When he delivered the mug into his still outstretched hand (with the teaspoon of sugar Aziraphale was too preoccupied to ask for), his editor had found his reading glasses and was hunched over his laptop, already deep in Work Mode. Crowley had a million questions about what he thought of it all, but knew better than to try and interrupt him while he read.
EDITOR'S NOTE (M) (48k)
sequel to your harringrove blurb about steve stealing billy's metallica shirt, except this time billy steals a steve hoodie, pls
this is a continuation of my previous blurb but you don’t need to read it to read this one 💖
billy's a stubborn motherfucker.
it's like everything about him has to be some sort of act of defiance, against nature, against the law, against the world. it can't be a nice way of existing, but it's in the walls that make up the harrington household that steve sees billy give in just enough. and steve has nothing to do but wonder why. what changed here, what's different about this play. it's the one thing he always overlooks, and he keeps being surprised by and it's just billy.
it's cold. well steve would say it's fresh and it's not cold anymore, an entire winter coming and going but it's not giving into spring just yet. contrary to popular belief steve harrington has a million things in his mind at any given time, so by the time the popcorn is done and he serves it in a bowl. he finally looks at billy laying down on the couch.
he's curled up on it, like when he's alone he tries not to occupy that much space in the world. steve knows the feeling. he's seen it in action, but this is different. billy's cold. billy's in a nice ralph lauren zip up hoodie, it's a little long on him. steve can remember when his mom got home with that one, he almost never uses it. he's not much of a hoodie guy. but he really looks and there's this fuzzy frankly boderline embarrassing feeling over taking him, like he wants to rub his face all over billy like this. like he wants to kiss him all soft until neither of them can breathe. what happens then is that steve is standing at the entrance of the living room staring popcorn in hand just full focus on billy. like he's stupid.
"what?"
billy's so bitchy, always. except when he's not, and it's fine because steve can also be bitchy. but also steve has eyes that can see, and he's seeing him in his hoodie and it's activating something in the depths of his brain and his heart. a fondness he thought he'd like buried somewhere else. he's trying to come up with an answer, something that makes sense. instead-
steve smiles like a dork. (at least from what he's been told it's dorky).
"nothing." a pause. billy raises his eyebrow, like he knows better and steve folds. "-you look comfortable." and huggable, and cute, and nice, and that's my hoodie you know you have my hoodie on?
"oh. well. i was cold."
"so you're not cold anymore."
"steve."
"you don't need me to warm you up? okay."
"stop it."
"no it's fine i can take a hint. a zip up taking my job."
"jeez. would you get your ass over here? and i know what you are doing. just because it's working it doesn't mean i can't tell what's happening."
steve just folds, because that's what he does now. bend over backwards for this guy. who is currently wearing his clothes like they have something and it's not just messing around. steve can't remember the last time he had been with someone and they took his clothes. nancy did it like. every now and then, and before that well. he can't remember. but this one he is keeping. holding onto it.
he finds his way into the couch, tries not to think too much about how billy finds his way in steve's space, head on his chest, steve lingers on how easy it is for billy to be with him, close to him, his chest warmths with something he doesn't want to put words into. steve's hand on the hoodie's fabric. along with billy's body heat, runs hot. rubs his thumb onto billy's side. there's something on the tv, steve isn't paying attention. he leans in, lifts billy chin just to press his lips against his. it’s softer than he would like but steve’s bleeding heart tends to stain everything. and this isn’t what they are this isn’t in the rules of what’s allowed in this silly game billy seems to be so eager to play, steve’s really bad at feelings, mainly because he feels them too much overwhelming. overbearing.
“you’re thinking too much.”
“huh?”
“you’re all in your head. relax baby.” billy smiles all greedy, against steve’s lips and he just melts. “what’s on your mind?” his voice is all gravel, steve can see part of his collarbone, the hoodies loose makes him dizzy. somehow hotter than seeing tits right now.
“nothing.” steve tries again, like it's going to work this time. it doesn't. he really tries to bite it back less it leads to billy bolting right out of here. then it’s ocean blue eyes framed by the light grey hoodie. mine. “you look. good. in my hoodie. cute even.”
“cute?”
steve’s suddenly on the spot. gets suave all of a sudden. king steve and all that, it’s like he never left. hand on billy’s cheek. waiting for billy to show his fangs, his claws.
“that’s what I said.”
“do i?” billy’s acting coy, sultry. trying to squeeze the last bit of soul steve has left.
“yeah.” steve’s out here trying to survive. “you should keep it.” and before billy can interject. “-like you can leave it here, but it’s yours. you can keep it.” you should keep me steve wants to say. he doesn’t, but he does. and he looks so sincere, he can see between the lines when it comes to billy.
“okay. i’ll keep it.” like it’s settles something. it makes steve beam, smile again all over. fuzzy at the edges, it’s all too easy then to kiss him again, and again. and again. steve thinks how billy is so fucking stubborn about many things, yet he took the hoodie first chance he got. something to be said. “you’re such a weirdo sometimes.”
“yeah well. you like me that way.” billy doesn’t hesitate when he just bites steve’s jaw it makes steve yelp. something tells him they’re not talking about the hoodie at all.
Guys I genuinely am writing two perspectives of the same fic rn to see which one wins the right to be the first chapter of this fic SOMEONE SEDATE ME!! But also….AHEM
Forsaken but it's that one cartoon someone can describe but never name unless someone else says it that airs almost every weekend
Note: I won't be using fancy terms lmao, I'm not adding all the -ist words I can use to describe a characters position in the story, you can also see when I was thinking lmao
SURVIVORS
Shedletsky - Protagonist
A cheerful, chicken-loving man, Shedletsky is a sweetheart by all means though a little outlandish with some ideas. He is oftentimes wandering, small wings folded or flapping, tail swaying, a smile on his face, and a piece of fried chicken in hand with 1x1x1x1, BrightEyes, or Builderman! Shedletsky is the main star of the show! Along with 1x1x1x1, of course!
Chance - Side Character (<- you're gonna be seeing this a lot)
The luck-loving man himself, Chance may be a background character but he has some personality put into him! He is known for his constant flirting with Mafioso and his general gambling tendencies which always gets him scolded by Elliot but he never cares. Chance's first appearance was in the episode: "Fate's Double-Sided Coin".
Noob - Side Character
Nervous and rather introverted, Noob is a kind soul that can barely put that to use due to his own anxiety holding him back. He's often seen hanging out with Guest 666 or doing a craft of sorts to keep his nerves calm in general or when something really bad happens, though 1x1x1x1 appears to have a soft spot for him. Noob's first appearance was in the episode: "Arts & Crafts".
Guest 1337 - Side Character
Protective of his friends and oftentimes way too defensive, Guest 1337 acts as a sort of guardian to all "survivors" with a strong distrust towards the ones fans refer to as "killers", he will often try to keep 1x1x1x1 away from Shedletsky out of paranoia. He can often be seen lingering around Noob protectively, as Noob is the least likely to fight back if attacked so he protects him. Guest's first appearance was in the episode: "Sword Training".
007n7 - Side Character
The most fatherly of them all, yet nervous all the same, 007n7 has a kind heart though a little mischievous due to Noli's influence but not by much since he let off any harmful hacking. He can be seen most often near Noli or C00lkidd, mostly C00lkidd as that is his son and he's quite protective over him. 007n7's first appearance was in the episode: "Pr3tyC00lDud".
Veeronica - Side Character
An excitable robot with a big, albeit synthetic, heart, Veeronica is known for her contagious excitement, constant smiles, and her graffiti. She doesn't walk, usually, normally skating around to escape whoever wants to stop her from having her fun, whether it be on roller skates or a skateboard, she'll use it. Veeronica's first appearance was in the episode: "Graffiti Menace".
Builderman - Side Character
Creative and helpful, Builderman is always ready to help repair whatever he can. Often known for his blunt but lighthearted personality, Builderman is always ready to say something sarcastic if he has to or finds it funny, most times he's seen he's working on something, repairs or not, and Shedletsky quite likes him. Builderman's first appearance was in the episode: "May The Best Chef Win!".
Taph - Side Character
Mute but mischievous, Taph is a harmless prankster with a knack for traps, while they are quite devious they won't ever hurt someone and get really apologetic in their own way if they accidentally do... though their owl-like wings keep them nice and silent in the air, perfect for tricks! They are often seen hanging around Dusekarr, clinging to him silently or nuzzling against him as a silent want for attention. Taph's first appearance was in the episode: "Tricks Galore".
Dusekkar - Side Character
Cryptic, odd, and overall strange, Dusekarr is a magical, pumpkin-headed fella who often confuses fellow characters and viewers alike. His cryptic talks, so clear yet... not, tend to leave people confused as they can't really process his personality through his speech, it is easiest to tell from expression or body language with him, he also has a feather that he got from Taph! He has it on a string wrapped around one of his antlers. Dusekarr's first appearance was in the episode: "Fate's Double-Sided Coin".
Elliot - Side Character
Kind but exhausted most days, Elliot is everyone's favorite pizza delivery man, and chef! He and 1Eggs get along great! He can often be seen smiling in Builder Brother's Pizza while taking orders, cooking up some delicious pizza or out to deliver, he's very sweet but can be blunt if he's annoyed enough by some shenanigans! Elliot's first appearance was in the episode: "May The Best Chef Win!".
Jane Doe - Side Character
Quiet yet motherly, Jane or Mrs. Doe isn't the most talkative, keeping to herself but speaking when it is a necessity. She tends to be seen near her husband, John Doe, or sitting/standing alone on the sidelines, her face partially hidden by a shadow like Mafioso but less harsh. Jane Doe's first appearance was in the episode: "Special: Love is in The Air!".
118o8 - Side Character
A previous hacker, now the adoptive mother of Bluudud, 118o8 is quite the sweetheart but also rather stern when it comes to her 11 year old son. She is often seen beside Bluudud or watching over him as he plays, 118o8 is caring in her own way, especially towards her son who she cares about so dearly.. 118o8's first appearance was in the episode: "Pr3tyC00lDud".
226w6 - Side Character
Forgetful but kind nonetheless, 226w6 or Winslet has a bad memory from being resurrected and still somewhat infected by the virus called "DUZII", they have never met Pr3typriincess despite them being her parent, they don't even remember who Pr3ty is. 226w6's first appearance was in the episode: "Pr3tyC00lDud".
BrightEyes - Side Character
Kind and patient, Brighteyes is the wife of Shedletsky and she loves him deeply, even if he is a little stupid and tests her seemingly unlimited patience. She is quite helpful and is oftentimes helping those around her, whether it be a physical or emotional task, Brighteyes will happily help. Brighteyes' first appearance was in the episode: "Special: Love is in The Air!".
Two Time - Side Character
Devoted and mildly insane, Two Time is quite the interesting person seeing as they normally pray to what is referred to as "The Spawn". They are most times seen praying, staring, or standing beside Azure who is their lover... or someone who tolerates them, just barely. Two Time's first appearance was in the episode: "Fate's Double-Sided Coin".
KILLERS
1x1x1x1 - Protagonist
Loud and rather cocky, 1x1x1x1 may be the Creation of Hatred but he certainly has a silly streak! He is, more often than not, seen doing some silly stuff with Shedletsky or thinking of dumb solutions, though he and Shedletsky have a friendship stronger than some would think for a Creation of Hatred and... well, Shedletsky. 1x1x1x1 is one of the main stars, with Shedletsky, of course.
Noli - Secondary Protagonist
Loud, glitchy, mischievous... all good words to describe Noli, they glitch and stutter on occasion with their less obvious leetspeak. They can often be seen doing dumb things or generally silly things that fit their character, even doing stupid pranks on the others! Noli's first appearance was in the episode: "Tricks Galore".
Slasher - Side Character
Silent and vaguely menacing, Slasher is often finding wood to keep a fire running, hence why he keeps an axe on hand. He doesn't talk most days, more focused on his work but that makes him hard to judge, especially because his mask hides his expression, though Guest seems wary near him. Slasher's first appearance was in the episode: "The Strange Forest".
C00lkidd - Side Character
Silly and devious, C00lkidd is a mischievous 12 year old who uses the hacking powers he gained from his father, 007n7, for harmless pranks on friends and family. He can often be seen with Noli, 007n7, or his two friends: Pr3tyPriincess and Bluudud, not really causing havoc but keeping the other two in line. C00lkid's first appearance was in the episode: "Pr3tyC00lDud".
Bluudud - Side Character
Chaotic and extroverted, Bluudud is a rather loud 11 year old, often streaming whatever dumb stunts he does, or when he and his friends play games. He's oftentimes referred to as stupid and reckless for his actions, most times being led about by C00lkidd, much to his dismay. Bluudud's first appearance was in the episode: "Pr3tyC00lDud".
Pr3tyPriincess - Side Character
Proper, elegant, and spoiled, Pr3tyPriincess has been spoiled rotten for a 13 year old, while she may be the oldest she often gets led around by C00lkidd which she hates and will often argue but C00lkidd never entertains that. She's loud and most times seen boasting about something new and expensive she got. Pr3tyPriincess's first appearance was in the episode: "Pr3tyC00lDud".
Itrapped - Side Character
Distant and cold, pun intended, Itrapped is an "antagonist" to Chance's overall story and quite rude to everyone. He is often seen standing aside, most times something is covering his face: a black box, a plant, a curtain, etc. Itrapped's first and only appearance was in the spin-off: "Life of The Lucky".
John Doe - Side Character
Kind yet teasing, John or Mr. Doe will often tease the other characters, all in good fun, of course! He is often seen near his wife, Jane, or seen teasing Chance for his horrible aim if they're in a shooting range, his comments often make people laugh, viewers and characters alike. John Doe's first appearance was in the episode: "Special: Love is in The Air!".
Nosferatu - Side Character
Egotistical and way too formal, Nosferatu is often boasting to whoever will listen not that he cares, he'll boast whether someone tells him to shut up or not. Mostly seen with a parasol in the day, he despises almost all forms of humanity for seemingly no reason. Nosferatu's first appearance was in the episode: "Special: Costume Night!".
Guest 666 - Side Character
Protective and aloof, Guest 666 or Sixer is very cat-like in their behavior, often seen laying in the sun like a demonic cat. While most parents do somewhat dislike the naming of the character, they never complained about it since most kids really like Sixer. Guest 666's first appearance was in the episode: "Arts & Crafts".
1Eggs - Side Character
Odd, cocky, and competitive, 1Eggs was only ever seen in one episode but still became a fan favorite for his eggy puns and his friendship with Elliot. He is most likely seen in the kitchen as most renditions show, other characters will sometimes mention his name as someone who made the food they eat. 1Eggs' first and only appearance was in the episode: "May The Best Chef Win!".
Mafioso - Side Character
The mafia man himself, Don Sonnellino, better known as Mafioso is a protagonist in Chance's story, ending up as his husband because that was how Chance "paid off his debt". He is seen with Chance mostly, making sure he doesn't gamble too much, and his goons or "Mafialings" as the community calls them are normally close by, those being: Soldier, Caporegime, Consigliere, and Contractee. Mafioso's first appearance was in the spin-off: "Life of The Lucky".
Azure - Side Character
A quiet one, Azure is Two Time's lover albeit reincarnated from an... incident. They, like 1x1x1x1 and 1Eggs, have a zipper for a mouth though unlike those two they prefer to stay in a garden rather than interact with people, mostly seen beside their hated beloved Two Time. Azure's first appearance was in the episode: "Tricks Galore".
My minibang fic about if William worked for David at the end of greyscale! This is was so fun to write, and I had a blast working with my beta-readers and artists!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Graves still being alive simply by not being in the tank is sooo lame. He should have been in there, fear coursing through his body as the heavily armored vehicle explodes around him, his body aching in pain when the fire eats away at his skin, unable to move as he lies limp in the destroyed tank.
He is trapped. Not dead yet but Graves knows it is over; he does not want to give up but god, does it hurt to move, to stretch out his trembling arm and hand and reach up, for something, anything. He needs to get out but it seems impossible. He cannot even scream for help because MacTavish and Parra might still be around.
He is going to die. Graves sees the light at the end of the tunnel; or so he believes at first because it is actually the rays of the sun and the blue of the sky he sees above him when someone pulls open the hatch of the tank, now reaching inside, grabbing his arm and pulling him out towards the light. The person, a Shadow, Graves' most trusted soldier, groans in pain, the fire burning through their clothes and eating itself into parts of their own arms and shoulders as they pull Graves out, not caring about getting injured themselves, just wanting to save their boss at all cost.
Graves looks even worse, the flames having burned away parts of his gear and clothes, etched themselves into his entire body, his face too. He looks awful; but at least, he is still breathing.
The Shadow carries him away, out of sight, avoiding the eyes of the Los Vaqueros and 141, knowing it would be over if they spot them.
Their voice is silent as they set Graves down in a quiet place, checking his pulse, feeling it beneath their fingers although just weakly, "Commander Graves."
They receive no answer.
"Sir."
Once again, only silence follows onto the quietly whispered word.
"Phillip."
A small groan escapes Graves' lips as the voice manages to get through to him, his heavy eyes opening and his voice quiet when he speaks, "Didn't know we were on a first-name basis, soldier."
"Fuck, sir..." The Shadow whispers in response, a sigh of relief escaping them as they hear the familiar voice of their boss, speaking what seems to be more of a joke than anything. So, even on the brink of death Graves is still Graves. "You can't scare me like that."
"Was scarier for me than it was for you," is Graves' simple reply and the Shadow knows those words are true. After all, they had not been stuck in that tank; but Graves had been.
"I'll get you out of here, sir," the Shadow speaks quietly, sure of their words; and how could Graves not believe them? After all, he knows his Shadows, he knows what they are capable of; and he puts his full trust in them...
Jinx is a polyamorous disaster and can't tell the difference between attraction and attention. Jealous over another student getting close with their 'situationship' professor, they get a little over their head with a film student on campus. but it's okay. This is all about revenge. Right? ( ao3 link)
What to expect: Constellation polyamory, Multi-relationships, enemies to lovers (one sided?), MC being bad at social cues, unethical relationships, some mature content but no actual smutt (yet), Spanking<3, spelling errors
Irene is looking at me.
I can feel her stare on the back of my neck. Her eyes trail over me like a high-school-freshman observing a frog in Lab: half in horror, disgust; the other half awe, interest. She’s practical, clinical. She catches every detail.
It makes me itch.
My heels dig into the floor, legs tensing. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to bounce my knee. Instead, I press my body firmly into the seat.
Professor Darling stands at the front of the room, one hand gently cupping the spine of a leather back, the other clicking his pen out of nervous habit. His voice wraps its arms around the room, captivating and soothing, but I do not feel at ease.
I’m a rabbit, under the gaze of a predator. Jumpy. Ready to flee. Nervous.
It pisses me off.
Poetry leaves his lips like fresh flower petals, but instead of sweet lilac, they crumble at my feet with a heavy smell of rot. Song becomes static in my ears.
I am not a rabbit. Not one to be hunted- I much prefer to do the hunting. This change of pace makes my insides churn. My teeth gnaw the hollows of my cheek as the last few minutes of class tick on.
Her eyes go up. And down. Up- and down.
I scribble. She tracks my words.
I twist my ankle and her eyes snap to my boots. Heaven forbid I have to speak, and her eyes will be trained on my lips. How they move- how I articulate- watching me like a dog.
As soon as Professor Darling calls it quits, my bag is over my shoulder and I am up out of my seat. No office hours today, he’s mentoring the freshman, and as much as I want to watch his careful hands grade papers, I can’t sit through another freshman year seminar. I have no reason to loiter.
The door feels so close, escape so near, but I am not quick enough.
Never quite quick enough.
“Jinx!” Her voice calls, a chorus of background noise erupting behind her. “Do you have a second? I wanted to talk to you about filming.”
Two and a half weeks ago, Irene had caught me after class and asked with big glasses-framed eyes, if I could help out with a short film her class was making. As a theatre major and fellow queer artist, I had to agree. The circles I run in are too small, and an opportunity to perform is just that; an opportunity to perform.
It was annoying, at first, sure.
But she was sickly good at what she did. Filming with her so far had been easy, and worst of all, a breeze. She was a complete professional. That was before the queer lit field trip, though.
I thought we were done filming.
I thought we were done, period.
“Yeah, I’m free for a minute, I just have to trek over to the performance building for dance.” The words come out of my mouth pristine and well practiced. Despite the fact that my back is turned to her I grace a smile that would have my acting professors in awe, it even reaches my eyes. I’m ready to face her own wide grin, but my fingers, jump in annoyance.
“No dance today, Ace!” Comes a one liner from the chaos, Jeremy. Sweet, stupid Jeremy who is normally too high to come to class, let alone absorb conversation. Not that I blame him. But now it’s a disservice instead of a blessing.
“Oh, sick. Let me buy you coffee?” Irene inquires, and if my dining dollars weren’t low as shit, I would have said no. I stand with her as she gathers the rest of her books, and at the podium, Professor Darling watches the two of us. His gaze bounces back and forth, like he’s figuring out a puzzle and doesn’t have the end picture. He’d be happy to know I was lost, too.
Irene orders her coffee black. For a film kid, it makes sense. As a human, it makes my skin crawl. I order a smoothie, no milk, whipped cream. If she shows any disdain or confusion over my order she doesn't show it. I however can’t seem to shake the tension out of my shoulders.
Despite the small population at school, we didn’t talk often. Classes together? Sure- But it always seemed as if we fell on opposite ends of the student spectrum. I’m happy to lead a conversation regardless of my readiness, Irene seemed to have each and every sentence carefully planned. Her thoughts were always deep, concise. Realizations seemed to come in the moment for me, twisted and complex. I liked to collaborate. Irene always felt so solitary.
We sit tucked back in a small booth, the cafe crowded. I sit with my legs curled up under me, ignoring the cold wet underside of my boots. Irene leans back, and sips her coffee, pulling out a planner filled to the brim with multi-colored ink. I catch glimpses; Queer Lit. Paper Due in lavender, Documentary filming at 4 in red, A human’s evolution in green. I catch at least two shades of every color, and I don’t realize she’s stopped until I’m caught staring, her eyebrows quirked.
“Sorry,” I apologize, tearing my eyes off the page. Two nasty habits of mine: staring and putting my nose where it doesn't belong. I panic, looking for a window, something, anything to look at other than my hands or her. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Don’t worry about it,” She replies easily, pulling a few pens from her bag. “I just wanted to see if you had any availability to film this month. Do any of my open days work for you?”
She moves with the confidence of a stage manager - not always sure of their next move, but confident in their ability to get it done. This side of her I see in class all of the time. Turning in papers, fighting off opinions she doesn't quite agree with. She is a force, and always has been. But I don’t bend easily. At least not unintentionally.
“I can do next Tuesday night or the 19th, the 23rd.. Maybe the 29th if we can be done by five.” I take a long sip of my drink and look up at her as she contemplates. She pulls a black pen from her pile and I can’t help but notice the absence of that color anywhere else. There’s not a drop of black pen in that notebook, I’m almost sure of it.
“But why? I thought you were done filming Metamorphosis.”
Her hand stutters, but only for a moment. She’s writing my name in that dark, irreversible ink. I feel like I’ve given something deeply personal away. Like a small child making a deal with the Fae.
“I am.” she says simply. She doesn't elaborate, just tucks the book and pens away. It frustrates me to hell and back. An irrational part of me wants to grab it from her and scour through it for some sort of clue, some indication on what exactly I’ve agreed to.
“Would you like me to help on another project?” I ask, dumb.
“That was implied, yeah.”
“After the other day? Really?” Irritation seeps through me then, and her eyes snap up to mine. There’s something in her gaze that makes me hold my tongue, despite the desire to rip her a new one. I am far too aware of where we are. Of who can hear us.
“Especially after the other day.”
We had taken a trip to the Leather Archives, not too far off campus. It was a day trip for the Queer Lit. class and this semester's Social Justice extracurricular. About 30 students, three Professors. The building was small, and we could float and roam however we pleased.
I had been amped up, tipping right on the edge of headspace as soon as my eyes had opened. Some mornings you wake up and instead of the rot sleeping inside of you, it looks you right in the eyes. I try my best to push it down and remember I’m in control- I make the choices. There was a deep pulse inside of me, beating steady, warm. Mornings like this, my body knows exactly what it needs- it’s just the process of fulfilling those deep desires that becomes tricky. Mornings like this, my packing boxers won't do. It’s only the tight, heavy weight of my harness that can hold me together, keep me from snapping like a rubber band.
The leather cuts into my hips, but it’s a pleasant distraction from the annoyances of life. Like handsome professors in button ups that show off tattoos, and pretty girls in loose pants and small shirts. It takes away from the heaviness in my chest, and that irritating buzz in the back of my brain that whispers ‘everyone can see through you.’
Irene was pleased to stay glued to Professor Darling's side from the moment the trip started. We begun as a group, getting a vague introduction on the space, and its importance to the community before being dismissed and encouraged to explore.
That was my spot. Next to him, pressing against his side just to show him something that caught my eye behind the glass, to pick up a flogger and make him feel the fibers. To be the teacher for a change, to make jokes that border on the line of inappropriate, to see him flush when something strikes a nerve.
I had been the one to proposed this for our field study. I was the one who did the paperwork, got funding for transportation and admission. I convinced the board it was educational, and not overtly sexual and perverse. I fought with the English department on whether or not it was worth the time and energy. I should be the one looking over various leather boots in a case, detailing the process of how to clean and shine them. Of how to buff and keep them.
But instead, it was Irene, and her stupid pretty fucking eyeliner taking up the space I fought so hard to have. Fought so hard to take.
They trail along, past the boot blacking, onto the spanking bench and other impact elements. It makes my stomach roll and my breath catch. My hands itch to move, but instead of following the urge, I let my nails bite into my palm.
When a body settles next to me, I feel my own start to slack, every neuron in me soothing, and coming to attention.
Avery gives me a knowing smile, and it takes all of me not to immediately pull their body into mine. Most mornings I wake up to this force of nature. But this semester our classes haven't been lining up.
“I can feel you seething all the way from the first room,” They tease gently, putting a hand on my arm. Part of me bristles, but they’re right.
I have never been one to hide my emotions. Utterly transparent to everyone but myself. Avery has always been good at seeing the ripples in the water before it gets so big it’s a hurricane. Hurrah.
“Do you need to relieve some tension?” They ask, eyes looking towards the bathrooms down the hall. All single stalls, in a quiet little hallway, far from other exhibits. It makes the lighter in my brain flick, lighting the kerosene and causing a hot, warm flame.
I have been feeling that impulse all day…
For a moment, I’m overwhelmed by the fact that many people have probably fucked in this archive- that the room itself is some sort of living museum of queerness. In doing so, I would be adding to a rich history that will outlive me in many ways.
But my professor was here, and so were many of our classmates. I should be professional.
“Yes.” Is all I can get out.
The idea has settled into my mind and taken root, and I can feel the upper swing of my hand, the feeling of skin on skin. The look of Avery on their knees.
The walk to the bathroom is a blur, but as soon as the door is locked, my mind is off and it’s just Avery and the cold bathroom tiles. No more worry about how I’m perceived by Professor Darling, no crippling fear of not being enough, no worries of being an outlier. Jealousy and doubt are taken away, by jeans pulled down, boxers shoved with them. Bare smooth skin, and a hard spanking.
Nothing calms me more.
Avery leans over the sink, bare from the waist down, squirming and panting after the first flurry with my hand. My skin stings, and it’s as if I'm completely in my body for the first time all morning. My vision is clear and cut sharp, I can feel every movement and I’m connected to what's around me, both alive and inanimate. I’m hyper aware of the noises we make, the way Avery looks, the feelings pouring out of their lips. Bright red butt, busted hands, and adrenaline leaves me quivering as I help them redress.
The feeling thrums in me, alive and well. Control, power, and utter adoration. My place in the world, with the rest of them, feels secure. My hands ache to find skin again.
Wrapping them in a tight hug, I murmur praise, patting them over their jeans. Our lips never touch, my lips licked raw and their own peeling and chapped. When we pull ourselves away, Avery agrees to leave first, smile on their face.
“More when you get home after rehearsal?” They ask, sweet, and I am thankful my packer can’t react to mental stimuli, because I’d be hard all over again.
“Fuck yeah.” And they slip out.
When I slip out, the coolness of the hallway eases my hot and heavy mind. Standing next to the door, pressing a perfectly written sticky note on the pin board is Irene.
She looks at me as if she were a bird, of sorts. If it wasn’t for my hyperactive mind, and hyper awareness of where I was, of what had just happened, I would have walked past her without any thought. She’s a part of the scenery, blending into plain sight. Irene gives me a knowing grin, and the flame in my gut evolves to a particular rage I can't describe.
Fuck.
My palms sweat, and I shove them in my jean pockets, straightening my shoulders. I try not to grit my teeth, but I can feel my jaw twinge from how tightly I clench it. I go to walk past her, but her words stop me.
“Those bathrooms aren't as sound proof as one would hope,” She mocks, voice light, sweet. My hands curl into fists.
“I always figured your bark was worse than your bite. I’m glad to see I’m mistaken.”
Irene is many things. Frustration, fascinating, articulate, puzzling.
She’s also soft, and strong, and perfect against my fingers.
My left hand finds her shoulder, grabbing hard as my other grips the base of her chin. In two short steps her back is pressed against the wall, and my chest is pressed to hers, the space between us suddenly small. Her eyes are wide, and surprisingly wicked, behind her glasses. A low growl bubbles in my chest and I ache to sink my teeth into her neck. To flip her confident demeanor.
“You know nothing about my bite.” I whisper harshly, but the wide smile that overtakes her face makes my blood run cold. I’ve lost my head, in a public place, with a person I’ve never played with — let alone talked with outside of class projects. With the person who actively pushes my buttons, who goes out of their way to disagree, who isn’t afraid to let me know where I don’t belong. I go to step back, fingers loosening, but her bulky and paint splattered shoes keep me in place.
“So show me.” She says, and for a second, I don’t register that she’s said anything at all.
“I-”
“Come and get me.” My stomach falls onto the floor and suddenly it’s as if my mouth is full of cotton. I can’t get a word out.
Voices come from down the hall, and she slides away from me and the wall with legs sculpted from stone, while mine shake and shudder like jelly. I grab her wrist, and she turns to face me with a softer look- an honest look.
I can breathe again.
“I’ll catch you later.” And I let go, desperate to find Avery, and maybe even a corner to die in.
Aziraphale paused when his eyes fell on the drink in his hand.
He stared at it. The golden blond wine refracted through the glass and cast a halo of yellow light over his table setting. He frowned.
“I’m sorry,” he sputtered at Crowley. “Did you just—”
[ MON HORRIBLE CHÉRI ]
i may be stuck in housemove limbo but i will drag myself out of the grave for these cartoomens requests
