#The mom goes to buffet

[corndogshelter]

performed a psychic attack on a child at the Chinese Buffet

[merthosus]

Don’t kiss the cast members part 2

Summary: After practicing a scene with Aidan, he did not quite stick to the script. Now you need to maneuver the situation smoothly, without getting into trouble. But Aidan had other ideas. Ignoring everything until he breaks down onto you like clouds soaked with rain.

@tobyisdumb your wish be my command

Rough, fast and so unbelievable good.

The taste of his bittersweet lips still stuck onto yours. You wanted to do it again, no doubt. But your mind stoped you, seeing the problems, which come with it. “Aidan we can’t..." you stumble across your words, but before you could end your sentence he smashed his lips again on yours. His smell alone tarnished all of your senses. The more you kiss, the wetter the kiss is, you feel how his hands push you harshly more into him.

It felt like he lost control, not caring anymore, that we are on a set, anyone could possibly enter. "Aidan", you mumble onto his lips, which were still occupied, exploring you. Suddently he grabbed your thigh, pulling it to his side. He shudders and lets a loose pant fall out his mouth. He seems shocked himself, his body goes tense. He let's go of you, his body leave's yours.

You watch him as he walks back to the desk pulling the script from one of the deco books and walking out. You felt empty, shocked... you couldn't even find a fitting word for it. He left faster, than your brain could comprehend. Reality flogs right into your face. He kissed you. Rough, fast and so unbelievable good. But leaving you like this was not okay, defiantly not. Suddently your anger came back. Fist he makes out with you and then he let's you hanging like this.

You get out of your paralysis and grab your script. This was not professional, it was everything but professional. You cram the peace of paper into your handbag and walk out of the set. You need to get into another set to film a scene with Robert. He squeaked as he saw you and welcomed you happily. It's miraculous how he always lifts the mood when he is in the room. "Heyyyy", he says while hugging you. As he steps away again and looks you deep into the eyes.

"You ok? You kinda look... bewildered", he tries to word it nicely. "I don't know, something very confusing happened", you tell him without saying too much. "Funny, Aidan had the same flustered expiration in his face as he walked by. Are you two a thing?", he asks you. This was a big part of his personality, teasing people with rumors. "Course, we made out in the back of the set", you say matching his tone.

-

After filming the scenes, you get out of your makeup and walk to the buffet. Getting a hot coffee after a long filming day was your treat. You let one of side of the script on the set you and Aidan had 'rehearsed', so you grab your things and go to set 36. You text your mom that you will be home soon and that you took a croissant for her at the buffet. You look up from your phone searching the room for the paper you had lost. You hoped that nobody took it.

You couldn't quite put your finger onto it but you felt watched. You turn around and search for the eyes, which were looking at you, but you found none. "Hello?", you ask. Suddently you get pressed into the wall beside you. You let out a scared squeak, as you feel hands on your hips. Aidan stands before you, his thin body pressing you into the wall. "What do you want?", you ask him, rougher than you actually intended to.

"You", he whispers. "Aidan this is insane", you mumble, as you look into his, with hair covered eyes. "You let me standing there after what you just did", you say. He shakes his head and lays his hand on your cheek. "I am sorry I just didn't know what to do", he ends his sentence in a whisper.

Aidan's intense gaze locks onto yours as he leans in closer, the weight of his presence almost suffocating. "I know," he whispers, his voice laced with regret, "I shouldn't have walked away like that. But I... I panicked." His breath is warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

His confession hangs in the air, and for a moment, the tension between you both feels unbearable. His hands tighten slightly on your hips, as if he's afraid to let go, yet unsure if he should hold on. The smell of him—earthy, with a hint of something sweet—clouds your thoughts, making it hard to think straight. "You can't just do that," you murmur, your voice trembling with the emotions surging inside you. "You can't kiss me like that and then act like it never happened."

His eyes soften, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. "I know," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I can't stop thinking about you. About us." The weight of his words crashes down on you, and for a moment, you forget where you are, the set, the script, everything fading into the background. All that exists is the space between you two, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

Aidan moves closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I don't want to run anymore," he admits, his voice raw with emotion. "But this... it's complicated. We're complicated." You feel your resolve weakening, the warmth of his body so close to yours drawing you in, but the rational part of your brain fights back. "Adian, this can't just be... some fling. We have to work together. What if—" He cuts you off with a kiss, softer this time, but no less intense. It's as if he's trying to pour all his confusion, frustration, and longing into that single moment. And despite everything, you find yourself kissing him back, unable to resist the pull between you.

When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless. "I don't know what this is," he says quietly, "but I want to find out. With you." You stare at him, heart pounding, as you try to make sense of everything. The logical side of you knows this could lead to disaster, but your heart... your heart is telling you something else entirely. "Aidan," you begin, your voice steadying, "if we do this, we have to be careful. This could get messy. Really messy." He nods, his expression serious. "I know. But for once, I don't care about the consequences. I care about you."

His words leave you speechless, and for the first time, you allow yourself to consider the possibility. Maybe, just maybe, this could be something more than a mistake. "Okay," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. "But we take it one step at a time. No more running." A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he nods. "One step at a time," he agrees, his hand gently caressing your cheek. For a moment, the world feels like it’s standing still, the only thing that matters is the connection between the two of you.

I hope you like it, let me know what you think about it :)

[thiccsoftserved]

The Buffet/Stuffing in Public

Content Warning: References to childhood food restriction

The car ride to the buffet is short, but is filled with extreme anxiety. Your partner has been feeding you so well that you put on more weight than you expected since the last time you saw your family. You have outgrown all your pants and the leggings you are wearing tonight are brand new.

"I don't want to pop a button at dinner," you remarked lightly when getting dressed. Your partner then had playfully pouted, wrapping their arms around you from behind and tucking their hands under the swell of your gut.

The thing you are most nervous for is seeing your mother. She had always been an “Almond Mom” and made sure that you and your siblings had been extremely thin growing up. You know she is going to make a comment of your recent weight. Maybe a month or two ago you could have hidden yourself under baggy clothes and Spandex, but now there is an unmistakable curve to your middle that you can't hide when sitting down. And even then she will notice your widened hips and the softness of your jawline.

You squirm in the passenger seat, wishing you hadn’t eaten so much for lunch. Your stomach growls loudly and you absentmindedly rest a hand on your upper belly, rubbing and giving a small hum of disapproval. It feels like something is trying to break free and usually that's a point of arousal, but tonight it just reminds you of everything your mom said about chubby people when you were younger.

Your partner gazes at you hungrily, glancing at you when the road is clear, “You’re so sexy, you know? I know you’re worried your mom is going to say something, but you are so perfect and soft.”

That does make you feel a bit better and you shift in your seat, adjusting your seatbelt around your belly. Your partner steals another glance and then taps the steering wheel, letting out a small groan.

"What?" You ask.

"Fuck, sorry, you're just so hot," they say, "Should we pull over and fuck in the backseat?"

You roll your eyes, "We'll be late for dinner."

"Okay..." they say, "I'll just have to stuff you in front of your family and then explore all your curves when we get home."

"I'm not going to eat a lot tonight."

Your partner is silent and you can tell they trying to think of something to rebuff that. They turn up the music and neither of you say anything for the rest of the car ride. You arrive to the buffet and see your family getting out of their cars. Your mother says hi to each of your siblings and then goes to hug you. There is an obvious hesitation as she rakes her eyes down your body, but she doesn't say anything.

You all go inside and take your seats around the largest table in the establishment. As people get up to go to the buffet, your partner puts a hand on your arm.

"Want me to grab you a plate?" They ask.

You pause, but then something flips inside you and you feel ravenous. A pit opens in your stomach and the look you receive from your mother across the table hardens your resolve.

"Yes," you say, "and forget what I said in the car. Get me one of everything."

Your partner beams at you and makes good on that. They run away and return with a plate piled high. Chicken kabobs, cornbread, pizza, sausage rolls, salad, shrimp, mashed potatoes, mixed veggies, and a healthy scoop of fruit salad. While everyone else is talking you dig in and you don't care what they're saying. With each bite you can feel your partner's eyes on you, full of love and lust, and you are aware of your mother sitting at the far end of the table scrutinizing your eating. You don't care.

You make it through half of the plate and your stomach starts to strain. The feeling spreads through your abdomen, making your entire body tingle. You continue to eat, your belly pushing out so far that the table starts digging into you. A burp rumbles up and you take a second to stifle it. It's the first time you've looked up since you started. You're breathing heavily and another burp almost comes out, but you shove it down. You sit back for a moment, wiggling in your chair to reprieve the table pushing your middle. You resist rubbing your belly. This is a family event.

You get your breathing under control, but it still feels difficult to take a full breath. Suddenly your partner's hand is on your shoulder. Their eyes are dark and filled with unmistakable lust. You know that look... they want to throw you down on the bed and climb on top of you.

"Are you going to finish your plate?" They ask.

You go to answer, but all you can do is nod. What wanted to come out was a moan, but not here. Not in front of family.

You go back to the plate, but you're slower this time. Bite after bite the mountain of food disappears into you and you think that you're so stuffed you might not be able to get out of the chair you're in without help. It's almost like the back of your throat is also filling up.

Another burp, this one is actually kind of loud. A couple of your family members look over and your mom shoots you a glare made of daggers. You cover your mouth and apologize, hiding a smile. Your partner's hand finds your knee and squeezes it, sending a thrill through your core.

Somewhere during the rest of the plate your partner gets up and heads back to the buffet. Maybe for seconds? For them or for you? You don't think you'll be able to put any more away if they do bring more, but you'll certainly try. You're entire body feels gigantic and round, like a doll full of stuffing.

You finish the last bite of mashed potatoes just as your partner returns and they set down a giant slice of chocolate cake in front of you. Looking up at them, you wonder if they can see the dizziness in your eyes. You're starting to feel light headed. Do they really want you to eat dessert too?

They grab your face with a hand, squeezing your soft chin. Then they lean forward and kiss you.

They are still nose to nose with you, gripping your jaw as they say, "You're going to eat dessert, too, right?"

You heave a giant sigh and pick up a fork, feeling like you might pass out as you take the first bite of chocolate cake. The buzz of people around you dies out into the background as you shove down the whole slice. You feel another burp coming and this time you don't try to stop it at all.

A couple of the people at the table laugh and make a joke or two, but your brain is almost fuzzy with delirium. You are so warm, so round, so stuffed, so soft. You know they're going to talk about this later, but right now you want to go home and have your partner explore all your curves. Just like they wanted. Because how could you possibly refuse them now?

----------

This is a slightly longer one. Let me know if you like it 🥰 I love the idea of being stuffed in public.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

eating König x high school sweetheart up like a buffet tbh [Gordon Ramsey voice] finally some good fucking food 🤌🔥

What if König and Sweetheart had an oops baby? Sweetheart is estatic because it’s the best of both of them and König would be the best dad! You’ve overcome your pasts to build a sweet little future together!!

He agrees that he would be the best dad (to anyone else’s baby, not hers 😤) but is panicking because his plans to leave her in the dust have been effectively put on hold for 18 years. She didn’t baby trap him, he obvs baby-trapped her!! He’s goes into Turbo Cope Mode and convinces himself that no one will want her as a single mom, and that no one is more qualified to raise HIS baby than HIM. He’ll play happy family for now (⬅️ will play happy family forever).

I just imagine him breeding her like crazy ("out of revenge") until there's 5 carbon copies of him and her running around and calling him 'daddy' and her, 'mommy' :) It stopped being an "oops" at the third one but he simply can't stop himself!

He wasn't sure what his plan was but it def wasn't this: her being like a ray of sun when he comes back home, kids running around everywhere and practically climbing him like koalas, asking if he has anything for them, the oldest even snatches his knife out of it's sheath when he's preoccupied with grabbing this crawling little thing on the floor before it bonks its head.

"The babysitter cancelled at the last minute," she breaths a smile and a kiss on his lips while the 3 months old baby König is staring at them wide-mouthed. "Perhaps it's a good thing, otherwise you'd have too much time in your hands to knock me up again..."

[thetriumphantpanda]

i work from nine to five; hey hell, i pay the price | Marcus Pike

Summary | You use the office halloween party as a way to prove you can push yourself out of your comfort zone. You didn't expect that to mean that the apple of your eye, Marcus Pike, would take an interest in you.

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Plus Size F!Reader

Word Count | 4.4K

Warnings | Explicit smut, workplace 'romance', negative talk about bodies, body issues, plus size reader, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex, dirty talk, mention of food and alcohol, halloween vibes, costumes, pet names, but nothing else.

Authors Note | I told myself I wasn't going to do halloween writing, and then I had a very vivid image of Marcus Pike bending me over his desk at a work party.... So I did some halloween writing. As a woman who lives life in a bigger body, this one goes out to everyone else who has felt the way reader has felt. These are MY OWN experiences, attitudes I've had given to me, and given to myself, they aren't universal, we all feel differently about ourselves, but if you've ever been made to feel less than because of the way you look, just know I see you and that Marcus Pike would absolutely take you apart regardless of how thick your thighs are. If you liked this, please consider supporting me through my Ko-Fi.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You tug at your skirt a little, trying to pull it down over your thighs. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to choose something skimpy for the office Halloween party. A way to challenge yourself, finally start to work through the years of bullying at school, and the off-hand comments from your almond-mom who had always told you things like, ‘you could stand to lose a few pounds’, or ‘surely a salad would be a better idea?’. 

It had been such a relief when you’d gotten this job two years ago, finally earning enough on an FBI salary to move out of your family home and into your own space. A space where you weren’t judged for how many fries you had on your plate, or how the pair of trousers you’d chosen to wear made your belly look. It had been good for you, and ever since, you’d been trying your best to challenge yourself to do things you never thought you’d ever have the confidence to do. 

Things like standing in the office, in a pair of fishnet tights, with a skirt so short that if you bent over, Dave from Finance would get a complete eyeful. Looking around though, you couldn’t help feel like it had been a terrible idea. Amy from HR looked absolutely phenomenal in her devil outfit – a red bodycon dress that looked like it had been painted on, showing not a single imperfection on her body – and Jessica, who worked reception, in a Catwoman jumpsuit that hugged her figure perfectly. You don’t think it would ever go away, the comparing yourself to everyone else, even though you knew that Amy and Jessica would totally have their own insecurities about things. 

You were trying to make yourself at small as possible, crowding yourself into the corner of the room, hand clutched around a plastic cup full of ‘spooky punch’, that Hannah, the office manager had put together, which comprised of mostly vodka, some orange juice and what looked like a whole bottle of green food coloring, with some eyeball candy floating around in it. She’d put together a Halloween playlist, which was currently blasting The Monster Mash at a decibel you think should be illegal, and everyone had contributed to her spooky buffet, which was just normal food cut into shapes – like your addition of frozen pizza that you’d cut out with a ghost-shaped cookie cutter. You know you should go and mingle. Adam, on your team has already tried twice to get you to join their little group, so you relent, and walk over, giving everyone a warm smile. It’s all going well, until Alison, nods her head in your direction and stats speaking. 

“Did you work late?” She asks, to which you shake your head. 

“No, why?” 

“Oh,” She grimaces, “I just didn’t think you’d dressed up, is all.” 

And you know it’s mainly because she’s oblivious to mostly everything, but it smarts. Sure, the orange turtleneck is something you’d worn to work before, as are the black platform heels, but the skirt that ghosts the bottom of your ass and the fishnet tights that are still probably one size too small are not something you usually wear, nor are the fake glasses, with thick black frames, or the fucking magnifying glass you’re clutching. You sigh, make your excuses and walk over to the buffet table, picking up one of the slices of pizza you’d brought. Once you’ve eaten that, you reach for one of the cupcakes at the back of the table. It’s iced like a pumpkin and the cake looks to be chocolate, which is your favourite. You’re peeling off the wrapper and about to take a bite when someone interrupts you. 

“They’re delicious.” 

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Marcus Pike. Head of Department. Not your boss, but your boss’ boss, and the most beautiful man you think you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d sat in on meetings that he chaired, supposed to be taking notes but instead focused entirely on him and how he commanded the room. The way he talked with his hands, and how much you wish you could have him run those over your thighs. Or the way he would chew on his bottom lip when he was concentrating, wondering whether he’d like it if you did that if he were to ever kiss you. 

“Oh.” You exhale softly, suddenly uber aware of the fact he’s probably just watched you eat the ghost-shaped pizza, and now, not a minute later, getting ready to bite into the cupcake, you go to set it down on the table, but he stops you, hand gently holding onto your wrist. 

“Please,” He says softly, “I made them, so I need the ego boost.” 

You smile a little, finally meeting his eyes, “You just said they were delicious, what do you need my opinion for?” 

“I remember the raspberry muffins you made last week,” He smirks a little, “And the apple turnovers the week before those, and everything else you bring in, I need to know what the office star baker thinks about my effort.” 

You’re going to refuse, say you’re already full, despite the pizza being the first thing you’d eaten that evening, that you’ll take it home with you and report back on Monday, but his beautiful brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, so you sigh, peel the rest of the wrapper off and take a bite. It’s actually delicious. He’s put some kind of orange flavouring in the icing, and the cake itself is really good. 

“You were right,” You smile, “It is delicious.”

He smiles, like he’s won a prize and it makes you feel a bit fuzzy inside, that this man next to you has been affected by your praise. 

“Great costume, by the way.” He compliments, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body. 

“You mean you don’t think I ran out of time and came in my office clothes?” You tease. 

“You’d wear that skirt to the office?” He’s smirking at you, and also offers you a wink, which has your hand dropping to the table, holding yourself up, why on earth was Marcus Pike flirting with you? “It’s good, Velma, right?” He motions to the magnifying glass abandoned on the table. 

You chuckle a little, “First prize, got it first time,” You then take a moment to take in his costume, he’s wearing a brown jacket over one of his usual shirts, a brown satchel is draped across his body and he’s got a hat on, but it’s the whip that really gives him away, “Indiana Jones?” You say quietly. 

“The one and only.” He smiles, opening his arms a little. 

You think it must be the amount of vodka that Hannah put in the punch, but even so, your next question shocks you, “Do I ask where you got the whip from?” 

He looks around dramatically, “Just checking Amy from HR is out of earshot,” Then he leans in a little closer, “It’s from my own personal collection.” 

You reach your hand out, letting your fingers run over the material where the handle is holstered in his pocket. It feels expensive, although it’s not like you have much experience with them to pass judgement on what’s expensive and what isn’t.

“Feels expensive,” You hum, “Guess that head of department salary has to get spent on something.” 

He reaches down and takes your hand in his gently, running soft circles over the skin on the back of your hand, “You really do look lovely tonight,” He speaks softly, “Enjoy the rest of the evening.” 

And then as quickly as he was stood in front of you, he’s gone. You let out a breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding in, focusing on the way your chest is heaving and you can feel your pulse in your head. You pick up your plastic cup and down the liquid that’s left in the bottom, wincing at the strength of the vodka, then deciding you need a top up. 

You mill about for a little bit longer, but still feel like a bit of a spare part. You’ve shown your face, spoken to everyone you should have, and now there’s a glass of wine and a bubble bath with your name on it back home. You pick up your coat from the back of a random office chair, grab your bag from your own desk, and sneak out as quietly as you can. You’re halfway down the hall, almost to the elevator, when you hear a voice from behind you. 

“Running away?” 

You turn around, Marcus Pike is leaning against the doorframe to his office. He’s taken the satchel off, and the whip is no longer in his pocket. He’s crossed one ankle over the other, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Feeling a little like a spare part,” You shrug, “And there’s a glass of wine calling my name at home.” 

He nods in understanding, “You drink whiskey?” He asks. 

“If I have to.” You answer back. 

“Well, how about you stay and have one with me,” He offers, “Leave that wine for another day.” 

You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, because why on earth would Marcus Pike want to have a drink with you? It feels like someone somewhere is having a good old laugh at your expense, but you feel your feet leading you towards him, brushing past him and into his office. 

You’ve been in here a handful of times before, mainly to drop of reports and papers, and only once whilst he’s been there. It’s been a very professional relationship up until now, no flirting, nothing inappropriate. You drape your coat over the arm of the small couch he’s got there – you imagine he sleeps on it when he hasn’t got time to go home during crunch time of investigations.  Your bag sits on the floor next to it. 

He leaves the door open, giving you an out if you want it. He points to the couch, tells you to sit down, which you do, pulling once again at the tiny skirt, trying to cover the way the skin of your thighs bulge through the holes of the fishnet tights, ultimately failing, as Marcus reaches into one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out two crystal tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them both equally, handing one to you, but he doesn’t sit next to you, he just leans against the edge of his desk. 

“I always thought it was a myth,” You muse, “Agents with whiskey in their desks.” 

He smiles at you, “It’s in there for big wins,” He explains, “Cracking cases and that kind of stuff.” 

You nod your head, taking a small sip of your drink, wincing as it drags down your throat, “What’s tonight’s big win?” You ask, fluttering your eyelashes and then cringing a little at yourself. 

“You looking that sinful.” 

You’re taking a sip when he says it, so you end up spluttering quite unattractively at his words. Is he serious? You dab at the corners on your mouth, setting your glass down on the floor, “Sorry,” You mutter, “But are you for real?” 

He smirks, “As real as you and I.” 

He pushes himself off the desk, puts his drink down on it as he moves. He takes three wide strides until he’s stood in front of you. You look up from where you’re sat, hands folded in your lap. He reaches out, drags the fake glasses from your face, throws them absentmindedly onto the couch next to you. You’re breathing heavily as reaches out with one of his hands. The flat of his palm cupping your jaw, whilst his thumb traces along your bottom lip. 

“Do you want me to close the door?” He asks, voice lower than you’ve ever known it. 

You have no words, your tongue refusing to work, so you nod instead, because as much as you’re still thinking someone is going to come in and tell you you’re being pranked, you also want to know what he’s going to do next. He’s back to you in moments once he’s closed the door and turned the lock. The light above is harsh, but it’s needed, because the blinds are closed. 

He's standing in front of you again, this time both his palms are cupping your cheeks, and he’s leaning down, ever so slowly, until his lips are a hairs breath from yours. God, you want him to push the last few millimeters and kiss you, but he’s stopped. Waiting. And you don’t want to break first. You’ve done it before, gone to kiss someone, and then felt them laugh just before you can, because why would they want to? 

“You gonna kiss me, pretty lady?” 

“I want you to kiss me first.” You admit on a shaky breath. 

You’ve got your eyes closed, so you can’t read his eyes, look for the sense of regret in them, so it’s a shock when you feel his lips on yours. It’s so soft, barely there, before he’s pulling away, still close enough to feel his hot breath over your skin though. 

“There,” His thumbs are moving across the skin of your cheeks, “Now you.” 

So, you do. You reach your hand around to the back of his neck, pull him into you and really press your lips to his. His bottom lip slots between yours and you suck it gently into your mouth. You smile a little at the sound that comes from his throat, then he’s opening his mouth against yours and you’re following, doing exactly the same, letting his tongue behind your teeth as it melds with your own. His hands are dropping from your face, trailing down your shoulders. He leans forward into you a little, his hands under your arms to tug you up. 

You drag your mouth from him to stand up, his hands dropping to your hips to guide you behind his desk. There are nerves bubbling under your skin because you know what he wants as he pressed your ass into the wood. He wants you to sit on it. To be fair to the department, it’s a sturdy looking desk, but the thought of the way it’s going to creak under your weight makes you want to crawl into a hole. Marcus doesn’t push though, just brings his mouth back to yours, letting his hands wander a little, dragging them back up your body to palm your tits through the layers you’re wearing. 

“I think you did this on purpose,” He speaks against your mouth, “Like you knew this woman had always driven me wild.” 

You don’t mean to, but it makes you laugh, “Don’t tell me Velma from Scooby-Doo was your sexual awakening?” 

He laughs back, doesn’t confirm it, but doesn’t deny it either. He’s looking down your body, having pulled back a bit, “Fuck,” He mutters, “Every time I look at you, it gets better.” 

“The magic of a slutty Halloween costume.” You shrug. 

He nods his head, but speaks again, “It’s not just that though,” He’s speaking softly now, “I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, wandering around the office all the time, driving me mad.” 

This would normally be the time that you’d try and fight against the compliments being thrown your way. Tell them they must be lying, or joke that they need to get their eyes tested. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like you should do that here. There’s something about Marcus that makes you think he wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t string you along this far just to have a laugh at your expense, so you don’t do it, for the first time in your life. 

You reach up to his shirt, undo two of the buttons, “You know,” You hum, “I think exactly the same as you, with your whip or not.” 

He breathes out, taking hold of your wrists to stop your movements, “Let me make you feel good?” He asks. 

You meet his eyes, feeling heat rise across your face, but you nod anyway, because you’ve come this far, and you can already feel wetness pooling in your panties. He drags his hands down your body, grips your hips and forces you to sit on the edge of the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you. He’s looking you straight in the eyes, as he pushes the material of your skirt to gather at your waist. Your legs open further, and Marcus groans when your movement reveals the see-through black lace of your panties. It hadn’t felt right to dress as a sexy Velma and wear your normal underwear, is how you justify it. 

You’re expecting him to tell you to lift up so he can drag your tights off you, but instead, he hooks a finger through the material at your groin and fucking rips them apart. It makes you gasp. You’d chide him for ruining them, but at this point you don’t care. They were cheap, and if it means you’re going to have his mouth on you quicker, then you’re not going to complain. 

Marcus leans forwards, you can feel the heat of his breath splaying across the lace material, and then he drags his tongue across the length of your folds over the lace of your panties. Even with the material barrier between your skin and his mouth, you’re tipping your head back in pleasure, letting out a breath as he repeats his movements, dragging his fingers just behind his tongue on his last pass of movements. It’s not enough. 

“Please, Marcus.” You beg quietly. 

“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks, looking up at you with angelic eyes, as if he couldn’t possibly think what it is you want from him. 

“Your mouth.” 

“You already have it.” He points out, proving his point by licking another stripe up your panties. 

“Marcus,” You sigh, “Move the… fuck… move the damn material out of the way.” 

He lets out a huff of amusement, “See,” He says, doing exactly as you ask, hooking his fingers under the material and moving it to the side, “All you had to do was ask.” 

He doesn’t waste any more time now. Letting his tongue dip between your slick folds, dragging the wetness that’s pooled at your entrance up to your clit, where he flicks softly with the tip of his tongue. You feel his thumbs spreading the lips of your cunt, baring you to him so he can really start to work you up. He presses the flat of his tongue to your clit, working it gently as your hand settles into the curls on his head, anchoring him there. He’s doing all the things you love, moving between wide stripes of the flat of his tongue, and quick flicks with the tip, until your hips are grinding against his face and you’re biting down onto your bottom lip to keep quiet. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, pretty lady,” He speaks against your skin, surprising you a little as he pushes not one, but two of his fingers into your soaked cunt, “Feel good?” 

“Oh God,” You breathe out as he hooks his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot you had no idea even existed inside of you, “Don’t stop… don’t fucking stop.” 

He doesn’t, the obedient man that he is. He starts dragging his fingers in and out of you, whilst his lips wrap around your clit, pulling it into his mouth, laving it with attention from his tongue, which sends you over the edge. 

Your thighs are clenching around his head as your body convulses. All you want is to cry out, call his name into the room, but even though you can hear the music from the party down here, anyone could be walking past, and it would be just your luck that it would be Amy from HR. His mouth is working you through those aftershocks as your thighs ease the pressure around his head. 

He's breathing as heavy as you are when he stands, slotting himself between your open legs. You can feel the hard length of him pressing against your silken center, as he dips his head to kiss you again, your taste intoxicating on his tongue. 

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, almost desperately, “You gonna let me?” 

“Please.” Is all you can get out, as he drags you off the desk, flipping you around so your front is pressed against the wood of the desk. 

He’s got his hand on the nape of your neck, pressing you down. You can hear him undoing his belt, dragging the zipper of his jeans down. You shuffle a little, widening your stance as he takes his place behind you. You can feel him dragging his cock through your folds, gathering the slick he’s pulled from you, before he’s plunging into you in one go. It takes everything you have not to scream. He’s big. Stretching you like no-one has before and it feels so fucking good. 

Marcus is still gripping the back of your neck as he starts moving, his other hand gripping the plush cheek of your ass, spreading you open even more as he slowly drags himself in and out of you. He’s going slowly, and you think that the way his breath is hitching in his throat means he’s struggling to keep his composure, so you decide to have a little fun. 

When he’s pulled almost all the way out of you, you turn your head as much as you can with his hand resting there, looking over your shoulder at him as you wiggle your ass, slowly backing into him, letting your cunt suck him right back into you again. 

“Baby, you can’t do that,” He pleads, his fingers digging into the skin of your ass, “Carry on like that and this will be over before it’s begun.” 

“Don’t care,” You mutter, “Harder, please.” 

He starts pounding into you now, the sound of his skin slapping against yours is obscene. You’re both trying as hard as possible to keep the moans and groans as quiet as possible, and you can’t help but wish he wants more, that he’ll take you home sometime, unwrap you and let you scream for him, but you decide to focus on the here and now. 

“Touch yourself.” You hear demanded from behind you, “I want to feel you come on my cock.” 

You snake your hand underneath you, pushing the discomfort of how your arm is trapped between your body and the desk, and start tracing quick circles over your clit. You’re already sensitive, hanging on the edge from his mouth, so you press harder, move your wrist faster. 

“Feel so fucking good, baby,” Marcus groans behind you, “Close, ain’tcha?” He asks, “Go on baby, let go for me, let me feel you.” 

And it’s his voice that does it, that finally tips you over the edge, has your cunt clenching around him, walls fluttering and teeth biting into your bottom lip as your knees give way. Thankfully, Marcus is gripping at your hips, which helps to keep you upright. 

“Where, baby?” He asks, voice strained, and you don’t catch what he means, “Quick baby, where do you want me?” 

“Anywhere.” You groan out, “I don’t care Marcus, just come for me.” 

You think for a moment he might stay inside you, which would be fine, you thank the implant under the skin of your arm, but at the last minute he’s pulling out of you, feeling the hot slick of his cum on the skin of your ass as he lets out a low groan out of his mouth. He’s breathing heavily behind you, pulling his jeans back up. You try and move, to push yourself up, but you’re worried if you move further you might collapse. 

“Stay there.” He says gently, leaning over you to pluck a few tissues from the box on his desk, gently wiping away the mess he’s caused, pulling your panties back into place and letting your skirt cover as much of your ass as it can in your position. 

“You okay?” He asks softly, helping you to stand, tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear. 

You nod, because you are, you’ve never been fucked so thoroughly, never been made to come so hard in your life, but there’s an anxiety settling in your stomach. What always happens now is they’ll tell you they had a great time, but don’t think they want to see you again, which is going to be even more embarrassing because you have to work with this man. 

It's almost as if he can sense your anxiety, because he’s cupping your cheek again, leaning to give you a soft kiss on the lips, “Would you maybe want to go out sometime?” He asks, “I know we’ve done things out of order, but I’ve wanted to ask for a while.” 

You smile, because it does make you happy, that the man you’ve fancied for the best part of a year actually wants to take you out, “As long as you promise to take me back to yours after and let me see you naked?” 

He blows out air from his mouth, but his eyes are twinkling, “You drive a hard bargain,” He muses, “But you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

He’s moving from you now, over to the couch, picking up your coat and your back, motioning you over so he can help you into your jacket, hooking your bag onto your elbow, then moving to gather his own things, “Wait, right now?” You ask, sounding surprised, as he shrugs his jacket on. 

“I know a great diner just down the road.” He shrugs, picking up his satchel. 

He’s walking back to you, but you put a hand on his chest, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” You ask, watching a confused look fall over his face, you dart your eyes to his desk, where the whip from earlier is lying abandoned, “I’m only coming back to yours if you bring that.” 

You watch as a smirk splays across his lips. He snatches the whip from his desk, shoving it into the satchel, “Well, pretty lady, lead the way.” 

[whiteboi-inferiority]

As well as being home to the mighty Black Tigers, Blaxville is also known for it's sex tourism.

Bunnies of all shapes and sizes, of all ages and all walks of life come from all around the world to shake off their shackles and shake their asses, in love with the colour that unites them all: Red Blue Black ♠️

It don't matter who or what you are on the outside. Take Megyn here! Out in the world Megyn hosts a popular show on Fox! Some people say she's hateful and racist. Others say she's a truth speaker and a defender of free speech. But here in Blaxville? Why, here with us she's just another submissive snowbunny eager for a ticket to our dark meat buffet.

So be you a bottle blonde WASP, a lip curling MAGA mom, a blue haired barker or a bunch of batcherlorettes looking for that legendary trip location, make Blaxville your next vacation destination. And remember! What goes on in Blaxville stays in Blaxville!

~The Mayor of Blaxville~

[rubysunnday]

can we always be this close

requested by anon: Congrats for reaching 6k!! I feel like such a proud mom, i've been following you since you had around 2k and you deserve this so much!! Could i please request a jesper x reader fic with the fake dating trope?

summary: from strangers to friends, friends into fake lovers, fake lovers into lovers

Kaz held a piece of paper out to Jesper. "Here's your invite."

Jesper took it between two fingers and flipped it over, unfolding it to its full size. "Mr and Mrs Leonard," he read, his brow furrowing.

"Oh, why do we have to be married?" Y/N grumbled, snatching the paper from Jesper's hands.

Jesper tutted, trying to snatch it back. Y/N slapped his hand away and, reluctantly, Jesper backed down.

"Because I need both of you for this job and it was easier to have one invitation than two," Kaz replied. "Now, here's the plan."

"Jesper and Y/N, you two are going to pretend to be guests of Van Delnik. Once inside and the party has started, one of you will cause a commotion."

Surrounded by big skirted dresses and expensive champagne, Y/N had never felt so out of place. She gripped Jesper's arm tightly as they walked through the corridor to the giant spherical ballroom.

"Ready?" Jesper asked, lowering his voice enough so that only Y/N could hear.

She nodded. "Yep."

"Inej, you'll be disguised as one of the maids. Once you see the commotion, head to the roof. I'll meet you up there."

"What are we stealing, again?"

"We're not, Jesper. Inej and I are staking out the building - Van Delnik is hiding his treasures somewhere and I for one want my DeKappel back."

"It wasn't yours in the first place, Kaz."

"Semantics, dearest Inej."

Y/N took her arm from Jesper's and took a step to the side, bumping into one of the men nearby. When he grunted and turned to tell her off, Y/N pretended to stumble, knocking the man's champagne glass onto her, and fell into Jesper.

"Sir, watch where you are going!" Jesper exclaimed, standing Y/N up on her feet. He dramatically whipped out a handkerchief and started dabbing at Y/N's chest and the bodice of her dress.

"Your wife bumped into me!"

"Because he tripped me up!" Y/N replied, pointing at a random man nearby.

"Once Inej and I are on the roof, we'll go in through the side window into Van Delnik's office. Jesper and Y/N, you need to give us at least ten minutes."

"I think we can manage that, can't we wife?"

"Oh, I am going to regret being married to you."

Once the commotion of who had tripped and spilt champagne on Y/N had calmed down - she'd managed to convince the men it'd been their fault - Jesper had whisked her away over to the buffet tables, out the way of the crowds.

"Saints, this chicken is to die for," Y/N muttered. She licked her fingers, wiped them on her skirt and picked up another piece. "I need the recipe." Y/N wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Saints my face is a mess."

"I think it looks beautiful," Jesper replied, smiling at her.

Y/N returned his smile.

"How do we know you're done?"

"Trust me, Y/N, you'll know."

The entire ballroom shook as something exploded outside the doors. Glasses wobbled and smashed onto the floor. People screamed. Guards rushed forward from their hiding spots.

"I guess that's the signal," Jesper muttered. "Now to get out of here."

"Where do we meet you?"

"Out the front - you'll be one of the many screaming guests if all goes to plan."

Jesper grabbed Y/N's hand and she clutched on tightly as they joined the throng of people trying to get out through the double doors. They both held on to one another, determined to stay together and not be split up by the crowd.

Once they'd squeezed through the double doors, the crowd spilled out into the street. Some ran away, some stood their, overwhelmed and shocked. To the right, a fire burnt away inside s store room, flames licking the glass of the windows within.

"Found them," Jesper muttered.

He pulled Y/N to him and they moved through the crowds, weaving over to the left and away from the fire. Kaz and Inej had both changed into servant uniforms and were blending in with the shrubbery and shadows.

"We were spotted," Kaz said as they walked up to them. "The bomb wasn't the plan."

"Oh, we thought it was," Y/N said. She absent-mindedly ran her thumb along the back of Jesper's hand. "Do we need to go?"

Kaz shook his head. "No, we'll wait -"

"There they are!"

Four heads shot up and turned sharply to the right. A disheveled looking guard was stood on the steps, pointing directly at them.

"Yes, we need to go," Kaz amended. "Meet at Black Veil."

As the Stadwatch and Van Delnik's personal security began to come at them, the four of them split up. Kaz and Inej going one way, Jesper and Y/N going the other.

Y/N gathered the numerous layers of her dress skirt and ran down the cobbled streets, wind blowing through her hair, tearing it out of its intricate up do.

"Split up," Jesper said, letting go of her hand.

Y/N darted right as Jesper went left. The pursuing guards stumbled to a halt and then quickly spotted them and their plan, splitting up themselves and chasing after them.

The street lamps had been left on in this bit of town - a sign of the rich who lived there. They could afford to burn the oil. Y/N saw an open public garden to her left and quickly pushed open the small iron gate and ran inside, the trees obscuring almost all of the street light. She ran through the bushes and the trees, the heels of her shoes sinking into the damp ground.

Eventually, she emerged out the other side. Y/N glanced behind her as she came out onto the street and ran into someone.

"Oh, saints!" Jesper exclaimed, his hands catching Y/N's waist and pulling her forward and into him.

Y/N put her hands on his chest, stopping her face from smacking into it. "I thought you'd gone the other way!"

"I did, it looped to here!"

"Oh my -"

"There they are, shoot them!"

Jesper grinned at her, taking her hand in his. "And off we go again."

They broke out into a sprint, running down the street once again. Bullets began to ricochet off the floor and the walls around them as the private guard began shooting at them.

Y/N giggled, the adrenaline running through her. Her laughter cut off abruptly as something hit her back and side, a searing pain shooting through her entire being, She stumbled forward, Jesper's going around her waist and holding her up.

"Ok, ok, come on," Jesper said, looping his arm through Y/N. "We need to keep going, Y/N, I'm sorry."

Y/N groaned in pain, pressing the palm of her hand against her side. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to breathe through the pain.

At some point, they lost the private guard - Y/N wasn't sure when - and entered Black Veil Cemetery. Jesper was on auto-pilot, walking down the headstones until they reached the mausoleum.

Jesper and Y/N all but fell through the doors and down the stairs, startling person who was already inside.

"Saints," Nina swore, her arms reaching forward and catching Y/N as she fell forward, her legs folding beneath her. "What happened?"

"What do you think happened?" Jesper muttered, all but ripping the buttons off his jacket in an attempt to get it off. "Kaz and his ridiculous plans."

"I'm fine -" Y/N cut herself off with a yell of pain as Jesper pressed his jacket against her side.

Nina sighed, tutting to herself. "I'm -"

"Not a healer, we know, Nina," Jesper and Y/N said together.

"Alright, saints," Nina muttered. "Come on, down the stairs."

Somehow, Jesper and Nina managed to get Y/N to her feet and down the stairs. Together they lifted her up and onto the empty tomb that often became a table.

"I'll be back," Nina muttered, guiding Jesper's hands further over Y/N's side. "Try not to die."

With a bustle of skirts, Nina disappeared back up the stairs, leaving Jesper and Y/N alone, in almost complete silence.

"I'm sorry," Jesper whispered.

Y/N looked up at him. "What for?"

"I... I don't know, it just feels like my fault because I came back to you and they followed me and -"

"Jes, breathe," Y/N said softly, placing her left hand on his cheek. Her thumb trailed over his skin gently, catching the few tears that managed to escape his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He dropped his head, breathing in deeply.

"Talk to me, Fahey," Y/N said, putting her hand under his chin and gently lifting it up until he was looking at her. "I'm listening."

It took him a moment to gather himself enough to speak. "When I was young, my mother tried to help this little girl. The girl had been poisoned and my mother, being grisha, went to help. She drew out the poison from this girls body into her own - saving the girl's life but ultimately killing her.

"This... you bleeding out on my, frankly, rather lovely jacket and coming close to dying it's just..." He sighed, shaking his head. "It just brought back those memories."

Y/N nodded. "I get it." She paused. "I'd miss me too."

Jesper laughed. "Nicely done."

The sound of Nina returning gave them both precious seconds to compose themselves - even though the heartrender had probably sensed something was going on.

But Nina didn't say a word. She walked in, moaning about Kaz, and shooed Jesper away, demanding space to work.

Jesper didn't leave. He helped Nina get Y/N out of her corset and held the hem of Y/N 's shirt up. He held her hand as Nina began to heal the wound. It didn't hurt as much as a needle would have done, but it still felt uncomfortable and weird. As soon as Nina was satisfied, she patted Y/N on the shoulder and disappeared back up the stairs, muttering something about Kaz and a knife.

"Do you think -"

"No," Jesper said, "no I don't think she did."

Y/N looked up at him, smiling. "Would you -"

"Of course."

Jesper picked up a roll of bandage. He moved closer to Y/N and she shifted, letting him standing in between her legs. They'd been in this position numerous times before - but it was only ever flirting and only ever for a job.

But now, something had shifted between them. A new understanding had emerged - one that could only have happened when someone came close to losing the other.

"My hands are cold," Jesper warned.

Y/N nodded, smiling. "It's fine."

Jesper's fingers brushed against her side and he held the bandage firmly against the wound. He then unrolled the bandage and wrapped it around Y/N's middle, keeping it tight. Y/N leant against Jesper's shoulder as he fiddled with the bandage behind her back, resting her head against his.

"You know," Y/N began, her voice soft, "I really enjoyed pretending to be your wife tonight. Even if it was just pretend."

Jesper stood up, having finished tying the bandage. He looked down at her, his legs brushing against hers. "It doesn't have to be pretend."

Y/N felt her heart skip and her breath got caught in her chest. "No," she said, reaching a hand up and combing her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. "It doesn't."

Jesper lurched forward and pressed his lips against Y/N's. The force of Jesper's kiss meant that she had to brace herself against the tomb with her hands, barely catching herself before she fell backward completely.

"Is this ok?" Jesper asked, resting his forehead against hers.

Y/N could feel his breath against her skin. She opened her eyes, immediately getting lost in Jesper's gaze. "It's perfect."

She leant forward and pressed her lips against is neck, trailing down to his shoulder. Jesper pushed her back and Y/N let her arms fold down until she was lying on the tomb, Jesper on top of her.

"I really hope Nina has had the common sense to go outside," Jesper muttered, resting his head against Y/N's chest.

"Either way," Y/N arched her back as Jesper pressed a kiss against the side of her neck, "she will do soon."

[love-fictional-ppl]

Petite!fem!reader w/ a high metabolism

Part 1

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

Summary: this is part 2 to a request. reader goes off on “almond mom” for judging her for eating while out w her man🤞

Pairings: Sabo x reader, Trafalgar D. Water Law x reader

Warnings: language, Karens, mentions of sex, drinking, food (obviously), characters are kinda ooc

A/N: this was requested so long ago and I genuinely feel horrible for how long you have had to wait for a part 2. I hope that you atleast enjoy this @babbiebooc

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

Sabo:

Tbh he finds it cute

Is that bitch that compares it to his little brother

Will ask you if you ate or if you’re hungry

Doesn’t fuss too much about your eating since he knows you can handle yourself

The revolutionary army had sent troops to an island village. You and Sabo at the moment had plenty of downtime.

“Sabooooo, I’m hungryyyy,” you whine.

“Let’s go get a bite to eat then,” Sabo replies. Wandering around looking for a tavern or restaurant, you finally spot a tavern.

You and Sabo find a spot to sit, out of the way but able to observe who came in and out. You were especially hungry today having ate nothing all day. You decided you didn’t mind spending money since you had just gotten paid.

Sabo ordered himself something to eat and a drink. You both chat and enjoyed your food and each other’s presence.

After a moment you noticed the slight frown on Sabo’s face. You sat and listened for a second and heard a woman talking with her family.

“It baffles me how some women can’t even have the decency to use proper table manners in front of their men,” you were fuming hearing her words.

Before you could do anything, Sabo spoke up, “And it baffles me you don’t even have the decency to talk about somebody you don’t know out of earshot.”

The woman looked flushed and overall embarrassed, nonetheless she went back to eating silently this time.

You couldn’t help feeling butterflies after seeing Sabo stick up for you.

“You know, that was really hot,” you told him.

“Was it?” He responded, cheeky.

“Why don’t we head on out of here?”

Sabo didn’t respond, he simply set down a sack full of berries to pay. He then, grabbed your hand pulled you and dragged you out the place.

Trafalgar D. Water Law:

He doesn’t really care honestly

In his opinion eating is healthy therefore if you wanna eat a entire buffet, knock yourself out

He only finds it odd that you eat so much but barely put on 2 pounds

Thinks ur stomach is a wormhole

You were hungry and wanted to get something to eat, Law originally wasn’t gonna come but then after 10 minutes he decided to join you.

You browsed the market set up in the town considering cooking something yourself, then you spotted a restaurant with the best looking desserts.

Law wandered off to go find a bar but promised he would return. In the meantime you decided to order yourself almost the entire menu.

While you were busy chowing down on a chocolate cake u hear a woman talking a few little girls. Maybe her daughter and her friends?

You hear the withered looking woman say, “You see how she’s sitting alone, that’s for a reason. Eat like that and you’ll be just like her when you’re big girls.”

You started tearing up out of frustration. “Actually you witch, there’s a reason why I eat the way I do. And I’m not alone, thank you very much, I have a boyfriend who will be here any minute. When he does get here me and him will be leaving to go have sex, have a good day.” You slammed the money on the table, oblivious to the fact Law had just witnessed the whole thing.

You heard Law say something like stupid cunt and turned around to see him glaring at the woman.

You almost started sobbing out of relief to see him. Law stared back at you with a relaxed smile and calmly asked, “so are we gonna go have sex?”

Laughing uncontrollably, you reply, “hell yes.”

Smiling like idiots, you walk back to the ship hand in hand.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

A/N: ok so I was gonna include kid but my tumblr is glitching where every time I save the draft it deletes his part😭😭

[hyperfix-wip]

Webbed Together

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Author's Note: Credit goes to @the-kr8tor for their original characters Ramona and Billie. I also want to thank @pinksugarscrub as my beta reader!

Tags: Parent Trap!AU, Dad!Hobie AU, Twin!AU, Billie and Ramona!AU, Older!Hobie, Mom!Reader, Older!Reader

Chapter 3: First Meetings

<<< Chapter 2 Chapter 4>>>

Laughter echoes against the cobblestone walls as campers rush into the mess hall and line up at both sides of a large central buffet table. Tides of hands reach out to piles of food lined up along the long table– plates of hamburgers and hotdogs, containers filled with chicken nuggets and fries, cling-wrapped sandwiches and burritos, and everything in between. Sweet treats also await for the hordes of children– fudgy brownies, frosted sugar cookies with rainbow sprinkles, custardy pudding cups– while platters of fresh fruits and vegetables remain barely touched in the sidelines. 

A beaming Billie eagerly grabs at a plastic-wrapped sub sandwich before stacking it along the small mountain on her plate, carefully balancing the heavily growing tray with one hand while her free one wiggles her fingers in anticipation for another morsel of food to pique her interest. Annie stands right beside her with her own tray, staring at Billie’s behemoth of a plate with a mix of disbelief and intrigue.

“Are you seriously going to eat all that?” Annie blurts out as she looks up at the taller Billie, who only grins wider as she snatches a brownie.

“Oh c’mon, I’m Hank Marvin!” Billie giggles, her eyes lighting up as her nimble fingers grab at a sugar cookie. “Haven’t eaten in hours since I got here! My dad always told me to tuck in and take advantage of all the all-you-can-eats whenever we have the chance to go out–”

Billie’s eyes nearly bulge out when she sees a lunch lady set down a tray of the most immaculate macaroni and cheese she’s ever seen– creamy, bubbling yellow cheese hiding underneath the golden-browned breadcrumbed top, steam wafting from the tray with the baked cheesy smell tantalizing her nostrils– and a shuddering gasp hitches into the poor girl’s throat at the sight.

“Bloody hell, I’m in love.”

“Jesus Christ, dude–”

While Billie nearly floats towards the middle of the buffet table with Annie following along with a snicker, Ramona approaches from the opposite side. Her long fingers reach out for a chocolate pudding cup before another set of fingers accidentally brushes against hers. Her hand flinches away as she glances up to her side, and her eyes meet a frantic boy quaking before her.

“Uh, I– uh…”

Ramona stares at the boy with a furrowed brow before grabbing the pudding cup and sets it down on his tray.

“You can have it,” she reassures him with a sheepish smile. “I can get something else.”

The boy’s pale face flushes red as she looks away from him before he snaps out of his stupor and follows her lead. “You’re, uh, you’re in the jazz ensemble program here, right?”

Ramona glances back at him with a quirked eyebrow before nodding along self-consciously. “Uh yeah, for bass.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Ramona furrows her brows at the boy, who flushes harder and panics. “I-I mean– I mean, I know be-because I’m in the program too! I just– I’m in the brass section, and I just happened to see you at the front with a bass, and I didn’t think this year’s bass player would be a girl– Not that I think it’s weird! I was just surprised, ‘cuz it’s normally one of the counselors playing, and…”

The boy shrinks down in front of the taller Ramona as he trails off, fingers fidgeting with the indents on the plastic tray. “I’m sorry, I swear I’m not trying to be weird or an asshole…”

A soft huff of laughter slips through Ramona’s lips while she grabs a water bottle from the table. “It’s okay, I get it,” she quietly waves him off with an understanding smile. Her face then scrunches up slightly for a moment, hesitation flickering in her eyes, before she glances back at the boy.

“...I’m Ramona, by the way.”

Ramona struggles not to squirm as the boy stares at her with a dropped jaw, but he soon relaxes with a relieved smile. “I’m Arnold.”

The two finally relax around each other as they start to talk and continue down the line, with Ramona slowly approaching the middle of the table. At the same time, Billie heads to the same direction from the opposite side, her eyes dead-set on whatever else is available while her hand grabs for a carton of apple juice. Both girls continue to shuffle along the table until they stand directly next to each other, unaware of each other’s presence. Just as they are about to turn their heads and see each other, one of the counselors steps between them with a plate of her own.

“Excuse me, girls!” The chipper elderly counselor chuckles as she grabs a large spoon. “I just got to have a scoop of these pineapple pieces.”

The counselor carefully shoves the spoon into the large bowl filled with the bright-yellow chunks and scoops them up before holding it out to the unsuspecting Ramona. “Would you like some, dear?”

Ramona looks up at the woman and shakes her head with a sheepish smile. “Oh, no thank you, ma’am. I’m allergic.” Ramona then gives a parting nod before walking off with her tray and her new-found friend.

“Oh, well, too bad.” The counselor then turns to Billie, who just shoved a slice of watermelon into her mouth, and holds the spoon out to her. “What about you, dear?”

Billie swallows her mouthful, her tongue quickly licking off some of the juice off the corner of her mouth, before she looks up at the elder. “No thanks, ma’am. Wish I could, but I’m allergic.”

“Oh yes, dear, you’ve told me that alrea–”

The counselor does a double take at Billie, her eyes wavering in confusion as her face pinches up. “How– how did you get there?”

Billie looks at her with the same look of confusion before shrugging it off and walking away with Annie, all the while the counselor shakes her head with a chuckle.

“Oh well, you’ll have to excuse the ol’ gal, first day of camp and all. At least I’m not adding salt into the sugar shakers– no, no, wait, it’s actually sugar in the salt–”

As the counselor turns back to where Billie was, her eyes almost bulge out when she meets with a different camper, who looks back at her with a puzzled scrunch on his face before walking off, leaving her alone and more perplexed than before.

----

Arnold's a cool guy, Ramona thinks as she glances over at him fidgeting with the piston valves on his trumpet. After their encounter in the mess hall, the two have started to hang out after their jazz band rehearsals, finding kindred spirits in each other. Right now they’re sitting under a towering oak tree with their instruments, away from some of the other kids playing. Arnold cringes at the sight of growing sweat stains on the other kids' clothes, preferring to stay under the shade and not burn under the sun.

Ramona doesn’t mind, though. She prefers his awkward small talk from the other kids’ clique-like attitudes anyway.

“So your mom actually made that sweater?” Arnold asks in awe as his eyes land on the small pops of red knit cherries lining along Ramona's sweater.

Ramona glances up from her bass guitar, a shy smile curling up on her lips while her eyes light up with pride. “Yeah, this was actually one of the first things she made.”

She adjusts her bass on her lap, the sunshine beaming through the foliage of the large oak tree. “She’s been making clothes for a long time, since highschool I think? She’s been doing a lot of freelance commissions for a lot of people recently though.”

Arnold nods along as he unscrews the mouthpiece off his trumpet to clean it. “So like a part-time fashion designer?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Ramona shrugs before propping her bass on her lap again. “I mean, she has a clothing brand, but it’s not like those fancy designer ones. There’s more for everybody, I guess.”

Her nimble fingers deftly position themselves along the fret and strums, and alow chord reverberates in the air. She then reaches up to one of the tuning begs and twists them before strumming again. “Her designs are so cool though, especially when she’s working with my uncle, who’s an artist based in Brooklyn. He'd sketch out one of his–”

THWAK!

Arnold flops back onto the ground and lands on his back while a volleyball bounces and rolls away from them.

“Arnold!”

Ramona quickly sets her bass down as she crawls up to her friend in a panic. “Oh my god, are you okay?!”

Arnold only groans as he rubs his forehead before an obnoxious laugh rings out nearby.

“Oh man, that was a loud smack!” A stocky boy laughs at a nearby volleyball court. Some of the other kids around him try to turn away and stifle their snickers.

Ramona bristles at the laughing kids as she helps Arnold up, her chest burning and swelling up to yell at them.

An angry British girl’s voice rings out soon after.

“Oi! Why the hell are you laughing, you daft idiots! You just hit somebody!”

Billie hollers at the kids on the other side of the court, her face pinched up into a dirty look. “Benny, you bollock, you better hope a ball doesn’t knock your fat head off your neck!”

She then jogs up to the duo with an apologetic frown as she picks the volleyball off the ground.

“You alright, mate?” Billie asks with a furrow in her brows. “ ’m sorry about those arseholes. Annoying lot, ain’t they?”

She shuffles her feet and lowers her head in regret despite not being the one at fault. “Your head’s hurting, innit? You need help going to the infirmary?”

Ramona lets out a grudging sigh before she finally looks away from Arnold and at Billie. “If you can, do you think you can pick up his stuff from the ground and follow us? I can help him walk–”

As soon as Ramona meets Billie’s eyes, they both freeze at the sight of each other. Dark curly tresses, deep-set brown eyes, darker complexion, tall and lanky stature– no matter how they look at it, they're nearly identical to each other. As they continue to stare at each other in disbelief, Arnold quietly groans as he looks up with a pinched up face.

“Ramona, I’m fine, you can let me go now–”

Arnold nearly snaps his neck as his eyes double-take at Billie, his jaw dropping and his eyes bulging out. He then looks back at Ramona as his face pales.

“...Ramona, is it just me, or do I see two of you in front of me?”

Ramona finally looks away as she looks down at her injured friend, her face scrunching up with shock and worry. Billie snaps out of it soon after and starts picking up Arnold’s trumpet, screwing the mouthpiece back on before putting it in its case and picking it up. She then grabs the bass and slings it over her shoulder before helping Ramona carry Arnold.

“C’mon now,” Billie mutters out to Ramona, “we can’t dally from this right now. Gotta getcha friend checked up first, alright?”

Ramona hesitantly looks back up at Billie before she finally nods. The two girls then carry Arnold over to the nearby infirmary, ignoring the giant elephant in the room for now.

----

British Phrase of the Chapter:

Hank Marvin - Starving (Cockney). Reference of 1960's-1970's British guitarist Hank Marvin.

Reference: https://www.businessinsider.com/british-slang-that-will-confuse-anybody-who-didnt-grow-up-in-the-uk-2017-11#hank-marvin-44

[altocat]

Here's a silly question, do the firsts get mosquito bites and where?

Angeal: He gets them occasionally, especially since he's the one who enjoys camping and other outdoor activities the most. Luckily, Angeal also has the most sense to spray himself down beforehand. His least favorite types of bites are the ones on hard-to-scratch places like his hands or between his toes.

Zack: Idiot child Zack doing idiot child Zack things in the forests of Gongaga, getting eaten alive and coming home to his mom covered in bites. He always seems to forget his bug spray wherever he goes, prompting Angeal to pack it for him. He once had a bit right on the tip of his ear and it drove him absolutely nuts all weekend.

Sephiroth: Is rather indifferent to mosquitos, mostly just ignoring them. He doesn't seem to need to spray down as much as the others. Should a mosquito actually bite him, weird stuff happens afterwards. They sorta just shrivel up and die within seconds. Genesis has joked that Sephiroth's special blood must be toxic or something. He has no idea just how close to the truth he really is.

Genesis: A bona fide mosquito buffet. A free for all. The blood equivalent of a filet mignon to these annoying buzzy bastards. They swarm him every single time he enters the woods, hanging over him in a cloud while he howls and whines and begs Angeal to share some of his spray. This is partially why Genesis hates camping, or most outdoor missions that involve going out into deep woods. He will be a big baby about it and everyone HAS to feel sorry for him. NOW. FEEL SORRY FOR HIM, DAMMIT! Sephiroth sometimes lets Genesis sleep in his tent since his presence seems to repel the insects so much. Genesis takes up all the covers and regrets nothing.

[nkn0va]

Could we please get some headcanons on what Ann, Makoto, Futaba, Haru, and Sumire would do to celebrate their s/o's birthday? Thanks a bunch and happy birthday!

The ol' five character hitter again. Thank god this is the only fandom where this happens. Does kinda tank quality though having to do it for a full five especially since it's not my main hyperfixation anymore.

-You better believe Ann is going all out for your special day. It's only the most appropriate thing to do for her S/O.

-There was that super nice hotel buffet she and the rest of the thieves went to after they successfully changed Kamoshida's heart. You hadn't joined the group yet so that'd be a nice place to take you to.

-Even if you aren't a foodie, there's no way you're able to turn down high class food like that, especially since Ann likely spent a pretty penny to get you two in.

-After stuffing yourselves to your heart's content (and likely getting a few extra pounds you'd definitely need to work off), she takes you to Inokashira park for a peaceful stroll under the sunset.

-Soon you two sit down a bench for a break, when she gives you a small, wrapped box. Opening it up you find an attachable charm inside. The lines and finer details are a bit uneven, suggesting this was something Ann made herself.

She quickly reveals she has another one just like it on her bag to match yours, having wanted to give you something that felt unique. It was extremely heartwarming.

(Makoto's birthday is the day right after this post goes up, which means it's the day after mine.)

-Makoto is a bit anxious. She hadn't really had a proper birthday celebration, whether doing it or receiving it ever since her father died. Sae was unfortunately too busy for any of that stuff 99 percent of the time.

-Now that you two were dating, she was hoping to change that. She can't do anything extravagant but that wasn't going to stop her.

-She keeps it relatively simple. Instead of taking you out somewhere like Ann, she makes a home cooked meal from scratch and invites you over to her place.

-She'll treat you to whatever movie you want to watch from the comfort of inside and bring out the blankets, popcorn, and any other movie treats you like. Just...don't ask for a horror movie. Please.

-Makoto doesn't really have any gift ideas she's all that confident in, so she opted to instead spend the day with you and give you the attention you deserve. She hopes that through her actions she conveys how much she loves you.

-Take Makoto's nervousness/cluelessness, and double it. Now you have an idea of what celebrating someone else's birthday is like for Futaba.

-She very easily gets in her own head about what she should and shouldn't be doing for her S/O's birthday. Her birthdays even when her mom was alive were never exactly normal due to how busy she was, let alone after she died both before and after Sojiro took her in.

-After some reassurance from both Sojiro and Joker, she decides to just let it come naturally to her and be herself.

-She invites you over to her room as she usually does for a majority of your dates to play some video games and watch some shows. It doesn't have to be anime, it can just be whatever you want. She'll go at least a little easier when you're playing games too so you can have a chance at winning.

-You've most certainly been able to share most of your interests with Futaba, she wants to know about them just as much as she wants to share hers with you. This makes it pretty easy to get you a gift you'd like.

A shirt, an action figure, maybe a music album, something relating to your interest that even you probably didn't know existed. Either because it's custom made or that Futaba just really knows her way around the internet far better than you.

-You've been at a decently comfortable point in your relationship with Haru for a while now, and she is absolutely thrilled to be able to celebrate your birthday however you want.

-One might expect someone of her social standing to treat you to the highest class date money can buy, and she absolutely can, but she would much prefer something more intimate and heartfelt.

-She invites you over to her place where she has a stack of baked goods waiting for you two to share. Some ordered, some homemade. Also to offset the sheer amount of sugar, a more healthy meal she made herself, even having grown most if not all the ingredients.

-If there was anything you expressed a want to have, no matter how expensive it is, that is now your birthday gift as well. Depending on the price, your jaw is probably going to drop as Haru presents it like it's nothing with the sweetest smile on her face.

-If your appetite rivals that of Sumire and you're still hungry she's more than happy to cook/bake together with you, playfully throwing flour or water on each other and bantering. She's more than willing to get serious and teach you how to cook if needed, she likely has enough experience to do so.

-Of course no date with Haru is ever complete with the softest, warmest cuddles of your life, under a blanket together as you drift off to sleep or watch a movie. It never fails to get your heart beating faster as her smaller body buries into yours.

-Despite her demure, sweet demeanor, Sumire can be quite the go-getter due to her athletic background. This naturally translates to celebrations of any kind.

-Your wallet is thankfully spared for today as she treats you this time. It may or may not be too much for you to swallow everything down but either way she's happy. Either for the extra food or that you enjoy everything she throws at you and that you can match her appetite.

-After that, it's time for a jog around the park to work off all those extra calories. Some form of exercise is typical when spending time with her but she's lax for today as the the point is to celebrate you and the fact that you're here today. She'll be fine with slowing down to a walk too if that's more comfortable for you as you two share leisurely conversation with each other.

-She did manage to also find a decent gift for you thanks to advice from her parents. She presents you with a special, designer made perfume/cologne. Since you're working out with her so much she figured you could use something to help with the stink of doing so, and she wanted it to be something special.

-From then on you make a point to wear it on all your dates with her. She notices this but doesn't bring it up, feeling a bit too shy to do so.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Paz lives modern au part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3

The Quaritch-Socorro household has money. They are firmly upper middle class. You wouldn’t know it though from how the family looks and acts.

They are cheap asses. Not like extreme cheapskate levels of penny pinching but if they can save a buck they will.

Clothes from Goodwill with a few holes that Paz can easily patch up? Hell yeah she got three bags of “new” clothes for her family for $7!

Miles is taking his family for a “fancy” night out? They’re going to the all you can eat Chinese buffet in the Walmart strip mall. Adults eat for $10, kids $6. 

If you think Paz is disappointed that this is what her husband considers fancy then think again. For her this is the lap of luxury 

They don’t leave until everyone’s had at least three plates because the kids grow like weeds and “mama and papa are getting our money’s worth”

Miles goes hunting with his squad mates and loads up their deep freezer with deer meat. 

Paz gardens not as a hobby but because growing food yourself is cheaper than buying it. 

She cuts everyone’s hair too, including her own because “why the hell would I pay for that. I can cut a straight line.” (She’s completely unaware that her own curly hair would look like a hack job if she ever straightened it out. Luckily curly hair can hide a lot of mistakes)

Miles has her cut his at the end of every month like clockwork but one time they skipped it.

One of their kids had been born a few days earlier so Miles just let it go for the first time in years. 

He was on leave too and helping his wife manage the household so what did he care.

He grew a beard during that time too and Paz was shook.

She didn’t even know her man could look that good, with his curls starting to come in and his mountain man beard.

She pouted for days when Miles went back to work and had to be all “clean cut” again.

We all already know that Spider likes to keep his hair long.

His mom doesn’t care but his dad isn’t a fan.

 He blames his wife for it.

When Spider was a toddler, with his long blond curls, he started getting mistaken for a girl

Miles didn’t like that so he started insisting that his wife cut it.

Paz couldn’t bring herself to do it though. Spider’s curls were so pretty. Just like her’s and Miles’ if he’d ever let it grow out just a little.

“It’s not like it won’t grow back” 

“Yeah but it’s baby’s first haircut”

“So what! We’re having another baby right now.”

“But he’s my first baby!”

Miles eventually convinces her and they get all set up in the kitchen only for Paz to not be able to go through with it.

She was five months pregnant and overly emotional so can you blame her.

Miles rolled his eyes, took the scissors and just started cutting away himself 

Spider was completely unbothered until mama started crying 

“He looks like a little man!” Miles just ignored her

But then Spider started crying because mama was crying, which made papa get frustrated, which made them both cry harder.

Miles told Paz to just leave, which she did because she could see how she was affecting her son.

But that only made things even worse because Spider screamed for his mama, trying to wiggle out of his seat, making grabby hands in the direction she’d gone. 

Until Spider was five getting his haircut would result in a tantrum.

“It’s because you traumatized him,” Miles would half jokingly half seriously tell Paz. She’d just roll her eyes because yeah he was right but it’s not like she was going to admit that.

No matter how old Spider got he just didn’t like getting his haircut for some reason. He wasn’t sure why. He just liked it long.

To Miles' chagrin his other sons emulated their big brother.

So he’s this gruff clean cut military man, with a wife who despite being ex-military herself wears her curly hair long and wild, dressing like a hippy (loose flowy, comfortable clothes, in fun colors because she had to wear neutrals for too long in the military) his oldest son dresses similarly to his mom, but more skater style. When he gets a little older he starts doing his hair in impressively elaborate braids. Spider's younger brothers more or less copy his style (they also don’t have much of a choice because they get Spider’s hand me downs) and his little sister is mommy and daddy’s little princess and dresses kinda like a nature fairy, all flower patterns, pinks, greens, blues and glitter. So much glitter. 

 All this to say Miles looks boring while his family looks kinda excentrique.

Some of Miles' work colleagues have caught him out and about with his family a couple of times and if they weren’t scared shitless of the man then they’d probably roast him for having such a “sloppy looking” family.

Miles has more or less made his piece with it though. He might tisk disapprovingly at one of his children's styling choices every once in a while when he’s in a bad mood but after four kids you learn to be less of a control freak

Paz and Miles are low key doomsday preppers 

It’s not that they believe the world is actually going to end in some biblical plague or something.

They are just extremely prepared for natural disasters (and terrorist attacks, or World War III)

There basement is loaded with enough food rations and bottled water to keep the entire family going for about twenty years give or take

They run preparedness drills for every scenario they can think of once every three months

The kids hate it

Mom and Dad even ran one while Spider was in school, picking up the ten year old in the middle of the day and taking the entire family on a “camping trip” to a cabin in the woods six hours away 

When he was twelve his dad told him that was practice for what they’d do if there was a nuclear attack on major cities. 

When Spider was four and really started climbing on things Miles took it upon himself to build his son a “jungle gym” in the backyard 

It was really a baby version of an American ninja warrior obstacle course.

Low key Miles was doing military training on his son but Spider fucking loved that obstacle course so it was really a win win.

Miles has a lot of way of “low key” instilling his kids with a military mindset and physical prowess 

As a punishment he’ll make the kids do things like fifty push-ups or ten laps around the house

Both parents run the house on a fairly strict schedule, breakfast at 7, dinner at 6, then all the kids do their homework, twenty minutes of the kids cleaning up after themselves, then it’s off to bed.

On the weekends Miles and Paz teach their kids “practical skills” which are really just survivalist skills

During the summer the kids go to “wilderness camp”

Which is really just a rotating cast of their parents' old squad mates taking them into the woods and showing them stuff.

Miles joins in on the weekends or if he can take the days off to teach his kids things like hunting, tracking, fishing all that jazz

Needless to say the Quaritch-Socorro kids are kinda scary because of this.

When Spider was like seven he told a classmate in detail how to shoot and skin a squirrel with a sunny smile on his face. As if he was talking about a cool dinosaur fact or something 

The kid cried, the teacher got involved, Spider was sent to the office and his parents were called.

Paz was basically like “yeah his dad taught him that. So what? It’s a good skill to have.”

When dad picked him up from school that day he took Spider out for ice cream as a reward for remembering everything so well.

[foxhole-pipe-dream]

No one asked, but here's a list of my AFTG fics and unposted WIPs. 

Reckless, on ao3 — Runaway Neil spends the night trading secrets with pro Andrew, sleeps with him, and disappears the next morning—only to realize he's pregnant when he's states away. Neil finds him a year later and they make a deal. Featuring trans Neil. (+ fic tag)

No Saints Here, on ao3 — Kevin Day, better known as the famed superhero Daylight, is co-captain of the Perfect Legion. He's tasked with tracking down the supervillain duo Blackguard and Red Rapid. Superhero AU. Kandreil.

Dialed, on ao3 — Neil finally upgrades to a smart phone. And he accidentally butt dials the Foxes while in Columbia with Andrew. Complete.

Learned to Lose You, Can’t Afford To, on ao3 — Aaron reflects on how normal brothers act. Or, Andrew annoys Aaron by doing typical sibling things. Complete.

Based on a Tumblr post by @do-i-still-love-kevin-day.

Mother May I, on ao3 — After the downfall of his father and the Moriyamas, Neil Josten spends his days dealing with his mom's unending paranoia, concealing his scars and breaking curfew to kiss their new neighbor. Neighbor AU.

Make This Whole Town Disappear, on ao3 — Heathers AU, to be revamped. Complete.

Ocean Eyes and Fairy Lights, on ao3 — Neil and Andrew go Christmas shopping. NSFW themes. Complete.

Kiss & Swell, on ao3 --- Neil discovers he has a... rare allergy. NSFW themes. Complete.

Crossfire, on ao3 - What Happened to Monday AU. Complete.

Down For It, on ao3 — Neil moves in with Stuart after Mary's death and becomes a recluse, staying in the house. Andrew and Neil bond through an online friendship and eventually meet up. NSFW themes.

Kevneil/Kandreil FWB AU [WIP] - Kevin and Neil become friends with benefits after both being dumped. It's good and strictly platonic. But once his old friend Andrew comes to town and starts showing clear interest in Neil, Kevin might have a problem on his hands. And he has to admit maybe his platonic arrangement with Neil isn't so platonic. NSFW themes.

Sexiled [WIP] — After having the perfect friendship for years and becoming roommates, Matt and Neil start having issues over hogging their apartment for private couple time—aka, sexiling each other. Also, Aaron is a cockblock. It's funny. NSFW themes.

Cruise AU [WIP] - Neil goes on a five day cruise as Allison's fake boyfriend to help make Seth jealous. He finds romance with another passenger—who keeps stealing all the desserts at the free buffet.

The Quarry AU [WIP] — Based on the horror video game The Quarry. The Foxes are camp counselors and there's werewolves. Andrew and Renee have guns. 

The Long Walk AU [WIP] — Based on the Stephen King book. 

There’s an annual walking marathon across the US composed of 100 walkers. They are not allowed to stop walking or slow down below 4 MPH for any reason. If they do, they get 3 warnings before they're shot dead. The last person standing gets whatever they want for the rest of their life.

Neil enters the marathon along with many other characters, who all have their own motivations. This will not be a happy AU and will feature MANY character deaths (sorry. kinda). Most of this has been planned out. 

12 Minutes AU [WIP] — Andrew gets stuck in a short loop. He repeatedly tries to stop Nathan's people from breaking into their home disguised as cops to kill him and Neil. With each loop, he learns more secrets and just how much of a liar Neil can be.

iCarly AU [WIP] — Literally just a silly AU that's an excuse for Andrew to beat people with a butter sock and have an obvious crush on Neil. (+fic tag)

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Hi🩷🙂,

Schniders in Stars Hollow: literally anything with Lenny. I'll take anything, maybe something related to the bookstore and Jess? Just anything. Only if you want to though

🩷🩷🩷

(Season 2, pre Teach Me Tonight)

It's strange to wake up alone these days. But sometimes Midge leaves town for work, and when that happens, Lenny starts his day early.

Coffee and the newspaper, and then a walk to main street for more reading (they get the Times at home, but he gets the Post and the Daily News and the Voice from the newsstand).

Fall in Stars Hollow is really something. It reminds him a little of living on Long Island, the way the foliage is. It's nice. He never really thought he'd appreciate it this way, but here he is, looking around at the reds and oranges and yellows and browns in admiration as he carries his stack of papers to Luke's.

It's not too crowded yet, still early as it is. Kirk is here, and Tom is getting a breakfast sandwich to go. It's just Luke behind the counter this early. Especially on a Saturday. Caesar will show up in an hour, and Jess will stumble in from upstairs soon enough.

"Mornin', Lenny," Luke greets him. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," he nods as he looks up from his reading. "Anything special on the menu today?"

"Blueberry muffins just came out of the oven," Luke offers.

Lenny grins. "One of those, please, with a little jam, and an egg sandwich on a sesame bagel with cheddar and tomato?"

"You got it," Luke nods, scribbling it down. "How's Midge's gig going?"

"Very well," Lenny nods. "She called last night after Shy Baldwin got her soused."

Luke chuckles. "I don't know why you stayed behind."

Lenny shrugs good-naturedly. "Ad far as I am aware, I am still banned from Vegas. And your blueberry muffins are much better than the crap at a Vegas breakfast buffet."

"Flattery will not get you a free extra muffin," Luke tells him as he walks off.

"Rats."

He goes back to his papers, only looking up when the door opens and Rory steps in, looking sleepy. She slumps down at his table and lets her head thump against his copy of the Daily News.

"It's Saturday, teenagers don't exist this early," Lenny jokes gently.

She groans and sits up. "I'm volunteering at a soup kitchen in Hartford today."

"Oh?"

"I need more extracurricular for my college application," Rory explains.

Lenny gazes at her for a quiet moment before setting his copy of the Voice down. "Do me a favor?"

"What?" She asks as Luke sets two cups of coffee down in front of them.

"Remember that college is not the be-all end-all of your life," he tells her. "I know it's very important to you, but plenty of people go their whole lives being perfectly happy without going."

She nods slowly, lifting her coffee to take a sip. "I'm going to Harvard."

He thinks about pushing. About explaining that life seldom turns out the way we hope. But she's so young, and it's so early.

Lenny sighs and grins, patting her elbow as she drinks more coffee. "Yes. Harvard."

At that moment, as expected, Jess stumbles in from the back staircase, looking bleary.

Rory rolls her eyes. "What a jerk."

Lenny chuckles as Luke settles a plate of multiple muffins on the table. "You do love me."

"Shut up, Lenny," Luke tells him.

Lenny smirks and looks at Rory again as he takes a muffin. "Flirting will get you everywhere."

Rory giggles. "You sound like Mom."

"Why not? Everyone thinks she's mine and Midge's, anyway," he jokes.

Rory laughs again as she takes her own muffin. "I should head out," she says, reaching for the money in her pocket.

Lenny waves her off. "It's on me."

"But-"

"Leave."

Rory grins and hugs him briefly around the neck before heading for the door. "Bye!"

He shakes his head and goes back to his paper.

[tailsbeth-writes]

I'm in a Halloween/vampire mood, so biting please! And/or spooning- and definitely firstprince please!

This one got away from me a bit, went heavy on the vamp AU! Read on Ao3.

Henry’s flustered, he's rushing around the house like a headless chicken. David stares at him from the dog bed as he puts his toys in a kennel shaped chest.  ‘I thought I told you put these away, Mr.’  David huffs and settles his head down. Henry scans around and takes a breath. He's never taking an investors meeting that late in the day again. At least not when he's expecting company. Very hot, sexy, intelligent company with ridiculous eyelashes.  Before he can take stock of his appearance, the doorbell rings. Henry swears under his breath and runs down the hall. He backs up a moment to the mirror, smoothing down his hair and shirt.  Oh Christ, there's still mail at the door. He picks it up before finally opening the door.  ‘Hi, it's okay I'm a little early right?’ Alex asks with a sheepish smile that makes Henry melt.  ‘No, no, of course not.’ He stares at Alex, falling into his eyes and their impossible glow. Alex breaks the stare and clears his throat.  ‘Henry, I need you to invite me in, remember?’ ‘Right of course, of course. Come in.’ He gestures inside and Alex smiles at him as he walks in. Henry quickly fans himself with the mail while Alex is in front of him. When they reach the kitchen, Henry goes straight for the fridge.  ‘You don't mind if I have a glass of wine, do you?’ ‘Go ahead. Tough day?’  Henry lets the wine glug into the glass as if to answer. Alex’s eyes stretch wide as Henry chugs back half the glass.  ‘Something like that.’  Red wine stains Henry's lips and Alex feels his breath catch. As if he could look any more delectable.  Henry starts to open his mail as they chit chat, Alex has had a rough day himself it turns out. They moan to each other and both wish they were doing all kinds of other moaning.  ‘Shit, bloody paper cut.’ Henry snaps as a letter slashes his finger. He looks up to Alex immediately, panic setting in.  ‘Should I leave the room until it stops or something? I'm such a clumsy idiot.’  ‘Can I taste you?’  Alex looks down as if he can't believe the words slipped out. He picks at his cuticles nervously, he's definitely not getting another date now.  ‘Would you like to?’  Alex looks up, Henry is holding out his hand, blood dripping down the finger. Alex leans in closer, takes the hand. Henry nods, egging him on.  Alex licks up the finger, savouring every drop. It's nothing like he's ever tasted in his undread life. Blood had simply been a food to Alex, a fuel up until now. When it came to Henry… He tasted like all of Alex's favourite things; the coffee his abuela got him hooked on, his mom’s meatloaf, his dad’s chilli…. A buffet of memories. ‘Fuck, you taste incredible. I could drink you all day long.’ Henry is leaning in closer now, his pupils dilated, his scent is heady. He closes the gap with a firm kiss, tasting the coppery flavour of himself on Alex’s lips.  ‘Go for it then.’ He whispers into Alex’s mouth as they part. Alex feels like he's on fire after a mere kitten lick of Henry's blood, he can barely contain his excitement. He curls around the corner of the kitchen island, pinches Henry’s waist with one hand and takes his face with the other. Henry tilts his head to offer his neck.  ‘Take what you need.’  Alex kisses the skin first, he can taste his heartbeat, so pure and kind. He lunges his fangs in, the divine flavour of HenryHenryHenry completely taking over as Henry's moans fill his ears. It's sensory overload for them both, and yet completely blissful at the same time. 

[kinglazrus]

What Comes After, Ch. 1

Written for Ecto-implosion 2023! Inspired by the amazing art of @ghozteevee, which you can check out here!

Masterpost | AO3 | Next

WC: 5016

The binding of the threads

There is something waiting to meet you, but it can wait a while longer.

—✧✦✧—

There is a hand attached to an arm attached to a body. It stretches up, fingers splayed into the darkness, forming a skeletal silhouette against the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, straining against the limits of blood and bone. Limits that exist only in the mind encased in the skull wrapped in the flesh of the thing. But flesh is not the right word. It is not flesh, which is soft and fatty and alive; it is skin, thin and pale as paper, stretched over jutting bones.

Sometimes, when the hand turns like so, the star’s glow seeps into the matrix of jagged veins branching out across its palm. There is no blood in these veins, only light, which creeps from the hand to the arm to the body to the heart of the thing.

The hand drifts, turning its scarred palm toward the window, where a spider is hard at work. The web has yet to take proper form. Currently, a single thread stretches from the top left corner of the window down to the bottom right. The spider dangles from it, lowering itself to the sill as it weaves the second strand. Its squat, brown body is illuminated by the rising sun.

Does it see itself reflected in the window with its many eyes? If so, does it recognize itself? Does it, too, sometimes forget what it is? Perhaps. But it doesn’t need to know what a spider is to be a spider. All it needs is to weave its web and feast on any unfortunate creatures that find themselves trapped there.

Wind buffets the spider, making it sway back and forth. Its legs tremble as it reaches out, but the window is too far, and the breeze keeps pushing the spider away.

The hand reaches, and the body follows, tumbling out of the warmth of its bed. Paint flakes away under the bony fingers as they dig into the windowpane and lift. A mouth attached to a throat attached to empty lungs falls open and breathes in the brisk morning air.

The breeze flows into the room, pulling the spider in. It finds purchase, finally, on the hand attached to the thing.

The thing blinks. It stares at the jagged curve of its fingers digging into the window pane, whose wood has cracked and splintered. When it pulls away, slivers drag out of its fingertips. It barely even stings, but it’s still something for the thing to feel. It breathes again, filling its aching lungs.

The spider waits patiently for the hand to lower it to the sill. Its legs twitch, almost like it’s waving, and it goes back to its web.

—✧✦✧—

The alarm that drags Danny into awareness is not his own. It isn’t loud enough to startle, but the steady ringing digs into his mind and hauls him back into his body. He blinks, not out of any real necessity, but because he’s made a habit of reminding himself to do it, particularly when he’s at home.

According to his phone, which lies on the nightstand next to his bed, it’s just after six in the morning.

Danny groans and tips his head back, pressing his hands against his eyes. Sunday morning, his last chance to sleep in on the weekend, and he’s awake at 6 a.m. The sun hasn’t even fully risen yet, although it’s well on its way. The sky is growing lighter, and it looks like it’s going to be a clear, warm day. Which is sickening, since it’s almost October.

He could go back to bed, but who is he kidding? He wasn’t sleeping, anyway. Might as well see what all the noise is about.

The lab door is already open when he gets down to the first floor, and his parents’ voices float through it. As Danny descends into the basement, he catches the tail end of their conversation.

“I don’t know what could cause this,” his mom says, in a way that is not at all foreboding.

“Most of these are pretty scattered, but look at these two,” his dad answers.

His mom hums. “That’s obviously the portal, but this other one? That’s somewhere in Polter Heights.”

“We could ask Vladdy about—” His dad turns just in time to see Danny reach the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, Danny! Come to see what the fuss is about?”

Calling the jumble of equipment his parents are standing in front of a computer is a bit of an oversimplification. While there is a regular keyboard, it’s embedded into a console, which is as wide as Danny is tall, that’s covered in all kinds of dials, switches, and blinking lights. Four monitors are bolted to the wall above the console, two of which always show the same thing: a radar of the Ghost Zone, or at least the area immediately surrounding their portal; and another that covers all of Amity Park.

The city radar is lit up in a way Danny’s never seen before. White spots flicker in and out all over the screen, seemingly without reason, but after staring for a few seconds, he notices a pattern. While the lights dance over the whole city, more appear in the south-east. The longer he watches, the easier it is to draw a line around the active area. An oval that covers almost a third of the city, and at one end is their house, Fenton Works.

Danny spots it easily because it’s one of only two lights that aren’t fading. While the others appear at random, shining for less than a second before they fade, the light over Fenton Works holds steady. Another solid light marks the other end of the oval.

“What’s happening?” he asks. His ghost sense hasn’t gone off, which must be a good sign. He looks to the portal embedded in the furthest wall of the lab. The doors are firmly shut, and the warning light above it is dim.

“White spots are areas of densely packed ectoplasm, usually portals, although these aren’t very bright. So, if portals are forming all over the city, they’re either very weak or very small,” his mom explains. “But this shouldn’t be happening.” She points to the spot over Fenton Works. “Natural portals have complex signatures, but the Fenton Portal, as a stable point, has a unique signature that we can isolate from other portals. We had to calibrate the city scanner to ignore our portal because it kept setting off the sensors.”

“Maybe it’s broken?” Danny suggests.

“Danny.” His dad has never sounded so disappointed. “Fenton Tech doesn’t just break.”

But no technology is perfect—Tucker would kill him for saying that—and Danny opens his mouth to argue. Nothing comes out, though. He’s “borrowed” his parents’ equipment enough times to know how well it works. They might have a lot of mishaps in the testing phase, but once a piece of Fenton Tech is done, it’s done. “Okay, fine, it’s not broken. But wouldn’t that many portals be, like, really obvious?”

His parents blink at him.

“Have you not looked outside?”

Apparently not, because they sprint across the lab and charge past him up the stairs. He follows them up to the front door and, as he already saw from his room, the sky is bright and clear.

“That can’t be right,” his mom says.

“Maybe it is broken,” his dad says, in the same tone one might tell a child their beloved pet is dead.

Danny gives him a consoling pat on the back. “Sorry, Dad. Maybe we should shut off the alarm?”

With the front door open, the noise spills out into the street. It shouldn’t be loud enough to bother the neighbours, but Danny rather enjoys it when the police don’t come by to deal with noise complaints. It happens so frequently that he’s on a first-name basis with most of the officers in the area.

He also likes not having a headache, and if the alarm goes on any longer, it’s going to drill a hole right through his brain.

“Okay,” his mom says. “We’ll take the RV and see if we can find anything. Danny, can you tell Jazz we’re out when she gets up? She wanted me to look over her paper on cellular processes, but I don’t know if I’ll have time now.”

Danny stiffens. “Jazz is home?”

“Last night. You didn’t see her?”

“I was out. Why is she home?”

“Honestly, Danny. You need to pay more attention to things.” Because Danny’s the one who doesn’t notice things, yeah. His mom shakes her head. “Her roommate has family visiting. She offered to give up her room for the week so that they wouldn’t need a hotel.”

“Right. I’ll tell her.”

At half past six, Danny shoves a note under Jazz’s bedroom door. He waited a whole half hour for her to wake up; it’s not his fault that she didn’t before he had to leave. And he does have to leave, right now. He has a lot of important things to do that aren’t here. What a shame.

—✧✦✧—

Danny’s best friend Tucker enjoys a lengthy waking-up process on the weekend. He knows this from the many sleepovers they’ve had since preschool. First, Tucker becomes aware that he is no longer asleep. It happens slowly today, as he clings to a fading dream, the minutes slipping away. Second, he searches for the most comfortable position, turning first one way, then the other, flipping his pillow, and tugging his blanket up to his chin and kicking his feet out at the bottom. All without opening his eyes. Then, he snuggles as deep into his bed as he can and dedicates himself to its warmth for as long as physically possible. This can last anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, maybe longer.

Tucker’s record so far is three hours wasted just savouring this quiet time.

Today, he gets three minutes before Danny moans from the beanbag chair beside Tucker’s bed. “Jazz is home.”

Tucker awakens with a shout. He thrashes, tossing his covers away, and rolls to the opposite side of the bed, shouting again when he tips right off the edge.

Danny hears this all happen, but his gaze is locked on the Dumpty Humpty poster taped to Tucker’s ceiling, tracing the edges of the cracked-egg logo. Breakfast would be good right now.

“Danny!” Tucker pops up on the other side of his bed. “What—when did you get here?”

“Uh...five hours ago. Angela took your stash, by the way.” Danny waves toward Tucker’s desk.

The stack of plates and cups piled on the corner had been impressive, although nothing compared to the hoard scattered around Danny’s room. It’s a good thing food tainted with ectoplasm doesn’t grow mould, otherwise his room would be a biohazard.

Actually, never mind. He’s enough of a biohazard as it is.

“You owe me twenty bucks.” Danny glances over at Tucker, who is crawling back onto his bed.

His sleep shirt is a baggy t-shirt covered in black roses. Not Tucker’s, then, but something he stole from their other best friend, Sam. His shorts, decorated with constellations, aren’t his either. Danny had wondered where that pair went.

Tucker sprawls across his bed, flaunting his stolen goods. Not that Danny’s any better. He’s pretty sure the sweatpants he wears right now are Sam’s, based on the cut. And he doesn’t own a hoodie that’s the same eye-straining blue as an old Windows error screen with a sad emoticon face on the chest, but here he is, wearing it.

“Ugh. Dumbest bet I’ve ever made.” Tucker jerks his chin in Danny’s direction. “I think there’s a twenty under my shoe over there.”

The shoe is behind Danny, under Tucker’s desk. Just the one shoe. As promised, a crumpled twenty is stuck under the heel.  Danny unfolds it and starts flattening it against the edge of Tucker’s desk leg.

“My mom didn’t say anything about you suddenly appearing in my room when you weren’t here yesterday?”

“Tucker, I love your mom, but she’s an adult. Adults don’t pay attention to that kind of stuff. Also, I pretended I was asleep.” He would have liked to actually sleep, but couldn’t with how his thoughts kept spinning. Jazz is home. Jazz is home. Jazz is home.

“So.” Tucker’s bed squeaks as he rolls onto his side to peer down at Danny. “Jazz. Have you seen her since…?”

“No.” Danny runs his thumb over a corner of the twenty that refuses to lay flat. “She’s home for a week. Can I crash here?”

“All week? Your parents won’t notice?”

He shoots Tucker a deadpan look.

“Right. Obviously, yeah, if you really need to. But, dude? I think you should try talking to her, first.”

What a novel idea. Amazing that Danny hadn’t thought of that already. Not once in the months since Jazz graduated and moved out, or the half year before that, when he tiptoed around the house avoiding her.

If only they just talked.

“Don’t give me that sassy look,” Tucker says. “But fine, don’t talk to her. At least try being in the same house.”

“Tried that already. Didn’t work out too well.”

“Danny.”

His hands drop into his lap. It’s not that he’s trying to be difficult, but he already knows how it’ll go. He’ll wait until Jazz is somewhere open and preferably facing the door, like the living room or kitchen. His steps will be unnecessarily loud as he approaches, giving her plenty of warning before he appears, but it won’t matter. She’ll still make that face when she sees him.

“One night,” Tucker says. “We can hang out all day today, and you can stay here the rest of the week, but you need to spend tonight at home.”

Danny wants to spit his reply, but it comes out with soft resignation instead. “Fine.”

—✧✦✧—

Just as Danny suspected, Tucker’s parents don’t say anything about him showing up without warning when they creep out for lunch. Maurice, Tucker’s dad, even reaches out to ruffle Danny’s hair, but when Danny sees the hand coming from the corner of his eye, he flinches away. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s instinctual, and he tries to brush it off. Neither Maurice nor Angela comment on it, although surely both of them saw it happen.

Adults just don’t like to see things.

Danny and Tucker spend the day playing video games and scarfing down day-old pizza. He doesn’t hear from his parents, but he gets one text from Jazz.

Jazz | Today 4:56 p.m. Need a ride to school tmrw?

Tucker reads the text over Danny’s shoulder and slowly raises his eyebrows, as if to say, “I told you so.” Which is ridiculous, because Tucker didn’t tell him anything except that he had to spend one night in the same house as Jazz. But he didn’t say how long that night had to be, and it’s so easy to lose track of time when playing video games.

It’s well into the night when Tucker yawns for the fifth time in as many minutes and rubs his eyes. “Dude, see what happens when you wake me up at ungodly hours?”

He’s sprawled out on his bed again, having given up on the game some time ago. Danny sits beside him, cradling a controller in his lap. He isn’t really playing anymore, just going around shooting things. His only goal now is running down the clock so that he can spend as little time as possible at home tonight.

“I woke you up at 11 a.m.,” he says.

“Exactly. A.m. That was cruel. It’s not even”—Tucker squints at his phone—“midnight, and I’m falling asleep.”

He frowns. The screen goes dark, and he taps it to wake it up again. 11:34 p.m., it reads. Tucker’s head slowly turns toward Danny, whose eyes are firmly locked on the TV.

“Do you remember if there’s a secret on this level?” Danny asks. “I’m only missing one, and I’d really like to finally hundred percent this game.

“Dude,” Tucker says.

“Can’t take that long to find, right? Half an hour? An hour?” Maybe longer if he missed it and has to backtrack. Wouldn’t that be a shame.

Tucker drives his heel into Danny’s hip and shoves him off the bed.

Danny squawks as he tumbles to the floor. When he hauls himself back up, Tucker is glaring at him. At least Danny thinks he’s glaring. It’s not particularly vicious. Lacks that oomph. It’s adorable, actually.

“One night, man. One night. That’s all I asked for.” Tucker shoves Danny again, this time kicking his shoulder, but he’s prepared this time. He sways, if only to humour Tucker, who smirks for a moment before glaring again.

Like he said, adorable.

“It’ll still be nighttime when I get home!” Danny says. And really, when does it stop being nighttime? Not until the sun rises. That’s a good seven hours away.

“And Jazz will be asleep.”

“Yeah, that’s generally what people do at night. I think you should do that. Right now. You look tired. Let the sounds of virtual gunfire lull you to sleep.”

“Danny.”

Oh. Oh, no, Danny was wrong before. Now Tucker is glaring, and it’s not adorable. It’s scorching.

“I can’t go home,” Danny says.

Tucker doesn’t say anything.

“I can’t be in the house when she’s there.”

He just glares.

“It’s not about me! It’s about her! She doesn’t want—I can’t—”

And glares.

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’m going.” Danny shuts off the console and the TV, then takes a big step away from them—and checks for any other electronics—before changing. The ring that expands out of his chest sparks and snaps. It splits in two, electricity arcing between the rings and his body. His skin buzzes where the rings pass.

It’s surreal to watch the bolts of electricity transform his body, replacing his hoodie and sweats with a black and white jumpsuit, almost bringing him back to the moment he died. The only thing missing is the bloody mess on his left arm.

When the rings fizzle out, Danny turns to Tucker with his hands on his hips. “Happy?”

“Moderately. Good night!” Tucker is probably trying for some dramatic plunge into darkness when he turns off his lamp and throws himself back against the bed, but Danny’s ghostly aura ruins the effect. It illuminates the room in a soft glow.

“You’re still here,” Tucker says.

“Just want you to know how much I hate you.”

“That’s nice. Now go exist in the same building as your sister.” Tucker flaps a hand in Danny’s general direction. He hesitates another minute before finally leaving, phasing through Tucker’s wall and taking off into the sky.

It’s a nice night for flying, though, and Danny never said he would go home right away.

—✧✦✧—

Fenton Works is quiet. Jazz is in her room, waiting for her brother to come home. Maddie and Jack are asleep, exhausted from a day of scouring the city, searching for portals they had no chance of finding to begin with. The third bedroom lays empty, its occupant dawdling somewhere halfway across the city.

So no one sees it when the lights on the computer in the basement change. When the flickering stops. When a dozen faint spots are scattered across the city.

No one sees when those lights converge into two brilliant points, so bright the whole screen goes white before fading into black. And finally, the alarm shuts off.

—✧✦✧—

There is not enough room in all the worlds for the things that want to emerge. Their bodies press against the seams of infinite realities, but they cannot break through. While they are beyond simple concepts like physicality, it would not be wrong to say they thrash, and howl, and gnash their teeth as they push into the void In Between, stretching out, out, out but never reaching the end, because there is no end. And yet, that eternity is not enough.

They are many, and they are one, and they are far too much and need more.

But they were also prepared for this. Not all of them, but a part, one that calls itself they-she-it, calls herself clever, calls itself Mother.

There is not enough room for all of them, but there is enough room for a thread, already cast. As the thread that weaves and binds and pulls and puppets thrusts its way into existence, it meets something not unlike itself.

Another thread, caught in something that is many things but also one. The Beyond stares with holes that are not eyes, opens a gaping maw that is not a mouth, and lets the two threads meet.

It is still too much.

Reality tears itself open to make room.

The sky cracks as the universe shifts. With it, Danny Fenton’s chest is carved open. His vision shatters into light and shadow as the space around him splits, filling him with spiders, and hornets, and the deep below, and oh so many things that push against his skin from the inside but still cannot break through.

As the tear closes and the acidic light it leaks disappears, Danny plummets. Lightning crackles around him, arcing off his skin in blinding waves, and sinks into the earth when he hits the ground. He lands on something that isn’t hard but isn’t soft, just enough to keep his skull from cracking like the sky. Slowly, the shards of his vision start to mend, darkness expanding, light shrinking into twinkling points.

Eventually, the world settles around him. The pressure in his body remains, making his ribs creak as something pushes from the inside, but the burden on his mind lessens. The static fades, taking with it the sound of fluttering wings, shifting earth, and crackling fire, until Danny can hear his thoughts again.

There is nothing quite like pain to make him feel human again.

“What the hell?” he asks the stars overhead. Not glow-in-the-dark, this time. Real stars, which twinkle at him, sparkling with mirth, and do not answer.

His back aches from the rough landing, although it’s still better than breaking open against the pavement. A line of heat swoops across his torso, stretching over his shoulder and cutting across his spine.

Danny sits up, hissing when his back peels away from whatever broke his fall. The alley reeks of burnt flesh, a smell not dissimilar to Sunday barbecue. He studies his new burn with a sigh.

His jumpsuit has been melted through, and the skin beneath is a blistering white rimmed with red. Second degree, then, widespread but not deep. He probes it gently, mindful of how sensitive the skin is right now, and traces the burn’s path from his navel to up and over his shoulder. Craning his neck, he tries to see where it ends, but it stretches past his vision. He can feel it, though, burning against the small of his back.

Danny touches his shoulder and hisses. While the burn narrows to a point on his stomach, it stretches as wide as his splayed hand when it crests his collarbone, creeping along the curve of his neck and just over the slope of his shoulder. He breathes deeply through his nose, trying to ride out the heat building beneath his skin.

This wouldn’t have happened if Danny had been paying attention. He tries now, raking his gaze across the sky, then down through the alley, searching for his attacker, but it’s hard when the walls keep shifting and the shadows stretch to impossible depths, filled with a void so dark Danny could stick his hand in and lose sight of the limb completely.

But there is no enemy waiting for him.

Not a ghost hunter, then. They tend to follow the motto “shoot and suppress,” and descend upon him the moment he hits the ground. At least that was his experience the last few times he was struck down by a ghost hunter. They could be trying for stealth, but even through the ebb and flow of stone and shadow, Danny knows he is the only living thing awake at this hour.

Although, living is up for debate. Danny is constantly weighing his inhumanity against the corporeal needs of his body, like Anubis weighing the goodness of his heart. What’s heavier: lungs without air or a stomach that hungers? Eyes that don’t blink but still burn from lack of sleep? It’s a balancing act that Danny still hasn’t mastered with his clammy skin and sharp teeth.

Thing, however, is entirely accurate no matter what side the scale tips toward.

And Danny is searching for a thing. While a ghost hunter would have come for him by now, a plain old ghost is more likely to shoot him for fun and leave before he can retaliate. And they must have left, because he doesn’t feel the telltale shiver of his ghost sense.

Danny’s jaw clenches. Someone attacks him in his haunt and doesn’t even have the decency to play the game right. Someone bold, then, or incredibly stupid. Could be a new ghost, but it’s been a while since someone new really tried fighting him, and ghosts don’t usually resort to potshots; they’re a far too dramatic bunch for that.

Someone familiar, then. Confident enough to hurt him, wise enough to flee, and, in all likelihood, friendly enough to rub it in his face when he’s less inclined to beat them for it.

The list of possible offenders is long.

Blisters are already rising along the deepest part of the burn, clusters of bubbles decorating the centre swath. Danny’s hand is hovering just over the blisters when the name pops into his head.

Ember.

Something clicks. Not only in his mind, but in the alley. A single, sharp noise that echoes between the shifting walls and makes Danny flinch. He looks up, not quite sure what he’s searching for now. There’s nothing to see, anyway. Only the stars, dim as they are. He can’t tell if they’re laughing at him anymore.

Danny’s thoughts take a moment to catch up with him.

Ember.

Suddenly, everything sharpens into focus. The alley walls stop moving. The shadows lose some of their depth. The box he is sitting on solidifies. It’s like the world around him had been caught in a state of flux but is now settling back into place.

“Really, Ember?” No answer comes, of course. She saw her opportunity, got her shot in, and now she’s running away before he can retaliate. Danny’s annoyance spikes. Not at the burn—it’s surface-level, after all, and will be nothing but another scar in a few days—but at Ember’s absence. They have a deal. Her, Danny, and the others.

It’s hardly surprising that she, of everyone in their little group, would leap at the chance to ruin his night and leave him hanging. She’ll probably come around in a week or so to crow about it and check out the new scar, maybe sooner.

The whirlpool in Danny’s mind spits out the occasional thought, but does not tell him when he and Ember are supposed to hang out next, or if they even have plans. Something about guitar lessons? When he dips into the eddy, it threatens to drag him down, down, down to where the static and crackling and crushing earth lies.

What time is it? What day is it?

His phone flares to life when he raises it from his pocket, and the sudden brightness in the dark alley sends a spike of pain through his skull. He groans and drops it, pressing a hand to his temples. A few seconds pass before the throbbing fades.

Blurry vision, dizziness, and confusion.

“Concussion,” he mutters, still massaging his temples. Wonderful. Fantastic. Ember not only roasted him, but also knocked a few more brain cells loose. Just what he needs. He doesn’t remember hitting his head, but that’s not a point against having a concussion.

Looks like this outing is over. Even without the concussion, he would probably stop. Breathing deeply pulls at his new wound. Unfortunately, accelerated healing does not spare him from pain.

He snatches his phone from the ground, steeling himself for the brightness, when something skitters across the back of his hand. Danny yelps and flings his arm wide, phone slipping from his grasp. It hits the alley wall with a crack and falls to the ground, dead.

“Really?” Danny scans the pavement, looking for the spider that startled him, but it’s long gone. “I was very nice to one of you, earlier,” he calls. “Shit.”

So much for texting Tucker or Sam for help, although maybe it’s for the better. Tucker will be mad Danny didn’t go home right away. What time is it, anyway? His phone met its untimely demise before he could see. The dark screen taunts him, a web of cracks branching out from the corner. Another soldier lost in the line of duty. It will be missed.

Maybe it’s early enough that he can swing by unannounced. 

No, Danny decides. No point bothering Sam with this, and he doesn’t want to face Tucker’s ire again. Ember’s burns are hell for a moment, but the worst will be over by morning. Treating it now would be a waste of bandages.

He staggers to his feet, giving the world a moment to stop spinning, and glances at the box that had broken his fall. It sits just out of reach of the streetlights, in the exact middle of the alley. Weird place for someone to throw it away. The lid is caved in from his landing, but it still holds most of its shape.

“Thanks, I guess,” he says. Great, now he’s talking to boxes. “Enjoy getting picked up by the Box Ghost, or whatever.”

Danny stares at it a moment longer before shaking his head and taking off, leaving the file box behind. It doesn’t matter, though. The threads are already tied.