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#in the illustration it looks very cotton candy

mediocore-slime · 1 year

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Cotton Candy G1

Known as the g1 pony-land nurse despite only having herbal knowledge and commonly found eating all flowers she can reach are her two character traits. Makes this a very logical page to me.

#art #mlp #mlp g1 #cotton candy #weed #420 #bong #smoke #i merged the set of the 3 cotton candys into one #and she looks very very #pansexual #i cant make myself draw more of the teeny weeny pride things so maybe ill try to get some more “subtle” things like this done #pony #♡m♡i♡n♡e♡#watercolour #sketchbook #artists on tumblr #illustration

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pizzaqueen · 1 year

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the sweetest words

(Wherein Eddie likes Steve's face and tells him all about his favorite parts)

Rated T / 1.2k / more fluff! / warnings for smoking (not cigarettes :P)

Also on AO3

“Hey, Steve.” Eddie whacks Steve’s shoulder with the back of his hand, lets it rest there a moment until it falls back to the space between them on the couch. His knuckles brush Steve’s thigh.

Steve’s head lolls toward him. “Mm?”

“Did you know your eyes have some green in them?” Eddie leans in, peering into Steve’s bloodshot eyes, searching for the green; his pulse does a little skip when Steve’s eyes catch his. They sparkle in the low light and Eddie feels suddenly warm.

Steve’s brows raise. “I was aware of that, yeah.”

“Cool.” Eddie blinks. He’s gone cross-eyed. He shakes himself and leans back. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Thanks.” Steve snorts, takes a hit of the joint they’ve been passing between them, hands it over to Eddie.

The cloudy cotton candy feeling that’s been circling for a while settles over Eddie; he slumps further into the couch, legs falling open. His knee hits Steve’s; Steve doesn’t move and neither does Eddie. “I like your eyes.”

“Okay.”

“Like, they’re really big—”

“Look who’s talking.”

“But it’s the way your eyelids do that thing.”

Steve’s face screws up. “What thing?”

“You know…” The way Steve’s brows raise says he doesn’t know, so Eddie reaches over and traces the crease of Steve’s eyelid with the tip of his finger. Steve squeezes his eyes shut; Eddie lets his hand fall to his lap. “I like it. Kinda like a sad puppy, you know? Like…” He trails off, trying to think of who, or what, Steve’s eyes remind him of. “Droopy!”

“My eyes are droopy?”

“No. Like Droopy, that cartoon hound dog.”

“That’s flattering.”

“They’re kinda…sad, sometimes.” Eddie thinks about that a lot, the sadness in Steve’s eyes. It’s not there often, and maybe sadness isn’t the right word. Hidden depths, or some shit. Eddie wants to dive into them. He doesn’t say that, but he does say, “They’re my favorite part of your face.”

Steve takes the joint back. “Why do you have a favorite part of my face?” He exhales.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Why would you?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Oh, my friend, but it is.”

“Whatever”—Steve rolls his eyes—“you’re high.”

“I am, Steve. I am high.” Eddie shakes his head, then he nods. He points a finger at Steve. “But not that high.” He swipes the joint from Steve to illustrate his point.

“What does that mean?”

“Your nose is cool, too, though.” Eddie reaches over again, ignoring Steve’s question, gently tracing the slope of Steve’s nose. It twitches under his touch and warmth bursts beneath Eddie’s skin. He lets his pointer finger rest on the bridge, and his thumb at the tip, then brings them together in a pinching gesture. “It’s very…sharp. And a little crooked.”

Steve finally bats his hand away. “I have droopy eyes and a crooked nose. Thanks.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” Eddie passes the joint back.

Steve takes a final hit, tamps it out. “Uh-huh.”

“There’s the little bump in it.” Eddie angles himself toward Steve more, inspecting Steve’s nose when he looks at Eddie. “Did you break it?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“Basketball.” Steve tilts his head. “And, you know, I got punched in the face a few times. Probably didn’t help.”

“Huh.” Eddie follows the slight bend in the otherwise straight line of Steve’s nose with his eyes. There’s something about it… It does something to Eddie that he can’t explain. But he could say that about a lot of things about Steve. He props his arm on the back of the couch, leans his head on his hand. “I think it adds character.”

“You think a lot about my face.”

Through the fuzziness in his brain, Eddie’s dimly aware he might be giving too much away. But he’s been more obvious than this in the past, he’s sure he has, and Steve hasn’t caught on yet. At least, Eddie doesn’t think he has. If he has, he hasn’t said anything about it. Eddie doesn’t know if that bodes well or not.

“Why?” Steve asks.

“Why what?”

“Why do you think about my face so much?”

“Well,” Eddie says, waving a hand, “it’s right there.”

“Hm.” Steve crosses his arms, lips twitching. “Any other opinions about it?”

“Maybe.”

“Gonna share with the class?”

”I—” It almost feels like a trap, but Eddie’s not sure if he cares, so he says, “I like your freckles. Or moles. Whichever.” He pokes each one in turn. When he gets to one on Steve’s cheek, Steve moves quickly, snapping his teeth at Eddie’s finger. Reflexes dulled, Eddie doesn’t move away fast enough, and his finger is caught in Steve’s bite.

“I think I might be a bad influence,” Eddie says, a little breathless.

Steve grins. He bites down harder when Eddie tries to pull his finger away, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep it there. So, Eddie wiggles his finger, tickling Steve’s tongue, and Steve’s jaw unclenches.

Eddie doesn’t draw his finger too far away, though. He lets it rest on Steve’s bottom lip, pressing down, and Steve only watches him. Eyes hazy and curious and as pretty as ever.

“Your lips,” Eddie starts, then catches himself, curling his fingers into a fist and turning away.

“What about them?”

Eddie turns back; Steve is looking at him, eyes dark, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Eddie’s heart beats hard and he feels like he’s on the edge of something. Something good, he thinks. Hopes. But, might as well take a chance right? He can blame it on the weed if it goes to hell.

“They look like they’d be good for kissing.” He swallows thickly, tries to paste a confident grin on his face.

“Do they?”

“Yeah, I mean… Lots of girls think that right?”

Steve looks at him a long moment before he says, “Wanna test your theory?”

“That girls think you’re lips are, um, kissable?”

“No”—Steve shifts forward—“just to see if they are.”

“Right.” Eddie nods. “Yeah, I mean, I guess you know, we should.” His breath catches as Steve crowds him into the corner of the couch. “Scientific theory or some shit, I don’t know, I flunked like, nearly… Everything at least once…”

Wait. What is he doing? Why is he pulling away? This is what he’s wanted, and Steve is offering it to him. Must want it, too, otherwise why would he suggest it? Fuck it. No more thinking. Eddie leans forward, meeting Steve halfway.

It’s not everything he thought it would be, because their lips don’t quite meet, but he’s still kissing Steve, so it’s fucking awesome. And then he shifts a little, and Steve shifts a little, and, yeah, that’s it.

“Oh,” he says against Steve’s lips, “they’re definitely good for kissing.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I have a new favorite part of your face.”

“I’ll let my eyes know,” Steve says and kisses Eddie again. Slow and soft and exactly like Eddie’s dreamed of.

In between the press of their lips, Eddie says, “Actually, I just like your whole face.”

Steve sighs through his nose, but then he breaks away with a smile and says, “You know what,” hands cradling Eddie’s jaw on both sides, “I like your whole face too.”

#steddie #Steve x eddie #steddie fic #Steddie fanfic #Steddie fluff #steveddie #the silliest (affectionate) fic I’ve written…or at least a top three contender lol #sorry for being coy with the warning! tumblr hides a lot of random stuff #cw smoking #pizzaqueenfic

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meemoop · 7 days

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As I said before I recently started following you. So I slowly been making my way to your older drawings. Let me tell you are EXTREMELY talented ( Im a stick figure kind of girl) but you drawings have come a long way. I love your DRACO, his hair looks like it would be so soft and puffy. Like cotton candy!

AHH THANK YOU SO MUCH! I think I said this before but I am still VERY NEW to cartoon illustration. I began this blog last October I think and I am also shocked to see how different everybody looked. I think it wasn’t until recently when everyone settled into their distinct style but even then they’ll always be changing. I think Draco changed the most because he’s a pain to draw and remains that way today. AND His hair IS puffy and soft! It runs in the family 😭 But thank you for your newfound support in me! Much love to you! 💗💗💗

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ilovewhiteroses · 5 months

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Do You Want What I Want?

Pairing: The Corinthian x Ryan (OC) Genre: Fluff, smut Warnings: Unprotected sex, cursing Rating: 18+ Note: My dear friend, Catchy @i-like-the-eyes gave me idea for this fic, plus they inspired and named Ryan🥰

Ryan, a young musician went out with his friends, but ended up spending the rest of the night with a handsome, interesting man…

It was a pleasant evening and the annual summer carnival was taking place in the small town. Lots of people went there, no wonder, because one could spend their time well. Ryan, a young lutenist, went with his friends who were artists themselves. Among them were painters, singers, photographers and illustrators.

As soon as they entered the event, they immediately noticed the stalls with handmade works and homemade delicacies. They went over there and some admired the wonderful wood carvings and decorative objects, while others tasted the drinks and cheeses made by the locals. They began to think about what their next stop should be.

"I know! Let's go drive bumper cars and then eat cotton candy!" exclaimed Leni, the painter, enthusiastically. Ryan and the others agreed and after spending their time there, they went for a carousel ride. The young man enjoyed the evening, he felt as if he had flown back to his childhood.

"So guys, what should we do now?" he asked his friends a bit later. There were so many other things they wanted to try that they decided to split up and everyone would go where they want to and then meet at the entrance when they are done. Ryan quickly found the restroom, which was surprisingly quite cultured, then went back to explore the carnival. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, checked it and saw a new email. The surprised lutenist sat down on an empty bench to read it.

We'd be honored to have you as our musical guest at the annual Music For The Youth event, where we present kids the beauty of music.

He smiled to himself, since lately he has been getting more and more requests and he was very happy about it. While he was on his phone, he heard a man's voice.

"Hello! Can I sit here?" he asked politely and Ryan looked up. Standing in front of him was a tall blond man wearing slacks and a suit jacket, a stylish contrast to his black t-shirt and jeans combination.

"Um, sure, you can sit down." he answered him. As the man sat down, Ryan quickly put the phone back in his pocket. The man crossed his legs, settled himself, then offered his hand to Ryan.

"My name is Cori." he said as Ryan shook his hand and introduced himself. "Your name is beautiful. I'm glad to meet you. Did you come to the carnival alone?” Cori asked.

"No, I came with my friends, we just split up for a while because everyone wanted to see things and try them." Ryan replied, rubbing the back of his head embarrassedly. He never really liked to communicate with strangers, but at the same time, he didn't want to be a jerk by turning the guy down with some silly nonsense.

"Oh I see." Cori said with a big smile and pushed the sunglasses up his nose with his index finger. "Is there a part you haven't been to yet?"

Ryan found the man's directness strange, he didn't understand why he was so nice to him. What’s the worst that could happen? He had previously taken a few Krav Maga classes, at most if he thinks the situation is suspicious, he uses what he has learned.

"Well, uh, I haven't been to the shooting gallery yet." he replied, then looked at the man's sunglasses, which made him want to slap himself on the forehead. Before Ryan could say something else, Cori jumped up from the bench enthusiastically.

"Then come, let's not waste time!" Ryan also got up from the bench and was thinking that there must be a good reason why Cori is wearing sunglasses even at night.

They arrived at the agreed location and the target shooter told them the rules.

"Okay, gentlemen. You have to shoot with this toy gun, which has sponge bullets. You have to hit these fast-moving wood ducks, but you have to be clever, because only the ones with the number wins. Well, which one of you wants to try his luck?” he asked, rubbing his palms. Cori raised his hand.

"Excuse me for asking, but are you sure about this?" Ryan asked in shock. "Aren't those sunglasses too dark?"

"Don't worry, I can see perfectly, and my other senses are also extremely sophisticated." Cori replied with a laugh.

Okay then, Ryan thought to himself and put his hands in his pockets. Target shooting guy handed Cori the toy gun, then stood aside. Cori stretched out his arm and waited for the numbered winged animals to come, then shot. After a while, he got so into the game that he even stuck out his tongue a little and fired all the bullets. Ryan was very amused by this sight, he thought it was pretty cute. The shooting gallery man showed him and Cori what prizes there were to choose from.

”Is there anything you would like, Ryan?” Cori asked kindly.

The musician started thinking. The selection was not too exciting, especially for an adult, as most of them were designed for children. In the end, Ryan decided on a red toy guitar, because it somewhat reminded him of a lute.

He started to feel more comfortable with Cori, he even went to have hamburgers with him, and found himself forgetting about his friends and what they agreed on. He quickly wrote in the group chat that he was tired and took a taxi home.

"I hope this is not a problem for you." Cori said a little worried.

"Oh, don't worry, it's happened before, they'll understand." Ryan told him, and with that, he silenced his phone. Now he just wanted to focus on Cori.

He found him very fascinating.

"Speaking of going home, would you like to walk home with me? If you’d like, we could have a few drinks, then we will see." he said with a suggestive smile. Seeing this, Ryan gulped, but was excited at the same time.

It was clear what Cori wanted.

"Okay, let's go. How about I leave this guitar here? I don't need it anyway." he told Cori, who shrugged, thinking Ryan does what he wants. As they made their way out, Ryan set the small instrument down by the entrance so a child would take it.

The streets were already dark and only the street lamps were on. Ryan wished he could see more of Cori's face because he liked what he had seen of him so far. As they got closer and closer to his apartment, Ryan's heart began to beat faster. They talked on the way. He found out that Cori is a businessman whose goal is to visit as many places and gain as many experiences as possible. There was also talk of instruments and music and, for some reason, dreams and nightmares, which Ryan didn't know what to think of, but he didn't care. He enjoyed listening to Cori, while thinking how hot his speaking voice was, how beautifully his lips moved when he spoke, when Ryan managed to catch him in the lamplight, how graceful his hand movements were while he was explaining... Ryan suddenly felt so hot as the sexual tension was getting more intense between them. He also started to feel his pants getting tighter...

They got to Cori's apartment and went inside, but he didn't turn on the light, the only source of light was the moon shining through the window. Ryan was looking for the switch when Cori pulled him close in the dark and slowly leaned him against the wall.

"Do you want what I want?" he whispered sultryly in his ear, then kissed his neck, which made Ryan’s knees almost giving out.

Of course he wanted it! Ryan had one-night stands before, but felt that this time would be different...

They began to kiss passionately, then Cori reached down to Ryan's erection and began to gently massage it. Ryan did the same to him while kissing his neck. He wanted the blond man so much that he could barely contain himself. He pulled his top off, Cori did the same, then knelt down in front of Ryan. He unbuttoned his jeans, then pulled them down to his ankles together with his underpants. The musician's dick popped out.

"Fuck, you have a nice cock!" Cori said panting as he began to jerk off Ryan, then took his cock into his mouth. Other times he did it much more sensually and slowly, but this time he was too overcome with desire. He took hold of Ryan's cock at the base with his index finger and thumb, then began to suck it, sometimes licking his balls as well. Ryan enjoyed this all with his eyes closed and ran his hands through Cori's hair. He felt close to explosion, and even though he didn't want to cum yet, he couldn't take it anymore and came, Cori could barely swallow the hot result. He took the spectacular penis out of his mouth and looked up at Ryan.

"Damn, baby, that was a lot!" he said appreciatively.

"Fuck, that was hot!" Ryan said panting, gasping for air. If the blow job was this good, how fucking amazing could sex itself be, he thought to himself. Cori stood up and pulled off his pants. Since Ryan was a bit shorter than him, he had to figure something out.

"Get on all fours!" he instructed the young man, who did so. Cori pulled his ass towards him, then grabbed his cock and slapped it against Ryan’s entrance. Before inserting it, he spit into his palm and smeared it over his cock, then slowly inserted himself into his partner. Cori let Ryan adjust to his size. Just like with the blowjob, he fucked fast, he didn't want to be gentle and slow. He wanted wild and crazy sex and he got it. Ryan's knees were pressing against the hard floor, but he didn't care. His ass slammed against Cori's thighs as he reached down to his own cock and began to masturbate. He felt that he was close again, but this time he didn't want to orgasm as quickly as before.

"Wait!" he said to Cori, who paused for a moment. "I want to ride you." Without further ado, Cori pulled out of him and laid on his back, Ryan got up from his position and placed himself on top, letting Cori’s cock back into himself. He raised his knees, put his arms behind him and continued to fuck himself on Cori's cock, who grabbed Ryan's cock and started jerking it. The apartment was loud with their lustful moans, both of them were sweating as if they had run a marathon. Minutes later Ryan was cumming on Cori's belly, and Cori was cumming into Ryan….

Ryan woke up in his yesterday night partner's bed. Cori wasn't there, so he went to look for him in the kitchen and the living room, but he was nowhere to be found. Ryan quickly got dressed and left the apartment. Although he regrets not being able to say goodbye to the handsome, blond man, he was glad that they had a crazy, sexy and fun night together.

Tags: @merry-andrews, @demi321win-chester

@thefloatingpickle, @delicateteenagerunaway

@sadnessanninthedark, @e-dubbc11

@rayisheree, @tampire

@itsthevelvetline, @moomiman42069

@evenmyhivemindisempty, @a-h-li

@enkelimoonstone, @i-like-the-eyes

#boyd holbrook #the corinthian #the corinthian fanfic #the corinthian x oc male character #the sandman

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bashie95 · 7 months

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Sky, Galaxy & Photoshop 🪐✨☁️🌙

The second post of my visual diary dedicates to the first creations I have came up with Photoshop. To achieve this, I followed a “Sky & Galaxy” Theme.

Circle is the main element I have picked out to bring out different elements through out these designs. On a side note, as I was creating these designs I understood how much we complicate things in life when the answer is quite simple.

In the very first picture, using pastel-yellow coloured points, I just created a basic circle which is in the middle of the image.Then, created two more and they are all huddling together shaping into a circle. As I was playing around, I thought, "Why not make it look like, cosmic radiation explosion vibes”.I went all sci-fi on it, by sprinkling those points into the green background to give off some cosmic radiation effect.

The second picture represent a circle that’s created from lines.I have used three different shades of purple to draw lines in order to shape it as a circle.As according to my theme my main inspiration came from cosmic circles.

When designing the third picture I was inspired by the moon. So, with the circle element I have combined four more circles and added bright to low different opacity range to each circle to portrait different phases of the moon. Also, I have used a texture to create the surface look of the moon.

The last picture portrays a circle with two colours that creates a beautiful gradient design. As a person who loves cotton candy sky, I tried to illustrate the beautiful sunset through the gradient tool.

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8bit-mau5 · 2 years

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22, 23, 27, & 30? For the art meme!

What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

I'm gonna get in trouble for this one cos i know. i KNOW this is so important but i just CANT integrate it into my routine. Its the ADHD i think, starting smth and adding it to my daily tasks is nigh impossible for me. SO... THE ANSWER IS I DONT.. NHSGDBFGFBG

Do you use different layer modes

Sometimes, though very rarely!! I only use things like multiply + add glow because those are.. 2 of 4 layer modes i actually understand. I havent bothered to learn the rest, or commit their effects to memory.

Most of my coloring and rendering is all on one layer because it's fun and easy for me. Feels like I'm working traditionally when I do ^^ (i also regularly forget to just. add more layers!)

When I DO use layer modes, it's usually for when Im working on big illustrative pieces for myself.

Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

Sometimes, but not always! Another really bad artist habit of mine is jumping right into a big commission project, or jumping right into what I wanna do and then end up surprised when it doesnt go my way asjdhdhgdg

What piece of yours do you think is underrated

Lord almighty. So many. So many. But especially these I think. The first one is DND but the response was underwhelming even on twitter, which was a shame cos its still one of my top fave pieces Ive ever done! IIRC this piece is from 2020, it was the first time I tried a hard light effect/high contrast lighting and I've definitely improved plenty since this piece, it was my first step to getting little out of my comfort zone and trying new things.

The next would have to be this piece I was SUPER proud of cos I had tried new things, like I was extremely happy w/drawing a full piece for myself but the response was. I don't remember much if any. BUT that wont stop me from loving how this came out. Gigi looks so serene here and I couldn't be happier! TW for blood + death, thought the first pic makes me think of cotton candy w/the colors askdjhdhgd

Thirdly, a piece that blew up on twitter but got an underwhelming response here Where I Post Fantrolls. TW for blood + strangulation under the cut. It's a Chrona flshback I was really excited to reveal, it's the reason he has as many tattoos as he does (': Given the TWs i DO understand why it didnt go around though.

ARTIST ASK GAME

#asks #toojazzed #mun stuff #Gabriel's art #blood #death #death ment #strangulation #FOR JUST IN CASE #ask to tag #THANKS SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK BTW LIAM #i meant to get to it yesterday but. bad migraine #im alive now though #this was such a fun ask game

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only-lonely-lovers · 4 months

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08.27.2022

notes: rambling about Tanabata vibes... kissy!

Bird is あ / Avvy is つ

あ：I'll just deposit me crumb that I remembered

It's like ah… idk why but it was really suddenly processing that when Nene leaves Amane, the fireworks are just starting to go off, and then we have that illustration of Amane with Tsukasa looking at the fireworks… and Tsukasa has like a lil cotton candy… It's so cute like, as if after Amane had his encounter with Nene he immediately collected Tsukasa and they went back to walking around together, and Amane is all genki and souped up from forehead kiss

I wanted it to be that between Nene and Amane in general being the guiding, excitable force for their time at the festival… that, like, while having a lull, while Tsukasa is looking off kinda distantly and seems listless, that Amane is like ahm…. ambiently horny… thinkos about kiss… and wanting to really like do a gesture to Tsukasa that gets his attention. As if all night he's been trying to be as cheeky and fun as possible but it can't really be as infectious as he wants, so he's lean in… kism. its really like a peck. but I wanted Tsukasa to be so like "wah….?" at it and Amane is all [big grin hehe.] it's… ~ a tanabata kiss~! [as if that's something…]

Tsukasa getting like glassy eyed…

つ：feed the energy back into this. I imagine Amane is as lalala as possible… the fireworks might be what finally 'snaps' tsukasa out of the katanuki hynotism, his brain finally like AH-- FIREWORKS-- WITH AMANE--! WAIT.. my DESIRES

あ：I was thinking a lot about how yugi8 rly feels like a chain of injecting each other with poison. it's kind of delightful. i mean in the first place, Nene develops her habit of… [kiss] + [some sort of 'explanation'… like its a seal of protection,a good luck charm…] bc of.. Hanako…??? But what if young Amane got it from Nene.

つ：i think about this a lot, yeah. that Amane subconsciously repeats what he remembers Nene doing, but then she does it bc of him….

あ：We are so in the chain

つ：I think its where Tsukasa copying/imitating Amane overall is also interesting. you taught tsukasa through example how to be a minxy little thing but his spin on it naturally makes it, different

あ：Serving his own flavor… uncontrollably

つ：its sad to me if Tsukasa was looking so forward to Tanabata with Amane but he has. mental illness so he's trapped in Katanuki for 3 hours

あ：ITS SAD…

つ：but I think due to Nene softening things once they come back together he's just perfectly perky, yes… genki boy.. very holds both your hands and swings them around

あ：ahh the thought of Tsukasa all like alarmed like NO THE FIREOWRKS DX but Amane manifests and is all smiley smiley… and like ah come on!! are you hungry? :3c …. i ate without you :P

つ：lets get to the center theyll look best there…! oh yeah and lets get you a snack how bout…?

brainless little tsukasa is like how long … it been… i saw some JP fan darwing tsukasa like excitedly showing amane a dinosaur shaped katanuki and amane just sortof putting it into a bag with a bunch of others like💔 its not special to him LOL

あ：No one could understand but perhaps Tsukasa has emotions like, a girl who is doing poorly on a date

つ：tsukasa looking like LOOK i did it klg;gjf it made me go omggg no. but like amane would be like ah sigh his shapes [like your kid handing you a crayon drawing] MAYBE SO

あ：getting quiet while lead around because kinda feel stupid. about the katanuki but it already happened but i missed out on Amane eating food [depressed eating this cotton candy]

つ：amane is so gracious about it…. quiet tsukasa like im… im behave nao… mentally im.. good… must experience the Tanabata with Amane…

あ：i'll be so good. when you give me the sparkler

つ：must absorb experience

あ：but like Amane seeing this all is like …….💭 thats too dreary for a festival…

つ：YOU'RE REALLY GLAD THEY GET TO DANCE AROUND EACH OTHR WAVING SPARKLERS AROUND….!!! aaooo streaks of color in the air… I'm sure only Amane exists, to Tsukasa.

あ：this expression….

つ：I UNDERSTAND WHAT AIDA IS GOING THROUGH NEEDNIG TO DRAW THIS STUFF HAPPENING BC IT CAN'T HAPPEN IN STORY

あ：one mo gain just to let you know it DID happen

つ：BUT SHE NEESD YOU TO KNOW THE BOYS WERE HAVING TANABATA BEFORE AND ASLO AFTER!!!! nene just injected a fun energy into amane a real lalalalala so he has no frustration at tsukasa for gettin distracted

its just like lol met a hot girl whoa…. HI TSUKASAAA

あ：[swaggers in]

つ：catches a goldfish later feeling so chad

あ：no big deal It's whatever you know Feeling like hot shit

つ：whys tsukasa out here feeling like fail girl on date and amane feels like hot shit on date wtf….

あ：😭for no reason

つ：FOR NO GOOD REASON…

あ：All you did was neg a girl and eat most of the food She had to wipe the crumbs off your face

つ：god. amane why do you have swagger

あ：I'll treat you reeeall nice

つ：will you now can we see it

あ：might as well burp in her face

つ：god the boy experience

あ：its like by contrast Tsukasa is like. does this yukata look silly on me Amane's all handsome in his dark one sigh

つ：its like he's gotten the sash all askew in the night and amane has to fix it

あ：Your girl is looking out the window moodily. spiritually

つ：she is fsr…. sigh…. really looking off into the night….

あ：but I swear this sort of thing, while Amane is sooo like. smug confidence. is like. it mightj as well be bait in terms of how much he's like oh. I'll cheer you up

つ：I like to think it was simply what amane felt he was good at, once tsukasa came back…. mm time to but really rub you and pet you and say there there all the time and throw you my killer smile and play a little game

あ：entering niichan mode What can be said.. you need me❤️

つ：amane like ahhh I got all sweaty talking to that onee-san… [fuffs around with yukata] [tsukasa inhaling deeply] godi cant wait to get in the futon

あ：A treat for me [fingers crossed the smell stays all ngiht]

つ：incredible smells. i hope we're too tired to bother showering. i hope we collapse into the futon i hope we shirk off the sashes and then just become a heap. and he smels like summer… m

oh for a little rain on the walk home…. a little wet hair, a little refreshment that makes it feel even less necessary to bother with cleaning up or proper regimen… mmmm…. takoyaki breath….. a little drizzle… a nice thing to see after a festival….

あ：Tsukasa does have wishes…. he just doesnt know how to say

つ：tsukasa has this… situation of being… a spectator… to Amane. he just feels patient and observant once coming back. a capacity to really drink in every second. I think he really felt ultimately satisfied…. the festivals were everything he could have ever possibly wanted

あ：genuinely just wishing to be together. to just be there

つ：i'd just like tosmell him. he can just softly burp in bed next to me and i will stay awake a little while extra listening to rain and Amane sounds

#22 #pre-shinjuu #playtimes #tanabata #chisai

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babblydrabbly · 3 years

Text

Kinks and All (Harley Quinn x F!Reader x Rick Flag)

Pairing(s): Harley Quinn x F!Reader; Harley Quinn x F!Reader x Rick Flag; Rick Flag x F!Reader; Harley Quinn x Rick Flag;

Word count: 19.5k

Rating: Nsfw, smut, fluff, some hurt/comfort. Drunk sex. Squirting. Strap-ons. f/f sex. m/f sex. Voyeurism. Praise kink. Face sitting. Riding in general. Fingering. Penetration. Massages. f/f/m sex.

Warning(s): Language, blood/violence/injury, guns, mentions of Harley's past toxic relationship with/brief appearance by the Joker. Post-The Suicide Squad (2021) spoilers. Major canon divergence.

[ A/N: Is it too much to ask to be railed by two beautiful beings?? Loosely inspired by the sentence prompt: "I'm either joining you or watching you. You pick." Takes place across Birds of Prey and The Suicide Squad. I really enjoyed writing something poly like this. At almost 20k, consider it my magnum opus lmao. If you have the time, please leave a comment on my ao3 or on here; I read all your comments and I love the feedback :) ]

The first time Harley shows up you want nothing to do with her.

The second time she shows up and helps you with your apartment problems, you think maybe you'll never get rid of her.

The third time... Well. The third time and all the times after, you were beginning to suspect a pattern.

Especially one day when she comes home with her boyfriend Rick.

"You have to take her."

Puzzled, you removed an earbud with a sudsy hand and asked your coworker to repeat what was going on.

“I’m not training her!”

You wiped yourself clean on a dry towel, hurrying to follow them out into the front of the store. You were greeted by the sight of a very pale woman with short pigtails dyed cotton candy pink and blue.

Harley Quinn is wrecking half your coffee shop before you can shout 'Put that pitcher down'.

She looked ridiculous in one of the brown aprons you all had to wear behind the counter— You couldn't fathom where she found a spare one. You weren't aware your boss had even hired anybody.

And she'd found the cupful of permanent markers meant for putting dates on the milks and went to town on her ‘uniform’. You immediately noticed happy faces, a crude illustration of a beaver, and even cruder words that were sending customers into fits. Your coworker had run to the back where you were finishing up midday dishes, not yet aware of the storm that had blown through the front door.

You weren't a trainer, but the other baristas didn't want to approach the criminal within ten feet. On the other side of the counter, patrons were quickly packing their things and leaving the shop.

You'd later learn that Harley had gotten the job by— well— telling your boss to give her one. You heard rumors of persuasion via cartoonishly a large mallet, a baseball bat, even a homemade bomb strapped to her chest. But Harley just shrugged, grinning wickedly. She was in dire straits at the moment, she explained. Something about a bad break up and an even worse financial situation. She had to lay low; You almost balked at her idea that threatening your boss's life to sling coffee made her a legit career woman now.

The bottom line was that Harley Quinn had decided to wreak havoc on your store, and nobody was going to do anything about it. You'd almost wished she would just rob your cash drawer and leave already.

But that wasn't how you operated. And you certainly weren't going to put up with it for less than minimum wage.

So you shoo'd her, even dared to smack her with the bristly end of a broom a few times.

"You can take your checks and leave. But I'm going to run this store like it needs running." You state firmly to the Crime Queen of Gotham (You definitely don't admit how you hid in the walk in freezer for a brisk five minutes to calm your nerves— You know, after doing something so fucking stupid).

But instead of coming out to the store on fire, you saw Harley at the bar, shaking up teas and pouring them out with the kind of experience you suspect might have come from bartending at one point in her life. She called out names, added way too much whipped cream to everything, and when she got bored—Which was a lot— She'd come to the back of the store and just— talk.

You learned a lot about Harley Quinn in just a week or so.

She wasn't chalk full of secrets. She was an extrovert through and through; she offered you pieces of her story without waiting for judgement, which you in turn offered none of. You didn't understand half of what she was saying, but it compelled you nonetheless. In between the bits about her carefree attitude and more interesting crimes, she’d slip in something that made you stop what you were doing. Stop pretending to half listen in order to give the moment the full attention it deserved.

“He what?” You say one day, making Harley stop mid sentence as she blazed on.

“Hm? Oh, well. After Batman showed up, Mr. J didn’t want to get caught so I stayed behind to distract ‘im, ya know?”

“No,” You said carefully, setting the damp drying towel in your hands down. Harley sat on top of the dishwasher as she dug her fingers through an open back of espresso beans, delighting in the feel of it. You had ignored how she just ruined five pounds of coffee— anything to keep her occupied. You watched her, your hands going to your hips. “You said… he left you there.”

“Oh!” The blonde shrugged. Shrugged like you weren't processing something so fucked up. “Well, yeah, he had to book it or we woulda both got caught, so.”

“What happened to you?”

Harley thought about it, popped her gum as she chewed it over. “Arkham. Six months, I think." Then she waggled her eyebrows at you. "Six months before I got out, anyway.”

She winked, tossing you another dirty jug to wash, which you miss and it goes clattering to the floor.

And so it went, for another week, her intensity an ebb and flow. You got a kick out of how she'd still decide to come in hungover, her make up from the night before an absolute mess. You found her in the freezer, asleep against the shelves.

Crouching down before her, you took one of her hair ties out of her tangle of a bun and redid it, securing all her messy stray hairs. She stirred, snorting a bit before her head dipped back down, returning to sleep.

Despite her penchant for talking, she never stuck around after her shift— always disappearing off to do what Harley usually did, you assumed. When she invited you to watch a roller derby game, you were unsure. You got the idea that maybe you’d like meeting her somewhere else— somewhere not full of screaming fans and violence. You tossed the thought immediately, as if indulging in some so banal was something Harley Quinn was capable of.

And you didn’t get the chance to ask anyway.

You woke up to the news of the Ace Chemicals factory explosion on the other side of town the next morning. And when you went into work, you're completely unsurprised when Harley doesn't return.

---

More weeks passed, and more news about activities that screamed Harley Quinn on the television. After more explosions and the fiasco at the pier, you figured she was back in full swing with her life of crime. Good riddance, the petty part of you thought. The part that didn't want her in your store in the first place.

But another part of you was sad to return back to normal. You did your dishes with your music in your ears again— Something you hadn't done in weeks thanks to your chats with Harley. You went through your days, your thoughts wondering about what life would be like if you just did whatever the fuck you wanted to do. Like her.

One day, you got the news that your landlord wanted to raise your rent. You're blindsided at the illegality of his asking price, and the way he leers when he says it. You could barely afford it now, he knew. So you tell him to give you two weeks— Two weeks to pack up and find somewhere new. He graciously acquiesced, and you want to take the baseball bat you kept by the front door and pummel his face in.

But you don't. You never would.

You go into work. You take orders. You do the dishes.

You closed up the shop that night with tears in your eyes. Wiping your snot on the bottom of your stupid apron, you jumped when you turned around and saw someone waiting for you there under the streetlight. You screamed.

"Hey, pumpkin!" Harley was beaming. Her hair was shaggier, down around her shoulders. She was wearing flared leather pants and platform boots— and a bedazzled blazer buttoned up with nothing else underneath.

She was about to say something else when she saw your red eyes and wet cheeks. "Hey, what the hell’s a matter?”

You wiped at your face hurriedly. "Nothing." You tried, "You uh, you look nice."

She bounced back, her grin returning. "Like it? Just did a big job— Got my own business goin' for me now."

You nodded, a bit of that jealousy returning. "Is that where you went?"

Harley lifted an arm, something beeping in her grasp. Another beep answered from beside her— A car, parked and apparently all hers. Jesus, you thought. You wondered if she lifted it or if it was really Harley's.

"You never showed up to the derby." Harley began. You were completely surprised she remembered. Frowning, you ran a hand through your sweaty hair, your scalp still aching from keeping it up in a lazy bun all day long.

"Yeah, I guess it just wasn't my speed, something like that." It wasn't a complete lie. You'd heard about how rough those games got— How many broken noses could happen in one night. The thought of blood and violence had always made you sweat a little.

But Harley seemed unperturbed. "Oh! Well, why didn't ya say somethin', dummy?" She approached you, slinging her arm around your shoulders. "We don't have to go to a match! We can do somethin' else."

"Something else?" You repeated, feeling your feet follow her to the car. You wanted to stop in your tracks. Maybe normally you would have. But the sooner this conversation ended, you realized, the sooner you'd have to go home and pack up your things and look for a new place to live. The thought alone made your stomach sink, and you found yourself letting Harley open the passenger side door for you.

"Yeah, whatever you wanna do! What do you get up to, [Y/n]?" She said, like you're the enigma. You shrugged as she hopped over your legs, plopping down in the driver's seat. The car roared to life. Your cheeks heated up as she flashed you a suggestive smile, her boot pressing down to rev the engine a few times.

"Well, maybe I— " Something that would take up time. Something you wouldn't normally do. You thought of what Harley would do. "Maybe we could go... drink a little? Get a drink and dance?"

Harley squealed, clapping excitedly. "Thought you'd never ask, sweetums. Where's your place? Let's get you all dolled up!"

"Uh —No." You said suddenly. "No. I... I don't want to go home."

The confession came out pitifully, the tears from earlier threatening to resurface. And as if Harley understood— Really understood the words I don't want to go home— She pulled out onto the street without asking anymore questions about it.

That was the most you remember clearly. From there, you remembered driving through the city in Harley's convertible. A stop somewhere with bottles and bottles of liquor. You could recall picking from a selection of clothes, just not where they came from.

But mostly you remembered letting go.

Harley took you to a nightclub in a part of Gotham you’ve never ventured. It was an old warehouse, the music echoing around the bare foundations.

And neither of you paid for any drinks. If she wasn't sneaking a tumbler away from some other person not paying attention, she was simply ordering them and walking away from the bar; You followed nervously as the bartender hollered for her to come back, but she paid them no mind. The two of you disappeared into the crowd. She did it all with a smile brighter than the lights around you.

You drank, you danced, you let Harley pull you toward her, her hands clamping down on your hips as she moved to the music. She had the kind of bliss on her face you thought you only saw in movies— And she was feeling it right here, with you.

You remembered the lights flashing around you. And then, her face— inches, then centimeters in fant of you, then no space at all. Harley was kissing you on the dance floor, your lipsticks mixing to form a new bruising shade across your lips and chins.

By four in the morning, there was no way the two of you were getting into a car. You couldn’t even remember where it was parked. Harley stumbled along, grabbing your hand as you wandered in the street— Three times you tried to look for the convertible, and three times you remembered you should be trying to call a ride share on your phone.

You reached the harbor on the edge of the warehouse district. You threw yourself on the rail, hanging there to feel the wind blowing through Gotham from the water, swaying and giggling. Harley draped herself over your back; Her platform heels made her a few inches taller than you.

After you both laughed at nothing for a while, Harley's breathing slowed, her mind drifting as you stood there.

"How come ‘y don't wanna go home?" She slurred. You hummed questioningly in reply, hoping if you leave it, she'll forget she even asked you. But Harley stayed strangely quiet, waiting.

You shrugged, feeling the weight of her chin on your shoulder. "Getting kicked out soon." You admitted. Then, "Landlord's kind of an asshole. All my shit... I don't even know if I can take it all with me —Where ever it is I'm gonna end up."

After a beat, you looked at each other. You saw Harley's dark lipstick smudged over her pale skin. Her mascara was runny, mingling with sweat from hours of dancing. You couldn’t imagine how you looked to her right now. The two of you bursted into laughter.

Eventually, you ended up in a loft that's not yours. Harley tried putting the key in the door and failed several times. She huffed and kicked, until you have to stop her and unlock it yourself. Harley ushered you into her place— Definitely a step up from that shithole she had described to you before she disappeared; Whatever 'business' she had started, it really was working.

But it still had all of Harley's oddball charm. There was a stirring in the kitchen, and she told you not to mind her sleeping dog. At least, you thought she said it was a dog. You heard a strange cackle echo through the room, and decided to leave it alone.

Because suddenly, Harley was kissing you again. You felt as she cupped your face in both hands, dragging you as she walked backwards toward her bed. You chuckled breathily as you both tumbled onto the fuzzy pink blanket laid unevenly over the mattress. Then, your chuckle turned into a moan as she nudged her knee between your thighs, her skin rubbing against yours beneath the hem of your borrowed skirt.

Harley flipped the two of you over, getting on top of you. You remembered the pleasant warmth of her hands on your hips, your waist. You played with the button on her blazer drunkenly until she's ripping it open, fabric falling away to expose her bare chest. You reached up, palm one of her breasts as the two of you kissed. Harley made a happy sound.

She bit and nipped you. Makes you yelp as she travels down your body, marking you along the way. You soon got your skirt off, your top. You couldn’t remember the last time you'd felt this good and not felt self conscious at the same time. Soon, your hips began to roll, your need for friction making you thrust yourself against Harley's thigh still between your legs.

You moaned when she slipped a hand down between you, her fingers sliding into your wet, waiting cunt. You buck when she presses down on your clit, and Harley pulls away to grin wickedly at you. You whined, your own hands still wandering her body.

"You're adorable, you know that, pumpkin?" She teased. You felt yourself blush as she watched you, her fingers working their way in and out of you, her thumb pressing and circling your clit.

For some reason, you liked the way she's watching you— The way it feels like she's playing with a toy she can't get enough of. You bucked again as you feel that tight coil of heat winding through your core. She curled her fingers inside you; You rut your clit against the flat of her hand wildly.

"Harley," You whimpered. You threw your head back, made yourself shut your eyes. But Harley's other hand was there, turning your chin back toward her.

"Wanna see that pretty face while you're comin', sweetums. You gonna come for me?"

You nodded your head, your lip quivering. You were going to come. You could feel the fullness inside you threatening to burst. You spread your legs wide for her, cupped your knees taut so she can angle her fingers right where you need— Right where you start seeing stars. Harley kept her eyes on you as you finally came, a wet gush from your pussy coating Harley's already wet fingers. She kept fucking you through your orgasm until you were shaking.

In your drunken daze, you heard the echo of your own voice in your head, remembering how you were moaning and writhing just now beneath her. You felt like you were there, on the bed, but also somewhere else, looking at the two of you from afar. Face flushed, you opened your eyes again to see Harley grinning.

"I was right— You're too fuckin' cute when you're comin'." She said, licking her fingers.

In the morning, you nearly forgot where you were.

At least, you thought it was still morning.

There weren’t any clocks around Harley's bed, and when you looked down to see yourself without a bra, you had to guess your phone was somewhere on the floor with the rest of all your clothes.

You also looked down to see— You blushed, ripping the covers off of yourself. Buckled to your hips was a leather strap-on set, a glittering blue dildo still attached to it. You looked up and around so quickly you almost gave yourself whiplash.

"Harley?" You called. You stood up from the bed, undoing the clasps of the toy from around yourself. You let the strap-on drop to the floor as you rubbed the bright red lines left on your waist and hips from wearing it all night. You tried her name again, only to be met with another one of those silly cackles from the kitchen.

Using the bedsheet as a wrap, you wandered over to the table— And screamed.

A hyena, nearly as tall as your waist, was lying on a dog bed beneath the kitchen table. It's tags jingled as it startled just as you had, grinning nervously. You backed away from the kitchen and stumbled over the sheet tangled around your ankles.

"Mornin'!" Harley called from the front door.

You groaned. Whatever you had to drink last night must have been 90% sugar, because your scream and tumble left you noticing a definite hangover.

Harley kicked the door closed with her foot, a white bag of bagels and a tray of coffees in either hand. "I got good news, sweetums!" She stepped over your pathetically crumpled body, hurrying over to the animal still in the kitchen. Was she talking to you or the hyena?

After some very affectionate kisses from her pet, she stood up again, turning to you with a wide grin. "That apartment of yours? Consider it yours yours."

You blinked. "My— What?"

"What! Your apartment! I took care of it. Trust me— You do not have to worry about that piece of shit slumlord'a yours anymore."

"How'd you even —How'd you know where I live?"

"You told me, genius." She said, like it was the most obviously thing in the world. Then she was giving you another one of her little eyebrow wiggles. "You know, after you fuckin' railed me last night."

The heat returned to your cheeks. Then another thought more pressing than your shyness made you sit up. "Wait, you didn't— You didn't kill him did you?" You whispered.

Harley crouched down, handing you a coffee. You ignored how it was from the rival shop a few blocks down from your own store. "Wow, you must'a been real gone last night, huh?"

You paled. "Did I kill him?"

She narrowed her eyes at you, then, as if changing her mind, she snorted, laughing. "Nah— I just roughed him up a little. Told 'im to leave ya alone. That's what you wanted, right?"

You cupped your hands around the warm paper cup thankfully, avoiding her gaze. Last night was still coming in flashes for you. To your embarrassment, you remembered tearing up a little when Harley finally got you to tell her about your problems.

Finally, you glanced back up at her. "Thank you, Harley. You didn't have to do that."

She surprised you with a resounding slap on your bare arm, standing back up.

"Consider it my pleasure, sweetums. Oh, and also consider it a thank you, because we are definitely doing that little trick you did last night again."

---

You don't know how— You thought maybe after that morning she would go back to her world of freedom and crime, that maybe she'd simply disappear again as she pleased, because she was Harley fucking Quinn, and you had the impression she didn't want to be tied down. Not after what happened with the clown who would not be named.

You don't know how, but you and Harley had turned into something. Friends? More? There were days when she would just turn up to the shop and order something absolutely stupid— An extra dry almond milk cappuccino with ten pumps of dark chocolate peppermint stupid.

"It's gonna taste like garbage." You warned, knowing her sweet tooth. Harley took a sip, and you laughed as she spit it out, even if it meant you had to clean up the counter now.

"That was fuckin' toothpaste." She blanched.

You dared to make fun of her— Always with affection, of course. Dared to tell her when you didn't want to do what she wanted to do. She managed to wrangle you into watching one of her derby matches, and you sat in the stands biting your nails as you worried about her getting too hurt— Or hurting someone else too badly. You chastised her for throwing too many elbows, and Harley relented from making you come to any more games if you were just gonna be a baby about it.

It's what she liked in you. You had a soft heart, but you didn’t lack fire or a sense of humor.

Harley played with the bath bubbles in the tub as you tended to a few scrapes on her face after the game. You made sure to use an antiseptic that didn't sting, and you bought bandaids to put in your medicine cabinet just for her— Cartoony bandaids that said 'pow', 'bang', and 'bop!' in bright colors. You sat on the toilet seat, content to watch her lay her head back and relax.

There were other days, though. Days when Harley would get in a spot of trouble and disappear for a week or two longer than you liked. You worried a line across your living room floor, reminding yourself that this is what she did. This wasn't something that was going to change. Don't stress over what you can't control. You wouldn't dream of controlling Harley Quinn.

Eventually, she'd return to you with a black eye or a fractured rib. You'd curse, knowing it didn't matter what kind of bandaids you had in your bathroom— There were parts of Harley's world you'd never be able to handle.

But instead of getting mad, instead of turning her away, you let Harley into your apartment every time. When months turn into a year, you think that maybe she'll never do anything to make you turn her away.

Until one day, she really does disappear.

"Harls?" You called. You pushed the door to her loft open, groceries in your arms. Your mind is half on what gross, expired food you expect to find in her fridge and half on not letting Bruce get out through the front door when you stop in your tracks, the bags of groceries falling to the floor.

The place is ransacked.

Furniture was turned over, glass broken. And by the silence, you know that Bruce is nowhere around. You swallowed thickly as you tried to stay calm. You couldn’t decide if you should walk around the apartment and make sure nobody's there, or run out and ask if they've seen a hyena anywhere in the hallway.

Later, when you came back to check on the loft for the fifth day in a row, the manager of the building told you what you didn’t want to hear: Harley was picked up by some cops downtown. She'd driven a car right into the front of a bank and they'd booked her for "armed auto robbery". They came by to see if they could get anything else on her, and were charging her with possession of an exotic animal too.

"Booked herself a one way trip back to Arkham, I bet."

And you wished that were true. You wished she'd be as easy to find as a small boat ride away to Arkham Asylum. For all the useless things you could do for her, at least you could visit her there. But when you get to the hospital for the criminally insane, they tell you Harley's not with them this time. Nobody seemed to know where Harley was this time.

Your lip quivered on the way back to your apartment, alone. The manager of the loft wouldn't even let you clean up her things; Now that she was incarcerated, they were happy to change the locks and toss out all of Harley's stuff.

It hit you harder than you expected. You had friends before Harley Quinn, but now they seemed like acquaintances compared to that burning, living thing you had with her. You couldn't even really tell them what you were going through, because the moment you explained that you were involved with Harley, their assumptions would spill out: That psycho’s ex-girlfriend? That court jester in a latex suit?

When your co-workers at the shop finally asked you what's going on, and you tried to explain it again— They rebuffed the idea that you— responsible, normal you (Boring you, they meant)— Could ever get along with her, you felt your fist clench unexpectedly. It shook there at your side, until you have to get up and excuse yourself from their conversation.

Weak. You felt weak, and people thought you were weak. Helpless. Weren't you just crying last year when you let your landlord walk right over you? Didn't you need Harley to swoop in and fix it? And what did you do for her?

You sat outside the back of the coffee shop with your head between your knees. You think of lipstick lips and that funny smile. How Harley was always tugging you along—

And it had to be for a reason, didn't it? Or were you just as naive as any sucker who walked in Harley Quinn's path.

When you exhaled, you sat back up, clarity washing over you.

The next day, you started with Bruce.

It took some time, but eventually, you tracked down a few stores in town that sold animals of the more exotic kind. When you made your way into a seedy shop a week later, you found not just Bruce, but another hyena, crammed in the same sad, cramped kennel. Bruce whimpered when he saw you, his nose nudging through the bars.

"Three grand each." The owner grumbled. And you smiled, letting him know that your boss would get back to him with the money soon.

You picked the back door of the store later that night, just like Harley showed you— By bashing it in as quickly as possible and nabbing whatever the fuck it is you gotta nab.

You leashed up Bruce, and hesitantly, you leashed up the other one too. You didn’t know what to call him for now, other than 'good boy', when they both trailed after you. You felt bad about the other animals; You had half a mind to uncage them all and set them free on Gotham— But besides eating each other and getting run over by cars, you figured you put a pin in it and come back with a better plan.

And despite the jail break, Bruce remained melancholy at his new home in your apartment. He let you cuddle him now, his big body taking up most of your little couch as the other one napped on the floor. "I know, Brucie. I miss her too."

---

Harley Quinn didn’t know what the fuck she was gonna do— All she knew was where the fuck she’s going next.

Rick is still in bad shape when they all get back to the U.S. They're all dirty, tired, and so over this fucking Suicide Squad. Milton— Robert, sorry— seems to know what he's doing next, and the rat girl— Ratcatcher the Second?— Seems content to follow him.

And the giant shark... Harley's tempted to keep him as a pet, but he wants to roll with the Ratcatcher girl too.

"Well, shit!" Harley said, kicking at the ground. That just left her with Colonel Boy Scout didn't it?

Ah, who was she kiddin'? There was a reason she went back to pull the big lughead out of the rubble. Aside from the fact that she really hoped he wasn't dead dead— He didn't leave her behind. So neither would she.

Rick can hardly stand when the helicopter leaves them to fend for themselves. They stabilized him on the trip home, but he still had a gaping, angry hole in his fucking chest. Harley's pretty sure he's already ripped a couple of stitches just standing up. Rick grunts as Harley gets under one of his arms, helping him stay on his feet.

"Harley." He insisted again. For the millionth time. She rolled her eyes. "I can make my own way. Y'don't need to let me drag you down."

"Can it, Flag." Harley retorted— She needed to think.

"...Don't s'pose you have a safe house in the Southeast corner of the United States." He picked the weirdest times to make idle conversation.

"Do you?" She quirked a brow.

"Think it's safe to say all my funded resources burned up with DuBois' Hail Mary back there. And any back-ups, for good measure."

"Fuckin' Waller."

Rick nodded his head faintly. "Fuckin' Waller."

"I gotta place." Harley finally offered. "We've just got about a thousand fucking miles to go."

You were asleep on the couch, the hyenas curled up in a pile in the corner, when the front door booms. You startled from sleep, yanking the covers over you. Ever since she’d disappeared, it had felt strange sleeping on the bed. Maybe because it was too far from the front door. At least here, you’d be ready to jump up when… when—

You almost don’t believe it when the door thumps again, Harley’s familiar four knocks rattling it on it’s hinges. Bruce laughs excitedly. You don’t even check the peephole as you felt yourself fly to the door.

“Jesus, you knock like a cop.” You say, your normal greeting. The grin plastered on your face dissipates when you see the state Harley is in. Harley— And someone else.

“What…?”

“Miss me, [y/n]?” Harley steps over the threshold in a pair of ballet flats and leggings, a terribly ruined red dress tucked into the hem. You suspected there was more to the dress before, but now it was more of a tattered blouse with some red frills at the bottom.

Harley is dragging a man— A very tall, big man— Into your apartment. He’s wearing a yellow t-shirt that’s mostly red now, reminding you of mustard and ketchup. He’s got a brown coat over his shoulders. The two of them together look like they rummaged the garbage bins behind a thrift shop (They had). He’s hardly walking straight, his head lolling forward to the point where you think he may fall face first onto your living room rug. You shut the door behind them, mouth gaping a little.

“What the hell happened?” You finally uttered.

Harley threw the man onto the couch unceremoniously, then reached for the ceiling in a big stretch. She’s covered in cuts and scrapes.

“Some government coup thingy. I got another stupid, freaking bomb in my neck— Hopefully it doesn’t kablooie before I can find someone to yank it out. Oh, and there was this giant starfish motherfucker. You didn’t see it on the news?”

“I— Bomb in your neck?” You followed her around the room as you followed her every word, trying to discern what was crazy talk and what was real. “I… haven’t been watching the news.”

You hadn’t been eating, you’d barely been sleeping. In the few months Harley was gone, you’d been trying to look for her. But apparently there was a reason she’d disappeared without a trace.

There was a pained groan from the couch, and the two of you looked over at the man lying there.

“Oh, this is Flag, by the way. Rick Flag. Certified ex-patriot now, I guess.” Harley introduced with a shrug. Before you can ask, she’s heading to your bathroom, the sounds of her digging around your stocked medicine cabinet as your first aid kit supplies toppled all over the place.

“Um, why is there some Flag guy here too?” You called after her.

“Uhhh, we’re— Friends.” Harley explains uncertainly, and you don’t love the way she’s dancing around it. She sticks her head out of the bathroom to finally look at you. “He saved my skin, now I’ve got his.”

“Oh.” You said quietly, glancing down at him. You saw the way his face contorted, even as he laid there, unconscious. His light brown hair stuck to his face, dirty and disheveled like Harley’s. “He looks like he’s in pain.”

A loud squeak, and the sound of your shower bursting to life. “Oh, big time.” Harley called back.

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as Harley got to work scrubbing all the starfish guts off of herself— Finally. In the meantime, you joined her in the bathroom, grabbing a bottle of painkillers and a clean washcloth. You dampened it under some cold water and wring it out before returning to the living room, where Flag— Rick, didn’t stir.

Carefully, you pressed the folded towel to the man’s forehead, wiping away the blood and grime. A frown formed on his lips as you worked your way down his cheeks and chin, his eyes prying open to look at you.

You drew your hand away tentatively. “Am I hurting you?”

Rick shook his head slowly, struggling to swallow.

You frowned, hurrying to stand up. “Shit. Let me get you some water.” You said, excusing yourself.

A while later, Harley walks out of the bathroom, unsurprised to see you doting over her knock-off Captain America.

“How’s he lookin’, Nurse [y/n].” She quipped. She’s wrapped in your bathrobe, her hair wrapped up. You see that she’d given herself another dye job since you last saw her, the red and black pigment bleeding onto your white guest towel. You huffed, shaking your head. How many times have you told her that shit in a bottle would fry her blonde hair?

“I think he needs a hospital, Harley.”

She waved you off. “Hosptial-shmosptial. Once I go downtown tomorrow I’m gonna find a bone doctor who owes me a favor. Don’t worry your lil head.” She stopped short of the couch, gasping.

“And who is this!” She squealed. The sound seemed to summon the hyenas, who pattered up to her simultaneously. As if rehearsed, they cuddled up to either side of her, lapping at her cheeks in greeting. “Oh, Brucie! I thought I was gonna have to go spring ya from somewhere! Did you miss momma?”

You smiled at her voice as it raised in pitched, making the animals’ heads tilt back and forth. Harley looked up at you with a lip splitting grin. “How’d you find ‘im??”

You shrugged, trying your best to sound nonchalant. You busied yourself with dabbing ointment over the gashes on Rick’s arm. “I have my ways.”

Harley squealed again, scratching her new hyena under the chin. “I’m gonna call you… Wayne.”

“Bruce and Wayne?” You said, unimpressed. “What is with you and that guy?”

“That guy? Don’t cha think he’s Gotham’s hottest bachelor?” She teased.

“I guess anyone’s hot when they’ve got a bazillion dollars.”

“Exactly. He’s hot and he’s got a bazillion dollars.”

Harley skips to the kitchen and throws together a sandwich as you finish up with Rick. You wrangle off his shoes and belt, but there’s nothing much else you can give him in the way of comfortable clothes. The shirt he had on was tight, but it’d be nothing compared to trying to squeeze him into even your biggest sleep shirt. So, you adjust a pillow under his head, leaving a new glass of water and the bottle of painkillers on the coffee table for him.

Harley quickly brushes the crumbs from her sandwich off your bed while she thinks you’re not looking. You chuckle, shaking your head as you join her. You leave the shutter doors to your bedroom open, so that you can both keep an eye on Rick and the hyenas.

It takes every bit of willpower to let Harley finish eating the last of her food and not yank her into a hug. An I-thought-you-might-be-dead-for-three-months-straight hug. The moment she swallows the last bite, you take the plate from her and toss it onto the bedside table. When you turn back, she’s the one to clamp her arms around you.

“I missed you.” She says. You feel the discs in your back crack from her squeezing, and you squeeze her right back.

“I didn’t know what happened to you.” You whisper. “I didn’t know where you went.”

“I always weasel my way outta trouble, pumpkin.” She gives you a big kiss on the cheek. You snort when she blows a wet raspberry.

You both collapse back on the bed to hold each other for a while before Harley adds, quietly, “Thanks for opening the door.”

In the morning, you feel Harley detangle herself from you just as the sun crested your curtained windows. You grumbled, trying to cling to her, but she knew just where to tickle you under your arms to get you to relent.

She throws on one of your band t-shirts and a pair of jeans from a drawer you kept some of her things in. She doesn’t accessorize today, so you suspect she meant business. God help anyone in her way when she had serious errands to do. “Be back, sweetums. Keep an eye on meatball over there til I get back?”

You found yourself gulping as she kissed the hyenas goodbye and shut the front door behind her.

The sound of it’s slam startles Rick Flag awake.

Half delirious and sore from head to foot, he shoots up from the couch, eyes flying around in a kind of poorly contained panic.

You jump up. “Hey— Hey, you’re alright.”

Rick looks at you like he doesn’t remember stumbling through your threshold last night— And it’s true. He remembers lying down in the backseat of a pick up truck, something Harley must have hotwired back when they’d started heading North. He remembers a few stops for gas and being thrown a bag of fast food as Harley tore across state lines straight for Gotham.

He remembered climbing a set of stairs— Impossible stairs that took everything out of him— And then stopping at a front door. Your front door.

Rick glances at it behind you as you quickly take a seat on the coffee table in front of him. He remembers that too.

You give him the same unsure, worried expression as last night. And your hand is there again. Without a towel this time, you don’t hesitate as you press your cool hand to Rick’s forehead. His skin is searing. He had sweated through a fevered sleep last night, in and out of it for what seemed like hours.

“Fuck. You’re burning up.” You curse, pulling your hand away. He’d gotten worse, just like you feared.

“Shower.” He ground out—dazed— like he’s in shock. You reel back when he staggers to his feet. He searches your small apartment for the bathroom. You trail after him, flushing when he reaches over his head to yank his tattered shirt right off. You dart your eyes away.

“I— Harley said she was going to try to find you a doctor. Maybe we should wait until—”

“I’ve been wearing this fuckin’ filth for a week, Lady. I’m takin’ a damn shower.”

Fuck. His throat. Rick can hardly speak, his vocal chords still shredded from the yelling, the fighting— The nearly dying.

You worry your bottom lip. Whoever Rick was, he seemed like a man on a mission now. You sigh when the shower starts running— You supposed the least you could do was find some more towels.

You reach your arm into the bathroom when you find one, carefully putting it on the sink as you try to avert your gaze. But you can’t help when you peer through the steam. See the flashes of skin as Rick rubs himself down with the bar of soap in his hand. You swallow— He wasn’t kidding about the filth. He’s covered in blood and grime, and more wounds you couldn’t even see under his clothes.

You leave Rick to his own devices. Pacing around your kitchen, you wondered how long Harley was going to take.

She’d be back soon, right? She wouldn’t just leave you in your apartment with some strange, grumpy man if she didn’t think you couldn’t handle it. You looked at Bruce, knowing that if you called for help he would spring into action. You had that at least.

So, you do the only sensible thing you can manage— You start making breakfast.

With Harley back in your life, all you can think to make is something too sweet.

Chocolate chip pancakes. You make a few big ones with extra rainbow sprinkles added to the mix and set them aside for whenever Harley returned. When you run out of batter, you start scrambling some eggs. You tap the spatula against the pan nervously, glancing back at the bathroom once in a while. Bacon? Should you make some sausage links too? You dip your head into the fridge to see what you have left when you hear a huge clatter. And then a thud.

You ran to the bathroom.

Instead of Rick standing under the spray, you see his cloudy form from behind the frosted shower door, sitting down. In a flash, you slide the door open and shut the water off, prepared to see fresh blood somewhere.

But you don’t.

Rick is sitting there in the tub, staring ahead blankly. You keep your gaze on his face, trying to ignore the rest of his bare form. Which was tough, you’d never admit. Even sitting there, injured and catatonic, he was like a stoic sculpture. You shook your head, your face flushing.

“Rick,” You tried. When he doesn’t respond, you move the shower doors over again so that you can crouch directly near him on the other side. You move your hand to touch his shoulder, but falter in the end. You’re not even sure if you should move him.

You give him a moment. Watch him sit there and stare at the faucet.

“...The fuck am I gonna do now?” He suddenly mutters. He looks up at you then. It startles you, the way he seems more aware than you thought he was.

What the fuck had happened?

Harley didn’t tell you any details last night, and you didn’t ask. All you knew was that whatever took her away from you, it involved Rick Flag too. And now you think this state he’s in isn’t entirely because of his injuries. You’d never seen someone like him looking so lost. Looking at you— a stranger— for answers you couldn’t possibly have.

“I don’t know.” You finally manage, as honestly as you can. Taking the towel, you unfold it and gently pat it around his face still dripping with water. “But I think all you have to do right now is rest, Rick.”

Rick lets you stand him back up, lets you towel him off there in the bathroom. He watches you with an intensity that unnerves you, but you press on, coaxing him out of the tub until he’s wrapping the towel around his waist and following you closely out of the room in a haze.

“Here,” You instruct. You pull the blankets off the bed for him and wait for him to slip under the covers. When he hesitates, you muster a stern look that usually works on Harley. Apparently, it works on Rick Flags too. Towering over you, he brushes past to do as you say.

He settles into your bed awkwardly. You tell him not to move next, that you’ll be right back. From across the apartment, you feel his eyes continue to watch you.

You take a carton of broth out of your kitchen cabinet and pour it into a pot over a new fire. After it warms, you put it all in a big mug and bring it back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. By the time you’re back, Rick has settled in more, his eyes fighting unconsciousness again as you set the mug on the bedside table.

You check his forehead with the back of your hand this time. Rick seems to stop fighting it then— You watch as he exhales deeply, finally slipping back into something like sleep.

You spend the rest of the morning quietly on your laptop in the living room. You fall down a rabbit hole; You start with searches about big news around the world. You search for anything involving Harley Quinn— Until you find the story about Corto Maltese.

You watch the footage. Read the comments. You follow links until you’re on a website that discusses metahuman conspiracy theories. You search for anything related to Harley again, because you can’t find a damn thing about Rick Flag. There’s clips of Harley hopping from building to building, wielding a giant weapon you don’t even recognize, but you don’t see anyone wearing that ridiculous yellow shirt and combat boots.

By the time your front door swings open again, you’re looking up, bleary-eyed. Golden, dusky light is flowing through your windows now. Jesus. How long had you been sitting in one spot?

Harley is dragging a terrified looking man by the collar into your apartment. She’s holding a gun— Something you have banned time and time again from your home.

You open your mouth, and Harley cuts you off. “Yeah, yeah— I know. It’s not loaded though! Promise.”

“It’s not??” The cowering man whimpers. Harley throws him inside, tossing a large medical bag onto his lap after him.

“Before you get mad, sweetums, I want you to know it took me forever to find this little piece a shit. You wouldn’t believe—”

“Tell me what the Suicide Squad is.” You say, cutting her off right back. You fold your arms as Harley blinks at you. You know you’ve hit the right cord, because she’s making that face— Cringing as she tries to spare you from the gory details of her life.

“Look, hun. You don’t wanna know about that stuff.” She tells you. “You almost fainted when I told you how I got Brucie.”

You huff stubbornly. Of course, she was right. But between the sobbing man on the floor and the comatose man in your bed, you wanted answers. “You got sentenced in Gotham and they sent you to a fucking island in South America. Tell me how that makes sense!”

Harley stares at you, then at the laptop still open on your coffee table. Suddenly, she’s slamming it shut and throwing it out the open window like a fucking frisbee. You hear it land in pieces three stories down on the sidewalk below.

“HARLEEN QUINZEL!” You shrieked.

“LOOK, [Y/N]— You don’t wanna know, alright!” Harley defended, throwing her hands up. “It’s not a big deal!”

“You eviscerated a monster-sized sea creature with a giant toothpick, Harley!”

“It was a javelin, okay!” And it wasn’t exactly from the sea, from what Harley was told after it had been slayed.

“Whatever!”

The two of you were hollering. As you feel the beginnings of a panic attack blooming, the three of you— Harley, you, and the doctor still on the floor— turn toward the bed when a broken groan interrupts your shouting match.

Rick shifts warily in his sleep, drawing his arms out from under the blankets to ease his fever-flushed skin. Harley’s attention whips to the doctor.

“You.” She snaps, pointing the gun at him. “That’s your patient, you got that? You better fix him by the time I get over there in a minute.”

“Fix him? I don’t even know what’s wrong with him yet! And you said that thing isn’t loaded!”

She narrows her eyes. “You think I need some lousy bullets to kill ya with a gun?”

He shutters, though a little confused, and scrambles to his feet. Dragging the medical bag behind him, he gets to work checking over Rick in the other room.

Harley turns back to you. She twists her lips as she tries to think, tries to ease your growing worry.

As much as she liked the look on your face when she told you about her escapades in the beginning, she’d grown to hate doing it now. You were kind— Stupidly kind. And patient. God, you were so nice to her, even when she was teasing the shit out of you. Sure, sometimes you put your foot down— And Harley loved that about you too. She loved you. And she knew that the look on your face right now was nothing compared to what it would be when you found out about the squad. About her stints in Belle Reve— Which she’d never mentioned before. Ever.

Harley approaches you, putting her hands on your shoulders gently. “I promise, [y/n]. You don’t wanna know. Just trust me on this one, okay? I know it’s weird with Flag here ‘n all, but once I get some stuff sorted, you don’t gotta worry about it, alright?”

You exhale, your breath shaking. You reach up to clasp your hands over hers, your head nodding up and down.

“Alright... Fine. Yeah, okay.” You relent. “But you are explaining him eventually.”

“Flag?” She says innocently.

You arch a brow. “I’m not dumb, Harley.”

“Hey, I know you ain’t!” Harley grins. “Alright— So we’ve fucked a few times. But I meant what I said about him savin’ my life and stuff! You know me, pumpkin.”

You did know her. And she was just about as fond of labels as you were. You glance over at Rick.

You and Harley had never been exclusive. Sure, you didn’t date much, even before her. But you never minded what Harley got up to when she wasn’t around you. Sometimes she’d even bring someone over— Someone she knew would get you all hot and bothered— Just to watch you open up and be the person you wanted to be. Harley brought out an adventurous side of you that would have remained untapped, otherwise. Her confidence was contagious. And she had yours, no questions.

So when you saw Rick Flag, giant and muscular and leaning on Harley in your doorway, you weren’t sure what Harley was aiming for. Was she really just helping him out? Or was there a reason she brought him to you in the first place?

“He’s a good guy.” She said beside you, as if reading your mind. “Like, a really good guy. Used to think he was just another rifle totin’ asshole. But it turns out he’s nicer than he thinks he is.”

You chuckled softly at her fond little look. The unease from your day of internet snooping began to unwind from your stomach. Over by the bed, the doctor stood up straight to look at the two of you.

“He’s got an infection.” He announced. “That’s what’s causing the fever. I can give him some antibiotics you’ll need to help him take. Whoever sewed him up did a rough job, but without some x-rays I wouldn’t suggest doing anything about the sutures on his chest until you know what happened.”

Harley rolled her eyes. Meanwhile, you felt like you just might throw up. You sit down while she makes a deal with the man to bring Rick into his practice when he can stand again— Without threatening the doctor’s life from now on. She shoo’d him out the door, shutting it firmly behind him on the way out.

Harley sighed as she plopped down beside you on the couch, her arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“There ya go. All sorted.”

You nodded tiredly. Leaning into her, you rested your head on the back of the couch. “Still have to keep an eye on your boy scout til the fever breaks.”

“Right. About that.” Harley started. You groaned. “Hear me out! They got my apartment when they nabbed me, but they didn’t find my stash of cash. Momma’s still rolling in it, as far as you’re concerned, sweetheart.”

“And?”

“And! I want you to take a few days off with me.” She explained. “A week, maybe two. I get my shit straight again, you stay home and take care of lil Ricky! I missed you, ya know.”

It’s not the plan you expected. Harley was always trying to get you to quit your job at the coffee shop ever since she scored with that group of women she called The Birds. But you always pushed back, always told her that she had her life and you had yours. You knew Harley got a thrill out of treating you to pretty things; So long as they weren’t too expensive, you didn’t mind it either. It’s just not why you loved being with Harley.

But ever since she disappeared, the thought of two weeks with her back was looking pretty nice right now.

Before you can even say yes, Harley can see by the look on your face that she’s won. She cheers gleefully, wrapping you up in another big hug. You shushed her— Reminded her that Flag was practically still in need of an ICU— And then you were silencing her with a deep kiss. Smoothing your thumbs over her cheeks as you kiss her, you make sure to smear some of her lipstick over your own mouth playfully.

When you pulled away, the crime queen was still smiling that smile. The one you were all too familiar with.

You blinked. “Oh no.”

“Heh heh.”

“Nope. Not when someone’s lying right there in my bed, Harley.”

She pushed you over, grinning against your neck as you stifled a laugh. “C’mon, pumpkin. You know you like when someone’s watchin’.”

Your cheeks burned. “Didn’t you steal your car back or something? I feel bad that he’s not even conscious.”

The two of you shoot a strained glance over at Rick as you embrace each other. If he was awake, he made no indication of it. Harley sat back up, her hand gliding up and down your thigh suggestively. You feel that familiar tingle make its way up your arms.

“Alright.” She gave in. “Ya had me at car sex.”

---

So you put in for a two week vacation, arguing with your boss that you’d never taken a day off since you started at that damn shop. You gave a huge finger to him as you walked out the door, just like you know Harley would— Except that you weren’t Harley, so the finger was 100% just in your mind.

With nowhere else to go, Harley shacked up with you when she came home at her odd hours. When she had to lay low, it meant she was more inclined to do the things you did, ie. staying in. You were almost glad to see her irregularly again. Anything was better than when she was gone.

Flag, however, remained on your bed for days. The first thing you set out to do was buy him some clothes— You weren’t going to try shimmying him back into his weird tactical pants and boots. You hoped he was a jeans and v-neck kind of guy.

You’re on your new laptop— Harley lifted you a new one as an apology for the other night— When he finally startles from another troubled dream. His fever had finally broken the day before.

“Shit.” He grumbled, his hand flying through his hair. You make your way over from the kitchen with a mug of water and a blister pack of pills in your hand.

Sitting down beside him, you push some more antibiotics out of the pack and offer them to Rick. He doesn’t move to take them. He stares at you, his brows pinched— Like he’s trying to figure out what he should do. You shake the handful of white pills at him.

“You’re doing a lot better, but you have to keep taking these til they’re out.” You explained gently.

Rick looked around the room, then down at himself. He was wearing a white shirt, and from the waist down under the covers, he could feel a pair of pajama pants on him. “...How long was I out?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Two, three days.”

“Who dressed me?”

You pressed your lips together, embarrassed.

When Harley got back home the other night and saw what you got him to wear she patted you on the head and snickered.

“Hey, you got ‘im your favorite kinda undies!”

Your cheeks warmed; They’d been doing that a lot lately. You didn’t even notice you’d bought him a pack of black boxer briefs that yes, were the kind you liked to see on men. When she asked why you hadn’t dressed him yet, you got flustered— He’s… naked?

Harley had chortled all the way to the bed, ripping the covers off of Flag unceremoniously. You put your eyes everywhere else but him as you handed her each article of clothing. She slipped them over his sleeping form in a quick minute.

Harley patted your face when she was done as if to say You’re so dang precious, Pumpkin.

“Uh, Harley and I have been making sure you’re recovering alright.” You said now.

Rick eyed the pills for a moment more before that tired, detached expression returned to his face. He plucked them from your hand, dry swallowing them without reaching for the water.

Harley fucking Quinn.

Was she ever not surprising Rick? Perhaps in the fray, when she decided to do exactly the opposite of what he told her to do— That was a predictable brand of chaos Harley was always throwing at him. But going back for him?

It was a fucking miracle the rubble hadn’t crushed him. Harley had followed DuBois halfway to the helicraft before she’d stopped short. Her gut was telling her something. Or was it you? Caring, sympathetic you, talking to her from a million miles away.

He’s still down there, you would have said to Harley. Yeah, you didn’t know who the fuck Rick Flag was, but if you had known— This is how Harley’s brain jumped hoops to justify it— You would have reminded her that he would still be down there. When the other bodies were cleared up and the city tried to rebuild, they weren’t going to lay his remains in the ground. They were going to bulldoze right over him.

The harddrive had been his last legacy. And now that they needed it as leverage against Waller, even that wasn’t going to see the light of day.

Just like Rick. Down there. Alone.

He was half dead when Harley and DuBois topple the last piece of rubble from off of him. Rick was white as a ghost, blood loss and fine debris making him ashen. It takes some coaching from Cleo to get Nanaue to hoist him out of the rest of Jotenheim’s foundations. By the time they all take off from Corto Maltese, Harley’s still not sure it was all worth the effort. But sometimes you saw the bigger picture Harley just didn’t bother with. Sometimes.

It takes half the flight to recover him. And when he wakes he’s still asking about the mission. Through the anesthesia and the now closed up hole in his chest— Rick still wanted to know if the squad had prevailed. It was funny watching his expression as they all tried to explain their big showdown with Starro. But as the adrenaline died away and the reality of what next set in, Harley could see it in Rick’s eyes— He didn’t know yet. Didn’t realize that a mission accomplished wasn’t enough this time. They’d fucked Waller good and hard. And now Rick was in the shit with them.

“Don’t go back there, mate.” DuBois had confided in his friend. He had nothing else to offer the Colonel. He had to worry about getting his daughter out of Louisiana as quickly and quietly as possible the moment they returned. But he hoped it was enough to wake Rick up. “Just don’t.”

Fuck, Rick thinks now. Fucking shit show.

Rick sighs and takes the mug from your hands anyway, gulping it all down in a few swallows.

“So what’s your deal?” Rick asks you, setting it on the table beside you. “You were on a crew with Harley or somethin’?”

“Huh?”

“Harley.” He mutters. “Said she had a contact up here in Gotham. Kinda thought you must have ran together if you’re so willing to take us in.” Or you owed her one. Rick figured that was just as likely.

“No. I mean— I technically have a strike on my driving record for double parking in college... But I don’t have a car anymore so it’s kind of a moot point.” You replied. Babbled, really. You weren’t expecting a conversation. Taking the dirty dishes off the nightstand, you hurried over to the kitchen to put some distance between the two of you.

Rick lets you fret from the other side of the room. He glances around at your fluttering white curtains in the meantime, your bookshelves decorated with trinkets and baubles. He notes the pots and pots of house plants in every corner. If the pastel pink rug set he can see from the bathroom floor isn’t enough of an indication, the framed photo of you and Harley beside the nightstand clock is. He puts it all together.

This wasn’t a safehouse. This was your house.

Rick pulls the blankets off, biting back a grunt as the motion pulls at his chest. He’s searching for something to wear— Something that wasn’t what appeared to be Superman printed sweatpants currently hanging off his hips. He finds his boots tossed into a corner, bending down carefully to snatch them up. He sways when he stands, cursing under his breath.

“Hey, wait! What are you doing?”

“‘Preciate the hospitality. Think I’m good now.” He said to you curtly.

It was hard to take him seriously when he was literally winded just from trying to slip on the pair of jeans you’d laid out on the bed. You scowled. Meeting him at the door, you dared to put yourself between him and his exit.

“You’re joking, right?” You snapped. Rick straightened to his full height, glowering down at you.

“You got me on my feet. I can handle the rest from here.” It’s a shitty farewell, and not one you’re going to accept. You move in his way again as he reaches for the doorknob, folding your arms over your chest. Rick scoffs, arching a brow at your sudden attitude.

When he reaches for the door a third time, you bat his hand away, and Rick is placing his grasp on both of your arms firmly.

“Listen, Lady. I don’t know how much Harley told you, but I’ve got some shit to sort out.”

Your heart is in your throat. You don’t know how angry he’ll get when you push back again. But Harley left you in charge of this bonehead, and you weren’t going to let him walk out that door.

“I get it.” You shrugged, unmoving. Your eyes dart down pointedly to his shirt. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s more important than that.”

Rick’s bid at intimidation falters when he follows your gaze, another curse slipping out when he sees it— A blossom of red, slowly spreading from the dead middle of his chest. It soaks his shirt, unmistakable. He steps back and yanks the white cotton away from his skin. “Shit.”

“I know you people are all about getting the fuck out of town whenever you feel like it, but I don’t think you’re going anywhere til I take you to get that patched up.” You said.

It wasn’t checkmate, but it was enough to get Rick to stop moving around. He stares down at his own chest, that glassy look washing over him again. You almost expect him to collapse the way he’s staggering away from you, his legs backing into the sofa. He falls down into the cushion, his hands flopping onto his thighs.

You give him a moment. When he doesn’t move, you cross the room, sitting carefully beside him on the other half of the couch. Hesitantly, you reach out your arm, brushing your fingers over the hair above his ear to smooth the locks there.

Rick blinks up at you, his eyes widening. Because it’s not an unfamiliar touch. Far from it.

He recalls now, as sleep had come and went, how you’d been doing that all weekend. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the feeling of your weight dipping the bed beside him, your hand checking his forehead habitually again and again. It began to move after a while— Across his temples, down the back of his head. The feeling of finger nails combing the soft hairs patiently at the nape of his neck.

The skin around Rick’s throat and shoulders prickle at the sensation of your fingertips gently combing through his hair again now— The memory of a fever, and of being cared for. ‘All you have to do right now is rest.’

Rick sizes you up again there beside him. The scrutiny makes your touch shy away from him.

Still, you take a breath. You look at Rick squarely. “You’re not overstaying your welcome. I really don’t have any idea what it’s like.” You admit. “But I’ve known Harley long enough. If she says you’re safe here, then you’re safe here.”

“...Who are you?”

You shrugged then, extending your hand. “[Y/n] [Y/l/n]. Nice to meet you, Rick.”

Rick takes your grip firmly in his, calloused fingers grazing your soft ones. He cracks the hint of a smile then— The first expression you’ve ever seen on him that doesn’t leave those deep, worried lines around his face.

It thrills you to see it. You think about how you’d doubledown, say yes to this arrangement with Harley three times over just to see it again. You don’t know where the thought comes from, only that it’s the truth.

---

Rick doesn’t just need x-rays and a few more stitches. He needs corrective surgery and months to recover. You bite your nails while Harley argues— threatens— the malpracticing doctor some more at his skeevy little facility. You didn’t normally tag along with Harley on her criminal adventures, but she needed help getting Rick on his feet and staying on his feet.

His asking price is enough to make your eyes widen. And when he points out that making him nervous while he’s got a scalpel hovering over Rick’s heart might be a bad idea, you have to hold Harley back by the waist to keep her from pummeling the small man.

You take Harley aside, ask her what she’s willing to do for Rick’s sake. She sighs, annoyed. Like you two were budgeting for groceries and not bargaining for someone’s life. Crossing her arms, she went back to the doctor a little calmer now.

Fine, she’d pay a pretty penny to keep seeing Rick’s pretty face. At the rate she was bouncing back in Gotham, she’d be making enough dough to fund her own damn charity. Not that she would. (Although, the Harley Quinn Foundation for Hotties In Need of Surgery felt like a pretty solid untapped well of opportunity, in her opinion).

Rick comes back home a little weak again, but with his ticker intact and good as new. You feel overwhelmed that Rick seems to be back at square one; You go back to bringing him things to eat in bed, and Harley brings home a large inflatable pool float in the shape of an ice cream sandwich for the two of you to sleep on in the meantime. But she’s so damn happy about the way things turned out.

And okay, you’re pretty happy Rick’s recovering well too.

When you have to go back to work again, you make the decision to take less hours so you can be home for Harley and Rick. You start to feel comfortable whenever she leaves you with him. She was right. As apprehensive as he had been about taking over such a large space in your home, he was never rude about it again.

And Rick has a way of getting you to open up. His questions don’t feel like prying or pulling teeth. He’s bed-ridden, and still a little sullen about it. You realize he’s trying to keep his mind off of the shit that’s out of his hands at the moment. You set your tablet or book down to give him your full attention, and he listens. Like he’s really interested in all the coffee slinging and tv watching and Harley wrangling.

“So. You two are…?” He trails off one day, sitting up in your bed.

He got sick of watching the television after the first three or four days he could get up and move around. You offered him a few books, and he winds up reading some thrillers about government espionage and spy games. You bite back a smile as Rick reads them throughout his days, chuckling or snorting every once in a while— Like he’s reading something funny. It must seem funny to him, you think. His world laid out in inaccurate fiction.

You pause the show on your laptop this time, glancing up at him from your spot on the couch. He waits for you to answer without more preamble.

He’s got an idea. You and Harley don’t just share a bed whenever she’s home. You’re not just friends. He’s woken up before daybreak— His usual routine without any of the working out or working in general now. It’s a habit he can’t break. Not after years and years of never wasting daylight.

He’s seen the two of you. One big bundle under mounds of covers. Harley tends to hold you like a koala bear, and you like to fall asleep combing your hand through her long locks. And he’s heard the two of you; You’ve still insisted on not messing around with Rick in the apartment recovering. But the soft sound of a kiss every once in a while in the night doesn’t escape him.

Rick doesn’t have a problem with it of course. But he does wonder if you know— If you’re aware of Harley and him. He’s thought better than to mention it to his host, in case you somehow weren’t conscious of Harley’s more open nature.

You give it some thought, running your fingers over the keys without pressing down. You shrugged. “We’re together when we’re together.” It’s how you put it now; You’re tired of trying to explain it to other people. But Rick nods thoughtfully, considering your answer.

“You know how she is.” You add. And he quirks a brow, looking over at you again. You can’t stop the knowing smile from spreading.

He chuckles. “Can’t tie Harley Quinn down.”

“Unless she asks nicely.”

The look on Rick’s face sends you over the edge, your smile splitting into a wide grin.

In another week, Harley comes home again. She’s delighted to see Rick up and moving and aware again. She crashes into his lap, much to your horror for his health, and planted a big kiss in his hair.

As you cooked up some solid food for dinner, you giggled to yourself while Harley and Rick shot the shit— He had a sailor’s mouth just as terrible as Harley’s. And though you knew some of the things they skirted around, The squad, The mission— were left vague for your sake, you enjoyed the way they both seemed to cheer each other up.

Rick insists on taking the couch now that he’s not so ill. It’s far too small for him, comically so. Harley points out that the bed is big enough for all three of you, but when a dire look of uncertainty crosses your features, Rick waves her off.

“It’s no problem, [y/n].” He’s slept in far worse places.

You shake your head. “No way. I’d rather just bring another mattress in here if that’s what it takes.”

“Hey, that ain’t a bad idea! The sandwich was fun the first night but I think I jabbed a hole in it at some point.” Harley considered.

“You did. With that weird studded belt I told you to take off.” You chided her.

“Nag, nag, nag.” She stuck her tongue out at you and you rolled your eyes. Turning to Rick, Harley rested her head in her arm against the back of the couch. “What d’ya think, Colonel? Bunk beds?”

Rick humbly shook his head. “Whatever’s right for you.”

The blonde smirked, reaching up to take his chin in her hand. “You ever get tired of cowing that handsome head of yours down, Flag?”

You didn’t think it was an awful dig, but Rick doesn’t seem to see the humor in it. You purse your lips a little, nudging Harley with your foot. You’re on a chair beside the coffee table, with Rick and Harley on the couch.

“Play nice.” You scold.

Harley gives you a challenging look, still holding Rick’s chin. “Play nice, huh?”

And before you know it, she’s pressing her lips to Rick’s in a long, heated kiss. You watch Rick’s hands fly up, though they don’t rest anywhere on Harley. After a moment, he seems to realize where he is again, and abruptly pulls away.

“Harley.” He warns, eyes flashing over at you. And his tone sends a jolt up the crime queen’s spine. She beams diabolically. Taking her thumb, she smears some of her lipstick off his parted bottom lip.

You’re in your chair, watching as Harley shoots you a look from over her shoulder. Rick looks at you too, the warning bells that he’s crossed a line in your home seem to be going off behind his eyes. You suck in a sharp breath.

Christ. They’re waiting for you to say something, but all you can really think about is how Harley’s edged her way onto Rick’s lap again, that hand still gripping his chin. How Rick’s fingers hover just above Harley’s skin, when all you really want is to see them digging them into her hips.

“You know what!” Harley suddenly said, breaking the silence. She slaps Rick’s shoulders, bounding off of him. Rick grunts at the action, bewildered. She gives you a little pinch on the shoulder as she makes a beeline for the coat rack by your front door. “Just remembered I forgot to grab a carton of cigs on the way home.”

“You don’t smoke cigarettes.” You replied, a little dazed.

She shrugged herself into a denim jacket with a big iron-on patch of her derby team on the back, then she turned and aimed a shrug at you. “Back in a jiff.” She hollered, and plunged the apartment into silence.

“[Y/n],” Rick started. You ignore the beginnings of an explanation, stacking up the dinner plates on the coffee table and taking them over to the kitchen. You hear Rick ease off the couch and follow you.

“I don’t know how much Harley’s told you about her ‘n me...”

He trails off, stopping a few steps away. You’ve turned around at the sink, leaning back to get a good look at Rick Flag.

His brow furrows.

The look on your face doesn’t scream mad. Or even irritated. In fact, Rick watches your eyes drift downward, down the long hard lines of Rick’s chest and arms. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you bite it gently. And when you glance back up at Rick’s face, it’s clear he’s picking up what you’re putting down. What Harley put down a few moments ago, when she sealed your attraction to Rick Flag with a kiss.

You push off the counter and right into Rick, his arms catching you as you take his face in your hands. You make sure not to touch his chest as you lean up, crashing your lips to his hungrily, almost clumsily. A low sound leaves Rick’s throat. He slides his hands over your back, letting them come to rest on your waist as he kisses you back with same fervor.

You pull away abruptly. “Bed.”

“You sure you—?”

“Bed.”

You tug him by the arm, tug him until you’re pushing him down onto the blankets and crawling on top of him. As you shift to seat yourself on Rick’s upper thighs, you feel the hardening length that’s growing between his legs.

Because fuck— Rick’s been bored, anxious, and in pain for nearly two weeks. He’s been sleeping in your bed, smelling your pillow; He’s been hearing you and Harley under your sheets from across the room most nights, trying his best not to picture anything untoward. You’d taken him in, and he was still trying not to overstep.

But you’ve been wanting him to. Ever since he’d started speaking and moving around. You glimpsed him shuffling around your house— How fucking hot he looked just sitting there reading a damn book. Not to mention his past history with Harley. She’d already teased you about it.

“You picture the two of us together yet?” She’d asked a few nights ago as the two of you sat in her car drinking milkshakes. There was a third one melting in the cup holder for Rick as Harley painted the picture for you. Your panties had gotten wet just thinking about Harley and Rick out in the middle of some desert or jungle, rutting it out against a tree. You squeezed your thighs together, whimpering when Harley reached down and pushed her fingers between them.

Now, you felt slickness return. You moved on top of Rick— You weren’t going to let him get too physical with his heart. You frame his head with your elbows as you lean down to capture his lips again. Rick slips his strong hands beneath the hem of your shirt, drawing it up as he pulls the fabric over your head. You lean back to unclip your bra, slip it off in one motion as you stare down at him.

Rick’s cock twitches in his pants. Whatever your dynamic was with Harley, he was starting to see the appeal. You make easy work of the drawstring at his waist, your hand moving down to grasp his stiffening length from inside his briefs. Rick arches a little, inhaling sharply.

By the time Harley Quinn comes back from her ‘cigarette run’, you’re fucking Rick Flag like he hasn’t been fucked in a long time. — Which is the honest to god truth. You roll your hips atop him eagerly, meeting his hard thrusts as he fucks your soaked pussy. You throw your head back as he digs his nails into the flesh at your waist. You place your hands over his, keeping them there while you bounce on his cock.

“Fuck. Fuckin’ hell, [Y/n]. That’s it.” Rick picks up quickly how you keen at his words; His voice sends your pulse shooting straight up— That deep drawl that gets rougher the more he groans against your neck driving you crazy.

Harley flops onto the couch, all smiles. She’s got a twizzler hanging between her teeth, the plastic bag of candy and soda and chips making a sound as it hits the floor, but neither of you notice. Your ears are too full of the sound of Rick’s breathing, his ragged panting as he trails his lips across your breasts.

“Rick- Rick-,” You feel yourself tipping towards a climax. You’d do anything to come with Rick inside you like this, your pussy moulding around his girth, white hot.

“Shit, you’re gonna fuckin’ come for me aren’t you, baby?”

You whine as he picks up the pace, knees bending for more purchase over the sheets so he can fuck up into you harder. You jump when Rick’s hand comes up to slap your ass.

“I’m— I—” Your back bows taut as it washes over you, your walls clenching around Rick. Your hips snap on their own accord now, your grip on his hands tightening. You can tell by the way Rick’s hips are suddenly bucking and stuttering that he’s reached the same peak. He groans as he leans up to kiss your throat, hands prying themselves from yours to wrap around your middle as your breathing slows.

“Fuck...” Rick says, panting and spent. Then: “—Fuck! Shit, Harley!”

Harley bursts into her little cackle, bouncing happily. She was content to watch the two of you like she was watching two puppies at play. Sighing dreamily, she stood up, coming over to the bed. Rick doesn’t know what to do with himself as she plops down onto the mattress. His hands move to cover your bare back, but then he seems to realize that doesn’t make sense— It’s nothing Harley hasn’t seen before— But you smile at the gesture nonetheless.

You wrap your arms around Rick’s shoulders, your fingers smoothing back the tousled, sweaty hair that was pressed into the pillow a moment ago. Harley stretches out beside the two of you, propping her head up in her hand.

“This okay?” You ask Rick before Harley can tease him anymore.

Rick looks at the two of you, brows pinching together. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to discern. But between his life being over and you just giving him a damn good ride, he supposed it could be worse.

“...Yeah.” He finally says. “If it’s all good with you.”

“Good!” Harley grins. She shoots up to plant a kiss on his cheek bone, then moves to do the same to you. “‘Cuz somebody’s finishing me off next. I’m burnin’ up over here.”

---

You didn’t like to fret over labels, but as the months passed, you were beginning to wonder what this was.

Rick gets better. Some nights the three of you do end up sharing the same bed. And when Harley’s gone, you come to feel safe being in Rick’s arms at night too.

On good nights, you drifted off to sleep with the sound of two heartbeats and two breaths making you feel warm and safe on either side. On better nights you’d feel Rick’s big, rough hands, or Harley slender deft ones, slide over your hips and stir you pleasantly from slumber until they had you pinned and wanting more.

The dynamic between the three of you got more complex as the weeks went on. Harley and Rick had their history together, apparently dating back years. And you had your way of disarming them, of asking them with genuine curiosity about the things they hardly ever thought about anymore; Of childhoods and firsts and what life was like for them when it wasn’t all gunfire and smoke screens.

Rick couldn’t remember the last time he had a conversation that wasn’t briefings or comparing scars. It was… refreshing, the way Harley also seemed to leave shop talk at the door. It always eased the tension he held in his bones— The nagging thought in the back of his head that his old life was gone whenever he remembered what was outside these four walls.

So, Harley brought in the money, and you made the meals. Rick began to take care of the two of you in his own ways too— He found himself mediating when Harley was being too reckless, or when you became too beside yourself with worry when she got too reckless. Tie breakers were always a cinch now with three of you there.

He learned a lot about you intimately too. Harley was a wild card through and through, down for anything that the three of you put on the table. You were a little more shy about what you wanted to try; Rick found that you lost your inhibitions when he and Harley praised you in the bedroom, coaxing you into letting go a little more every time.

They both enjoyed making you fall apart into little, mewling pieces, your face flushing red hot as they both teased and worked you until you were an unraveled mess. And you liked to care for the two of them; When you topped one or both of them, your aftercare was sometimes more intimate than the fucking— Something neither Rick nor Harley ever seemed to get used to. To allow themselves to get used to.

Your coy nature had shown Harley that Rick was ever the gentleman in bed— Always a giver. She took it upon herself to push the boundary sometimes. Sometimes her brattiness would come forth, and a rougher, more dominant Rick would come out. Harley wasn’t content until Rick had her begging and screaming. It made you breathless, the way Rick would take control and order Harley around.

He wasn’t used to being with two people so often. But you and Harley never ran out of ideas. Or positions. When you had asked him if he was content with being included in this… circle of yours, Rick Flag didn’t expect to feel like such a major piece of it.

One night, after the three of you were finished and lying there, you drifted in and out of sleep to find Rick staring at you. Harley snored softly in your ear, her arms wrapped around you painfully tight, even in sleep.

“Where’d you come from?” He asks quietly, wrapping a lock of your hair around his finger. You nose at his palm until he’s cupping your face, smiling.

“I always meant to ask you the same thing.”

---

But eventually— Inevitably— Rick heals up well enough that you can tell what he’s thinking about: What he’s going to do now. He ventures out into Gotham once or twice, returning home sullen when he doesn’t seem to find the answers he’s looking for. You try to go about your days, try not to prod. You don’t have any advice for him. Not concerning this. Harley offers to give him something to do when she’s out and about; He’s ready for something— But he’s not ready for a life of crime.

Harley refuses to sit down when Rick asks the three of you to all have a seat at the table. He doesn’t have to say it. The three of you are synced enough to know what this is about. You’re sad about it, but you’re not going to stop someone who wants to be free. Harley on the other hand might just combust.

“You’re goin’ back.” She spits— Like Rick Flag is the dumbest fuckin’ moron who ever lived.

“I’ve got some contacts I have to touch base with down south. After that, don’t know what I’ll do.”

It doesn’t sound like a plan that involves you or Harley. You sit there quietly, feeling the tendrils of their dark, violent world muddying up the little home you’ve made with them.

“Say something, Pumpkin! Tell him he’s being a fuckin’ idiot.”

You lift one shoulder only to let it drop. Avoiding Rick’s gaze, you fiddle with the glass of water between your palms. “He didn’t exactly get a say in the way things ended.” You tried to reason. Harley scoffs. You do nothing when she kicks the table.

They had told you about what happened in Corto Maltese. In bed, tangled together, the two of them told you about Waller’s betrayal, about why Harley was there in the first place. You do your best to listen about the experiments. The Thinker’s thirty plus years of work. They try to sugarcoat it for you, but you shake your head— You need to know about this one. Rick stares at the ceiling as Harley fills in the blanks about Starro.

And as much awe as you feel, being sandwiched between two absolute badasses, you still have to keep from tearing up when Harley tells you she wanted to do good this time. Wanted to be good. They didn’t have to turn back and defend the city. They chose to. You wanted to meet the rest of this squad that banded together— who pulled Rick out of the rubble even when they thought it was too late.

You slept in a heap that night, unable to let each other go. You didn’t want to call the three of you something you weren’t, for reasons just like the one that was happening right now.

“Well here’s me sayin’ I told you so when Waller drags you back to her little base and puts a chip in your neck, Flag.” Harley says with a tone of finality. House meeting over. You flinch as she slams the front door on her way out.

The touch of Rick’s hand on your shoulder doesn’t give you the warmth you wished it would.

“I’ll be back.” Rick murmurs. But he’s packed a bag for the long haul. You stare ahead, feeling far away from yourself.

Then he’s gone too.

It feels like hours before you move from your seat. You curl up on the couch, alone, unable to lie down on the bed without anyone there with you. You listen to the hyenas snore at your feet until you drift off into troubled sleep, wondering how you could have let this broken feeling happen to you.

---

You were going to kill her.

You weren’t. But you were.

You were going to kill Harley Quinn because summer in Gotham turned you into a sweating, crazy mess— and Harley’s convertible top wasn’t just down. It was gone. Blown off somewhere on the city freeway during a car chase Harley forgot to mention. You mourn as you wait for her to get back to the car, the air conditioner pointless without a roof at the moment.

You drum your fingers on the wheel.

A season had passed since Rick disappeared. You reconciled with the way Harley had left you alone for about a week before she came back with a sincere apology. You apologized too, for not saying something when Harley had asked you to.

It had hit you harder than you expected, considering you’d only known Rick for a few months. But in that time, you had spent so much of it getting to know him, of getting to know Rick and Harley together that it felt like it was ripped from you when you didn’t know you were even holding it tight.

And you hated feeling helpless. Hated how Harley and Rick seemed so strong, while you weren’t.

So you’d gotten bolder since Rick left. You asked Harley if you could dip your toe in some of her more… daring hobbies. Harley lit up like a Christmas tree when she asked if you wanted to come with her to rough up some fuckers that tried to sabotage one of her recent freelance jobs. Sure, you told her you’d wait in the car— But it was a start. Especially for you.

You kept your eyes on your mirrors, and stayed vigilant about who passed by the building Harley was still inside of.

You can’t resist looking at the clock again; When Harley Quinn tells you she’ll be ten minutes, you know it’ll be anywhere between then and forty on a good day. But an hour was turning into an hour and a half, your shady parking spot on the street now exposed to the afternoon sun. You contemplate getting out of the car— the one thing she told you not to do.

Before you can make a decision, you hear the distant bang! of a door slamming open and the hurried sprinting of Harley booking it down the back alley right for you. You gasp, putting the car into drive; You slam on the gas as Harley flings herself into the backseat telling you to go, go, go with glee.

You drive through the streets of Gotham a little better and a little faster everyday. Harley was teaching you how to drive— Not better per say— but certainly with less fear. You began anticipating the rush of losing whoever was on your tail, of flying through the streets with the reckless abandon you never thought you were capable of.

You park the car in a garage far away from prying eyes, walking back home arm in arm happily. When you get back home, you babble about how exciting it felt to get away again.

Harley plops down onto the sofa as you claw your way through the fridge, starving.

“I can find an auto shop to fix the roof next time, what do you think?” You say, sticking your head in the freezer to cool off for a second. When you don’t receive a reply, you arch a brow at her. “Harley?”

She’s looking at you, and not looking at you. You’ve come to understand that sometimes Harley hashed things out in her head— Something about her conscience at occasional odds with herself. She blinks, eyeing you with more scrutiny.

“Hey, sweetums?” She suddenly said. Uh oh.

Smiling a little, you made your way back over to her, handing her a cold can of soda. You popped the tab on your own as you took a seat. “Yeah, Harley?”

She shifted to face you, crossing her long legs. “You know I love you comin’ with me and all.”

Uh oh.

“But…?” You said.

“But… I was wonderin’, you know this stuff is illegal, right? I’m not havin’ business meetings with upstandin’ citizens, ya know?”

Harley never treated you like you were stupid, so you wondered what she was trying to hint at.

“I know that.” You frowned a little. “What about it?”

Harley sighs, smiling at you like you dropped outta heaven and right into her lap.

She’s had daydreams about the two of you rockin’ badass outfits, kicking ass and taking names together. But even those imaginary dreams slipped when Harley thought about who you really were. You were kind, and strong, and empathetic; When Harley tried to picture you with a gun or a tire iron in your hands, she found she didn’t want to. It was like imagining Batman’s suit in pastel pink. Not that Harley didn’t love that either. It just didn’t sit right.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this, pumpkin? Luck’s been good to me lately. But it ain’t always easy getaways. I know you know there’s a glock in the gun compartment—”

“— Glove compartment.”

“See! That’s what I’m talkin’ about. You can’t even talk about guns. What if I need you to pick one up one day? What are you gonna do about it, hun? What about when the bad guys come out shootin’?”

You feel your high from the day fizzle out.

“I… I don’t know...”

You definitely weren’t pouting now.

Harley’s face twists sympathetically as she sets the soda down. She reaches to grasp both your shoulders. “I love you, Pumpkin. And… you’re kinda the first person I’ve loved in awhile who isn’t already down to curb stomp someone when they need to, ya know?”

You want to protest, but the image of smashing someone’s teeth against a cement edge makes you turn a little green. Okay, fine. Maybe she had a point.

“So… You don’t want me coming with you anymore?”

Harley makes a grumbly sound as she presses her lips together, because she definitely does love you tagging along. But inside, the Dr. Harleen Quinnzel side of her—the side that pointed out that if you continued, you might be the one to wind up on a curb— was shaking her head firmly.

“Maybe we’ll just… lay low for a while, alright? Consider that the last job I have sorted this month.” She offered.

You can see she’s trying so hard to be delicate. You relent with a disappointed but understanding sigh.

“Okay. I guess that gives me time to get the car fixed.” Then, you frown again. “Wait— Lay low? Why lay low?”

Harley has already perked back up, taking the open can from your hand and slamming it back with a few glugs. She burps loudly.

“Don’t worry about it, pumpkin. It’s all taken care of.”

It’s a lie that comes back to bite both of you, hard.

The summer continued, and the two of you needed reasons to leave the apartment. The air conditioner did it’s best, but it was nothing against the rising temperature in the city. You found new ice cream and coffee places to try, bookstores to mingle in, and movie houses to rewatch old classics.

The heat also seemed to make Harley extra horny. —She loved pinching your asscheeks in your short denim shorts and light colored t-shirts. Harley was fond of crop tops, and you had to admit you loved how she embraced being half naked in the heat. The two of you shared a large soda and popcorn as you watched an old black and white film up in the balcony seats of a picture palace. You appreciated the story, but when Harley’s hand inches over your bare thigh, you had no problem turning your gaze away from the screen.

She’s unzipping her shorts teasingly, slipping down into her seat. You glance around, noting there’s not another soul around up in the bleeders. You bite back a grin and lean over, capturing her lips in yours, tasting the salty sweet mix of red vines and popcorn.

You have your hand halfway down her pants when a voice that wasn’t some old timey starlet suddenly fills the large room.

“Public displays of affection! Romantic.” Harley yanks away from you, nearly making you fall into her lap. You blink, seeing her sudden fury and a flash of fear.

“Pumpkin. I need you to get down and start crawlin’ okay?”

“I—”

You gasp as Harley shoves you onto the sticky floor, the rapid fire of an automated gun tearing through the theater. There are a few screams down below, but all the bullets seemed to be aimed right at the two of you. You see Harley do a backflip over the seats, drawing the fire away from where you just were. Without thinking, you do as she said, hurrying to from the center of the balcony to the far edge.

A flurry of cushion stuffing and smoke filled the air, and you wanted to call out to her. But she was moving, fast, disappearing up the stairs and back out through the upper lobby. From your hiding place, you peer down to look at who had ruined your day.

You startle silently when you see a head of acid green hair and a pale, tattooed face from all the way down in front of the screen.

“Bring her back to the pier.”

“Warm or cold, Boss?”

You shiver when his laugh echoes off the walls.

---

Shit, fuck, fucking, shit.

What were you doing?

This was really just a case of not getting to know Harley’s other friends like you kept telling yourself you would. If you had, you wouldn’t be here alone. You’d be here with the Birds, or with Poison Ivy or something. You crouched behind a wall just outside where they were keeping Harley, knowing full well you were about to do something so unbelievable stupid.

The gun in your hand is heavy, unnatural. It’s bizarre how real it feels. Harley bothered to show you how one works, but you still hold it like it might jump and bite you at any moment.

You really hoped you werent too late. You don’t know what you would do if you were too late.

Inside, Harley came to, her head spinning. She’s tied to a concrete pillar standing up, which is a lot better than hanging from the ceiling by her ankles over a shark tank— Or not waking up at all.

She’s already thinking six ways to Sunday how to get herself out of this one by the time the grunts around her realize she’s awake. Harley notes that one clown in particular is not present. She huffs when the others finally notice her looking around.

“Hiya, boys.”

“Harley.” One of them says gruffly.

“Is this about last month? I honestly didn’t know I was encroachin’ on your territory, fellas.” She says with a shrug. “Not that I give a shit.”

“Boss says you doin’ business anywhere in this city isn’t gonna happen anymore.”

“Good! Sounds like I’m finally bein’ taken seriously.” She grinned. The slap that meets her face rings out across the dilapidated building. Harley hears the twitter of birds around her head as she shakes herself back to reality. She sniffs. “Look, this was fun ‘n all, but ya kinda interrupted me in the middle of a date, so I’m gonna have to get back soon.”

Harley doesn’t like the laugh that passes between all of them.

“Your girlfriend?” One of them says. “I’m sure we’ll have to go out and look for her soon too.”

Harley takes a deep breath. Meanwhile, her arms twist minutely as she begins wriggling her way out of her bindings. “Wouldn’t do that. Really wouldn’t.” She grinds out.

The grunt who backhanded her steps away from a table full of shining, pretty tools. She’s almost flattered they’re going to use new ones to toture her and not the rusty ones she was expecting to catch another bout of tetanus from.

“Oh yeah?”

The ropes around Harley’s chest and arms are almost loose enough to slip out of when a figure steps from behind a distant pillar. Harley Quinn’s stomach drops when she sees you standing there.

“You don’t have to, anyway.” You say, holding the gun at your side.

It’s enough of a distraction. Harley drops out of her bindings, already tackling the nearest genius within spitting distance. She’s halfway to the table with sharp objects when a shot rings out. Harley looks up at you, only to see it’s not you who's fired.

Another shot, and another one of Joker’s men is downed.

Harley’s not complaining. She continues to the table, leaping over it and taking a heavy wrench with her. In a matter of minutes, between the gunshots and Harley pummeling every grunt she can, the entire room gets cleared.

You stand in the same spot you were in— Swaying a little dizzily now. You gladly drop the gun from your hand when Harley rushes over to you, lifting your feet off the ground in a big hug.

“Sweetums! You came to save me!” Not that she needed it, you want to point out. But you had made the gesture— You loved her too much not to.

You cleared your throat as she set you down. “We uh, we came to save you.” You finally correct. Harley’s brows pinch, her eyes narrowing. She whips around.

She doesn’t expect the mask. He’s wearing a coat with a hood, and in this sweltering heat, Harley hopes that Rick is burning up beneath it. The mask fully covers his face, leaving no trace of his identity. But the two of you can tell— By the way he’s walking toward you, the way he holds his rifle over his shoulder— Rick Flag is standing right in front of you.

“I called him.” You breathed, your heart still pounding.

She folds her arms, sizes the ex-Colonel up and down for a moment.

“Hmph.” Is all Harley says before she’s turning on her heel and leaving the hideout.

The Three of you return to the apartment in silence. Rick’s taken off his mask, the front locks of his hair indeed plastered to his forehead from the balmy Gotham weather. You drive the convertible, pretending to listen to the music playing. Of course, you’re more preoccupied with the tension that’s threatening to swallow you all whole. Your eyes flash beside you, to Harley in the passenger seat, and to Rick in the rearview, sitting in the backseat.

You enter the apartment the same way. Harley heads straight for the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Rick trails into the kitchen after you, opening up your fridge and knowing exactly where you kept the bottled water. He chugs it like he hasn’t had a drink in days, some of it spilling down his stubbled chin and the front of his kevlar vest.

You’d always had his number, taped there to the freezer door. You kept yourself from calling him everyday. He wanted space, so he got it. Rick picked up immediately when you called him in your panic, your hyperventilating driving him to drop what he was doing and head straight for Gotham.

What he had been doing… Well, you had an idea. His gear is clearly custom made— The exact opposite of what Harley tended to wear. He looked like a proper vigilante, like Huntress, or Nightwing. And as much as you were dreading three of you having a talk, you had to admit, you didn’t mind the view right about now.

Rick arches a brow at you from across the kitchen. You rolled your eyes, a smile lifting the corners of your mouth.

“Didn’t have time to pack your summer suit?”

It’s Rick’s turn to crack a smile. It hangs there, a little lopsided, sending your stomach into flips. “Only got the one so far.”

So far.

So this was the path Rick was taking. You nod and accept the water bottle being passed to you. “You look good.”

When Harley’s done with her shower, she and Rick wordlessly switch places, Rick closing the bathroom door behind him while Harley hops to sit on the kitchen table. She kicks her legs sulkily, her mascara still clouding the rims of her eyes in smoky smears. You dab a little makeup remover onto a cotton pad and wedge yourself between Harley’s legs. Wiping the last of her makeup off, you tilt her chin over to look at you.

“What’cha thinking, Quinn?” You ask.

She shrugs.

You lean in, pressing a chaste kiss to Harley’s lips. She closes her eyes, though her own lips don’t move to meet yours. You shift, pressing another to her cheek, then another to the heart tattooed under her eye. You keep kissing her face until she’s cracking up, her shoulders shaking as she snorts.

“You scared me back there.” You whisper, taking her hands in yours. You marvel at the way Harley Quinn can do so much damage with her hands, and still hold yours so gently.

“What, with the silent treatment?”

You chuckle. “With the getting taken dead or alive.”

“I told ya. Your Harley’s got bad luck days too.”

You smile, shaking your head. She quirks a dark brow at you. “What?”

“My Harley.” You repeat.

She grins as you plant a kiss on her neck, your teeth snagging on her skin in a playful bite. Harley makes a happy sound, her arms finally reaching to draw you closer to her. You slot yourself flush to Harley.

“I think.” You start, still peppering kisses along her bare collarbone. The fluffy robe she’s wearing slips off her slender shoulder, allowing you to nip across her skin some more. “You could use a massage.”

Her pale skin is covered in bruises when you remove the rest of her robe on the bed. Between the theater and the pier, they must have walloped her good. You kiss each one you find, your tongue laving over each dark, purple welt. Harley moans when you suck at a particularly swollen mark just above her naval. You grin, blowing a raspberry on the skin there.

Harley’s laughter makes you feel better. You also feel a stroke of fire in your belly when her legs come up to clamp around your shoulders dexterously. You nuzzle at her inner thigh, biting her until she’s writhing and tugging at your hair with her fingers. You oblige her, moving further up to press an open-mouth kiss right to her clit until she’s sighing and falling back down onto the bed. You hollow your cheeks, sucking on the swelling nub until the wetness at her entrance spreads down her folds.

By the time Rick is exiting the bathroom, a towel running through his hair, he sees the two of you sitting up, both naked on the bed.

You’re sat behind Harley, your hands working out the kinks that always built up between her shoulders. Her head lolls around, raglike, moans leaving her in a constant string. Between her thighs, Harley is fingering herself, her hand moving in time with your careful ministrations at her back. Harley bites her lip and she finally pries her eyes open to look at Rick standing there, his clothes still on the bathroom floor in a pile next to Harley’s.

“You still mad at me?” He has the nerve to say with a smirk. Harley scowls.

“You’re lucky you looked so hot in that stupid get-up.” She grumbles, and it earns a giggle from you behind her.

The scar on his chest has healed over, the harsh redness when you first met him faded to something paler— something less painful. His hair has grown out a little more now too.

Rick finishes drying it, tossing the towel onto the floor.

“Well. I'm either joining you or watching you. You pick.” He declares. He’s already half hard, standing there naked just waiting for the two of you to say the word.

You look at Harley, waiting for her answer. She seems to mull it over, until she finally draws up the hand that was just inside her, crooking her finger at Rick to join you.

Rick puts a knee on the bed, getting on all fours on his way over to the two of you. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around Harley’s finger, his eyes falling closed as he sucks the taste of her clean off. You shiver at the sight of them, of Rick pushing Harley back into you, of Harley lying down between your legs until her back is pressed against your bare chest. You slip your arms around her front, your hands closing around both her breasts. Harley let’s her head fall back to rest on your shoulder.

You watch her eyes flutter shut as Rick slips two of his thick fingers into Harley’s pussy, a small ‘oh’ forming on her lips. You grin, giving her another smooch. “What do you want Rick to do, baby girl?”

Harley looks up at you, biting back a devilish smile. “Want him to fuck the shit out of me. Now, sweetums.”

Rick’s already stroking his cock, nudging his way between Harley’s legs. Tanned thighs tangled with milky white ones as you watch Rick plunge his length into Harley with one shove of his hips. Harley’s back arches off the bed, her eyes rolling with a strangled moan.

Rick inhaled sharply. A low growl leaves him as Harley’s slick walls pulse his cock.

You feel the drip of your own pussy soak into the sheets as Rick starts fucking Harley— Like he’s making up for months of not fucking Harley like this every single night. You tweak at her nipples some more, pinch them a little rougher until she’s twitching and making little sounds.

Harley bats at your hands, getting your attention. She tugs at your arms till you’re sitting up more, looking down at her again. “What is it, hun?” You ask. You lean down and drag your tongue along the shell of her ear.

“Get up here.” She pants, tapping her chin. You clench your cunt at the gesture, eyes lighting up.

You shift back, letting her lie down on top of the bed— She doesn’t need to tell you twice. Before you throw a leg over her, she shakes her head, breathing out a heady, “Nu-uh. Turn around.”

You turn so that you’re facing Rick. He watches you plant your knees on either side of Harley’s waiting face, your nipples stiffening just from the anticipation. When you lower yourself down onto her lips, you feel a jolt as a tongue laps up to swipe at your wet folds. Harley hums as she tastes you.

Rick curses under his breath at your expression, still drilling into Harley. “Fuck— Missed you— need you both. Christ.”

His panting’s feral now— Hot and fast as his hips rolling to pound into Harley. He’s got her by both thighs, digging his nails into her flesh. Her toes curl, heels digging red marking into his lower back.

As he thrusts into her, Harley knocks up and down the sheets, her breasts bouncing. It makes her head bob too, every fucking plunge of Rick’s cock driving Harley’s tongue into your pussy.

Your head falls back as she points it, trailing it up and down your slit. You have to reach back and tangle your fists into the pillows, your hips meeting the stroke of her tongue around your clit. You let out a whimper.

“Relax for me, [y/n].” Rick commands with a groan, glancing up to see your rigid, spread legs and arching back above Harley. Your muscles loosen as you do as he says.

The two of you look fucking beautiful. At his height, Rick can lean forward, adjust his hips so he’s fucking Harley relentlessly and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You cry out, hand flying up to yank at his hair. He lets out a moan, the skin on the back of his neck raising.

You jump when you feel a finger enter you. You can almost feel Harley grinning against your thigh. She barely gives you a moment before she’s pushing in a second, her tongue joining them again as it flattens to press against your peak. Your mouth falls open as you let your eyes close.

“Oh, fuck— you feel so good.” You sob, your knees shaking. You gasp when Rick leans in to kiss you on the mouth, the taste of Harley still lingering on him. He bites your bottom lip with a sharp tug, making your thighs clench. Beneath you, Harley moans.

She’s sucking on your clit now, and the wet sounds make the heat in your cheeks rise. The sound competes with the way Rick’s cock is soaked and slipping in and out of Harley, their flesh slapping together as their hips meet.

You babble some more— Repeat their names as your hips begin to stutter and snap on their own. Harley drags fresh red lines across your thighs.

“Where do you want it?” Rick is asking Harley.

And she stops tongue fucking you just long enough to say, “You better pump me full of cum til I’m drippin’, Colonel.”

You and Rick both groan. The moment her tongue returns to your hot, throbbing clit, it only takes a few strokes before you’re doubling over, grasping at Harley’s waist as you come. The room tilts as you come back up dizzily.

She grabs you, makes sure you can’t shy away as your orgasm fades. Harley keeps laving at you well afterward, the overstimulation sending your hips into little circling thrusts. You press down onto Harley’s face until her nose is inching into you, your face twisting as you plead unintelligibly for her to keep fucking your pussy.

“Fuck me.” Rick grinds out. Your high, wanton cries are sending them both over the edge. And like the good soldier he is, Rick keeps keeping on, until he’s pressing the pad of his thumb down over Harley’s clit, circling and sliding over it until she’s cursing too. Until Harley is suddenly bucking uncontrollably under both of you, her own wails muffled between your legs.

Rick fucks Harley until he’s sure she’s done, and you watch with dazed eyes as he only takes one, two more thrusts before he’s coming deep into her cunt, a guttural moan finally tearing from his throat. He pulls out halfway, shoving himself back inside her roughly, her hips coming up off the bed. Harley feels his cock twitch inside her as her walls clamp down around him— Feels his cum fill her up to the brim.

You fall over to sit shakily beside Harley’s head, careful not to pull her hair. When you move to lie down and slot yourself beside her, she’s already lifting an arm to make sure your head is nestled on her chest.

Rick leans down to steal the taste of you off Harley’s lips, their tongues massaging one another until he pulls away again, a line of saliva trailing with him.

Rick pulls out of her slowly, his come already pulsing out of her wet cunt. He falls down on the other side of the bed. You prop your head up to take a good look at them both content and out of breath.

Harley is staring up at the ceiling, a wide, silly grin on her face.

You’re all a sweaty mess; The heat of the day is still high outside even with the sun low. You brush your thumb to catch a bead of sweat trailing down her cheek tenderly. When you glance over at Rick, he’s looking at the two of you, too.

You like the way there’s no thought, no trace of the idea of him leaving again on his face as he blinks at you slowly. You dare to imagine there’ll be more days like this in the future — With the three of you.

You yelp when Harley drags you out of your thoughts— by slapping you and Rick soundly on both your stomachs hard enough that some of the wind leaves your lungs.

She beamed. All was forgiven, it appeared.

“So.” Harley said, glancing between you two. “Are we gonna order a pizza tonight or what?”

#harley quinn x reader #rick flag x reader #harley quinn x rick flag #harley quinn x reader x rick flag #harley quinn x you #rick flag x you #harley quinn smut #rick flag smut #tss 2021 #tss spoilers #mywords*#harley quinn x female reader #rick flag x female reader

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hillarydevillier · 2 years

Text

April Prompts 2022

Prompt#2: How your mc would be like if they studied in another wizading school?

♢♢ Host: @stupendousbookworm

Tittle: A memorable afternoon after school and friendship

Mc: Hillary,Akiel,Leiretta and Zephyrus

♢♢ Written by @leiretta

Idea & Illustration: by me

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

❖ illustration (from left to right): Akiel <Yosamu>, Hillary <Toppuu>, Leiretta <Shunrai>, Zephyrus <Seiran>

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

✢ New students entering the school, after classes, will be brought home safely by very cute vehicles, which are large-sized petrels before they turn 11 years old.~~

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

“Four of us, again.”

“Isn’t it good, Kiel? We can enjoy this adventure for the farthest of all the students!” Hillary says enthusiastically.

It has been a week since Akiel Kawaguchi, as well as every seven-year-old wizards and witches living in Japan, started learning his first lesson at Mahoutokoro School of Magic. As school tradition, before officially boarding at their elevens, these young wixes are flown back and forth to their homes every day on the backs of a flock of giant storm petrels.

Akiel, together with Hillary and two other senior students, are always the last ones to get off their petrel. Naturally, they quickly became friends. None of them has ever felt tired of the long distance from the new school to their home, because, as Hillary said, the adventure can be described as enjoyable, except for the fact that it’s quite modest to say so. The petrel’s plumage is so soft as the finest velvet. The clouds surrounded look like giant cotton candies floating. The sun at its last hours of a day takes their breath away everytime. Anyone would agree that this adventure is beyond spectacular, but having a chance to truly experience it is one of the privileges of Mahoutokoro students.

Of course, Akiel loves this daily journey to every single minute. But if asked, that’s not the best part. Actually, he never thought he would ever have friends. The boy had always been isolated by his peers due to his strange hybrid features. But the girl who is now sitting next to him, Hillary, has always been so nice to him from the last day they met, not to mention Zephyrus and Leiretta ‘senpai’, all of them don’t discriminate or hesitate to play with him. He hasn’t felt so blessed for a long time.

“Look like our boy’s head is in the clouds?”

“Literally and figuratively.”- Leiretta continues Zephyrus.

“Well well, the young…” The older kids giggle. Maybe one more year of experience got them the better ability to hide their overwhelming faces before this scenario. But of course, teasing their little friend a bit couldn’t hurt.

“You are only one year older than us, Zephyr!” Hillary replies at once. “Ignore them Kiel, look at that cloud! It looks like a Kneazle, doesn’t it?”

“And that one’s a Knarl!”

They laugh together, the most carefree laughters one has in their life. Although having seen quite many times, Akiel is always impressed with this girl’s smile. Hillary’s smile is as bright as the sun far over there. He doesn’t know why, but seeing this face of Hilly makes him happy, maybe as if he were eating Chocolate Frog, or as the Charms professor was complimenting his performance this morning. No, maybe even happier. Then Hillary must be the one with the most beautiful smile, or she is such a great witch that her smile is enchanted too, he thinks so.

“You say, did they forget the elderly here, Zeph?” - Leiretta’s voice from the behind.

“I already told you, the young these days…”

“Zephyr, you idiot!!” - Hillary turns around.

Just like that, these wizarding children's day-ends are always filled with laughter. No one knows what the future holds, but one sure thing is, these days will be imprinted on their minds as one of the most beautiful parts of their school years~~

#hillarydevillier #art #leirettagorsier #akielkawaguchi #zephyruschapman #Mahoutokoro #Mahoutokoro fic #fanart #digital art #Oc #Akiel•Hillary #aprilprompts2022 #writing #writingprompt

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littlebalsam · 2 years

Text

I translated this little comic by からお(karao). They make amazing art and I think they also have a twitter so don't hesitate to go take a look and support their work!

Also Japanese and English are not my first language so be aware that this might not be a perfect translation. I'm doing this to study and because I like it so please don't hesitate to tell me if you think I did a mistake, I'd be glad to know.

Chopper is the one narrating here so it's totally normal if the way he talks seems a little naive at times.

「」 is for when Chopper is narrating, " " are dialogues and * are for notes at the end.

「The cotton candy Sanji makes is pink, sweet and fluffy. It looks like snow and it has the same color as cherry blossoms. That's why I love it.

I wish I could create a panacea which looks like cotton candy and would fall upon every ill person like snow to cure them.

Sanji has five fingers, I only have two hoofs.」

Sanji: "Are you having trouble with your chopsticks? Sorry, there is no second service today."

「Sanji is very skillful.」

Sanji: "I'll make minced fish too next time."

Brook: "Ahhh, it looks great. Sanji-san, me too, me too!"

「And he is clumsy too.」

Brook: "Sanji-san, that's my orbit!"

「Sanji also knows surprising things.」

Sanji: "Chopper, the snowflakes' crystals block out noises. That's the reason why winter islands are so quiet."

Chopper: "Were you born in a winter island too?"

Sanji: "...I don't remember if there was a season in particular..."*

Chopper: "?"

Sanji: "But it was always freezing and silent so it might as well have been wintertime all along."

「Sanji has silky hair whereas my fur is fluffy.」

Sanji: "Hey, Luffy! Use the soap properly!"

「Sanji's irritation cycle lasts one week.

He is the liveliest on the Bath's Big Day**. It may be linked to the smell in the male quarters.」

Sanji to Zoro: "You're the one who stinks the most!"

Brook: ***

「There is more I know. Even though he doesn't like it, Sanji cooks konjac for Zoro occasionally.

He studies illustrated encyclopedias.

Before going to sleep, he reads a book about nudity or something like that. Sometimes he uses Brook as a pillow. Sometimes, Sanji is-

Trembling in a corner of the kitchen, alone.

When he notices me he is terribly surprised.」

Sanji: "I'm just a little cold, that's it. I'm fine, I'm fine. Everything's fine."

「Sanji is-

A liar.

People who are fine don't make this kind of face while repeating they are fine over and over again.

That way, Sanji detaches himself from his emotions.」

(Sanji gasps and sighs)

「How many "selves" did he come to kill like that?

Sanji is cruel, doing something as killing in front of a doctor」

Sanji: "Look, it stopped. I'm sorry, did I scare you ? I'm just a little sensitive to the cold~ If I wash dishes for more than twenty minutes my whole body starts to shiver. Make me a medicine for next time, please."

Chopper: "..."

Sanji: "Hey...I'm really sorry Chopper, I'll give you a cotton candy so get a hold of yourself. Cho-"

「Snow blocks out noises.

(chopper puts the cotton candy on Sanji's mouth)

May the frozen snow...」

Chopper: "Everything is alright."

「...that falls incessantly on Sanji...」

Chopper: "You are safe."

「... become this cotton candy and my voice reach him.」

Chopper: "Everything is alright."

「May this medicine...」

Chopper: "You are safe."****

「...reach the one who trembles.」

*waahhh this one was hell to translate, 禾子 is a Sino-Japanese term so it was difficult to find a good translation but I found out that it is linked to a chinese term: 季 which means "season" or "period". However I'm not studying chinese so I might be wrong.

**風呂大会の日 means "the day of the bathroom's big meeting" but I thought it was weird so I modified it a bit. Also I think "the Bath's Big Day" matches more with the shenanigans of the crew.

***I couldn't understand what Brook is saying but I think it's related to his hair being precious to him? sorry idk

****this is just a detail but Chopper keeps saying 大丈夫 which can be too redundant, so I replaced it with "You are safe". It kind of means the same thing but I don't want to mislead anyone.

If you read until here, thank you!!

#one piece #sanji #chopper #translation

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

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horny/soft beauty and the beast - geralt letting jaskier undress him?

Hey guys this is just...incredibly soft. So soft all the way through. This is cotton candy wrapped in marshmallow fluff levels of sugary sweet.

also shout-out to @valdomarx whose Delicate Sensibilities Geralt has inspired some of my Beast characterization.

tw: Geralt is drunk ---

Both Jaskier and Geralt had been in their cups at dinner, but the Witcher had found a way to sink straight to the bottom of his. Jaskier had heard from the villagers that it was impossible for Witchers to get inebriated, but his Beast was proving yet another rumor untrue as he stumbled across the short length of his bedroom and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress. Jaskier sat beside him and began to unhook one of the tiny pearl buttons at Geralt’s left wrist, “Alright, darling, let’s get you into your nightclothes and then I’ll tuck you into bed.”

“Jaskier, ‘m hot,” the Beast whined. He flapped his arms childishly and gave his betrothed a pleading, wide-eyed look.

“If you’d like me to help you take your shirt off then you’ll have to quit squirming, Geralt,” Jaskier scolded. Geralt stilled his frenetic movements and his consort smiled indulgently over at him, “Usually you’re so particular about being apart from each other when we undress.”

The Witcher scooted nervously back towards his pillows and sighed heavily, “You’re right. Would be ‘mproper for you to see me like this.”

“I don’t see how me helping you get ready for bed is improper,” Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Soon enough we’ll both be sleeping in the same enormous bed and we won’t be wearing anything at all!”

Geralt’s face flushed and he gazed intently at the flagstones that made up the floor. His hands clasped and unclasped in his lap and he bit his lip before whispering, “Not until Candlemas.”

“That isn’t very far off, dear heart, now come here.”

The Beast released another nervous sound but hastened to obey; Jaskier was constantly in awe that this castle of a man would ever listen to someone like him, but Geralt always followed his consort’s instructions. Even when the younger man’s requests were unpleasant or annoying to him, he did as he was asked. It thrilled Jaskier to the core that he was the only man alive who could order the Beast around and expect those orders to be carried out to the letter.

Jaskier began to unbutton the left sleeve again, unhooking the three tiny buttons that held the cinched wristband closed. The sleeves of this particular tunic were billowy and kept getting in the way. “You look like a fairy tale illustration, love, it’s really not fair to my delicate heart.”

“Hmm?”

“You look like a Prince, my sweet. You and your puffy, dark shirtsleeves and your high-waisted black leather breeches with all those tempting buttons. Your tall black boots with the straps and the buckles. The sword belt you always wear and the double scabbard you take when you go hunting... The way you look when you’re poised with a bow in the practice yard, all hard lines and strong arms,” the peasant was waxing poetic as he moved from Geralt’s left wrist to his right. “I wish it was Candlemas tomorrow, dear heart. I wish we could be married already so that I could stop sleeping all alone down the hall and be here at your side where I feel warmest and safest.”

“Do you...want me?” Geralt whispered. He sounded terrified and Jaskier’s head snapped up, locking their gazes together. “Like that?”

“Of course I want you, my precious Beast.” The peasant cupped Geralt’s face with both hands and brought their foreheads together. “I love you, Witcher. I love every scarred and tired inch of you. From your moonlight hair to your golden eyes. From your strong, square jaw to the tips of your boots. I love you, Geralt, more than I have loved anyone or anything else before in my life.”

The Beast gave up on words and nuzzled down into Jaskier’s neck with wild abandon. He kissed and nibbled whatever skin was available and reveled in his consort’s breathy laugher. “Geralt! That tickles!”

“Good.”

“Hush! Cease!” the peasant boy demanded, gently slapping Geralt’s chest as if he was fighting back. “And let me finish getting your shirt off.”

---

“You really want me?” Geralt asked, looking up at Jaskier with oddly wet eyes. He’d finally managed to wrangle the Witcher out of his shirt (he’d crossed his arms over his chest like a prudish Countess the entire time he was ‘indecent’) and into his sleeping clothes. Now he was tucked beneath the covers, his head pillowed atop the crossed legs of his betrothed.

Jaskier gathered his fiancée’s head into his lap and smiled serenely down at him. Geralt breathed in, smelling the honey-chamomile contentment rolling off his consort in little pulsing waves. The beat of his heart, the Witcher smiled.

Jaskier ran his fingers through the Beast’s long white hair in a soothing rhythm, singing softly as he continued the soothing movement:

“Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,

Lavender's green,

When you are King, dilly dilly,

I shall be Queen.

“Lavender’s green dilly, dilly

Lavender’s blue,

You must love me, dilly, dilly

For I love you.

“‘Who told you so, dilly dilly,

Who told you so?’

'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,

That told me so.’”

By the time he’d finished the final verse, Geralt was asleep in his lap. And perhaps Jaskier stayed just a moment longer than was proper. Perhaps he kissed Geralt on the forehead and dreamed of the day when he could burrow down beside his husband and fall asleep in utter safety.

Perhaps.

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sweetestlamb · 4 years

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Lighting Up Your World Part 2

Episode 18

Author’s notes: THANK YOU!!!!! I’ll start there, thank you guys for your overwhelming support on part 1 that I posted yesterday. You guys make me feel like such a great writer, hearing that some of you cried because of something I wrote. incredible. This part is shorter because I was a bit strapped for time and I scrapped a vast amount the original version I had because I got new ideas and I just didn’t feel like the other version was enough or had the feeling I wanted. Anyway, I hope you guys still enjoy Part 2 aka Episode 18. Tell me your favorite line in the comments, I just think that would be cute hehe lol. *Plays “Lighting Up Your World” ♫ ♫

He remembers the exact moment that he purchased the ring, its sparkling brilliance from under the glass display, he imagined it sitting on her dainty fingers taking the place of her many other decorative rings. He imagined her face has he placed it on her finger. The store associate had wondered over to him with a knowing smile on his face, as if he knew that look very well, had seen it on the lovesick faces of countless men. After a few minutes of rapid questioning, he walked out with the precious stone in his possession, nerves shooting up and down his veins until he felt like a ball of anxiety. The ring heavy as lead in his pocket as he staggered home in a daze, in disbelief at what he'd done.

When he had come home to the castle, he could feel the ring burning a hole through the pocket of his jeans. His heart pattering away, erratic in his chest. He avoided eye contact with Mun-yeong as she greeted him at the door, candied smile welcoming home as she eagerly pulling him into the house demanding that he play with her.

She hadn’t been amused by his suggestion of cards.

Viciously pushing him in the wall and latching onto his neck like a leech. Hours later, he stumbled out of bed panting as he stealthily hid the box in the bottom of his drawer,covering it with mounds of clothes before tiptoeing into his bed alongside his brother dreaming of Mun-yeong in pristine white walking down an aisle that was laden with soft pink rose petals that matched the hue of her lips. He woke up saying "I do." Relieved that his brother was a relatively deep sleeper and hadn't heard his slip of tongue.

The sounds of nature, birds chirping and the wind rustling leaves pulled him from the sandman's hold, as he blinked awake, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Immediately he noticed the lack of pressure on his arm, too light without her head cushioned on his bicep as she used him as her personal pillow. He had long stopped trying to get her to use a pillow, she was adamant that his arms were a perfect substitute. A wave of pride blossomed in his chest every time she would stroke a finger across the bulging muscle, humming in approval, openly appreciating his body.

Stumbling to the bathroom he groggily brushes his teeth before hopping in the shower to wash off the sweat that lingered from being pressed against her flesh all night. After changing into his outfit, another t-shirt and jeans with sneakers, he’s a creature of habit. He walks out of the camping can eyes scouting for his missing girlfriend before finding her over the open grill, poking at the meat she's grilling, tongue poking out slightly as she impatiently waits for their tenderness.

What he doesn't expect to see is a little helper on her side, Min-jo, sits in the chair right next to her, eagerly watching the meat as it grills, babbling away at Mun-yeong, who for the most part looks content in the child's presence.

"How do I pick the people I put in my family?" Her innocent voice lifts with curiosity as she peers up at Mun-yeong, eyes shining brightly with young hope and naivete. "What age will I be ready to choose my family?"

With a sigh he watches Mun-yeong bring a slightly underdone piece of beef to her mouth, she's always too impatient to wait for food to reach its necessary temperature for consumption, higher internal heat his ass. The juices from the meat run down the side of her mouth, and he's left feeling like he's watching a lioness in the wild, lethal and it is majestic.

"Didn't I already tell you to stop following me? I don't have any answers for you." She dismissively responds, looking exasperated clearly this isn't her first time hearing and rebuking this question.

He coughs to announce his arrival, watching both their eyes snap up to settle on him, one pair with adoration the other disinterest then glee.

Min-jo greets him first, "Hi, Mr.Prince!" She waves enthusiastically at him, little hand looking like it could take flight at any moment, he blushes at his new moniker, glaring at Mun-yeong who smirks at the intended response.

"You don't need to call me that, remember I told you my name." He answers sheepishly rubbing his neck.

"But Ms. Witch told me that you and your brother, who is an illustrator saved her from her castle and then you lived happily ever after. I never knew that princes could save witches." She says the last sentence with pure wonder, sighing softly.

"Only if they're pretty princes just can't resist a pretty witch. They follow them wherever they go." Mun-yeong teasingly eyed him, images of young Gang-tae happily trailing after a dispassionate Mun-yeong playing out in both of their memories.

"Well I didn't exactly save her from the castle, I just lived there with her. Together, we made it happier. We became a family and a family has to live together, so they can lean on each other and not do pointless work." Mun-yeong scoffs at his reminder of Sang-tae's story, rolling her eyes affectionately at him.

"That sounds nice. And now you live on a house on wheels. I've never seen one before." She eyes the camping van, as he approaches them taking the last chair, on the left with Mun-yeong in the center.

"How long have you two been here?"

"This brat came here an hour ago, I keep telling her to go away but she won't listen. " She hands his a bowl of food and he notes with barely concealed amusement that a smaller bowl is aggressively placed in Min-jo's grasping hands.

"Thank you Miss Witch!" Min-jo chirps sweetly, scarfing down the food without another word.

Mun-yeong watches her before devouring her own food, her leg brushing against his when she sways into his body heat, a morning chill lingering in the air, as he glances at her and notices that she is wearing a short cotton romper, soft blue with white speckles splashed across the material. Drastic shift from yesterday's funeral best, he smiles at the implications. He wraps an arm around her shoulder drawing her into his heat, her hum of satisfaction rumbling through his body.

Min-jo's chopsticks clink on the bowl as she asks, "If you two share a brother, does that mean you are brother and sister?" His cheeks redden at the inquisitive child.

"No. He's my boyfriend, we share his brother."

"Oh." She easily accepts before adding to his embarrassment, "What do you do with a boyfriend?"

He whips his head to stare at Mun-yeong willing her not to ruin the innocence of a child, she looks back at him with a straight face before answering, "Well a lot of fun things. Sometimes we kiss, he likes that a lot and sometimes we even--"

"Yah!" He pinches her arm, hard.

She slaps him in retaliation, pouting as she soothes her pained skin, "I was going to say hug and hold hands. Why did you pinch me?"

He doesn't believe her for one second, her filter non-existent indiscriminate of the audience.

He glares at her until she resumes eating her food, ignoring the rest of Min-jo’s constant stream of questions. If she kept this up she could be an adept detective.

Entertaining a child has never been a task he's been troubled with before and he worries his lip as he looks at the little girl bouncing in her chair with unfiltered glee. They’d made the mistake of feeding her and now she had a boundless amount of energy, unable to keep still for even a moment.

"What should we do now Miss Witch?"

"I'm not here to entertain you. And he's my toy so you can't play with him." She juts her thumb in his direction, he admonishes at her statement arguing that he is not a toy. She nods unconvincingly as if his arguments are futile and she has already made up her mind.

"I'm bored." Min-jo continues, ignoring them.

"Then leave."

"But I don't want to." She whines.

"Then make your own fun."

Their bickering reminds him so much of Mun-yeong and Sang-tae tears prickle in his eyes as he decides to check on his brother. It's been two days since his abrupt departure, the longest they've been without each other. He softly announces that he'll her right back before disappearing into the van, their rising voices following him each step of the way.

I'm fine. I'm working and drawing. Stop worrying, have fun with Mun-yeong. Remember a kiss is better than a fight.

The highlights of his conversation with his older brother, who had answered on his third ring, rushing him off the phone because he was quote, "very booked and busy", he really needed to stop Mun-yeong from teaching his hyung her ridiculous slang. Especially phrases like that, that even he couldn't decipher. He had hummed along as if he wasn't completely lost before bidding Sang-tae goodbye.

He took a moment for himself before rejoining them outside, letting his brother's voice wash over him. He knew their relationship had a tinge of codependency but hadn't realized to what extent until their separation. This was good for them. Healthy. He knew that now.

It just hurt a little right now, but that was okay. Pain wasn't permanent.

The sounds of water splashing hit his ear drums as he jumps off the last step of the camping van, as if on autopilot he rushes to the lake, cold chill on his skin as he searches for Mun-yeong.

She stands on the bank of the lake. Safely out of reach, watching as Min-jo flaps her little arms wildly keeping herself afloat. She is helped by the presence of bright pink floaties on her arms, buoying her onto the surface of the wet escape.

"Can you come in the water Miss Witch?"

He watches Mun-yeong gaze at the water, fear bleeding into her irises before she blinks it away. Brief and clipped response, "No."

There is a pregnant pause, before the child continues, "Are witches afraid of water?"

Mun-yeong's eyes are cold as she looks at Min-jo, he watches the interaction enraptured in this achingly honest conversation encrypted in their own language.

"Yes."

He's releases a breath he didn't know he was hiding. Watching Min-jo nod at her response, "That's okay. Everyone is scared of something. I'm scared of being alone. But you said when I'm older I can find a family. Maybe one day you'll find a way to be in the water." She says it matter of fact, like she has no doubt that Mun-yeong will conquer this fear.

The sun is no longer as high in the sky and the skyline begins to swirl into hues of pink, orange and yellow. Like a mad painter dragged their unwashed paintbrush across the surface.

"I think it's time we took you back." His voice breaks their bubble as they turn to look at him. He smiles at them both, charmed by this little whirlwind who has bulldozed her way into Mun-yeong's path. Vaguely wondering what happens when a tornado and a hurricane meet?

They walk back to the diner, Min-jo in the center and the eyes that land on them make him wonder if they look like a family, Min-jo had reached out to grasp their hands but Mun-yeong had slapped it away complaining of her dirty lake hands. The girl had only laughed before happily holding his hand instead before Mun-yeong broke between them, reminding her that he was her toy much to this chagrin.

The same older woman who had prevented Min-jo from following them the previous day, hastily bursts through the door as they draw close enough to be seen, her frantic voice shrill in the air, "Where have you been? Why did you leave without telling me? Are you okay?!" She grabs Min-jo, raptly checking her body for injuries, touching the wet hair on her head before looking at them angrily.

"Who are you? And why are you with this child?"

Min-jo beats them to answer, "This is the pretty witch and her prince." She beams at the woman, who looks taken back at the response.

He bows low in apology before continuing the explanation, "I'm Moon Gang-tae and this is my girlfriend Ko Mun-yeong. She came to find us we wanted to make sure she made it back safely."

She stares at him, scrutinizing his answer but once she sees that the girl is not harmed she sighs before accept his apology, "Okay. Thank you, I'm sorry for any trouble she caused you." She respectfully bows in return.

"You must have been really worried about her."

She freezes at his statement, looking down at Min-jo before averting her eyes, "No. I wasn't. I.....was just bothered thinking about her."

He raises an eyebrow at the defensive deflection.

"That's the same thing." Mun-yeong quips sharply.

The woman's eyes narrow but there is no argument.

They all stand in silence, the wind howls around them, darkness beginning to fall as the sun drifts into the water.

It is time for them to go.

"Well this is goodbye, be well and stay safe." He bows once more, Mun-yeong waves once before turning away without another word to either. He shoots Min-jo an apologetic smile as her huge wet eyes follow Mun-yeong longingly.

Then she's ripping herself from the tight grip of the woman who cries at the action. She runs straight into Mun-yeong's back. Little feet thundering on the ground and she quickly closes the distance between them.

"Wait."

Mun-yeong halts her movement, still facing away.

"Can....I?.." She stutters around the words that jumble in her mouth, eyes staring a hole in Mun-yeong's back, she must be impervious to its heat. After a long drawn out pause she bravely finishes her question, "Can I be apart of your family?" The hope laced in her voice batters at his heart, she's just a child who wants to be loved. Crying out for it. Begging for it.

"No."

Her little head bows in defeat, nodding as if she understands, nobody wants her and she doesn't belong anywhere.

She starts to walk back to the woman, all the previous joy and wonder sucked from every cell of her body. Walking as if a marionette on a string, stilted.

"We're leaving. A family needs to stay together, to lean on each other." Mun-yeong's voice causes her to pause mid step, a twinge warmer than it was earlier. The first day of spring after winter's bitter cold. "You should find a family that worries about you and who needs someone to lean on too. A family that will never leave you."

He watches as those huge eyes slowly travel until they land on the lady. She runs back to her, body trembling as she looks at her like she's seeing her for the first time. Eyes now able to see what has always been right in front of her.

"Can we be a family?"

The woman gasps, turning her head away, eyes glistening. Min-jo reaches out and takes her hand, small palms appearing even tinier in the woman’s hold as she peers up hopeful once more.

He turns away before he can see the conclusion, walking away to fall into step with Mun-yeong, who turns to meet his gaze. He notices the tear streaks on her skin, fondly looking at her, falling ever more in love.

"How did it end?"

He shrugs, taking her hand, "I didn't stay. But I hope it's a happy ending."

"Me too." She squeezes his hand, tightly.

******************************************************************************************

She wordlessly goes into the camping van announcing that she wants to take a nap. He nods at her, pressing a kiss to her wet cheek before letting her go.

He opens the box of supplies he bought days ago, nerves all but obliterated, he's never been surer of anything in his life. He works diligently but quietly, eyes tracking the door of the camping van to ensure Mun-yeong doesn't suddenly appear before he's done. As he finishes his last touches, he climbs the stairs of the camping van. Eyes softening at the sight of his girlfriend laying on his bed roll, snuggling into his night shirt. He coos at the rare and precious sight, loathing the idea of waking her.

The choice is taken from him when her lashes flutter open and her unfocused eyes land on him, she jumps up nonchalantly hiding the shirt behind her. He pretends not to see it, pointedly looking away from her. Before he beckons her up.

"Come with me."

He offers his hand, sees her in all blue glowing in the sun as she waited for him.

Once again, she takes his hand. It's just as sweet as the first time. His heart is giddy with love.

He contemplates asking her to close her eyes but ultimately decided against it, he wants her to see and relish every moment.

Her small gasp as he pushes the door open makes his heart tremble and do a back-flip, bouncing all around the cavities of his chest. She looks around astonished at the scene, the faint twinkling of the fairy lights that adorn the camping van, blinking rhythmically, like stars that fell from the sky, the long winding path of rose petals that lead to a blanket that is topped with a bountiful basket and a bucket with wine.

"Wow."

She turns to look at him, eyes glossy and shining under the luminescence of the fairy lights. "What is this?"

He doesn't answer her question, actions have always spoken louder than words for him. He escorts her down the path of petals, softly crunching under their feet. Until they reach the blanket and he helps her sit before lowering himself next to her.

He opens the basket, removing all the food he purchased and hid away, small sandwiches and fresh fruits. He plucks a strawberry out before pressing it to her lips, "Open up." The dark desire that rolls through her eyes makes his body flush in return. She obeys silently, wrapping her lips around the soft flesh of the berry, biting down, relishing at the flavor before swallowing. She feeds him a slice of honey dew in return, fingers dragging across his lips bewitchingly.

They consume the rest of the food in silence, feeding themselves and each other in equal turns. Before he pours them both a bottle of the cheap wine he was able to purchase in a liquor store in the town. Her eyes never leave his face as she drinks the wine, captivated by his every move.

"Are you full?" He whispers not wanting to interrupt the calm that has settled like a warm blanket over them.

"Yes, I'm no longer hungry." Intentional pause, as her eyes lock on his lips. "For food."

Adjusting himself in his pants he ignores her tempting offer, for now. The main event is still around the corner and he needs all his wits for that.

Taking her hand in his large palms, he rubs his thumb along the soft skin, gazing into her eyes with his own laid open, wanting her to see everything he feels.

"Mun-yeong, I love you. I love who I am with you, who I've become with you, I want to be with you always."

She blinks at his words, words escape her as she stares at him. He doesn't give her a chance to flounder much more, pulling out what he had hidden in his pocket and placing it in her hand.

The button eyes of the nightmare doll, glow under the moonlight and she looks down at the thing she once dismissed as "ugly crap", now a prized possession.

"Mang-tae?..."

"I'm still a coward a little, he's going to help me tell you a message." He guides her eyes to the scroll sticking from the pouch, all too similar to her concealed message to him.

She slowly pulls the paper from the sack, hands trembling as she unfurls it and reads the message written. She's a fast reader, incredibly so, he knows that and the message is fairly short yet she stares at it for what feels like hours, maybe even years, time is relative in the moment.

She reads the message again and again and again and again and again.

Before she finally puts it down. Then the tears come, easily, flowing like a river, soaking the neck of her romper and she lets them fall, doesn't interrupt their journey, allows herself this brief moment of vulnerability.

She's never looked more beautiful in his eyes.

He tells her so, "You look so beautiful. I want to see this face until I die."

Without a word she places Mang-tae tenderly on the blanket, before crawling into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and she answers his question with a kiss. Their lips crash together with enough force to knock him backwards, dragging her with him as they tumble on the blanket.

Her tongue prods at his mouth and he eagerly allows her entrance, moaning at the sweet flavor of strawberry that floods his taste buds, sucking her tongue into his mouth to get more. His hands rub at the exposed skin of her back, traveling down to squeeze her soft lush ass, bringing their pelvis in contact. She grinds down sensually on his erection, moaning at the hot sensation. He pulls the tie holding her romper together, pulling back from the kiss to strip her bare. She resembles a wood nymph naked underneath the smattering of stars in the inky sky, the forest rustles around them.

While he's lost in the glory of her body, she undresses him, pulling his shirt over his head and pressing hot open kisses against his stomach, before unbuttoning his pants and pulling them own with his boxers in one firm tug. Then she hungrily gazes at his body, hands massaging his thighs before she crawls back into his arms, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces.

Their tongues meet in a languid battle, bodies rolling against each other like waves, uncontrollably. He presses a curious finger at the folds hidden between her thighs and groans at the enticing wetness that surrounds the digit. Coating in her sweet juices. She shakes her head above him, lifting up to dislodge his finger. He looks at her in question.

"I'm too close. I can't take foreplay. Make love to me." She pleads, demands, begs. All of them, at once.

She steals his breath, just like she did his heart and his control. He wonders what he will have left after her? What will still be his when she takes it all? He would give anything to her.

He is incapable of denying her so with a gentle grip of her waist he moves her aligning their bodies before his cock brushes against her most intimate spot, with a fluid tilt of his hip he slides into her tight pussy, it feels like coming home.

He exalts at the sensation, letting it roll over him, basking in her constrictions around him as she wiggles in his arms before pulling his ear lobe into her wet mouth, "Please."

He thrusts into her, powerful but steady, drawing her close and forcing her to meet him. She begins to ride him, feet planted beside his hips as she rams herself down into his hard cock, the view is unbelievable her face twisted in euphoria under a million dazzling stars, he takes a snapshot in his mind.

Before she knocks all thoughts out of his head, plunge down harder and faster onto him, he grabs her waist desperately, needing to slow her down. But she fights his grip, pushing his hands beside his head and he could easily take control but as he watches her fall apart he realizes she needs this. Desperately. Everything tonight has been out of her control, she needed to gain some of it back. Needed to find her footing as he effortlessly swept her off her feet.

He lets her hold his hands down, giving no resistant, watching her fuck herself on him, entranced by the indecent sight of his dick disappearing in and reappearing out of her. In. Out. In. Out. InOut. InOut. She sets a punishing pace despite asking him to make love to her but he muses that their version of love hasn't always been gentle or tranquil, sometimes it was volatile even explosive so for them this is making love. It similar to everything else in their lives has layers, that they are continually peeling back to expose a new coat.

She starts to moan loudly, little ahs so sweet in the wind, twisting and undulating until every downward thrust bumps against her clit, she keens as she pants out his name, "Moon Gang-tae, Moon Gang-tae!"

He holds on for the ride, hips slamming violently into hers as she tightens around him, walls crushing him until finally she shakes in his arms, her body twitching almost out of his hold and he swiftly snatches her back, drilling into the tight wall of her pussy until he feels his pinnacle nearing, the blood in his head surges and he feel his length swell and explode as he tumbles over the edge, driving every last drop of him inside her until she's stuffed full.

She collapses onto him, knocking the wind from his lung. But he takes her weight, wrapping her in his arms.

"Yes." She breaths into his ears.

Sliding out of the tight glove of her pussy he rolls to the side, catching Mang-tae once more, her brows farrow again.

"You didn't let me finish." He gently chides. Taking her hand and bringing it the the pouch on the doll's back once more, he sees the shock that washes over her features, eyes large in wonder as she pulls out the object hidden inside.

A sparkling gold ring, a modest princess cut diamond sits proudly on top, as beautiful as its new owner.

"Are you serious?" Her voice trembles, the tears coming again.

"Yes. But right now it's just a promise ring, a promise that one day I'll be a man who's worthy of being your husband. I wanted to give it to you now so you know that I'm yours and I want you to be mine in very sense of the word. What do you say?"

Her face crinkles into a smile, "You promised not to make me cry again. You already broke that promise tonight. You better not break this one."

He chuckles, "Those are happy tears that doesn't count. And you didn't answer my question." He needs to hear her answer.

She looks at him from under her lashes, naked and beautiful under the inky black night sky, lips blessing him with her response, "Sure. Why not?"

He smiles at the nonchalant answer as she weeps, before taking the ring from her hand, gently pressing the ring onto her finger, it looks like it belongs, perfect fit.

She tackles him onto the blanket, showering his face with kisses as he laughs loudly, freely. Living out his wildest dream with girl that he liked who become the woman that he loves.

The message on the scroll crushed between their weight. But the words are unaffected.

Marry me, someday?

They were in no rush they had a lifetime ahead of them.

Maybe even another after that, if they were reincarnated and destiny brought them together again.

*******************************************************************************************

She drives them to their new location, he doesn't comment on her driving past the diner or looking through the glass to see Min-jo happily talking to the woman, their hands wrapped around each other as she pulls the lady behind her, excitedly jabbering. Neither of them say anything but she smiles the whole drive after, humming along to BLACKPINK on the radio.

♫ ♫ Dududududu ♫ ♫

He still doesn't comment when they end up at another site with a lake and mountains in the background.

After using the bathroom when he comes out of her van he finds her standing on the bank of the river. Feet barely grazing the water.

Wrapped around her arms are the bright pink floaties he saw on Min-jo's arms.

His breath hitches as she looks back at him, defiant smile on her face. Her ring shining from its permanent spot on her finger.

She takes a step towards the water.

#its okay to not be okay fic #its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #moon gang tae #ko mun yeong #emotional fic #I really felt things writing this #hope you enjoy part 2 #episode 18 #tell me your favorite line

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kurgy · 3 years

Note

i am asking you abt cotton candy. also based on that illustration i think its abt some murder twinks and their simp. the pic looks like theyre just like. casually killin. celebrity killers. fans are like "omg i got 2 meet the pink one and i got stabbed 💖💖💖." the logical endgame of putting flower crowns on serial killers-

SDFGHJLKHFGDF YOURE NOT TECHNICALLY WRONG??

m crying omg ok it is indeed about murder twinks and their eventual simp. my murder twinks arent human! theyre shapeshifting creatures who can only copy a face after theyve consumed it, and theyve been boppin around the country feeding, never getting caught purely because theyve based their entire personas on being as pretty and nice and nonthreatening as possible. they stick to small towns and spend a year or 2 infiltrating the community, becoming liked by being whatever anyone wanted them to be and making themselves the least likely suspects once their feeding begins.

when they kill they specifically have to remove the face as cleanly as possible and devour it. they essentially lure people out with looks and lies and then pounce on them like animals, incapacitating them and removing the face, leaving the body torn up and faceless, and the string of nationwide murders became a popular media topic

simp boy goes to the same university as them in their current town and has crush on them. hes a photographer and got caught taking a picture of the twins and labeled a stalker which the twins Do Not care about bc w/e not their problem but then he catches them committing their first kill, causing them to flee into the woods and disappear for 2 days. emo boy is terrified because it was like seeing a man get eaten alive by evil contortionists and stays quiet thinking he mustve imagined it but then the twins come back and make it very obvious to him that it was real and deciding theyre going to be best friends from now on.

the story follows them manipulating mansplaining manwhoring their way out of every situation while emo boy is hopelessly trying to prove theyre killers but everyone thinking hes just a crazy stalker

#CottonCandy #oc tag #feralwakko

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Cancelled Moments - Kiro

🍒These Moments are unlikely to come to EN or any server as they are from the cancelled CN Dream Heart Lake event back in 2018🍒

Kiro’s Post: Looks petite, but is actually very strong!

MC: My massage techniques are pretty good, right?

Kiro: It’s true! I feel especially relaxed now, and all I want to do is lie down flat...

Kiro’s Post: Looks petite, but is actually very strong!

MC: Ahh, why didn’t you tell me that it was painful?

Kiro: I was in pain, but happy.

Kiro’s Post: Looks petite, but is actually very strong!

MC: I thought massages require one to exert more strength...

Kiro: I was just teasing you. Actually, it’s almost the same feeling as a cat scratching my shoulders~

Kiro’s Post: It’s the first time I’m trying the role of a scumbag in the new movie. Anticipating the feedback.

MC: I think the next time I see you, you might have a bit of a shadow...

Kiro: I’ll ask the director if it’s too late to cast me as a good character...

Kiro’s Post: It’s the first time I’m trying the role of a scumbag in the new movie. Anticipating the feedback.

MC: You went out of character in the cinema hahaha.

Kiro: Can’t scumbags eat chocolates?

Kiro’s Post: Oh my god! I want to say something which will leave people shocked!

MC: What’s the story?

Kiro: Aren’t you already shocked?

Kiro’s Post: Oh my god! I want to say something which will leave people shocked!

MC: ...and then?

Kiro: I’ve already finished.

Kiro’s Post: Oh my god! I want to say something which will leave people shocked!

MC: This was a game we’d play five years ago.

Kiro: This is called the Renaissance.

[Note] Kiro refers to the Renaissance because it’s known to be a time of artistic rebirth, where there was a promotion of rediscovering art. It’s just Kiro being extra LOL.

Kiro’s Post: I’ll obtain snow from the highest point of the snow mountain, fill it up with the brightest gems on the beach, and it to you.

MC: I think that’s a really amazing gift!

Kiro: Collect the gift from me quickly!

Kiro’s Post: I’ll obtain snow from the highest point of the snow mountain, fill it up with the brightest gems on the beach, and it to you.

MC: You’ve surpassed the romantic index~

Kiro: Really? I simply want to give you the best things I see.

Kiro’s Post: The clouds are soft, the sugar is sweet, happiness is carved on my heart~

MC: Do you really have to be this professional? You can think of lyrics even while eating cotton candy?

Kiro: I’m just illustrating what I see and how I feel!

Agent: It’s okay to find inspiration, but don’t eat too much!

[Note] It’s more obvious in Chinese that Kiro’s post are lyrics because every clause ends with a rhyme - 绵 (mian), 甜 (tian), 间 (jian).

Kiro’s Post: The clouds are soft, the sugar is sweet, happiness is carved on my heart~

MC: What comes after that?

Kiro: I haven’t thought about it. I wanted to say “Your childhood face.” What do you think?

Agent: It’s okay to find inspiration, but don’t eat too much!

[Note] As mentioned above, every clause ends with a rhyme - 绵 (mian), 甜 (tian), 间 (jian). “Face” is 脸 (lian).

Kiro’s Post: The clouds are soft, the sugar is sweet, happiness is carved on my heart~

MC: When I look at the same cotton candy, I can only think about eating. Sigh... the difference between us!

Kiro: Mm, there’s indeed a difference. For example - apart from eating, I also think of you!

Agent: It’s okay to find inspiration, but don’t eat too much!

Kiro’s Post: Good medicine often tastes bitter. But with a scalded hand, your greeting works even better.

MC: ...if you want to alleviate the heat, the “bitter medicine” is to add even more hot water!

Kiro: Hey hey hey, I really didn’t feel the scalding heat after we spoke!

MC’s Post: With such a face, how could I say no...

Kiki: Completely agreed!

Willow: So the two of you can only pinch the rolls on your stomach and sigh about your weight.

Kiro: Don’t say no then~

[Note] Willow is twisting an idiom here. The proper idiom is 望洋兴叹 (“wang yang xing tan”), which refers to a person lamenting his own insignificance

However, Willow says 望秤兴叹 (“wang cheng xing tan”), which loosely translates to a person sighing while looking at the weighing scale :’D

MC: Same world, same troubles.

Kiki: Especially when you realise he’s writing in English but it’s completely unreadable...

Willow: Frantically pressing the ‘like’ button! These things really get on my nerves!

Savin: A familiar trouble...

MC: Even as an audience, he is the most serious + experienced!

Agent: No matter what performance he watches, our Kiro will appreciate it seriously and applaud.

Director: Speaking of being serious and experienced, the high standards Kiro sets for himself are amazing!

Kiki: Calling you frantically! Ahhh how could such a perfect person exist on earth!

⭐️