next to a particular box, kicking it lightly, "Nik box."

Soap and Gaz immediately dart over. Nik was precious with his mementos. Safe guarded them like a dragon. None of them saw anything he didn't want them to see, not picture or saved bullet casing. Not a single story unless he gives it up. Laswell and Price weren't so closed off and with start up a story from asking.

"Oh- What do you think is in it?"

Ghost lightly kicks the box again before he confidently says- "Nudes."

Soap gags and Gaz cackles.

"The head of his enemies. Or their di-"

"Stop," Soap grumbles as he pulls the box to the side with some of Laswell's.

There was something precious about how close they were, Price getting a storage unit only for Laswell and Nik to shove their own things inside without care. They didn't have any doubt the only protest from Price was only a bit of grumbling before he just let it happen.

“I think Nik wouldn’t let anything… unsavory be left where we could find it. There’s no way he would forget the location of anything sensitive.”

“What if, and hear me out, he’s forgotten with old age?” Ghost countered seriously, Gaz cackling in response.

Soap opens the box without hesitating another second. Ghost and Gaz whipped their heads around to stare as Soap pulls out a large book. It was a photo album with a slip of paper labelling the front. In Russian of course, just like the writing labelling the box.

“Alright, who’s been paying attention in Nik’s sort and somewhat weird lessons in Russian?”

Ghost stares hard at the photo albums front, truly concentrating as hard as he could. Gaz stared for a few seconds, eyes flickering to Ghost a few times, like he was waiting for him to reply. He didn’t, so Gaz did.

“I think it’s along the lines of ‘my sweet John’.”

Soap gags dramatically, “God, is it actually nudes?”

Ghost hums, “It’s not like we haven’t seen them naked before.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to see anything else beyond basic locker room shit.”

They were delaying, even though all of them desperately did want to know what was inside. But none of them made a move, just staring at the photo album while also eying each other. After a third minute of rather uneasy silence, Ghost sighs loudly before he grabs the photo album.

“Well, might as well. What’s one more piece of trauma?”

He unties the string keeping it closed, taking a step back before taking a deep breath, bracing himself. Soap and Gaz stared at him, waiting. So Ghost flipped open the album.

“Oh.”

Soap and Gaz shared a look before looking back at him, “Oh?”

Ghost flips a page, then another, before looking up, “They’re candids. A lot of them.”

Soap and Gaz finally look, and he was right. Each page was several pictures of a young Price just existing. Some of him napping in odd places, stuffing his face with questionable looking food, arguing with a young Laswell — He was just existing. And his behavior displayed in the photos were familiar.

“Johnny, weren’t you napping under the table the other day?”

“Weren’t you stuffing your fast with the shit you found in the back of the fridge?”

Gaz takes over the photo album, fondly looking at the pictures. Several photos, if not all, were taken clearly without Price’s knowing.

“Good to know Nik hasn’t lost any love,” the countless times Gaz has caught the man taking pictures of Price without the man knowing. He really wanted to know what his photo gallery looked like.

Suddenly, Soap gasps. Gaz looks up and Soap is holding a video camera, grinning madly.

“Sex tapes.”

“Simon!”

Gaz eagerly reaches for the camera, “Let me see!”

He saw the box it came from, labelled by Laswell. It was safe to look through… maybe.

He messes with the camera, laughing gleefully when it still turns on. Ah, they don’t make them like they used to.

“This is history!”

“And blackmail,” it was clear why Ghost was here. He never would pass up an opportunity to hold something over someone’s head, even the people who could make him disappear.

Gaz selects a video and starts playing it, watching the tiny screen intently. He wasn’t expecting to witness a past event of Price arguing with a currently unknown SAS officer, one that appeared to out rank him. He was cussing the man out with his full chest, and Gaz couldn’t help but look up at Soap.

“… what is it? I hear yelling.”

“I think we took after Price more than he realizes.”

Soap and Ghost were on either of Gaz now, watching the tiny screen with their chins on Gaz’s shoulders. Gaz played another video.

This one started with the camera facing a grinning Laswell, none of them could recall ever seeing such a mischievous look on her before. The camera switches over to show Price sitting on top of a cabinet with a guitar in his arms. He was clearly waiting for someone to come through the door by the cabinet.

“Do you know how many times he’s bitched at me for climbing on furniture-“

“Shh!”

Price was grinning at the camera and Laswell, and then an infamous figure they’ve all heard of but saw few photos of walked through the door. Captain MacMillan left his mark on Price, but clearly Price also left a mark on the man. Upon entering the room, he turns to say something to Laswell, then Price aggressively started playing the guitar.

“JONATHAN YOU CUNT-“

Laswell cackles as MacMillan grabs Price’s leg, dragging him from the cabinet. The camera cuts off right as the cabinet comes down with Price, the shock on his face blurred on the screen as the video ends. Gaz covered his mouth and Ghost leaned away. Soap chose to break the silence.

“I think he would throw us into a lake with bricks tied to our feet if we showed him this.”

“Clearly we make copies.”

They knew he was trouble in his youth, but this? Oh this was hypocrisy. And Laswell was in on some of it? Oh this was blackmail for sure. Ghost got what he wanted.

“Copies, Kyle. We need copies-“

Yes, they all were in on this. This was worth it.

Skyrim prompts

New to the whole tumblr prompts game. Do we just say we are taking prompts and people reply if they have one? I really want to be creative but have so few ideas right now. Prompt ideas: Pick an item from Skyrim, any item, and I'll try to write a ficlet from it.

CHAPEL OF RIZZTUAL COMING IN AGAIN FUELING THE FREAKY FUCKS OF TUMBLR🙏

Thinking about that one vid of Phantom dropping to his knees for Dew…how easy he went down ….so unprompted…

Hmmmmm please say more. Please. Pretty please? 🥺

“On your knees.” 

That was the first thing Phantom heard when he walked into the dressing room, fresh off stage. He’d only just had time to hand his guitar off to a stage hand and take his helmet and balaclava off. 

He dropped to his knees without a second thought, watching as Dew steps out from the shadows. 

“Open your mouth.” 

His mouth drops open. He doesn’t even think about it, just obeys the command. The bored, unimpressed look on Dews face only makes him want to obey more, to be good for him. 

“Hands behind your back.” 

His hands are behind his back faster then he can even register. The way Dew is ordering him around, like it’s nothing to him, had his cock twitching on his pants. 

He fidgets on his knee, his cock rapidly filling out and pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Dew walks over to him, standing between his legs and presses a boot covered foot into his crotch. 

“Be still.” 

Phantom stills immediately, despite the pressure Dew was putting on his dick. He desperately wanted to roll his hips onto the bottom of Dews boot but the look Dew was giving him made him want to shrink back and hide. 

Dew places two fingers under Phantom's chin and tilts his head back so he’s look up at the fire ghoul. He smiles down at him, but it’s sinister, filling Phantom with worry and fear. 

“Good boy.” 

Phantom couldn’t stop the whimper that left his lips even if he tried. Dew laughs at him, throwing his head back. 

“Satan, you’re pathetic.” 

Phantom whimpers again, his eyes fluttering, filling with tears. 

Dew laughs again, taking a few steps back until the back of knees hit the sofa and he sits, spreading his legs wide. 

“Come.” He points to the floor between his legs. 

Phantom goes to stand but gets cut off by the stern look Dew gives him. 

“No.” Dew shakes his head at him. “I didn’t say you could stand, did I?” He point to the floor between his legs once again. “Now, come. Don’t make me ask you again.” 

Phantom crawls towards him on all fours, ignoring how his knees crack beneath him. Dew smiles at him once again, sinister and full of fangs. 

“Good puppy.” 

A moan is punched out of Phantom and his hips buck onto the air. Dews smile is replaced back with that unimpressed look from before and he pushes his boot back into the hard outline of Phantoms cock. 

“I thought I told you to be still?” 

“I’m-im sorry. I just-“ He’s cut off by Dew tutting and shaking his head at him. 

“I didn’t say you could speak, did I?” Phantoms jaw snaps shut so fast the sound of his teeth clashing together echos around the the room. 

Dew looks down at him with disappointment written all over his face. “And I told you to keep your mouth open.” He shakes his head with a sign. “You’re not being very good, Phantom.”  The unshed tears from before roll down his cheeks now and he shudders. 

Dew shoves his thumbs between Phantoms lips and forces his jaw open. “Keep it open this time, or else I'll leave you here for someone else to find and use.” He shakes Phantoms head on his grasp. “Maybe you’ll be better behaved for Someone else.”  More tears run down Phantom cheeks and he lets out a gasped sob. Dew strokes along his cheek with one finger. “Oh I know, puppy. You’re trying so hard to be good.”

Phantom nods, looking up at Dew with big wet eyes. 

Dew undoes the strings of his jeans, pulling them down just enough to pull his cock out. Phantom drools at the sight of it, the only thing he can think about is it being shoved down his throat so hard he can’t breath. 

Dew hits the head of cock against Phantom bottom lip, smearing precum with the saliva that wets his lip. 

“Yeah? You want it, puppy?” 

Phantom nods, unable to take his eyes away from Dew.  Dew uses Phantoms horns to guide his mouth onto his cock, letting it sit in his mouth for a second before pulling his head down all the way so Phantoms nose is  buried in his pubes. He gives a few experimental thrusts, feeling his head nudging at the back of Phantom throat. 

He looks down at Phantom, watching his eyes roll back into his skull as his mouth gets used. Dew smiles down at him, a proper smile this time. “Good boy.” 

Crowley found out that Aziraphale had put an extra bookshelf in the backroom of the bookshop on a measly Monday morning. When Muriel took him to the back and showed him the hidden cd collection behind a collection of books about dowdy fabric patterns they asked him whether he knew what the bookshelf was for. His breath hitched for a moment. Behind his glasses he blinked a couple of times. And he growled how the fuck should I know Muriel. He stalked off - looking his worst* murdery murderous look - slamming the bookshop door behind him, and hating the cheerful jingling with all his heart. Around the corner he relieved some of his feelings by shouting at some quivering nettles**.

It turned out that Aziraphale had co-opted Maggie's help in finding 'bebop' music. While Aziraphale did not really listen to that sort of music, he did have an extraordinary good memory. He had memorised many of the cd's Crowley had listened to. And collected them for some inexplicable reason. Crowley didn't get it. He didn't know why Aziraphale hadn't told him about this. He didn't get it. But he knew why of course.

Later that day he returned to the bookshop and slipped quietly into the backroom. He closed the door softly and took a deep breath. Smelling the dusty musty books always made him feel close to... He slowly ran a finger over the albums. Thinking back to those moments in the bentley listening together. Listening alone. Wondering. How long it would take for his angel to come back to him.

*so that means best depending how you look at it.

**The nettle, very confused and not having experienced demonic energies before, promptly grew a bright blue flower in between its pink ones. When Crowley saw that he stopped shouting and caressed the flower softly.

My latest Guardian Books cartoon. Inspired by this news story.