#i live for their banter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strong-with-the-sarcasm · 2 months

Text

part 16 - but I know where to start

“Feeling my way through the darkness, guided by a beating heart. I can’t tell where the journey will end, but I know where to start.” -Wake Me Up by Avicii

Regent Masterlist Part 15

Was it a cop-out to summon Jazz back to the Far Frozen? Yes. Did Danny particularly care? Nope!

Jason was comfortable, propped up with a book Ghostwriter who had popped by to personally deliver. How the ghost had known about Jason Phantom wasn’t going to question, but he suspected GW kept an eye on the bookworms that passed through the Realms- or at least those close to the “Royal family”. Phantom wasn’t much for reading, not unless it was space-related, but he enjoyed listening to the Liminal man reading out loud. He had a brash voice, accented with a cadence like those from Crime Alley, but it only underscored the passion he held for reading. Phantom didn’t interrupt him once, not even when the halfa pulled out his ecto-phone and texted Ellie.

(His little sister was in Kansas, spending time with another clone she’d literally run into.)

Almost another full day's cycle passed before Phantom realized Jason had fallen back asleep, a book resting open on his broad chest and soft snores coming from the man.

Yeah, he could see how he and Jazz fit together so well.

There was just something about the Once-Revenant, a part of what made him Jason, that resonated with the Phantom. It’s what made him talk to the man as Red Hood, feel comfortable enough to stay in his company for so long, trust him with his older sister- the person who raised him.

(Spent her birthday money to get him those cheap plastic glow-in-the-dark stars.)

(Taught him how to read.)

(Held him as the nightmares of his death shook him to his core.)

(Did not fear him.)

(Not as Phantom, Danny, or Dan.)

(Loves him.)

(Mourns him.)

(He would never tell her, but he understood how Dan could succumb to grief.)

(Jazz was his.)

(His first friend, his true mother, his rock.)

(She wouldn’t have claimed Regency without that tie.)

Remix & Original chat

Remix: Lol hows weenie Original: jasons x3 ur size pipsqeak Remix: ur point? Original: lol hes ok frosty says he got hurt wth shrpnel new healed core + shrapnel = bad time Remix: sucks 2 b him Original: so tru Whre r u? Remix: omw 2 spain barcelona Original: ooh send pics if u need me call Remix: pics or nay gotcha txt u l8r luv u Original: love u 2

Safely back in the living Realm and tucked away in Jason’s apartment, Jazz and Danny tried to investigate the bomb- unfortunately there was nothing for them to do but wait.

On the upside, the Justice League was about to hit the UN full force with all the subtlety of a tsunami and who had front row seats to the drama?

Yep, the Regent. Jazz wasn’t exactly thrilled that her presence was requested, even though it was on the path to the desired outcome the Nightingale siblings had fought for, but both her soulmate boyfriend and little brother would be by her side as support.

The Birds and the Bats Group Chat

Zombie: I lived bitch Spoiler-Alert: Jason! Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing! Blood_Heir: Todd. Zombie: don’t sound too excited there demon brat. Blood_Heir: Never. Sleep_When_Im_Dead: Where have you been? Zombie: Stayed overnight at my Docs for observation. Fly-Like-A-Dick: For three days? Blood_Heir: Fail to find that humorous Todd. Zombie: wasn’t meant to be a joke brat. I was actually at my Docs. Zombie: Got a shovel talk from my girlfriends little brother too. Spoiler-Alert: Whoa GIRLFRIEND!!!! 😱 Jason! Why is this the first were hearing this??? Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing!!!!!! Quiet_Dancer: 🤗 Zombie: At least Cass and Dickiebird are happy for me Spoiler-Alert: Ecstatic! But details! Now. Zombie: No. Fly-Like-A-Dick: Is she a redhead??? Sleep_When_Im_Dead: Jasmine Nightingale. Zombie: Babs. Oracle_of_Gotham: On it. [member Sleep_When_Im_Dead has been blocked from the group.] Spoiler-Alert: too late!!!!!! Cass with me! Quiet_Dancer: 🫡 Oracle_of_Gotham: DENIED Batdad: Welcome back Jaylad. Zombie: Old man You and I need to have a talk with words Fly-Like-A-Dick: battle stations everyone!!!

Council of Uncaged Birds

Queen_Regent: Ellie, I want you to meet Jason. Officially meet him. WanderingPrincess: eh??? temp said wasnt srs Queen_Regent: Danny No InfiniteStarPrince: Danny YES Frosty said they are soulmates!!!!!! WanderingPrincess: 🤯😱 wha th fuck!!!1 Queen_Regent: language! WanderingPrincess: ENGLISH imma get a shovel gotta undead weenie 2 bury.

Template. [user InfiniteStarPrince has left the chat] WanderingPrincess: coward Queen_Regent: I have many regrets. WanderingPrincess: u luv us 👻

Lady & Knight chat Lady: Jay remember when I told you I wanted you to meet Ellie? Knight: She’s bringing a shovel isn’t she. Lady: I love how brilliant you are. Knight: I aim to please.

Lady & Knight chat Knight: you patrolling tonight? Lady: wasnt planning on it Knight: wanna meet me? Lady: same time same place? Knight: you know it

The abolishment of the Anti-Ecto Acts officially happened at three pm on a dreary Gotham Tuesday. Jazz was cuddled with Jason on his couch, dozing off to his heartbeat as he read Pride and Prejudice for the thousandth time. The comfortable silence they had wrapped themselves in only occasionally broken by Jason turning a page was completely shattered when Jazz’s phone rang with the Ghostbusters theme song.

“Danny?” Jazz answered surprised, “School isn’t out yet, what’s wrong?” She was greeted by Danny’s heaving cries as he replied.

“Batman, he- he did it!” Danny sobbed, “He saved us.”

It clicked then. The Dark Knight had completed the task he was entrusted with by a Spirit of Protection, the Once and Future Star King, and unknowingly kept the promise a ghost made to a young Jasmine Fenton.

One day my son will stop this. All of this. You only need to be strong. Take care of yourself and your brother. I promise.

She had waited years for the promise to be fulfilled, the sworn promise of the dead to a living child. Jasmine was a patient soul, but she had still been a child that night in Gotham.

(The Drs. Fenton believing the stories about a ghostly vigilante patrolling the streets, a never aging child by their side.) (Dragging their children with them. ) (Hungry and cold.) (A dead man who swore his son would end their torment one day.)

(She should’ve known it wouldn’t come fast enough to save Danny.)

How was she to know the ghost was speaking of the Realms inhabitants, not the abused and neglected children of Ghost Hunters? How was she to know that the hope such a promise kindled wasn’t hers to keep? Jason wrapped his arms around her, the book set aside and her phone gently taken from her grasp to be put on speaker so they could both talk to her little brother. Danny had dissolved from heaving sobs to muffled hiccups, seemingly now that he’d shared the news with his sister.

“He really did,” she muttered. “He really did it.”

(The furry fucker actually did it.) (She’d known that he was going to try, but humans are stubborn creatures.)

A/N: Hi! Welcome to an update for the Regent. Just to be fully transparent with each of my readers - The Regent is still on Hiatus.

I have deleted so much of my writing because I don't like the flow/dialogue/pacing. Original ending thrown out and rewritten twice- still don't care for it. Who knew something other than Angst would be so difficult.

(Not me!)

Having said that, this entry is of course beta'd by the wonderful @meditating-cat who has put up with my random messages.

(You are amazing!)

(In all honesty, I wish I could just skip right to the ending because at least I know 100% I can get it just right....eventually.)

Thanks for reading and happy easter!

130 notes · View notes

coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

misconceptions

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader x bradley 'rooster' bradshaw (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“You know, on account of your whole aggressively heterosexual, toxically masculine, 'I'm God’s gift to women' thing.”

Only Hangman is shameless enough to be offended at something so obvious. “I’m not aggressively heterosexual.”

warnings- 18+ minors DNI, (& glen don't read this shit please i'm embarrassed), allusions to previous threesome (m/f/f), voyeurism, implied threesome (f/m/m), public teasing, you prob shouldn't fuck in cars while they're moving bc seat belts/safety but this is self indulgent so let me live, fingering, edging, crying, praise kink, oral (f receiving), soft dom bradley, not so soft (but not really mean) jake, light dumbification/ degradation/ something along those lines, brat tamer boys, established rooster x reader relationship

length- 3.7k idk why my pwp is like this god help me when i finish something that's more than banter & smut again it'll be a billion words

an- I WAS working on something that didn't have smut but then miles posted that fucking picture- blame him. so here we go again...I don't...know what this is and i actually kind of hate it but i need it out of my brain. I'm sure rooster x hangman x reader has been done to death but I made an allusion to it in up to no good and well. yeah. so technically this is a sequel to that but you don't need to read that first because any illusion of plot in this is just a means for smut. *hides and blushes like a slut*

I want to say the entire premise of this is crack but my guy friends have convos like this at the bar all the time so who knows. I mean it's still ridiculous but...idk also the working title of this was bob fucks even though he's not even it and I thought that was amusing

“Knockout, five o’clock,” Payback mutters, looking behind you and Jake. “Looks like she’s got her sights set on you, Seresin.”

Jake manages a quick look over his shoulder, smirking when he turns back around because she is, in fact, gorgeous and beelining straight for his side of the table.

He rolls his shoulders back and winks at the group. You make a fake gagging noise purely out of reflex and nothing else, you swear, contemplating going up to the bar for another drink just so you don’t have to bear witness to this. You’re about to get up when you catch a very feminine hand out of the corner of your eye, going to tap you lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey,” the girl says, sidling up to you and immediately turning her back to Jake. “Where’s Bradley?”

Oh.

“Still on base,” you reply, quickly smiling in recognition. “It’s good to see you, Ash, you look good.”

“I’ll say,” Ashley answers, eyeing you up and down. She raises an eyebrow when her gaze gets to the hem of your sundress that’s resting a little high on your thigh. “I’m in town for a few days, come find me later if he makes it up here tonight.”

You duck your head, fighting the blush rising up your neck. “Maybe, I’ll let you know.”

“Please do.” Ashley winks, running her hand down your arm to the inside of your wrist, just this side of too familiar. She gives you a quick squeeze with delicate fingers and you hope no one notices the goosebumps raising on your arms before she turns on her heel to disappear back into the crowd.

You stare decidedly at your beer after Ashley saunters away, feeling everyone’s eyes on you and wanting to avoid this conversation as long as possible.

When you finally look up Phoenix is clearly fighting back a giggle, but her eyes are directed to the right of you, at Hangman.

“What the fuck was that?” He finally croaks after a few beats of awkward silence, mouth dry.

Phoenix reaches over to smack him upside the head. “You can’t really be this stupid.”

Jake is pretty sure he isn’t but he’s also kind of thinks he might be having a stroke.

“Always thought you guys were so boring,” he says dumbly, mouth agape.

Phoenix sighs, like she can’t comprehend how she ended up surrounded by so little intelligence, leaning over again to close Jake’s jaw. “Don’t mind him, up until two minutes ago he thought you and Rooster only banged in missionary.”

You blink.

You can’t believe that just came out of her mouth so casually.

You’re going to kill Rooster for not being here to endure this with you.

“Why…have you been speculating about how Rooster and I fuck?” You ask finally, slowly, pretty sure you don’t want to know the answer. Lack of self-preservation makes you ask anyways.

“Well, there had to be some sort of explanation for why it’s so easy for you to rile him up,” Jake declares, voice going a little high.

Huh.

Terrible logic but you suppose that could’ve been worse.

Still. This is a discussion you have negative interest in having. In public. With all your friends right here. With Hangman, of all people.

“Can we talk about something else? Like, literally anything else?” You don't want to beg, but this entire conversation is making your leg twitch.

“Nope,” Payback answers immediately. “We need more information.”

“We have questions,” Fanboy concurs.

You want to crawl under the table.

“I have questions too,” you shoot back instead, figuring you'll try going on the offensive. “Why do you guys want to know about our sex life? Because I’ve heard way too much from your girlfriends and I now have to live with that horrifying knowledge for the rest of my life. Why would you want those details voluntarily?”

Phoenix hums in agreement and you’re overwhelmed with the urge to hug her.

“Is that right, sweets?” Jake grins, clearly having recovered somewhat.

“Not you, Jake," you shoot back. "Thank God you haven’t dated anyone long enough for me to become friends with her.”

You studiously do not mention that he’s probably the only one you might welcome salacious details about.

“Because the rest of us aren’t having threesomes,” Payback adds, ignoring the blonde. “We’re jealous.”

You cough, averting eye contact. “Well, some of you are.”

They’re all staring at you again and you shrug. “Look, Bob fucks, not my fault the rest of you don’t.”

Jake has hit Ctrl-Alt-Delete on his temporary recovery, chunked the laptop that operates his brain out the window, and is now definitely having a stroke.

“You…and Bob?”

You scrub your hand across your face, not sure how much more of this high-pitched Hangman you can handle tonight. It’s making you edgy. “Not with me. Keep it together, pretty boy.”

Normally, you’d rejoice in the slight pink tinge gracing Jake’s cheekbones when you call him pretty boy, in one upping Hangman for a second, even if you’re the only one that notices. Tonight, it only scatters anxiety through your bloodstream.

At this point you decide to just get up and leave the table. It’s probably for the best.

“Are you gonna make it?” Phoenix asks Jake after you’ve made your way to the bar.

“No,” he answers petulantly.

•••

Hangman looks decidedly more like his usual self lounging across from you and Rooster in the booth you've taken to hiding in and you're silently thanking the whiskey he's switched to for it.

He's a pain in the ass, sure, but when he's not bantering with you, you're not even sure what to do with him. Shrill is not a word you thought you'd ever have to use to describe him, you're practically trembling at the memory of it.

All that means you're smiling, a little wicked, while you lean into the warmth of Rooster’s body. “Don’t worry, Hang, no one expects you to have a threesome unless it’s with two other girls.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of his head and you bite back a snicker. Direct hit. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

When you’re pretty sure you’re not going to laugh directly in his face, you wave your hand dismissively, hoping the wild hand gesture captures Jake’s whole air. “You know, on account of your whole aggressively heterosexual, toxically masculine, ‘I’m God’s gift to women’ thing.”

Only Hangman is shameless enough to be offended at something so obvious. “I’m not aggressively heterosexual.”

“Twenty bucks your tongue is down some poor girls throat by the end of the night.”

“That’s called having game,” he retorts. “I’ll have you know I’m a very enlightened man. Good to know you pay so much attention to my conquests though, sweets.”

He winks and you immediately wonder why you were grateful for his mood shift.

“Conquests, seriously?” You fight back a gag. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Jake.”

You hope the use of his real name emphasizes your disappointment in him.

Rooster’s gaze is flitting back and forth between you two like he’s watching a tennis match, expression calculating. “I don’t know that I feel like calling Ashley tonight.”

Both of your mouths snap shut when you register what he just said.

Where did that come from?

“Well, that figures, little bird. I’m surprised you knew what to do with both of them the first time around.” Hangman grins around his glass before taking another sip of whiskey.

Rooster rolls his eyes, but otherwise waves off the dig. “I just think there’s something else princess might enjoy a little more.”

You immediately feel heat rising to your cheeks. That explains his abrupt timing.

“Rooster,” you manage to grit out, warning in your tone as you tighten your fingers on his thigh.

He ignores you, because he knows you. Knows what you secretly want, what you’re too embarrassed to say out loud, too proud to admit. If you weren't so busy being uncomfortable you'd have warmth spreading through your chest at the knowledge that he just wants to take care of you, give you what you need.

Rooster runs his hand up your bare thigh, playing with the hem of your dress, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you before immediately blowing a fuse in your willpower.

“Come on, baby," he murmurs. "Don’t you want to tell him what we talked about the other day? After the beach?”

Crimson is painting itself across your cheekbones, you’re sure of it.

Recognition crosses Hangman’s face and he clears his throat, which is suddenly dry.

“Talk about me a lot while you’re fucking your girl, Bradshaw?” He taunts, but there’s something thick in his voice, something rapidly glazing over his bright eyes.

“Rooster,” you say again, but this time it comes out a little whinier, a little more abashed.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Rooster soothes you, gentle and doting, because he always knows how to make you melt like butter. “I see how he looks at you.”

Hangman fiddles with the rim of his rocks glass, but he doesn’t deny it.

If you were more present in this moment, if you weren’t so distracted by the need suddenly, insistently thrumming through your body, by Rooster’s hand burning on your thigh; you might be amused at this role reversal, Rooster calm, collected and bordering on cocky, while Hangman shifts across from you, curiosity making him jumpy in his seat.

Rooster’s mustache tickles your cheek as he runs his mouth across you, mouth moving to latch onto the sensitive spot below your ear. Your lips part of their own accord as you feel him move his hand under the skirt of your dress, brushing his knuckles against where you’re already soaking through your panties.

Meeting the green eyes across from you feels hot like burning and you tuck your face into Rooster’s neck to hide from it, biting your lip to keep from letting out the truly obscene noise that’s bubbling in your chest. “Can we please go home, babe?”

He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze, tilting his head in the direction of the man across from you. “That depends. Are you gonna be a good girl for him, baby?”

Well, Rooster certainly isn't waiting patiently on his perch tonight then, is he?

Your breath hitches, everything in your body going still for a moment when you hear him, before words come tumbling out of your mouth.

“Yes, yes, yes, I promise, Bradley, please,” you whine softly, fingers gripping the edge of his open shirt, looking for something, anything to keep you grounded.

“Jesus,” you hear faintly from the other side of the table. When you look up you catch Jake’s eyes, pupils blown so wide they’re practically black.

Your boyfriend’s lips twitch upwards, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s turned towards the blonde, while his fingers continue running up and down your clothed slit. “Gorgeous like this, isn’t she?”

“Christ, Bradshaw. Understatement of the year. What a nice surprise this is.”

“Only gets better the more you tease her,” he promises.

“I’m right here,” you protest, narrowing your eyes at the two men. You’re aiming for annoyed but you’re pretty sure the words come out petulant instead. If you were standing you might even stomp your foot.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you feeling a little ignored?” Bradley coos with a quick peck to your cheek, hint of condescension in his tone.

Jake shoots you a wicked grin, mischief lighting up his face. “Should’ve known you’d be a fuckin’ brat.”

“Bratty girls don’t deserve to get what they want, do they?” Bradley asks Jake, but his eyes are on you.

You pout, looking up at him and trying to look as cute as possible, hoping an innocent expression might get you out of this little predicament.

It usually works on Bradley, but Jake just snickers from his side of the booth.

“No, they don’t. Not sure they deserve to wear panties either.”

“The man makes a good point,” Bradley agrees, tearing his attention from your imploring eyes.

Distantly, you’re glad he’s angled his body to block you from the rest of the bar, because Bradley is working baby blue lace down your hips, lifting you slightly in the process, before settling you back down with your feet in Jake’s lap under the table.

Jake sends a cheeky wink your direction as his hand runs up the inside of your leg, squeezing your calf, then thigh in a way that could really only be described as affectionate, which sends shivers down your body right to your core. He pulls your panties the rest of the way down, letting you catch a glimpse of his fingers running over them before he puts them in his pocket.

“Drenched those, didn’t you darlin’?” He drawls, as he stares you dead in the eyes and licks your slick from his fingers.

Your mouth drops open of its own accord and before you even have a chance to recover you feel fingers pressing against your bundle of nerves. Thankfully, Bradley kisses you a moment later, swallowing the moan that leaves your lips. “Shh, we don’t want everyone to hear, do we?”

“Fuck, she’d probably like that, wouldn't she?”

You blink slowly, eyes struggling to focus as they move between the two men.

Bradley smirks. “Poor baby, lost your words already?”

Your brain has been wiped clean so you can only mewl quietly in response.

“Think she might be obedient enough to go, now,” Jake offers.

You’re pretty sure you look drunk as you stumble outside, Bradley supporting you with an arm around your waist, nearly carrying you out.

When you reach the car, he turns to deposit you into the other man's arms. “Just don’t let her come till we get home, yeah?”

Jake grins. “Sure thing, Bradshaw.”

The moment you’re in the back of the Bronco Jake is all over you, pulling you in for a rough kiss.

He manhandles you onto his lap, pulling your back against his front as his hand slides up to your jaw, forcing your attention to Bradley in the driver’s seat.

You meet Bradley’s stare in the rearview mirror, and he grins, clearly enjoying how debauched you look in Jake’s lap, as much as he can while driving, anyways. Your mouth parts as Jake trails his down the side of your neck, across your shoulder, leaving red bite marks as he goes.

You’re thinking about how powerful Jake looks behind you, completely unbothered by your boyfriend’s eyes constantly darting from the road to the mirror to watch you both, when his hand slides underneath your dress, bunching it up and out of his way, leaving you bare against his pants.

“Fuck,” Jake groans, fingers flicking expertly at your entrance. “You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but blush, head ducking down as you focus on the wispy material of your dress falling haphazardly off your chest, breaking your gaze from the front of the car.

“Jake,” you whimper, grinding back onto his lap.

He clucks a noise of disapproval and your stomach rolls unpleasantly at the idea that you’ve disappointed him already. “Let him watch your pretty mouth moan my name, sugar.”

You snap your head back up at his words, rushing to comply, rushing to be good, only to meet cheeky, dark eyes in the mirror. Your mouth drops open as Jake eases a finger into you, gaze fixed on Bradley as heat washes over you.

Jake adds another finger, and then twists, while his thumb rubs insistent figure eights along your aching clit. If you had any sense, you might be bashful at how your legs are already shaking where they’re bracketed around his.

You vaguely remember Bradley’s instructions before getting in the car, but you can’t help the pleading falling from your lips anyways.

“Wanna come, Jake, please, please, need it,” you whine, squirming in his lap, on his fingers, against the bruising hold his other hand has on your hip. You can’t get comfortable, can’t stop moving, it’s not enough, you need more.

He chuckles, the sound mocking, bordering on mean, and you can’t help but shudder at the way it shoots heat right through you.

“I could let you come all over my fingers,” he muses languidly, pressing slow circles on your clit, like you have all the time in the world in the back of Bradley’s bronco. The yes, please, is on the tip of your tongue when he continues, words hot in your ear. “Or I could edge you with my mouth until you cry.”

You and Bradley suck in simultaneous sharp breaths at Jake’s words and you can practically feel the amusement radiating from him.

“Sweetheart, you gonna tell me what you want?”

You’re biting your lip to keep the obscene noises threatening to tear from you muffled, teeth so tight on your swollen lip you’re surprised you haven’t drawn blood.

His fingers still after a few torturous seconds of you attempting to remember how to make decisions. You could do that, at one point in your life, you think.

“Asked you a question.”

Frustrated, your eyebrows knit together as you try to form words. “Jake.”

He grazes his teeth across your neck, and you can feel that infamous smirk against your skin. “As pretty as you sound saying it, my name is not the answer.”

“I…fuck, Jake, I don’t—” you mewl brokenly, hands going to his arms, pushing, gripping, hoping you can get him to move again, give you what you need.

“Seem to remember you promising you’d be good for me.” Jake continues, as if you haven’t spoken at all and there’s a steely edge in his tone that sends another wave of heat straight to your core.

“Sorry, sorry, Jake please, sorry, can be, I swear,” you babble. Your voice sounds foreign to you, high and whiny like it might crack and break if you don’t get his approval.

“Be a good girl and tell me what you want, then.”

You’re flushing with embarrassment at this, you know what you want, but it doesn’t make your cheeks flame any less to have to admit it. “Your mouth, please, Jake need your mouth on me…”

“Good choice, darlin’,” he murmurs, lifting you up and laying you down on your back as he bends to put your legs over his shoulders, kneeling impossibly in the backseat. “Knew a slutty little thing like you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were wrecked.”

He must be really flexible, you think helplessly, before his tongue licks a stripe up your slit and drives every other remaining thought from your body.

He works those thick fingers into you again, curling them at the same time he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

Your back arches involuntarily, stars suddenly dancing across your vision. Worked up as you are he brings you to the edge quickly, and you stupidly think he might actually let you go over.

Just as your whines are hitting their crescendo, just when you’re so close you can practically taste it—he pulls back, mouth suddenly moving down your hip, away from where you want him, fingers retreating to leave you clenching around nothing. The noise you make in response is obscenely close to a wail, bringing tears to your eyes.

You blink them back hard, determined not to let Jake win so quickly.

He nips the inside of your thigh, making you spasm in surprise. As soon as you’ve come down from the sheer disappointment and not a second later, he’s back on you, lips and fingers working determinedly to wind you up again.

Jake continues his little routine, one, two, three more times until you’re sobbing, unable to hold the tears back as they leak from the corners of your eyes. Your hands are tight in his hair, trying to keep his mouth on you, terrified of him stopping and leaving you frustrated and aching again.

Hazily, you’re aware that the car isn’t moving anymore, that if you turn your head a little to the left you can see Bradley biting his lips and white knuckling the steering wheel, eyes fixed on you in the mirror still. That there’s nonsense pouring from your mouth in between the cries, as you writhe against Jake’s face, I need, Jake please, please, I can’t, Jakejakejake, I—

“You can let go for him, baby.” You hear Bradley’s deep voice cutting through the fog in your mind.

His words tingle across your skin, at the tip of every nerve ending, as your muscles start contracting, giving in to what you’ve been begging for since you got in the car. It crashes into you, an avalanche rumbling through your body, back arching in a moment of pure perfection. And all that’s left is a glowing, fuzzy feeling, warmth spreading through your chest like you just finished a shot of whiskey.

“Jesus,” Jake whispers as you come down, mouth trailing softly up your stomach, your chest and across your jaw, to brush your lips. “Fuck, sweetheart, such a good girl for me.” His words are muffled as you taste the tang of yourself on his mouth and wrecked as you are you still preen at his praise.

The driver’s side door opens and shuts with a definitive thud, pulling you and Jake out of your stupor. He gives you one last peck before dragging your dress back down, although you suffer from no misconceptions that it’ll help you look any less debauched.

You let yourself be tugged out of the car and into Jake’s arms, limbs leaden and slow on your way to your front door as your brain catches up with your body. You list against him, eyes fluttering closed as Bradley digs around for his keys. Once he opens the door he turns to you, smirking at the dazed expression washed over your features, the lazy blinks as you try to focus your eyes.

“Aw, baby, you can’t be tired already,” Bradley coos, reaching up to hold your face and affectionately running his thumbs over your cheekbones, wiping away any errant tears. “We’re just getting started.”

2K notes · View notes

butchmime · 3 months

Text

research timelapse

#science #botany #cell biology #biology #i dont live in kc btw so u will not be able to find me there #mime banter #mime face

98 notes · View notes

guardianofthedawn · 5 months

Text

Noob Saibot: I could kill you here and now, brother.

Kuai Liang: Really? So could any of your shadow clones. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You are not that special, Bi-Han.

#mortal kombat #incorrect mortal kombat quotes #kuai liang #noob saibot #sub zero #bi han #I live for sassy sibling banter #noob would probably be proud of his baby brother’s sass #kuai liang subzero

77 notes · View notes

itsjeonsjungkooks · 1 year

Photo

By the way, why do you carry my sketch around?

#the eighth sense #kdrama #kdramaedit #kdramadaily #asiandramanet #asiancentral #asianlgbtqdrama #asiandramasource #userbbelcher #userdramas #kdramasource #otpsource #filmtvcentral #tvfilmsource #tvcentric #ji hyun x jae won #mygifs #I live for their firty banters #*

308 notes · View notes

zensations35 · 2 months

Text

Don't Call Me A Cabbage (Haz/bin)

Aahhhii okay here's my humorous/sweet/semi-angsty Caretaker Alastor with sick Charlie fic for @onetrickponi who has been just a doll for us all with constant Haz/bin content 🤤 (Al does get sick in this bc I have no self control 🤣) And here's the sugar on the cream: Poni drew some art for this fic! You'll find it below~ Eeeee Enjoy!

There is a concerned buzz to Alastor’s static today as he peers down at the pink flush veining from Charlie’s cheek circles. “You feel ill?”

Snf “Yeah, I think so…” she uses her whole arm to rub her small black nose, scrunching the bridge and letting out a whine.

Alastor sighs and leans next to her headboard. “What are your symptoms?”

“Umb,” she holds out her hand and begins ticking things off, “Stuffy ndose, sndeezing, sore throat, headache…”

“Do you have a fever?” he asks.

“I…I dunno…”

Alastor pops toward the box of medical supplies she keeps in her room--it was a silent consensus that no one could be trusted with this stuff in a public room.

He digs around for a thermometer and waits next to her. She looks up at him and he gestures to her mouth, open up, come now.

She does and he tucks it under her tongue, not comfortably either. She swallows a wince of pain as she waits for it to beep. Once it does, Alastor looks at the number and hums. “I see.”

Charlie stretches to peek at it but he’s already moving away, sanitizing the edge and groping around in the box for other things.

“What’d it say?” she asks.

“You are certainly ill,” he says.

She twists her mouth in a frown. Wow. Okay. She scrubs at her nose again, fingers curled into a tight fist, “Ihh hnn-KS’IEhwww!” a fork of flame wends its way around her wrist and both her and Alastor’s eyes widen at it.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh dear,” Alastor spins on his heel and rummages in a closet, whisking out a fireproof blanket, silvery fabric glinting in the light as he hauls it over to Charlie and wraps her in it from waist to head.

“There we are,” he smirks at her, “Comfortable?”

Charlie gives him a wan smile. No…

“Yep!” she lies cheerily.

He nods and sets a can of emergency fire extinguisher spray on her bedside table with a plink before manifesting his cane and tapping it on the plush pink carpet. “Now, you get some rest while I fetch you--”

“Wait!” Charlie worms around in the surprisingly well burrito’d blanket. “What about the hotel? Everyone will--hieea--IEK’SHH!!” this time the blanket smothers the flames before they can cause any serious harm to anything around them.

Alastor beams. “Not to worry, my dear, I will take care of it.” He gives her a goodbye pat on the head, the blanket crackling beneath his palm, and he strolls out of the room.

Well, at least this gives him a chance to catch up on things he’s missed since his ‘absence’. He waves a hand and a chair grows from a cloud of green smoke. Alastor perches upon it, crossing a leg and pulls out a newspaper from the void to read.

Four newspapers later, footsteps press along the hall. Alastor’s ears flick and his eyes flit up to see Angel Dust approaching Charlie’s door. He closes his paper and folds it up into a perfect square, shifting to close in on the spider demon.

Before Angel can reach the handle of Charlie’s door, Alastor’s cane THUNKs the carpet, almost chopping his toe off.

“Excuse me,” Alastor’s neck cricks as he stands fluidly. “What are you doing here?”

Angel’s gold tooth glints, annoyance flashing across his face. “I’m gonna see Charlie. Whatcha got a monopoly on her room now?”

“Yes.”

Angel blinks at him. Then shakes his head, hair flopping. “Whateva, out of my way.”

Alastor glides in front of the door, smile standing firm. “Charlie is occupied at the moment. You may bring your inquiries to me.”

Angel folds his lower arms, “What, you’re in charge?”

Alastor’s dials amp slightly. Well, Charlie didn’t not put him in charge. And with her angry girlfriend gone on a frivolous mission, who else could feasibly hold this place together, really?

“Yes, I am.” He says, voice silky static. “What can I help you with, pastel one?”

Angel props an upper arm on his hip, considering. “Alright...fine. We need a referee o’ sorts.”

Alastor opens his arm, “Lead the way.”

At the bar, Husk and Sir Pentious are glaring at each other looking equally pissed off, and in the middle of a heated argument.

“What seems to be the problem?” Alastor asks, in a semi-bored tone.

Sir Pentious fans his hood angrily, pointing a bent claw at the overgrown kitten. “He called me slimy! I am not slimy--amphibians are slimy! My scales,” he wiggles his hands down the length of his slithery form, “are cool and dry. I do not need to be kept moist--”

“Eiyeg!” Husk makes a disgusted face. “Don’t call yourself moist.”

“I said I do not need to be moist--”

“BEH!!” Husk makes a vulgar gesture, and Pentious rattles back angrily.

Alastor groans, the sound strumming tinnitus into the group’s ears, causing them all to cease the argument.

“Well,” the Radio Demon rotates his wrist indifferently, “it sounds like the snake man knows more about snakes than the non snake demons. If they say something incorrect about your anatomy, just threaten them with disembowelment and move on.”

“But!” Pentious stiffens anxiously, “we’re supposed to stop being mean!” He spreads his arms, “How else are we to be redeemed?”

Alastor growls, tapping the point of his claw to his chin. “Very well then,” he shrugs, eyes fluttering with disinterest, “ignore the fools for the ignorant cabbages they are.”

Husk’s fur stands as high as its ends will allow, tail whisking left to right. “Did you just call me a fuckin’ cabbage??!”

“Now, off you are.” Alastor shoos them. “Enjoy my good advice and quit your grousing.” He doesn’t bother waiting to see if they actually do stop grousing. His job is complete.

Alastor, having returned to the hallway outside Charlie’s room, basks in the afterglow of being on the button, as always.

His ear twitches when a piercing sound breaks the door’s seal. “Hiat’ESSiew!!”

Hm. Obviously her room needs soundproofing. Proper soundproofing. Otherwise the entire hotel will find out about her ailment. She shouldn’t let her underlings see her weak. No, no, Alastor will help with that.

He slips inside and begins fussing around, tossing green and black magic around the room until it settles into the bones of the wall, absorbing into the plaster.

“What'd you just do?” she asks.

“I have soundproofed your bedroom for you!” Alastor thrusts his chin proudly, fist pressed to his chest.

“But…” Charlie nibbles her lip with a fang, “how will you hear mbe? If I ndeed you?” her words are syrupy and lethargic. Poor dear.

Alastor waves his upturned finger, smoke cloying the air as he manifests twin speakers above the bed.

“There we go.” He snaps his fingers and a smaller radio appears in his hand. “Now I can hear you and you can hear me.”

And no one will know you are sick and weak…

“Uhh…cool…” her teeth fan in a forced smile. “Thangks Alast-ih!” her fingers web her lips, small pitchy gasps breaking through her throat, “ehh-ieeh! AEX'SHiieewwWW!!” Embers flutter the blanket around her and she shivers, teeth chittering into a nose scrunching sniffle.

His smile drops a tick and he reaches for her. Something comforting…what should he--

BANG BANG BANG!

Charlie jumps and both of their heads swivel to the door. Alastor’s eyes darken. What the fuckbucket is going on now?

“What was that?” she whimpers.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he murmurs and dissolves into shadow, reappearing in front of a stunned Angel and Pentious quibbling in one of the rooms.

“What is it now?” Alastor growls.

Angel snarls, gold tooth winking in the dim light. “He,” the spider points at the snake, “stole my sandwich!”

Pentious gasps, more of a squeak really, and clutches his overripe chest, “Your sandwich?! That was my sandwich! I--”

“Liar!” Angel is yelling now. “I fuckin made this sandwich! With my own three hands!”

“Oh, now you are flaunting your many limbs at--”

“S̸̖̯̖͊ile̷̠͗ń̴͕̹̇̅͝c̵̐͝e̴͕͙̅!”

The word reverbrates into the empty air. Both sinners look at Alastor, lips thin and firm.

“Since neither of you can go a single hour without bickering,” Alastor snaps his fingers and the sandwich vanishes from the table. Both men whine with indignation as Alastor unfurls his hand with a plate, the sandwich fully formed atop.

“Now, neither of you gets to eat it.”

“Hey! What rule says that?!”

“The ‘fuck around, find out’ rule.” The Radio Demon ignores the rest of their protests and brings the sandwich back to Charlie.

When he presents it to her, she is quite pleased.

“Mmm~! Wow, this is good! Did Pentious make this? It tastes like the ones he makes.”

Alastor doesn’t answer but he files the information for later.

“I am glad you app--”

He pauses as her cheek curls with a tiny snarl, “Hiek’ETSHFFWW!” She dips into her elbow, mangling the sandwich with her twisting fist.

“Hm,” Alastor almost frowns. She doesn’t seem to be improving much. “I deem you in need of rest and perhaps medication.”

She snuffles, rubbing her nose with her sleeve. “We dodt habv bedicide…”

“Yes, well, you leave that to me.” He spins on a dime and uses a flick of his wrist to dim the lights. “Rest, my dear. I will return shortly.”

In classic hell fashion, as soon as he decided to leave, rain started pouring. It slices down around him, shushing through his ears as he drags himself across the barren streets. The downpour is oddly unpleasant--it doesn’t normally bother Alastor. But tonight it’s cold.

By the time his errands are done, the chill has settled straight into the marrow of his bones.

Wracked with shivers, he uses the back entrance, dodging the glow of the television in the main room.

A sibilating flick of his fingers evaporates most of the water and he enters Charlie’s room barely before daybreak to administer the medicine.

She’s already awake when he enters--an early riser, like himself. And from the sound of her breath, he’s arrived perhaps too late--she needed this remedy long ago.

“EKFSH’DK!” Her sneezing is growing more raw and ragged, scraping her throat and causing her to devolve into coughing fits. Rgh. If only he weren’t being pulled into helping the wretched sinners with their trivial matters.

He jerks the door shut before her sneezes can wake the rest of the hotel.

“Aaaalastor?” her voice crumbles his name, “did you go outside?”

“Just popped out to fetch a remedy for you.” He cracks open the seal and pours the vile liquid into a tiny cup. Charlie does a poor job of hiding her revulsion.

She still smiles when she takes the medication, which makes him proud at least. As he’s tucking the medicine back into the box, a wingbeat of irritation flutters his features. “Ih٨ـfff…” He presses the heel of his palm against his nose. Oh fuck no. Goddamn rain, goddamn cold, fuck. Not here, not now not--

“Alastor?” he hears her cracked call. Fuck. She needs something and his nose still itches. He scrubs it with the back of his wrist, fangs sawing each other to the quick of his gums.

“One m٨ـmoment…”

One. Just one. Get it out of his system.

“Hvv-YZZ٨ـZ!” his ears flatten and puff out, finishing the sneeze with a shiver before he sniffles and brushes a wrinkle from his jacket.

There. He’s fine. He hurries back to Charlie’s side, hoping she didn’t hear--

“What was that noise?” she asks, fingers lightly crimping the blanket up to her chest.

His heart trips on his tongue and he clears his throat to settle it. “Nothing my dear. A hiccup in the speakers.” He turns his smile to her and clasps his hands behind his back. “What can I do for you?”

She blinks her bruised eyes up at him, voice high and sandpapery, “I’m hungry…”

“Then I shall make you food. I make a mean salt and cabbage soup for flu season!”

“Ehhh…sounds…great…” Charlie gives him a thumbs up.

In the kitchen, he finds most of the ingredients he needs. He has to use butter instead of lard (fucking heathens…) He opens the cabinets, glowing eyes casting the ceramic bowls and cheap plastic spice containers in a pink hue. His claws encircle several choices and he adds them to his concoction.

He doesn’t measure--no, he does what his family taught him: scent, taste, sight. “Eyeball it”. Cooking is an art!

So, into the soup the ingredients go, of varying magnitudes. Alastor tastes and sniffs until he’s satisfied. However…something that doesn’t normally happen when he’s cooking starts…his nose begins to run.

He lifts a knuckle to quell the itch, but even a few rubs doesn’t abate it.

He steps out of the steam, but the sensation surprised him so much, (he was cooking for heaven’s sake!) hitches barely began to flutter in his throat before he jerked to the side.

“Hp٨ـZZF!” He catches one in his wrist, neck crooked to the right, but only half a breath is allowed before his shoulders shake into a second, “Yzﮩـﮩ٨ـzZZV̵͕̳̬̽̉̃̽F̵́̑͝F̷̖͎̋̀͛̎!”

“Oh great,” a deep tenor behind him makes the Radio Demon startle, but not enough to make him jump. He has enough sense to snake his handkerchief out of his pocket and dab his face before Husker can see anything untoward.

“Hm?” Alastor buzzes back.

Husker roots around in the fridge for the carton of milk, “Now whoever eats that is gonna get sick.”

Alastor chuffs, “You needn’t worry about that.”

Husker straightens, flicking the door shut with his tail. He cocks his head when he sees Alastor’s profile, his left ear twitching. “Have you even slept lately?”

“I said not to worry, Husker.”

The bartender’s lips press firmly together, considering. Then he snorts, taking his milk and exiting the kitchen with a, “Fuck it.”

Soup steaming, yet cooled to appropriate consumption temperature, Alastor serves it to Charlie in bed. As soon as her mouth closes around the aromatic liquid, her face scrunches, eyes watering with saline. “Mgk!” Her throat bobs with a thick swallow, and her palm thrusts the base of her triangled nose. “Ah-iyee! Ouff!”

She frees her other hand to fan her tear-streaking face, “Th-thpithy!! Hih--” her teeth notch over her spice-baked tongue, “Aik’tzPF!” her hands fly up to tent the spray as she jackknifes into her knees. “EiighSHP!”

Alastor’s ears flatten and he rescues the bowl before it can tump over from her wracking movements.

“I…I didn’t intend for…” he hesitates, a chisel grating at his chest.

“No, no, ndo!!” she snuffles, waving a hand about blindly fumbling for the tissues as her sealed eyes continue to leak. “Don’t be-hih- ESKieww! S-sorry!”

Alastor struggles to keep his smile in place as he grabs the box and hands it to her.

“Thangk you aughk…” she quickly blows and wipes her face, dabbing her eyes so she can see again. They’re rather red and veined now and the guilt gnaws further into Alastor’s stomach.

He stands swiftly, soup slopping over the rim of the bowl. “I will get you something else--”

“No!” Charlie grabs his arm and his eyes dart to her, ears erect as if he were being attacked. “It was good!” she continues, oblivious to his discomfort. “Really! I’ll eat it--”

Alastor feels the chains on his heart weaken, just a smidge. Ill and weak, and she still just wants to make the entire fucking world happy. He takes his free hand and pats hers, using it to shift her grip on his arm gently.

“No, my dear. There is no need for that. Relax. I will find you something to suit your needs.”

When he arrives back in the kitchen, Angel Dust is sitting at the bar counter, spooning a pink bowl of…Alastor’s soup…into his mouth.

Alastor’s horns instantly thicken and grow. “What are you do٨ـing?!”

Angel’s eyes widen at the rage in his tone. “Whoa, chill out man, I’m just eatin’.”

Alastor slams his bowl down, tiny fractures spiderwebbing the ceramic, as his features darken. “That food was not meant for you.” He moves to reach for Angel’s bowl but Angel pulls it closer to himself.

“Hey, dude! There was plenty! Who made you King of the Kitchen?”

Alator’s claws begin to slick with shadows, “You don’t understand, you fucking imbecile. I made that soup.”

“And that makes you the boss of it, yea?” Angel dips his spoon into the bowl and exaggeratedly sticks it into his mouth, “Mmmmm~♡!”

Alastor snarls, “Rrrhh! You f̵̛̜̯̲̼͍̀͆ú̵̦̹c̴̗̭̲̑͗̎͗̐͛̕k̷̡̔̌̿̋̃͘ͅị̸̤̱̯͆͌̉̀͑̃̆n̵̻̟͕͍͑g̵̨̗̭̩̣̮̱͐̈́̂͛!!”

“Oh yeah~” Angel continues licking the spoon and moaning until he’s practically deep throating it.

“Stop it right fucking now before I rip your throat apart to--”

“Hey!” Husker’s voice freezes the spoon halfway down Angel’s throat, both men’s eyes flicking to the hackled bartender. “What the royal fuck are you two doing?” His gaze locks onto Angel who un-swallows the spoon. Alastor also simmers down, features retracting back to normal and he straightens his bowtie.

“Angel, why are you sexually antagonizing the asexual?”

“I ain’t. He got pissy cuz I ate some fuckin soup!”

Alastor lets out a keening laugh, “I did not cook this for you.”

Husk pinches the bridge of his nose, “Jesus fucking crackers.” He sucks in a breath, “alright,” he snaps his fingers at the spider, “Angel, quit eating the fucking soup.”

“But--”

“What? Is it so damn good you can’t live without it?”

Angel’s mouth opens, but his eyes slide to Alastor whose smugness keeps dialing up the longer Angel’s silence lasts. Oh he is not paying that asshole any compliments.

“Fine! Whateva!” he shoves the bowl away and throws himself off the stool, storming away with his arms folded over his chest fluff.

Alastor victoriously starts cleaning the dishes but Husk speaks over his shoulder, voice a low half grumble.

“You should’ve just told him why you didn’t want him eating it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Husk snorts, “Fine. Pretend you don’t actually give a shit about people. But it’s gonna bite you in the ass one day.”

Alastor’s teeth click shut, ignoring Husk until the feathered cat leaves the room.

He knows nothing.

Nothing…

He gets the new soup prepared and with no interruptions, brings it to Charlie. He barely has time to place it at her bedside table before some fucking asshole knocks at the door! How does she deal with their constant bemoaning??

All but vibrating with annoyance, Alastor opens the door to find Niffty. Well, at least it’s someone he likes.

“Niffty, my dear, how may I help you?”

“I just killed the beetle queen!” she beams.

“Ah, you did very well!”

“Do I get a gold star?” she asks, hands clasped in front of her apron, mouth in a slit of a smile.

“Ahmm…?”

“Charlie gives us gold stars for good behavior. I want one.”

“Mmm, very well.” Alastor closes the door behind him. This shouldn’t take long and it’s only Niffty. He won’t have to interact with anyone else. “Where does Charlie keep the gold stars?”

Niffty taps a letter opener against her razor teeth. “I dunno.”

He shrugs and manifests one--very large and very shiny--handing it to her in her tiny arms. Her eye bulges and she grins all the way into her hairline.

“Ooooh, I’m the best!!”

“Of course you are.”

“Hey!”

Alastor cringes when he hears another voice. It doesn’t fucking matter who it belongs to--he doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

“Why does she get a bigger star than us?” Angel asks.

“Yesss!” Pentious adds, somehow they’ve all been summoned by pettiness. “I worked hard for mine! Why does Niffty get a big one and we do not!?”

Alastor’s fingers squeeze the hilt of his cane, his brow creasing as his nose fuzzes with rage and…hhhfffﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Be-c-ahh-ause! I actually like the sound of Niffty’s voice. I hh-fvvﮩ٨ـ-uck!” he folds his claw over his nose, shadows dripping from his skin.

“Boss?” Husk steps closer, tail flicking anxiously behind him, “are you--”

Alastor’s limb extends, inky shadows lashing out, “Don’t f̴͈̌ȕ̸̟̭̬̒̿c̶̝͙͐́̔̈͘͜k̵̢̗̪̤̘̞̺͗̚ḭ̴̊͋͆ņ̴͔͕͎̄̾̆͌̋͘̕g̴̊̏̒̌͛͊ touch me!” His joints crack and clip as he backs away, retreating with the heel of his palm shoved against the tip of his nose. “Hfz’ ju-hhﮩ٨ـZST!” shadows fold over him, fog clinging to his flesh as his voice burns with static, “Stay away from me, from Charlie, and my fucking sou٨ـﮩ٨p!” he yells, before vanishing into the cloud of skyless fog.

The group exchanges looks and frowns.

“That guy has fuckin’ issues.”

Husk exhales through his teeth. “You got no fuckin idea…”

“Alastor!” Charlie squeaks when he manifests in her room, horns wide, eyes dark pools. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Alastor drinks deep breaths, calming himself mentally and physically with each exhale. “I--hhh-I…” his hand hoods his face and he drops his chin as his breaths saw violently in his throat, “XHZZT!”

Charlie’s fingers press at her cheeks and she whimpers with sympathy. “I got you sick!”

Alastor pants, bracing himself on the footboard. “I am perfectly--”

“Don’t you say fine!” she thrusts a finger at him, cheeks puffed righteously. Alastor stares at her narrowing gaze. “Don’t. You. Dare.” Her pointer finger waggles and she bends it toward the heart pillow on the other side of the bed. “Sit.”

His eyes slide toward the pillow, horror dripping from his expression.

Charlie’s lip turns up. “I said sit, Mister!”

“I don’t need--”

“I need.” She snuggles into her fireproof blanket and unfurls a pink fuzzy one just for him alone. She pats the open space. “Sing to me?”

His eyes fade immediately back to magenta. “What?”

Her irises glisten and grow, her face taking on that famous ‘puppy dog cute’ that infuriates him normally but…

“My mom used to sing to me when I was sick.”

He can’t help it. A song? When was the last time he sang a song? He snorts a tiny laugh. “Well, I suppose you’re asking the right person.” He slips tentatively onto the bed, tucking only his toes under the blanket as he scrolls through his mental list of songs to soothe her.

“Let’s see…”

Non, rien de rien

Non, je ne regrette rien

Why this song?

Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait

Ni le mal

Tout ça m'est bien égal

Heaven, his lids are heavy…

Non, rien de rien

Non, je ne regrette rien

C'est payé, balayé, oublié

Is she asleep?

Je me fous du passé

Avec mes souvenirs

J'ai allumé le feu

Is he…?

Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs

Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux

Balayé les amours

.ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Avec leurs trémolos

Balayé pour toujours

Je repars à zéro

Charlie wakes to find Alastor still asleep, head leaning back against the puffy heart pillow, his monocle dangling next to his cheek. His tiny snores are little more than static fuzz.

She wants to tuck him in so bad, but she wants him to sleep more, so she glides from under her blanket and pads out of the room.

When she enters the main area, Angel, Husk, and Pentious are all sitting around a card game. Husk perks up when his ears twitch and he sees her enter.

“Hey,” he rumbles. “Feeling better?”

Angel swings his whole body around the back of the couch, “Oy! Where tha fuck you been? Alastor’s dungeon?”

“We placed betsss!” Pentious sniggers.

Charlie shakes her head, matted braid flopping around her shoulders. “Nah. I was sick. Alastor’s been taking care of me.”

“He did what now?” Angel gawps.

“He must have brainwasshed you!”

“No, really! He--”

Husk sighs, “He’s asleep, right?”

Charlie nods.

Angel wheezes. “How’d you know?”

“He’s sick.”

“How’d you know that?”

Husk rolls his eyes. “Cuz I’m the only one who pays attention to you fuckers.” He thumbs the hallway. “Alastor got sick, made the soup. Angel started eating it. Alastor got mad--”

Angel’s lip pops open, “Aw what the fuck!” his arms flap, “why didn’t he just say! Wait--am I gonna get sick now?”

“Calm down everyone,” Charlie presses the air with her palms. “He went out and bought enough medicine for all of us.”

“But, wait, why? You’re the only one who needed it.”

Charlie smiles to herself, thumbing the medicine cup as warmth spreads through her chest. If there’s hope for him, there’s hope for all of them.

She can’t wait to tell Vaggie.

49 notes · View notes