#RIP beautiful mop

[dragonraptyr]

Logged in today, and there was a gorgeous photo of a mop. Beautiful lighting, suspended magically in midair. It was the most beautiful mop I had ever seen. It made me realize that even a mop could be a thing of beauty in the right conditions.

Then I realized it was a fashion show. I don't know how to feel about that, but I miss that moment with a beautiful mop.

[haven-of-dusk]

Screenshotted from Josh's Instagram Story

I know I should be focusing on the massive turnout but I'm distracted by the fact that he CUT HIS HAIR.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

yandere bunny hybrid x reader

A/n: the Intro was rushed because I got too excited to write the smut. Not proofread 🌺

Tw: noncon turns to dubcon, androgynous breeding kink, little dirty talk, he's a horny bastard. Mommy kink but it can be applied to any gender. Slapping body parts, he has a minor lactation kink. Mdni please!

★you met the little furball while you were out on a evening walk. It was the middle of winter and being cooped up inside the house all day was starting to get a little claustrophobic

★you didn't notice him at first since he blended in with the snow. Stopping mid-walk when you heard a weak little whine coming from behind you. Slowly turning around, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from beneath the snow

★approaching them slowly, you could finally see him more clearly. Milky white skin turning a light blue due to hypothermia. He didn't have the strength to run when you picked him up. Patting his head, you headed back home.

★giving him a warm bath and setting him next to the fireplace, you slowly nursed him back to health. He was very reluctant at first, but your touch was too comforting to pull away from. He hasn't felt this safe since he was just a baby bun! He stayed with you nearly the entire winter

★midway he starts to get himself familiar with your home, peeking under furniture and into rooms, he seemed to understand you when you'd ask him questions in English

"what's your name little fella?"

"cotton.."

★eventually you had to let him go back into the wild, just a month before spring arrived. He was reluctant but with enough convincing he finally left. Looking back at you from the forest edge, watching you wave goodbye with that beautiful smile he loves

❣️cotton who goes into heat early because he can't stop thinking of you. Burrying himself in his burrow, humping the air. Nothing is as soft as you and your bed. Nothing can make him feel as safe as your touch does

❣️he shoos any females who wish to mate away. Claiming he already has a mate. Oh he wished you'd come into the forest looking for him, to take care of him again as he fills your tight little hole up with his cum

❣️he spends most of his time shamelessly masturbating to the thought of you. His entire heat cycle has been on loop since he left, so finally gathering the balls he heads back to your cottage. Watching you from a distance, lazily stroking his already sensitive cock.

★just minding your business, you don't notice the certain bunny hybrid approaching slowly. You don't have much time to react before a familiar mop of white hair tackles you to the ground. Desperately humping your clothed sex as he whines and grunts.

"cotton!? What the hell are you doing!?"

"hah- nhg need.. mate.. pretty mate.. need to breed! Ohh!"

★you tried pushing him off, but when did he get so strong!? Pining your arms down and ripping your clothes off, wasting no time in lapping at your genitals. Eating you out like a starved man, sucking and nipping your inner thighs until he's sure you're nice and lubed up

★he carefully pressed the tip in, but he doesn't last long as he slowly sinks deeper into your gummy walls. Letting go of your arms and roughly grabbing your hips, which were sure to bruise later, brutally fucking your brains out. Slapping your chest and privates as he grinds his cock deeper

★he keeps going even after he's ripped multiple orgasms out of you. The pleasure slowly chipping off your resistance. Leaving you a blubbering moaning mess under the bunny. A pool of his cum under where your sexes kept meeting.

★it doesn't matter what gender you are, he's determined to breed you until you're swelling with his children. He couldn't wait to suck and bite your chest once it was swollen with milk!

"gonna be so pretty- mph! So pretty, all swollen 'n fat with my babies.. gonna be a good mate, right? G-gonna give me lots of 'em right? Oh ohhh! Cumming again! 'Yer squeezing all my cum out! Mommy!!"

★let's just say that you should get use to your new roommate husband, because now there's no way of getting rid of him. Ever.

[januaryembrs]

ahhh can I ask for a drabble for sunshine reader x Spence when they're out with the team at a bar or something and reader is obviously a clingy and giggly drunk?

MY BABY'S SWEET AS CAN BE | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

description: Spencer's girlfriend loves karaoke when she's drunk, but she loves him even more

length: 1k

warnings: literally just fluff

He smiled at her unabashedly as she flitted through the crowd, the top of her head bobbing in between other patrons as she shoved through the sea of bodies, and he heard the odd “Excuse me, oh I’m so sorry, excuse me, Sorry-scuse me,” which let him know the mop of hair with two little bows in it was exactly who he thought it was. 

Not that he’d need to try hard to find her, his eyes hadn’t left her all evening. She had a tendency to get upset if they got parted when she’d had a couple to drink, and he hated the look she got on her face when she welled up and felt sorry for herself. 

She burst out the throng, her eyes quickly scanning across the group, and Emily barely had time to hand her a Frozen Daiquiri before she’d launched herself where Spencer leaned against the bar.

“Honey! Oh, I missed you so much,” She said, immediately homing into his waist, her ear pressing against his chest where his heart beat particularly loudly, because whatever affectionate streak she carried on a day to day basis was dialled to one million when she got like this. 

“Baby, I saw you five minutes ago,” He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her nevertheless and running his large, warm hand down her spine where her backless dress gave him free rein to feel everything. 

She looked up at him with an aghast stare, “You didn’t miss me, too?” 

“Oh, I never said that, now did I?” Spencer asked, his words sweetened with his smile, and adoration stained every single syllable like coffee over clean breath, “Did you have fun?” 

She giggled, leaning to steal a quick kiss, and her hand brushed over his stomach to pinch the soft pouch of fat gently, “I did! Did you see me, I totally outsang Luke,” 

“For the last time; karaoke is not a contest, we’re supposed to be singing together,” Luke said, his forehead sweaty where he’d pushed through the crowd himself trying to keep up with her as she’d bolted off the stage to get back to her spot tucked under Spencer’s arm. 

She stuck her tongue out at him, rolling her eyes when he gave her a more obscene gesture, and turned back to where Spencer had yet to rip his eyes off her, his pupils dopey and wide and full of puppy love as she looked at him. 

“He’s just mad becaus he wanted to sing Beyonce’s part, and I made him be Shakira,” She said on chuckled breath, “But I think our cover of Beautiful Liar could top charts, like, nationally,”

“Ofcourse, I reckon you could go global if we got you a good agent,” He humoured her, and her eyes lit up with glee, bouncing on the balls of her feet to the point he almost spilled his beer. But he didn’t care, he just loved seeing her so happy. 

“Really! Really, really?” She asked, quickly stealing another adoring kiss from his lips like she could only go so long before she needed another one to fuel her words, like she didn’t even realise she was doing it as there was little to no pause in her end of the conversation. 

“Well, sure,” He said, his mouth interrupted when she pecked him again, and he wondered if she genuinely understood they couldn't kiss and talk at the same time with the way she was going, “But, if my sweet girlfriend becomes a popstar sensation overnight, who’s going to be there when I want to do this?” He said, wrapping an arm around her waist, his fingertips caressing the dip of her back, already knowing which moles sat beneath his touch and where, as he gave her a real kiss, one that made her squeak a little and the sound of it forced an even bigger smile out of him. 

He parted from her reluctantly, and he didn’t even care that he usually didn’t like PDA all too much if it meant she would look so content and glowing, her eyes creasing as she sighed with a besotted expression. Spencer never thought he would get so lucky to have anyone look at him like that, never mind someone who he loved with his whole entire being, and everything else left of him. 

“You raise a good point, my genius love,” She said, pressing her burning face into his sternum, her hands still never leaving where they’d buried into his waist, “I guess I’ll put my debut album on hold and stay to kiss you some more,” 

“Will you guys stop being so disgustingly sweet, it’s making my punch taste sour,” Penelope said, even though the team didn’t seem to mind their soppy exchanges. Spencer sometimes seemed like his old self again when he was with her, something boyish and teasing and loving returning back to his rough hands and exhausted expression, and for that the two of them could rip each other's clothes off for all they cared. 

Because they were one of those couples that made everyone else feel lucky to just see that kind of love so close, not envious or repellent, like finding a fawn sleeping on your doorstep. It was rare and pure and warmed everyone right through to their marrow. 

The two of them smiled at one another, and she leaned in to steal a few more kisses from his lips that tasted faintly of beer, only for another song to start playing and she gasped, her mouth dropping in excitement. 

“I love ABBA, we have to sing this song together!” She said, lacing her fingers with his and tugging his stubborn, lithe figure over to the stage, “Please, Spencer, please, please, please,” 

And he gave her exactly what she wanted, because when could he ever say no to a face like that. 

[lovebugism]

Omg bug we need a part two of “mean” Eddie and reader going on their little date 🤭 if you are up for writing it ofc 😌

pt. 2 of this fic

You didn’t show.

Maybe you just got lost. Eddie figures he shouldn’t have expected someone like you to know where The Hideout was. Or maybe you lost track of time. — but he’d told you the doors opened at seven o’clock sharp, and you’d repeated it back to him. He knows you did because you’d said it in that voice you use when you get all shy, as soft and as low as your meek gaze when you peered at him through your lashes.

But you weren’t just late. You weren’t fashionably late, either. You just never showed up.

Eddie wishes he didn’t care as much as he did.

He told himself he didn’t when you weren’t there at seven, but he looked for you in the meager crowd of twenty when eight o’clock rolled around anyway. 

He’d wanted to see you in the front row. He dreamt of putting on the best show The Hideout’s ever seen right before dedicating some cheesy love ballad to you. 

“This is for a really special someone in the crowd tonight,” he would’ve said into the microphone that smelled like beer. “You know who you are. Don’t let this go to your head, either, alright?” 

He even made the band practice Hysteria by Def Leppard so he could play it for you that night — so the lyrics could tell you everything he couldn’t — but you weren’t there to hear them. 

They ended up playing Love Bites instead.

He spends another two hours moonlighting as a rockstar.

Still in his ripped jeans and eyeliner, he slings a towel over his shoulder and ties an apron around his waist — a busboy all over again. He always forgets how sleazy The Hideout is until he’s got to clean it up. 

He mops sticky floors and wipes down grimy tables and tries to ignore the stinging in his chest every time he remembers that you were supposed to keep him company through it all.

A knock sounds at the front door at eleven o’clock. 

It’s Tuesday night — the place is empty now. Eddie’s been around long enough to know when drunks are out looking for a fix.

“We’re closed!” he shouts, more focused on scrapping off the syrupy ringed stain on the table than the relentless inebriate outside.

“C’mon, Eddie, it’s cold!” a familiar voice pleads, muffled through the door. “You’re not mad enough to let me freeze to death out here, are you?”

Eddie nearly breaks his neck with how quickly he turns to look over his shoulder. 

You stand behind the foggy glass, mostly blurry but still beautiful. The bouquet of purple and red tulips is nearly as pretty as the smile your pair them with. Your floral skirt swishes around your ankles as the wind blows. Eddie winches when he sees you shiver.

He rushes to the door, scrambling with the keyring clipped to his belt loop. His sweaty hands fumble with the chain. It takes him three tries to get it in the lock. 

“Shit. Sorry,” he stammers. “I didn’t think it was you.”

“I figured. It’s okay.” 

You walk through the door he holds open for you, the spring night breeze following close behind. Eddie shuts and locks the door again.

You spin on your heel to face him and hold the flowers out between you. “These are for you,” you tell him — soft and low and timid.

Eddie grins.

“These are very metal, sweetheart,” he teases. The plastic wrapping crinkles as he takes them by the stem.

“I felt bad for being so late,” you grimace. “Didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

“What flower shop is even open this time of night?”

“Zippy’s,” you answer curtly, gaze ducking down to your shoes a moment later.

“You went to a gas station all the way across town to get me flowers?”

You nod.

“No wonder you were late,” he scoffs. 

He saunters past you, then spins so he’s walking backward and facing you. His wild hair sways around his face. He clutches the bouquet to his chest. “Here I thought you off seeing some other schmuck.”

You roll your eyes, knowing no other schmuck has ever given you the time of day like Eddie has.

“I was late because of work,” you correct. Before you know it, you’re rambling. “I wasn’t on schedule for closing, but my asshole manager wouldn’t let me clock out. And I couldn’t call you because I don’t have your number, and I couldn’t find The Hideout in the yellow pages because it’s so old and—”

“Hey. It’s okay,” Eddie assures, practically cooing. It’s the softest he’s ever been with you, and he looks at you just the same — chocolate eyes melting as they twinkle at you. You’re left grieving his gaze when he turns to set the flowers on the counter. 

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” 

Through burning cheeks, you tease. “I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna get soft on me.”

“Oh? You thought that meant I cared that you came?” he scoffs, obviously joking. 

He squints down at you when you appear at his side — turns and presses his hip into the counter, and props his elbow along the top of it. “I’m just happy I got you outta the house. You’re like a damn hermit, you never do anything fun.”

Your face scrunches in discontent. “I have fun!” you correct.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eddie retorts, nudging your shoulder as he walks past you again — this time heading toward the kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll make you something to eat.”

You’re grateful when he walks to the back without looking over his shoulder at you, lest he become a witness to the beam on your lips that’s far too bright to hide.

Eddie Munson is totally soft on you. 

It’s a good thing, too. Because you’re all but melting for him now.

You sit at the bar with a sweaty beer in your hand. “It’s obviously cheap, but it goes down sweet enough,” Eddie warned when he’d handed it to you. You sip from it, leaning back in your chair with your feet thrown on the one beside you — totally unable to take your eyes off the boy.

You watch through the partition behind the counter as Eddie makes a haphazard effort of basketing leftover chicken tenders and fries. He sets them beneath an orange lamp to warm again.

“A rockstar, busboy, and chef, huh?” you lilt, hiding your smile behind the beer you bring to your lips. “What else can you do?”

“When there’s a pretty girl in front of me?” he retorts as he swipes the crumbs from his palms. He looks at you with a smug grin and shrugs. “Just about anything, I’d guess.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Flirt with me. It’s gross. We don’t do that.”

Eddie laughs to himself, honey eyes squinting. “I’ve been flirting with you for about a year and a half now, sweetheart, but… Thanks for finally noticing.”

He carries the ruby red baskets in both hands when he comes out to sit next to you. You slide your legs off the stool for him — an invitation to be close to you without either of you having to ask.

“Am I gonna get food poisoning from this?” you joke, holding the greasy chicken strip between your fingers.

“The cook made them today,” he scoffs, already tossing a fry into his mouth. He talks as he chews. “Besides, we’d be getting sick together. What’s more romantic than that?”

God, you even think he’s cute when he talks with his mouth full. You’re so far gone for him, it’s not even funny.

Eddie smiles when you take a bite. Your eyes flutter shut on their own accord, your empty stomach thanking you. 

“Good, huh?”

“Amazing,” you correct.

“Gross bars make the best food, I swear.”

You laugh softly together. Def Leppard croons from the speakers overhead. You wonder if Eddie knew this was your favorite band or if your favorite song is only playing by chance. You’re warmed either way.

“How was, uh… How was the show?” you ask him, as curious as you are desperate to fill the silence.

Eddie wipes his palms on his jeans and nods. “It was okay. Same as usual — the crowd was drunk enough to enjoy anything we did.”

“I’m sure it was great,” you retort at his self-deprecating tone, picking shyly at the fries rather than meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

He figures he doesn’t need to tell you about his bleeding heart that was close to breaking a couple of hours ago. You put a bandage over it the second you showed up at The Hideout — with flowers, no less. He’s just glad that you came at all. He meant it when he said that none of the rest matters.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie shrugs through the food in his cheek. “There’s always next time.”

You grin and knock the leg of his chair with your foot. “Already asking me out on a second date, huh?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” he jokes through glowing cheeks. He tilts his head towards his shoulder. “But I’m not paying for your ticket next time, princess.”

Your smile widens. You prop your cheek on your knuckles, unabashedly gazing over at him. “That’s okay. I’ll be in the front row either way.”

“Promise?” Eddie’s lilt edges on teasing and sincerity. He momentarily abandons his own food as he mirrors your positioning, not realizing he’s leaning closer to you until he’s already doing it.

“Promise,” you nod with a smile so bright he thinks it could rival the sun.

He continues to shorten the distance between you — coming closer closer closer. You watch him, amused, and with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

You want him to kiss you. No, fuck that, you need him to kiss you. But more than anything, you need him to do it first — a cheeky little something to over his head when you’re kissing him later.

And you don’t mean to laugh, but the thought makes a giggle spill from your lips before you can stop it.

The bubbly sound knocks Eddie from his stupor. 

The tip of his nose just barely brushes your own. His glazed-over eyes fly open. He remains still, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow, as he blinks owlishly at you. The pretty pink mouth he was about to kiss you with falls softly agape. 

His head jerks backward a second later, almost in disgust. 

“Shit. Sorry,” he curses. His body shifts away from yours completely as he turns his attention to his half-eaten basket of fries. “That was— That wasn’t cool of me.”

Still smiling, you reach a hand out for his leather-clad forearm. You caress him soothingly there in reassurance. “No. It’s okay—”

“No, that was really fucking weird,” he says, forcing out a laugh.

“Right?” you scoff. “Why would Eddie Munson, the chef-busboy-rockstar, wanna kiss a girl like me?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, tilting his wild head to his shoulder to look at you. 

He finds you with a gleam in your eye, one that’s not usually there because, most times, he’s too busy making fun of you.  A smile hints at the corners of your mouth, barely there and beautiful. It’s a bit smug — twinkling with the satisfaction of finally having the upper hand.

Eddie figures it might pay off to be soft with you sometimes. He never wants you to stop looking at him like this.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he confesses quietly.

Your smile widens. “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats again, eyes flitting away from yours.

“Don’t be,” you promise. Your nose scrunches softly. “…Wanna give it another go?”

His gaze snaps back up to yours. He has to fight the urge to tease you, lest he ruin the moment he’s been thinking about for months. He’ll be damned if he lets the opportunity slip away from him now.

“Sure you’re not gonna laugh at me this time?” he lilts, looking at you from halfway beneath his lashes.

“I’m not gonna laugh at you,” you promise, though a grin’s already threatening to pull at your mouth.

“Promise?”

“Well, I can show you better than I can tell you.”

You let Eddie lean in first. He exhales a heavy breath from his nose that fans against your skin when your lips collide. The rosy plush of them lock with yours like they were made to do it. His palms rise to your jaw, keeping you tucked neatly against him when the moment threatens to pull you away. 

Your hands migrate to the lapel of his leather jacket. You tug him further to you — a promise that you’re not going anywhere.

You don’t laugh into his kiss this time.

You smile.

[missmimii]

☕︎︎ －𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 | 𝐂 - 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In which Chris stumbles upon a bakery that holds much more than just a sweet treat, the one behind the counter being the sweetest of all that varies.

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. none! Just tooth rotting fluff and a whole lot of a Chris’s terrible pick-up lines

✩－𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓈 • I thought of this yesterday when I was in a bakery near my house, saw the cutest interaction between the girl behind the counter and a customer ♥︎

୨ৎ － The sickening smell of cinnamon and icing sugar engulfs the triplet’s nose, as well as flour tickling his nostrils as the ceiling fan above swooshes the powder around the room. Squeak, his shoes emit as the rubber bottoms make contact with the freshly mopped floors of the bakery, a faint smell of almond floor cleaner entering his nose.

☕︎︎－ Chris felt some variant of comfort from the small bakery, a soft melody playing in the background of bustling that came from behind the counter. The glass that held an array of sweet treats was void of any fingerprints or skids, along with the sleek marble counter that held a sparkle from the sunlight coming in the window.

୨ৎ － Though his finger did itch to tap the bell aside the cash register, he didn’t want to come off as a nuisance. Was anyone even here? He pondered, gaze of curiosity tipping off into the back of the shop to catch a glimpse of anyone. Hm － he thought to himself, seeing nothing but a cloud of smoke that smelt of vanilla stream from one of the ovens.

☕︎︎ － Atop the oven sat a stained pair of pink oven mitts, before a hand reached out to lift them. Chris’s lips parted a little as the girl emerged from the other end of the kitchen, manicured hands slipping the mitts on her hand one at a time. “Talking about my girl －my girl,” She hummed softly to the music, pulling the oven open, revealing a medium sized baking tray.

୨ৎ －Assuming she’d felt the heat of Christopher’s gaze on her seemingly unflattering state, she slowly averted her own eyes to the cash. The girls eyes widened as she took in the sight of a brunette male, wondering just how long she left a customer waiting. God, her boss would’ve ripped her a new one if he’d saw. “Uhm－one second mister!” She hollered in the direction of the man, feeling rather rattled while rushing to arrange her messy kitchen.

☕︎︎ －The mouth watering aroma of vanilla and cinnamon infused the whole bakery as she gently plopped the metal sheet atop the oven, tossing the pink mitts onto the counter beside. If he had been else Chris would thought the delightful smell was a candle, just from how surreally perfect it’d smelled.

୨ৎ －The boy that was once drawn to the little shop out of feigning something pure sugar, now found himself craving something rather beautiful. Chipped red nailed hands dip into the running water as she gathered suds of soap across her hands. Tap, tap, tap. Chris watched with admiration as droplets fell from her skin as she flicked the faucet off, swiftly pulling the hand towel off the hook to dry her wet hands.

☕︎︎－ Dozens of baking ingredients were aligned upon the surfaces on counters, flour and drizzles of frosting covering almost every inch of the area. The triplet’s lips fell up into a small smile of muse as he watched the girl struggle to push the stray hairs framing her face away, refusing to use her clean hands. Goodness, how he wanted to gently tuck the feathering strands behind her ears.

୨ৎ － Chris opened his mouth to let the stressed girl know he was in no rush, but was cut off at the sound of a wince. “Ouch,” the sound of a feminine hiss echoed from behind the store, making his eyebrows fly up with both concern and confusion. Was she .. a head popped from behind a corner, a sheepish look on the timid girl’s face as she looked at Chris. “so sorry.” She winced, before she disappeared once again.

☕︎︎ － “Ouch, ouch, ouch － ow,” The pained girl fumbled with the tap until it turned cold, sticking her left hand under the running rush of water. Ah － Her shoulders fell at the contact, the cold sensation soothing the burning pain on the end of her index finger. Never once has she burnt herself in the three years she’s worked in a bakery. She just shook her head incredulously, flicking the water off.

୨ৎ －Chris’s face was still coated in perplexity when she’d finally rushed from kitchen, his hand that he’d been running across his jaw halting in place as she threw him a warm smile. “I’m so sorry about that. It’s usually so slow on Sundays － and I must’ve not heard the bell ring when you walked in because of the hand mixer.” She rambled, hands waving around has she expressed her sorrow.

☕︎︎ － “Your hand,” He interrupted, making the girl’s eyes meet his. Her hand .. what?－ “I don’t think I- oh.” She let out a small sound as the males hand hesitantly prompted to grab hers, the warmth of his palm pressing against her wrist as he turned her hand over. “Yeah.. it happens often.” Chris’s hooded gaze lifted from her pink finger, meeting her eyes. Liar, he thought to himself. “hm,” Obviously not being willing to express the fact he knew the falsified confession, he withdrew his touch.

୨ৎ － She cleared her throat, lowering her injured hand to her side. “Did my bad work ethic allow you enough time to choose something?” She half joked, cheeks warming as he chuckled. “Nothing here,” Chris admitted, nipping at his lip as he flicked his gaze down to the various baked goods. “though I did spot something quite delicious behind the counter.”

☕︎︎ －She blinked at him while processing the information, feeling her lips twitch with a small smile as she saw the flirtatious grin placed upon his lips. “Oh.” Chris hummed, lifting an eyebrow. “The rolls.” Huh? Chris watched as she nodded in understanding. Rolls? “I just put a batch in before you walked in － whenever that was.” She murmured to herself, shaking her head softly.

୨ৎ － “uh-” Just as she turned her back to go fetch the goods, the boy spoke again. “What ‘rolls’?” Her eyebrows knitted together with confusion before she answered. “Cinnamon rolls.” She said in a matter of fact tone, turning back around. She smiled to herself as she walked back through the arched doorway, finding the way Chris’s eyes light up almost cute. Cinnamon rolls did sound good..

☕︎︎ －He stood there patiently as she shuffled around in the kitchen, bending his neck a bit to catch sight of something she was getting into. Chris made a sound of amusement as she vigorously whisked together something in a metal mixing bowl, splatters of a cream white icing hitting the cylinder sides as she stirred. Did she really not get my pick up? Chris felt slightly defeated, having thought that the flirty sentence had been quite smart of him.

୨ৎ －Chris quickly stood upright, attempting to hide the clear fact he was peering into the girls kitchen, as she gleefully stalked back into the main room. “It’s a little warm still, so the frosting might seep into the cake a teensey bit.” She fiddled with a striped pink box, sheet of clear plastic cut out in the middle showing a glimpse of the fluffy golden brown roll. Steam glazed the clear part over, the treat having been freshly baked. Chris’s mouth practically watered as he watched the icing slowly slide down the sides of the roll, creating a delicious puddle of sugar below the bun.

☕︎︎ －Her pink tipped fingernails gently tied a pink ribbon around the the box before softly nudging it across the counter to the boy. His eyes slipped up to hers, finding her leaning on the edge of the island while staring at his reaction, her bottom lip tucked lusciously between her teeth. Holy － was my heart pounding so damn hard because of the nauseating scent of sugar, or the sight of this unworldly woman? “Well now I feel bad undoing something so pretty, baby.” Her heart exploded, butterflies pressing against her gut at the pet name.

୨ৎ －Chris gently tugged at the silk ribbon, the thin piece of fabric falling from the box, his fingers unfolding the opening at the top. “Hm~” She watched with curiosity as he hummed in delight, the cloud of steam that flooded from the box engulfing his nose. Vanilla, cinnamon, brown sugar, butter － as well as the slight hint of the cream perfume coming from the girl across. Shakily lifting the treat from the box, being cautious not to drop it, he brought it to his lips.

☕︎︎ －Oh god － Christopher’s eyes had slowly slipped shut as soon as his teeth sunk into the soft baked good, moaning oh so softly as the sweetness set off every tastebud on his tongue into a frenzy. “Holy fuck.” He muttered, savouring the taste of a whipped like vanilla frosting swirling around his mouth as he chewed. Chris finally allowed his eyes to peek open, his gaze automatically focused on her.

୨ৎ －He watched with intent as her lips parted, tongue sliding across her bottom one as she looked between his lips and blue eyes. The muscles in his jaw clenched with every chew, eyelashes batting admirably against his flushed cheeks as he brought the tip of his middle finger to his lips. Chris looked into her eyes with desire while dipping the end of his finger into his lips, swirling his tongue around the skin to gather the sugary liquid.

☕︎︎－With a small plop, he placed the treat back into box, all while keeping his eyes on her. “You’ make that?” He asked, tilting his head while peeking his tongue to lick the corner of his mouth. God he could still taste that fucking frosting. At her timid nod, he felt his lips curve up at the corners. “It almost curbed all of my cravings.” Chris shamelessly admitted.

୨ৎ －She felt her breath get caught in her throat as she heard the husk in his tone, the two hands she hand placed on the marble counter squeezing around the surface tightly. Chris effortlessly twisted the cap from his water bottle before tipping back the refreshing liquid with content. “Sweet, huh?” She laughed softly, hair getting caught on her eyelashes as she looked down for a moment.

☕︎︎－Chris felt his lips tip up around the cap as he pulled the bottle away, breathing out a soft laugh at her words. “Very,” her cheeks flushed, giggling softly. She’s so .. effortlessly perfect, Chris thought to himself, tilting his head as he look across to the girl. “not nearly as sweet as you though.” Oh－her eyes widened.

୨ৎ －Maybe it’s because she’d never got hit on during work －or at all for that matter, but she found herself dumbfounded by his bold flirting. Because he was flirting .. right? She suddenly felt unsure of his motives, clearing her throat as she sent a quick smile his way. “Thank you- really.” She impulsively added the last part as a whisper, her fingers raising the brush away the hairs in her face, before stopping. Ah －I need to wash my hands.

☕︎︎ －She jumped, startled as two calloused fingers brushed the irritating flyaways from her face. “here,” Chris murmured gently, looking into her eyes with a unknown emotion as he tucked the tendrils behind her pierced ears. “Oh.” She breathed out, the smile that gleamed across her lips unable to be fought. “thank you.” She uttered.

୨ৎ －Chris nodded softly, leaving a prolonged beat before he stepped back from her. He cleared his throat, cheeks warming as he felt the aftermath of his action’s overcome him. Was that too bold? I could’ve made her uncomfortable. “Well ..” The girl’s eyes flicked up to his at the sound. “Can I get your name or somethin’? To remember you of course.” Chris quickly added on, seeing her eyebrows fly up.

☕︎︎ －She silently nipped at her lips for a second as she resisted the temptation to allow a grin to spread across her lips. “Hm..” He lifts a brow as she drawled out the sound, her hand toying with the ribbon from his box. Within seconds his eyes widened, her hand reaching out and entrapping his own.

୨ৎ －She leaned forward, belly resting on the island as she took his wrist into her palm. Chris opted to stay quiet, feeling a little too happy with the feeling of her touch. Her fingers skillfully threaded the pink ribbon around his wrist, gently pulling the two ends to finish off her signature bow. “There,” he looked down at her, seeing her big smile as she finished the work. “try forgetting me now.”

[percyjavksongf]

𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

➤𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤! 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➤𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑’𝟐𝟏𝟑

➤𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞�� 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝.

’𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞...𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬’

- 𝐋.𝐌.𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲

𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜𐮜

It’s been three months since Percy came back from camp and it’s getting harder to avoid him. At first when he messaged you off Sally’s phone, you had replied relatively calmly, telling him you were glad he was home safe and that you’d see him soon (a lie). Your first mistake was deciding to distance yourself from Percy the day before his birthday, making some lame excuse to avoid going to visit him at his apartment, you were sure the place was decorated a beautiful blue thanks to Sally.

You knew this whole plan would’ve backfired if you had gone, one look at his gorgeous sun kissed skin thanks to spending the Summer away at camp, his azure blue frosting coloured cheek after having his face playfully shoved into the homemade birthday cake. You knew that as soon as he looked over at you, smiling sweetly and beckoning you over with a false promise of not smearing your face with an equal amount of cake, that all that work you’d done over the Summer to finally get over him would be crushed.

The disappointment in his tone when you had explained that you’d agreed to babysit your neighbours kid was obvious, and it ate away at you the entire day you decomposed in your bed, but you convinced yourself you had to do it, you needed this to be done with. It was so overwhelming, one look from him sent your heart racing, romaticising every little interaction you had with him to the point that you’d convince yourself that it was real, his feelings for you were real. Until you’d stare up at the ceiling in your room deep into the night and pick apart everything little thing, until you’d finally decide that you were definitely over thinking everything and Percy saw you as nothing more then a friend.

“November 16th, 3 months” you whispered to yourself, sweeping away at the spilled coffee that currently painted the white tiled floor of your work, being a waitress at the coffee shop sounded super cute in the beginning but after a few weeks the novelty wore off, and now that the festive season was upon the city there was never much time to stop and breathe. You didn’t mind the rush sometimes, it kept your mind off everything going on in your life, but when you were on the closing shift, the strung lights and dazzling Christmas decorations covered the store in enchanting colour, it really gave you time to think and damn it sucked.

This time of year was always so special to Percy and you, you had made a tradition of having a joyous stroll around the city and pointing out all the best festive decorations, eventually ending up back at his apartment and over on his couch, laughing about whatever crazy shit had happened in the city that day. You sighed and tossed the mop bucket back into the cleaning closet, wiping your hands against your dirtied apron, moving towards the front door to lock up for the night. The sight of Percy standing outside your work ripped a gasp from your throat, he was standing with his back towards you but you’d recognise him with your eyes closed, you had briefly though to sneak out the back door but as if he could read your mind, sea green eyes met yours when he turned around to face you, giving you a small wave, one you weakly returned.Fuck,you were not prepared for this, you could still leave out the back, yeah it would be mean but the anxiety of having to face him after three months of no contact would be so much worse.

Sucking in a deep breath, you unlock and walk out into the frosty Manhattan sidewalk, quickly turning around to lock the door behind you without looking at him, you could feel his gaze on your back and it made you shiver, for as much as you didn’t want to see him right now, it felt so good to know he was standing only an arm reach away. Stuffing the keys into the pocket of you apron you turn to face Percy, it felt like all the air had left your lungs when you made eye contact with him, his dark curls had grown out slightly, tucking around his ears and falling into his eyes slightly, he was wrapped in a black puffer jacket accompanied by a knitted green scarf that covered his chin, you swear he got even more handsome since you last saw him, six months ago.

“do you have a coat?”

you blinked out of your daze and shook your head, shoving a small laugh out “no, I, um, I forgot one this morning. Running late you know-oh!” you should’ve known Percy would do this, throwing a spare coat of his over your shoulders before you could finish your sentence, he was aware of your inability to leave your apartment on time.

“thank you” your voice felt so weak, so unsure on how this evening was going to go, was he really going to ignore what you had done the past three months? The guilt was starting to eat you alive.

“s’ all good”

you move into a familiar routine and begin walking towards your apartment, which was only a block away from his. You could feel the quick glances he’d send your way and you selfishly prayed to the gods that he would ignore what had happened between you two, well, more what hadn’t happened between you two for the past half a year.

“so are we going to talk about it?”

there it was.

“about what?” you internally cringe at your response, totally the right thing to say, idiot. “what did I do? Please just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix this.” the slight crack in his voice felt like a stab to the chest, you’ve only seen him look so hurt back when you were kids, back when you’d console him during the aftermath of a fight with Gabe. But never had you expect to receive that same look. You stuck in a tight breath and stare over at Percy through your lashes, eyes pleading with his to understand, but why would he? You’d gone no contact for three months without even giving him a good reason why, you wished he was mad, even furious with you, you know it would hurt your heart so much less then the look of betrayal he was giving you.

“you haven’t done anything wrong Percy” you speak earnestly, it was the truth after all. It wasn’t Percy’s fault he didn’t return your feelings.

“then why have you been avoiding me? I keep coming up with all of these excuses like you’re busy with work or college but it just didn’t make sense, I- just, please. Tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can have you back”

The tears dancing in your waterline blur your vision for a moment, before your quickly wiping them off your chilled cheeks and blinking back the tears that threaten to spill again, this isn’t what was supposed to happen, he was meant to move on and pretend that this never happened, you were just a childhood friend who he hasn’t spoken to in awhile, nothing serious. You were foolish to believe this wouldn’t happen, Percy’s fatal flaw is literally loyalty, of course he’d come searching for you.

You rip the coat off and shove it back into his arms.

“I can’t do this right now Percy, I’m so sorry” your voice trembled as you let go of the coat, refusing to look Percy in the eye you spin on your heals and make haste towards the familiar path to the subway

“hey, wait! Please just-” you’re down the steps and far away enough to block out his voice, you know he won’t follow you, why? Because he’s Percy Jackson, a man who’s always known when to respect your need for space. You can’t help the ugly noise that escapes your throat when the tears come, this was all so stupid, stupid you for falling in love with a man like him, stupid, stupid, stupid. You let yourself cry into the apron of your uniform for a couple minutes before stepping onto the subway, you’re aware that with your swollen eyes and red nose that you probably look insane but you don’t care. None of it mattered, you’d lost Percy for good and that was that.

You rotted away in your room for the next few days, attempting to complete assignments and, again, staring up at the ceiling, who seemed to be your personal therapist at this point. You’d received dozens of missed calls from Sally Jackson, which was really Percy, each one you ignored. You knew deep down how dramatic you were being over all of this, it’s not like Percy would be disgusted if you told him how you felt, he’d put on a kind face and tell you he’s sorry but he doesn’t feel the same, but for some reason that sounds so much worse. You don’t want him to pity you.

Eventually your apartment became a bore and you wrapped yourself up in layer upon layer before shuffling out of your front door, to do what? You weren’t sure, anything to get your mind off of him.

The evening darkened quickly and your only source of light was the street lamps and festive decorations, you walked around Manhattan for what felt like years but must’ve been only a few hours, breathing in the chilly air and watching your breath come out in a dainty fog. You made your way to Central Park and strolled through the snow covered land, passing the Balto statue before settling on a park bench, you knew it wasn’t exactly the best idea considering how dangerous it could be after dark but you just wanted a few seconds of peace away from the hectic streets.

you leaned back on your hands and looked up to the sky above you, it always amazed you how it was being held up by one person, you remember how long it took Percy to convince you that it was true, and that he had held up the sky himself, motioning to the streak of grey hair that was now long gone from his dark hair. You decided to search around for a star, which was hard to do considering all the light pollution New York has to offer.

“you know, it’s dangerous to be out here alone”

your head snaps towards the voice and you let out a sigh of relief before sucking that panicked breath right back in.

“you stalking me?” you manage to squeeze out

Percy chuckles and shakes his head, you can tell his laughter is forced and it hurts your heart a little.

“nah I was just in the area, guess we both has the same idea. The, um, decorations are good this year, huh?” Percy stays the few feet away from where you’re currently sitting and you let your gaze drag over him, he was dressed in his favourite pair of baggy dark blue denim jeans and what looked like a good few layers of hoodies and jackets Sally had definitely forced onto him, his skin was still a delightful tan but was now accompanied with a red flush across his cheeks from the wicked chill of the night air. And in that moment for a reason you can’t pin point, maybe it was the familiarity that you missed, the way he still had the habit of picking at the loose ends on his jeans when he was nervous, or the fact that after all this time of you pushing him away and leaving him completely in the dark that he still manages to find you, and have nothing mean to say at all.

You don’t realise you’re crying until Percy’s rushing over to you, kneeling before you and squeezing your hands tightly in his glove covered ones. Apologies are flying out of your mouth but you’re sure it doesn’t make any sense, you keep going until you feel one of Percy’s hand cup your cheek and wipe away the tears that race down it.

“shh, hey, hey. it’s ok, come on beautiful I need you to breath for me, ok? It’s alright” he’s whispering to you and it’s making you sob harder because after every shitty thing you’ve done he’s still looking after you, you finally settle down after a few more minutes, you can only imagine how red your face is after all that. Percy’s moved now so that he’s sitting beside you on the bench, his hand still holding yours. You manage to wipe your face before turning to look at him, his usually optimistic gaze was now laced with concern. You can’t run away from it now, you figure, best to just try say something to him, he deserves it after all.

“I’m sorry for missing your birthday” you sniffle out

Percy looks at you in shock for a moment before squeezing your hand tighter, turning to face his body towards you “is that what this is about? You know I’d never be mad at you over something like that, besides you said yourself that you were minding your neighbour’d kid-”

“I lied”

Percy shut up quickly at that, but stayed silent long enough for you to know that he’s waiting for you to continue.

“I lied about not being able to go because I couldn’t face you, not after spending the whole summer trying to not think about you, I tried so hard not to think about what you were doing, if you were safe or if, if you were thinking about me too” your tears were long gone but the evidence was still evident in your voice, “I spent the entire summer trying not to think about you and it ended up being all I did, because I was so scared- you make me so scared you know? You have this whole other world that I know I’ll never be apart of but it frightens me because I know how dangerous it is and how much it targets you and-” you let your voice crack for a second before continuing, “I just- I don’t know” your voice trails off and all confidence that you had mustered was now gone, you sat in silence and stared down at Percys shoes, noticing the green hue of his shoelaces.

“you know I thought about you everyday that I was at camp” you look up at Percy now, your intertwined hands now resting on his lap “I thought about you every single day, I kept thinking about what you could’ve possibly been doing, what you might’ve had for breakfast, did you still love that song you told me about before I left. I swear your name rolled around and around my head all the time, and with every fight I went in thinking, as soon as this is done I can go home and tell you all about it, but more importantly I wanted to know how your day had been, simple stuff that sounds normal but mean so much to me, because I hope that you’re answer is positive every time but I also selfishly wish you say that they could’ve been better if I was with you. Because that’s how I’d answer it, everyday this summer would’ve been so much better if you were in it.”

you continue to stare into Percy’s eyes, still in disbelief at his confession. Never would you have thought he’d come out with something like that. Percy had begun to grow nervous under you stare, his flushed face taking on a darker red, his eyes flickering between yours and your connected hands

“you know we have these strawberry fields? I know I’ve told you about them a billion times but when we had scarce few days off from training I’d go sit in them and think about taking you there, I know you’d really like it. And the amphitheater we all go to in the evenings, the Apollo campers sing around the camp fire and all that stereotypical summer camp stuff, I always thought you’d enjoy it”

you still hasn’t said a word when Percy finished his expressing his thoughts on taking you to camp half blood, the though of it made you feel calm, you knew it wouldn’t ever happen, only in the false reality of your mind could you ever visit camp half blood, but knowing it was something that if possible Percy would want to share with you, made your heart warm.

“I would’ve enjoyed summer a lot more if you were there, Percy” you whisper back to him, a slight fall of snow had begun around you and you swear the flakes of snow made Percy look more gorgeous than ever.

“you’re an angel, you know that?” the confidence is back in his deep voice and a shiver runs down your spine.

“I don’t know if I really deserve to be considered an angel after all of this” you laugh weakly, using your free hand to tuck away from your face.

“you’ve always been angel to me, I don’t think you could ever say or do anything to make me stop believing that” you take quick notice to how your bodies have subconsciously edged towards each other, the feeling of his knee pressed against the outside of yours felt heavenly. Percy’s hand was now free from the wool glove and was once again caressing your chilled cheek, his thumb trancing delicate patterns across the skin there

“I don’t love that song anymore, I have a couple new favourites” you copy the grin that spreads across Percys face, you shuffle closer to him and your practically face to face

“I guess we both have a lot to catch each other up on” he jokes back and you hum in agreement, lost in the way his usually bright green eyes are darkening quickly

“I avoided you because I’m falling in love with you” the confession comes quick and almost surprises you, but it felt right to say, it had been bashing around in your chest for to long and your heart needed a break. You don’t break your gaze with Percy, the only difference made however his hand hand sliding to meet your waist.

“I should start being more grateful to the gods, maybe they haven’t been as cruel to me as I previously thought, because I’m already in love with you”

his warm lips press against yours with no protest from you, the pull of his hands against your waist bring you toppling onto him and you laugh into the kiss, and despite the freezing weather that was most definitely going to make the two of you bedridden, the warmth of your bodies finally being reunited after all this time made it all worth it.

a/n: ok y’all i got a burst of energy and decided to finish this a couple hours before i gotta wake up for school💀 anyways hope you enjoy it, not my best but whatever im living for the winter romance trope rn, hope you all have a good day!! ❤️❤️

[lacedinweb22]

Vampire Next Door ♱✮♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader Miguel's POV Chapter 3: and I remember her... ˚○◦˚.

ch. 1 ch. 2

Your neighbor is strange, to say the least. Miguel O’Hara: Alchemax’s newest scientist, genius, most sought-after bachelor … and according to your wildest suspicions … a vampire?

── ⋆⋅⟡⋅⋆ ──

She looks just like I remember her. 

Plump rosy lips, that same flush of color in her cheeks, soft hair that falls perfectly into place, and a beautiful, contagious smile, one I’d let myself be infected by, that is, if I wasn’t thinking of the one million things I had to do, the people I had to protect, and that piece of shit tied up in my bathroom.

When she talks, when I stare hard enough, I can find little changes in her: the way she carries herself, the way she looks up at me, the slight change in the colors she wears, but still, even through that, I see her, and I remember her… and the thoughts from then rush back.

But I’ve changed … a lot in the past two years. A lot. So I wasn’t too surprised when she didn't remember me. There were three hundred people in that hall, and I was just one of many TAs. I do remember making eye contact with her more than I could count. I thought she’d notice, thought maybe she’d feel it,

but guess she didn’t.

Anyways, can’t be too involved with new girl. I acknowledged the odds that she round up across the hall from me, but also acknowledged the risks. I can only keep work so far away from home. Shit follows me. 

She let me walk through her apartment. It’s empty, but just from the one box I carried, I can tell she’s going to make it her own. 

Boots. She had her own style then and she has her own style now, and I know her place will reflect that when she’s done with it. I wonder if she’ll invite me over at some point, when she’s done decorating and settling in. 

Now, I stand in her empty bathroom, watching her unpack. Today’s my off day, so I figure I’ll bother her a bit, jog her memory. 

The walls are thin, I know that now. 

The fucker thumps against my wall, forcing my visit at her place to be cut short. I rush to my front door, he whines through the red webs I shut him up with. I flash her a smile, “Ha yeah, gotta help the little guy, I’ll- uh I’ll catch you later,” I say, blocking her from seeing the inside of my apartment. 

I know I seem like an asshole, and the shitty side of me, the Spider-Man side of me, wants her to perceive me that way. I can’t afford to get close to anyone again. Not after what happened.

I slam the door shut. 

I storm over to the bathroom. The anomaly I’ve caught, who I still need answers from, sits tied up in the bathtub. He glitches in the red stringy mess he’s tied up in.

I would have brought him to HQ, but Jess would want to help, probably scold me, and I had to deal with this one on my own. 

“Maldito idiota, I told you, I’m not letting you go, and I’m not letting you die until you tell me who fucking sent your ass! How did you find me in this universe?!” I kick him as he lays sideways on the tile floor.

He rolls his eyes.

“Coño, I didn’t want to have to drag you across my freshly mopped floor, but you’re disturbing the neighbors.”

Dragging him to the kitchen, I question him a bit more, rip off the webs on his mouth, and when he smart-talks, I shut him back up and relent. 

Letting out a self-pitying groan, I tap my watch. The portal opens and I drag him back to HQ. 

My suit activates upon arrival. Jess looks me up and down from the platform.

“I hope I’m wrong about where you just came from, Miguel,” she mutters, looking down at her watch.

“Shut up, leave me alone … Peter Parkedcar, anomaly control. Pick-up in my office, please,” I speak into my watch.

I leave the anomaly glitching on the floor, and shoot web to pull myself up to the platform. 

“What did I tell you about bringing work home, Miguel?”

I storm by her, ignoring her scolding, heading straight to the hologram screens. 

“Yo sé, yo sé,” I mutter, swiping across the screen.

“Hmm, your hair looks nice. It’s … different.”

“Different?” 

“You don’t usually have your hair that way, is what I’m saying. What’s the occasion?” 

How can she tell? 

“Are you seeing someone?” she asks, standing behind me, reaching her hand beside me to help organize my tabs.

“No, why would I– no,”

“Miguel … I’ll get it out of you eventually, so might as well tell me now before you start letting it affect your work, act weird, and end up making a mess of yourself … a mess that I’ll have to clean up … not that I’m complaining I just–”

“There’s a new girl, someone I knew back at NYU … and now she lives across the hall from me. I don’t want her to get in the way.” 

“Get in the way of what? Stop bringing work home and she won’t be in ‘the way.’ Easy,” she shrugs. 

I exhale. It was … recent. Time won’t fly. The pain in my chest deepens, I remember it all for a second. I feel her eyes looking up at me. She knows. 

I look down at the hand she’s now rested on my forearm. She looks up at me, brows knit together, her worry visible even through her goggles.

“You can let it go, Miguel. You can have a life outside of … this.”

“This is my life. This is my responsibility.” 

“No. There are hundreds of us, Miguel. It’s all of ours. You know … if I could find love, create life, and still be here kicking ass and being a good friend to you, then so can you. You can live again,”

I sigh, head hung low. It takes a lot to admit to myself, how exhausted I am … from everything. I haven’t breathed in months.

“Let yourself live again.”

I breathe back the tears welling up. 

“Yo sé,” I manage to mutter.

“Invite her out, Miguel, put yourself out there,” she encourages, patting my back then jumping off the platform.

“How’s … Baby doing?” I ask, turning around to watch her leave.

“Baby’s healthy and happy,” she calls out, rubbing her belly.

“Gracias a Dios.”

“Miguel, do yourself a favor… be more like Baby,” she mutters walking out.

I let myself chuckle then look back at the screen. 

My fingers subconsciously open that file. I feel myself smile, watching my past self be happy, full of life.

Let yourself live again.

Maybe I’ll try.

○◦˚.˚◦○˚

ch.4 here >:D

my lovely taglist: @wingedturtledream @skaochii @bat-yo-us @lostpirate79 @renn-pumkin-head @princessa-micomicona @waiif-uwu @punpuun @thbidkbutok @acehyacinth @thetoetickler @kaqua @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @inafantasyworld10 @d1lf-loverrr @altheadq @thesilenthill @trash-king18 @imnotyourbcbe @tiffanypooh @ihateuguys @littlemissilovecoconuts @royal-jester @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @tbh2idk @gilliantate23 @envyjmoney @qiaipia @ur-fav-ginger @lacook246 @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @blair6th @missing2socks @thel0velykey190 @ladymoztaza @ta3bae @dhollandhs @qiaipia @deputy-videogamer @kinkybandages @murnsondock @obi-mom-kenobi @rjasmin2021 @syarblu @smokers-sweetheart @cheezit-luv3rr @tayleighuh @sukioyakio @maripositanoctruna @coffeeislifeyes @lilmissyrainbowstar 

[theanimeroom]

No bc baji putting his hair up is a whole different breed like as soon as he puts it up I'm just spazzing out cutely bc of how fine he is

LIKE

WHO LET HIM COOK?!

WHO LET THIS MAN BE SO FINE?!?!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

WHO LET THIS MAN COOK IS FUCKING RIGHT LIKE?????

let us discuss 💎 fine ass!baji keisuke who’s hair is too long for anyone’s good, even his own.

now the man has an immense love for his hair. like don’t ever ask him to cut it, because the answer is no. but although he loves his hair, he really fucking hates his hair. it gets in his face all the time when he’s doing literally anything, he has to get it trimmed every month to ensure that it stays healthy, and although he would never cut it, the mop on his head makes him want to rip it out with his bare hands on a daily basis.

aside from that though, the main reason he would never even consider cutting his hair was because of you.

you’d always talked about baji’s hair and how much it turned you on to see him put it up in a ponytail, especially when he was about to fight. you hated seeing the man getting violent with someone else, but you’d let him tussle as much as he wanted if it meant getting to watch his wrap the little elastic band around his hair, pulling it up and away from his face in hurried motions.

it was a beautiful sight, one for your ears and pussy alike. your favorite sight was when he was laid out between your legs, eyes watching you with a smirk as he grabbed the locks in two fistfuls, making it as neat as possible before typing the band around it, letting the bun sit where you could see it perfectly as he dove into his favorite meal.

this is becoming canon for me to say this but… he’d never clue you in on the fact that his favorite sight was when your head was thrown back in pleasure, desperate whimpers escaping you as you clawed at his head so much the band ended up falling out, your fingers immediately finding purchase in the locks, pulling tightly as the other band in your stomach unraveled within you.

[dreamwatch]

Computer Love

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #22 - Prompt: Alternate Universe | Word Count: 995 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Steve | Pairing: pre-Steddie| Tags: IT Crowd AU, banter, my attempt at humour,

Ok, I wasn't going to write for today, but I was sitting on a work call and it made me think of the IT Crowd and that made me think of our beloved idiots. And honestly, I've been writing so much angst I thought I should try and redress the balance!

Steve wasn’t exactly over the moon about working for his dad, but one failed retail job after another and a few unpaid bills is all it took to have him crawling back to Harrington Senior. He didn’t want to be an office gopher, or work in the mail room, not at his age, but he’d suck it up.

Head of IT. His dad was making him Head of IT.

So far he’s told two friends. Robin, who stared at him like he had two heads before saying “Is he joking? Is it— is it like an April Fools thing?” And Dustin who was even less polite:

“What the fuck do you know about information technology?”

“Is that what it stands for?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve.”

He heads to the bank of elevators looking for his department. Harrington Industries is spread over twenty floors. He wonders if he’ll get a corner office. God the views… 

Steve runs his fingers down the list until he finds IT. Basement. No view then. Shit.

He exits the elevator into a dingy hallway, discarded PCs and printers stacked everywhere, and trips over a cable almost immediately.

Finally he finds his department. And… well…

Fuck.

Yeah. It’s all making sense now.

It looks like a frat house. There are two guys on a ratty couch playing video games, and another two at desks; one mop top making cat memes, and an admittedly cute guy with long hair with his feet up on his desk. There are phones ringing and no one seems bothered by them, until eventually Long Hair lets out an exasperated sigh and picks up.

“IT Support, have you tried turning it off and on again? Uh huh. Yeah it’s the button on the front of the… yup, big grey button… can’t miss it… you know what, let me send someone up. What’s your floor? Uh huh, and name? Melanie. Melanie in Marketing. Well, I’m going to be sending my best guy up—“

And, finally someone has noticed he’s there.

“Uh, he’s on his way, bye.” Long Hair drops the phone. “Guys, we have company.”

“Hi, I’m Steve,” he says, smiling at the four faces now firmly fixed on him. “I’m your new boss.”

“Not for long,” snarks one of the guys on the couch.

“Matty, be nice!” says Long Hair, and god he has beautiful eyes. Shit, fuck, no, don’t go there. “I’m Eddie, that’s Matt, who is just about to head up to Melanie on four—“

“Oh for fu—“

“—That’s Jeff sitting next to him,” Jeff raises a hand, “and this is Gareth.” Gareth just scowls at him.

Steve finally gets a good look at them all. Ratty band shirts and sneakers, ripped jeans, totally unprofessional, they look like they’re in a band not an office. He’s going to be making some serious changes around here.

“Well it’s good to meet you all,” he says and finally catches sight of a small office. He points at it, “Take it this is mine.”

“Sure is,” says Eddie. “We didn’t know exactly when you were coming so you’re not set up yet, but Jeff will get that done this afternoon for you.”

“Why this afternoon?”

Jeff stares at him like he has two heads. “It’s Minecraft Monday.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what that is.”

Eddie laughs. “It’s fine, I’ll come in a few minutes get you hooked up. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable. Boss.” 

His office is small and cluttered with more junk, and definitely no window. God, this sucks. 

There’s a knock at the door and he turns to find Eddie leaning against the door frame, arms crossed against his chest. 

“How d’ya like the place?”

Steve runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face.

“Uh, yeah, it’s, you know…”

“A shit hole?”

“Yeah, a shit hole.”

“I take it Donny didn’t exactly fill you in on the details.”

Steve drops into the torn office chair. “Not really,” he sighs. “He has a habit of that.”

Eddie straightens up. “You’ve worked with him before?”

He laughs. “Better than that. He’s my dad.”

“Oh shit.”

Gareth barges in. “Wait, Donny the Dick is your Dad?”

“Donny the— hey, that’s—he’s the guy that pays your salary, a little respect.”

“Pretty sure that’s Karen in finance.”

“What…? You know, never mind. Point is, this department is a mess and there’s going to be some changes around here. Starting with the way you answer the phones, you can’t just tell people to turn the computers on and off—“

“—off and on,” Jeff cuts in.

“Whatever, you can’t do it. You need to ask what’s wrong.”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, we could, but the answer would still be to turn your PC off and on again so…”

Jeff and Gareth nod along like those stupid plastic toys. God, is it too late to go back to Family Video?

“Well, that’s as maybe, but for now you’re… ah, dismissed.”

He doesn’t miss Eddie’s amused smirk, as he gestures for his troops to leave. But then he’s perching himself on the edge of the desk, leaning into Steve’s space, those big brown eyes pinning him in his seat.

“So, just between us, you don’t actually know anything about IT, do you?”

“I mean… I know… uh, like mice, you know and uh… oh!” Steve snaps his fingers and points, triumphantly. “HTNL!”

Eddie’s biting his lip, god he has beautiful lips. “It’s HTML, but you were close. Do you do a lot of coding, Steve?”

He flops back in the chair, defeated. “Up until last week I was working in Family Video.”

“In their IT department?”

“No, in their ‘this is due back in two days department.’” He groans. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

Eddie laughs. “Don’t sweat it, you’ve got a lot more going for you than the last guy.”

“I have?”

“Oh yeah. At least you’re pretty,” he says with a wink.

Yeah, Steve’s totally screwed.

[painsandconfusion]

Ethan's Ship

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Forty-four

(tw: death threat, torture mention, manhandling, knife, fluff) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Ethan ignored how the wooden chair dug in against the bruises in his back. The rest of the position was comfortable, so he remained lounging there, slumped with feet kicked up on the corner of the dining table. Crossed and cozy as he carved dry, flaking blood out from under his nails with a pocketknife. No matter how many passes he took, there always seemed to be a little more pressed up against the tender white skin that hid beneath the keratin. Strange how parts of the body could be so dark while others were so bright. How blood gathers in one place more than another. How the crevices and curves seemed to suck in the wrongness and blight.

Human bodies had always fascinated him. He never had any interest in studying them at a medical level. To some extent, that seemed like disrespecting the body. Studying it to the point that you knew every sinew and cell by name depersonalized it. It took away from the glory and wonder of the gore and put a focus on the mechanical, computeristic labels. Neat, pretty diagrams where flesh is held back by calipers took so much beauty out of the scene.

He’d much rather rip someone open himself and have the lines between flesh, fat, and bone be blurred and smudged by welling blood. He didn’t need to know what the terminology was. He only really cared for feeling the warmth under his fingers.

Pass by pass, the little blade scraped and carved away both the dust of the nail itself and the little flakes and freckles of black so they fluttered down to his shirt or the floor. He’d sweep it up later if Nate didn’t get to it first.

That man was so strange. Ethan hadn’t ever greatly disliked household chores, but he certainly didn’t love them. Yet, cleaning seemed to be a comfort to Nate. When the bitch was stressed, he’d mop or shove cleaners and ice down the garbage disposal. He’d scrub down the toilets and sanitize the railings. Wax the key-holes or scrub at grout with a wire-bristled brush.

It didn’t make sense to Ethan, but he did appreciate not having to do much. Nate could snap at him for leaving plates or sweatshirts around the house, but he never seemed to expect Ethan to do any actual cleaning. If Ethan got to it first, fine. If he didn’t, Nate never brought it up.

Still, Ethan would make sure this got taken care of. He wasn’t going to leave blood around the house. Even if it wasn’t very visible, he wanted no evidence of there being people in the basement, and Nate agreed. Downstairs was for mess and blood. Upstairs was for bright, fresh order.

His train of thought was interrupted by the front door clicking open. It was locked unless Ethan’s bracelet with a computer chip embedded came close to it. It was a simple thing. Braided black leather. Thin enough it might just look like a hair-tie to the naked eye. He could take it on and off at will. Without it, Ethan hadn’t been able to escape this house. He’d needed to get ahold of the chip that was in Nate’s watch instead.

Ethan wondered if Nate had moved that chip by now. If it was still in his easily-removed smartwatch, or if he’d wisened up after Ethan’s escape and had it put into something else instead. Unfortunately, Nate was far too light a sleeper for Ethan to sneak into his room while he slept to swipe it when it was on charge. 

If he ever needed that chip, he would have to play trial and error in the moment.

Hooray.

“E-!?” Nate called out, sending his voice echoing through the house.

“Here,” he responded without much enthusiasm. Just still prodding at a spot of red that wouldn’t leave the innermost corner of his thumb. The dining table was close to the door - just obscured by the grand staircase that cut to the upstairs.

He liked it here. Hiding under the stairs. It was a comfort some days.

“Sup,” Nate greeted, stepping up and dropping a brown-paper-wrapped box in front of Ethan.

Ethan’s eyes admittedly perked up to the box, curious. Still refusing to look at Nate. “...what’s that supposed to be?”

“An apology,” Nate hummed, pulling a chair out and sitting down next to Ethan.

Ethan frowned at it, finally looking to Nate. “Do you think you can buy me off or something?”

Nate shrugs. “No. But I can make life a little more bearable. You’re right. He’s yours, not mine. If we’d switched places, I’d probably have killed you for almost taking him. Soooo… if not an apology, this is a ‘thank you for not killing me’ gift.” He flutter-blinked his eyes to ham up the delivery a bit because of course he did.

Ethan snorted half a laugh, pulling his feet off the table and clicking the knife shut. “What even is it?”

Nate raised a are-you-kidding-me-right-now brow. “...it’s giftwrapped. You’re supposed to open it to find out.”

Ethan sighed, picking at the paper until a corner ripped free. It tore straight across the box in a long strip.

Barely any color shone through that stripe, but Ethan knew exactly what it was. Not which model, of course, but he could see the planks. The gundeck. The edge of the stern.

“..you….got me a boat?”

Nate rolled his eyes, pulling back more of the paper for him. “A model that you can build.”

“I- I mean yeah, dipshit, I know what a model is.”

“Then why are you asking.”

“I wasn’t- This is basically a toy.”

“It’s not like it’s for kids or something. I have it on very good authority that this is ‘tOo DiFiCuLt’ for me to do to, so clearly it’s a very grownup thing.”

Ethan can’t help the laugh that puffs from his chest. “Yeah? Who said that?”

“Oh, no no, you need to hear the whole story-” Nate was standing just enough to straighten his chair - perfectly facing Ethan. He perched on the edge of it, hands poised up and locked in for storytelling.

“..you’re making a big deal out of this-”

“Of course I’m making a b- Do you even hear yourself? Have you met me? ‘BiiiG dEaL’ -Shut up-”

Alright, Ethan could admit he was smiling. “I stand uncorrected.”

“Damn right, you do.” He flicked his pointed finger down toward Ethan’s chair. “Though, the court should note that you are sitting right now.”

And the unimpressed glare was back.

Puns.

“So anyway~” Nate locked back into what seemed to be his official storytelling stance. “So I go into the store, right-?”

No response. Just listening.

Nate held the pause for a few moments before his eyes deadened. “This is where you say ‘yeah’?”

Ethan’s nose scrunched up. “Why? You’re going to tell the story anyway.”

“Oh no no no, I need constant verbal affirmation and engagement.”

“And I have to supply that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why?”

“Do you see anyone else here,” Nate posed, gesturing around the house.

Ethan’s arms crossed, almost playful in this stubbornness. “And if I don’t want to~?”

Nate’s eyes shifted somehow at that challenge - a certain hunger there dragging across Ethan as a spark of intrigue. Nate’s hand clicked open his own knife under the table. He lifted it just enough to drag the point across the table. Not even enough to scratch, yet enough to hum a pitched threat against the wood. “Are you sure about that? I can be very persuasive~”

Ethan couldn’t quite decide if it’d be best here to glare or laugh, so he ended up with something between the two. Darkly amused. “You know you can’t make me do shit.”

“Oh? You seem very confident in that.” Nate rose slowly to his feet, looking down on Ethan for once.

“I am,” Ethan parried, at ease; slumped in his chair.

Nate took a small step closer, touching the knife to Ethan’s shoulder before slowly tracing it across the edge of his collarbone through the fabric of his shirt. “Never say never. I’ve had all kinds of ideas I never got to try out on you.”

Alright, he was tired of being under Nate. He pressed up (happy to see Nate move the knife to keep from cutting him), standing to look down on Nate. The knife did raise with him, though, staying pricked against his chest. Ethan snatched it, twisting it easily and simply out of Nate’s grip. 

He tossed it to the table.

Nate pouted, eyes following the knife. “Oh come on, how am I gonna get you to participate in the story??”

Ethan’s fingers gripped into Nate’s shirt, tugging him closer by it. Slightly upward. “You could always just tell the story.”

Nate’s grin flashed right back onto his face. “Oh, so you do want to know what happened~”

A sigh. “Well now I kinda do, so yeah. Start talking.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed, calculating. “Alright! Good enough for me- So-!” He clapped his hands together, not really caring about the grip on his shirt. “So I go into the store and start browsing, yeah? Not really looking for anything specific, mostly going off vibes.”

A pause.

Nate raised a brow, gesturing to Ethan as if to say ‘It’s your line’.

A sigh dragged out of Ethan’s chest with all the silent subtlety of a rusted bumper dragging behind an oldsmobile up the highway. “Y e a h ?” he forced out, the single syllable somehow multiplied and beaten out his throat with punched pronunciation.

Nate’s smirk made a reappearance, so fucking proud of himself for getting Ethan to play along. “There you go~ Very affirming thank you.”

Ethan shoved him backward, watching Nate flail until he landed hard in his chair again.

Sitting up immediately, Nate seemed unperturbed. “So I picked this one out right away and this lady who was working there came over to ask if I needed help.”

Ethan watched, waiting for Nate to continue as he sat back in his own chair. Nate did not continue. Just waiting for Ethan. 

Ugh.

Well, he wasn’t in the mood to have that petty fight again, so he prompted- “And?” As pointedly as possible.

“And I asked her about the kit. The lady looked me up and down and had the audacity to say ‘are you sure you can handle this model?’ Like. In the bitchiest voice you can imagine.”

“Ooo- she sure showed you.”

“Yeah yeah whatever- anyway- She said she didn’t want to sell it to me. Insisted that I wouldn’t be able to handle it and would bring it back for a refund all ruined. So I had to ask for the manager and it was a whole thing.”

Ethan breathed a laugh, reaching forward to pick up and examine the box. “Yeah, okay Karen.” He flipped it over, eyeing the pieces and the complexity of the details. “...wait this one? This is the one she said you couldn’t make??”

“...yeah-?”

Another laugh snickered out of him as he popped open one of the flaps and rummaged under the cardboard to pick out the info sheet. “This is like… level two or something, Nate-”

Nate’s nose scrunched up. “What does that mean?”

“It means you must have looked pretty pathetic to her if she didn't think you could do it.” He hummed, looking over Nate with pity in his eyes and a pout on his lips. “I’m not sure I disagree,” he cooed.

Nate scoffed a laugh. “Um- rude-??”

A shrug as he looked back to the paper, unfolding it to see how many stages there were. “Just saying.”

“So you think you can do it, but I can’t??”

“Yeah, pretty much. Too bad I’m not building it.”

Nate pressed a hand to his chest, practically clutching his pears. “You would just throw this away after I went to all that work to get it for you???”

“Uh-huh-” He was just a bit distracted looking over the instructions. It was a good size. Absolutely huge. A statement piece rather than simple decor or a project. He didn’t even know where they’d put it…

“Ethan, if you don’t build this, I’m going to build it myself and paint it with your blood.”

“Mm. Very nice visual,” he murmured, plucking up some of the planks to survey them. They were.. admittedly a great quality. He didn’t think they’d split under the tacks. Each plank separate and perfect rather than the cheap full-decked pieces that department store models had.

“I thought so, thanks.”

So much missing, though… cheap sets assume you don’t have the essential tools and include shit versions of them. Better models do have faith in you, and therefore give you nothing.. “I don’t think this comes with half of the supplies we need to build it. You’ll have to go back to the store.”

“Oh no, fuck that. Drive to the store yourself.”

The corner of Ethan’s mouth twitched up slightly as he pulled out the rope. It was so well corded for being so small. Incredibly realistic. Far better than the little bits of string the others he worked on had.

“..yeah okay, have fun with that,” Nate eventually said after there was no response. He Stood, swiping his knife back up and closing it.

“I’m not gonna build it, I’m just looking.”

Ethan could feel eyes on him, but didn’t bother looking back. He started pulling more things out, compiling the pieces of the project into a line by what stage of building he’d need them in.

“...uh huh. I’m making coffee - you want some while you work?”

“Oh- yeah sure, thanks,” he muttered, distracted as he ripped open the package with the ribs inside.

“No problem.”

Things quieted down again after that. No one spoke again for hours once Nate had brought the steaming mugs through to the table. They just sipped at coffee as Nate sketched and Ethan planned out what he’d need to get to put this monster together.

David might not be here to help him build this one, yet it still seemed that he was somewhere much closer than before; as if he were secretly watching Ethan work from some corner of the room, whiskey in hand. Just another ship they’d build together.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

tags: @prisonerwhump

@whumpawink

@wormwriting

@distinctlywhumpthing

@whump-cafe

@jo-doe-seeking-inspo

@azayta

@batfacedliar-yetagain

@there-will-always-be-blood

@siren-of-agony

@whumpworld

@deltaxxk

@whumpasaurus101

@pickywhumpreader

@whumpberry-cookie

@morning-star-whump

@nailevislev

@throwawaywhumper

@the-mourning-star

@d-cs

@pigeonwhumps

@suspicious-whumping-egg

@snakebites-and-ink

@whumpedydump

@whumplr-reader

@rainbowsandwhumperflies

@starfields08000

@crystallizedme

@lumpofsand

@taterswhump

@starsick1979

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

(Sorry for the weird taglist, tumblr has been rude lately)

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: implied assault and sexual assault (no super detailed description, but this drabble references some traumatizing shit—please read with care), coercive control, frightening scenarios and imagery, Protective!Negan

You were already trembling before you stepped across the threshold and the sight of Negan and his bat did nothing to ease your panic.

"Dwight, um, said y—you wanted to see me?" you managed to squeak out.

Negan finished oiling Lucille and looked up at you. His expression was serious and you marked the lack of the usual cocky smirk with another electric jolt of panic. He eyed you carefully, standing and letting his hazel eyes linger over every bit of you. The bruise on the side of your face didn't go unnoticed, nor did the cut by your eyebrow. You gulped nervously. "Mopping? Is that the shit they've got you doing for points right now?" he asked, gesturing to the mop in your hand.

You only nodded and avoided his gaze. What the fuck was happening? Why were you here?

"For fuck's sake, you are worth way more than that. I really wish you'd take me up on my proposal," he said, almost vaguely, pacing toward you. He seemed to realize you were shaking and his brow furrowed. "Oh, fuck me. You probably think I'm about to do something horrible to you, don't you? Relax, doll. You aren't in trouble. Quite the opposite. Everybody always thinks being asked to come see the big bad wolf is a death sentence. Admittedly, nine times out of ten, they're right. But not you." Negan watched your expression muddy with confusion. "I heard something," he said, scratching at his beard thoughtfully, "from some of my men. And if it's true something needs to be fucking done about it."

You were still staring down at the floor and his finger curled under your chin and gently tilted it until you met his eyes again. "There we are," he said softly. "You've got beautiful eyes, doll. Don't hide those babies from anybody, especially not me." His finger left its place under your chin, but you held his gaze. "You want to tell me what happened two days ago out back?"

Your stomach dropped. "N—nothing. Nothing happened." Even as you answered, you could feel the way that man had grabbed you and pinned you against the fence with his body as you walked back from dropping a load of trash into the dumpster. You could feel his roaming hands and hear his careless laugh echoing in your head as you begged him to stop, as you tried to resist. The growls of walkers on the other side of the fence had slowly grown louder; danger behind you and danger in front. Just as their grasping fingers would almost have you, that man, the soldier, would rip you away and slam you back again further along the fence. You'd disconnected yourself from what had happened then—disassociated. If you hadn't, you would have thrown your body to the infected yourself.

"Really?" Negan's eyes searched yours. "Because you're shaking again," he said softly, his gaze darkening. "How did you get that bruise?" You didn't answer. "Listen to me—if what I heard happened, did happen, then somebody needs to fucking pay for it."

You opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn't get any of the words out for a long moment. Part of you wanted him to pay. Part of you wanted to watch Negan cave in his fucking head with his bat. Part of you had already imagined it. But the rest of you (despite your situation and despite this world) wasn't cruel, wasn't cold, and perhaps, stupidly even, didn't want the man to die that way for what he'd done. Pay? Yes. But die viciously in pure terror and guaranteed agony? No... maybe you were soft. Probably you were soft. "I don't know what you heard, I'm sorry. But—" you shook your head. "Nothing happened. I don't know what you're talking about."

But Negan wasn't buying it and he sighed heavily. "Please don't lie to me, doll. Because I'm pretty sure I already know exactly what the fuck happened. I just need confirmation from you before I deal out some violent justice." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "What did he do to you? You don't even sound like you anymore."

Your wide eyes flooded suddenly with tears and you felt your body revolt against the lie you were trying to maintain. The best you could do was to not crumple to the floor and not sob aloud.

"Ah, shit," Negan swore. You were shocked when he pulled you in against him the next moment, pressing you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. "It's alright. It'll be alright. I'll take care of it. He's a fucking dead man walking..." You felt his hand smoothing over your hair, tucking you nearly into the crook of his neck and marveled at how strange it was to be offered comfort and safety by this man, who so often haunted your dreams. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. He's a fucking dead man." His teeth clenched and the muscle in his jaw twitched. The only thing left was to devise the man's brutal end. "You're done working for a while," Negan said, his voice strangely soft again. "Come with me and I'll get you settled safe up here for a while... Don't worry about a damn thing."

Prompt: "What did he do to you? You don't sound like you anymore."

[insomniasymphony]

Delico's Nursery And A Touch Of Forgiveness

Little one-shot because ... why not? You can give this story a read or a Kudos on AO3 as well!

.

Rating: General Audience Pair: Dali Delico/Gerhard Fra No warnings needed.

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Screams filled the room. Lamentable, bitter wailing not meant for the ears of a man of his status. Crying of a child he usually shoved into the arms of the nanny before attending to the important matters of life. The really important ones.

The ones that had got him into all this in the first place.

Gerhard narrowed his eyes briefly before raising his voice. “Now shut up already! Don’t you realise you’re a nuisance?”

And as expected, the crying subsided for a breath before it tripled in volume and ripped through his marrow and bones. Ever since Raphael had taken away his toy, Angelico had been unable to calm down and whenever Gerhard raised his voice, his son’s wailing grew in volume and strength.

.

“What do I have to do to make you stop fussing?” Raising his arms, he stared down at Angelico’s blond mop of hair, but only heard the usual muddled sounds. It was unbelievable that this child was his and, above all, of noble birth.

Then again, he had never bothered with his son until now. After all, he had work to do and children were for the bloodline, not to spend the last of his mental resources. The others’ children were already packing up, ready to go home, and he was the only one still standing in the same spot, unable to get his son out of this terrible wailing.

With shaking fingers, Gerhard ran a hand over his face. If he could, he would rewind time and wipe Dali’s rejection of the mission away faster – long before he would drive them all into this hell of a mess. Better yet, he’d rewind to the day before and come up with a war plan against this idiot at breakfast.

“Daddy...”

Angelico’s drawn-out whimper snapped him out of his thoughts, so he opened his mouth again, ready to issue more orders as he looked into the red, watery eyes staring at him like he was the only help in this room. Just like back then. Just like the day he’d thought the only solution was to go solo against suspected TRUMP-members just to kill Dali’s wife.

He gently placed a hand on his son’s soft mop of hair. Angelico’s crying stopped immediately, bringing with it a silence that dragged Gerhard into the abyss.

He remembered what had happened as if it had occurred only yesterday. It was one of those endless dreams haunting him on some nights. In a matter of seconds, he relived it all. The moment he had broken into the house and seen this woman, beautiful as ever, ready to taste his blade without offering resistance. Somewhere in between, he thought he remembered fire. And bloodstained floors. And the numb feeling in his entire body, knowing he’d lose Dali for good that way.

Had he felt relief then? Had the knowledge he might no longer be working so closely with Delico made him happy?

He pressed his lips together. Back then, when he had turned to Dali, who had appeared and stormed over to his wife, he had only watched out of the corner of his eye – his posture upright and unwavering, hoping Dali would recognise him as an enemy. Just for a moment, so that the shallow feeling of affection would burst before it grew. But Dali hadn’t looked at him that day. His gaze had wandered to his children, then back to his wife, and before Gerhard knew it, the incident had ended and Dali hadn’t exchanged a single word with him.

In all that time, not a single thing had been said about the incident between them and yet he had brought it up today, out of heat from a stupid argument he had lost. Somehow. Dali’s rejection had been clear and yet his warm breath had sent tingles all over Gerhard’s body.

A sigh escaped him. “Let’s go, Angelico.”

“But... my toy...” Round cheeks puffed out, his son’s gaze pierced him unyieldingly. But looking for a child’s toy was anything but fitting for a nobleman. Or a man in general.

“I’ll buy you a new one on the way home.”

“But I want this one!”

“What difference does it make?” His voice rose. “It’s just a piece of wood.”

He should have seen it coming. He should have known better after all the other defeats between him and his son. But as the tears welled up again and Angelico drew in his breath, Gerhard felt a desperate twitching in his bones. Should he raise his hands and press them to his ears to at least muffle the screeching that was about to follow?

His body succumbed to indecision and just as he was thinking about offering Angelico something else, Dali appeared behind him. His shoulder pressed against Gerhard’s and the shudder running through his body made him swallow. Simultaneously, he heard Dali’s voice much too close to his ear. “Look what I’ve got!”

Before Angelico could burst into tears again, Dali brought a gleam to his eyes with his toy, which even Gerhard found strangely warming. Affection settled in his chest and didn’t disappear even when he looked into his friend’s endlessly dark eyes.

Part of Gerhard opened his mouth silently, unable to find words. The way Dali treated the children, the way he stopped them from screaming and how much warmth and amusement there was in his actions – was it wrong to want all that for himself? The rest of him knew better, feeling the hot pinpricks in his chest and flooding the inner torment with angry behaviour and a raised nose.

“I hope you’ll fulfil the mission properly!” Gerhard stubbornly tried to look down at him – to no avail. “We can’t afford to half-ass things!”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” Elated, Dali took a step forward, handed Angelico his toy and took a quick look at the baby in his arms. “It’s just another challenge for me to master. I’m much more interested in whether you and the others are up to the task.” A grin formed on his thin lips. “Child raising is a fascinating field once you get the chance to get into it.”

Dali hated him. He certainly did. After everything that had happened, it seemed impossible to believe otherwise. It had been Gerhard who had put him in this position. It had been he who had deprived this family of a mother. The certainty turned his stomach.

“You loathe me, don’t you?” Clenching his hands into fists, Gerhard addressed the subject again. If they were going to work together on this mission, they needed to have a clear conversation. A few words that would bury any feelings of attraction in him so they could get on with their lives. So he could go on with his life.

“I already told you that you did me a favour. Now I get to take care of my kids-“

“Stop with that crap!” His voice grew louder as his gaze fixed on Dali. “You loathe me for what happened. For killing your wife. Go ahead and say it!”

“You seem to like dwelling on old things.”

“It was just a few months ago!”

The sudden tug on Gerhard’s trouser leg barely reached his awareness, but the whimper drew his gaze to Angelico. “Daddy ... don’t be angry...”

“Well said, Angelico!” Cheerfully, Dali gave the child a wink. “Your son already seems to be smarter than you.”

“Wha-“

“Be quiet.” In defence, Dali raised his free hand. “Sure, I could say I loathe you for what you did, but if I’m honest ... I’m over it. I know this day has been as hard on you as it has been on me, and instead of obsessing over my loss, it’s better to look at the positives of it all.”

“The ... positives?” The knot in Gerhard’s stomach tightened further. If Dali didn’t hate him, if he didn’t get a chance to carry this guilt heavily on his shoulders, he would succumb to this warmth in his chest. “What nonsensical talk.”

“Certainly, if you get hung up on ancient mannerisms and define your pride by your raised nose ... you’re undoubtedly right up there.” A confident nod came over Dali and Gerhard couldn’t deny the temptation of a hug was as strong as the desire to put his hands around this weirdo’s neck. “But I mean what I said. What happened ... it was hard ... for both of us. But it’s also given me something good. I get the chance here and now to experience my children completely differently than many other families do. I feel like I can be a real father, where I’m always there for them and don’t send them away just because their crying sometimes makes my head explode.”

“And you think I buy that?” Gerhard’s voice shook, wavering between anger and despair. Emotions he wasn’t allowed to indulge in. One of them would make Angelico cry. The other would make Dali laugh. Perhaps. Probably.

“You can do that, or you can not.” With a shrug, Dali let out a sigh. Then he smiled, almost mockingly, before grabbing a strand of Gerhard’s hair and bringing it to his lips. The shallow kiss he pressed on the blonde hair flashed through his whole body. “I’m sure you’ll realise that yourself one day, Goldilocks.”

Without further ado, Dali took two steps back as Gerhard’s hair ran through his fingers and the world stopped for a moment. Saliva pooled in the blond’s mouth, running dry down his throat as his heart pounded violently against his ribs. Heat built up in his body, but didn’t reach his face. His every fibre seemed stiff, clinging to an unimpressed expression, hoping his friend wouldn’t notice.

Not the gentle trembling of his hands, nor the convulsive posture, which no longer seemed aristocratic, but childish and awkward. Gerhard could imagine how he must have looked in Dali’s eyes in those breaths and yet, when his friend turned away from him – were they even friends? – he dared to raise a hand. Only briefly, before he lowered it again and glanced at Angelico, who was still hanging on to his trousers.

Maybe, for one day, this feeling was okay. If he believed Dali’s words just a little, just this once, then he would sleep better this night – lulled by the warmth in his heart. Surely, somewhere between here and his own home, he would realise that all this was nothing more than an illusion. A fragile concept that would fade when he looked into his wife’s face – as he did every day – and realised she wasn’t Dali.

And then, at the latest, he would come to his senses, get upset about this idiot, have dinner and go to bed, only to return the next day, believing he wouldn’t succumb to his heart again.

He knew how it would end.

The result was always the same.

[munson-blurbs]

Kinkmas Day 12: The Grand Finale (Steve/Eddie/Jonathan/Argyle/Billy x Fem!Stripper!Reader)

This is it! The last day of Kinkmas! I hope y'all enjoyed it <3

Warnings: pure smut (18+ only, minors DNI), dom! Billy, dom!Reader, sub!Steve, sub!Eddie, sub!Jonathan, sub!Argyle, handjobs, oral (m! receiving), protected p in v, m! masturbation, hair pulling, spitting, degradation, language

WC: 2.6k

Taglist: @kriss-harrington @sourwolf-sterek32 @mopping-the-roof @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch

--

The sound of beads clinking together indicates incoming customers. It’s a Friday night, usually one of Gentlemen Only’s busiest times, but the falling snow seems to be keeping most clients at home. The exception being four guys in their mid-twenties, shaking off the snow as they walk in. Their voices are barely audible over the music pumping through the speakers. 

“Strip club for a bachelor party, Munson?” one of the men is saying. “A little cliche, no?”

A loud chuckle. “Byers doesn’t seem to be complaining, and he’s the VIP here.”

“Definitely not complaining,” comes a quiet murmur from a different guy. That must be ‘Byers.’ You grin to yourself; the shy ones were always fun. You peer out from around the curtain where they can’t see you to get a peek at your clientele. 

There’s one in a tan leather jacket, tall, with perfectly coiffed hair. The man next to him has a frizzy mane of dark brown curls and is wearing ripped jeans and a faded Metallica tee. Standing beside him is a guy with his hands shoved nervously in his pockets, shaking his swooping blond hair from his eyes. And the final friend had the shiniest, silkiest black hair you’ve ever seen; it’s so long, it brushes against the waistband of his brightly-colored pants. 

“S’gonna be a slow night,” muses your boss, Billy, taking a drag from his cigarette. But his smile widens when he sees the men taking their seats by the stage. “Aw, shit. I know those schmucks from high school. Well,” he adds with a chuckle, “except for that dude. No clue who he is.” He points to the guy with the long hair. 

“Friends of yours?” you ask, spritzing a flowery perfume between your breasts, pushed up by your lingerie. 

Billy exhales a cloud of smoke. “Not exactly. But that guy?” He motions to Coiffed-Hair Man. “They used to call him King Steve. Parents’re loaded. He drove a fuckin’ Beemer; probably never even used a dime of his own to pay for gas.” He gives you a pointed look. “Y’might wanna spend some time with him. He’ll tip well.” You know what that means, and you can’t say you’re disappointed. Most of the rich customers were greasy and middle-aged. This beautiful man was a welcome change. 

“And the rest of them?”

“Feel it out,” Billy shrugs. “You’re on in five.”

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror, lights illuminating the otherwise dim room. Your red babydoll lingerie leaves little to the imagination. Slipping on your matching stilettos, you make your way to your mark. 

“Introducing, the incomparable, the delicious, Miss Cherry!” Billy’s voice booms over the sound system, as though he’s addressing a whole crowd. He’s such a tool, but he pays fairly, and there’s no denying you’re his favorite. 

You strut out on the stage, your lips turning into a cocky smirk as you gaze at the guys. God, is there anything better than their initial awestruck expressions as they drink in your body? The curly-haired one leans forward, pressing his elbows on his thighs. His forearms are littered with tattoos. 

You swivel around the pole as they gawp; four pairs of eyes following your every move. They’re in the palm of your hand—right where you want them. As you drop down low, pole between your thighs, you ask, “Who are we celebrating tonight, boys?”

The one with the swooping blond hair raises a hand timidly, and you snort. “This isn’t school,” you tease, stepping down from the stage and straddling his lap. “Although if it was, bad boys like you four would be in detention.”

“You’re familiar with that, aren’t you, Munson?” ‘King Steve’ nudges the tattooed guy, who just rolls his eyes. 

You grind your hips, feeling the shy one stiffening beneath you. “What’s your name, baby?” you coo. 

“J-Jonathan,” he stutters, inhaling sharply at your movement. 

“Well, Jonathan,” you murmur, “let’s give you a night you won’t forget.” The rest of the group hoots and hollers. The long-haired one claps his buddy on the back proudly. 

The sound of boots scraping along the carpeted floor draws everyone’s attention. Steve blurts out an incredulous “Hargrove?”, but Billy ignores him.  

“If I know this guy, he’s not gonna step out on his old lady.” Billy approaches them, sneering. “Prob’ly feels guilty enough just doing this. Am I right?” He gives a malicious laugh when Jonathan nods dumbly. “Thas’ all right; Cherry still has a gift for you.” He gives you a knowing glance. 

“Anyone opposed to getting some special treatment?” you question, already knowing the answer. The remaining three shake their heads, and you tut at the response. “I need a ‘no ma’am’.”

“No ma’am,” they echo in unison. 

You turn back towards Jonathan. “Here’s how this works,” you whisper in his ear, continuing to give him his lap dance. “You’re gonna tell me anything you want me to do to your friends, or anything you want them to do to me.”

“Anything?” he repeats, entranced by your hips. 

“Anything.”

Jonathan takes too long for Billy’s liking; an impatient sigh escapes his lips. “Give him a lap dance, maybe leave a couple hickeys,” he says, pointing at the long-haired guy. “Everyone likes a souvenir.”

You nod and climb off of Jonathan’s lap and onto his friend’s. “Your friend can decide where I mark you up,” you breathe, making small circles with your hips over the crotch of his pants. He whimpers, eyes darting in Jonathan’s direction. 

“H-His neck,” Jonathan answers. “You okay with that, Argyle?”

You shake your head, offering a mischievous smile. “If you say it, I have to do it.” You suck hard bruises along Argyle’s throat, three in a row, dragging your tongue over each one. “Wear ‘em proudly.” You’re ready to move on to the next victim when Jonathan speaks up again, finally finding his voice. 

“Use your hands and get him off,” he says, more assertively than before. “An’ let him play with your tits.”

Wordlessly, you unclasp the hook on your sheer top, letting it fall to the ground. Argyle’s eyes turn into saucers; hands kneading your exposed breasts, running his thumbs over your pert nipples. You unbutton Argyle’s pants and tug him out of his boxers. His cock is half-hard already, and it only gets harder when you spit on the tip and wrap your hand around it. He groans and leans back, still fondling your chest, while you straddle his thigh and glide up and down his thick shaft. “Holy shit,” he hisses, puffing out his cheeks and exhaling as you work your magic. Within minutes, he’s spilling into your hand, leaving hot white ropes of cum running down your arm. 

“What should I do with the mess he made?” you ask Jonathan. 

He looks flustered but recovers quickly. “Lick it off.” You do as you’re told, moaning as you suck Argyle’s cum off of each finger. 

“Next customer,” you announce wickedly; Jonathan croaks out “Eddie,” and looks at the guy in the Metallica shirt. “And what’ll it be for him? More of the same?” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “Or something else?”

Jonathan runs a hand through his hair. “Blow him?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“T-telling you,” he affirms, palming himself over his jeans. “You’re gonna blow him.”

Eddie is ready, pulling his cock free and hissing at the release. He starts to touch himself, but you nudge his hand away. “Be patient,” you warn him, getting onto your knees between his spread legs, “or you won’t get anything at all.”

“‘M sorry,” he mutters, but his shame is short-lived as you lower your lips onto him. He’s thick, filling your mouth. His hips stutter with each swirl of your tongue around his fleshy tip. “B-Byers,” he croaks out. “Can y-you ask her to let me grab her hair?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jonathan give him a small nod. “Eddie’s gonna touch your hair.” It’s always amusing to watch their confidence–among other things–grow with time. You feel Eddie’s ringed fingers lace through your hair as you hollow out your cheeks and take him further down your throat. Your tongue traces over the veins, letting the ridge between the shaft and the tip press against the roof of your mouth.

“God damn,” he groans, eyes rolling back with pleasure.

Behind you, Billy lets out another chuckle. “Yeah, she’s real good at that; aren’t ya, Cherry?” Your mhm sends vibrations around Eddie’s length, and with an even tighter grip on your hair, he pulls out of your mouth and cums all over your bare tits. 

“Fuck, yes, s’perfect.” Disjointed words leave Eddie’s lips as he yanks on his cock, milking every last drop. He grabs a black bandana from his back pocket and wipes off his release. Before he can dispose of it, you pluck it from his fingers and tuck it into your g-string.

“‘S mine now,” you bite your lower lip seductively.

He just nods. “Whatever you want, s’good with me,” he finally manages. These boys are just so pathetic; it’s almost comical.

“Now,” Billy drawls as you stand up, “King Steve.”

Steve scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “No one calls me that anymore, Hargrove.”

Your boss’s gaze flits to you. “I’m thinkin’ we could get some use outta the private room,” he muses. “Treat King Steve like royalty.” He leans down, whispering loudly in Steve’s ear, “You want her pretty pussy, dontcha?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Yeah,” he says, voice barely audible. “Yeah, I really fuckin’ do.”

“Gonna have to run it by your buddy,” Billy sneers, jerking his mullet of curls towards Jonathan. “What d’ya say, Byers? I’d say it’s only fair, considering you took his girl.”

Jonathan’s face blanches, unable to make eye contact with anyone in the room for a moment. He looks at you with wanton eyes. “Cherry, you’re gonna fuck Steve; gonna ride him until he cums.”

“And what about me?” you feign offense, lithe fingers flying to your naked chest. “Do I get to cum, too?”

Billy clucks his tongue disapprovingly. “Cherry’s workin’ real hard for you boys, and she doesn’t even get off? What a shame.”

Jonathan’s gaze is piercing as he addresses Steve. “Make her cum,” he says sharply, “twice.”

You take Steve’s hand in your own and lead him to the quiet room in the back of the club. “You up for the challenge, King Steve?” you tease. 

The other guys begin to stand, dejected looks crossing their faces when Billy shakes his head. “Sorry, boys,” he laughs, “just me, Cherry, and Stevie for this one. You’ll have to use your, uh, imaginations.” He whispers something to you, and you nod in agreement, shit-eating grins on both of your faces.

The back room is quieter; you can hear the sound of Steve’s heavy breathing as the door closes behind you. You toss Eddie’s bandana to the side, sliding your g-string down to the floor. Steve is fumbling with his leather belt, movements frantic as he processes just what’s happening. He’d thought he was just going with his idiot friends for a lame bachelor party; maybe get a half-assed lap dance. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d be fucking one of the dancers.

You position yourself over Steve’s cock, already dripping with precum. Grabbing a condom from the basket next to you, you rip open the wrapper and glide it down his length. Taking him in your hand, you ease your way onto him. “Y’gonna fill me up, King Steve?” you moan against his ear. You’ll never give him the satisfaction of knowing this, but he’s hung. “Remember, you’re under strict orders to make me cum twice.”

He exhales as you move your hips. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” But his hands stay on your thighs, unmoving. You frown at them, and then up at Billy, who gets the hint.

“Harrington,” he says gruffly. “Her clit’s not gonna play with itself. Or do you not know how to find it?”

Steve gives him the finger, using the same one to press against your sensitive bud. You shiver at his slow, deliberate circles. “Faster, faster,” you urge, rocking against him. 

“S-Sorry,” he stutters. You can’t help but laugh at his malleability.

“How’d you even get your nickname, ‘King Steve’?” you ask snidely. “Don’t seem like royalty to me.” You feel him grow harder inside you. “Oh, you like when I talk down to you? Like King Steve is just a peasant?” A whimper from behind you draws your attention, and you see Billy jerking himself off.

“Keep telling him what a piece of shit he is,” he manages through ragged breaths. “Pull his stupid fucking hair and spit in his mouth.”

You grab onto Steve’s perfectly maintained coif and tilt his head back. “Open your filthy fucking mouth, Serf Steve,” you order, and he complies easily. A trail of saliva drips past your lips onto his waiting tongue. You bring your palm to his chin and close his mouth. “Swallow. Take it like the whore you are.” 

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “More,” he whimpers. “Please.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “The begging is cute, but you know that’s not up to me.” His eyes follow yours to Billy, still fucking his own fist.

“Ride him,” he tells you. “Ride him while you cum.”

You press your hands into Steve’s shoulders, using him for leverage as you bounce on his cock. His movements speed up, pushing you to your orgasm. You clench around his cock and look him straight in his eyes as you cry out, “Oh, yes, Billy.”

Steve’s movements stall as your boss finishes on your back. “What the fuck?” he muses, mostly to himself.

“I still need another orgasm, according to your friend,” you shrug. “Couldn’t let you finish early.”

Seething that you’ve just said his enemy’s name while he is inside you, Steve grabs onto the flesh of your ass and bucks up into you, thrusting as hard as he can. He hits your g-spot over and over, and you moan despite yourself. He stretches your tight cunt completely, and there’s a hint of pain with each wave of pleasure.

“You feel s’good,” Steve mewls, now back under your control. “Please cum for me; can’t keep holding out with your wet pussy making those beautiful noises.”

You grab back onto his hair. “First of all,” you snarl, “I don’t cum for you. And second, you don’t tell me when to cum. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chokes out. “Won’t happen again.”

“Good boy.” You match his movements and bring yourself to the edge; Steve finishes a moment later, chanting your name like a prayer. 

You lift yourself off of him, whispering sweetly in his ear, “You and your friends gonna pay me now?”

Steve nods, fumbling for his wallet. Billy steps in front of you, cigarette dangling from his lips. “You go clean up, babydoll,” he says in his sweetest voice. “I’ll make sure these guys leave a real good tip.”

You beam at him gratefully. “You always take the best care of me, Billy,” you exaggerate your compliment just to get under Steve’s skin. “They should call you the king.”

As they walk out of the private room, you can hear a snippet of the conversation between the remaining three men. Eddie’s voice floats through the club:

“D’you think if I pretend to get engaged, she’ll fuck me next?”

You scoff to yourself and roll your eyes. Small-town boys are so easy.

--

[the-muppet-joker]

Kermit had a hood over his face, so the world was composed of darkness and muffled voices. He felt the familiar twists of felt as his lips began to tremble with fear; his hands had been tied behind his back and he didn't know why.

There was a sudden whoosh as the hood was ripped away and the he winced as the world was a flash of light. It reminded him of something and suddenly, although he was certain he hadn't been struck or touched, there was a pain in his ribs. Stress had flooded him and then he felt relief, like a sharp gasp of air after being deprived of breath.

The chalk pale face before him wore a perpetual grin, this was all just a game. "Oh, Wow, there Joker...you really got me worked up that time. Heh."

"We do have to find ways to amuse ourselves, don't we Kermit? Batsy never liked it when I had a hood over his head. Isn't that odd? A Bat that didn't love the dark? But why am I wasting time talking about him. We've got to find some more ways to have fun!"

He lifted kermit out of the chair, hands under his armpits and stood him on the ground. "Come this way, Kermit. I have a wonderful suprise for you!"

The Joker led their way down a long twisting tunnel until they reached a heavy wooden door. "What's behind there, eh?" Kermit looked up at the Joker and smiled, he knew this would be special.

"Well, Kermit, I thought you'd like to give us a show! All you adoring fans! And me, your Joker." Kermit smiled at this, he thought that strumming his banjo for all his friends, his followers, and his love would be great. And maybe after that he and the Joker would have some time to themselves, made all the sweeter by his musical performance.

The Joker smiled at Kermit, as he always did, he opened the door and more light streamed out, he could here his fans outside in the audience. He began to step through the door and out onto the stage when he realized his hands were still tied behind his back. He turned to the Joker. "Hey Joker, you forgot to untie me. I can't play for you all like this."

The Joker looked at him with his always-smile and the smile almost seemed sad. "No, Kermit," he said. "I didn't forget anything. I'm sorry but this is for the best." Before the Joker closed the door, Kermit saw tears running down his face.

The light from the stage dimmed and suddenly Kermit could see it was cast, not from some bulb but a man, a very familiar man.

"Hello Kermit. Tonight you will give us the greatest show on earth." The voice seemed to come from the radiant man, but it surrounded him from every angle. Below, in the audience seats Kermit saw Joaquin and Heath, even Ethan. He was excited to see what was in store for him. It was odd, but Kermit was okay with weird stuff and if this was planned by the Joker than it would be wonderful.

"Kermit," The Voice came again, "I am God. God the FATHER. I am your father Kermit. And I am Adam's creator. All things come from the FATHER Kermit. Including names. Your name shall be Kolton." "And now, Kolton, behold my miracles." Kermit/Kolton was struck with a blinding pain as his chest and stomach began to collapse inward. He was reduced to head, arms and leg with an empty puddle of felt inbetween. "From your ribs I create you new Lords!" From Kermit's ribs came twelve beautiful pig princesses, each with a mop of golden curls and eyes like pools of deepest blue. And from Kolton's ribs (Kermit understood now that part of him was always Kolton, would always be Kolton) came twelve beautiful horses. He knew each was named Bucephalus. "These," said God the Father, "Are you Lords and Ladies Kolton. You shall serve them forevermore, as his right and proper." Kolton saw that Joaquin and Heath were laughing at him. Saying he was no true Joker and this was how he should be punished for reaching too far. Ethan laughed as well and then God the Father joined.

"Serve forever Kolton. You are no Joker. You're not even Kermit. You can't live outside and you can't play the banjo. You shall serve the Miss Piggies however they want and when they want. They shall be mounted upon my Bucephaluses who will speak to you in your sleep and tell you how to be better. Rise KOLTON. Rise in the name of the Father and serve forever."

Behind the stage the Joker sobbed and stuffed a rubber chicken down his throat. His final sense before choking out was a chorus of "Oh Kermy"s and whinnying that he understood to be the commands of God the Father.

You could not even get my deadname right. This is garbage and I hate you.

[arahusk]

Of Bleach Dreams and Roach Crowns Characters: Niffty, Alastor, Husk Words: 4,013 Rating: M Ao3: [here] Another fic for @radiotrioweek for Day 2: On the Job / Downtime. I couldn't pick just one prompt for this day. Anyway, a Niffty-centric fic because she deserves it.

-

The one thing about Hell that Niffty fervently loved; there was always something to clean.

Even before the hotel, she never had a day where such things to pick up or to scrub until they shone were lacking. And the Pride Ring, especially, is where any semblance of decorum and hygiene went to die a pitiful death. Trash littered the sidewalks, complete with wrappers and syringes, with torn-off body parts, and all other unmentionables that would perhaps turn away a lady of good standing if she ever saw such a sight her way.

Luckily, Niffty never had good standing when she was alive, so she fit right in. 

Also, in her earlier days before she was claimed by the Radio Demon, or ever had a kitty cat for her best friend, she had been quite the collector! Not only of prickly little dead bugs which she’d make into an assortment of necklaces and crowns, but of the different types of syringes, their contents glowing so prettily against Hell’s strange moonlight, and of the discarded knives and other weaponry, their rust only attracting the eye. She also liked to carry around a little purse of acquired hair from all the bad boys she’d met, some of them arranged into braids or ribbons, and she could only hope such a collection would just continued to grow.

So when she moved into the hotel, she had a lot to bring in with her.

“Oh my! I see you haven't given up your charming little hoarding tendencies!”

Alastor manifested inside Niffty’s room, for he was always welcome wherever she was. She had been busy setting up her assortments of syringe collectibles, arranged by size and color. She had also just finished ironing out all the wrappers she had found, and had them sewn together to make a little wrapper quilt for herself, food oil stains and all. While her chosen space was filled with many things, it was all organized in ways that only her mind could truly understand.

“Greetings, Sir!” Niffty welcomed. “You’re just in time!”

She was just in the middle of pinning a large locust into the wall, each wing suspended by a needle. Too big to be used as part of her bug jewelry, but she so loved the way the light was caught in those beautiful, transparent wings. The urge to rip those wings apart was intoxicating, but Alastor had taught her the art of appreciation, so she would keep that bug on display for now. Eventually, her little tendencies would win out.

“It looks like you cleaned up half the town! Good job!” Alastor made sure to give the girl a pat on the head. “I look forward to your work on this hotel.”

“Ooo, thank you.” Niffty gave a little curtsy, giggling from his praise. But she didn’t forget her manners! With a quick dash, she pulled out a nondescript black trash bag from the corner. It left a small streak of blood as she dragged it, but she would mop that floor up no problem!

“I made sure to get you some food while I was out!”

A dismembered hand nearly fell out of the bag opening, which she pushed back in with her foot.

“Ah, fabulous! Waste not, want not!” Alastor said with genuine gratitude, taking the bag with a shadowy tendril, which made Niffty giggle even more. “You’ve always been a real go-getter!”

She grinned, soaking up his praise. She would be sure to work twice as hard now!

--

Niffty leapt onto her new job with all the fervor of a bloodthirsty hyena, finding all the places where even the most innocuous of dust bunnies couldn’t escape her overexcited clutches. It was a simple place to clean, the hotel being so empty, but it was also a challenge, the hotel seemingly having been constructed with chewed up gum and dreams. It would explain how often the floorboards fell apart, or why the plumbing was in complete and utter shambles.

She loved it, because just like Hell itself, there was always something to clean.

But what made it even better? She got to go into her new job with her best friend by her side!

It was on one of those nights when Husk was late coming back to his room, so it gave her room to work. Her energy was the most frenetic once the late hour turned, hearing the little skitters behind the walls, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she’d eviscerate every little bug that dared leave its home. But she kept focus now, for she had a job to do after all!

The door slammed open, the doorknob hitting the wall so hard and cracking open the drywall. Husk groaned, waving away the bit of room damage, which was only another dent in the hotel’s makeup. 

But he stilled once he saw Niffty in his room. His eyes swiveled to a bag she held in one tiny hand and a broom in another. After all, the room had been so, so filthy before!

He asked her blankly, “What are you doing in here?”

She lifted up one trash bag, where the beautiful, vicious sound of broken glass echoed from. She had to make sure to not look into the bag too much, because the dazzling colors of each colored glass always made wonderful patterns in its chaos. “You’re welcome!”

“My drinks?!” Husk rushed towards the side of his room, opening the drawers of his bedside table, then checking underneath his pillows and blankets. None of those bottles that had frankly been all over the place, with no rhyme or reason, were left! But she made sure to put something else there for him to find!

“Ugh! What are these fucking—?!” Husk leaped back, his wings fanning out, as he dropped a delicately-made collar stringed from roaches to the ground. It was probably not in his size! “Niff! The hell is all this? And why did you take my drinks!?”

“Silly billie!” Niffty said, wagging her finger at him. “It’s my job! Gotta keep this hotel spic-and-span!”

“Those weren’t even empty yet!” Husk’s fur stood on end, taking deep breaths as a growl vibrated from his throat. It was so cute, it sounded so much like a purr! It eventually lessened, Husk lowering his wings to the ground, his voice decidedly deeper. “Weren’t you just cleaning up the lobby five minutes ago?”

“Yeah! But I have to beat my record time!” Niffty clutched her boom so tightly, splinters began erupting from between her fingers. “And then it’s time for the attic’s hourly cleaning! And the food stockage. And the dusting. Oh, so, so much dusting!”

At that, Husk blinked, his previous rage having been replaced with one of worry and concern. “Have you even slept at all?”

“Not for the past two weeks!” Niffty smiled, her body standing up as straight as an arrow. She swung the bag of broken glass over her shoulder, which was a feat when the bag looked to be about several times her width. “You should also take a shower. I can help with that once I’m done with the attic!”

“What? No, I can do that myself! And you need to fucking slow down or you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

Husk tried to get in her way—he wanted a hug! It almost made Niffty so weepy from his affection—but she had to get to work, so she dodged right past his claws. But she made sure to sprinkle in a few bug wings against his back, as thanks for him being her best friend!

“I’ll see ya later, Husk! Get the soap ready!”

“What did you just put on me!?” she heard Husk yell from his room, but that was the fun of surprises! She would make sure she wouldn’t ruin it for him.

--

There was never any lack of cleaning needed. From the fridge which kept getting filled with rotten food after all of her shopping (with only a few actual guests to eat it, food tended to spoil fast!) to the carpets that kept getting odd stains from bug guts, from the blood of Alastor’s purchases from Cannibal Town, and the drinks a drunk Husk would keep spilling over his bar. But it gave her so much to work with. She was never out of things to do! Never bored!

Niffty hadn’t slept for five weeks now. Maybe, with time, she’d finally catch up to Alastor and his own insomniac streak.

But it was on one of her mopping trips down one of the hallways, all while keeping an eye out for any little multi-eyed pests to get in her way, that she found herself eavesdropping. Not that she meant to! It wasn’t proper for a little lady such as herself, but she had also never been very proper to begin with.

The door to Alastor’s room was fully closed, and it was about that time that her Sir would be having his breakfast to start the day. There were times she’d join him, but certainly not now! For she still had to clean and mop and dust and fix up all the little holes that littered the floor and walls. And it was one of those holes, which happened to be right in the middle of Alastor’s door, which also happened to be at eye-level for her, that she saw her favorite boss and her best friend have a little chat.

“Boss, the girl needs a break,” spoke Husk, his face turned in a grimace. Oh, that must mean he got to see what Alastor was feasting on today! “She’s been running herself ragged for weeks.”

“Oh, she’s just fine.” Alastor pointed at Husk with his fork, which held a bit of his breakfast. “She loves it!”

“Don’t fucking get that thing near me. And yeah, I know. Girl loves anything that’s just on the cusp of actual torture. But she’s gonna get herself cut into pieces if she keeps this up. She nearly fell into the garbage disposal somehow!”

“Ah yes,” Alastor nodded. “She’s very talented.”

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.”

“All I’m hearing is that you could learn a thing or two from her! Perhaps she could start a class for deadbeats. It would be all the rage, I’m sure!”

Then, while he continued to lecture Husk who was hissing between his teeth, Niffty saw the bit of food latched onto Alastor’s fork begin to fall off. Slowly, almost painfully, and then it plopped right onto the carpet. Her boss hadn’t even noticed!

But she’ll clean that right up!

“Don’t worry, Sir!” Niffty said as she kicked open the door. She may have forgotten to actually turn open the doorknob, but Alastor never minded her inviting herself in. “I’ll get that for you!”

Before Husk or Alastor could even react—Husk backed up against the fireplace at her sudden arrival, and Alastor still seated at his dining table, one knife placed inside the rotting deer on his plate—Niffty set herself to work! First, mop the floor! That dropped food would attract bugs! But then, of course, if she attracted bugs, she could kill them all in one go!

The idea formed in her head as she mopped the carpet so hard that holes began tearing into it, not that the carpet lacked any tears. She would sew that up later! But the food plan! She had to get on it!

With that, her brain leapt onto the next course of action: She stuffed all silverware and deer carcass in another of her bags that she had on her tiny person. A deer leg was sticking out, along with an antler that tore through the bag’s side. “You could drop it!” she told him. “But I’ll get those bugs, Sir!”

Alastor stayed in his seat, still holding onto the fork in one hand, looking down at his now empty dining table with his eternal smile.

“Hey, uh,” Husk started to say from behind her. “Not that I’m not grateful for you getting rid of that shit, but, you doing alright?”

“No time! I gotta get started on my bug extermination plan!” Niffty lifted up the bag over her head, vibrating with glee. The bag was heavier than expected, which caused her back to sprain a bit from its weight, enough that she felt the little crack echo in her ears. “Oooo, that felt so good! ”

Husk flattened his ears against his head at the sound. “The fuck are you—?”

“Later, boys!” And with that she dashed right out of the room, giggling like mad as she set herself onto a new chore. After all, there was always something to do at this hotel!

She was certain Alastor would be so proud!

--

It was just a short while later that one of her most sought after dreams had finally come true for her. It was almost hard to believe that her life would be led up to this moment.

She realized it when she had been scrubbing the kitchen tiles with a dirty rag, the bleach fumes making her eye water, when a hand clamped over her mouth. It was then shortly followed by a bag thrown over her head, blocking away all sight and sound.

Oh! She was being kidnapped! She really was the luckiest girl in Hell. 

“Yay! Where are you taking me?” She asked in glee, feeling herself getting manhandled, which consisted of being thrown over someone’s shoulder. Her feet kicked back and forth happily. “Are you going to force me to do bad things? I like that.”

“Jesus, can you stop being weird for five seconds?!” A gravelly voice said to her, sounding muffled against the bag. “This is the only way you’d come along. Not exactly my first choice.”

“Oh wow, such a bad boy! Can I bring my whip? I left it upstairs!”

“Not listening to ya!” 

There were so many strange and interesting sounds once one was blindfolded like this! The little creaks of the stairs underneath her kidnapper’s feet, the sound of the cars honking in the distance once they went outside followed by a multitude of gunshots (it must be rush hour!), and even the wind howling so eerily. Or, that could have been just the actual hellhounds howling nearby.

A lot of those sounds were juxtaposed with her kidnapper’s grumbling, which she was slowly realizing was actually Husk, muttering underneath his breath like he usually did. She heard him curse heavily when he knocked his shin against something in the street, then back to grouchy grumbling again. He was just so funny! And who knew that it would be Husk to kidnap her? She really underestimated him!

But after a short while, the bag was suddenly pulled from her head, granting her sight once again. She blinked, looking up, greeting the smile that always set her very soul at ease. “Alastor! Are you kidnapping me too?”

“Ha! That would be quite a story!” With both hands behind his back, he gave her a small nod while walking past her and Husk to take the lead. “And you certainly took your time, Husker! Now let’s get to stretching those legs! You could certainly use it!”

“You really can’t go one day without insulting me.” 

But through his grumbles, Husk just shifted Niffty more squarely over his shoulder before following their boss through what she now realized was a much more rural part of their home. She gazed at what looked to be wilderness all around them. Strange, crooked red-fir trees, with the occasional devil-snake that Alastor would quickly swat away with his cane as they went up a soft incline. Niffty recognized this spot, it had been a favorite among some criminals to hide away bodies…

Oh! Maybe this meant she was going to be the body this time! Although, if that were the case, she was sure Alastor would tell her. He could never keep good news to himself for long!

Husk tapped his claws against her back, where he still held her. “Hey. I feel you wriggling around. Don’t get any messed up ideas in your head.”

“Ooo, but I wanna know!�� Niffty was ready to give Husk a tiny nibble to make him let go. (Had she collected his fur yet? Maybe she should take a quick sample in case). “Are we doing a job? Stalking someone? Getting revenge on an old crony?”

“Even better!” Alastor announced, bringing up the mic cane to his face. “We’re taking the day off!”

Not too far ahead was a picnic blanket, laid out on the rocky ground, with an assortment of sandwiches and wine bottles. The spot was at the top of a cliff, which overlooked the five-pointed expanse that was Pentagram City. The sight of it was so grand that it even quieted down Niffty, her mouth hanging open in awe.

She was also looking at it upside down, hanging so low from Husk’s grip, who had let her slip so far that he was now just holding onto one of her ankles.

“Er, right. Surprise and whatever,” said Husk as he finally let Niffty down, or more precisely dropped, then placed both hands against his back to crack it. “Ergh, god that hurt.” He made sure to give Alastor another deep frown. “Could have just teleported us, like you usually do. Thought you were leading us to some creepy cabin to chop us up or something.”

“Oho, not today, my friend.” Alastor pinched Husk’s cheek who quickly swatted away his hand. “The hike up the mountain is certainly breathtaking this time of year. Just look up at that sky!”

Both Husk and Niffty craned their heads, and found the exact same red tint that was present at all angles and altitudes of the Pride Ring. Niffty really liked that color!

“Yeah, it’s a real majesty,” Husk muttered.

“It’s wonderful!” Niffty said, clapping her little hands once she readjusted herself. “So does this mountain need some sweeping? I’ll get to sweeping!”

Alastor patted her head, which made her feel all warm and squishy inside, like a happy puppy. Then he led her by the hand to seat herself on the blanket. “No work today, my dear! As I said before, it’s our day off! We could use the refresher!”

“Oh! But what about the hotel?”

Husk popped open one whiskey flash that he had kept tucked in a pants pocket, seating himself next to her. “They’re gonna have to handle the show without us.”

“Indeed! Charlie could use a little more experience in hotel facilitating! I’m sure she’ll do just fine with the flooding that’s occurring on the fourth floor right about now.”

“Maybe if I gnaw off the faucets, it’ll fix it!” She was about ready to rush back down the mountain or, even better, jump off that cliff to get right back to work. But Husk had made sure to plop a sandwich right across her knees, which effectively took up half of her body, and even weighed her down slightly.

“Boss’s orders. Now hurry up and relax already. It’s downtime.”

--

There were few times Niffty could really think of herself sitting in one place, at least if she wasn’t shaking her legs, or feeling herself tense to get ready to spring into action.

Husk was always in one place, seated behind his bar as he went through his stock, one bottle at a time. And even when her boss was on the move, he did so with practiced ease, keeping in the giddiness Niffty knew he experienced whenever he saw a dismembered corpse, or a really nice tea set that was on sale at a nearby shop.

She ate her fill of the sandwich, (a Reuben sandwich! And it was made of meat that wasn’t human, surprisingly) and drank her fill of the wine Alastor brought from his own personal cabinet, which tasted very grape-y. She even looked above and stargazed, as much as she could with the thick smog that coated Hell’s skies.

This was downtime, as Husk said. And that’s what Sir wanted! And yet, still, she was antsy.

Because in Hell, there was always, always something to clean. And what would it mean if she wasn’t there to clean it up?

Niffty twiddled her thumbs. She felt the need to always flutter to and fro. It was almost odd to just sit here, looking up at the sky and taking in the sights of the city below. Her hands wanted to grab onto something, so she grabbed the first thing she saw.

“Ow! Let go of my tail!”

Now, Niffty didn’t exactly do that, already using the bright red fur to sweep up the crumbs left by their lunch. But then Alastor, who had been on his fifth sandwich that hour (the demon didn’t look like it, but he was always so hungry and ate ten times his weight) leaned near Niffty to hand her a gift.

“For you, my darling. I figured you would want to indulge in your little hobby.” He finalized it as he deposited a woven wicker basket next to her. Already, she knew what it was.

When Niffty opened the basket, she gasped in glee, while Husk reeled back in disgust as he made the mistake of peeking over her shoulder.

“Oh come on, you brought that? I’m trying to fucking eat here!”

“Now, now. This was arranged for Niffty’s reprieve! And she makes the most wonderful accessories!”

“I hate that you actually believe that.”

“My bug collection!!” Niffty dug her hands through the basket, the roaches, crickets, spiders, grasshoppers, and other multi-legged critters falling from her hands as she arranged them meticulously over the picnic blanket. Husk shifted away immediately. “How did you find it?”

“Ha! I certainly did a lot of snooping!”

She had to thank him, feeling all her energy finally directed to something that would grant her frenetic mind some focus. It wasn’t as intense as cleaning, or sweeping, or scrubbing the stains until the floor broke beneath her, but Alastor had always supported her creativity.

After some quick crafting, she made her matching roach crowns for all three of them! But of course, she made sure Alastor got the giant ones, for he had a big heart! And not just the ones he kept in jars for pickling!

“For you, Sir! My dear King Roach!” she said with a grin, which Alastor accepted gracefully with a bow of his head. Niffty then turned to Husk, holding out the second roach-stringed crown. “And you! You can be co-King Roach!”

Husk flinched, eyeing the roach crown with such incredible emotion. “I ain’t—”

Static suddenly enveloped the area, darkening the trees, darkening even the sky. The static grew louder and louder, until it was like pleasant fuzziness nestling inside Niffty’s brain. So cozy.

Husk looked past her with wide eyes, then sighed. “Oh fuck it, just put it on me.”

“Okay!”

If Husk shivered, it was with extreme happiness at her gift of course. And then, just as she was admiring her handiwork, she took the last crown to put over her hair. She may have indulged, giving her crown a few brightly-colored locusts to really catch the light. “Queen Roach here! With my favorite boys!”

“Oh, darling Niffty.” Alastor twirled his cane, and applause streamed from the tinny speaker. “You truly are one of a kind.”

“Please let me take this off,” Husk was muttering, eyes widening as he stared up at the roach crown circling his hat. “I think one of these things is still alive.”

The skies were swimming with barely-seen stars, all in a sea of red, a sight that made Niffty giggle as she laid back against the picnic blanket. And if she finally felt relaxed enough to close her eye and take a quick power nap, she wouldn’t let it ruin her cleaning streak later. She’ll get right back to it! After all, she’d always been a go-getter.