#Bell Chime Timer
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a-pastel-edgelord · 8 months ago
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Shinsuke Kita is a man who likes what he likes and gives little thought to things he doesn't. He'll go about his daily routine: rise with the sun, eat, morning ablutions, out to the fields until lunch, take a break, then back into the fields until dinner, do chores around the house then a small past time or two until it's time for bed. Unless it's the weekend or a game day, then he goes to Onigiri Miya to catch up with Osamu, Gin, Akagi and Omimi around lunch time.
However, he finds himself going to Onigiri Miya a little earlier on some days with the hopes of catching you while you're on shift. You're a part-timer and university student—but Osamu has been telling him that you have the chops to run the restaurant by yourself. "I know I don't hafta worry about leavin' for an hour or so. S'good feeling, Kita."
It's easier to like someone if a friend vouches for them. Yes, that must be the reason he's fond of you, because Osamu is. He arrives at the restaurant an hour early—an electronic bell chimes through as he enters. It's busy as usual but there's no line.
"Welcome!" You look up from the register and beam. "Kita-san! I'll call the boss over, he's in the back doing inventory."
Before he can protest, you've bounced away. He hears a muffled conversation the opening of a door and a moment later Osamu takes your place with a raised eyebrow. "Yer awfully early, Kita. S'not delivery day is it?"
"Nah, nothin' like that. Just... Had some spare time."
"Spare time huh." Osamu repeats, like he's tasting the words for the first time. "Well, did ya want anythin' ta eat? The usual?"
"Sure, that'll do."
"Uh-huh." Osamu leans back to shout into the kitchen. "Go ahead and make Kita his usual!"
You respond in a sing-song voice. "Already started!"
Shinsuke can't help the grin that hitches onto his features even as Osamu casts a wary but amused eye over him. The two men make eye contact for a few beats before Osamu sighs. "Please don't go scarin' off some of the only good help I've been able ta find."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Yeah-huh."
But nothing else can be said on the subject because you emerge from the back with a tray laden with food. There's even a side of fried tofu—not typically part of his order. You must have seen him looking because you hurriedly explain, "The boss said you like tofu, so I just did some up. I hope that's ok." Osamu rolls his eyes and walks back to the kitchen, catching Kita's eye as he goes.
"S'just fine." Kita takes the tray. "But I'd like to repay ya."
"You don't have to do that! It's my pleasure." You try and reassure.
"Then it'd be my pleasure to make ya dinner some time. Could do it today, after the game if that's ok?"
As you fumble through saying yes, Shinsuke savors his first bite of food. Yeah, he could eat your cooking for the rest of his life he thinks. It would be a nice addition to his routine.
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house-of-lovin · 2 years ago
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protect her
Tara Carpenter x Detective!Reader
masterlist
Preview: "Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle."
Warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of violence and mature language. slight scream vi spoilers. read at your own risk.
Note: Reader is around Sam's age, so like 25 or 26. Tara being a words of affirmation girlie. Thought this dynamic would be fun to write about. I'm incapable of writing shorter oneshots ig, so enjoy 6k+ words of whatever this is lol.
Word Count: 6.1k+
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The honking of horns blowing through the cool night air was muffled when you pushed the glass door of the diner open. The chimes of the overhead bell rang alerting the room of your presence but barely anyone turned their heads – save for Sam Carpenter who smiled at you.
You shuddered away remnants of the chill air off your shoulders, stepping closer to the bartop; claiming your seat in the far corner pressed up against the wall. A mug is placed on the counter before you even finish hanging your jacket on the back of the chair.
You slide into the high-top seat as the brunette pours coffee into the mug with a carafe. “Still hot, wow, I must be special.” 
“Yeah okay, hotshot. You just happened to make it in time for a new pot.” She rolls her eyes, and you hide your smirk behind the mug; taking a sip – ignoring the fact that you usually come in at this time.
“You on the clock?” She asks, leaning on her elbows atop the counter. She glances back briefly, making sure her snitch of a coworker wasn’t around to scold her for not doing her job.
It was still too early for the influx of drunk regulars and one-timers to come by, so really the only kinds of people in here were the ones who were getting off work too late to make dinner at home.
“Just got off, 16 hours. But got a new lead on a case that went cold a couple of months ago so I guess I’m doing a double. Just reviewing some notes now.” You sigh heavily, gesturing to the files and folders sprawled out on the table. 
She chuckles, shaking her head. “You work too much. You need to take a break and focus on something else outside of work. When was the last time you did something just for you?”
You roll your eyes at her mocking tone, shooting back, “Oh yeah? You learn that from therapy?”
It was her turn to glower when you remind her of the doctor visits. 
“Yeah, that’s usually the advice therapists love to give me before I actually open up – you know like they tell me to and suddenly they’re running for the hills, one by one.” 
You snort, all too familiar with the tales of her doctor visits. It took a while for Sam to open up to you; trust came sparsely these days for the Carpenter. It wasn’t until one of your frequent visits turned into you having to step in and kick a rowdy group of drunkards who were harassing Sam of something along the lines of ‘Woodsboro’ and ‘Ghostface’. It was only when you threatened the group with jail time did they relent.
Sam knew she could trust you after you sent her an acknowledging nod when the group left and went back to minding your own business. The next time you visited, she opened up; about her past, her father, her hallucinations, the attacks and the trauma that came afterward. And, how she managed to land herself in the big city, which sprouted an overzealous rant about her strained relationship with her sister.
You knew how to read people well, it was a significant part of your job to be able to. So, you knew from the moment you laid eyes on her that there was a fire behind those dark eyes that she desperately tried to douse – you had interrogated and dealt with enough people to know what the glint meant.
You were honest to Sam that you had an inkling of suspicion about the darkness in her mind – you still accepted her despite knowing her dirty secret; that a part of her doesn’t feel bad for killing Richie and Amber, if anything it felt kinda good. Sam was confused as to why you, a cop, weren't locking her behind bars at the confession. 
But, having dealt with the scum of the Earth, you can tell she was nothing like them.
It isn’t always easy to differentiate people between just good and bad, you told her when she asked.
A friendship blossomed between you two after that, bonding over similar traumas. Sam invited you to her apartment to meet her friends and sister – who all interrogated you, Mindy, most especially to make sure you weren’t secretly Ghostface. The girl had some skills in that department, you'll admit.
Coming to learn of your career and how surprisingly well Sam trusted you, the group lowered their walls bit by bit. They would never say it out loud but they felt way safer having you around.
“That’s why I don’t go to therapy.” You shrug, taking a sip of the steaming coffee; letting the heat warm your bones.
She snorts, pretending to be wiping the countertop when her coworker peeks her head out to look at you two. “You probably need it more than anyone else in this place.”
“You’re not wrong about that.” You mumble, as you flip through the evidence photos of a homicide you investigated five months ago. The pictures were gruesome, but it was just another day on the job for you. Maybe that’s why you and Sam got along more than expected.
Sam’s phone vibrates from her back pocket and she fishes it out, reading the text.
‘We got into some trouble, some help?’ it was Anika, no doubt being appointed to text Sam because the others didn't want to do it themselves.
“Dammit.” Sam sighs, already taking off her apron to leave.
“What’s up?” You raise a brow at her panicked expression.
“My sister and her friends got into some trouble. I need to get them. Crap! They’re all the way in the East Village.” She says reading the other incoming texts on her phone. “This is what I get for letting her go out.”
“Come on, I’ll drive you.” You say, already standing when Sam mentioned Tara. The thought of the brunette in trouble makes your heart stop for a moment.
“No, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re working.” She shakes her head in protest.
“Carpenter, it’s a 30-minute drive just to get to the East Village, get your ass permission to leave then meet me at my car. Acting like Danny wouldn’t have my ass if I just left you like this.” You mutter, acting indifferent – but it was true, her boyfriend would have your head on a stick if you ever left Sam high and dry, not that you would ever.
She nods, knowing she won’t win this one with you. You throw a $20 tip, slip on your jacket, and make your way back out into the cool fall air.
You lit a cigarette to pass time as you wait for Sam – leaning against your car, trying to ease the nervousness raging in you as you think of what kind of trouble Tara found herself in.
You and Tara are... complicated. You two haven't exactly slapped a label on it, all you know is you care about her more than you probably should.
Because of your close connection with Sam, and how much everyone secretly trusted you. You and Tara found yourselves growing closer to each other with each visit to their apartment.
Tara was weary about you at first introduction, ignoring that you were ridiculously attractive. She can still remember Mindy asking you to your face 'Where did Sam find you?' in a flirtatious tone. You just chuckled and explained how you met her sister, and Tara knew it was kind of wrong, but she couldn't help but be intrigued…
Then Sam started leaving you two alone in the apartment to run some errands. With not much to do, Tara decided to pop a horror movie in to watch with you – finding out you’ve never seen ‘Se7en’ after inquiring if your job was just like the movies.
A connection between you and Tara blossomed from those moments in that tiny NYC living room.
Suddenly she wasn't just your friend's little sister and man, is she magnetic.
She educates you on the joys of horror movies and you watch every single one, listening to her analysis of each scene; simply enjoying the serenity she brings out in you.
Tara is secretly glad you are older than her because sometimes it meant you’re so different, but that just means she can expose you to her interests, and vice versa. You never turned her down – no matter what it was.
On the slim chance you got off work early enough, you visited the diner to keep Sam company and do some work.
Sometimes though, when Sam would end mid-morning, you two would continue your talks at her apartment – sometimes with Danny, over whatever leftover diner food she would steal from her work for you three to munch on over beers and conversation. 
Those would be the nights where you would pass out on their couch from drinking and Tara would finally come out of her room when Sam and Danny leave. She would tuck a blanket over your sleeping figure, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, taking the time to scan your features for any injuries. And in the mornings, when you were gathering your bearings from a night of drinks and bad choices, Tara would force you to sit down at their dining table and have breakfast with her. Scolding you for your irresponsible choices, but being grateful you were in front of her, nonetheless.
She worries for you with your job and all.
And as you find yourself giving into her request for morning coffee, stolen kisses, and conversation – you push away thoughts of being late to work as you find yourself grateful for similar musings the longer you stare at the pretty girl across from you.
“Wow, if people couldn’t tell you're a narc. They sure could now.” Sam takes the time to poke fun at you – pulling you out of your daydream. You look down at your figure; sporting a button-down shirt, trousers with your leather jacket on top and trusty leather boots on your feet.
You roll your eyes in realization and flick away the cigarette bud, yanking the car door open.
“It’s the work dress cod– just get in the damn car, Carpenter.”
– – 
The usual thirty-minute drive instead took fifteen minutes as you pounded on the accelerator, flipped the sirens on, and dashed past other cars on the road as they cleared the way for you.
You arrive at the corner of a lower Manhattan intersection, the East Village was known for its bustling nightlife; you can see a mix of all ages of people wandering the street as they continue their bar crawl.
It was further down the road, where you can see six sullen-looking figures sitting on the curb of the sidewalk – a police officer standing above them. 
Sam dashes out of the car before you can even finish parking. You see her run down the street and talk to the officer, getting in his face and the six others look at her panicked. You sigh, and make your way out of the car, strapping your badge to your belt – you’d need to use it soon, you’re sure.
Tara’s eyes immediately connect to you as soon as you climb out of the car. Before she can think about it, she’s standing up to meet you. “Ah ah, I said sit down! You better listen or I’ll throw you all in jail for the night.”
“You can’t do that!” Sam shouts, stepping closer to the police officer. You decided enough was enough when you saw the police officer resting his hand on his holster.
“All right, that’s enough.” You grasp Sam’s elbow, yanking her away from the police officer. The older Carpenter is slightly startled by the rough tug, but you push her behind you getting in between her and the policeman.
“I think we’re all good here officer, thank you.” You say with finality. You weren’t asking, you were telling and Tara’s inebriated mind is all hot and bothered. 
“Like hell we are, these six were caught sneaking into a club underage, and this one.” He points to Sam, “is getting on my nerves. Now, it seems like I can add you to the list, ‘cause who the hell you think you are, buddy?”
You briefly glance a stern side-eye to Tara at ‘club and underage’, she immediately looks away.
“Detective Y/L/N from the 99th precinct.” You slide your jacket aside to flash him the badge on your waist.
”And, you must be… Officer Leroy. From 6th, huh.” Reading his name tag and badge.
“Think that’s supposed to mean something?” You see his eyes on your badge before glowering to meet your eyes. “I’ll arrest you too.”
The group breaks out into loud protests.
You chuckle knowingly, “How long you been in the force buddy?” You ask, not unaware of all of the eyes on you as you and the officer have a stare-off.
“Four months.” He answers confidently, pushing his shoulders up and back to appear taller.
“Hmm… see I had a feeling. ‘Cause, my buddy Rivers just got promoted to Captain six months ago over on the 6th precinct, which means he’s most likely your superior. I wonder what you’ll tell him as to what charge you picked us up for. ‘Cause well, he will see me.” You shrug, offering up that thought for him to think about. 
“Oh better yet, I’d just love to see what you write down on that case report, Officer. Leroy.” Your tone was harsh now as you stepped in his face, intimidating him.
He was forced to take a step back as you got in his space, his features paling, it took a few seconds before he conceded. “Fine! Just get the hell out of here, and don’t let me see you again!”
Everyone let out a relieved sigh as you smirked at his submission; everyone immediately takes the chance to leave and Sam tries to tug on your arm but you were still staring the cop down. He put this hand on his fucking gun when Sam got in his face and anger was quickly rising in your veins – you were unmovable, even by rough force.
“Y/N it’s over, let’s go.” Sam tries again but she can feel your arm harden as your knuckles tighten into a fist. “Y/N, seriously.”
Tara sobered up by the time police charges was being thrown around and her worry about your protectiveness was increasing. Sam couldn’t even pull you away. Chad steps in when Sam asks for help to convince you to move. He puts a hand on your shoulder, whispering calming words, no doubt. 
But nothing was working as you stood there, still unmovable. She wouldn’t be surprised if Chad threw you over his shoulder and dragged you away, even though you weren’t that much smaller than him. In your boots, you were nearly at his height and Tara had to strain her neck to try and meet your eyes. 
It was only when Tara pulled away from Quinn and Mindy’s hold and stepped in front of you, putting a hand just above your chest that you blinked, glancing down at her. “Y/N, let’s go… please.”
When you tried to glance back up at the other officer, whose partner had seen the commotion and tried his own efforts in calming him; his patience thinning by the second – was when Tara’s grasp on your shirt firmed, making you look back at her own stern eyes.
"Let's. Go." Her tone left no room for argument. Warning you from doing something stupid and you clench your jaw, looking away from the uniformed officers.
“Fine…"
Everyone slowly releases a breath when your rigid posture relaxes. “I’m driving you home, let’s go.” You exclaim to the rest but look directly at Tara, “Especially you, Carpenter.”
You place a hand on the sliver of her back and Tara shivers not used to being this close to you in a while. Your hand keeps its place even as you both turn and Sam is immediately on her ass about sneaking into a club. You guide the bickering sisters to walk to the car, zoning out the familiar sounds of their argument.
“–ou’re lucky Y/N was at the diner, who knows what that creep would’ve done if we didn’t drive out here in time.” Your hand tightens, subtly bringing her closer to your side at Sam’s words, Tara glances over when you do.
“It was fine until you got there and started overreacting, Sam.” Tara rolls her eyes, way past just ‘over’ Sam’s overprotectiveness. The younger girl loved her sister, she did, but she didn’t want to live her life constantly looking over her shoulder.
Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle.
Sam scoffed offended, “Are you kidding me right now?” And you sigh because you can feel a bigger fight brewing and you can hear the slurring in Tara’s words, not a good mix. 
“Let’s get you all home first before we do this, okay?” You cut in when you see the car come closer into view. Fishing for your keys, you throw them at Sam making her catch them. 
“Walk ahead and start the car for me, please?” You ask with a raised brow; tilting your head to gesture to Tara saying a wordless ‘i got her’. Sam relents, tightly gripping the keys and walked ahead.
Tara leans her head against your shoulder, grateful for the brief moment of seclusion as everyone else walks up ahead.
“Are you mad at me?” You glance down at her frown, before looking away. 
“No. I’m not.”
“That wasn’t very convincing. If you’re mad you can tell me… cause then I can fix it.” You feel her run her hand up and down your back, under your jacket. It made a shiver run up your spine as she continued rubbing lines on the fabric of your shirt.
“I swear, I’m not mad. A little disappointed but no, not mad.”
Tara huffs, sliding her arm off your back when you reach the car; the talk cut short. You open the car door sitting Tara inside, it was a tight squeeze but she was small. You’d sit her on your lap if her sister wasn't here. Anika did sit on Mindy’s lap though with poor Chad in the middle seat and then Tara. 
She squeezes your hand just before you shut the door.
Apparently, Ethan and Quinn elected not to go home and continue on with their night.
Sam is already sitting in the passenger seat by the time you closed Tara’s door. With a sigh, you pull your door open, sit behind the wheel and drive off to the Carpenter’s apartment.
– –
Sam hurriedly rushes everyone into the living room as soon she opens the door; making sure to quadruple lock it, twist the handle to make sure it's locked and look out the peephole. It was Sam’s routine whenever she got into their place.
“Come on, let’s go, sit down.” Sam waves at you all, walking to the kitchen to grab water for everyone.
You help Tara onto the far edge of the couch, sitting her beside Mindy, who sat beside Anika. Chad decided to choose a record to listen to get rid of the tense air.
You felt Tara pulling you down with her, “Let me sit on your lap.” She mutters only to you.
“We can’t,” You whisper in her ear, slightly shaking your head. You hear her huff when you refuse her and see the pout on her lips when you pulled back, slightly smiling at her adorableness.
You force yourself to walk away from the younger Carpenter; heart tugging firmly, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in your arms, especially after not knowing what kind of trouble she was in.
Instead, you make your way into the kitchen to help Sam with the water bottles and bread.
“Is this necessary, Sam?” You ask the brunette, who was frantically searching through the fridge on her knees.
“You kidding? Chad is literally just staring holes at the record player.” She rebuttals and you glance back at the younger boy in amusement.
With a chuckle, you say, “He’s just high as shit. He’ll come down soon, plus he’s here now, they all are. Just relax and take a deep breath, man.” You remind her in a serious tone, holding out a hand to hold all the water bottles she was passing off to you.
“I know, I know. I was just worried.” She follows your advice taking calming, deep breaths as you follow along with her. 
“Your therapist would be so proud, Samantha.” You tease smugly as she scoffs, hitting your leg from her position on the floor – you kick her back.
“Can you make sure Tara drinks and eats something, and that she’s okay before going to bed?” Sam asks you in a hushed tone, although she didn’t need to. The other four were all too engrossed either in the music or the TV in the back. 
“Why me?”
“She’s not ready to talk to me and I’m not either... and I just wanna sleep right now.” She admits with a plead behind her eyes and you nod with no hesitation. 
“I'll make sure all of them make it to bed, don’t worry.” She nods appreciatively, then stands so you can both get back to the other four in the living room – tossing them some bread.
“Finish that whole bottle before going to sleep, I don’t care if you piss your pants while you do ‘em.” You say in a stern tone while throwing the bottles, then sitting on the armchair to Tara’s left.
Sam shares a look with you as she slips out of the room, wordlessly, leaving you with the other four. They watched TV for the next 20 minutes, glancing around as each of them got progressively tired the more time ticked on. 
“Alright. I think it’s time to call it a night.” You call it.
The twins and Anika slowly got up, muttering goodbyes and promises of texting Tara once they’d made it home. You offered to drive them to their dorm but felt the silent conversation between the friends – as Tara got them to turn you down to get you to stay here with her. 
You lean against the front door, watching as the trio made their way down the stairs until they were out of sight. As soon as you shut the door closed, you felt arms wrap around your midsection – making you turn around.
“I missed you,” Tara mutters against your chest making you chuckle when it slightly tickled. 
You cup her jaw, making her look into your eyes. “I missed you too, baby.”
Tara melts at the term of endearment, grabbing your neck to pull you down for a long searing kiss. Lips slotted over one another as they found the familiar grooves of each other’s mouths. Only breaking apart when Tara confessed with a bated breath, “You looked so hot confronting that other cop.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm…” She mutters connecting her mouth to your neck, peppering wet kisses there. She can hear you sigh in satisfaction and it makes her hold on you tighten even more. But with great reluctance, you pulled away from Tara; who whimpered in protest.
“We can’t, babe.” You remind her, pointing with your head to Sam’s room.
She frowns, “then come to my room.” Problem solved. She smirked devilishly, tugging you toward her room; you refused.
“We still can’t. You’re drunk and I’m not taking advantage.” You whisper, only stepping close to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She groans letting her head drop to your shoulder as your hand played with her hair.
“I hate that you’re a goodie two shoes.” She mutters making you laugh.
You tilt her head up with the hand already in her hair – gaze intense as you whisper, “I can assure you, I am far from a goodie two shoes.”
And Tara thought she melted at the way your voice dropped an octave when you said that but she knew she melted when you leaned down, tugging her by the hair, to connect your lips.
It was barely a peck, all tender and fleeting.
When you pulled away, she smirked knowingly watching as your eyes traced a path from her lips to her eyes – your gaze all dark, lustful. When your eyes connect you dive into her with a hair-raising kiss; all hungry and pining.
The feeling of your tongue clashing against hers and sounds of soft moans sends time stopping like only you and her exist in this apartment together. But Tara knows it doesn’t really stop and she has to eventually pull away before she takes you in the hallway – right then and there.
“God, you drive me crazy,” Tara whispers against your lips.
“So do you… cause sneaking into a club, really?” You ask unimpressed and Tara immediately pulls back, groaning.
Snickering as you follow closely behind when she walks into her room, trying to get away from you.
“You’re a mood-killer.” She mutters sitting on her bed, arms crossed over her chest; sulking.
“And you’re gonna give me and Sam a heart attack soon.” You joke but it was true. Tara loved to prove her sister wrong; not like being told what to do. It grew a defiant attitude in her that loved to stir shit up just for the hell of it, and that landed her in some hot waters with her friends sometimes. She definitely made your blood pressure sky-rocket, sometimes too.
“Why?” Tara probes. You were always so elusive and mysterious – it came with your job and allure. She can barely get you to open up about your feelings most of the time, saying you prefer to show her than tell her. You definitely did, so this admission from you was new. It has Tara yearning to hear more words of affirmation from you.
“Do I have to spell it out for you? I care about you, dummy. I nearly caused multiple accidents just to get to you. I was going like 80 mph the whole time,” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck a little ashamed.
“You were really that worried?” She asks, looking up at you with a hopeful stare like she was surprised.
“Of course, I was Tara. I even used the siren lights.” You shake your head at the fact that she’s even asking. 
She was smiling goofily as you walked closer to stand between her legs, taking both her hands in yours. “I worry for all of you. But you, well, I always worry for you 'cause I’m thinking about you all the time.” You confessed in a whisper in her dark room. 
Tara bites her lip, staring up at you with an indecipherable look. “You’re the worst.” Was the words that left her mouth.
“What, why?” You ask laughing.
She lets go of your hands to fiddle with your shirt buttons, muttering, “‘Cause you’re standing here looking all good and saying all the right things, and you still won’t fuck me.”
“Oookay…” You chuckle, grabbing at her fingers trying to unbutton your shirt, “That’s enough from you tonight. Let’s get you to bed before you say anything else you might regret tomorrow.”
She huffed but allowed you to grab her some new clothes to help her change; still not fucking her, Tara complains. Your eyes never even strayed from hers, not even when she took her bra off to change shirts and batted her eyes seductively. When she was all ready, you helped her to bed; tucking her in.
“Stay with me?” She asks grabbing onto your shirt, then gripping tighter. “Please.”
“What about Sam?” You ask softly, pushing away some hair from her face.
“She’s probably already sleeping, if not, she’s gonna be in her room all night.” Tara reasons, fully tugging you on top of her. 
You give in like you always do.
Work for you and classes for Tara have been a lot right now, not being able to find time alone. You were practically living at the police station with the crime surge in the city, working late nights and long hours. With Sam’s overprotectiveness, Tara can say goodbye to dates so she only really sees you when you come over with her sister. You take your jacket off, place it on the chair in the corner of her room and tug your boots off. Remembering you had a change of clothes here from when Tara ransacked your closet; you picked out a shirt and shorts before getting into bed beside the younger Carpenter.
She was on you in an instant, swinging a leg over your waist, shoving her face in your neck. You feel her exhale a calming breath, once she’d settled into a comfortable position on you. You reciprocate by wrapping a strong grip around her waist, cherishing the way her skin warmed yours and how the weight of her body felt perfect.
“Just stay with me until I fall asleep?” She asks you with such a vulnerable gaze that you would never dream of ever telling her no.
You nod, pressing a kiss to her lips, then forehead. “Of course, pretty girl. Goodnight.”
She smiles against your lips, whispering her own, “goodnight.”
As you hold Tara Carpenter in your arms, you find yourself fending off sleep, only ever being this relaxed around the girl. You squeeze her slightly, feeling grateful to be with her at this moment with all the craziness in your two’s lives. No worries of outside-world problems could break the cozy bubble you and Tara created. Without ever standing a chance, you lose the fight to sleep and easily fall off the precipice with her in your embrace.
– –
“Tara, do you have my nail polish – Oh this is cute.”
You spring up, the voice startling you from the most relaxed sleep you’ve ever had; the type that makes your entire body heavy and head foggy when you wake up. You were the lightest of sleepers, a pin drop could probably startle you awake, but never when you fell asleep beside Tara.
“What the fuck?” Tara grumbles against your side, peaking her head up to see Quinn watching you two in bed.
It took you a few seconds to realize where you were and instantly pale when you realize you never left the Carpenter Sister’s apartment, you never even made it out of Tara’s bed. You can feel the stream of sunlight coming in from Tara’s window and just know you had majorly fucked up.
“I just needed my nail polish but this is quite a sight, definitely a pleasant surprise.” She waves a hand toward you two, and you roll your eyes.
“Shit babe, Sam.” Tara places a hand on your arm. You check the watch strapped on your wrist for the time, 10:32 AM – making you leap out of her, oh so warm bed.
“Screw Sam, my Captain is gonna be on my ass until next year if I don’t get to work now. I was late about two hours ago.” Grumbling, you yanked Tara’s closet open and grabbed the spare trousers and button-down, you stowed in there.
"Can't say I blame your Captain." Quinn retorts, heavily eyeing you as you change your shorts into trousers.
Tara groans at the mess this morning has already been, flopping onto her back.
“Screw Sam, huh?” She appears, leaning on the threshold just behind Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest.
Your hands stall on the tie you were tying as you hear your friend’s voice, making you turn around.
“I guess that’s a no on the nail polish?” Tara glares at her roommate. 
Quinn shrugs, still ogling as you changed before turning to leave the room. “Not a wasted trip though, nice catch Tara.” She winks at the brunette – holding a thumbs up.
The redhead just laughs, moving out of the way when Tara attempts to throw a pillow at her.
“Sam… I’d love to explain but I am so late for work right now.” You plead at the older sister.
Tara sat on her bed wordlessly, unsure of what Sam’s reaction is going to be – but ready to defend her relationship with you, regardless.
Sam chuckles shrugging lightly, “I already knew. Or well, I had a feeling, but this just confirms it.”
You and Tara look at each other at her confession, unsure if Sam’s words hold positive or negative connotations. Sam sees the eye-contact and laughs.
“I’m not mad, I promise. I was a little hurt that you didn’t tell me…” She pauses, “okay. I was really hurt when you guys didn’t tell me. But I realize I haven’t given Tara reason to trust me with anything about her life lately.”
That makes Tara’s head perk up at her sister’s admission. All she’s ever wanted was for Sam to trust her a little because trust went both ways in every type of relationship.
“And well, I guess I can’t think of anyone better to be with my sister than my cop friend. Especially after you came through for her last night. You were driving so fast, I thought I was gonna die.” Sam laughs a little but you’re still unconvinced.
When Sam realizes no one was still talking she chuckles again. “Guys, I’m serious!”
You cough clearing your throat, “Sorry Sam, it’s just that... I–uh,” 
Tara decided to cut off your stammering, “We’re just surprised, Sam. We thought you'd be more upset. And that we were more subtle.” She admits, shooting you a look.
“You weren't. But, I thought a lot about what to say until I realized it was just you guys and I care about you two so much. You don’t think I noticed Tara being a lot happier than usual and you actually looking somewhat at peace?” She asks rhetorically, reading you and Tara to filth – your cheeks reddening, not being used to being at the other end of the ‘questioning’.
“I see how you look at each other. I know you’ll protect her.” That last sentence she says looking at you and it means the world to get her approval – something that you didn’t even know you wanted, you nod at her appreciatively.
Sam pushes herself off the doorframe, tapping on it. “Now come on, there’s breakfast in the kitchen, don't let it get cold. And Y/N, I don’t think you’re gonna make it to work today.” She winks, leaving you and Tara alone in the room.
You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, unable to find words to describe what just transpired in the span of a few minutes. Then you hear a scoff bring you out of your reverie.
“What the hell was that,” Tara commented, getting up from the bed and closing the door before approaching you. 
“I’m… not really sure. I can’t tell if I’m still asleep.” You mumble, grabbing at her cheeks to make sure you weren't in a dream. Tara whines against the pinching, swatting your hands away.
You laughed at her frown before leaning down to kiss her slightly chapped lips, all soft and slow. Tara pulls you closer by the neck, sighing against pressed mouths. A sweet moan escapes her mouth when you suck down hard on her lip, releasing it with a loud pop. 
“You think I should call in sick today?” You whisper, running a gentle thumb to soothe her swollen lip.
Tara nods, eyes half-open still a little dazed from your kiss. When she gathers her bearings, she runs a hand down your half-done tie, tugging you closer. “Definitely.”
"You can tell me more about how worried you were and how fast you were driving too," She whispers against your mouth, using your tie as a leash.
"Are you turned on right now?"
"Kinda... can I drive with the sirens on?" She slides the question in like it was nothing.
"No."
"Buzzkill." She teases but pulls you on top when her back hits the mattress. “I’ll make you change your mind.”
You definitely forgot to make that phone call.
The rest of that morning was spent in between Tara’s sheets, you two hidden away from the world; ignoring the flurry of texts and calls from your work phone. Only leaving her room to grab some food and water, but getting caught in the crossfire of teasings from Tara's friends when they see the hickeys on your neck.
Tara merely strides past you, dressed in nothing but your button-down, stopping for a peck on the lips and grabbing the water from your hands before hiding back in her room to ignore her friends. You don’t miss the cheeky wink she tosses you and the grimace Sam lets out as she watches. Instead, you keep your head down and follow the smaller girl like a lost puppy, ignoring the other's whistles as you do.
And, when you make your way to your desk the next day, a mountain pile of shitty cases for the next month is stacked high as punishment.
You still find it hard to feel any remorse for the no-show.
It was definitely worth it.
– –
:)
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ghost-in-the-hall · 1 year ago
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Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part V
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Thank you as always to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading for me, you're the best bb!! ❤️❤️
Hello everyone!! This chapter is going to be a little more plot/lore heavy. But, we still get some sweet and flirty boys. IV brings Reader dinner and II is becoming more comfortable in his flirting. Thank you so much for reading, if you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!
WARNINGS: None
Part IV - Part VI
My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!
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Today was one of those times where your store was absolutely slammed. "I'll be right with you Jay, just give me one second." You clap the older man on the shoulder as you round the counter.
"No worries darlin', I got all day." He smiles cheerfully at you." You hurriedly set a fresh batch of coffee to brew, quickly cleaning up the station.
"Next batch will be done in about ten minutes guys." You smile as you pass by a tow of your usuals, a group of old timers that would set up shop at the shelf along one of the windows and spend their day drinking cups of coffee and playing scratch tickets.
"Now Miss (Y/N), don't you go running off, I got a vibe to pick with you young lady." You skidded to a halt, turning in your heels to face the myriad of curious stares.
"You better make this quick Randy, I got a line out the door." You huff with a sarcastic smile.
"I just want to know what you're doing hanging around with those cultists." Your eye involuntarily twitched as he spit out the word. "I'd just hate to see you get mixed up in that crowd."
"They're nice boys Randy." You hurry up to the counter as you continue to call over your shoulder. "It might do you some good to actually get to know them before you try to crucify them over nothing.
"Why don't you try inviting them to the Fall Festival?" Jay asks gently.
"Unfortunately I don't think they'd go. I know it's hard to believe but they're just as nervous about you as you are about them." You explain with a huff.
"I think it's worth a shot at least." He leans in a bit to whisper to you. "Now I can't speak for everyone obviously, but I think if the townsfolk actually got to meet them and see that they're not some big ol' scary monster in the woods… well, they might just come around." He offers his advice with a patient smile. "If you're saying they're a good group of guys I trust your judgment. Your word means a lot more to me than some blood thirsty reporter after a story."
"Thanks Jay, I'll ask them. Who knows, maybe they'll show up." He bids you farewell before leaving you to tend to the rest of your sea of customers. After what felt like an eternity your store was finally empty. You groaned, slumping over the counter. The cool linoleum felt nice against your sticky skin. You jolted up at the sound of the bell ringing above the door, eyes flashing over to reveal II and IV looking at you curiously. "Hey guys." You give them a tired smile.
"Everything alright, love? You look exhausted." II approaches the counter, his eyes full of concern.
"Yeah, just a long day." You explain. You sit down in your chair, resting your elbows on the counter. II copies your motions, his eyes searching yours, his nose just barely out of reach from bumping into you.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" You shake your head in response.
"You boys are already too good to me as it is." You giggle as II playfully rolls his eyes. "I'll be alright, just gotta do some quick cleaning before I go upstairs. Then it's a cup of ramen cause I'm too lazy to cook and shitty movie re-runs until I pass out on my couch."
"A cup of ramen isn't a meal, doll." He tuts.
"I know that, doctor." He chuckles at your sarcastic tone. "I'll be alright, one night without a proper dinner isn't going to kill me."
"I wish we could come help more around here, I hate seeing you so tired." IV chimes in, dropping an armful of snacks on the counter.
"I appreciate all your help, but I promise you, I'll be just fine." You respond with a reassuring smile. Neither of them seemed satisfied with your answer but they could tell you weren't in the mood to argue.
II sighs, "just promise me after you finish up here you'll go get some rest."
"You have my word." You chuckle. The two of them finish their shopping, idly chatting with you as you do some cleaning up. "Goodnight guys, get home safely." You wave as they head out.
"I better not come back here and see you exhausted tomorrow." II warns playfully.
"I'll try my best." He winks at you before pushing out the door. IV wishes you goodnight before joining his companion.
You collapsed on your couch with a groan once you finally made it upstairs. Despite how much you were trying to convince yourself you weren't hungry your growling stomach said otherwise. You lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, when suddenly the familiar rumble of a pick up truck pulls into the lot. You stood, walking over to the window and pushing the curtain aside. You saw IV fumbling with something in his passenger seat before kicking the door open. You met him at the back door, he froze when he saw you standing at the top of the landing with a smirk spread across your features. "I, uh, I brought some food." He offers bashfully.
"Come on up IV." You chuckle before heading back inside. IV steps into your apartment, eyeing you curiously.
"I'm sorry I showed up without an invitation." He apologizes. You smile, taking a couple steps closer to him.
"You're welcome here anytime." He breathes out a laugh as his eyes dart to the floor. You offer to take the food for him, setting up a spot for the both of you on your couch. "I am curious, how did you manage to get fast food without raising any suspicion?" You ask as you pop a fry in your mouth. IV chuckles in response, adjusting to sit more comfortably.
"It's a funny story actually, I pulled up at the drive through and the kid working there told me he liked my costume." You laugh.
"Really?" He nods. The thought of the Fall Festival popped into your mind; how you would love to bring the four of them because you know they would have a great time, how it would give them a chance to see the town for what it really was, and of course your little crush on the charming masked men didn't help either. "IV, do you think Vessel plans on ever going into town? You know, aside from you guys making supply runs under the cover of darkness." You joke.
"If I'm being completely honest, I don't know." He pulls his mask away from his face to take a sip of his drink. "I'm the newest of our little group so I can't give you the whole story, but from what I understand up until we reached here things weren't too great. There's a lot of people out there who want to get rid of us before they even have a chance to get to know us. We've been run out of town after town, sometimes through more… humane means… other times not so much. But, we have something good here, with the camp in the woods, with you." He pauses for a moment to smile at you. "That's something I want to try and hold onto for as long as I can."
You study him for a moment, "what if I tried to help?" You offer. "I could be the middleman for you. People in town know me, I grew up here, that has to mean something. I just… I don't want you to have to constantly be worried about someone being out to get you. I know that if they met you, if they got to know the people I know you are, they wouldn't be afraid anymore."
"I'm sure Vessel would be interested in hearing you out. Who knows, maybe you'll actually convince him." He chuckles. "Between you and me, if you bat those pretty little eyes at him, I'm sure you could convince him to do just about anything." He jokes as he shoots you a wink.
"I bet that line works on all the girls, huh?" You giggle, trying to shake off the heat that had settled in your cheeks.
"As long as it works on you I'm set." You playfully smack his arm. He nestles back into the couch cushions, letting out a soft groan as he stretches an arm over the back, the back of your neck buzzing as you feel his warmth seep into your skin.
"You're all a bunch of flirts." You smile at him.
"A bunch of flirts?" You roll your eyes at his mock annoyance. "It's not my fault that you're so captivatingly beautiful." You noticed that growing familiarity in your chest. The steady thrum of your heartbeat as you tried to hide your flustered state. IV leans in closer to you, his side pressed flush against your body. "Once I met you I understood what they were all fussing over." He chuckles before muttering, "the perfect being brought to us by Sleep." You turn to look at him, his hazy blue eyes coaxing you in deeper with every passing second.
"Who's… who's Sleep?" You whisper. IV tilts his head, a curious expression matching yours. The pieces must have clicked together because he returned to his usual smiling self a moment later.
"You'll find out soon, Vessel's probably waiting for the right time to explain." You accepted his explanation without a fuss. You trusted that if it was something you needed to know they would tell you. He glanced up at the clock, "I'm sorry to cut things short, love, but I should head back." You nod, standing and walking him over to the door.
"Thank you for bringing some food." You smile.
"Anytime." He responds with a wink. "Get some rest, alright? II will throw a fit." You both shared a laugh before IV reached out and pulled you into his arms. You froze at first, not fully comprehending that he had wrapped you in a hug. But, the moment realization set in your arms slipped around his torso. Neither of you were in a rush to let go, the two of you standing in a comfortable silence as IV held you close, gently swaying you from side to side.
"Goodnight, doll." His hand lingers in your hip, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before slipping out the door.
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Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @thepoisonedchalice @themultiverseofmars @saturnhas82moons @wingsofeternitysstuff @creamwhxre @itsyagirl-snowflake @bookishpenguino @m0cha-bunny @coreofpleasure @madsthenightowl @dangerkitten1705 @rainy-darling @shad0wcast @amara-among-the-stars @venuswinnyix @dontpercieve-me-pls @ripleyswife @thepityscene @lipstick-and-lycanthropes @vmpirekiss @savaneafricaine @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added please let me know!!)
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fyxestroll · 8 days ago
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Twelve: Cracks in the Garden
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pairing: roboute guilliman x reader (fem.)
description: one of roboute's long-awaited visits is cut short by someone he should've expected
warnings: gallan being a creep, mentions of slaves/slavery
masterlist
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“It’s a draw then.”
Roboute couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face as he stared at the regicide board. His mind replays the game a hundred times trying to find a missed opportunity, a blunder on your he’d missed at the moment. He found none.
His disappointment deepens.
“You lost intentionally.”
“It’s a draw Roboute. Neither of us won nor lost.”
“Proposing a draw is considered the same as admitting defeat.” 
He expects a counter, a refute.
You don’t give him one. Instead, you reach across the table and squeeze his cheek. “Just take the win will you?”
Childishly he shakes his head and mutters a ‘no’. It’s the nth time you’ve done this, losing intentionally at your games of regicide at the very moment you would’ve gotten two over him. It frustrates him to no end and when he attempts to confront you, you’d simply squeeze his cheek or shrug. It’s safe to say that he’s never gotten an actual answer.
You begin to set the pieces on the board. “Do you want to go again?” 
“Sure. I choose black this time.” And he straightens himself and meets your eyes in challenge as he’d done so for years. A cool breeze blows by rustling the trees and tall shrubs in the garden sounding like the chime of small bells to Roboute’s ear. The sunlight that streamed through the thin canopy danced with the wind and gave your eyes a shine that outshined the seven wonders of Mcragge.
For a moment time slows as Roboute commits every single detail to memory. There’s a telltale warmth he feels in his chest as he observes you. He quickly pushes it down, and shoves the thought of addressing that warmth to the back of his mind. Doing so felt like that ancient myth of a girl and the box of misfortune.
You make your move.
Time resumes with the ding! of the timer.
The opening you went with is a simple one, the king’s pawn moved up twice. He mirrors the move and bumps the timer.
The few seconds of silence feel like hours as you think of your next move. This is the thrill Roboute has found in Regicde, it’s a subtle sort of thrill unlike the chariot races he’s come to enjoy as of late and it all depended on his opponent. It had less to do with skill and more so with knowing who faced him across the table.
It was all about knowing your enemy and  Roboute knows he knows you better than anybody else. Still, that did not mean you could no longer surprise him.
You move your king up.
Roboute exhales through his nose.
“Really?”
You shrug, pressing the timer once again. “Felt like trying something new.”
‘Guess that makes sense.’  He bobbles his head and moves up another pawn. Just as he sets the piece down a strong gust of wind knocks it over. He tries to pause the timer but is interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice calling out your name.
A quick glance at you and Roboute could tell you were not expecting this guest today.
“Dear!”
In a flash, there’s a smile on your face, “Uncle!” You greet the man, enthusiastically waving the man over. Roboute had always found Gallan awkward to be around, he was nice sure but something just felt wrong about him. That feeling had only solidified itself once he became his father’s aide nearly a year ago. 
Thanks to Tarasha he’s grown out of childishly expressing his dislike of the former consul-turned-senator, especially in front of you so he says nothing as your uncle kisses your cheeks and lingers half a second too long. He ignores the lead-weighted knots forming at the pit of his stomach.
A hand is held up to him and he shakes it. “Well, it’s good to see you too, Roboute.” 
He forces a polite smile, “To you as well, sir.” Gallan’s grip on his hands is clammy.
“Good, good. And your father, boy?”
And odd question. 
Roboute answers nonetheless, “He is well, sir.”
Gallan smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “That’s good to hear. I haven’t heard from him for a while now.” He lets go of Roboute’s hand.
Roboute restrains himself from wiping his palm.
“Uncle,” you intermit before Gallan could say anything else to him, “what brings you here?” 
Gallan glances at Roboute with barely hidden distrust in his eyes and goes up to your ear to whisper: “The election. I need assurance on Pompilius’ vote.” 
You whisper back, “Consider it done.” You’ve taken a more solemn and serious tone he’s come to associate with you working. Gallan continues to prattle names—all names of various centuries, in a hushed tone. None were necessarily someone to take note of but the writing on the wall was clear.
Gallan would return to the consulship after losing out on it to his mother twice.
Roboute’s neither surprised nor shocked. Gallan’s the leader and face of the conservative majority of the senate and Tarasha’s popularity among the aristocracy has slowly declined due to her more direct approach to dealing with corruption.  
Your uncle leaves soon after that but not before putting a stack of parchment and a data slate on the table and kissing you on the forehead. In doing so he’d knocked away the pieces on the board.
‘Rude,’ Roboute thought sourly.
Once he was out of sight you sighed and looked to him. “I’m sorry.” The distress on your face is clear.
“It’s fine—”
“No, no it’s not. It’s my…day off and I promised to spend it with you. Who knows when we’ll be able to have free time together again.”
“We’ll make it work—I’ll make it work,” Roboute finds himself surprised at the promises spilling from his mouth. He wasn’t the type to make or want promises, he preferred the guarantee of schedules and deals but here he was mouthing off pledges like water falling from a waterfall.
And from the look of it, you were just as surprised as him. 
“...You don’t have to do all that...” 
He shakes his head, “I’m only making it even. I know it took you forever to convince your uncle for me to visit.” 
“I–” you hesitate and switch the topic, “I’ll walk you out.”
“No need, I know my way out,” Roboute gestures to the stack of paperwork left behind, “and you should probably get started on those. I know my way out, don’t worry.”
You open your mouth to retort but he shuts it down by pressing his pointer finger against your forehead. “I’ll be fine.”
Glaring and huffing you respond, “Fine.”
And he smiles, says his goodbyes and leaves the property all the while feeling sets of eyes following him every step of the way. 
Robot wasn’t surprised, your uncle was strict about you. 
He’d always been a bit strict.  
When the two of you were younger you wouldn’t be allowed to spend time together alone. A…bondaged person—-the ones that would be sent to fight in the arenas, would always be sent to watch over you, silently looming in the corner their presence near unnoticeable. 
It hadn’t gotten any better after you came of age.
Still, ‘Gallan has his reasons’ he reminds himself over and over.  It does little to silence that creeping feeling he’s come to associate with the man the entire trip home.
As usual, dinner is wordless and in place of chatter is the rhythmic clinks of utensils against fine ceramic plates. Tonight’s meal consisted of an array of dishes that was far too many for two people to eat. A middle-aged woman, a cupbearer stands off to the side watching the two nobles eat while her own stomach grumbles, hunger racking her body. 
She does not sound her pain, and instead, focuses on the young woman sitting next to her master. 
“You know I don’t like you associating with the Guilliman boy.” He voices out. The young woman freezes, sparing the cupbearer a brief glance before looking down at her plate.
“It was just a brief visit we only played a few games.” 
She sounded like a young child caught disobeying her parents. It squeezes at the cup bearer’s heart; she had been a mother once but her child is no longer her’s.
Her master tuts, “That doesn’t matter,” the young woman clenches her fork tighter, “And you know that. That boy is different, dangerous.”
“He’s–”
“An outsider, someone, no, something from beyond the sky. Those fools may call it a son, a boy, a child. Still, it does not erase that something is different from that thing,”  The cupbearer’s master places a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. He continues his tangent, “Sooner or later you will oppose each other and you must stand victorious for me, for our dream so avoid that boy from now on.”
The young woman bites her lip and with a harsh exhale she finally answers, “Yes, Uncle.”
The cupbearer could only feel pity for her.
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note: whew trying to make up political stuff is hard. i swear i didnt forget about this fic!! i was mostly stuck on how to write reader's relationship with gallan so i kept restarting in my drafts
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witchpassing · 4 months ago
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a request written for a kind patron, under the prompt "catgirl seeks help in the practice of Stillness, as she wants to part time as a maneki-neko".
The shop bell jingles as Jun shoulders in, shaking snow from her cloak, huffing against the cold. “Welcome to the Golden Coil Medicine Shop, young miss! How may this one serve - oh, it’s you. Hi, Jun.” The doll running the counter slides out of its ramrod posture with an inelegant little yawn. 
Jun snorts, hooking her hat onto the stand. “Aw, Ginseng, you’re not going to take my coat? I’m nearly a fully-certified witch now, y’know. You should keep it up with the young miss stuff, get yourself into the habit.” 
Ginseng sticks out a teal-blue tongue in answer. “The usual, it assumes,” it says, turning to the dark wall of lacquered drawers behind the counter, each one’s contents labelled in print-perfect doll handwriting. 
“The usual.” While Ginseng goes through the monthly routine, stepladder and scales and brown paper bag with label and seal, Jun’s eye wanders about the shop. Ginseng is always changing something or other about the decor in here - pre-Becoming, it was probably an interior designer or something - but the new addition this time is… really something. A poured-gold statue of a beckoning cat, the full shape and scale of a felinid woman kneeling upon a cushioned pedestal. Its upraised paw swings almost hypnotically, as if to the beat of an unheard metronome. 
A folded paper bag is pushed across the counter by finely jointed fingertips. “Crushed extract-of-venus, five grams. Enriched black cohosh, ten grams. Thank you for your custom, young miss.” Ginseng curtseys just slightly too deep to be sincere, the sarcasm of gesture that dolls do best, and Jun snorts. 
“See, now you’re getting it.” She folds the package into the witch-pocket beneath her coat, but she just - can’t take her eyes off that cat statue. “Hey, uh - what’s with the maneki-neko? It’s a bit, I don’t know…” 
“Striking?” Ginseng says, hopefully. 
“... Gaudy?” 
“Hey!” says the statue, and Jun jumps about a foot in the air. “Rude!” Its tail switches about the base of its pedestal, aggrieved. In motion, the glinting gold of its skin reveals itself to be… a considerable amount of fur-safe paint?
“Oh, what the fffff –” a witch must never swear, “- Cleo?” 
“Yes! Cleo!” says Cleo. “Aw, fuck, Jun, you really think I look gaudy?” 
“Uh - no, no, you look - gold’s a good colour on you. What’s going on?” 
“Oh, you two know each other?” Ginseng leans its elbows on the counter. “How droll. Jun, she’s the new part-timer. It’s really nothing to get worked up about.”
“Uh... huh. Cleo, I know you’re not getting the kind of money out of Ginseng that makes sitting on a pedestal all day worth it. What are you actually in this for?” A roll of glass eyes, as if Jun, having helped out here once or twice a week back before her workload got too heavy to manage, isn’t entirely qualified to opine on how Ginseng pays its shop’s part-timers.
“Well, y’see. I’m lucky now,” Cleo says, as if that explains it completely. Jun waits for some sort of elaboration on the thought, but she just takes advantage of the lapse in kayfabe to start preening her fur. 
"The customers have been petting her," Ginseng supplies. 
"Yeah! That too!” Cleo chirps.” C'mon, c'mon, you know you wannaaa-" 
As she tilts forward on her knees, head seeking Jun’s touch, the silver-chased bell hung upon her neck ribbon stirs into a chime; a high, pure tone that is somehow, for the two seconds for which it hangs in the air, the most important thing in the shop. When the sound fades, Cleo has rocked back into her luck-beckoning pose, swishing tail and twitching ears statue-steady, her eyes cloudy with the kind of deep, thought-ending calm that freewilled creatures do not attain without magical intervention.  
"I thought that bell looked familiar," Jun says. 
"Then - then you know as well as this one does that it's perfectly harmless!" Ginseng says, detecting the baleful note of consequences in the junior witch’s voice.
"You have attached a category-four cursed object to our mutual friend - which I loaned you, from my mistress’ collection - so that she can part-time at your master’s shop as a good luck charm." 
“She was so eager to start! And, and she’s been a huge hit with the customers, and you can’t expect a cat to master Stillness on her own overnight-”
“I’m telling your Miss.” 
“Noooo, Juuun.” 
“I am. You’re not wheedling me out of this, you wretch.” 
“C’mooonnn, it’s fine, she likes it…”
“I should kick your ass myself! Another shift’s worth of this and she’ll Become right here in the middle of the shop, and then what are you going to do, huh, tell your Lady she just walked in and did that–"
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harleehazbinfics · 8 months ago
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Learn more about you Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile
Word Count: 512 A/N: Hello, lovies! Been so long since I updated. But hey! I came back to also say I graduated woohoo! Nothing permanent yet, I don't want to get your hopes up with daily updates like I used to since I'll be looking for a job now, omg. But, I'd love to hear requests from you. I honestly don't know what more I should add to Cannibal Chef!Reader. I'm out of creativity lmao. THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR HOLDING OUT THIS LONG! MWAH!
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"Good morning, Miss Rosie!~"
"Y/n! Sweetheart! Here to take your order?"
"Yup!"
"Here ya go. Looks like a big order. Did something happen?"
"Unfortunately, yeah. So, Sir Alastor was in a good mood, and we went to eat at a restaurant in the circle, but the food was so inedible that Sir Alastor had to spit it out in public. Something, I've never seen him do honestly. Then after we bumped into the Vees and got into a bit of a scuffle with them. After making it back to the hotel, Sir got splashed with alcohol right in the face," you mutter, awkwardly laughing.
"Well, that's one hard day he had there. You gonna make him something then?" she asks flashing you her sharp teeth.
"Mhm! I was thinking of making hotpot or a casserole. He must be famished after such a tiring day," you smile.
You then hear the bell tower chiming then whipping your head to see the time.
"Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around Miss Rosie!" you called before leaping from building to building.
"Take care, dear!"
You arrive at Alastor's room where you hear the bathroom door close and hear the rushing water after. You nodded to yourself as you walked to the kitchen he conjured just for you and tied your hair back to prep your meal.
After leaving it on the stove with a timer on. You strolled back into the living room and picked up Alastor's drenched clothes into the laundry chute for you to deal later. Of course, not before you took his handkerchief and took a whiff of it. Eyes drawing into hearts that in delight.
Amidst your happiness, the handkerchief got tugged away and thrown into the chute along with the rest of them. Alastor stands behind you, still dripping with water from the bath. Chest bare-naked and red shorts around his waist, and his towel on top of his head as his hair stuck on his forehead.
"Come on now, if you wanted one you could have just asked, sweetheart," he says with a smirk before pinching your pouting face.
He turns away from you and sinks into his favorite chair with a drawled sigh. You compose yourself and slowly walked beside him after.
You pursed your lips and pouted, "You just don't understand the smell fresh from the source, Sir Alastor."
"Oh, believe me. I know the feeling," he chuckles, waving his hand as shadows appear under you and lifted you onto his lap. He embraces you and sniffs from your collar, as you stared at him with shaky heart filled eyes as he stares back with his half-lidded ones.
"I-I never knew you were this cheeky, Sir," you stutter under your breath nervously. Your hands on his chest while he purrs under you snuzzling closer and closer.
"There are many things you don't know yet," he mutters as he grazes your neck with his teeth then his eyes flicker from your neck to your eyes and asks, "Would you like to learn?"
"I'd love to." <3
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Cannibal Chef! Reader Taglist 🍴:
@bonnie-02 @marxo5 @whaatttlaufey @froggybich @rybunnie @midorichoco @lucifers-silhouette @kimmis-stuff @bontensbabygirl @janey @akiqvq @wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @roboticsuccubus83 @atlas-rin @yuriohoe04 @azullynxx @milk-bulb @hahalame @aria-tempest @speedycoffeedelight @0strawberrysorbet0 @amitiel-truth @corvid007 @kaminarithebest @enby-goblin @whydosnakesnotdance @wtvbabes @willow404 @psychoanalyze0 @sweetadonisbutbetter @manachpo @dionysusismypatrongod @obessivlyonline @idkwhy5000 @izzieg3987 @nishayuro @gabile18 @skyeliteratures @nanaloverz @bonbontastical @saccharine-nectarine @pastelpinkhobbies @sooha-neul @purplerose291 @parasite-bubble @futureittomainn @galaxyreader260 @sappire904
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yunwangja · 3 months ago
Text
faultline | 2nd shift
masterlist | next shift
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“you’re late.”
you say as suga bursts into the convenience store, still panting a little like he ran the whole way. he’s got his big bag on his back - probably the same one he brought on his trip just yesterday - and his hair’s a bit messy, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it on the way.
“i’m not late, you’re just early,” he jokes with a grin, slipping behind the counter. he disappears into the staff room, and you catch glimpses of him rushing back and forth, each time with something different in his hands. finally, he returns fully changed into his uniform, though his collar is a little crooked from his hurry.
“your shift is usually at 9 p.m. it’s 9:09. you left the store unattended for nine minutes,” you tease, pointing at the clock on the wall with a smug look. the previous part-timer had already left without a second thought, familiar enough with your visits to entrust you with “keeping an eye on things” until suga arrived.
“they don’t care about that,” he shrugs, rifling through the notes his coworker left for him. “i do good work when i’m here anyway.”
he gives you a light smirk as he starts his usual routine, checking over the counter before walking down each aisle to tidy up. he pauses at the frozen foods section, inspecting a bag of something you can’t see from where you’re sitting.
“since when have you been here?” he asks, not looking up.
you stretch your arms over the small table where you’re sitting, leaning back with a shrug. “don’t know. 6, 7? i just came over after i got out of campus.”
he glances over his shoulder at you, a little smirk creeping onto his face as he puts the bag back in place. “aww, you missed me?”
you roll your eyes, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. “don’t flatter yourself, i just had nothing better to do.”
he laughs at your response and continues to go through the rest of the store. knowing that tsumu teased you about this pisses you off even more.
a customer walks in just then, the chime ringing through the store. suga heads back to the counter to help them, and while he works, you ask him bits and pieces about his trip. he’s telling you a story about something funny his friends did when he suddenly remembers.
“oh! the photos!” he exclaims once the customer leaves, practically jogging back to the staff room. he comes out holding his camera, his expression eager as he flips through the images, already smiling.
“here, look at this,” he says, turning the camera to show you the pictures he’d taken. “the place was amazing.”
you lean in, and you’d hate to deny it - but the photos are actually stunning. mountain views, lush forests, and early morning skies. you stick out your bottom lip and raising your eyebrows in approval.
“yeah, it is. that’s cool,” you say casually, nodding. you watch as he flips through more, showing pictures of his friends, then some of himself with a grin so big it makes you chuckle a little. it’s clear he enjoyed himself.
“looks like you had fun,” you say, tilting your head as you study the camera screen.
“a lot,” he answers, and his grin gets wider. “i kinda wish i didn’t have to come back.”
“then you shouldn’t have,” you reply with a short laugh, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.
he laughs as well, just as another customer enters, the bell chiming again. he leaves the camera with you and heads back to the counter, glancing over his shoulder as he jokes, “if only i were rich, yn.”
you smile at his comment, watching him for a second before turning back to his camera. you continue flipping through the photos while he handles the customer. eventually, you get through all the shots from his trip and find yourself in his other albums.
the first few shots are of familiar faces: shoyo and tobio during what looks like a hangout session. then, you see photos taken here, in the convenience store. you realize it’s from a day when he had his camera for fun and had snapped some shots of you.
but what surprises you is the number of pictures he took, especially the candid ones. there are moments of you looking away, half-laughing or adjusting your jacket.
your curiosity piqued, you scroll further back. it was photos at a park. you explore more, and it was at a museum. you dig more, and it was pictures of the moon, perfectly framed against the night sky. and then, it was you again.
you were standing under a streetlight, head tilted back as you look at the stars. the memory hits you - he must’ve taken these quietly, when you didn’t notice. there’s one of you laughing, another rolling your eyes, and a few where you’re just gazing up, caught in your own world.
you keep scrolling, and you look through more, and you see kiyoko and bokuto.
you go through more, and it’s shoyo. next, it was you again. when you guys were near your campus. you saw your friends, but almost always, there’s you again, woven in-between these other familiar faces.
“suga,” you call, an amused smirk creeping onto your lips. “you take a lot of pictures of me.”
he’s finishing up with the customer, a faint laugh escaping him as he glances over.
“my friends say that, too,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head a little. “but i can’t help it.” he glances at you, “you’re a good subject.”
“why, do you like me or something?” you tease, eyebrows raised as you look up from the camera with a smirk.
suga doesn’t respond, and when you notice, you look back at him, making sure he heard you. his friendly smile froze and his eyes widened a little.
woah. that was not the reaction you wanted.
you stare at each other for a good few seconds, and you wait for him to laugh. or maybe, he says you’re being weird and you can be the one to laugh it off.
but instead, he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t joke. after a long pause, he shrugs and looks away, “well… yeah.”
he looks back up at you, answering with a quiet honesty.
“does that make it less creepy?”
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notes
dundundun !!!! lol well we're just in the beginning >:)
daichi was seeing someone !! a foreigner OOOOH (that was why he called suga)
he's also suga's most trusted friend in regards to his struggles at home. idr if ive mentioned this in the intros but his friends are well-aware of his situation (even yn) but he just doesnt talk a lot about it
kiyoko does watch movies but not an enthusiast, u get it? so yeah she's always just stays quiet esp if its the topic
bo loves criossants i dont knowww my mind just said so
kags loves to piss tsumu off. idk it's a hobby of his
also shoyo has a habit of just like doomscrolling through twitter and replying to almost every tweet he sees
there were people recruiting members to the dance club and akaashi's classmates were like "omg you should join everybody would be all over you"
he says he has bad footwork, but if u actually see him dance he's not that bad
and yes suga's shift is from 9pm-5am. yn only stays til like 1 or 2am tho
you will be updated of tsumu's date in the next shift so stay tuned
taglist: @lvtilzs @uraviriot @adorawritesalot @nachotrash @staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @rowensboat
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jrstales · 27 days ago
Text
Stephen heads to the gym
All characters 18+
---Stephens pov----
After the shower Ricky dressed and headed home. He worked some shifts at one of the coffee shops by the beach and had some the next few evenings and wanted to get his  stuff ready for it.
I changed, heading to the gym to do some back and biceps. It was empty when I got there, neon motivational quotes stamped onto the wall. I stood for a few minutes, checking myself out in the mirror beside a luminous green, 'Never give up!'.
I felt cute. I had put on a powder blue gym tee, a black pair of shorts. I was starting to like the way I looked, appreciating the small amount of muscle growing on my arms. My legs had started to gain definition, I was starting to admire my ass -
'Looking good man,' called out a voice from the entrance. I looked around and it was the same guys who had rescued me from the bench my last visit.
I felt the blood rush to my face , as I looked down at the ground, giving them a thumbs up, 'Cheers' I shouted back, my voice not quite as solid as I would have liked. 'Fuck. Why did the hot guys at the gym have to see that. Probably laughing at me flexing.
'Give us a shout if you need a spot on anything! Have a great workout!' the shorter of the two called out.
The paranoid part of me wondered if they were laughing at me. 'No,' I reassured myself, ' they don't know you, so why would they. They're just being nice. Don't get in your head' I squeezed my fists and took a calming breath before moving over to the low row, a little unnerved it was in front of the squat rack where these two guys were getting warmed up.
I steeled myself, and did my warm up set, focusing on contracting my scapula like Jake had taught me. Making the motion good and controlled. Taking my break after the first set I looked at them.
The pair of them were lean, but well defined muscles were obvious even in their loose tops. They couldn't be older than 25 I thought. The taller had one side of his hair cut short, the longish almost viking blonde hair swept to the side and styled, aN almost rugged face, faint gold stubble highlighting the shapely jaw.
His friend though had much neater brown hair, a slight fringe  flicked to the left. His face was slightly rounder, big eyed, slight button nose. Cute.
The taller one stepped behind his friend as he took the weight and started squatting. I had a moment of jealousy as I saw him warm up with my finishing weight.
As they both bent down, the taller almost spooning his friend, their arms were on obvious display. Both of them had quite intricate sleeve tattoos. The smaller had what looked like a flock of birds going up his arm, black and white, with beautiful shade work making each one stand out. One small bright red one flew in the middle of the flock seeming to weave between the birds. The larger was some kind of sea scene, with large tentacles grabbing onto what seemed a boat, bright and filled with colour.
They re-racked and switched places. I returned to my workout. Tired and sore, I headed to the cardio area. I took off my shoes and began to do some kicks on the bag, working on my turning and half turning kicks. It wasn't long before the other pair popped in.
'You were looking strong today,' he said,his voice deep, almost gravely. 'You had good form, good range of motion'. He and his friend took off his own shoes and they put on a pair of straps.
'Thanks,' I said shyly, ' I think you were warming up with my finishing weight'.
The younger one laughed, his voice a little higher and full of warmth 'I wouldn't compare yourself. We've been doing this for a bit longer. And Peter is a bit of a fitness freak - pushes me hard'
He stood by the bag as Peter began to start a timer on his phone, 'You never complain Micky' he muttered, signalling for him to start. Micky's foot slammed into the bag at full force, loud echoes filling the small room. I took this as a good time to continue, adding the sound of my own kicks to the racket.
A small bell chimed, and Micky stopped, sweat staring to break on his temple. I paused at the same time as Peter took Micky's space, kicking what seemed even harder, but not quite at the same speedy pace.
Micky jogged over to me, panting. 'Hi,' he raised a hand, panting, 'I'm Micky. I've seen you here a few times'
' Stephen' I gasped, raising my own.
'Hi. Sorry, tell me to fuck off, but thought you might like some advice. Sorry I run a taekwondo club.' he said half smiling, half apologetically. 'Try putting your knee across the bag when you kick. ' He raised his knee, chambering it and flicking his foot out. 'You're stopping here, at the edge of the bag, so I makes a loud noise, but it's really just a slap.
He moved his knee a few inches to his left.  'If you try from this position, you'll actually kick into the bag, not slap the surface' demonstrating a second kick that didn't make quite so much noise that time, but seemed more solid. He waved again, ' Sorry again for interrupting, hope it was okay.' as he slunk back to his own bag as the timer went off again, jumping into another flurry of kicks.
Nodding I decided to try it. I paused and steeled myself, pushing with all my night, twisting my hips, bringing my knee against the target and extending -
My foot slapped against the target and I bounced off, leaving me sprawled on the floor. Peter gave me a hand up, 'Dont worry, ' he reassured me, ' it takes practice.' he chuckled. 'That's happened to me a few times as well - you're okay yeah?'
I nodded, getting back up and trying again, bracing my core a bit more, and getting some more moderate success. 'Thats more like it,' Mickey laughed as he spun into a back kick on the bag.
I enjoyed the rest of my time there, Peter and Micky giving me a few more tips. Eventually though I waved them off. 'We're here most afternoons' Micky shouted after me, drenched in sweat and smiling 'feel free to join us if you see us'
I went into the changing room, grabbing some paper towels to wipe the sweat on my eyes, and spent ten minutes just catching my breath. As I came out I saw that Peter had taken his top off, wiping his brow from the sweat. The man was ripped, his chest covered in dark hair, sweat dripping down him. Micky finished his set  and walked over to him, placing his hands on his chest.
Micky whispered something to Peter, which he grinned at. Micky kissed him, deeply, his hands rubbing over his chest. Peter broke away, grinning. He looked around and grabbed Micky's hand, walking through the gym towards me.
I panicked, I didn't want them to think I was watching. I mean I was, but I didn't want them to know.
I ducked into the changing room jogging to one of the toilets and closing the door over. I peeked through the gap. The two of them burst in, Peter kicked off his shorts  and threw it in a pile on the bench. His dick was huge, fully erect, it must have been like 8 inches. He began kissing Mickey's neck
'Wait,' Mickey paused, 'what if someone's here?'
'Theres no one here' Peter said, still nibbling Mickey's neck, 'Now get naked'
Mickey kicked off his own shorts and shirt, revealing his own toned figure. He ran to the shower, almost slipping on the wet tiles. 'Oh shit,' he laughed, 'Peter get the lube'
Peter reached into their bag and grabbed a bottle following him in, the two of them laughed as the curtain closed. After a few minutes laughter turned to moans.
I looked down, to see there was a wet patch bit on my boxers, but on my shorts. I felt dirty, this was their time, I shouldn't be listening.
That didn't stop me moving closer, listening.  I pulled my dick out, behind the partition, listening to the moans behind the curtain.
Faint groans, 'Peter, fuck. Just like that. Your dicks hitting just right. Don't stop.'
A sound of bare skin being smacked filled the room, as the groans got louder. I was jerking along to this, as fast as I could. The image of the two of them together in the shower, Peter holding Mickey down and fucking him. I covered my own mouth as I started groaning, spewing into my own hand.
I took a moment to pull myself together realising I hadn't caught it all in my hand, and had stained the front of my shorts. I grabbed some toilet paper and crept out, leaving them to finish.
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mystar-girl57 · 2 years ago
Text
𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Dealer!Ellie Williams x Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Ellie has come to learn that she has fucked up, now the question is, how does she undo it? - wc 2.0k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : cheating, implied sex (not between reader and ellie), angst, feels, mentions of being drunk, depression symptoms
𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 : i fucking love writing angsty ramble scenes
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Your first reaction to seeing Ellie there was not what Ellie had hoped for, you jumping into her arms letting her apologize to you for all the wrong she had done. Instead it was you standing in the doorway and just slamming the door. Or you tried to anyway but Ellie being her determined and upfront self put her foot in the door to catch it, swallowing the holler of pain that threatened to escape from her throat.
“Please just give me five minutes to explain what happened please!”
You tried to close the door but the gentle hand on your wrist made you look up. “Please,” She whispered. “You don’t have to take me back, just let me say my piece.” You tried your best to stand firm and force the door closed but the way that Ellie looked at you, begging you, you couldn’t help but fold.
You inhaled sharply but backed up from the doorway, letting the door swing open fully. Ellie was surprised by the invitation, she had always known you to be stubborn and surefooted, not letting anything or anyone sway you no matter how pitiful of a display they put on. This worried the auburn girl, had she broken you so badly that you even lost that part of your personality?
She followed you down the short hall and into the kitchen where you snatched the egg timer off the stove and twisted it to the five minute mark. It started to tick and you slammed it down on the butcher block between the two of you. “You’re on the clock. Go.”
Ellie gulped feeling the pressure start to rise. When she had said she needed only five minutes she meant it as ‘let me start talking and it lead into five hours’ but no, you were serious.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath willing herself to not talk too fast from nerves. If the way you were dressed in just her shirt didn’t make her nervous enough, the glare you had on your face did. “We were at the party, I was high and drunk and I know I never drink that much. We- or well no I was alone you were with Dina and Jesse in the house. I was passing out prerolls and Seline walks up—” “Seline?” You raised a brow, feeling sick hearing the name, let alone hearing who you considered to be your lover say the name. “Yes. Seline, blonde, uh boobs? Shit no forget that part—” Ellie was rambling at this point, anxiety taking over. She hated how stupid and desperate she looked trying to explain to you what happened that night. And from the look on your face she knew that it wasn’t working.
The egg timer was down to thirty seconds and Ellie was still going on about Seline. “And then she came back to my place and I wasn’t thinking and the entire time I thought it was—”
‘ding!’
The egg timer’s bell rang out, the quiet chime sounding to sound like a gong echoing out. That was it, that was Ellie’s chance at reconciliation and she blew it. She couldn’t bring herself to look at you and hearing your sharp inhales,she almost broke down right there. Ellie wanted to fall to her knees and hug your waist, pleading into your stomach but her knees stayed locked. Standing there in silence, the auburn haired girl knew that she needed to leave before you forced her out.
Ellie made herself look at you and what she saw broke her heart. You stood there, one hand gripping the hem of Ellie’s old tee, the other over your mouth to keep the tears in and the sobs down. Tears started to blur Ellie’s own eyes and a lump formed in her throat. She had promised you when the two of you started dating that she would do everything in her power to not hurt you, on purpose or other. And here the two of you were all these months later, standing in your dark kitchen at 3:00 a.m. Ellie having to explain why she cheated on you.
She took a slow step to you making your body tense up but you couldn’t make yourself move. Ellie gently cupped your cheek, thumbing your jaw. You were so close, you could just fall forward and you would be wrapped up in one of your favorite hugs. Ellie’s hugs always made you feel so safe, she could be intimate without being sexual, she could be possessive without being controlling. All of her hugs and touches had so many underlying meanings that were meant for only the two of you. But the thought of Selines’s body under or on top of Ellie, connected in a way meant for you two made you refrain.
Ellie pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, “Just give me some time babygirl,” she whispered her nose against yours. “I’ll figure it out.”
It wasn’t until Ellie had pulled away and the dorm’s front door closed, the lock clicking that you let out the sobs you had been keeping down. You were angry, anxious, and upset. So many negative emotions wrapped into one little body making you feel like you were going to explode. Without really thinkinking you kicked the trash can beside you making it fall with a clatter, its contents spilling out on the floor. Your breaths were quick and shallow, your knuckles slowly turning white from how tight you had balled your fists.
A little voice, peeking its way out in your mind among all the red anger you felt told you to believe Ellie. Believe Ellie when she said she didn’t know what happened, that it was unintentional. What she said did make you a bit confused however. How could Ellie have gotten drunk? One, she’s a heavy weight through smoking, drinking, and two she never drinks enough to get tipsy as she said during her rant. If Ellie wanted to space out for a bit, lose touch with reality she’d just like a joint and relax.
You knew there was more to the story that she was trying to explain and maybe you should have given her more time to explain but in the moment you were just too upset and confused to go after her. What’s done was done and now future you would have to deal with it.
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“And then I left.” Ellie sighed looking down into her hot chocolate. She watched as the whipped cream melted into a smooth, rich forth into the dark drink. The warm steam hit Ellie’s face as she was prompted to focus on the chocolate rather than look at Dina’s face.
It had taken lots of convincing but Ellie finally got Dina to come out to Jitters with her so she could try to explain what happened. The two hadn’t had a proper conversation since the morning that you discovered Seline in the dorm. And not only was Dina Ellie’s roomie, she was her best friend, her confidant. She was lost without Dina.
When Dina didn’t say anything Ellie nervously tilted her gaze up from the mug to the woman sitting across the table. Dina was contemplating the information that Ellie had just relayed to her, what she had wanted to tell you. “And did you say any of this to her?” Dina asked finally. The dealer hung her head back down letting it shake side to side signifying that she had not.
“She had me on a timer.” Ellie muttered, making Dina raise a brow.
“Timer?”
“I told her I just needed five minutes to explain and she took it literally, had that deviled egg or whatever it is timer set to five minutes. I had hoped she’d let me come in and sit and so we could talk it out for a few hours.”
Dina scoffed while taking a sip of her coffee. “Well you’ve obviously forgotten who your girlfriend is. She is stubborn.” She pointed the mug to Ellie, “Like you.” Ellie rolled her eyes, “Y’know you’re not being a big help here. I’m trying to get her back, not push her away even more.”
“Shouldn’t have cheated then.” Dina deadpanned, making her roommate let out a groan and flop against the seat.
Ellie pulled her burgundy hood over her eyes wanting nothing more than to disappear. All the woman could see when she closed her eyes was the look of betrayal on your face that morning, followed by the fear when she grabbed you and the hurt in your eyes this morning. It was safe to say that Ellie had fucked up. Even Joel who Ellie had called for advice on the situation said that she fucked up. Now she was questioning how to fix it.
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Ellie laid back on her bed with a sharp sigh. It was lonely without you she had come to learn, the silence was so loud. She didn’t know what to do, she had gone through her social medias, mindlessly scrolling through the endless short videos of dancing and tutorials to stalking your instagram feed. She looked at the various pictures that you had posted, most were of the two of you, some with you and Jesse screwing around at work and others were of the equestrian team you used to compete on.
Ellie chuckled, coming across a picture of you and your horse. The memory showed you squishing your face to Fisaco’s, the horse glaring down at you. That day you had to give the large buckskin a bath and Fiasco, true to his name, was raising hell the moment you turned that water on. She remembered having to be held back by Joel as you tried to get the horse to sit still, she was terrified for you. But to Ellie’s amazement (and relief) after a few minutes of back and forth pulling from both sides, Fiasco finally settled and let you run the hose water along his body while he happily munched on carrots and sugar cubes
She turned off her phone and held it against her chest. Ellie didn’t deserve you, she knew that every moment she had with you was a miracle in itself and she took it for granted. She should’ve put an end to the looks, the touches and flirts the moments that they started. The moment you said something she should’ve made it stop.
‘Should’ve made it stop.’
Those words kept floating around in Ellie’s mind. They were scribbled out in her journal beside doodles of you and broken hearts, etched on crumpled up pieces of paper which had now been haphazardly thrown around her overflowing trash can.
Ellie had truly lost herself these past two weeks, her room was trashed, her hair greasy and clothes sweaty. She had lost any interest or motivation in taking care of herself. That was something you had always done, texting her little reminders to shower and clean up if you knew she was swamped with astronomy homework. Most times though you would just show up and lay on her bed in the background to give her emotional support.
Letting the silence wash over her mind, Ellie almost succumbed to sleep. But then,
‘Thap’
‘Thap’
‘Thap’
Someone had to go knocking on the fucking door.
She ignored it.
‘Thap’
‘Thap’
‘Thap’
Ellie knew it wasn’t you, you would’ve let yourself in with the key she gave you, calling out saying you had brought whatever fast food place you found on your way home from work. It wasn’t Dina, that wasn’t her knocking pattern, and she too would have a key.
So who the hell was knocking at this hour?
The knocks came again and Ellie rolled off her bed with an annoyed growl. “Yeah, yeah, hold your fucking horses im coming.” She flung open the door making it hit the wall beside her with a loud thud.
“What the fuck are you doing here.”
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🏷️: @flo-solerdiaz378 @ellieseater @l0v3e1i @sl-ut @hebrokeimup @siesie2 @yookayyo
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caffinatedkrasova · 10 days ago
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A Morning Cup of Coffee
You’ve never been a morning person, but now, with the farm, you’ve been forced to, but Harvey always makes those mornings more manageable. With his warm smile and hot coffee ready for you as soon as you're prepared to grace him with your presence in the clinic, you’ve decided to give him a little extra thanks for such special mornings.
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The alarm on your bedside table rang out through your room, giving you a headache as soon as your head lifted off its pillow. You grumble out a curse as you turn the damned thing off. You realize that you’re already late to feed your chickens and rush out of bed, still in your pajamas, to your coop to fill their feeder. Your most enormous brood, Henretta, was the most displeased at your tardiness, giving you a slight peck to the hand as you collected the eggs for the day.
With an annoyed expression, you continued to finish up the necessary farm work for the morning, deciding that today was just one of those days where you’d be back in bed watching Netflix by 4 pm. But before you gave up on your morning, you decided to visit your lovely doctor. Who lifted your spirits with his delectable coffee creamer he kept just for you. You couldn’t understand his preference for black coffee but couldn’t argue if he kept your favorite in his fridge.
After setting the timers for your Mayo machines, you decide it might be better to be dressed when you go into town. You quickly change into something more presentable than your Junimo pajama set. While you’re sure Harvey would have no complaints about your attire even if you had worn a trashcan lid for a hat, you don’t want Jodi or Caroline spreading rumors about your disheveled state. You have already learned your lesson about those two.
As you head out the door in what you had reasoned to be an okay outfit, you chuckled slightly at the memory of Jodi and Caroline being so worried about you when you had gone to Pierre’s in your sweatpants and hoodie. They had thought you had gotten some illness and nearly dragged you to the clinic when you assured them you were okay and didn’t feel like getting into your overalls that morning to do your farm work. With all the commotion outside the clinic, Harvey had overheard and decided to see what was happening. When he heard what the discourse was about from Jodi and Caroline, he sided with them and demanded to take your temperature. When he had gotten you back to the clinic without them, he told you not to worry about them and offered to make you a coffee upstairs since you looked tired. That’s when you found out he liked his coffee plain black, and you couldn’t be more thankful for such noisy neighbors.
You finally reach the clinic doors. You check your watch, and it says 10:30 am. Harvey should be in the front clinic office now; he probably saw you coming from the windows. He had perhaps made the coffee for you by now, the unique mug he had bought for you when you spotted it on a trip to Zuzu City, the one only you could use. He had probably already added the exact amount of creamer and sugar you love every time. He’ll do this for you every time, like clockwork. Knowing your mornings are never complete until you’re drinking your coffee with him, talking about how horrible it is to wake up early and walk so far to get here.
A little bell chimes above you as you walk through the doors. The bright fluorescent lighting of the clinic waiting room does nothing to help your headache from waking up. The only comfort you seem to receive in your seconds of peril while your eyes adjust is your dear doctor's deep, joyous chuckle.
“You will never get used to those lights, will you?” He continues to laugh while you rub your eyes while they sting. You find it in yourself to laugh with him. I mean, with a laugh like that, how could you not?
“No, your lights are specifically designed to blast anyone walking through this door. Is it a visitor deterrent?” Your eyes finally acclimate to the light's brightness, and you can look at your doctor well. His dark brown curls frame his cute face, oversized glasses, how they sit perfectly on the slope of his nose, and the tint on his cheeks when he makes direct eye contact with you. And you notice your mug waiting on the counter with small amounts of steam coming from the top.
“No, they’re not visitor deterrents, but they’re designed to let you see better, especially for eye exams. But, enough of the doctor talk; you want your coffee?” He slides the mug in your direction, and you take it happily, your hands brushing his slightly as you take it. You hear him take a breath as he quickly grabs his coffee. You can clearly see the blush creeping above his collared shirt in this light.
“You know, Harv, you didn’t have to memorize my favorite coffee,” You give him a look while you sip your coffee before you continue, “But you did, and for that, I thank you deeply; I think you’re slowly making me a morning person.”
“It’s only coffee, Y/n. I like these mornings with you, so if that means keeping a disgustingly high-calorie creamer in my fridge, so be it.” He pauses to continue sipping his black coffee. Besides, what else would I do in the mornings, getting work done?” You go to slap his arm as he continues to laugh at his jokes. But he knows he is right. These mornings together had become a sort of ritual. You’d pray to Yoba for them to never stop, to only blossom into something you could keep forever as the two of you continue drinking your coffee and chatting about things that never mattered. You’d also pray that he had done the same.
“It’s not just the coffee; you know it, Harv.”
“I know”
“It never was, was it?” He doesn’t look at you; he stares into the mug you had bought for him in that run-down market you two had gone to after going to the aerospace museum in Zuzu for his birthday. He told you that you didn’t need to spend more money on him, that the evening alone was enough, but you insisted that you both needed unique mugs.
“No, it was for you.” When he finally looks back at you, he looks like a complete blushing mess. His expression could only be described as adoring. The intensity behind his eyes as the love he felt for you stared you down sent a chill down your spine. “I- I wanted to do this right, bouquet and all, b-but now it seems better, Y/n I love you. I love making your coffee in the mornings and that you come in daily to keep me company. I love how your h/c glows in the light, and you can never seem to wake up on time. Could you find it in yourself to love an old doctor like me? Because simply knowing you isn’t enough; I want to know you first thing in the morning and before bed. If you keep your socks on or off, how to wake you gently and keep you happy.”
“Harvey, I want all of that; I want you.” You round the counter quickly and rush to his arms. He holds you gently at first, then his hands from your back to your hair and waist. He keeps you close as his head dips into your neck, taking a deep breath. If this is how they continue, you have become a morning person.
He releases you from the crushing hug, but not before slowly planting his lips onto yours. The feeling of soft skin in contrast to his bristling mustache almost made you giggle from the tickling feeling, but as you both continued to deepen the kiss, his hand on your waist began to travel down your lower back, grabbing a handful of your ass. As you pulled back to gasp, Harvey aimed at your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake. You continued to gasp and whimper at the contact, writhing from the attention.
“You’re so wound up, I think I should prescribe you a massage. I can do it personally if you’d like?” You nod furiously, your mouth suddenly becoming dry as you try to think of words you could helplessly use to plead for Harvey. He turns you towards the clinic hallway, ushering you into his office. He turns you around again, leading you now backward, pushing you by your hip towards the exam table. Once flush against the table, he lifts you to sit on top of the exam bed. He quickly kisses you before gently pulling apart and giving you space; you give him a confused look before he continues, “I did say this was a massage, did I not?” You provide a disappointed look after he continues, “Do be a good patient by removing your clothing, please. I cannot get a good look at the,“ he pauses to clear his throat, “muscles in need of care, with them on.”
You lift your shirt above your arms, exposing your f/c bra to the cold clinic air. You can feel goosebumps rising as Harvey looks over your exposed skin. He stares in absolute awe before quickly shaking himself out of whatever thought that held him captive. Kissing you deeply, letting his hands roam your skin, the smooth, supple skin that his touch had warmed. You leaned into him, hoping that he would continue to hold you. He would never stop now that you had let him; he would find any opportunity to do so in the future.
He unclasped the backing of your lacy bra, sliding the garment off of your arms down onto the clinic floor. As your nipples rise to the temperature of the chilly clinic, Harvey wastes no time to take one into his mouth and cover the other in his large hand. Swirling his tongue around your areola, you jerk into his touch, quickly becoming aroused by his skilled tongue. You lean into his touch, needing one hand to keep you stable on the exam bed, and you use the other to tangle itself in his curly hair. You give a slight tug when he gives your nipple a small bite. He moans in response and moves to your other tit, wanting to give them both equal attention.
However, long after Harvey felt like adequate attention to your breast was up, he gently pushed you down on the exam bed. Once you had laid down comfortably on the table, Harvey continued his assault of hot kisses along your body. Starting from your breast, leading down your ribs and stomach, and heading towards the hemline of your pants. He looked up for your permission before continuing to pull your pants down your legs while continuing his kisses along your thighs and calves. When he finally gets your pants off, he continues his gentle kisses while his hands start to kneed at the plush parts of your thighs. He feels as if his heart is beating a hundred miles an hour with how you react to his touch. He must be ascending to Yoba himself from the pure sight of heaven in front of him.
You feel your skin radiating heat from the way his hands had spread out, one hand cupping your tits and gently tugging on your nipples occasionally. And the other hand had gently cupped the mound of flesh covering your most sensitive parts. He had wanted to continue massaging your tender and sore legs, but he could sense your growing tension and need for release.
He released his hold on your tits and thighs, moving his hands back to your waist as he looked for your permission once more as he continued to remove your underwear, tossing it to join its matching set on the floor of the clinic. Once you were undressed entirely on the exam table, Harvey grabbed a chair and brought it to the end of the table. Taking a seat in the chair, then pulling you by your ankles to the edge of the bed so that your ass was just barely in the air.
With little warning, Harvey dives into your pussy like a starved man, licking long flat stripes onto your clit. You gasp and moan, your hands diving into his hair, holding him in his place. A string of pleas and whimpers leave your mouth, unheard by your ears, as the pleasure that racks your body in waves comes over you. Harvey wraps his arms underneath your legs, trying to gain some leverage with how you're writhing beneath him. As he continues his ministrations, he slowly inserts a finger into your tight hole. You clench around the sudden intrusion, trying to relax into his touch, but each movement causes you to jump and shudder.
After you adjust to the first finger, Harvey inserts another, quickly making work of stretching your poor tight little pussy. He would almost feel pity for how tight you think; it must have been a while since someone has adequately cared for you, and he will happily take the job with care. With another finger inserted, you release a hearty moan while your back arches off of the exam bed. Your hand that was buried in his hair clenches and pulls harder than you intended, and Harvey fucking loves it. The primal groan that releases from his throat sends chills down your spine and even more juices to spill from your cunt.
You can hardly handle any more teasing before you release, and you desperately need to cum on his cock and not around his digits. While it’s appealing, you’d instead finish together the first time. So you tug on Harvey’s hair, signaling for him to pull away from your delicious cunt, and he does so begrudgingly. He truly thinks that if he could spend the rest of his life between your legs, he would.
As Harvey stands from his chair, you can see the bulge in his pants that has grown considerably since the start of the ‘massage.’ He quickly undoes his belt with the speed of a man who desperately needs to get laid and frees his weeping cock from the confines of his pants and boxer briefs. He pumps himself a few times, enjoying the look on your face when he has beaten whatever estimate your imagination had given him.
He gently places his hands underneath the back of your knees, pushing them towards your chest while he slowly grinds his hips against yours, slightly sputtering from the contact. His face was completely red from the acts he was committing. He had always been a morning person, but this morning had put every other to shame. The view of your tits being pushed up by the folding of your legs and how wet your cunt made his cock feel was almost sinful.
He slowly pushed his dick into your wet cunt, savoring the way your tight hole had clenched around him the moment he entered. He wanted to rut into you the moment his cock had touched your soaked entrance, but he had to show restraint for your poor little pussy, or he would hurt you, and that was the last thing he wanted. He leaned down to your ear, his breath hitting the shell of your ear and making you shiver. “You’ve got to relax, dear. If you’re too tight, I won’t be able to fuck you like you want.”
You squirm and moan on his dick, wanting to take more of him desperately. You wrap your hands around his arms, pleading with your body for him to continue, your brain too far gone to help you make your case. Harvey, deciding to take pity on your whining state, pushes his cock further into you. His hands gripping your leg and the back of your head, leaning into your neck as he ruts slowly into your pussy. As you slowly begin to loosen around him, he continues his agonizingly slow pace as your pussy drips its juices onto the tiled floor of the clinic.
Harvey readjusts himself, leaning back up to take a good look at you, how your breasts bounce from your hips slapping together, how the sound travels around his office, and wildly how your face contorts when he finds that spot that makes you see stars. Once he finds the place once more, he changes his rhythm to ruthlessly pound into your g-spot as he gently applies pressure to your lower stomach and starts rubbing small circles into your clit with his other hand.
Your back arches off of the exam bed as you moan Harvey’s name for what could have been the hundredth time; you couldn’t have kept track if you had tried. From the angle he was pounding into you, you doubted that you could do anything but moan and wail as you continued to take the brutal thrusting from Harvey. This was far from the gentle touches and kisses that Harvey had given you earlier; this was pure animalistic Harvey. The Harvey that needed to be buried inside of your tight walls while he spilled his seed into you, the Harvey that needed you to cum on his cock over and over again before he was satiated.
Harvey had bucked his hips into yours, his rhythm slowly slowing to bucking and whimpers as he continued to brush small circles into your clit. You could feel the final wave of your orgasm coming, but before you could try to warm Harvey, you feel a coil within you snap, and a warm feeling flood your insides as a buzzing fills your head. You can feel Harvey double over, his head falling onto your chest as he gathers his breath. When he slowly pulls out of you, you can feel the cum slowly pooling out of you as Harvey sucks in a breath watching the pornographic scene in front of him.
“Yoba, I should have asked about a condom. I am so sorry-“ Before Harvey can continue his apologetic rant, you interrupt him with a deep kiss. Holding onto his shoulders, pulling him in deeper, wanting to pinch yourself and hoping to Yoba it wasn’t a dream. Thanking Yoba again that it wasn’t, you pull back from Harvey and decide you are a morning person.
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Thank you for reading this coffee and joint-fueled smut; if you enjoyed please let me know because writer's block is a bitch, and I am struggling bussing this.
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givemeonereason · 1 year ago
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My Blue-Eyed Master: Part 1
Part 2
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Photo credit: here
Rating: 14+ (I know that this will gradually have more mature content in further parts.)
Plot: A handsome new customer comes to the cafe. What could go wrong?
A/n: This is the introductory piece to a short series I'm hoping to work on.
I was greatly inspired by watching "Maidsama" recently and loved it.
I was thinking, we all know Gojo would be living it up in a maid cafe. Lots of sweets, lots of women to fawn over him. Seems like the right place for him to be right?
While listening to this.
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Bells chimed when the entrance door opened.
A tall, well-dressed, white-haired man stood by the door wiping the rainwater off his shoes on the 'welcome' rug.
"Good afternoon, Master!" Three women in maid cosplay called out to him sweetly. Each of them walked up towards him to vying for his attention.
"Good afternoon." His smile was bright. He looked at them over the top of his dark black sunglasses. His bright blue eyes almost making one of the girls faint.
The girl who almost passed out, proved to be uneasy and weak in her knees. Being held up by the other two. You stepped in, not so easily swayed by his masculine wiles.
Your tone was not as nearly as high-pitched and cheery as the other girls. "Right this way Master." You didn't even look over your shoulder at him as you walked towards a table at the far end of the room. You set down a menu. "Please make yourself at home." And you walked away without bothering to pay him any mind.
"Oh my god, he's so handsome."
"I wonder if he's single."
"It's as if the gods sent us an angel."
You stood near the back preparing a teapot for another table. The roll of your eyes almost gave you vertigo.
"Ladies!" The matron of the cafe warned. "Please keep your voices down."
The girls who were huddled at the prep counter grew quiet. Only two of them were whispering amongst themselves about the mystery new client.
June, the co-owner of the cafe continued, "There are rules we place to protect you girls. Please make sure you follow them as well." She looked over at the man they were all gushing about. "No matter, how handsome or how charming, you never truly know what a person is capable of." She looked back toward you and the girls. "I've been in this business for some time and have seen my fair share of things to shock me." You have always loved how sweet and protective June was. She became like a loving aunt that you never had.
You've been working at Cafe Sakura for five years. You took the job as a part-time gig while you were in college. Low profile enough to not run into anyone you knew. But it served another purpose, which provided a confidence boost for you. Growing up you were never really seen as conventionally beautiful and you were picked on by the popular girls at the time. So being able to work in a place like this worked wonders on rewriting those negative inner monologues.
People were very kind to you while you've been working there. The regulars are respectful. Sure, there are some douchbags who are there especially to live out demented wet fantasies. But overall, it's a great place to work, and why you've been there for so long.
You dropped off the tea pot to a nearby table sharing pleasantries before you stopped back at that man's table with a glass of water. You were staring down at your small notepad, the fairy charm hanging from your pen jingling as you jotted down the table number. "What can I get for you, Master?"
He didn't answer at first, he was looking at you, waiting for you to look at him. Unfortunately for him, you only sidestepped near him, looking and pointing down at the menu. "If you're unsure about what to get for a first-timer, I suggest a slice of cheesecake." You grabbed the menu from his hands and flipped it over. "Any of these sauces or combinations can be used."
Still, he remained quiet, looking at you taking in your features. His eyes darting across your face, to the end of your hair, to the buttons on your near your collar, to your fingers wrapped around your pen. It was in the shape of a lobster claw. He started to chuckle. He lifted his hand to his lips to try and conceal his laughter.
"What?" You were so annoyed with this guy. It kept getting worse and more worse.
"So I take it you like seafood?" An eyebrow raised, he's looking between you and the red pen in your hand. His bright blue eyes showed over top the rim of his rounded glasses.
When you caught his eyes, you looked back down at your notepad. "Where would you get an idea like that?"
His hand so gently bent over, his finger pointing towards the claw.
Your eyes are furrowed. What is he up to, god almighty! You look down at your uniform checking for something that would give any indication of your meal preferences. That's when he stood up and walked towards you. He towered over you. He's taller than most men who frequent here.
The other ladies were gasping and cursing you under their breath. How they wish they could be you in that very moment. Close enough to taste his cologne....You rolled your eyes. They wouldn't mind tasting it. However, you, on the other hand, have had enough of his charade.
He took his glasses off with the swagger of man who can afford to buy several new pairs. Seeing his blue eyes in full view was so striking. Maybe you can use those glasses to shield yourself from the glare.
"I'm talking about your pen." He reached out and plucked it from your fingertips. He pulled it up and inspected it, giving it a solid click for good measure. "I just assumed one would be a seafood fan if they so blatantly paraded around with such a token."
Innermost sighhhhhhhh.
You snatched the pen from his hand. "I would appreciate it if you did not touch my things, sir. There are rules in place at this establishment and if you cannot follow them, I will have to ask you to leave."
All of your coworkers raced towards you. The girls fawn over the man, the matron pulling you by your elbow towards the back. "Y/n, what have I told you about talking to the customers like that?"
You cross your arms across your chest. "You're the one who created the rules. Some of them are strictly unspoken rules. He shouldn't have done that."
June closed her eyes. "He shouldn't have done that. And I don't take very well to anyone intimating my girls."
"...I wouldn't call that intimidating..." You added before she continued.
"If he would have put his hands on you I would have definitely thrown him out." She turned to you. "Focus on other patrons. I will have one of the other girls take care of him. If we're lucky, he might never come back."
A blessing, I'm sure.
You walked out from the back room and reached down into the front pocket of your maid cosplay. The lobster claw pen was buried down in there, but you pulled out a generic pen with a local business's address and phone number on it.
You could hear the girls giggling when they talked to that guy. His sultry voice charmed them as they served his cheesecake you so obviously suggested to him. Their breathy attempts at "master" were followed by him with a sweet "miss" and a wink.
It's disgusting how men prey on innocent girls. Good-looking, charming men are the worst of the worst.
A few of your afternoon regulars showed up and made the day redeemable. It's not always a bad day. There isn't always a bad customer. It's rare in the time you've been there. It does happen.
You thought on it, that guy wasn't that terrible. It was just you hated how forward people were sometimes. You work at a cosplay cafe, it should be expected. Men come here to live out their own fantasies. Women enjoy these experiences as well. It's just that you're more likely to run into a pervert than anything.
He just grabbed your pen is all. And he can't help that he's tall...and handsome. He was born that way, right?
Nonetheless, you might never see him again.
Possibly for the best.
Besides, you really do like that pen. It was the last gift your grandfather gave to you before he passed away. Silly as it is, it was a gag gift, but it's special to you. It's a way for you to think of him. Both your grandfather and you are just a little bit crabby. Ha!
.....to hell with that guy.
Damn it all.
Damn his beautiful eyes, damn his sexy voice, damn his gorgeous hair, damn his charisma, damn the way his clothes hug his body.
damn. that. man.
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© 2024 givemeonereason
Don’t steal other people’s works! Respect creators!
Reblogs and likes appreciated :)
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nonclassyparty · 1 year ago
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seasons out of time - part 2 (teaser 2) (C.S)
You don't see San for eleven days after that (but who's counting?) and you dodge Yunho's messages for no other reason besides the fact that you're avoidant to the core and run away from your problems.
So, now, you're standing behind the counter with Hongjoong by your side as you're both trying to soak up the rare instance of peace in the afternoons at the shop as you clean up the coffee powder spilled onto the lower counter while Hongjoong messes about with the cash register.
The bell by the entrance door dings again signaling an incoming costumer and both Hongjoong and yourself look up out of habit by now.
You press your lips firmly together once you see San enter and walk up to the counter with determination written all over his features. He might look determined but he also looks...not too well, dark circles under eyes that were rimmed red and messy hair slightly damp from the snowflakes he caught on the walk to your shop.
All in all, San looks exhausted.
He comes to a stop in front of you, eyes filled with a certain fire that catches you by surprise for a quick second before you quickly recollect yourself.
You lick your lips, "What can I get for you?"
San's features darken for a split second as you utter the question, jaw clenches and for the first time, he looks properly angry at you.
To your utmost surprise, he doesn't say a word to you but instead, slides a step to the side to stand in front of Hongjoong who awkwardly raises his head from the register.
You watch in pure confusion as San gives him a cracked smile, the same dimples showing up on his pretty skin and Hongjoong glances at you before clearing his throat.
"Uh, yes?"
No matter how tired and devoid of sleep he looks, San's smile is charming, always was. "Excuse me, I saw the sign at the front that you're looking for a part-timer."
You think you stop breathing as you watch San tilt his head at Hongjoong. "Uh, yeah, we are. A part-timer..."
You swear San's pretty smile widens at that and your hands clench around the kitchen towel. He glances at you, almost smugly, before turning back to Hongjoong; "I'd like to apply."
"No, you wouldn't." The words are out of your mouth before your brain can even catch up to them.
San looks positively pleased as he turns to you, giving you a look of fake confusion that makes you clench your teeth. It reminds you of the time you first started working for him, when he would call you "new girl" and poke fun at you with sarcasm dripping in his voice. Smug bastard. "Oh sorry, are you the supervisor here?"
"You're not applying here." You tell him in a firm tone although you really have no right in deciding any of that. You are Hongjoong's employee.
San opens his mouth again, eyes dancing with some sort of mirth but gets interrupted by Hongjoong's cough. He slides next to you;
"Uh, we haven't really...had anyone else apply except for that Junseo kid and I'm pretty sure he's addicted to crack." Hongjoong says in a hushed whisper and your eyes fall shut in annoyance before they flutter open again.
San chimes in again, "I don't smoke crack!"
"San, you're not applying-"
San, on the other hand, completely ignores you and gives Hongjoong another employee-of-the-month worthy smile again. "I'd like to apply."
You throw the kitchen towel on the counter in fury and stomp your way around the counter towards him before grabbing him by the wrist and dragging San, who has a dumb, stupidly endearing look of surprise on his face, through the kitchen and then the back door of the coffee shop to the small alley behind the shop leaving a flabbergasted Hongjoong standing behind the counter.
As soon as you're engulfed by the cold air you throw his hand away and angrily (maybe a bit too dramatically) turn to confront him.
"What do you want?" You spit out and San hesitates for a moment eyes roaming over your sweatshirt.
"You'll catch a cold like this-"
"What. Do. You. Want." You repeat, wagging your finger at him to punctuate each word.
San sighs, features softening in a way that makes your heart squeeze but you'll blame it on the cold, "Just to talk. That's all I want."
"I already told you; I don't want to talk." You let out a groan, rubbing at your eyes and probably rubbing off the little mascara you coated your lashes in this morning. "Why is it so hard for you to take 'no' for an answer?!"
He frowns, looking like you've just insulted him. "I can take 'no' for an answer just fine but I'd appreciate it if you'd hear me out first. I just want to explain myself properly, I know that back there was wrong," He motions to the door, referencing himself just applying for a job where you work, "But it was the only way you'd actually look at me properly and speak more than six words to me."
Something inside of you warms up at that, which isn't right, you shouldn't be this close to him right now but...it's been eleven days since you've last seen him. A part of you, buried deep under all the pain and all the memories, was scared that he won't come around anymore and that you won't see him. That he really had enough of your bullshit and gave up.
Deep, deep down somewhere where all your other little secrets that you would never allow to admit to yourself reside; there is a little one which says that you don't want him to give up. You want him to keep trying, keep coming, keep begging. 
You sniffle, the cold causing your nose to run easily and cross your arms over your chest as you just your chin out at him. "Well, go ahead then. Talk."
San stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shifting from one foot to the other as the adorable, devastating pout you've grown used to appears again.
"Well, I can't talk now...you're angry."
"Wha-" You scoff out a laugh, looking to the side in utter disbelief as you mutter to yourself. "This is so fuckin' stupid."
His frown only grows and you're pretty sure he's never even aware that he's pouting. "It's not stupid, I'm serious. You won't take anything I say into consideration right now because you're mad."
You open your mouth to tell him off again but once again, you know he's kind of right. If he says something to get your defenses to crumble, you won't ever let it show because you started the conversation while being angry and in your head, that's the way it should end as well.
What is wrong with you?
"Yeah, I'm angry, San, and I have a job to get back to so either say something or leave." You loudly exclaim, body slightly shivering from the cold that's starting to affect you.
San seems to just stand there for a prolonged moment, thinking about something before his brows jump up and he shuffles out a small piece of paper out of the pocket of his jacket before taking a hesitant step towards you and pulling out the pen out of your apron. You take a step back when he gets the pen, feeling like he got too close. And of course, he notices.
"If you would meet me here...Tomorrow at....seven?" He starts to speak, scribbling something clumsily on the piece of crumbled up paper, "We could talk...properly." San clears his throat, handing you the crumbled up receipt with what you assume is an address of some sort scribbled on it now. "Obviously, you don't have to show up. I'd love it if you did because I'd really like to talk to you but...but if you don't, I'll take it as your answer, Y/N, I'll take it as a 'no' and I won't show up again. Promise."
You stare at the folded up receipt in your hand before stuffing it in the back pocket of your jeans.
You don't know what to say now, San is still standing just an arm-length away from you, peering down at you with his pretty eyes filled with sweet desperation, looking like he's thinking of something to say just to be able to talk to you for a little bit longer and you can't stand it for much longer.
"I have to get back to work." You mutter, eyes falling to the snow covered pavement at your feet.
He sighs lowly, his mouth turning downwards as his eyes fall, "Alright."
You turn for the back-door again before he calls your name, voice softer this time, "Please...consider it. Please."
You walk in without another word.
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sophiasayslaugh · 1 month ago
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Guess what I just remembered.
I happen to own a pair of clamps with silly little bells attached to them.
Wouldn't it be so funny to clamp them onto a sub, have them sit up and hold their arms over their head, set a brightly lit timer in front of them and tell them for every little chime they accidentally set off, that's an additional minute added to their time?
Anyway how's everyone's day going im doing so well and normal right now.
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anne-chloe · 1 year ago
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Trust Me | Five |
Jareth/Goblin King x F! Reader
Summary : As Sarah's next door neighbour, you're often Mrs Williams' last resort as a babysitter. Sarah had never liked this, but she can be extremely unreliable at times. One stormy night, Sarah grows frustrated with her baby brother and babysitter, resulting in saying a phrase that she later wants to take back. Now, you are stuck in The Goblin Kings realm with little hope to returning home again, unless Sarah can reach the castle and defeat Jareth in time.
The sound of a bell chiming pulled you back into reality.
Your eyes snapped open and you pulled yourself away from Jareth. He slowly opened his eyes, his smirk still very present, a smugness about him. You tenderly brushed your fingers against your lips, feeling a tingle and a spark, and it left you wondering what the consequences of kissing The Goblin King would be.
You glanced around the room and spotted a clock. It ticked away, as if the moments before didn't matter. You blinked, now noticing a sand timer sitting in the window.
You gulped nervously. "What's that for?" And why is it nearly empty?
Jareth joined your side, his arm sliding around your waist, pulling you close into him. You didn't dare to struggle against him, but you did tense and become rigid at the action. He didn't seem to notice, and if he did he simply ignored it.
"It's for the runner in the Labyrinth," Jareth explained coolly, now pointing to the land behind the Goblin City. You could just about see it through the mist, and from what you could tell, it was large.
That must be the way out. Through the Labyrinth. It looked as though you'd have to navigate through the Goblin City first, but you figured it would be straightforward as long as you refrained from making any unnecessary detours. Then, you'd reach the Labyrinth itself and search for the way out—and finally you could return home.
But someone was already in the Labyrinth. And their timer was running out. What would happen if the timer ran out?
You looked to Jareth for answers. "Who is it?"
Jareth smirked down at you, but he refused to elaborate. You felt a chill run up your spine. Whoever it was, you prayed they'd finish Jareth's vile games before they ran out of time.
"What happens when it does run out?" You asked, "do they lose the game?"
"They become additions to my Kingdom. They become Goblins."
Who would be brave enough to challenge The Goblin King like this? In fact, why would they want to challenge The Goblin King in the first place? The mere thought of living forever as one of these Goblins, it made you shiver in fear. Living under Jareth's cruel rule for all eternity; that wasn't a fate that you desired to seek or challenge.
"How does someone become a runner in your Labyrinth? Are they wanting to leave your Kingdom?"
Jareth tilted his head back and sighed loudly. You blinked at his obvious annoyance, and flinched as he then directed his gaze back to you. It was clear he was trying not to show his irritation by your many questions. But you were curious about the area of his world that you might need to venture through in order to escape.
Jareth slipped his hands around yours, now holding them to his chest. You tilted your head in curiosity at what he was about to say. "This person made a wish, and they wanted to change it," he vaguely explained, and you felt indifferent to the way he deliberately missed out details. "I gave them 13 hours to complete my Labyrinth or face the consequences of becoming a Goblin."
Only 13 hours? Seeing the size of the city and Labyrinth made you feel as though 13 hours wouldn't be enough. Plus, even if it was, you knew Jareth wouldn't play fairly and would create obstacles for the runner to face, which would ultimately slow them down. It didn't seem right, but you knew Jareth must have done this deliberately with full knowledge that his rules weren't fair.
But this then encouraged the question of how many people made wishes with The Goblin King. You had never heard of him until Sarah recited that line from her book, and until you were whisked away you only believed that he was fictional. It made you wonder how many people had attempted the Labyrinth in hopes to reverse their wish, how many people regretted ever making a wish to The Goblin King.
You had made many wishes before. You'd thrown pennies into wishing wells, you'd wished with closed eyes upon a shooting star, you'd blown out birthday candles and wished for something. Did that mean you needed knowledge of The Goblin King, and to direct your wish to him, for it to come true? Or did he only select those wished that meant he'd gain another Goblin in his ranks?
But for wishes to come true like this, the person making the wish had to mean it. Right?
Or did The Goblin King obey the wishes made to him created out of jest?
"You've made the whole thing nearly impossible for someone to get through, especially in 13 hours," you mumbled, feeling a deep sorrow for the unfortunate person trying to navigate by themselves.
Jareth snickered, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Nearly," he emphasised. "It's entirely possible to complete my Labyrinth in 13 hours. You just need to know how to do it, and who to trust."
You stayed quiet, eyes falling on the sand timer, which continued to deplete with every passing second. You felt terrible for the fate of the runner, and more so curious about the wish they made and the repercussions it had caused.
You took a step away from Jareth, causing his arm to fall back to his side. You lowered your gaze to the floor, avoiding his mismatched, hypnotic eyes.
Jareth watched you curiously as you shuffled over to where Tobey lay fast asleep, sleeping on his side, his thumb hanging loosely from his mouth. You knelt in front of the throne, your fingers gently stroking Tobey's soft head.
Despite hating the idea of spending the rest of eternity trapped inside The Goblin Kings castle, you couldn't help but feel relieved that you were still here to protect Tobey. All you needed was time and patience in forming an escape plan, and then you'd be able to return home to where Tobey would truly be safe.
"You cannot escape from here."
You froze as Jareth's voice cut through you like a knife. You slowly turned your head to look at him over your shoulder, dread quickly settling back in. You briefly wondered if he could hear your thoughts, and that very idea frightened you.
"I can't?" You repeated, almost in a whisper. Too loud and you would wake Tobey.
Jareth only seemed amused by your response. "Only the one who made the wish has the power to reverse its effects, and only then they must complete my Labyrinth and speak the words against me."
Your heart sank at this new information. "I can't go home?" You weakly asked, wanting clarification, even though you already knew the answer.
Jareth walked closer. He crouched down in front of you, his hand lifting and tucking underneath your chin. He raised your eyes to meet his, and you watched, helpless, as his mismatched eyes held you in place.
"My dear," he muttered gently, though his wicked smile was a stark contrast. "You are home."
You felt tears form in your eyes, your vision blurring over at the thought of never seeing your parents again. You had said meaningless goodbyes this morning when they departed for work, and you left a hastily scribbled note in the kitchen to explain your whereabouts—which you were now far away from. You imagined they would be distraught when you were announced missing, they would possibly mourn for you.
As if to further injure your soul, Jareth began caressing your hair. "You have no power here," he crooned, his smile widening at the sight of your tears now rolling down your cheeks. "Sarah has condemned you to eternity with me. Tobey will become a Goblin, like his new brothers, and you will rule by my side."
You gasped as Jareth caught your tears with his thumb, now wiping them away. "Tobey... will become a Goblin?" You whimpered. You cast a despairing look to Tobey, who continued to rest peacefully, blissfully unaware of what his future awaited him.
"As will Sarah."
Sarah.
Sarah?
You frowned solemnly at this added information. "Sarah will too? I thought she was still at home—"
Jareth placed his hands on either side of your face, steadying your gaze and forcing you to look at him and only him. Your lips parted to speak, but no words came out, much to his enjoyment.
"Sarah is the runner in the Labyrinth," Jareth explained, his malicious intent reaching his eyes as he smiled so cruelly down at you. "Her progress is slow. She's wasted 8 hours already, and she hasn't even reached the Goblin City."
Jareth fell silent as he observed your reaction, loving every negative emotion that crossed your face. You let all that information sink in, now feeling worse than before upon knowing that you couldn't escape, and the 15 year old girl that you babysit was wandering aimlessly through Jareth's twisted Labyrinth.
You wished you had stopped Sarah from speaking those words before. You wished you had dedicated knowledge to The Goblin King, much like Sarah had, so you would at least possess some power to help you out. But you weren't very fond of that stuff. Instead you focused a lot on your studies; you dedicated your free time to caring for others and admiring the relationship your parents possessed.
"How long is eternity?" You weakly asked.
Jareth smirked. "Not long at all."
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sunny6677 · 7 months ago
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Lavender.
Summary:
Skid goes about his daily life in the care of his adoptive father, Kevin—though of course as always with him, shenanigans ensue.
(For whatever reason I felt strangely compelled to post these chapters on Tumblr, so here ya go)
Chapter 1: It's Spooky Month!
————
"Kid—you alright in there?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah! I'm fine, Kevin!"
Skid happily answered the muffled masculine voice outside of his door with a smile, turning in his chair as he slightly twisted his head toward the door. Sweating beneath his costume from the sheer euphoria he'd experience in a few more hours as he sat with a childish smile at his computer.
For a few moments, silence passed, and he heard Kevin let out a sigh from outside.
"Well.. if you say so. I'm going to bed, but don't stay up too late. And—take that costume off, okay? I'm still not really sure how you sleep in that thing without overheating."
"Aww.." Skid frowned. He didn't really want to take off his costume. Not now when in a few hours, he'd probably need it.
"..ugh.. okay. You can wear it."
"Yay!"
"Go to sleep soon, alright? Let me know if you need anything."
"Okay, Kevin!"
Skid heard footsteps slowly become more distant from his door, and after a while, the sound faded. Skid turned his face toward the bright screen of his computer with an eager smile, giggling to himself.
On the screen—in large text as a timer counted down, it read "TIME BEFORE OCTOBER 1ST: 2 HOURS, 2 MINUTES."
————
A bell chime rang out. A deep, bell chime from his clock as he slowly turned around in his black chair, away from his screen. Shadows coated his mask, and a smile eerily curled upon his lips. His eyes darted toward the clock, and caught sight of what it read.
"OCTOBER 1ST, 2010."
"Yes!" Skid cheered, his grin becoming a lot happier as he shook his fists. "It is the spooky month!"
Skid eagerly grabbed his phone from his desk, and practically smashed it against the arm of his chair, pressing it firmly with several more whacks until he pressed it to his ear. He heard a slight ringing sound come from the device, before a simple click came, and he grinned.
"Ayyyy!" Skid smiled.
A familiar, equally high but nasally voice chimed from the other side of the phone—"Ayyy! Were you watching the time too?"
"Yes! Are you ready for the spookiest month?!"
"Yeah—oh! I sent you something! Heheh.."
Skid swiped his screen with a smile. And as the voice from the other side of the phone had said, there was a message of a video in their texts. Pump—his friend, and the voice on the phone, had sent him this message. Eagerly, Skid pressed his thumb against the video, and let it play.
Darkness shrouded the scree—
"OOGA BOOGA—"
————
Skid ran out of his room with energy swaying in his small body, a grin visibly on his masked face as he ran through the halls. He quickly ran toward the living room, where light seemed to be seeping into the corridor from it. Kevin must have been up. He could tell him that it was spooky month!
Skid turned into the entrance of the living room, and—
"..ki—kid.."
Skid froze.
Kevin appeared to be standing there, his eyes visibly widened as his mouth hung open anxiously, and beads of sweat trickled down his face as he trembled. A red sleeved arm with red claws for hands hung over his neck, drawing a blade to Kevin's fragile throat. From behind him, there was a smiling man.. a smiling man in a red-devil mask, grinning and laughing.
Kevin shuddered. "..ki—kid.. run. Don't come over here. Run—"
"But, Kevin—it-sa spooky month!"
"..wh—"
"It's spooky month?!"
The man in the devil mask smiled more excitedly, lowering his blade as Skid nodded.
"Yeah! Here—have a candy!"
Skid pulled out a pink wrapped taffy from behind him—he hadn't know where he had gotten it, but that didn't matter. Because it was spooky month! Tossing the taffy in the direction of the large man, he quickly ran, hearing the man begin to laugh excitedly.
"Yay! Hahah—"
He saw the man begin to dance in the corner of his eye as he vanished into the corridor, and Kevin only watched with a stunned expression, slowly backing away toward where his phone had been on the couch.
————
"Mom! Grandma! It-sa spooky month!"
Skid eagerly beamed, waving his hands with a wild gesture as he tilted his head to the side. In front of him was a photo of a young woman with lilac purple hair—cascading to her back. She smiled gently at whoever took the photo, and wore a light purple shirt. And there was an old woman next to her with parted bangs, with gray hair and a light brown shirt.
He giggled, and after looking at the photo for a moment longer, he turned around and ran further into the corridor—which led to the exit of his house.
————
Skid gasped—a familiar, also masked face was outside.
"Ayyy!"
A little boy in a pumpkin mask grinning back at him waved, wearing white gloves and a simple black suit. They were both equally tiny, waving with enough energy to cast a thousand winds unto the earth.
Skid ran toward his friend, and hopped—and with excited giggles without a single word, they began to run down the sidewalk together.
The night winds brushed against their tiny bodies as they ran while laughing, their grins never fading from their face as the stars shone down brightly upon them. They ran past several houses. Past several cars.
Though they then slowly came to a stop, their smiles unfading as a white van pulled up to where they had been. A window rolled down, revealing a large man with black short hair and dark eyes, wearing a blue shirt as he smiled eerily down at them.
"Hey.. kids. Want some candy?"
Ah! It was Mr. Frank!
"Of course!" Skid nodded.
"It is a spooky month!" Pump added.
"Oh—it is!" Frank grinned with a chuckle. He threw two taffy candies in their direction, and began to drive away, moving his arms around as he performed the spooky dance.
Skid slowly turned to Pump, swearing he could have heard a faint scream from behind him.
"Let's watch a horror movie!"
————
After they rushed into the movie theater which was brightly lit up despite it literally being midnight and was somehow still open, they went into a room that had been hosting a movie. A horror movie. A spooky, horror movie!
And of course, it had been the spookiest thing they had ever watched. Having such great characters, such great plot lines, such great scares..
As Skid and Pump stared up at the screen with eager smiles, they watched the movie. A man with blonde hair was walking slowly with a flashlight in his hand. And from behind him, a green spooky face appeared and screamed—
"OOGAAAAA—"
"Aghh!"
"BOOGAAAAA—"
Pump, with a smile behind his mask, cheerfully said—"Let's go to the graveyard!"
————
After rushing there with crashes and the thousand sounds of souls screaming from the agony of hell, Skid and Pump rushed to the graveyard that was vast and held several tombstones. They came to a stop in front of the gate. And for a moment, silence fell.
The two then smiled, cheerfully saying, "It is a spooky month!"
No one replied.
Skid turned to Pump, and laughed again, "Let's do a prank-call!"
The two quickly rushed away from the gate and down further into the sidewalk, swearing they could have heard faint ghostly voices from inside of the graveyard the moment they left.
————
The two had gone into the damp, humid basement which barely had any stuff in it. It was dark with a light gray roof, and there appeared to be a small door that led to the outside incase there would ever be any sort of need for that.
Boxes surrounded the place as dust collected itself on random corners. There was a closet with a mannequin inside, along with a shelf that held various odd items such as red robes.
And in the middle of the boxes, Skid and Pump eagerly dashed their hands along the surface of a Ouija Board—giggling to themselves as they did so.
From the surface right then, a red large figure emerged—bearing muscles and horns as it's amber eyes glowed. It beared sharp teeth, and it growled slowly as it rose up, the place becoming a lot colder as it did so. Yet neither of the kids minded.
"It is a spooky month!" Skid grinned up at the new friend they had summoned.
The new friend peered down at them with his sharp teeth, yet instantly, he cheered—throwing his hands from side to side as he danced.
Pump smiled. And then looked at Skid. "Let's play horror games!"
————
The two ran into a space which held a simple computer on the floor. And the instant they did, Pump sat down excitedly in front of it while cheering. And Skid attempted to sit down, but quickly fell on his face. Despite this, he cheered as well.
Pump booted the computer up at seemingly sonic speed, and grabbed a controller as a game activated. As the screen lit up, there appeared to be some kind of man with a green hat and a mustache wondering through a haunted mansion, bearing s flashlight in his hand.
A ghost slowly trailed up from behind him with a mischevious grin, and—
"OOGA BOOGAAA—"
Skid smiled again. Lifting his head with an innocent stare, he giggled. "Let's go upstairs!"
————
They rushed, feeling the humid air of the basement brush less against their skin as they went up the dark stairs. And as they did so, the bright light from outside shone down upon them. And they quickly rushed into the kitchen with smiles on their—
They stopped. And their smiles faded.
Kevin stood there with a blank stare in his eyes. A frown upon his lips as he furrowed his brows. A coffee mug was in his hand, and he looked to be wearing a pink sweater.
"..there you two are. Where've you been?"
Kevin asked with a slight huff.
Neither of the kids answered. Slowly, they looked behind him. On the calender behind him that was also beside the table, it read..
..November.
...
The two then grinned.
"It's a spooky-giving!"
They began to dance with eager grins, excitedly giggling as they threw their arms from side to side and crouched. Kevin squinted at them in confusion, staring—before letting out a sigh as his low voice became raspy with only slight irritation.
He took a sip of his coffee. There probably wasn't any way these two would ever stop with their love for Halloween, or.. spooky month, as they called it.
Whatever. Not like he was even trying to make them stop with their antics anymore anyway.
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melbagirl · 2 months ago
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[Image Description: A YouTube comment from Christopher Rocco Prestia, which reads as follows:
I love this! I often talk about the importance of soundscapes and people look at me like I'm crazy. I don't buy a clock unless I like its tick and chime, I test whistling tea kettles and ringing kitchen timers whenever I can before purchasing. I went out of my way to find a microwave with a bell instead of a beep, and I'm incredibly fortunate that the dryer my house came with also has a bell signal. My first car had a physical bell instead of an electronic chime. I am a huge advocate for enclosing kitchens in walls with doors. Otherwise these 'open concept' designs make the entire house sound like a kitchen (with the fridge humming, the echo of a tile/hard floor, and cooking/washing sounds when somebody is busy). Windy days are magical (albeit chilly) with 19th century single pane windows. And who doesn't love a good door creak on a stormy night? My "dream house" will be as passive in its design as possible to avoid unnecessary mechanical noise (the ugliest noise there is, imo). One of my ideas is to have an extremely reverberant central atrium with vents near the ceiling that let in natural sounds like birdsong and rustling leaves. It would be arranged so that direct sound does not reach floor level and so the occupant only hears these sounds after several reflections. I think the effect would be magical! Anyhow, thank you for validating my antics.
/End Image Description]
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new kind of guy dropped
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